#my mans life was falling apart he was finding things out that changed everything

[wcnderlnds]

easy to hate | choi seung-hyun (t.o.p)

BIGBANG APRIL CHALLENGE - APRIL 29TH

・❥・ summary: seunghyun had been your best friend, the love of your life but distance had torn you apart and now when you meet him five years later, he’s not happy to see you ・❥・word count: 3k ・❥・warnings: 18+. mdni. fingering, unprotected p in v. slight choking. multiple orgasms. angry sex. swearing. ・❥・authors note: this is my last fic of the challenge so i had to go out with a bang (literally). this might be rushed bc it’s hot in the uk and doing anything has been torture but hopefully you like it <3

London in December wasn’t for the faint hearted. The chilly breeze brushing through the air, the first specks of snowdrops falling from the sky — it was beautiful but absolutely freezing. You pulled your coat tighter around you, wishing that you’d at least brought some gloves with you so your hands weren’t freezing. You rubbed them together trying to get some heat flowing in them again but to no avail. Why had you even agreed to this? 

When your friend had first come to you crying that her other friend had bailed on going to BigBang’s show with her, you’d immediately felt bad for her so had offered to accompany her. But, a BigBang concert was the last place you ever wanted to be. There was a secret you’d never told your friend, one that you had kept close to your chest because you knew the second you told them, you’d be bombarded with a million questions that you didn’t want to answer.

Truth was, you knew them. You had been friends with the whole band but especially one member in particular.

Choi Seunghyun had been your best friend for as long as you could remember. You’d been neighbours growing up, forced to hang out with each other when your parents spent time together and that had forged a bond for your whole teens. The two of you did everything together to the point it was hard to find one of you without the other. That had slowly blossomed into a romance. Seunghyun had been your first kiss, your first real boyfriend but it had been when he’d first started as a trainee at YG so the relationship had been kept a secret. The other boys had known, of course, but that was about it. The last thing you had wanted was for it to get out and ruin Seunghyun’s reputation before the band had even debuted. So, you had kept it sealed, away from prying eyes.

Then, when you were twenty years old, your father had got a promotion. The catch was that it was in the United Kingdom which meant you had to leave your life in Korea behind. It was the hardest thing you’d ever had to do. You’d been with Seunghyun for almost three years at that point and saying goodbye to him made your heart ache. You couldn’t do it so… you had taken the cowards way out and left him a note.

Everyday you’d regretted that you’d never done it face to face but it was for the best. It would have been harder to leave seeing his face. Your own heart had broken, it had taken the better part of almost a year before you could finally move on from him. There had been many times when you’d wanted to reach out and reply to the texts he sent you but you couldn’t. A clean break, thats what it had to be. Especially since you thought you’d never see him again.

But, here you were standing in the line to go backstage because of course your friend had scored backstage passes.

You were praying and hoping that you could avoid him but it was going to be impossible. Maybe he wouldn’t even recognise you. It had been five years after all. You’d changed and from what you’d seen, so had he. The unfortunate thing about your best friend being one of their biggest fans was that you were constantly updated on what they did. Seeing photos of the man you’d once called the love of your life was painful, especially when she’d tell you the latest gossip about any girl he was seeing. You had to grit your teeth and nod your head, acting like it didn’t tear you apart inside. Not that you had any right to feel that way, you had been the one to break his heart. He deserved to be happy and you hope he had found that happiness somehow.

It took another half an hour before you were finally inside the building. Steve, the bodyguard, had checked your passes thoroughly before letting you inside. At least they had good security. Now you were inside, the heat of Wembley Arena hit you like a ton of bricks causing you to remove your jacket. The nerves started bubbling up now as you were lead to the room where the guys were. There were only about ten of you who had managed to get backstage passes, the boys wanting to keep their meet and greets lowkey before the shows.

It was when you were inside the room where you were to meet them when you really started regretting it. Your stomach churned, threatening to throw up the remains of your lunch from earlier. When the girls around you started jumping around excitedly, you knew the boys were in the room. You’d positioned yourself behind some of the taller fans so that nobody could see you yet.

It didn’t work for long.

“Are my eyes fucking deceiving me?!” Jiyong’s shocked voice sounded out as his eyes landed on you, a big grin on his face.

“Y/N?” Daesung beamed.

Before you knew it, you were being engulfed by Jiyong, Youngbae and Daesung. It felt nice to know that they didn’t hold anything against you. It didn’t make it any less easier, though. Now, you had to explain to your friend why these men knew you. “Okay, okay, I need to breathe at some point today.”

“I can’t believe you’re here!” Youngbae had his hands on your shoulders, looking at you as if to make sure you were okay. “Are you well?”

“I’m good. Are you guys? I mean, stupid question because you’re on a world tour at Wembley Arena,” you laughed.

While you were talking, Seunghyun had been spending time with the other fans. He heard the commotion from the other guys and the second his eyes landed on you, his heart pretty much almost stopped. There was no way you were here. Jiyong must have told a joke because he heard your laugh from across the room. In the past, that laugh would��ve been his favourite thing to hear but now, it only brought up memories he wanted to forget about. Memories that he couldn’t hold on to because they hurt him too much. It was like a magnetic pull when you turned your head and your eyes caught his. Your breath hitched in your throat. He was as handsome as ever. Age was treating him well. He’d grown into his jawline, his boba-like eyes as beautiful as ever. It made you think back to all the times he’d smile at you — a smile that was reserved for only you but now? Well, now the look he was giving you was venomous. Like he wanted you gone.

That was to be expected.

Once everything was wrapped up, the guys had told their security that you could stay. Seunghyun had left the room the second all the fans were gone, he didn’t want to be in a room with you for any longer than he had to. It shouldn’t hurt but it did. You hadn’t missed the way he had been looking at you, like there was nobody in the world that he hated more.

“I mean… you can’t blame him,” Jiyong smiled sadly. He’d noticed where your eyes had been looking, catching on immediately.

“I know but… I just wish I could have one minute to talk to him. To explain.”

“Hmm. Let us see what we can do. Wait here.”

Before you could react, Jiyong had grabbed the other two boys leaving you alone in the dressing room. Your thoughts were racing, trying to think of exactly what you wanted to say if Seunghyun did step through that door. If anyone could get through to him, it was Jiyong. He was the only person Seunghyun ever listened to.

The minutes felt agonising as you waited. The clock on the wall ticking loudly almost as if it was mocking you. Just as you were about to leave the room, hand on the door handle to open it, it pulled open. You took a step back and in stepped Seunghyun, grumbling to Jiyong about how he hadn’t left anything behind. But, Jiyong only smirked, giving Seunghyun a shove and pulling the door shut. A lock was heard clicking shut and that’s when Seunghyun turned around and came face to face with you.

“Oh, hell no,” he banged on the door, yelling curse words at Jiyong. “I’m going to kill you when I get out of here.”

“There’s half an hour before the show so talk it out and make up or kill each other. Whatever works best,” Jiyong’s voice sounded from the other side, a playful lilt in his tone. Neither you or Seunghyun saw the humour in the situation. This was quite possibly the worst case scenario.

“Seunghyun…” you started but he narrowed his eyes at you instantly.

“No, I don’t want to hear it,” his voice was laced with venom but you could hear the pain behind it. He was using his anger as a shield, to protect his feelings.

“Please let me just…” Your voice was quiet, meek but once again he cut you off, taking a step forward.

“I said I don’t want to hear it. A fucking note, Y/N. That’s all you left me with so no, you don’t get to make excuses for that. I don’t want to hear another word out of your mouth.”

“I’m so-“ This time he didn’t even let you get past the first word. Instead, he pushed you up against the wall, his thumb and forefinger grasping your chin, tilting your head to look at him.��

“Do you ever shut up?” He seethed. His face was mere inches from yours, his hot breath fanning over your face. The way he was holding your face was embarrassingly turning you on, or maybe it was that fierce look in his eyes. 

“If you’d just le-“

His lips crashed onto yours in a searing kiss, he’d grabbed both your hands, pinning them above your head against the wall. The kiss was messy, full of anger as he nipped at your bottom lip causing you to gasp. He took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, dancing that all too familiar dance with yours. Seunghyun pressed his body against yours, pulling back from your lips for a breath.

“Are you gonna be quiet now or am I gonna have to keep going?” His words were sharp, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath he took.

“I wouldn’t complain if you did,” you chased his lips, trying to get them back on yours but he pulled his head back ever so slightly out of reach.

This was going to be on his terms, not yours.

He removed one of his hands, holding both of yours in one now while his free hand dipped under the skirt you were wearing. His fingers brushed the fabric of your panties, a mocking chuckle passing his lips. “So wet already. Thinking you can come back after all these years and get fucked by your ex that you abandoned.”

“Seunghyun, I -“ you let out a sharp gasp as his fingers dove inside your panties, sliding a finger along your slit, cutting your words off. Your slick coated his finger, spurring him on even more to tease you. He kept running his finger along your folds ever so slowly, torturing you. “Come on.”

“I don’t think you have any right to call the shots right now, princess,” Seunghyun leaned in, his lips trailing kisses along the column of your neck, nipping at your earlobe. “Maybe if you be a good girl and beg for it, I’ll consider giving you what you want.”

Your hips involuntarily bucked into his hand, needing more. Even after all these years he knew how to drive you wild. “Please, Seunghyun. Fuck, I’ll do anything.”

“Mhm, not good enough.”

The pad of his thumb skimmed across your clit, eliciting a breathy moan from you but he pulled it back. It was embarrassing how you whined, your eyes pleading with him to give you more. “I need you, Seunghyun. I need to feel your fingers, baby. I’m sorry, please, I’ll do whatever you want.”

Seunghyun groaned, finally caving in at your pleas and finally rubbing your clit in tight, quick circles. His eyes never left yours, still keeping you in place pressed against the wall as he worked you with his fingers. It took you by surprise when he sank a finger into you, followed by a second one. He wasted no time, pumping them in and out of your tight hole at a fast pace. His lips caught yours in another searing kiss, all teeth and tongue. His cock was straining hard against his jeans, needing, aching to be buried inside you but he needed to make you suffer a little bit more first.

“Cum for me. It’s the least you could do for abandoning me,” he growled against your lips. 

You were bucking against his hand, your moans like music to his ears. He curled his fingers inside you and that was it. You writhed against him, unable to touch him with his hand pinning yours against the wall. Your orgasm crashed over you, more intense than you’d felt it in years.

Thinking he’d give you time to recover, you relaxed but he wasn’t letting you off that easily. He pulled his fingers from you, sticking them in his mouth to taste you. The sight was so erotic you were sure you could come again right then and there. He used his free hand to pull his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his aching cock.

“Jump,” he commanded. He finally let go of your hands as you jumped up, wrapping your legs around his waist. With his cock in his hand, he guided it to your entrance, not giving you time to prepare as he sank deep into you. “Fuck.”

He groaned, pushing to the hilt, his hips flush against yours. He gritted his teeth, trying to keep his composure. Then, he pulled back and thrust back in hard. He set a deep, hard pace. Your hands gripped onto his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as he pounded into you.

“Still so fucking tight,” he huffed, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to know there’d be bruises. There was nothing gentle about this. He was taking his frustrations out on you and you weren’t complaining one bit. “Bet nobody’s fucked you as good as I did, huh?”

He was right — nobody ever had but you couldn’t find your words to speak, too consumed with the way his cock dragged against your walls. You could feel every inch of him, a second orgasm already approaching. When you didn’t answer, one of his hands slid up to wrap around your throat, not applying pressure, just enough to force you to look at him. “Answer me.”

“No, nobody has.”

“Good girl.”

That was it. Your second orgasm hit you like a truck, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. He groaned at the feeling of your walls clamping down around him. He didn’t let up, though. He was still hammering into you.

“Seunghyun,” you whined, your hips bucking into his. 

“Come on, you’ve got one more in you. Be a good girl and cum for me again,” his hand slid under your shirt now, tugging down the cup of your bra. His thumb brushed over your nipple, his lips finding your neck. “Give me what I deserve, princess.”

He bit down gently, his tongue darting out to soothe your skin, leaving a mark there so you could remember this moment for days to come. He could feel his orgasm fast approaching, his hips stuttering but he wanted you to cum again first. His fingers trailed down your stomach, leaving goosebumps in their way as he found your clit once again. One press of his thumb against your sensitive bud and you were coming again.

“Oh, shit… I’m gonna cum,” he grunted, thrusting into you one more time to the hilt, emptying himself inside you. “Take it, princess.”

His hips jerked as he finished, his head falling to your shoulder. Both of you were panting hard, your mind foggy from the three mind blowing orgasms he’d just given you. Tenderly, you ran your hand through his hair causing him to sigh. When he lifted his head to look at you, there was no venom behind his eyes. Just hurt and confusion.

“You never said goodbye,” his voice was small, it broke your heart to hear how broken he sounded.

“I couldn’t. I… It was too hard. I’m sorry, Seunghyun. I’m so sorry. I don’t blame you for hating me.”

“I don’t hate you. I’m mad at you, I’m upset at you but that doesn’t mean I ever stopped loving you.”

Seunghyun pulled out of you, setting you back down on shaky legs. He tucked himself back into his pants, watching as you leaned against the wall. The silence that fell between you was suffocating. So many words needed to be said but neither knew how to say it. Seunghyun opened his mouth to talk but the lock on the door clicked and opened to show Jiyong.

“Oh, good, you’re both alive. Oppa, it’s almost showtime. Y/N, Steve will take you to your seats,” Jiyong had a knowing smile on his face causing both you and Seunghyun to roll your eyes. 

Seunghyun turned back to you, a war raging within himself but he seemingly came to a conclusion. “If you want to talk, meet me at my hotel room later.”

He started heading to the door when your voice caused him to spin around again. “How do I know where it is?”

“I’ll leave you a note,” he said with a bitter smile.

Yeah, you deserved that. So, now you had to figure out if it was actually a good idea to go to his hotel room and talk this whole thing out.

challenge taglist: @ldydeath @infinetlyforgotten @berfgrimm @loveesiren @sevendaysummer @gdinthehouseee @eru-vande @bluesunss @emmiesoverthemoon @petersasteria @currentloser @makeitworse @aizshallnotbefound @sherxoo

normal taglist: @justsisse @sherrayyyyy @fleabagspurplewife @gemzyy @bettelaboure @breakmeoff @flymetothexmoon

[jakescapes]

𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙬𝙚𝙗𝙗𝙚𝙙 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚

pairing: spiderman!jake x reader (f)

synopsis: One night, Spider-Man saves you and you can’t stop thinking about him. His presence haunts your thoughts, and soon he becomes more than just a hero in a mask. But what you don’t know is that Spider-Man has been watching you all along. As the lines between hero and ordinary guy blur, you find yourself drawn to him, unaware of the truth he’s hiding and the complications that come with falling for someone living a double life.

genre: fluff, smut, strangers (not rlly) to lovers

warnings: pretty much none other than brief fight scene, wounding + blood, lying, explicit smut, technically inferred mutual virginity loss but it’s not rlly mentioned, mdni!!

author's note: this one is pretty chill and not as heavy as storyline goes as much as my other fics but i think it's still pretty cute :3 i know i wasn't gonna post this one until my other fic is out but i changed my mind lol anyways enjoyyy

wc: 11.8k

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You’ve always been the kind of girl people liked. Not the most popular, not the type who threw huge parties or walked around with a whole parade of people behind you, but people knew you. They smiled when you walked down the halls. Teachers liked you because you were smart and funny, good but not a try hard. You had your group of close friends and stuck by them. You weren’t loud, but you weren’t invisible either.

You were...just right.

And to Jake, you were everything.

You didn’t know that, of course. To you, Jake was just the sweet, quiet guy who sat a few rows back in your English class, always scribbling in the margins of his notebook, sometimes flashing you a shy smile if you caught his eye.

"Hey, Jake," you said once, a few weeks ago, when you held the door open for him after history class.

He’d blinked, startled that you even knew his name. "Uh—hi. Thanks," he mumbled, clutching his battered backpack like it might float away.

You thought he was nice. Sweet. Maybe a little awkward. You didn’t know that he spent half the class staring at the back of your head, memorizing the way you doodled in your notes when you were bored, the way you twirled your pen when you were thinking.

You didn’t know that every time you laughed with your friends, he wished he could be part of that world, yours, even just for a second.

You definitely didn’t know that Jake Sim, quiet, nerdy Jake, was Spider-Man.

Nobody knew.

And even with the whole city to protect, somehow, you were the thing he couldn’t stop watching.

-

You’ve always liked New York at night. It’s noisy, chaotic, but when you’re walking alone, sometimes it feels like the whole city softens just for you.

Your boots click along the sidewalk as you make your way home from your friend’s house. Your phone is tucked safely into your jacket, your bag slung across your shoulder. You hum quietly to yourself, thinking about the sleepover plans you already started setting up for next weekend.

You don’t notice the figure perched high above you, crouched at the edge of a building. From the shadowed rooftops, Jake watches you with sharp eyes behind his mask.

He should be three neighborhoods over. He knows there’s trouble brewing near the docks.

But he can’t help himself. You're walking home alone, and the idea of something happening to you when he could stop it—

Yeah. Not a chance

He could watch you laugh with your friends for hours. He knows the exact way your nose crinkles when you’re confused in class, the way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you’re concentrating, the easy way you smile at people when you pass them in the halls.

He trails you silently, heart thudding harder than it ever does when he’s fighting criminals.

Then, a sudden noise jolts him out of his thoughts. You’re about two blocks from your apartment when it happens.

Two men step out of a shadowy alley up ahead, blocking your path.

"Hey, pretty girl," one of them says with a greasy smile.

You jerk back instinctively. "Get away from me," you snap, fear spiking in your chest.

They don’t listen. One grabs your bag. The other lunges for you, trying to trap you between them.

"Let go of me!" you shout, struggling, but they’re stronger than they look. Panic flashes through you. You twist, trying to kick, and manage to knock one of them off balance, but there’s two of them and only one of you.

Jake doesn’t even think.

He dives.

Thwip! A web zips through the air, snagging the thief by the chest and yanking him backward so fast he crashes into a lamppost. You spin around, gasping, just in time to see a blur of red and blue land hard between you and the second man.

You stumble back, wide eyed, heart hammering.

It’s him. Spider-Man.

He doesn’t even hesitate, just moves. A punch. A sweep of his legs. Another thwip! and the second man is webbed to the sidewalk, groaning.

You stand frozen, staring.

You’ve heard the stories. You’ve seen the news reports. People talking about Spider-Man like he’s some kind of legend. Some of your friends even joked about what they’d do if they ever met him.

You watch, breathless, as he webs the two men up in a neat, dangling package. It’s almost...easy for him. Strong, fast, confident. You can’t tear your eyes away.

And now here he is. In front of you. Saving you.

He turns toward you, breathing a little harder than usual.

"You okay?" His voice is warm, low.

You nod, still stunned. "Y-yeah. I—thank you. Thank you so much."

He hesitates for a second, then says, "Where do you live? I'll get you home."

You stammer out your address, your voice shaking.

"Okay. Hold on tight."

Before you can react, he scoops you up by the waist. You yelp, clutching desperately onto his shoulders as he swings up into the sky.

You’ve seen Spider-Man swoop around the city before, on TV, from your window sometimes, but being in it, flying through the air, the wind whipping around you, the lights blurring below, it’s a whole different world. You tighten your arms around his neck, your face pressed close to the smooth fabric of his suit.

You squeak, clutching at him.

"I’ve got you," he says quickly, as you both rise high above the ground.

You cling tighter, feeling the muscles shifting under his suit, the heat radiating from him.

"This is insane," you breathe out. "You’re insane. You’re amazing."

He laughs under his breath, and it’s a sound you wish you could bottle and keep forever.

When he finally lands lightly on your balcony, your knees are trembling. He sets you down gently.

You stare up at him, breathless.

"Thank you," you say again, your voice small.

He shifts awkwardly, like he’s about to leave, but then he winces slightly, a hand ghosting over his side.

"You’re hurt," you notice immediately. "Wait—don’t go. Let me help."

He tries to protest. "I'm fine—really—"

“No, I owe you.” And you’re already pulling him inside your room. 

You tug the door open, leading him into your bedroom. It’s cozy, filled with little things that make it you. Posters on the wall, a stack of books on your nightstand, fairy lights strung across the ceiling. He turns in a slow circle, taking it all in, his heart racing for a completely different reason now.

He’s in your room.

Jake Sim. Spider-Man. Nerdy kid who sits three rows behind you in English.

Inside. With you.

You dart into the bathroom and come back with a first aid kit.

"Sit," you command gently, patting the edge of your bed.

He obeys, sitting stiffly, still a little stunned himself.

Carefully, you peel back a section of his torn suit at his ribs, revealing a spreading bruise and a shallow gash.

You suck in a breath. "Oh my God. You’re actually hurt."

"I've had worse," he mumbles, watching you nervously.

Your hands are gentle as you clean the wound, your touch light. He doesn’t even realize he’s holding his breath.

You’re so close. Close enough that he can see every tiny detail, the little gold flecks in your eyes, the freckles dusting your nose, the worried way you bite your lip.

And for a second, he forgets about the blood, about the bruises, about everything except you.

He wishes, more than anything, that it could be Jake sitting here like this. Just Jake. No mask. No secret.

Just you, patching him up, caring for him, because you wanted to.

But he knows better.

He knows this life he chose is too dangerous. Too complicated.

Still, he can dream.

…

After he swung away into the night, you just stood there for a second, your bedroom door still half open, the first aid kit forgotten on your bed.

Your heart was racing.

You pressed your hand to your chest like that might calm it down, but it didn’t. You felt like you were still flying, like you could still feel the pressure of his arms around your waist, the rush of the wind in your hair, the firm, careful way he held you like you were something precious.

Slowly, you climbed into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin. You stared at the ceiling, wide eyed.

You never really thought about Spider-Man before. Sure, he was cool. People at school were always gossiping about him — "Did you hear he stopped that robbery last night?" or "My cousin swears she saw him swing over Times Square!" But you never paid that much attention.

Until now.

Now, you couldn’t get him out of your head.

The way he moved. The easy strength in his shoulders. The way he didn’t hesitate to jump in and protect you. The way his voice sounded low and a little worried when he asked if you were okay.

You buried your face in your pillow, cheeks burning.

You were crushing. Hard.

Meanwhile, a few blocks away, Jake swung clumsily back toward his tiny apartment, the night air cold against his scraped skin.

He practically stumbled through his window, ripping off his mask as he collapsed onto his bed, still breathing hard.

He covered his face with his hands.

What just happened? he thought to himself.

Of all the people in New York, of all the random twists of fate, it had been you.You, walking alone. You, getting cornered. You, needing him.

And as bad as it sounded. As wrong as it was, he was grateful. Grateful you’d needed saving. Grateful he’d gotten to touch you, to hear you laugh breathlessly into his shoulder, to see the way you looked at him like he was someone incredible.

Not Jake Sim, the quiet nerd in the back of the class. But Spider-Man. A hero.

...

The next morning at school, Jake tried to act normal.

Tried to sit at his desk like his entire soul wasn’t buzzing.

You walked into class with your best friend, Maya, giggling about something. You looked a little tired, but in that soft, pretty way. Jake kept his head down, scribbling nonsense in his notebook, but his ears were straining, tuned to every word.

"You are lying," Maya hissed under her breath, eyes wide.

"I'm not!" you insisted, grinning. "I'm telling you! Spider-Man saved me last night."

Maya gawked. "You're serious?!"

You nodded, leaning in closer so no one else could hear.

Jake’s hand stilled on the page, his heart hammering.

"He was..." you trailed off for a second, your voice going soft. "He was amazing. Like, really amazing."

Maya snorted. "Amazing how?"

You bit your lip, cheeks turning pink. "I don’t know. Just, the way he fought those guys? And the way he held me? He was so...manly. And confident. It was like..." You shook your head, laughing a little at yourself. "I don’t know, Maya. I think I might have a little crush on him now."

Jake gripped his pen tighter, something inside him flipping over.

You had a crush. On him.

Well...on Spider-Man.

He should’ve been thrilled. And he was. Kind of.

But mostly, he just felt this aching sadness swell up inside him.

Because the person you met last night wasn’t Jake Sim.

It was someone stronger. Braver. Someone you could look up to. Not the awkward kid who tripped over his own feet and fumbled his words when you smiled at him.

Jake stared blankly at his notebook, a hollow pit forming in his chest.

If you ever found out the truth, if you ever realized that Spider-Man was just Jake, the kid who barely managed to survive high school without embarrassing himself — Would you be disappointed?

Would you stop looking at him like he was something special?

Jake swallowed hard, forcing himself to smile as the teacher called for attention.

He had to be okay with it. You were safe. That was what mattered.

Even if the closest he ever got to you was behind a mask.

...

After class, the hallways were packed, loud with chatter and the slam of locker doors.

Jake stood by his locker, spinning the dial lazily with one hand, half listening to his friend Mark rant about something that happened in gym.

"I’m just saying," Mark said, waving his arms dramatically, "if Coach expects me to run a mile in under seven minutes, he can —"

Wham.

You bumped into Jake's side by accident, your bag swinging wide as you tried to squeeze past the crowd.

"Oh my god, sorry!" you blurted, reaching down to grab the little notebook that had fallen out of your hands.

But Jake was already crouching down to pick it up, and the second he moved, he winced, the sharp pull of his bruised ribs making him suck in a breath.

He quickly masked it with a cough and stood up, handing you the notebook.

"Here," he said, voice a little tight.

"Thanks," you smiled, but your eyes narrowed slightly. "... Are you okay?"

Jake froze for a split second. His hand was instinctively pressed against his side, over the exact spot you had patched up last night.

He jerked it away, shoving both hands into his jean pockets like nothing happened. "Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine," he said, way too fast.

But when he moved, you caught it, just for a second. His shirt had ridden up slightly, and you spotted a white bandage taped carefully over his ribs. You blinked, heart skipping. It looked exactly like the one you’d used last night... the same pattern of gauze and tape.

You opened your mouth to say something, but Jake was already rushing to explain.

"It’s just, uh, some bruising," Jake added, trying to sound casual. "From... y'know. Soccer.”

You raised an eyebrow. "Soccer?"

"Yeah." Jake coughed again, fake, awkward. "Picked the wrong guy to guard, I guess."

You smiled politely, not totally convinced, but decided not to press. "Well, be careful," you said, slinging your bag higher on your shoulder.

"Will do," Jake mumbled, watching as you disappeared down the hall.

As soon as you were out of earshot, Mark grabbed Jake by the shoulders.

"Dude. Dude. What was that?"

Jake shrugged, trying (and failing) to act cool. "Nothing."

"Nothing?! Bro, she was worried about you! That’s not nothing!"

Mark paused, squinting at him. "Wait... why are you even bruised? What happened?"

Jake hesitated. His fingers drummed anxiously against the locker.

Finally, he muttered under his breath, "I saved her last night."

Mark’s jaw dropped. "What?!"

Jake winced. "Keep your voice down, man!"

“You saved her?" Mark repeated, quieter but no less intense. "Like, Spider-Man, you saved her?"

Jake nodded, rubbing the back of his neck, sheepishly. "Yeah. Some guys tried to mug her. I took them out. She... she helped patch me up after."

Mark looked like he was about to explode. "Dude, you have an opening. After years of crushing on her, you can finally make a move!"

Jake just shook his head, a sad little smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

It wasn’t that easy. 

If he wanted to be with you, it had to be as Jake. Not as the hero you thought you knew.

-

It was late. Way past midnight. Your desk lamp buzzed quietly as you sat cross legged on your bed, hunched over your textbook, fighting to stay awake. You had a big exam coming up and your brain was practically melting.

That’s when you heard it.

Tap, tap.

Your head snapped up, heart lurching in your chest. The tapping came again, but it wasn’t from your door. It was your window.

You grabbed the nearest thing, a hairbrush, and crept cautiously toward the sound. And when you peeled back the curtain, you nearly dropped it.

Spider-Man was outside your window. Again.

His mask was on, but he looked... bad. One arm was clutching his side tightly, and even through the dim streetlight you could see the dark smudges of blood soaking through the red and blue suit.

You fumbled the lock open without thinking. He stumbled inside the second you lifted the window, bracing himself against your wall to stay upright.

"Are you okay?!" you gasped, rushing to steady him.

He just gave a shaky little laugh. "Sorry," he rasped. "Didn’t mean to scare you. I just—" He winced sharply. "I didn’t know where else to go."

Your heart twisted painfully at the sight of him. The city’s strongest protector, barely able to stand up straight.

"It’s okay," you said quickly. "You’re fine. I won’t tell anyone, I swear."

You helped him over to your bed, your mind already racing. Grabbing the first aid kit from your bathroom once again, you knelt in front of him, hands shaking only slightly.

You peeled back the torn fabric of his suit, biting your lip hard at the sight underneath. His side was an ugly mess of deep gashes and bruises.

It felt... different this time. More intimate. Last time, you were too caught up in the shock to notice. But now, alone in your bedroom in the middle of the night, with Spider-Man so close, it was impossible not to feel it. The air between you felt thick. Your fingers lingered a little too long against his abdomen as you cleaned the wound, brushing over the planes of muscle stretched tight under his bloodied skin. You were close enough to hear the hitch in his breath when you pressed a little too hard, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body.

It was crazy. He was sneaking into your room in the dead of night, bleeding and broken... and yet, your heart wouldn’t stop hammering in your chest.

"God," you muttered, forcing yourself to focus. "What happened to you?"

"Ran into some bad people tonight," he mumbled, head leaning back against your wall. "Really bad."

You nodded, trying to stay calm.

"You should rest here for the night," you said softly as you worked, wrapping fresh gauze carefully around his ribs. "No one would know. You could leave in the morning."

He just shook his head immediately, voice hoarse. "No, I couldn’t possibly. I’ll... just stay for a little while. Then I’ll go."

You frowned but didn’t argue. His body was tense, muscles trembling slightly under your touch. Still, he let you take care of him. He trusted you to.

"You really should be more careful," you muttered under your breath, taping the last bandage into place. "Your job’s so dangerous. You’re not invincible, you know."

You meant it seriously, but Jake couldn't help it.

Even through the pounding pain in his body, even through the blood loss, he thought you looked adorable trying to lecture him. Your brows were all scrunched up, your voice low and worried. Like you really cared.

He smiled behind the mask, even though you couldn’t see it. “Thanks, I will.”

The room fell into a heavy silence after that.

The soft hum of your desk lamp, the faint city noise from outside, it all faded into the background.

You were fidgeting without realizing it, your fingers nervously picking at the strings of your shorts. You sat on the edge of the bed, stealing quick glances at him, your heart hammering so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

You hesitated, swallowing hard before you finally spoke.

"I..." Your voice cracked slightly, and you cleared your throat, cheeks burning. "I know this is probably really stupid. And I know you probably hear this from... like, every girl you save."

You laughed awkwardly, trying to fill the space, but it just made you more aware of how close you were.

"I just—" You sighed, looking down at your lap. "I couldn’t stop thinking about you. After the first time. The way you saved me... the way you held me. I kept telling myself it was silly. You probably hear stuff like this all the time."

You glanced up at him, expecting him to nod, to laugh it off, to say something charming and easy.

But he just sat there, completely still.

Because the truth was the opposite.

Jake was used to hearing things about Spider-Man, sure, but it wasn’t always admiration. Most of the time it was fear. Hatred. Distrust. People thinking he was a threat, a vigilante who needed to be thrown behind bars. And sure, some people fawned over the idea of Spider-Man, the hero, the fantasy, but they didn’t know him.

Not the real him. Not the messy, human, hurting boy underneath the suit.

But you... You were different. You were real. You were you.

And to him, that meant everything.

He didn’t know what to say. He was completely, utterly speechless.

You must have taken his silence as an opening, because then you shifted, biting your lip. And next thing you knew, you crawled over the bed toward him slowly, carefully.

He barely dared to breathe.

Your hand reached out, trembling slightly, and you hooked your fingers at the bottom of his mask.

"Can I...?" you whispered.

He nodded once, almost imperceptibly.

With a careful touch, you lifted the mask just enough to reveal his mouth and jaw, the rest of his face still hidden in shadows. His lips were parted slightly, breathing shallow, waiting.

You leaned in, so close he could feel the warmth of you against him. You hesitated for half a second, and then you closed the distance.

The kiss was soft at first, almost shy, like both of you were afraid to break the fragile moment. But when he kissed you back, it changed.

His gloved hand rose to cup your cheek, fingers trembling slightly against your skin. You leaned into his touch instinctively, and he pulled you closer, like he couldn’t help himself. The distance between you vanished.

Your lips moved together slowly, languidly, testing, tasting. You parted yours just slightly, and he responded immediately, deepening the kiss.

Your tongues brushed, tentative at first, then with more urgency, clashing softly against each other in a dance that sent shivers down your spine. It wasn’t sloppy or rushed. It was careful, deliberate, like he was memorizing the way you tasted, the way you felt.

There was something raw and electric about the way he kissed you, like he was pouring every ounce of feeling he had ever bottled up into this single moment. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his suit, anchoring yourself to him, and you felt the way he shuddered slightly, like your touch alone was enough to undo him.

The kiss grew deeper, slower, more intense, every second stretching out between you like it was stitched with gold. It was messy in the way that mattered, the way real feelings always were. A kiss that left your head spinning, your lungs aching, your heart pounding so hard you wondered if he could feel it through your chest.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing heavily, your faces still so close your noses brushed. Your forehead dropped gently against his, and you stayed like that for a long, lingering moment, suspended between reality and something else, something dreamlike and electric.

Neither of you spoke. You didn’t have to.

Everything you needed to say was already written between your lips.

-

Ever since that night, things had been different.

You couldn’t quite explain it, but somehow, Spider-Man had become a part of your life in ways you hadn’t anticipated. He wasn’t just the mysterious, masked hero who saved you that one fateful evening anymore, he became someone you talked to.

Sometimes, late at night when you were curled up in bed with your textbooks or scrolling through your phone, he would appear at your window. His silhouette would loom against the glowing city skyline, and you’d unlock it without thinking twice. You didn’t know what it was about him, maybe it was the way he seemed so untouchable yet so real in those brief moments, or maybe it was just how comforting his presence was. But whatever it was, you felt a connection, even if you knew it couldn’t last forever.

It wasn’t always about danger or saving people. Sometimes, it was just the two of you, sitting side by side, talking about the mundane things you both never got to share with anyone else. Sometimes it was silence, comfortable and easy, the kind of silence you’d never felt with anyone before. And sometimes, there were kisses. Soft, tender kisses that lingered for just long enough to make your heart race and your mind spin.

He was still Spider-Man, and you tried to remind yourself of that every time your lips met, every time you felt that spark. But deep down, you knew, you knew that it wasn’t just the thrill of being with a superhero. It was more.

It felt like something real. Something special.

But then, one night, it all stopped.

He didn’t show up.

You tried not to let it get to you. He was Spider-Man, after all. His nights were long, and his duties never rested. Maybe there was just no time for small talk or stolen kisses when he had the city to protect.

You told yourself it was okay. You told yourself that you understood.

But when night after night passed and you sat alone at your window, staring out into the darkness and hoping for a familiar figure to appear, you couldn’t ignore the disappointment that gnawed at you. You didn’t know why you’d gotten so attached to him. Maybe it was just the fact that he was there, that for a moment, he let you into his world. Or maybe it was the way he made you feel like you were the only person that mattered in those fleeting, stolen moments.

But now he was gone.

And you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

You remembered the last time he had come over, and how different that night had felt. You had been sitting together in your bed, his body pressed gently against yours, both of you lying there as if the world didn’t exist outside your room. His hands were intertwined with yours, and the quiet intimacy of the moment felt almost too much to bear.

"I know why you have to keep that mask on," you had said quietly, your voice barely a whisper. "I understand. It’s for your own good." Your fingers had traced small, absent patterns on his hand as you spoke, your mind trying to reconcile the mystery that surrounded him. "But... I can’t help but wonder... what you look like underneath.”

He had hesitated, a flicker of guilt passing through his eyes before he looked away, his gaze drifting towards the window. You felt his fingers tighten around yours, as if unsure whether to speak or to keep it all hidden. The room was silent except for your soft breaths, both of you caught in the unspoken tension.

Finally, he turned back to you, a small, almost sad smile on his lips shown underneath his mask. His voice was low, edged with something you couldn’t quite decipher. "Soon, you’ll find out," he had said, the words hanging heavy in the air.

That had been the last conversation you’d had with him, and now, as the nights stretched on without his visits, you couldn’t shake the thought of what he meant. Soon, you would find out. But until then, all you could do was wait, wondering if he’d ever show his true self to you.

...

Meanwhile, Jake was in his own turmoil.

Every time he visited your window, pretending to be the same Spider-Man who saved you, he felt the weight of his lies crushing him. He couldn’t keep hiding behind the mask. The truth was, he wanted you to see him for who he was. Not as Spider-Man, but as Jake.

The guilt gnawed at him. Every time he saw you, every time his lips touched yours, the shame washed over him, reminding him that he wasn’t being honest with you. You deserved more than this. You deserved the real him, not the superhero persona he wore like a shield.

And so, with all that guilt bubbling up inside of him, Jake decided it was time. He was going to ask you out. Not as Spider-Man. As Jake.

It wasn’t easy for him. He had spent years observing you from afar, watching you laugh with your friends, listening to your stories, memorizing the way you smiled. He had been too shy to ever approach you before, too terrified that you might not see him the way he saw you. But this? This was different. He couldn’t keep pretending any longer. He needed to know if there was a chance. A real chance with you.

So, one afternoon after class, he approached you in the hallway. His heart pounded in his chest, his palms sweating.

"Hey, uh..." Jake said, stumbling over his words, his usual calm demeanor slipping away. He hesitated for a moment, staring at the floor before he finally made eye contact. "Do you want to, I don’t know, hangout together sometime? I could really use a study buddy for the test, and, um... maybe grab some coffee afterward?"

You blinked at him, caught off guard. Jake? Asking you to hang out? You hadn’t spoken much before. He was always the quiet guy in the back of the classroom, a little nerdy and socially distant from everyone. Sure, you knew who he was, but you hadn’t really interacted. The invitation felt... unexpected. But still, he intrigued you.

You tilted your head, considering it for a moment. "Uh... sure? I mean, I guess we could.” You gave him a hesitant smile, unsure of what to expect.

Jake’s face lit up, and for a brief second, you saw a different side of him, the awkward, unsure side of him that was always hidden behind that calm, cool exterior.

He fumbled for his phone, a little nervous, before he handed it to you. "I, uh, I don’t have your number," he said, his voice soft.

You took his phone and entered your number, feeling a mix of curiosity and excitement bubbling up inside you. When you handed it back, he looked at you, trying to hold back a grin. "Cool," he said, his eyes briefly meeting yours. "I’ll text you soon." He gave you a small, awkward smile before turning to leave, his footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway, leaving you standing there, both confused and intrigued.

-

The day of your first official hangout had arrived. You had agreed to meet Jake at a cozy café downtown, something simple and lowkey. There was something about him, something you couldn't quite put your finger on, that had you curious, eager to know more.

You arrived a bit early and found a quiet corner near the window, tapping your fingers nervously on your coffee cup. It wasn’t like you had never hung out with a guy before, but this felt different. You weren’t sure why. Maybe it was because you’d only really interacted with Jake in class, and now you were about to spend time with him outside of that. You knew he was nice, but you’d never thought of him as someone who would ask you out.

When Jake arrived, he looked a little out of place, wearing a simple hoodie, jeans, and glasses, looking like the normal, shy guy you’d seen in school. 

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice soft but warm. He gave you a smile, clearly a little nervous.

“Hey,” you said, trying to sound casual, even though you were feeling a little giddy yourself.

Jake sat down across from you, looking around the café for a moment before settling in. As you both started chatting, you realized how easy it was to talk to him. The conversation flowed naturally, bouncing from classes to random anecdotes, and soon you were laughing together over something silly. His humor wasn’t dry or flashy, and it made you feel comfortable, like you had known him better than you actually did.

But then, your curiosity got the best of you, and you found yourself asking, “So, why did you ask me to hang out? I mean, not that I’m complaining, but it’s kind of... unexpected, right?”

Jake paused, his hand shifting nervously around his coffee cup. You could see a faint blush spreading across his cheeks. "I guess, uh..." He scratched the back of his neck, clearly hesitating. "I was just thinking about how... how we never really get a chance to talk much in class. You know, with everyone around. I thought it might be nice to hang out, just the two of us.”

You couldn’t help but smile, a little flattered by his honesty. You’d always noticed how he kept to himself, but you also knew he was always kind and smart. You liked that about him.

“I’ve always thought you were really pretty. And, well, I wanted to get to know you better. I’ve noticed you a lot, so.”

Your heart warmed at his confession, and you found yourself smiling, even though you didn’t know exactly what to say. You hadn’t expected him to be so open about it. You'd always thought Jake was a quiet guy, but here he was, talking to you like this.

The truth was, you didn’t know why you were so unsure when he asked you out earlier. You should’ve been glad. Jake was obviously attractive, he just didn’t know it. He had all the qualities you’d look for in someone to spend time with. And now, as you sat across from him, listening to him talk about things that made him nervous or awkward, you realized there was something different about him. He didn’t try to impress anyone. He was just... himself.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you replied, unable to hide the smile tugging at your lips. "I mean, you’re kind of a great guy, Jake. Seriously."

Jake smiled, looking almost relieved. "Well, I’m glad you think so."

The rest of the evening was filled with easy conversation. After coffee, you walked around a nearby park, enjoying the cool night air. The longer you spent with him, the more you realized how comfortable you felt. He wasn’t overly confident like some other guys, but he had this attractiveness about him that drew you in. There was a certain charm to the way he made everything feel effortless, even if he was still a little shy. 

As you both walked back toward your apartment, the night had started to grow colder. Jake slowed his pace, and you both stopped at the entrance to your building. There was a moment of silence between you, and you could sense he had something more to say.

“I’m glad you came tonight,” he said quietly, his hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets. “It was... nice to actually hang out without everything feeling like a big deal.”

You nodded, feeling the same way. “I’m glad too. Thanks for inviting me.”

As you both stood there, Jake’s eyes met yours, his gaze soft and full of something unspoken. There was a slight tension in the air, but it felt gentle, like the calm before something significant. You could feel the warmth of his presence, and before you could fully process what was happening, Jake took a step closer, his hand gently brushing your arm.

“Would it be okay,” he began, his voice low and hesitant, “if I kissed you goodnight?”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. It was unexpected but not unwelcome. In fact, you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips, the flutter in your chest as you nodded, too caught up in the moment to think twice.

He closed the space between you, his face soft and vulnerable. His breath was warm against your skin as he leaned in, and everything felt so incredibly intimate. You barely had time to register it before his lips met yours.

The kiss was slow, careful, as if Jake was testing the waters, making sure you felt comfortable. His lips were warm and soft, and you melted into the feeling, the tenderness of the moment overwhelming in the best way. It was a kiss full of uncertainty, but also something more, something that felt real, something you didn’t expect to feel in a first kiss.

But as his lips moved gently against yours, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of familiarity. The way his lips fit against yours, the slight pressure, the way he kissed so softly and carefully, it all felt... right. You almost felt like you’d been here before, like this moment had been rehearsed in some other life, some other time and you had a sudden rush of deja vu. There was an uncanny feeling that you had kissed him before, even though this was your first time.

Your heart beat a little faster, and for a split second, you wondered if you were imagining things. Was it the way he held himself, or was it the way his kiss made you feel as though you'd known him forever? The longer the kiss lasted, the more you found yourself lost in the sensation, until he pulled back ever so slightly, just enough to break the connection but leaving the air charged between you.

You both stayed there for a moment, not saying anything, just staring at each other, your breaths mingling. Jake’s face was flushed, but there was something in his eyes, vulnerable, but genuine. And there you were, standing in the cool night air, still feeling the lingering warmth of his lips on yours.

“Goodnight,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, goodnight,” you replied, your heart still racing. You wanted to say something else, but you couldn’t quite find the words. Instead, you watched him step back, his figure slowly fading into the shadows as he turned and walked away.

But as you stood there, still reeling from the kiss, a strange feeling settled in your chest. The kiss had felt so familiar, so much like something that was always meant to happen, and for the first time, you realized how much more there was to Jake than what you'd seen before.

You turned and entered your apartment, trying to shake the feeling that something significant had just begun. 

-

It had been almost a month now since Jake had asked you out. Each date with him had been easy, comfortable, and filled with moments that made your heart flutter. This was your fourth date, and after grabbing takeout from your favorite local spot, you invited him over to hang out for the evening. Your parents were surprisingly laid back about it, so after a brief but pleasant introduction, they gave you both some privacy.

Now, Jake was sitting on your bed next to you, his side pressed against yours as you both snacked on the food, laughing over some inside joke you had long forgotten the origin of. As the day grew longer, you couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of contentment. There was a lightness in your chest, a kind of peace you didn’t often feel, like this was exactly where you were meant to be.

You had never thought that this would be where you’d end up. When you first met Jake, he’d been just another classmate, a little shy, a little reserved, but undeniably kind. You didn’t even think about Spider-Man anymore, your thoughts were entirely consumed by Jake. Now, he was becoming a constant in your life, and you couldn’t imagine not having him around. The way he looked at you, the way he smiled when he made you laugh, it made everything seem a little brighter.

You glanced over at him, and the sight of his grin made your heart skip a beat. You could tell he was happy too, his eyes crinkling at the edges in that familiar, contagious smile.

"You know," you said, a teasing tone slipping into your voice, "I’m really glad you made a move on me."

Jake’s face lit up, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Well, I’d like to think I had a pretty good reason to," he said, his voice full of that same warmth you’d come to love.

You rolled your eyes playfully, leaning in a little closer to him. "Yeah, you definitely did," you teased, resting your head on his shoulder as you continued to laugh. The feeling in your chest was warm, comforting, a happiness that seemed to fill the air around you.

For a moment, it was just the two of you, no outside distractions, just the easy comfort of each other’s presence. Your fingers brushed against his, and you couldn’t help but feel that familiar pull between you, the kind you had felt ever since the first time you kissed him. There was a sweetness to it, an innocence that felt right.

But as you both continued to giggle, the laughter slowly faded into something softer. You found yourself looking up at him, eyes meeting his in a way that felt more intense than before. You both fell into a silence, the tension between you palpable now.

Without thinking, you reached up, your hand gently cupping his jaw. You pulled him toward you, your lips meeting his in a soft, lingering kiss. It started slow, tender, like you were savoring each moment. But then, as your lips moved together, the kiss deepened.

Jake’s hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss became more urgent, more passionate. His lips pressed against yours with more intensity, and you felt a spark of something deeper ignite in your chest. The way his touch lingered on your skin, the way his lips moved against yours, everything about this felt so right. It wasn’t just the chemistry you’d felt from the start, it was something more, something that had been building between you two without either of you realizing it.

You responded instinctively, your hands threading through his hair as the kiss became more sensual. The world around you seemed to fade away. It was just you and Jake, caught in this moment that felt so real, so powerful. His breath hitched slightly as you deepened the kiss further, and for a moment, everything else, the outside world, the worries, the questions, vanished. All that mattered was here, right now, in this quiet, intimate moment.

The kiss slowed eventually, but neither of you pulled away. You were both breathless, caught in the aftermath of something more than just a kiss, something that left you feeling dizzy with anticipation and warmth.

You reached up, tracing the sharp angle of his jaw, the slight stubble that prickled your fingertips. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, a silent question in their depths. You answered by leaning in, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. His tongue teased the seam of your lips, begging for entry. You obliged, a soft moan escaping you as his tongue met yours, dancing, exploring, claiming. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the intense, overwhelming dance of desire.

Jake's hand descended, his fingers tracing the curve of your collarbone, the swell of your breasts, before coming to rest at the hem of your shirt. His eyes, still locked onto yours, asked for permission, a silent question that hung heavy in the air. You responded by arching into his touch, a subtle movement that spoke volumes. He took it as the green light it was, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric, his knuckles brushing against your bare skin. A shiver ran through you, your breath hitching as his touch grew bolder, his hand sliding up to cup your breast, his thumb finding your nipple and circling it with maddening slowness.

Your hands, exploratory and eager, mirrored his, mapping out the planes of his chest, the ridges of his abs. You could feel the heat of his skin, the taut muscles beneath, the way his breath hitched as you traced the waistband of his jeans. He was hard, his erection pressing against your hip, a testament to his desire. 

You wanted to touch him, to feel him, but you also wanted to take your time, to draw out this delicious torture. So, you contented yourself with exploring, your fingers tracing the lines of his body, your lips following the path your hands had taken, leaving a trail of soft kisses and gentle bites. He groaned, his head tilting back, giving you better access, his body trembling with the effort to maintain control. The room was filled with the sounds of your ragged breaths, the soft moans and groans that escaped your lips, the rustle of fabric as you continued your slow, sensual exploration. The tension between you was palpable, a live wire ready to snap, the anticipation almost unbearable, yet you both reveled in it, drawing out the moment, lost in the slow burn of your desire.

Your nipples began to harden into peaks beneath the thin fabric of your shirt. He took advantage, his thumbs brushing over them, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You could feel the heat building between your legs, your panties growing damp with your arousal. You gasped, begging for more. 

He obliged, his thumb and forefinger rolling and pinching them gently, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You moaned, your head falling back, your hair cascading down like a waterfall of chestnut waves. He took advantage, his mouth finding yours, his tongue delving in, exploring, dancing with yours. 

He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "You're so responsive," he murmured, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine. "It's like you were made for me to touch." You couldn't respond, your mind foggy with desire, your body aching for more. He seemed to understand, his hands continuing their exploration, his lips finding that sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder, sucking gently, marking you.

You pulled back, your breath ragged, eyes locked with his. His pupils were dilated, the irises a stormy sea of desire. You reached for the hem of your top, a silent invitation. He understood, his hands covering yours, helping you pull it off. Your bra followed suit, his eyes darkening further at the sight of your naked breasts. 

He leaned in, his mouth capturing one taut peak, his tongue swirling, tasting. You gasped, your head falling back, giving him better access. His hands, meanwhile, were busy unbuttoning your jeans, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin of your stomach, making you squirm. The anticipation was killing you, but you knew he was taking his time, drawing out the pleasure, making this a slow burn you'd never forget.

You reached for him, your hands finding the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head in one fluid motion. Your breath caught at the sight of him, his chest lean and muscular, a light dusting of hair trailing down to the waistband of his jeans. You leaned in, pressing a kiss to his chest, your tongue darting out to taste his skin. He groaned, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer. 

You could feel him, hard and ready, pressing against you. The knowledge that you had that effect on him spurred you on, your hands roaming, exploring, learning the planes and angles of his body. He let you, his head thrown back, his eyes closed, a look of pure pleasure on his face. 

The room filled with the sound of your ragged breaths and soft moans, a symphony of your growing desire. Jake's hands continued their exploration, tracing the curve of your waist, the flare of your hips, dipping into the hollow of your belly button. You shivered, your skin erupting in goosebumps as his fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down, leaving you bare to his heated gaze. He didn't rush, taking his time, his eyes never leaving yours, a silent conversation passing between you. 

Then, he lowered himself, his shoulders pushing your thighs apart, his breath hot on your most intimate place. You whimpered, your fingers gripping the sheets, your body tense with anticipation. Then, his mouth found your center, his tongue flicking out, tasting, teasing, driving you to the brink of madness.

To be honest, Jake had no idea what he was doing. He didn't have any sexual experience and he was basing all of his movements off of pure desire and instinct. However, you weren’t any more experienced, so each gentle touch and careful caress felt absolutely perfect.

Your back arched off the bed as Jake's tongue delved deeper, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you in place. You moaned, your fingers twisting in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him on. He whimpered at the foreign taste, vibrating against you, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins. "Jake," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper, "Please..." Your plea was lost in a cry of ecstasy as he found that sensitive spot, his tongue circling, pressing, teasing. Your hips bucked, your body yearning for more, for him. 

He responded, one hand sliding up your body, cupping your breast, his thumb rubbing against your nipple, sending sparks of pleasure shooting straight to your core.

As your body trembled on the edge of release, Jake slowed his movements, his tongue tracing languid patterns, his hand gentling its touch. You gasped, fingers tangling in the soft strands as you held on for dear life. 

The room filled with the sounds of your pleasure, your moans echoing off the walls, a symphony of your growing arousal. Jake's exploring hands, gripped your thighs, holding you in place, his mouth continuing its relentless assault.

Your breath hitched as you felt a finger slip inside you, then another, your body stretching to accommodate him. He curved them slightly, hitting that sweet spot that made your eyes roll back in your head. 

His hands, those clever, gentle hands, held your hips down, preventing you from squirming away, not that you wanted to. Every stroke, every lick, every suck was a testament to his patience, his control, and his unwavering desire to make you feel. You gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him on. He responded with another groan, the vibration against your sensitive flesh pushing you closer to the edge. You could feel it, the coil tightening in your core, your breaths coming in short, sharp gasps.

"Jake," you whispered, his name a plea on your lips. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire, his mouth glistening with your essence. It was one of the most erotic sights you'd ever seen, and it sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you. "I need you," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. 

He crawled up your body, his hands trailing fire in their wake, his erection pressing against your thigh. You could see the restraint in his eyes, the tightness of his jaw, and it fueled your desire. You reached between your bodies, wrapping your hand around him, feeling him pulse in your grip. He groaned, his head falling to your shoulder, his hips moving in time with your strokes. 

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, concern lacing his voice. "I don’t have a condom with me."

"I don't care," you breathed out urgently. "I need you right now Jake."

And with that, he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled his briefs down just low enough, and positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes locked onto yours, ready to take you to new heights of pleasure.

Jake's breath hitched as you guided him, your thumb circling the sensitive tip, spreading the bead of moisture that had gathered there. He watched you through hooded eyes, his pupils dilating with every pass of your thumb, as he slipped it in.

You gasped as Jake slowly pushed into you, his thickness stretching you deliciously. His eyes never left yours, the connection deepening with every inch he claimed. You felt a sense of vulnerability, but also an intense intimacy, like he was seeing into the very core of your being. He paused, allowing you to adjust, his thumb brushing away a tear you hadn't realized had fallen. 

He began to move, slowly, torturously, a delicious friction building with each inch. You could feel every ridge, every pulse, as he filled you. He groaned, his hands finding yours, intertwining them together as he pinned them above your head. "Jake," you moaned, your body arching into his pleasure building like a storm. He captured your mouth, his tongue mimicking the slow, deliberate thrusts of his hips, and in that moment, you knew this was more than just physical. This was the slow burn, the tension filled dance, the promise of a love story just beginning.

Then suddenly with no warning, his hips were snapping forward as he sheathed himself fully within you. A moan escaped your lips, your back arching, pressing your breasts against his chest.

Jake's glasses fogged up, a testament to his exertion, as he continued to drive into you, his movements becoming jerky, his control fraying.

He was a sight to behold, his usually neat hair now a rumpled mess, his cheeks flushed, and his lips swollen from your kisses. The sight of him, so vulnerable and yet so powerful, sent a fresh wave of desire coursing through you. You reached up, tracing the bridge of his nose, the cool metal of his glasses contrasting with the heat of his skin. They began to wobble, trembling with the force of his thrusts. He lifted a shaky hand toward his face, about to slip the glasses off, until you reached out and steadied them. "Keep them on," you whispered.

He nodded obediently, his hand falling back to your sides as he continued to ram into you.

He let out another whimper, his hips stuttering as he tried to hold back. "Fuck," he whined, his forehead leaning against yours. “It feels too good.” He captured your mouth once more, his kiss demanding, and messy. You gasped, your body arching into his touch, your nails digging into his back. 

Jake threw his head back, his own release imminent. The sight of him, so vulnerable and exposed, sent a fresh wave of desire crashing through you. You could see the strain in his jaw, the way his eyebrows furrowed as he fought for control. Your hands, still tangled in his hair, gently guided his face to your neck, allowing him to nip and suck at your skin, leaving little marks of his possession. The room filled with the sound of your ragged breaths and the wet, slick noises of your bodies coming together, a symphony of desire that played just for the two of you.

You leaned forward, capturing one of his nipples in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the hardened peak. He let out a guttural groan, his pace faltering as he fought to maintain control. "Fuck, Y/n," he gasped, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling you back to his mouth. "I'm going to... I'm going to come."

You could feel him swelling inside you, his body tensing as he struggled to hold back. But you wanted him to let go, to give in to the pleasure. "Come, Jake," you whispered against his lips, "I want to feel you."

With a final, shuddering thrust, he did, his body convulsing as he spilled into you, his cries of pleasure filling the room. 

He let out a guttural roar, his body convulsing as he spilled into you. You felt each hot pulse, your body milking him for every last drop. Your own orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, your body arching off the bed, your fingers digging into his back. You could feel every inch of him, every ridge, every vein, as he jerked inside you, his body shuddering with the force of his release.

He collapsed on top of you, his body spent, his breath coming in ragged gasps. 

You could feel his heartbeat, fast and frantic, matching your own. His glasses were askew, one lens filled with steam, the other reflecting the soft glow of the room.

As the echoes of your shared release faded, Jake collapsed onto the bed beside you, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. You turned to him, a soft smile playing on your lips as you reached up to push his glasses back up his nose. He caught your hand, bringing it to his lips, his eyes never leaving yours. "You're incredible," he murmured, his voice still ragged from your previous lovemaking.

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, not just from the physical pleasure, but from the emotional connection that was growing between you. 

This was more than just sex, more than just a casual encounter. This was the beginning of something deeper, something real. And as you leaned in to kiss him, you knew that this was just the start of a journey that promised to be filled with passion, love, and a lifetime of exploration.

-

Jake sat on the edge of his bed, running a hand through his messy hair, still looking dazed from everything that had happened. Mark, sprawled out lazily on Jake’s desk chair, tossed a small rubber ball into the air and caught it with a loud slap.

“So…” Mark started, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You finally slept with her.”

Jake groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Dude, don't say it like that.”

Mark laughed. “What? I’m just saying! Took you long enough. But seriously,” his tone shifted, dropping the teasing, “you have to tell her.”

Jake stayed quiet, his hands still pressed into his face.

“Jake,” Mark said more firmly, leaning forward, “you have to tell her.”

“I know,” Jake muttered through his hands, voice muffled but heavy with guilt.

Mark leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms. “So what’s stopping you? You’re literally Spider-Man. You’re, like, the coolest guy ever.”

Jake lifted his head and gave Mark a hollow look. “Exactly.”

Mark frowned, confused.

Jake sighed, rubbing his jaw. “I’m scared, man. I’m scared that once she knows it’s me under the mask... she’ll think I'm just... not as cool. That she won’t see Spider-Man as this hero anymore and me as... some loser who lied to her.”

Mark scoffed. “You’re not a loser. You’re Jake. You’re the guy she likes. Not the mask. Not the suit.”

Jake shook his head slowly, voice low and raw. “It’s not just that. It’s the lying. I’ve been lying to her from the start. Every kiss, every late night conversation. She trusted Spider-Man... not Jake.”

The ball Mark had been tossing dropped to the floor with a soft thud. He stood up, seriousness written all over his face now. “You can’t keep this secret, man. It’s been what, more than a month since you first went to her window? Since you first kissed her?”

Jake swallowed hard.

Mark clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re not protecting her by hiding the truth anymore. You’re just protecting yourself.”

Jake knew he was right. Deep down, he’d known for a while. But hearing it out loud made his chest tighten painfully.

He had to tell you. No matter how scared he was. No matter what it would cost him.

You deserved the truth.

That’s why Jake found himself back here, dressed head to toe in his suit, lurking in the shadows outside your window once again. He had to tell you. He couldn’t put it off any longer.

He shifted nervously on the rooftop, his heart pounding harder than it ever did during any fight. Finally, he moved to your window, raising a gloved hand to tap softly against the glass.

You were just about to settle into bed when you heard it, that familiar, soft tap.

Your heart stopped. You didn’t even have to look. You already knew who it was.

For a moment, you just stood there, frozen in place, a million emotions crashing down on you at once. Betrayal. Confusion. Anger. But... also a terrible, aching kind of relief. And as much as you hated to admit it, you missed him.

Gathering the courage you didn’t know you had, you moved toward the window, your hands trembling slightly as you reached out and unlocked it. Slowly, you pushed it open, and there he was. Spider-Man. Crouched just beyond the frame, the city lights outlining him in silver and gold.

He started to speak, voice hesitant. "Y/n—"

But you cut him off sharply, unable to hold it in anymore. "You don’t get to just show up here like nothing happened," you said, your voice tight with hurt. "You left. You left without saying anything. I waited for you. Every night, I waited, wondering if you were okay, if you were ever coming back. But you never did."

Jake flinched under the mask. Every word hit him like a gut punch. He opened his mouth again, desperate to explain, but then you said something that made his words catch in his throat.

"But..." you continued, your voice shaking slightly, "I can't wait for you anymore."

He stared at you, not daring to move.

"I started seeing someone," you said, barely above a whisper. "He's... he's really great. He cares about me. He makes me happy. And... I really, really like him."

"Oh yeah?" he rasped. "What's his name?"

You hesitated, as if saying it out loud made it all real.

 "Jake," you said quietly. "Jake Sim.”

As much as your words were meant to sting, he couldn’t help but feel a wave of relief. Even without knowing the full truth, you were choosing Jake, ending whatever you had with Spider-Man for him. For him, even though they were one and the same.

The silence that followed was so heavy, so absolute, it was almost unbearable.

You took a shaky breath and continued, "I'm starting to get somewhere with him. It feels real. It feels good. So I'm sorry, but... you can't come to my window anymore. We can't... we can't talk anymore."

There was a long beat of silence and you were about to close your window and go back inside.

Then, without saying a word, Jake lifted his hand to the sides of his mask. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched, frozen, as he slowly peeled it off.

And when he did... Your jaw dropped.

It was Jake. Jake Sim.

The boy who used to pass you in the halls, quiet and reserved. The boy who rarely looked anyone in the eye. The boy who made love to you so passionately.

He was Spider-Man. He was the one who had been at your window all those nights. He was the one you kissed under the city stars.

The room spun a little as you tried to process it all, your heart thundering in your chest, your mind screaming with disbelief.

Jake just stood there, holding the mask in his hands, his expression open, raw, and painfully vulnerable.

He was scared. Scared of how you would look at him now. Scared that you wouldn’t look at him at all.

He opened his mouth, voice rough with emotion. "I’m sorry, Y/N. I should’ve told you sooner."

You blinked at him, your mouth opening and closing as you tried, and failed, to find words. Your mind was a complete blur. Spider-Man. Jake. They were the same person.

How? How had you not seen it? You pressed a hand to your forehead, trying to breathe, trying to think through the whirlwind of feelings crashing into you all at once.

All those strange little things you'd noticed but brushed off at the time, they came rushing back to you, loud and clear.

The way being with Jake had always felt familiar, even when you barely knew him. The way his voice had this soft, distinct tone that you had heard before but couldn’t quite place.

Or that day when you had caught Jake sporting the same exact wound you had patched up on Spider-Man when the night before. You had chalked it up to coincidence. You hadn’t let yourself question it. But now? Now it all clicked into place with dizzying clarity.

Jake saw the confusion written all over your face. His shoulders sagged, and he gave a small, broken laugh. "I know," he said quickly, shaking his head. "Don't worry, I get it. I get why you're freaking out. And... I know I never should’ve made a move on you first as Spider-Man. I should’ve just... just been honest and done it as Jake." He ran a hand through his hair, clearly struggling. "The whole situation was just so complicated, and I didn’t know what to do. I was scared that if I told you the truth, you’d see me differently. Or worse, you’d want him—" he gestured vaguely to the suit, "—and not me."

You stayed silent, heart breaking a little at the way he looked so small, so ashamed.

"I get it if you don’t think I’m cool anymore," he said quietly, avoiding your eyes. "I know I’m not. Without the suit, I'm just... me. I'm not that fearless or confident guy you thought you knew. I’m just Jake. And if you don't like me anymore because of that, I understand."

You finally found your voice, hoarse but certain. "Jake..." He glanced up at you, guarded, waiting for the inevitable rejection.

"No," you said firmly, taking a step closer to him. "Of course not. I’m obviously shocked because—God—this is so much to take in. But this doesn’t make me like you any less."

You saw the disbelief flicker in his eyes.

"You're still you," you said, voice softening. "The guy who’s kind and funny and awkward and... honestly, way cooler than you think you are. The suit doesn't change that. It never did."

Jake stared at you like he didn’t dare believe it, his hands still clutching the mask at his side, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

You moved even closer, until you were right in front of him. And then, without thinking too hard about it, you reached out and gently took his free hand in yours.

"You’re Jake," you said again, your voice breaking just a little. "And that’s all I ever really wanted."

Jake looked at you like you had just pulled him out of a storm he thought he’d drown in. Like he couldn't believe someone would still choose him, him, even after seeing the truth. His eyebrows knitted together, his lips parting slightly like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.

"Are you sure?" he asked, voice small, almost scared.

You nodded without hesitation, your hand tightening around his. "Of course I’m sure."

For a moment, he just stared at you, eyes wide and glassy like he was memorizing every detail of your face. Then, without warning, he surged forward and kissed you. Hard, desperate, almost clumsy with how badly he needed it. You met him halfway, your fingers curling into the fabric of his suit, pulling him closer like you never wanted to let go.

Every emotion you had tried to make sense of, fear, anger, confusion, relief, love, poured out into that kiss. You kissed him like you were telling him he was enough. You kissed him like you were telling yourself that this was real.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you slightly breathless, Jake rested his forehead against yours, his hands still cupping your cheeks like he couldn’t bear to stop touching you. His voice was low and serious when he spoke next, almost a whisper meant only for you.

"I need you to know," he said, his thumb tracing slow, grounding circles on your skin, "being in a relationship with me... it’s gonna be a lot more complicated than a normal one. I mean, obviously I’ve never been in one before, but —" he gave a small, nervous laugh, "— I can assume." 

You smiled, your heart so full it almost hurt.

"I won’t have a lot of time for you at night," Jake continued, his brows furrowing like he hated even admitting it. "You know, Spider-Man stuff. And... you can’t tell anyone. About me. About this."

You reached up, placing your hand over his, squeezing it. "Jake," you said softly but firmly, "I don’t care what it takes. I want to be with you. I want you."

He closed his eyes for a second, like he was holding onto your words, like they were something he never thought he’d be lucky enough to hear. And then he kissed you again. Slower, deeper, more certain. It was the kind of kiss that made your whole body hum with happiness, the kind of kiss that made all the confusion and hurt fade away.

When you finally pulled away, you couldn't help but laugh a little, shaking your head as the absurdity of everything hit you.

"I just can’t believe I had sex with Spider-Man," you said with a teasing smirk.

Jake's face flushed bright red as he groaned and buried his face against your shoulder in embarrassment. "Don’t say it like that," he mumbled, voice muffled.

You burst out laughing, the kind of breathless, giddy laughter that you only had when you were truly, stupidly happy. Jake started laughing too, his arms wrapping tighter around you like he couldn't believe you were real.

For a while, you just stayed there, tangled up together by your window, holding each other as the city buzzed quietly below. No masks. No secrets. Just Jake and you.

And it was enough.

-

Things with Jake were good. Really good. Your parents loved him. Your mom would always gush about how polite he was, and your dad had already invited him to watch a game together. His parents were just as warm, treating you like you had always been a part of their lives.

Of course, you didn’t get to see him a whole lot, especially at night. But you didn’t mind. You learned to love the little moments you guys shared. A stolen lunch between classes, quick texts during the day, and your favorite of all: sneaking a goodnight kiss at your window before he whipped away into the night.

Dating Spider-Man was amazing in its own way. The secrecy, the hidden smiles, the little inside jokes no one else could ever guess. It only added to the thrill.

It wasn't exactly the most normal relationship, but you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

[ruesol]

catalyst - chapter 2

Life has many twists and turns- yours included getting rejected from med school and ending up as a manager for your burnt-out pro boxer ex-boyfriend. (sukuna x fem!reader)

fanfic masterlist

It had been two years since you had seen and felt Sukuna’s naked body. Two years too long. You never realized how much you missed out on his life when your hands began to roam around his shoulders. He had gotten bigger and firmer. His body was always much larger than yours, but this was on a different level. He was an athlete, after all. Shoulders that were once just broad were now bulging with muscles. His arms almost looked like water waves, subtly flexing with every movement. He was thicker than an average man. 

You couldn’t help but wonder if he could bench press you. He did once before, but now it probably would’ve been like lifting a feather.

His fingers and knuckles were rougher than the ones you were used to, probably because of all the sparring and weight training. Most of his body was now covered in harsh black tattoos. The ones beneath his eyes stood out the most because they matched Yuuji’s scars. You wanted to ask what they meant, but you kept quiet, still resenting him for never reaching out after the breakup. Unprofessional, but could you blame yourself, especially with how things have been going lately? 

Unlike you, Sukuna was surprisingly civil after learning that you would live with him. Simply nodded and gave you a brief run down of where everything was in the high-rise apartment. He didn’t even ask why you, of all people, were suddenly helping him. Uraume was surprised but didn’t press on the matter as much.

“You’ve lost weight.” You could feel the vibrations of his rich and husky voice through the washcloth that you were scrubbing across his chest. Your first task as a ‘highly involved’ manager was to give him a sponge bath after his discharge from the hospital. His shoulder was still healing from the dislocation, so he had to wear a cast. “Hope you weren’t studying too hard.”

His comments fall deaf to your ears as you wring the washcloth in the bathtub. You silently wrap him in a warm fluffy towel and mutter a simple ‘up’ so you could clean the foam surrounding the ledge he was sitting on. You could feel his red eyes burning holes into your skull as you wiped down the area. He stayed in the bathroom the entire time you cleaned up the space, almost like he was waiting for you to guide him back to his room despite being perfectly capable of walking.

You thought he was just messing with you like he did back when you were together, but no, he was just looking at all the changes in your body after not seeing you for so long. It’s not like you had social media so he could look up your appearance. 

Sukuna wanted to send a private investigator after you. Still, he knew it was unethical (also because he was afraid he’d find out if you were in a serious relationship. He wouldn't know what to do with himself if it was true).

You groaned as you stood back up, stretching to relieve the pain in your back. “Your back still hurts? I’ve told you so many times that your posture sucks while you’re studying.” His looming presence just had you more annoyed. 

“You should rest.” You subtly tried to suggest that you wanted to be left alone.

“And you should show a little respect. You work for me now.” 

“Uraume’s my boss. Not you.” You were really working up a sweat, and you couldn’t tell if it was because of the humidity in the bathroom or if you were raging on the inside. What made him think he could act all holier than thou after two years of no contact? Especially after being an asshole while breaking up. It’s like you could still see that side of him when you looked into his eyes. “I’ll have dinner ready after my shower.” And with that, you left the bathroom.

-

Preparing dinner was a dull affair. Uraume told you that you need not cook for Sukuna as he had a nutritionist who had created a meal plan for him and a chef who strictly adhered to it. All you had to do was store and heat the meals after the chef delivered them. Uraume also had the courtesy of having meals cooked for you, the same as Sukuna, but yours were more indulgent (more dipping sauces and fewer veggies). You were glad your job was simpler than you expected. In this economy, free accommodation and less money spent on groceries were a blessing.

You opened the disposable box of food for Sukuna, and it had all the things required for a balanced diet. It makes sense; his management probably doesn’t want him to lose or gain too much weight while recovering. It was the basics: half an avocado for healthy fats, grilled salmon for protein, lots of veggies for fiber, and an unimaginable amount of black beans with rice. Funny, did his nutritionist not know that he disliked them? Unlike him, you never had an issue with the legume, so you took some out of his box and put them in yours. So what if he had fewer beans for dinner? The man was injured, and as much as you resented him, you weren’t going to be a monster with him.

Sukuna entered the kitchen, sans t-shirt. You didn’t bother asking him why he was half-naked because you knew his reasoning would be something about you already knowing what his bare body looked like. 

Not with all the new muscles you didn’t. But you brushed that thought aside. 

“Is that my old shirt?”

You looked down and noticed that your oversized t-shirt was indeed his. It must’ve been in the back of your closet while the movers had brought in all your stuff. You had a lot of oversized clothes, but by some miracle, you happened to wear one that belonged to your ex. Your ears felt hot with humiliation. 

“I didn’t realize it. Must’ve forgotten to throw it away.” You said while setting up your plates. “It’s fine. Keep it. Haven’t thought about that shirt since… well- whatever. Just keep it.” He almost said it. He almost talked about it out loud. It felt weird hearing about it after so long. It shouldn’t be this strange. The breakup was a mutual decision that you both made and though it was something you had done out of pure frustration and anger, it was still something you both had done together. Pretending like it never happened was just never going to work. Not when you were meant to be with him 24/7.

However, you decided to push that conversation for another day. If it’s meant to happen, then it’ll happen; there’s no point in rushing it. You slid your plate next to your former lover’s seat on the dining table, and he said nothing when he noticed that he had fewer beans than you. Thank goodness. He didn’t need to know that you were still a little soft for him despite all the prickliness of the past.

You were about to lift your fork to eat when Sukuna loudly cleared his throat. “Aren’t you gonna feed me?” he flatly asked. 

“I’m not your-” you were about to tell him off, but then you remembered that his dominant hand was in a cast. 

“- sorry.” Embarrassed once again, you picked his fork up to feed him a piece of broccoli. “Sprinkle a little salt on that,” he said while chewing, giving you quite a gross view of the ground vegetable in his mouth. You held back your grimacing for the sake of your job and did as he asked. He grinned when you placed a salted broccoli in his mouth. “Now, give me a little salmon with that.” 

“Sukuna, can you please chew with your mouth closed,” you said while cutting out a bite-sized piece of his salmon. “You still love nagging me, huh? Also, cut a bigger piece. My mouth’s bigger than yours, hon.” 

You glared at him through your lashes and swore you could almost see him smile. Not the genuine kind, but the type that made you want to slap his face. His gorgeous, chiseled face. The one that once looked at you with everlasting love. You squeezed your eyes shut to escape your stupid daydreams. 

The past is past. You’re now in front of an egotistical dumbass. Not your lovable ex.

You cut up a bigger piece of salmon and tried your best to stop yourself from shoving it into his mouth. “That’s more like it,” he mumbled (after chewing since you had so respectfully asked). 

If only you knew that Sukuna was ambidextrous because he had broken his dominant hand while sparring too many times.

-

The last task for the day was icing his bruises for a few minutes before bed. Sukuna was sitting on his bed, head facing you while you were close enough to stand between his legs. He ignored his urge to pull you into his embrace for his sanity. After preparing the ice pack, you pressed it on his purple and yellowing bruises. Uraume had told you that he refused any kind of treatment back at the hospital, so they were getting worse. 

They weren’t wrong; you could see the pain on Sukuna’s face after he had neglected his wounds for so long. He had a particularly gnarly one beneath his left pec, and you bent down to reach it properly. Your head was below his chin, and he could smell your shampoo.

Strawberries. He noted that you still hadn’t changed your shampoo. You were always a stickler for consistency. He began to feel nostalgic as he remembered that there was a time when he used to smell like the same shampoo after staying at your place. His mind drifted to when you both showered together for the first time, how you lathered the shampoo in your hand and carefully massaged it on his scalp. No masseuse or physiotherapy had ever been that relaxing for him compared to the magic in your hands. He remembered how his pillow would smell like you for hours after you’d leave his place. Now, seeing you here was getting him worked up. Would his house begin to smell like your perfume now that you were here? He wanted to set fire to all your clothes and only let you wear his if it meant that all his clothes would smell like you. Two years have gone by, and he still feels like he wants to inject you in his veins.

All while Sukuna was in his nostalgic dreamland, you were trying your best not to focus on his pebbled nipples, courtesy of the ice pack.

—

taglist: @sukubusss @kyo-kyo1 @kensqueent @totallygyomeiswife

[hazbin-writings-and-musings]

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader Romance Headcanons

Some very random and very silly little headcanons about being in a relationship with the King of Hell, and likely the beginning of many more as I learn how to write for this darling cartoon that has consumed my entire brain.

- He's one of the greatest flirts of all time, but with one enormous caveat: he has no ability to consciously flirt with anyone he's interested in. Quips and charming smiles come easy when he wants to banter with friends or taunt a foe, but when he starts to get feelings for you and actually attempts to be smooth, everything falls apart. All traces of his grace, power, and quick wit evaporate the instant he pulls his first move, and it only worsens the more flustered he becomes. His first attempt goes so badly that by the end more than a few things are on fire, and neither of you is entirely sure how. Thankfully, your receptiveness despite the disasters will build his confidence; and while he's never quite as smooth as when he's not trying, he does learn to make use of his charms whenever the moment calls for it.

- While at first he'll keep your relationship on the extreme down low, to the point of avoiding public dates and shows of affection, this is only so he can take the time to be sure you know and can fully agree to what you're getting into. Dating Lucifer Morningstar comes with a great many risks that don't ever go away, and he needs you to understand that while he'll do anything to keep you safe, your life will change forever once word gets out. The people of Hell are going to want to know all about their King's new lover, and he has more than a few enemies on multiple planes of existence you'll have to be wary of. As soon as he's convinced you're aware of the risks and accept them regardless, be prepared for him to make up for lost time and then some. He wants to take you on dates to Hell's most premier establishments, to have you on his arm for every single public appearance, and to proudly and boldly declare you to be his love whenever the opportunity presents itself.

- Genuine compliments go a long way with this man. Though he's got a very healthy sense of pride, he still very much enjoys praise, to the point of nearly giddy delight if he gets it from someone he's crushing on. This goes double if you catch him off guard. Expressing your awe when he unceremoniously summons a mundane item out of thin air will fluster him far more readily than even the most lascivious of flirtations, and he'll be riding the emotional high for the better part of a week. Praising his appearance has an even greater impact, and nothing puts a spring in his step quite like hearing how much you like his hair.

- Touch is one of his preferred love languages, second only to gifts and song. He likes to give as much as he does to receive, but as he's a little starved for affection, you'll find him very disproportionately affected by even the most chaste contact. The first time you try looping your arm through his, laying a hand on his shoulder, and even brushing up to his side he'll be deliriously happy. Once the gates are open, however, you can expect him to start initiating and upping the ante quite rapidly. He'll start taking your hand when it's available, cupping the small of your back as you walk at his side, and even pulling you in with his wings for a feathery embrace, and he doesn't stop there. Eventually, if you're amicable, he'll gladly offer his lap anytime you need a seat. This goes double if you're in public.

- Giving gifts is one of his favorite ways to express affection, but he doesn't just do so willy nilly, even if anything you could ask for will be provided in a heartbeat. Rather, he likes to surprise you by gifting something that you didn't even know you needed, and will spend a great deal of time noting what you need help with and drafting ideas to meet that need until he has the perfect solution. Being a craftsman with eons of experience and angelic powers means he can construct anything in the realm of imagination, and he'll use his skills to tune his creation to your particular tastes. All of this is done in secret to ensure you're surprised when he finally presents his creation. No matter how many hours he spends laboring over these gifts, your surprise and joy always makes it all worth it in the end.

[lillithsalvatore]

million dollar man

pairing: royal!jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader

summary: the price of loving a million dollar man, a prince

warning: modern royal au!, mention of cheating, angst, minor dni, cursing, asshole jace (?), cried. like and reblog are appreciated!! my 1st imagine, please be nice!!

---

"Did you fuck her, Jace? Answer me!" you demanded your soon-to-be-husband, your voice trembling with anger as you stared at Jace, eyes burning with rage. In your hand was a newspaper from a well-known publication, which you held up in front of him. A news about him with his 'childhood bestfriend'

When Jace finally confessed, nearly shouting, "Once, just once, and I fucking regreted it" your heart tightened. His admission felt like a powerful blow to the trust and pride you had invested in him. Your anger intensified, but beneath it all, a deep sadness began to take hold of your mind.

"Once?" You gave a bitter smile. "Even once is fucking enough to destroy everything we had, Jace."

Jace looked at you with regretful eyes, but that only made you feel more exhausted. "Do you know? I trusted you more than I trusted myself. And you betrayed that trust for a moment of weakness."

"Y/n…" Jace began, trying to approach you, but you raised your hand to stop him.

"Don't!" you choked out, but your voice remained firm. "Don't make this worse Jace”

You took a deep breath, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. "I loved you sincerely, but love cannot continue when trust has been shattered."

Finally, you turned away, heading toward the door,

"I hope you never make anyone else feel the way I did."

Jace stood there, frozen, feeling the pain in every word you spoke. He realized that you were not just angry about the betrayal, but also about feeling disregarded, pushed aside in a relationship where you had poured all your heart and soul.

"Y/n, I'm sorry, —" Jace said, his voice trembling, but you couldn't bear to hear any more. Apologies at this point only deepened the pain.

"Don't apologize, Jace," you replied, your voice breaking with sobs. "Sorry doesn't change anything. You chose her over me, It's always been her, Jace."

You could feel Jace's hand still holding yours, but now, that warmth no longer provided the comfort it once did. Instead, it only reminded you of the times he wasn't there for you, when he chose to protect someone else over you.

“Please don’t do this, please let me fix it” He begged

"I tried so hard, Jace. I gave you everything I had, but you chose her, even if you didn't realize it," you said, your voice now filled with nothing but exhaustion and despair.

Jace didn't know what to do, what to say to fix his mistake. He could feel everything between you falling apart, piece by piece, with no way to put it back together.

"Y/n, I—" Jace started, but you interrupted him, pulling your hand out of his grasp.

"I can't stay here anymore, Jace. I can't keep going like this. I guess that's the price of loving a million dollar man."

"And I giving this ring back to you, I hope you'll find someone who deserve it" You turned away, moving towards the door, trying to leave this suffocating space before your heart completely shattered.

Before opening the door, you looked back at Jace one last time, hoping he would understand what you couldn't put into words: that you had loved him deeply, but you couldn't stay with someone who no longer belonged to you.

And then, you walked out of the apartment. As the door closed behind you, you felt a profound sadness but also a sense of relief, as if a great burden had been lifted. The tears had dried up, leaving a void in your heart, but it was a necessary emptiness, allowing you to move forward, to find yourself again and rebuild your life from the ruins.

And though the pain was immense, you knew you had done the right thing. You chose yourself

Jace might realize his mistake, but it was too late. The love and trust you had given him were no longer intact. Now, you had to seek happiness for yourself, a happiness unbound by emotional scars.

And so, you moved on, looking toward the future, knowing you deserved a true love, a love that would never betray you.

[coco-loco-nut]

loml

pairing: max verstappen x reader

summary: a journey through your relationship with max

a/n: so for a little background... my ex (he wasn't an F1 fan, it was never gonna work, let's be real) broke up with me the night before this album was released, so writing this series has been very healing; however, this one was extremely difficult to write bc it's the only song i can't analytically listen to and find the deeper meanings yet, especially after losing your first love. sorry for the rant and making this short🙃

tw: emotional abuse, manipulation

masterlist ttpd masterlist part two

________

You and Max were fan favorites, it was evident to anyone with eyes who had eyes. But they say you never know what happens behind closed doors.

“She’s the love of my life,” Max would always say about you, looking at you like you held the universe in the palm of your hand. His fans could recite your love story by heart from how much he loved to talk about you. It only made sense that he could shatter that public opinion.

“Y/n and I have divorced, I would like to ask for privacy as we navigate the changes,” Max posted one day, his socials wiped of everything. Your accounts remained the same, your last post being from the fateful race months ago. You haven’t posted since. The fans should’ve realized when the WAGs and George unfollowed Max.

Your apartment was full of things that reminded you of Max, every time you walked in it reminded you of every memory. He was embroidered in everything. You look at a printed photo of when you first met him. Despite it being six months later, you couldn’t get rid of him.

~~~

All it took was locking eyes with him across the pier for you to fall in love on that breezy summer day. He walked up to you and asked you to join him, and you did. You kissed him at the top of the ferris wheel later that night, and you didn’t even know he was famous all you knew was that he made you feel safe. The breeze reminded you of the warm ocean breeze from that day, one you called the winds of fate.

Despite being young, you married him after a year of being together. Things weren’t perfect even then, he could be incredibly mean, but he was also a standup guy when it mattered. That erased any wrongdoing of his.

“You have made me a better man, you reformed me, the love of my life,” Max had said that fall evening, repeating the one line that brought you back to him every time.

You believed his words, his lies spun to make you believe the hell you were living in was actually heaven. When he takes his anger out at you, doesn’t defend you against his father, you start to second guess him but he calls you those four words.

“I’ll never leave you, Schatje,” Max holds you in his arms, your back against his chest as you both look at a tv in the Paddock. The fans loved that photo, calling your love legendary. They didn’t know about the growing hole in your heart.

Your marriage was looking like one of those black and white movies you and Max watch on snowy winter afternoons. You and Max had been talking about starting a family, but you couldn’t get pregnant and you were watching everything you loved slip away.

“God, Max, you are like a con-man. I feel like I’ve been sold a get-love-quick scheme. What happened to you?” you ask, voice laced with hurt, during an argument about it. Max just ignored you, pushing past to stream with some friend. He ignored the sobs coming from your bedroom. He told the chat that you are the love of his life when asked about you.

“Y/n, we need to talk,” some of the WAGs pulled you aside during a race. They told you how Max was shit talking you to other drivers, saying you were a waste of a wife for your inability to get pregnant, saying he should’ve never married you, pointing out every flaw he told you was beautiful when he was lying to your face. You stand up and leave, not saying a word even when the girls try to stop you. Max is confused but simply responds to your text saying you were sick with an okay.

You are laying in your bed sobbing when Max gets back from the race. You face the terrace, where you and Max would dance under the stars. You can see the ghosts of it through your tears, and you wished you could un-recall when you thought you had everything.

“Please get out of bed,” Max says, his concerned tone laced with venom. Maybe the ghosts of your relationship are embarrassed by the scene on the other side of the glass.

“No,” you cry, mourning the loss of your counterfeit relationship.

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” Max sighs leaving the room. You sent a text to the WAG group chat who helped you remove all your belongings from Max’s apartment into George’s apartment that he wasn’t using at the moment.

Your phone is flooded with messages from Max, so you turn it off unless you are talking to your lawyer. Max finds a divorce petition and your apartment key on the dining room table when he comes home from training a few days later. The relationship that had such a valiant roar ended with the blandest goodbye.

You sit in George’s apartment with Carmen and Lily drinking wine. You took over George’s lease after they insisted that you did.

“For someone who claims to be a lion, he sure is a manipulative coward,” Carmen says as the three of you comb through the years of lies he spun.

You took the dreams that you thought you and Max wanted and lit the match to destroy them with your divorce papers. Despite your somber eyes, you seem more at peace, even with the sadness you will carry with you until you die.

“He’s the loss of my life.”

part two

[levisjinchuriki]

open arms

summary - after finding out your boyfriend cheated on you, you run to nanami for comfort. he welcomes you with open arms, but there's only one problem - you're pregnant.

warning - angst, mentions of cheating, pregnant reader, crying, nanami comforting you, pregnant reader

a/n - this is the first chapter of my new series. i hope you enjoy!!

you’ve always imagined the day you'd find out you were pregnant would be one of pure joy—a moment filled with excitement and maybe even happy tears. you picture yourself holding the test in disbelief, then planning the perfect way to surprise your boyfriend with the news. it’s supposed to be magical, a moment that changes everything for the better.

but when you see the positive result, your world doesn’t fill with joy. instead, it crumbles.

the bright lines on the test feel like they mock you, a cruel contrast to the reality you’re living in. the excitement you expected never comes, replaced by a heavy knot of dread in your stomach. the moment that should have been filled with happiness turns into a nightmare.

everything falls apart before you can share the news. your boyfriend, someone you thought you’d spend the rest of your life with, cheated on you.

it echoes in your mind, a brutal reminder of the reality you never thought you'd face. the betrayal stings so deeply, it feels like a physical wound—sharp, raw, and relentless. it’s not just the fact that he was unfaithful; it’s that you trusted him with everything, believed in him, and now, in the most vulnerable moment of your life, he’s torn you apart.

shock hits first. it wraps around you, numbing your senses, making it hard to process what’s happened. you feel frozen, suspended in disbelief, as if the truth hasn’t fully settled in yet. this can’t be real. he couldn’t have done this to you— not when you’re carrying his child. the weight of that thought crashes down on you, amplifying the pain until it becomes unbearable.

you never imagined he was capable of hurting you like this. you had always seen him as your partner, someone who would stand by you no matter what. but now, it’s clear that the future you thought you were building together has been ripped away. and the worst part? you didn’t just lose him—you lost the man you believed he was. the man you thought would be excited to hear about your pregnancy, who you thought would want to build a family with you.

now, the idea of facing him, of trying to confront the truth, feels impossible. how do you even begin to talk about the future when everything you trusted has crumbled? how do you tell him about the baby now that he's shattered your heart?

you can’t. the thought of looking him in the eye and seeing the face of the man who betrayed you makes you sick to your stomach. the pain is too fresh, too raw. you feel trapped in the chaos of your emotions, unsure of how to navigate the storm that’s taken over your life.

so, you do the only thing you can think of. you leave.

with trembling hands, you gather your things—clothes, phone, keys… everything you can fit into your bags. your mind races as you move through the apartment, each step heavy with the weight of what you’re leaving behind. the home that once felt warm and safe now feels suffocating, every corner tainted by his lies.

you can’t breathe in this space anymore, not with the weight of betrayal pressing down on your chest. so, with a heavy heart and trembling hands, you pack a bag. you need distance, space to think, to process everything that’s crumbled around you. one person comes to mind as you shove the last of your belongings into your bag—nanami.

he’s always been there for you, a steady anchor in the chaos of your life. reliable, calm, and kind. someone who never judged, never hesitated to offer a listening ear when you needed to vent or cry or simply talk through your feelings. nanami is the one person you can trust completely, the only one who might be able to help you make sense of the whirlwind in your mind.

you don’t know what you’ll say to him, or even if you’ll be able to speak when you see him. but you know you need to go to him. he’s always been a grounding presence, and right now, that’s exactly what you need.

as you step outside your apartment, the night air hits you, cool and crisp against your tear-stained face. you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, trying to push down the wave of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. you aren’t sure how nanami will react when he sees you, but there’s a small part of you that knows he’ll understand, that he’ll be there, just like he always has been.

when you arrive at nanami’s place, your heart pounds so hard it feels like it might burst. you hadn’t even told him you were coming—hadn’t thought that far ahead, really. all you knew was that you needed to see him, needed someone to help you breathe through the pain. 

you raise your hand and knock on the door. the sound feels deafening in the silence, and every second you wait feels like an eternity. each passing moment feels like it stretches on forever, amplifying your fear that maybe you’ve made a mistake, that maybe you should’ve prepared something to say or that he might not be there at all.

but after what feels like ages, you hear the lock turn. as the door opens, you catch a glimpse of nanami’s face—he stands in the doorway with that familiar, calm presence. his eyes instantly shift from neutral to concerned as he takes in the sight of you standing there, tear-streaked and fragile.

“y/n” he says softly, voice is gentle. his brow furrows, and without a second thought, he steps forward. “what’s wrong? what happened?”. 

without a word, you collapse into his arms, the floodgates finally breaking as the tears you’d been holding back spill over. the weight of everything—the betrayal, the heartbreak, the overwhelming uncertainty—comes crashing down all at once. nanami’s arms wrap around you, strong and reassuring, pulling you close as you bury your face in his chest. his embrace feels safe, a refuge from the storm inside you.

without a word, he guides you inside, gently closing the door behind you. he doesn’t press for details, just simply holds you, silently offering you the space to release all the pain and frustration that’s been building inside. his hand gently rubs your back in soothing circles, a steady, calming rhythm that lets you know he’s there for you, no matter what.

the tears seem endless, each sob pulling you deeper into the grief of what you’ve lost, what’s been broken beyond repair. but nanami never shifts away. he stays with you through the waves of emotions. 

as the sobs begin to subside, your body feels exhausted from the outpour of emotions. you pull back slightly, your hands trembling as you wipe at your swollen eyes, trying to catch your breath. nanami looks at you with nothing but kindness and concern, his gaze never wavering. 

the familiar warmth of his apartment is comforting, a sharp contrast to the coldness of the world you’ve just left behind. he leads you to the couch, and after a few moments of silence, he speaks softly.

“what did he do?” nanami asks softly, breaking the silence. his voice is filled with quiet concern. you can feel the tension in the question —an unspoken protectiveness that nanami always seems to carry when it comes to you. his gaze remains locked on you, watching your every movement.

you hesitate, the words heavy on your tongue. saying it out loud will make it real, and part of you is still clinging to the hope that maybe it isn’t. but the look in nanami’s eyes is patient and kind, and somehow you know he can handle whatever you’re about to say.

“he… cheated on me” you whisper, the words tasting bitter as they leave your mouth. your voice cracks, and tears well up in your eyes again, but you don’t turn away. nanami’s expression hardens for a moment—his jaw tightens, and his brow furrows in silent anger. he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as if trying to steady himself before responding.

“i’m sorry” his voice filled with quiet empathy. the simplicity of his words cuts through you. there’s no judgment, no questioning of how or why. just a soft acknowledgment of the pain you’re in.

nanami has never been the biggest fan of your—now ex—boyfriend, but he’s always been respectful and supportive of your choices. you remember the few times he voiced subtle concerns, but he never once forced his opinions onto you. he’s always been like that, putting your feelings first, offering quiet advice but trusting you to navigate your own life. even now, as you sit together, you can sense the flicker of frustration beneath his calm exterior, the way his jaw tightens at the mention of your ex. but nanami’s respect for you remains at the forefront. 

“you’ve always deserved better than him” he finally says, voice low but firm. but there’s no malice, just quiet truth. 

you glance up at him, surprised by the intensity in his gaze. his eyes are filled with quiet conviction, and you can see the anger simmering just beneath the surface—not at you, but at the man who shattered your trust.

“i should have listened to you” you admit, the tears threatening to fall again. “you were always so careful with what you said, but i could tell…”.

nanami sighs softly. “i didn’t want to influence your decisions. i know you cared about him.” he pauses, searching for the right words. “but that doesn’t mean you should blame yourself for his actions. you loved him, and that’s not something to regret”.

the room falls quiet, the weight of his words settling between you. there’s no rush for you to speak, no pressure for you to explain any more than you’re ready to. nanami doesn’t need you to. his presence alone is enough to tell you that whatever comes next, you won’t have to face it alone.

“i don’t know what to do now” you confess, the words barely more than a whisper. it feels like your world has been flipped upside down, and the future you thought you had planned is now a fog of uncertainty.

“you don’t have to figure it all out right now” he says quietly. “take it one step at a time. and if you need someone, i’ll be here”. there’s something in the way he says it, in the quiet promise behind those words, that makes the ache in your chest grow.

you shake your head, fresh tears welling up in your eyes as the enormity of it all crashes down on you again. “no… nanami. i-”.

the words catch in your throat, your mind racing as you hesitate to tell him the truth, unsure of how he’ll react. the weight of the secret presses heavily on your chest. part of you wants to get it out, to confide in him because nanami has always been the one person you could trust, but this feels different. bigger. more complicated.

he watches you closely, sensing your hesitation, his brow furrowing slightly. “you can tell me. whatever it is” he encourages softly. you shake your head.

“i’m pregnant” you blurt out. the moment the words hang in the air, the weight of it seems to multiply. nanami’s expression doesn’t change immediately. your heart hammers in your chest as you search his face, terrified of what he might say, of how he might react. you hadn’t planned on telling him—hadn’t planned on telling anyone so soon—but now it’s out there, and there’s no taking it back.

there’s a beat of silence, and it feels like the air in the room shifts. as you wait for his reaction, a mix of fear and uncertainty tightening your stomach. what if this changes everything? what if he thinks differently of you now?

nanami's brows knit together, concern deepening in his gaze, but it’s not the kind of panic or shock you were dreading. he’s silent for a moment and you can see the wheels turning behind his calm exterior. he takes a deep breath, processing the weight of what you’ve just shared.

nanami nods slowly, his eyes darkening with emotion as he absorbs the full gravity of your situation. you wonder if you’ve just burdened him with too much, if it was fair to drop this on him. 

“does he know?” nanami asks quietly, his voice laced with concern, but not for the man who betrayed you. his focus is entirely on you, on how you’re feeling, on what you need right now.

you shake your head. “i didn’t get a chance to tell him… before i found out about… everything”. the silence that follows feels heavy, but not uncomfortable. nanami doesn’t rush to fill it, or react with shock or panic like you feared. instead, he sits there, absorbing it all, his gaze never leaving yours. he’s processing.

finally, he speaks, his voice soft and measured. 

"you did the right thing by leaving" nanami says firmly, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "you don’t owe him anything, especially not after what he did. your priority now is taking care of yourself and your baby".

your brows furrow. "but how?" you whisper, your voice barely audible. "i can’t do this alone, nanami”. your confession hangs in the air, raw and vulnerable. it’s the first time you’ve said it out loud—how truly terrified you are. the future feels like an impossible mountain to climb, and you don’t even know where to begin.

nanami’s gaze softens as he watches the fear ripple across your face. “you’re not alone” he says, his voice quiet but full of conviction. “we’ll take it one step at a time together… if you want”.

his words hang in the air, and for a moment, you're stunned into silence. you blink, trying to process what he just said. his offer is staggering, something you hadn’t expected. you know nanami is always there for you, always supportive, but this feels like more than you could have ever asked for.

“i can’t ask you to do that” you finally manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

nanami’s expression remains steady, his eyes meeting yours with sincerity. “you’re not asking” he says. “i’m offering”. his words are assertive, but true. the fact that he’s willing to stand by you, to support you through this painful time, makes the path ahead seem a bit more manageable.

“you… you’re serious?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. your mind races, a mix of disbelief and cautious hope swirling together. nanami’s expression doesn’t waver. his steady gaze meets yours, full of quiet determination. 

“of course i’m serious” he says softly, grounding you in a way you didn’t know you needed. “i wouldn’t offer if i wasn’t”. you search his face for any sign of hesitation, but there’s none. he’s genuine, his offer coming from a place of deep care. the realization makes your chest tighten with emotion.

you look up at him, feeling the tears welling up again, but this time they’re different. there’s something in his words, in the way he looks at you with such steady resolve, that lifts some of the weight off your shoulders. he’s not just saying it—he means it. 

“this is too much, nanami… i don’t even know what’s coming next” you admit, your voice shaky as you try to hold back the fresh wave of tears. “i don’t want to be a burden”.

he frowns. “you’re not a burden” he says, his tone firm but gentle. “you’re important to me. and i want to help you because i care about you”. nanami’s presence, his unshakeable support, is something you hadn’t realized how much you needed until now. the thought of having someone so steadfast and compassionate by your side brings a small, but significant sense of hope. nanami’s offer of help, his willingness to be there for you, makes the future feel a little less daunting. 

“i don’t know what to say” your voice barely above a whisper but full of heartfelt gratitude. 

nanami gives a reassuring smile. “you don’t have to say anything. just know that i’m here for you. whatever you need, however you need it”. 

the promise in his words and the kindness in his eyes offer a fragile yet comforting sense of security. it’s a start, a small but vital lifeline, and for now, it’s enough.

“okay” you reply. a bit of the tension eases from your shoulders, the simple act of accepting his offer giving you a small measure of peace. nanami’s presence is a comforting constant, and knowing that you have someone to lean on makes the uncertainty ahead feel just a little more bearable.

you’re still overwhelmed, still scared, but you’re not alone anymore. with nanami by your side, you have a place to begin navigating the path ahead, one step at a time.

“you’ve had a long day. you should get some rest” nanami says, his voice steady but filled with quiet care.

there’s no judgment in his tone, no impatience—only concern. the enormity of the day’s events is catching up to you, and your body aches with exhaustion. you’ve been running on adrenaline, on heartbreak, but now that you’re here, safe with him, the exhaustion hits you all at once. 

nanami stands and gently guides you toward the guest room, his hand briefly resting on your shoulder—a grounding touch that keeps you tethered to the present. you don’t resist. you trust him, and right now, trusting anyone feels like a monumental feat. he walks beside you, his movements calm and deliberate, as if to assure you that there’s no rush, no urgency anymore. you don’t have to run from the pain here.

when you reach the guest room, it’s quiet, a comforting kind of quiet that lets you breathe.  the room is simple, but the calmness of it wraps around you, offering a small but much-needed relief from the storm in your head.

nanami sets the bag you packed down before making the bed for you. he smooths out the sheets with the same attention to detail he’s shown you all night—precise, thoughtful, gentle. the way he moves through the small space is unhurried, as though he understands that what you need most right now is comfort, not words. his actions speak louder than anything he could say.

once the bed is made, he turns to you, his eyes meeting yours with that same reassurance. "you can stay here as long as you want” he offers quietly, his sincerity evident in every word. the weight of his kindness, his unspoken promise to be there, nearly overwhelms you. you smile at him gratefully and thank him for everything.

nanami lingers for a moment, watching you with a careful gaze, before he steps toward the door. “i’ll be in my room if you need anything” he says, his tone soft but reassuring, like a promise that no matter how broken you feel, he’s not going anywhere.

as the door closes gently behind him, the silence of the room feels different—not empty, but safe. nanami’s presence, even though he’s no longer in the room, lingers like a protective shield. you take a slow breath, your shoulders sagging as the tension in your body begins to release. you allow yourself to collapse onto the bed, the softness of the mattress cradling you. 

the exhaustion tugs at your eyelids, and it’s not long before sleep pulls you under. nanami’s steady presence, his unwavering support, gives you a sense of hope that you’ll be able to face what’s coming. with him by your side, the impossible doesn’t seem so insurmountable anymore.

[slutoru1207]

Invincible x pregnant reader part 3

Invincible!Mark was pacing around your apartment, trying to process everything. His mind was spinning. He was supposed to be out there fighting aliens, saving the world, but now? Now, there was something even more important—something that would change his entire life. He could barely focus. His thoughts kept flicking back to what you said. He was going to be a father.

His eyes fell on you, sitting quietly on the couch, looking more fragile than he’d ever seen you. He was about to say something when his phone buzzed, a reminder about the next mission coming up. He hated it. He hated the thought of leaving you, especially now, when you needed him the most.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed the phone aside. No more distractions.

He dropped beside you, his hand finding yours, his fingers lacing through yours with a tenderness that no one would expect from the invincible superhero. “We’ll figure this out, okay? Together.”

You looked at him, and for the first time, you saw the uncertainty in his eyes. He wasn’t invincible to everything, after all. “You sure? This is... this is huge, Mark. I don’t even know what to do.”

Mark squeezed your hand a little tighter, his voice softer than it had ever been. “I’m sure. We’ve handled tough stuff before, right? Just not like this. But I’m not going anywhere. You and the baby? You come first.”

His words should have been comforting, but the reality of the situation was beginning to set in. The baby. Your baby. You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying to steady your breath. You hadn’t even considered how this would impact his life. He was Invincible—he had to save the world. Could he really balance that with being a father? A protector? For you and your child?

Before you could say anything, Mark let out a nervous laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “So, uh... do you think our kid’s going to have my super strength or your brains?” He grinned, but there was a nervous edge to it. He couldn’t stop thinking about the future.

You smiled weakly, though your mind was racing. “If they take your strength and my smarts, I think we might be in trouble.”

He chuckled but then got serious, his face softening. “You know, this changes everything. But I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

The superhero in him couldn’t fully escape the urge to protect. “I’ll figure this out. I’ll make sure no one messes with you or the baby. You’re not going through this alone.” He ran a hand through his hair, guilt flashing in his eyes. “I’m gonna be there. Every step of the way. And I’ll keep you safe. I can’t do this without you.”

For the first time, you saw the real Mark Grayson—not just the superhero, but the man who loved you, the man who wanted to build a life with you and protect what mattered most. Your heart swelled in your chest. You didn’t know how to do this either, but if there was one thing you were sure of, it was that you could handle anything together.

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. “I’m scared, Mark. I don’t know if I can do this.”

Mark wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. His chest rose and fell with every breath, and you could feel the beat of his heart against you. "You don’t have to be perfect. We’ll learn. We’ll make mistakes. But we’ll do it together."

He kissed the top of your head, his voice barely a whisper as he held invyou tighter. "And I’ll always be here. Even if the world’s falling apart, I’ll protect you and our baby. You’re my priority now. Always."

part 4

[multific]

Behind Masks, Different Faces

Dimitri Kravinoff x Reader

Summary: Dimitri Kravinoff has lived his life behind masks, slipping in and out of identities like second nature. But when he falls in love with you, he realizes there’s one person he can never deceive. 

Dimitri Kravinoff had never known the luxury of being seen.

Not truly.

His life was a performance, every step a calculated deception. Faces changed like the seasons, voices stolen and perfected until even his own reflection felt foreign.

He was everyone and no one.

Until you.

You, who never questioned his shifting abilities.

You, who could look past the masks and see the man beneath them.

You, who had somehow made him crave something real. Something he never wanted before.

The first time he let his guard down, it wasn’t intentional.

He had returned from a meeting bruised, his ribs aching from a fight he barely escaped. The moment he stepped into your apartment, you were there, eyes filled with concern, hands carefully as they reached for him.

“You’re hurt,” you murmured.

He tensed, instinct screaming at him to lie. To dismiss it. To disappear.

But then you touched his face. Gentle.

And Dimitri, who had survived betrayal, assassinations, and a lifetime of falsehoods, found himself sinking into the warmth of your hold like a dying man clinging to salvation.

“I’ll be fine,” he ended up saying.

You frowned but didn’t press. Instead, you simply helped him out of his coat, guiding him to sit. No questions. No demands. Just understanding.

Dimitri wasn’t sure how to handle that.

Falling in love with you was the most dangerous thing he had ever done.

Not because of the enemies that lurked in the shadows, nor the secrets he carried like an iron weight, but because love was not something he could control.

And Dimitri always controlled everything.

Yet, with you, he faltered.

He lingered when he should have left.

He spoke truths when he should have lied.

And worst of all, he let himself believe, for just a moment, that he could have this.

That he could have you. That he could be happy.

But reality was a cruel thing.

One evening, he came home to find the door ajar.

His pulse spiked.

He stepped inside, only to find you standing in the centre of the room, holding a file that should have been hidden.

A file filled with names. Identities.

His identities.

You looked up at him, eyes unreadable. “Who are you, Dimitri?”

The world tilted. For a moment, he considered lying. Spinning another tale, slipping into another role.

But then he saw the way your hands trembled, the way your lips parted as if you already knew the answer and hated that you had to ask.

Dimitri exhaled slowly. And for the first time in his life, he told the truth.

“I don’t know.”

Your face softened. “Then let me help you figure it out.”

He had expected anger. Fear. Rejection.

But instead, you reached for him, pressing your forehead against his, grounding him.

“You don’t have to be anyone but yourself with me,” you whispered.

Dimitri swallowed hard. “I don’t know who that is.”

Your fingers traced his jaw, tilting his head just slightly. “Then let’s find out together.”

And when your lips met his Dimitri realized that, for the first time, he wasn’t hiding.

He wasn’t a mask.

He wasn’t a lie.

He was just yours.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[makeyoumine69]

Falling Back to You

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Patrick Bateman x Insecure!Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: You ran away from Patrick because you thought you were not good enough for him.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Angst, navel-gazing, depression, implied violence, making out, hurt/comfort.

𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: [MASTERLIST]; [MY IMAGINES AND SHORT REQUESTS].

A lingering, almost suffocating kiss of desperation sealed your lips the moment you crossed the threshold of Bateman's apartment, and to your surprise, nothing has changed. Literally nothing—the almost sterile minimalism, the blinding white walls, and that damn white couch you used to make out on so many times. All these memories felt like they were from your previous life and you never thought that one day you would be here again, scooped up in his arms as Patrick held you close, afraid that you would disappear like a mirage. 

If only he could know how hard it was for you to make the heartbreaking decision to run away from him, to leave him alone again, just when he thought he had found a person he could call his true love—a soulmate. But you never really told him about your own demons that were haunting you—all the endless thoughts of not being good enough, all the doubts and obsessive thoughts. You were too embarrassed to even think about opening up to anyone else, considering the world you lived in. In the end, the dark thoughts took over and the fear of getting your heart broken forced you to leave Patrick without explaining anything to him. You ran away and hated yourself for it. But there wasn't a single day when you didn't think about him, what he was doing and who he was spending his nights and days with.

Because after all the things that happened, and the things that never should have happened, you loved him. And you loved him so much that sometimes you could cry from that unbridled feeling that knotted in your chest and threatened to set you ablaze like a dying star that would one day explode and destroy the entire galaxy.

"Why did you do that?" Patrick's voice was so quiet and weak—those sleepless nights didn't go unnoticed. "Why did you leave me?"

And once again you were on the couch, just like the first time Bateman brought you to his place. Biting your lower lip to stop yourself from sobbing, you looked up at his face as the man hovered over you, then pressed your hand against his soft cheek. This small physical contact forced him to let out a sigh of despair and exhaustion as he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. How many days did he search for you? At one point, Patrick was so depressed that he was sure he would never find you because New York was so big and the chances of finding you were literally dwindling by the day, until your best friend called him and told him everything you were going through.

"I... I just thought it would be better for you if I disappeared," you murmured, cupping his face with both hands, causing him to open his brown eyes and God, how much you missed them. "I'm so sorry, Patrick."

After a short exhale, Bateman took one of your hands and planted a soft kiss on it before doing the same with your other hand. 

"Uh, you're such a silly little girl," he bent down to peck the tip of your nose. "My silly little girl," Patrick pulled you into another passionate kiss, his big palm caressing your neck while another trailed up your hip under the hem of your beautiful red dress. "I've seen you so many times in my dreams that I wanted to stay in them forever."

And that was the moment when you gave in to your emotions, finally allowing yourself to be vulnerable and not trying to suppress the tears that had been forming in the corners of your eyes all this time. Grabbing his broad shoulders, you squeezed the smooth material of his shirt as you nestled into his strong frame, wanting to be one with him, to smell like him, to breathe him in like oxygen.

"I missed you so m-much," you whimpered through the tears that made it difficult for you to speak. "I should have told you everything... but instead... I just ran away like a coward."

The man didn't say anything at first, but then he suddenly sat up and pulled you onto his lap, your hands instinctively finding their way to his neck and hugging it as if it was your only anchor to reality. Inhaling the sweet scent of your hair, Patrick laced your waist and rested his chin on the top of your head, caressing and stroking you, but never trying to cross the line or making any snide comments. It was strange to you, knowing how sex-obsessed and cocky he always was.

"Are you mad at me?" You asked abruptly, raising your wet eyes to him. "Tell me you're mad at me...please!"

Trapped in his own thoughts, Bateman just shook his head, his hands still roaming over your lower back and shoulders, their warmth like balm to your bleeding heart. And when you were about to scream to make him speak, he suddenly pecked your forehead with the most genuine affection and tenderness you had ever experienced. 

"I'm not mad at you...and I've never been mad at you," he whispered into your ear, burying his nose in your hair with his eyes closed. "But I know you're afraid of me...of what I might do. And what I've already done."

You had to clench your hands to stop yourself from screaming, but instead of pushing him away, you just pressed yourself closer to him. 

"Stop it!" You blurted out, covering your ears. "Stop saying that! I'm not afraid of you..." your voice wavered and you felt the salty taste of your tears on the tip of your tongue. "...because I love you."

The second these words fell from your lips, you felt his whole body tense and then his warm hands covered yours to remove them from your ears and you let him do it. There were still so many things you wanted to say to him, but Patrick was faster, covering your mouth with his and pouring everything he had into this kiss, brushing away your tears with his thumb.

"Even if I die at your hand one day... I will never leave you again," you managed to add between kisses. "Never."

Patrick's breath hitched, his fingers tightening imperceptibly against your skin, as if anchoring himself to the weight of your words. For a moment, the mask of polished composure slipped—his eyes, usually sharp as a blade, softened into something raw, almost human. You could see the gears turning behind them, the war between the part of him that craved dominance and the part that, against all odds, craved you.

"You..." he began, his voice uncharacteristically unstable, before trailing off. His thumb traced the line of your jaw, a gesture so tender it made your chest ache. When he spoke again, his tone was low, deliberate, as if each syllable were a land mine. "You think love is enough to survive me?"

There was no mockery in the question, only hollow curiosity. You could feel the pulse in his throat quicken beneath your palm, the slight trembling in his hands as they slid up to cradle your face. His gaze bored into yours, searching for doubt, for the flicker of fear he'd come to expect. But you held firm, even as the shadows in his eyes deepened.

"I don't want to survive you," you whispered, your lips brushing his. "I want to know you. All of you."

A sharp, almost painful sound escaped him—a laugh, or perhaps a gasp. His forehead pressed against yours, his breath warm and uneven. "You're a terrible liar," he murmured, but there was no bite. Instead, his mouth found yours again, slower this time, a collision of hunger and something dangerously close to awe; his hands slid under the fabric of your dress, fingertips tracing the ridges of your spine like a man memorizing scripture.

When Bateman pulled back, his expression had shifted—the vulnerability smothered beneath a familiar, predatory glint. But his voice remained disarmingly soft. "You'll regret this," he said, almost kindly, as his thumb brushed the swell of your lower lip. "They always do." You opened your mouth to argue, but he silenced you with a kiss that made your head spin. When he pulled away, he smiled. "But I'll let you try."

In the weeks that followed, Patrick oscillated between these two extremes: the man who brought you coffee in bed, who memorized the cadence of your laughter, and the specter who disappeared for days at a time, returning with blood under his nails and a darkness in his stare that dared you to ask. You never did.

And when he held you at night, his arms a vise around your ribs, you pretended not to notice the way he pressed his ear to your chest, listening—as if to make sure your heart still beat for him and him alone.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my writing community to know when I update!💞

[rose24207]

Can you wrote something with Mafia lando where reader was a hook up but she fell pregnant and now they have a baby together and during that time of the pregnancy Lando fell for reader but reader hear the maids talking about Lando setting up a dinner reservation for him and a date making reader sad thinking she really is just a hook up to him and the mother of his child. But once she starts distancing her seld lando finds out and tells her the dinner reservations were foe them because he was going to ask her on a date.

Tangled hearts

Summary: After a one-night affair leads to an unexpected pregnancy, Lando falls for you, but when you overhear gossip about him dating someone else, you pull away, only for him to reveal he was planning to ask you on a date all along.

Genre: Mafia!Lando

TW: Mafia, pregnancy

A/N: last one for today!! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

It started as a one-night affair. You had no expectations, no illusions. Lando Norris was a Mafia boss, a man who controlled everything around him with ease. He had power, wealth, and the kind of presence that made people bow to him.

But to you, he was just a man—a man who wanted something physical and fleeting. You didn’t expect anything more. It was supposed to be a temporary escape, something to scratch an itch, nothing serious.

But life had other plans.

You found out you were pregnant not long after. A late period, a trip to the clinic, and a positive result were all it took to change everything. Panic set in, followed by a flood of confusion and uncertainty.

You hadn’t even really known him.

You hadn't planned for this.

Yet, somehow, you were now carrying his child, and you had no idea how he would react.

At first, Lando didn’t seem fazed by the news. In fact, he took it in stride. He promised you that he would take care of you, that you and the baby would never want for anything.

He was cold, calculating, the same ruthless man who ran his empire with a sharp mind and a firm grip. But slowly, things began to change.

Lando started to show up at your apartment, making sure you had everything you needed. His presence in your life became a constant. He wasn’t just checking in to make sure you were physically well, but emotionally too.

At first, you resisted the tenderness in his eyes, the way he seemed to soften when he looked at you. But it was hard not to notice, hard not to wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was more to this than just the baby.

In the months that passed, you saw glimpses of the man beneath the cold Mafia exterior. He helped you pick out baby clothes, accompanied you to doctor appointments, and even took time off work just to be by your side when you felt sick.

You were confused by his behavior. Was this just a commitment to his child, or was there something more?

Then, one evening, you overheard a conversation you were never meant to hear.

The maids were talking among themselves, gossiping as they often did when they thought no one was listening. You had just entered the hallway when you caught their words.

“He’s setting up a dinner reservation,” one of the maids said. “I think he’s going on a date. With someone new, probably.”

The other maid sighed. “You know Lando. He’s always moving on to something new, someone younger, more exciting. What about the girl carrying his baby? Doesn’t he care about her?”

The first maid snorted. “Please. She’s just the mother of his child. Nothing more. When the kid is born, she’ll be out of his life. That’s how it always goes.”

Your stomach twisted in knots. You stood frozen, the weight of their words sinking deep. You had hoped that Lando’s behavior—his attention, his kindness—meant something more. But now, you weren’t so sure.

He was going to leave you.

You were just another stop on his path, a temporary fixture until he moved on.

The realization hit hard: you weren’t more than a hookup, a vessel for his child, nothing more.

With tears welling up in your eyes, you made the decision to pull away. You stopped answering his calls so quickly, distancing yourself from him, not allowing him to get too close. You didn’t want to be the fool who fell for the Mafia boss only to get discarded when he no longer had a need for you.

The pregnancy, the baby—none of it mattered to him. You were just a momentary distraction.

And that was all.

Lando noticed immediately. He wasn’t used to being ignored, and certainly not by you. The distance you were creating didn’t sit right with him, gnawing at him in ways he couldn’t ignore.

He wasn’t a man accustomed to feeling this way—uncertain, confused, and downright frustrated. The more you pulled away, the more desperate he became.

Finally, he cornered you one night, his eyes sharp with a cold intensity you’d only seen in his darker moments.

“Why are you pulling away from me?” he demanded, his voice low and commanding. “Tell me what’s going on. What’s changed?”

You couldn’t hold back anymore, your voice breaking as you faced him. “I heard what they said… about the dinner reservation. About you going on a date. I’m just the mother of your child, nothing more.”

Lando's expression faltered, something flickering behind his cold exterior. He stepped closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Is that what you think?” he asked, his voice softer than you expected. There was a cold edge to it, but also something else—hurt. “You think I’m just going to walk away from you when this baby is born? That I don’t care about you?”

Your heart raced. “What was the reservation for, Lando? Were you planning to ask someone else out?”

He exhaled sharply, frustration clear on his face. “That dinner reservation… was for you. It was for us. I was going to ask you on a date, not someone else. I want you. I’ve been wanting you long before I found out about the baby. But I didn’t know if you wanted me too, or if you just saw me as the guy who knocked you up and nothing more.”

You were stunned, a lump forming in your throat. The confusion, the distance between you—it had all been a misunderstanding. You had thought he was moving on, but the truth was that Lando had been trying to move closer to you, trying to show you that he was in this for the long haul.

“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” you whispered, looking down at the floor, the tears you had been holding back now spilling freely. “I thought you were just using me.”

He shook his head, his hand moving to your shoulder, pulling you toward him. “I’m not using you, and I’m not going anywhere. We’re in this together. You, me, and our baby. I promise you.”

Lando’s lips met yours in a kiss, slow and gentle, as if to reassure you that he wasn’t leaving. In that moment, you felt his sincerity, his devotion, and you finally believed him.

Thank you for reading!

[galactic-magick]

Rest of My Life: Viktor x Reader

Summary: Reader and Viktor have their wedding and first time together. Takes place right after my last fic Life Changes.

Words: 3.8k

Warnings: SMUT. fem!reader

Author’s Notes: Second half of this fic is smut, it starts and ends at the *** in case anyone only wants to read the first half. Reader is a virgin in this and is implied to be demisexual/somewhere on the ace spectrum, but I don’t think you have to be that necessarily to enjoy the story. I just wanted to write it from that perspective since I’m demisexual myself. I went back and forth a lot deciding if Viktor should be a virgin too, but I was convinced by the “this isn’t my bedroom” line and his freaky moves with Jayce in S2 that he probably has at least some experience. So he’s gonna talk reader through it lmao. Happy reading :)

-

Your roommates are unsurprisingly still awake when you return home, reading your face instantly.

“What happened?” Eli asks. “Are Viktor and that other guy okay?”

Your shocked expression fades into a smile and you crash on the couch with them, giggling uncontrollably.

“Everyone’s fine. They figured it out, and now Viktor is going to be a partner in the company.”

“Wow.” Chanthou says, eyebrows raised.

“Mhmm. And then he asked me to marry him. Tomorrow.”

A beat of silence.

“What?!” Eli exclaims. “He didn’t tell us he was doing it today!”

Chanthou shrugs, “Well, he did ask for our blessing months ago. He didn’t really say when.”

“He asked you guys for your blessing? That’s so sweet.”

“Of course he did. I would’ve beat his ass if he didn’t.” Eli chuckles. “Sorry, did I even say congratulations?”

“No, but it was implied,” you laugh.

-

The next twenty-four hours are a whirlwind. As much as you’ve said you don’t mind keeping things simple, your friends insist on treating you at least a little bit, helping you with your hair, makeup, and nails. You pick out something nice to wear, having a blast while they get you ready. You’re going to miss living with them dearly.

If you’re honest, they’re the main reason you haven’t suggested moving in with Viktor sooner. As much as you love him, your friends have been so near and dear to your life for years now. Leaving them—even just to a different apartment a few blocks away—feels like a stab in the chest. Especially with everything moving so fast. You’re about to be the wife of Piltover’s finest scientist, after all.

Yet, there’s no doubt in your mind that this is the right thing—long overdue truthfully. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted. You know he’ll love you how you deserve, and any fear and uncertainty about the future seems quieter when you’re around him. You love everything about him inside and out, and you can’t believe he’ll be yours.

Your roommates have made you look beautiful, enhancing all your best features and using all your best colors. You grin at your reflection.

“I should probably go find my future husband, hmm?”

-

“I know it’s short notice, but—“

“Of course I will, Viktor!” Jayce hugs him. “I will be the best best man.”

Viktor isn’t used to receiving physical affection from anyone other than you, but he’s not necessarily opposed to it. Jayce is the reason for everything that’s about to happen, everything that Hextech is going to change. Viktor has bonded with him so quickly, it only seemed natural that he would be involved in this big day.

“So um, what is a best man supposed to do?” Jayce asks.

“I’m...not sure.”

“I could write a speech?”

“No,” Viktor shakes his head and smirks. “You’ll talk too long.”

“What else is there to do then? I’ve never been to a wedding before.”

“Hm. Me neither.”

Suddenly Viktor realizes that planning a wedding in the span of a day is not, in fact, easy. He has no idea where he even wants the ceremony, or how to make it official and legal. His whims got the best of him, it seems.

“I could forge some rings?” Jayce suggests.

“Ah, yes. Good idea.” Viktor nods.

Jayce scurries away, and Viktor’s face falls to his hands. Is this too crazy? He knows nothing about weddings, and very little about marriage itself, for that matter. He knows he wants it—that much is clear—but the only example he grew up with was his parents, and they’ve been gone for quite some time.

If only he could get their advice now. They would’ve loved you, he’s sure of it.

He decides the best use of his time at the moment is to get his apartment ready, assuming you’ll want to come home with him tonight. He wants to make everything special for you, wants to make everything perfect.

He stops by some shops on his way back, buying way more than he should safely carry. He then gets to neatening up his space as best he can, covering the bed with fresh blankets and scattering flowers on the floor. He sets up some candles in your favorite scents on the tables and windowsills, nearly lighting them out of habit. He then assesses his work, making adjustments to the set up and gathering anything else he can think of. He’s not the most natural romantic, but he certainly gives his all when it comes to you.

While he’s still at home, he changes into something nicer and smooths out his hair. He doesn’t own a mirror, but it looks fine enough from his vague reflection in the window on his way back out. His only mission now is to find out how to officially marry you.

-

You and your friends run into Jayce as you’re heading towards the Academy, chuckling a bit as he swiftly hides something behind his back.

“Jayce?” you step up to him, raising your brows. “Have you seen my fiance recently?”

“Everything’s under control!” he blurts out.

“You lost him, didn’t you?”

“No! We just...don’t really know how to do a wedding. Last I saw him he said something about asking Heimerdinger to officiate. We’re going to meet back in the lab, I think.”

“Heimerdinger, huh? And what’s that behind you?”

“Nothing.” he dodges your attempts to look around him. “It’s a surprise!”

“Alright, alright. Can we come with you back to the lab?”

He nods, moving his hands quickly in front of him as he turns around to lead you.

“This is the genius inventor Viktor’s partnering with?” Eli jests.

“Viktor says he’s pretty brilliant.” you laugh.

-

Viktor manages to successfully recruit Heimerdinger to officiate, after no less than a twenty-minute reprimand of disappointment that Viktor disobeyed him. As proud as he is of Viktor’s achievements, and how impressed he is that Hextech might actually work, he’s still a bit burned that Viktor went behind his back with it. After he gets his frustrations out of his system, though, he’s quite ecstatic that Viktor is marrying you.

It’s not long before you show up with Jayce and your friends, and Viktor practically vaults himself to you on his cane, eyes scanning you adoringly.

“You’re beautiful.” he smiles, kissing your cheek. “Are you ready?”

“Of course I am.” you find comfort in his gaze, heart thundering in your chest.

Heimerdinger climbs on top of a nearby table, glancing at a pad of notes.

“Now, I haven’t done one of these in nearly a hundred years, so forgive me.” Heimerdinger clears his throat. “Viktor, my boy, do you intend to take Y/N as your wife?”

Viktor takes your hands and squeezes them, “I do.”

“And do you promise to love, honor, respect, and be faithful to her until death?”

“I do.”

Heimerdinger asks the same to you, and you feel Jayce and your friends watching you excitedly as you answer. You can’t believe this is really happening. So much has occurred in so little time, and your lives are about to change even more with the new Hextech discoveries.

You get lost in Viktor’s eyes as Heimerdinger has you both repeat a few other things, then can’t help but laugh when he starts fumbling with some papers for both of you to sign. It’s quite funny, watching such a highly respected councilor struggle with something so seemingly simple as a wedding. You and Viktor sign the marriage license as he says, exchange the beautiful customized rings Jayce made, and Heimerdinger pronounces you officially married.

Viktor doesn’t waste a moment pulling you in by the waist and crashing his lips to yours, the intensity catching you off guard. He’s not one for PDA, but you suppose his own wedding is an exception. You drink him in happily, the mini audience cheering in the background.

The celebration continues for a while afterwards, your friends breaking out some champagne and Jayce insisting on dancing. You sit on Viktor’s lap, twirling his hair absentmindedly as you watch the party surrounding you. It’s simple, just like you wanted.

Viktor’s eyes are locked on your features, studying your face as if he hasn’t already memorized it a million times. He wants you in every way possible, forever and ever until his last breath. His mind, heart, and soul are mated with yours, intertwined so intricately now that you are an inseparable part of his being. Never had he imagined he would experience a love like this.

But there’s still one way he hasn’t yet expressed his love for you, out of respect for your fears and slower attractions. You’ve verbalized your sexual anxieties from having no prior experience, and your need to have a strong comfortability and bond with someone before even considering such acts. Viktor’s never had a problem with waiting, and has made it very clear to you that there is no pressure on his part. He’s been open with you about how he had a couple experiences as a teenager before he moved to Piltover, but would gladly never do it again if that’s what you wanted. He married you for you, not your body.

Still, he aches for your touch every second of every day. He savors every kiss pressed against his lips. He’s reveled in every way you’ve allowed him to caress you, and dreams about all the ways you haven’t yet. He wants to kiss every inch of skin he hasn’t seen. Everyday he wants to bury his face where your pants dig into your soft stomach, where your top is cut dangerously close to your breasts, where your thighs rub together. The dress you’re wearing today makes the arousal impossibly worse, the way it hugs and flows around the curves he so desperately wants etched into his brain forever. He has never desired anyone in the universe more than you, and he’d be willing to wait an eternity if it meant he would one day have you every way he’s been wanting.

You’ve told him you’ll likely be ready someday soon, so is it selfish of him to hope today might be the day?

“Vik?” you say, giggling as you wave a hand in front of his face. “Losing yourself in thought already?”

“I suppose so,” he smirks, giving you a quick kiss.

“Ready to go home?”

His eyebrow raises, looking back and forth between you and then your friends who have started some sort of weird drinking game with Jayce. The celebration isn’t quite winding down yet, but it’s common for the newlyweds to leave early, right?

Viktor gently slides you off his lap, grabbing his cane and standing up.

“I’d love to.”

***

-

He had forgotten about the decorations in his apartment bedroom when you both shuffle through the door, hearing you gasp and clap a hand to your mouth.

“Viktor...this is so beautiful.”

You pick up and drop a few of the flower petals, watching them flutter to the ground. Viktor grabs some matches and starts lighting the candles, and you flop down on the bed, rubbing your limbs against the soft blankets. You inhale the scents, a perfect level of ambiance filling the space.

“Vik?”

“Hmm?” he throws away the used matches, returning to your side.

“Do you want to try it?” you look up at him, nerves starting to take over you.

He kisses your forehead, wrapping a comforting arm around you.

“Only if you’re ready, darling. We don’t have to do anything tonight if you don’t want to.”

“No, no...I’m ready. I want to. I really want to. I’ve felt it for a while now. I just...I’m terrified.”

Your lip quivers slightly, and your eyes roll at yourself. Why are you about to cry on your wedding night? This is supposed to be the happiest day of your life.

Viktor pulls you into him close, rubbing your back, “Talk to me, my love.”

“It’s so stupid...You’ve been so patient with me, you’ve never pushed me to do anything, but I can’t help but feel like I’ve been disappointing you by making you wait so long. And you’ve actually done stuff before, so you know what you’re missing I guess. What if I’m not good at it? What if we try it and it’s awful or you hate my body—or you unintentionally compare me to other people? What if you regret marrying me? Or what if it really hurts-”

“Sweetheart.” Viktor stops you. “Look at me.”

You do as he asks, still trying to hold back tears after your anxious rambling.

“How long have all those horrible thoughts been in your head?”

“Um. A long time…” you look away again, but Viktor takes your chin and turns you back to his gaze.

“Not a single one of those things are true, do you understand?” he holds your face like precious glass. “You are everything to me. Whether we have sex or not.”

“Okay.” you nod, successfully swallowing back a cry. “I...I really do want to.”

“We’ll go slow, alright? And we can stop whenever you want.” he waits for you to nod again, then lies back on the bed, pulling you on top of him. “But right now I just want you to kiss me.”

You smile, happily obliging. You straddle him, leaning down to capture his lips. He squeezes your thighs on either side of him, moaning when you deepen your kisses and run your hands down his chest. It’s so easy for him to lose himself in you, your touches overtaking his senses. He loves when you make out like this, your form pressed on top of him. He had to beg you to not hold back the first time it happened, insisting he likes your weight on him.

Viktor moves his fingers to twiddle with the hem of your dress, wanting so badly to pull it off of you. He’s never seen you fully naked, and he must admit it’s getting harder and harder to be patient when the outline of your figure looks so...majestic.

He guides your grip to his own shirt, helping you pull it off and sliding his fingers into your hair as you kiss down his neck and collarbone. To his surprise, you’ve always shown so much affection to his scrawny frame, never complaining about his sharp limbs when you cuddle or caress each other like this. He’s never understood any of your insecurities about your body, much preferring your soft and fluffy flesh over his own.

Once you’re satisfied with the amount of kisses you’ve pressed all over his torso, you cover his hands at the bottom of your dress with your own.

“You can take it off.” you tell him, taking a deep breath.

He does so, revealing nothing but your bra, his eyes bulging out of their sockets. Never has he ever wanted to see a pair of tits so badly.

It’s not difficult for you to read his mind, and before you can overthink it—you unhook it and throw it to the floor with the rest of your discarded garments.

Viktor doesn’t blush often, but you’ve never seen his cheeks get so red.

“Wow.” is all he can muster.

“You can touch them, if you want.” you chuckle at his reaction.

Permission is all he needed, his hands squeezing both of them, his thumbs brushing your nipples. A loud sigh escapes your lips, and Viktor decides right then and there that he will do anything to hear a glorious sound like that again.

Your body is a wonderfully pleasant array of textures for his hands to explore, from the raised skin of every stretch mark and scar to the dips and creases of your hips and waist. His touches roam across every inch of your exposed skin, cherishing the beauty he swears to never take for granted.

Your bare breasts press against his chest and he whines into your mouth, a pleasant tingling rushing through you at the noise. His lips then travel down your neck and shoulders, whispering “I love yous” between kisses, most coming out as mumbles against your flesh. Your replies follow suit, breathy and stringed with moans.

Somewhere in the process Viktor loses he pants, leaving both of you in nothing but your underwear. You feel his arousal hardening, and your fingers eagerly pull at his waistband.

He stops you, grabbing your wrist.

“Not yet, my love. I want to prepare you properly first.” he kisses your palm. “Let me get on top, okay?”

You nod, adjusting your positions. He places some pillows for your hips and his knees, then runs a couple fingers in one teasing stroke across your clothed entrance.

“Please,” you groan, already missing his touch when his fingers pull away. “Take them off already.”

He chuckles, leaning down to kiss you, “I’m glad you’re excited, darling.”

He obliges your request and takes off your underwear, his fingers quickly returning to your now exposed entrance. He finds your clit, stimulating it with one finger and inserting another slowly.

“Let me know what feels good and what doesn’t, okay?” he says, studying your expressions closely. Even before you say anything, he changes his movements based on your reactions to him.

“It...feels a little weird. But I like it.” you assure him. “Especially when you—“

The stimulation starts to build, and your gasps cut off your own thoughts.

“When you do that.” you finish your sentence, catching your breath as he slows down his fingers.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to help you orgasm your first time, love. But I’ll certainly try.” Viktor continues pulsing a finger in and out of you, rubbing feather-light circles on your clit.

“It’s okay if you don’t.” you hum. “I know it takes some concentration and practice.”

“It’s a learning process—are you ready for a second?”

You nod, and he slowly enters another finger. You’re still super tense from your nerves, but it’s getting easier to relax and let the arousal take over.

“Fuck.” you exhale. “Your fingers feel good.”

A smirks stretches across his lips, and his long digits push farther into you.

“But I want more.” you continue. “I’m ready.”

“Are you sure?” he slips his fingers out, ghostly touches moving up your body. “Oh sweetheart, you’re so perfect.”

You giggle at his distraction, “Yes, Vik, I’m sure. Please.”

He could never say no to such eager eyes and pouting lips, so he slips off his boxers and readjusts himself above you.

“Holy shit, Vik.”

“Second thoughts?”

“No, just...is that really going to fit inside me?” your eyebrows raise and he laughs.

“You can take me, darling. We’ll go very slow, alright?”

You nod, and he lines himself up. He presses the tip in slowly, holding your hands as he goes further. You squeeze them tight, taking deep breaths until he stops halfway in.

“You’re doing so well, my love. How do you feel?”

“Mmm…” you sigh, trying to wrap your senses around the stretching and pressure you’re experiencing. It’s such an odd feeling, but it’s incredibly pleasurable.

“Are you ready for more?”

You nod, and he slowly pushes all the way in. He leans down to kiss you, giving you time to adjust to him. You dig your fingers into his back, closing the distance between your bodies, his cool skin sending shivers down your spine.

“I must admit,” he utters against your lips. “I will likely not last very long.”

Your foreheads press together and you giggle.

“I don’t care, Vik.”

He begins to thrust in and out gently, placing kisses and nibbles along your jaw. The sounds you make drive him crazy, making it extremely difficult for him to have any hope of holding back. The sensations are overwhelming for both of you, a symphony of moans and whines eliciting from your mouths.

You take his face in your hands, staring deep into his gorgeous golden eyes. You capture his lips once again, more passion brewing between you.

“I love you so much.” you say, breathless and full.

“I love you m—fuck, I’m—“ his orgasm washes over him, his movements losing their former smoothness. His cum floods your walls, his dick starting to soften as he pulls out. His nimble fingers return to your cunt, swirling in the juices and stimulating your clit once again.

“Vik, honey, it’s okay if I don’t finish…” your assurances fall on stubborn ears though, his touches quickly building back the pressure.

“Let me try.” he says, determined.

“Vik.” you sit up, legs still wide open around him. “We can try again tomorrow. I promise you’ve satisfied me for the night.”

You intertwine your fingers with his, admiring his flushed face and tousled hair.

“Did I make your first time special enough?” he asks, fiddling with your hands.

“Viktor, it was amazing. I couldn’t have asked for anything better.”

He smiles, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Shall we clean up, then?” he mumbles, pulling back to look at you.

“Perhaps.” you run a hand through his hair. “I did bring the soaps you always compliment the scent of…”

*** -

You use the bathroom and start a bath, filling it with the products you packed and Epsom salt. Viktor’s tub isn’t very big, but you both fit in it when he sits between your thighs. You wipe each other off and wash each other’s hair, occasionally placing kisses on wet skin.

“Can we move in the rest of your things tomorrow?” he asks.

“Probably.” you reply, rinsing the shampoo from his wavy locks. “You sure you’re ready to share your space?”

“Eh...it’s always been far too empty. I need some...flair.” he laughs.

“I can give you that.” you smile, already imagining all the ways you could decorate and bring life to the place.

After drying off and getting ready for bed, Viktor clears off the top blanket then slips under the covers with you, your limbs immediately encircling one another. He massages your back and shoulders, cuddling you close. His arms feel like home, a warmth in your heart spreading throughout your body.

“I love you so much, Viktor.” you say, looking into his eyes. “And not because of what you do for me or how you make me feel…I love you just because you’re you.”

Your fingers trace his jawline, then slither into his hair.

“I’m so lucky.”

His gaze becomes even softer, at a loss for words from the purity of your love. Nothing in any language could properly describe his own sentiments.

“I can’t wait to love you for the rest of my life.” he peppers kisses across your face, living for the way your nose scrunches. “Every.” —another kiss— “Day.”

You giggle, snuggling impossibly closer. He loves feeling your every breath, every twitch, every tiny movement.

He sighs, closing his eyes and silently thanking Janna for whatever winds brought him to you.

[lunajay33]

My Princess

•🪽🦇💙•

Summary: You are Feyres sister and have always been shy but when everything happens and you and your sisters become Fae, you find yourself falling in love with the mysterious shadow brother

Pairing: Azriel x Feyres sister

Content: Sneaking around, fluff, smut, getting caught

•Masterlist•

I never thought much about how my life would turn out, living in a run down home with my three sisters and father gave me no hope for what could come, I thought I would die young of either illness or starvation, I always tried to help Feyre when I could just to help and get away from Nesta and Elain, they never liked me much, I am I second youngest and they liked to point out every flaw of mine

But then one day everything changed when we were kidnapped and thrown into a cauldron changing out forms, from human to far, Nesta took an immense amount of power, Elain could feel the future and me, well I haven’t shown anyone what I’ve discovered, I can morphe into the shadows, dissapear whenever I want, it came in hand when Nesta would get in one of her fits with who ever dared step up to her

But then one night as I was slipping into the shadows I met the most adorable little tendrils of shadow that seemed were alive, they were all over me swirling around with what I assumed was joy as they led me to Azriel, he was quiet like me and I found comfort in that silence but never had the never to approach him until the shadows brought me right into his room, as I’m in the shadow of his book shelf

Noticing him straighten up and peer around as his shadows spoke to him

“I know you’re here” my heart leapt, I shifted back into my fae solid form and stood before him nervously

“So you are gifted after all” he stood infront of me, shirtless showing his broad shoulders and ripped body

“Ummm yeah, please don’t tell the others”

“And why not?” I shrugged unsure of why I had to explain my reasonings only making him smirk

“You’re not like your sisters, you’re…….different”

“Different bad?”

“No different good, you’re intriguing and mysterious, you don’t put everyone out there”

•

From that day forward we kept our nightly meetings between eachother and it was sooooo easy, sneaking through the shadows right to his room, we started just talking and getting to know eachother but along the way I fell for him, how could I not he’s so beautiful inside and out and one night when all the others were busy getting drunk at a bar I felt my soul meld with his and his mine

That night we accepted the bond and we haven’t been able to stop, it’s been a week and our hunger for eachother hasn’t been quenched and it’s getting harder to hide this relationship

“Do you think we should tell the others?” I ask him as we catch our breathes, my head resting in his shoulder, his hand dragging up and down my back

“If that’s what you want my angel, but I can’t say sneaking around doesn’t make things more hot” he smirks as he grips my hip

“Maybe just a little longer” I giggle as I turn and straddle his legs laying forward on his chest

“Ready for more already?” His voice got deeper sending shivers down my spine

“Are you able to” I love to tease him knowing he has taken me multiple times in one night

“Please woman” he grabs my hips and grinds them up and down his hardening dick, I’ve heard about the girls talking about the comparison between wingspans but there is absolutely no way Rhys or Cassian could be bigger than my man, he nearly splits me apart

“I love you Azriel” I moan as he slowly stretches me out

“Not as much as I love you Angel, fuck you feel so good” at this angle he was just hitting every part just right it was impossible to keep quiet

“Oh god more I want more” I scream when he thrusts up into me faster and faster

“OH AZRIEL YES RIGHT THERE” I scream not even caring right now who here’s

“So good, mother above I’ll never get enough of you” right as I’m about to be in heaven the door bursts open and everyone in the group is standing there wide eyed and mouths hanging

“Ummmm what the hell is going on” Nesta shouts anger written all over her face

Azriel sits up and holds me closer covering my body

“Can we have a moment to get decent” he groans his shadows pushing the others out and slamming the door

“I’m nervous, did you see the way Nesta and Elain were looking at me?” He pulled out and helped put his shirt on me as he pulled on his own sweatpants

“Don’t worry it’ll be fine come on!” He took my hand and led me downstairs to where everyone was sat around in the living room

“Congrats brother!” Cassian congratulated Azriel patting him on the back

“How long has this been going on?” Feyre asks with a little smile as she sat next to Rhys

“Well we’ve been talking for a while at night but then last week our mating bond happened and we accepted immediately” I say holding his hand tighter

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Rhys asked

“Obviously she knows she’s not good enough to be with him I mean look at her” Nesta laughed, I hung my head low before Azriel pulled me in at the waist

“Watch your mouth, don’t think I can’t destroy your life just because you’re the high ladies sister

“She’s not wrong” Elain whispered but we all heard

“That’s enough they had their reasons and it’s their relationship, Nesta and Elain you need to leave her alone I’ve had enough of you two always bashing on her just because you know she’s better than you, I’m happy for you sister” Feyre smiles

“You can go to the family cabin if you wish while still in your mating faze” Rhys adds looking happy for his brother the next instant in standing in the cabin Azriel holding me tight from behind

“You know they’re not right, your as pretty as the stars” he says placing kisses up my neck

“Thank you Az, now how about we get back to what we started”

“Don’t have to ask me twice”

[meo-on-prairie]

Deserve Better

Prompt: After a shitty breakup, involving a douchebag of an ex, who makes you realize he never loved you to begin with. You went to your best friends for comfort, but instead of telling you “you deserve better”, they show you the best you deserve. 

Word count: 1786

Tags: FLUFF, a tablespoon of Angst, hurt and comfort, Gojo and Getou being sweetest boys, satosugu established, satorugu x reader not yet, mention of: manipulation and love bombing.

Rambling: This is an extremely self-indulgence fic, heavily inspired by my shitty ex lmao. I just wanna be sandwich between Gojo and Getou to comfort my angry heart :((. This is a mini series, I wanna able to make this series to be compose of a bunch of stand-alone fics that merge together. This is my first time writing after a long while so… 

//////

“He was a pathetic liar!” you shout as soon as Suguru opens the door. Tears are streaming down your faces and you can’t seem to make them stop. The sight of your face full of anger and sorrow quite nearly broke Suguru’s heart. Oh, how he wished he could erase your pain. Not make your pain go away, no, he wanted to erase it from your life completely.

Satoru walks toward the door after hearing the loud commotion, “what did he do this time?” he said knowing exactly who was responsible for your tears. With all honesty, Satoru is only asking for your sake, if he could have it his way, violence is always the answer.

Satoru and Suguru are used to this, it’s been 2 years of this clockwork. Ever Since you start dating your pathetic boyfriend, Anthon, it been a cycle of you venting to them about your relationship problem, them telling you to break up with the fucker, and you “work it out” with the douchebag, who can only tell lies and empty promises, the next day and all is good for about 1 month. It’s the same cycle of them clearly seeing that you are being manipulated, yet unable to do anything. But then again, what can they do? They’re only your friends, nothing more even if they want to be more, and as friends, the only thing they can do is be there for you.

Anthon was your first love, your glasses were not tinted, it was dyed rose-pink. You loved him with everything you got, always there to support him mentally, emotionally, and even sometimes financially. In return, he would love-bomb you with constant, nonstop, overly cheesy affectionate words. He also made a lot of promises to you: of marriage, of spoiling you, of being a better man for you, of being faithful to you; all of which are empty and meaningless in hindsight. They’re so meaningless in fact that it led you to break-up with him 2 weeks ago.

You were tired of his empty words, so you laid down your boundary, you told him you would never want to marry someone who refuses to find a job to support themselves. His answer? “Why can’t you be nicer about these things? Your words cut deep”. Anthon was a man of nothing, he had nothing but his words, and even then he couldn't even keep them. But you loved him, so you put it all aside, all his actions, all his shortcomings, his unwillingness to change for himself; you put it all aside and waited with baited breath, surely, surely…. Surely he’ll do as he said. He never did. 

“Come in first, the night is cold, I don’t want you to get sick” Suguru ushers you through the door and into their apartment. As Suguru guided you toward their living room, Satoru went into the kitchen to grab some tissues, water, and something for you to eat your feelings away. 

As soon as your body touched the soft velvet material of their couch, you crumbled into Suguru’s arms. He pulls you in closer to his body as yours shakes and heaves, you two sit like that for what feels like an eternity as you let the tears that carry your pain and sorrows fall from your eyes. Your hands balls up Suguru’s shirt as you cry in his embrace, you try to control your sob but it only makes your body shakes harder, almost hyperventilating.

“Shhhh, take your time, let it out. I’m here… we’re here… we’re not goin’ anywhere”

“He said he loves me! He said he wanted to marry me! And not even 2 weeks after our breakup, he’s getting his dick wet and telling another girl he loves her!” you choked out in anguish, still in denial that any of this is real.

“How did you find out about that?” Satoru asked, carrying a tray full of food; after hearing your sobs, he decided that a few snacks wasn’t going to cut it. 

“Because the fucker doesn’t even have the decency to keep it private, he been posting her all over his social media!” you swipe out your phone in frustration, pulling up Anthon’s account to show your two best friends the picture of your ex and the girl sitting on his lap, kissing. 

They both make a face when you show them the picture, “gross” they said in unison as Satoru places the tray on the table and sits down on your other side.

“I’m just so angry, I can’t believe I wasted 2 years loving someone who never was truthful to me! How can I be so stupid?” your tears are boiling hot, they feel like acid on your skin.

“Hey, hey, look at me, you’re not stupid for simply loving someone.” Satoru cups your face with his hands, nudging you to face him, his thumbs gently wiping away your tears. You close your eyes and feel the warmth of his hands. It’s comforting to be held so gently.

“That’s right, don’t shame yourself for being strong enough to love someone with all you got. That’s a strength, not a weakness.” Suguru agrees, pulling a couple of tissues from the box and handing it to you. 

You take the tissues from him to wipe away the tears and blow your nose, it was getting a little hard to breathe from crying, “Thank you… It just hurt realizing that even though I loved him, he never loved me; at least, I don’t think someone who loves me would go out of their way to hurt me like this. Him posting her and rubbing it in my face not even 2 weeks later makes me feel like… I just wasn't worth loving…”

“You’re right, someone that loves you wouldn’t hurt you like he did. But that doesn’t mean you’re unlovable. To us, you’re worth all the love this world has to offer…” Suguru whispers, placing his hand on your shoulder, and he means it. God, does he mean it. Satoru can see it in his partner’s eyes, the same feelings he has.

Satoru and Suguru have loved each other deeply since they were kids, but they always feel something is missing in their relationship. When you walt into their life when they were 15 through the door call “physic group project”, they thought something was wrong with them. They still very clearly love each other, their love is still burning, but their hearts forget how to beat when you smile at them.

How can they not fall for you? You’re kind, so kind you would push aside your shyness and discomfort to help those that need it. You’re intelligent, you quite literally carried them through that physics group project. And dear god, the way you just fit perfectly into their dynamic makes them realize very quickly that they desperately want you to be a part of their life. So desperately, they couldn’t bring themselves to tell you about their feelings in fear of scaring you away from them forever.

“Tell you what? Let’s watch some true crime documentary that you like so much since you’re secretly a sociopath, maybe they’ll give you the inspiration of what to do for revenge?” Satoru said with a smirk.

“If inspiration striked you, we’ll be your executioners.” Suguru added, smiling in relief seeing that you're feeling better after letting it all out. You let out a small giggle and nod. 

Satoru turns on the TV and searches for “Unsolved” while Suguru goes to grab the three of you a blanket. When Suguru comes back with the blanket, you get comfortable cuddling between the two of them on the couch. Between Satoru’s jokes about how if he was the detective case wouldn’t have gone cold, and Suguru’s soft chuckles of ‘sure babe’ at his boyfriend’s comment,you start to feel a lot better. 

You have always felt the most at home with them. It felt natural to be with them, Satoru’s humor brings laughter into your day, Suguru’s gentleness makes you feel safe. They ground you. You’re starting to wonder why you were even with the dirtbag when you have best friends who show you how you should be treated. But before you can think more on that, drowsiness takes over you.

It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep. With how hard you were crying and the emotional turmoil you experienced, it would be more surprising if you stayed awake. Satoru looks over to the sight of your sleeping face. He squeezed Suguru’s hand he been holding behind you on the headrest of the couch.

Suguru looks over at Satoru and notices where his gaze was directed at. “I don’t want to see her like that again. She deserves all the sunshines life has got to offer, not heartbreak” Satoru whispered softly. 

“Do… you think⸻” Suguru started

“Yeah.” 

It’s a silent agreement between them. They’re done with watching you on the sideline. They’re done with seeing you in pain. They don’t want to be afraid of losing you anymore if it means they have to leave your happiness in the hands of some other dudes that’s not them. In the hands of someone that doesn’t know how to cherish it like they do. 

Suguru gives Satoru’s hand 3 long squeezes, I love you. A soft and silent affection flows between them. You always joke that they’re each other's twin flames due to how they seem to be sharing the same soul; their ideology, way of thinking, even how they feel. They’re so similar despite different personalities it’s uncanny. But they think that if they’re each other’s twin flame, then you would be their soulmate. 

They let go of each other's hands so Satoru can carry you into their guest’s room. Well, they call it that but the color and decorations they have in it are all catered to your liking, plus no one beside you ever stays the night anyway. 

Suguru opens the door to the room for Satoru. They laid you down and tucked you in. 

Suguru went into the bathroom to get a damp face towel. He softly wipes away your streaks of tears so you can sleep comfortably without feeling the stickiness from your tears. 

They closed the door as quietly as possible so they don’t wake you, not before glancing at you one last time. 

Looking at each other, eyes full of love and determination, they silently vow to each other. They’re going to make you fall, sweep you right off your feet. They’ll treat you like you’re their most prized treasure. You’ll fall for them so hard, you’ll forget you’ve ever loved anyone but them.

[ovaryacted]

COMPLICATED

─ Javier Peña x fem! reader || WC: 3.2k

SYNOPSIS: You begin to realize Javier's position at the DEA is putting a wedge in your marriage. It was only a matter of time before everything you've built crumbled once you reached your breaking point.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. ANGST. Established relationship. Javier & Reader are Married. Marriage problems. Arguments & Confrontation. Thoughts of slapping Javi. Mentions to prior sex & intimacy. Javier is falling apart. Self-sabotage. Mentions of religion/faith. Mentions of the DEA & Javi's job. Both Javi & Reader are in Colombia. Reader's occupation is unknown. Spanish dialogue between Javi & Reader. Please proceed with caution if relationship issues/arguments/possible DV are a sensitive topic for you.

Disclaimer: I have not watched Narcos yet. This is all just my interpretation of another aspect of Javier Peña’s character. Therefore, it is not strict to the canon or details of the show.

A/N: I wrote this for @almostfoxglove's Angst Challenge for August and got Javier Peña, so this is what I came up with! I will admit, I rewrote this fic twice because my initial outline changed halfway, so I started from scratch and got this. It is angsty, and I do want to mention that this is a different take on Javier P., because I personally do not characterize him this way but I ventured out of the norm and put him through situations (I love him a lot though). Anyways, I hope you all enjoy. Reblogs, comments, and likes are always greatly appreciated! <3

NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | AO3

You waited for him, the same way you always did.

Sitting on the couch and staring idly at the TV screen, you tried your hardest to find something to occupy your mind again. The cigarette comfortably sat between the index and middle fingers of your left hand, the weight of the two golden bands on your ring finger enticed you to take another drag.

You always hated how much Javier smoked. The stress from working at the DEA compelled him to go through two packs weekly, an ashtray present in every room of your quaint apartment, probably another on his desk at work. You didn’t predict there would come a time when you’d consider yourself a smoker, much less of cigarettes, despite recalling the multiple times you reminded your husband of how bad they were for his health.

“Those things will kill you before your job does, Javi.”

The irony in your words, a hypocrite of your own making.

You don’t blame him for not listening, either. Now you think you get the appeal of going through the cancer sticks one by one. You crave the high of the nicotine rushing through your veins with every inhale and relieving your jumpy nerves. The peace you’d feel for a few minutes was the only tranquility you could get in the hectic mess of your crumbling life.

You wish you knew how things got to this point.

The years blended throughout your relationship with the charismatic Javier Peña, a fine man you bumped into on your way home and accidentally sent all your groceries falling to the ground. Apologies poured out of your mouth repeatedly, and he bent down to help you clean up your mess, offering to cover the expenses of the ruined food you just bought with a faint smile.

The curl of his lips and the sparkle in his brown eyes bewitched you from the start, and you took the money he offered in your palm before he walked off, your sight trailing down on the cocky sway of his hips and the broadness of his back.

He dwelled in your mind like a phantom, haunting you in your dreams and inhabiting your senses. You didn’t anticipate to bump into him two weeks later while running errands, the smug look on his face at the sight of reencountering you so quickly didn’t go unnoticed. It was a simple conversation, a brief introduction followed by an offer for drinks when you both had time with reassurance that you would meet him under better circumstances.

The rest was history.

Sure, you knew Javier was a busy man, always on the run due to his highly demanding job you didn’t initially know of. From how he carried himself, you gathered he was associated with law enforcement, not from Colombia naturally, but perhaps the United States. You didn’t suppose he’d be affiliated with the federal government of all things, and the thought of what he was doing in the country worried you the first few months of being with him.

But all of your apprehensions about his professional occupation went out the window when you got into bed with him, limbs tangling into the sheets, and hushed promises whispered sweetly in your ear. All you cared about were the words he’d say as he took you every which way, claimed you as his all over his apartment when you’d meet him late at night after a stressful work day.

That was the most intimate you knew him, in the throes of passion in which he seemed to be an expert. His hands strung your body with ease, pulling on the invisible red string that connected the two of you whenever his fingers wandered between your thighs. He drank every moan and cry of his name, hips moving against you so reverently others would mistake you for a place of worship.

It was a matter of time before dates turned to sleepovers, and your stay in his life became more permanent when you moved in with him. You didn’t object when he got down on one knee and popped the question you’d been waiting to hear after a year, jumping in your heels with a broad smile and tears streaming down your cheeks once he slipped the ring over your finger.

You never got the wedding you dreamed of since you were little, and you didn’t go on the honeymoon he promised you due to his prior commitments. Instead, you settled on going to a courthouse when you briefly visited Javi’s home in Texas and stayed in his government-covered apartment while in Colombia.

The signs of stress were there from the beginning of the relationship, but the rose-tinted shades you wore were a perfect fit. To you, ignorance was bliss, and you refused to pop whatever abstract bubble you found yourself trapped in with the man you’ve come to know as your partner.

You stuck by him when he needed you most, never opposing him when he sought after you for solace following the close calls he had while chasing down Escobar’s men. You kept your mouth shut when you saw him cleaning up the wounds he hid from you, locking the bathroom door behind him to avoid worrying you to such an extent. You didn’t utter a word when he started coming home later and wouldn’t give you notice, blaming the job and the intricacies of the caseload he was assigned to manage.

“I’m sorry. It’ll get better.”

You wanted to believe him, to think that somehow the craziness that was happening with the business of narcotics in Colombia would be slowing down, and your life would go back to normal, the way it should be. That way of life was gone. Sometimes, you think you’ve never had it to begin with.

You didn’t ask for this. Neither one of you did.

The disconnect between you grew after another close call on a raid, causing your first full-blown argument. The aftermath resulted in harsh kisses and bruises on your thighs from when Javi fucked you hard against the wall, holding you tightly as you scratched down his back. The subsequent times were like that; you could only communicate with him when your bodies engaged in the best way they knew how. All the pent-up frustration was released when he was inside you, groaning apologies and curse words as he filled you to the brim over and over, and you took it with a smile of forgiveness.

At some point along the way, there was no more fun to this game of tension you’ve created to ignore the elephant in the room. Not after the bickering turned into disagreements, your pillowcase growing wet with suppressed tears after a yelling match. The touches turned fleeting, the nights were lonely, and the animosity that wedged itself in your marriage thrived in the dismissive regard you both held for one another.

Your touch burned him more often than not; the last time he caressed you with care was lost to the ravages of his anxiety. All that remained was the past, the memories that you shared before shit hit the fan, and frankly, you don’t think you could take any more of this torture.

The other side of your bed stayed messy and cold, barely catching him when he left in the mornings for work. The caseloads kept piling on, the raids got more personal and farther from home, and the cycle continued to repeat itself. There wasn’t an end in sight, not soon anyway.

Stuck in your thoughts, you missed the instant the front door opened and closed, stubbing out your cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table. You glanced over to see Javier stepping through the entryway, peeling his leather jacket off and tossing it to the side while holding your gaze momentarily.

“You’re still awake?” Javier asked you, hinting an edge to his voice as he spoke to you.

“Hello to you too,” you responded calmly, asserting your tone. “Couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d wait for you.”

“You don’t need to do that.” Somehow, the faux concern made you chuckle dryly, watching him walk past you to head right for the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of whiskey and leaving his back turned to you.

“And what else do you need me to stop doing?”

Your question forced Javier to pivot and face you, his glass sat on the counter as you observed him. Keeping your distance, you stood on the other side of the kitchen, leaning against the archway and crossing your arms over your chest.

“Tell me. What else do you need me to stop doing, Javier?”

He remembers when you only called him by signature terms of endearment. Baby. Honey. Amorcito; he particularly loved that one. Now, you addressed him by his first name as if it were its own curse word.

“What the fuck do you mean?” he raised an eyebrow as you continued to speak, malice brewing inside as you itched to say the things you’ve kept bottled up.

“It seems you want me to stop everything. You don’t even come home anymore. I forget you live here sometimes,” you said, trying to be sarcastic, but your words were as sincere as they were hurtful.

“I do come home when I can. It’s been busy at w-”

“Work. It’s always about work and your fucking job. Work this, work that. Do you ever get tired of making excuses for yourself?” His eyes narrowed, staring you down as his body became rigid.

“Do you think me going out there every day chasing down these fucking pendejos is a godamn excuse? No estás pensando con claridad.”

“Oh, I’m the one that lacks sense. That’s rich coming from you.” You started to laugh, standing straighter and looking at your spouse vexingly. “You don’t think going down this goose chase with your head cut off to catch Escobar is crazy? Te has vuelto loco, Javi.”

“I do this for you. For us.” You know he’s trying to convince himself of this lie more than you.

“There is no us if you’re not here! You haven’t been here for months! I don’t know shit about you anymore, and this job has turned you into a different person.”

It was wrong to raise your voice at him; the previous quarrels usually passed through intense conversations, and he’d walk out the door to leave you for the rest of the night, but it was never this intense. You think this time would be the dreaded catalyst you’ve prolonged to avoid, and there was no turning back.

“You knew what you were getting into when we started dating. I told you what I do for work, I told you how this was going to be. It’s not fucking easy. You know this.” He took another sip of his whiskey, gulping it down all at once, hoping the buzz would give him the strength to handle the onslaught of words he knew was coming.

“So now it’s my fault that our relationship is falling apart? What? I should’ve known better than to fall in love with you? Should’ve known better than to marry you?” You were inching closer, your hands flailing around as you spoke exasperatedly.

“Yes. Maybe you should’ve known better.”

The only thing that could be heard in the kitchen was the clink of the ice melting in Javi’s glass, reaching a stalemate as you stared at him in bewilderment and heartbreak. You stepped forward to meet him chest to chest, imagining yourself slapping the words clean out of his mouth. You opted for putting your pointer finger under his chin, the tip of your nail grazing the underside of his jaw as rage washed over you.

“You don’t get to say that to me. Not after everything we’ve been through, everything I gave up to stay here with you in Colombia.”

Tears graced your lash line when he looked at you again, your brows creasing as the mask you’ve worn for so long unraveled. You tried to stay the good wife; you did, but you were getting edged closer and closer to the breaking point. Javier wants to be surprised that you found the audacity to confront him like this, but he knows it was what he deserved. Perhaps he deserved worse for what he’s put you through.

“Why can’t you give this up? Why? You know how this is going to end. I’ll hear from Steve that you didn’t make it back from another assignment or worse. All of this and for what? Help me understand, please.” You begged him to see your pain, hoped to see things as he saw them, to understand why he was going to such great lengths to kill a man at the expense of everything else rotting around him.

“It’s complicated. Everything about this is complicated. The last thing I need is for you to get involved in this mess, too.”

“It’s always complicated with you.” You shrugged with a shake of your head, admitting your defeat.

“I sit here and wait for you to come home, and you don’t. You’d rather be out there, doing god knows what, while I stay and twiddle my fucking thumbs waiting for something to happen,” you looked down to the floor, staring at your feet as the emotions swirled inside you, losing control over the storm of their intensity.

“I don’t complain or say anything when you don’t come home. I get it, this is the job, this is what you have to do. But I don’t see you, Javier. You don’t talk to me, you don’t touch me, or even look at me…I don’t want this for us anymore.”

You didn’t think your words were getting through to Javi anyway as he remained quiet, the stinging bitterness festering before was forgotten and replaced by the dull ache of his heart. Hearing you say this to him hurt in ways grazed bullet wounds and rough tumbles to the ground couldn’t amount to. The self-loathing and anger that’s been building inside him after discovering all the corruption of his job settled in the pit of his stomach, bile rising to the back of his throat at the thought of it. He hated this.

“I don’t want this either. I don’t want to keep hurting you…”

I don’t want to lose you.

“Then why do you still do it?” You presented your left hand to hit his line of sight, gesturing to the two rings you wore, the ones he gave you when he swore to love you for the rest of your life. “Does this mean anything to you?”

It means everything to me. You mean everything to me.

The words were too heavy for him to say, refraining from confessing his true thoughts the way he wanted. His lips were sealed, but his eyes confirmed what you already knew. He was just too cowardly to do or say the right thing himself.

“I love you Javier, I do. So much that it pains me, but this is not a life we should be living. Don’t you want more than this?”

Of course, he wanted more. When he slipped that ring on your finger, he had already envisioned the life he had dreamed of with you. A quiet life somewhere in the countryside, away from all of the noise of the government and countries that were running rampant with issues he shouldn’t be responsible for fixing. He saw the distant future, a kid or two running in the yard while you sat on the porch to watch them, a look of peace on your pretty face as you peeked over at him from across the ranch.

A happy home, a happy life. That was what he wanted, what he prayed for.

Javier despises himself for being unable to amount to his dream for both of you. He’s so wrapped up in this nonsense with the DEA that he’s had tunnel vision so profound he can’t see the light anymore.

“I know you’re not going to stop until all of this is finished, I know that. But I can’t do this anymore. So I’m giving you a choice, the DEA or me.” His eyebrows shot up at the sudden ultimatum you’ve proposed to him, eyes growing wide as he comprehended the hand you’ve forced upon him.

“You can’t make me choose this, that’s not how this works. I can’t just drop everything for you, not now when we’re this close. Don’t do this to me, please…” his hands landed on your shoulders, squeezing them to make you rethink what you said before doing something you may regret.

“I don’t want to do this, but I have to,” your eyes met the brown irises you used to spend hours looking at and admiring, the spark in them long gone. “I can’t stay here and watch you destroy yourself, Javi. I love you too much to witness that. Please don’t put me through that.”

Walking away from him and heading to the bedroom, you knew nothing else was left to say. You couldn’t save him, your love couldn’t save him either, and you thought maybe backing him into a corner would knock some sense that he’s been missing.

As you entered your bathroom to look at your reflection, you heard the front door open and close again, exhaling a shuddering breath. He’ll be outside for the night, maybe stop by a bar and drown his sorrows before going to work again as if nothing happened. Your eyes turned bloodshot as you cried, your hands covering your face to muffle your sobs as you sank to the tiled bathroom floor with your back to the wall. You brought your knees to your chest, comforting yourself and hoping something would come in the form of a miracle.

Maybe you’ll wait for him a little longer. Maybe you’ll leave your ring on the dresser with a letter, find your way back to the United States, and rebuild your life, forgetting all about Javier Peña. Maybe there was nothing left to give, nothing left to save. Maybe you just didn’t know what you were doing, and you went over your head.

You prayed for whatever God existed to give you the strength to persevere through this troubling time. In that silent prayer, you wished for the man you still loved to come back home to you, for him to want a better life for himself and to end this torment he continued to put himself through.

Slipping into the empty bed like you’ve done so many times before, you tucked yourself in the sheets that still smelled like him, glimpsing at the window to count the rays of moonlight that peeked through the curtains to help you doze off.

You dreamed that in the morning, you’d wake up to strong arms wrapped around your waist, apologies and promises muttered alongside kisses to your temple as he reclaimed you as his, the way he used to do before all of this. You desired to give him what he wanted, be the person he needed to show him better and save him from himself. But that was wishful thinking.

The man you knew, the man you loved, wasn’t here anymore, and there was no way you could bring him back.

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Spanish Translation: pendejos - idiots, No estás pensando con claridad - you're not thinking clearly, Te has vuelto loco, Javi - You've gone insane/you’re crazy Javi.

[yupstillaghost]

The Boogeyman

Vessel x fem reader

Summary: Vessel is a cryptid that is enthralled by his prey.

Warnings: tobacco use, attempted SA (not from Vessel), mentions of drugs and alcohol, blood/gore, making out. No use of Y/N

Tropes: instant attraction kinda?, he falls first, monster romance.

Author's Note: I could not stand the lack of monster romance Vessel fics out there, so i took matters into my own hands. If there are any grammar mistake i am sorry okay?

*photo credit goes to nickysrock on pintrest*

The Vessel is what they call him. A terrifying and menacing creature that desires the taste of human flesh. From a distance, he appears to be human, but if you get close enough to realize he is anything but human, you are already dead. The locals theorize that he wasn't always a murderous monster, but that he was once a mere mortal like everyone else.

They believe that he used to be a normal person until he started worshiping an ancient deity they call Sleep. The Vessel relinquished half of his soul to Sleep, and Sleep gave him half of his life force in return. But Sleep did not warn The Vessel of the changes he would experience with his newfound devotion. He did not warn him about the insatiable blood lust he would acquire upon receiving half of the deity's power.

Each life The Vessel takes is not only to sustain and nourish him, but it is also an offering to the other half of the deity living inside him. He is a lonely and miserable creature who longs for companionship but tears apart every person he comes across in a blind rage he has no control over.

It is said that The Vessel begged Sleep for the other half of his soul back, that he no longer wished to kill for him and that he wanted control over his own mind, body, and soul once more. But the deity refused. And now he is doomed to an eternity of solitude all because he was seeking a little faith.

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The brisk autumn wind blows your hair back as you walk, reddening your cheeks from its cold kiss. The sound of the dead leaves crunching under your sneakers as your feet meet the earth with each step. Walks through the woods are one of your favorite things, even if people tell you to be cautious of them. You grew up in this town, and of course, you've heard of the cryptid that supposedly lurks in the shadows of this vary forest.

You don't believe in it, though. You think of it like The Boogeyman, just a made-up thing used to scare children into behaving. You smirk to yourself at the thought as you reach into your pocket to pull out your pack of cigarettes and lighter. It's a nasty habit you have yet to kick, though you tell yourself that you're still young and you have time to indulge a little longer in it.

You place the cigarette between your lips and light it, feeling the smoke burn the back of your throat as you inhale. It's a burn you've always liked, one that took your mind off your loud thoughts and made you forget just how lonely you are. You have always been an outsider in this town. You don't really have any close friends, and you find you don't really have anyone to confide in. You think to yourself that maybe you should just abandon everything and live in these woods. Maybe you will make friends with The Vessel that everyone talks about. If he doesn't eat you first.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of breaking glass. You then see three guys who look to be about your age smashing empty beer bottles on a nearby boulder. They laugh and egg each other on while stumbling over themselves, obviously drunk or high. One of them turns around and sees you watching them. The man flashes a sickening grin at you.

You can tell that whatever he is thinking isn't good and you aren't one for confrontation. You take the cigarette out of your mouth and stomp it into the dirt before attempting to turn and walk in another direction.

You hope he takes this as a clear sign that you don't want to talk. You have never seen these guys before, so you are almost certain they are from out of town. That being said, you don't know if these guys are friendly, but they certainly don't look it.

"Hey! What's a pretty girl like you doing all alone in these woods?" You hear one of them shout to you. You freeze in place, panic starts to fill your insides. You don't have any way of defending yourself if things go south. No pepper spray, no fancy taser, you don't even know any martial arts. You were defenseless. You turn around slowly and spit out a nervous response.

"I'm just passing through, I'm on my way to my boyfriend's place," you tell him. Of course, you're lying. You don't have a boyfriend. You actually live alone in a shitty apartment a few minutes away, but they don't need to know that. You just need to get away from them unscathed, and you figured they would leave you alone if they knew someone was expecting you. The other guys turn around to look at you. The three of them then look at each other, and you can practically hear the gears in their heads turning.

"Sure you can't stay and have some fun?" One of them asks,"Maybe your boyfriend won't mind. " All three of them walk closer to you now. Creeping in on you like wolves to a small prey item. Your heart starts to race, already knowing what their intentions are and fearing for your life.

"N-no, i really need to get going." You choke out, trying to sidestep them. But before you can react, one of them pushes you to the ground and holds you down by your wrists. You attempt to scream, but one of the guys covers your mouth with his large hand, muffling any sound that comes from you.

"Don't fuss you bitch" the one holding you down spits. "We'll be quick with ya, then you can run home to your little boyfriend and tell him how we ruined you," he said through gritted teeth as he fights to keep you down while you thrash against his hold. It's no use. He's much stronger than you. The guy that isn't doing anything then crouches down and unzips your jacket with a hungry look in his eyes. You're breathing heavily and on the verge of tears as your heart pounds in your chest. You have never been so afraid.

Before the torture can commence, however, a guttural growling sound is heard by you and the men. The men stop and stare all around, looking for whoever, or whatever, that sound is coming from. You look to your right, and you see it. A figure of a very tall man in the moonlight. He looks exactly as eye witnesses have described him. He wears a long black cloak with his torso exposed, revealing his skin, which is the color of midnight. His hood is up and over his head, and his face is adorned with a white mask with a strange red symbol on the forehead. The mask has six eye holes to see through, and it leaves only his mouth exposed with red accents around the mouth area.

And his mouth, God his mouth, it's turned up in a sickening grin, barring his teeth like a rabid dog about to attack. He makes the growling sound again, and the men turn to him now, seeing what you see. All three of them stare at the figure, obvious fear etched into their faces. They all stand up slowly, removing their hands from you while you remain on the ground propped up on your elbows. You are too scared to move. These guys don't know who or what he is, but you do. It's The Vessel.

"H-hey man, we don't want any trouble. We were just messing around. " The man who was holding you down a second ago said shakily. All three of the men start to slowly back away from you. They must think The Vessel is angry with them after catching them attempting to assault you, but they don't know why he's really here. They don't know like you do that The Vessel is attracted to the scent of fear. It's you he is here for. Your fear attracted him, but now the three men are afraid too. The Vessel must choose who he wants to feast on first.

Without any warning, The Vessel runs at full speed towards the four of you, but not before letting out one of the most nasty snarls you have ever heard. One of the men panics and starts to run away, a fatal mistake. The Vessel lunges for him and tackles him to the ground. The man attempts to fight back, but it is futile since The Vessel is much stronger, especially in a state of blood lust. The Vessel grabs him by the back of the head and sinks his pointed teeth into his neck like a vampire. Instead of sucking his blood like a vampire would do, he takes a giant bite from his flesh and rips it off like he's biting into an apple.

The man's screams are unlike anything you've ever heard. It puts all the victim's screams you heard in slasher movies to shame. The sound of ripping flesh and animalistic chewing however, even worse. The two other men run in opposite directions, leaving you alone with the creature and their now dead friend. The Vessel lifts his head once he hears the rapid foot steps of the other two men. Blood is dripping from his chin and he wipes his mouth with his wrist in a oddly human way of thinking. Nobody knew if The Vessel was human or not, so to see him do that felt strange.

You take his distracted state as an opportunity to run away yourself. You quickly get to your feet and dart in the direction that is the opposite of where The Vessel is facing. You know running is probably a bad idea, but sitting there idly and waiting to be his next meal doesn't seem like a good idea either. You don't look back as you run. You run until you eventually decide to take shelter behind a tree. You did not hear his footsteps, so you hope he did not follow you. You peek behind the trunk of the tree cautiously and you don't see The Vessel anywhere. You let out a quiet sigh, relieved that you managed to get away unscathed.

You think you are safe until you hear the sound of heavy breathing and low grunting in your ear. You slowly turn your head forward and jump out of your skin at the sight of The Vessel right in front of you. You are practically nose to nose with him until you jump back, hitting your head on the tree trunk to get as far away from him as you can. Your back slides down the tree truck once you realize there is nowhere else for you to run. You are trapped.

The Vessel kneels down to your height and places his hand beside your head on the tree trunk. You stare into the eye holes of his mask as you tremble with fear. He takes a deep inhale through his nose, no doubt taking in the intoxicating scent of your fear, and gives that awful smile once again. He slowly leans forward and tilts his head to your neck, taking another deep inhale.

Your hands stay at your sides as your nails dig into the bark of the tree. He is so close to you now that you can smell him as he smells you. He has a metallic like scent due to the blood that was on his hands and forearms from the man he just mauled. He also smells like soil and pine, no doubt a scent he acquired from living in the woods. He is all alone out here, just like how you are all alone in this cruel world. You have no one who would miss you if this creature before you kills you right now.

The Vessel starts to slowly open up his maw, preparing to take a bite of your flesh like he did with that man. All you can think about in this moment is how long it would take someone to find your remains if there was any part of you left. You think about how you lead such a sad existence. You had no one who cared about you. You didn't make a name for yourself, and this is how you're going out? By the jaws of a creature that logical people don't believe exists? Pathetic. Sad. Waste of existence.

You start to cry, but you try to keep quiet so you don't encourage The Vessel to speed things up with killing you. You grit your teeth in an attempt to stay silent, but a slight sob escaped your lips anyway.

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The Vessel halts his actions after hearing a sob come from you. He realizes then that he no longer smells fear on you. Instead, he smells... sadness. None of his offerings have ever smelt like that before. None of them have ever smelt... like him. He knows you can't smell emotions like he can, but he wonders if you can smell his sadness too, his loneliness, his pain.

The Vessel's hunger has subsided since you are no longer afraid. He closes his jaw and lifts his head up to look at you. Your eyes are screwed shut as you quietly sob with tear stained cheeks. His gaze softens upon seeing you this way. You're so venerable, but not in the way he likes, not in the way his deity likes. You're in pain and he doesn't like it. He wonders if he is the reason for your pain and that fills him with pain in return.

Your eyelids relax, and you slowly open them to see The Vessel staring at you with a frown. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion upon realizing you're still alive, and The Vessel is no longer making an attempt on your life. You stop crying, but that doesn't stop him from reaching up and wiping the tears from your cheek carefully. You gasp at the contract and almost pull away from his touch, but you are surprised to find that he is being extremely gentle.

"I am sorry, little one... so very sorry, " he whispers in a warm British accent. He removes his hand from your cheek, leaving behind a mixture of blood and dirt streaked there. You sniffle and wipe away the blood and dirt on your cheek using your jacket sleeve. You stare at the creature in awe, surprised that you just heard him speak. You try to find his eyes through the holes of his mask, but you can't find them. The Vessel is staring back at you, but he is taking a good long look at you for the very first time. You are beautiful, breathtaking even. He is entranced by you, and he can't remember the last time he had felt this way.

"You're not going to eat me?" You whisper back to him, getting the feeling that he is staring into your soul even though you can not see his eyes. "No," he replies softly. "If I did, i wouldn't forgive myself." You furrow your eyebrows again and let out a small chuckle. "But you were okay with eating that other guy?" You say louder now, letting the cryptid know that he is contradicting himself.

He lifts his hand and lightly brushes the hair out of your eyes with his long fingers, causing a jolt of electricity to run up your spine. "He wasn't you" he stated. You are confused as to what is happening at this moment. Why is this viscous creature being so soft and gentle with you all of a sudden? And why do you like it when he touches you? Are you really that touch starved?

"Were those men trying to hurt you?" He asks calmly, tilting his head slightly at his question. You give a small nod, not wanting to go into detail about what those men were going to do if he The Vessel hadn't shown up. He places his hand beside your head on the tree trunk again and digs his nails into it. "If I find the other two, I will kill them where they stand," he says through gritted teeth. Your eyes widen at his statement, and you can feel that his words weren't a threat, but a promise.

"But you're not going to kill me?" You reiterate, attempting to find his eyes yet again. You can't explain the feelings you are having during your conversation with The Vessel. You're puzzled at his actions and words, but you also feel... safe with him? You think to yourself that you should see a psychiatrist after this encounter. It can't be normal to be feeling this way for someone who was going to eat you a few minutes ago.

"How could I?" He says barely above a whisper as he leans into your neck again. "I have waited for you for so long... my Eden." He then places a chaste kiss to your neck right where he was initially going to bite into you. Your breath hitches in your throat, and you feel that jolt of electricity again. Did The Vessel just... kiss you? You know you should be disgusted, but you can't help but feel drawn to him. Maybe it's because you are both lonely, both longing for companionship... someone to care for.

He lifts his head to look into your eyes again, the moonlight reflecting off his white mask and illuminating the lower half of his face, the only part that is visible. Your heart starts to race again but not from fear. This time, it's from anticipation. He starts to lean forward, his lips slightly parted. You place your hands on his collarbones to keep him from getting any closer to your face. Is he trying to kiss you on the lips? You let out a shaky breath at the thought, looking up and down his torso and noticing how toned he is. Are you attracted to The Vessel? There's no way... but you have this weird, swirly feeling in your stomach that won't go away.

"Do you have a name?" You ask him after what felt like an eternity of silence. He smiles, but it's not like the gruesome one you've seen before. It was a joyful one, not one of intimidation or eeriness. "Vessel" he responds. You let a small smirk show at the response. You find it ironic that his real name isn't far off from the nickname the locals have given him. "And may i know yours?" he asks in a almost flirtatious tone. You tell him your name and he hums in response. "Beautiful" he whispers.

Vessel holds your face with both hands, but not before wiping them on his black pants so he doesn't get you dirty again. "You are bewitching, my Eden" he breathes out as he slowly leans into you "absolutely stunning." As he gets closer to you, you no longer try to stop him. Instead, you allow your arms to wrap around his shoulders as a clear sign that you want him closer. The nose of his mask meets yours and you let out a shaky breath. He removes one hand from your face and wraps his arm around your waist to pull you even closer. You are now chest to chest and his lips are just ghosting over yours.

You look at him with half lidded eyes, practically begging him to close the distance between you. Vessel moves his hand that is cupping your cheek to hold your chin. You shouldn't want this. You should be running for your life from the cryptid in front of you, not on the verge of making out with him. But the pull that the two of you have toward each other however, it is undeniable. "May I kiss you?" Vessel asks, seemingly breathless despite the fact that your lips have not met yet. You nod without hesitation and within seconds, his lips are crashing into your.

You both sigh deeply through your noses, feeling instant relief from the tension in the air as your lips move in sync. Kissing him feels like climbing into a warm bed on a cold winters night. Or like drinking a tall glass of water after a long time of thirst. This feels right. He feels right. It no longer matters to you that he is a monster. The two of you fit together like missing pieces of a puzzle, you can feel it deep down and you know he feels it too.

He moves his other arm to wrap around your waist and pulls you closer till you are straddling his lap. You let out a small moan at the new position, moving your head to the side to deepen the kiss. He swipes his tongue on your bottom lip to ask for entrance. You gladly open your mouth slightly to allow his tongue in and he groans in delight. The kiss grows more and more hungry as time goes on and you start to wonder where it is going to lead.

The sound of branches being stepped on suddenly interrupts your make-out session. Vessel pushes you off his lap into the trunk with cat like reflexes. He places his hands on either side of your head on the tree trunk and looks around the forest growling with his teeth bared. You then realize he is protecting you from whatever is causing the noise and you were enthralled by it. You both then see a squirrel come into view and realize that was the perpetrator.

You breathe a sigh of relief and let out a small giggle. It's a bit comical to you that a predator like Vessel is easily startled by a small animal like a squirrel. But given the state of venerability you were both just in, it's understandable why he reacted the way he did. He directs his attention back to you and lowers his hands to your shoulders.

"You alright, my love?" He asks breathlessly. You let out a giggle at his question, "I'm fine. It was just a squirrel, silly " you tease. He smiles warmly and lets out his own little giggle, giving you butterflies instantly. He leans down and kisses your jawline and then your cheek. You place your hands on his biceps and rub your thumbs on them idly.

"Vessel, it's getting late. I have to get going" you tell him in a broken tone of voice. "Please stay" he whispers in your ear before kissing the shell of it. You want to stay. You don't want to leave him at all, but you know you have to. "I can't stay," you whisper back, unable to hide your disappointment. "But I will come back tomorrow, I promise." He looks into your eyes and you place both your hands on the sides of his mask. You stroke the intricate red designs with your thumbs and pull him forward to place a kiss on his forehead.

You release him and you both stand up. He takes your hands in his and plants kisses on your knuckles. "I will be waiting for your return, my Eden" Vessel says lovingly with his lips still pressed to your knuckles. You offer him a smile and begin to walk away, allowing your hands to slowly slide out of his. You turn your back to him and walk through the woods till you are out if sight.

You meant it when you said you would come back. In fact, you will be counting down the minutes till you're reunited. And you know he will be too.