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carnationworld-writings · 8 months ago

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The Man He Didn’t Have to Be (Tim Bradford x fem!reader)

To read my other works, check my MASTERLIST !

Paring: Tim Bradford x reader

Universe: The Rookie

Word Count: 3857

Requested: No

Warnings: pregnancy, divorce, ex-husband who is a piece of s*it, mention of childbirth

If I forgot about anything feel free to write to me. Your well-being is a top priority to me.

Summary: When her world crumbles, Tim is there to step up.

Author’s note:

Surprise! I am alive! I know it's not what you wanted but, I started watching "The Rookie" and fell in love with Tim! So I needed to write something about him. I also may have a baby fever (again...) So this fic happened. Enjoy!

Thank you for taking the time to read my work! I would greatly appreciate any feedback you may have as it motivates me to continue improving. Please don't hesitate to share your thoughts!

And please forgive any grammar or spelling errors, as English is not my first language.

Klaudia 💜

Every time she thought her life couldn’t get worse, something new seemed to be waiting for her. First, her husband announced he was leaving, telling her he’d found a woman he loved in a way he had never loved her. She tried to fight for their marriage and convince him to change his mind, but nothing worked. With a broken heart, she finally decided to let him go. Even though her heart shattered into a thousand pieces, she signed the divorce papers. She attempted to rebuild her life—she found a small apartment, focused on her work, and tried not to sink into depression during the long, lonely hours. Thankfully, she wasn’t entirely alone. Tim Bradford, her best friend for years, had always been by her side, even in the middle of the night when she couldn’t stop crying or obsessing over what had gone wrong in her relationship. He was her rock, her greatest support.

Just when she thought her life was starting to settle down, she began feeling unwell. At first, she attributed it to stress, but eventually, she connected the dots and took a pregnancy test, which came back positive. She knew her ex-husband deserved to know the truth, even if he hadn’t been entirely honest with her. So, she texted him and asked to meet. What followed, however, was nothing short of her worst nightmare.

When they met at the café, she felt as if time had slowed down. He sat across from her, completely indifferent, as if everything that had happened between them was a closed chapter. He looked at her with a cold gaze, waiting for her to speak. She struggled to gather the strength to say the words that had been swirling in her head for days.

“I’m pregnant,” she finally said, looking straight at him, searching for any reaction. His face remained expressionless. For a moment, she thought maybe he hadn’t heard her. But after a second, his lips tightened, and his eyes showed a flicker of displeasure.

“The relationship between us was over long before I found someone else. This changes nothing,” he said coldly. Those words cut her like a knife.

“I’m not telling you to come back to me… It’s your child and deserves to have a father… ” she tried to insist, though her voice trembled.

“That’s your problem. You’ll have to deal with it,” he replied emotionlessly, standing up from the table as if the meeting had been nothing more than an irritating interruption in his perfectly arranged new life.

When he left, she felt as if the world was collapsing around her. Tears welled up in her eyes, but this time, she wasn’t going to cry. Instead, she pulled out her phone and called Tim. As soon as he heard her voice, he knew something was wrong.

“Where are you?” he asked, no questions needed. “I’m on my way.”

It wasn’t even fifteen minutes before Tim was by her side, his eyes filled with concern. Without a word, he pulled her close, letting her lean on him as she fought back the tears. In his presence, she felt the tension in her body begin to ease.

“Tim… There’s something you should know. I…” She took a shaky breath. She felt his hold tighten around her. He rested his cheek against her head, softly rubbing her back with his hand.

“Whatever it is, we’ll handle it together. Like we always do,” he said calmly, trying to give her as much comfort as possible.

“I’m pregnant,” she whispered, feeling a lump in her throat. “And it’s his. But he said it’s only my problem. He doesn’t want anything to do with this baby…” For a moment, his face showed surprise, as if he was trying to process what he had just heard. He didn’t say anything at first, pulling back slightly to look at her, and she wasn’t sure how he would react. She feared that silence, that hesitation.

“Okay,” he finally said, slowly. Tim pressed his lips together, clearly upset, though he tried to stay calm. “He’s a jerk. But you won’t go through this alone. You’ll never be alone—I won’t let that happen.”

True to his word, Tim never let her feel alone. From the moment he learned about her pregnancy, he stepped naturally into a role that felt both essential and reassuring. He took over her usual shopping, refusing to let her carry a single bag, insisting it was the least he could do. Each morning, he arrived at her door with fresh breakfast, right after his run with Kojo, the loyal dog who seemed to sense the changes happening in their lives.

Even during his shifts, Tim made it a point to check-in. He texted her regularly, asking how she felt, and called just to hear her voice, attuned to any subtle shifts in her mood. But his favourite part of the day was always the evenings when he would come to her home. Most nights, she greeted him with a smile, though the fatigue etched on her face often told a different story. Each time, he pulled her into a warm embrace, holding her like a protective blanket. Some nights she hugged him back just as tightly; other times, she simply leaned into him, letting him hold her. On those nights, he sent her to the couch, where Kojo would curl up beside her, resting his head on her lap, seeking her affection.

Tim loved cooking dinner for them, always mindful of preparing meals that wouldn’t upset her stomach. He quickly learned what she could tolerate and what made her feel worse. On the rare occasions, his cooking didn’t go as planned, he would kneel beside her in the bathroom, holding her hair back and rubbing her back—his unwavering support something she had come to rely on deeply.

What he cherished most were their late-night conversations. They talked endlessly, about work, their future, and even the small details of their day. These talks deepened their bond with each passing evening.

But tonight felt different. From the moment he arrived, he noticed the exhaustion in her eyes, the way her thoughts seemed miles away. Sensing the shift, he suggested watching a movie they’d been meaning to catch up on. She quietly agreed, thankful for the distraction, and didn’t protest when he pulled her close, wrapping his arm around her.

As they settled in, her hand absentmindedly rested on her stomach, where a small bump had just begun to show. Though she tried not to dwell on it, her mind wandered back to something a colleague had said earlier. The words echoed painfully in her thoughts—that it was her fault her husband had left, and that Tim was only with her out of pity. The sting of those words hung heavy on her heart. Tim had always been her rock, but now, more than ever, she felt guilty leaning on him. This wasn’t his burden to carry; she had to find her strength in the chaos.

“Tim,” she began softly, breaking the silence. “I feel like I’ve dragged you into something you didn’t sign up for. This isn’t your responsibility. Me, this baby… we’re not your burden.”

Tim frowned, shaking his head firmly. “That’s not how I see it. I want to be here. I choose to be here. You’re important to me—always have been, always will be. Now that just extends to your baby too. You’re not dragging me into anything. I’m choosing this.”

She blinked back the tears threatening to spill over. The certainty in his voice made her heart ache in the best possible way. Maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to go through this alone. Yet doubt still lingered on the edges of her mind.

“Are you sure?” she whispered, her hands trembling slightly. “This is going to change everything.”

“I’m sure,” he replied without hesitation. Gently, he placed his hand over hers, almost covering her small bump. “We’re in this together. All three of us.” They both chuckled softly as Kojo, lying contentedly by her feet, gave a small bark. “Alright, four of us,” Tim added with a grin.

She nodded slowly and leaned back against his side. No matter what uncertainties lay ahead, Tim brought peace and safety into her life. As she felt him press a soft kiss on the top of her head, she knew that he was in this 100 percent. With him by her side, she felt ready to face every step of the journey ahead.

As the movie played in the background, a warm sense of comfort washed over her. Despite the unknowns of the future, she had her best friend, someone who believed in both her and the life they were building together. And together, they could face whatever came next.

The quiet hum of the ultrasound machine filled the small room, the rhythmic beeps syncing with her heartbeat. The sound, once foreign and unnerving, had become strangely comforting, marking each milestone of a journey she’d never thought possible. Lying back, her hand rested gently on her growing belly, feeling the warmth of the life moving inside her—a sensation that was as awe-inspiring as it was surreal. The nurse moved the cold, gel-covered probe across her skin, and though a shiver ran up her spine, she barely registered it. Her eyes were locked on the screen, waiting for the familiar grainy image of her baby to appear.

And then it did—a blur at first, slowly sharpening into the unmistakable shape of tiny hands and feet, twisting and turning as if to greet them. A soft gasp escaped her lips. No matter how many times she witnessed this, it always left her breathless.

Tim sat beside her, his eyes fixed on the monitor, a quiet smile playing on his lips. His face, usually so composed, softened with awe. He had always been good at hiding his emotions, but moments like these stripped away his calm facade. Without thinking, his hand found hers, their fingers entwining in a silent exchange of support. He gave her a gentle squeeze, then leaned in and pressed a light kiss on the top of her hand. It was a gesture so natural, so full of unspoken affection, that it nearly brought tears to her eyes.

"Everything looks perfect," the nurse said, her tone upbeat as she wiped the gel from her belly. "Baby’s healthy and growing right on track."

She nodded, a wave of relief washing over her. The tight knot of anxiety that had taken up residence in her chest loosened—if only a little. Each passing month had brought new fears and uncertainties, but slowly, those feelings were giving way to cautious hope. It had taken longer than she expected to feel this way, but now, she could finally begin to see herself as a mother. And in every vision of that future, Tim was always there, steady and unwavering, just as he had been from the beginning.

After the appointment, Tim stood and offered her his hand, helping her off the exam table with the ease of someone who had been there through every step. His presence had become her constant, a source of comfort she hadn’t known she would need but now couldn’t imagine living without. Over the months, he had kept every promise, never wavering, never complaining—always there, even when she didn’t know how to ask for help.

“How are you feeling?” he asked as they stepped outside the clinic, the crisp air hitting their faces. His hand hovered near her arm, close but not quite touching—a subtle, protective gesture, ready to catch her if she stumbled.

“I’m good,” she said, a small smile pulling at her lips. “Better than I’ve felt in a long time.”

He nodded, clearly pleased, though his eyes still scanned hers, searching for any sign of discomfort or worry. “You’re handling this like a champ,” he said softly.

She let out a light laugh. “I don’t always feel like it, but I’m trying.”

As they walked to his car, their footsteps fell into an easy rhythm, the silence between them comfortable and familiar. When they reached the car, Tim opened the passenger door for her, but before getting in, she paused, turning to face him, her expression suddenly serious.

“Tim,” she began, her voice quiet but steady, “you’ve been amazing. I wouldn’t have made it this far without you. I mean it. You’ve taken care of us—even though you didn’t have to.”

He looked at her, his warm, reassuring smile never faltering. “You don’t need to thank me,” he replied softly. “I’m just glad I can be here.”

But she saw something flicker in his eyes—something deeper, something he wasn’t saying. Tim was always so careful, so controlled with his emotions, but she had known him long enough to recognize when he was holding something back. Yet she didn’t press him. Not now.

As they drove back to her apartment, the conversation shifted to lighter topics—baby names they hadn’t yet decided on, the nursery they were slowly piecing together, and the never-ending stream of baby books filling her apartment. They laughed about the absurd number of gadgets people swore they "needed" for a newborn, trading jokes about the most ridiculous ones.

Yet beneath their playful banter, there was a tension neither acknowledged, an unspoken understanding hanging in the air. Tim had always kept his distance emotionally, respectful of her space, never pushing her for more than she was ready to give. He had made it clear from the start that he was there to support her, no matter what, and he had lived up to that promise in every way. But that didn’t stop his heart from racing when she smiled, or the way his pulse quickened when their hands brushed accidentally.

He had loved her for years—long before she had married before everything had fallen apart with her ex-husband. Tim had watched her fall for someone else, had been there when her heart broke, and now, here he was, still by her side. Taking care of her, taking care of the baby that wasn’t his.

He never said anything. He couldn’t. His feelings had to wait. Right now, all that mattered was her and the baby. His love, his desires—they would come later. For now, being there was enough. It had to be.

As the weeks passed, their lives settled into a comforting rhythm, though they didn’t notice the subtle shift that began to happen between them. Unspoken feelings hovered just beneath the surface, and they found themselves growing closer, more open with one another. Friends started to notice too. They exchanged knowing smiles as Tim’s touch lingered a little longer on her arm or back.

Angela Lopez had rolled her eyes more than once when hearing endless stories about “Tim’s friend” and all the thoughtful things he did for her and the baby. Whenever she visited the station with sweet treats for everyone, Angela often caught Tim and her in quiet moments, where their connection seemed palpable. More than once, Angela noticed the way she would place his hand over her bump when the baby kicked, and how Tim responded with a smile that said more than words ever could.

The biggest change came one evening while they were assembling the crib. She sat comfortably in a rocking chair, one hand resting on her belly, the other absentmindedly petting Kojo’s head as he lay beside her. The dog had become as protective of her as Tim was, always at her side when he could be.

She watched as Tim wrestled with the instruction manual, his brow furrowed in concentration. “You’re doing it wrong,” she teased, smiling.

“I am not,” he shot back, glancing up with mock indignation. “I’ve got this.”

As he fumbled with the crib parts, she laughed—a sound that felt like a rare gift these days. For a moment, it was just like old times—before the pregnancy, before the heartbreak. Just the two of them, shared an easy, familiar joy that felt like home.

Tim looked up from the pieces scattered on the floor and froze for a second, watching her laugh. He hadn’t heard that sound in too long. It was unguarded, real. He smiled, letting himself soak in the moment.

“Well, if you’re so good at this, why don’t you help instead of just sitting there judging my work?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

She grinned. “I’m perfectly comfortable where I am, thanks. Besides, you’re doing great. It’s... entertaining.”

He chuckled and shook his head, returning to the task, muttering under his breath about her stubbornness. But secretly, he didn’t mind. Knowing she was there, watching him, laughing—it felt right. Like this was exactly where they were meant to be.

As the crib finally took shape, something between them shifted. There was an unspoken understanding in the air, something neither had fully acknowledged until now. Tim glanced at her, and for a moment, they simply stared at each other.

He reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her cheek longer than necessary. She leaned into his touch, her breath catching in her throat.

That was all the encouragement he needed.

Without thinking, Tim leaned in and kissed her, softly at first, hesitant. But when she kissed him back, her hand slipping to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. This—this—was where they were always meant to end up.

Together.

She struggled to breathe deeply as she slowly made her way down the hospital corridor, her grip tightening around the IV stand. Another contraction surged through her, pulling a low moan from her lips. She tried to focus on the gentle support of Nyla’s hand on her arm, but the pain was too consuming—sharp and overwhelming. When it finally ebbed, she glanced over at Nyla, her eyes filled with worry.

“Have you heard from Tim?” Her voice cracked, and tears welled up as she caught Nyla’s sympathetic smile.

“I texted him, and Grey knows to pass the message along. He’s coming,” Nyla reassured her. “Tim wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

She nodded, but a flicker of doubt gnawed at her. “I hope so… I don’t know if I can do this without him.” Her words were barely more than a whisper, her emotions unravelling.

“You’re stronger than you think,” Nyla said softly, her hand squeezing in quiet encouragement. “But he’ll be here, don’t worry.”

She tried to smile, but the uncertainty lingered. Tim had been her rock for so long—how could she face this moment without him? Nyla’s presence was a comfort, but it wasn’t the same.

They continued their slow walk back to the room for another check-up. The nurse met them with a concerned expression before examining her. When she announced that she was still far from delivering, a groan of frustration escaped her. She sank onto the bed, burying her face in her hands.

“I don’t know how much more I can take,” she whispered, her voice thick with exhaustion. “I just want to hold my baby.” Nyla brushed a lock of hair from her face, her steady presence an anchor.

“Soon,” she promised gently. “Soon.”

The hours crawled by in a blur of contractions and fleeting moments of rest. She clung to Nyla’s guidance, her body trembling from fatigue until the door suddenly swung open. Her breath caught as Tim rushed inside, his face flushed with worry.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he said, hurrying to her side. His hand found hers instantly, and the crushing weight of fear lifted just a little.

“You’re here,” she whispered, her voice breaking with relief as fresh tears filled her eyes. He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, his touch grounding her in the storm of pain and anxiety.

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her forehead. His presence radiated warmth, steadying her as another contraction gripped her.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she managed between ragged breaths, her emotions spiralling. “I don’t know how I’d get through this without you.”

“You would,” he said softly, squeezing her hand. “But now that I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.” His gaze held hers, his thumb brushing soothing circles on her skin as another wave of pain washed over her.

They endured the hours together, Tim never leaving her side. His strength, and his quiet, unwavering support gave her the determination she needed to push through. The world blurred around them as they focused on bringing this new life into the world.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, the sharp, piercing cry of a newborn filled the room. She gasped, tears streaming down her face as the nurse placed the tiny, wriggling bundle on her chest. Her arms instinctively wrapped around the baby, and she looked up at Tim. His eyes were wide, filled with awe and tears he didn’t bother to wipe away.

She looked down at the baby, overwhelmed by the fragile, perfect little face scrunched up in protest. "Hi, sweet baby," she whispered, her voice shaking with emotion. Her fingers brushed gently over the baby’s soft cheek. "I’m your mom."

Tim stood by her side, his hand resting on her shoulder as he gazed at the baby with pure wonder. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. "She’s perfect," he whispered, unable to look away.

“We did it,” she whispered, her eyes meeting his in a moment of shared joy.

Tim bent down, pressing a kiss to the baby’s head. "Welcome to the world," he murmured. "We’ve been waiting for you."

The baby’s cries softened, and the room fell into a peaceful quiet as if time had paused, leaving just the three of them cocooned in the moment. She couldn’t stop the tears—this time, they were tears of love, of pure joy. This was a happiness she had never known, a completeness she hadn’t imagined was possible.

“Do you want to hold her?” she asked, her voice trembling with emotion.

Tim hesitated but then nodded, his hands gentle as the nurse helped him take the baby into his arms. He cradled the tiny bundle as though it were the most precious thing in the world, and in that moment, his love was unmistakable.

"Hi there... I’m Tim," he whispered, his voice catching in his throat. He paused, then added, “I’m not your dad, but I promise I’ll love you like one.”

Her heart swelled at his words. Reaching out, she rested her hand on his arm, gazing at the baby in his arms. “Tim... you are the father she deserves. You’ve cared for her from the start. You’ve been there every step of the way... and I love you for that.”

As the baby stirred, Tim smiled through his tears, and for the first time, she felt truly whole. This was their family—imperfect, unexpected, but overflowing with love. And as Tim bent down to kiss her lips, sealing the moment, she knew that they had found their way home.

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x fem!reader #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford #tim bradford x you #tim bradford the rookie #the rookie #tim bradford fic #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford fanfiction #tim bradford fanfic #angela lopez #nyla harper #tw: pregnancy #tw: divorce #tw: childbirth

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skimmingmilk · 2 months ago

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aughhh sonic going back in time to visit little two yr old tails as been in my brain for what feels like forever! like how many dots does he end up connecting? how does he have the strength to not travel back further and knock the daylights out of tails’s mom? how does he react to the whole kukku invasion and forest fire? so many questions…aaaaa im so excited for this fic i will be in ruins. in ruins, i tell you

also with the whole sonic punching tails’s mom thing: you were talking about tails and his parents, but like sonic interacting (or just seeing) tails’s parents is always something ive thought about. idk, im curious about what your take on that would be, if you have one. (sorry if you’ve already answered something like this ahshhshs)

your boys are just spinning around in my brain constantly. they are living in there completely rent free. i adore them sm, they make me sick. anytime there’s a reference or parallel to something in their past, it hurts. these boys need therapy immediately. maybe even before immediately. your portrayal of them is such a huge inspiration istg

anyway, sorry this is kinda all over the place 😭 i just had a bunch of thoughts and threw them together in the most coherent way i could lol. hope you have a good rest of your night/day! stay safe out there 🩵

So, I was saving this because it really inspired me to write a little something, and it felt fitting because I live for your baby Tails and Sonic art, it's seriously the best boost of serotonin for me xD I'm sorry it took a minute to get to this, and I'll address the second idea you had in another ask (someone else was on the same wavelength as you around this time, and also asked about Sonic and Tails and Tails's parents xD).

But for now, please accept a continuation of the back in time shenanigans <3

Sonic Back In Time Shenanigans WIP #2: Back for the Luggage

Tracking down a second Chaos Emerald so he could skip back in time for an afternoon wasn’t how Sonic saw himself spending the past few days. Though, to be fair, he spent a good chunk of them trying to ignore the very itch encouraging him to give into this particular whim of the week, but impulse control wasn’t Sonic the Hedgehog’s claim to fame. Not by a long shot.

His curiosity had been piqued. New insight into the lore of his little brother’s life before he’d ever crossed his path niggled at his mind no matter how far and fast he ran from the temptation to take a peek. The glimpse he’d got on that rainy night hadn’t been all that reassuring, with Tails so small and sick and the time Sonic got to spend with him in that dusty, stuffy cabin all too brief.

Cocoa Island. He’d looked it up after he and Silver returned to Sonic’s present, their respective futures stabilized for the time being, but he couldn’t find much information on it. If it wasn’t for the fact that Sonic could chart it on a map, it almost seemed like it didn’t even exist.

Historic records mentioned studies of the volcanic activity on the island more than a decade ago. Mines had also been dug out in the cave systems throughout the island long before Sonic had been born, in search of potential esoteric energy sources.

The Chaos Emeralds, no doubt.

But other than that, it seemed the island had never been properly settled. Sonic could’ve flown over in the Tornado for a quick jaunt—running to small islands never boded well for him, they were always tricky to aim for—but he knew it wouldn’t have the answers he was itching to find out.

And sure, the big one was already answered. The sick baby fox he’d had to leave behind in the care of some flickies after that rainy night obviously made a full recovery, or else Tails wouldn’t be alive in Sonic’s present, off on his own adventure. Flying solo. Alone.

But knowing that without actually seeing it, experiencing it for himself, didn’t satisfy Sonic in the slightest. He was all about experiences. And he wanted to experience this mysterious chapter of his best bud’s life, one he never really let himself think all that hard on.

So, that was how Sonic found himself on a nearly deserted island eight years in the past with two Chaos Emeralds in hand. It was warmer than in his present, willing to bet they were somewhere in spring or early summer as opposed to late fall, but the dense cover of pine trees kept the forest floor cool in its shade. Allergies tickled his nose, prompting Sonic to scratch at it as he took in his surroundings. Flickies sang throughout the branches, their chirps a comforting song accompanied by the steady hum of insects hidden in the brush. With his own curious hum, Sonic picked a direction and ran with it—er, walked with it. He took it slow for the moment, trying to find his way back to the cabin from that night. It seemed like his best bet to start his search for Tails.

Until a child’s voice somewhere in the forest caught his ear, both perking up and flicking towards the sound with an instinctive pull as everything else faded into the background. A breath Sonic hadn’t realized he’d been holding lifted from his chest. The child sounded light, healthy. No coughing or crying as far as he could tell.

Sonic followed the voice to a clearing. Unlike the stormy day he’d first stumbled in on, sunlight flooded the patch of grass between the trees with its warm beams. One fell across a tree stump where a two-tailed fox kit lay sprawled across on his tummy, bright-eyed and bushy tails further confirmation that he’d made a full recovery. Sonic’s shoulders sagged with relief as he observed him from the brush, his own green eyes lighting up as he realized he was playing. Making motor sounds with his mouth, Tails rolled a toy airplane through the long, wild grass. His tongue poked out as he accidentally blew raspberries amidst his very serious airplane noises.

“Pfft—” Sonic’s laugh nearly sputtered out of him, cut off only by the fact that the kid heard him and froze.

Ears swiveled in his direction, but Tails couldn’t see him through the trees from his spot on the stump. The toy airplane fell to the grass with a soft thump as the baby fox squirmed and tried to hoist himself up into a sitting position, his two blue boots dangling just over the edge as his bare hands planted themselves on the wood between them to support himself. One tail flicked up and down with excitement while the other twitched limply against the tree stump, like it didn’t know it could lift itself up like its twin.

“Mom?” he called out, and the hope in his voice ensnared Sonic’s heart in a vice. “Mom!”

“Ah, sorry, little guy. Not mom.” Sonic stepped out from behind the brush with his hands up, a sheepish smile on his face. “Just me. Long time no see.”

His tails immediately wilted as the bright-eyed, eager expression on his face retracted into something shy and pensive. But not scared, Sonic noted. There wasn’t a trace of fear in his eyes.

“Remember me? I stayed with you during that rainstorm the other night,” Sonic added, hoping to jog the little guy’s memory, but he didn’t actually know how long it had been since that night.

He didn’t have Silver’s neat little time travel gizmos. His comm couldn’t pinpoint where he was in time, only in space. Which meant he couldn’t stay long, because if Tails or anyone else tried to ping his location, it’d probably come up blank.

The Tails sitting in front of him drew his legs up, curling into himself a bit the closer Sonic got. Okay, well maybe he was a little afraid. Sonic stopped short of reaching the tree stump, hoping a reassuring smile would get him the rest of the way.

“My name’s Sonic. Sonic the Hedgehog. What’s yours?”

Tails stared at him for a moment, until his gaze slowly slid past him to focus on the tree line behind him. Sonic planted his hands on his hips and canted his head back to see if anything was there, but aside from the buzz of insects and rustling of flickies in the leaves, the forest was still. No one else but the two of them smack dab in the middle of it.

“…Mom?” Tails whispered, grabbing onto one of his tails to hold.

Sonic’s smile slowly slid off his muzzle. In all the time he’d known Tails, he’d never once called for his mom. Not a single cry. By the time he came into Tails’s life, whatever innate trust he’d had for this faceless person had completely evaporated. There was only one person Tails had ever called out for, ever cried for, ever searched for when he was lost or scared or lonely.

Sonic swallowed thickly. “I don’t know where your mom is, bud. You waiting for her?” Tails nodded with the most intense certainty, his ears flopping forward and back with the force of it. “Did she… did she say when she’s coming back?”

This time Tails pursed his mouth as he thought carefully about his answer, his pensive expression the same one he’d still make to this day when he debated how to explain something to him. If he should explain something to him. If he should give his big bro a glimpse into the inner workings of his big brain, or if it’d be easier—safer—to keep it all to himself.

And just where’d he pick up that particular trick?

But this Tails was young enough—hadn’t been hurt enough—to trust someone who looked like a grown-up, so he slowly shook his head in response, wide blue eyes gazing up at him like there’d be some sort of prize if he answered all the questions correctly.

Sonic’s brow furrowed. “Do you know how long it’s been since you last saw her?”

“Long.” The small, squeaky voice was so matter-of-fact, Sonic nearly fell over with the sheer amount of joy a single syllable filled him with; his little bro’s attitude had been baked into him from the start.

“I’ll bet,” he huffed out a chuckle, choosing to sit cross-legged in the grass so he wasn’t towering over Tails like some kind of threat. “You like planes?” Sonic glanced meaningfully at the toy plane still discarded in the grass.

Tails glanced down at it, the tip of his tail in his mouth as he gently chewed on it. “Mmhm.”

Though Tails had long-outgrown the habit of chewing on his own tails, Sonic would still occasionally catch him nibbling on the ends of pens and pencils when he was deep in thought or starting to get hungry. Or, at least, he used to. Back before Sonic had been captured and Tails had been out on his own for six months…

“I like ‘em, too,” Sonic piped up with a grin. “Probably my favorite way to travel! Second to running, of course.”

Tails blinked at him, head canting to one side. Sonic’s smile grew and he scooched forward a couple inches, steadily closing the gap between them.

“Y’see, running’s sort of my thing. What kinda things do you like to do?”

Tails glanced down at the toy plane again, then up at the sky. He pointed shyly at the white, puffy clouds slowly floating by overhead. Sonic followed his gaze, unable to help the way his smile crooked to one side.

“You like to watch the clouds?” Sonic filled in for him, beaming when Tails nodded. “Me too. You ever look for shapes in ‘em?”

The little guy’s brow furrowed. “Shapes?”

Sonic laughed as the perplexed, and ultimately unconvinced, expression remained fixed on Tails’s face. “C’mere, I’ll show ya!”

Unceremoniously flopping onto his back, face turned towards the sky, Sonic patted the grass beside him. Though they were mostly shielded by the thick cover of trees, a light breeze still wafted down into the clearing and carried the salty scent of the sea with it. The stands of grass tickled Sonic’s side as he laid back and took a deep breath, listening for the familiar patter of eager footsteps following his lead.

Except they didn’t come.

Sonic pushed himself up onto his elbows. Tails was still curled up atop the tree stump, chewing on the tip of his tail as he watched him with worry in his eyes. Worry that had no place being there in a kid so young.

So Sonic cracked another smile. “Don’t worry. The floor’s not lava,” he teased, but it was something the toddler obviously didn’t understand. “It’s safe, bud. I’m not gonna hurt ya. Promise.”

Tails’s gaze darted to the treeline again, searching amongst their thick trunks and low-hanging branches before snapping back to Sonic. “Mm… s’pposed to wait here,” he mumbled, his words sounding a little thick as some of his syllables slurred together in a mouth that was still so small, but ultimately what he’d said was clear enough for Sonic to understand.

His smile slowly faded as he processed the simple explanation; the same feeling rising in the back of his throat as when he sat with a sick Tails in the cabin while the kid asked if he could go home. “Your mom tell ya that?”

Tails nodded. “Wait here. Be good.” His little face scrunched up in a look of pure, earnest determination. “Wait here an’ be good, then mom will come back. She said… she said.”

But she wouldn’t.

No one would.

And maybe Tails already knew that. Even if he didn’t want to believe that someone he loved would leave him, he’d always been a smart kid. Tails’s tiny claws caught in the fur of his tail as he clung tighter to it—like he could physically cling to the hope that his mom would still come back if he did this one thing really well.

If he did his very best.

“Look Sonic, I made this for you!”

“Sonic, I’ve made some adjustments to the Tornado’s aerodynamics, so her base speed has more than doubled! Pretty cool, huh?”

“I made a radar to help us track the Chaos Emeralds faster!”

“I still need to optimize your Extreme Gear’s turning radius and acceleration for your next race. It’s not good enough.”

“The Cyclone still has a ways to go in terms of balancing its different modes of transport. It’s just not good enough at land or air travel yet.”

“I’m wildly inconsistent. I’m just a burden to you. I’m not good enough.”

Not good enough.

Sonic’s fingers dug a little firmer into the soft, damp soil beneath the grass. “Well, I mean, ya gotta get off that stump sometimes. What about when you get hungry? You leave to go get food, dontcha?”

Tails stiffened, fur frizzed up like he’d been caught with his hand in the proverbial mint chocolate chip cookie jar. “Don’t tell,” he pleaded, eyes wide as panicked tears welled up. “I’m sorry—”

“Woah. Hey, hey, hey,” Sonic sat up straighter so he could lift his hands, using them to make a calming gesture as Tails’s little chest started to heave with each little gasp. “Easy there, bud. I’m not gonna tell her.”

“…Not?”

Despite the storm brewing just beneath the surface, faced with further confirmation that Tails had never truly felt safe or wanted, he refused to scare the kid with its intensity. Offering up a kind smile and reassurance, Sonic held up a finger to his mouth. Like they were keeping secrets from some nameless authority figure they’d never shared.

“I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Tails’s ears perked up and the grip on his tail eased up. “M’kay…”

“M’kay,” Sonic mimicked, smile growing as he watched Tails scrub at his face with the fur of his forearm. “C’mere, kiddo. Watch the clouds with me.”

Tails looked at him for a moment, then scooted closer to the edge of the tree stump. He swung one leg over, then the other, his little boots scraping against the bark as he eased himself down. He was a little off-balance as he toddled over. Both arms splayed out to steady himself as one tail flicked up and the other was dragged behind him, still as limp and awkward as it had been on the stump.

Sonic’s gaze narrowed in on it immediately. “Didja hurt your tail?”

Tails paused and craned his neck back, wobbling a little as he tried to look behind him. “No,” he answered simply.

“Then how come it’s not up like your other one?”

Tails reached behind him and picked up the limp appendage, hugging it to his chest. “Doesn’t do it.”

Sonic’s frown deepened. “Let me see it.”

Tails didn’t even hesitate. He let go of his tail as he waddled right over to him. He turned his back to him, giving him complete access to the part of his body he protected the most. Sonic was the only one he’d learned to trust with them over the years, but he’d had to earn it.

Sonic gently ran his fingers through the fur, watching his baby brother’s posture for any sign of discomfort. He didn’t flinch, but his good tail started wagging almost immediately, thwacking Sonic in the side of the face.

“Careful with that,” he chuckled, catching it in a loose hold when it smacked him again. “You could take someone’s eye out with one of these bad boys. Here, hold onto this for me.”

He waited for Tails to grab onto his eager tail, hugging it hard when it wiggled uncontrollably. “S’tryna get away,” he giggled.

“Oh boy, better get a good grip. It’s a slippery one, that tail,” Sonic laughed, using the distraction to his advantage as he palpated along the base of the weaker tail with his fingertips.

There was barely any muscle to it, and the fur was patchy and matted, flattened in a way that his other tail clearly wasn’t, even though his fur overall could’ve used a good brushing. But it wasn’t injured, no welts or bruises or cuts. It was just… weak. Like it was developing slower than its twin. He’d caught a glimpse of it that night where he was sick, but now that he was getting a good look at it, the differences between the two were stark. He couldn’t imagine why; Sonic’s brain literally wouldn’t let him conceive of a situation where this would happen—where Tails wasn’t allowed to use one tail to the same extent as the other.

Whatever had caused this had reversed itself by the time Sonic met Tails, both little propellers of equal strength. At least, he thought they were. To be fair, he’d only been eleven and he hadn’t looked all that closely at them. And Tails barely let him patch him up from where he’d been smacked around by bullies or badniks in those first few weeks.

Idly petting along the length of his tail, Sonic stilled when it spasmed against his palm. Just looking at it, he’d have thought he accidentally pulled on it or snagged his fur, but there was a gentle rumbling sound emanating from Tails’s chest that assured him otherwise. Sonic flicked his gaze up to see Tails watching him, a smile on his face while he purred openly. His tail jerked in his hold again. It was trying to wag.

Sonic’s shoulders sagged, his own smile lopsided as he let his tail slip from his grasp. “All clear. Time to park those two tails of yours right here on the runway.”

Tails squeaked as Sonic nabbed him around the middle, but dissolved into a fit of giggles as he was lifted up and plopped down on the grass next to him. Kicking up one leg over the other, Sonic laid back once again, arms pillowed behind his head as he let out a contented sigh. Beside him, Tails laid back and wiggled a bit to get comfortable, both tails swept to the same side so they wouldn’t get pinched underneath him. He tilted his head up to look at the sky, the same color reflected back in his eyes.

“Shapes?” he asked.

“Yeah, we’re gonna look for shapes, little buddy,” Sonic hummed. “Go ahead and tell me what ya find.”

Tails considered the sky for a moment, then pointed at a blob above them. “Oval.”

A sharp laugh burst right out of Sonic. “Sorry, sorry,” he wheezed when Tails pouted at him. “Not those kinda shapes, pal. I’m talking things like flickies or flowers or chili dogs! But good first try. I’m thinking that one looks more like… a whale.”

“Whale?”

“Uh-huh. See the tail?” Sonic removed one hand from behind his head so he could trace the oblong cloud as it faintly curved upwards at the end, making sure Tails’s eyes followed where he pointed. “And there’s its fin. And the wispy bits at the top are like the water shooting out of its spout.”

“Spout,” Tails echoed, blinking up at it like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

“Yeah, you know. Like when they come up from the water and all that mist sprays from that hole on top of their heads like…” A devious grin spread across Sonic’s face before he looped his arm around Tails and dragged him close enough to blow a raspberry against his cheek with a loud, “pbbbbbbfffft!”

Tails squealed, legs kicking as he squirmed about instinctively, but made no move to pull away entirely. The ticklish sensation buzzed through him like a bunch of tiny butterflies; the feeling silly, unfamiliar, and almost overwhelming all at once. He eventually pawed at Sonic’s muzzle, pushing it away from the fluffy, baby fur of his cheek, but he was smiling and laughing as he looked over at him, eyes shining with delight.

“Was that funny?” Sonic snickered.

“Yeah!” Tails beamed at him, his tails beating an inconsistent rhythm against the grass. “You’re funny.”

“I’m funny?” Sonic feigned offense. “Excuse me, but seems to me like you’re the funny one, wiggling around over here like a cup of sparkle gelatin!”

“No!” Tails squeaked, curling up when Sonic poked him in the tummy.

“No?” Sonic eased back, reminding himself to reign it in a bit so he could figure out if the “no” was just in play or if he was serious.

As much as he wanted to give this little guy something to smile and laugh about while he was out here on his own—and it was so easy, it was almost intoxicating when he hadn’t seen his brother’s smile in weeks—he didn’t want to overwhelm the kid. But as he let him go and pulled back, a panicked look flashed in Tails’s eyes. His smile fell and a fear that was too big for a guy so small replaced it as he froze up.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Sonic lowered his voice, but even that didn’t stop the tears from suddenly sprouting in the corners of his eyes. “Was that too much? Sorry, kiddo. Not really used to you like this. I don’t know your limits.”

Tails didn’t answer him, probably because he didn’t know how. He was a baby, after all. Four-year-old Tails had often had trouble expressing how he felt or what he wanted. And heck, even ten-year-old Tails was still facing that particular issue. He couldn’t expect a maybe-two-year-old to know…

Tails’s tiny paw reached for Sonic’s arm, the light touch barely registering as anything other than an itch before his fingers curled into his fur. Sonic stared at his hand for a second, then immediately darted to his face. Tails sniffed, muzzle quivering as he held back his tears.

Always sucking it up. Always putting on a brave face. Always trying to be a big kid, like his big bro.

Even when he was just a baby.

“It’s okay,” Sonic repeated, his arm curling around Tails again. “I’m right here, it’s okay.”

Tails nestled against his side, nuzzling his face against him with a shiver and a barely suppressed whimper. “Mom… dad…”

The storm returned with a white-hot flash of frustration and resentment. Sonic directed his glare at the cloud whale lazily floating past them, since he couldn’t look the people responsible for this in the eyes. Not that he particularly wanted to. If they never crossed paths, his and Tails lives would only continue on for the better. That was one thing he was still certain of. There was nothing in the universe that could convince him otherwise.

Not even the baby who desperately wanted them.

But he didn’t know any better. They were all he knew.

Releasing a long sigh, Sonic let go of the past and pulled himself back into the present—or, well, two-year-old Tails’s present anyway. He patted Tails’s side, then ruffled his fur a bit when he cuddled closer. His fur tickled as he rubbed his little face against his ribs, so Sonic scooched him up a bit more until his cheek was pillowed against his shoulder.

“Sorry if I scared you, bud,” he hummed, watching as one of Tails’s ears twitched from the lull of his voice. “Didn’t mean to. You’re safe with me, okay? When I’m around, I’m always gonna do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

Tails tipped his head back to watch him, silently absorbing his words, even if he didn’t understand them. But as Sonic looked down at him, he saw his four-year-old brother snuggling up to him in a storm and his six-year-old brother falling asleep on him during a movie and his eight-year-old brother trying to be strong for Sonic as they lost another friend… He could see all of Tails in the way he looked at him, every moment where he let Sonic see a little of that vulnerability he always tried so hard to hide.

He could even see his ten-year-old brother, hundreds of miles away, determined to bury that vulnerable little kid for good, somewhere Sonic would never find him. And that was fine. If that was what Tails wanted, then Sonic wanted that for him. He wanted Tails to feel confident and capable and every bit the hero Sonic saw in him every day.

“And even when I’m not here… when you can’t see me? I’ll still be with you. Wherever you go, whatever you face, you won’t have to do it alone.”

Tails sniffed, then lifted his head to gaze up at him. “Pomise?”

Sonic’s breath hitched, his eyes as wide as saucers as the fox kit who’d only known him for a few minutes at most looked at him with nothing but trust. “Yeah. I promise.” He had to clear his throat, then tugged Tails up to sit on his chest. “You’ve got no idea just how stuck with me you are, keed.”

“No idea,” Tails repeated, shaking his head with the utmost seriousness a two-year-old could express.

Sonic’s laughter traveled through him and right up into Tails, the two of them shaking with it. The feeling of being bounced about coaxed a few giggles out of Tails and he nearly slid off his unsteady perch. But Sonic’s hands supported him, holding tight so he wouldn’t fall.

“You’re the best thing that��s ever happened to me,” Sonic choked out as his laughter petered out on a breathless sigh. “Don’t ever forget that, okay?”

“M’kay,” Tails agreed.

“M’kay.” With one hand remaining on Tails’s waist, Sonic lifted the other to poke him on the tip of his nose, grinning at the way he went cross-eyed from following his finger. “I’m gonna follow up on that in eight years, y’know, so better work on committing that to memory, stat.”

“M’kay.”

“I mean it. There’ll be a test and everything.”

“M’kay.”

“You’re so agreeable,” Sonic sighed, closing his eyes as he laid his head back, leaving the comfortable weight of the baby fox on his abdomen. “I don’t think I know what to do with a little bro that actually listens to me.”

He felt Tails squirm a bit, one knee digging into his ribs as he attempted to scoot further up, then a finger lightly tapped Sonic on the tip of his nose. One green eye cracked open, immediately greeted with a pair of pleased blue ones and a wagging fox tail. Despite the fact that it was pinned beneath him, pressed into the grass, Sonic felt his tail give a jerky little wag, too.

“Shapes?” Tails asked.

“You wanna look for more shapes in the clouds?” Sonic waited for Tails’s eager nod before turning him around and laying him back in the grass beside him. “You got it, bud! You need a redemption round, after all. Let’s see what kinda shapes you can find this time.”

Tails hummed, contemplative gaze fixed on the clouds for a good minute before he pointed slightly to his left. “Floor!”

“Floor?” Sonic squinted up at the cloud, making sure he was looking at the right one. “Oh, ‘flower!’ Yeah, that does kinda look like a tulip flower. Good eye, kiddo.”

Tails nodded proudly. “Mmhm. Floor.”

“Flower,” Sonic repeated, and even made the sign for it, touching each side of his nose with his fingertips, like he was smelling a flower.

“Floor-er.”

“Close enough,” he chuckled. “Oh, okay, now that one looks like a crab claw. Like from a crabmeat.” Grinning devilishly, Sonic made a claw-like grabby motion at Tails with his hand while the little guy laughed. “Or, y’know, an actual crab.”

They watched the clouds, picking more shapes out of them until Tails’s stomach started growling. Sonic quickly sped through the forest to gather up whatever kind of fruits or vegetables were available on the island, eventually settling on some peaches, plums, and cherries. He grabbed them from the other side of the island, so as not to take from anywhere Tails was likely to forage on his own. He liked the plums and peaches, the sticky juice staining his muzzle as it dripped from his hands. He kept trying to lick his fingers clean while Sonic wiped the fur around his mouth so it wouldn’t bother him later when it dried. He didn’t care for the cherries as much, but Sonic still left a small stash of them and the leftover peaches at the base of the tree stump.

With a full tummy and sticky paws, Tails let out a big, squeaky yawn before he curled up on top of the tree stump. His tails covered him like a blanket as he settled down for a nap, giving Sonic just the out he needed. He’d been debating how to head back to his present time without sounding any alarms for Tails. He honestly wasn’t sure he’d be able to if the kid just looked at him with those sad eyes, like he was being abandoned all over again.

But if Tails was asleep, then maybe this would all have felt like just a dream. Sonic had just wanted to check on him after leaving him so abruptly that first time, and then he figured it couldn’t hurt to give him one good afternoon. There would be so many days where he’d be on his own after this, so many months before their paths would cross. One afternoon where a stranger showed him kindness and played with him wasn’t going to break the time stream, but even Sonic knew it couldn’t really go further than that.

“I’d break time lines for that kid.” His own words echoed at the back of his mind, the certainty he’d felt at the time faltering when faced with the sleepy face of a baby fox who wasn’t supposed to have met him yet. It wasn’t so simple.

Sonic waited until Tails’s breaths were deep and steady, arms wrapped around the weaker tail while the stronger one blanketed him with its fluff. Smoothing down his bangs with his thumb, Sonic gently stroked the top of his head and scritched behind his ear.

“Love ya, little bro,” he whispered.

Things would be okay, Sonic reminded himself as he backed out of the clearing, picking up the two emeralds that were his ticket back to his time. Because they were okay in the present. Even if Tails wouldn’t be there when he returned, they would still be okay. Eventually. They always came out on top. Sonic still believed that.

If there was anything he still believed in above all else, it was Tails.

So, to be fair, when he left the Poloy Forest that afternoon, it had been with the intention that this wouldn’t happen again.

But then, Sonic the Hedgehog’s impulse control wasn’t his claim to fame, was it?

---

A/N: Anyway, just wanted to say thank you again, 0vergrown, and that I appreciate you so much! I'm so happy you're interested in this little side plot I've got brewing and all the angst potential that it holds <3 I have so many little scenes I want to write for them, you have no idea! Hope this scratches a bit of the itch for more of these boys who need so much therapy. So much...

And thank you everyone else who's also interested in this idea! Much love to all of you!

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cap-trio · 1 month ago

Text

no grave can hold my body down (i'll crawl home to her)

summary: After a bad fight, Matt ends up in a coma. Unsure if he's going to make it or not, you decide to finally get something off your chest. It feels safer to confess assuming he most likely can't hear you, but when Matt wakes up, you find out you were wrong.

pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

tags: Angst, fluff, friends to lovers, love confessions

tw: Mention of a coma and hospitals

word count: 4.5K | Read on AO3

You get the phone call on a Tuesday night.

It started as a typical day; you got up at 6:00 on the dot to get ready for work. Matt met you at your door at 7:30 to walk with you, despite your numerous protests you could make it to work fine on your own. Not to mention your apartment was out of his way by ten minutes. But he knew about the danger that lurked around every corner of Hell’s Kitchen and when it came to you, he wasn’t going to take any chances.

Foggy’s name lights up your phone. Nothing out of the ordinary, but things go south as soon as you accept the call. “Hey, what’s -”

“Matt’s in the hospital,” he interrupts. “He’s in a coma.”

The phone falls to the ground, and you ignore Foggy’s voice calling your name. You don’t care that the screen is definitely cracked. You have tunnel vision and can only focus on Matt. You hear Foggy repeatedly asking if you’re okay and that you’re still on the line.

Sinking to the ground, you pick the phone back up. “Sorry, I’m here. What hospital?”

After getting the address, you make it there in record time. You don’t even bother waiting for the elevator, instead climbing the stairs two at a time to floor five. The ICU.

Foggy and Karen greet you in the lobby. Both look disheveled, with fresh tears on their cheeks, dark circles under their eyes, and hair askew from constantly running their hands through it. “What happened? Is he…” going to make it? You can’t bring yourself to finish the question. If you don’t say it, you won’t accidentally speak it into existence. You don’t want to let your thoughts go down that path, but how can you not?

“Fisk got to him,” Karen’s voice is low. “We don’t know what Matt told them happened, or if he said anything at all.”

“He called me, and I knew this was worse than the other times. He could barely breathe and then he passed out. I called 911, then you guys. It’s just been a waiting game.” Foggy takes a deep breath. “All I could make out was something about Fisk and how he got the upper hand this time.”

It takes every last ounce of strength not to collapse to the floor. Karen notices and leads you over to the seating area. “When can I see him?”

“We aren’t sure; they haven’t left his room. No updates yet, ” Foggy replies.

You were on a mission to get to the hospital as fast as you could. Now that you’re here, everything hits you like a truck. It’s a pain you’ve never felt before, like someone carved a hole in your chest, ripping out your heart like they were pulling weeds out of a garden, leaving you hollow. So hollow you can’t even cry. Everything is just numb like the switch controlling your emotions was flipped off. It’s like an out-of-body nightmare; you’re aware it’s not real, but you’re stuck anyway, forced to live in it. What you wouldn’t give for this to only be a fucked up dream.

The three of you sit in the lobby, hands interlocked, waiting in silence. Between the fluorescent lighting beating down like the sun, the faint sound of heart monitors, and the receptionists carrying on conversations like you weren’t at risk of losing your friend, you knew you couldn’t handle it for much longer before going crazy.

Maybe that would be okay though. It would prove you could still feel something other than the shell of who you were an hour ago.

“Am I broken?” Your voice is just above a whisper. “Why am I not breaking down in tears? Or having a panic attack?”

“It’s a stressful situation. Your body doesn’t know how to respond, so it’s pretty much just…not. It’s normal to shut down, so I promise you aren’t broken,” Karen assures you.

“I’m at the same level. I don’t want this to be real, so my body is responding like it’s not. Like this is all some fucked up dream,” Foggy adds.

For some reason, Foggy’s words are what bring on the tears. Not a gut-wrenching sob like you had expected, but still something. “Shit, was it something I said?” He asks.

“No. Yes,” you let out a small laugh. “I was just thinking how grateful I am that you two are here with me. If I were alone…” You don’t finish the thought, and you don’t need to. They know exactly what you mean.

Karen pulls you in for a hug, shedding a few tears herself. Foggy tries to brush off how he’s doing the same. The receptionist notices and quietly brings over an extra box of tissues and gives an apologetic smile. The sound of the door opening separates you three in hopes it’s any sort of update, but they go to the other family waiting.

An hour passes. You don’t move from your seat.

Another hour. Foggy goes to the vending machine for snacks. You don’t eat.

The third hour is when the panic really starts to seep in. You don’t want to be one of those people, but you’re about to go to the desk and demand some sort of update. Instead, you pace around the lobby to try and release the nervous energy.

The sound of the doors opening again freezes you in your tracks. Finally, a doctor appears. “Murdock crew?” She calls out. The three of you race over, but she says, “It’s best if we sit down.” Nervous glances are shared. That’s a telltale sign things are most definitely not good.

“So, I’ll start by saying Matthew has improved since he first arrived. Vitals are almost where we want them, but he needs to stay in a medically induced coma while we continue working on him. I don’t want to make any guarantees as he’s still in bad shape. Matthew is suffering from a concussion, several broken ribs, and internal bleeding. The coma could last up to a month, depending on whether or not he shows signs of recovery.”

Whether or not. Her words ring in your ears. Or not. Or not. Or not.

“But he’ll live, right? People have survived worse. He’ll be fine. Right?” Foggy sounds delirious, not that you can blame him. It’s not the update you guys were hoping for.

“Like I said, I don’t want to make any promises. I’m sorry I can’t give any definitive answers. Just know we’re working our absolute hardest.”

“Can we at least see him?” You beg.

“Not tonight, unfortunately. We’re hoping he’ll be ready for visitors in the next few days. We’ll keep you guys updated. For now, I recommend getting some rest and making sure you’re fed and hydrated. In stressful times, we tend to shut down and not take care of ourselves. We’ll call if anything changes, good or bad.”

Good or bad. Or bad. Or bad. Or bad.

“Thank you,” Karen says with a small smile.

She leaves the three of you alone again. “I don’t want to go home,” you admit. If something happens and you aren’t here, you’ll never forgive yourself.

“They don’t let people stay overnight,” Foggy sighs. “My apartment is the closest, why don’t we all head there and at least try to sleep?”

You’re all too exhausted to walk, so Karen hails a taxi. No one speaks, not even the driver. He takes one look at your group, mumbles a “sheesh” to himself, and starts the drive to Foggy’s apartment.

He provides some pajamas for you and Karen while you all set up camp in the living room. Phones charging and on the loudest setting, you all settle into your positions for the night. Karen on the couch, you on an air mattress, Foggy on the loveseat. It would almost be a fun sleepover if not given the circumstances. Not to mention how empty it feels without Matt.

You weren’t sure you’d be able to sleep, but the fatigue kicks in and you can’t resist it any longer. Hoping to get an escape from this hell, you close your eyes and slip into an escape.

“We’re sorry. We tried everything, but Matthew wasn’t able to pull through. You’re welcome to come in and say your goodbyes. Again, our condolences. He was a fighter.” A painful sob comes from deep within you. You don’t even recognize yourself, everything feels raw and cracked. Grief fills you to the brim, like a thick smoke clouding your lungs, enough to leave you choking and gasping for air. You follow behind Foggy and Karen to say your goodbyes to Matt. The sight of him lying lifeless in the hospital bed sends you collapsing to the floor.

You wake with a scream. Foggy and Karen shoot up, immediately asking what happened. You can’t answer yet; your body takes a second to come back to reality and recognize it was just an awful dream. But it could happen, a twisted voice reminds you.

“I’m so sorry. I was having a nightmare, and it felt so real,” you sigh.

“It’s okay, we’re here,” Karen squeezes your hands. “I think we all had the same dream.”

Foggy nods in agreement. “Just wanted to get some rest, but here we are.” He chuckles humorlessly.

No one knows what to say next. Nothing can be said to make anyone feel better; trying would be pointless. It would all just feel like one person is saying what everyone wants to hear when really, no one has a clue how this will play out.

“Maybe we watch a movie? It doesn’t seem like sleep is an option, and it might be somewhat of a distraction,” Karen suggests.

It’s better than sitting in silence, especially when that silence invites dark thoughts to creep in, so Foggy fires up the TV and finds the most absurd comedy he can find.

Eventually, the three of you are able to doze off again by the time a second movie plays. No bad dreams happen this time, but the sound of someone's ringtone jostles everyone awake. The small amount of light peaking in lets you know it's sometime the next day, but everything feels disorienting.

Foggy answers and puts the phone on speaker. “Hello, we’d like to let you know Matt is ready for visitors. Our visiting hours are from 9:00 a.m to 9:00 p.m every day. If anything about that changes, we’ll reach out.”

“Thank you so much,” Foggy says before hanging up. Everyone takes a few minutes to freshen up before catching a cab back to the hospital. Anxiety courses through you, though it's different from last night. You’re not sure what you're going to say to Matt, or how he’ll look; you feel entirely unprepared. Having Karen and Foggy with you makes it a little less scary at least.

Karen checks in with the receptionist, and five minutes later a nurse comes to let the three of you in. She pauses outside his door. “I want to warn you that he looks pretty beaten up. It won't be easy seeing him in this state, but having someone with him might be good for his recovery.”

She has everyone take a deep breath before opening the door. Matt looks similar to how he did in your nightmare, all bloody and bruised, hooked up to various machines with tubes. You’ve seen him after a fight before, even helped clean him up, but it was never like this. Not even what the nurse said could’ve prepared you.

“What should we say to him? Anything that could make him wake up?” You ask.

“Hearing familiar voices is good no matter what. We recommend just telling him about your day, or maybe reading him a book he likes. Anything that feels right for you.”

None of this feels right, you want to scream. Instead you thank her for the tips.

“I’ll leave you guys alone, but feel free to press that button if you need anything at all.” She gestures to a CALL button near Matt’s bed before slipping out the door.

It's silent at first while everyone takes in the sight of him.

“Maybe tell him a story from college?” You suggest to Foggy. “It might be good to hear something familiar.”

He launches into the avocados at law story which has you and Karen laughing. You would’ve loved to have known them back then.

“I don’t think anything I say will top that,” Karen says. “I don’t even know what to say, anyway.”

Foggy assures her anything will be better than nothing, so she tearfully tells Matt how grateful she is for her and Foggy’s help during her trial. It moves you and Foggy to tears too, and everyone ends up a blubbery mess.

“Sorry to kill the mood,” she chuckles. “What’ve you got?” She asks you.

You decide to tell him about the first day he showed up at your apartment to walk you to work. How you weren’t expecting him at all, given that you’d only been friends for a few weeks at that point and he never mentioned he would be there. How even though you poked fun at him for it at first, he makes you feel safer and you’re lucky to have him.

“I didn’t even know he does that,” Karen says.

“I always thought it was weird when he’d be late for work when it wasn’t related to his…activities,” Foggy adds, not knowing if anyone outside the room could hear. “He really loves us all, huh?”

That brings on more tears. How grateful are you all to have someone like Matt in your lives?

“Alright, I think I’ve had enough crying for the rest of my life,” Karen laughs.

“I think it’d be good to talk about our day like the nurse suggested,” you say. “Not after we found out what happened, but before that.”

And that’s what the three of you do for the next week and a half, once a day and always together. Foggy brings up the idea of doing separate visits, suggesting it might be good for some alone time with him.

Your first visit alone is awkward. Without Karen and Foggy to describe your days together, you aren’t sure what to say. It’s like trying therapy for the first time, knowing you have things to talk about, but being too scared to bring anything up, making it feel too real.

His progress has been up and down, worrying you that it might stay like that for months. Or years. And there is one thing that Matt doesn’t know about you, a secret you’ve acknowledged and thrown into a locked box, refusing to open it. The sick, dark voice from before warns you this may be the only chance you get to tell him.

“Hi, Matt. It’s just me today; we decided it might be good to spend some alone time with you. Uh, today was alright. We went to Josie’s, played some pool, and had a few beers. Felt empty without you though. I’m trying to stall here because I want to tell you something. Something big. But I’m terrified, and a wuss, so I have to do it while you probably can’t hear me or respond at all.” You laugh at yourself for being so ridiculous.

“Well, here goes nothing,” you pause. “So uh, I’m kind of in love with you? Not sure why I phrased it like a question. I know I’m in love with you, and it scares the shit out of me. We’ve known each other for years, and I don’t know if telling you is worth the risk. I care about you too much to let some feelings get in the way. So yeah, that’s my secret.”

You’re not sure if you feel better or worse now that it’s out there. It feels good to get it off your chest, but nothing has really changed by admitting it. Matt will continue to be oblivious to your feelings while you have to continue carrying them around.

Exhaustion kicks in and you slump back in the chair. Just as your eyes begin to drift shut, you hear a groan and shoot awake. Matt starts stirring, mumbling to himself, and you watch helplessly before adrenaline kicks in.

“Nurse! I need a nurse!” You shout into the hallway. They instruct you to wait in the hall; on your way out, you see Matt’s eyes open and you let out a gasp. You swear you see him reach for you, but you’re also feeling a bit delirious so it could be your mind playing tricks on you.

You call Karen and Foggy with the news. Less than ten minutes later, the three of you are standing outside of his room, playing another round of the dreaded waiting game. You fill them in on the moments leading up to Matt waking up, purposefully leaving out details of the conversation.

Thirty minutes go by until one of the nurses comes into the hallway. “He’s awake and stable. You can come in and see him, but I’ll warn he may be slightly out of it.”

Matt gives a weak smile as the three of you enter. “How do I look?”

“Out of it, my ass,” Foggy laughs. “You look like shit.”

“Ouch. Aren’t you supposed to be nice to someone in a hospital bed? A blind man I might add.”

“Little too late to be playing the blind card,” Karen adds.

He turns in your general direction. “What’s your verdict?”

“I’m with these two. You’ve looked better.”

It feels good to be joking around like this again. Things certainly aren’t back to normal, but this is a step in the right direction.

“Even though you hurt my feelings, could we talk alone for a second?”

Foggy and Karen exchange a look and turn to raise their eyebrows at you. You shrug, indicating you’re not sure what this is about.

“I better get some alone time too,” Foggy pouts.

“There’s plenty of me to go around.”

Your friends leave, and as soon as the door shuts you feel like you’re suffocating with anxiety. What could he want to talk about that he couldn’t say in front of his best friends?

“Can I ask you about something?”

“Of course. Anything.” Your voice shakes when you answer.

“Earlier, right before I woke up, I thought I heard you say you’re in love with me.”

Panic settles in hard and fast, like being taken under by a cold ocean wave when your back is facing the water, unexpected and unpleasant.

Fuck.

“That’s not a question.” Stupid. It's the only thing your brain can think of to say, trying to delay the shitstorm that’s brewing.

“Okay,” his mouth quirks up into a small smile, trying to cover a laugh. He knows you well enough to know what you're doing. “Let me rephrase - are you in love with me?”

“I uh, no. I’m not. Must've been a crazy coma dream or something!” Your laugh that follows is too loud and brash to sound even remotely convincing.

“You’re lying.” There isn’t any uncertainty in his voice. He says it like it’s a known fact and not an educated guess.

“Wow, I feel like I should be offended,” you huff. You’re not sure why you’re angry at him when he’s right. Or maybe you’re angry that this conversation is even happening when you vowed to take these feelings to the grave. “I promise I’m not.”

“You are.” The way he emphasizes the word sucks all the air out of the room. That one word makes everything feel different. It’s confirmation you can’t brush this conversation off. Matt isn’t going to let it go.

“Jesus Matt, can we just drop it? I told you, I never said it. I don’t know why you can’t believe me. And is this really the most important thing to be focusing on right now?”

“To me? Yes, it is that important. And I can tell you’re lying.”

You roll your eyes. He knows even though he can’t see it, because he knows you. “Because of what, my laugh? I admit I sounded weird, but -”

He cuts you off. “It was your heartbeat.” He’s frustrated that you can’t understand, as if this is some normal thing people can do, or like he’s mentioned it before and it’s something you just casually forgot. Like you would ever forget something like that.

You snort at how unbelievable this situation has gotten. “My heartbeat? What the hell are you talking about?”

Surely this is a weird side effect of the concussion. Maybe he’s hearing things now? Or he’s playing some weird prank on you? You should probably call the nurse back in.

“I can hear people’s heartbeat. When they lie, it changes rhythms. When you said you aren’t in love with me it got faster. So I’m asking you again, are you in love with me?”

“Matt, you can’t just brush that off like it isn’t the most insane thing I’ve ever heard! You expect me to believe you, especially when you can’t prove it? Look, I’m gonna call in the nurse and have her check your head because clearly, the concussion isn’t any better.”

You reach for the call button but he grabs your wrist before you can press it. Warmth spreads across the spots where his fingers are touching you. Now is not the time you try to relay that message to your body. It doesn’t listen.

He lets go of your wrist and sighs. “Have I ever lied to you?”

“Yes. You constantly made up excuses when you’d show up to work with mysterious bruises or cuts. Not gonna work in this argument.”

“I didn’t realize we were arguing,” he raises an eyebrow. “But to be fair, that was only to keep you safe. Have I ever lied about anything else?”

“I don’t know, I can’t hear your heartbeat.”

Now he rolls his eyes. “I know you’re trying to avoid talking about it. But please know I wouldn’t make something like this up. After the accident, my senses got heightened more than what would happen to the average person. I know it seems like I’m an asshole for keeping something like this private, like I use it to take advantage of people, but I don’t. Even when someone lies, I don’t force them into telling the truth. It’s a blessing and a curse.”

He sounds exhausted, and can you blame him? Having to live with this gift, but knowing he can’t really do anything with it, would take a toll on anyone.

But he’s also putting you in an uncomfortable position, despite claiming he doesn’t use it against people. “So why are you doing it to me now?”

“I’m sorry. We can drop it, but don’t you want to know why I’m so hung up on this? Why I’m seconds away from getting on my knees and begging you to tell the truth?”

Yes. No. Because admitting that makes this all too real. Too scary. It opens up a door you want to bolt shut because it allows too many what-ifs into the mix. What if things don’t work out? What if you work better as friends and break up, making everything complicated? You could write a whole book full of different scenarios.

But there is another possibility: what if Matt loves you too?

It’s enough to make you want to unlock the door and throw it open. “I do.”

Time seems to stand still. You both know what’s coming, and it scares the hell out of you, but it’s worth it. He’s worth it.

“Tell the truth. Please, I want to hear you say it.”

You already did, you want to point out. But now isn’t the time to be a smart ass, not with the way his gaze is piercing you and the tension rising with every second unspoken.

“I’m in love with you, Matt.”

Thump. Thump. Thump. The sound is music to his ears, better than any song he’s heard. If he wasn’t ruined by you before, he sure is now.

“I’m in love with you too.”

“Good, or else that would’ve been really embarrassing.”

He laughs. “Now was that so hard to admit?”

“Oh please! You didn’t give me much of an option.” You deepen your voice in a terrible attempt to mock him, “I’m Matt and I can hear people’s heartbeats, so I know when they lie. I’m in love with you too, but instead of saving time and saying that, I’m gonna make you do it first. Even though I clearly heard you before.”

You both erupt into laughter; you can physically feel yourself getting lighter as the crushing weight of tension leaves your body.

“I’m never going to get over hearing you say that,” he admits.

“I won’t either.” You pause, feeling a shift in the conversation tone. “I honestly never wanted you to know. I only said it because I was scared of losing you, and it was a cowardly way of getting it off my chest. I tried convincing myself maybe you also felt that there was always something more between us, but then I’d get in my head and decide you didn’t. Decided it wouldn’t be worth losing you if I said something and you turned me down, but then I thought I’d lose you in a different way.” Your voice cracks at the end, and you force the tears back in, hating that you’re making things serious again.

“I’ve always felt it,” Matt confesses. “I never wanted to pressure you or make things weird if I misread the signs. Am I happy this is what it took for us to be together? Of course not, I pictured this moment a million different ways, and not one involved a hospital. But I am happy it happened. So unbelievably happy.”

“I am too. I’ve wanted this for years.”

“I really want to kiss you, but…” he gestures to his current state.

“We can make it work. We’ll just be careful.”

“I’ll make it up to you when I’m healed,” he smirks. He gets a little cocky from how he can make your heartbeat quicken, and how intimate it is that only the two of you can experience it together.

“Such a tease,” you roll your eyes, leaning down inches from his mouth.

“You’re one to talk.”

And then his mouth is on yours.

His hands cup your chin while yours rests on his hip, careful not to apply any pressure. You can both feel the other holding back; his lips are just grazing yours, but it’s enough to feel like hot lava is coursing through you. If his lingering touches over the years left sparks in their wake, kissing him is like being electrocuted. It’s delicate and sweet and you’re overwhelmed with how right it feels. The only thing on Matt’s mind are you and more, but he knows this is just the beginning.

So instead he focuses on the now, mentally adding this moment to a scrapbook of memories filled with you.

#matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #daredevil x y/n #daredevil x you #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock #daredevil born again #cassie writes

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 4 months ago

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hi first of, i love your writing so much. secondly, i dont know if you take requests, and if you dont, that's totally fine. but i was wondering if you could do a peter x reader in an established relationship & living together and her brother or cousin (whatever really) unexpectedly shows up and she just calls peter a roommate. then he comes out all jealous until he realizes thats her family

a/n: this one has been in my inbox for so long, feels really nice to finally write it

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

You swiftly leapt out of the kitchen as the doorbell suddenly rang, leaving your boyfriend behind as he continued to clutch a wooden spoon and make sure your dinner didn’t burn. Though as you pulled open the front door to your apartment, the surprise on the other side nearly caused you to stumble.

“Will!” your jaw hit the floor at the sight of none other than your brother, “what are you doing here?”

“I was in town,” he flashed you a bright grin, holding out his arms like he was the expensive Lego set your parents never permitted you to get as a child, “what, am I not allowed to just drop by?”

“No, of course you are,” you faintly shook your dazed head as he crossed over the threshold, “we were just about to have dinner–”

“We?” his eyebrows cocked, “oh shit, do you have company right now?”

“No, no, or well, it’s just Peter.”

“Peter?”

“Yeah, my boy–, roommate,” you swiftly squeaked, “he’s my roommate.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you had a roomie!” he smiled as he kicked off his shoes and set down his bag.

“Uhm, yep,” you stiffly coughed, “it’s kind of a new development…”

“Hey, darling,” Will then glanced over his shoulder after he’d hung his coat up on a hook on the hallway wall, “where’s the bathroom?”

“Right down there,” you pointed before watching him trot down in that direction.

Once you’d returned to the kitchen, the soft smile, that had been on Peter’s lips back when you’d left, had faded as he continued to drag the long spoon through the sautéing vegetables.

Narrowing his gaze in your direction, he then said, “so, roomie,” his petty tone revealing how much he’d overheard through the apartment’s thin walls, “who’s Will?” he kissed his teeth, “anything you’d like come clean about?”

“What?” your face instantly scrunched up, “ew, gross, no! Will is my brother!”

All of Peter’s tension then promptly melted away, “oh, Will, Will! Your brother Will!” he connected the dots, then smiled widely as, “hey look, your brother’s here,” flowed out past his lips in an adorably genuine tone, as if he hadn’t just misunderstood everything.

“Yes, you weirdo,” you light-heartedly rolled your eyes and shifted to check the timer on the things in the oven.

“Doesn’t he already know about us?” he asked, “we have been together for two years and, oh yeah, we live together! I don’t know about you, but that’s not exactly what I’d describe as a casual relationship.”

“No, of course, he knows about the vague idea of you,” gaze averted to the scraps left on the cutting board, you began to explain, “but he doesn’t know that we moved in together, and if he knows, then that means my parents will know, and trust me, you’re not ready for that yet.”

“I think I can handle a couple of parents, thank you very much,” he chuckled, not yet heeding your warning.

Finally meeting his gaze, you placed a hand on his forearm and exhaled, “honey, they would interpret us moving in together as instant wedding bells and like a trillion babies. I am doing this for your protection.”

“Oh…” he uttered slowly, his brows raising at your words, “well, thanks for having my back then.”

“You’re welcome,” you briefly leaned in and pressed a peck to his lips before you drew back once more and sucked in a deep breath, conjuring the strength that the rest of the night surely required, “now, do you wanna go help me give my brother a tour and rapidly come up with an answer as to why we only have one bed?”

#lea’s writing #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker request #peter parker blurb #peter parker fluff #peter parker drabble #spiderman x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #mcu!peter parker x reader #mcu!peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker imagine #tasm!peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker fanfiction #tasm!peter parker fluff

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 2 months ago

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not so secret identity | m.g. x gn!reader

“if you could have any powers in the world, what would you choose?” asking the random question while you and mark are laying in his backyard, just staring at the sparkling stars. you stretched an arm up, like you were trying to touch them. “i’d like to be like atom eve. her powers are almost god like, or just anything kinda mysterious slash magical. looks more fun than just brute strength.”

your free arm was pressed against mark’s chest, his fingers just mindlessly rubbing over skin and bone. “strength is good though, you know you’ll always be able to protect yourself and those close to you.” turning his head to the side, admiring you. someone he wants to keep safe and happy from this darkening world, but you don’t know that other side.

a smile spread across your lips, “with these new muscles you’ve suddenly developed i can see it.” now turning to rest on your side, hand propping up your head. “i’d definitely would have posters of your superhero persona on my walls. ‘oh he’s just so dreamy’.”

mark smiled shyly, “and you’d be a bombshell for anyone with eyes. but i’ll know that i’m the one you love, so i’m not bothered by some guys. but i’ll still protect you from creeps if you had the powers and i didn’t.”

his words made you feel mushy. leaning closer towards mark’s face, your puckered lips pressed into the cooling skin of his cheeks. dotting along his jaw leading to his nose, higher up leaving sweeping caresses on his eyelids. bits of your hair fanned over your profile, “wanna watch a movie? getting a bit cold and sleepy out here.” whispering to him.

he immediately moved from the ground, taking your outstretched arm and then effortlessly throwing you over his shoulders. you couldn’t help the loud surprised yelp leaving your mouth, “mark!” playfully hitting his back.

and mark retaliated by smacking your ass, the sting making a warmth grow in your stomach. “still wanna watch a movie?” he cockily remarked.

“look at you hottie! got a nice glow about you more these days.” william commented after you hugged him in greeting then sat across from him for your lunch hang.

digging your teeth in your bottom lip you had to withhold all the…intimate details from the night before. even if you do like having someone that also thinks your boyfriend is extremely sexy, but boundaries. “random mark related question, but do-do you think he’s gotten bulky lately? i swear he’s twice the size then he was about three months ago. not that i’m complaining though.” subconsciously thumbing over a blooming bruise on your thigh.

william shrugged, “he’s a straight guy with a girlfriend. probably just decided to really hit the gym one day, not that he was scrawny before, but you know.” and that ended mark related conversation for now. both of you just dived into work gossip or something either of you heard in the halls, trying to set up future plans with eve and amber also involved.

while you were laughing at a joke william made, you felt a sudden shaking. both of you went silent to tell if there was gonna be an after shock, but it was worse when someone was violently thrown into a building just across the street from the cafe. you and william ducked to the ground, legs turning to jelly at the sight of something so horrific just an arms length from you.

“we gotta go!” someone yelled in your ear followed with a yanking on your arms. your knees scraped the gravel as you tried to steady your self, barely taking a step before you were shoved to the floor causing an agonizing pain shooting through your muscles. “william!” calling for your friend who wasn’t in your sights.

what was in your sights was a mangled human, blood and spit dropping from their lips to the ground. a deep panting causing their chest to puff, huffs of thick air almost cartoonish from their nostrils. they reared their head then started rushing like a bull, it was like a horror scene where you want to run but just can’t take your eyes off the assailant. you thought this was the end, you just closed your eyes, waiting for any impact.

but it never came. your heart started pounding faster, eyes slowly fluttering open to see that monster straining against the resistance of invincible. you couldn’t see the hero’s full face due to the bright yellow mask disguising him, but you could see how his teeth were gritting together so hard they could crack. it was a tug of strength, invincible’s feet were planted firmly on the ground as he pushed most of his upper body forward.

“g-go! now!” he yelled out. he groaned due to the sudden distraction, grunting when the criminal tried pushing him off and he just pushed back. his jaw was flexed and you couldn’t help tilting your head to the side, a bit of curiosity seeping in.

“mark?” speaking your boyfriend’s name.

he looked down at you for a moment, “run!” then grabbed the monster’s head and rammed his knee into its face. he threw a fast punch into the chest causing him to create a bit of distance for the two of you. he gripped your upper arms, made sure your legs were okay, and gave a quick peck to your forehead. then he returned to the action.

watching a moment longer, fighting the conflict in your chest, turning on your heel you made your way towards the police barricade. looking over your shoulder you tried to catch sight of mark again, but two hands held your shoulders and turned you away from the destruction. “oh thank god,” william sighed as he pulled you in tight for a hug, your own arms taking a moment before wrapping around his waist and gripping his red shirt in your grasp.

“do you know about mark?” whispering into his ear. william jerked his head back, a furrow on his brow. “what about mark? did something happen?”

“mark and invincible in one sentence, what do you see?” trying for a different route. you took note of how his eyes kept darting, going from you to the conflict, and it was like you almost can see wheels turning in his brain.

“no, no there’s no way.” he stook his head, “you’re just stressed and there’s adrenaline running around. let’s get you home and we’ll call mark to check on him.” steering both of you further away, you sneaked a peek over your shoulder, barely a standing figure there invincible was. watching you walk away.

you just laid in your bed, eyes burning a hole in your ceiling while you rubbed your fingers over your elbows. small things were starting to piece together in your mind, new cuts and bruises popping up every other day, those dumb excuses of ‘oh forgot to grab my umbrella be right back’ when it was a sunny day. god the new build, how he’d somehow manages to find amazing authentic food in your boring town.

you were just blinded by mark. sure you never thought he was cheating or something like that, but sometimes yeah, you never really thought about his behavior. mark’s always been awkward.

a knock at your door filled the silent room. you didn’t bother responding since the door slowly creaked open, looking over just as mark meekly poked his head through the crack. those sad puppy eyes observing you, “can i come in?” his voice soft, patient.

“yeah,” a tiny crack on the a. mark moved slowly, trying not to startle a baby deer. he sat beside your hip, the bed dipping slightly from his added weight. a large hand hovering in the air before retreating back to his side, not sure what those turn of events caused.

“how’d you get home?” his first question. a deep sigh through your nose, “william drove me. funny how he parked further away cause there weren’t any spots.” barely a huff at the stupidity.

“do-do you want to talk about…invincible?” his second question. you stayed silent longer this time, out of anger or frustration or any other emotion you could be feeling at this moment. a laughed bubbled from your chest when you suddenly remembered yesterday’s conversation.

“what?” mark leaned in closer, inspecting you. tears gathered at your lash line, “we were freaking talking about if we had powers last night. that honestly could have been the best time to casually bring it up.” giving a half assed swat to his bicep.

the tension seemed to dissolve a bit since mark laid down behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you back to fit snug against his toned chest. you easily intertwined your hands together over your stomach.

mark pressed a kiss to the base of your neck before setting his chin on your shoulder, “you know how it’s pretty common superhero’s don’t flaunt their identity, even to close family.” you hummed, already understanding why he wasn’t screaming this news from the rooftops.

“it would’ve been nice to at least know. it would be the same amount of anxiety without or with your powers, i get anxious when you disappear or-or just make terrible excuses.” barely sending a glance behind you, “you may be superhuman, but you still have a heart and brain, and those two organs are vital to your breathing. so if you just died one day out there i wouldn’t know or hear the real reason.”

your throat was getting choked up, it just hit you. he could die, every time he goes out there in that costume, he might not come home one day. “i can’t lose you this early, mark.” closing your eyes, wet tears kissing your cheeks in silent empathy.

“hey, hey.” there was a bit of shuffling then a hand to your face. “sweetheart, look at me please.” a scrunch of your features before fluttering your reddening eyes open to see mark peering at you. you brought your own hand to his left cheek, thumb rubbing under his eye and along his nose.

“i’ll always make it out a fight alive. will i look pretty? probably the complete opposite, but as long as i feel my heart beating and feel my chest moving, i’ll come crawling back to you.”

two pairs of eyes stared into the windows of their souls, simultaneously grieving all the unknown pain yet to come, all the joy that’ll make up just a fraction of your life. mark leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, you could feel a healing cut along his bottom lip. it caused a few more tears to spawn, but you chose to ignore them, you only wanted to focus on the now.

#mark grayson #mark grayson x gn!reader #mark grayson fluff #mark grayson imagine #mark grayson angst #mark grayson fic #mark grayson x reader #invincible x gn!reader #invincible angst #invincible imagine #invincible x you #invincible x reader #invincible fluff #invincible fic #invincible

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ncttytrack · 1 year ago

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Orange blood - p.sh

Your naked body, exposed in front of him, was full of your life elixir, and if he wasn’t pathetic enough to love you, a human girl, he would’ve sucked the last drop you could offer.

Summary: You let Sunghoon use you as his personal blood bag during a full moon

Genre: SMUT, Vampire!Sungoon x reader

Words: 2,3k

Warnings: Blood kink (a lot of blood), Dom!Sunghoon, Sub!reader, Pain kink, Reader almost dying...

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When you first started dating Sunghoon, you didn’t know he was a vampire. Even though his smile revealed his sharp fangs, his minimal sunshine exposure and the way his skin would be completely cold and pale white, it never occurred to you that he was a vampire. You never believed in mythical creatures, even as a kid having trouble believing in fairies or mermaids.

When he became your boyfriend, it didn’t take long before you knew his secret. You remember it clearly, though it was only a month ago. You and Sunghoon had just become official, the first week being magical with romantic dinner dates and movie nights, all during night time. Sunghoon used to say that it was cozier at night, which was the reason why he rarely met you during the day even after becoming your partner. Suddenly, after the first week, he would go completely silent for a full day. You tried calling him multiple times but he never answered, and a mix of being scared that he was cheating on you, or that he was in danger, made you stalk your way to his home outside the city you were currently living in.

As you walk into his house, you hear painful screams from his bedroom. Sunghoons screams made you run as fast as you could to the room, breaking in to save him from whatever that was causing him this awful pain. When you opened the door, you were met with a horrendous sight. Sunghoon was chained up against the bed frame, which he so desperately tried to break away from. His body was sweaty, drenching his clothes til they were see through, and the veins on his arms and neck were popping out. His fangs had grown twice his regular size and his eyes were beat red, now wide open, looking at you. When he saw you, his screams and cries became louder, and it wouldn't take long before the chains fell apart by his strength. As one half of him wanted to rip you apart to shreds, sucking out the last drops of blood in your body because of his painful thirst, the other half wanted you to get the hell out of here. Away from someone as dangerous as him. As he screams to you to get away from him, to leave the house before he breaks the heavy chains, you finally do. Heavy breaths are coming from your mouth, as you run away from the person you love.

Before he could explain the day after why he was in a state like that, you connected the dots. As crazy as you first thought you were, you couldn't forget those sharp teeth and his glowing eyes. The full moon turning his thrust for blood to the max, especially yours, made you realize that Sunghoon was dangerous. Even more dangerous when you realized that you would never be able to leave him, everything about him drawing your pathetic human self in.

As the next full moon crept up, Sunghoon made sure to make you stay away from him. But you can’t handle knowing what he goes through. It must be so painful, not being able to quench the thirst he so desperately needed to. That’s why he thought you sounded crazy when you came up with an idea right before the full moon .

“No, absolutely not”, Sunghoon says with a stern voice, his arms across in front of his chest. You look up at him with pleading eyes, putting your hands on his arms trying to drag them down. “No, please, I want to”. His hands grab your shoulders, leaning down to look at you eye to eye. His grip is hard, making you wince. “Do you want to give me your blood during the next full moon? That's a horrible idea y/n! What if I hurt you”.

One of your hands grabs his, and you look deep into his brown eyes. His mouth is wide open, making you able to see his fangs, already being bigger than normal for the full moon. As your curiosity grows, your hand leaves his, bringing up your hand to his mouth. He looks at you with an amused expression as you make him gape wider so you can touch his sharp fangs. Your thumb graces over his sharp teeth, making him hiss at the feeling. “I don’t care” You say as your thumb presses up towards his fang, making it bleed in his mouth. When he tastes your sweet blood on his tongue, it drives him crazy, making him grab your wrist to pull your bleeding thumb away. He gulps, looking at the red blood sliding down your thumb, reluctantly licking it up with his pink tongue. He looks down at you with heavy breaths, his cock twitching when seeing your gaping mouth at the feeling of his mouth sucking your bloody finger. He pulls away from you, walking away, not being able to handle the growing feeling in his chest. This was the first time he tasted you, but by the looks of it, it certainly wasn’t the last.

As the night came closer and closer, the moon became brighter and brighter, making Sunghoons thirst for you almost unbearable. You managed to pursue him, now sitting on his bed, wearing nothing, your skin completely exposed for Sunghoon to bite into. “Are you really ready for this y/n?” The moon shines through the window, shining light upon the two of you. He looked so beautiful, already glistening with sweat from his temptation. He examines you. Apart from him, your skin is full of life, your cheeks are red and so are your lips. Full of blood, your sweet blood that he so desperately wants to consume. Your naked body, exposed in front of him, was full of your life elixir, and if he wasn’t pathetic enough to love you, a human girl, he would’ve sucked the last drop you could offer.

You nod your head, giving him permission to taste you, to completely take over you. One of his hands comes in contact with your shoulder, as the other grabs your hair, pulling your head to the side to expose your neck. He can hear your heart beating faster and faster, which makes his thirst grow bigger and bigger. You were scared. He tries to be as calm as possible when he leans down towards your neck, close to your skin. He can smell your scent, making him gulp down the saliva forming in his mouth. What if he is unable to pull away, killing his beautiful saint of a girlfriend. The sweat is sliding down his forehead, he needs to taste your warm skin.

He began to lick your neck, feeling your tasty skin against his taste buds. The tip of his tongue licks a special spot, making you let out a small moan out of pleasure. As he hears your moan he can’t take it anymore. His sharp fangs come in contact with your skin, piercing through painfully slow, making you arch your back into Sunghoon, letting out a scream from the pain. Your hands rests on his shoulders for support, feeling secure in his vicinity. When he can fully taste your thick, sugary, blood in his mouth, he lets out a moan against your skin. Your blood tastes like sweet hot chocolate, mixed with savory oranges. He has never tasted something as sweet as you, and he doesn't know if he will be able to stop.

As his bite intensifies, so does his touch. His hands have now left your hair and shoulder, digging his filed nails into your waist. The way he pushes his nails into your skin could possibly make you bleed, and you try to handle the arousal the touch gives you. He can’t stop tasting you, and when he feels your body losing strength, making you lean more into him, he forcefully pushes himself away from you. He seems to have hit a larger artery, since you can’t stop bleeding from where he bit you. His blood glides down between your boobs, down your stomach, to your already naked core. The bleeding intensifies, and by using your hands the blood is smeared out nearly all over your body, the warm liquid painting you red.

Your body falls down on the bed, as Sunghoon hovers over you. Your skin is losing its beautiful, lifeful, color, and you grow paler with every second. What surprised you however, is how amazing it felt being bitten, making your thighs clench together when remembering the sting. Sunghoon notices this, biting his lips at the sight. “Why did you stop Hoonie?” Sunghoon can’t think clearly. His beautiful girlfriend is under him, blood smeared all over your body making you look like his personal meal for him to enjoy. He looked at the place he bit you, blood streaming down from the wound that he so wished to taste again. But he can’t bite you again, you would definitely die if he did. But he needs to taste you, to make you feel good using his fangs. “You’re too cute baby”

He leans down to kiss you passionately, his fangs making you bleed in your mouth. The more he can taste the liquid, the darker, and redder his eyes appear. The lust for you, and the desperate need to take over all of you grows inside him. When his hands come in contact with your waist for stability during the heated kiss, he feels how wet your skin is from the blood, making it almost difficult for him to hold on to your slippery body.

You feel lightheaded, almost passing out, when Sunghoon begins to kiss you from your lips, down to your neck and to your stomach. His tongue licks up your thick blood covering you, licking you clean, quenching his thirst. His tongue slides down your stomach, down to your core, licking up as much blood as possible. As his mouth comes in contact with your pussy, you let out a crying moan out of pleasure. Your hand comes in contact with his hair, wanting him to continue to pleasure you with his mouth. He does so, making out with your pussy, tasting the mix of your juices and your blood.

The flavor and your sweet moans makes him want to shove his tongue into your hole deeper, digging his nails into your thighs to keep you from closing them. “Fuck, baby you taste so good.” You feel the way his tongue comes in contact with your swollen clit sucking on it harshly, making the only sound leaving your lips being your moans and his name, chanting it over and over again the closer you get.

As you are about to cum, Sunghoon pulls away from you. Before you can complain, he pulls out his massive cock, leaking with preecum, and shoves it into you. He wastes no time waiting for you to adjust, ramming into you with inhuman speed. He tries not to cum when looking at you. Your hair is messy, and your makeup is completely ruined from all your crying. The wound is still leaking, still painting your body red with your blood. The scent of your sweet blood is filling his nostrils, making him needier, thirstier, and stronger. The way that you just lay there, letting him take over you, to completely ruin your sweet innocence. Not only that, but the way you love it drives him to complete insanity. Screaming his name, moaning from both pleasure and pain, from the wound, the sting, but also from the warmth that fills your body.

“Fuck y/n, you shoul’dve never let me do this, I’m compleatly ruining you” You don’t care. It’s almost scary how hot he is. His fangs are completely out, exposed by his open mouth letting out painful moans, and his jet-black hair is glued to his forehead because of the sweat. His lips are swollen and red from your blood, and from all the close contact with you, his body is smeared in your own blood, all the way from his mouth to his lower stomach. You always knew he looked gorgeous in red, but this look was on a whole other level. And his eyes. His eyes were glowing in the semi-dark room, truly making him look like the predator he truly is.

He knows he is about to cum, pounding deeper and harder into your now sore pussy. “Have to taste you again baby”. As he gets closer, he leans down to your neck, sucking on the open wound without piercing your skin, getting a final taste. The taste of your sweet orange-chocolate flavored blood, drives him to the edge, filling you up with his cum. His tired, heavy body leans down on yours, having to use all the strength he has to not crush your fragile figure. He loves the feeling of your pussy, the last thing he wants to do is to pull away his cock from your warm hole, hugging him just right.

But as he can feel your pulse drop, he begins to panic and pulls his cock out of you. His drawer, being prepared if his darkest fantasies ever came to life, was full of cranberry juice. He quickly hands you the juice, seeing your weak hands grabbing it, trying not to drop it. He holds it for you, seeing how you suck up all the liquid, before taking another box. When looking at you like this, sucking the juice he holds, covered in your blood he so desires, looking up at him with the sweetest smile as if he didn’t almost kill you, he knew.

He knew he was absolutely in love with you.

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This fic is for everyone that voter for vampire Sunghoon 🩸💋

#enhypen #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen x reader #enhypen hyung line #enhypen imagines #sunghoon smut #enha smut #Sunghoon #park Sunghoon #enhypen hard thoughts

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cno-inbminor · 5 months ago

Text

praestigia

NOTE: this is the completed version of the fic, including part 1. some minor edits have been made to part 1, but that's about it. once again, thanks sylus for being my first lads fic! as always, much love to spence for bullying me into finishing this

plot: formally speaking, sylus is a...sponsor. more colloquially, he's your sugar daddy -- and you're starting to wonder if he might actually want more. (wc: ~13.1k)

cw: this is all AU and does not include, like, any game lore (aside from that it's happening in linkon city). afab!reader, also a phd student, toxic behavior [miscommunication], explicit smut [dom/sub dynamics, slight bondage, underwear as a gag, size kink if you squint, fingering, some degradation, possessiveness, squirting, overstimulation, some choking, no protection aside from implied birth control], angst, some fluff, open ending. mdni!

[ao3]

The skyline of Linkon City never fails to captivate you, blinking lights of tall, corporate buildings, the specks of light dotted across the sky, the blur of beams weaving through the roads – no matter which angle you look at it from, the view will inevitably take reign over your focus. So much so, that you do not notice the imposing figure approaching you from behind. He can only draw your attention by placing both hands on your shoulders, jumping slightly as you blink and remember where you are. A wave of flashbacks crashes through your mind as you are gently turned towards him, your back facing the window now.

“Perhaps I should find it somewhat offensive that the view never fails to take your attention away,” Sylus remarks, his tone unmasked in his teasing and playfulness. His scarlet eyes peer past your shoulder to see if there was anything interesting or out of the ordinary. “Do I need to start booking rooms without windows?”

“Don’t be silly,” you gently admonish, moving past him to grab a drink of water. His eyes burn the skin on your back, though you are familiar with this gaze. “Thank you for letting me rest here.”

“Do you really think that after all this time, I would leave you to pay for a hotel room yourself? Or to find your own transportation home?”

“It’d be understandable. I can see where you would be coming from if you made those requests.”

“I must say, I am a little wounded, kitten,” he drawls in mock pain. Instead of waiting for you to return and remain close to him, he situates himself on the bed first and leaves ample room for you to lay next to him.

The gesture invokes warmth, exudes comfort, and stands familiar as you climb onto the mattress with ease and memory. Sylus stretches out his arm next to you, and his pose quietly begs for you to cuddle into him.

And so you do. Sylus’s stature and frame, of course, never fails to envelop you during these moments of tranquility. Your chest pressed against his side, a leg crossed over his, your nails drawing patterns over his bathrobe and exposed abdomen – security, strength, and affection, once again, never fails to help you relax.

Because this is what happens after every gala, every fundraiser, every grand opening, every social event that you accompany Sylus to. This routine of being in hotel rooms so high above ground with breathtaking views, burrowing into him, oftentimes burying himself inside you, and separating the next morning with an implicit understanding of exactly where you stand, is what you two had agreed upon all those months ago. And in return, your financial stress disappears into thin air, leaving you to study and engage in hobbies without such a heavy burden on your shoulders.

Despite his constant reassurances that he can clean up whatever mess you may end up making, they do not negate just how tiring and draining these events end up being. Constantly putting on airs, overexposing your practiced smiles, making sure that there is not a single hair out of place, switching to what you like to call “fancy people table etiquette” – Sylus sponsored and, in a way, hired you to be as close to perfect as possible, and so, you must do as such to uphold your end of this business relation. Tonight has been a little more taxing than usual, as somewhere along the way, he felt the need to buy you anything that captured your attention for more than a few seconds. He would bid a ridiculous price that would dissuade any other potential customers, their expressions of defeat when they pass by causing him to secretly gloat that everyone has learned at least one thing about him: he will get what he wants.

You had caught onto this shenanigan after the third item, and you made sure to school your gaze away from the auctioned items. But because he always seems to know what plays in your mind, he complains, “You never let or ask me to buy you things anymore.”

Your eyes had closed shut during your time of reflecting on tonight’s events, and they continue to remain as such. “I have very little closet space. At this point, I think I’ve probably swapped out 90% of my wardrobe because of you. People are starting to get suspicious.”

“Then why not move out and find a bigger apartment? You know I can afford it.”

“Sylus–”

“I know, I know,” he interrupts. If he were anyone else, you would have scowled at him. “It would be too far from campus, become inconvenient, and you feel it is too much to ask for.”

As the conversation suggests, this is not the first time Sylus has brought up this proposition. What remains unsaid is how you would be closer to his residence if you were to move to one of the many apartments he had in mind, all of which would reduce your commute to his place down to walking a block or two; not a twenty-minute drive.

“Just say the word, and it will be done,” Sylus murmurs into your hair. When he realizes he has received no response, your soft snoring greets him before he can inquire any further. With a heavy sigh, he reaches out and switches the nightstand light off, leaving the darkness to swallow you both. His eyes fall shut in tired ease, but his grip around your shoulders remains firm.

It comes to no one’s surprise that you feel less than well-rested when your alarm starts blaring at 5:45AM. You had an early class today, so you had to give yourself ample time to make it home, change, wipe away any lingering smudges of last night’s makeup, and try to appear as…casual as possible. Not wanting to wake him up so much that he cannot fall back asleep, you reach out for your phone and click one of the volume buttons, rendering it silent. Sometime in the night, your position had changed to Sylus spooning you. His limb slung over your waist is heavy, making it all that more difficult to leave – not just physically, but mentally as well.

Like ripping a bandaid off, you have every intention to quickly remove yourself from his embrace. But Sylus, being the infuriatingly light sleeper that he is, immediately tightens his hold around you as soon as you attempt your escape.

“Sylus, I need to go,” you whisper.

He presses you impossibly closer to him. “I will drive you to your apartment. Sleep.”

“No, I’m taking the subway.”

“Why take the subway when you have me?”

“If anyone needs rest, it’s you,” you say pointedly, because it’s true. Being the CEO of a business that may or may not be totally legal (you never ask because honestly, the less you know, the better) is not exactly a 9AM-5PM job. There have been more times than you can count when he would be pounding into you and forced to take a phone call. Granted, that doesn’t stop him from grinding into you and grinning devilishly when you bury your face into the nearest pillow to muffle your moans and whines.

“Speak for yourself,” he grumbles into your hair. “You haven’t gotten more than six hours of sleep every night for the last week.”

“And how exactly do you know this?” As soon as you ask, you already know the answer.

The app for– “Your smartwatch.”

“One of these days, I will disconnect my account from that app.”

“I would like to see you try.”

And you will. Just, when you’re not trapped in his arms.

“I’m still taking the subway,” you backtrack, though your voice is quieter than before. A tiny sense of relief fills you when his embrace loosens, and you can finally crawl out of bed. It’s harder than it seems to squash the distressed voice in your head complaining about how easy it was for him to let you go. As you pick up all your clothes and make your way towards the bathroom, you notice his phone sitting innocently by the room’s coffee machine. After looking over your shoulder, you swipe it off the counter and bring it with you.

Guessing his passcode is harder than you thought – the man has an ego the size of the entire universe, so you figure it would be something personal: his inaugural date as CEO, his birth year, his birthday, or others. On your last, desperate attempt, you type in four digits and find yourself absolutely floored at the view of his, now, unlocked phone.

Your birthday.

There is no time to dwell on the implications of it all, and you chalk it up to the fact that no one really knows you outside of being his typical date or escort. Therefore, the passcode would be that much harder to guess than the route that you had originally gone for. Yes, that’s all it was: an extra layer of security.

Sylus’s phone is surprisingly unorganized, random apps thrown into folders that they do not belong in, leaving you to search for the fitness app that your watch is not only connected to on your own phone, but somehow also on his. You press the buttons necessary to delete your watch data from his end. When you are ready to close the app, you cannot help but notice the preview of his messages app and the texts within. Your thumb swipes away the fitness app and shakily taps the messages window that stares hauntingly at you. It had been left open on a conversation with another woman, if you had to guess based on the name sitting at the top.

My parents are getting antsy, and so is your grandfather.

That is none of my concern.

Unfortunately, it is. They’re not exactly happy about the woman you keep bringing as a partner.

Our arranged marriage is not a publicly known detail.

And I’d like to keep it that way. But Sylus…

What?

We can’t delay this much longer. You’re running out of time.

The exchange tells you enough, just enough for you to realize the situation you find yourself in. You suddenly recall an incident in the beginning of this relationship with Sylus when he described this arrangement, him as your sugar daddy, as a means to an end, preferably the end of something that he clearly did not want out of desire for his own freedom. There was not enough detail for you to give it much thought after that night of discussion and negotiation, but now, it all makes sense.

Your thumb takes it back to his home screen and presses the lock button. In a haze, you get ready and dressed before exiting the bathroom, completely unaware if you even have your clothes on right or your hair somewhat kempt. As quietly as possible, you place his phone back where you had found it. Though common practice at this point, it now feels far too intimate to plant a featherlight kiss on his cheek. It causes him to stir, but you’re halfway out the door before he can fully register your departure.

Whoever passes by, whatever zooms past, however something tries to gain your attention, you have no recognition of your surroundings. A thick layer of tension settles itself into your brain, allowing you to think of nothing but the fact that this entire time, Sylus has been in an arranged marriage that you, apparently, were supposed to be instrumental in destroying. To find yourself back in your apartment maybe forty minutes later is a miracle in and of itself. You return to the plane of reality when you open your closet doors to toss your dirty clothes into the hamper and are greeted by the many items bought with his money.

Contrary to popular belief, jealousy does not make itself known in your system. You’re not exuding shades of green or red like an angry Christmas tree. If anything, you come to a quiet acceptance that this…partnership with Sylus will come to an end, and soon. It would do no good for him to keep seeing or supporting you while formally married, which means you have to get your life in order. Sylus has given you more than enough money to put you through your last two years of your postgraduate career and maybe a year into your postdoc, but you should still remain frugal. If you’re lucky enough, the money you earn during postdoc would be enough to live relatively comfortably on.

Alone. Without him.

It’s fine, you think to yourself as you turn on the shower. It’s totally and completely fine.

A couple hours later in class, your phone vibrates with a message that reads, “You actually managed to disconnect your watch from my phone.”

The slight smirk tugging at your lips is inevitable as you type out a response: You told me to try, so I did.

“I will be changing my passcode.”

If you want. There’s nothing else on there that I need to delete, right?

“Oh sweetie, wouldn’t you like to know?”

The subtle, possessive curl of his message coils around you tenderly, making you temporarily forget that you are in class and should be exhibiting a poker face. But you still shift in your seat, a warm pool of heat forming in your core as you imagine his expression and his voice reading the message out loud. Forever a tease and a flirt, Sylus knows exactly what he is doing by sending you that message.

Your best revenge in the moment is to leave him on read, on the edge of his metaphorical seat. It takes too much effort to bring your conscience back to your current lecture and actually take some notes. Your phone buzzes once, but you ignore it – and in hindsight, you’re glad you did. Sylus, in all his infinite wisdom and glory, took it upon himself to send you a picture of himself after a shower – the skin of his chest glistening under the fluorescent lights, grey towel hung low on his waist and barely holding on, veins on his arms frustratingly visible because he knows what they do to you, his biceps flexed just enough that you want to take a bite at them. The fucker full well knew you were in class and, you know, in relatively close proximity to other people who would have, no doubt, gotten an eyeful.

As you walk towards the subway station to go back to your apartment, head down and focused on typing out a message, a giddy smile can’t help but break out across your face. Your thumbs tap, “Should you really be sending photos like this to someone who, in the public’s eye, is just a friendly escort?”

After not even thirty seconds, your phone buzzes, the notification of his call sliding in from the top of your screen. You almost roll your eyes as you bring the device to your ear. “You have five minutes before I lose signal underground,” you warn, your tone still playful nevertheless.

“‘A friendly escort’, you say? I suppose that’s what the young ones are calling intimacy these days.”

“You knew I was in class. And stop it, I know you have some stupid smug look on your face right now,” you chastise.

“You know me so well.”

“Actually, speaking of,” you say as your eyes flit down to your watch. “Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting right now?”

“I stepped out.”

Your heart and feet skip a beat, almost causing you to fall flat on your face and absolutely eat shit in the middle of the sidewalk. It’s hard not to let your mind race at all the implications, that this tirelessly busy man decided in a heartbeat that he would step out with a desire to call you over something so minor; to do no more than simply tease you. In the grand scheme of his life, you have very little significance – your temporary companionship where you may see him four or five times a month, sometimes with weeks in between and other times mere days. Text messages were never a guaranteed daily activity, though as of recent, he has been texting you more often. But amidst his employees, his connections, his partnerships, his family, you’re just…you.

You didn’t realize you had been stunned into silence long enough for him to ask, “Are you still there?”

“I am, sorry,” you apologize, scrambling to think of an excuse. “Uhh, an email came in and I was reading it. Didn’t hear you.”

“I’ll get you some wireless earbuds.”

“Please don’t.” Your rejection is immediate, firm. The lack of room left for argument stands apparent. “That’s not necessary.”

“And what’s stopping me from just ordering you a pair regardless?”

“Me.”

Sylus responds with a contemplative pause, which is...unusual. He has always been so quick to reply with wit and banter, but there is a chance that maybe something distracted him, like what you had said as a poor attempt at a viable excuse.

“I suppose the kitten is starting to make use of her claws now.” His voice rings softer, quieter, almost as if disheartened by his own statement. “First you disconnect your watch, and now you won’t even let me buy you earbuds.”

“I just don’t want you to buy anything that’s not necessary. Covering my tuition and all the dresses is one thing, but wireless earbuds, I can do without. My wired ones work just fine.”

Your eyes catch the sign for the stairs leading down to the subway up ahead. “I’m about to go under and lose signal. Was there anything else?”

“Come over tonight.”

Your mouth works faster than your brain. “I can’t,” you lie, a pang of guilt creeping into your heart. “There’s a study group tonight for an exam.” Not a lie. “Besides, we just saw each other yesterday.”

“Has that ever stopped us before?”

“W-well, no,” you splutter because it’s true. There have been a handful of times when you spent two, sometimes three consecutive nights in the past – but things were more hot-and-heavy then, a time when you couldn’t get enough of him and vice versa. “I’m just saying.”

“Then come after the study group.”

“It’s gonna run pretty late because we have an exam in a few days.” Again, not a lie. “Who knows if the subways would still be running by then?”

“I’ll pick you up.”

“But you might be asleep.”

“Highly unlikely, little one.”

Quickly looking around you, you quietly hiss, “Sylus, you should be asleep by the time the subways stop running. Why would you still be up at 2AM?”

“In case I have to refresh your memory, you do remember that I am the CEO of one of the largest tech companies in Linkon, right? The work never ends.”

“You need time for sleep, you know, like everyone else??”

“I’m not like everyone else.”

Your eyes close in frustration as you groan. Your feet have reached the top of the stairs, and you couldn’t have asked for more perfect timing. “Okay, I’m at the station so I’m gonna hang up. I’ll come over another time, alright? Talk to you later.”

“Sweetie–”

Moving forward to race down the stairs and smashing the hang up button is your way of desperately trying to not lose resolve. Any longer, you would have given in and rolled yourself straight back to square one with nothing but dread. You have never been more relieved to see the little “No Signal” sitting in the top left corner while you swipe through a gate and manage to get down another flight of stairs without tripping over your feet.

Wired earbuds in, hands stuffed into the pocket of your hoodie, letting the wind tunnel threaten you to topple over, you do everything in your ability to not think about him – to not think about the messages that may flood your phone once you get signal, to not think about the pushback you may receive because Sylus is someone who figures out to, somehow, always get his way, and to not think about the weight of his earlier words: “I stepped out.” You pretend that you know nothing about this arranged marriage, the curiosity having caused your thumbs to twitch in anticipation at maybe looking up who this woman is. You ignore the now glaringly close deadline that will terminate your relationship with Sylus forever, and most of all, you ignore any semblance of pain that knowledge makes you feel.

Cup half-empty, spoons tossed the window, the subway window across from you is greeted with a blank stare. In a rare moment of mindfulness (or is it dissociation?), you think of nothing until you find yourself standing by the foot of your bed and ready to face plant into the middle of the duvet. With your last shred of working consciousness, you set an alarm for thirty minutes before the start of the study group and promptly fall asleep.

As you predicted, the study group runs late into the night. Despite the several digressions into conversations that were very much not academics-related, all of you feel relatively good about the subject matter for the exam on Friday. Everyone comes to a unanimous decision to reconvene in a couple of days. Given that it was Monday, one more study session Wednesday and some independent review Thursday night would be beneficial.

For your own sanity, you had left your phone, stashed in the recesses of your backpack, tossed into the corner of the study room, on do-not-disturb for the entirety of the night. You had it programmed to still chime and alert you if family contacted you, mainly because it doesn’t happen often, and if it does, that means something big happened. The device remained silent for the whole time, and part of you wants to avoid confronting what your notification screen might look like. But before you can muster up the courage to do so, one of your friends speaks up.

“Hey, you took the subway here, right? I can drive you home,” Jiho, a doctoral student in the same year as you but doing research under a different professor, offers. A part of you is beyond relieved at the perfect example of an excuse to not check your phone because it would be so incredibly rude (not really) in a social context.

“You wouldn’t mind? If you have somewhere to be, I can just walk.”

Jiho rolls his eyes in a playful manner. “Come on, before I change my mind.”

He drops you off in front of your apartment complex about ten minutes later, and he shoos away your offer to buy him coffee as a token of gratitude. You wave goodbye as his car pulls out of a guest parking spot, and only then do you notice the conspicuously sleek, grey sports car sitting a few meters away. Your heart pounds, and your palms begin to sweat as you get closer and closer to your unit, afraid of who you might find once you get inside. You spot the fluorescent glow from underneath peering out from underneath your door, and it takes everything in you to not drop your keys as you unlock the deadbolt.

“So the kitten has finally decided to come home.”

“How–”

Sylus, looking severely out of place in your humble abode, sets down the stack of papers in his hand on your coffee table. With his other hand, he points to the fixture on your wall by the door where your keys typically hang. His own set now occupies one of the hooks, and you spot the spare key you had given him a few months ago. To your knowledge, he has never used it before, and you can count the number of times he has stepped into this apartment on one hand.

You quietly shut the door behind you, locking both deadbolts in place before setting your backpack down. “It’s so late,” and even you wince at the shakiness in your voice. “You should be asleep. At home.”

“Perhaps I would be if someone had just checked their phone once in the last fifteen hours.”

Well, you don’t have much of an excuse for that.

Sylus sits on one end of your couch in loungewear, though somehow, he still makes it seem like he’s in something formal enough for business casual. You cautiously sit on the other end away from him.

“I passed out as soon as I got home, and then I was running late for the study group, so I just left my phone on do-not-disturb.”

His silence speaks volumes.

“I didn’t mean to worry you.”

But maybe you did.

Maybe, subconsciously, you did. Maybe you wanted to test the limits of his affection. Maybe you wanted to see just how far he would go to make sure you were okay.

Maybe you simply wanted to get a taste of when you least expect radio silence, an appetizer for how things may turn out when Sylus calls for the end of your arrangement.

“Look at me.”

Tension weighs you down as you slowly turn your body towards him, but you avoid his gaze and aim to study the logo on his shirt instead.

“Sweetie, look at me.”

The command snaps you into compliance, his tone firm and undeniable. You expect to see anger, frustration, disappointment. After all, it would make sense, for there is a set of expectations and rules put into place to ensure trust between both parties. Transactional, contractual, institutional obligations and conditions set by both the company matchmaker and individuals are put in place to conveniently manifest and quickly disintegrate these business relations, to avoid messes.

But you realize all too quickly that the mess will be inevitable, in your case, because instead of tinges of red fury in his eyes, you find concern, worry, and confusion. Dread sinks into your stomach like an anchor in the middle of the ocean, dropping further and further into the dark unknown.

“You’re hiding something from me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you immediately counter. Good job, you just made it more obvious.

Sylus pins you down with a look that means nothing other than “you know better”, and your heart threatens to burst from your chest out of sheer anxiety.

“Since you refuse to tell me otherwise, tell me how you got home,” he says, and though he may seem cool and nonchalant in the way he rests an arm against the back of the couch, you can see the irritation pulsing through the veins on his forearms.

“A friend from the study group drove me home.”

“And you were simply too busy to look at your phone during the drive?”

“I had to give him directions.”

Sylus cocks an eyebrow at the mention of this friend’s gender. “Him?”

“Jiho, sweet guy. Does research with another professor.”

“I suppose I have him to thank for bringing you home safely. Regardless, you should have called me to pick you up.”

You have one last card to play. “That’s not in the contract.”

His eyes harden and narrow the slightest bit, the curve of his jaw growing tense in building irritation. “How so?”

“There’s a line somewhere in there about making sure I would not contact you for personal favors that are outside the scope of our,” you hesitate to find the right words, “relationship.” You can’t remember the last time your palms sweat so much.

“I offered.”

“And I am not obligated to take the offer. While kind, I did not see the need to bother you.”

“I clearly remember stating that it wouldn’t be an issue, especially considering I asked you to stay with me for the night.”

“But I told you I couldn’t,” you retort.

“Couldn’t or wouldn’t?”

The bitter note in his voice on his last word matches his steely gaze that is undoubtedly determined to pick you apart, to peel off each layer of whatever walls you may have put up. He’s not ignorant or oblivious by any means – something is going on, and you’re not telling him. You answer him with deafening silence, blaming your late-night fatigue for it.

Responding directly to his question would only make this worse, as you cannot see yourself getting out of the ensuing conversation unscathed and alive. Instead, the couch dips as you cross the distance between you two, hesitantly straddling his hips in case he doesn’t want you to. But he allows your move, his hands almost instinctively resting on your thighs as you settle yourself into his hold. His skin feels glassy smooth beneath your fingers as you caress his cheek, studying every detail of his face and avoiding his eyes.

Perhaps there is a part of you that is trying to commit the minutiae to memory in preparation for the days when you will no longer see him so intimately. You should have never let yourself get so attached, no matter how much tenderness and adoration Sylus has been lavishing you with. The realization hits you in a bittersweet manner, and the featherlight kiss you place on his lips only makes it hurt more.

Yet you move past the pain to accept the fall, the descent into oblivion as you feel Sylus respond to your kiss, deepening and increasing in fervor. The heat in your core is more than just lust as it sinks deeper and deeper into you, a testament to the depth of your affections. Somehow, his touch as his hands roam your figure burns hotter. It almost makes you want to shy away from his grasp, but part of you welcomes the trails of fire as your punishment for deceiving him.

You gasp out his name as his lips leave your neck scorching, each nip of his teeth and lave of his tongue adding to the haze slowly overtaking your rationale. But beneath the man’s ardor, you manage to recognize his irritation and annoyance – the way his fingers grip your waist, his nails digging into your back – about how this whole night has progressed.

Apologize, his eyes seem to scream. Seek forgiveness as I seek vengeance, his hands draw on your skin.

Beg for me.

“You test my patience in a way that others have never done before,” he says in a dangerous tone as you gasp at the chords of delicious pain running down your back.

“I’m– ah – sorry,” you gasp as his arousal grinds purposefully against yours.

The answering swat against your ass stings, and you attempt to ignore the rush of slick dampening your panties even further – a reaction that Sylus does not fail to miss. Instinct calls and beckons when your eyes slip shut the moment a hand rakes up to get a firm grip of your hair, pulled towards him so he can kiss you fervently again.

So lost in a hazy reverie, you barely register when he lifts you by your thighs and makes his way to your bedroom. Or at least, you think he’s going there, given that he’s only been in your bedroom once before. But Sylus makes strides with the confidence of someone who has visited here countless times, and the aura he exudes both thrills and frightens you.

In mere seconds, he strips you down and regards you with an appreciative gaze. The glint and apparent desire in his eyes never fails to flatter you – to be wanted is addicting, especially when wanted by a man as powerful as Sylus. You should be alarmed by how natural it feels to be in this current state of undress and debauchery.

“Open your mouth,” he commands, and you obey without a second thought. “Good girl.

“As much as I cannot bother to care about disturbing your neighbors, I know you do,” he concedes, but not without balling up your panties and stuffing them past your parted lips. “All of this could have been avoided if you had just let me pick you up.”

The argumentative whine that slips off your tongue is resolutely muffled, serving no purpose except to further Sylus’s sadism. His approving smirk immediately quells your anger, and you can only watch with half-lidded eyes as he removes his clothes at a painstakingly slow place. Normally, you are the one to grant him a show at his command, but tonight, you deserved a taste of your own medicine. Your wrists become bound by his belt as he finds his second home between your legs. Tears prick the corners of your eyes when he purposefully lets his shaft drop on your clit.

“Always so wet and ready for me, kitten,” he praises, his tone low, teasing, but appreciative.

His smirk widens as he moves to hold his cock and tap it menacingly against the puffy bundle of nerves, taking in each twitch of your body, each dampened mewl, each falling tear. With each tap, the string of slick between your cunt and his length becomes more and more prominent, spreading across his skin. “Tell me, sweetie, who this belongs to,” Sylus compels with a drawl, jutting his chin towards your carnal source of torture before meeting your eyes. He knows very well that the word you're trying to say is “you”, but he takes great pleasure in knowing that there is no way the sounds will come through the soaked cotton in your mouth. “Hmm? What was that?” The frustration of not being able to clearly convey the right answers only adds to your arousal, turning the heat in your core into molten lava. At his clarifying question, you, undoubtedly, feel a pool of precum drip from your pussy, and when you see his eyes flit down to his cock in hand, you know he's fully aware of it too. They hone in on how easily the tip slips into your beckoning entrance, attempting to entice and draw him in for both your pleasures.

You keen as Sylus slides two fingers into your entrance without warning – they’re a far cry from his cock, but thick and long in their own desirable way. The tips of his fingers easily find the spot that makes you squirm, moan, mewl, and you’d have to be blind to miss the wicked expression splitting across his face. Despite the teasing attitude from earlier, he wastes no time trying to bring you to your peak. Your muffled cries only spur him on, even more so when he’s able to fit a third finger inside you. “Maybe I should let your neighbors hear us. I imagine it would get the message across that you’re not exactly…available.”

Embarrassing, what you would give in this very moment to be nothing more than his. Your hips follow the drag of his fingers, unwilling to let yourself feel anything less than filled. But before he lets you come, he stops.

Why?

“Greedy little thing.” His tone is mocking, yet highly amused, as he removes his fingers – and as much as he would like to play with you to his heart’s content, to break you down and tear you apart, his veins thrum with impatience and apprehension. Sylus seeks to punish you in a different, more overwhelming fashion, that would require you to beg him to stop rather than to start. It takes everything in him to not force you down his entire length. Instead, he devises to lull you into a false sense of security with the way that he takes his time sliding into you, no matter how much your pretty cunt desperately tries to suck him in. Sylus is sure you would be able to see the restraint painted across his face if you didn’t have your head thrown back and back arched from being stretched open. The sight of your bare stomach and chest makes it all the much harder to reign in his desires.

“Fuck,” he hisses. His cock continues to bully its way through your pussy, slowly and languidly, until it’s fully trapped inside you. When your thighs meet his v-line and your clit brushes against his skin, you whine and buck against him for desperately needed friction. But Sylus quickly traps you and pins you down from your thighs, restricting your movements with a devilish grin. “You never answered my question,” he reminds you, a clear taunt. In the blink of an eye, he leans back to land a firm yet stinging slap on your puffy clit and revels in your muffled cry. “Who does this belong to?”

Your dry sobs only intensify as you fight to respond with a clear answer, but it’s impossible. The way you grind your hips against him, seeking any sensation that could help quench this insatiable thirst in your core, should say enough. Sure, you could simply point at him, even with your wrists tied together, but you’ve been with him long enough to know that he wants the words of possession to roll off your tongue at times like these. And if you tried taking the cloth from your mouth…needless to say, you would be lucky to survive the night.

He chuckles when he feels the walls of your pussy tighten around his cock, a different tone that deviates from the vicious shake of your head to signal that despite your complaints, you would much rather be gagged like this. “Cum for me,” Sylus demands in a low voice. “Cum for me, cum from me just being inside you, and I will give you what you’ve been begging for this whole time.

“Even better yet, make a mess.”

The coil in your core tightens more and more and more until it suddenly snaps, your body trembling with the force of your orgasm and your throat hoarse from your silenced screams. “Good girl,” he praises when he pulls out, hungry eyes roaming every inch of you, as he rapidly swipes his fingers against your clit and relishes in his ability to make you squirt, fluids flying and landing messily in the near vicinity. You don’t know how long it takes for you to get over the high, oversensitivity from his fingers as they continue to stimulate you. Barely coming down from your climax, Sylus stuffs three fingers inside you and continues to fuck you, purposefully and forcefully rocking against your g-spot.

“Please,” you beg and cry as you twitch and flinch, trying to remove yourself from the source of this unbearable amount of pleasure. But your articulation is, once again, victim to your cotton gag, leaving you to audibly dry sob and squeal in overstimulation. The satisfaction on your sponsor’s complexion should sound the alarms in your brain, but it only thrills you to pieces as clarity fades more and more from your conscience.

In a haze, you manage to pull your belt-bound wrists forward from above your head and tap his shoulder three times. Only then does he stop in his tracks, carefully removing his fingers from your core. Sylus exhibits the same attention when he holds your chin with one hand and takes the soaked cotton of your panties out of your mouth. Before you can even take two breaths, greedily gasping for air, Sylus kisses you softly, slowly. Unable to do much with your head still in a fog, you reciprocate as much as you can – to silently thank him for his punishment, as well as his mercy. He pulls back, cueing you to open your eyes and take him in, just as he assesses you in his own way. His eyes search and roam your face and figure before meeting your gaze once more.

How endearing, you believe they seem to say. He cocks an eyebrow, his way of asking are you okay? You take a few deep breaths before nodding. But before you can try and decipher more of what he may be feeling through his eyes, he bends forward, breathing into your ear, “On your stomach.”

Large, strong hands manhandle you until your head is almost buried into the sheets, hiding your disheveled state, your hands grasping at the expensive linen, and his weight planted firmly on top of you. A pillow is stuffed beneath your abdomen before he spreads your ass, eager to study the ruin he has caused on your poor, little pussy. Sylus readjusts himself so that his dick nestles comfortably between your ass cheeks. Even in your daze, the heat of his arousal almost seems to burn your flesh, and you desperately wish it was inside you.

A self-proclaimed mind reader, Sylus drives you to the edge, groaning quietly when your cunt attempts to lure him in when he coquettes you with the tip. Every slide, every push, every instance of friction makes you fall deeper into this pool of anguish and lechery. Before you even realize it, visceral pleas for him to fuck you are spilling from your tongue, very much so to his delight. “I know you can beg better than that,” he taunts. “And to think I had trained you so well.” His voice reeks in mock despair and disappointment.

Though you know he’s not completely serious, his words are enough to send your sin-addled brain into a state of panic – so panicked and shaken to the point that you don't even register the next words falling off your tongue. Something about the practiced but genuine phrases of separation, wanting to be used, wanting to be ruined – were you pressing back into him, hoping, praying that you could draw him into you?

In response, you soak in the hisses of expletives in your ear, the comforting, mind-numbing sensation of being filled again, and the weight of his frame atop yours. He holds himself up on his elbows, and each thrust threatens to split you in two. “Mine,” his voice slips through your conscience, hanging onto the way the sound drags out, “are you not?”

Always, you nearly answer on primal instinct when he buries himself as deep as he can inside you, his cock almost feeling like it’s in the back of your throat. The inexplicable amount of pleasure stops you from giving him what he wants, which pushes him to press himself even harder against you. “I’m beginning to lose my patience, kitten,” Sylus warns, as if he’s not the very reason for your delayed responses. His fingers sneak underneath you to grab you around the neck, forcing your head up. Your pants are greedy, desperately seeking air as his hand tightens just a bit more, the haziness in your mind thickening.

“Yours,” you gasp. “Always,” slips off your tongue before you can stop yourself.

The silence that hangs still is enough to make you question whether or not you fucked this whole thing up. Dread begins to drip into your system as his grip around your neck loosens, even more so when his hand slips away entirely and he begins sliding out of you. “Wa–”

In the blink of an eye, his hand pushes your head back into the sheets, his fingers curling around your strands at the scalp. Sylus’s cock fucks you into the mattress, his pace almost frantic, yet punishing. The realization that you’re going to be incredibly sore in the morning is an accepted assumption at this point, leaving you with little warning of your release approaching the precipice. Silenced cries, Sylus fervidly ensuring that your pussy is forever molded to the shape of his length, your sanity slipping – his impassioned murmurs of how tight you are, how easily he can pound you into oblivion, how your pussy makes it so easy for him to sink into the very depths of your core – all drive you to your peak. His last sign that you’re going to come is the dissipation of your whimpers.

Sylus wraps his hand around your neck once more, turning it so that he can capture your lips in a bruising kiss. He swallows your screams as you topple over the edge, your climax so intense that your whole body trembles for what feels like eternity in his hold. Your pussy compels him to remain buried deep inside you, and he’s more than happy to comply. But it doesn’t stop him from grinding against you, driving you into overstimulation.

“So good,” he groans against your lips in between kisses. “So fucking good, taking my cock so well, I’m gonna–”

“Y-your cum, please,” you urge. “Please give me your cum!” Your voice dissolves into sobs.

“Fuck!” Sylus spits out. The hand that was on your neck now covers your mouth as he spills inside you with a deep moan, his teeth buried into your shoulder to muffle his own voice. You relish in the sharp pain, as if he’s trying to engrave his mark into your skin, and can’t help but keen as his cum fills you up. Each pulse and twitch of his cock sends a shiver down your spine and almost tempts you into begging for more.

Catching his breath, he refuses to leave your warmth. His tongue softly licks the area where his teeth had embedded themselves into your shoulder, and follows them with reverent kisses. You remain quiet, only letting your breath hitch when Sylus slips out of you. He gently presses your back into a deeper arch so that you can present yourself to him, and he watches with apparent satisfaction as his cum leaks from your pussy. A hand on your ass, his thumb reaches over for your entrance to push and give him a better view of his undeniable claim on you.

As infuriating as he can be, you observe with bleary eyes as he leaves to grab a damp towel from your bathroom before returning and carefully wiping his cum away. After doing so, he tosses it to the floor and picks you up bridal-style, carrying you the short distance to your bathroom. He starts the shower and hums some nonsensical tune with a faint voice as you wait for the water to warm up. When he deems it hot enough, Sylus offers you a hand and helps you into the shower. Compared to his apartment, your shower stall is barely enough to fit the both of you. But he makes it work, taking the utmost care in cleaning you up, his touch so cautious yet heavy with care.

You barely remember making it out of the shower, much less when he dries you off and brings you to bed. There’s a faint memory of his warmth wrapping around your frame when you awaken later that morning, a delicious ache stretched through your muscles. Yet the side where he laid is cold.

It, along with the unread text from your bank notifying you of a, no doubt, sizeable deposit, is to be expected, you remind yourself. The sticky note by your phone that reads, “Early meeting, sweetie. -S” is the only truly physical (and unexpected) sign that he had been here in the first place. He never owes you an explanation, and you never expect to get one.

Just another day, another transaction.

Friday rolls around, and when the sun has set beneath the horizon, you find yourself perched in Sylus’s home on the kitchen island, a speckless slab of black quartz that you just know you’re leaving fingerprints on, as he throws together a salad. Something is in the air fryer, and he has a bottle of sparkling cider waiting to be opened. Sylus had stopped you with a look of “don’t you dare” when you tried helping out with something – anything – so the only thing you could do was sit and try to look pretty.

“Pick a salad dressing,” he commands when you grow silent. You eye the three jars that have been placed in front of you.

“I’m fine with any of them.”

“Not an answer.”

“I’m serious though!”

“Pick one.”

You groan as you look at the jars and point at the middle one. “Happy now?” you ask passive aggressively, sending him an exasperated glare.

Sylus, swift and silent, swoops in and steals a kiss from an unexpected you. Saying nothing, he pours some out into the salad bowl and mixes it all together with adept flicks of his wrist – no utensils needed. With a pair of tongs, he drops some greens onto your plate before taking the rest and tending to whatever is cooking in the oven.

It’s not the first time you’ve been here, and it’s not the first time he’s cooked for you. But it is the first time since accepting that you may feel something more than obligation and friendly affection for this man. This whole experience feels wildly domestic, as if you belonged…here.

On this counter.

Accepting impromptu kisses.

Waiting on food cooked by him.

Knowing you’re staying over for the night.

As if you were meant to be a part of his life.

The thought terrifies you, without a doubt, but you like it. Settling down with Sylus, forever attached at his hip at events, is a dangerous fantasy.

Lost in your thoughts, the what if?s, the possibilities, your daydream breaks when he pulls the curtain closed in front of the balcony door, completely blocking a wonderful (and surely, very expensive) view of Linkon. It takes you a few seconds to realize that you had been looking past the windowpane when frolicking around in your imagination, and you’re reminded of the night before you disconnected your smart watch from his phone. “Sorry, did you say something?”

“Penny for your thoughts?”

You feel the heat rushing into your cheeks, knowing they would be warm to the touch. Turning away from the now-concealed nighttime skyline, you direct your attention to the fridge meters away from you. “Just thinking about my test.”

“It’s too late now, if you realize you got something wrong. We’re here to celebrate it being over.”

“I know.” You sigh. “Thank you for doing this, by the way. I was getting a little tired of eating out.”

“I was as well. Too many business lunches and dinners the last couple of weeks.”

“How did those go?” you ask just to keep the conversation going.

“They went fine,” Sylus says without any further detail. “Come, let’s eat.” Before you can come down from the counter yourself, he already has an arm wound around your waist and is semi-carrying you to the dinner table. The distance between the table and the kitchen was maybe fifteen steps at best, closer to seven given Sylus’s long strides. It would’ve been a short walk regardless, and you’re flustered with the unexpected royal treatment.

Unceremoniously (but still carefully), he sits you down into a chair and pushes it in before going to his seat. Sylus places himself next to you at this round, mahogany table that seems a little too big for a man who lives alone. Largely used for serving several different dishes, it just looks a little out of place compared to the rest of his penthouse, all sleek and sharp. But you’ve learned to stop questioning things you’re curious about when it comes to his personal life, because clearly, he’s not very open to sharing those details.

Dinner isn’t anything special, as Sylus lets you prattle on about your research and other office gossip. He never divulges any of the gossip in his own workplace, but you understand it’s for confidentiality reasons. And he may just not care that much. At this point, Sylus knows a little too much about you while you know very little about him outside of his preferences and inclinations for food, media, and general daily habits.

Understanding the reality of that stun locks you for a few seconds – the duality of the word intimacy, the realization that you don’t even know Sylus’s favorite color. You could guess, sure, but you don’t definitively know. Why is it that you know the exact amount of shaved truffle on his pasta at that fancy restaurant by the river, but not his birthday? How do you explain your ability to pick up on details of his facial expressions at events and banquets, therefore knowing when to intervene so he can get a break from these people, but not the makeup of his family?

“You’ve been staring off into space quite a bit lately,” Sylus muses, ripping you away from the beginnings of your mental breakdown.

“Sorry, I just thought of something about my exam again.”

“What a terrible host I’ve been then, to allow your mind to wander so often. How can I keep your focus on me?”

You hum, looking around his apartment and then at the table. “Let me wash the dishes.”

“I own a dishwasher for a reason.”

“Please? It’s the least I could do since you made dinner – which was wonderful, by the way. You ever consider becoming a chef?” you ask with a slight chuckle, taking the opportunity to grab his dishware and utensils and carry them to the sink. Stainless steel shines brightly at you, whether from a recent deep clean or lack of usage, as you start to run the tap for warm water.

Large, familiar hands find their home on your waist, the heat burning through your sweater. They pull you against his frame, and you allow yourself to lean back a little bit as you start scrubbing the porcelain. Arms wind around your middle and hold you tight, his senses becoming muddled as he loses himself in your scent and touch. He gently paints the column of your neck with soft, faint kisses – so soft that if you hadn’t been so tuned into him, you would’ve missed them.

“You’re taking too long,” Sylus murmurs against your skin.

“What, never had to wait a tiny bit for a treat you want?” you tease, and chuckle when his teeth bite into your shoulder.

“Brat.”

“I’m almost done, I promise.”

It’s so hard to not like–

Your brain freezes – but somehow still commands you to scrub the plate in your hand. Moving on pure muscle memory now, you have maybe five seconds to figure out your own thought process.

This is a contract, you remind yourself. This is a mutual relationship to satisfy both parties’ needs without getting personal feelings involved. Sylus made that very clear in the beginning. But the less logical part of your conscience creeps in like a phantom on your shoulder. So how does that explain Sylus’s actions recently? How does that explain this very moment of what would appear to anyone as a sweet, pure, domestic interaction?

He’s just comfortable, you rationalize.

Why does he insist on you staying the night?

Because that’s what this contract entails.

Why does he keep asking you to move closer?

It’d be more of a problem if he was asking me to move in with him.

Would it be though?

Of course??

You sure about that?

This is NOT the time for--!

A small pinch on your waist brings you back to reality, your synapses firing on overdrive to try to get you back to a functional level. You cannot hold back your “ow!”, which seems to be just enough of a reaction to satisfy this man.

“What was that for?!”

“Something is clearly on your mind,” he says in a low tone, the tone that indicates he’s starting to become agitated.

“No there’s not,” you retort and fail to hide the sheepishness in your own voice.

“You’re doing a terrible job at convincing me to accept that. What are you not telling me?”

“It’s–,” you pause, scrambling for words. “--trivial, at best.”

Sylus’s arm extends in front of you to forcibly remove the plate from one hand and the sponge from the other. You relent to reduce the risk of breaking anything, but somehow, it’s still not enough. He grabs a tea towel hanging on the oven door behind him, spins you around so that your back is now digging into the edge of the sink, and proceeds to furiously dry your hands. You can’t help but wince when he tries to rub off some dried soap residue, but there is no time to dwell on it.

Not when Sylus slings the towel on to his shoulder and bends at the waist to meet your eyes. Not when he cages you between his arms as his hands bear his weight on either side of you. Not when he pins you with an expectant glare, demanding your full honesty.

“It’s really nothing.” Your tone is firmer now, but he doesn’t fall for it.

“Is it something personal?”

“...yes.”

“Does it have anything to do with your family?”

“No.”

“Is it something that I’m able to fix?

Technically, yes. But you’re not stupid.

“No.” Your voice softens, lowering to a murmur at best.

“Tsk,” Sylus clicks his tongue. “Why do I find that hard to believe?”

“Because you have a large enough influence to make you think that you can fix anything you want.”

“Precisely,” he responds pointedly and, perhaps, a little too proudly. “So tell me. Tell me what’s bothering you, and I’ll have it resolved within 48 hours.”

You didn’t realize that you had stopped looking him in the eye. And when you do, your breath hitches. So determined, so resolute.

And yet, so heartbreaking.

You can’t help but let your fingers ghost over his cheek, tracing the edge of his jawline. He stands firm even when you step forward and press a light kiss against his cheek. As if on instinct, he turns and immediately parts his lips to slide against yours, but you pull back before he has the chance to deepen it, and with it, your affection.

“You have enough to worry about as it is,” you murmur. “I’m fine, really.”

Sylus’s eyes turn disapproving, doubtful. But he knows when to back off when needed.

“Don’t forget that I can help you, should you need it,” he gently reminds you. “Do you understand?”

“I do, don’t worry.”

He sighs. “Very well then. Now come, we’re here to celebrate the end of your exam, after all.”

You take his outstretched hand, but you fail to leave behind your troubled heart.

Two nights later, at four in the morning, you stare blankly at your phone screen.

[Are you sure you want to request to terminate this contract?]

The only contact you've had with Sylus the last two days is sporadic texts about little things, like how your day was going or if you'd heard about the results of your exam yet. You do your best in suppressing the quiet loneliness that pushes your heart to your throat and a dagger into your stomach, the undeniable sensation of realizing that you miss Sylus.

Missing him as if he were your actual partner and not just one for show with dollar signs behind the scenes.

Worrying enough to wonder if he's getting enough sleep and eating enough food outside of whatever work dinners or lunches he may be obligated to attend. Just yesterday, you had ordered delivery to his office with your own money, and he had texted you a simple Thank you, little one. To which you responded with a casual, You're welcome 👍.

Smooth.

You're not sure how long your eyes linger over the [Yes] button, the midnight minutes blinking by as you contemplate your next move. Is this the right call? Should you wait until Sylus comes around and tells you on his own about the arranged marriage? Should you just wait until he makes the request instead?

No. You want a clean break. You want to call this off on your terms, essentially saving yourself from the path of destruction that you would undoubtedly set off on. One tap and a press of the lock button immediately after, you burrow yourself into your blankets and will yourself to sleep.

With light sleep at best, you watch with bleary eyes as the sun begins to rise, casting your room into a hue of its golden hour, signifying contentment and new beginnings. But it only elicits dread as you wait for the inevitable end.

The shriek of your phone rips you from your mindless daydreaming, and you know who it is before you can even get a good look at the screen.

“Hel–”

“What is the meaning of this?” His voice rings dark, irate, with what you think is the slightest hint of panic laced beneath each syllable.

“Sylus,” you start, but he interrupts you again.

“If I did something to upset you, then you need to let me know. Otherwise, I am at a complete loss for your sudden request to terminate our agreement.”

“You did nothing wrong.” Your attempt to subdue his worries may be futile, but you at least have to try.

“And I’m sure you can see why I don’t believe you for even a second.”

“I mean it though,” you refute. “Look, I’ll explain more when we meet with the company rep.”

“My patience is running thin. Tell me now.”

“Please, please just wait until we meet this evening,” you beseech, on the brink of breaking down while walking back to your apartment from class.

“It was simply a mistake, right?”

“Sylus, please–”

“Fine. Don’t be late.” The beep that follows indicates he has hung up on you. You suppose you got what you wanted, but it feels a hundred times worse.

There will never be enough time in the world for you to be prepared for this moment, standing in the ascending elevator of a discrete yet well-kept high-rise building while clutching a manilla envelope in your hand. The last time you were here was to outline the conditions of the situation with a representative there to help mitigate and ensure that both parties would be satisfied. You suppose they’ll be doing the same thing today, except it would be to ensure a clean split.

As the secretary walks you to the designated conference room, your legs tremble, even more so when she casually adds that Sylus was already here, waiting. She stops and knocks on the door in front of her, announcing your arrival. A sound of approval from inside cues her to open the door and let you in, and you nervously step inside after thanking her. Not that you didn’t believe her earlier, but actually seeing Sylus in the flesh somehow adds to the gravity of the situation.

“We have both parties here now, so let us begin,” the representative says after greeting you with a handshake. Calling out your name and gesturing to you, he states,” You are the one that called to terminate this contractual agreement, is that correct?”

“Yes,” you confirm in a shaky voice and clear your throat. A copy of the contract sits in front of you, and you keep your eyes trained on the letters that are starting to blur and swirl together. If it means that you don’t have to look at Sylus, you’ll take it.

“Is the reason for the termination due to any violations of the terms and conditions set at the initial meeting?”

“No.”

Despite keeping your head down, you see and hear Sylus shift in his chair. A sudden chill wraps around you, and you slightly shiver.

“Mr. Qin, to your knowledge, did she violate any part of the contract?”

“No.”

“Now let us discuss financial compensation.” Looking towards you again, he asks, “Have you been financially compensated for your services?”

“More than adequately.”

“Per the contract, are there any services you have not been paid for?”

You shake your head. “Sylus does not owe me anything.”

“Then as per company policy, once one party calls for the termination of the contract, the request must be honored to protect the safety of both parties. Any services that were not compensated for would have to be done here in this meeting, but that is not a concern in this case. Please give me a few minutes to draw up the agreement to terminate so that you both can sign it.” The representative gets up and leaves the conference room.

Sylus steals the opportunity to ask the one question that has been on repeat in his mind since he received the notification.

“Why?”

You like to think you’ve gotten to know Sylus relatively well over the last year. Given your lack of explanation over the phone earlier, you know your words alone would never be enough to placate him. With shaky hands, you retrieve the envelope from your lap and slide it across the table, even daring to finally look up at him now. His crimson eyes nearly break you, but you’re grasping onto every last straw to keep yourself sane.

Inside the envelope contained a couple of pictures found online of Sylus’s arranged fiancée, as well as several news articles discussing how her company may be heading towards a merger, but it was unclear on exactly when it would happen and who it would be with. It hadn’t taken long for you to realize that you’ve seen her several times in passing at various events and fundraisers, and that she and the man sitting across you seemed to avoid each other in public as inconspicuously as possible. You warily watch as he pulls the contents out and freezes, his gaze snapping back to you.

“How did you…?” he inquires.

“It doesn’t matter how I found out,” you respond softly before switching to a more matter-of-fact tone. “We knew this would come to an end at some point. Considering your arrangement isn’t known to the public yet, it was fine to be seen with me. But when this news breaks out, and if you’re still associated with me, it wouldn’t look good for either of you. You don’t need the reputation as a two-timing womanizer, and she doesn’t need to be publicly perceived as some poor woman who couldn’t keep a hold on you, therefore undermining her achievements.”

“You should have talked to me before going straight to nullifying our contract,” he fires back.

“That would’ve made it harder.”

Sylus leans back in his seat, now regarding you with piqued curiosity. “Made what harder?”

“Maybe that’s not the right expression.” Your palms are starting to get sweaty again, even as they curl and clench tighter than ever, your fingers digging into your palms. There's nothing you can do that would eradicate the shakiness in your voice. “I just meant that talking before now would've made everything complicated.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Do elaborate.”

“Well, I thought,” you stammer. “I mean– it’s just talking would’ve, would’ve– let some—” You pause again, desperately trying to find the right words. “Would’ve let some things be said that would’ve, you know, been better to be left unsaid. About us. Between us. Does that make sense?” Your hands have been drawing inane shapes in the air as if they would help aid in Sylus’s (and your) understanding.

“Better unsaid by you or me?”

After a few seconds, you answer hesitantly, “Both, maybe?”

For the first time in months, there are no emotions in his eyes. You have always been able to pick out at least something he may be feeling – affection, frustration, fatigue, lust – but to be on the receiving end of his blank stare like it’s the first day all over again, is unnerving. Agonizing, too.

When he finally opens his mouth, his tone dripping with disdain and mockery, he derides, “Who knew the little kitten thought so highly of herself?”

His words immediately trigger an alarming amount of shame and embarrassment. Have you been reading too much into his actions? Was it all in your head? Did it all occur out of some desperation for something genuine from him?

Oh God.

It’s at this moment that the representative comes back with the papers in hand, and part of you is ready to believe that there may actually be a higher power in the universe. “Thank you for your patience. Once you both have signed the termination agreement, I will make copies for both of you.” He seems completely unaware of the tension that has solidified between you and the CEO, even as you take the pen from the representative with a slight tremor. You quickly scan over the contents because you’re having an increasingly difficult time finding the brain cells to scrutinize each sentence and sign on the indicated lines. After you all but shove the papers across the table, you push your seat back and grab your purse.

“Oh, miss,” he starts, but you interrupt him.

“You can just email me a copy of these. Excuse me, I have something urgent to get to.”

He stares at you for a few seconds before giving a corporate smile. “Of course. Thank you for coming in. Have a good rest of your night.”

“Thank you. You as well.” Your platitude is rushed, almost harsh sounding. You mentally note that you need to send a card that is both a thank-you and an apology for scurrying off like this when you were the one to initiate it.

The walls feel like they’re closing in on your brain and consciousness, so much so that you suddenly find yourself out in the lobby of the building with no recollection of how you even got down here. A gust of fresh air hits you as you step out the doors, and it’s a little easier to breathe now. But it doesn’t mean that your chest isn’t ready to burst, your ribcage threatening to tear open and leave you passed out on the street. It doesn’t mean that Sylus’s words don’t hurt you any less, and the pain of your own embarrassment only compounds on them.

The uncharacteristic chill on this summer night scrapes against your cheeks and ears. You finally will yourself to walk towards the nearest subway station, all the while blinking back tears that just won’t stop coming. Never mind the other pedestrians who may catch a glimpse of you wiping away any physical manifestation of your grief, the other subway riders who may observe you desperately hiding in a corner of the carriage, or even the other residents in your apartment building who watch you furiously tapping your phone while passing by.

With nothing to stop you, not even your own will, you let the tears flow, streaming down the sides of your face and into your pillow as you trace the ridges of your wall, your phone lying innocently a few inches away. Despite deleting his phone number and officially disconnecting on the website, you can’t bring yourself to discard his message thread. There were too many memories, too many reminders of what you once had and will probably never have again.

Your pillow becomes damp with tears of confusion, shame, and regret. How could you be so stupid,so caught up in your own delusions that Sylus Qin, tech mogul and CEO, one of the most secretive and sought-out individuals of the current decade, with connections you couldn’t even dare to dream of, somehow held a shred of genuine affection for you? How could you have thought that his demands to see you night after night were anything more than just wanting some type of company, the kind that does what he says and strokes his ego? How could you have convinced yourself that you were actually special to him?

How could you have put yourself at so much emotional risk for something that was nothing but transactional to begin with?

The next morning, with one look at your morose expression and the puffiness of your eyes, the other people in your cohort know better than to ask if you’re okay. During the lecture, Jiho silently hands you a piece of gum, a tiny, reoccurring gesture of camaraderie throughout these years of graduate school, as an attempt at providing some type of normalcy. Your movements are sluggish and lethargic as you fold the strip into your mouth, but it’s the first time in the last 18 hours that you feel like things might…just be okay.

Two days later, an email comes from the company telling you it is policy to change your phone number, and they will financially compensate for the cost of a new SIM card since it is an inconvenience to you. Hours later, you find yourself in front of a cellphone technician who is setting up the new SIM card. As they type in a few things on their computer, they hand you a pin to help eject your current one. You’re not looking forward to the hassle of telling everyone that your number has changed and fixing it in everything you have that involves your number, but even you understand that this is the first step to a fresh start. Sylus is probably going through the same process, if he already hasn’t gotten it done.

And as your phone sets everything up with the new number, you stare at your closet, now stuffed to the brim with dresses and skirts that you may never wear again. Nothing you do from now on would ever require such formalities. The knowledge of it stings to some degree when you find a large, empty bin that was used when you had moved in. Without ceremony, you begin the mindless task of removing said clothing items from their hangers and folding them into the container. You don’t want to cry. You don’t expect to cry. But the steady streaks of tears dripping down your face is enough to show how much you grew to cherish your time with Sylus.

Time that you will never be able to return to.

[fin]

“How did she know?”

“Sylus, what are you–”

“She knew,” Sylus cuts her off. “How could she have known without you tipping her off?”

“Think about this logically. I want this arrangement gone as much as you do, so why would I tell her? She’s your key to dissolving all this.”

“She was more than that.”

“Was?”

“Shit,” Sylus curses, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“...she left you?”

“No,” he retorts. “Not willingly.” At least, that’s what he wants to believe. “But I’m not discussing this with you.”

“And I don’t really care to know the details. So…what are we going to do?”

Sylus’s hand tightens around his newly acquired phone as he stands and gazes out the window at the city skyline from his bedroom. He might be starting to understand why you seemed so entranced by the view.

“We’ll figure something out.”

“I really hope so, Sylus.”

“Hey boss, we’re here for the daily debrief,” Luke and Kieran announce as they slip into his office and all but collapse into the chairs in front of his desk.

“I’m listening,” Sylus says, keeping his eyes trained on his monitor.

“It was the usual. She woke up, skipped breakfast, went to class, stayed in the small office for her professor’s grad students for like, five hours. Uh, what else?”

“Bought a snack from that place in the library that sells coffee and shit,” the other twin adds. “Then she–”

“What snack did she buy?”

“Just some chips, from what we saw.” The twins look at each other and give a slight shrug.

“Did she eat lunch?” Sylus’s tone suggests that he could care less, despite having posed the question.

“She ate something while in the office, but it didn’t look like anything substantial. Oh, but she had a sandwich for dinner. She watched some TV – one of her comfort shows again – and scrolled on her phone while in bed. Did we miss anything?”

“I think that about covers it.”

Luke and Kieran sit in silence, waiting for Sylus’s dismissal. Said man continues to type away on his keyboard.

“Hey boss,” Kieran starts and immediately earns a “shut the fuck up” look from Luke. “We’ve been doing this for a year.”

“Which is fine,” Luke adds right after. “We’re not complaining.”

“Right, we’re not complaining. But uhh,” Kieran continues. “How long do you expect for this to go on for?”

“As long as it needs to. You’re dismissed.”

Not long after the twins disappear from his view, he runs a hand through his silvery locks, frustration and tension evident in his strained tendons and veins. Sylus locks his computer and grabs the coat off his chair before sauntering down to his car many, many floors below where the parking garage is. But instead of walking towards his sports car, the one that had sat in a visitor spot of your apartment parking lot all those months ago, he makes his way to an unsuspecting black sedan, its brand common and inconspicuous. Without any need for a GPS, Sylus pulls out and drives to your apartment complex.

In the darkness of twilight and beneath the shadows of beechnut trees, he leans against the steering wheel and gazes up at your window, a luminescent yellow shimmering through the curtains. They haven’t been pulled completely shut, but there is nothing to see in the light regardless. The minutes that pass do not feel like time in any way as he sits in a somewhat meditative state, and the only thing that could snap him out of it is when your bedroom lights switch dark. In reality, fifteen minutes pass before he watches your shadow, then your figure, approach the windowpane.

Sylus takes the little time he has to observe you, to see if you appear any different than yesterday. Did you have a full meal? Was your research stressful? Were you making use of the money he had paid you before everything ended? Were you getting enough rest and nutrition?

When he can no longer see you, he falls back in his seat and lets out a heavy sigh, exhaustion weighing heavily on his eyes. Sylus starts his car and throws it in reverse, and he spends his twenty-minute drive home thinking about nothing but you, his cold, empty bed, and how maybe, as much as he wants to deny it on all fronts, you two were not meant to be. Yet he holds onto hope that he can defy that fate eventually, because whether you know it or not…

You will always be his.

#sylus x reader #sylus smut #sylus #sylus x you #love and deepspace sylus #sylus qin #love and deepspace #lads sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace smut #sylus angst #tw: toxic relationships #tw: miscommunication

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cat3ch1sm · 2 years ago

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hii! could i request hcs about illumi's fiancé meeting the zoldycks? something along the lines of her being expected to be the next lady of the house and getting used to the mansion's lifestyle (having butlers, being secluded on a mountain, having the entire family living together)? it would also be nice to see her getting along with the little siblings (killua, kalluto, and alluka)

sorry if i left out any necessary details in this request :(

~✰♡✰♡✰~ hellooo! thanks for ur request :)) haven’t written for hxh in a little while so im happy to write this for you and our favorite bug-eyed assassin :3 if you’re ever unsure about what info to put in a request, just visit the pinned post! ily 💚

fem!reader

𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐢’𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐜é 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐳𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐲𝐜𝐤𝐬

illumi isn’t close with his family in the same sense that normal people are close with their families, but nonetheless he feels the need to inform them of major developments in his life. through a letter he tells his family of his engagement, and says that he is going to bring you to his home to see them all.

silva is indifferent, and zeno couldn’t care less, but kikyo is ecstatic that her illumi is finally going to marry someone- and that it isn’t that awful clown hisoka. she’d been seriously concerned for a second there. but she rounds up all the members of her family to be present on the day of your arrival (using excessive force because nobody really wanted to come besides alluka, who was only allowed to meet you because killua threatened to not show up unless alluka was permitted as well).

when you and illumi first arrive after the lengthy trip up the mountain, you are greeted by butlers gotoh and canary, whose presence startles you. you were aware of illumi’s great wealth and status, but it was certainly different from how you’d grown up. just getting inside the actual home is a process- illumi’s strength slightly freaking you out when he pushes open four of the doors to the entrance of the mansion without breaking a sweat and then encountering Mike, the Zoldycks’ monstrous dog. illumi does notice your apprehension, though, and plainly assures you that the dog won’t harm anybody it isn’t supposed to. you’re still visibly nervous, though, so illumi has you come closer to him and hold on to his arm. regardless, you realize it may be tougher to settle in than you thought.

at last, though, illumi brings you to his family. nobody reacts much outwardly to your presence, but you notice a white-haired boy with catlike eyes observing you closely, his expression a mixture of suspicion and confusion. standing beside the boy are two other black haired children- one with short black hair standing somberly with his hands folded in front of him, and the other an eager blue-eyed girl whose gaze sparkles as she looks at you. the white haired boy stands right behind the blue-eyed child. the tall, blonde man with a large frame illumi tells you is Silva, his father, and the slightly shorter man with white hair beside him is illumi’s grandfather, zeno.

without warning, you feel thin arms thrown around you in an embrace, and you almost jump out of your skin. but when you are released, you see the woman that can only be your fiancés mother, the only member of the family illumi had warned told you about prior to the visit. kikyo wears a large dress with an ostentatious petticoat and hat, and most notably a visor over where her eyes would be with one red glowing dot. her appearance is unsettling, and you find it a little difficult to force a smile when she greets you. illumi watches you from the side of his eye, his face unreadable.

just as kikyo is pulling away, something gleaming and silver and large is thrown right at your head, whizzing right by kikyo’s hat and slicing off a single hair from the feather on her hat. you don’t hesitate to lift your hand to your face and catch the sword immediately, the blade slicing your hand- but you don’t flinch as the blood seeps onto the blade and down your arm. you tilt your head to the side to see your assailant is silva, his arm still poised in throwing position. his expression grows less stony once he sees you’ve caught his weapon.

there’s a moment of icy silence, you lowering the weapon to your side, and silva watches you even more intently before uttering a flat “welcome to the family.” with that, he and his father turn and disappear elsewhere inside the mansion. kikyo, though, takes this as her cue to immediately grab you so you two can walk by yourselves throughout the mansion. illumi doesn’t look super pleased to see his mother take you, but he knows better than to try and stop her.

you two are navigating the long, hollow corridors of the zoldyck home. you pass many unsettling family pictures and paintings as well as various weapons like swords and arrows on the walls, and several human sculptures that seem a little too realistic. you’re also sure that you pass at least two torture chambers. it’s an eerie atmosphere, which was what you’d expected, but it doesn’t help your nerves.

kikyo either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care about your apprehension, and instead starts talking about how much she’s wanted a daughter and how thrilled she is to finally have a “daughter” to take in. but then she grows eerily serious. she talks about how you’ll be expected to be the next lady of the house and, since you’re becoming a zoldyck, how you’ll have to follow the same codes they do as a family and exhibit the same values- which makes you antsy. the woman clearly seems a bit unhinged. you’re relieved when the walk ends and you’re returned to your fiancé, who gestures for you to take his arm again. illumi’s mother’s mood changes drastically yet again and she storms off, shrieking to her husband that it’s rude for him to walk off after hardly having said anything.

now you and illumi are left with the four other children- the white-haired boy, the girl with long hair, the boy with short hair and purple-pink eyes, and a homely fat boy behind the three younger ones. he holds a small console in front of his face and doesn’t even seem to acknowledge your presence. illumi introduces them to you.

“y/n, i’d like you to meet my siblings,” illumi states in his usual manner, walking slowly towards them. gesturing to the white-haired boy, he says, “this is my brother, killua. i call him kil.” he looks down at his brother with an eerie smile and black eyes like pits, but killua keeps his stony gaze straight ahead. his hand rests on the shoulder of the girl in front of him.

“this is my youngest brother, kalluto,” illumi continues, placing a large hand on top of the boy’s head. his hands remain folded in front of him, and he gives you a polite nod. looking toward the fat boy behind kalluto, his expression slightly curling into one of disdain, illumi tells you, “and this is the second oldest, milluki.” milluki doesn’t acknowledge you at all, which seems to visibly irritate illumi, but he doesn’t reprimand the boy.

you’re confused when illumi doesn’t introduce the girl, and you glance up at him in confusion. “illumi, what about her?” you look down at the girl in front of killua, who looks surprised for a second, and so does killua behind her. “you forgot to tell me her name. she’s a beautiful little girl.” you manage a small smile, leaning down slightly to stroke the girl’s hair. her blue eyes sparkle with joy, and killua looks up at you as well, looking a little confused but also very relieved. “your mother said she had no daughters.”

illumi’s eyes lower ever so slightly, giving him a dismissive look. “she doesn’t,” he answers flatly, and his tone makes you feel like that’s the end of the discussion. you’re definitely lost- but you suppose it’s something illumi will have to fill you in on later. you glance sideways at illumi, hand still resting in the girl’s hair. she definitely doesn’t seem to mind you, and killua appears to have warmed up to you as well. milluki’s vanished elsewhere and kalluto watches the whole exchange from the corner of his eye.

suddenly you all hear kikyo call for illumi, who immediately stands up upon hearing his name. “you will remain here until i return.” he tells you, his tone no-nonsense, and heels clicking he makes his way down the dark hallway, leaving you alone with the kids.

the second illumi is out of earshot, the girl brightens up. “hi!” she chirps, bouncing on her feet excitedly. “my name is alluka!”

you’re slightly startled, but you smile at the girl anyway and tell her hi, still wondering why illumi seems so detached from this girl in particular.

killua seems to read your mind. “i know what you’re thinking,” he tells you, not unkindly. “listen, my family doesn’t like alluka much- and they refer to her with male pronouns. just go along with it in front of them. it’s safer for you.” he pauses, then looks down. “but thanks for being nice to her.”

you frown and nod, deciding not to ask any more questions about it. kalluto still hasn’t said anything, but somehow you don’t feel like this boy will be anything to worry about.

with alluka and killua having warmed up to you, you get into a conversation, and kalluto eventually offers a few words after awhile- although never acknowledging alluka directly. most of it is basically killua wondering how the hell you managed to get engaged to someone like illumi.

“No way he didn’t force you to go out with him.”

“What the hell do you even see in that guy? He’s batshit crazy- and he’s definitely not a model.”

“How’d he propose? Did he try to kill you and you survived?”

“‘Man, you really gotta be messed up for Illumi to like you.”

“What even made him wanna get married to you? What even made you wanna get married to him?”

“You gotta be kidding me.”

“And you said yes? You’re crazy!”

that’s all i got :3 hope u enjoyed <33

#anime #hxh headcanons #hxh memes #chrollo x reader #hunter x hunter #hisoka x reader #illumi x reader #illumi zolydck x reader smut #reader x illumi zoldyck #reader x illumi #illumi zoldyck x you #illumi zoldyck x reader #illumi zoldyck headcanons #hunter x hunter illumi #illumi hxh #hxh imagines

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tteokdoroki · 1 year ago

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Hi! I’d like to enter the Bumble Swipe Right Event! Izuku as my fave, my ideal gift would be a card and jewelry, and i wanna swipe spicy!

⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡. — IZUKU MIDORIYA. swipe spicy: decorated.

about. boom, it’s a match! izuku loves to see you decorated in all of the riches he can afford. he especially loves the anklet that he got you, and the way it dangles when he makes you see stars ( 0.8K ).

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! nsfw, smut, characters aged up to 20s, established relationships, mating press, unprotected sex, orgasm control, pro hero deku, fem!reader.

・:〃⤥ bumble date, swipe right event ! ( closed )

izuku midoriya has always had an eye for jewellery, especially when it comes to you.

whenever he returns from missions, the number one hero is always sure to bring back an item of jewellery to make up for lost time. whether it be a beaded pearl necklace from a seaside town that he’d saved, or diamond earrings from an embassy member abroad. izuku never came back empty handed — even if it meant he had to buy you something. he liked seeing you decorated in the fruits of his success as one of japan’s ( and the world’s ) top heroes.

it’s like his own personal marking, a sign of his belonging to you, and you to him.

yet izuku could drape you in all the glitter and gold in the world and it still wouldn’t be enough to showcase how much he adores you. there aren’t enough riches in the world to spoil you with and… that’s okay. you seem perfectly content with what you have now, especially the anklet he’d gifted you for Valentine’s Day. the one with the little ‘I’ and ‘M’ charms you’d gotten with it.

the one that dangles above your head when izuku passionately pounds into you after returning from a particularly stressful mission abroad.

“g-god, i missed you s’much. missed this sweet little pussy. oh fuck!” forest green curls tickle at the underside of your chin from where izuku has nestled his head against your neck, his lips work shades of deep purples and midnight blue/ into the saltiness of your skin — teething and biting at its soft expanse until you’re decorated with a necklace of love bites. “you…oh angel…you get so tight when i fold you up like this,” he laments in satisfaction, feeling your sluice and sloppy sex ripple around his thick cock with every calculated thrust. “you must have really…really missed me.”

the pro hero uses the strength he’s built up over the ears to fuck into you properly — the force behind his hips sending you jolting up the bed. when he pulls away from the loving assault on your neck, a pinkish hue mingles with the galaxy of freckles dotted across deku’s face, cheeks pink from the exertion. his cockhead is in no better condition, bright red, angry and hot as it smears precum along your ravaged walls.

“m-missed you s’much izu, please!”

as a reward, he bullies you nice and open for him — heavy breeders balls clapping against the plush flesh of your ass so hard that your entire body shakes as a result. with all of izuku’s muscle and weight on top of you, you feel as though you can’t breathe — like he’s choking you out from the inside as he uses your creamy cunt to his hearts content. he keeps your knees pressed into your shoulders, ankles haphazardly thr

own over his broader ones which only spread you further.

the anklet he’d given you shakes under your sinful ministrations, catching in the low light of your bedroom while deku makes love to you on sex soiled sheets. “you look so…pretty when i ruin you like this, have you spread open like this,” he whispers lovingly, contrasting with the harsh manner in which his thick dick pumps in and out of your slick heat. “and this, watching it sway from how hard i’m fucking you…angel, all of it drives me insane.” izuku’s nose nudges it’s way up your calf, plump pink lips teasingly making their way up to the golden anklet dangling from your foot.

rhythmic thrusts soon because salacious grinds, izuku never relenting on how he deep he fucks into you. all you can do is lay there uselessly, taking cock, taking praise, taking love from midoriya as he puts his all into making you reach cloud nine. his thumb draws circles over your cute clit, his hooded evergreen eyes trained on the way your pussy pulsates and spurts little streams of juices around him. as though she’s laying her claim on his thick, shaft covered with spiralling blue veins.

opaque white paints izuku’s tummy, a crude mix of his precum and your sweet nectar smearing over his abdomen contracting as it contracts against your sex. “think i’m gonna cum,” you wail sweetly, keening into his touch as you look up at your pro hero boyfriend with big wet eyes. “please let me cum. please ‘zu, i’ll be good!”

izuku only tuts in response, kissing your ankle before he takes the chain of your anklet between the perfect rows of his pearly white teeth.

“you’ll cum when i say so, angel.” the green haired hero drawls softly, yet condescendingly. he makes extra effort in showing off his award winning smile with the chain in his mouth in order to distract you from the slight change in the way deku angles his hips — his bulbous and leaky cockhead never leaving your sticky g-spot. “and i’m far from done with you, tonight.”

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princesskenny1998 · 7 months ago

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One Piece | Monkey D. Luffy x female!reader ~ Weird

The Thousand Sunny rocked gently with the waves, sunlight sparkling off the ocean as the Straw Hat Pirates went about their usual tasks. You were leaning against the railing, eyes scanning the horizon, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the sound of the waves. Luffy had joined you, his usual goofy grin plastered on his face, but every now and then, he’d steal glances at you with a gleam in his eye.

He stepped closer, casually draping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you against him. It was a familiar feeling, something that had been natural between you two since you were teenagers. Luffy’s antics usually leaned on the childlike side, full of excitement and laughter. But you’d come to know that underneath all of that was a side of him that was both surprisingly mature and completely devoted.

“You know,” he said, his voice quieter than usual, “I’m glad you’re here with me. I’d get bored without you.” His tone was warm, and his gaze softened, catching you off guard with how intense his eyes could be when he looked at you this way.

You chuckled, leaning into his embrace. “Bored, huh? I guess it’s my job to keep things interesting for you, Captain.”

He grinned and tugged you a little closer, and before you could react, he tilted his head down, catching your lips in a quick, playful kiss. The kiss was short but sweet, and when he pulled away, he was still smiling, a boyish blush dusting his cheeks. It was one of those moments that showed a side of him not everyone got to see. And though he would never say it outright, his actions spoke volumes—he loved you fiercely, even if he expressed it in his own unique way.

Zoro, who had been training nearby, suddenly stopped mid-swing, glancing over with a raised eyebrow. “Oi… am I seeing things, or did Luffy just act like a normal guy for a second?”

Sanji, polishing his cooking knives, let out a small scoff. “It’s weird, right? Seeing Luffy acting all… boyfriend-y.”

“Can’t blame him,” Sanji added after a pause, his gaze flicking to you with an approving nod. “She’s got that effect."

Luffy turned to his crewmates, a lazy smile on his face, completely unbothered by their comments. He held you a bit closer, his chin resting on the top of your head. “What? She’s my girlfriend,” he said simply, his words filled with a matter-of-fact confidence that made you smile. “Why wouldn’t I kiss her?”

Brook chuckled, his bony hands clasped in delight. “Ah, young love! I remember what it’s like to have a pretty lady to hold.”

“Doesn’t it make you feel old, though?” Nami teased, folding her arms with a smirk. “I mean, it’s strange seeing our Luffy like this.”

Robin only chuckled, a mysterious smile on her lips. “I think it’s sweet. He shows sides of himself that we don’t usually get to see.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Zoro muttered, turning away with a huff. “It’s still weird.”

You rolled your eyes at the banter but couldn’t help grinning. Luffy may have been the most unpredictable captain, but he was also the most genuine. Sometimes his crewmates would catch glimpses of the quiet way he’d rest his hand on your back, the intense, heated gaze he’d give you when he thought no one was looking, or the soft, thoughtful way he’d listen to you talk about your dreams.

In fact, those quiet moments often took you by surprise, too—moments when Luffy’s childlike wonder melted away, and you could see a depth in his eyes that went far beyond his usual carefree nature. He had been a pillar of strength for you just as you had for him, and over the years, you realized that he understood far more than he let on.

That evening, as the stars began to dot the sky and the crew relaxed on the deck, Luffy found his way to you once more. He settled down beside you, taking your hand in his and squeezing it lightly. You noticed the warmth in his gaze, the way his fingers intertwined with yours, grounding you both in the quiet companionship you had shared since you were kids.

“It’s beautiful out here,” you murmured, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he replied, but his gaze stayed on you, a mischievous smile curving his lips. “But you’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You couldn’t help the blush that crept up your cheeks, laughing softly. “Luffy, you can be so cheesy.”

He shrugged, unashamed, a proud grin on his face. “Only for you.”

It was moments like these that sometimes left the crew gawking. Luffy, who could be so simple-minded and distracted most of the time, had this way of shifting, of letting his attention linger on you, bringing out a side of him that was, if only for a second, quieter, more mature.

And the crew couldn’t deny that sometimes they caught Luffy looking at you with a longing that seemed beyond his years, a reminder that their captain, for all his innocence and humor, was also just a man in love.

In one of those rare quiet nights, Luffy pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you protectively. He didn’t say anything for a while, simply holding you and listening to the sounds of the sea. Finally, he spoke, his voice a soft whisper in the darkness.

“I’m gonna make sure you’re safe,” he murmured, his words laced with an unexpected seriousness. “I want you to be with me. Always.”

It wasn’t often that he spoke this way, but when he did, it struck you deep. You knew Luffy would go to any lengths for the people he loved, and he was determined to keep you by his side, through thick and thin.

As the crew prepared to turn in for the night, they watched the two of you with a mixture of awe and amusement, still surprised to see their captain in such an affectionate, even protective light.

Sanji lit a cigarette, exhaling thoughtfully. “Never thought I’d see Luffy so… serious.”

“Believe it or not, even Luffy has a heart that runs deep,” Robin said, a soft smile on her face. “And she seems to be the one who brings it out of him.”

Nami chuckled, giving you a knowing look. “Guess it just goes to show there’s a lot more to Luffy than meets the eye.”

You caught their glances and smiled, squeezing Luffy’s hand, feeling his fingers tighten around yours. His gaze softened, and with a simple kiss to your forehead, he reminded you—and everyone else—that he was your captain, your partner, and your best friend.

The sea stretched endlessly before you, an adventure waiting for you both, and with Luffy by your side, you knew that there was no place you’d rather be.

#monkey d. luffy #luffy x reader #monkey d luffy #one piece reader insert #one piece

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pinkusmaximus · 9 months ago

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Sis! Now I need a full on fic for Logan x Fem!Reader x Wade with the whole pregnancy thing! I love the trio and I can just see Logan’s wheels always turning, trying to pin point the scent difference, why he’s so touchy and clingy. Then when it comes out both men are 10 x more clingy! Dotting on their woman hand and foot, taking care of her when she’s sick or hurting from the added weight and her symptoms. I can see one of them standing behind her and they just put their hands under her belly and they just lift it up some to relieve the pressure on her and she’s just IMMENSELY relieved

Oh, I’m not sure if I’m in a state for a full fic right now (I work and when I’m not working I’m in school) but I can elaborate more for sure!

🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀

You would absolutely be the most spoiled, protected pregananant person in the world. In fact, they’d have to start taking turns with missions, because one of them would need to be at home with you at all times from the moment it’s confirmed by your doctor. Not that you really needed the confirmation, with the way Logan lives with his face pressed into your neck the moment it clicks for him that the lovely warm scent that mixed with your usual sweetness and lingered after you were long gone is due to the little life inside you.

Wade is a lot more hesitant at first. He’s overwhelmed with how happy he feels at the news, and that alone is enough to scare him. Logan’s too caught up in his protective instincts to think logically about the fact that you really are in quite a dangerous situation, but Wade’s all too attuned to the myriad of ways you and the baby could be hurt because of them and the lifestyle they’ve chosen. You’ll never see him so cautious. He comes home with less injuries than ever (though not insignificant, but it’s Wade), not wanting to cause you any undue stress after he reads how bad stress can be on you and the baby (because yes, he’s secretly started hoarding a stash of pregnancy books and magazines from the moment he saw those two blue lines).

And trust me, the moment that you start to show, things will only amp up from there. That’s when reality starts to set in— this is happening. They’re going to be dads.

Now that Logan has an explanation for his odd behaviors from before, it becomes much easier to manage them for the three of you. You and Wade understand his instinctual need to keep you close, so you start to mind it less when he gently tugs you over to him in his lounge chair from the couch, keeping his broad hands over the expanse of your belly and his head on your shoulder where he can keep that comforting aroma in his senses. It also means that it’s easier for him to allow you to relax with Wade, his instincts now accepting Wade as a fellow protector, rather than a threat.

Wade loves laying his head on your stomach for as long as he’s physically able to, your hands lovingly caressing his head as he talks to the baby about anything and everything, for as long as you’ll let him go on— or until he falls asleep, feeling a deep sense of comfort from being so close to you and the baby. Every other sentence is punctuated by enthusiastic kisses to your growing roundness, slowly becoming softer and more tender as his rambling shifts from making up stupid nicknames for the unborn child and telling them all the ridiculous ways he’s going to teach them to get into trouble, to soft murmurs of how good of a parent you’re going to be, how much he already loves them, how he can’t wait to see Logan act like a real daddy, how he can’t wait to be their daddy, too. And once you’re too big for him to lay his head down, he’ll just rest his head on your thighs instead, dotingly rubbing his hands all over stomach, tracing your stretch marks with his fingertips and admiring your physical and mental strength for carrying their child.

When you get to spend time with both of them, it’s usually on the couch or in bed now. You’re exhausted all the time, so lucky you that you’ve got two men who would never let your feet touch the ground if that’s what it took to keep you happy. You’re always laying with your head in someone’s lap, having your hairline lightly brushed by soothing fingertips, your feet and calves massaged by strong hands. You’ve always got someone to run and get you what you’re craving, someone to help you shower when you can’t see your feet anymore, someone to hold you when you’re crying because your hormones are too much and you’re thinking too much about the impending pains of birth. Bonus, that also means you’ve got two hands to crush in your death grip when you need it— and you don’t have to worry about breaking their bones.

A pregnancy with Wade and Logan may be tumultuous in some ways, but in all the ways that count, you couldn’t ask for a more perfect family.

#sorry for rambling I’m at work #tw pregnancy #deadpool #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine #deadpool x reader #deadpool x wolverine #poolverine x reader #wade wilson #wade wilson x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader

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slightly-knot-insane · 8 months ago

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Hello! I was wondering if you could do any wlw or mlm monsterfucking :3 If not, that's all good! I love your works sm!!! Have a nice day 🫶

Flavourful

Monstertober 2024 - day 21 [ Undead ] by @ozzgin

[ fem!upir* x fem!reader ]

*'Vampires' and 'upirs' are pretty much the same, but since vampire was overtaken by the western culture, I prefer the expression 'upir'. Slavic upirs aren't afraid of the sunlight, but they are scared of crosses, fire and objects made of hawthorn. They can even live normal lives and have kids, but they are not imortal. They drink blood and harass people if they feel like it though lol.

content: blood, squirting, fingering, oral

You haven't visited a butcher's shop in a long time, and you really didn't expect to see a beautiful young woman working there. She greeted you with a smirk, completely ignoring the man who was in the line before you. Guy stuttered in shock but she just glared at him to shut him up. With a threat he'll complain to the manager, the girl scoffed and turned again to you.

"What will it be, sweetheart?" she asked you with a wink.

She was a bit too forward for your taste, but you still blushed. She was incredibly charming, even in that bloodied apron. She took your order and chopped the meat with a cleaver using the strength of a lumberjack. And she was really putting on a show. Finally, she wrapped the pork and gave it to you not breaking eye contact.

You paid for the meat and finished shopping... but couldn't stop thinking about the butcher. You almost ran back to her. She greeted you with a smile, as if she was expecting you.

"Would you like to come to my place... for dinner? My address is..."

And she accepted, as you knew she would. Before she washed her bloodied hands, you could've sworn she licked her fingers clean.

She came right on time, bold and beautiful. As soon as she entered, she sniffed the air. "You... didn't prepare anything?"

You opened your shirt and showed her your naked torso. "I washed my neck for you."

The cocky woman - or rather upir - shook her head in shock. "You... know?"

"I saw you lick off the blood. Upirs often work as butchers, I heard. Also, I'm never this attracted to anyone. I just connected the dots. I don't mind. I'm really into it, actually."

Looking at your naked body, she licked her lips and that was the first time you've seen her sharp teeth. She slowly approached you and touched your collar bone. "Well, well. So the dinner is you?"

"And breakfast," you replied, kissing the tips of her fingers.

In the next few hours, those fingers entered your pussy many times, pleasuring you. She managed to keep you dripping wet throughout the night. You moaned and trembled while her mouth kissed your folds, and her inhumanely long tongue prodded your entrance. "Oh fuck... fuck, your tongue... aaaah..." You orgasmed hard, and she made sure it was the longest orgasm you have ever experienced.

She then rode your face, rubbing her clit against your lips and nose, breathing heavily and panting. She held herself by your bedframe and it creaked under her strong grip. "You're so good... so warm..." She was all red, from mouth downward, between her breasts to her navel. Your blood and her drool mixing on her skin. You pinched her dark nipple and fucked her undead cunt with you mouth and finger until she came all over your face, squirting pink liquid.

She then jumped on you, with an animalistic growl and bit your neck. You melted into your pillows, sweating, almost choking from delight, while she sucked your blood and fingered you for what seemed hours. "The blood tastes like a liqueur when my partners are close to orgasm", she explained it to you in the morning. "Different blood tastes like different liqueurs." She edged you until your blood reached the perfect flavour and she was no longer thirsty.

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gothicgaycowboy · 2 years ago

Text

please please me

Word count: 3.9k

Summary: you persuade Calvin to spend a little less time at the lab and a lot more time with you.

Warnings: 18+ no minors, smut, masturbation (m), oral (f receiving), brief thoughts of somnophilia, praise kink, brief mentions of breeding kink (but no really because it’s mostly just taking about cum and creampies lol), pet names (sweetheart, honey, little wife), no use of y/n, fem reader, a little fluffy ending!

A/N: this took me an embarrassingly long time to write so I hope you enjoy, and please don’t forget to comment and reblog🫶

Calvin Evans was an incredibly dedicated chemist. He seemed to care more for his work than anything else in the world.

Late nights were almost always spent in his lab when he could be sure his scientific process would not be disturbed, more importantly there would be no Donatti banging on his door asking when his latest experiment would be done.

His commitment to his work is what many (even those who weren’t particularly fond of Evans) would list as one of his greatest strengths.

Not you though.

Definitely not you.

You didn’t want to be misunderstood, you were truly proud of Calvin and his work. He was a brilliant man who deserved every bit of praise he got. You would accompany him to every award ceremony and never grow tired of hearing speech upon speech about what a wonder he was in the scientific community.

But you were getting very tired of spending most nights in your home alone.

Every night for the past month at 1:35am on the dot, you would be awoken by the feeling of the right side of the bed sinking to the weight of his lanky body. He would apologize profusely for waking you so late, and proceed to move to the couch in the living room.

In the beginning you hoped you could at least have a brief moment of alone time with Calvin in your shared morning before he went off to work. But of course he had already left for his early row by the time you opened your eyes.

Even weekends weren’t sacred anymore since moving some of his lab equipment to his home office. Calvin would leave his office when you alerted him dinner was ready, you two would stick to light small talk ( “How’s your research going?” “This is delicious” “Anything interesting in the news lately?” “Have you heard about what happened to Mrs.Jones down the road?”) Cavin would eat quickly, finishing before you were even halfway through your food, thank you for the meal and quickly peck your cheek before going right back to his office.

Like any sane person you were growing impatient with your husbands never ending busy schedule. A woman has needs just like any man does and Calvin should know that very well by now.

Much of your early relationship was spent exploring all the ways you could please each other. After all, Calvin was a scientist and he would reason the best way to find out was to experiment. That meant hours wrapped up in your white sheets, christening every surface of his home, trying things you never would have even fantasized of doing in your wildest dreams.

You missed that time desperately now and you had a plan to get it back.

–

Calvin was never good at picking up on social cues. Luckily most people thought he was simply pulling their leg when he took a joke or a sarcastic comment seriously. But he knew something had changed with you the moment he stepped into your shared home that Friday night.

He still made sure to close the door with extra caution so as not to wake you, even though he ended up almost constantly waking you when he slunk into bed anyway. Going through his usual routine of removing his sweat soaked running clothes, grabbing a pair of clean pajamas, and jumping into the bathroom for a quick shower.

After thoroughly removing the feeling of grime from his skin he makes his way towards your bedroom rubbing his tired eyes. He knows he has only himself to blame for his recent exhaustion but he’s never been great at putting anything before his work, and that includes sleep.

As he expects there you are sleeping sweetly, your left hand resting gently under your face. No matter how many times he sees you sleep he knows he will never get bored of it.

Calvin was quickly pulled out of his state of adoration when he realized something was off with the usual picture he was used to coming home to. You were sleeping on your stomach with your leg sticking out from the duvet. And Calvin may be downright lousy at picking up social cues but he always noticed a change in his surroundings.

You most certainly never had to worry about Calvin failing to notice a change in your style or a new haircut because he was the first to comment on it. “This new dress looks lovely on you.” he’d say while kissing the exposed bit of your shoulder.

In all the years he had known you, you never once slept on your stomach (it was a deeply inconvenient position for cuddling according to you), and you definitely never let your limbs hang off the bed (some old superstitious fear you had as a child that stuck with you into adulthood).

He decided to investigate further, even if it turned out to just be him reading too much into it.

Striding over to your side of the bed he looked for anything else that might be out of place. Your breathing was normal, the book on your bedside table was laying in the same place you put it all other nights, and your nightly glass of water sat empty. He was about to scold himself for being overdramatic when his eyes caught the lack of fabric on your shoulders.

Maybe you purchased a new sleeveless nightgown, Calvin tried to reason with himself. Maybe it was just a particularly low neckline or perhaps the fabric matched your skin tone so well he just wasn’t seeing it, after all the room was dark. Yes, that was possible.

Of course he couldn’t leave it at that - oh why didn’t he leave it at that and go right to bed? “You’re being ridiculous,” he scolded himself like a child in a whisper. “Just take a quick look, there’s no harm.”

Carefully he reached for where the blanket met your exposed back, making sure not to graze your skin, as much as he wanted to.

Sure enough there it was, you, completely exposed to him. The sides of your breasts pushing out against the mattress and your round ass on full display. “Shit…” the words fell out of Calvins mouth before he could stop them. He felt like a stupid teenager getting his first glance at a nude woman all over again.

Thoughts of temptation filled his mind. What would happen if he did touch you? If his hands slipped down towards the space between your thighs. Would you wake suddenly furious that he would ever wake you from your peaceful sleep? What about encouraging him to join you and take off his towel?

Of course he wouldn’t ever be sure of the real answer as Calvin could not bring himself to touch you while unconscious. It would be downright ungentlemanly.

He shook his head to clear his mind of the thoughts.

Calvin was lifting the edge of the duvet to cover you back up when you began to move. Panic filled him as he froze completely, fearing what you would think if you caught him ogling you in your sleep. Luckily enough for him your eyes did not open, but something unexpected did come out of your mouth.

At first Calvin thought he was hearing things, maybe the exhaustion of all these long nights in the lab were finally getting to him. Although that was a strong possibility in his mind there was no doubt the noises he was hearing were coming from you. Noises he was all too familiar with. Soft, breathy, moans.

This was not a sound Calvin knew you could make in your sleep. So similar to the sounds you let out when he was on top of that if he closed his eyes he would swear that’s where he was. While being swept up by his own imagination he nearly missed the words you spoke. “Mmph…Calvin…”

That was the straw that broke the camel's back. He could no longer ignore the growing bulge under the towel wrapped around his waist. Dropping the blanket back over you, he rushed back to the bathroom.

Leaning against the sink Calvin ripped the towel from around him, freeing his hard cock. Bringing his right hand up to his mouth he spit a glob of saliva into the center of his palm. Wasting no time at all he reached down and grasped the base of his throbbing length causing a gasp to escape him. “Fuck,” He moaned, his voice trembing with arousal. Calvin couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this desperate for a release.

Reminiscing about the last time he had gotten you all to himself Calvin began working his hand over his cock. The way you bit your bottom lip when you were close to orgasm, how soft your ass felt in his hands, or how you begged him so sweetly to cum inside of you. “Oh honey,” he groaned with teeth clenched. The more he thought about you the closer he got to the edge.

Keeping his arm still Calvin started bucking his hips forward, fucking his fist while picturing you on your knees below him. Your big doe eyes looking up at him with an innocent glint was his weakness. How was someone even able to look so naive with a cock between their lips? “That’s it, God you're so good to me,” he could no longer hold back.

Picking up his pace Calvins mind went blank, only the sensation of his impending orgasm could be felt. A jumbled mix of curses sprung from his lips as he watched the cum shoot from the tip of his cock onto his fist.

Calvin remained silent in the bathroom, the only sound to be heard was the heavy panting noise of him trying to catch his breath. After a few beats he decided it would be best to clean up the mess he had made, put his pajamas on and get out of there as soon as possible. God forbid you wake up for a late night bathroom trip and see him like this.

Walking back out to the living room he began to wonder how loud he had been, did he wake you with his erratic moans? Choosing to take a quick peak and make sure he hadn’t embarrassed himself further he gracefully nudged your bedroom door open a sliver. Clearly the universe was looking out for old Calvin because there you lay, sleeping soundly.

Letting out a breath of relief Calvin moved back out towards his bed tonight – the couch.

If only Calvin had stayed watching you a little longer he would have seen the sly smirk spreading across your lips.

Everything goes according to plan.

–

The sun peeked through the blinds, shining directly onto his eyelids when he woke in the morning. He had been too distracted last night to set his usual 6am alarm but he welcomed the extra rest. Honestly after the night he had Calvin was surprised he slept at all.

Figuring there was no time to waste if he still wanted to go on his morning row, Calvin sat upright on the couch, wiping the sleep from his eyes. While rubbing his eyes Calvins nose picked up an array of once familiar scents: eggs, toast, bacon, and…was that pancakes? It had been so long since you last cooked breakfast for him –again Calvin knew that was completely his fault.

Cavin was starting to forget what your warm meals tasted like, becoming accustomed to eating the cold leftovers whenever he returned home. Perhaps he could skip the row, just this one time…

Strolling towards the kitchen with a smile on his face Calvin nearly tripped himself when he caught sight of you. Standing as he expected in front of the stove top, humming along to whatever song was playing in your head while carefully flipping pancakes. What he did not expect was the lingerie you were wearing while doing it. He’d obviously lost track of time while eyeing you as you noticed him, slack jaw and all.

You fully turned towards him with a smile, “Good morning sleepyhead.”

–

How you wish you had a camera near you now. The look on Calvins face was priceless. You had never seen him so stunned before, and that includes the first time you agreed to go on a date with him.

“M-morning,” he stuttered, clearly trying (and failing) to fix his uncouth expression.

His gaze wandered across the outfit before him. A light pink set, silk top decorated with a delicate bow in the center of the chest, short ruffled bloomers, completed with a transparent tulle robe.

You turned back towards the stove. “Did you sleep well? I missed you last night. It’s always so lonely in bed without you,” you said, exaggerating the sadness in your voice.

That seemed to snap Calvin back to his normal self, “I’m sorry honey, you know I just worry about waking you up,” the genuine concern in his voice almost made you feel bad for playing it up so much…almost.

“Well you woke me up anyway, so why didn’t you just join me, hm?” You had a feeling you could see the panic on his face without even looking back.

A hitch in his breathing and a sudden step towards you let you know you were spot on. “When exactly did I wake you?” he questioned.

“Oh you know, when you were playing with your cock in the bathroom,” you stated it simply like you were telling him something he already knew. “I have to say I was very disappointed you didn’t invite me Calvin, you know I hate to think of all the cum you wasted without me there to clean it up.” You shut the burner on the stove off, moving the final pancake off the side with the rest.

Finished with the task at hand you looked back at Calvin. No longer the anxious face you were anticipating, no this was a look you recognized instantly, arousal.

Calvin licked his lips, “You dirty little minx,” wrapping his hands around your waist he swiftly pulled you towards him. His hot breath fanning across your face, “You planned all this out didn’t you?”

Batting your lashes at him you whipped out your best virginal response, “I have no idea what you could possibly be accusing me of Dr.Evans.”

He tilted his head to the side, “Are you sure about that?” His hands were now grazing further down your back causing an involuntary shiver to run over you. “So you didn’t sleep naked last night hoping it would drive me crazy? How about moaning in your ‘sleep’ expecting me to get hard?”

You shook your head at every accusation. Watching Calvin grow more impatient with your antics was only egging you on.

He let out a huff, “No? Not even wearing this skimpy thing to cook breakfast in?”

“How do you know this isn’t what I usually cook breakfast in? It’s not like you’re ever around when I do it anyway.” The facade you had put on dropped quickly.

It was clear a lightbulb went off in Calvins head, “Is that what this is about? Have I been neglecting my pretty little wife's needs?” He moved his head into the crook of your neck, his nose pressed against your pulse.

Now it was your turn to stutter, “M-maybe…” Your eyes closed at the feeling of him being so close to you.

His lips moved to graze your neck, making his words jumbled, “Well I think I know just how to apologize for it.”

You were about to ask how when suddenly Calvins lips crashed onto yours, pushing every coherent thought from your mind. Caught off guard you forget to move your lips with his. He pulled away briefly to let out a hoarse whisper, “Kiss me,” The command was so gentle it seemed almost like a question.

You could never deny him of what he wanted. Moving back into the kiss you meet him with equal lust, like you both had been deprived of touch for years. God you missed this, the soft groans passing by your lips as your tongues melted against each other. You noticed a growing hardness pressed to your upper thigh. “Getting excited over a little kiss Calvin?” you teased. Your forehead rested against his, nudging his nose with yours.

“Can you blame me? I mean look at you,” Calvins right hand moved up from its place on your back, undoing the tie in the middle of your robe. You shook it from off your shoulders, letting it fall on the kitchen floor. Calvin took a step back to get a better look at you, making you whine at the loss of contact. “So perfect for me,” he said, like there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind that it was true.

“What are you doing?” You asked as he sunk slowly onto his knees.

His hands pulled at the back of your thighs, squeezing the soft skin. “I’m thanking my beautiful wife for putting up with me.”

Your eyes rolled at his dramatics. “Cavin I d-” the words ripped from you before they were even out as his lips moved to the inner part of your thigh. Dragging the delicate skin of his lips across you, your eyelids fluttered shut once more. “I should have known you would need me to take care of you,” he admitted.

The petals of his lips roaming higher up your thighs he shifted you so that your legs were flush against his torso. “Don’t you sweetheart, you need me to take care of you?” Although his tone was clearly mocking it still made you feel warm inside.

“Mhm, I do I do, please,” you nodded dumbly.

His smile pressed against your skin, “How cruel of me to ever leave my sweet wife and her needy pussy all alone.” Calvins right hand reached up to the center of your bloomers, thumb grazing over your clit.

“F-uck,” you gasped, dropping your hands to grip the base of Calvin's hair.

“You’re worse off than I thought you were,” he joked. Wasting no more time teasing you Calvin lowered your bloomers, pulling them with his teeth. Your eyes sprung open to watch him work.

Biting his lower lip Calvin admired the wetness dripping from you. “Miss me?”

“Yes, God Calvin Please,” you begged looking down at him with desperation flowing from you.

His eyes met your, “You don't need to beg for me anymore honey, I’m home now.” keeping eye contact with you Calvin kissed your aching clit. Gradually escalating from sweet pecks to open mouth licks you could feel your knees lock below you. Calvin shifted your left leg over his shoulder to drown himself inside your cunt, licking from your clit to your opening.

Moans falling from your lips before you even knew what you were saying, “Yes, fuck you’re so good Calvin,” you swore he always looked his best under you, even if your eyes were having trouble focusing at the moment.

Your praise was the only kind that Calvin cared about you recalled him telling you, and now that was obvious to you. Your words clearly have an effect on his performance. Encouraging him to lick and suck your clit with vigor. His moans vibrate your core pushing you further towards the edge of your impending orgasm.

Withdrawing his face from your pulsating cunt, Calvin lays his face on your thigh. Hastily replacing his tongue with his fingers and continuing the same motions. Seemingly mesmerized by his own actions Calvin stares at your pussy while speaking to you, “Yeah? You like when I pay attention to you?” His words came out wobbly like he was the one being pleasured.

Using all the strength you could muster you tried to really look at him like this. Face flush red leading down to his neck, your slick covering most of his chin, that one vein popping out of his temple. Never before Calvin have you seen a man look so determined to please.

“Mhm Yes, God Calvin, I love it when you pay attention to me,” you groaned.

“Good because I’ll be doing a lot more of it now.” going back in for another taste, he is like a man possessed. Calvin has always been an attentive man, inside and outside the bedroom and it was clear he was trying to prove something to you at this moment.

“Fuck I’m so close Calvin,” you warned.

He broke away from your pussy for a second time, “Yeah, you gonna come all over my face honey?”

You could no longer keep your eyes open, squeezing them shut tight. You wanted to say something- anything in response but the words failed you, opting to nod your head quickly.

“Do it sweetheart, come for me, please,” he coaxed, playing with your clit at the same steady pace he had been previously.

That was all it took for you to come, nearly collapsing into Calvin's arms. He held you upright as your orgasm overtook you. His praise continued as you came down from your high, “You're such a good little wife for me, that’s it honey, come just like that.”

After a few moments calming your breathing you decided to be brave and attempt to move on your own. You joined Calvin down on the floor, sitting in his lap. Letting out a sigh as you came back to your senses, “Fuck me.”

“I would but I'm afraid I may have gotten a little overly excited,” Calvin laughed. You took notice of what he was referring to, a large wet patch on the crotch of his pants.

“Well I’m glad that took care of itself because I don’t know I would have had any energy to help you with it, you drained me.” You jested, but really you weren’t sure your brain was working properly enough to think, let alone suck Calvin off.

The both of you sat in a peaceful moment of silence after that, fixing the others' wrecked appearance. You realized that these were the moments you missed most when Calvin left, simply basking in each other's presence - even if nothing extraordinarily romantic was happening.

“You know when you want me to spend more time with you all you have to do is ask, right?” he broke the silence while brushing your hair behind your ear.

“You know it would be a lot easier to ask you if you weren’t constantly away working or rowing, right?” you asked with the same cadence as him.

That made him giggle, “Fair point, I promise not to let my neurotic ways keep me away from you ever again.” You planted a quick peck in his lips at that, delighted to hear him say it. “In the meantime is there anything else I can do to make it up to you?”

You pretended to be deep in thought about his question, furrowing your brows together and tapping your pointer finger on your chin. “How about sitting down and eating the breakfast I’ve worked so hard on with me?”

Calvin moved from underneath you, causing a frown to appear on your face. He stood up and reached a hand down, inviting you to grab it and pull yourself up. “You don’t have to ask me twice,” he smiled, pulling up two chairs to the dining table.

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