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halcyone-of-the-sea · 9 months

Note

Hiya!! I’m obsessed with your writing. You’re my favorite writer on here, I dream of your stories!

Would it be possible to request (either with Ghost or Price, I love them both equally) something like they were young love but he breaks up with reader cos he wants to keep her safe and thinks he knows what’s best for her. Then during a mission gone wrong, they need a safe house but somehow the enemy found out all the locations of their approved safe houses. He remembered her place is close by and tries his luck. Maybe she gets mad at him for making decisions for her or maybe he learns about her difficult past that happened without with. But with a happy ending? ☺️

Only if this inspires you! Thank you again for sharing your beautiful writings!

If You Bite My Hand Again

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: How dare he show his face to you after all of these years. How dare you still find it in yourself to love him.

WORDCOUNT: 6.6k

WARNINGS: Heavy angst, abandonment, arguments, mentions of death, blood, insinuations of torture & mental illness troubles, Simon's comic backstory, hurt/comfort, sort of suggestive?, anxiety attack, somewhat happy ending, etc.

A/N: This was really fun to write, lol, enjoy Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You never should have met him. In fact, it seemed like the universe had been adamant to make you not run into each other on that chilly October morning almost…well…it has to be more than thirteen years ago, now. So long.

As you head to your kitchen and glance at the clock, the hands point to a perfect three-fifteen—an hour of pitch-blackness and whispering winds that dash past the musty glass of the windows. The thump of your footsteps blocks out the heaving sigh that falls from your mouth; rubbing at your eyes like a cat as great bags sag from tired flesh.

The dreams weren’t uncommon.

Simon still reigned supreme in the conjuring of them, ingrained into the sinews and pulled thin by a hand constantly working them—knitting a sweater of memories addled with age. Moth-eaten.

As you snap on the light of your tiny and run-down kitchen, the bulb fizzing and the dishwasher still emitting that squeal as it always does, you think about him before grabbing a glass. Water hits and fills the thing up as your eyes blankly stare, fatigued but yet never more awake.

The tremors in your hands persist.

You never should have met him.

—

Your feet take you to Primary, laces a mess atop your little shoes caked in mud and grass—you’d chased after a butterfly through the front yards, getting caught in your neighbor's bushes and having to slip your way out before she could rampage outside with her broom.

It was no surprise that your face was lit with a bright smile, eyes shining like fire that your teachers had given you a special name for—“Ember.”

The very thing that could start a blaze over and over again as long as it still was alight.

Laughing and peeing out leaves from your hair; flattening out your uniform, you stride with pride ingrained into your body. Well, you did before you heard the soft sniffling coming from down the alley.

Halting, your ears perk at the sounds, smile freezing as you blink quickly. Looking to your left, you lock onto the hunched figure of a boy.

Perhaps only a year or two older than you, you stare in curiosity as he consciously paws at his cheeks, walking out of the alley in broken and odd strides. His uniform is ruffled, wrinkled, but not in the way yours was.

He must have fallen and hurt himself, you reason with a child-like frown pulling on your lips. Blinking at his blond hair, you get a glimpse of red-rimmed brown eyes.

The boy halts, looking at you widely, fear and pain emanating from his expression. You’re the first to speak, brightness still in your eyes but a deep innocence that comes with youth. All you saw was a boy your age in pain—that was strange to you. You knew what getting hurt was like; you fell and scraped your knees often, or hit your elbows on corners. Sometimes you would cry from that…did the same happen to this boy?

“You’re crying, aren’t you?” Brown-Eyes stares, hurriedly pushing at his face to wipe tears but only succeeds in making his face red from the material of his uniform. “Did you fall down? I do that pretty often—it’s okay, my Mum says you’ll be better after a hug and a kiss!”

You smile and stand straighter.

“I,” the boy begins, sniffling. “I didn’t fall. I’m not clumsy.”

You tilt your head, confused. “Well…then why are you crying?”

“That’s none of your business!” He snaps, brows pulled in as he comes forward on the sidewalk. Your face twists as you huff in annoyance.

“My Mum says to treat everyone nicely. That wasn’t very nice.”

“I don’t bloody care, do I,” you’re sent a scathing glance as he passes. “I didn’t ask for you to speak to me. Leave me alone.”

Naturally, you follow after, cheeks gaining heat.

“You’re being mean! Apologize!”

“Would you run off already?!” The boy shouts, and perhaps something fires in that small brain of yours—a thought and a semblance of self-realization at the shame that emits from his tone. A tight squeeze of vocal cords.

He was ashamed. Ashamed you’d caught him. Seen him.

Your feet slow back to a stop, watching him hurriedly continue on and hearing the quiet gasps of breath. After a moment, you grit your teeth and run the distance; seizing him around the middle in a hug of stubby fingers and tightly closed eyes.

The boy startles, body hardening and a cry escaping his lungs. “Get off of me!” He shouts, hands snapping down to yours and digging under your hold.

“No!” You call, stubbornly. “My Mum says that hugs make everything better—”

“Stop talking about your Mum!” The boy stomps his foot to the ground, chubby cheeks turning crimson as he tilts his head back to look at you, tears still dripping off his chin.

A stiff silence falls but like a green branch on a tree, Brown-Eyes’ form twitchingly loosens, his prying hands softening as you hold tight—digging your nose into his spine. He minutely flinches, but you only hug him more.

You’re both late to the building, and your teachers are going to give you scoldings. But right now, on a chilled October morning, you hug this strange, crying boy and blink your fiery eyes up at him.

After he relaxes fully and the sniffling stops, you let go and smile brightly again, looking up into his open expression of innocent confusion. Whatever had happened, he must have fallen pretty hard, you thought, pulling out another leaf from your hair. You giggle and hand it over as a gift.

The boy hesitantly picks it up and looks at it before turning back to you.

“Call me Ember.”

A pause. A hesitation. But your eyes shimmer and he relents with the memory of the hug in the front of his mind. Such a strange encounter.

He speaks, looking away from you with flushed cheeks, muttering out as his tear streaks dry.

“...Simon.”

You walk together the rest of the way.

The reality was, if you had gotten caught by your neighbor, had snatched that butterfly—had even stayed in those bushes for three more seconds, you would have missed him. And if Simon hadn’t run out of his home crying, he never would have locked onto the burning reality that was with you.

—

You put the glass to your chapped lips and take a long sip, throat bobbing as you take down the liquid with tears burning your eyes. Blinking rapidly, you swipe at the water at the sides of your mouth and shake your head, sighing.

“Why can’t you leave me alone?” Your voice bounces off the walls, peeling paint and moving the dust stuck atop the fridge. “Damnit, Simon.”

Today was worse than the others—everything building and stacking like some castle of misery and pain; windows too narrow to let in any light and your form stuck in shadows longer than an endless rope. There were just so many things that suffocated you now.

And in the endless nights, the brain desperately looks for comfort.

You hate that it only comes from the memories of him.

“I have to go to work tomorrow.” Your subconscious reminds you as you blankly stare out the window above the sink, seeing the streetlights and the cone of warm light—it flickers every so often, a blinking taking place like the eye of a large, brutish, wolf.

Work, then the grocery store, then back home to eat a tasteless dinner and fall back to sleep. An empty house with empty walls and empty memories.

Your hands put the glass in the sink, coming back up to rub and dig into your eyes until the itch behind your flesh stops. A thump of a low pulse is felt in the thin skin, orbs of your optics moving before you pinch into the bridge of your nose and drop them with a slap of a hand to the counter. A harsh breath exits your mouth, but it’s quickly strangled away into a sound of ragged shock.

Outside, under the light, the silhouette of a man leans heavily on the pole, feet shaking under him and face pressed into the shadows as his shoulders heave. You stare, wide-eyed, as your heart jumps to a rapid pace.

“What the fuck?” Your mouth utters, watching the man push off the light and stagger with a heavy limp and a jerking body of immense stature. Whoever this guy was, he was out of his mind—and coming right for your front door. You startle to go and secure it, feet slapping the ground and face twisted.

“What the fuck?!” Gasping, you re-check your locks and frantically look for something else—the stool where you place your keys meets your eyes. You grab it and place it as a barrier to the handle, tilting it on two legs and blinking quickly as whatever sleep-sheen that had been in your gaze leaves in one swoop of adrenaline.

Grunting wafts in from under the door, haggard inhales and a sudden slam of a body hitting the door. You stifle a scream and back up quick steps, slapping your hands to your mouth.

Sure, you might live in a shitty neighborhood, but no one had ever tried to just straight-up break in high or drunk off something. Your mind slashes to the knives in the kitchen drawer as the wall shakes again—something sliding down to the ground and a grunted whine.

Just before you run off, you hear it. An utterance; a disruption of airwaves. A whisper, a plea. Your brain ceases to function with one foot back the way you came, hand on the frame with the knuckles tight.

In one instance it all comes to a screeching halt.

“Ember…”

Who called you that anymore? The rare instance where you’d meet your classmates in the world they would mutter it; also be asked a few questions before they went on with their lives. You pause in your panic, slowly gazing back at the barrier and the stool like you’d just discovered you’re under the sights of a sniper.

There’s a sliver of something that inserts itself into your brain. Fear or hope, you can’t tell. But that can’t be right.

He left.

“Ember!” You flinch, the deep Manchester accent grating your heart into shreds. No. “It’s me!” He says, followed by a horribly gritty cough.

There’s a weak thump against the door, mumbled curses, and growls as if a wild animal mimicking human speech. You almost wished for that, considering you now knew the exact person behind the door down to his atoms. The brown of his eyes and the way his cheeks looked as they were stained with tears.

His laugh. Simon’s voice. Everything.

Simon.

You’re rushing to rip the stool away with a clatter and a jerk as it hits the far wall, undoing the locks with shaking hands as you grasp the handle and wrench it sideways.

His form slams to your feet with a loud grunt as the door hits the wall.

“Fuckin’ hell! Mind your bloody—!” Whatever he said was lost to you as you stare at the bloodied form of the man you had thought you’d seen the last of. Tactical gear, terrifying skull mask, black on black with weapons galore. But that voice told you all you needed to know.

Simon Riley is alive and very much breathing.

The same boy you still loved.

The same boy who’d broken your heart.

—

After October the years with Simon seemed to strengthen. You always walked together in the mornings—or, at least, you always waited for him. The dawn of your friendship strengthened and hardened to an unbreakable amount of mid-day rays; vast and sunny.

When he was sixteen he asked you to be his girlfriend, hand in his pockets and ache on his chin as he grunted out broken sentences. Stuttering and awkward. You’d smiled with your bright eyes and giggled before kissing his cheek—feeling his sigh and him melting into you with a grin of his own, unable to meet your eyes for a moment.

Later, when he said he’d wanted to leave his apprenticeship at the grocery’s butcher shop and join the Special Air Service, you’d been along for the ride—anything to get him away from his father and brother. You knew what was going on, even if he was still so hesitant to allow you any glimpse of his home life.

When he’d shy away at the Halloween decorations of skeletons as if the skull would jump off the page and tense at loud cheering, you knew. You did what you could, but there was only so much for you to suggest or say without him shutting down.

When you’d offered your flat as a safe space after graduation, desperate to help your Lover, he’d stared and blinked in shock; tilting his head at you before smiling softly and taking you into a hug. Wherever he went, he knew he’d always have a place by your side.

So, throughout his leaves of absence from the military, he’d come home to you—bruised and tired, but still the same Simon you fell in love with. You’d cook for him, tease at his shaved hair as he gave you those puppy-dog eyes, and talked him through your classes at University.

You would fall asleep on his chest, feeling the hard strength he was gaining and the way he held you tighter than he ever had; conscious of himself but not wanting to part with you.

The love the both of you had was akin to a blaze of fire, and you often found Simon simply staring into your eyes in times like those—watching silently and rubbing his thumb along your spine until your face burned.

He was always so gentle despite everything; you loved his perseverance, his drive to be good despite nearly every factor telling him he couldn’t be. Slowly but surely, he was forging his own life.

In 2003 he managed to take a break from the military to get his family straightened out. His brother, Tommy, went to rehab—Simon stayed with his mother and a year later he kicked his father to the curb and out of his and his family's life entirely. Finally free.

You managed to meet his lovely mum, still so bright, and even interacted with Tommy once he got out; went to the younger brother’s wedding in ‘06 and met Beth, his wife. When you saw Simon’s mother and the way she carried herself, you knew where your Love got his pride from. The two were so alike it was a sight to see.

While it may not have been conventional by any standard, Simon proposed to you in the back garden of Tommy’s cheap wedding venue. Alone, so as not to cause a scene. Willow trees and a small stream of water. Fireflies. The words ring in your soul with every waking moment, and they will stay there until it all goes silent with the grip of death.

He didn’t want to use his mum’s ring—the one that holds so many bad memories for both parties. He’d used the gold from it though. Went to a man who bled him dry for money to have it re-cast.

It was simple. A small, glinting, ruby pressed in the middle.

“It was always goin’ to be you, Ember, yeah?” he’d muttered in his deeper voice, formal attire holding you both tight. “So…don’t make me beg too much, Sweetheart. You know the old lady’ll kill me if I get stains on my suit.”

“Beg?” You responded, tears in your eyes but such a wide grin on your lips. The stars above you twinkle like the pupils of your eyes—the same burn still trapped. “Oh, Simon, come on, now.” He connects his forehead to yours, hand still in the middle of you and presenting the accumulation of all of his love. The other wraps your waist.

He was shaking slightly.

“I would never make you beg for my love, Brown-Eyes.”

You both share a breathless chuckle and lock lips, smiling like fools as he sighs into you.

In a happy world, that would have been the beginning of a perfect life. A happy house. A happy wedding. Happy deaths.

But something went wrong on one of his deployments.

Missing for months, he came back…wrong. With a fiery temper and sharp snapping words—wounds on the outside as well as inside. His eyes were feral, like a dog held back by a broken chain carting around its feet.

Simon never spoke about it—the missing days. The weeks. The months.

You broke yourself over it, trying to help but not knowing what would make it better. Some days there were flickers of soft expressions, but it was as if he were dragging himself up from a pool so deep it was bottomless to show them to you. Simon rarely smiled. He rarely sent an affectionate glance.

He didn’t let you touch him.

And then he called the entire engagement off with a letter on your counter only holding four words.

‘Don’t look for me.’

And then Simon’s mum, Tommy, Beth, and his nephew had all died. Been killed. And you were just supposed to move on? Live with that? There were times when you had breakdowns so bad you couldn't leave the house for days—the house that Simon and you had bought together.

All of those years.

All those vows and shared nights.

And he disappeared on you.

—

You have him sitting on the couch, watching silently from the chair across the room as he finishes wrapping his leg with the bandages from the first-aid kit you’d provided.

More like chucked at his gut.

No one had said a word, and the air was as tense as a noose—choking any oxygen that traveled into your throat. Simon was getting blood all over your flat cushions, the crimson saturating the fabric as you sit rail-rod straight, hand clenched on your thighs.

Simon’s avoiding your eyes.

“Take off the mask,” you hiss, pupils slits. If he wasn’t going to address it, then you were. Simon freezes, not breathing as his hands fall stationary around the bandages.

“I’ll be fine in a while—”

“Take off your fucking mask, Simon.” You can’t help the way you snap, face burning with shame and hate. How dare he show up now, after all of these years of mourning him and the relationship you’d built as kids. Simon wasn’t just your boyfriend—your fiancé—he was your best friend.

And all he’d done was left you a four-fucking-letter note before leaving you behind.

The geared man sighs silently, and you see his shoulders sag. His grip travels up as he straightens his spine in a fluid motion, pain medication working through him in waves of numbness.

His brown eyes bore through you as if he were a ghost. Under the fabric, his mouth thins. “Ma’am.”

Even his voice is older. More dead. How could this be your Simon?

Your heart bruises your ribcage as he grasps the top of his skeletal mask, gloved fingers peeling back the sown layers until you get the full image of a man more damaged than before. You have to stop yourself from sobbing right then and there; your throat going dry.

So many scars. Milky white and spread vastly—they weren’t pretty. Up his cheeks, down his brow line; even at the corner of his mouth and seeping down his neck. A crooked nose with damaged cartilage. Strangling a gasp, it comes out as a great expelling of horror, eyes going wide with shock.

You hate how you want to rush to him, take his face in your hands, and try to brush them away as if marks on paper. But you don’t make any such movements beyond a hunch of your shoulders.

“Not pretty, eh? Guess I should’ve warned you.” Simon rubs at his forehead, blond locks, hanging around his temple, and the black of face-paint stuck in his sockets. “Didn’t mean to fuckin’ drop in like this, Ember. Bloody bastard thing for me to do.”

You flinch at the name, looking away as you’d been peeling back his skin with your eyes. “What are you doing here, Simon?” Anyone with a brain could hear the cracking hardness in your words. Face blank.

He studies your features, taking in the changes and the bleakness of your expression. Brows furrow slightly before they go back to a state of nothingness. Simon glances around the room, finding the condition of things concerning but doesn’t show it.

“Nothin’ you need to worry about comin’ back to you, Sweetheart. Just work.”

“It is when the bastard who abandoned me shows up years later, bloody on my doorstep. Stop acting so self-righteous,” you growl, snapping, “I should toss your arse outside and let them have you. And don’t fucking call me that.”

Silence descends, and your words echo. It’s like now that he was here everything hurt ten times more than when he wasn’t.

“I never wanted us to end up like we did—”

“Bullshit!” You’re on your feet and stalking to him, pointing with your finger as he hurriedly stands up as well and looks down in shock as you press your digit into his bulky vest. “You shut your mouth, Simon Riley, and you let me explain something to you.”

He keeps silent, mouth parted and scars shifting around his stubble. His hands slightly held out at his sides and hovering over your hips—not touching you but there just in case. Simon’s brown ords are carefully widened at your tight exclamation. The sound of his clearing throat enters the living room before you speak again.

“I waited for you, hoped and prayed that you would show me at least a,” your throat bunches, but you push through. “A modicum of respect and show your stubborn self up at my door with apology flowers and a guilty smile on your lips. You know who took care of your family's burial plots, you fucking piece of shit,” his eyes flinch closed a bit, turning his head down as his breath hitches. “Me! You fucking disappeared!”

You know you shouldn’t be yelling, shouldn’t be pounding on his chest with a fist as if he was a door and you the knocker, but, dammit, it’s been years and he just shows up? Like this? Ten times the size he was—scarred and torn to shreds; laced with muscles and an expression of vacancy. Simon holds to your words, hanging off of them with a down-ward turned chin and eyes that lock with yours through pale lashes.

“Maybe I-I did, o…or pushed some things that I shouldn’t have,” you hold back your tears, but your voice still wavers, tapering off like a line without a hook, “but I didn’t deserve that, Simon.” The first traitorous sob breaks through. “I didn’t deserve that.”

His eyes shatter into a myriad of kaleidoscope bits and pieces, brows flicking from one point on your face to another in quick slashes of guilt. But he still doesn’t touch you. Not until you tell him it’s what you want.

Simon opens his mouth but closes it just as quickly, unable to find any words that would even matter. You let your tears slip down your cheeks, dribbling off your chin. The man’s chest hurts, pulse thumping to mirror yours.

“I waited for you and you broke me,” you whisper, mouth twisting with odium towards the man under your fist. “I wanted a life with you, Simon, no matter the trials.”

“I didn’t mean to…” The man trails off, clenching his jaw. You scoff, backing up a step and pressing your palms into your eyes.

“But you did.”

“I had to keep you safe, Ember.” Simon’s fingers twitch outward, eyes frantically moving around as you sniffle and shakily walk away to the kitchen. He follows, desperately on your heels as your spine bows forward with resounding cries of anguish. “I...I wasn’t right in the head, I need you to understand I didn’t want this! I never wanted to fucking hurt you!”

Your hand connects with the junk drawer, tearing it open and digging a hand inside as he pleads with you to listen.

“If I didn’t leave I was worried I’d do something—!”

“Then you should have trusted me!” Your hands rip out the ring held on a small leather strap. The ruby glints where it always sits, held in tarnished gold. You chuck it at his chest and suck down breaths so you don’t pass out. “I would have listened! Gotten you help! We don’t abandon the ones we love, Simon! Not us!”

Simon catches the object by slapping a hand to his chest, pinky finger latching through the leather cord before he jerks his limb back up. When he looks at the ring, he goes utterly still, gazing back up at you slowly.

“We were supposed to be different,” you sob, trapping it behind your hands. He’s shaking, brows tight and lines along his face as he brings a free hand to run through his locks, gripping the strands for a moment and pulling. “Simon,” you say again, and he looks back at you with glossy eyes. “We were supposed to be better.”

“What did I do to you to deserve that,” he stares, his jaw is loose and he can’t stop clenching and unclenching it. You can see his heart working through his breast. Bloodied. Beaten by fists and slashed with knives. “What did I do to you?”

“Nothing,” he gasps, taking a step forward. “Fuck, Ember, you didn’t bloody do anything to me besides love me.”

You sputter out, “Then why did you leave me here alone?” Your knees buckle and he darts forward, catching you under the arms as you wail out, shoving on his waist, “You never should have come back. Never should have come back.”

He lets you push him off; lets you back up to the counter as Simon tilts his head higher to stave off the tears in the sides of his eyes. He’d known coming here was a bad idea, for lack of a better word, but after the Op went bad and all of his safe houses were compromised, he didn’t have a choice. It wasn’t to say he didn’t regret his actions in the past with you, or that he didn’t punish himself for them, yet at the time it was the only thing he could do to give him the sense that you would be better without him. Safe.

After everything that had happened, he wasn’t in the right state of mind anymore. You deserved so much better. But hearing all of this…

Christ, could he have been wrong? Everything blurred; hurt. Hearing your sobs was like a knife to his heart every time, digging and cutting with serrated edges at the veins and pumping muscle, carving away flesh to shed the pounding redness to light. You held that heart in your hand and in his he held the ring—the ring he’d given to you as a promise of love and honor.

A pact of loyalty.

Simon doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the blurring edges of his vision make itself known. His eyes bore harshly, prodding into you as he makes known what he’s been broken since he first locked gazes with you again. The man’s voice shakes, accent deep and tight.

He asks the first thing that comes to his head.

“What happened to your eyes?”

“What?” You ask, incredulously, brows furrowed as your hand digs into the counter to keep you upright. Simon stares deeper, the sides of his eyelids wrinkling with a not-so-hidden sheen of great concern. Unbearable pain.

“What happened to your bloody eyes?” Where had the spark gone? That flare that grew and spread like fire that was the entire purpose behind your name. An unconquerable ache for life.

You only watch him with a parted mouth and tear-stained lashes, sniffling. Simon tries again, taking a step forward on unsteady feet.

“Please, Sweetheart, d…don’t, don’t…” He can’t finish, the leather cord intertwined into his fingers as he comes closer. “Don’t tell me I took it away. Not my Ember. Not my Girl’s fire.”

Your eyes are so overflowed you can’t even see him as he hovers over you, fingers coming up to brush your cheeks as his mouth is open in hard pants of breath. “No, no, no. Fuckin’ bastard, not me. Not over me, please.” It’s like Simon’s not even talking to you but rather himself.

He mutters in fast sentences, eyes panicked. “You were supposed to be better off—‘posed to move on. Why didn’t you? Why didn’t you find someone else?”

“You’re an idiot, Simon. An idiot,” you sag into his neck, nose digging into his pulse as he quivers, legs having to reset themselves. His heat melts into you as your body gives out with a final sob, “It was always going to be you.”

His arms snap around you like a vise, dragging you into him as he breaks and stifles his whimper on your scalp, breathing right by your ear; gasping for breath.

“M’sorry,” he mutters, so silent below his sniveling stutters, “M’so sorry, Sweetheart. This is all my fucking fault.”

You shake into his chest, face nuzzling and desperate to smell his scent again—tired from all the yelling and fighting. It was still late, you still needed to go to work tomorrow…but Simon.

Oh, Simon. How could he be so…him?

Your sobs are quieter than his, tiny cries that make the man’s arms tighten around you every time. Hands coming up, you can’t stop the way you want to hold him; how you wish to keep him close to you and push him away all at once. How dare he?

How dare he still make you love him after all he’d put you through?

Simon sags to the floor with you in his hold, head bowed and trying to gasp down his vulnerability as tears stain your shoulder. It’s as if the realization that he’d made a mistake had broken him back down to when he was young, past hatred of messing up infesting his brain like maggots. A fear of it, even.

The man presses quick, panicked kisses to your neck as his breath hitches every other second, rocking you back and forth.

“Didn’t mean to do it,” Simon utters. “Didn’t mean for it to hurt you—”

He breaks off and you realize that despite the years Simon’s mind was still very much fragile when it came to home life. You blink and take a deep breath, unable to get out of his unrelenting grip.

Your hand travels up to find the back of his head, spreading through his hair and massaging his flesh. When things got bad you used to do this with him. Give the man something to focus on so he could pass through his hysteria quicker.

Simon’s ribcage bangs against yours, nearly hyperventilating with how he’s trying to hide his small grunts and whines.

“Simon,” you clear your throat, trying to calm yourself down as seriousness sets in your tone. “Simon, breathe.”

Your ears twitch, noticing him listen to you as he takes down a long gasp of air and breathes out in puffs on your neck—hot and humid.

“Ember…”

“Shh,” interrupting, you shush him in tiny whispers, still rubbing at his head. “Brown-Eyes, just sit here, okay?” You feel a jerky nod, his fingers squeezing your flesh off and on as he mimics your own lung pattern.

It’s a few minutes before he goes completely still again, and you feel the burn of shame from his face in your clutch. The relationship was strained—or whatever you could call this—but you never wanted to see him in pain. Never.

You knew he was better when he sighs deeply, completely going limp in your arms; great weight leaning into you as you lean back to the cabinets to help with the pure might of his physique. With a slow hand, you un-velcro his vest and his gear, letting it hit the floor with dull thumps and clatters.

He doesn’t protest, doesn’t move to help or hinder. You would give anything to know what he was thinking.

“M’sorry,” Simon whispers and you respond accordingly, softly.

“You’ve already said that, Love.” He grunts, taking in a long, deep breath.

“Need you t’know it.”

“...I do.”

“Okay.” You close your eyes and stave off your anger at everything happening right now. While it would feel better to yell at him until dawn, what would that even achieve? Everything had needed to be said, had been. And you’d never felt lighter than at this moment.

You knock your head against him, the both of you panting for breath and hands vibrating with leaving adrenaline. Sweaty and twitchy.

“You never should have done that, Simon.” Whispering, you sigh. “I needed you. I needed you here. With me.” He stays still, but you feel his lips press deeper into your pulse. You’re practically in his lap, back to the woodgrain.

In a moment of weakness, or pure longing, you pull his head back and situate your hands at his cheeks, looking over his scars and his broken skin as he lets you move him how you wish. His half-lidded, red, eyes stare—grip around you not letting up.

Simon doesn’t speak as, unprompted, you kiss the shattered bridge of his nose; you only feel the fluttering of his lashes as they tickle your cheeks.

“I was scared of myself.” He mutters. “After they died…” His family. “I didn’t want to put you in danger, Ember. Not you.”

“We would have figured it out, Simon. You know that, deep down, you do.” Brown eyes find yours as you tilt his head.

“You sure?” He asks, desperate for an answer even though he doesn’t know himself.

Thumbs run up and down his stubble. Your face creases, “...I don’t know. But we could have tried.”

Simon’s eyes close tightly, and his face tilts to press his lips to your palm, quivering breath exhaled with the strength of an open balloon. Your ring was still stuck in his digging grip, and it was never going to leave for the rest of the night.

“Yeah,” he whispers, gravely voice lax.

Studying him now, in this light, knowing he was so afraid of what he might do if he got into an episode, you were stabbed with agony in your heart. To be that afraid of yourself to that magnitude was nearly unimaginable to you.

Nearly.

“What now?” You ask lowly, the last remnants of tears drying as Simon opens his eyes slowly, looking back at you.

“Don’t know.” He admits. “I have to leave.”

“I have work tomorrow,” you relate. Your teeth find your lip, biting it.

A small awkward chokehold captures the both of you. The reality was that both of you were akin to strangers again—such was the curse of lost years and trials you’d faced along the way.

Brown-Eyes and Ember were dead, yet you still called their names like phantoms of sleek black fabric and chained recollections of a boy with red cheeks and a girl with muddy shoes. The walks to school were there, the dates, and the late nights spent in good company. Touches to skin and open-mouthed kisses. Fireflies that whizzed and the glinting of gold as wind ran through the willows.

Dark corruption stained the faint idea of happiness; of a good world. This was not reality. It was some joke of an existence.

If life were fair, Simon Riley would have never grown up in that house—his father wouldn’t have latched onto his brother and done dark deeds to wrap the little brown-eyed boy in red tissue paper and barbed wire. A present and sheen of mild sociopathy; separation of any pain or torment. A fighting boy. A boy born with blood on his hands and stuck behind his eyes every time he swung a fist.

It was a curse to love him. And it was a curse that burned your soul with his very name.

“Are you going to go?” You ask, eyes blank but yearning for what little comfort you can grab. It had been so long. Simon blinks, his head still in your hands; body not moving.

He knows he should. He isn’t sure if there’s anything left for him here or not.

Simon connects his head to yours and you still. “Do you want me to?”

“Do you love me?” You blurt, blinking at him and confused. Simon’s lips part. “Or if you walk out that door do I plan on never seeing you again?”

You're about to open your mouth and continue before his own slots perfectly against it.

You gasp lightly, taken aback but in no way opposed. He still felt exactly the same, flesh still tasting metallic and tinged with violence down to his DNA; raised with survival instincts as his greatest ally. Until you.

With you survival became secondary.

Your hands go to card through his hair, latching and lightly pulling as Simon’s body shivers; growling against your lips in a dance of heated flesh and damp cheeks. Hearts hammer with the restraint of years.

“I would never make you beg for my love,” he murmurs between lapsing passes of his mouth, open kisses and dark glances. “Tell me where you want me to be.”

You whimper against him and he goes back in, pressing the base of your skull to the cabinet as hands grip and slide, kneading your skin.

“Tell me,” Simon whispers. Pleads through grunts. “Ember, tell me.”

“Here,” you admit brokenly, pulling him closer to you as you’re lifted and placed on the countertop. “I need you here, Simon. I need you with me.”

Fingers capture your chin, keeping your head angled up as your eyes beg. Lips bush with every word, gazes wild as if two leopards locking jaws over a kill.

“Fight to get me back.” Brown sparks with purpose, a small puff of air hitting your mouth as eyes darken over. In this moment, you do not know if you’re dying or living. “Make it right.”

“Affirmative.” Simon moves his head back, taking your ring and looping the cord around his neck, he keeps it there as you watch, breathless. Your face creases with question. The man’s lips flicker when he sees this, coming back and grasping your hips as you instinctually latch to his waist.

“I’ll give it back when I’ve earned the right for you to be called mine again. Seems I have work to do, Sweetheart.” He kisses you once more, firm and true. “First, I’ll ‘ave to figure out if my Girl can get her spark back, yeah? I’ve proper gone and fucked it up.”

That night you lay in the heap of limbs and sheets that couple the both of you together. In the morning the questions would start, and Simon knew you’d take nothing short of the truth.

And he’d give you it. All of it.

Because Simon Riley knows well enough that you don’t go and bite the hand that feeds twice. Certainly not when it was you. Certainly not when it offers a love he would never hope to find again, in this life or the next.

So you keep the other close and sag into a deep slumber, not to wake for a long, long time.

And you’d both never slept better

TAGS:

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lazyjellyfish300 · 17 days

Text

The Woman He Didn't Choose Part 5 🥀

AU Bachelor!Miguel O'Hara x Fem Contestant!Reader

Synopsis: You're on the show: Singles in Paradise. Former Bachelor!Miguel has some heavy news to break to you about your new relationship with Peter B., along with contending with his lingering feelings for you. He's racing against the clock as the rose ceremony is about to commence that night, and all of the drama is approaching a boiling point. Word count 6.4k

A/N: If you're unfamiliar with the show Bachelor in Paradise, here's a clip to give you an idea. Basically, it's another dating show usually in a tropical location where single people couple up, and new arrivals come in every so often and ask people on dates to shake things up, leading to drama and chaos, and couples can choose to stay together or break up in the end and there's typically an engagement. DISCLAIMER: I HAVE NO RIGHTS TO THE SHOWS THE BACHELOR OR BACHELOR IN PARADISE, ALL RIGHTS TO THE OWNERS. I CHANGED THE NAME OF THE SHOW IN THE STORY.

Part 1(contains links to previous parts)

TW: MINORS DNI, ANGST, DRAMA, DRUNKENNESS ,MISCOMMUNICATION, JEALOUSY, INSECURITY, CHEATING, BULLYING(NAME CALLING, TRASH TALKING BEHIND BACKS), FIGHTING(PUNCHING, SPIT IN FACE, CAT FIGHT) MILD VIOLENCE, BLOOD, MENTION OF ORAL SEX BUT NO SMUT, MENTION OF DADDY ISSUES

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You and Felicia were at least 3 strawberry daiquiris deep, and they were working their tasty magic. You both were giggling loudly, slapping each other's thighs, trying to hold each other up on the couch you were lounging on in the common area when an unwelcome visitor made his way into the room.

"Well look who it is!" Felicia says in a goofy voice, making you nearly spit out your drink.

"PPPFFFFT", You let out a mixture of a guffaw and cough as she pounds your back with her palm in a drunken effort to help you regain composure.

Miguel's face softens a little bit at the sight of you two enjoying yourselves. Thank God for the cocktails otherwise you wouldn't have even let him be in the same room as you.

You look at Miguel with teary eyes. "Whaddup big guy? What, what can I do you for, on this....the night of the grand rose ceremony?" You channel your inner Godfather as you slur your words, which makes Felicia nearly choke on her drink this time.

Miguel shakes his head. "We need to talk."

"Ahhhh...." you say, shaking your head back at him, tutting your teeth. "Too late, Muscles. Can I call you Muscles?"

Miguel rubs the back of his neck and tries to stifle a sigh. "Sure, that's fine. Now can we go talk?"

"Whoa, whoa." You bring a finger to his lips, silencing him and he lets out a defeated sigh. "I won't leave here with just anyone. I'm in a relationship."

Miguel gently reaches down, removing your hand from his face in a delicate yet firm grip, "Yes, I'm aware..."

At that point you almost fall off the couch. Felicia's laughing too hard and trying not to pee in the fetal position to help. Miguel catches you, helping you up with both of his forearms underneath your armpits. You catch a whiff of his scent as you fall back against his chest, making you a little delirious.

"Be more careful..." Miguel murmurs to you. "Here." He plops you on an empty chair, his hands gentle as they run up your calves and remove your tall wedge sandals and takes them in his hand, offering you the other. Your heart skips a beat at his touch but you attempt to conceal it with an eyeroll as you let him help you stand up.

"Be right back girl!" You call to Felicia, who raises her cocktail glass to you.

"Mkayyyy!"

The beachy evening breeze of the nighttime hits your face a little bit, making you close your eyes and sigh. Despite all the drama that had been plaguing you as of late, it sure felt good to be in such a gorgeous place as this.

Miguel's walking silently next to you, his mind agonizing over the distressing news he needs to break to you but stops and stands next to you, his shoulders relaxing at little at your content disposition, how endearing it is to watch you wiggle your toes in the sand. A smile on your face for once instead of tears.

After several moments, your eyes flutter open and you go to take a step forward, however your abrupt movement doesn't mix well with the liquor still running in your veins and you trip a little, Miguel catching you once again.

"Alright, that's it..." Miguel sighs and sweeps you into a bridal style carry, effortlessly cradling you in those beefy arms of his as he walks you further down the beach.

You look at him with heavy eyelids, an expression of amusement and impression with his strength on your face. "Well damn, I knew you were strong, Muscles, but I wasn't expecting that," You say, leaning your head on his shoulder.

Just how many shots were in those daiquiris? Miguel wonders as he continues to saunter forwards with you in his arms, trying not to focus on the growing heat in his face as you nuzzle a little closer into his chest.

Once you come closer to an unoccupied daybed near the pool, you give him a little tap on his arm to signal you want to be put down. He sets you carefully on the cushions and plops down next to you in silence, pressing his fingertips together in concentration as he looks at his feet, trying to form his words.

You look lazily at the changing underwater lights in the pool, as it hypnotically changes the water from green, to blue, purple, pink, and red, tropical winds gently brushing the palm trees and the distant sound of rushing waves coming from the beach down below.

Miguel finally speaks, his tone serious. "I don't want to do this, but there's something important you should know before the rose ceremony."

You blow air out of your cheeks, the liquor still had a hold on you but you were starting to get annoyed by this unwelcome interruption by this...guy. Whoever he was, he was majorly cramping your style and killing the good mood you were in.

"Look mister, if you're trying to get a rose and not go home, you're a little late for that," you say with a yawn, standing up.

Miguel stands up too, saying your name in a stern voice then cursing and turning around with his hands on his head muttering to himself. "She's way too drunk for this...okay."

He turns back around facing you, starting over from scratch again. "I'm not trying to get a rose from you." He says, looking into your eyes. "I'm not expecting anything from you tonight. You made it very clear earlier that you were upset with me, which I don't blame you for... even though someone completely got it wrong and told you before I could explain myself..."

You let out a loud groan, clasping your temples with your fingertips. "Give me the condensed version, Muscles, please. You're giving me a migraine."

Miguel exhales quickly with a small scoff then shakes his head. "Okay, okay..." He makes a small sigh of displeasure and continues, slowly as if he were approaching a sea of eggshells.

"I...just need to get this off my chest and tell you the truth so you don't make the wrong choice tonight, that's all." His hands move to the surrender position and you tilt your head.

"What do you mean?"

Miguel exhales slowly as the camera zooms in on his face, his heart pounding so tremendously against his ribs it was a wonder how the sound didn't leak through the microphone he was wearing.

"After you and Felicia left, Peter B., Dana, Ben, and I were at the bonfire. They were all drinking. I got up, and went to the bathroom and was walking down the main path back to the fire pit. You know where I'm talking about right?"

You nod, going to fiddle with a loose thread on your dress, a slight anxious twinge in your belly that sets your heartbeat on a gradual acceleration. Where is this going?

"Anyway, I saw Peter B. and Dana in the bushes tonight...they were together."

You blink.

Miguel looks at you with the same blank expression, but he's in disbelief at your lack of reaction.

"He was going down on her... he's playing you behind your back." He waits, his eyes searching yours, hoping you got the message, on the edge of his seat.

Your eyes flicker up and look back into his. "And I should believe you...why?"

Miguel's face turns red with emotion, taking a step closer to you. "Why would I lie about something like this?"

His tone is quiet, but it's laced with frustration. "Look, you have to make this call on your own but I'm telling you right now. I saw him with her, he's cheating on you. He's not the guy you think he is and frankly, giving him a rose tonight would be the biggest mistake of your life."

"Miguel..." you whisper closing your eyes.

Miguel exhales, the alcohol released its hold on you a little. "There, see...you do understand me." He gets a little closer. "I'm just trying to look out for you."

"Yeah, and you also told me you didn't like Dana yet somehow she ended up all over you in the pool right after I told you I'm going to stay with Peter."

"Oh my God..." Miguel shuts his eyes, running a hand through his hair. "For the last time, I'm not interested in her. She threw herself at me...I don't know who told you otherwise but whoever did got it completely wrong. I swear to you."

"You're saying Ben's a liar?"

"Ben?!" Miguel goes silent as he tries to do calculations in his head, but you already start walking away.

"Okay, I don't know why Ben of all people is telling you that, but he's wrong." Miguel speeds up, walking backwards quickly next to you, still facing you. The camera man once again struggling to keep up with you two.

"I don't like Dana and I've been trying to tell you that. And I'm trying to tell you right now, Peter's not right for you."

"Uh huh, and you also told me that I'm the one in Thailand and proceeded to run over my heart the next day."

"Wait! Ugh....please!"

You stand at the tiki bar on the beach, grabbing the bartender, James' attention. "Strawberry daiquiri please..."

James nods and lowers his head, trying to mix you a drink but can't help but remained tuned in as he works.

Miguel sighs and sits on one of the bar stools. He addresses James. "A beer when you get a chance please? Thank you..."

You two sit in silence for a moment. He speaks again, his voice more quiet. "I needed to tell you because I'm going home tonight."

You look at him, confused. "Why do you say that?"

He sighs. "Nobody here to give me a rose. And it's ladies choice."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm serious."

"What about Dana?"

"If Dana gives me a rose I'm only accepting it so I can stay here and keep an eye on you."

"Miguel, I can handle myself just fine."

"No, you can't. You keep falling for the wrong guys and you're about to make a mistake."

"You were one of them."

Miguel blinks a little rapidly and looks off, trying to act like that didn't sting. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm the upset rising in his body, blaming the alcohol in your system and your stress for your scathing remarks.

"I don't know if this is a weird jealousy thing, or you're trying to get back at me, or..." You continue, counting off your fingers as you speak, making some sort of drunken list.

"I'm not jealous." Miguel mumbles, picking at a random notch in the wooden bar.

"I'm gonna just pretend like you literally didn't just lie to me again," you say, also turning away.

"What? Ohhh my God." Miguel takes a deep breath. "Okay, yes, of course I'm jealous of you and Peter. Watching you guys kiss and go on dates. How seemingly happy he makes you when I know I couldn't make you feel like that? Yeah, of fucking course I'm jealous. It hurts."

The corner of your eyes soften a little bit. "Why now though, Miggy? Why do you only chase me after you've hurt me and after I'm trying to move on?"

"I don't know..." Miguel says quietly, rubbing his face. "Because I'm a dumbass? Because I had shitty judgement and I took you for granted. Because I didn't realize how much it would actually hurt to go through everything I put you through this last year?"

You look down, trying to hold in your tears.

Miguel gives you a sorrowful look, "Look... I'm only being stubborn right now because I see myself in you. You're about to make the same mistake I did and choose the wrong person like I did. I don't want you to walk away from this with any regret that'll come back to haunt you later..."

He pauses, running a hand through his hair and looking into your eyes. "And no, I don't expect you to come running back to me after this. No matter how badly I want you to..."

After letting one tear escape, you blink furiously, wiping your eyes, taking care not to ruin your eye makeup any more than it already is. You sit with his words for a while, letting them sink in.

Part of you doesn't feel great hearing that, but a larger part doesn't believe him. No, Peter wouldn't do something like that? Sweet Peter? And with Dana of all people? He clearly dodged her when everyone was in the pool together. There's no way...

Somehow you know you're being overly optimistic, but you decide to tuck it away for now, since there were more pressing matters like the impending rose ceremony which was due to commence at any moment at this late hour.

"Thank you for telling me. But let me handle it on my own. I made tons of allowances for you, Miguel. And I'm going to do the same for him. But if it turns out to be true? I'll deal with it when I deal with it. Have a safe trip home, Miguel."

At that moment, Jason Donner comes around the corner. "There you two are... we're all waiting on you. Cocktail hour's been over for 20 minutes. It's time to head on up to the rose ceremony. You okay?"

Jason tilts his head when he sees your obvious upset on your face.

"Yeah, I'm good." You mumble, quickly shifting past Jason's curious expression, forgetting the daiquiri you were waiting on, Miguel watching you walk away yet again with a solemn face and his heart split in two.

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

The group is hanging out outside of the rose ceremony room. Ben and Felicia are talking in hushed voices with Felicia every so often leaning her head towards Dana and Peter B., attempting to eavesdrop their conversation as Dana talks his ear off.

Peter is hardly reacting to her and looks rather nauseous, looking around with glazed, sullen eyes avoiding Felicia's suspicious, piercing gaze, his quickly-sobering thoughts making him slowly realize the gravity of the sin he just committed earlier.

You walk up to Peter, your eyes narrowing and your stomach dropping a tiny bit when you see Dana is standing next to him.

"Oh hey!" Dana says with phony niceness. "Peter and I were just talking about you. Have you been drinking? I can tell. God, that's embarrassing."

"Um, what?" You say, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh my God, I'm just kidding! I didn't mean it in a bad way. Peter was telling me how cute you look when you get all tipsy. Doesn't she look cute right now Peter? Oh my God, now she's getting embarrassed, awhhh that's adorable!"

You roll your eyes and put yourself physically in between him and Dana. Peter's eyes light up a little bit when he sees you, his hand reaching out to take yours and pull you closer, however his expression fades to slight worry when you whisper to him.

"I need to talk to you..."

Unfortunately, your words are cut off when one of the producers takes you by the shoulders. "Sorry, Pete, I'm gonna need to steal her. Hey, we need you to get lined up with the other women now."

You huff out a breath of frustration.

"Everything okay?" Peter asks quietly. You just nod curtly and give his hand a squeeze then allow the producer to usher you away.

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

The five men are standing in the middle of the common room, the dim lights cast an aura of seriousness. All the men are cleaned up wearing mostly nicer button down shirts, pants, and shorts. Sunkissed faces painted in a stoic expression with quiet nervousness rippling underneath.

All of their faces light up when the four women walk in: You, Felicia, Dana, and MJ, all dressed in different flowy dresses that make you all look like beachy queens of the night. You exhale and look at Peter B., who gives you a small smile, his hands balled into nervous fists in his pockets. Miguel is looking at you too with a neutral expression on his face, his jaw tensing as he looks down.

Dana smiles at Peter B., who quickly moves his eyes away from her back onto you, trying not to be obvious. Immediate guilt and regret eating him from the inside out. George and Patrick, aka Web-Slinger, stand there with relaxed looks on their faces, seemingly unphased by the tension hanging in the air. Ben gives a small wink to Felicia who beams in return.

Jason Donner enters the room. "Welcome, everyone to another rose ceremony. Now, as you all now, it's ladies choice this week. There are five men remaining, but with only four roses to be handed out, so, gentlemen, one of you will leaving paradise tonight."

The five men quietly nod their heads in acknowledgement and Jason turns to MJ. "MJ, whenever you're ready, you'll start."

MJ nods and steps forward, clad in a tight red dress with a curly ponytail. She picks up the first rose boutonniere laying in the tiny pile on top of a small wooden stand. A somber tune begins to play as she takes the rose in her hands. Her eyes land on Peter B. for a brief moment, her face still deadpan, but then she looks at George with a smile.

"George?"

George breaks out into a cocky grin and he steps forward, standing in front of her.

"George, will you accept this rose?"

"Course..." He grins as she pins it to his breast pocket of his blue button down shirt. Peter B. exhales and looks away as this happens. You notice and your lips part a little bit, a slightly odd feeling announcing itself in your gut that you try to press down.

Felicia goes next, taking the rose in her hands, wearing a black halter top dress tonight and she doesn't hesitate for one moment. "Ben?"

Ben walks forward, a shy grin on his face.

"Ben, will you accept my rose?"

"Always." He whispers, as she pins the rose to his Hawaiian shirt with a giddy smile.

Your turn next. You step forward, still wearing the light blue kimono style dress from your date with Peter B. earlier. One of your shaky hands takes the second to last rose and you look up, your eyes finding Peter B. first. He flashes you a smile in return, giving you a hopeful look.

Miguel is looking at you too, he takes a deep breath in and closes his eyes, his head leaning back towards the ceiling. He knows he's not getting your rose tonight, he's just preparing himself for the gut punch of hearing you choose someone else, and falling for Peter B.'s false act.

Somehow, saying his name doesn't feel as right as you thought it would.

"Peter..."

Peter nods and walks forward with a smile, pulling the breast pocket of his white button down shirt forward for you to pin the rose.

"I just want you to know, this isn't just a rose to me. I take it really seriously..." You whisper to him. Dana rolls her eyes and lets out a scoff. Your eyes shoot her a slightly peeved look. The others look around somewhat nervously. Miguel tries to crane his neck a little to try and make out your soft words.

Peter's smile falters and his eyes dart to the rest of the group for a moment before he looks down at you. He wipes a little bead of sweat that began to form on his forehead.

"Peter, is there anything going on that would make you feel like you cannot accept my rose?"

The silence lasts a little longer than you'd like it to but he finally answers,

"N-No...I'm here for you. I have genuine feelings for you and I want to see where this goes. I mean that wholeheartedly, baby..." He says in a soft voice.

You nod slowly, then pin the rose to his shirt and he steps back into his position among the rest of the men. Miguel closes his eyes. Felicia mouths to you,"What's going on?"

"I'll tell you later." You mouth back to her.

Jason Donner re-enters the room. "Gentlemen, it's the final rose tonight. Dana, whenever you're ready."

Dana steps forward, wearing an orange two piece dress. She looks between Web-Slinger who's relaxed and Miguel who still has his eyes closed. She pauses then finally calls out a name.

"Miguel."

Miguel opens his eyes a little puzzled but steps forward, straightening his black polo.

"Will you accept..." Dana starts but is cut off by Miguel waving one of his hands.

"I'm sorry, but if I accept your rose I'd only be staying here for someone I'm still in love with." He looks over at you who's just as shocked and confused as the rest of the group.

Dana huffs quietly and looks down at the floor for a moment, placing the rose back on the stand. Jason Donner enters, "Dana? What's the hold up?"

Dana shakes her head. "He can't accept it. He's still here for..." Dana clears her throat as though your name was physically revolting to say.

Jason looks at Miguel. "Miguel, are you sure about this?"

He nods solemnly in response, not tearing his gaze from you.

Jason nods and says, "Well, Patrick, Miguel, since there isn't any more roses being handed out tonight, I'm so sorry, but you both are going home. Take a moment, say your goodbyes."

Web-Slinger aka Patrick, pulls George into a bro hug. He was kind of there to just party anyway, no sweat off his back.

Miguel gives a goodbye to George and Ben, but when it came to Peter B. he gave him the cold shoulder, pointing an accusatory finger,

"Don't fucking pull any shit like that again. If I find out you hurt her again, I'll deal with you personally."

"Wha-?" the others react to the abrupt switch up, the mood turning into hostile energy. Peter's face turns bright red.

"What's he talking about?" Felicia asks out loud as Miguel starts to make his way to the exit.

"Miguel, what do you mean by that?" Felicia asks again louder this time, concern in her voice.

You look down at the floor. Miguel says in a sarcastic tone, "Ask Peter, he can tell you."

"Miguel, I have no clue what you're talking about." Peter speaks up, standing up a little straighter in false confidence, deciding to play it cool.

Miguel hisses in annoyance and points at Dana. "Ask your new little friend, you two seemed to be getting close enough."

Dana points at herself, seemingly gobsmacked, "Me?!"

"Yes, you." Miguel says crossly. "Tell the truth, Dana. Tell the truth that you and Peter were hooking up in the bushes tonight, and that you threw yourself on me in the pool, completely unprovoked, and I didn't come onto you like everyone here believes."

Dana turns red with anger, and everyone else's mouths fall open. She tries to speak but just babbles incoherently. Your eyes narrow, a sick feeling pooling in your stomach.

"Now hold on..." Ben steps forward. "I was the one who saw Miguel and Dana in the pool earlier. I clearly saw both of you all over each other. Dana was holding him around the waist like this-" Ben awkwardly lifts his leg in some kind of demonstration, straddling an invisible man. "...and Miguel, you had your hands on her waist. I saw it when I went back for my towel."

"Well, check your facts again." Miguel says in an annoyed tone. "She jumped on me. I was minding my own business tanning on the inflatable."

"But why was it only after all of us left?" Ben asks, his eyebrows raising. "Same thing with Peter and Dana. Somehow all of these things are happening with nobody around and it's your word against everyone else's."

"Well why should we believe you about Dana and I?" Miguel shoots back at Ben.

Ben's eyes widen as he gestures to himself. "I have absolutely no reason to lie. But you do." He points to Miguel. "You're not over her and you know it." He nods in your direction. "You're trying to sabotage Peter's relationship, but yet you're trying to have it both ways with Dana too."

Miguel scoffs and laughs, but there's zero humor to be found in it. "Are you serious, Ben?"

"Miguel, I think you need to just worry about your own relationships right now." Peter B. says, taking a step towards Miguel. "You didn't get a rose tonight. Just take back what you said and exit peacefully and we can all forget this ever happened."

Miguel's eyes flash with anger, "I'm not going anywhere yet because I refuse to be made out to be some liar when I'm not!"

George steps in this time, "Hold on, let the man speak." He gestures in Miguel's direction.

Miguel takes a huge breath of relief. Even though George could be a douche, at least someone here was willing to hear him out, although it may have been mostly motivated by the fact that George didn't care much for Peter B. anyway.

"How about you stay out of this one, George?" Peter snarls, turning on him.

George smirks, the tension between them had been built up for weeks due to the jealousy over MJ.

"Oh yeah, and just what are you gonna do about it?"

"Guys!" Ben gets in between George and Peter, nearly tripping over backwards into George when Peter keeps surging forward, knocking Ben off his balance.

Miguel tries to insert himself between the two men as well and remove Ben, however Peter gives him a sharp shove, knocking him backwards, "Get back!"

Miguel's face flushes red with fury, taking a step towards Peter, however George beat him to it, shoving Peter, then causing Peter to lunge forward , only to be abruptly stopped by several security guards rushing the scene to restrain the heated men from ripping each other apart. Everyone is panicking now with several people from both on and off set running around, all this pent up drama and frustration nearly coming to a boiling point. The women scurry out of the fray.

"Hold on!" You yell at the top of your lungs, turning to Dana this time. "There's two sides to every story. So, is it true?" You ask, your voice slightly shaky. "Did you and Peter hook up?"

Dana's eyes narrow at you, "I don't see why it's any of your business?"

"Umm, considering the fact I'm dating him, I would say it is. It's a simple question, yes or no, Dana." You say, crossing your arms.

Dana scoffs. "I don't answer to people who don't know how to address me in the right tone, first of all. And I don't need to apologize or admit to anything when I haven't even done anything wrong."

You and Felicia look at each other with bizarre looks.

"Besides, if I wanted your man, I could have him." Dana taunts.

You throw your head back with an unamused cackle. "Puuuhlease! If you can take my man, then he's not my man. You can take my problems, not my man let's get that straightened out right now."

Dana throws her head back with an over exaggerated mocking laugh. You look at her with disgust.

"What is your fucking problem? I have seriously tried to be nice to you SO many times, Dana. You never apologized or owned up to your behavior."

"Oh like what, what did I do that was so bad, honey, tell me?" Dana bats her eyes sarcastically.

"Brag about wanting to fuck Gabriel, bullying the other girls in the house. Talking so much shit about me behind my back. You literally said the only way I could've gotten in the final two is if I slept my way to the top, and you slut shamed me, saying I was some type of hoe you'd find at a gas station."

Dana blinks. "I don't remember that."

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

A clip plays flashing backwards to Miguel's season, of Dana sitting begrudgingly in her camera confessional shortly after you won a group date rose during week 2.

A producer from behind the camera asks Dana, "So, what are your thoughts on her winning the group date rose?"

She scoffs and shakes her head. "I don't have any. Girls like her can't make guys fall in love with them. Like, I think she'd have to sleep her way to the top to even make the final two...I-what?! Sorry...it's true... Like it's all in the way you carry yourself and she carries herself like...I don't wanna be rude but, a slut. I mean, just look at the way she talks and dresses!! It's giving...gas station prostitute."

She giggles furiously, laughing off the producer's playful scolding in response. "Oh please...I'm sorry, I'm sorry okay?! I'm just being real. Just uh...just edit that one out." She shrugs and smirks.

🌹🌹Back to the present🌹🌹

Dana blinks innocently again, "I don't remember saying that. I might have said something to that effect but those weren't my exact words."

"Dana! Nobody on this beach even fucking likes you!" Felicia yells, her blue eyes aflame with frustration.

"Well sweetheart, I didn't come here to be liked, I came here to win." Dana replies in a honeyed tone.

"We've given you SO many chances to try and be friends with us and you act like you're better than everyone else here. You have zero respect for any of the women on this beach and throw yourself at all the guys. So just admit it, you hooked up with Peter. Be a big girl, put on your big girl panties, and OWN YOUR.SHIT!" Felicia claps in her face with every word.

Dana gets in Felicia's face, screaming back, "I do own my shit for your information. How about you take a chill pill and watch who the fuck you're talking to, bitch??"

"Hey!" Ben stops trying to play referee to the men and rushes over to Felicia's aid instead, the security guards too preoccupied with calming down an enraged George, Miguel, and Peter to jump in the brewing storm amongst the women.

"Leave her alone!" Ben hisses at Dana. But Felicia's getting worked up, trying to wriggle out of Ben's grasp.

"Bitch?! Who the fuck are you calling a bitch?!" She shrieks.

"You, bitch!" Dana says in a taunting, sing-song tone back.

"Dana, you're the last person to be calling anyone on this beach a bitch!" You speak up, putting yourself in between Ben, Felicia, and Dana.

"Yeah, um I wasn't talking to you honey. Mind your business, please and thank you, mkay? Thank you darling!" Dana replies in a snarky tone.

"Well I'm talking to you!" You answer, not taking your eyes off Dana. You can feel your blood pressure steadily rising. "I'm not gonna sit here and let you disrespect my friend. And, you didn't even answer my question, did you hook up with Peter?"

Dana rolls her eyes and turns around, "The ones with daddy issues are always the worst."

"EXCUSE ME?!" You charge forward, her low blow setting off a switch, making you see red. You were open about your family struggles on the show and never thought you'd see the day when someone would be cruel enough to use it as ammo against you.

"Get. Out. Of. My.Face," Dana spits, a thick, gooey drop of her saliva landing on your jaw.

You black out into a blind rage of fury, your right hand balled into a fist wound up behind you, knocking Dana on the left side of her face. You follow with your left, socking her in the jaw, then your right again, leaving her almost guaranteed with a fat lip.

"Fucking-BITCH!" Dana screams, grabbing your hair.

You fight to keep your head raised, using all the strength in your upper body as your hands seize her wrist that has a good hold on your hair, also using your knees to try and throw one into her torso to encourage her to let you go. You hit her with one of your knees, causing her to yell, making her loosen her grip a little so your hair is finally free. You get in one more good shot to her face before another security guard seizes you around the torso, picking you up and carrying you away off to the side.

Miguel's attention is shifted away from Peter and the security guards blocking him and he looks over to see you mid-fight, his eyes going wide when he sees Dana grabbing you by the hair and was running over to save you before the security guard beat him to it.

You're sobbing and shaking with leftover fury and frustration, your lip trembling, your hair and dress a little disheveled and a lightly sore scalp from where Dana grabbed you but otherwise unscathed. The security guard sets you down on an empty couch in the common area. Felicia bolts over to you, she can't help but smile a little with satisfaction but it turns to worry and comfort at the sight of your tears.

"Dude....you got her good...oh my God don't cry, don't cry..." She pulls you into a hug, rocking you. Miguel sits down next to you.

"Hey....hey....what happened? You okay? She put her hands on you? Are you hurt? What can I do, what's the matter?" He shoots out the questions a mile a minute, Felicia pulling away for a moment to wipe your tears. Miguel gently pulls up the straps of your swimsuit top you're wearing under your kimono style dress that threatened to fall down and expose yourself. Both of them diligently working to fix you up.

"She needs tissues, Miguel!" Felicia orders. "Get her some ice too."

Miguel nods. "Don't let her get up okay? You two stay right there!"

"I h-hate her...I hate her..." You sputter and lament. "How can someone be so rude and evil...m'm-s-soo sick of t-this...." You sob and tremble, holding your knees in a ball.

"She's gone." Felicia whispers.

"Yeah, she's gone. You don't have to worry about her anymore, sweetie. " Miguel soothes.

"Dude, you got her so good too, oh my God." Felicia mutters to you in a low voice, the sound of Dana whining and screaming at the security guards and crew coming from the other side of the room. "I didn't even know you could fight like that. She deserved that after pushing you that hard, I didn't know she'd go that far..."

"Yeah." Miguel agrees, letting out a soft chuckle. "You defended yourself, there's no need to be upset. She's gone, she's throwing a fit so I think they're gonna take her to the hospital just to get her checked out..." Miguel sits up, craning his neck to try and get a glimpse of what's happening, then grabs tissues off the counter, handing them to Felicia. "I'll be back with the ice."

Felicia nods and starts gently dabbing your eyes as you blow your nose. Ben comes up and sits next to you and Felicia. "You okay there, cookie?" He asks you softly.

"She's okay, just shaken up." Felicia answers while you continue to take shallow breaths.

"M'....M'okay...." You breath out slowly.

"Ben get her some water. Miguel's gone to get her ice."

"I'm on it." Ben leaves, on his way to fetch you water.

"Thanks, bestie...I-I'm scared they're gonna send me home..." You mutter through your tear soaked voice.

"Hey, that's what friends are for," Felicia whispers, stroking your arm and pulling you into a hug. "Dude, fuck Dana...don't worry about her dude, you did nothing wrong. She started it by insulting you and spitting in your face. I saw the whole thing and I can vouch for you. I'm sure Miguel and Ben will too."

Miguel and Ben arrive. Ben hands you a glass of ice water with a curly straw and some freshly squeezed lemon in it. Miguel has an ice pack and your favorite blanket that he wraps around your shoulders, putting his arms around you while Felicia holds your hand.

Peter B. comes walking up to your group, his shirt unbuttoned, hair frazzled, and face disheveled from all the action. Miguel hisses and Ben jumps up, putting his hands on Peter's chest.

"Not now, man." Ben says quietly.

"I just wanna make sure she's okay. I just wanna make sure she's okay!" Peter protests, his face turning red again.

"Peter...fuck off!" You yell over them.

Peter freezes, looking at you sadly. "Baby, I..."

"Peter, beat it!" Felicia yells. "You've embarrassed her for the last time. You tripped and your face landed into some other girl's cunt tonight. You're done!!"

"I wanna hear it from her." Peter says firmly, a lump in his throat.

"Just leave me alone, Peter..." You softly whimper out. "I'm tired, and I'm done..you lied to me, you made me look fucking stupid, and I need space right now."

Peter goes to protest again but Ben shakes his head, "Bro...come on, man. Leave it alone."

Peter shoots a glare at Miguel, then gives you one more sad look before he sulks off, headed towards his room with a loud sigh of defeat.

You hear the ambulance sirens and get a glimpse of Dana being escorted by two security guards, her slightly limping. Her short hair was tousled with a giant puffy bottom lip that's turning red and slightly purple with a bruise, several tissues stuffed up her nostril for her bloody nose. You can't hear what she's saying but it sounds like she's running your name through the mud some more and berating the EMTs as they help her onto a stretcher.

Felicia squeezes your hand while she sits cuddled up against Ben. You rest your head against Miguel's chest as all of you sit on the couch together and stare off, the future of your paradise experience uncertain at this point after such a dramatic night.

The host, Jason Donner, speaks in a voiceover: "stay tuned for another drama-packed episode of Singles in Paradise!”

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

Tags🖤: @miguelhugger2099 @kodo1221 @mimiemie @laysmt @cheerrioeoz , @spicydonut25 @thisistotesnotspam-heart , @famouscattale @thekidscallmebosss , @librababe99 @ce3stvu , @irishbl0ss0mz @nommingonfood @mauvecherie-writes , @royale-skeleton-key , @thesilenthill , @dimitri-needs-therapy , @a-lil-whore @aisyakirmann @sylveon-of-heart , @hobiebrowns-wife @weirdothatwritess , @reader-1290 , @thesmutconnoisseur , @koyukilove

@hardlystrictlystarwars , @lareinamorgan , @serpentineaerodynamics

@envyjmoney , @clementines-valt , @the-pan-liquid

@stellasloth @migueloharasoulmate , @cynwing

@ddreabea , @what-the-jams @loaves4me , @p1nkliquor , @mcmiracles , @tojishugetiddies , @1-800-choke-that-ho @idfciluvsmut

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel atsv #miguel x reader #miguel ohara #spotify #miguel o'hara angst #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel ohara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fanfiction #Spotify

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leeknow-thoughts · 4 months

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piss kink fic w chan.....!!!!! 😍😍😍😍

oh absolutely.

DRINK UP

TW(s) : piss duh, petnames, daddy kink bc it's Chan duh, piss drinking (idk what to call that), this is so short, all porn no plot, kinda clit play, mentions of blood

a/n : sorry I have been inactive asf as of lately coming back from the grave to finally post this!

"Aww kitty cat, I know tch tch tch I know," Chan coos as he holds the vibrator to your clit.

You squirm, the pleasure becomes too much. "Daddy please, please need it-" you whimper.

You bite your lip so hard you feel blood in your mouth. "I know I know, precious girl," he uses that condescending voice when he talks to you, "feels too good doesn't it yeah?"

You nod, your vision going white as you feel the knot in your stomach break, cumming before you can stop yourself. "Atta girl, c'mere daddy has a treat for you kitty cat," Chris smiles watching you writhe on the bed.

He pushes his thumb into your mouth, you suck on it tenderly. "Your gonna drink all of daddy's piss, open your mouth for me c'mon," he coos.

You keep your mouth open as Chan takes his fat cock out of his boxers. Slipping his tip past your lips, "drink up."

His head falls back and you taste him in your mouth. You had never drank his pee before, you thought it would be gross, but here you are chugging it like it's the nectar of the gods.

"There you go, fuck such a good fucking girl for me," he moans.

#bun.writes #bunwritesskz #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz #stray kids x you #skz x reader #stray kids #bang chan skz #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan #christopher bang #skz hard hours #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids hard hours #bun'sdearest: daebin

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sillysadduck · 6 days

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I never wanted it to get to this point, but I don't have a choice. I finally made a paypal and I'm trying to set up a ko-fi.

Please read to the bottom and reblog, for the first time I seriously need your help, I mean it.

Hi again, context for my desperate behavior:

For those who know me from my dhmis or fnaf fanart, you know I have been around for years, and I was always happy to bring you free requests. I have never asked for money, it didn't feel right for me even when you were willing to donate to help me escape my living situation, but I am eternally thankful with those who offered ♡ having said this, you know I would never ask unless I absolutely HAVE to.

I'm studying -and pretty much living- with the money of a scholarship, but with the costs of food and books I cannot afford to live. I'm not being dramatic, I have spent more than one day without eating in the last few weeks.

I'm off my meds because I cannot afford them either.

I can't work because I'm the only one who takes care of my disabled sister at home, my mom isn't strong enough to pick her up and change her on her own anymore even if she tries. The days when I'm not home, I'm at college all day trying to survive while my elderly aunt helps take care of my sister.

Recently, what made me hit rock bottom was that my cat, Chimu, started peeing blood. My parents refused to help me pay for his vet bills, even when they're the ones who adopted him. He cries in pain everyday, he's a cat from the streets with a mental disability and I'm the only one who cares about him. The cat food for cats with urinary issues is $70, it may not seem like a lot but I'm surviving with $20 a month (in my country's currency, minimum wage is around $200) and I didn't care about suffering on my own but I won't drag him down with me.

Plus, this month, the government website has been glitching and I didn't receive the money I had been receiving so far. I need your help, if you can't buy then please reblog. I'm currently trying to set up a ko-fi too. I need you more than ever, even if I'm not as active as I used to be, as you can see now there is good reason for my absence.

TLDR: I can't afford to eat, study, or save my family cat, and my parents are pretending I don't exist. Please help me.

Thank you if you read this far <3

#commissions open #emergency commissions #art #digital art #ill tag my fandoms bc I honestly dont know what to tag.#fnaf #dhmis #undertale #art commisions #comisiones abiertas #arte digital #my art

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apollodeath · 10 months

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MORE KÖNIG HEADCANNONS!

I loved writing them last time so I thought I’d drop some more!

Here’s my other hc’s

MDNI

NSFW and SFW mixed together

Warnings: mentions of slapping, rough, blood and, of course sexual topics.

König loves hearing you say his name, but even more when you attempt to say German words

You usually ask “how do you say _” and he’ll repeat it until you get it.

König gets embarrassed if someone makes fun of his accent when he speaks English

He has favorite English words “cat” is one lol

If you ever accidentally get a cut on your finger and it begins to bleed he will lick the blood off and give your cut a kiss

If you raise an attitude and say something out of line expect a slightly harsh slap from him. He doesn’t do it to hurt you but for you to understand what you’re doing is being bratty plus he knows it makes you hot and bothered.

König loves Halloween purely to start scaring you randomly throughout the day

Once hid in the bathtub for 20 minutes to scare you while you peed but, he didn’t realize you didn’t have to pee for awhile lol

When you are on top, riding him he loves having a pillow under his head to help him stay up and watch you fully submerge his thick length deep in you over and over again.

He loves the sound of the lube slapping sound while the both of your hips collide together

Sometimes when he’s close to cumming he loves edging himself in you by staying completely still and letting himself pulse in you, he usually has his back curled forward holding your hips so tight holding on to the burning release in his core. Just to wait enough to start thrusting fully again and repeating the process as long as he wants

When he is ready for the release he’s a moaning mess slurring every word he’s trying to get out and starts oozing the first stream of seed his eyes roll back and his mouth gapes open quite literally drooling as his toes curl and hips lock stuck to yours and his cock unloads massive amounts.

Notes: got carried away on that one my bad

He doesn’t mind sitting in silence all day, non-verbal days or moments are completely fine for him

When you aren’t tired he’ll always suggest three things: warm milk, orgasming or a warm shower before bed (which will probably lead to the second thing)

He loves offering you his food even if you have your own

If you’re out in public he doesn’t enjoy a lot of pda but he enjoys hand holding soft touch of his leg under the table or in the car

If he can manage to squish himself into your clothes he’ll accidentally put it on (even if it’s a crop top)

He has a preference on lube so he’ll go to the store himself and read every bottle/tube until he finds a perfect one

Once he went into a sex toy shop and read the back of a “heated and tingly” one and his skin crawled thinking ‘who would want it to be hotter’

Left the shop with a bag. Bag contents: dildo, lube, condoms, flavored condoms, silk rope and a lolli pop shaped like a penis (a gift for you)

He is a soup girly

König will break something accidentally in a glass shop (he’ll buy it after)

He loves when you ask before pulling off his mask “May I take off your mask, my love?” He’ll think if he’s okay with that before answering “I’d like to keep it on just for a little longer” he blushes “of course, köni~”

When he’s away on deployment he lays in his bed and misses your arms around him

He always awaits the moment of getting to hear your voice over the phone when he’s away

If randomly he begins to think of your body while trying to sleep he’ll surely get hard and try ignoring it at first but if it persist he’ll make his way out of the sleeping quarters to the bathroom, bringing his Polaroid of you with him.

Once he was sitting on the lid of the toilet in a stall late at night. His legs outstretched, one hand on his balls and base holding his cock up while the other stroked fast enough to hear the precum slap in his hand with every stroke, he let himself moan your pet names and heavy breathing knowing everyone was asleep down the halls and couldn’t hear him

He once was caught and boy did the others hold it over his head. Some teasing jokes and Soap even mimicking his moans which lead to the group laughing.

It stopped when soap walked in and saw König’s cock while getting out of the shower

Ghost and König def don’t like each other. I feel like they get competitive

That’s it for now! I got super carried away on some but I hope y’all like them💗

#konig call of duty #konig mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig modern warfare #konig mwii #konig smut #könig call of duty #könig cod #könig smut

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candycandy00 · 1 year

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This is the Welcome Post and the Fanfic Masterlist!

Requests for full fanfics are closed indefinitely! Choose Your Own Price Commissions are currently open! See info about commissioning me here.

Requests for Headcanons are currently open!

Headcanons are just my opinions on things, like how I think the characters would react to certain things or how they would behave in certain situations. Examples: “How would Shigaraki react to his girlfriend naming her pet cat after him?” Or “How would the JJK guys behave if you dragged them to a Denny’s at 3am?”

About Me

I’m currently 39 😱 I’m obsessed with the color pink and I’m a country girl (born, raised, and currently live in the Appalachian mountains). I speak with a thick southern accent. I collect figures. I’m a huge nerd in every way. I love comic books (both manga and American comics), video games (mostly JRPG’s, Otome/Dating Sims, and Survival Horror), Star Wars, Kaiju/Tokusatsu, and all things Horror. I read a lot, mostly fantasy and horror. I grew up in a conservative religious household and I’m still trying to unlearn a lot of bullshit, so please bear with me.

I write for two fandoms currently: Boku no Hero Academia and Jujutsu Kaisen. I might write for others at some point and I’ve written tons for other fandoms over the years. I also write original fiction. I would deeply appreciate any support (reblogs/comments/likes) for my original stuff because that’s where my true passion lies. I’m somewhat slow with posting updates to my fics but I promise I’m trying. I tag my x Reader fics with the x reader tag so that people who hate x reader can filter it out easily. I haven’t always done this so I’m in the process of going back and properly tagging everything.

I mostly post my writings here. It’s mostly fanfiction but there are some headcanons and opinionated rants here and there. I’m trying to go back and tag them all. You can look for the tags “Jjk headcanons” and “bnha headcanons” (that’s what I’ll be tagging them). Otherwise I mostly just reblog fanart and gif sets. I reblog fanfiction over on @candycandyreblogs. Consider it a curated library of excellent stories. Feel free to follow it! Every fanfic on there is amazing!

I’m always up for making friends! So feel free to message me and chat!

Boku no Hero Academia:

Shigaraki, Dabi, Mr. Compress, Twice, Spinner, Hawks.

Jujutsu Kaisen:

Sukuna, Gojo, Geto, Toji, Nanami, Choso.

No minors, no animals, no scat/pee/vomit.

I’m fine with dark content/rape/horror/gore/etc. I can do NSFW or SFW. Please specify if it’s not clear in your request.

Please specify the gender of the Reader (any gender is fine, no gender is fine).

That’s it! Anon is always on!

Feel free to ask me questions, give me suggestions, or just chat!

Headers by @kuroov

Just a list of the fics I've written so far so you can easily find what you'd like to read! If I've missed a fic or have a bad link or anything, please let me know!

All fics are arranged newest to oldest! All fics are 18+ and contain smut, as well as have Fem Readers, unless stated otherwise!

Shigaraki x Reader

Shower Duty (Prison AU, Noncon/Dubcon)

Office Life (Gender Neutral Reader, Dub Con, Violent Fantasies)

The Scarecrow Walks at Night (Halloween fic, Shig as a Scarecrow)

Tentacle Tomura (Tentacles, Anal)

The Pirate and the Mermaid (AU) (Three Parts!)

Too Intense For you? (BDSM)

Reader Uses Mind Control Quirk on Shig

Dark Carnival Chapter 1 (Whips, Blood, Death)

Playing a Fighting Game - Loser has to Strip

Shy Reader Giving Shig a Christmas Present

Sitting on Shig's Lap While he Plays Games

Exhibitionism

Shig Corrupts Shy Hero's Sidekick Reader

Size Kink - Shig With Short Reader

Mommy Kink

Breath Play/Choking

Break Time (Reader is a Waitress with a Crush on Shig)

Dabi x Reader

Waxwork (Dabi as a Vampire + Werewolf)

The Visitors (Post Ending, Touya in Prison) NO SMUT

Zombie Apocalypse AU (Four Parts!)

Dabi Under a Lust Quirk

Dabi with Innocent Nun Reader

Piercing/Torture

Teasing that Leads to Rape/Non-Con

Trending Topics (Dabi Sees Reader's Pervy Tweets About Him)

Lazy Sex

Breeding Kink

Mr. Compress X Reader

The Experiment (Horror, Gore, Halloween Fic, Compress as a mad scientist)

Dark Carnival Chapter 2 (Blood, Gore, Death)

Mr. Compress x Reader With Bunny Quirk

Twice x Reader

Dark Carnival Chapter 3 (Horror, Blood, Gender Neutral Reader) (Three Parts!)

Non-X Reader

League of Villains Heroes (Set after the end of the manga, the League has split up and are in therapy, but a new threat turns them into reluctant heroes.) Multi-Chapter. NO SMUT. (In Progress!)

Unmerry Christmases (Platonic ShigaDabi) NO SMUT

AFO x All Might Aladdin AU Master/Slave Dub-Con

Sukuna X Reader

Father Sukuna’s Discipline (AU, Sukuna as a priest, spanking, rough sex, reader as a nun)

The Doll House (AU, BDSM, Erotic Torture, Needles, Clamps, etc.) (Four Parts!)

Breaking You (Rape/Noncon, Blood, Torture, Humiliation, Double Penetration)

Serve Me, Save Me (Reader is a Rape Victim who joins Sukuna’s Harem after he inadvertently saves her) Part 1 | Part 2

The Offering (Dark, Dubcon, Blood, Rough) Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Gojo x Reader

The Doll House (AU, Dubcon, Chubby Reader, Pet Play, Anal, Bullying) (Four Parts!)

In The Library (College AU, Gojo and Geto bully Reader, Rape, Dark)

Promotion (Power Dynamics, Reader wants Gojo to promote her to Grade 1)

Christmas Past (Fluff, Drabble, Gojo x Geto in flashback) NO SMUT

Pick Me Up (Gojo x Reader x Geto, Halloween fic, Serial Killer AU) (Five Parts!)

Human (Rape, Torture, Blood, Dark, Reader is a cursed spirit) (Two Parts!)

Little Miss Nobody (Plot, Rough Sex, Gojo is an asshole) Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Geto x Reader

In The Library (College AU, Gojo and Geto bully Reader, Rape, Dark)

The Doll House (Dubcon, Humiliation, Public Nudity, Dom/Sub Dynamics, AU) (Four Parts!)

Pick Me Up (Gojo x Reader x Geto, Halloween fic, Serial Killer AU) (Five Parts!)

Toji x Reader

Forest Guide (Toji as a Werewolf, Rape, Breeding)

His Favorite Target (Toji is hired to kill you)

The Doll House (AU, Size Difference, Age Difference, Cock Drunkenness, Use of Aphrodisiacs) (Four Parts!)

Nanami x Reader

The Doll House (AU, Daddy Kink, Spanking, Hair Pulling, Reader is afraid of men.) (Four Parts!)

Choso x Reader

The Doll House (AU, Dom!Reader, Sub Choso, Teasing, Collars, Pegging) (Four Parts!)

Multi-Character

JJK Men as Pervy Mall Santas

Original X Reader

Roses in the Sky (Alien x Reader, Sci-Fi, Novel Length, Romance) (In Progress!)

#shigaraki x reader #dabi x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #Toji x reader #bnha x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #league of villains x reader

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fox-daddy · 12 days

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The arcana as stolen memes again, again

Julian; the desire to disappear vs the desire to be held and wanted

~~~

Mc: what is the most complicated way to cook an egg?

Nadia without missing a beat: Atmospheric re-entry

Mc holding an egg:...well shit

~~~

Muriel: What if instead of stepping out of my comfort zone I step into an even comfier zone?

~~~

Lucio: huge fan of when my speech patterns rub off on people enjoy when that happens

Lucio: NEVERMIND, my mum just said skill issue to me

~~~

Mc: I wish I had the ability

Muriel:...to do what?

Mc:yeah

Muriel:...

Mc:...

~~~

Asra: I think we should have glowstick juice injected in our bones when we're born so if we break em there's a fun little surprise

Mc: whats the surpise?

Julian cutting in: blood poisoning

~~~

Lucio: if you step on a person's foot they open their mouths, just like trash cans.

Mc: trying not to encourage him by laughing*

~~~

Mc: one time Asra put a glass of milk on the table in front of me and I meant to ask them 'who's milk is this?' because I wasn't sure if it was for me or if they were putting it down on the table to go grab something else and I just stared down at the milk and said 'who's this?' and they turned around and without missing a beat said 'that's your new friend mr.milk' then we stared at each other for a solid twenty seconds before they asked if I was high.

~~~///~~~

(modern day arcana *not the au faking it*)

Nadia: the worst part about parallel parking is the witnesses

Mc: you know their are no witnesses if you're bad enough at parallel parking

~~~

Mc; those moments when straight people assume you're one of them and you feel like a gay secret agent

Nadia: lebionage

Portia:bi spy

Julian: it's an ace case

Asra: secret gaygent

~~~

Nadia: 'kobe' is for accuracy and precision while 'yeet' is for power and distance

Mc: I can turn this into dnd stats

Nadia:???

Mc:Kobe is dexterity, yeet is strength, oof is constitution, tea is intelligence, yolo is wisdom, and wig is charisma

~~~

Mc; You want to know one of my favorite facts? If you leave a hamster wheel out in the forest wild mice will come and run on it. That is one of my favourite facts.

Muriel:... bobcats and lynx's will sit in cardboard boxes abandoned in the forest. I asked Asra about it and they said 'cat's' while shrugging.

~~~

Mc; George Washington died in 1799, 15 years before the first dinosaur was classified. So therefore, Gorge Washington never knew about dinosaurs

Portia: Why does this make me so sad?

~~~

Nadia: if you add two pounds of sugar to literally one ton of concrete it will ruin the concrete and make it unable to set properly. Which is good to know if you want to resist something being built, French anarchists used this to resist prison construction in the 80's.

Portia: I'm just going to go ahead and take a note about this for purely educational purposes.

~~~

Julian: you got to be dunkin my doughnuts

Asra: you gotta be hutting my pizza

Portia: you gotta be mackin my donalds

Nadia: you're really innin my outs here, buddy. You're fivein my guys.

Lucio: ya whiting my castle. Ya darying my queen. Ya steaking my shake.

Mc: but are you belling my taco?

~~~///~~~

(ones with my oc's because why not)

Hunter: stuck in an elevator because Portia decided to jump?

Everyone minus Muriel and Julian: fucken mint

Hunter: Julian's had three panic attacks in ten minutes?