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lendeah · 3 months

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Three times you take care of Astarion and one time he takes care of you

[ao3 link]

You were a caring person. That much was clear from the first moment you let him drink off you, almost to death. It was also clear when you tried to cool Karlach down with a rainy spell so you could hug her. Or give Gale every piece of magic item in your inventory so he could eat it. You enjoyed taking care of people.

However, taking care of Astarion wasn't an easy task. As much as you wanted to be there for him and help him, the vampire was a difficult person to handle. He was like a wild animal, constantly on edge and ready to lash out. It soon became clear that Astarion wasn't used to being on the receiving end of caring. Wasn't used for someone to care at all.

So you went little by little, as to not startle him. You started by simply spending time with him. Patiently listening to his endless complaints and blatant flirting, offering a sympathetic ear and a playful response, respectively. It was clear that Astarion enjoyed your company, even if he didn't always show it. He would often make snarky comments or sarcastic remarks, but you could tell that deep down, he appreciated having someone around.

Of course, you let him drain you dry every night, which honestly left you sick and tired through the day, but it was worth the glint in his eyes and the way his cheeks seemed to light up as if he was alive again.

You couldn't help but notice; he always had a book in his hands. Whether you were at camp or out on an expedition, he was constantly reading. So you began collecting every book you stumbled upon and leaving them on his bedroll for him to find when he returned to his tent. No matter the genre- whether it was a history book, poetry or even erotica- you always gifted them to him.

The first times, he would search around the camp in confusion, wondering who had left them there for him. But after the fifth or sixth book, the vampire's expression would light up with a secretive smile as he eagerly flipped through the pages. It warmed your heart to see him so engrossed in a story, his curiosity evident in his shining eyes. However, you kept your identity hidden: if he knew it was you leaving the books, he might become wary again and you didn't want to risk it after coming this far. This went on for a few weeks until one day, as you were leaving another book, a voice called out from behind you.

"Well, hello there. I suppose the game is up."

You froze, the book still in your hands, as you turned around to see Astarion standing with a sly smile on his face.

"I... erm, I just found these books lying around and thought they might be yours," you said lamely.

He smirked, eyes narrowing as if he saw right through your excuses. "Funny, I don't recall owning any of these books you are holding."

You blushed, avoiding his gaze. "Oh...I must have made a mistake then."

But Astarion just shook his head, walking closer to you until he was within arm's reach. "You think I don't know what you're doing? You haven't exactly been subtle, sweetheart."

You felt your face heat up even more, the blush reaching your ears.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you said, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably as your voice came out a little squeaky.

Astarion chuckled. "Well, if I didn't know any better, I might suspect that you were trying to seduce me. If you wanted to come into my tent, all you had to do was ask, my dear."

"I-It... It's not like that!" you sputtered out, trying to avoid eye contact with him. "I just thought... you like reading."

"Oh, I do," Astarion said in a low voice. "Among other things."

You swallowed hard as your mind raced. Had he just... Was he implying what you thought he was implying?

"I-I should really get going," you said quickly, turning away from him and almost tripping over your own feet.

But before you could run off, Astarion's hand closed around your wrist, pulling you back towards him. "Wait," he said, his eyes locked onto yours. His expression was a bit serious, a stark contrast to the playful persona he usually wore. "Thanks for the effort. It's almost sweet, doing all this for me."

The two of you stood there for a moment longer before Astarion spoke up again.

"Perhaps we could have a little fun and read them together sometime?" he suggested with a raised eyebrow.

You smiled shyly at him, feeling butterflies in your stomach at his offer.

"I... I would love that," you said, trying to keep the excitement out of your voice.

Astarion's smile widened and he released your wrist. "Wonderful. I look forward to it, my dear. And I do hope the next book is a good one."

You walked away from his tent, trying to convince yourself that the thumping of your heart was simply due to your love for taking care of others.

With each passing day, your meetings with Astarion in his tent became a familiar routine. You allowed him to feed on you, then spent time reading together from the books you had collected for him. It was also a chance for you to study him closely, searching for any other way to care for him. One night, as he read aloud to you, the soothing sound of his voice lulled you into a peaceful slumber, curled up on his bedroll next to him. The next morning, as sunlight flooded the tent, you woke up to find Astarion already awake, holding a book in his hands.

"Good morning," you said, rubbing the sleep off your eyes. "Sorry I fell asleep here."

Astarion raised an eyebrow at you. "No need to apologize. I must say, you look quite lovely when you're sleeping. Although you do not sound that lovely, but well, we can't all be perfect."

You rolled your eyes, then sat up stretching your limbs. As you glanced around the room, your eyes landed on the book in his hand - the one you two had been reading last night. It was almost finished now.

"Wait, you haven't slept?"

He let out a soft laugh.

"My dear, I am an elf. We do not sleep; we trance. And to answer your inquiry, no, I did not partake in that either. It's not something I typically find enjoyable."

You looked at Astarion with confusion and concern. "But... why? Don't you need to rest?"

He gave a casual shrug. "If I enter into a trance, the only memories accessible to me are my own life experiences. And let me tell you, those are not pleasant memories."

"But isn't there a way for you to... just rest? Without the memories, I mean?" You asked.

Astarion smirked, his eyes still fixed on the book in his hands. "Why bother learning how to sleep when I can trance instead?" he quipped "Trancing has always been my preferred method anyway."

You couldn't imagine what it was like, being forced to relive your trauma over and over again every night.

"I’m so sorry, Astarion," you whispered, your voice barely above a hush.

He waved his hand dismissively. "Oh well," he said, "It's all in the past now, isn't it? Just another part of who I am."

You nodded slowly but you couldn’t shrug off his words as easily as he could. You recalled the way he looked when he was trancing - peaceful and unguarded. It was hard to imagine that behind those serene features he was being haunted by his memories.

The day was a blur, as you struggled to maintain a cheerful facade and engage in small talk. However, Astarion's words continued to haunt you. As the evening progressed and you both followed your usual nightly routine, you made a decision to do something.

"Astarion." He turned to you, a curious look on his face. You took a deep breath, trying to gather your courage."I think we could try something different tonight. Do you trust me?"

Astarion looked at you as though surprised by the question, a hint of amusement twinkling in his eyes.

"Trust is a strong word, darling," he replied, a smirk forming on his lips. "But yes, I suppose I do trust you."

"Good," you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart.

You cleared your throat as you settled into the bedroll, signaling for him to join you. Astarion raised an eyebrow but followed your lead, settling into the bedroll beside you.

"Rest your head on my lap," you instructed softly

Astarion's eyebrows shot up once more, but then he shrugged and followed your instructions. He cautiously rested his head on your lap, surprising you with his compliance. Sensing the tension in his body, you refrained from touching him yet, and instead reached for your bag. He watched you curiously as you took out a small jar.

"What's that?" he asked, his eyes glinting with intrigue.

"It's a special blend of herbs and oils that I use to help me relax and sleep better," you explained, opening the tub and taking out a small dab of the mixture. "Can I touch you?"

He seemed to hesitate for a few seconds, before he answered, "Yes you may."

You rubbed the mixture between your fingers before gently massaging it onto his temples and forehead. You could feel him tense under your touch, probably not used to this kind of contact.

"Does it help?" he asked quietly, his eyes closed.

"It helps me," you replied honestly. "I'm not sure if it'll have the same effect on you, but I figured it's worth a try."

He nodded, a small smile forming on his lips. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," you replied, smiling back down at him. "Now just close your eyes and try to relax. Let your thoughts drift you away."

Astarion blinked, his long lashes fluttering against his pale skin. He looked at you with a mix of surprise and skepticism, clearly hesitant to follow your lead. But he didn't protest, didn't push your hands away. Instead, he nodded slightly, closing his eyes once more.

You watched him closely, noticing how the tension in his jaw gradually subsided and the creases on his forehead smoothed out little by little. You continued gently massaging his temples, the rhythmic movements soothing both of you.

The change in his demeanor prompted a fluttering sensation in your stomach that you hastily shrugged away, reminding yourself not to read too much into it.

Eventually, you started running your fingers through his hair and Astarion let out a contented hum, adjusting himself slightly in response. You could have sworn he was purring, and it seemed like he had fallen into a deep slumber.

By the end of the night, you were asleep with your hands still gently stroking his head.

From that moment, a subtle tension seemed to linger between the two of you. It was unspoken, but present every time you were alone together. Astarion would ask for your help to fall asleep each night, and without fail, he would drift off quickly and sleep soundly. You loved watching him relax under your touch, feeling his body go limp and his soft sleepy sounds. But more than that, you enjoyed drifting off with your fingers tangled in his soft curls, your heart feeling light and at ease in his presence.

However, the perils of your journey became worse as your party reached the Underdark. Your main concern became avoiding attacks from shadow monsters, leaving little room for any attention to whatever connection was building between you two.

One night, as you approached Astarion's tent, you noticed him sitting cross-legged in front of his small mirror. His brow was furrowed and his expression was one of deep contemplation. You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should disturb him or not.

"Looking at something?" he suddenly asked.

You jumped slightly at the sound of his voice, not expecting him to break the silence.

"How did you see me?"

"The only benefit to a mirror when you have my condition. It doesn't quite make up for the lack of a reflection, mind you."

And then it clicked. He couldn't see his own reflection. Why hadn't it occurred to you before?

"Do you miss it? Your own face, I mean."

Of course he did, what a stupid question.

"Preening in the Looking Glass? Petty vanity?" Astarion scoffed, "Of course I miss it."

Astarion's tone was bitter, his gaze fixed on his reflection-less face in the mirror. You sat down next to him, mirroring his position.

"I've never even seen this face not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red"

So he hadn't seen his face in over 200 years. You couldn't imagine what that must feel like. To not have seen your own face in over two centuries. To be unable to remember how it even looked like.

After your conversation, ideas began to circulate in your mind. You considered asking Gale to use his magic to transform your appearance to match his, but that would only be temporary. You wanted something more permanent that would allow him to admire his own face whenever he pleased. The thought of enchanting his mirror so that it would reflect his image crossed your mind. Surely there had to be a spell for that. However, time was limited and you were unsure how much you could dedicate to the task anyway. Then, an answer presented itself at the Last Light Inn when you encountered an artist on your way.

"How long would it take for you to paint a portrait?"

"Like, a month?"

"I will pay you triple if you finish it in a week."

Although the artist was hesitant, the promise of triple payment was too tempting for him to turn down. And so, a week later, you returned to Astarion's tent with a canvas in hand. He arched an eyebrow in question.

"What is this?" Astarion asked, gesturing towards your offering. "Another gift? At this rate, my tent will be overflowing with your generosity."

You grinned and gently set the canvas on the floor in front of him. A delicate, sheer fabric covered its surface.

"This is a special one, though."

His eyes glossed over with a mixture of curiosity and amusement as he leaned forward to unwrap it. An expectant silence filled the tent, the only sound being the rustle of fabric as he carefully lifted the veil. The sight that greeted his gaze left him momentarily speechless - an exquisitely painted portrait of a man, elegantly handsome with sharp, angular features and piercing red eyes.

"What is this?" Astarion asked with a chuckle, clearly admiring the artwork."You've given me a portrait of a handsome stranger? How thoughtful, dear. But the quality could be better, honestly."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you whispered, "That's you," holding your breath for his reaction.

There was a tense moment of silence as Astarion stared at the portrait. You couldn't quite read his expression, and your heart started to race with anxiety. Had you made a mistake? Was he displeased with the gift? Maybe you were intruding too much in his personal life...

After what felt like an eternity, Astarion finally spoke. "This is... me?" His voice was barely above a whisper, almost disbelieving.

You nodded, tears welling in your eyes.

"Yes. I wanted you to have something that would allow you to see yourself again, so I asked an artist at the Last Light Inn to paint you."

His fingers traced over the painting, brushing lightly over the likeness of his own face, his own eyes - red now - but still his. He took a step back as if he'd been hit, staggering slightly. There was a moment where he just stood there, staring at the man in the portrait - at himself.

"Is this... is this how I look now?" He asks, voice barely audible.

You swallowed hard and nodded, "Yes."

"I..." he started, then stopped. Shaking his head, he turned towards you with a conflicted look in his red eyes. "I... don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," you told him reassuringly, reaching out to squeeze his hand.

He looked at you for a long moment before nodding and squeezing your hand back. A tear trickled down his cheek and he quickly wiped it away, but not before you saw it glistening in the dim light.

"Thank you," he said finally. It's quiet, almost lost in the silence of the tent, but the sincerity in his voice is unmistakable. You smiled at him, feeling a wave of relief and happiness wash over you.

"You're welcome," you whispered softly.

Astarion's crimson eyes shimmered with tears as he gazed at the painting, struggling to maintain his composure. You gave him a reassuring smile before turning around to give him some space to process his thoughts and feelings. But just as you were about to leave, he reached out and took hold of your hand, stopping you.

"Don't go" he said solemnly. "Please don't go... I'd like to... I want..." slowly, he stepped closer to you and wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug.

You were taken aback for a moment but then quickly melted into his embrace. After a moment of silence, the vampire spoke softly, his voice raspy.

"I don't know... how to repay you, I..." he murmured into your hair.

"You don't have to," you whispered back, feeling overwhelmed by his sudden display of emotion.

After what felt like an eternity, Astarion finally pulled away slightly so that he could look into your eyes. His eyes were moist with tears, but they also held a glimmer of hope, happiness. You couldn't help but smile back at him, feeling a wave of warmth spread throughout your body from the simple touch. And in that moment, you realized just how deeply you had fallen for this man. It wasn't just a matter of caring anymore; you were deeply and irrevocably in love with him.

And you would tell him, you decided. You would let him know that he didn't owe you anything because you had acted out of love. Your heart pounded in your chest, adrenaline rushing through your veins. His eyes were still on yours, searching, questioning.

"Astarion...," you started, your voice soft and filled with emotion, "I need to tell you... I..."

However, just as you were about to spill your heart, the sound of someone calling for you pierced through the quiet atmosphere of the tent. With a sigh, you reluctantly untangled yourself from Astarion's arms.

"I'm afraid that's my cue."

He gave a silent nod, his eyes reflecting a mix of conflicting emotions.

"Sure, sure. Wouldn't want to interrupt your exciting duties as our esteemed leader."

You rolled your eyes with a small smile and got out of the tent. However, there was a feeling of disappointed and regret for not being able to express your true feelings to him. You made a mental note to tell him later when you had the chance.

But that night, Astarion didn't come to his bedroll. Nor the next one. Or the one following. You sensed he was putting some distance between you as if something had changed. He continued with his blatant flirting and sly remarks, of course. They just seemed... mechanical. Every time you tried to talk about your feelings, he would deflect or change the subject. Days turned into weeks and still nothing changed between you two. Astarion remained distant and aloof while you struggled with your own emotions, feeling confused and rejected.

One morning, you woke up with a heavy weight on your chest. You initially dismissed it as the usual feeling of sadness that had been lingering for a week now. But after a whole day of choking on your own breath and dizziness, mixed with a deep pounding in your head, you knew this wasn’t the case. Despite your condition, you pushed through the day, determined not to be seen as weak or unreliable by your group.

However, as time passed, it became increasingly difficult to hide your worsening state from everyone else. Your coughing spells were becoming more frequent, and your body was weakening rapidly. You could sense Astarion's worried stare on you from time to time, but he never approached you to inquire about your condition.

That all changed one morning when you couldn't even muster the strength to get out of bed. Your entire body was in pain and your fever was soaring. You heard footsteps approaching your bedrolls and prepared yourself for one of your companions coming to check on you (or more likely, tell you off). However, it was Astarion's smirking face that came into view.

"Well, well, well," he said with a teasing tone, "Seems like our fearless leader is not feeling so fearless anymore. Feeling lazy today, are we?"

You managed to roll your eyes, laying your arm back over them to shield from the morning sunlight peering in through a hole in the tent. "If by lazy you mean sick, then yes." Your voice was weak and raspier than usual. You coughed into your arm, the action causing your body to shake and shudder with discomfort.

"Hmm..." Astarion's voice was no longer teasing. "That doesn't sound good, darling."

His gaze was intense when he leaned down to press his hand against your forehead. You suppressed a shiver at the unexpected coolness it brought and tried to turn away from him. He didn't let you, pushing your hair away from your face with his other hand.

"You're burning up," he said, moving away from you but not before you saw the worry flash briefly in his eyes. He stood up abruptly and started pacing around your bedroll, "What can I do?" He asked more to himself than you.

"Nothing… I just need… rest..." You managed to respond before another coughing fit washed over you.

Astarion shook his head "I'm going to get Shadowheart and Halsin. They will know what to do."

Astarion hurried out of the tent, and surely a few minutes later he came back bringing your two companions. As Halsin handed you the potion and Shadowheart casted her healing spells, Astarion's hand brushed against yours briefly before pulling away.

"Thank you," you whispered weakly before passing out.

A few hours later, after resting and drinking more disgusting beverages than you could count, your fever had finally subsided a bit and your coughing fits were less frequent. Astarion stayed by your side through the whole ordeal, a comforting silhouette against the flickering candlelight. You closed your eyes and felt his cold hand soothingly stroke your forehead. The cool, comforting touch of his skin against yours was a relief from the fever heat radiating off your body.

"Feel any better?" Astarion asked, raising an eyebrow.

You attempted a smile, "Well, I'm not dead yet."

His lips twitched in response, a semblance of his usual smirk flickering across his handsome face. "Good. That would be inconvenient for my dietary needs."

Despite feeling weak and exhausted, you couldn't help but chuckle. It was a welcome distraction from the constant throbbing pain in your head and rattling chest.

He shifted awkwardly on his seat next to you, looking almost hesitant, before he started speaking again. "I... I was scared of losing you," he admitted, "And I have to confess something."

His usually confident and cocky demeanor was replaced with an almost childlike uncertainty.

"What is it?" You asked, your voice still weak but full of concern.

He sighed heavily before meeting your gaze.

"I had a nice simple plan; to manipulate your feelings so you'd never turn on me. And honestly, I thought it would be so easy, with you being so open, so eager to care for everyone..." He frowns, "But that is the thing. You are so kind, so thoughtful. No one's ever cared for me the way you have. And... I don't know how to handle it."

You reached out and grasped his hand, squeezing it gently. "I understand," you said softly. "It's not easy to let someone take care of you, but you don't have to push me away. You deserve love and happiness just like everyone else."

He nodded, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "I want to try," he said, determination flickering in his gaze. "I want to let you take care of me. And I want to take care of you, if you let me."

You smiled at him, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at his words.

"Of course. But first, I feel like I need to tell you something too." You took a deep breath before continuing, "I...I think I'm falling in love with you."

He looked at you puzzled, before letting out a loud laugh.

"Oh, my love. I already knew."

You were taken aback by his words. "What? You did?"

He rolled his eyes "Dear, you were hardly subtle about it. A portrait? Essential oils? Come on..."

You couldn't help but laugh at his response, feeling relieved and embarrassed all at once.

"I guess I'm not as sneaky as I thought," you said, shaking your head.

"But I'm not better." He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. "I've been falling for you since the moment you started leaving books on my bedroll."

With that, he closed the distance between you and pressed his lips against yours in a soft kiss. It was like a spark igniting, sending waves of electricity through your body. In that brief moment, all the emotions and tensions that had been building between you seemed to dissipate into thin air. The softness of his lips against yours was like a warm embrace, melting away any doubts or fears you may have had.

When you both pulled away, you rested your forehead against his and whispered, "You are going to get ill now."

He chuckled, "How fortunate I am already dead then."

Yet, in that moment, the gleam of his eyes made him seem more alive than you had ever seen him.

#astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 #bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3 tav #astarion x tav #baldurs gate 3 #astarion baldurs gate #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 prompts #astarion prompt

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chuuyascumsock · 9 months

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Hop On That Delulu Train Bestie || Minors DNI

Summary: HOOOLY S H I T. WHY. DO I DO THIS TO MYSELF? May you all find peace one day and cure your chronic horniness and delusions for men who would never want you irl <3 (Just like me fr). Anyways, this has been sitting and gathering cobwebs for weeks now, but I’ve decided to finish it in honor of chapter 109. Keep being delulu babe.

Tags: Dazai Osamu/Reader, Afab reader, Soft Dom Dazai, Fingering, Cunnilingus (Why Is That Such A Silly Word), Pussy IS Therapy Ig, He Just Seems Like An Avid Pussy Eater Idk, Would Definitely Use Your Thighs As Earmuffs, Sorry Y’all Don’t Get The Dick <3, I Was Too Lazy To Turn This Into A Full Smut.

The quiet hum of a low light lamp buzzes through your ears as your eyes flicker over the words to the page mindlessly. Reading was boring, watching television was boring, everything was boring.

You look over to the clock on your nightstand and let out a loud sigh. Nearly midnight and he had still yet to walk through the door as he usually does and smother you with sweet nothings and soft kisses. Your gaze falls back onto your book, the romance novel glaring back with the most dull descriptions and irritating plot. You shut the book, tossing it aside as you groan and knock your head back against the headboard of your bed.

Picking up your phone that sits on the nightstand dresser, you note the empty screen with no obnoxious texts from a certain brunette. It was almost worrying not seeing his name on your lock screen with a bunch of random emojis spammed next to it. Unlocking your phone, you re-read your last text sent to him nearly two hours ago— asking when he’d be home.

You start to wonder if he’s late because of another failed suicide attempt, but you quickly let the thought pass when you finally hear the front door open. It closes almost silently, muffled footsteps growing closer to your room. Your eyes focus on your door frame as Dazai finally steps in, his clothes disheveled and hair messy.

“ ‘Samu…” You murmur, slightly taken aback at his appearance.

His warm brown eyes travel over to the bed where you lay and a small smile curls onto his lips as he shuffles over and climbs onto your side of the bed, his face and upper body planting atop of your legs. He heavily inhales before exhaling, his hot breath blowing against the skin of your thighs. Subconsciously, one of your hands makes its way into his hair and begins to comb through his tangled tresses. His arms wrap around under your legs and lock them in place.

“My love…” He whispers back, his body relaxing on you as his feet hang over the bottom edge of the bed. He kicks his shoes off and allows them to thump to the ground.

“You didn’t answer my text, something happen?” Your brows scrunch together in concern.

Dazai sighs, pressing a light kiss against your thigh, “My phone was in my pocket during a shoot out and it was sadly destroyed.”

You wait for him to make a joke about wishing the bullet went through his skull instead, but it never comes to your surprise. “Oh… Well, I guess we can go look for a new one tomorrow then.” You finish unknotting his hair with your fingers as a moment of silence settles over the both of you before you add, “I’m guessing today was rough then?”

He hums in return, enjoying the way your hand runs through his hair affectionately. “Kunikida made me do my paperwork,” He pouts, his chin coming to rest on your thighs to look up at you.

You briefly laugh, patting his head before speaking with a mock-sympathetic tone, “Aw, my poor baby…”

He huffs, burying his face back into the plush of your thighs, “You don’t sound very genuine, that’s very mean you know… He’s always bullying me around.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, knowing full well that whatever shit Kunikida gives Dazai— he deserves every bit of it for his shenanigans. You’ve only met him a few times as well as Dazai’s other co-workers, but it was safe to say that if anyone was being bullied— it was that poor bastard, Kunikida. “Oh, really? And you don’t bother the hell out of him until he loses his shit?” You stop running your hand through his hair.

Dazai gasps, overdramatically, of course, “I would never! Kunikida is my respectable co-worker who I value and treat with the utmost—“

“Then why do I get calls from him begging me: “For the love of God, please come get your terrorizing bastard of a boyfriend, I can’t do it anymore.” Huh?”

Cue another gasp, “You’re talking to other men?! Kunikida no less!?”

You roll your eyes, “It was originally because he called me to come get you every time you decided to take a dip in the canal, now it’s a complaint hotline for you.” You poke an index finger against his forehead firmly.

“Owie…” He brings a hand up to rub his forehead, bottom lip jutting out.

“You’re a handful, you know that?” You grumble, staring down at him, “I deserve a medal for putting up with your shenanigans.”

“Isn’t my love enough?” Dazai whines, making puppy eyes at you.

A sigh leaves your lips, “Yeah… You’re lucky you’re cute.”

His lips quirk up back into a smile and he nuzzles his face back against your skin, placing small kisses to your thighs.You don’t really keep count, but it takes a few pecks until he gently nips at your thigh.

“Hey—“ You squeak, pushing at his head which causes him to chuckle, “You’re doing that on purpose.”

The kisses on your thighs grow sloppy before he moves his arms from around your legs to nudge them apart, his body fitting between your legs. He quickly maneuvers your thighs until the backs of your thighs press against the tops of his shoulders, arms wrapping around your legs to keep you against him. “What? I’m just getting comfortable, my love.” He plays off innocently, his cheek squishing against one of your thighs as he looks up at you.

Your brows furrow, heat crawling up your neck as you glare back suspiciously, “I know what you’re doing.”

“And is it a bad thing?” He chimes back, going back to kissing your thighs.

You shiver, feeling his wet lips leave a trail of saliva to air along the insides of your thighs, “You know I’m—“

“Sensitive? Yeah,” He trails off with a noise that sounds like a groan mixed with a hum.

At this point, you feel a tingle crawl up your spine and warmth spread across your face. A fuzziness begins to form in your mind as his lips grow closer to the edge of your sleep shorts.

He pauses when he gets to your shorts, his face pulling away and his hands coming to tug at the hem of your shorts. “Want these off,” He mumbles, pulling at them.

You’re quick to lift your hips and slip your shorts down your legs, Dazai’s hands fumbling along yours to throw them to the side. He buries his face between your legs once more to press his lips along your inner thighs until he reaches your underwear. His face pushes forward until his lips press against your cunt and nose nudges your clit through the thin fabric.

A strangled moan passes your lips as he meets your flustered gaze, and although you can’t see his mouth with it pressed against you— you can tell he’s smirking through his eyes.

He softly breathes in before placing a searing kiss against your clothed pussy, causing your thigh to slightly twitch in his grasp. “I missed this pretty little pussy— haven’t tasted it in days,” He groans before bringing a finger to pull your underwear aside and reveal your glossy folds to him. His gaze is greedy as he parts your folds with two fingers, mouth watering at your slicked insides.

“Don’t stare…”

“Awe, but I can’t help it— looks so good,” Dazai breathes out before leaning forward to slip his tongue flat between your spread folds, licking up to your clit to collect your taste on his tongue. “Tastes good too…” He groans, lapping his tongue through for a second time, “I could spend the whole day eating this pussy out until you’re quivering and begging for me to stop.”

A strung-out whimper escapes your throat as you watch him. Heat burns the nape of your neck, the dizzy feeling hitting you twice as hard as your eyelids lull.

Dazai is shameless in his sucking and slurping of lips and tongue against your dripping cunt as loudly as possible. He doesn’t hold back any of his needy groans and muffled whimpers as he tastes every drop of arousal you have to offer. He strains painfully against the confines of his pants as he holds back the urge to fold you in half and fuck you on his cock until your drooling cunt is filled to the brim with his cum.

His tongue delves into your tight hole, the warm muscle wriggling against your clenching walls before sliding out. After repeating the process a few times, he moves to suck at your throbbing clit, sighing at the way it pulses against his tongue. There’s a small ‘pop’ when he pulls away reluctantly to replace his mouth with his lengthy, thin fingers.

“I love the way you squirm under my touch— drives me crazy— you know that?” Dazai grins before sinking a finger into your wet hole.

An airy gasp leaves your lips as you try to move away from him in surprise, only to have his grip tighten around your thigh with his free hand. “ ‘Samu, I—“ Your fingers clench into the sheets on the bed.

“I know, my love— feel good?” He borderline coos, eyes glued to the way you sucked his finger back in with every pump. “I bet it does, your fingers just don’t reach like mine, do they?” He adds a second finger, his digits curving into your gummy sweet spot.

Your hips involuntarily buck in to meet his thrusting fingers, your pussy squelching around his lithe digits. He leers at the obscene image of your sweet cunt swallowing his fingers down to the knuckle with a lewd moan.

“Good girl, keep fucking yourself on my fingers like that,” He croons, leaning forward to suck at your puffy clit again.

Surges of pleasure rampage within you as you clamp your shaking thighs around his head, grinding your aching pussy against his mouth and fingers. “M’gonna come, s’too much—“ You whimper.

“Come on my tongue— wanna feel that pussy clench around my fingers,” Dazai muffles a groan against your sensitive clit which has you coming undone and vehemently shivering from the feeling of your climax.

Dazai slides his fingers out of your pulsing hole and presses his tongue against your drenched pussy as you ride out your orgasm— his tongue not missing a single drip of arousal. He sighs quietly when he’s finished and pulls away, your bare sex covered in merely his spit now.

With your chest heaving from the aftermath, your head weakly shifts to watch Dazai sit up on his knees and hover over. “ ‘S-Samu…”

“Shh, I know, my love,” He laughs softly— and you think he’s going to redress you before cuddling into you like he usually does, but he doesn’t. Instead, his hand trails down to unzip his pants, the tip of his pre-cum leaking cock peeking out of his waistband. He pushes both his pants and boxers to his mid thighs before stroking his hard cock.

“You’re tired, so why don’t you just lay back and let me fuck that pretty pussy to sleep, hm?”

#dazai osamu #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #dazai smut #bsd smut #devious dambi smuts

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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 1 year

Text

Danny slowly lowered himself down onto Luther's newest death machine thanks to his bat themed grappling hook. Making special care not to let his heart beat or his lungs take in breath lest Superman hear him and intervene, he used his intangibility to sink into the machine itself to steal its parts.

Yeah, so a full white outfit wasn't the best choice for stealth, but it was better than dressing like a traffic light. Plus the black gloves and boots made him feel nostalgic. It had been only seven months since the accident that took his life, so much has happened since then.

Biting his lip as he smiled as he began gathering up parts and wires with his intangibility and placing them into his bag. Lastly he grabbed the power source, which-surprise, surprise, is kryptonite.

After he grabbed what he wanted he quickly stuck a note on the maintenance panel of the machine for when someone opened it and discovered it now had a large hollow space, then simply sank down through the floor and flew to freedom.

Danny sighed once he was clear. Or, at least he thought he was.

"Young man." Crud. Danny turned around to see big blue floating behind him in all his red underwear glory. Great. "I believe you have something that doesn't belong to you." The Kryptonian said, looking pointedly at the large chunk of kryptonite Danny held under his arm.

Instead of an excuse, Danny got an idea. "Uh, hello? Recognize the mask?" He said, gesturing to his face.

Superman narrowed his eyes, staring at his face for a few very long seconds and just as Danny was about to cut his losses and book it out of there, a look of recognition graced the heros face. Sweet. "Thats Nightwings mask."

"Yeah. Just smaller."

Superman nodded, then asked, "Why aren't you wearing a bat symbol? I wouldn't have thought you were a thief if I knew you were working with Batman." Danny had to fight to keep his face neutral.

"I haven't decided what symbol I want on my suit yet." And that was true. Danny wasn't sure he wanted any symbol at all. The mark of the bat would mean that he belonged in the batclan, and Danny was a lone ghost. A wandering spirit if you will. He didn't belong anywhere.

Some small part of his mind that sounded suspiciously like Jazz said that might be one of the reasons he's been behaving so poorly lately, but he brushed it off. Superman just nodded sagely. Danny doubted he actually knew how Danny felt and was just nodding along to appear sympathetic. Adults lie, and they lie often. Danny kinda hated them for it.

"Well, I'm kinda on a deadline, so I should get going. Crime to fight, goth furry to annoy, you know how it is." Danny said, waving the arm that wasn't carrying the kryptonite around in the air before using it to readjust the bags strap on his shoulder.

"Alright," superdude smiled warmly, "Tell Batman I said hi." Danny grinned back at him as he jogged away, "Will do!"

That went better than expected. Thank you, Nightwing~! The boy thought to himself as he ran off into a secluded area and turned invisible and flying away.

Just imagining Supermans face if- no- when Batman finally breaks and tells the Justice League about the little menace thats been stealing all his and his sidekicks stuff for the last few weeks nearly sends Danny into hysterics.

Danny still has Robins sword mounted above the fireplace in his favorite safe house in Costa del Sol. Red Hoods "favorite" motorcycle was in its garage and Red Robins wrist computer and chest harness thing were mounded in a glass case next to the first thing he stole from them:

Batmans utility belt.

Sure, its a pain to remove all the tracking stuff from them, but man is he proud of those accomplishments.

Still. Its better to leave Metropolis after he got caught by Superman. Its only a mater of time before someone finds out about the old switcheroo he pulled at the last museum robbery and that combined with the bodies of those creepy rich guys he had killed (human trafficer buyers) well, surely Batman has noticed he had been gone for a while and would pick up on the matching M.O. in Metropolis.

Time to bounce.

#dpxdc #fanfiction prompts #prompts #dp x dc #danny phantom #danny fenton #batman #superman #danny being a little gremlin #villian danny #evil danny #he killed vlad but vlad had something set up to out danny if he ever died so danno had to run into a new world #danny has tasted blood and keeps killing evil rich guys who reminds him of creepy uncle vlad #human trafficing is a huge no no to danny and he will hunt you down #danny steals the bats stuff and made them run around in circles. he even managed to trick the bats into chasing one of thier own #by swaping his tracking signal with thiers. the look of confusion on everyones faces when the bat was cornered was gold. too bad he had to #see it on a screen and not in real time #now...what city to hit next?

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cameronspecial · 6 months

Text

Let Me Get It For You, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.7K

Summary: Rafe is determined to make his angel's wants come true.

A/N: Inspired by this video.

Masterlist

Rafe Cameron is a loving and devoted boyfriend. He is always trying to provide for Y/N and get her everything she wants. However, even with all the money he possesses, the universe seems to be against letting him give her exactly what she wants tonight. She watches as his hand moves the joystick in the direction of the pink unicorn and holds her breath as she watches him press the button that lowers the claw. For the second time tonight, the claw wraps around the toy but raises without the prize. “Ughh, this thing is a piece of crap,” he groans, kicking it. The bartender looks over at the couple, “Hey, man! Don’t kick my shit.” Y/N yells over an apology, glaring at her boyfriend slightly. “Rafe, it’s okay. You’ve tried twice already, I really don’t need it,” she reassures. Her hand places itself on his chest and gives him a small rub of comfort.

He pulls out of her touch to put more money in the machine and focuses on trying again. His new effort doesn’t work, leaving him empty-handed and more frustrated. As he pays for another round, she speaks up. “Seriously, Rafe. Let’s just go home. I’m tired.” He shakes his head, “No. You want this damn unicorn and I’m going to get it for you like any good boyfriend would.” “You are a great boyfriend. Winning me the stuffed animal isn’t going to prove anything that I don’t already know,” she says, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He looks over his shoulder to give her a kiss on the cheek, “It’s going to prove how much I care about you. Now, please, let me get it for you, Angel.”

Y/N knows arguing is futile, so she takes his credit card and goes to sit at a table to get something to eat. This is going to be a very long night.

——

Three hours later, Y/N and Rafe are still in the same positions. She is hunched over a book at the table and he is sitting on the bar stool he brought over to the claw machine. It has to be hundreds of games later, but he doesn’t care about his aching wrist. They are the only patrons in the bar and the bartender is now glaring daggers at Rafe while giving Y/N a sympathetic look. The bartender moves out from behind the bar and approaches Rafe. Rafe ignores the man, focusing entirely on the unicorn. “You got to go now. I’m closing up,” the worker says in a gruff voice. Rafe’s head moves from side to side, “We can’t. I need to get this stuffed animal for my angel.” “Nope, you need to go. Come on, man. Look how tired your girl is. Just cut your losses and go home,” the man disagrees, gesturing toward Y/N. Rafe looks at her and notices the way her eyes are fluttering open and closed and then sighs.

He gets off of the bar stool and heads over to her. He grabs her purse on the table, kissing her lips as an apology. “I’m sorry I made you stay so late, Angel. Let’s get you to bed,” he suggests. Her arm slings over his neck and they walk out to his car. When they get home, they go through their typical nighttime routine and fall into bed together, going to sleep in each other’s hold.

——

Y/N gets home the next day to find Rafe’s bed littered with stuffed animals. Front and centre is the pink unicorn with silver hooves. Rafe walks out of his bathroom, spotting his girlfriend with a grin. “You like it, Angel?” he wonders, coming to give her a kiss. She gives a small chuckle, “I love it, Rafe. But how did you get all of them? It must have taken you all day.” He gives her a sheepish look and he doesn’t want to admit what really happened, but he can’t keep a secret from her. “Actually, I just went back to the bar and offered the owner a thousand dollars for all of them,” he admits and this really gets Y/N laughing. “Rafe, you know all of this is probably worth like fifty dollars. A hundred, max.” His head buries itself in her neck to hide his embarrassment, “I know. But what my angel wants, she gets. And I wasn’t about to let one little unicorn get in the way of that.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia

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genshin-impacted · 11 months

Text

so close (yet so far)

[Alhaitham x Reader]

You ask Alhaitham to be friends with benefits with you. (The both of you overestimate your ability to not get your feelings involved.)

word count: 11k* (one-shot)

notes: heavily nsfw**, female reader; "you", inexperienced!reader, friends to fwb to lovers, unrequited to mutual pining, modern au (reader and alhaitham went to hs together), some profanity, brief body insecurity on reader's side

*split into three main parts: one part is Alhaitham's POV btw a speed demon possessed me to write this much (im kidding; my friend put brain worms in me)

**oral sex, brief descriptions of face fucking, 69, car sex, dirty talk, face sitting, thigh fucking

Dating apps vary in tone and quality, you find out firsthand. Certain ones call for one-night stands and hook ups and others are prone to less of them (but they will always be there). You don't feel like you can make genuine relationships with people without meeting them first, but you figure you should give it a chance at least before giving up.

You are close to doing so when you show up for a date, and he cancels last minute.

"Ugh, man..." You sigh, putting your phone away after seeing the apologetic text. You won't blame your date: it may as well be a real emergency, but if not, he is not beholden to you to show up, though it would have been nice on his end to let you know earlier.

Still, you are here, and you are hungry, so you step into the cafe in hopes of grabbing fresh pastries when a familiar face catches your eye. You almost don't believe it, considering how many years have passed since you've last seen him. But there is no mistaking the silvery hair and the nose still buried in a book; even the green headphones remain the same, a detail that makes you laugh a little when you approach him and hope he isn't too upset at the sudden reunion.

"Alhaitham," you say cheerily, waving at him in case his noise-canceling is on. "It's been a while!"

Alhaitham takes his eyes off his book to look at you, hands raised to take off his headphones. You grin when it seems that he is just as surprised to see you as you are. "It has," he agrees. "More than a few years." He takes a look at you. "You haven't changed a bit."

"How rude!" You say teasingly, "I've changed a little bit in the past few years. Maybe not in appearance, but still. Mind if I sit?"

Alhaitham moves over when you take a chair over to sit in front of him, and it feels like the two of you never left high school-- if not for the stark fact that Alhaitham has changed physically since then. His jaw is more defined, shoulders broader, probably even taller than he was back then. He's handsome, you think, though then again, he always has been.

Wistfully, you think about the years you've lost connection with him and wonder what he has been up to. You've always enjoyed his company, much to some of your other friends' chagrin, and that sentiment has not changed now when the two of you converse easily.

"So," Alhaitham says, "were you on a date with someone?"

You don't even bother asking how he knew, only sighing and waving a hand. "I was going to be. He canceled last minute so I was going to grab something and go." Alhaitham hums noncommittally, and you snort in laughter, reminded of his apathy towards relationships then and, you guess, now.

You remember the times Alhaitham turned down people in high school at a ridiculous rate. "Another one?" You remember someone saying jokingly, seeing Alhaitham simply toss a letter slipped into his locker.

"You won't respond at least?" You asked, sympathetic over the courage it took to confess.

"I don't know them," you recall him saying. "Why should I consider being in a relationship with them when we haven't even spoken to gauge our compatibility?"

Alhaitham ended up not accepting anyone's confessions. You don't remember him dating in high school or during university either in the times you've messaged him just to catch up. Not that you have a stellar record either, having dated only one person your whole life without it going very far. You can't say you haven't tried though.

"So you're not dating anyone?" You ask, taking a sip of your drink.

Alhaitham looks at you briefly; you can never tell what he's thinking. He eventually looks away and says, "No. I'm not interested in dating."

"At all?" You ask again, voice high in genuine disbelief. 'Still?' is the unspoken question. (What a shame, you can't help but think.) When Alhaitham gives a nonchalant shrug, you let yourself sit back, astonished. You think about your (lack of) experience, the fatigue from dating apps, and then look at Alhaitham.

You've always found him attractive; you can't deny this. You trust him as a friend and as a confidant, because in his own words-- what is the use of telling secrets? Alhaitham is as intelligent and rational as ever, something you have always admired in him, which is why you trust him with this question.

"Would you be down for a friends with benefits relationship then?"

Alhaitham raises his brow in question and pauses in thought before responding. "...In general?" He asks, "Or with you?"

You love the way Alhaitham needs no explanation.

"Both," you reply. "Serious inquiry."

Worst case scenario Alhaitham rejects the offer and the two of you move on from this conversation (hopefully). Best case scenario is him saying yes. Last thing you expect is to have Alhaitham look at you with an expression you’ve never seen on him: unadulterated shock. You laugh at his reaction despite the tension that could have been held between the two of you, and you start to wave off the entire ordeal when Alhaitham tells you "sure."

It's only Alhaitham, but you show up at his apartment with a nervous flutter in your heart. He opens the door soon after you knock, donned in a regular shirt and sweatpants. You feel your shoulders relax at the casualness of it all and thank him for his hospitality as you enter his home. It does not take much to strike a normal conversation with him, words between the two of you flowing like usual. You are given a tour of the apartment per request, briefly admiring the tiles of the bathroom floor before ending the route in his room. It is minimalistic aside from the usual amenities, and it feels so much like Alhaitham that you smile as he types something on his laptop before turning back to you.

"Is my room that amusing to you?" Alhaitham scoffs, closing his laptop.

"Yeah, it kind of is," you agree easily. "It's better than a man cave, I'll give you that. But the walls are as empty as the day you got this place probably."

"I'll be sure to let you know when inspiration hits for me to decorate," he says sardonically, making you giggle to yourself. "Did you want music?"

The sudden change in topic makes you tilt your head in confusion. "Music?" You echo. "Music for what?"

Without skipping a beat, a song starts playing on low volume, bass steady and clear in his speakers. Alhaitham stands tall then, his headphones off, you note vaguely. He seems a lot taller than you remember, but perhaps it is because he is usually conscious of the difference in height to stand at a distance, so you don't have to crane your neck. This time, when Alhaitham stands right in front of you, close enough to bump chests, you look up and realize it is the first time you've really looked into Alhaitham's eyes.

There are more colors than you thought.

You instinctively want to take a step back, but his hand holding your arm-- firmly, just enough to stop you, but not strong enough to keep you there if you wanted to leave-- keeps you underneath his gaze. You are normally so good at defusing the tension with a few well-placed words of humor, but you aren't quite sure this is a tension that you want to cut through.

Just like that, your heart is at your throat. Alhaitham truly is very handsome, you think, eyes looking at his long lashes, the curve of his nose, and his lips. You can't help but jump when Alhaitham leans down, face closest to yours as it has ever been. You feel ridiculous, being strung taut as a caught fishing line just from being close to Alhaitham. Your cheeks prickle with the speed in which it warms, and just when you begin to wonder what Alhaitham could possibly be waiting for before he kisses you, his lips are on yours.

Your eyes close almost immediately, arms reaching up to hold onto him and finding purchase around his neck as he pulls you close until the two of you are flushed against each other. How long has it been since you've been kissed, let alone been kissed like this? Lips separating from yours only enough to find new ways to kiss you again. You gasp when Alhaitham gently bites and pulls at your lower lips. Feeling emboldened by your reception, Alhaitham swoops in and meets his tongue with yours, and you melt in his embrace.

You are surprised to see that you could probably go on kissing Alhaitham forever if that was all you could do. You only vaguely realize how efficiently you've been breathing through your nose through it all when you separate from him, dazed, and hear him mutter "fuck" under his breath.

A rush of adrenaline. You were already aware that Alhaitham is a willing participant in this newly established situationship, but to hear him being as affected as you do numbers to your rapidly increasing arousal. It's only fun when the both of you are enjoying it, after all.

"Not bad from someone who hasn't smooched anyone in years, huh?" You begin to tease, rightfully earning yourself a dirty look from Alhaitham. His lips are still wet, you think, and heat curls up from your lower abdomen up. The room suddenly feels hot.

"Are we trying to rate every encounter now?" Alhaitham remarks dryly, only to make you laugh at the thought of it.

"Not if it's not at least a 7/10," you say breathlessly. You shake in laughter again when you see him roll his eyes before holding onto his hand and tugging him to the couch. "Here, sit. My neck is starting to get tired. Being shorter is a struggle, you know."

Alhaitham sighs but sits obediently where you take him. "What do you-" He snaps his mouth shut when you swing your legs over his lap and sit yourself on top of him. You quirk a smile at the rare sight of Alhaitham being stunned once again and wonder how easily it seems to have gotten to make him react like that.

His hand easily finds its place at your waist as you curl your hands into the hair at the nape. "Trying to make myself comfortable," you say slyly. "This is much better."

You close the distance and kiss him again. You're a quick learner, so you do what has been done to you: nipping at his lips, tugging and pulling, and licking into his mouth until it makes him as breathless as you are. Is this what it's like to have chemistry? You wonder, feeling Alhaitham's hands dip underneath your top to slide his hand across the expanse of your naked skin. You want him to touch you more.

Alhaitham must have the same ideas because he murmurs at you to take it off, and you raise your arms easily to let him do exactly that. His fingers waste no time in pressing into the softness of your breast, over the white cloth of your bra. He is quick to grow tired of the thin barrier though, pulling it down just so your breasts can pop out into full view. Your cheeks prick in embarrassment at how exposed you feel-- this is the first man to see you like this, after all-- and having Alhaitham look at you with intense focus does not help with it.

Alhaitham's hands are warm when they cup your breasts, gently squeezing them until your nipples perk against his long fingers. You gasp in pleasure when he pinches them and tugs. Your arms reach out and hold onto his shoulders for support. As though on cue, Alhaitham swoops down to capture one of your nubs in his mouth while his hand plays idly with the other. He swirls it with his tongue, leaving a trail of spit when he detaches himself from it to move onto the other one. You hum as your hands card through his hair.

Alhaitham's free hand unhooks your bra, leaving it to hang down your shoulders. You immediately tug it completely off, casting it carelessly elsewhere. He is quick to be on you again, encouraging you to wrap your arms around him as he sucks onto your tits. It feels rather uneven, the way you're half-dressed but he's still fully clothed. You can feel the way his muscles contract underneath your hands, fingers tracing along the exposed skin of his neck that is far from being enough for you.

Just as you decide to ask Alhaitham to return the favor and take his clothes off, your hands spasms in his hair when Alhaitham takes a nipple between his teeth and tugs, hard.

Oh fuck, you think, letting out a long, shaky breath just before Alhaitham does it again, his hands on your back as it arches at his touch. "Fuck," you say aloud this time, and you can feel the way Alhaitham's lips curve up in amusement, the bastard. "Hey, you take your clothes off too," you tell him, tugging up the hem of his shirt.

Alhaitham looks at you steadily. "Why?"

You stare back at him and sputter. "What do you mean 'why?'" You-" You scowl, feeling your cheeks warm as Alhaitham continues to look at you with a smirk. "You just want me to say it, don't you?"

"I'm not a mind reader," he says, lips curving up. "How would I know what you want if you don't tell me?"

"I want to see you," you say, cheeks prickling with an embarrassment that you push through. "I want to touch you too, you know." When Alhaitham smirks at you before sitting up from the couch to take his shirt off, you huff. "Ugh, this is why everyone keeps giving you side eyes," you say, your hands sliding over his open chest with a mild sense of reverence despite your words. You knew Alhaitham was toned to hell, and this is the first time you've been granted the chance to view it in all its glory, your hands brushing over his built abdomen, thumb brushing over his nipples.

Alhaitham jumps slightly when you do so, and you giggle, ignoring the narrowed look you get from him and the way he grips onto your hips just the slightest. You shift in your seat, only to feel Alhaitham's hold you still, face flushed despite the impartial expression on his face. "What, what's up-" You feel it then, the hardness underneath your thighs, and you know Alhaitham sees the realization dawn on you because his blush travels down his neck.

He's embarrassed, you think gleefully. After initiating the hottest make out session you've ever had and easily pulling taut your strings, Alhaitham is embarrassed that he's hard? If anything, he should be-- better be! And you're a little flattered, you tell him just as much teasingly, and you can't help but hug him when he scowls at you.

Ah, you feel your heart flutter, knowing the effect you have on the immovable Alhaitham. But he is far from it now, chest heaving under your palm, cock hard as you press down onto it despite his modest resistance. You won't say it to him out loud, knowing he wouldn't like it, but you think Alhaitham is adorable as he is now. (You imagine people would say you're the only one who would think that.)

You rock your hips, eyes not straying from Alhaitham's as he stubbornly meets your gaze. His thighs are tense underneath you as you line yourself up to press your pussy lips against his clothed cock. A skirt was a good choice, you think dreamily; it lets you grind on him with aching accuracy and lets Alhaitham slide his hands across your legs and reach behind to squeeze your ass. You hum again in appreciation, kissing Alhaitham again as he generously cups your behind, making you moan, which he easily swallows up.

"Take your pants off too," you say, sitting back onto his legs. Before he can ask, you press your palm down on his bulge and quip a smile at him. "I want to try sucking you off."

You tie your hair up before kneeling down between Alhaitham's knees. His cock sits erect on his stomach, head flush with arousal. It should feel intimidating the way Alhaitham watches you, but you know Alhaitham, and you figure if there is anyone that you can be comfortable doing this with, it would be him.

"Tell me what to do," you say, hands softly trailing up and down his thighs. "I've never done this before."

"You've watched porn, haven't you?" Alhaitham replies dryly, making you roll your eyes good naturedly.

"It's not the same thing as doing, and you know it." You look over at the nearby table he has kindly set up for you in advance and take the bottle of lotion to pour some onto your hand. Alhaitham jolts slightly at the coldness of the lotion, hissing in a breath, though with the way you are steadily pumping his cock, you aren't quite certain the sound wasn't at least partially from pleasure. "Alhaitham," you begin, a whining lilt to your voice. "Come on. Teach me?"

"Alright, alright, fine," Alhaitham says, his hand covering his face. "Just- just stop for a second."

You let go of his cock, beaming up at him as he shifts so that he's sitting more comfortably. "Here," he says, almost boredly. He gestures for you to take him in hand again, and your heart skips when you feel his hand over yours, squeezing it as he guides it up and down again in a steady rhythm. "Tighten your grip like this. A little harder is fine. There are more nerve endings at the tip, but there's nothing wrong with covering the base as well." You can only nod in acknowledgement, a lump in the back of your throat as you emulate exactly what Alhaitham has shown you.

Is this how he normally gets himself off? The same strength, the same motion-- maybe a little extra attention at the tip where it is more sensitive? You feel your face warm and hope it does not show as you watch Alhaitham's face for approval or for any signs of pleasure.

Alhaitham has always been intense despite his neutral face. But you know him well enough to recognize the minute changes that occur. The tense jaw, partially open mouth, half-lidded gaze is enough to light a fire in your stomach. But you wonder how he would look if he were completely drowned in pleasure, if you could be the one that makes him look like that.

You speak before you can lose the courage to. "Can I use my mouth?" You say, "I want to use my mouth."

Alhaitham's cock twitches in your hand.

"Then put it in your mouth then," Alhaitham says, "and avoid teeth. It hurts."

Obediently, you nod and sit up on your knees, puppy licking the tip to test the waters before opening your mouth to put it in. You had thought this when your hand could not completely wrap around his cock, but Alhaitham is big, enough to make your jaw ache when you try to fit more of his member in. You make a sound of discontent when the cock head hits the back of your throat and you aren't even halfway down. You let your tongue rest on the bottom of his cock, saliva pooling underneath with a mouth so full.

It doesn't fit, you think somewhat dejectedly. You swallow around his cock, making a discontented noise when you feel Alhaitham's thigh clench as he bucks up into your mouth. "Sorry," he says, and you tell him an incomprehensible 'it's okay' around his cock. His thigh tenses up again.

You tentatively raise your head, lips wrapped around his member for a moment before pulling yourself off, ready to ask for guidance when Alhaitham offers it to you. "You can use your hand to cover the rest of it," he says. "A wringing motion like this. It'll feel better if you suck while you're doing it too. Use lotion or spit if it's too dry."

You nod and follow his words step by step, swallowing his cock again and hollowing your cheeks. The other hand pumps his cock as you slowly bob your head up and down. You lift yourself up with a breath and let saliva spill from your lips to ease the motion, your eyes glancing up to meet Alhaitham's eyes.

You don't think he has taken his eyes off of you for even a second.

It's a little addicting to know that his attention is all yours. What does he like best about this whole situation, you muse. The fact that he's your first? The eager way in which you are trying to please him? Or is it the look of you drooling over his cock, getting off just from sucking it?

You hum in pleasure around his cock and he throws his head back, hips jilting up only slightly.

You pop yourself off of him again, hand pumping the entire expanse of his cock as you tilt your head to lick at his balls. "Fuck," Alhaitham mutters, hands clenched into the couch. You watch as his eyes flutter open before looking at you again, chest rising and falling. Not one to give neither you nor him reprieve, you are sucking him off again, and then off, and then on. It's a little fun watching him writhe, and you slowly begin to realize the power you seem to have over him.

You are so grateful to Alhaitham for saying 'yes.' The feeling of being wanted, of being desired, of being empowered is intoxicating. Watching Alhaitham fall apart before your eyes because of you is even more so.

He says your name, strained, "I'm close."

Alhaitham lets out an involuntary groan when you pop off again. "Does cum taste bad?" You ask. "It's a lot neater if I swallow, unless you want it somewhere else?" The thought of Alhaitham finishing on your chest or face is somewhat appealing, though you worry about the mess.

It doesn't seem like Alhaitham particularly cares, because he grits out, "Your choice." He muffles a grunt of pleasure that you wish you could hear at full volume. "Just-"

The key to success is consistency, you think. You bob your head up and down in tandem with your hand, licking the head and swirling your tongue around his shaft until Alhaitham lets out a strained, "I'm coming-"

Despite the warning, the warmth that spurts in your mouth is still surprising. You slow your pace as Alhaitham cums, all pretty gasps and grunts that makes your head spin as you take all he is giving and swallowing. It's a lot more than you think too, your hand daintily at your mouth as you swallow as though it were the last bite of a meal. You look at Alhaitham, skin glistening with sweat, breathing hard after his climax, eyes slightly wide as he watches you lick your lips.

Before you can ask for it, Alhaitham shifts just enough to reach for a towel-- he really is prepared for everything-- for you to wipe your hand with. You hear him let out a long breath before you return the towel to him for his own uses. You stand up, wincing at the marks on your knees from kneeling for so long before grinning at him.

"So, what's the verdict?" You ask jokingly, making him scoff and roll his eyes as you had predicted.

"I'm not answering that," he says. He stands up and picks his sweatpants from the ground to make himself more modest. "You can extrapolate for that type of answer yourself."

You expected as much, but you still pout and sigh. You sit on the couch next to him. "Aw, boo, well I guess I'll just give myself an 8/10 then." You stop when you feel Alhaitham's gaze on you, calculating. "What, what is it? Am I lowballing it or what-"

"I think it's your turn," Alhaitham says simply.

"Oh, uh..." You honestly didn't come to his house expecting anything, so this comes as a surprise to you. That and a few certain parts of you makes that bit of insecurity flare up the moment Alhaitham mentions reciprocation. "It's fine," you say, "we don't have to-" You snap your mouth shut when Alhaitham parts your legs to put his knees between, his hand lifting your chin so he can kiss you. You vaguely think about the fact that he can probably taste himself on your tongue.

"I insist," Alhaitham murmurs against your lips.

"What do you suggest then?" You stammer, and Alhaitham pushes himself off just enough to look at you directly.

"We could try fingering. See if that's to your taste and then move on." He gauges you carefully. "We could stop if you truly wanted to, but don't make that decision on my behalf."

"Well, we could try," you say, lowering your gaze, feeling your heart pick up in anticipation.

"Alright," Alhaitham replies softly. "You can stop me at any time."

This is why you trust Alhaitham. This is why you asked Alhaitham to do this with you, to-- for a lack of better, less dramatic phrases-- be your first. It was made as a casual request but Alhaitham knew to take it seriously for you anyways. You aren't sure how much he knows how his words make you feel at ease.

The sense of ease is immediately replaced with nervous anticipation when Alhaitham parts your legs, pooling your skirt at your stomach, and slips his hand underneath your panties. You hear him let out a sharp breath, and before you can ask what's wrong, he says, almost in awe, "You're so wet."

You understand Alhaitham's feelings earlier now when you had felt his bulge; your arousal on full blast is nothing short of mortifying even though the situation calls for it. You hadn't even noticed, so focused on the task at hand, but when Alhaitham pulls back with glistening lines of slick between his fingers, you don't doubt his observation.

"W-Well, you know," you mumble, your hand grasping onto his supporting arm. Your eyes flutter when Alhaitham cups your sex, fingers sliding a line down the middle. Your hand spasms when his thumb hits your clit on the way down, and Alhaitham does not miss it. "Wait, Alhaitham-" You squeal when he presses onto your clit, swirling around it with persistent pressure that makes it hard to say anything coherent. You wouldn't have wanted to tell him to stop anyways, but you have a feeling he just wanted to tease you.

"Sensitive?" He says almost smugly.

"Not usually no," you choke out, breathing out a sigh of relief when Alhaitham lets off.

"Interesting," he says, and it's only now you realize how quiet Alhaitham was before when you were on your knees. Now with him at the upper hand, he can speak all he wants, and you're the one left catching your breath. It really is different when it's someone else doing it. "I'm putting one in to start, okay?"

You nod, but when you feel the first intrusion prod in, you reach out to seek out Alhaitham for support. "Relax," he tells you. "Your muscles are too tense for anything."

"Sorry," you say, taking a deep breath. He pulls you closer, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder. You hot breath hits his neck when you turn to him. "Make sure you really lube that up, Haitham." You breathe again when his finger enters, and when it curls up onto the spongey part of your cunt, you feel it. It's nothing of import yet, but Alhaitham seems patient enough to build up to it.

One finger barely fits, but even with time, the second finger enters too. "You're tight," Alhaitham grunts, and you feel yourself redden as your only response. "I think you're stretched out. Any pain?" When you shake your head on his shoulders, you feel his fingers slowly pump in and out of you.

It picks up in pace and intensity, and then when he curves up this time- oh, you aren't sure you've ever felt this sensation before. Alhaitham's fingers are so much longer than yours, so it makes sense he can reach the places you can't, knuckles deep in you. Your breathing quickens and with it, Alhaitham's speed, his fingers pounding at that same spot over and over. You're at a daze, not any closer to a climax but not bored without pleasure. You aren't sure how long Alhaitham goes at it until he slows down, and the fog clears up.

"You okay?"

You hum, turning your head to face Alhaitham when he peers over to you. "Yeah," you mumble, "I feel good, just can't come from this."

"Hm."

You miss Alhaitham's warmth when he pulls away, fingers grasping at him. The haze that you feel quickly blows away when Alhaitham gets on his knees and pries your legs apart. "Whoa, um-"

"Most cannot finish with vaginal stimulation alone," Alhaitham says factually. "Hence, I'll be focusing my efforts on other areas."

"Yeah, I get that," you say, blinking with embarrassment. "It's just, um..."

Without your understanding, Alhaitham gives you a deeply unimpressed look. "Hair is a natural phenomenon. It doesn't matter to me in the slightest."

You would find it hard to believe, an insecure part of you convinced that it must be polite niceties. But this is Alhaitham, and he is never one for false platitudes and social norms with strangers or friends or you. When he says he does not care, you believe him.

"If you're sure," you tell him, and you let out a small squeak when he tugs your panties down, not even bothering to take it off completely before you feel his fingers pry your leaking lips apart. A lick up your clit has your legs closing on his head, but Alhaitham's hands easily pry you apart and keep you that way, your pussy open to be eaten.

You want to look away when Alhaitham's meets your eyes, and then his lips press to your folds and he begins to gorge himself on you.

It's impossible to keep your eyes open then when you're too distracted by how Alhaitham's tongue swirls around your clit, the muscle pressing into the bud of nerves with a dogged persistence. Even the noises you have kept to a minimum spill from your lips involuntarily. You can only breathe in hiccups, Alhaitham relentless in his pursuit of your climax as he sucks on your clit and begins to press his fingers against the zone of pleasure inside you as well.

'It feels good' sounds like an understatement at this point. You climb the precipice at an alarming speed, and you cannot help but grasp onto the hand keeping your thighs apart to ground yourself. It's almost overwhelming, but then you feel Alhaitham unfurl his grip onto your leg to grasp onto your hand.

It must be the endorphins, but you feel a warm ooze of affection for Alhaitham pool in your chest.

Logical, calm, and reasonable Alhaitham. Arrogant, antisocial, abrasive Alhaitham. Observant, considerate, and kind Alhaitham. You've known this man for so many years, and you are reminded in this instance that in all the times you have trusted him, he has never failed you once.

"Alhaitham-" You cry out. Your head feels hot as you curl your toes, your heels at his shoulders. When he hums in response, you feel the build up towards the beginning of the end. "I'm- I'm coming-"

You throw your head back, gasping in pleasure as your body jerks with waves of pleasure. Hazily, you feel Alhaitham lap at your hole at a slow but steady pace, his mouth never leaving you even as you buck against him.

Alhaitham only lets you go when your body slackens, legs limp in his arm as he gently sets it down in a comfortable position for you. You watch him, dazed, as he quietly grabs the towel to wipe his face and hands. He must see you look because he turns to you and offers you the towel too, though the mess between your legs is one of the last things you care about at the moment.

"C'mere," you say, arms reaching out for him. When he doesn't immediately come to you, you wave your hands insistently. "Plea-a-ase come here? I wanna cuddle."

A flicker of emotion comes and goes on Alhaitham's face before he replaces it with exasperation. "I didn't realize the benefits portion of friends with benefits included cuddles," he says, but he walks to you anyways, huffing in laughter at the small 'yay!' from you. Alhaitham settles in the space you moved over for him on the couch, and you immediately latch yourself onto him, head fitting easily at the crook of his neck. As his arms wrap around you, you heave a content sigh.

"You should have read the fine print, Alhaitham," you drawl, cheek pressed against his naked skin. "It was right there on page 562, 9th clause, addendum number four." You close your eyes, smiling at the sound of Alhaitham's little huff.

"Out of the two of us, I'm the one more likely to read a written agreement in full," he says. His voice reverberates in your ears, low and comforting.

You always thought he had a nice voice, reading out texts in class and reciting lines without effort. The two of you are a long way off from high school, but thinking back at the Alhaitham back then brings you good memories. It's even more so when you compare it to the Alhaitham now of whom reconnecting with was happenstance.

Alhaitham has changed a little in the years you have not seen him, with what you know now includes a fallout with Kaveh and an early college graduation. He's a little softer, you think, edges more blunt but still just as deadly when wielded with a sharp wit. It is to your comfort that most parts of him remain the same. A little smug, a little snark.

You're glad; you've always liked him just the way he is.

You feel his hand absently rub circles into your shoulders and feel as though that sentiment has only grown stronger.

"...You're hard again?" You ask after a moment, muffling your laughter into his skin when he clicks his tongue and shifts his legs so the offending body part in question is no longer touching you.

"A normal physical reaction," Alhaitham says, miffed.

You pause. "You want me to do it again?" You ask.

Alhaitham shifts so he can look down at you as you give him a grin, reaching down to grasp at his shaft and watching that moment when you catch him off guard, eyes fluttering in pleasure. Oh, yes, you think, heat pooling into your abdomen, you can certainly go for another round.

You tell him that you are tired of dating around with men you have no connection with, afraid to build intimacy when you are still inexperienced, and trust him enough to put up the offer to be friends with benefits. Alhaitham knows he is in love with you, but he says yes anyways. He does not make miscalculations often, but he acknowledges that he is only human, so he is prone to them occasionally. He thinks this decision to be friends with benefits with you may be one of them.

He has always had a hard time featuring his own feelings in the equation, surprisingly volatile in its unchanging affection for you even after all these years. (How long has it been since high school?) Anyone with a brain not controlled by their libido knows entering a purely sexual relationship with someone you’ve never quite stopped having feelings for is a recipe for disaster. But just maybe, being aware of that much will let Alhaitham avoid ruin.

It doesn't stop the way something in his chest twists painfully at the thought of holding you close even though you could not be more further away. After all, in initiating this relationship with him, you must have seen him as only a friend. You seem excited at the prospect of starting this type of relationship with him, and he is not one to deny you something if he believes it is something in his power to give.

On that note, he is surprised when he hears you have no experience being in a physical relationship with a man. Alhaitham does admit the idea of being your 'first' appeals to him, and because of that he thinks maybe he isn't so infallible to the whims of desire.

He's liked you for ages. He isn't sure even the best of men can refuse when the object of his affection asks him to treat them gently. (Or so he thinks. You may be more of his weak spot than he ever anticipated.)

You show up on his doorstep a week later, beaming at him when he lets you into his apartment. In the days leading up to this meeting, Alhaitham has prepped the environment with necessary amenities. You didn't specify what was to happen today, so he prepares everything to the lube to the condoms to the towels. Music, too, is something he did extensive research in, having learned that it can often set the mood.

Alhaitham isn't necessarily the most experienced person, but for the sake of knowing, he has slept with people and learned about his own preferences. He is more curious than he admits to finding out more about your preferences.

Still, when you look up at him doe-eyed and cheeks warm in anticipation, he is taken aback by the idea that he'll be the one to guide you today. He remembers when you were the one to direct him to class when he was lost as a transfer sophomore in high school. You were so assure of yourself, confident-- he never would have anticipated that you would have a shy side to you.

Perhaps that is what makes it all the more endearing, you all the more desirable, his chest searing with want as he closes the gap to finally feel your lips on his.

He really likes you, he's reminded, heart beating hard in his chest he thinks you might be able to hear it. And though you do not kiss him with the same feelings he holds for you, when you look up at him like that, he can almost imagine that you do.

Lips are one of the erogenous zones outside of sexual organs, filled with sensitive nerves that can sense even the slightest difference in temperature. The auditory sense is powerful too when it comes to stimulating the libido. It's why Alhaitham wants to devour you when he hears your small gasps as he pulls at your lips.

"Come sit," you murmur to him, and he can only acquiesce without a word. Good thing, because he would have been made speechless the way you boldly swing your legs over to sit on his lap. Alhaitham is acutely aware that his cock has begun to fill, straining against sweatpants that shows no effort to hide his arousal.

Your kisses sear his lips, your hands welcoming his to explore your body which he does with little hesitation. Alhaitham wants to see you in full, your breasts spilling out and nipples hard being irresistible that he cannot do anything but put his mouth to use again.

Your skin is smooth against his palm, your sounds of pleasure almost like music to his ears he almost wishes it weren't buffeted by the sensual base notes of a playlist he searched up last night. "I want to touch you too," you tell him breathlessly, and who is he to deny you that?

When you take a moment to admire his body, he takes this moment to look at you-- an overview, one might say. You are breathtaking in his perspective, lips slightly swollen, breasts bouncing when you adjust yourself. Alhaitham feels his cheeks warm when you innocuously grind yourself onto him (that damned skirt), and he only grows hotter when you do it again with purpose.

He should have known you would be able to flip the tables on him like that, inexperience be damned. You've always had a way to do that.

And then you are on your knees, hair up and ready to pleasure him, and he almost doesn't know what to do. Except he must-- you want him to guide you, to teach you how to make him feel good, and the way you easily do that forces him to do his best not to buck up into your touch. He must be more sensitive because it's you, or maybe you really are that fast of a learner, even when it comes to sucking cock.

Would you like dirty talk? He wonders, praise or degradation? You seem to like it a little rough, though you seem receptive to his gentleness too. Not that he can think it thoroughly with the way you are hallowing your cheeks, tongue swirling around his cock. Seeing you swallow his cum-- all of it-- is almost enough to revive his softening member, the way you look at him coyly an attractive look on your face.

He thinks the way your face contorts in pleasure is also an attractive look for him too. Alhaitham looks up from his position between your legs and watches you with hazy desire as you close your eyes, hand at your mouth to muffle your gasps. Alhaitham thinks of telling you to stop covering yourself, but he thinks that just this one time, his mouth has better things to do.

His name on your lips as you reach your high makes him close his eyes and hum in pleasure, tongue delving into you again as your slick gushes from your hole. Alhaitham is a man of pride, and watching your body slacken, spent on pleasure that he wrought from you makes his chest burn with satisfaction.

He wipes himself and sees you look up at him almost sleepily, and the satisfaction quickly morphs into gentle affection. He wants to kiss your forehead, clean you up himself and hold you. But is that too revealing? Too much emotion for a relationship like this? And Alhaitham is brought back to the reality that you are only his friends with benefits. (He is well aware of the concept of 'post-nut clarity' but finds it loathsome at the moment.)

Just as he begins to formulate words to wrap this scene in a pretty bow, you wave him over with an endearingly whining croon, and he comes to you without thinking otherwise. He is yours to hold-- always has been.

Alhaitham cannot control how you feel (would never want to), but he can control the way he will not fall apart even as you lay down with him, tracing shapes into his hand in a way he's never allowed himself to dream of. So close yet so far, he thinks, trying not to smile when you whinge at him at pushing you off the couch until you go to the bathroom. He'll take care of you as long as you'll have him.

You go over to Alhaitham's when you can. You try not to treat him like a booty call--though, as he has told you before, that is simply the nature of the relationship. But you are his friend before it comes with the benefits, so you try not to treat him any less. After all, you like spending time with Alhaitham, sex or not, though for some reason he seems almost bewildered when you come over his house and want to take him out for a taco truck you've been craving to eat.

"Isn't this what friends with benefits do?" You point out, biting into your taco. "Being friends with some extra stuff attached?"

Alhaitham looks at you for a moment. You take this time to squeeze some lemon onto his uneaten tacos for him.

"I suppose so," Alhaitham says noncommitally. "I was under the slightest impression you also wanted to use me for experimentation, considering your lack of experience. So you would want to take every opportunity we get to do something."

You scrunch your nose. "I don't like the word 'use.' It’s not like I talked to you and asked you this just for that reason." You frown, and the thought settles in you uncomfortably. "Please don't say that I'm using you. I'm not. I care about you," you say firmly. "I don't want you to feel that type of way, so if you do, we can stop being friends with benefits and just go back to-"

Alhaitham raises his hands in surrender. "No need," he says." I apologize. I wasn't being careful with my choice of words."

The discontent dissipates almost immediately with his words. You can't help but feel pleased. "And aren't you the one with a linguistics degree?" You tease, making him roll his eyes as he takes a bite of his food.

You imagine his eyes are rolled back again if he were to open them now on the ride back to his place as you give him a hand job. Only on the red lights, you vow; you wouldn't want to cause an accident on the road if he were to close his eyes while driving, though the unamused look he gives you has you biting the inside of your cheek to stop smiling.

The two of you end up parked at a neighborhood street when you unclip your seatbelt to finish him off with your mouth. You think his cum tastes a little better than before, and you tell him just as much when Alhaitham tucks himself back in. He only shrugs nonchalantly, but when you look into his fridge later after another session for refreshments you find freshly cut pineapple wrapped in a plate.

You wonder if you would taste better if you started eating them too.

And a month passes with the same routine: you ask if you can come over, the two of you go out to eat or go for an outing before inevitably ending up back at his place for some stress relief. You don't mean to do it every time you go to his place, but it ends up happening anyways. You ask if he wants to try something and then he says yes.

69-ing ends up being a lot more difficult than you anticipated, mainly because you keep getting distracted by things other than the pleasure itself. No matter how many times Alhaitham insists you're not too heavy, and no, you cannot break his neck (his confidence extends in all spheres), you can never get yourself comfortable.

And then there's the alignment issues. You may as well just take turns; it makes it easier for the both of you.

Some things he suggests too, such as face sitting. Alhaitham seems adamant on proving you wrong when he settles underneath you, your thighs on either side of his head as he serves as your seat until your legs are shaking in pleasure.

Alhaitham, you find out, is as good at dirty talk as you imagined. It's the linguistics degree in him, you always joke, but then you're always put in your place when he makes you beg for him to continue eating you out. He is smug as always after these sessions and you can only jab at him to no effect when you see it.

Leaving your jaw slack as he fucks your face, groaning about how good you're taking him, how good you look taking in his cock like you'd like nothing but to take his load down your throat- well. If it was possible for you to finish with just his words, you gladly would have. You are certainly close enough afterwards that Alhaitham only needs his hand on you for a minute before you're creaming onto his fingers, words murmured into your ears like soft feathers.

You voice does end up a little hoarse afterwards, throat sore, but Alhaitham is quick to bring you warm ginger tea to soothe it.

"Go to the bathroom," he tells you sternly. "I won't be responsible for any UTIs."

And when you come back from the bathroom, stark naked (you've instigated round two with this before by accident), your clothes are always ready and folded at the coach with Alhaitham in the kitchen getting you refreshments. It's times like these that make you forced to acknowledge the pink elephant in the room: the more you try not to think about it, the more you feel like Alhaitham would be a really great boyfriend.

Clearly, you overestimated your ability to not catch feelings for a long-time friend whom you trust and has told you straight up he is not interested in dating. You've put yourself in a bit of a sticky situation because you find yourself wanting to abide by the boundaries set by being friends with benefits, but also barely holding back from kissing Alhaitham on the cheek goodbye or asking if you can stay the night. Or taking him on real dates. Or holding his hand when you go out.

You think Alhaitham might not like the hassles that come along with being in a relationship. It's definitely got obligations that he may not be interested in fulfilling-- at least until he finds the right person. The fact he has not said a word to you about it only tells you that you are not that person. (Your heart hopes and yearns though, and you think it needs to shut up.)

Luckily or not, you end up being busy with work and family matters, so you don't get to see Alhaitham for a while. You still message him often, if only to talk about random things or complain about so-and-so. You think you should be more disciplined; perhaps the distance will keep your feelings at bay, but then the moment you find a reprieve in work you're immediately texting Alhaitham to meet up for coffee.

The feelings aren't going away, you think with mild exasperation when you find yourself nodding and hanging onto his every word as he talks about something stupid his coworker has done (and always does). All things come to an end, but you think you like to hang onto Alhaitham like this just a little while longer. Eventually you'll have to broach the dreaded but much needed subject of 'what are we?' but until then, you are more than content being with Alhaitham like this even if you wish you were officially together.

But you can't blame the way things have turned out. After all, if this never happened, would you ever have gotten close to Alhaitham like this?

You check the time on your watch and sigh. "Ugh, I promised I'd run errands for my mom so I gotta go," you say, standing up from the coffee table. You grab your empty cup and toss it in the trash. When you look at Alhaitham, he seems unsure. "Uh, what's up?"

"...I assumed we were going back to my place afterwards," he says carefully. "I thought that was why you called me."

"Oh, no," you say, mouth open with words at the tip of your tongue. You feel your heart rise to your throat as your cheeks grow hot at the honesty of your next words. "I just wanted to see you. Sorry. I should have said something."

"No, it's fine." Alhaitham pushes his seat back to stand too. "You did say we were friends first before the benefits."

You did say that, you remember, but now you can't help but wish the two of you were more than friends. You bite your tongue from blurting those words, but you end up staring at him for a moment too long to not be awkward. "Yeah," you end up saying, "I think I'll be able to see you again next week? I'm less busy, if that's okay?"

"Sure," he says, and you can't help but feel he is so far from you even though he is in arm's reach. "See you then."

It is settled in your heart and head (both in agreement this time) that your friends with benefits relationship with Alhaitham has an expiration date that is coming soon. You like Alhaitham too much to keep pretending that you don't, so it is only a matter of time you end up being just his friend again or begin something anew as a couple. The probability of Alhaitham also catching feelings for you the same time as you is basically zero, you think miserably, so you can only bite the bullet when the time comes.

"I think next time," you say after another session, "I want to have you fuck me."

You hear Alhaitham stop rummaging into his fridge to look at you. His face betrays no emotion and for a frustrating moment, you wish it did just so you can see if he is affected as you are. But this is Alhaitham, and you know better than to expect as much.

"Alright," Alhaitham says. "I can bring the lube and the condoms-"

"No condom," you find yourself saying, "I can take birth control." You look at him, gauging his reaction. "Is that okay with you?"

Alhaitham meets your gaze steadily. "If you are."

"You'll take responsibility, won't you?" You say with a light lilt to your voice, though you trust Alhaitham to take your words seriously. "I'll see you next week?"

He nods. "Next week."

The expiration date comes more quickly than you hoped. You shake your head and the negative thoughts away at his front door before you knock. You care for Alhaitham and you like him as more than a friend: these truths are unchanging for you now, so there is no point in despairing about what is not to be. Besides, you don't want your first time-- with someone, with Alhaitham-- to be marred with angst. You want to enjoy it with him to the last minute.

You ring his doorbell and hear his footsteps approach the front door, your heart beating fast in nervous anticipation.

Alhaitham looks normal, which is to say, as calm as ever when he lets you into his apartment. You put your bag down in your usual spot and amble to the kitchen take a sip of water. Alhaitham walks to his room first to wait for you, and with a deep breath in, you follow after him.

You are reminded of the first time you came over to his house, standing there as you wait for Alhaitham to make the first move. Alhaitham does the usual routine: putting the music on, setting out the equipment, and laying down the towel. He turns to you as you quietly watch him and bends down enough to press a kiss to your cheek.

You feel the tension melt away.

You raise your hand to brush his hair from his eyes before cupping his cheeks to bring him closer to kiss. They are gentle ones though still full of feeling, heat thrumming behind every touch and warm breath shared. "Alhaitham," you murmur, his hands sliding your shirt over your head and guiding you toward the couch.

It is almost rehearsed the way Alhaitham's fingers nimbly remove your bra, his knees between your legs as he helps you out of your bottoms. You sit waiting and watching as Alhaitham removes his own clothes--a personal show-- before he is back on top of you, leaving a trail of kisses along the same spots he knows can make you tremble.

And Alhaitham knows you quite well now, you think, beyond the bedroom. He knows how you take your coffee (not black), how you like to order your food (spicy), the way you can get carsick so he drives smoother, the nasty habit of staying up late so he messages you at 11 pm to tell you to sleep. You trust him so terribly much, and he knows you terribly well-- it is no wonder that you fall apart under his touch in no time at all.

"Alhaitham," you breathe out, holding onto his wrist before he overstimulates your clit. "I want you inside of me. Please?"

You let out a surprised gasp when Alhaitham turns you, so he is facing your front. Your heart is beating so loudly underneath your hands where you've rested them on your chest. You think maybe you would have cold feet but instead you are surer than ever that Alhaitham is someone you want to be your first. You gasp in pleasure when Alhaitham's cock clips onto your clit as he glides it forward and back along your sex. You don't think you've ever wanted someone as you wanted Alhaitham.

But you like to think you know Alhaitham well, now better than ever. So when you look up at him as a flicker of emotion flashes across his face, you can identify it. Alhaitham stays in that position between your legs, conflicted, and that is enough to ebb away the waves of desire to ask him if he's okay.

His expression freezes then, his grip on your legs tightening just a little before releasing them again. "What do you mean?" He asks, and you have half a mind to not laugh at the fact he thinks he can fool you.

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to," you say. "Not right now and maybe not ever if that's not something you want-"

"I-" Alhaitham snaps his mouth shut, lips twisting as he tries to say words that, for once, do not come easily to him. "That's not entirely true."

"What's not true?" You prompt.

"That this isn't something I want." Alhaitham looks steadily at you then. "Nothing could be more true."

"...Then how about you fuck something else?" You say, closing your legs and letting the plush of your thighs envelop his cock instead. Alhaitham swallows thickly, though his face is as impartial as ever (but you know better). "Pretend it's the real thing. For practice," you say coyly.

Alhaitham curses under his breath, closing his eyes at the sensation of his cock locked between your thighs.

You breathe out slowly, eyes mesmerized by the slant of his brows from concentration, mouths parted, and eyes closed in pleasure. You find that you don't mind this type of view at all, especially not for the finale. You watch every minute detail of Alhaitham chasing his bliss and ingrain it into your memory to keep.

You breathe out through your nose roughly when Alhaitham's cock hits your clit, his pace quickening as he slickens your thighs with a mix of your arousal and his. You moan at the thought of it, the sounds emanating from it a joint effort between your two bodies.

Alhaitham says your name then, making your heart skip a beat as your focus is back onto him. His eyes don't leave yours as he brings himself close to the climax. "Come for me, Haitham," you say, "come for me, baby."

Almost obediently, Alhaitham does as you say, cum staining your chest as though someone made your body a canvas. You watch him come back from his high, taking a finger to swipe some of it from your chest to taste. You smile at his coyly when you see Alhaitham watch you.

It's been fun, you think, as Alhaitham stands up to grab a towel to clean up. You sit up, combing a hand through your hair, working up the courage to say what needs to be said. You're jolted from your thoughts when you feel Alhaitham wipe a towel across your chest, cleaning up the mess the two of you made.

"Oh, thanks!" You say, laughing, "I almost forgot that was there."

"Your mind works in strange ways," Alhaitham says, and you think you are more compromised than you think when you hear the way his voice seems to dip lower, softer when he speaks to you. He pauses in his movement. "Sorry about earlier," he tells you. "Did you have another idea in mind?"

"It's fine, Haitham." You wave his concerns away. "And, um, sorta? It's nothing sexual actually, I just think I need to talk to you about something."

To his credit, Alhaitham only takes a moment to process your words. "Alright," he says. He takes a towel to wrap around your shoulders before putting his pants back on just for modesty. You watch him fondly as he sits next to you.

"I wanted to say thanks," you begin, "for doing this with me. I trust you to treat me right and you've never proven me wrong."

"No thanks needed," Alhaitham trails off, "is what I normally say but I don't mind a word of gratitude when it comes from you." He lets out a huff of laughter when you knock shoulders with him; yours is the only one that ends up a little sore.

"And I know we started this out as friends with benefits, but, um..." You breathe out. "I think... I've started to catch feelings for you." Not honest enough, you think, and add on, wincing, "A lot, actually. I like you as more than a friend." You turn away from him then, focusing on your hands as they fidget in your lap. "I don't think I can keep on doing this and pretend like I don't, so I think we should stop being friends with benefits."

You stammer, heart fluttering with anxiety, "A-And I know you said you didn't want to be in a relationship anyone, but I was wondering if you were interested in doing that with me...? If not, it's okay, I'm honestly really okay if we stayed as friends. I just wanted to be transparent with you because I think you deserve-"

"Why do you assume I wouldn't like you back?" Alhaitham cuts through. You turn to stare at him, and he meets your eyes and keeps them there. "I never said I didn't want to be in a relationship with anyone."

You stare. "What are you talking about? You're literally the one who told me you were never interested in dating."

"I'm not," Alhaitham says slowly. "I'm not interested in dating, but that doesn't mean I'm not open to being in a relationship with someone."

"Huh?" You blurt out. "But how are you supposed to be in a relationship with someone if you don't meet someone to date them first?"

Alhaitham is patient with you despite your growing frustration. It is so obvious he has connected the dots and is waiting for you to catch up. "I don't need to date," he says, "because I already met someone I'm interested in being with. I don't need to meet new people."

"Wait, what?" You gape. "Who?"

The face that Alhaitham gives you is by far the most unimpressed he has ever looked. You feel like punching it a little. You cross your arms, huffing.

"Give me hints or something," you say, clicking your tongue in annoyance. "Do I know them?"

"Very well," Alhaitham replies, sidling close to you that your arm can feel his body heat.

"Are they from our high school?"

"Yes."

"Really?" You gasp. "Well, we have your friends-"

"They are also your friends."

"-and my friends, which are yours..." You trail off, feeling your face warm and your heart rise to your throat. You can't be hopeful, you think. It is such a dangerous thing when you assume, but you think about who Alhaitham has befriended, who he is still friends with, and who he is closest to. The best answer you keep arriving to is yourself.

Is it too arrogant of you to think that it's you that Alhaitham wants to be with?

"No, it's not prideful to think it's you if it's true," Alhaitham says, and you wonder if you said it aloud. That thought is quickly discarded in favor of thinking over Alhaitham's words. Your heart feels fit to burst, lips wobbly without your permission. His eyes soften when he looks at you then, hand raising to cup your cheek.

"I like you," Alhaitham tells you. "I want to be more than friends."

"More than friends with benefits?" You can't help but ask, and you laugh through the sudden tears when Alhaitham scoffs before pressing his forehead against yours.

"Yeah, way more than that," he says quietly. He presses a gentle kiss to your temple. "I've always wanted more with you."

You sniffle, grinning. "Good thing I asked you then, huh?" You let put a shriek of laughter when Alhaitham pins you down, arms caging you in and making you feel nothing but safe. He looks at you then, eyes full of affection that you wonder how you could have ever missed that before.

"You want to retry from earlier?" Alhaitham asks, pulling your hand to press a kiss to your knuckles.

"I won't lie," you say, laughing when Alhaitham nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck. "That talk took a chunk of my energy. I kind of want to nap and cuddle. With you! Besides," you say, shifting so that Alhaitham can join you on the coach, the two of you as close as you can be, "we have all the time in the world to do new things together." You turn to look him in the eyes and hopes he sees how much you adore him in equal amounts.

"I can wait," you say, and Alhaitham leans to kiss you.

It is not the last time he does so.

#alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #written all on my PHONE thats how down bad i was to write this

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tarjapearce · 3 months

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Chapter 6: But Chaos Clings Within

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Mild depictions of violence, emotional distress, mentions of mental illness, mentions of meds during pregnancies, graphic depictions of panic attacks, comfort towards the end, a squeeze of character background. Sexual language, Character study. No Proofread.

Summary: Just when things couldn't go worst, Miguel proves you wrong.

A/N: I do not condone toxic relationships or behaviors, much less encourage them. English is not my main so excuse any typos c:

Sorry for the wait, finally got the time to get this out :'). Internship is eating my soul. Feedback much appreciated ❤️. Enjoy!

Miguel O'Hara. Lab technician from the research department. Successful scientist, the best of his generation, the million dollar brain, as Sully had called him once, married to science, hard working man-

His calloused pads pinched the bridge of his nose.

And a cheater.

A deep exhale heaved through his already rigid nose, muscles hardening from the tension that always held an obsessed grip on his body. Like a ghost, permanent, silent and always manifesting in the least proper moments.

A liar,

He pulled the keys out from the slot, and grabbed in a single hand the stacked and unused boxes on the passenger's seat. Hoarding wasn't in his traits, as he'd rather to invest in things that nurtured his self or shut Dana up, like the ring she tossed on his chest after the elephant popped in the parking lot.

Hollow-hearted lover

This would be his last time entering the place that had been his shared home for the past four and a half years. His apartment judged him with it's silence, glaring his way from every ivory and smooth wall he walked by. Sneering at his life choices with minor inconveniences, that only added to his piled up and ever heavy stress load.

He walked towards the elevator, knowing by heart the buttons he needed to press. Moving towards the turns and angles he needed, to reach his soon long gone home.

Of course lights would be on, the new owner was already making some impromptu renovations in the trampled and spat on love nest. His keys, another thing he'd have to surrender later, were pushed inside the doorknob, to then open past the gates he always made sure to double lock before sleeping.

Dana's voice filled in the living room, followed by another he knew too well by the many times she'd welcomed him at Christmas gatherings. Blanca. Her older sister.

And a reluctant daddy.

The women stopped their talk as Miguel peeked over the door, hulking frame swallowing the narrow hall connecting to the jasmine smelling living room. There was no effusive greeting this time. No welcome home hugs, nothing but silence and an bungled up smile his way from Blanca.

The woman knew better than anyone that neither Miguel or Dana were perfect. Innocently mistaking the dreadful silence and tension between as another couple quarrel.

Does she knows?

Her demureness didn't give any hints that she actually did. And it was enough for him. He wasn't in his nines to hear another hysteric fit of how much of a coward he was, or how the consequences would be out there to get him sooner or later.

Another Tyler Stone.

"Gotta go"

She hugged Dana, and then him.

"Hope everything gets better soon." She'd mumbled through whispers.

The eldest of the D'Angelo siblings spoke with a sympathetic smile before leaving for the night. Almost running in her way out to avoid being used, as usual, as a mediator.

The door clicked quietly, and it was Dana's turn to heave a tired and languid breath, yet she didn't speak. Instead, she went over the kitchen to prepare some tea.

It was more than enough cue for him to mind his business and pack away the last bits of his belongings.

Some work tools, books, diplomas and the last bits of his clothes. To his surprise, they were neatly arranged and folded in a bag.

Eyes darted towards the kitchen where Dana was. Unbothered, focused on selecting the perfect mug for her comfort drink, ignoring his existence.

It didn't feel too different when they had a fight. The aftermaths were either them lying naked, breathless and laughing like loons or silence. It all depended on how bad the fight was and who displayed the ultimate final punch.

Miguel was usually the winner, leaving Dana in the corner of shame, nursing her defeat. But this time, she had won, a flawless and clean victory.

He hated it.

Cause it didn't matter how much he tried to come up with a comeback, there wasn't any. Her beating was too powerful to even fight back, leaving him on the floor, stunned but not wounded.

The boxes were filled in matter of minutes. The more he took away the more he realized his absence wasn't even acknowledged.

Dana had already filled in those spaces, and his things being removed only added a little mess in the neatly organized place if anything.

He wasn't missed.

In fact, the nattily folded clothes only reinforced his suspicion of Dana having her subtle way of hurrying his process, to get out of her home, her life and heart.

He took turns to fill in the void space of his car, accommodating the boxes and containers in a way to not damage anything fragile. One last box was everything that remained, reducing the countdown to mere minutes. He returned at the apartment to get his books.

Hefty pages easily carried in the cardboard recipient. As he lifted it like nothing, one of his thighs knocked over a golden, minimalistic and borderline abstract statuette next to the coffee table.

Dana's rushing steps made his scowl to deepen at the sudden accident.

"Goddammit, Miguel!"

It was her favorite. A tall figure cradling a small bundle. His best interpretation was a mother and his baby she had gotten in a gentrified decor shop, something that started after they talked about kids in the long run. She had gotten the supposed sacred and good luck figurine merely out of superstition.

And now it laid broken, in tiny shards on the floor, impossible to be glued back.

Dana brought the broom and the garbage collector to sweep off the pieces.

Miguel bent to pick up the bigger shards but Dana's stern voice stopped him

"Just leave it." She squeezed between him and the coffee table to pick up the pieces with such care it felt like picking herself up, "You've done enough." That's what she had been doing these past days.

Try and glue back all the pieces Miguel made sure to wham away with a sledgehammer.

"Dana"

Miguel's voice felt like a terse loofa on her tender skin, scrubbing raw and flushed red.

Blue gaze pinned him on the spot, a silent What from her. Sadly, they knew each other too well to ignore the subtle signs in the body language. Miguel crouched next to her, taking the rickety broom and plastic collector from her hands.

"Let me."

"Just leave, Miguel."

It was more a plead than anything. But stubborn was the main trait engraved into his brain ever since he was born.

"Dana, mi vida, look-"

"Miguel."

Her tone final. His hands rose up, defense in them.

"I'm sorry, ok?"

A shameless scoff escaped her pouty lips, while she retrieved the tools from his hands.

"The only thing you're sorry about is that you got caught, Miguel."

"I tried to correct-"

Dana took a sharp inhale before speaking, calmly. "You don't get it, do you?"

"I didn't think it would come to this, really. The condom-"

"Ugh! Stop. Stop!"

Dana had to take her distance from him, but he tried to reach out. A futile attempt as his ex fiancé slapped almost too gently his meaty palm. Away from her, disgusted and irked.

"You think I wanna hear how you fucked the receptionist? You should learn a thing or two from her-"

There it was. The bickering he loved, and the perfect chance to win her back. He didn't know if delusion hung high his brain today, but he was somehow convinced that Dana would tell him to stay. To fix everything. Delusion at it's finest.

"She was a slip-"

"And that slip and mistake ended up being pregnant and now she's trying to correct your fuck ups."

His brow quirked, suspicion rising at her sudden mellow talk.

"Didn't know you were her personal friend." His arms crossed while a hubristic smile stretched on his face. Seizing her with derision," Drank tea with her too?"

He was sure his eyes rolled so hard it hurt.

"My goodness. And to think I was about to marry you..."

Miguel snorted, cynic as usual "Stop acting surprised. Don't be a hypocrite you know how-."

"Hypocrite?! It's called empathy, jackass. Maybe you should learn it. While you're making fun of her and acting like we can go back to normal, she's desperate to find a solution to a problem you refuse to address or even acknowledge."

"For all I know, she could be lying and blame it on me," he tried to reason. But to no avail.

"You can't be serious right now. How messed up you must be to believe such thing when moments ago you admitted something happened?!"

Miguel's hands went on his hips, grounding himself to avoid invading her personal bubble more than he already was.

Another cloyed sigh from the brunette, "Unlike you, at least she's adult enough to face her problems and give the child for adoption."

A cold shudder came down his spine. Was his hearing right?

"Disculpa, qué?" He had to blink the frown and scowl that immediately took his countenance a hostage, but to no avail. It was another blow Dana gave him on the floor. Merciless as she was, she'd give him no truce.

"Adoption. A-D-O-P-T-"

"Fucking funny. The fuck you mean adoption?"

"I'm not here to amuse you."

And in truth he was far from being entertained. His brain had gone into an flout, ignoring his rationale, doused in glacial water that froze all attempt into logic thinking. Body buzzed with something ghastly, unable to be properly processed as it remained as a knot in his throat.

No. You couldn't.

"She can't be that stupid-"

"She's not stupid. She's assuming the consequences. As you should be!"

His hands no longer remained on him, too perturbed to stay still. They rubbed a bit too hard on his face, a twitch popped in his eye.

"No, she's... she's being fucking stupid. I.. I gave her-"

"A check to get rid of if. Yeah, I know." Dana crossed her arms while seizing his newly disturbed state. Steely nerves were something used to describe him, but this insecure and fearful man before her was everything but composed.

"She can't..." The ramble with himself continued, not really caring if Dana joined or not.

But you were keeping the child. Against his wishes.

How dared you?

His mind tried so hard that a painful pulsation echoed inside his skull. Hurting itself in the process of trying to understand why on earth would you keep a baby while having all the stakes at odds.

"She will. That's not up to you to decide."

"No, no, you don't understand, Dana. She can't have-"

"Well, too bad cause she's keepin-"

In a flurry of anger, his hands slapped the broom away from her grip, with such force she yelped, startled "Cállate!"

He roared and Dana recoiled, wide eyes in terror. It didn't matter how many times he clawed at his scalp, in an hopeless attempt to smear away the news. He heaved, realizing too late his mistake.

"I'm-"

"You need to leave."

His ex's voice was too calm, too kind, despite his aggression. It no longer held that bickering and holding a grudge like usual. It was devoid of all emotion, denying him the satisfaction of baiting and engaging into his game.

But he certainly wasn't there for a laugh anymore. Reality was always bitter and disappointing.

Heart jerked, menacing to splinter and rive at any second, fury flowed through his bloodstream, like a drug. Feeding his brain cortex with a much unrequited high of cortisol.

How could you? He gave you the money, yet you decided to do him dirty. Were you taking revenge? Without a doubt, and now you'd bring everything he had worked on so hard for, down and away.

In a place of a much higher shelf he, even with his height, could not reach. Like a timeout for his grown ass self.

But he wouldn't allow you. He refused to have his own story play on repeat once again.

He was set into finish this once and for all.

His anxiety had taken his nerves for an unwilling ride. Not only he had to wait for an extra hour for you to clock out, but he also had to face you once more.

Miguel was convinced that you had influenced his mind in such a way he was starting to believe you were his bad luck charm.

You were there in his revenge. You were there when Dana dumped him. He saw your sweet and fury-inducing face when the higher and richer bunch dejected his proposal in a subtle way it had given him hope. And somehow you still managed to get into Dana's head and root for you, when the woman usually remained on a neutral line or rather to not get involved at all, even if it somehow affected her personally.

You had tipped the balance completely on your favor. And now, the rotten cherry of his Frankenstein of cake, was knowing you were to take the pregnancy to a full term, when he had specifically told you to get rid of it.

His million dollar brain couldn't come up with a logical and quantifiable explanation as to why.

Why? Why? Why? So. many why's and little responses.

She wants to screw me over.

A malicious frown came to his lip, twitching ever slightly, temper already boiling underneath.

He wouldn't let you. Not when his career was taking a fly, the rejection was a little mishap, but nothing that he couldn't fix in a future.

He left for his car, ten minutes before the clock ticked at five pm. Your leaving hour. Silent and steadfast steps advanced towards the parking lot. Where everything had started. Where bad luck and unfortunate decisions from the universe begun to hunt him down.

Where his life took such a radical change for the worst. His nose flared upon the realization.

You brought the worst out of him.

Made him act out of his usual composed and calculating self. Forced him to conduct out of his pattern, taking impromptu choices wasn't who he was.

Lashing out when he'd keep his mouth shut. Behaving recklessly when he'd analyze the situation first, deeming it worthy to get involved or not. Saying things out of place when he knew he needed to remain shut, reaching to the points of threatening and mastering the arts of deceiving.

And now, you were forcing a role he didn't want, yet knew he had self imposed it. He knew the condom broke, he knew that he needed to change it.

But damned be his lust and hormones fluctuation, your deliciously sweet scent that somehow was engraved into his memory, the snug and tight cunt that had made his mind a puddle. And your fucking righteousness to accept your consequences that exposed him and his lies.

And once again, a reluctant daddy.

You've turned his life upside down. Everything he had carefully and methodically crafted, was now on the floor, ruined. Tarnished beyond repair. You were chaos.

He had given you the resources to end the problem, yet you spat on his face. Repaid him with aversion. And he was now set in finding out the answers he needed.

He saw your head peeking out from the elevator, going to your little and toy looking car. Pretty doll playing with danger.

Keys dangled, along a daisy shaped keychain in your hands, swaying back and forth at the rhythm of your steps.

The clinking drowned the heavy echoes of his leather covered feet, noticing him a little too late as he slammed your car's door shut, prowling over before you could enter.

"W-What the fuck?!"

Breath hitched, eyes widened in alarm as your skin crawled when meeting his accusing and dern gaze. Brain flaring with the dangers alarm, panic simmering on the slow burner.

You nearly stumbled while backing up as he stalked you.

"What's wrong with you?!" Your eyes closed as he yelled. Angry breath fanned on your shaky self.

For a second it wasn't Miguel that yelled, but Mother.

Body reacting with muscle memory by raising your arms up, trying to create more space between you both. Miguel was burning in wrath and it scorched you.

"I fucking gave you the chance to handle this, and you decide to keep it?!"

Hulking frame loomed over, reducing your existence even further as he slammed his closed fist in the hood of your car, startling you even more. He was violence.

"Get away from me!" With a brave push, your body made the great effort in pushing him off you. He barely budged, but his nose flared fumes, instead he took your wrists with a single hand and pulled you closer so you could properly have a piece of his mind.

"You don't understand, don't you?" You wriggled your hands and he bared his teeth, nearly colliding your foreheads together.

"You think I'm scared of you?!" But in truth, you were terrified beyond your wits. Heart wasn't beating, but pounding painfully the more you struggled.

"I don't want that child" He seethed through clenched teeth

"Let me go!"

"No te voy a permitir que me arruines la vida" (I won't allow you to ruin my life)

"I swear if you don't let me go, I'll scream!."

His grip loosened enough for you to wriggle your limbs away from his reach but he quickly clutched on you again, ignoring the the measly threat, desperate to find the answers you were reluctant to give him "Why are you keeping it?" He shook your body, "Why?!"

He panted in his frenzied state, and you whimpered at his manhandling. But the familiarity of violence in your life didn't break you instantly. Just made you irrational if anything.

"That's none of your business."

His chest puffed up, hand on your car's hood. He wasn't letting you go that easily. His gaze asserted dominance while stalking your own, moving his head along yours when you finally managed to free yourself from his grasp.

"Where is the check?"

"I tore it" His muscles tensed, nails digging in the fat of his hand, holding back a biting comeback, "Now get away from me."

Miguel heaved. Ire and frustration fighting over who gave the last punch. You were driving him insane, and not in the way he indulged.

"You must be the dumbest person I've known. All you had to do was to go to a fucking clinic and get yourself fixed! Why didn't you listen?!"

"Oh, fuck off!" This time the effort in your body as you pushed the wall of muscles was greater. A little light-headedness swooned over your sight. His eyes narrowed upon you exhaling through your mouth, repeatedly. Setting a pace while holding your lower back.

Physical exertion had you panting, but the emotional toll he had just put you through drained you completely. Like a vampire feeding off your sanity.

"You're sadly mistaken if you think I'll help with-"

"I'm not fucking asking you to. I've never asked and never fucking will!"

It was your time to roar while tears menaced to escape and roll down, "What makes you think I want anything that comes from you so you can throw it at my face later?"

Voice broke with a new found bravado that seeped through your panicked cracks, sick of him intimidating you, but your fight enticed him. He loved the sense of control he inflicted, it fuelled him and stroked his ego in such pleasant ways that had him folding.

"If you wanna play mommy, fine by me, but don't you dare saying I didn't try to help."

"Your fucking help was to hide your mistake before Dana found out" You gritted through teeth and he smirked, taunting even further

"You're not ready to be a mother-"

"Oh and you think you'd be a good father? You know shit about it." Vitriol dripped with every mouthful of your mind.

The two were too focused in marring each other as much as you could with words while struggling to keep afloat. He was drowning you, but you pulled him down. If you sunk, he was coming down too.

"That's precisely what I paid you for, pinche pendeja!" (Dumb bitch)

His tinge was everything but polite or caring. It didn't help that your head spun, you had to take a moment to scramble away to retch out behind a car. Slumping against the metallic structure for support.

His face squeezed into a disgusted expression at the noises you did. Concern and empathy wasn't in his vocabulary neither in his life. He just stood there, watching your hands curl as your body begged you to stop munching on his bait.

"Fuck off." you mumbled while wiping your lips with the back of your palm once the nausea subsided enough.

"What did you say?" His head tilted, vexed and amused you still had the energy to keep the bonfire alive and soaring. Just the way he liked. He was ready for round two.

"Fuck. Off."

It was the last thing you threw before scrambling to your car and locked the door. His bold hand already on the handle, doing his damnedest to pry it open. Hands banging on the now shaky glass, demanding for you to come out.

You drove away as he yelled something foreign.

The ambush had left you shaken to your very core, and just when you stopped on a red light, you finally noticed your trembling limbs, clenching on the steering wheel, anchoring to it.

Stop it stop it stop it-

Heart subdued into a claustrophobic beat within your ribcage, head spun, palpitations turned into powerful plows on your torso. Breath hitched, erratic, panicky.

No, no, no!

All you could see and hear was mommy dearest yelling, brain already sending the defense signals to your childish arms. Covering from the imminent physical lash out she'd provide after you accidentally dropped your drink in the floor.

What the fuck is wrong with you?!

Many things if honest. Eyes bleary with fat tears, panic rose the more your brain forced you to remember . Fresh belt marks burned into your arms and legs.

Nausea went rampant, but with the little strength you had, fingers moved to dial MJ's phone number between muffled sobs.

Chest rose and fell, into a frenzied breathing pattern, the unceasing honkings from the cars behind you drowned your terrified weeps. It didn't help your terrified state.

The distant voice of MJ kept ringing in your ears, imploring for you to reply, Your abdomen cramped, and your mouth screamed. Brain loaded with so much information, it was impossible to process properly.

The ringing in your ears sharpened, phone too heavy on your hands, lights came and go, dancing in such a hurried haze, forcing to clutch your chest.

A dark shadow hovered over the car's window, moving it's limbs frantically, lips moved but you couldn't hear a thing.

Mind too dazed with the past to be on the now. More shadows joined narrowing the space for light and reason, panic broke hell loose.

Throat burned at the shrill it gave out. Nails sunk on your skin. You had tried, but the shadows were stronger. And they engulfed you.

Sweetie

The muddled thoughts thrown together in a tiny space that begged for order.

Your name was called, lights danced before your eyes, following your irises movement, lids immediately covered them, a whine joined the messed up party.

"Hey, Babe."

You knew that voice. The Nyquil for your pained soul and berated brain. Soft fingers cupped your cheeks, gently turning your face upwards.

"It's me, MJ"

Touch toured to your hands, enveloping your limb in a warm embrace. Lungs exhaled a way too relaxed breath. Almost paused.

The milieu before you slowly took shape. Abstract lines and forms melding together into a red spot. It's angelic voice lured your liquified brain back to a solid mass, earning a lucid moment of thinking.

MJ. It was MJ.

"There you are" Her smile too tainted with sadness to pass as one of her genuine ones.

Your body buzzed with waves of something you couldn't pinpoint, but it felt good. Heavenly almost.

Your eyes blinked lazily, one after another, even your breathings were sluggish. Hand twitched, regaining the lost movement.

Body felt like a feather, weightless, suspended in air, floating, dreaming of silly things that definitely put an imperceptible smile in your lips. Too good to a washed up and spent you.

But the doctor's nasal voice brought you back within a few blinks. The chest hurt and itched, the urge to rub the pained area turned overwhelming, and that's when your senses came into clarity.

Finally able to discern between the abstract and intangibility from your secluded surroundings. White ceiling and walls, indistinct voices playing in the background.

Machines beeped, monitoring your heart, and so many other things you couldn't swot on even if you tried to. The stench of chemicals and sterile air permeated your tired lungs.

Phones rang unceasingly somewhere in the ostracised cubicle, fenced with a plastic curtain that separated you from the rest. Concealing your panic from prying stares. Mouth could be mistaken for the Sahara desert due the arid weather inside your crevice, swallowing was painful.

But not as painful at the look in Mary Jane gorgeous eyes.

"Hey"

She whispered as her hand squeezed tight enough for you to know she was there. That hwr presence wasn't a dream. A tired and meek hum rumbled in your throat, acknowledging her.

"Welcome back."

Her warm fingers left you for a moment, skin already missing her comfort, as yours lacked temperature, and even so in a clumsy attempt to raise your hand, you realized a bit too late that, your wrist were restrained on each side of the automated bed.

MJ disappeared for a moment to bring you a tall glass of water. She pressed a button and the bed's frame instantly bent smoothly to rise your torso upwards, transitioning your body into a lax sitting position.

Leaden legs by instinct spreaded a bit more at the uncomfortable pressure on your lower belly.

"Here." MJ brought the glass to your lips and poured gently the vital liquid, quenching slowly but surely the thirst you were oppressed into.

An elder man with salt and pepper hair entered your cubicle with a clipboard in hands, examining your state with a brief quizzical and medical stare.

"Hello! Sorry you wake up like that, but we had to sedate you. You were hurting yourself. "

It now explained the delicious high you didn't want to leave from.

"The baby is fine."

The baby. The creature you grew inside the now polluted guts, suffered no damage. But you had received all the aftermath. And something you had truly forgotten about.

People had left their cars, to certainly give you a piece of mind, but their approach changed drastically upon watching you crying, screaming and fainting. In that order.

Someone had called an ambulance as MJ bolted to your location. By the time the ambulance came, you were quanked and unconscious to recall anything.

MJ sat next to you as Mayday laid in her arms, tired, rosy mouth ajar, safe. Like she should. Like any child should.

None of you dared to speak, she knew you'd reach out when needed. And what you required was rest.

"It's alright, I'm right here."

The doctor called you by your name softly, explaining.

"Is there anyone in your family with mental illnesses?"

"My..." throat rasped, weak and broken words came out. You tried again after clearing the windpipe with a cough.

"My mother. All I know is that she had this Post-partum, uh... Psy..."

Eyes squinted, trying to remember the name.

"Post-partum Psychosis?"

"That thing."

A vehement nod from you.

"This gets a bit trickier then. You see. Right off the start, and I apologize for the sudden news. This will be a complicated pregnancy."

Shit...

MJ's face sobered, but her hand gripping yours never faltered.

"Complicated as in delivery or..." MJ inquired.

"The size of the baby, and the environmental stress only adds more weight to this. You're near the twelve weeks, and even so, passing them doesn't guarantee your baby's safety."

Your eyes squinted, confused. "Meaning?"

"The first trimester of the pregnancy is the most difficult and dangerous. Miscarriage is a higher risk."

You swallowed, hard. Free fingers crumpled the sheets underneath them.

"And I don't know what happened before you were brought here, but it was severe enough to trigger a panic attack. We had to sedate you for a bit so we could run some tests."

"Is she able to leave soon?"

"Until tomorrow. We have to monitor you and the baby responses to meds."

Fuck me.

"Meds?" The word familiar enough to recall those forbidden remembrances you always tried hard to bury for good.

"Zoloft. We still debating on it. It's safe, so don't worry. How often does these attacks happen?" routine questions really.

"It was the first one in months. The first while pregnant actually."

The doctor scribbled in the clipboard while nodding to then release your sore wrist from their confinements. A little bruising forming in them in the shape of fingers.

"Still it's an extra precaution we need to take. And some vitamins and minerals you need. Some of your readings came low, so to minimize the risk of miscarriage, I suggest you to seek a less stress inducing environment."

"I see."

In truth, you stopped paying attention after the last bit.

How and when on earth you'd find a new job in such short amount of time? Were the meds expensive?, Did your insurance even covered them or this barbed joke your body pulled out flawlessly?

Hospital night stays weren't cheap, and dread only slithered towards your head, constricting your brain in a myriad of questions that fought to be wondered first.

But one thing was certain. You needed rest and a new job. Since raise was out of the question. The doctor left, and you felt Mary Jane's burning oggling on your weakened frame.

"What happened?"

A simple yet complicated question. Reluctance once again showed up in your lips, sealing them momentarily.

"I need to know what's going on to help you"

"MJ..."

"I'm worried about you."

"I know..." Head hung, defeated, "I'm so sorry for being a burden, you were probably busy and-"

Your best friend chided your name, like she'd scold her own child.

"Darling, We've know each other for what? Five? Six years now?"

"Six when I pass the first trimester"

She chuckled, "Almost six years knowing our deepest secrets and you believe you're a burden for me. Don't be ridiculous."

Her soft hand squeezed yours tighter.

"You'd never be a burden for me, alright? I just wanna know what happened."

Her ever honest and see-through peer revealed nothing but unalloyed concern and care.

"Miguel happened." You heaved.

Her honeyed and caring look instantly hardened at the name.

"What did he do?"

"He found out somehow that I'd give the baby for adoption. And he didn't like it. Ambushed me in the parking lot and-"

"I need you to stop right there, dear. cause if you keep talking I'll call Alchemax myself and will report him for harassment."

"It wouldn't matter. He's like a god in there."

"And still, the bigger they are, the harder they fall. And that man, is going down for sure."

It surprised you to see such viciousness in MJ's usual demure demeanor. Even though your only wish was to be left alone, deep down you hoped that Miguel reaped what he had sown.

And to your luck, universe was listening your heart's whims for once.

Taglist:

@miss-taura @serpentstarr @randomnobody187 @8xbygirl @del-ightfulling @iytatsworld @moonzuzuu @huehuehuehuehehe @ryk-mt @deputy-videogamer @sizeablysized @katitakenway @stealyourblorbos @beingdeluluisthesolulu @death-moth-art @obsessedwithromance @crybabiixo @spiderpapi2099 @tremendouswolfsaladranch @cherrycosmos392 @sbrn0905 @xylianasblog @elgatofx @eepiebeepie @vonev @tatatida @freehentai @scaryplanetdestroyer @minalovesyoubabes @emeloyy @migueloharastruelove @jdbxws @m4dyy @nyxzoldyck6 @fruitychae @francesca-the-1st @siidmm @ana-paulinathe-arts @artyanimi @damhanallagorm @lauraolar14 @what-is-your-wish @oharasfilipinawife @jellyboob @aockskcw @ittybxttykxttytxtty @smartyren @plumplum2099 @angel-of-the-moons

#t writes✨#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara angst #miguel angst #miguel x you #Of Flowers and Hummingbirds

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jmagnabo92 · 2 months

Note

“I don't like how Sirius acted throughout nearly the whole book which is why I think Rowling should've done a few things differently with him, especially since he ended up dying in the end.

Let's look at everything of him in the book:

Chapter 4

He is not at all happy to see Harry and only grimly greets him, barely acknowledges him by screaming at his mother's painting telling her to shut up

Chapter 5

When discussing the Dementor attack (which was traumatising for Harry), Sirius shows Harry no sympathy and when Harry hopes for comfort due to his lousy summer, Sirius not only said he had no idea what Harry was complaining about as he would've welcomed a Dementor attack, but he also dismissed Harry's problems and whined about how his problems were much worse since he wasn't allowed to step outside and that was really selfish since he was comparing a Dementor attack where Harry and Dudley nearly had their souls sucked out to him not being able to go outside, comparing Harry being alone all summer to Sirius being locked up and surrounded by his loved ones. While this is hard since Sirius wants to be in action, he should've been sympathetic.

Chapter 6

When Harry simply tries to say he didn't know about Bellatrix being Sirius's cousin, Sirius snaps, which takes Harry aback and just makes Sirius grumpy and terrible.

Chapter 9

Sirius isn't exactly happy that Harry would be returning to Hogwarts, instead he's moodier and surlier than he was before.

Chapter 22

At the Black family home, after Harry tells Sirius his worries about Arthur being attacked, he disregards everything Harry says, telling him that he needed sleep, that it was just a dream and that his anger meant nothing. And Sirius finishes this conversation by telling Harry to stop worrying, making him no help whatsoever to Harry and in turn makes him struggle worse.

• It might've been better if Sirius was more the way he was in the movie version (especially since Sirius ended up dying in the end and all readers remember is him being a jerk to Harry):

The reunion with him and Harry was heartwarming since Sirius excitedly hugged him

Sirius was able to calm Harry down after Arthur's attack by telling him he was not a bad person, but a good person whom bad things have happened to, then assured him they were family and hugged Harry.

Unlike in the third and fourth books, Sirius was completely out of character in the fifth book.

Especially when you remember him doing these selfless things for Harry:

Risking to get him a new broom and to get his money out of Gringotts via Crookshanks

Risking his identity to watch Harry playing Quidditch

Living in the Hogsmeade cave to be near Harry and living off rats

Going at any length go protect Harry

One thing Rowling could've done was to write Sirius as his Book 3 and Book 4 self and have him switching in between his home and someone else's home via a Vanishing Cabinet or even maybe Floo Powder.

But I also wish Sirius could've been revealed as innocent in the third book.”

Thoughts??

The thing about Sirius in books 3/4 and book 5 is that in book 5, JKR already knew that she wanted to/planned to kill him, so I think that factors into things, but there's obviously canon reasons for the different behavior.

In Books 3/4, Sirius doesn't have to answer anyone and he's on the run but he's FREE. This, I think, is the important difference between Sirius in books 3&4 ad Book 5.

Sirius in books 3/4 has the same goals as he does in book 5, but in book 5 - Sirius is stuck in prison a second time. He is in a comfier prison (I'm sure), but prison none-the-less.

He's stuck in the one place that he hates more than any other (and Harry even comments that he doesn't think he would be doing any better if he were stuck at the Dursleys after finally escaping).

and that's the biggest point I have - he ESCAPED GP, moved on with his life, went to prison as an innocent man, ESCAPED PRISON, was free even if he had to live in a cave, and then WAS FORCED TO RETURN TO FIRST PLACE HE EVER ESCAPED FROM.

Sirius was dealing with his trauma from both GP and Azkaban, he was imprisoned a second time (because JKR just wanted to punish him, 'cause let's be real there are MULTIPLE ways he could've not been in that situation), and ON TOP OF ALL THAT - he had everyone and their mother taking potshots at him, telling him he was a terrible godfather that everything was all his fault and treating him like a criminal in his own house.

So his mental state crumbled.

Sure, he had people he could talk to - but did any of them act like they wanted to talk or be around him? No. So, that's a bust.

Plus, most of those people were talking shit behind his back and to his face.

He had a bed, but that bed was surrounded by haunted memories.

And he wasn't allowed outside. Do you remember what Covid Lockdowns were like? I live alone (and I LOVE IT), but like, it was *Hard as fuck* to be forced to *not leave* and I was allowed to *go outside whenever I wanted*. Can you imagine. - NOT BEING ALLOWED TO GO OUTSIDE FOR FRESH AIR FOR A FUCKING YEAR???

And then, on top of it, getting shit on by the people around you, stuck in a place you hate and have terrible memories plaguing, worried about your godson - who *everyone* is telling you have no real say over - and you can't do anything to help him when the previous year you were allowed to A) write him, B) live near him and C) help him WHEN NO OTHER ADULT DID???

Like, you have to understand that Sirius was in a terrible, terrible place mentally, physically and emotionally in book 5. He literally does the best he can, and yes, he's a bit callous, but he's *struggling*.

The fact that there's SUCH a big difference between book 4 Sirius and Book 5 Sirius tells us a lot about how *bad* and how *quickly* his mental state deteriorated.

So, I guess my thoughts are that Sirius deserves a lot of slack for Book 5. I feel like he's not exactly OOC, but we really have to get inside his head to understand *the why* he's behaving this way.

It sucks, honestly. I don't think he does too bad considering everything, but he's not perfect - no one is.

Sorry, this was ... long. Hope I answered what you were looking for.

thanks for the ask :)

#sirius black #harry james potter #book 5 #OOTP #Jen's Asks

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th3-c0rps3-r0gu3 · 8 months

Text

shadows.

Chapter two:

Pairings: Wanda X Natasha, Natasha X umbrakinetic child reader, Wanda X umbrakinetic child reader, Avengers X umbrakinetic child reader.

Warnings:

Summary: Wanda and Natasha were no strangers to the dark. But what happens when the dark isn't what they thought it was?

A/n: this took ages 😭.

3rd person.

Natasha walked into the compound trying to figure out a way to convince the other Avengers to let y/n stay. Upon stepping out if the elevator on her and Wanda's floor Natasha was greeted with the smell of bacon and eggs. Natasha walked into the kitchen and wrapped her arms around her cooking girlfriend.

"Tasha hey!"

Wanda exclaimed excitedly.

"hey detka"

Natasha responded, kissing Wanda's neck.

Wanda finished cooking and placed a plate of bacon and eggs Infront of Natasha before setting up her own.

"how was your run Moya lyobove (lmk if I spelt that wrong btw)?"

Wanda asked absent mindedly as she ate. Natasha suddenly remembered the books she brought and pulled them out and passed them to Wanda.

"I took you up on your 'be more spontaneous' offer. I went to a bookshop and got you these"

Natasha studied her girlfriends face as she inspected the books.

"they look fun... but there's something in your mind."

Wanda said shooting Natasha a pointed look. Natasha looked away.

"there was a teen. A homeless teen."

Natasha refused to meet Wanda's eyes.

"and upon impulse you gave them a place to stay. Didn't you."

Wanda sighed.

"there's a spare room in our floor that nobody uses and I'm sure she won't be trouble. Kid looks like she's been through a lot and..."

Natasha trailed off. She actually had no idea what had pushed her to make such a decision. Wanda looked at Natasha sympathetically.

"and you couldn't stand the thought of her staying there."

Wanda said softly. Natasha sighed and nodded gently.

"well I have nothing against it. Infact I support the idea. But your going to need alot of luck to convince the others of your idea."

Natasha groaned.

"Argh I know."

Wanda smiled at natasha.

"I'm sure you'll manage."

Wanda said connecting their hands from across the island in the kitchen. Natasha shit Wanda a grateful look.

"well then Romanoff you gonna tell us why we've been gathered here?"

Tony said as he and the other Avengers gathered in a room after Natasha called them for a 'emergency meeting'. Natasha stood before the group with Wanda beside her holding her hand.

"yes well there has been some certain offers made."

Natasha said. In all honesty Natasha had no idea how to tell the others she basically offered to take in a teen.

"what offers?"

Kate asked from besides yelena. Then Wanda spoke up.

"Nat has offered a teenager a home in the compound."

You could've heard a pin drop with the silence that followed.

"WHAT!?"

Tony exploded however Natasha glared at him.

"she is a homeless teen and she has a certain... draw to her. I couldn't let her stay in the streets. We have a perfectly good bedroom on mine and Wanda's floor that nobody uses and from what I know she's sure not to make trouble."

Natasha quickly defended.

"Romanoff your letting a stranger into the compound! A STRANGER!"

Tony exclaimed.

"I realise stark."

Natasha sighed. Tony glared at Natasha before shooting another snarky comment.

"we are not a bed and breakfast romanoff."

Natasha simply scoffed at him.

"I wouldn't mind another teen around actually..."

Peter spoke up. Tony sent Peter a glare.

"your supposed to be in my side here."

He said.

"actually I wouldn't mind either."

Kate speaks up again. Yelena simply nods along agreeing with kate.

"if the kid won't be trouble I don't see why she can't stay."

Steve says calmly. Tony watches in disbelief as the other Avengers agree to natasha.

"looks like your outnumbered stark. I'll pick her up tomorrow."

Natasha said slightly smug. Tony groaned and left the room. The others rolled their eyes. Tony would be over his temper tantrum soon enough.

*with y/n but still 3rd person*

Y/n wandered down the streets confused. She had just been offered a home by the black widow. A freaking superhero. And yet. She was hesitating. Anyone else in her position would if said yes in an instant. But y/n didn't. Walking back into the bookshop Sandra looked up from behind the desk.

"back from your walk then?"

She asked.

"Yeah..."

Y/n said softly.

"brilliant. You can help me shelve some books and tell me if your accepting that home."

Sandra said cheerfully as she pulled out a box of books ready for the shelves. Y/n blinked in surprise.

"how did you-"

Sandra cut her off.

"don't be silly y/n I know everything."

Y/n sighed. Sandra was a... unique person to say the least. Y/n grabbed the box and began to shelve the books though as instructed.

"I don't know if I should take the offer honestly."

"y/n you've been offered a home. A place to stay. Constant food and shelter. At least try it. And besides you could always run away back here. I'd protect you if you need you realise that?"

Sandra said sending y/n a reassuring smile. Y/n returned the smile before going back to her thoughts.

"ok. I'll try. But if I show up and hide from them one day say you haven't seen me at all ok."

Y/n said.

"oh don't you worry kiddo I'll be giving them and earful before they even take you. They screw up they die."

Sandra said taking the book y/n had and shelving it.

"you. Kill international superheroes? Verry funny."

Y/n said half sarcastic half amused. Sandra simply grinned again at y/n.

Y/n had come early today. And Sandra made sure to tease her about it.

"aww looks like someone's excited!"

Sandra said with a grin. Y/n sent her a nervous glare she didn't really mean.

"I'm nervous. What if they changed their mind. It it was a joke. Or-"

"you worry too much. Don't fret. Besides I'll still be here."

Sandra had cut off y/n again but she didn't mind. Sandra was always easily good at cutting people off to give good advice.

*Natasha 3rd person*

Natasha was nervous. It was only 8 am so she had 2 more hours till she needed to pick up y/n. Wanda was in the kitchen making breakfast and Kaye and Yelena were on the couch playing video games.

"don't worry Natasha I'm sure she'll be there."

Wanda said giving Natasha a soft smile and an omelette.

"I hope so..."

"do you need me to accompany you detka?"

Wanda asked. Natasha glanced up at her girlfriend.

"are you sure?"

Wanda nodded and Natasha smiled.

"thanks Moya lyobov"

"no problem mylashk"

Suddenly Yelena interupted them.

"can you both stop being so cute and loud. Me and Kate bishop are playing here!"

Natasha and Wanda laughed at Yelena but stood up and went to prepare the spare room for inhabitants.

A/n: and there's chapter 2! Lmk what you think. I'm quite enjoying this series so far and have big plans for it. Also sorry if the Russian nicknames are spelt wrong.

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jessybarnes · 9 months

Text

I'll Show You

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Rating: 18+ ONLY! Minors GO AWAY

Tags: NSFW Title Card, Angst, Arguments, Bondage, BDSM, Praise Kink, Fingering (female receiving), Oral (male receiving), Throat-fucking, Unprotected sex (WRAP IT UP KIDS!), Begging (obviously), Fluffy ending, Language, and I think that’s it. HEED THE WARNINGS PLEASE!

Betas: @winecatsandpizza

Word Count: 3.6k

Fic Aesthetic: Yours Truly

Dedicated to: @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men

A/N: This is a repost from my old Tumblr blog. I am in the process of moving all of my fics over to this blog. I hope you all enjoy!

From the moment you met Sam and Dean Winchester, you’d known your life was about to change. Be it bad or good was hard to determine, mainly because of what they did for a living, but a little part of it had to do with the fact that the elder of the two brothers didn’t seem to like you.

You couldn’t put your finger on it. Anytime he exchanged words with you, it was always cold and dismissive. Sam assured you that his brother would come around, but you weren’t born yesterday. Dean had something against you, and you, being the stubborn woman you were, aimed to figure it out.

The three of you were sitting in the library sifting through lore for a case. There had apparently been reports of a Djinn hybrid in the Midwest, and you knew it had to be the work of Michael. Dean had his feet propped up on the table, a rather large dusty book in his hands. Sam was typing away on his laptop, the clicking of the keys being the only audible sound other than the occasional page turn.

You knew that finding a way to kill the latest and greatest monster of the week was what you should be doing, but you couldn’t focus. Not when this whole thing with Dean was eating at you.

“I can’t do this anymore!”

The book you’d been holding was thrown carelessly onto the table, the sound reverberating off the walls making both brothers jump.

Dean removed his boot-covered feet off the tabletop and planted them on the floor. You didn’t miss how his eyebrows knitted into a scowl or his signature eye roll.

“Giving up already, Y/N? You know, if the huntin’ life isn’t cut out for you, then you can see yourself out anytime.”

Sam sighed and gave Dean his best bitch face.

“Dean! Whatever is going on with Y/N, I can assure you that you’re not helping!”

He turned his gaze to you, his hazel eyes looking at you sympathetically. You’d normally just keep your anger bottled up inside, but something inside you snapped. Being a hunter meant everything to you after a demon killed your kid sister, and for Dean to question your loyalty like that had crossed a line. Your anger started to rise within you, like a sea of molten lava until you were no longer in control of your emotions.

Instead of storming off to your room and slamming the door for good measure like you normally would do, you stood and yanked the book Dean was reading out of his hand. You were gnashing your teeth together in such a snarl that it was a miracle they didn’t break.

“You think you’re so fucking smug, don’t you Winchester? You think you’re this big badass and that nothing can touch you. Well, let me tell you something.”

Your small hand grabbed onto the front of his shirt, bunching it up between your fingers as you got dangerously close to his face.

“You don’t fucking scare me in the least bit!”

The venom in your tone was palpable and with a hard push of your free hand, he and the chair went crashing to the floor.

Without giving him a chance to fire an insult back, you headed into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge. You could hear Dean’s muffled voice as he spat angrily in response to his brother’s laughs. It only made the smirk on your face wider. Maybe now Dean will show you some respect.

The rest of the night was pretty quiet. You stayed in your room, scouring the internet for a way to kill the monster in question, and munched on some popcorn. The research came easily to you, your eyes scanning effortlessly through article after article. Even though you still hadn’t found a weapon to kill this Djinn on steroids, you knew your efforts would make Sam proud.

You felt his presence before he knew you did. He loomed in the doorway, leaning against it like it was the only thing keeping him from falling.

“Can I help you, Dean?”

You didn’t even bother to stop reading the article you’d found. He was probably just here to start something with you, and you had neither the time nor the energy to fight. Instead of replying, he pushed off the doorframe and stalked towards you, his shadow spreading across you and your keyboard.

You knew he was waiting for you to look at him, but you honestly didn’t feel like giving him the satisfaction. Why should you? He’d been nothing but an ass to you since you moved in. So instead of giving him what he wanted, you continued to read.

Apparently, Dean got tired of not having your attention because the next thing you knew, he’d taken your laptop and tossed it on your pile of dirty laundry in the corner. He crossed his arms over his chest, his jaw clenching as he looked down at you.

“What the hell do you want, Dean? I’m trying to find a way to kill that fucking Djinn. You’re not still pissed about me putting you on your ass, are you? I mean, you kind o-HEY! LET ME GO!”

In one swift motion, he’d pulled you to your feet and shoved you against the wall. Dean’s chest heaved and his nostrils flared as he towered over you with his full height.

“You don’t fucking get it, do you Y/N?”

His forearm pressed into your chest, not hard enough to hurt you, but firmly enough to hold you in place.

Even at your disadvantage you still stood your ground. Your eyes narrowed perilously, certain that if looks could kill then Dean would have been done for.

“Oh, you think I don’t get it?! Trust me, Dean. I think I get exactly what you’re doing. Ever since I came here, you’ve been nothing but hostile to me! It’s because I’m a woman, isn’t it? You think just because I’m a woman that I can’t hold my own. Well, I’ve got news for you, Dean Winchester. I can do the job just as good as you any day of the fucking year!”

You were so caught up in getting your point across that you hadn’t noticed the amused look on his face. His laugh filled the small room as he let go of you. Tears streamed down his face as he hunched over, and it pissed you off that he thought this was amusing.

Finally, he swiped his sleeve over his eyes and took a few deep breaths to regain his composure.

“Is that what you think? You really think I’m a dick to you because you’re a woman? Oh my God… I thought you of all people would at least get it.”

He sighed and ran a hand across his face.

“Look, Y/N, It’s not because you’re a woman. Hell, some of the greatest hunters I know are women. I’m trying to protect you! I don’t want you to go through what Sammy and I have gone through. You’ve already lost one family member, and I’ll be damned if you lose your life, too. Just… Let Sammy and I handle the hunts okay? You can hold down the fort here in the Bunker and be our research guru. That I know you can handle.”

It was your turn to laugh.

“What do you know about handling anything? You could barely handle that case with the nest of nearly invincible vampires. What makes you think you can just walk in here and tell me what I can and can’t deal with? I mean, as long as we are on the topic, Let’s just be honest with ourselves, shall we?"

"You couldn’t handle me if I came with a user manual!”

The look on Dean’s face darkened. It sent heat straight to your core, something that you could almost always control when it came to the elder brother. Normally, his asshole demeanor outweighed him being the sexiest man you’d ever laid eyes on. You swallowed thickly as he invaded your space again. His once sparkling green eyes were now clouded with something new, something you’d only seen him offer to the occasional stripper or hooker that he brought back to the hotel.

“Are you challenging me, Y/N?”

You tried to hide the fact that he was having an effect on you, but your flushed skin and rapid heartbeat betrayed you. Your answer came easily, and the submissive part of you that lay dormant for so long surfaced like a rekindled flame.

“Yes.”

Dean brought one of his hands up to your face and cradled your cheek in it, the touch alone sent sparks through your veins. His freckles were so easy to see this close. Constellations mapped the entirety of his cheeks, and you briefly wondered if he had them elsewhere. Your eyes flicked from his intense gaze down to his lips, silently willing him to close the small gap between you and devour your mouth.

“Now now, Y/N, is that any way to talk to me? I think you know better. Yes what, sweetheart?”

You looked down at your bare feet, Y/E/C eyes focusing on the remnants of the chipped polish on some of your toenails. Your mind contemplated what was about to happen. You could still back out of this, push him out of the way, and run. That wouldn’t solve anything though. Running from your deepest desires, from Dean, was what you’d essentially been doing for months. It was now or never and quite frankly you wanted to give in. You wanted him to have full control over you, and you’d dreamed about it more than you’d like to admit.

“Y-Yes, Sir.”

Two of his fingers rested underneath your chin, raising it so you were looking up at him.

“Good girl.”

His praise was the first nice thing he’d ever said to you, and you’d be lying if it didn’t make your heart sing. His lips closed the distance and pressed against your own hungrily. His tongue slid into your awaiting mouth and you moaned sinfully. He tasted of cinnamon and whiskey, just like you’d always imagined.

Dean broke the kiss and touched his forehead against yours, his hands coming to rest on the curvature of your waist.

“Go to my room, Y/N. I want you to be stripped and kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed before I get back. Do you understand?”

Your response was immediate. Almost like a reflex, as it left your lips in a whisper.

“Yes, Sir.”

He watched you leave the confines of your room before heading the opposite way. Your feet padded down the hallway and came to a stop outside the closed door of Dean’s room. It had been years since you’d had a dom, and even then they hadn’t exuded as much dominance as Dean had just moments ago. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you entered his room and closed the door behind you. The smell of his cologne wrapped itself around you like a hug. The familiar scent calmed your nerves instantly and soon you found yourself naked and kneeling at the foot of the bed just as you had been told to do.

Dean came in a few minutes later and set what sounded like something heavy on top of his dresser. You didn’t dare look up though. He hadn’t given you permission, and you wanted to show him that you could be good and obey him.

“Look at you, doing what you’re told like a good, little girl. See? I knew you could do this. I bet you’re soaking wet already, and I haven’t even touched you yet.”

Once again his fingers came to rest under your chin, tilting your head so you were looking up at him through your lashes.

“Get on the bed.”

He wasn’t mean about it, but his tone was firm and laced with an underlying warning of consequence if you disobeyed. Swifty and quietly you climbed onto the comforter and resumed your kneeling position. Dean walked around to the other side of you and sat down. He was still fully clothed, but you could clearly see his erection tenting his jeans.

“Alright, sweetheart, let’s talk about the rules. You are to address me as sir, and only sir. Don’t cum until I tell you to, and if you ever feel uncomfortable with something that I am doing, then please use the safeword ‘cake’. Do you understand?

Hearing that your safeword was cake confused you at first, but when you thought about it for a moment it made sense. Dean was a pie fanatic. Especially if it was pecan pie, but you’d never seen him eat cake. Let alone mention it. So you could see how he’d come up with it in the end.

“Yes, sir. I understand, sir.”

Dean seemed convinced by your response so you stayed still and waited for his next command. You could hear him pick whatever he had brought with him off the dresser, and your pulse quickened at the thought of what he was about to do to you.

The bed dipped behind you, and his hot breath fanned across the back of your neck making you shiver.

“Clasp your hands behind your back for me, baby. I’m going to restrain you now so you stay still for me.”

You brought your hands behind your back, interlacing your fingers together so your wrists rested against your tailbone. The feeling of the nylon rope being looped around your wrists made you impossibly wetter. The thought of being restrained and letting none other than Dean Winchester worship your body was enough to make you cum, but you couldn’t do that. Not when he’d specifically told you not to.

Dean made quick work of the black rope. He maneuvered around your torso, wrapping it around each elbow and tying a knot in the middle to lock your arms in place. The rest of it was placed expertly around your chest and tied off, the final knot resting along your shoulder blades. He let you fall head first into the mattress, your head turning to the side so you could breathe. He stepped back to admire his work.

“A damn good job if I do say so myself. It’s not too tight, is it, darlin’?

You took a moment to tug at your binds and unclasp and reclasp your fingers. Everything still had circulation, but you still couldn’t break free if you tried.

“No, everything feels fine, sir.”

You heard him walk behind you, no doubt enjoying the view of you on display to him.

“God, you look so fucking beautiful like this. Look at you… showing me that perfect, round ass and that tight, little pussy of yours.”

He ran one of his fingers through your folds, and it took everything in you not to moan. Your teeth clamped down on your bottom lip to keep yourself from making any noise.

“Mmmm just as I thought, soaking wet just for me.”

The thick digit left you and you looked into his lust-blown eyes as his lips closed around it.

“So good, Y/N. Now, are you ready for me to test you? Gonna show me what a good girl you are?”

You shook your ass at him for good measure and replied without hesitation. “I’m ready, sir.”

Dean grabbed onto your hips and pulled you to the edge of the bed, his clothed erection applying slight friction to your needy cunt. He ran his middle and index fingers through your juices a few times before sliding them into you.

“Be as loud as you want, princess. Sam isn’t here to hear you. It’s just you and me.”

Ever so slowly, he moved his fingers in and out of you, making you moan loudly.

“F-Fuck!”

His pace increased, and you felt the coil of heat tighten. You were so close already and he’d barely gotten started. You felt your walls tighten slightly and you squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to maintain control. Dean knew how hard you were trying and you also knew he was competing with you. Using his skills to his advantage to see how much you could take.

“Oh shit… shit shit shit… I don’t know if I can…. FUCK!”

Dean curled his fingers so they hit that spot inside you with each thrust. Soon you couldn’t hold back any longer. With a cry of his name, you came hard, squirting all over his hand and the bed.

The white-hot orgasm nearly made you pass out, and by the time your climax was over you knew you were in trouble. You couldn't see his face, but you were sure Dean wasn’t happy.

“Tsk tsk tsk … Y/N, you knew the rules. I seem to remember you agreeing to them and look at what you’ve done. You’ve made a mess, sweetheart.”

Just as you were about to apologize, he picked you up and set you gracefully on your knees.

“Are you ready to show me how sorry you are?”

Balancing on your knees while you were tied up like this was difficult, but being this close to Dean’s cock made your mouth water.

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry for disobeying you, sir. May I make it up to you by having you fuck my throat?”

The groan that left his lips was downright the most sinful thing you’d ever heard, and you definitely wanted to hear him make that noise again.

“Fuck… you read my mind, sweetheart.”

Dean began to circle you, watching you like a hawk would its prey. His tie was the first thing to go. Seeing him reach his right hand up and rip it off shouldn’t be as sexy as it was, but at this moment anything Dean did was sexy. He stopped in front of you and undid his belt and the top button on his pants, letting them pool carelessly at his ankles.

Finally, he freed his cock and you watched as he pumped it a few times. A bead of precum wept from the tip, and you leaned forward to catch it on your tongue. Your mouth closed around the head and Dean let you set the pace at first, more praises flying from his mouth as you took him in as deep as you could.

“That’s it, princess… suck my cock. Mmmmm, you’re so fucking good at that. Taking it so well.”

His hand fisted in your hair and you let him take over. You relaxed your throat as he took what he wanted from you, your eyes watering more and more every time he hit the back of your throat.

“Jesus… you have one helluva mouth, Y/N.”

He began to pant and his thrusts began to falter. His grip loosened on your hair and you whined as he pulled himself from your mouth.

“Now, baby, don’t you want me to cum in that pretty pussy of yours?”

As much as you wanted to make him come apart with your mouth, having him buried inside you was more appealing at the moment.

“Please, sir. Please fuck me.”

Once again he picked you up, moving you back onto the bed with ease. Dean crawled behind you again, placing a hand on each of your hips. Without warning, he sheathed himself all the way to hilt, both of you crying out in pleasure. Dean set a harsh pace, his fingertips surely leaving bruises on your skin. You knew you would be sore. He was not, by any means, lacking in size. Not to mention the fact that he didn’t allow you to adjust to him.

His thrusts began to falter again, and you felt that familiar feeling come back. You tightened yourself around him, and he growled, fucking you harder into the bed.

“S-Sir!... please, sir! Please, may I cum? … F-Fuck!”

You were so close to the peak of pure bliss that you could almost taste it. You just needed a little more. Dean grabbed onto the knotted rope in the middle of your back and pulled you so your back was to his chest. His other hand snaked around your body and circled your clit vigorously.

“Fuck, Y/N… C’mon, princess… Cum all over my cock. Let go, baby.”

A few more seconds of him fucking up into you and you fell over the edge taking him with you. Your walls milking Dean for all he was worth. He held you there for a few minutes, your heavy breathing in sync as you both came down from your high.

Dean placed a chaste kiss on your back and pulled out of you. He took his time untying you, being careful not to irritate your skin further. Once you were free you stretched your arms and popped your knuckles.

Dean sat with his back to the headboard and pulled you into his lap, his hands rubbing your back gingerly.

“You did so well, Y/N. I’m so proud of you. You’re amazing.”

He kissed you sweetly and you melted against his chest, your eyes fluttering shut from exhaustion.

You listened to the steady beat of his heart and somehow made your brain form a coherent thought.

“I’m glad we were able to settle things, Dean. I was beginning to think you really did hate me. I understand everything now.”

He kissed the top of your head and held you protectively. “I could never hate you, Y/N. Not when you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I love you, princess.”

His words shocked you, but you were too tired to respond. Sleep came easy for you in Dean’s arms, and you couldn’t wait to wake up tomorrow to see what this new life with Dean would bring you.

#j snow writes #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean winchester smut #dean smut #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fan fic #supernatural fic #spn fanfiction #spn fan fic #spn fanfic #spn fic #supernatural smut #spn smut

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novasdarling · 1 year

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I kinda wanna see what will yan delusional todo would do after makin up scenarios bout fem reader "cheating" on him when she just livin her life

I tried, but I kept rewriting it sooo..... kinda ended up with Todou misunderstanding people need to work and can't just rely on him to live.

Quit

TW: Yandere behaviour, Possessiveness, Forceful Touching, Female Reader, Aged Up.

It had been a long day, work had made you stay late yet again. Pushing you to pick up extra shifts with a moment's notice. They just took and took without checking whether you wanted them or would even agree. All because they decided to book event after event without properly staffing the place. Nevertheless, without that stupid place, you wouldn't be able to pay your bills. It was work and work again, barely any rest. That was life, it had all rotated around work. Any moment you could spare, you gave it to your boyfriend Todou. Though, recently you had barely seen him. Too busy to go on dates, to watch a movie, or even too occupied to sit down and properly have dinner together. It was pathetic, you two acted like awkward roommates rather than partners. It was sad, but in the back of your mind, you hoped things would eventually fall back into place. Yet, as the weeks went by, things didn't slow down. Your work was always keeping you busy, even on your days off. Making you answer calls and texts. It had been rough, but you assumed Todou understood. Sure he was moody and sometimes snippy, but you always presumed he knew it was work. That work was doing this. That you truly had no say. That you needed and wanted this job.

Getting on your coat, you cussed to yourself. Another last-minute call to fill in a no-call, no-show. If they just hired a few backups, you wouldn't need to come in every time someone wasn't able to make it. You called out to Todou who you guessed was still showering. Letting him know you were going.

"You're leaving."

Todou had just gotten out of the shower. The white towel hanging dangerously low. It was unfair, he always looked so good when you needed to leave. He had a habit of it. Teasing you, tempting you to stay. You bit your lip, running your eyes up and down his body.

"Yeah, I'm filling in for someone. But" you walked over to him. Letting your hands linger over the tie of the towel. "When I get back, maybe we can..."

Todou seemed to ignore your teasing. Ignoring how your fingers dipped below the towel. Playing with the skin where he had attempted to tie it around his hips.

"You said today's your day off."

"It was." You could tell he was irritated and so were you. They promised you today off. You weren't even on call. "I'm sorry. I'll see if I can have another talk with my supervisor."

Though you knew he wouldn't care. He would give the usual speech about how everyone needed to pitch in because times were tough. That if you still want your job, you would pitch in the extra hours. You gave him a sympathetic smile before turning back to the door. As you walked to the door. You tried to figure out a way to make it up to him. Perhaps some takeout on your way back. He really liked the steak from the place beside your work.

Before you could open the door to leave, Todou was behind you. Placing his hand on the door above your head. Keeping you from opening it.

"Very funny Todou, but I need to leave."

"Why are you working so much?"

"Because they're assholes and I need the job."

"No, you don't. I make enough for the both of us."

You turned to look at him. Rolling your eyes at his comment. He always said that when you complained about work. Though you never took him seriously, assuming he was just playing with you about it.

"Please don't go. Quit"

"One day I might just." You laughed as you tried to open the door. Your efforts were still being blocked by Todou. "Todou, this isn't funny anymore."

It went back and forth, Todou asking you again and again. You giving the same answer. Each round making you more irritated. Todou had made you late before, but usually from begging you for one more round in bed. Not from holding the door closed and he stared down at you. As he kept a cold look on his face.

The back and forth was beginning to get annoying. He was making you late. Keeping you back when you could have been down the street already in line for a coffee before your hell of a shift.

"Todou I get it, you're mad, but this is pissing me off now."

"No." Todou's tone had dropped. It wasn't his usual voice he took with you. He sounded serious. He didn't sound like him. "Why do you always go when he calls, huh?"

"He's my supervisor. He's threatened my job Todou. I need to go whenever he calls."

"No. Tell me the truth." Todou had managed to relock the door. Closing you in more. Pushing you against him. Forcing you to look up. "Why are you putting this job before us, before me?"

There it was. There was the real reason Todou was acting so off. Sure there were times when he had gotten jealous and possessive, but you had been able to talk him down easily before.

"Oh, my love. I'm sorry, I'll try to find another job or something" That would be tough, the job market had been rough lately. "We can talk about it later."

"Why does he have such a hold on you? Are you seeing him?"

You were floored that he would even ask you this. That he would question your loyalty to him. No words could form as you looked at him. You stared at him in disgust. The man standing before you wasn't the Todou you knew and loved. Sure he could be possessive at times, but nothing like this. He never looked at you with those emotions before. It looked like pure jealousy and rage.

You could tell his eyes were searching your face for something, but it wasn't done out of concern. After all this time together, he really was questioning your loyalty. Questioning your intentions, your love for him. You tried to figure out how you got to this point. How he was able to get from you being overworked and used by your company. To it being about faithfulness. You tried and tried, staring at him to see if he would give you a hint. Tell you what happened, say someone thought they saw you and you could explain the misunderstanding. Yet, it never came. Both of you just stared at one another. Waiting for the other to break first, waiting for the other to give in and speak. Nothing, not a word from you or him. Even when you tried to speak, to plead for him to let you leave. To claim your innocence. Nothing came out, your mouth hanging open, waiting for the words to appear on your tongue. They never did, at least not in time.

Todou mumbled to himself. You couldn't quite catch his words, they didn't sound like anything comprehensive. As if his mind was working faster than his mouth ever could. The one thing you could understand was his movement. His hands were on you, pushing you away from the door. From your exit out of here. He was pushing you further into the apartment. Shoving you to the living room.

"N-No, s-stop To-"

"I don't want to hear it."

Your words had finally found their way to your mouth. Just unable to be completed. All you could do was shove him. Push at his hands, tear at his grip on you. He was still damp from the shower. Your fingers merely just slipped off. Though you knew even if he was dry, there would be no chance of getting him off of you. Todou was strong, he took pride in that. Always claiming he could protect you. You never thought that the same man who swore you'd be safe with him was acting like a lunatic monster.

Your attempts didn't stop, hands still prying at his. Mumbles of begs coming from your lips. Even when he pushed you over the edge of the couch, you still tried to talk him down. Attempting to talk some sense into him as you crawled away. Trying to get to the man you knew and loved. The Todou who you woke up with this morning. Yet, as his hands made their way to your ankle, and he pulled you towards him. Causing you to lay flat. You saw nothing familiar in his eyes. All you could make out was anger in his clouded look.

"You're seeing him aren't you."

Crawling on top of you, his hands moving from your ankle to your face. Elbows and knees holding him up as one hand grabbed your cheeks. Managing to squish both in his palms. Forcing you to look up at him. His wet hair dripped down on your cheeks. He was a site to behold. You had been like this with him before, under him as he held you down. Completely at his mercy, but not under these circumstances.

"I thought you loved me."

"What the Fuck Todou, of course, I do."

"Then why?." Todou leaned down, resting his head between your shoulders and cheek. Nestling his head into your neck. Whispering against your skin. "Why would you do this to me. To us? I told you to quit so many times."

It felt oddly soft, a tender moment in this chaos. Like he was back to his usual self. To the man you loved. You were too afraid to say anything. Too terrified to set him off again. Would it be worth it trying to explain that he was crazy, that you were simply just off to the hellhole you call work for money? You needed this job because you didn't want to rely solely on him.

Your mind raced, trying to find an answer. A way to calm him down, a way to leave. Anything to get this to stop. Your eyes searched the room, but there was no escape route. No way to get away from, out from under him and try to calm him down.

"I'm-I'm sorry."

It was all you could say. All you could manage to push out of your mouth. Your mind went to the only other option. If he wasn't comprehending why you would work at such a shitty job. Then all you could do was plead with him, try to buy into his delusion and work your way from there. If he wasn't buying your clueless attitude. Perhaps he would buy your plea. Fall for your mock apology. You could play into his illusion if that meant him being normal again. If it meant him letting you go.

"I'm so sorry. I-I, uh," You were stuck, playing into his delusion could mean he would be worse. Todou was possessive, you'd seen his tendencies before, just not like this. You debated with yourself for a while before continuing. "I've tried to quit, but he won't let me."

You were putting the blame on someone else. Rinsing your hands of the blame in Todou's eyes.

"You've tried? When?" Todou looked puzzled. Raising his eyebrows at you.

"I wanted to quit, but he threatened to call every place I applied to and tell them I'm horrible at my job."

You had no idea where you were going with this lie. The words were falling with no real direction. Was there a way you could play into this delusion without him being even more upset and possessive? Without him expecting you to actually quit later? Or worse, him challenging your supervisor. Sure he was a prick but didn't deserve Todou's wrath.

Todou looked down at you as you talked. Trying to explain things. His face barely changed. He looked stern, yet shocked. You knew he was going to use this as ammo to get you to leave this job and probably work completely.

"Oh, my dear" His hands were squeezing your cheeks, keeping your eyes locked on him. "I can't believe he did that. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was scared."

Todou's look changed now to pure rage. You were an idiot for saying that. With a few simple words, you had set him off. His grip on you tightened.

"He scared you? Oh, sweetie." Todou leaned down, placing a delicate kiss on your lips. It was sweet, unfitting for his expression seconds earlier. "My poor dear." He was condescending now. "It's okay, I can help."

"No, No. Todou-"

"Shh, it's okay I'll take care of it. That piece of shit won't bother you again."

"No don't, please." You were beginning to tear up. You weren't sure if it was because of anger or confusion. Perhaps both.

"I wasn't there and that asshole took advantage of that." He was raising his voice now, getting more irate as he went on. He prides himself as your protector, an image you had just messed with.

"No Todou-"

"Yes he did, he used you. Worked you like a dog and had the nerve to threaten you. Don't you see? He saw you were vulnerable. He took advantage of that."

Sure your supervisor had made remarks before about your employment, but not like you had made it out to be. It was mostly yelling and asking you again and again if you really wanted this job or not. Things you were willing to put up with if it meant getting a paycheck at the end of the week.

Todou stood up, letting you free. He was pacing around the couch. Rubbing his cheeks. Ranting how this was all his fault. That him being too busy with his own work, or not forcing you to quit sooner was what caused all of this. You could tell this wasn't just him going on a rant. It seemed like he was searching for a solution to the fake problem. You hoped he would just insist you switch jobs. Something you could do and would appease him.

"I'm sorry, but we can talk about it later." You sat up, watching as he paced. "I can go in and talk to the other supervisors or even look for another job."

Todou stopped pacing. Refusing to look at you. Maybe you shouldn't have mentioned going to work now. He seemed to be lost in thought for a few minutes before heading to the bedroom. You could hear him getting ready. Shuffling things around. Getting up, you made your way after him. Curious and nervous about what he was doing. Before you could open the bedroom door, Todou snapped it open. Fully dressed as he pushed passed you. It felt like he hadn't even seen you. He made his way to the front door. Getting his shoes on.

"Todou where are you going"

"To make sure he doesn't speak to you like that again."

He was talking about your supervisor.

"What do you mean." You had made your way to Todou, now you were the one blocking the door,

"He won't bother you again. I'll make sure of it. Now move"

"No." You couldn't let him go and mess with him over an exaggeration.

"I said move." He was staring at you, jaw clenched. "He needs to know he can't talk to you like that. I couldn't help you before, but now I can. So move."

You didn't, you couldn't move. Couldn't let him do this. Refused to let him go and do something over an exaggeration to pacify him. There was no way you would let him do this. You couldn't. Yet, as he realized you weren't going to move. There was nothing you could do as he picked you up. Moving you by force. Making his way to open the door.

"Don't do this. Please don't. They'll fire me and then I'm fucked."

You hoped he would have pity on you. Listen to your pleas and realize you needed to work no matter how much he wanted you to depend on him and quit.

"Sweetie." He stopped, already halfway out the door. His hand left the handle and found its way to your torso. Pulling you closer to him. Todou leaned down, kissing the tips of your ear before whispering.

"You never liked it anyway." He straightened up, looking down at you. "Don't worry. You have me. I mean you were going to have to stop working eventually. This just showed me I should have pushed you sooner."

Todou gave you one last kiss before closing the door behind him. Stopping before the door latched.

"Don't go anywhere. I expect you to be here when I get back."

You stayed standing there for a few moments. Taking in what had happened and what was to happen. Going over every moment in your head again and again. Trying to figure out how one thing leads to the other. Nothing added up. Nothing made any sense. There was nothing you could do. When Todou was set on something, he rarely let up. All you could do was wait. Wait until he gets back and forces you into his little fantasy.

#yandere todo #yandere todou #yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere todo x reader #yandere todou x reader #yandere jjk x reader #yandere jujutsu kaisen x reader #todou #todo #jujustu kaisen #jjk #yandere x reader #yandere #jjk x reader #todo x reader #todou x reader #todou jjk #nova writes

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