#its about embracing being different but still feeling this deep pain from it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aw1tht33tha · 2 months

Text

Feeling feral enough, darling?

Astarion gets turned into a delicious whimpering puddle (and a bit of a feral animal) with the powerful magic of sensual femdom, pegging and lots of love. Just the way this man deserves.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pairing: Spawn Astarion/F!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count: 5.1k

Tags/Warnings: 18+, BDSM, femdom, power play, bondage, dirty talk, teasing, edging, cunnilingus, blowjob, pegging, rough PinV sex, body worship, sensory deprivation (sight/touch), praise kink, sensitive elf ears, orgasm denial, biting, scratching, blood drinking, high heels, fetish, fluff and sass, two horny sadistic assholes in love, established relationship, more or less cannon compliant, cat in the end

Read on AO3 or indulge right here:

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Astarion’s mind is spinning these instructions on repeat as he opens the front door and enters your deceivingly quiet home:

Take a bath.

Enter the bedroom naked.

Kneel next to the bed.

Put a blindfold on.

Wait.

Surrendering control wasn’t novel for a vampire spawn. However, giving it up fully and willingly for shared pleasure with his lover felt deeply alluring, but a little intimidating still. Astarion is too used to lavishing others with attention and keeping his grip tight on the reins out of necessity, rather than his own desire. But it should be different now. The newfound safety of your relationship gifted him a chance to learn letting go and truly enjoying himself for the first time in what seemed like a fucking eternity.

He feels slightly anxious as he undresses and discards clothes on the floor, crimson eyes locked on a steamy bath with bubbles, prepared lovingly in time for his arrival.

It’s been almost a year since both Cazador and Netherbrain fell to their deaths. The bond you’ve built together since then felt stronger than ever. No masters to serve, just following your own hearts. And yet, worries that pain and disgust may flood back from the depths of his past again gnaw at the back of his mind. He wants this to be perfect. To take a leap of faith and feel good and present, blissed out with you tonight. Free of his demons. For good.

“This is what I want, isn’t it?”

Take a bath.

He takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes for a few seconds trying to settle his nerves, then steps into the bathtub to clean off blood, sweat and dirt of his last bounty kill. Warm water embraced his cool body and relaxed sore muscles almost instantly, freeing his mind to reminisce about more pleasant things from the recent past.

Being an adventurous “hero” proved to be a surprisingly fun and profitable pastime, quite deliciously filling too if you happen to be a vampire. “Turns out nobody really cares about the murder… as long as you murder the right people.” Astarion recalls his joke at a party with your group of weirdo friends and it turns the corners of his lips up a little.

He starts making quick and thorough work of getting himself clean with fragrant soap, shampoo and conditioner. Pleasant as it is to soak and indulge in a self-care routine, it seemed just a bit cruel to make you wait for this perfect body for too long.

A few minutes pass and Astarion is out of the tub and sufficiently dried off - damp silver locks falling charmingly out of order and white towel wrapped scandalously low around his hips. He grabs the bathroom door handle confident enough to proceed with the next step.

Enter the bedroom naked.

“Right, naked” – he freezes. With one swift motion towel flies off his lean body to join the pile of its cotton siblings stacked in the corner. He crosses a dark corridor, anticipation starting to build up in his chest. Your shared bedroom reveals itself in all its intimate glory and comfort.

Closed heavy blinds, fresh dark silken sheets on a spacious bed, fluffed pillows arranged in an unusually orderly manner and almost ridiculous amounts of candles bathing the room in gentle warmth, pleasant scents, and dancing lights. So very you and him. The top of the bedside table appears busier than most days, displaying a carefully lined up selection of sex toys and ropes. All quite familiar to Astarion, yet he doesn’t know when and how exactly any of those are going to be used tonight and it is positively intriguing.

The only sound in the room is produced by candle wicks softly crackling in the background. Astarion takes a moment to sink in the atmosphere and looks around.

Kneel next to the bed.

His gaze stops at a big red pillow invitingly laying in the middle of the room close to the bed. A simple black blindfold is resting on top. He circles around and slowly lowers himself down on his knees. No one is commanding a vampire to do so except his own little voice. He yearns for your presence already and picks up a blindfold.

“Curious how we got here,” Astarion thinks as he gently runs his fingers along the soft black fabric, grateful for all the time you’ve spent together up until this moment. How it literally turned his undead life around and made him experience everything he thought was impossible or unreachable. Everything he thought wasn’t meant for him – freedom, salvation, friendship and… love.

Especially love. Somehow, he found himself not only caring deeply for you, but slowly nurturing some love and acceptance for himself. A truly unexpected turn of events.

Put a blindfold on.

The blindfold slides over his beautiful eyes and Astarion finds himself depraved from one of the prime senses to rely on. An exciting image of you invades his mind and he starts wondering if you are going to wear anything at all tonight.

His brain naturally shifts focus to what he can hear, touch, taste, and smell instead.

Your voice. What are you going to ask of him tonight? Will you let him make you scream his name?

Your skin. So soft and warm, he craves to glide his fingers all over your body right this instant.

Your scent. That unique blend of indescribable “you” with a hint of perfume or whatever fragrant skin care you just couldn’t stop stealing from his shelf like the adorable fetishist you are.

Your blood. That sweet life essence you are kind enough to share, keeping him hopelessly addicted from the first bite.

And wait.

Wait for your arrival and then dive into the unknown. Well, not that unknown since you both discussed your desires a few days prior, leaving just a touch of mystery on the details. “Gale of Waterdeep” was chosen to serve as your shared safe word, cause who else possessed an ability to kill the mood faster than a walking encyclopaedia?

This is, without a doubt, the sweetest torture for Astarion so far in the night. Just kneeling still and ready, wondering which of the obscene scenarios generated by his mind in your absence was going to become a reality. He did exactly what you asked him to do already, and he couldn’t wait for more.

It isn’t too long before his head instinctively turns towards the sound of steps approaching the room. A measured, confident pace accentuated by an unmistakable clack of heels meeting wooden boards sends a little shiver up his spine.

Finally.

You open the door without haste and your eyes are met with probably the best sight you could ever imagine:

A devastatingly beautiful elf is kneeling at your mercy, exposed and blindfolded, his perfect marble skin bathed in candlelight. Soft silver locks allowed to arrange themselves with less restraint than usual. His cock is hard for you already, twitching and leaking precum as you take your time to shut the door and take a few steps closer. His chest is heaving in anticipation, those beautiful tender lips parted slightly, both arms digging through his own thighs not daring to touch himself where he is dying to be touched right now.

Astarion looks properly riled up by his own imagination already. Letting him marinate and fight against his own impulsive nature worked even better than you anticipated. You shake off a strong temptation to sabotage the whole scene and dive down to devour him right where he is. It would be a crime to end the session so soon and you find the strength in yourself to stick to your plan of taking him completely apart piece by piece.

“Hello, my sweet,” your flirty voice is barely above a breathy whisper, and he can tell you are saying it through a wide smile without even needing to see your face.

A raspy “I missed you so much,” is all Astarion can manage to reply as his nose catches intoxicating mix of pulsing blood in your veins, arousal building up between your thighs, and surely his own perfume you’ve stolen again as you position your hips mere inches away from his gorgeous face.

“Did you? How about a proper greeting, then?”

You gently raise his chin with a curled index finger and run your thumb across soft parted lips making him gasp and desperately lean into your touch. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice his own fingers lightly grazing the pillow, crawling their way towards your feet in the darkness.

“No touching until I say so.” Your warning makes him slightly raise his hands in defeat and put them back on his thighs. He manages to behave while your thumb invades his mouth to meet with a hungry vampire tongue, even when your other hand caresses his neck and jawline in admiration. It’s the feather light tracing of his pointy ear from earlobe to the tip that makes Astarion shudder and send his seeking arms forward again.

No, he won’t be able to keep his hands away from you or himself at this rate, so you stop and take a step back as soon as his fingers make contact with the tips of your shoes. Astarion lets out a soft disappointed moan, his body leaning forward craving any attention you would graciously descend upon him.

“Please, I’m burning to touch you, my love.” He is on the steady path of falling apart already.

Delightful.

“You’ll have your chance if you’re patient enough. Wrists together behind your back.”

He reluctantly obliges your command. You reappear behind him with a short red rope to lean down and restrain him with a simple double column tie. That should take care of his mischievous rogue hands for now and you circle around to face him again.

“Now, where were we?”

Before Astarion has a chance to come back with anything at all, your right foot lightly grazes against his left knee and you drag the blunt nose of your pump up his leg, ghosting over the aching length of his cock almost as if by accident. His abdominal muscles clench and he lets out a shaky sigh, baring his fangs. Observing this man’s reactions to teasing is quickly becoming your new favourite form of entertainment. You rest your foot on his upper thigh applying just enough pressure to make the heel sting slightly, keeping him sitting low.

“You may worship whatever you can reach with your lips.”

He eagerly leans forward, and his mouth starts travelling up your inner thigh kissing, licking, nibbling on your smooth skin like a starved man. Payback time, darling, Astarion thinks reaching that place where your leg connects to pelvis and caressing you agonisingly slow with his firm tongue, so close to your sex you almost wobble. You run your fingers through his white curls gripping firmly to find stability.

Astarion quickly realises you are not wearing any panties, so he keeps on leaving tender kisses and passionate licks all around your folds and clit, never giving you more than his hot breath over the very centre. He knows exactly how to drive you dripping wet and desperate, pussy clenching over nothing. Difference is, he is not really in control this time, so you intend to serve him a reminder and tilt his head back, pulling hard on silver locks.

“I think you’re missing a spot,” you manage in between intensified breaths.

“Sorry, darling. If only I could see what I was doing,” he sounds almost convincingly apologetic, but a tiny smug smile gives him away. Astarion knows exactly what he’s doing to you. He won’t be getting away with anything easy tonight, though… despite his impressive arsenal of ways to melt your body and mind into a whimpering puddle.

“Don’t worry, I’ll guide you.” You cup his perfect face gently before adding, “stick your tongue out for me, gorgeous.”

Your confident yet warm tone makes him obey before even thinking. This feels refreshingly fun and liberating - not having to think much and simply relying on you to lead this dance to ecstasy however you desire.

You bring his face closer and roll your hips forward forcing his tongue to part the folds and finally get to the most sensitive parts of your sex. A much anticipated sensation hits you almost like a jolt of electricity and you have to dig your fingers in his neck and shoulders to keep your balance.

“Now, be a good boy and make me come.” You push the words out quickly before starting to lose yourself on Astarion’s skilled tongue. He is lapping your cunt devotedly, flexing muscles against the restrains, moaning softly. No toying around, witty remarks or aiding with fingers, just completely lost in eating you out with passion.

It doesn’t take much time for him at all to tighten up the coil of pleasure in your lower belly and for you to release it, holding on to him firmly as your legs dangerously give in to the weakness. Gods below, these damn heels don’t help either and you barely manage to ride out your orgasm not collapsing down.

You take a few moments to unwrap your arms from Astarion and steady your breath a little. “You did so well, my love… giving me exactly… what I asked for.”

As a reward, you take off the blindfold and carelessly toss it on the floor, the elf below you then greedily drags his gaze up your body. You are wearing nothing but high heels and one of his slutty black shirts you shamelessly snatched from his wardrobe earlier. Unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, fabric loosely dripping down your back and ass, it’s not really covering anything in front. His burning eyes meet yours. “Anything for you, beautiful.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Stand up.”

You take a small step back and let him rise on his feet. Usually, Astarion would tower over you being a few inches taller, but the heels keep you almost the same height letting your eyes level with his. He finds himself enjoying this new perspective.

You let your nails and fingertips gently explore under his jaw, down his neck and over the clavicles. Then you close the gap between your lips inviting Astarion for a heated kiss, tasting your own deliciousness still lingering on his tongue. With his arms still tied he can’t do anything but struggle against the rope and desperately try to melt his whole naked body against yours seeking familiar warmth or any form of friction you would allow.

You decide to give in to this sweetness and lower your hands to pull your lover closer by the waist. Astarion uses this opportunity to push into the kiss even more and grind himself against you, leaving trails of sticky precum all over your belly. It’s too easy to get drunk on his eagerness and you have to peel yourself away before you’re too far gone. There is much more to do after all.

“A good little vampling like you deserves a treat, you know?” You whisper in his ear mischievously as you nudge him to take a few steps back towards the bed.

He sits down watching your every move through a haze of lust. You circle the edge of the bed and sit behind, brushing your lips against his ear as you half-whisper a new command. “I need you to get on bed fully and lay down on your back for me. Can I trust you to behave well and not touch anything you shouldn’t?”

“I’ll be good, I promise,” you hear sincerity in his reply, and set his arms free for now. Astarion wastes no time doing what he was asked to. You ditch your shoes and crawl on top of him straddling his waist. He tentatively lifts his forearms from the sheets anticipating you to restrain him again.

“Well, look who’s finally playing along,” you smile, playfully drawing random patterns on his chest with your fingertips. “Being tied up growing on you?”

“It’s you. Surrendering to you like this is growing on me,” his soft breathy confession travels right to your core. You bring his right wrist up to your lips and kiss it gently.

“Oh, I think you will love what I’m about to do next,” you give him a smug look and stretch the arm you were holding towards the upper corner of the mattress. Reaching under the pillows at the headboard you produce a thick leather handcuff connected to the bedframe with a rope.

Astarion lets you close and secure it around his wrist with an excited sigh. “Gods, you really planned everything out.”

You throw him another confident smile and repeat the same steps with the other wrist.

There is now a beautifully splayed vampire on your bed and it’s time for the main course. You shuffle back slightly, spread your thighs and press his legs down with your shins making it much harder for him to move his hips. You lower yourself down and start worshipping his exquisite body, letting your hands and mouth freely explore and trace all his lines and curves. Broad chest and shoulders, sensitive neck and nipples, firm abs, narrow hips – no part is left without your thorough attention. You deeply enjoy discovering every possible reaction he can give you while you caress and scratch, kiss and nibble, lick and breathe down his flawless ivory skin.

His hitched breaths and hisses gradually evolve into soft quiet moans the longer it continues and further down you go. When your arms and hot tongue leisurely reach his hips, your hair and the collar of the shirt start lightly brushing against his aching neglected erection. He can't stay more or less composed anymore.

"P-please, love," his urgent plea makes you raise your head and catch his longing gaze, pupils blown wide.

"Hmm?" You tilt your head and raise an eyebrow, waiting for more elaborate begging.

Astarion doesn’t wait for you to nudge him further. “Please, I need you. Your hands, your mouth, anything...”

"Like this?" You position your tongue at the base of his hard girthy cock and glide it up, savouring his taste, feeling it twitch against your touch. You pay extra attention to the pale pink tip, suckling on it gently and cupping his balls with your hand.

"Mhmm... yes, please… more," his purring approval reaches your ears, and you dive down on his length, taking in as much as you can on the first go before sliding back up and releasing him with a little pop. Astarion is quickly becoming a writhing mess as you repeat the pattern a few more times.

Your movements are slow and deliberate as you alternate between hand strokes, sucking or just teasingly kissing all around his delicious cock and balls. You are not being consistent with your pace or type of stimulation on purpose, attempting to drag out his pleasure as long as possible. It only works somewhat effectively as he is obviously on a steady ascend towards his climax no matter how chaotic you are in toying with him. There is just too much pent-up energy aching to burst out.

His head is slowly tilting back, erection almost rock-hard, and erratic exhales start breaking into moans. This is your cue. The perfect timing. You drop everything you were doing at once and pull yourself up into sitting between his legs, watching him break apart groaning and throwing his hips up in the air, finding nothing to help him finish. He was oh so close and you just denied him the much-awaited moment of bliss.

“Why must you be so cruel?” He loudly whimpers, shutting his eyes and rubbing his feet against the sheets in frustration.

“Cruel, my dear?” You climb over him and slide off the bed to pour yourself a glass of water from the pitcher. “I’m merely serving a fantasy. You know the words if it’s getting too...”

“No!” He interrupts and his wide red eyes meet yours. He adds a much softer, “please continue.”

You take a few sips of water and rest the glass back on a bedside table, inspecting the toys on display. You go for a small bottle of thick lube, a girthy glass butt plug and a strapless strap-on.

“Isn’t this exactly what you wanted? As I recall…”

You theatrically clear your throat to proceed with your best “Astarion” impression as you climb back on a bed armed with new tools to ruin him.

“I want you to torture me with pleasure, darling! Tease and edge me to your heart’s delight. Make me go feral for the sweetest release by the end of it…”

You prop one of the pillows under his ass for extra comfort and position yourself in between his slender legs. Then you gently tap him to spread wide open, knees bent high in the air. You generously coat your fingers in lube and start teasing his entrance and continue quoting him almost word for word.

“I know it may not be easy to achieve, unless you are, well, a seasoned professional like me,” you pause to imitate his high-pitched giggle. “But please make your best attempt.”

Astarion is taken aback by the sheer audacity of you mocking him like that, and can only watch your performance with his jaw open. You bend over and place the weight of your body on his chest getting your lips closer to whisper in his ear:

“…or something like that.”

Your index finger effortlessly slips inside, earning you his sweet gasp.

There is no rush as you slowly curl your digit inside him, kissing his neck and playfully nibbling on his earlobe. Soon enough, second finger joins the first and you feel Astarion’s calves brushing against your backside as he relaxes into the feeling of being stretched out. You raise yourself on one elbow to find his lips and start kissing tenderly, noses brushing together. You are eager to share just how much you’re pleased with him without any words.

He hums sweetly and wraps his legs around your waist when you carefully add a third finger in and push a little deeper inside. His cock is leaking precum on his abs, twitching against your lower belly.

“I’m so ready for you,” he rasps quietly, and you feel a rush of wetness, igniting your desire to give him everything you can. What did you do to deserve this world-endingly beautiful man melting under you like this?

You raise up and slide your fingers out carefully. While giving his shaft lazy pumps with one hand, you are fitting in the strap-on with the other. Even though a strapless variety is harder to keep in place, you appreciate extra feedback and pleasure it can provide. One more coat of lube for good measure and you are ready to invade his body again.

Taking it very slowly you line up the tip of your strap with his hole and dive in inch by inch, sending shivers up his spine. You give him a couple of seconds to adjust and then push under his knees encouraging Astarion to practically fold in half as you choose your preferred angle. Time to clench your pussy and get to work.

You are rolling your hips in rhythmic deep thrusts and manage to snake one hand in between your bodies to stroke him as well. The end of the strap within rubs deliciously against your tense walls. Sweet praises leave your lips as you fuck him gently.

“Such a good boy, taking me so well.”

“You look breathtaking just like this.”

“I love making you feel good.”

Doesn’t take too long until Astarion is reduced to sweat and loud whimpers, eyes shut and completely lost in his own world of rapture. He is about to fall over the edge at any second, arms grasping at the ropes that hold him in place, legs wrapped around your waist. You are not too far behind yourself and it's extremely tempting to just keep on going until it shatters you both into pieces.

You listen closely to his telltale signs not to miss the right moment. And then you pull out and break away from him. Again. This time he almost flies off the sheets after you. The whole bed frame shakes at his attempt to escape his restraints and chase you.

“Feeling feral enough, darling?” You pant heavily and toss aside the strap, brushing away strands of hair stuck to your face. A growl and flash of fangs is all you get as a reply.

“Shhh.. shh.. I just want to feel you inside me as you come undone.”

It almost feels like you are approaching an injured tiger as you try to get through to whatever humanity is still lingering in his brain.

“Allow me?” You show him the glass plug and he stills just enough for you to glide it inside, giving him at least some feeling of fullness back.

“Last thing I’m going to ask you to do…” You reach to free Astarion from leather cuffs while he practically burns holes in your face with a smoldering stare. “...is to fuck me however you want.”

You free up his right arm and he grabs your shoulder immediately, scrunching his own shirt roughly. Before you can even process what happened, you are pinned down on your back and have to somehow reach your arms from under him to get his other wrist. He is pushing your thighs apart urgently, lining himself as your fingers clumsily fiddle with the buckle on the other cuff.

Astarion shakes the damned thing off and holds you down in a squeezing embrace as he drives himself into your dripping wet pussy with a single powerful thrust, burying himself up to the very hilt. That hip-slapping entrance makes you see sparks and hold on to his back for dear life. Right away he sets a fast and punishing pace that makes the corners of your eyes water from intensity. His head drops to nuzzle your neck and send hot shaky breaths into your bare skin.

There is no holding back. Nothing, but pure animalistic lust as he rails you with vengeance. The sensation of being fucked helplessly like this is overwhelming and you feel him all over your sensitive spots, stretching you deep and to absolute capacity. Your legs start trembling and you are digging nails into his scarred back as he bites down on the curve where your neck meets the shoulder. And this mutual exchange of piercing pain is all it takes to finally finish you both.

You’ve never felt or heard either you or Astarion come so violently until tonight. Waves of orgasm hit you both like a screaming tsunami. If his undead vampire heart was still beating it would surely leap out of his chest right there and then, as he was spilling everything you made him hold back inside you, arms gripping even harder, fangs sinking deeply.

For a few moments it seems like you have merged into a single entity – one body and soul in a state of absolute incomprehensible mess, riding high on your climactic waves. When it’s over, you both are slowly coming back to your senses. Astarion carefully retracts his sharp canines from the wounds that guarantee to leave bruises and starts gulping your blood. His grip also softens, and you both enjoy the intimate closeness of him feeding on you for a bit, steadying your breaths. He laps and licks your puncture wounds, drawing just enough blood to make you feel a little dizzy, while satisfying his own urge to taste you.

“You alright, my love?” He is the first to check in, searching your eyes with a smidge of worry as he realises he may have been a little too wild, even by his own unhinged standards.

“I am great. This was incredible,” you manage a tired but happy smile and lazily run your fingers through his unruly curls while he pulls out of you, gets rid of the plug and tosses all the toys back on the bedside table. “How do you feel?”

“I’m not even sure how to put it all into words yet. It was liberating? Intense? Ecstatic? Certainly fun! I’ve never experienced anything like this before. You were amazing, thank you“ Astarion melts your soul with the softness of his gaze. A little pause and then it turns a little naughty. “And I will be asking for more. Although, we have to do something about your cute obsession with stealing my things before it gets out of hand.” He slightly tugs on the collar of his shirt you were wearing this whole time and smirks. You chuckle at his glowing review and pepper his face with small kisses.

Next few minutes are spent side by side cuddling, joking and whispering sweet nothings to each other, refusing to let go just yet.

“Darling, just how many lovers did you have to go through to get this good?”

“Not as many as you had to. I’m a natural, you see.”

“Oh, are you now?”

He purrs the question in your ear and playfully rolls on top, caging you with his limbs only to freeze a mere inch away from your lips, his face looking like he just remembered something mildly concerning.

“Where is His Majesty?”

“Oh shit, I locked him in the kitchen to spare us his judging gaze.”

“You did what?!”

“Hold on, I’ll let him out.”

You almost jump out of his embrace and quickly disappear to free the forgotten cat. A few loud disapproving hisses later that smug hairless bastard enters the bedroom like he owns the place, you are merely trailing behind. His Majesty gracefully leaps on a bed wasting no time to curl up next to his favourite elf. Astarion may be the only person in the entire Faerun, you are convinced, who somehow found a way to tame that ball of absolute feline sass.

“Natural, she says. Can you believe that woman?” He coos and kisses the cat's forehead.

His Majesty throws you one last glance before melting into Astarion’s hands as you crawl back under the blanket. You can’t help but adore these two cuddling in the most sickeningly sweet way possible. Even when these brats are seemingly plotting against you.

The last candles are blown out and the sunrise is fast approaching as all three of you settle to rest in one pile of blissful comfort, saving any worries, big or small, for later.

#astarion #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #spawn astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion bg3 #astarion romance #smut #fluffy smut #astarion fic #baldurs gate iii #baldurs gate fanfiction #bg3 astarion #bg3 #baldurs gate

731 notes · View notes

deleteddewewted · 1 year

Text

Long Distance relationship HC W/ König

MDNI

W: NSFW, Sub! König, Dom! Reader, Long Distance Relationship, Fluff, Angst, Orgasm Denial, Teasing, Cute Babygirl König, Bestfriend Elias (He's his wingman and hypeman), Cum Eating (He tastes himself)

He's such a sweetheart. He sends you pictures of strays he finds or of himself doing the most mundane things when he's at the base.

Doesnt matter how far into the relationship you're at, he's still kinda insecure about his face and sending you pictures that show his face.

He has his friend Elias though, so the guy gives him pep talks to boost his confidence.

Sometimes he does it too well cause you'll be getting a whole 12 pics of him in a span of 5 minutes all different angles and levels of motion blur.

Emoji user so expect kissy faces and hearts at the end of messages.

He texts you at ungodly hours but he'll stop if you ask him to.

He will stay up late in order to send you a good morning text.

He sometimes holds onto his pillow and pretends it's you.

You both have met a few times in person but even then it didn't feel like enough for him.

He wanted to envelop you in his arms, keep you flush against his body, and just lay there forever.

(Such a romantic, I know.)

He wishes he didn't need to leave your side but he also knows asking you to move with him wherever he goes is risky and inconsiderate of you.

He'll never make you choose so instead he promised you he'll be the one asking for a transfer once he feels ready/is forced into a less demanding position.

He just wants to live with you in the end.

He dreams of little kids running around in the living room while he embraces you from behind and lays his head on top of your own.

He can feel himself blush every time he dreams of you both finally being together and having a family.

He calls you sometimes, maybe even facetime you if he feels confident and does things with you.

He eats with you on facetime, gets himself ready for the day, changes clothes, takes a shower, cooks, anything really.

He just wants to pretend that you're both together and do theses mundane things together.

NSFW

He's so horny and it's somewhat pathetic.

He whimpers every time he jerks off and it's cause he's so sensitive. The tip of his cock is always this deep red and it looks painful.

He likes to tease himself by dragging his fingers over his length and over the veins and thinking it's you doing this to him instead of himself.

He doesn't know if cumming at a picture of you on his phone is creepy or not so he never asks you to send him anything to help him out.

If you do send him nudes or videos, maybe even audio, of yourself masturbating just know that he's going to be running to the community showers or finding some storage closet to get off in.

Because he's so pent up he needs to be quiet when he gets off. He's sharing a room with other people and sometimes the bases he's staying at doesn't provide individual barracks.

Fucks his pillows or makes a makeshift pocket pussy that he can fuck into like a dog.

In the rare case, he gets his own private barracks, he's calling you and you're both going to have some cute phone sex.

Cute phonesex? How?

Well, he's a talker and a whiny guy so he's throwing out praises like your some kind of divine being.

"Bit- Bitte! L- let me cum meine liebe~" He almost screamed into the phone but he'll be ok. He won't go against anything you say or do.

He wants to please you no matter if it means he'll have to go the next 48 hours or week hard and uncomfortable.

When he does get to cum he's thanking you profusely.

"D-anke, dan-ke, danke~!" Breathing heavy and light-headed he still finds it in himself to be grateful for you helping him relieve some of the tension he's been having.

What a good boy.

He stays on the line for a while longer just to tell you just how much he loves you and can't wait to meet up again.

He wants to hold you and take care of you and its painful to watch you take care of yourself after he got off.

He feels like it's unfair but he promises you, even though it's not necessary, that he'll devote the entire time to taking care of your needs.

Don't skip out on the praise either. He likes being told he's your good boy.

Give him kisses too. The feeling of your lips on his face is reassuring.

But, while you're both apart, just tell him that you love him and can't wait to be with him in person.

That's all the motivation he needs to make sure to keep his injuries to a minimum.

#könig #cod konig #konig x reader #konig cod #konig hc #konig mw2 #könig x reader #könig mw2 #dom reader #sub character #fluff #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #dd speaks

2K notes · View notes

evansbby · 2 years

Text

preying on you tonight part 3

part iii - eat you alive

Pairing: dark alpha!Steve Rogers x naive omega!Reader

Warnings: smut, dark themes, a/b/o themes, daddy!kink, noncon, dubcon, extreme dumbification, bullying, breeding kink, size difference, humiliation, extreme emotional manipulation and gaslighting, anal, use of toys, choking, minors do not interact!

Summary: Steve's manipulations continue, but will you be able to see through them?

Part 1 & Part 2

(A/N | another warning that this chapter contains extreme gaslighting and manipulation. read at your own risk.)

Shaking. You can’t seem to stop shaking. It’s how you wake up, with dread in your heart and the throbbing of Steve’s mark on your neck matching the searing pain between your legs. The bed’s empty, but it doesn’t matter. Despite him not being here, all you can smell, taste, feel… is Steve. Almost like your heart is beating solely for him.

And then there’s the mark on the side of your neck. Big, jagged and barely sealed.

Steve’s mark.

It’s still so fresh, so tender. Just like the memories of the night before. How he never stopped fucking you. Every position, every angle – as if mating with you had incensed him to the point of insanity. He’d still been fucking you when you’d – mercifully – passed out.

That was last night. And now… Now Steve’s nowhere to be found. And with aching limbs and a breaking heart, you slip on your robe because you can’t bear to look at the body he broke and bruised. Instead, you look at Steve Junior – he’s smiling at you glassily, with a flimsy reassurance that everything is going to be okay.

You grab the stuffie, looking deep into its coal-black eyes.

“Everything’s so fucked up.” It’s crazy how you’re speaking to an inanimate object, your voice breaking like a dam and tears welling in your eyes. “Do you think maybe… Maybe if I pretend it’s not there, that it’ll go away?”

You scrunch your eyes shut, willing with all your might, praying, wishing, manifesting. But the mark’s still there, taunting you, throbbing like it’s got a heartbeat of its own. You feel the omega inside of you screaming: He owns you. Accept it. You’re his. Forever.

You sense Steve coming in before you see him. Even before he opens the door, you know he’s there. It’s like every cell in your body seems to tingle, and your heart beats wildly as if to inform you: alpha’s here. You stand up, Steve Junior falling to the floor as you tug your robe further down to cover your legs.

And he’s there, slightly sweaty and flushed as if he’s just come back from a jog. A quick, casual jog after violating your body all night – seems about right.

You stare at each other for a few seconds, scared eyes meeting predatory ones. And then his gaze moves downwards, drinking in your body clad in only your robe, bare legs on display. His eyes zero in on his mark sitting pretty on your neck. A low growl emanates from somewhere in his throat, and then he’s striding towards you.

“Steve, please, no!” You sound so weak, and a part of you wonders whether it’s even worth voicing your protestations. Never before has he listened to you, never has he stopped when he’s wanted something – so, why would he now?

You’re crushed into his embrace, your body singing in satisfaction as your alpha’s arms squeeze you close. His body is so warm, his scent so heady – you hate him, hate him for what he’s done to you. But it’s like your body needs him, as if you’re incomplete without him. It’s crushing to realise that you missed him, in time you’ve been awake and he’s been gone – you missed him.

Had he missed you too?

“Please, Steve, I can’t!” You beg softly when you feel his large, warm hand lifting your robe up and trying to get between your legs. “It hurts, Steve. Everything hurts.”

Steve’s hand freezes, and that’s when the dam breaks and everything comes out. Hiccupping back tears, you look up at him with accusatory eyes.

“H-H-How could you do it, Steve? How could you? I told you to stop. I told you not to do it! I begged you! And now… Now it can never be taken back!”

Steve runs his fingers over the mark on your neck in an almost curious way, but you can feel him growing excited. Not only through the bond which intrinsically connects you with him, but also because his dick hardens against your stomach.

“Why would I want to take it back, omega?” Steve says softly, his fingers rubbing over the tender skin and making you squirm and wince at the same time. “This mark shows I own you. And now everyone will be able to see that.”

“You did it to prove a point!” You cry, unable to stop yourself even though you know that raising your voice like this will displease him. “B-Bonding is meant to be special. Meant to be for when you find the person you love and want to spend the rest of your life with. But– But you… You did it to prove a point! You were angry and scary and – And you didn’t listen!”

“You don’t know what my intentions were.” Steve says quietly.

“You were so scary and mean! It’s like you… You flipped a switch and now you’ve done something you’re probably gonna regret, and, and –”

He gathers you in his arms, your tiny fists no match for his strength as you try to push him away. And it ends how it always does, with Steve sat on your bed and you in his lap, head forcibly against his hard chest as he holds you close. And you despise the comfort that his embrace brings you, the warmth of his arms and the gentleness of his breathing pattern – you hate it all.

“My poor sweet baby omega,” Steve coos, pressing soft kisses on the top of your head. You scrunch your eyes shut, not wanting to fall victim to his sweet words – not this time. But he’s your alpha, compelling you to listen to each and every word he speaks. “I don’t regret anything. I mated with you and I stand by it.”

“You hurt me so bad!” You can’t help but cry into his chest. Every bone in your body still aches from his cruel ministrations.

“I know, baby, I know I hurt you. I had to do it. It’s the only way you’d learn that you’re mine. As your alpha, I have to have a firm hand, baby.” He’s smoothing down your hair, kissing your temple, squeezing you close. His tenderness is such a stark contrast to how inhumanely rough he’d been the night before. It’s giving you vertigo, how his demeanour seems to change so frequently.

You hiccup, “But I didn’t even do anything wrong, Steve! I didn’t listen to Peter. I told him to leave and I stayed with you! I thought you’d be pr-proud of me! But you wouldn’t even listen! It’s like something came over you, and –”

“You looked at him. You spoke to him. You touched him. And you said you’d speak to him later.”

“I didn’t mean to!” You don’t know why you’re defending yourself to Steve, but it’s as if, despite everything, you want him to see you in your best light, to be proud of you.

“I had to make it real – what we have between us. That’s why I marked you. And look how pretty you look with my mark, baby.” Steve grabs your chin and forces you to look at your reflection in the small mirror you have hanging on the side of your closet.

It’s jagged and deep, so noticeable that it makes you want to cry all over again. You don’t want it marring your skin like this. You hate it. Hate it more than anything. But Steve’s words stick to you like honey, and you look up at him instead, “What we have between us?”

“Yes. I care about you, baby. That’s why you’re my mate now.”

You feel like you’re floating. And it’s insane. One second, you’re crying in desolate despair because of a bond you were never given a choice over, and then a single crumb of his affection has you soaring up in the sky. I care about you, baby.

“Y-You care about me?”

“Of course.” Steve cuddles you closer, and you can’t believe this is the same man who bruised and abused your body the night before, who ignored your cries and how you’d begged him to stop. “In fact, I’m the only one who cares about you.”

“Wh-What?” That’s not true.

Steve smiles down at you, lips so plump and pink it’s almost distracting.

“Yes, baby. I’m the only one who cares about you. Who else do you speak to, apart from me? Who else cares enough to talk to you? Or takes care of you like I do?”

You’re silent for a second, “I used to speak to Peter.”

Steve snorts, “And he ran away last night like the fucking pussy he is. He doesn’t care about you. If he had cared, he would’ve fought back.”

You shake your head, “No, Peter’s not like that. And I told him to leave. He – He –”

“He ran away.” Steve completes, “Baby, if you had told me to leave, you think I would’ve left?”

You mull over his words for a second. You could never imagine Steve leaving, not even if you begged and pleaded with him to.

“And I’m the only one who cares about you enough to speak to you. I’ve been through your phone, gone through all your texts and calls. I’m the only one in there, baby. Even your mom barely calls you.”

You wince. Steve’s really painting a full picture of how lonely you truly are.

“I did you a favour when I mated with you, baby.” Steve says gently, cupping your face between his large, warm hands. “Now you know that you’ll always have me. You’ll always have my protection too. Everyone else either leaves you or doesn’t care. What about your dad, huh? I didn’t see any calls or texts from him either.”

A strong pang of mental anguish washes over you, and Steve feels it too – you know he does because he strokes your cheek gently, calming you down. Your lower lip wobbles, “D-Don’t have a dad.” You say quietly.

“I know, baby girl. Because he left, didn’t he? He left you – probably when you were really young, am I right?” Steve enunciates every word slowly so it has maximum effect, and you can feel your heart sinking and sinking and sinking. He’s right.

But then you smell liquid sunshine, and freshly watered grass – and it smells like hope, along with Steve’s kisses which are peppered across your forehead as he continues to weave words like magic. “Your dad left. Peter left. Your mom doesn’t care about you. And you have no one else. Does anyone else on campus even speak to you? No. Just me. I’m the only one who cares about you.”

There’s a tiny part of your brain which is screaming at you to fight back, to disagree with Steve and his cajoling words. Scream that Peter does care, that Peter will come back and save you from this huge mess. And your mom cares too, she’s just busy with work. But she cares, she cares, she cares!

But why is it so much easier to ignore the screaming in your head and get lost in Steve’s scent and touch instead?

“You really care about me?” You ask him quietly.

He kisses you. And it’s even more thrilling now that you’re mated. It’s like a surge of electricity shifting from his lips to yours, this magnetic kind of energy that leaves you breathless and wanting more. And he’s so sweet with it, tongue lapping at yours, lips so soft and spongy – consuming you completely. You can’t help but melt into it and kiss him back. You can’t help it.

“My mark on you means I care about you more than anyone else ever has or ever will. And in return, all you’re expected to do is obey me.”

You find yourself nodding slowly.

“Obey me, omega. That means no more talking to Peter or any other guy without my approval. It means I make your decisions for you. You ask my permission before you do anything or go anywhere. It means that everything begins and ends with me. I own you and you need to respect me. I come before anyone else. You got that?”

It’s a lot to take in, but he’s stroking the side of your face so softly, and he smells so good, and he’s so handsome – angelically handsome. It makes it so easy to forget about all the cruel things he’s done to you.

“I-I got it.” Is it really you who agrees? It sounds like you, but is it truly you? You don’t even know anymore.

Steve smiles his winning smile, “Good girl. And you wanna know the best part?”

“What?” You look up at him with shining eyes that dance with the praise he’s just bestowed upon you.

“Soon enough, I’ll put a baby inside of you. Right here,” He strokes your belly through your fluffy robe and you giggle – not knowing if he’s being serious or not. “And then you’ll have a real family. A baby who looks up to you and depends on you. And an alpha mate who cares for you and protects you. I’m the only one who can give you that happiness, baby. And then you won’t be so lonely anymore.”

You think back to all the months you’ve spent at university. Showing up at orientation and somehow everyone already had friends. Everyone except for you. Trying to join in and make friends but being met with jeering laughs and dirty looks. Sitting alone in the library while everyone else had parties, sleepovers – everything you’d dreamt of having. Spending weeks on end without speaking to a single person because Peter was too busy with work and you had no one else.

With hesitant shyness, it’s you who slowly pecks Steve’s lips. It’s the first time you’ve initiated a kiss with him, and Steve’s response is ravenous – his returning kiss practically swallowing you whole. He’s got one hand still stroking your belly – as if imagining there’s life growing in there or something – and the other one’s slipped inside your robe to squeeze your bare breast.

“I have a plan, omega.” He says softly against your lips, “I’m graduating soon, and I want you by my side once I leave this place. My omega – pregnant and at my every beck and call. I’ll provide everything for you and our baby – it’ll be perfect.” You can feel him getting harder against you, talking about impregnating you with this fictional baby as if he’s trying to manifest it.

You moan straight into his mouth, his touch so electric, so thrilling. Steve’s words are barely registering in your brain. He always talks about getting you pregnant when he’s horny – so you don’t think much of it. But there’s still a nagging feeling in the back of your mind, one you can’t seem to suppress like you you’ve suppressed every other doubt you have about him.

“Steve,” you say breathlessly, pulling away when you feel his hand snaking between your legs once again. Ignoring his rumble of disapproval, you continue, “Steve, what about your girlfriend?”

Steve blinks at you for a second, thumb grazing your nipple as he gives you a blank look.

“Oh. I broke up with her.”

Your heart sings. “You did?”

Again, he blinks before drawing a confident smile across his face, “Of course, I did. You’re my one and only, baby.”

It’s weird, the sensations you feel when you hear Steve say these things. He’s said the meanest, vilest and most hateful things to you in the past. And you should be embarrassed how just a few sweet words can make you turn into putty in his hands. But they do. He does.

“Wh-When did you break up with her?” You ask.

Steve gives you a peculiar look, raising his eyebrow before leaning down to kiss your neck, licking over your mark again and again as if he can’t get enough of it. Soon, he’s fondling you again, completely ignoring your question. So you ask him again.

He sighs, “You need to learn not to question your alpha, baby. I broke up with her this morning when I went out, okay? Done with the interrogation?”

You lean closer to him, inhaling deeply, “I-I don’t smell her on you.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “Well, I didn’t exactly rub up against her while I broke her heart, did I? You can be so stupid sometimes.”

You bite your lip, trying to hide the pang of hurt you feel. One second, you’re his “one and only” and the next second, you’re “stupid.” It doesn’t take a genius to figure out which of those you’d rather be called. You bow your head.

“I’m sorry, Steve. I didn’t mean to question you.”

The blond hums in approval, slipping your robe down your shoulders, “Good girl. I forgive you. You have no idea how pretty you sound when you’re being all submissive. I want you to always be like that, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Mm, now let daddy see your body.” Lust seems to overtake his tone in seconds, and you allow him to pull your robe completely off you, exposing your body to him. The same body painted with bruises administered by his own cruel hands, broken by him but still yearning for him as he lays you down on the bed. You want to be good for him, you really, really do. But…

“Steve, alpha… Please. I can’t. H-Hurts too much.”

You think you see a semblance of care in his eyes, like a hint of tenderness that he blinks away before you can really get a closer look.

“I’ll make it hurt less.” He says, before dipping his head down between your legs.

***

You don’t leave your room for a whole week. Steve comes and goes – attending football practice and some classes, or to get food or a change of clothes. But for the most part, he stays in your room with you. It’s like you can’t be away from him for too long, and it seems like he feels the same way. Bonded to him in every way possible, you spend the whole week either under him or yearning to be under him.

“If I could, I’d keep you in my arms and locked away from everyone else forever.” Steve tells you one night, his words making you shiver down till the bone.

A week later, and you’re in a situation that you never thought you’d find yourself in. Walking into campus with your hand clutching tightly onto Steve’s. It feels like everyone is staring at the two of you – the most popular alpha on campus with a nobody clinging onto his arm.

And you feel doubly scrutinised in the pastel blue and white pleated skirt Steve has made you wear, the hem resting well above your knees. It’s one of the many items of clothing he had ordered for you in the past week – dresses, skirts, tops, even lacey white ankle socks which you currently also have on. You feel like a doll, created and crafted by the hands of your alpha.

It’s not your style at all, but the approving smile on Steve’s face when he’d seen you put it on that morning had made your heart had flutter because alpha was proud.

“Everyone’s staring.” You mumble to him, letting him lead you down the corridor towards the lecture hall. You shake your hair forward, hoping it’s enough to cover your mark which still mars your skin despite having practically fully healed.

“I don’t give a fuck.” Steve answers, “And don’t hide your mark, unless you want me to get mad.”

It’s when you both reach the double doors of the lecture hall that you stop dead in your tracks, heart thudding in your chest and a sinking feeling overtaking you.

“What? Come on.” Steve tugs at your hand but you don’t move, instead grabbing onto his forearm.

“Steve. P-Please could you… could you not be so mean to me today? Please?”

You can’t even meet his eyes, instead looking down at your lacey socks peaking out of your trainers, the words falling out of your mouth in a soft mumble. It’s pathetic, really, having to request him not to be mean, but the last time you were in this lecture hall with him, he’d reduced you to tears and you had run out in front of everyone.

“Please.” You say, almost desperately as you squeeze his arm, “I… I know you never listen to me and you always do what you want b-but… Just please don’t make fun of me. Es-Especially with them.” And by them you mean Sam and Bucky, of course. The fact that you have to face those two today, with their smirking faces and insults ready on the tips of their tongues, fills you with dread.

Steve looks down at you with an unreadable expression, and you hope he can feel how scared you are through the bond you both share. You peak upwards to see his plump lips part as if to say something, before he closes them again, exhaling softly. His eyes are stormy yet soft, and your heart skips a beat when he subtly squeezes your hand. But that’s all the reassurance you get before you’re pulled into the lecture hall.

You wonder if Steve can feel your sweaty palm, or how your pulse quickens when you see all of Steve’s intimidating alpha friends, including Sam and Bucky. The duo sits near the back, laughing as they look over something on Sam’s phone. It’s probably a poor, unsuspecting girl’s nudes, you think sadly to yourself.

You consider asking Steve if you can sit in the front how you usually do, but with the death-grip he has on your hand, you know this isn’t an option. You feel faint as he leads you up the steps to the very back of the lecture hall, and even more so when Sam’s head snaps up and he drinks in the sight of the two of you.

There’s an awfully long silence. Sam nudges Bucky in an extremely not-so-discreet way. And then Bucky looks up too, his light blue eyes zeroing in on you immediately, grazing unabashedly over your body in a deeply unsettling way. You whimper softly and take a step back behind Steve, feeling doubly exposed in the tiny skirt and blouse you have on. Any moment now, it’s going to start…

“Well, you two look awfully cosy.” Sam is the first to speak, craning his neck around as Steve seats the two of you in the row directly behind his two friends. “You still tapping that, Steve? She holding you hostage or something?”

Steve is cool, nonchalant, firmly placing his hand on your bare thigh, “No. She’s my girl.”

Bucky snorts, “More like schoolgirl.”

You feel your cheeks heat up, consciously tugging your pleated skirt down to cover more of your legs.

“Your girl, huh? She slipping something in your protein shakes? Some off-market, love potion shit? Blink twice if you’re in danger!” Sam’s laughter quickly dies down when no one else joins in – not even Bucky, who continues to stare at you.

Steve smirks, his finger tracing shapes on the bare skin of your thigh, “You done being an asshole?”

“Nope. I got a few more in me, I’ll be honest.” Sam turns to look at you, “So, you’ve moved on from professors to students, huh, omega? You–” He suddenly stops short, eyes sharply zeroing in on that spot at the side of your neck. You swallow. He’s seen it.

“Is that…?” Sam reaches out, almost curiously, to touch the side of your neck where Steve’s mark sits. Or, he tries to, only for Steve to growl warningly and swat the other alpha’s hand away.

“Did you mate her?” Sam asks incredulously.

Bucky’s head snaps up, looking at you even more intently than he was doing before.

“Yeah, I did.” Steve answers, and you blink at how casually he says it. He leans down to press his lips against yours, palm pressing hard against the back of your head when you don’t respond. You end up whimpering softly, kissing him back while your cheeks burn – knowing Sam and Bucky are watching.

Sam lets out a low whistle, “We gotta go get this guy checked out – gone and mated with the campus slut–”

“Shut the fuck up.” Steve doesn’t raise his voice. No, the words come out quietly, but it makes them sound even more menacing. His grip around you tightens and he pulls you even closer against the warmth of his body, “Don’t fucking call her that.”

“What? You mean the name you gave her?” Bucky says.

“Yeah, and now I’m saying you can’t fucking call her that. As a matter of fact, don’t say shit to her or about her at all.”

It’s almost surreal, witnessing Steve stand up for you like this. No one at this university has ever stood up for you – most of them witnessing you getting bullied and either laughing or joining in or simply turning a blind eye. It makes you feel warm inside, seeing Steve defend you, makes you think maybe the forced mating wasn’t too bad after all…

“Suit yourself, asshole.” Sam responds, “Never took you as someone who’d let a scholarship slut dictate your life, but if that’s what you’re about now–”

Steve’s fist slams down hard on the desk, the loud thud making you flinch, “Call her a slut one more time, I fucking dare you.”

At an impasse, the two alphas glare at each other, with seething eyes and smoke practically billowing out of their ears. It makes you uncomfortable; on one hand you’re happy that Steve’s defended you. But you’re also scared… Scared of the inevitable confrontation, or worse – a fight. What if Steve got hurt? You feel your chest tighten.

“What about your girlfriend? The other one, I mean.”

Bucky’s sudden question has Steve exhaling slowly, and you sigh in relief at the diversion.

“I dumped her. She was a fucking slut.”

There’s a pause before – to your absolute bewilderment – the three alphas burst out laughing.

“Oh, she was the biggest fucking slut, practically had ‘cocksucker’ written all over her face!” Sam guffaws, as if he hadn’t been ready to throw a punch not ten seconds ago.

Steve smirks, “She was a bitch too. And a terrible fuck.”

And just like that, the dynamic between the three of them shifts back to how it always was – except this time it’s Steve’s ex-girlfriend who they’re hurling derogatory words at instead of you. And you hate it, hate how crassly and disrespectfully they speak about women. This girl, up until a week ago, had been Steve’s girlfriend… How could he suddenly speak so horribly of her now?

“Well, congratulations to the happy couple. It’s not every day you see Stevie here go soft for a girl.” Bucky’s words snap you out of your thoughts. It’s more his tone, however, that makes you uneasy. He sounds icy, on edge, and a deep sense of foreboding fills you – like you’re treading on thin ice and surrounded by feral wolves all around you. A feeling that’s only half quelled by Steve’s warmth and scent.

After all, isn’t Steve one of the wolves himself?

***

“Steve, stop! Please!”

Another week passes, and life continues. Your new normal is Steve. Constantly Steve. He sleeps in your bed most nights, picks out your clothes every morning, and fucks you multiple times a day. He even checks through your phone twice daily – and it’s mildly embarrassing every time because of course you never get any new texts or calls that aren’t Steve. But he never fails to check anyways.

“Stop! Please! This is inappropriate!”

You’re currently back in the lecture hall – it’s a Friday and the last lecture of the day before the weekend. You’re practically in Steve’s lap in the back row – not by choice; he’d lifted your thigh over his own leg, and now he’s got two fingers tracing your pussy through your panties. His iron grip stops you from wriggling away from him, and your notes lie ignored in front of you.

“We’ll get expelled if the professor sees us!” You lament in terror, making sure to keep your tone hushed and trying your hardest to ignore the way you clench at the feel of his fingers down there. “P-Please stop!”

“Say: ‘daddy please’ and maybe I’ll consider it.” Steve’s sings in your ear, his tone smooth like velvet, and he doesn’t even bother whispering.

“C-Can’t call you that here!” You gasp when your panties are pushed to the side, and now his finger’s circling your clit, making you jerk forward. Whimpering, you look around; the other students within vicinity are pointedly looking forward – but you know they’re aware of what’s going on. How could they not be? Sam and Bucky seem to be the only ones genuinely uninterested, busy in their own conversation in the seats in front of you. Almost as if they’re used to Steve doing this kind of thing…

“Maybe I should lift you up and sit you down on my dick. It’s a long lecture, and having my omega’s sweet little cunt warming my cock might make the time go faster, what do you think?” Steve’s eyes sparkle devilishly.

You’re horrified at the thought, “No! That’s so wrong and inappropriate! Please don’t do that!”

“Can you blame me?” He sucks on your earlobe, his voice gravelly with lust, “You’re tempting me so much, baby. Sitting here in this cute little outfit of yours.” He slaps your bare thigh, the sound embarrassingly loud, “Who got you this outfit, huh? Tell me, baby, who bought you this slutty little outfit?”

You wish the ground would swallow you up whole; you can’t believe he’s talking like this in public. And you also can’t believe it when your pussy clenches at his degrading words. “Y-You did.”

He licks up the shell of your ear, “Try again.”

“M-My daddy bought me this outfit.”

Steve is relentless, suddenly thrusting two fingers inside of you and making you jerk forward with a gasp. Several heads turn towards the two of you before turning away in alarm – his hand under your skirt is extremely visible, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what he’s doing. A few more seconds of this and you know you’ll go dumb in his arms. And you can’t… not here…

“Daddy, please. Please stop. Not here.”

“You promise to let daddy fuck you nice and hard when we get home?”

“Y-Yes, daddy. I – oh – I promise!”

He stops abruptly, pulling his fingers out and bringing them to his mouth to suck on obscenely – as if he isn’t sitting in the middle of a full lecture hall. He gives you a wink as you breathe hard, the heat practically radiating off your cheeks and neck, legs shaking from his assault. You know it’s only a matter of minutes before he grows bored and starts touching you again.

You stand up shakily, only for Steve to grab your arm, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Th-The bathroom.” You just need a moment to think, a moment to yourself. Ever since claiming you, Steve hasn’t left your side. And being so freshly mated, you yearn for his presence, you want him so badly that it hurts when he’s not there. But at the same time, you know that if you stay in this lecture hall right now, he’ll end up fulfilling his wish of fucking you here in front of everyone – whether you like it or not.

“Ask me.”

“Please may I go to the bathroom?”

“Yes, you may. Don’t take too long, omega.”

You nod, turning around and immediately letting out a soft squeak when Steve slaps your ass. Feeling your whole face burn, you scurry over to the back exit. You can hear Steve telling Sam and Bucky: “See that? I bet I could get her to ask for permission to even breathe.”

Unsteady legs carry you out of the lecture hall, a sigh of relief escaping your lips once the cool air of the empty hallway hits you. Two weeks of being mated to Steve and his sexual appetite has only grown stronger. He’s already fucked you three times today – you’d woken up to his dick inside you, hands rubbing up and down your body as he fucked you awake. Then he’d had you again in the shower. And then again when you’d gotten dressed and he’d seen you in the matching pale pink cardigan and skirt set he’d bought you.

There’s another girl in the bathroom, and you instinctively tug your skirt down – you’ve been doing that a lot as of late as Steve seems to love you in short skirts. It’s only when she looks up and meets your gaze that you recognise her. Tall, blonde, wearing a cheerleading uniform. Brown eyes slightly red and puffy like she’s been crying.

Steve’s ex.

“Oh.” She sniffs, “It’s you.”

“I – uh – I’m sorry, I was j-just–” Your mouth is suddenly dry, and terrified of looking at her, you avert your gaze. Focusing on her binder poking out of her bag on the floor, you see the swirly writing on the cover: Sharon Carter. With a sinking heart, you realise that this entire time you hadn’t even bothered to learn her name.

“You slept with my boyfriend and ruined my relationship. The least you could do is look me in the eye.” Sharon says flatly, and you feel your heart sink down ever further.

You shuffle from one foot to the other, chest tightening as you drag your eyes back up to meet hers. “I-I-I’m sor–”

“Save it. I don’t need to hear your apology. It won’t mean anything to me anyways.” The blonde looks you up and down, a bitter laugh escaping her lips before she cuts it short, “Look at you. He’s got you dressed exactly how he likes, parading you around campus like a shiny new toy. And you have no shame in being that for him, do you? You don’t give a shit about who you’ve hurt just to be his toy.”

“I’m… I… It wasn’t like that! I’m so sorry, I–”

“And you know he dumped me with a text?” Sharon continues, taking a step closer to you, “One day, he was kissing me and telling me he loved me. The next day, I get a text from him saying two words. Two words. ‘We’re done.’ And then he blocked me. Two years gone down the fucking drain. Just like that. All so he could freely fuck the little freshman he’s been bullying for months.”

Your blood runs freezing cold, the hairs on the back of your neck prickling up as you digest her words. Steve had told you he broke up with Sharon in person, the morning after he mated you. But by text? Two words? You suddenly feel sick.

“And to think I used to beg him, plead with him not to bully you.” Sharon shakes her head, flipping her shiny blonde hair over her shoulder. Up close, she’s even more stunning. Like a supermodel. Her eyes narrow, “I used to feel so bad for you, for the things he said about you, all the rumours he spread. I thought you were so innocent…”

Another bitter laugh, “Well, that kind of thinking really came back to slap me in the face, didn’t it? You’re not innocent. You’re just a slut who has no problem stealing someone else’s boyfriend.”

You open your mouth, but no words come out. The tightness in your chest has increased tenfold, and now your throat’s constricting too. There’s so much you want to say; you want to apologise; you want to explain yourself. But nothing comes out, and you hate yourself for it. Hate how words fail you at the worst of times, hate the fact that the tears are threatening to spill down your cheeks.

“You have nothing to say, do you?” There’s a look of incredulity and disdain on Sharon’s face, “You probably think I’m a fucking fool. Two years with me and all I get is a breakup text. But you? You got him to mate you. But don’t think for a second that you’re special, that he won’t cheat on you like he did with me.”

You grip the marble top of the sink, suddenly feeling faint.

“If two years meant nothing to him, then neither does that mark he left on your neck.” Sharon folds her arms across her chest and shakes her head at you with pity, “Let me guess, did Steve tell you he has a plan? That he’ll protect you, that he wants to start a family with you? Because that’s exactly what he said to me too.”

Bile rising in your throat and a sour taste in your mouth, you feel overwhelmed with everything you’re hearing. Steve had said all of that to you. Now the bathroom tiles look like they’re spinning.

“I-I-I…” All you can seem to do is stutter, standing there like a fool while you shake and try to swallow back your tears. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, you silently beg yourself.

Sharon shakes her head, stepping back and picking up her bag and throwing it over her shoulder, “It’s funny. I would’ve never taken you as someone who’d go against girl code. I know we were never friends, but still – I never thought you’d sleep with another girl’s boyfriend.” She sighs, walking towards the door, “Guess I was wrong. Now I know why you don’t have any friends – you’d probably backstab each and every one of them too.”

And then she’s gone. And it feels like the bathroom is closing in on you. First, there’s the tears. Hot and heavy, making the marble tiles on the walls go blurry and swim around, dancing as if they’re mocking you. She’s right, she’s right! The accusatory voice in your head screams – you knew Steve had a girlfriend, and you’d slept with him anyways, hadn’t you? More than once…

You stare at your own reflection in the mirror in front of you; the tight clothes, low neckline, legs on display. A part of you had thought you looked nice when you put it on this morning – but it’s not you, it’s not you! It’ll never be you! You don’t even recognise the girl in the mirror, who stands there with red eyes and clenched fists – she’s a complete stranger.

You think back to what Steve had told you two weeks ago, the morning after he had mated you. Nobody else cares about you. Was this why? Was this why no one cared? Was Sharon right? Was this why you had no friends? Peter had been your friend – your boyfriend – and you’d cheated on him, allowed Steve to embarrass him, hurt him.

Suddenly, you can’t breathe. It’s like your own throat is giving up on you, closing up, constricting till you’re gasping for air. Gulping like a fish out of water, trying to get the oxygen into your lungs but all you can do is cry and cry some more. Cry because all you ever do is cry. And hurt everyone around you.

You need to get out. Out of this bathroom where your own reflection judges you, where the tiles seem to mock you, where the walls seem to be closing in on you. Escape before you’re swallowed whole – but where do you go? To Steve? Your alpha who made you the same promises he made Sharon? What did that even mean? You feel like your head’s about to explode. You don’t want to think anymore. You need to get out.

Everything’s a blur as you scurry out of the bathroom, barely registering anything around you because your vision is still blurred by your tears. Which is why you don’t notice Steve until you’ve run smack into him, your face hitting his chest hard. One look up into those blue eyes and you start sobbing even harder.

“Why are you– What happened?” He asks, hands gripping your shoulders, and you shake your head, unable to say anything as you cry. It’s getting out of hand now, you can feel yourself hyperventilating, gasping for air and trying hard to regulate your breathing – if your throat would just let you to breathe.

“Omega, tell me what happened. Did someone say something to you?” Steve looks around the deserted hallway with narrowed eyes and a tense jaw, lips pressed into a thin line, “Just tell me who it was – I swear to God, I’ll fucking kill them.”

You can only imagine what Steve might do to Sharon if you told him what she’d said – and he’s already hurt her enough. The slightest thought of it makes you start hyperventilating all over again, gulping over and over, trying to push the air into your lungs as the tears continue to flow freely down your face.

“Hey, hey, slow down, just breathe.” Steve brings his wrists up to your face, rubbing them against your cheeks and nose. The relief you feel is almost instant, his scent enveloping you in its cosy warmth, firewood and hot summer day’s soothing you all while his large hands rub your shoulders and back. You feel your breathing going back to normal, and it’s the gentlest Steve has ever been when he pulls you into an embrace, holding your head against his hard chest as you inhale more and more of him.

You hate how much comfort he brings you, how safe his scent and touch make you feel despite him being the root of every single problem and the reason behind your tears.

“Who did this to you, omega? Who made you cry?” He asks again, cupping your face in his hands and forcing you to look at him. But all you can do is whimper.

“I’m taking you home.” Steve says, and you notice he has your book bag in his hand. You say nothing, thoughts jumbled as you allow him to drag you out of the building. Just like you’ve allowed him into your body, into your mind and into your soul – with no care of who has been hurt along the way.

He takes you back to his place – and you’ve never been there before. It’s a student house; large and spacious – way too modern and big compared to what you’re used to. There’s more than one bedroom, of course he shares with others, and you have a sinking feeling about who those others are. But at least they aren’t here right now.

You’re too distraught to take in your surroundings anyways, and Steve resorts to carrying you up the stairs to his bedroom. It’s big – that’s all you can register. What takes up most of your attention is how tender Steve is being. You’ve never seen him like this. He’s been nicer to you since he mated you, sure, but never so gentle like this.

He handles you as if you’re a delicate China doll that’s one nudge away from shattering completely. And maybe in a way you are. Stripping you out of your clothes, he takes off his own sweater and pulls it over your head. And his scent is so potent, so warm, so rich – he smells like home. And the thought makes you want to cry all over again, because what does that mean?

It confuses you, how nice he’s being. Nothing seems to be adding up in your head. The Steve Sharon had described seemed heartless, vindictive and cruel – and hasn’t Steve proven to be exactly that time and time again? From bullying you to forcing himself on you and everything in between? So then why does he have to confuse you so much by being this gentle now?

Steve gathers you in his arms and tucks you into his bed, and that’s when you realise that being with him is like being on an ever-spinning carousal. The way his demeanour changes gives you whiplash. How can he go from nonchalant, cold and uncaring to then cruel and mean to then sweet and tender? You want to rip your hair out in frustration and cry because you don’t know what any of this means.

You’re bonded to him but you never know what he’s thinking. Or what he’ll do next. Sharon’s words echo in your head: don’t think he won’t cheat on you too.

“Baby, tell me what happened,” Steve asks you again, forehead pressing against yours. And he looks almost angelic in the dim orange light of his room, blonde hair perfectly styled but wayward golden strands falling down on his forehead. “If someone hurt you, then I need to know. I’ll hurt them back, make sure they don’t come near you again. Just tell me who it was.”

You open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out. You can’t tell him. You can’t.

“I just… I… I realised I don’t have much time left till finals start, and I just… It made me panic. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you worry or cause such a big scene.”

It’s the first time you’ve ever lied to him, and Steve stares at you for the longest time, with the most peculiar look on his face. Blue eyes boring into yours intensely as if trying to read your mind. But he doesn’t say anything else, only pulling you further into his embrace, and you find yourself sighing at the comfort his proximity provides you, despite everything.

“Th-This is the nicest you’ve ever been to me.” You mumble quietly against his chest. You’re not sure he even hears you and you’re not even sure if you’ve said those words out loud. But in your eyes they ring true nevertheless.

And it’s there, swathed in the devil’s warmth, that you realise it: that with or without the bond, and despite everything Sharon had said… you were truly, genuinely, with all your heart, falling for Steve Rogers. Hard.

***

Life moved fast with Steve being so uncharacteristically nice. He quietly moves you into his room, spending the next few days going back to your dorm and grabbing your essentials. All your fuzzy blankets, clothes, toiletries. And of course, Steve Junior; who now resides cosily in the middle of Steve’s king-sized bed.

It’s where you are now, lying in the middle of his bed on your tummy with your textbooks strewn out in front of you and Steve Junior under your arm. Finals are looming, and with Steve being in his final year, he’s got twice as many exams as you do. Which is why he’s sat hunched over his desk, flipping through his own notes and textbooks.

It’s almost fascinating to watch – you’ve never seen him take a single note during lectures, which is why you can’t help but keep looking up at him sporadically.

“Omega. Come here.”

You immediately put your pen down and go over to him, Steve Junior still tucked under your arm. Steve swivels his chair to face you, grabbing the backs of your thighs and helping you onto his lap till you’re straddling him. Immediately, his hands meander over to your ass, squeezing it till you let out a quiet yelp.

“Wanna tell me why you keep staring at me?” Steve asks, a playful sparkle in his eye that tells you that there probably won’t be any more studying being done for the rest of the day.

You duck your head, focusing on a loose thread on Steve Junior’s bow-tie, and it’s crazy how bashful you still feel around Steve, “W-Wasn’t staring.”

He grabs your chin and tips your head up, pressing a light kiss to your lips that has you melting and wanting more, “Mm, don’t lie to your alpha, baby. It’s okay, I was staring too. You look fucking hot, lying on my bed, in my clothes, with your little stuffie in your arms.”

You’re wearing one of his old football jerseys, loving how comfy and oversized it is on you. You much prefer wearing his clothes over the tight dresses and skirts he makes you wear, and clearly Steve does too, so it’s a win-win situation.

“Thank you, daddy.” You say, chirping happily when he tickles you, pressing his face into your neck and inhaling deeply, leaving butterfly-soft kisses against your smooth skin.

See! Your omega brain screams smugly. Alpha is good to you! So good to you! He’s changed. He would never hurt you. Never, never, never! It’s what you’ve been trying to persuade yourself every day since the confrontation with his ex-girlfriend, your mind working in overdrive to stamp out everything Sharon had said – as if her words were nothing more than pesky cockroaches.

Because Steve is nice now and he’d never hurt me, you think desperately. Right?

“H-How’s your studying going?” You ask him shyly, hyper-focusing on his fingers tracing shapes against your bare legs.

He ignores your question, and you forget it as well when he continues to touch you. His hands slip up past the hem of his jersey you’re wearing, snapping the waistband of your panties hard against your skin. It’s funny, he’d insisted on buying you a whole new wardrobe, but he’d kept you wearing your white, flowery panties. “I love your cute, little girl panties.” He’d told you once.

Steve lays his palm flat against your belly, stroking it lightly and looking down at you with hooded eyes.

“You’re gonna make such a cute little mommy.”

His words make you freeze, and you smile confusedly up at him, “Steve, I’m not pregnant.”

“Yet.”

An uncomfortable giggle escapes past your lips. You know he’s most likely joking – he’s always joking about this kind of thing – but it scares you all the same. It’s that almost maniacal look in his eyes when he strokes your belly – which he’s been doing a lot lately – always talking about putting a baby inside of you. But you resolve that it’s just his dick talking… he doesn’t really mean it.

“Omega, why don’t you go downstairs and make me a sandwich?” Steve asks you, his hand still under your shirt and stroking your belly, a touch of a smirk on his lips, “It’ll give you some practice.”

“Practice for what?” You ask him as you get to your feet.

“For when you become a housewife.” Again, and he says it so nonchalantly – obviously he’s joking.

“I’m too young to be a housewife.” You laugh softly, “What kind of sandwich would you like, Steve?”

“Surprise me. And make one for yourself too.”

You turn around, wrinkling your nose at the thought of eating a sandwich right now. There’s a stomach bug going around campus, and you seem to have caught it. You’d woken up feeling queasy for the past two days, but it’s not that big of a deal. You haven’t even told Steve, since you know he’s swamped with exams at the moment.

It’s only when you enter the spacious, shared kitchen that you realise you’ve still got Steve Junior under your arm. You prop him up on top of the microwave, his coal black eyes staring at you as they always do. “You can watch me.” You tell the stuffed animal as you busy yourself with grabbing some bread, cheese, lettuce and meat.

“Well look at you, busy in the kitchen. A picture-perfect omega if I ever saw one.”

The sound of Bucky’s voice makes your blood run cold. One big downside to living with Steve now means that you also have to live under the same roof as Sam and Bucky. They’ve toned down their mean remarks, but often you can still sense them snickering at you, and Sam can’t help but make a rude comment here or there – usually when Steve isn’t around.

As for Bucky… he just seems to stare. A lot.

You begin to assemble the sandwich, determined to ignore him. But all that does is make the alpha step closer to you.

“You know I called dibs on you first?” Bucky says suddenly, and you exhale sharply; almost dropping the slice of cheese in your hand. The brunet smirks, standing so close behind you, you can hear him breathe, “Yeah, that first day we saw you back in September. Sitting in the front row, all eager to learn and shit.”

“You were so fucking hot; I remember I was gonna get your number after the lecture.” He continues, “Then Steve said he’d seen you getting railed by one of the professors in the back office, and we believed him.” He chuckles, reaching out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, “Now I know he was lying. I don’t blame him, though. I would’ve done the same thing if it meant I got you all to myself.”

You clear your throat, refusing to look at him, “G-Go away. If Steve heard what you’re saying, he’d be mad.” You try to sound strong, firm and assertive but it comes out squeaky. You’re scared.

Bucky laughs, “Would you look at that, the little omega is trying to kick me out of my own kitchen. You’re getting too big for your boots, you know? Just because Steve’s marked you up doesn’t mean you can talk back to the rest of us.”

You swallow harshly, taking a step back and away from him, but all he does is laugh and step closer to you.

“I wouldn’t get too confident if I were you, sweetheart. Sure, Stevie’s all heart eyes for you right now. He even made us delete those nudes of you that he sent on our groupchat – but that kind of thing doesn’t last forever, you know.” He pauses, brazenly staring down your body, light blue eyes greedily drinking in your bare legs. You feel trapped and exposed, wishing to God you’d pulled on a pair of leggings before coming down here.

“S-Steve’s upstairs,” you warn him when he steps even closer to you, his tongue peaking out to lick over his lips, “Steve’s upstairs and-and he’ll hear you and he’s gonna… he’s gonna–”

“He’s gonna! He’s gonna!” Bucky mimics you cruelly, “What’s he gonna do, huh? Me and Steve have shared omegas like you before. We could do it again, what do you say, sweetheart?” His fingers graze your ass lightly.

“Just leave me alone!” You raise your voice slightly, hoping somehow Steve can hear you from all the way upstairs, or maybe sense through the bond that something is wrong. You’re contemplating just forgetting about the sandwich altogether and bolting upstairs when Bucky’s eyes begin to wander.

“Oh and who’s this?” Bucky walks over to the microwave, and you feel a sense of anger course through you when he grabs Steve Junior. You know it’s stupid, but Steve got you that bear, and you don’t want Bucky touching it and getting his scent all over it.

“L-Leave him alone!”

“Oh, it’s a him, is it?” Bucky says gleefully, “God, you’re even more of a baby than I realised. No wonder Steve’s so obsessed with you; he’s always been into that innocent girl shit.”

“Leave. Him. Alone.” You repeat, this time through gritted teeth. But the brunet only laughs in your face, hoisting Steve Junior above your head when you lunge for him, dangling him just out of your reach. And every time you jump to grab him, he hoists him up higher, and you can’t help but feel the tears start to well in your eyes at the feeling of helplessness.

You need Steve.

“Your little toy looks a bit pale to me, maybe he’d appreciate it if we helped him get a little tan.” There’s malice dripping from each word that leaves his mouth, and to your horror, Bucky opens the microwave door, slowly pushing Steve Junior inside.

“No! You’ll burn him! Please!” You scurry over to where he’s standing, trying to pull your poor stuffie out of the microwave but Bucky’s too quick for you, grabbing onto Steve Junior and yanking him back out. You barely have a chance to sigh with relief, however.

“You’re right. Why microwave him and have the fire alarm go off, when I could just do this?”

It happens in slow motion yet at the same time so lightning quick that you barely have time to register it. Bucky’s hands twist around Steve Junior’s neck, and you see a glint of the stuffie’s coal black eyes before there’s an explosion of cotton and fur.

Bucky grips Steve Junior’s deflated head in one hand, and the stuffie’s poor, mangled body lies in his other hand. You snatch the remnants of your toy from him as he laughs, sinking down to the floor to gather up all the cotton stuffing that has spilled out.

“WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?!” You cry, absolutely crestfallen as the tears begin to trail freely down your cheeks. And all he does is continue to laugh cruelly as you desperately try and gather up all the cotton.

“What the fuck is going on down here?” You hear someone thudding down the stairs before Steve appears in the doorway of the kitchen. One look at you on the floor with the remnants of Steve Junior scattered around you and it’s clear as day what’s happened.

Steve frowns at Bucky, “Why the fuck would you do that?”

Bucky seems wholly unperturbed, “Thought it would be funny.” And clearly, he seems to find it very funny, because he’s still smiling as if he’s pulled off the practical joke of the century.

“Get off the floor,” Steve orders you, and you wince at the starkness of his tone.

You sniffle, “H-He tore– He tore up–”

“It’s no big deal, I’ll get you another toy.”

You feel a pang in your heart at how passive he’s being, relegating poor Steve Junior to just a toy. And maybe you’re being babyish – you know this shouldn’t be that big of a deal. But you’re sick of it – sick of the bullying and lack of human decency coming at you from just about every angle.

Slowly, you stand up, “You’re not gonna say anything to him?”

Bucky snorts, “Don’t be such a fuckin’ baby.”

You ignore him, looking straight at Steve. He stares back at you, piercing blue eyes unblinking and expression blank and unreadable. For the life of you, you can’t understand why he’s not saying anything more to Bucky.

“I can’t believe you.” You say quietly.

“What was that?” Steve says sharply, the warning and edge in his tone very apparent but for once you don’t care.

“I SAID, I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU!”

It’s the first time you’ve ever raised your voice at him, and you don’t stick around for Steve’s reaction. A strangled sob escapes your throat before you bolt out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

“You see that? See how out of line she’s getting?” You hear Bucky tell Steve, “That’s what happens when you go soft on ‘em, when you don’t keep ‘em in check. She’s forgetting her place.”

You barely have five seconds to yourself in Steve’s room before the alpha comes barging in behind you, grabbing you by the neck and pushing you against the wall.

“What the fuck was that down there?” Steve spits out, “Don’t you fucking raise your voice at me like that ever again.”

“I don’t understand you!” You cry, wriggling against his grasp around your neck. He’s not squeezing your throat, merely just holding you in place. “I don’t understand how you can… How you can be so nice sometimes, and stand up for me and be all sweet. And then other times you just act like you don’t care at all!”

“It’s just a fucking toy.” Steve seethes, “No one asked you to be such a baby about it. It’s not my fault you’re emotionally attached to a fucking stuffed animal just because you don’t have any real friends.”

Each word feels like a punch to the gut. Like a kick to the face, or a stab to the back. Not Steve… Hadn’t he been so nice to you these past few weeks? Hadn’t you thought he’d changed? No, not Steve. How could he? Your next words jump out of your mouth before you can stop them:

“Fuck. You.”

Pin drop silence. Except for the sound of your heart about to thud out of your chest. You can’t believe you’ve just said that to him. You’ve never spoken like this to him ever before. But it’s like his cruel words have broken something inside of you.

“I think I misheard you. Repeat that for me, omega?” Steve’s tone is stone cold and his stare icy.

“Fuck you, Steve.”

You wait for the blow. The inevitable explosion. The pain. The punishment.

Instead, Steve backs away, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“You remember that, omega.” His voice is cold, clinical and devoid of any emotion. “Remember what you’ve just said to me.”

And then he leaves, slamming the door shut behind him. And you’re sick of always crying but you can’t help it, sinking to the floor and letting the tears run… Heart beating in a mix of fear and adrenaline. You don’t know how long you sit there but eventually you hear voices downstairs: Steve, Sam and Bucky. And then the sound of the front door closing and locking. Then silence. They’ve left the house.

You can’t help but shudder in relief.

***

It’s past midnight when you hear the three of them come back. Their footsteps loud and uncaring, you hear them rattling around downstairs, talking and laughing and popping beer cans. Scrunching your eyes shut, you pull the duvet over your head. You have no idea if Steve will still be mad over the fight earlier, but you don’t want to take any chances.

Not two minutes later, the bedroom door opens. You try to regulate your breathing, hoping to God he’ll think you’re asleep.

Instead, the duvet is unceremoniously yanked off your body. You shiver, feeling Steve’s gaze penetrate straight through you.

“Hiding from me, omega?” Steve sings, and there’s something off about his tone. You can feel the malice, but you were expecting him to be a lot angrier. Why does he seem so… eerily calm?

“L-Leave me alone, Steve.”

“Still got that attitude, I see.” Steve tsks, his hand gliding up and down your bare leg, stroking your calf before grabbing your foot. “My omega, lying in my bed, wearing my shirt – and you still have the gall to disrespect me.”

You open your eyes to stare at him. The room is dark, save for the orange light of the hallway pouring in through the open door. His blue eyes look dark and icy, almost as if he’s planning something – and it scares you.

“Still wanna be mad at me, huh?” He muses when you don’t respond, stroking your foot in a way that shouldn’t feel as sensual as it does. He tilts his head, pressing a feather-soft kiss to the in-step of your heel – and you feel a shiver run down your spine. “Do you know where I’ve been tonight, omega?”

“N-No.” You swallow, watching in the dim light as he presses your foot to his face, nuzzling it and kissing each toe.

“I was at a party.”

Okay. You’d figured as much. His scent is peppered with hints of beer and weed. And something else which you can’t quite put your finger on. But why is he telling you this?

“There were a lot of girls at that party.” He says casually, tearing his interest away from your feet to look at your face closely instead.

You feel your blood freeze.

“Wh-What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that there were a lot of girls there. There was one girl who seemed particularly interested in me.”

Quick as a wink, you jerk upwards, scrambling closer to him. It’s like something feral takes over you for a second, your face barging into his chest as you practically crawl into him, sniffing desperately all over his sweater.

It’s there. That unfamiliar scent. Another omega.

“Y-You – You –” Suddenly lightheaded and feeling like someone’s just doused you with a bucket of ice-cold water, you look up at him incredulously. No. No, no, no, no.

In a flash, Steve’s on top of you, caging you in his arms as if he’s anticipated your desire to just flee. Run far, far away from him and pretend to have never heard what he’s just said, what he’s about to say.

“Mm, she was forward. Nothing like you. Came and sat on my lap, told me exactly what she wanted.” Steve’s breath is hot on your ear, his hold on you as unforgiving as his words, which pour out of his mouth so nonchalantly while each one of them feels like a stab to your heart. He licks the shell of your ear lewdly before his lips drag downwards, pressing against yours, “And she kissed me, just like I’m kissing you now.”

“N-No, no, you didn’t –” You moan softly. It feels like you’re drowning, like you can’t breathe. You hate feeling so much. You hate him. But he’s also your alpha, your everything. How could he? How could he?? How could he?!

“I did.” Steve sing-songs cruelly, kissing the side of your mouth, catching the rivulets of your salty tears that have already begun to fall.

“How could you?” You feel like all the air has been beaten out of your lungs. Confusion, dejection, betrayal, resentment, sadness – it’s all bubbling up inside of you. Your alpha. The very man who’d marked you, mated you, said he cared about you, promised to protect you and keep you safe.

It seems that every time your heart mends itself, he breaks it once more.

“She kissed me. And touched me –” He grabs your hand, pressing it on his chest, “– touched me all over, just like this.” Every word is a punch to your gut, you shake your head over and over, willing him to stop, and yet he continues; “Grinded on me, I could smell how wet she was.”

“Please… Please stop!” You beg him, not wanting to hear another word. It feels like you’re going to throw up, and Steve’s complete lack of remorse makes it hurt all the worse. Can’t he feel how much he’s hurting you? Can’t he feel it through your bond? You hate how much this is affecting you, you hate how much he means to you because of this fucking bond – which you didn’t even want to begin with.

Didn’t it mean anything to him? These past few weeks after he’d marked you, how he’d spent almost every waking moment with you? All the things he’d said, all the promises he’d made? It’s almost laughable – you’ve only been with Steve for about three weeks. But how could he not care at all?

And how could you care so much?

“We’re mated, but I’m not the one with the mark on my neck.” Steve laughs cruelly, fingers grazing over your healed mark which throbs with all the hurt you feel. You think back to everything Sharon had said to you, everything you’d tried to block out until this very moment when it comes back to slap you in the face. You think he won’t cheat on you too?

“Maybe if I’d had my sweet, submissive omega to come home to, I would’ve shoved that other girl off me.” He sighs, gently tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, “But no, you were insolent, bratty. You swore at me. You were not a good omega at all. Not treating your alpha right at all.”

Feelings of betrayal and hatred are overtaken by guilt and shame. Was it truly your fault? Had you driven him away into the arms of another omega? Should you have held your tongue and never stood up to him the way you had?

He backs off your body, up on his knees as he gazes down at you with an unreadable look on his face.

“It’s your fault.” Steve breathes. “Baby, this is all on you. You could’ve been a good girl for me, after everything I’ve done for you. After I did you a favour by mating with you, saving you from a life of loneliness. All I asked in return was for you not to disrespect me. But you couldn’t even do that.”

You shake your head, throat constricting and choking with tears, “I – I didn’t mean to–”

It’s your fault. Your fault. Your fault. You disappointed your alpha. You pushed him away. You did this. Your fault. Your fault. Now alpha will leave you.

“You did this.” He repeats, “You could’ve been good, you could–”

“I’m sorry!” You cry out suddenly, launching yourself at him with such vigour that it almost knocks both of you over. Arms circling around his neck, face burrowing in his chest, you hold him as tightly as you can.

“I’m so sorry, Steve! Please don’t leave me! Please! Got no one else! D-Didn’t mean to disrespect you! S-Swear I won’t do it again! Please, Steve, I love y– I won’t do it again!” On and on you sob into him, your chest hurting from how much you’ve disappointed him, how one misstep on your part drove him straight into the arms of another omega, how it’s all your fault.

Steve gently cups your face with his hands, making you look at him, “How do I know for sure you won’t do it again? How do I know you’re truly sorry, omega?”

“I-I’ll do anything, Steve.”

“Anything, huh?”

The glint in his eye makes your blood run colder than it already is. You don’t understand your own emotions, he’s scaring you and he’s hurt you beyond belief. So then why, why, why do you lie there in frozen silence while he smoothly rummages through his bedside drawer? He pulls something out – an object – before returning to hover over you.

“You know what this is, omega?” The dildo in his hand is big. Not as big as Steve’s dick but still intimidatingly big judging by your sharp intake of breath. You don’t know how to answer him, biting your lip instinctively as you cower away from it.

Steve smirks, tracing the tip of the silicone dick over your lips, “Of course you don’t know, you’re just a dumb baby after all.” He dips it down halfway past your parted lips, holding it on your tongue and allowing your saliva to gather on it, “This is a special kind of toy, baby. And since your little teddy bear is currently incapacitated, I think maybe you could get yourself better acquainted with this toy instead.”

Without warning, he shoves the dildo further into your mouth, the sounds of your strangled choking filling up the room. But that only seems to incense Steve further, and he holds it in your mouth for a cruel amount of time, shrewdly watching the tears begin to form in the corners of your eyes.

“That’s right, sweet baby. Suck on it, show daddy how much you love your new toy, how much you’re gonna enjoy playtime now that you’ve got this to play with.” Steve’s tone is sickeningly sweet, and he’s doing that thing again – where he talks to you like you’re a baby. It’s a sign that whatever happens next will be extremely depraved and for his benefit.

But you’re ready. The fear and doubt bubbling within you is overshadowed by the need to please him, to chase away the images of him kissing another omega. Like Sharon’s warnings, stamped away like a cockroach.

The dildo, now coated in your saliva, is removed from your mouth and you gasp for breath like a fish out of water, with Steve laughing cruelly over you.

“I thought you said you’d do anything for me. How can I believe that when you’re choking on half a dildo?” It’s crazy how he can switch from faux sweetness to crass cruelty within seconds, but what’s crazier is how the disapproval in his tone hits you like a ton of bricks, the omega inside your head screaming: Your fault! You can’t even keep your alpha happy! Now he’s gonna leave you…

“I-I’m sorry, I’ll be– I’ll be better.” You try to regulate your breathing, try to focus on him and do whatever he wants you to do.

“You better be. Now strip.” He moves back, allowing you room to pull his shirt over your head, and your panties follow straight after. He snatches them from you, sniffing them sharply before sucking on them, practically inhaling them with how lewdly he does it. And it just makes your pussy clench, seeing him do that. Maybe he still likes me…

Steely blue eyes graze over your naked body as he climbs back on top of you. “Now, I want you to be the good little girl you used to be before your slip up today. I want you to be good, and play with your new toy which daddy got for you.”

He takes your hand and places the dildo on your palm, wrapping your fingers around it. You gulp – it’s strange territory for you. You’re not well-versed with toys, always sticking to your stuffies or your fingers during your heats.

“I want you to fuck yourself with it.”

It’s in your DNA to listen to him, to please him. You realise that he doesn’t even have to use an alpha command on you because he knows you’ll listen to him anyways. Listen. Obey. Be the perfect omega for him. Or else he’d leave you…

“Uh uh. Not there.” Steve’s words make you freeze, the dildo now inches away from your folds. Your alpha smirks, taking a single finger and swiping through your wetness, gathering up your slick and smearing it on the dildo, mixing it with your saliva, making it all slippery.

“Your other hole, baby. Or are you too stupid to know where that is?”

A chill passes through you, and you suddenly feel faint. No. Not there. He couldn’t possibly expect you to–

“N-No, Steve. Please, not there. I’ve never– it won’t– I can’t!” Your heart feels like it might beat straight out of your ribcage – you’ve never had so much as a pinkie finger up your other hole. How could he expect you to fit the whole dildo in?

The cold smile never leaves Steve’s face.

“Okay. Suit yourself. I can just go back to that party and find that other omega. I’m sure she’d listen to me and do whatever I wanted–”

“NO!” You shriek, gripping onto his arm in fear that he’ll get up and walk straight out. “N-No, please, Steve. I’ll try, okay! I’ll try, I promise!”

“You better. And that’s not what you call me.”

“Sorry, daddy. I’ll try!”

You hope he senses your dedication when you press your lips together and brace yourself. Steve grabs a pillow and lifts up your hips, placing it underneath your ass and spreading your legs, sitting between them.

“Look at your little baby pussy, she’s weeping all over my bed. I bet she’s jealous she’s not getting any attention tonight, huh?” Condescending as ever, Steve’s hands ignore your throbbing pussy, instead squeezing and groping the flesh of your ass cheeks and spreading them apart to expose your quivering puckered hole to his predatory gaze.

“What are you waiting for, omega? I want you to fuck yourself up the ass using your new toy. Do I need to say it one more time for you to get it through your dumb baby brain?”

You shake your head, swallowing harshly. Slowly bringing the dildo up to your smaller hole, you bite your lip when you feel the silicon tip prod against your rim. It feels cold and foreign, slippery with the combination of spit and saliva. You push it in, gasping out loud at the intrusion and the tightness.

Steve looks beside himself with excitement. You don’t even notice when he pulls his dick out, pumping it slowly with his eyes locked on the scene in front of him. “How does it feel?” He asks, voice suddenly so much deeper and gruffer.

“St-Strange, daddy. Feels strange.” You’ve barely got the tip in, but it feels so intrusive. Never in a million years could you have pictured yourself doing something like this with the man who’s hurt you more than anyone else watching your every move with hooded, lust-blown eyes.

“Strange huh? Well, I think you need to push it in more, baby.” He’s got one hand slowly pumping his dick, his other hand squeezing and spreading your ass cheek so he can have the best view of what you’re doing.

You whimper, “D-Daddy, please. It’ll hurt.”

“That’s why I want you to do it, baby.” Steve says it gently, like he’s explaining to a toddler why they’re in a time-out, “I want you to feel every bit of the pain. As a warning for what’ll happen the next time you even think about cussing me out or disrespecting me in front of my friends. It’s your fault you’re in this predicament, baby. All your fault.”

There’s a tiny part of you that feels like he’s manipulating you, that everything he’s saying is wrong, wrong, wrong! That your feelings and actions are valid, that he’s the one trapping you in his web of lies and deceit. But that rational part of your mind seems to be diminishing the more you look into his eyes, the more you smell his scent. The omega part of your brain seems to drown out anything else, responding to the alpha inside of him, listening and believing everything he says because it’s your fault and alpha is always right.

Another whiff of Steve’s scent gives you the strength to push the dildo further, biting your lip at the burn. You try to hold it in, to be strong, but when the waves of pain register, you can’t help but cry out in pain, sniffling as the tears well in your eyes for what seems like the hundredth time today.

“Crying already, omega?” Steve taunts, leaning down to run his tongue up your cheek, lewdly licking the salty tears from your face. “You know it makes me so fucking hard when you cry? It always has. It’s a good thing you’re such a fucking baby, huh? A little cry-baby who can’t help but bawl when the dildo’s not even halfway inside you.”

Maybe if you scrunch your eyes tightly enough, it’ll take away the pain. Not just the physical pain but also the pain of Steve’s cruel words. Maybe closing your eyes will transport you back, back to when he was being sweet, back to when you thought he’d changed. When he kissed you for the first time, when he gifted you Steve Junior, when he took you home and comforted you after the confrontation with Sharon. When he told you he cared about you, that he’d always protect you…

“Open your fucking eyes, you little whore.”

You’re met with the flash of his phone camera, the lens pointed straight at you.

“Take a look at my omega,” Steve says, waving the phone over your face whilst his other hand continues to work on his hard dick, “Look how fucking slutty she looks, crying like a baby because she stepped out of line and now, she’s gotta deal with the consequences. Say hi, baby! Say hi to the camera!”

Why is he talking to the camera as if he’s going to show it to other people later? You don’t even have the time or capacity to worry about that, or protest like you always do when he gets his dreaded phone out during sex.

“Say hi to the fucking camera, omega.”

“H-Hi.” Your voice comes out broken, scared, quiet. And Steve laughs, filming down your body, down to the dildo still lodged partly up your ass with your fingers wrapped around it.

“She’s acting shy, which is funny since she’s an anal slut,” Steve lies seamlessly as the camera films you, “She was begging me to fuck her ass. I told her to fuck it herself, and the needy little whore is crying now because she wants my dick up there. Don’t you baby? You want daddy to fuck you up the ass as punishment?”

You shake your head vigorously. A dildo is one thing – at least you can control the pace. But Steve gets feral when he fucks you, he loses himself – and he so much bigger than the toy that’s currently inside you. He’d completely tear your ass apart.

Steve tosses his phone aside and grabs the dildo instead, an almost maniacal glint in his eye as he looks at you, “You’re being too fucking slow, baby. How do you think your little virgin ass is gonna take my dick when you can’t even get this fucking toy in there?”

“N-No, daddy, please! N-Not your d-dick, no–”

You cut off your own words with an ear-piercing scream which seems to reverberate off the walls, Steve having driven the dildo further inside your tiny puckered hole, stuffing it up till the hilt with a maniacal look on his face void of any regret.

“Daddy had to take charge, baby girl.” Steve shrugs as you wail in pain, “You were being too slow.”

And then he begins to fuck you with it, driving it in and out, each thrust more violating than the last. You grip onto his arm, nails digging into his pale skin and leaving dots of scarlet but he doesn’t seem to mind. All his blue gaze is focused on is the way your tiny hole stretches around the toy and the way you scream for him.

“Oh fuck, baby, you look so hot like this, I need to fucking taste you.” Steve grunts, and then with a guttural groan, he pulls the dildo out of you, throwing it aside as you gasp at the sudden feeling of emptiness. He barely gives you time to think before he spits down, his saliva landing on your puckered hole and dripping down on the pillow below you.

Almost as if he’s starved, he dips his head down between your legs. You fist the sheets underneath you when you feel the flat wetness of his tongue pressing against your asshole, his hands gripping your ass cheeks so hard, prying them apart as he buries his face in between in a manner that’s so carnal that your pussy can’t help but throb.

“Oh, oh, oh my God!” You can’t help but moan, the sensation of having his tongue there is so foreign, so different.

“I might as well be your God.” Steve looks up for a split second, holding eye contact with you as he utters the words in pure nonchalance before dipping his face back down. He bites and licks against your puckered hole as if he hasn’t had a meal in days, as if he’s forgotten he’s meant to be punishing you. And you can’t help but grab on to his blond hair, rutting your hips into him because it feels so good.

He's practically making out with your asshole, lewd squelching sounds coming from his tongue piercing and licking against you. “Daddy, oh, oh, daddy, don’t stop!” You moan with reckless abandon, and he doesn’t stop. Instead, you feel him stuff two of his thick fingers up your tiny hole, and it’s such a deliciously tight fit, and it’s so taboo, and it’s such an alien feeling but you find yourself rutting against him anyways.

Steve lifts his head, fingers still pumping in and out of you as he gazes at you with almost navy eyes, “You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” He asks, a devilish smirk on his face, “Innocent little baby loves when her daddy eats her virgin ass, huh?”

“Y-Yeah – nngh – please!” He’s the only one who can get you to this point – where one second you’re crying and the next second you’re delirious and begging him to continue with his depravity because it turns you on so much, and why is it turning you on so much?? There’s a feral part of you that wants to shove his head back down, make him continue what he was doing with his tongue – but you know there’d be hell to pay if you even tried it.

“I’m supposed to be punishing you, baby.” Steve looks almost incredulously at your reaction: your eyes scrunching shut, body thrashing against his fingers which continue to scissor into your puckered hole, stretching it out and making you feel things you’ve never felt before. “You’re not supposed to be enjoying this.”

He lands a harsh slap on your neglected pussy, and the squelching sound is so embarrassingly loud that it echoes across the entire room. It’s only then that you realise how wet you are, with the entire pillow underneath you practically drenched in your juices. Even Steve seems enamoured, and it’s like he can’t help but spank your pussy again, and again, and then once more. And now you’re seeing stars, him slapping your slick folds combined with his thick fingers pumping in and out of your asshole – the mix of sensations bringing you closer and closer.

Steve spits down on his hand and smacks your clit hard, and that’s all it takes. Your fists tighten around his hair, instinctively pushing his face down, your sweaty limbs thrashing and breathless moans of “oh daddy, daddy, daddy!” escaping your lips as your orgasm hits you hard. The pleasure is so powerful, so different, and you open your eyes in time to see your cream squirt out of you, completely coating his face in your juices as waves of bliss reverberate through your body.

The horror and embarrassment that follows straight after makes you want to duck your face and hide. What… what had just happened? Had you… peed on him? Surely not… But never before have you orgasmed and had it all… squirt like that. You swallow, “I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what that was… I… daddy, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to!”

“You’re so innocent, baby girl. You have no idea how hard it gets me.” Steve murmurs, finger swiping up your cum from his cheek; and he sucks on it lewdly, maintaining eye contact with you the whole time. And you feel newfound thrill ripple through you as you watch him, and he licks his lips. “You taste so sweet, baby. Who knew getting your little ass fingered is what would get you to squirt?”

You gulp when he climbs over you, now hovering above you till his face is level with yours, arms on either side of you, caging you underneath him. The tip of his dick drags against your folds, and you audibly shudder. You’re so ready to have him inside of you, you’re always so ready for him but right now seems different. You need to feel him inside you, need that reassurance that he won’t leave you for that other omega at the party, or anyone else.

“Alpha, please.” You mewl, reaching down to grab his dick, jutting your hips upwards to get him to enter you faster. You need him, you want him, you’ll never need or want anyone else how you do him – that much you’re sure about. “Alpha, daddy, please. N-Need you so bad.”

“Not so fast, baby girl.” Steve easily swats your hand away, still rubbing his dick all over your folds, getting his rock-hard length all wet and creamy yet not penetrating. He even nudges your clit a few times, making you gasp and pull him closer, thrusting up against him desperately. He laughs, “You’re forgetting that I’m still mad at you, omega. That you still have to prove that you’re sorry. I don’t think your baby pussy deserves a fucking tonight no matter how hard she cries.”

He grabs both your legs, lifting them up and hooking them over his shoulders. Now you’re trussed up and completely exposed and open underneath him. Naked, while he’s fully dressed except for his cock which he’d pulled out of his jeans earlier. Somehow, the juxtaposition turns you on even more. But your breath hitches and stomach drops when you feel his dick, now wet with your juices, nudge against your puckered hole.

“I’m gonna fuck you here, omega. I’ll be the first and only one to do it,” Steve’s chest puffs up in pride at that, the tip of his dick circling around your hole, “And maybe while you’re being anally fucked like the little slut you are, you’ll try and remember who your fucking daddy is and how you’ll never disrespect me again.”

You shiver at his words before a wave of fear overtakes you, and you find yourself gripping onto his bicep. “D-Daddy, wait! Please! I-I’m scared!”

“Aww, my little baby’s scared huh?” Steve’s tip enters you, and he’s so big and girthy that he has to coax it into your puckered hole slowly using his hand, “You’re just a little baby, aren’t you? You need your daddy to hold your hand and tell you everything’s gonna be fine? But I’m not gonna do that, because you deserve the pain you’re about to be in. So be scared, omega. I don’t give a fuck.”

What follows next is the most excruciating, violating pain you’ve ever felt. Steve’s dick, so big and angry like a steel rod, just ramming into your tiny hole. “Oh, fuck, fuck, it hurts! It hurts so bad!” You cry, but of course it falls on deaf ears.

You can see Steve on top of you, jaw tensed and teeth gritted, and the pain is amplified because it’s not like he can just piston his dick inside you in one quick thrust. No, he’s so big, so thick, as he slowly pushes inside of you, and you can’t help but bite at his shoulder in pain.

“Oh fuck, baby, you’re so fucking tight,” Steve grunts, pressing his forehead against yours, “Such a tiny little ass, can’t wait for daddy to rip you in half, huh?” He gives your ass a hard slap, “Look how stuffed full your little baby ass is, and daddy’s not even halfway inside of you yet. Look.”

You whimper when he grabs your chin, forcing you to look down at where you both meet, a quarter of his dick inside your puckered hole, stretching it out so lewdly that you’re amazed. He pulls out slightly before pushing back in, trying to force more of himself inside of you. You watch as he spits, his saliva landing on his dick and dripping down to your hole as he tries to stuff his dick further into you.

“T-Too small, daddy!” You cry softly, hoping he’ll listen, “It’s too small, my hole’s too small! W-Won’t fit!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Steve’s eyes are stormy and dark as he looks down at you, before a wicked look shadows his face, “I’m sure the omega back at the party would let me fuck her ass without any complaints. Maybe I should’ve mated with her inste–”

“NO!” You surprise even yourself with how loud you yell out, “NO, NO, NO!”

You’re suddenly flipped over – now Steve’s below you, his back against the bed rest while you’re on his lap, his large hands gripping onto your hips tightly. “Show me, then.” Steve says softly, “Show me how sorry you are. Show me you deserve to be my omega. Bounce on daddy’s dick, baby.”

It’s not even an alpha command but it doesn’t have to be. He knows you’ll listen to him, and almost like you’re in a trance, you begin to move. Up and down, and from this angle, his dick goes up even deeper.

“L-Like this, daddy?” You ask him, hoping for an ounce or even a crumb of praise despite the fact that it still feels like he’s ripping you in half.

“Mm, you’re the tightest ass I’ve ever fucked,” Steve ignores your question, instead reaching up to squeeze your breast, pinching your nipples and rolling them between his thumb and forefinger till you cry out, “You’re just a tight little hole for daddy to use, aren’t you? Tell me that’s what you are!”

“I’m a… I’m a tight little hole for my daddy to use!” You recite, and your hips are hurting now – you don’t have the same stamina he does, and he’s not helping you at all, his hands simply resting on your hips as you bounce up and down on his dick.

You try to distract yourself from the pain, your eyes focusing on his lips instead. His plump, pink lips. The same lips that had kissed someone else less than an hour ago… Now, your mind is bombarded with images of Steve and this mystery omega, how she sat on his lap, how she initiated the kiss – everything he told you against your will, everything you didn’t want to hear but now it’s ingrained in your head.

You feel a sudden surge of jealousy, and panic, and feral territorialism. You lift up, wrapping your arms around Steve’s neck and pulling him close, clamouring to press your lips against his, feel those fireworks you feel every time he kisses you–

“Oh, you wanna kiss me, baby?” Steve is cruel as he turns his head, and your lips land on his cheek instead, “I don’t think bad omegas like you deserve any kisses.”

“P-Please! Please!” You beg, “Alpha, please!”

You try again, trying to cup his face and kiss him, a part of you desperately wanting to show him that you can take initiative too, that you’re his omega, not that other girl from the party. But Steve jerks out of your grip, laughing in your face when you pout and cry and nip at his jaw, his cheek, his neck, just aching to get to his lips but it’s so easy for him to deny you.

“Poor fucking baby, now you wanna kiss your daddy, huh? With the same mouth you used to cuss me out with? The same mouth you used to disrespect me and raise your voice at me? Huh, baby?” Steve slaps you not-so-lightly on your cheek, laughing as your face whips to the side pathetically, and now the tears are back in full force.

Steve pushes you down on the bed, climbing on top of you once more before shoving his dick into your poor, abused asshole once more. And if he was holding back before, he certainly doesn’t anymore. Now, you’re screaming in earnest, feeling like you’re being ripped apart as he hikes one of your legs up over his shoulder.

“You’ll never fucking disrespect me again, you got that?” He warns you through gritted teeth, and it feels like fire down there, the friction caused by his fat cock massaging the inner walls of your puckered hole, feeling so alien and violating yet you can’t help but moan. He presses his face into the crook of your neck, sniffing in deeply and licking over your mark, teeth grazing over it dangerously.

“W-Won’t! Won’t disrespect you!” You cry out in agreement; you’ll agree to whatever he says. You’ll take whatever cruelty he administers towards you if it means he forgives you and won’t go back to that other omega. And you take it, even when his fingers wrap around your delicate throat and squeeze hard, harder than he ever has before.

“I own you, baby. Your whole fucking world revolves around me.” He’s fucking into you so hard now, his hips are a blur. You can feel yourself going dumb, head lolling to the side, vision going fuzzy, only the lewd slap of his hips and the piercing cruelty of his voice register within you. “If you ever disobey me again, there’ll be hell to fucking pay. And you’ll be left with nothing. And no one. You got that; you dumb fucking baby?”

You nod, whimpering out your agreements as you look up into his face, trying to find a hint of care. In a last-ditch effort, you grab his hand – the one that’s not around your throat – squeezing it tightly, searching, scratching, clawing for any semblance of intimacy. And Steve looks down at you, a peculiar expression on his face. He tries to snatch his hand away but you don’t let up, holding on to it tightly, twining your fingers with his and bringing his hand up to your lips, pressing desperate kisses onto his knuckles.

“I’m your omega.” You whisper, and you sound so broken, “P-Please don’t leave me, Steve. I’m yours. I’m your omega, not her. Not anyone else. Please.”

Steve releases inside you with a guttural groan, ropes of his hot cum filling up your ass till the hilt. And there’s so much of it, you can feel it leaking out of you, dripping down your ass cheeks and onto the mattress below. And Steve’s breathing hard, forehead pressed against yours, his hand still in yours as you hold it in a death grip. And finally, finally, you feel it when he squeezes back.

And then there’s silence. Complete and utter silence except for the sound of the two of you breathing. The air is thick and heavy with the smell of sex, and also his intoxicating scent. You can also feel the thrumming of his heart in time with yours, chest to chest as he lies on top of you, and you’re still holding on to his hand as tightly as possible. You stay like that for many minutes, and then:

“I didn’t sleep with her.” Steve says, his voice oddly thick and expression impenetrable.

You inhale sharply, “Y-You didn’t?”

“No. She wasn’t you.”

He falls asleep like that – on top of you with his face buried in your neck. And you don’t know what to think except that it feels nice. He’s still holding your hand and it feels nice to be held. And his scent is everywhere, making you drowsier, pulling you into the relief of sleep as well. Relief because you no longer have to think whether it’s your prince charming holding you in his arms while he sleeps, or the devil himself.

Sleep finds you easily.

***

A vicious wave of nausea wakes you up what seems like only a few short hours later. One look out the window tells you it’s barely dawn. Steve is still asleep, snoring softly as you run to the bathroom. Retching and heaving, you barely make it to the toilet before it all comes out. Hunched over the toilet bowl, you hope you’re not being too loud as you throw up. It’s still so early, and you don’t want to wake up Steve…

Wait. Early. You sit up slowly once you finally feel the sickness subside. This is the third day in a row that you’ve woken up with morning sickness. But there’s a bug going around campus, a lot of people have it, you reason with yourself.

But what if…

No. No way. It couldn’t be. Not now.

But. What. If…?

You’re almost in a trance as you walk out to your bedroom, throwing on Steve’s t shirt and a pair of leggings. There’s a 24-hour campus pharmacy not five minutes away from Steve’s place. You glance back at your alpha, he still seems dead asleep, the comforter thrown over his head. You hope he doesn’t sense you missing – you’re not allowed to leave the house alone without asking his permission first.

But you can’t tell him this. There most probably isn’t anything to tell anyways.

The trip to the pharmacy is quick. No one bats an eye when you pick up three different brands of tests – each with different wait times. If you’re going to be sure, you need to be sure.

Back to Steve’s place. Back in his room. Back into the bathroom. Everything is quick, everything is a blur. Apart from the waiting time, that goes by excruciatingly slowly. But after waiting with baited breath and a thudding heart, all three tests say the exact same thing:

Pregnant.

A/N: Okay! So our girl’s in SUPER deep now!! honestly guys, this was the hardest thing ever for me to write. the amount of times i edited, deleted and rewrote this is insane. i’m still not sure about it tbh, but i posted it anyways because i had to stop obsessing over it. PLEASE, i cannot stress enough how important reblogs and feedback is to me! this is 16.7k words that took me over a month to write, please do reblog, share with friends, and tell me what you think! any type of feedback and review is so appreciated! apart from that, i hope you enjoyed! yes, there was no peter in this chapter but we haven’t seen the last of him yet! also there will be a part 4, i know i said this would be the last part but clearly not hehe. enjoy!! ps: rest in peace, steve junior lmao.

#chris evans #steve rogers #dark steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #chris evans fanfiction #dark chris evans #mcu #captain america #the avengers

4K notes · View notes

risuola · 3 months

Text

REGULAR PEOPLE — F. READER x GETO SUGURU

He was a part of you, always will be, stained permanently with fragment of your heart and love.

cw: angst, yearning, mentions of crime — 2,1k words

a/n: so, I've seen a fanart some time ago, showing Satoru sleeping soundly at Suguru's temple after the incident and since that time I couldn't shake off the idea of his closest friends visiting him even after he left, so there it is. ❥

There’s something endearing about the late evenings in winter and this one held an unusually warm embrace, despite the low temperature and the patterns your breath painted in the crisp air with every breath you took. Snowflakes still twirled about, but lost their grip, falling slower and more freely with each passing turn. The soft sound of crunch filled in your exposed ears as you slowly moved through the snow-covered walkways, careful not to slip. Sometimes you wondered, how young people were running over the icy paths with ease whilst you and your winter boots barely carried you on the frozen alleys, but that, you decided, will forever remain a mystery.

The sun had gone down few hours ago, the night was still young, but the moon was the brightest it’s been in weeks, casting a gentle glow over the barren streets of Tokyo. This was a special night and though slightly more chilly than usual, you couldn’t bring yourself to be bothered by the sharp, stinging pain in the tips of your ears and fingers. It was temporary, you knew that inside, and life had forced you to endure much worse than the slight dip in temperature. You pushed through the thick layer of crisp air and slowly, a faint scent of something sweet filled in your nostrils.

It was soothing, in a way, to breathe in the subtle scent of hot chocolate that you knew oh so well, because only one person you got to meet in your life was able to concoct such a mixture of flavors that you’d recognize it at the end of the world and further. The note of cocoa, though being nothing but a ghost carried by the languid winds, somehow brought warm into your otherwise frozen bones, making the tedious trip more bearable and the way too thin layer of clothes you wore somehow more protective. Maybe, you thought, the high city architecture got you used to mellowed temperatures and each time you get yourself surprised how drastically different the air feels outside the tall built of Tokyo. The concrete jungle blocking the icy whiffs with ease and once you stepped out of it, you realized once again, how different it feels with just trees and open space around you.

You pushed through the snow, pulled in and tempted by the sweet promise of chocolate and vanilla, with thoughts already deep within what’s to come, you allowed your eyes to take in the view that slowly unraveled before you. The temple, so beautiful, with all the grace stood quietly in the midst of the winter landscape, surrounded by tall, now completely bare trees, hugged by the thick cottony layer of snow. The building, made entirely out of wood suited the picture, with its traditional architecture blending effortlessly with the surrounding icy winds and frozen nature. Each time you saw it, you couldn’t help but admire the intricate and beautiful carvings of dragons and tigers, the detailed branches of cherry blossoms and all of the patterns that decades ago someone sculpted out by hand.

It stood proudly, the temple inviting with it’s warm lights coming from inside. The safe haven from the harsh winter weather and for you, a place bearing a soothing sense of serenity and peace, despite all of the logical reasons.

“There you are,” a voice, so honey-like and familiar, dressed in a gentle smile and soft eyes made you forget about the laboring trip you just subjected yourself to. “I’m sure you’re freezing, come inside.”

You smiled and quickly pushed off the outerwear, the snow-covered boots and jacket now rested near the doors as you followed the tall figure onto the floor above the entrance. The cozy warmth of the interiors slowly seeped into your body, along with the well-known presence of a man before you.

“Alone this time?” He asked while offering you a seat in the conjoined dining and living area. You settled your weight gently onto the plush cushions of the sofa, bathing yourself in the golden haze of the fireplace in front of it. You could feel how the heat slowly thawed out your limbs and relaxed your muscles from the strain of walking in the freezing cold, soothing you from head to toe and you knew, deep down, it was the flames that enveloped you in such comfortable aura, but you’d swear that it was your friend that made it so much more pleasant.

“Satoru couldn’t make it,” you replied finally, inhaling the thick, sweet scent of chocolate that soon enough landed in your hands. The cup, dark green in color, was filled in nearly to the brim with the hot liquid of gods, the special recipe the man mastered years and years ago. The perfect measurement of cocoa and fresh vanilla beans, spiced up with some magic only he knew. Divine concoction of flavors and perfect balance between the thick and thin consistency; a drink sweet and yet sophisticated.

“That’s a shame,” he smiled. His eyes were taking you in, admiring in silence the way your features were illuminated by the dim, golden hues, how the lights and shadows danced on top of your skin. He found your flushed from cold cheeks adorable and though he wasn’t cold at all before you visited his temple, now he felt the warmth of familiarity spreading throughout his body.

“A shame indeed,” you nodded, chuckling with softness as you allowed your lips to dip in the hot treat. The first taste that spread out over your tongue and coated your throat with thick layer of goodness made you moan in pleasure. A sound quiet and gentle, carried by your breath but clear enough to express the gratitude you felt. “How have you been, Suguru?”

It’s been seven years since everything happened – the horrible spiral of events that eventually led to one of your best friends to go down the path of a wanted criminal. You didn’t notice the way he got consumed by thoughts and depression, you didn’t see how the light inside of him slowly but surely was burning out and for that, you think, you’ll never stop blaming yourself. And now, each time you reminiscent his eyes, the sadness that crept up his golden irises and the subtle changes in his voice that, as you think of them in perspective, were way too obvious to miss, it makes it hard to keep going. But you do. After everything that took place, you wished to keep him and yet, you weren’t ready to give up of Satoru. They both, so close to your heart, were equally important and that day, the one that now you recall as beautifully tragic, when your friends clashed in front of the fast-food restaurant parting their ways, you decided to do everything you could to keep them with you.

You knew about murder, you knew it all. It was Yaga who told you and Satoru about the events and you remember vividly how desperately you held your white-haired friend’s hand in order to prevent him from harming himself in anger. You rid yourself from every question that burned your soul. You forced your mind to neglect the concept of Suguru committing a crime and reached out to him not long after the scene, that now you jokingly call the infamous kfc breakup. He was a part of you, always will be, stained permanently with fragment of your heart and love you had for the boys in your life. The array of cherished moments created a thin veil that covered all of his misdeeds, concealing them just enough for you to look past them and enjoy his presence because each time you saw him you knew it might be the last time. Because Suguru Geto had a death sentence and it was a matter of time before the jujutsu higher ups will get fed up with the accumulation of little crimes and sentence him with the on-sight order.

It was, in a sense, meeting the death. You thought about it sometimes, usually during the sleepless nights. It was a weight you carried on top of your shoulders, the heavy ballast of regret and sorrow that you’d wish to have vanished and yet you knew, those feelings will never leave your mind. And sometimes you wondered about all the different what ifs, about everything that you could have done to rewrite the history only to save your friend from the way his days are numbered. It hurt you so deeply, every time you looked into his eyes, the beautiful golden irises that now seemed at peace with everything that happened.

“I’ve been doing fine,” Geto replied, sipping his own green tea – the gentle hint of peach noticeable and so undeniably him – and following carefully every movement you made, cementing the image into his mind because if there was anything he wished to cherish, it was a picture of you.

You sat there comfortably, listening to the calming melody of his voice as he was briefing through the last few weeks you couldn’t see him. Humming from time to time, you took your time to enjoy the hot chocolate while he talked about the girls he was raising. The twins he saved that one day in past, the girls that then were just barely five now were thriving teenagers and you always admired the way he managed to raise them despite his own moral struggles and young age. You met Mimiko and Nanako not long after he left and you’d lie if you said you didn’t love them from the very first sight.

And then, he touched on the people he was surrounding himself with, his family of sorcerers that he cared for deeply. Not a word in his speech was regarding his plans and wrongdoings and that’s how it looked for years now. You knew what he was on and about, you’ve got reports from every odd event that was taking place around Japan and you knew perfectly which of them to connect to your friend, but that’s not something you wished to talk about. When meeting him, you flowed as if the universe was different, oblivious, kind. Each time you and Satoru visit his temple, not one of you mentions the elephant that despite everything, always stands in the corner of the room. But it was fine, you believed. As long as you had him, all of it was fine.

Once he finished, you took your turn in talking, catching up with everything that happened to you and Gojo lately. The pride you have in your students, the new café that opened near your apartment and the absurd amount of training you were required to go through in order to meet the expectations of the higher ups, despite you being semi-special grade. They’ll never be satisfied with you, you assumed.

“And Satoru? How’s he doing?” The man questioned, soon after you concluded your story.

“He’s fine too. Busy, as always,” you replied, chuckling at the thought. “You can probably imagine him whining about it.”

“Bet I can,” Suguru joined the laughter, the sound of it brightening the dark night. “Maybe next time he’ll come with you.”

“I’ll make sure of that,” you promised, smiling softly and Geto could have sworn he never saw anything more beautiful.

There was, always, an unspoken feeling that connected the hearts of you and him, a love platonic in its roots but with years and years of yearning, you realized that it always was more than just a deep kind of friendship. Not once you talked about it, it just hung in the air every time you shared the time and you cherished every minute you had with him, hurting inside because you knew it so clearly that there was no way for you to let it all out in this lifetime and universe. And you knew that one day, you’ll see him dead and gone. You knew that one day, he’ll take the part of your heart and leave with it. You wondered, sometimes, if there was a possibility for you to become a collateral damage to whatever he was planning for the future. Would he be able to kill you, out of all people, to reach the goal he wished for?

“What’s on your mind?” He asked; the tone warm and silky, comforting and easing to the knotted thoughts in your head.

“Sometimes I wonder if there is a universe where we could be just regular people in love,” you replied, keeping your gaze on the burning flames in the fireplace. “With no curses, no grades, just plain people. I wonder if in the world like this, you could love me the way I love you.”

“I don’t know,” he said, humming at the thought and he reached his hand to gently brush the top of his pointer finger against your cheek. “I don’t know if there’s another universe where we’re just regular, plain people but I know there’s no world where I wouldn’t love you.”

143 notes · View notes

damn-stark · 8 days

Text

Chapter 36 Be The One Fallen from Grace, be Death

Chapter 36 of Sugar

A/N- More tears, but also a great fight ;)

Warning- Swearing, ANGST, fluff, violence and blood, talks of DEATH, suicide, and pregnancy, flashback, SPOILERS!!!! long chapter!

Pairing- Choso x Gojo!fem-reader, Suguru Geto x Gojo!fem-reader

Episode and or chapters- 239-243 and then the first half of 249

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

Grief has never been kind. Perhaps it was never meant to be kind, but this time besides sorrow, grief comes with livid anger.

You feel it within you. Like a blaring red alarm warning of incoming danger, like a tilting glass object on an edge ready to fall and shatter, like furious liquid lava boiling within and rising to the top to get ready to explode and spread havoc with no remorse.

You also feel like spreading chaos for the hell of it, because you’re hurt and you can’t pick up the pieces. You hate serene peace but also crave its infinite embrace.

You can do it, you can be like a great disaster, a deadly plague that terrorized that Egyptian pharaoh centuries ago. You want people to feel your deep pain, but…how selfish does that sound? When there are other targets out in the open for you to hunt and kill?

Waiting albeit might be the death to your patience that runs low already. First Takaba has to trap Kenjaku with his cursed technique, and once Kenjaku is so deeply entranced then you can go for the kill. You’re waiting for that to go down, but Takaba just started so it will probably take some time, much to your dismay considering you’re alone with Okkotsu and his cursed spirit.

Bummer.

This is worse than having to endure being by a person you just talked shit about behind their back, this is like being alone with your parents. Only you tried to kill Okkotsu’s friends and him.

Tsk, what a life.

“I’m sorry.”

Oh, he speaks.

He’s so strong yet so awkward, your father would hate him. He’d be like if you have no confidence then what’s the point of being the strongest, or a sorcerer? You can’t cower and blah, blah.

“For what?” You probe and keep looking past the tree line to try and get a glimpse of Takaba and Kenjaku, but they’ve moved so you’ve lost sight of them. Which means you have to move along to keep sight of them.

“For your loss,” Okkotsu shares kindly, making you halt in your tracks and look down, whilst he just slows down and keeps adding on. “And for being Suguru Geto’s demise.”

You gasp and clench your hands to fists.

If Suguru were still alive you’d have Kiyoshi, Nanako, and Mimiko would still be alive, your family wouldn’t have betrayed you, and perhaps all this disaster wouldn't have happened so soon. You also probably wouldn’t talk to Satoru, you wouldn’t have made amends with Shoko, or met Hakari and Kirara, or Choso—no you would have, he’d be different and you wouldn’t have fallen in love with him so the twins you’re expecting now would not exist, your life would’ve been different, but Suguru…Suguru would’ve been alive.

Oh, Suguru.

No matter how much life has changed, your heart will always yearn for him. He was your first love, your husband, your beloved, the one who was always there first.

Satoru killed him—That’s right your brother killed him, Okkotsu pushed him close to death, but he could’ve been saved, it was Satoru who took him away from you. You can admit that it took a while to admit it.

Maybe it only set in your heart now that Satoru is gone too, or it was Okkotsu’s apology—even if it wasn’t Okkotsu who made the kill.

You just needed to hear those heavy words, maybe not from him, but Satoru isn’t here now and you could never make him say it, so hearing Okkotsu say it is a close second, something to aid your bleeding heart.

“Oh,” your voice quivers and you start walking again to fall by his side and meet his droopy eyes. “It wasn’t you Okkotsu.”

It took a lot for you to say it but you finally did and it surprises the boy.

“But…thank you,” you tell him with no ounce of hesitation, not a sound of forced acceptance because of your circumstances. You mean what you say and it leaves him speechless with only the ability to look at the deep but beautiful sorrow haunting your face.

“I…” you hesitate now and avert your gaze to look out and make sure you’re not caught before you’re supposed to pop out. “I’m sorry for hating you. It was easier hating you than piling something else on,” you pause as your brother's name reaches the tip of your tongue, and no matter how much you want to say it you can’t bring yourself to utter a syllable of his name.

“…on him,” you say instead because you know Okkotsu will understand. “You didn't deserve it.”

“Oh,” Okkotsu scoffs nervously and slows down to keep an eye on the men fighting instead. “Well, I understood. It’s okay.”

You share a mostly forced laugh and peer at him over your shoulder. “It’s okay to say you don’t forgive me. I won’t break. I would understand.”

Okkotsu quickly shakes his head. “No, no I don’t hold any grudges against you. It’s really okay.”

You won’t fall into a never-ending cycle so you take it as it is, you really don’t care. You just needed to share that and ease yourself of that weight of hating a kid for what he didn’t do.

“Your girlfriend must be mad that we got paired up. I would really hate to face her wrath, I mean I didn’t fight Toji Zen’in but hearing about him was enough of an experience. So I’d rather keep things passive with her.” you point out to keep things lighthearted.

For the first time since you got here, Okkotsu finally stops dead in his tracks, and as you hear him you look back at him and see that a furious blush has taken over his face.

Was it something you said?

Were you not supposed to not know that he’s dating Maki?!

“Girlfriend?” He almost chokes on his own saliva.

“Uh, Maki Zen’in?”

His face grows even more red and he quickly shuts you down without actually being loud. “No, no, no. She’s not my girlfriend! She’s just a friend. Yes, just a friend.” He laughs nervously and offers you a sheepish smile.

Oh shit!

This is the last time you gossip with Hakari and Kirara—then again you weren’t really gossiping, you were all assuming by looking at how close the pair is.

“Oh sorry. I just assumed,” you say in a quick breath and laugh nervously before you look ahead and hide how embarrassed you feel and look.

“It’s okay,” he says once again and that’s probably the only thing he’ll be capable of saying to you from now on. How embarrassing.

Why couldn’t you and Choso come here together? Him killing his father would be poetic justice. Plus it wouldn’t be awkward and you’d be comforted by his presence even if he was being quiet. He’s so far now, so far and you’re left in the dark about his fate.

Maybe you’ve been clingy, maybe it’s due to your fear of being alone, but right now you wish you wouldn’t be far, or that he wouldn’t be out of sight, that way you can look out for him and save him from any fatal danger.

Which is funny because he wishes the same thing, it’s just…if you lose him you know you won’t love another soul ever again. Who else could love such a wicked creature like you the way he does?

So please higher beings, or whoever looks out for the mortals on earth, please, please don’t take Choso away.

“Oh damn,” Okkotsu whispers with shock.

You spot a cursed spirit in the distance surveilling the forest and stretch your arm out to point your finger at the distant curse.

“What is it?” You quiere as you shoot a fire orb from your finger and thankfully manage to exorcize the cursed spirit before it could spot you. “Or,” you sigh and put your hand down. “Who is it?”

Okkotsu clears his throat. “Kashimo,” he reveals.

You clench your jaw and rub the bridge of your nose.

Truth is you didn’t know him for long at all, he was kind of rude, and very much egoistical, but still…he was your friend.

A friend you knew would die, he would say it. It’s the way his cursed technique worked, and that’s why he chose to come back, so he could use his technique against Sukuna and die fighting. However, maybe you got a bit carried away and hoped he’d live so he could continue to be annoying, and stay close to Kirara and Hakari whom he had become friends with. But he, like everyone else, is gone.

At least he went out fighting his beloved.

“And,” Okkotsu adds to the morbid news. “Sukuna is finally in his true form. Yuji and Higuruma are next.”

Well, you all hoped Sukuna would unleash his final form, it would be pretty pointless continuing to go out and fight him if he kept using Fushiguro’s body because he would only get boosted up after wearing everyone down or after killing everyone. At least now you can all go all out and have a chance to kill him. Once and for all this time.

“Well, we expected that much huh?” You mutter and stop as you get a good view of Kenjaku and Takaba fighting in the forest now.

“Hopefully this won’t take long,” Okkotsu adds as he falls beside you. “I don’t want to leave the others waiting too long.”

You let out a deep sigh and drop your gaze to the necklace Choso gave you. “Yeah,” you quietly agree. “Me neither. But even if Takaba can’t stand a chance, I’m sure you, Rika, and I can take him…We will kill Kenjaku,” you proclaim with a wicked smirk on your features.

——

*A FEW YEARS BACK*

“I had a dream,” you speak airily as you tap your fingers together.

Suguru answers with silence like you expected. He’s usually so curious about listening to you share your ridiculous dreams, but lately, he’s been…distant. He seems to be in his head a lot. It’s begun to worry you, and you’ve pointed it out to Satoru but he says to just let him be.

You can’t just be so ignorant of Suguru’s feelings, he’s your boyfriend. He’s been there for you at your lowest, you have to treat him the same. You don’t want to be those couples who avoid talking about their feelings hiding right under the surface to keep the honeymoon phase unbothered.

“…that you told me what bothered you,” you quickly redirect to him and nudge his knee with yours.

Finally, after seeming to be stuck in a storm of his thoughts, he comes out looking lost. “What? Sorry.”

You swallow back nervously and push yourself to your knees on your bed to face him better without having to crane your neck, and take his hand. “You’re worrying me Suguru,” you get straight to the point now that he’s only heightened your worry to the point you feel it in the pit of your stomach.

“Lately you’ve seemed distant, like your mind is miles away, are you okay?” You share your concern, causing his eyes to flicker down but his expression to remain frozen in that nonchalance.

“Yeah,” Suguru almost seems to bring up that answer like it was rehearsed. “I’m fine, darling, don’t worry about me.”

For a moment, for a flicker of a second, you see a crease between his thin and dark eyebrows, but he makes sure to play it off as nothing.

“Suguru,” you coerce him softly and lean over to rest your hand on his leg, and that touch on such a delicate place always gains his attention. Just like now, his deep and dark eyes meet your gaze, and you see a dark storm brewing within, reflecting a peril you can’t quite dissect yet. You’ll get there.

“Talk to me. You can trust me, you know that.” You say and pull out a strand of his hair so he can wear his usual bang.

Meanwhile, Suguru immediately finds it in him to nod so you won’t think otherwise. “Of course I trust you, but there’s nothing wrong, it's just teenage blues. Normal, don’t worry about me.”

Teenage blues?

Yeah, you feel a bit gloomy sometimes, Belinda says it’s normal because you’re growing, but for Suguru, there’s been a distinct gloom haunting him. And you know it’s still there, you see it underneath the surface. But maybe he’s not ready to share what he feels just yet, so you’ll give him space and just show him some more appreciation than you already do.

“So tell me,” Suguru quickly changes the subject as he leans over and snakes an arm around your shoulders to swiftly turn you around and lay you back against him. “What was this dream about?”

“You know,” you don’t address that yet, you just need to lift his spirits a bit. “I’d be a hot housewife.”

Suguru’s fingers stiffen on your skin and he quickly picks at your comment in confusion. “What do you mean?”

You push yourself up and twist your body to face him as you remain at his side. “I would make a hot wife,” you repeat before you lean closer to explain the thought process behind your comment. “If it’s this part of your life that’s bothering you, you could wait until I turn 18 because that’s when I get my inheritance. And when we get that money, and with the money we make here, we could,” you pause and shrug suggestively. “Move somewhere far away from curses. Somewhere like Alaska, Fiji, Hawaii?” You suggest in a playful tone, making two emotions battle within him, amusement and admiration.

“We would probably have to pick up some odd jobs so we won't get bored, but we could live comfortably,” you continue to tell a dream that you make up at the spot, but one that could be a possibility. “We could live by the beach, far from Japan and this part of our world. We could live good lives.”

You were a rich girl, like an old money rich that would never know a day of poverty, your own kids would never know it, nor the kids after them. And this world you so easily wanted to cast aside was your entire world, you haven’t known anything else but this world of cursed energy and all that comes with it, so hearing you say you would risk not living such a luxurious life away from the world you knew leaves Suguru besotted.

“You’d do that?” He can’t help but ask so pathetically.

Not like you cared or let it boost your ego, you continue to look at him like he's the sweetest thing in this world, like he's a beautiful starry night. That softness never fades from your eyes nor from your voice. “Of course. As long as I’m with you I would be happy to leave this world behind.”

He knew that. He knew that you would have no debate leaving this sorcerer world behind because of how poorly your family treated you, but even yet, how silly is loving someone? Even if he knew, hearing you pour your heart out still steals his breath away.

“Well then if I ever feel like running off…” he pauses and exhales deeply as he feels so enamored by your sweet words. “I know who I’ll turn to.”

You smile giddily and lean in to press a peck on his lips. “You need only say the words.” You whisper.

Suguru smiles softly and hums. “I love you,” he says so tenderly. “More than anything.”

Your breath catches as if it’s the first time hearing those enchanting words and you stare at him dumbfoundedly before a silly lovestruck smile tugs on your lips. “I love you too Suguru.”

Suguru slowly cups your jaw and presses his lips against yours to feel the warm and wet feeling of your lips on his. Which is such an intimate act that always makes you nervous.

“So are you going to tell me that dream of yours?” He finally returns to your previous subject, making you pull back to lay back against him.

“Well,” you finally share lightheartedly. “I was standing in a pool of blood, I was covered in it and all I know is that I’m turning into a curse. But,” you add much to his surprise. “I wasn’t scared because you were there too.”

Suguru picks up your fingers to just mindlessly fiddle with them before he teases. “You do know what a nightmare is right?”

You roll your eyes and nod. “Yes, but it wasn’t a nightmare because you were there before you started doing, like, weird flips.”

Suguru snorts softly and you can't help but get lost in the moment and laugh with him. However, you come to an abrupt stop and tilt your head back to meet his gaze that's intently on you. “Swear to me that if I ever turn to a curse you’ll kill me. I don’t want to lose control of myself.”

Suguru’s eyebrows knit together with disbelief but before he can try and talk you out of this fear-filled pact you press him. “Just humor me.”

Suguru exhales deeply and chooses not to argue his way around this. “Alright. Swear.”

You sigh with relief before you then grow serious but reassuring at the same time. “If you ever turn to a curse I’ll exorcize you. I promise, even if it takes my soul and my ability to love again I will do it.”

Suguru’s cheeks grow a tint of pink that he can’t hide because you’re so close.

“And if we lose our minds together,” you continue playfully. “We can be like Romeo and Juliet and kill one another.”

Suguru shakes his head, but you cut him off before he can correct you. “Lovers suicide, how romantic.” You sigh and press your hand against your chest to dramatically recite a quote. “Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs; Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; Being vexed, a sea nourished with lovers' tears; What is it else? A madness most discreet, A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.”

“How do you memorize a quote but not the ending?” Suguru teases you with a bit of judgment, you sense it. But whatever.

“It’s my favorite quote from that story,” you brush him off. “Like it?”

“Of course.” He assures you nonetheless, making your heart swoon and a happy smile tug on your lips. For he always knew how to make you smile with so much glee, and so did you always find a way to pull a genuine smile out of him that's filled with nothing but endearment. Even if a deep anguish clouds over him.

——

*NOW*

More than anything is what he would always say. At first, you didn’t know the meaning behind that—it’s just a simple phrase is what you’d always think, something sweet from someone even sweeter, but then, after his defection, as the years passed and Suguru changed, that phrase never left his vocabulary and that’s when you knew that he really loved you over everything and more than life itself.

You didn't just live for the hope of it all, you lived for each other. Which is so cheesy, and so clinging, but no non-sorcerer or anyone could understand the true meaning behind something so deep.

Which is why it’s so weird now—Not living without him, you can live without Suguru now. At first, going on and dragging your feet through life was like a person going through withdrawal, only there was no chance you could get your fix after his death. No curse and no cursed energy could bring him back, so you were stuck.

But now, you’ve healed. You would like to say that you don’t love so deeply anymore, but…you’re married already after 2 months of knowing Choso, and there's a chance you could relive all that trauma of loss again, but you’re not hurting now. Not about that love.

But even then it’s weird watching Kenjaku parading around in Suguru’s body. You quickly told them apart, you knew the deep workings of Suguru's soul after all, but seeing that long black hair draped over his back, seeing those dark passionate eyes, and that precious face makes you feel all dizzy—until you see the unique stitches.

It’s so surreal, more so because as you pay attention to Takaba and Kenjaku, you see Suguru’s body turned into a female nurse because of Takaba’s technique. Kenjaku is a female nurse. It’s…Well, there’s a possibility of what adult Satori could look like.

You always wanted a glimpse into the future, you never thought you would get one this way….

This fight is odd, it’s like watching a bad sitcom. What did you sign up to?

“What the hell is the matter with you!” Takaba bellows as he wears doctors get up to act out whatever scene you just focused on. “Is that how you treat someone in the pits of despair?! Well?!”

“You don’t look very depressed to me!”

No, no, you get it now, this is like those sitcoms they dump into the graveyard hours on TV, the time slots hardly anyone watches. Yeah! That’s it.

“Fine, fine,” Takaba pretends to deescalate whatever it is they’re fighting about in that fake reality. “We’ll settle this fair and square with rock, paper, scissors.”

Takaba and Kenjaku clasp their hands together and raise them over their heads, whilst you tilt your head and assume they’ll suddenly spin around like western cowboys in a standoff. You actually almost get amused, but…they start to dance and sing.

Would it be wrong to say you prefer blood and destruction? Like, yes, you love funny stuff, but considering who you left behind and the battle going on miles away, this is distasteful. And gross considering they just stabbed each other's fingers in each other's noses.

The one good thing is that their scenes keep changing. Like now for example, now they’re competing in those question games that air on TV, and Kenjaku’s face is contorting into silly facial expressions Suguru would do when he was in his high school years, and once when he was trying to make baby Satori laugh. Did he?

No, she just stared at him with judgy and beady eyes. It was the cutest thing and a lot funnier than his attempt at making her laugh.

Yet even if you reminisce about the past, when you lift your eyes your hatred for this man grows livid.

How much longer will you have to keep watching this? At this rate, you’ll end up falling asleep!

You groan under your breath and then frown with displeasure before you lean your body against the side of the tree and watch a street suddenly appear on the ground, and a black cat crossing a pedestrian crosswalk. It almost seems like it’s going to be hit by oncoming traffic, so as the fake sidewalk light turns red, Takaba tries to save it even if the car gets closer.

However, when he’s about to grab the cat, it suddenly turns to…Kenjaku!

He’s a freaky cat hybrid!

And now that you look at him look like some humanoid cat he’s actually terrifying rather than funny. You almost want to laugh at how creepy he looks, but you stand straight-faced and actually, feel impressed when the car from before hits Takaba, but he bounces out of the way with no repercussions.

It’s honestly very amazing and a great example of his powers.

Kenjaku even seems caught off guard by the suddenness of Takaba’s counter, but it’s a quick reaction before suddenly in a blink of an eye Takaba is a humanoid cat too and he’s drowning.

Kenjaku then appears on a surfboard and goes to his rescue. “Wait right there!! I’m coming to save you!!”

This time Takaba gets payback for Kenjaku’s surprise attack, and appears from behind Kenjaku with a Jetski, and slams right into his back, seeming to knock the wind out of Kenjaku. But before you can watch him hit the ground, the entire scene changes and it’s played off like Takaba is splashing him with water.

What a fake out! Boo!

“You got me good!” Kenjaku laughs along and splashes water at Takaba, creating a playful and almost serene scene.

Almost! Because then in a matter of a second the scene violently changes and Kenjaku is trying to drown Takaba with a sinister look on his face.

Alas, Takaba turns things around and plays it off to save himself. “Wait a sec!” Takaba cuts in humorously. “Taste some of this seawater!”

Kenjaku scoops up the water and his face lights up. “This isn’t water, it’s Fanta!” He laughs and you feel like you’re going to throw up.

This can’t be real. Please! Someone come kill you right now!

Anyhow the scene changes and Kenjaku and Takaba are in suits now in front of a stage of a real-looking audience.

“Huh?” Takaba seems to genuinely be confused by the change, but he also seems to be filled with awe.

“You’ve already warmed up plenty, haven’t you?” Kenjaku directs at Takaba. “Let’s do this partner.”

Takaba’s cheeks slowly redden and his response is given breathlessly. “Yeah.”

They both go up to the mic and like some heavenly intervention, Okkotsu finally distracts you from the horrible show. “Can I ask you something? If that’s fine.”

You keep your eyes on the men just to keep an eye on the scene and make sure your part isn’t coming up soon, but you still gracefully address Okkotsu’s question. “Depends what it is. Go on.”

You hear Okkotsu swallow nervously before he gets less confident and nervously brings up his question. “Why did you leave? I mean defect from school, from Jujutsu society?”

You scoff and immediately counter the boy. “I didn’t defect from Jujutsu society. That’s kind of ignorant of you to say, Okkotsu—”

“Oh, oh no, I—”

“Listen,” you cut off his nervous rambling. “Just because I didn't fit into this cookie image of what the higher-ups think a sorcerer should be, doesn’t mean I was out of the Jujutsu society. I was still a part of it. I was a curse-user, sure, but I was still here, I just changed my way of thinking that’s all,” you actually care to explain only because what you’re watching is boring.

“There’s many reasons that go into why I left,” you continue to explain. “Love, trauma, exhaustion, search for myself, and to sum it up realization,” you say and pause to stand up straight and draw out a deep breath.

“I realized,” you add and slowly lower your head to look at your nails.“That the non-sorcerers weren’t worth saving. No matter how heroic we are, they will always be selfish…we die trying to save them from the horrors they create and they clap and cheer at the death of an innocent young girl, they experiment on each other to achieve horrors that they can’t see. They hurt little kids because they’re different, because they themselves fear what they create, so why would I try and risk my life to save them when I could help us?” You rant as if you’re spewing your evil monologue to the hero. No remorse or pity. Just frustration and ache.

“That’s why I left Okkotsu,” you finish and lift your head to peer at him over your shoulder. He doesn’t look nervous, he stiffens when your eyes meet his, but he isn’t fidgety.

“But,” he surprises you by saying. “You’re ignorant too then…” he hesitates but his gaze doesn’t falter, and his lips twitch nervously. “Sorcerers are the same. We just have the power and the ability to not create horror, we’re strong and they’re not. Chaos and order.”

Rather than getting upset, you grin Instead over the fact that he’s quoting you.

“I’m selfish Okkotsu,” you admit with no sign of remorse. “If I have to pick between one evil, I pick us every time.” You could go on and on over why it will always be sorcerers over nonsorceres, but why should you waste your breath in explaining it to him? He's got strong beliefs. Besides, now doesn’t seem like the time to divulge into your deeper inner thinking.

“Hm, well I won’t say I see the way you think, but I appreciate you sharing your response with me,” Okkotsu says.

You answer with a hum and casually return your attention to the men.

“Hey, you okay?” You catch Kenjaku asking Takaba.

You sigh and lean back on the tree before you lift your hand to scratch your cursed worm's chin, making him lean towards you to appreciate your gesture.

“Yeah,” Takaba says breathlessly as his eyes take in the crowd. “I’m just thinking about curtains…”

Finally, what a drag!

“…on the show of my dreams…up until now you could probably say I wasn’t even qualified to spell the word comedian,” Takaba explains as his voice grows more and more shaky as his emotions rise. “But up on this stage, even your fangirls are making me happy. I want to keep going, I don’t want this to end!”

Kenjaku seems pensive, no malice lies behind his eyes, nor in his voice as he comforts his opponent. “Don’t cry, you’ll spoil the mood.”

He pats Takaba’s chest and everything changes back to the forest, but Takaba lays on the ground with a gown and head mirror on his head. Which means one thing now, this is your time.

It’s curtains for them, but what about an encore?

“It’s time, Okkotsu,” you let the boy know what he’s already preparing for, and with not a moment to spare while Kenjaku is babbling on, Okkotsu runs out of the forest and sneaks up to Kenjaku from behind without even causing the man to bat an eye.

The plan is for Okkotsu to catch Kenjaku off guard and slice his head off, while you come out as backup because Kenjaku can’t seem to let go of life and will probably leave with a fight. Thus you stride out calmly since you completely trust Okkotsu to execute his fatal move.

And while you’re moving out, you see Kenjaku shut up and suddenly grow stiff and baffled as a realization seems to hit him as almost out of nowhere Okkotsu appears behind him.

“Curse technique reversal antigravity—” Kenjaku announces, making you transfer your cursed energy to the ground to rip chunks of the earth to get over to them and quickly rebuttal Kenjaku, but, luckily Okkotsu uses his advantage and quickly swings his katana to slice Kenjaku’s head off, letting you drop the pieces of earth and…gasp out of a sudden flash of horror.

You see Suguru’s dark eyes deep with complexity, his terrified expression painted over his face and you see your husband for a second. A second! But it’s enough to fool your mind into thinking it was him who was killed.

Realization thankfully hits you when you hear the head flop on the ground, but your heart is still trying to calm down from that freight that ramped up its speed.

“Was that your plan,” you hear Kenjaku interject in that deeper voice he could never mold into Suguru’s soft and soothing tone, not even because he’s in Suguru’s body.

“…from the beginning?”

You slowly step out of the cold shadows of the forest and feel a sly smirk flicker on your cold expression.

“Takaba doesn’t kill people,” Okkotsu says with no rise of stress in his tone, unlike in your interactions, he shows no awkwardness, no nervousness, he’s laser-focused and wearing an Icy look.

“Makes sense,” Kenjaku replies nonchalantly before he freaks you out as he snaps his gaze down to find you. “Didn’t I kill you?” He asks.

You shoot him a smug smile and shrug just as smugly. “What can I say? You should’ve gone for the head.”

He scoffs and his lips form into a deep discontent frown. “It's a shame to bow out before I finish…but my will will be passed on!” He sneers with eyes peeling back before suddenly a loud kadump shakes the ground, setting off every alarm in your mind.

Is he about to lose control?

“Rika!” Okkotsu bellows out for the cursed spirit attached to him before his eyes snap to you. “Get Kenjaku, Rika and I can handle what’s about to come!”

Neither of you have to see what’s about to unfold to know it’s not anything good, you feel it on your skin as all the hairs on your arms and on the back of your neck shoot up as your instincts sense danger before it all, every single curse Suguru had left, and every curse Kenjaku collected comes busting out of a portal.

The multiple and massive bodies block your eyesight as they surround you, causing you to lose sight of Kenjaku’s head.

“Okkotsu can you handle this?” You shout so you can be heard over the horrifying commotion everywhere around you.

“Yes! Don’t worry!”

You spare one last glimpse at Okkotsu and see that he hasn’t faltered, so you manipulate the wind with your technique and shoot up into the sky like a torpedo. And there, over the disaster in the forest beneath you, flying away is a curse carrying Kenjaku’s head.

“I killed you once, what's the point of sending you again?!” Kenjaku makes sure his voice is carried out as he gets flown toward the bridge over the water. “I can just kill you again.”

You curl your lips to a snarl and try to manipulate the wind to fly directly at him, but curses fly up in his defense and once again block sight of him.

But, it’s not like these curses are an obstacle, you’re outside, this is your territory!

“Let’s have some fun!” You cry out excitedly and shoot your arms out as you stay where you are.

The wind takes no time to gain momentum as you violently spin it around you at rapid speeds, tearing old trees off the ground, and mixing rocks in the tornado forming around you. The curses don’t have any grasp of incoming danger so they all still barrel towards you without a second of hesitation, which makes for easy work. How magnificent!

You beam at the curses with malicious joy and gently bring your arms back to send the tornado out towards the curses, feeling the high and icy winds blow past you but not harm you whatsoever. All you are is an ominous figure in the destruction with a wicked smile playing on your face

The curses finally sense danger and try to avoid being caught, but the tornado pulls them all into its spinning void and exorcizes them with ease with the sharp and deadly winds, leaving a clear sight of Kenjaku over the bridge but not an opening. There’s more curses below, and some out of the a hundred below spot you and make you their target.

So you use the tornado in your control and have it touch ground to wipe away the curses that came after you. You also end up clearing a path with the tornado and get rid of all the curses in its destructive path until it reaches the edge of the bridge.

There’s more curses, hundreds more all huddled up creating a dark cloud of curses on the bridge, but now that you aided Okkotsu by clearing the forest of curses, he can handle the ones on the bridge while you focus on Kenjaku who is still being carried away like some wimpy coward.

You won’t let him get away though, he won’t escape this time, nor will he get the jump on you again. Today you will recover Suguru’s body, today you will see through the revenge promise you made to Choso. Kenjaku won’t live past today. So as he keeps getting further away, you fly forward and once you get close you let your voice boom out so he can hear.

“Scared Kenjaku? You should be.” You smirk, and Kenjaku snickers.

“Scared? Of you? Please,” he brushes you off as his head gets creepily turned around by his hair so he could meet your gaze. “Do you want to know something, Gojo?!”

You draw in a deep breath and sigh. “I’ll bite!”

Yet before he can answer he has some of the curses on the bridge change directions and aim toward you rather than Okkotsu seeming to easily wipe them out with the help of Rika. But don’t the curses after you know how foolish they are? You’re near water, an element you reign over. Kenjaku knew that, he knows far too many things he shouldn’t, but then again he's using the curses as a distraction to make distance between him and you.

“Let’s show them something tremendously beautiful, hm?” You direct at your worm cursed spirit, and then tilt your head down to pierce your mischievous glare into the curses flying up to try and reach you before you point your palms at the water and play.

You raise the water several feet into the sky, causing Okkotsu’s attention to be stolen by the impressive wall of water rising in front of him, casting a large shadow over him and his surroundings that makes an icy chill rush over him.

The wall of water then folds down at your will and like an angry storm-powered wave blasts through all the curses that were coming after you and those too stupid not to move, while also cracking the bridge in half with the mere power of the water alone.

Now there’s a few curses left, but Okkotsu handles them, while you finally fly over the bridge and land on the ground just a few feet away from where Kenjaku’s curse is propped.

“Kogane,” Kenjaku says with his piercing eyes meeting yours. “Add a rule.”

Kogane sounds familiar, but you don’t—no you can’t figure out where you heard it from because you’re caught by surprise by Kenjaku’s rule. “Transfer the authority to begin the great merger between Tengen and Humanity to Megumi Fushiguro.”

Your eyes widen and you reach back to grab a blade imbued with cursed energy from the Worm's mouth.

“Roger that!” A creature with wings confirms after popping out of nowhere. “Rule 15: authority to begin the great merger between Tengen and Humanity has been transferred to Megumi Fushiguro.”

Oh, you get it now, this little creature is the one in charge of the rules from the Culling Games.

“One at least needs some insurance,” Kenjaku finally directs at you, making you step forward with growing horror over the fact that it won’t actually be Fushiguro in charge of the merger, but the one using his body; Sukuna.

“I’ve already had Sukuna undergo the succession ritual,” Kenjaku shares with that usual cocky arrogance he always carries—“what remains is simply his becoming the parent of the ritual via the culling games.”

You blink repeatedly in disbelief and then suddenly feel your breath catch in your throat when you see Tengen appear in the womb the curse carrying Kenjaku has.

You thought nothing of it seconds ago but that was because you didn’t realize it carried Tengen.

“Tengen!” You call out even if you know they won’t hear you, it’s a desperate call before Tengen is blasted away to the grasp of a greater evil.

“Oh please don’t act like you care about the human species,” Kenjaku picks on your baffled reaction. “Thanks to Suguru’s memories I know you more than I care to. You detest non-sorcerers, so think of this as…your dream come true.”

You clench your hand around the blade's handle and narrow your gaze to shoot your seething glare at him. “I care about humanity, you stupid arrogant fool. I am a part of humanity. Just because I don’t care about one part of humanity doesn’t mean I want life as I know it to go extinct out of some sick curiosity!”

“Hm,” he simply hums before his creepy curse crawls down, making you step back out of a fear reaction. “But don’t you see it?” He says with a glee that creeps you out. “Peace you’ve craved for so long? Where the weak don’t exist and the strong like you reign? Where your daughter, your family, and your people can live without fear of getting killed by nasty curses?”

You sneer at the sound of him speaking of your daughter and lift your blade an inch.

“All you’ve ever wanted is there just out of reach,” he coaxes you in a gentle and almost alluring way while the curse brings him closer, but not too close. “You can almost taste everything you and Geto dreamed of.”

You raise your blade a bit further but stay glued to your spot whilst your eyes follow his hovering head. “Whatever you’re trying to get at, drop it,” you sneer. “I’m going to kill you.”

He shares a dry chuckle and stops before you. “You and me are different sides of the same coin. We both crave power and a craving to prove our strength.”

You lean towards him and shake your head as you look at him disgusted that he dared to compare you to him. “No. We’re not the same. I value my life, it’s beautiful because I’ll only live it once. I love and you're not capable of it. I value my family and you use them. I have a soul and you obviously don’t,” you spat, “we’re nothing alike.”

His face doesn’t drop his arrogance or that cockiness. Not even in death.

“Hm, you may be right. You truly are quite fascinating,” he speaks low as he leans towards your ear. “It’s why I know that it can all be yours, darling. If all else fails be, The One Fallen from Grace, be Death.”

You blink in surprise and clench your jaw. Kenjaku backs away and his eyes drift over your shoulder.

“I won’t say I’ve had a thousand years worth of fun, but,” he says. “I’m glad the one I got to play with at my end was him.”

You peer back and see Okkotsu finally has joined you dragging Takaba along on the ground and another body you don’t take a chance to identify because you focus back on Kenjaku.

“Now it’s up to you guys. I’m sure it’ll be fun.”

No more prusiading, no more talking, no more running away, it all ends here. He ends here.

A breath escapes past your lips, and then with your jaw clenched and your glare gleaming with forming tears, you grab the blade with both hands, and bring the blade up to thrust it right through Kenjaku’s head and all the way until the point comes out the other end just so he doesn’t pull some trick out of nowhere and live somehow.

You won’t let him live past today. He won’t live past today…

But you still make sure he's dead by waiting for any sign of life. You can’t miss a single detail that could lead to his escape.

You wait, and wait for what feels like hours (but it’s only a few minutes) until finally the blade slips out of your hand as his head flops on the ground when Okkotsu exorcizes the curse that held up Kenjaku’s head.

He’s dead. That parasite of a person is dead…

Suguru…you can rest now…

Suguru…

You slowly drop to your knees and grab the blade to pull it out of his head. Not Kenjaku’s, but Suguru’s. The stitches are still on his forehead, but now that no life brightens his eyes, all you see is the man you loved, the man that was stolen from you, your husband and best friend, Suguru Geto.

“Ms,” Yuta whispers cautiously behind you.

You know you have to go, but just one minute…

“Hm?” You probe and look back, catching him walking toward you with the other part of Suguru’s body.

“I thought you’d want it,” Okkotsu says softly.

Your bottom lip trembles and your eyesight clouds with tears, but you still manage a thankful nod in your numbed state.

Okkotsu then places the body under the head, and before he can step away to give you space you connect the pieces together and look at the body in awe.

There’s still stitches on his forehead, but you ignore them and only see Suguru returned to you.

“I’ll do it this time,” you murmur to his cheek as you lean down. “I’ll put you to rest. Close to home, where our daughter can visit. Where I can visit. I’ll put you, Kiyoshi, and the twins together. Okay?”

There’s no response, just a deafening silence that brings more tears down your face.

“I miss you,” your voice quivers. “But I bet you and…my…you and him are together now, so you’ll be plenty distracted…” you trail off and can’t go on anymore, you can’t muster another word, and your shattered heart aches too much, but you don’t want to break down now, Choso is not here to calm you down.

So after a shaky breath, you press a kiss on his cheek and then press your forehead on his shoulder as you feel a wave of sorrow incoming ready to bring you down.

“Don’t cry,” you hear a familiar voice. A soothing one that’s not forced and sounds so real. “…FireFly.”

Suguru?

You snap your head up and look ahead at the forest where the voice comes from and see him, a mirage, but it’s still him offering you his sweet and charming smile.

“I love you,” he says and brings a wobbly smile to your lips. “I’ll always look out after you and Satori. Always.”

You drop your head and let out a trembling sob before you repeat his words, “always.”

——

*LATER*

You to Choso: I’m back. I’m okay, are you? Answer when you can. I'll be there shortly.

Your name is called out before you can watch your phone's screen for the three little bouncing dots that show that he’s responding. And when you look over you notice Shoko walking over to you.

“Ijichi mentioned you came in. Why didn’t you go get me?” She asks.

You turn around to face her and see a faint smile painted on her features as she sees no blood stained on your white hair or clothes. When she doesn’t see any visible wounds she strides over and immediately envelopes you in an embrace without caring that the worm is still attached around your shoulders.

You’re a bit stunned at the feeling of her embrace, but when you feel a comforting weight clinging onto you, you let out a shaky breath and hug her tightly.

“Mei-Mei is not surveilling that far, I was worried,” she shares between a soft breath.

You pull back and face her so she can see once again that you’re okay.

Honestly, that was an easy fight, the worst one is yet to come.

“I’m okay, the plan worked,” you assure her and rub her shoulders. “I…brought Suguru’s body back. I wanted to leave it here for now.”

Shoko stills for a moment at the sound of your words before she nods gently. “Yeah, okay, just place him on a table. I’ll keep his body cool.”

You sigh deeply and know that putting his body down isn’t what will crush you. You had a moment with him already so you’ll be fine. Quiet but fine. It’s someone else's body that you’re afraid of seeing, but want to see at the same time.

“I’m sorry for the way it was transported, it was the easiest way to carry him all the way over here,” you excuse your actions before you walk to a metal table and look at your worm to give him a knowing look he understands.

Shoko walks over and reaches for a cigarette in her coat's pocket, but you then catch her eyes snap to you as she realizes your condition and pats her pocket before digging her hands in her other pocket. The worm then opens his mouth and you help him by pulling out the body before letting it fall on the table with a loud thud since it is very heavy flesh and muscle.

“Again,” you mutter with pursed lips. “Sorry.”

You glance at all the drool soaked on Suguru’s body and pass Shoko an awkward tightlipped smile before you look down and take out the head.

“Now we’re all back,” you mention a conversation you had a month ago.

Albeit now another one of you is also gone, and that’s a fact that’s too hurtful to think about so you try and brush it off by combing Suguru’s hair with your fingers before gently placing his head down.

“I could remove the stitches and close the wound,” Shoko says to not focus too deeply on the fact that her dead friend's head is on the table, it’s a sorrow that neither you can afford to get lost in just yet.

“Could you?” You ask hopefully as you caress Suguru’s head. “I want Satori to give her dad a last goodbye, and I don’t want those horrible stitches on his head.”

Shoko nods and can’t help herself, she pulls out a cigarette and places it in between her lips. She doesn’t light it for your sake, but she keeps it there as a form of comfort.

“Oh, and could you remove the stitches now? I want to show Choso his father's brain.” You say even if it sounds wrong saying that sentence.

“That’s so weird,” she says what you’re thinking. “But yeah. Afterward, I want to check on your twins. I can’t do much, but perhaps now we can hear a heartbeat. I just want to check if they sound good before you go. Choso would strangle me if I let you leave without getting checked out first.”

You chuckle breathlessly and nod. “Alright.”

Shoko walks off to get something, and you know you won’t be able to watch her take off the stitches and pull his head apart, so you instead walk away and attempt to leave the room, but before you can you come to a sudden stop when you catch Satoru’s shoes sticking out of a thick cover.

There’s no mistake that it’s anyone else, in your grief-battered mind the memory of his shoes sticks out like a sore thumb. Which is a cruel thing for your mind to do. Can’t it see your hearts already bleeding? Can’t it sense its agony?

Why does it take you to him without letting you question it first? Does it want to torture your withered soul? Or does your mind need confirmation of what the rest of you already knows?

You don’t know, your mind is silent and only occupied with one thought? Is he okay?

You mindlessly grab the edge of the cover that’s over his head and slowly pull it back. When his face is uncovered your mind quickly tells your hand to drop it and you freeze as you get stunned by what you see.

It feels like you got stabbed in your heart again. You feel that same stillness paralyzes your body, you feel that same pain terrorize you. This time though it’s worse. This pain is a lot more agonizing.

As your eyes focus on your brother's white eyelashes kissing his skin, when you take note of the fact that his chest lies still, and when you feel that not even a staggered breath escapes his nose, you feel a blinding pain puncture you and it pollutes every corner of your body, and finally hits your stubborn mind.

You try to think of any excuse, any workaround to deny what you see, but the realization is like shockwaves, bothersome, and unable to let you forget. Yet there’s an even sadder truth that lies beneath all that pain, and it’s a realization that you know who you’ll be now that he’s gone. You once feared not knowing who you’d be without him because he’s all you had, but now…now you lie underneath the rubble, just waiting to be pulled out, and those you cherish are present in your mind.

And you know he’d remind you of that. He wouldn’t let you forget nor would he want you to feel alone and lost, he’d remind you of who you were surrounded by, that you didn’t really need him in the grand scheme of things. He’d remind you of who you are and who you’ve always been, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that you’ll miss your older brother, that there will never be a day that goes by where you don’t mourn the first man who loved you and who always kept you in his heart.

There will never be a day where you won’t wish that he’ll be by your side because why did he have to leave? Why did he have to die and leave you here?

Why? Why?!

You clutch onto his shoulders and sob into his chest.

“Please,” you begin to plead. “Please come back. You said you��d always protect me. You promised me. Why are you gone, Satoru?”

Your legs lose all their strength and threaten to knock you to the ground, but before you can hit the ground, arms wrap under your arms and pull you up. You don’t get to look back before Shoko whispers your name and follows with soft words.

“Come on, honey, let’s get outside, okay? All this distress is not good for you and your babies.”

You shake your head and want to stay by your brother's side, but her words do register so you let her guide you out of the room, but fall with her out in the hall.

“Shoko,” you mewl.

Said woman caresses the side of your head and with tears of her own she tells you she understands your pain. “I know. I know.”

Her hand then slips from your head, and her arm slips around your waist so she can pull you to her side and press your head on her shoulder. Neither of you have the willpower to say anything after, you sit in silence with your backs to the door, and find comfort in each other's warmth.

You would want to sit here for hours just to try and process everything, but you can’t afford that luxury, people need you, so you lift your head off her shoulder before you stay attached to her, and push yourself up.

“I got your father-in-law's brain,” Shoko tries to lighten up your mood.

And it didn’t work to make you smile, but your nose wrinkles in disgust. “Ew please don’t refer to him as that,” you remark.

Shoko turns and as you lose sight of her in the room you hear her voice in the distance. “It’s true.”

“Ew,” you grumble and look down at your worm to mirror the disgust on your faces.

However, speaking about your father-in-law, you remember his eldest son and check your phone to see if he answered, but it’s still left on delivered. Choso hasn't read your message.

Is he okay?

You should check the broadcast—but if he’s not okay you’ll fall into more distress so you’ll text him first.

You to Choso: Cho? Call me if you can, please. Just let me know you’re okay.

You wait now and watch for the three dots again. But alas, once again Shoko comes to meet up with you.

“Here take your brain.” She interjects with a hint of disgust as she holds a jar with Kenjaku’s blood-covered brain.

When you take the jar you can only spare it one glance because your stomach constantly feels queasy, and you don’t want to taste that bitter taste of puke so you just let your Worm hold it.

Maybe it’s a sign from your babies that they don’t want to keep seeing their grandfather. Who would?

“Now can we please move on?” Shoko insists.

Your eyebrows raise and you nod eagerly. “Yes, please! I want to check on Choso. He hasn’t texted me back and he’s not one to take long to respond…” you trail off and look at her quizzical look to question her. “Do you know how he is? I mean have you seen him on the screens?”

Shoko tilts her head down to hold her dry cigarette stick and nods softly. “Yeah, he was helping against Sukuna. But that was a while ago, I got busy after that sorry.”

Well, that doesn’t work to reassure your worry whatsoever.

You’ll need to get through the checkup quicker than you’d like, Choso might need your help, or the others might need assistance.

Albeit there’s a part of you that doesn’t want Shoko to check on the babies. Not because you dread it, but because they’re still so small, and if she doesn’t hear anything you’ll think the worst right now considering all the distress you’ve been under.

However, there would’ve been signs if something bad happened, there hasn’t been any to your knowledge.

“Do you want to know what names Choso and I already chose,” you tell Shoko so you don’t keep focusing on the negative.

Shoko opens the door to a separate room and as you pass her to walk in she of course doesn’t turn you down. “Please do.”

You smile brightly and rub your belly. “Well I want a boy and a girl, so we chose based on that.” You share with your glee slowly heightening as you get excited. “For the girl, Choso chose Suki, which means beloved. And for the boy I chose Tsukuyomi, after the god of the moon. I wanted Orlando, but Choso vetoed it, can you believe that?” You pout.

Shoko scoffs and mumbles something under her breath as she taps on the chair for you to sit on. You pierce your glare into her and don’t leave yourself wondering what she had to say, you press her. “What? What did you just say?”

Shoko grabs a white device from her bag and when she turns around she doesn’t shy away from repeating herself. “It’s a stupid name.”

You gasp and touch your chest to pretend to be wounded by her insult to your beloved's name. “You’re a stupid name. I’m being so serious.”

Shoko sits on her chair and rolls herself to you. “Oh, I know you are. I’m glad Choso had some common sense, remind me to praise him for that.”

You pout. “Are you guys just jealous because he was my first love?” You tease her with the same thing you told Choso. “It’s okay if it’s any reassurance, I would hesitate leaving my life behind to marry Orlando Bloom. Before, nothing was going to stop me, now I’ve changed, okay?”

Shoko rolls her eyes and brings up her device that you don’t recognize. “What is that?” You probe and guard your belly.

Shoko turns on the device and pulls it up to show it off. “It's a fetal doppler to hear the baby’s heartbeat. I bought it recently to check on you.”

You drop your hand and can’t help your heart from skipping a beat at the thought of Shoko being so considerate and worried for your twin's well-being.

“Okay, now I won’t have you undress due to our circumstances, but I will ask you to lift your obi belt for me please.”

Your previous lightheartedness drops to zero, and all you’re filled with is worry that makes you swallow back nervously as you drag up the obi belt to give Shoko easy access.

“And I must warn you,” Shoko cuts in as she’s in the middle of leaning in. “If we don’t hear anything It’s because they’re too young to be detected by this device. Don’t worry, okay? You’re not showing any signs of concern, so I’m sure you’re okay.”

As far as doctors go she’s the first one to ever make you feel reassured by her attempts at comfort. The others you’ve seen speak with a feigned softness that oozes their artificiality

Maybe it's because she’s your best friend and the others have been strangers you have to see, but nothing in the way she sits, looks at you, or speaks gives any sense of doubt.

Then again she’s always sounded kind to you. Even when you first met her voice had a way to make you feel quite safe and reassured.

“Okay, I’m going to press this on you, okay? And you might feel a bit of pressure since I have to press deep to hear through your clothes, okay?” She speaks a lot softer and kinder, it almost sounds like she’s hypnotizing you.

“Okay,” you talk under your breath, and she only hears you because she's so close to you that her knees are touching yours.

And as she gets her wand close to your belly you hold your breath, and when presses her wand on you and presses hard to feel through the clothes and layers of skin and flesh, you stiffen and close your eyes out of your racing nerves attacking you.

“Come on now little Suki and Tsukuyomi, let me just hear you so your mama and your dad can have something positive to hold onto for today.”

You smile at her speaking to the twins, but it looks all wobbly and more like you’re about to cry.

Shoko notices your reaction and places the machine down to grab your hand and offer you a smile before she lowers the wand closer to your waistline and presses just a bit harder, making the sound of silence get interrupted by the sweet rhythmic music of two little ba-dums running quickly.

“Oh,” Shoko muses and drops your hand to grab the machine and watch the screen. While you drop that tension held on your shoulders, breathe out shakily, and feel the clutches of your sorrow let go of your bleeding heart to let you mend your broken heart with the bliss of the twins signs of life. The first signs that they’re viable.

“That’s them?” You muse breathlessly and watch Shoko move her wand to focus on the second baby.

“Yes!” Shoko exclaims happily and turns the machine around to show you numbers on the screen you don’t quite understand. “From what I read their heart rates are good. Strong. You have some strong babies.” She beams at you and turns her head to just take a moment to listen, letting you pull your phone out to record the session for Choso. You don’t want him to miss the first time you hear their heartbeats; he’d be crushed.

And yes it’s not the same as being here in the same room, but due to your circumstances, you weren’t granted the pleasure of being together for this special moment. He should understand that, and hopefully, he'll have a greater opportunity of being with you when you see the twins for the first time. If something comes up then, then you’ll wait for him to be with you.

“So tell me one more time,” you interject just to double check for you, and so Choso can hear when he listens to the video. “Their heartbeats sound strong? Healthy?”

Shoko meets your gaze and nods. “Yes,” she reassures you. “They’re strong for how small they are. Don’t worry.”

You sigh with relief and smile down at your belly as you relish in the sound of the music of their hearts, forgetting for a moment what chaos awaits you outside and what agonizing sorrow is waiting to dig itself back in you; you can feel it’s sharp claws trying to claw itself back in to keep hurting you in the worst way imaginable.

You almost just want to fight it off and drown yourself in the sound of your twin's heartbeats since it brings you so much bliss, but once again you have to remind yourself that people need you. They need your strength to fight off the demon monster that goes by the name Sukuna.

Thus, after a few long minutes, you stop recording and meet Shoko’s gaze to speechlessly let her know that it’s okay to stop listening in.

However, she’s the one who hesitates, seeming to want to get lost in the sound of something miraculous instead of having to endure more pain, but she pulls herself away and turns off the device, bringing an end to your bliss and welcoming back your sorrow and grief.

“Before you leave,” Shoko fills the silence and utters your name almost hesitantly before she drags her chair back to able to hold your gaze—“can I share something with you about Suguru? Is that okay? Or is it weird?”

No matter how deeply in love you are with someone else, talking about Suguru will never be a weird topic or something you avoid. You’ll limit yourself out of respect for Choso, but you’ll never hide away from talking about your first love,

“No, it's not weird,” you assure your friend. “Go ahead.”

You let your obi belt fall back in place and slouch to wait.

“It’s about something he told me 11 years ago. The day I ran into him for the first time after what he did,” Shoko explains and then exhales deeply, causing her eyes to soften with a hint of sympathy as if the wounds of his passing are still new and fresh.

“It’s not specific, but he said to tell you that he knew the answer to your question. It was “yes, I would want nothing else.”

You blink in confusion and press your mind hard so it can remember what he was referring to because it does sound familiar.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you but with everything going on I never had time, and when you brought him in I remembered. Sorry,” she backs up her comment with guilt.

“No,” you counter back right away so she knows you don’t actually blame her for anything. “I understand, but he didn't say anything else?”

Her eyes suddenly widen and she rummages through her pocket before pulling out a folded paper that looks quite old.

“This,” she blurts and hands it to you. “He gave me this to give to you. I brought it with me today since I knew you’d bring him back.”

You look at her curiously before you drop your eyes to the paper and quickly unfold it. When you spread the paper out your breath hitches when you see that it’s your favorite poem, “The Passionate Shepherd to His Love.”.

He wanted you to have it. He remembered. Which isn’t surprising, but…after all these years your heart can’t help but swoon, and help you remember what he was referring to.

“We hadn’t been dating long,” you tell Shoko so she wasn't left wondering. “As you know. But I knew it in my heart that I wanted forever with him, especially when we got back together, so,” you pause and smile softly at the poem in your hands. “I asked him if he wanted forever with me. If he could wait for me to come back from training with Yuki, and he never got to answer because we got interrupted…” you trail off and instead of crying you manage to keep your eyes dry and just smile with glee as you feel wrapped up by his love once again.

Even if he’s gone, you feel his loving embrace, and you smile at that.

“Thank you Shoko,” you whisper and finally get off the chair.

Your friend mirrors you and watches you carefully as you tuck away your poem as if expecting you to burst out in tears.

“I need to go find Choso now,” you cut your conversation there before you can keep lingering here with her.

“Are you okay?” She makes sure to ask while you walk away.

You peer back at her and nod. “Yes,” you tell her with no sign of deceit. “I’m okay about the Suguru thing. I mourned him earlier, and I cried, I’m okay. Thank you. Now,” you change the subject. “I’ll text you if anything happens okay? And if you need any help text me or ask Kirara, understand?”

“Well considering I’m not a child, yes,” she quips, making you smirk and stop for a brief moment to solidify a previous promise.

“I’ll be back, okay?”

Shoko draws in a deep breath and you watch her eyes gleam with tears clouding her eyes. “You better,” she mutters.

You offer her one last smile and head out.

And before you know it, after rushing to find Choso first and foremost, you spot him from afar; his buns that don’t actually work to keep his hair down, his purple vest that matches his scarf, and his white robe that's stained with…blood. A lot of blood.

Choso is on the ground hunched over, but you notice the blood from where you stopped and suddenly everything goes dark and time comes to a sudden halt. Nothing else exists but him, there. Nothing else matters to you but him bleeding out from wounds you can’t see from here or by the way he’s sitting, you can’t even tell if he’s breathing. He’s too far and he’s not moving.

He’s not moving…

No…please…no…

“Choso?!” You can’t wait, you have to cry out for him. “Choso?!”

Tagged- @deniseabad1928 @secondary-character-25 @starlightanyaaa @notsaelty @d4rno @moonnime @kodzukein @yozora7154 @heijihattorisgf @elegantweirdorchest @natakina

27 notes · View notes

myfavoritesstuff · 19 days

Note

So there was this dialogue about Z's choice of dress, pointing towards the "weird body modifications to his teeth" and y/n said she wonders, "if they hurt?" I knooow she might've meant it must have been painful for him to get his teeth like that but, what if we took it the other way? What if she unconsciously voiced this thought in another situation? Would they really hurt? A neck bite? Smut please.

Embrace of Shadows

Pairing: Z (from Favor) x Reader

Prompt: How did it lead to this? Being curious leads to something more.

Note: This is a smut! I hope I understood this request correctly. Sorry if I didn’t, but either way, I had a lot of fun writing this. Please read all the way through, it gets better, I promise! NOT PROOFREAD

I wonder if they hurt…

"Curious, aren't you?" Z's voice was a whisper, “why do you stare at my teeth?"

You blushed, realizing you had been caught. "I apologize," you stammered. "It's just...they're so different. I've never seen teeth like yours."

Z tilted their head, studying you with eyes that seemed to pierce their very soul. "Sharp teeth are a necessity for survival," they said. "For feeding. For protection."

Your heartbeat quickened. "Would it hurt?" they blurted out. "If you were to bite me?"

Z's lips curved into a half-smile. "Ah, the curiosity of mortals," they murmured. "You wonder about pain, about pleasure. About surrender."

Your mind raced. They hadn't meant to reveal such thoughts, but now the question hung in the air like a forbidden fruit. "Would it?" You pressed, their heart now pounding in their chest.

Z got up from the opposite side of the table and stepped closer, their breath cool against your skin. "Pain and pleasure," they whispered. "Two sides of the same coin. To be bitten by a demon is to dance on the precipice of both."

Your heart still pounded. You should run, flee from this dangerous allure. But something held you in place—the pull of forbidden desire, the thrill of surrendering to the unknown.

And then Z's lips brushed against your neck, and all rational thought fled. Their teeth sank into your flesh—not cruelly, but with a hunger that ignited every nerve. Pain flared, then melted into something else—an ache that bordered on ecstasy.

You gasped, your fingers tangling in Z's hair.

You could feel Z start to bite a little harder, starting to drink from them, drawing sustenance from their life force, and you surrendered willingly, lost in a dance of pleasure and pain.

When Z finally pulled away, You swayed a bit, dizzy and sated. Their neck bore twin punctures, a mark of Z's possession.

“Z…” You let out a soft whisper.

“Y/n…” his voice was deep. Your breath caught in your throat as Z pressed their body closer to yours. Z’s touch ignited a fire within you that threatened to consume everything.

“Y/n” they whispered, “keep your eyes on me, okay? I only need you to see and think only of me.”

A devilish smirk made its way onto their face. “You think you can do that, darling?”

Swallowing, you nodded. Their smirk turned into a small smile. “Good because after tonight, I won’t ever let you go or see anyone else with those precious eyes of yours.”

Z’s words made you feel warm inside. You never had someone talk to you this way before. Your thoughts were interrupted by Z speaking once more.

“I’m going to be taking what’s mine now. I hope you’re up for a few rounds.”

Your face flushed at their words, yet you did not stop them when they grabbed you by the arm and turned you around so you were facing the table. Their claw-like nails then proceeded to rip your clothing apart, leaving you exposed for them to see.

While the air was cold, your body felt hot. Just imagining the things Z could do to you made you feel excited. Z then began to strip themself of their own clothing. Once fully striped you could feel them start to trace their fingers along your body. You shivered as Z’s fingers started to travel lower.

“I want to taste you so badly”. As they said that, they kneeled down with one hand pushing you down so your ass was spread for them.

Their fingers made their way down to your hole, and started circling it. You gasped as they then stuck their forked tongue into your hole, stimulating the area inside. You grasped onto the table, as your legs started to shake from the pleasure you felt. Their tongue worked wonders as all you could do was grip onto the table.

Z seemed to notice this, for they suddenly pulled themselves away from your hole, stood up and turned you around. They then started to passionately kiss you and their hands made their way under your legs, signaling you to wrap yourself around his waist.

Your mind was in a haze. All you could focus on was him. Suddenly you felt something around your hole once more. As you felt them slip in, your immediately clenched around them. Groaning in response to you, they gripped hard on your legs, making you gasp.

They took this opportunity to slip their tongue into your mouth, making its way around your own tongue and to the back of your throat.

You slightly gagged on it but didn’t mind as you were overcome with an immense amount of pleasure.

Their thrusts hadn’t helped either as their hips angled themselves to hit a certain spot inside. Feeling the way their cock spread you open had you moaning their name. It was almost as if they were shaping your inside to the shape of them.

Your eyes rolled back as you felt an intense sensation wash over you. Moaning out their name again, you felt yourself come down from your high. Z however did stop, in fact; they kept going and increased their pace, trying to reach what you felt moments ago.

Whining from overstimulation you placed your head on their chest, letting them continue with their pace until they eventually reached their end. And it wasn’t long after until Z did. However once they were finished, you could feel a trail of their cum going down your leg.

You heard them make a sound of displeasure as they started thrusting back into you pumping the cum back into your hole. You gasped as you groaned from the pleasure that started to build up again, and you gently grabbed onto his shoulder.

“I hope you weren’t thinking that I was done with you, cause I told you that we were going for a few rounds.”

#favor vn #visual novel #vn #z favor #x reader #yandere x reader #yandere #favor fanfic #favor fanfiction #fanfic smut #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #favor smut

34 notes · View notes

adriankyte-writes · 23 days

Note

Ooh can you tell us about The Derelict? 👀

A tiny bit of backstory...I decided that I wanted to start selling smut on Amazon, and the best way to do this would be to rip the serial numbers on some fanfic. So I took my favorite ideas from SGA, Battlestar Galactica and Farscape to build my setting. It's grown pretty out of hand and I'm not sure it's going to really resemble any of those series in any way when it's finished LOL.

Excerpt: (The POV character is an Air Force Major named Jasper Ward)

It is several long moments before he can lift his head. The pain in his head has lightened. He stands, meaning to find a towel to clean up the mess but the movement is too much and he drops to his knees, vomiting until there is nothing but bile coming up.

When he is finally able to stop, he’s on his hands and knees, panting, vomit on the floor. He pushes himself shakily to a sitting position. He has managed to keep his pants clean but there is vomit on his shirt. He pulls it off and uses it to wipe his face. His breathing returns to normal and he tosses the shirt aside. He pushes to his feet, his dog tags dangling from their chain.

His legs are shaky, but they hold him.

A change in the light quality brings him to full alertness and he looks up quickly, terrified to find that the Daiomon is in his quarters. Its head is tilted uncannily to the side, like an owl hunting prey. He wants to reach for his radio, he needs to call for help, for backup.

Instead, he locks up, staying put.

The Daioman locks eyes with him, and he can’t move. He’s never been this close to one, but he’s read the survivor reports. The way they can entrance their victims, drawing them in with only a look. So many people simply walked into their embrace to die in their first few encounters with the menacing race.

He feels himself take a step towards the Daiomon, feeling a sensation of peace settle over him. He knows something is wrong, something should bother him, but he can’t remember what. He feels the fabric of his shirt slip from his fingers as he takes another step forward. He is within arm’s reach of the Daiomon and it raises a cool hand to his cheek.

He closes his eyes and rests his cheek against the hand which gently cups his face. The clawed fingers trace over his flesh. Those claws, so deadly; they are hollow, used to inject a poison of some kind to neutralize prey, and yet he doesn’t fear them. Somehow, ridiculously, he feels safe.

A voice in the back of his mind is screaming at him, because this is exactly how the report, from the only expedition member to survive being fed on, described the moments right before the attack. The Daiomon’s eyes trail over him, a finger traces his cheekbones, tilts his face to examine it from different angles.

This time when he smiles Jasper doesn’t resist, doesn’t snap out from under his influence. He runs a finger over Jasper’s lips and he feels his lips slide open, an urge to lick the clawed finger creeps over him but he’s too hazy to act on it.

The Daiomon steps back, his trailing fingers falling from Jasper’s face, and Jasper steps forward, blindly following him from the room. A part of him is still screaming that he’s in danger, but there is no agency in his steps as he wanders down the corridors and through crawlspaces that lead deep into the ship. Far deeper than their explorations have reached. He notes, in a vague hazy way, that the fleshy valves which serve as doors open for the Daiomon as he approaches. He never needs to touch a wall, to find a tendon to tug, as the human explorers do.

End excerpt

This is part of a series centered around a group of explorers called the Cygnus Expedition. They are stranded in the Cygnus galaxy with no way to contact Earth, trying to find a way to fit in with the native alien species, both sentient and not. They are running low on supplies and don't have a way to repair their machinery as it ages, so when they find an abandoned Daiomon (predatory, insect aliens who communicate telepathically...hush they get way less wraith-like) ship on a planet they are exploring they decide to wake it up and use it as their own.

Jasper Ward and the science team have been working on getting it operational and Ward is expected to fly it. What they don't know is that Daiomon bond rather intimately with their ships, and to get it to accept him as its pilot Ward is going to have to get it to trust him. In this scene the ship is trying to communicate with him, but it's using a daiomon avatar because that is all it knows; at the same time Ward is pretty delusional due to exposure to some of the ships fluids during repairs.

#writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #creative writing #writers #WIP game #wip tag #tag game #original sci fi #mostly original sci fi

11 notes · View notes

na-t0 · 1 year

Text

𝘛𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵

Vash the Stampede x reader (no pronouns used)

The piece below contains the bleak words from a remitter that considered not deserving a response from its addressee. A mere confession from a worn out soul to another.

A farewell letter dedicated to the man with a geranium colored spirit.

A farewell letter dedicated to the man that will be loved until the five moons that adorn the sky, fall before the eyes of this desolate heart.

The reason why I am writing this letter to you is somewhat difficult to explain. It's something much bigger than me, a greater power beyond my comprehension that unfortunately, is slowly consuming everything around me. I’ve come to find myself plunged into deep despair, and at the same time, I learnt to accept the cowardice that has been invading me for not being able to muster the necessary strength to look at you in the eyes and tell you what you will read here in a few moments.

Pretty easy right? To hide between words, ink and paper. I'm sorry about that.

I will start by saying that, when I first met you, I came to realize that everything I knew and defined as my world would transform into something entirely different. You were the strike of lightning in the pouring rain, a hit that came with enough force to demolish an entire city. Your presence was all over the place, making it hard to ignore you. Every step you took resonated loudly in my head. And despite of what your name represents and what people often acknowledges you as, I have realized that it only covers a small part of what you truly are.

I think you are incredible, Vash. You are kind, you are a gentle being. You are the most wonderful coincidence that I have met in my life. You are an imperfect creation, but so am I. And so is everything else. And no matter how hard I try, I'll never be able to fully comprehend your greatness. But that's okay, because I already came to create my own conclusions. Just like you don't need to fully understand why I feel the way I feel when I notice you are near me. Or how the blood flows violently in each and every of my veins when I hear you breathing softly while you are sleeping on my chest. Even when, I suppose that you too have already come to create your own conclusions about it.

My love for you has grown so unbridled that I fear of losing my mind. So, that's why I decided to get away from you, from the room we shared, from the city where we used to travel together. Having you by my side hurt, because despite the suffocating closeness, you were still miles away from me.

And it hurt, it hurt immensely because my heart is exposed. Open the palm of your hand and there you will find it, bleeding and throbbing with emotion and life. While yours, is hiding behind an iron barrier attached to the left side of your chest. A barrier I could never cross no matter how hard I tried.

And because of that, I wish your gaze had never met mine. I wish you had never saved my life. I wish our lips had never touched. I wish you had never felt embarrassed to undress yourself in front of me. I wish I never had to see you cry while nightmares tormented you at midnight. I wish your pain would just go away. I wish you never had to suffer. I wish you had never deprived me of the right to love you.

I wish for so many things.

And I also foolishly wish that you loved me as much as I do, despite everything, despite all of this.

I love the scars in your body that form together a map I have traveled so many times with my lips, a map vividly embodied in my memory. I love your eyes and the color of your hair. I love the little mole that adorns the highest part of your left cheekbone. The aroma of your skin and the contrast of temperatures that your hands emit when you embrace me. I love when you laugh and I also love that you are easily moved to tears. I love the sound of your voice at any time of the day. I love listening to you hum that song you like so much and I love dancing with you that waltz we drunkenly invented one night out in the dark alley of a bar, and therefore, only you and I know. I love all the versions I've met of you.

I have even come to hate that word, ‘love’, because I consider that is too vague to describe what arises within my being when I lift my stare from the floor and see you standing in front of me. But I've learned to settle for it, so yes, I love you. I absolutely love everything about you, your worst and your best. I love you, Vash. And I am a slave to my own body because it refuses to feel otherwise, to think otherwise.

I will be devoted to you until eternity comes to an end, even though I don't really have a clue of how long that will be.

Knowing you, that idea does not please you at all.

So, forgive me.

Forgive me for stumbling upon your way that rainy day, and for trying to love you the days that came next.

Forgive me for that, and for all the other things, so I can leave without wanting to look back.

-Yours entirely. Yours forever.

What followed after was the image of Vash going through the door, running after those faint footsteps of your boots imprint in the unforgiving sand of May City. Holding against his chest the crumpled piece of paper that had the last bit of your essence. The trace that a weak, broken heart left behind as an old souvenir. Pieces slowly intermingling with the ground, waiting to be picked up by the hands that undid them in the first place. And as he ran, it wasn't just the scorching sun of a summer afternoon the only thing that burned. The love you felt for that mysterious man with the empty smile and tender eyes was consumed in ashes. The sun was burning, but your heart and your soul, were burning even stronger. And Vash ran, he ran for hours until his legs sank in the dryness. Ran until your trail was lost. And he cried too, cried until exhaustion did not allow a single more sob to come out of his throat. But he managed to stand up, just like he always has, and kept searching. Praying silently to the heavens for another coincidence, another way to find you once again.

#Vash the Stampede #trigun angst #vash x reader #vash the stampede x reader #vash angst #trigun fic #Trigun #trigun stampede #trigun stampede fic #trigun x reader #trigun anime #trigun maximum #trimax #vash x you #vash x y/n

117 notes · View notes

neptunes-sol-angel · 2 years

Text

✷ ◌ ˙₊ From One Reader to Another✷ ◌ ˙₊

This is a pick a card reading dedicated to readers and the impact that their gifts have on others and why they should continue to share them. A little encouragement for us to trust in our abilities and that what we do matters more than what we realize. ♡

Pile One

I wish you knew how potent your ability is. To be able to utilize the shadows from your past in order to be a guiding light for others. How much strength it takes for a person to trust themselves within a cacophony of distorted "truths". How much wit it takes to uncover your ears from your inner demons' confrontations in order to become the pied piper that induces them onto your side. As you heal yourself, you heal others. The beauty in your readings, is the way that you're able to manipulate with malefic energy. You don't heal others by making the truth soft and the self awareness hard. You heal others by teaching them to accept that the harshness of a truth, but treat it with soft self awareness. Softness is often equated with weakness but weakness is subjective. You teach others the power in their vulnerabilities because healing doesn't have a maximum, it has range. Your insight, successfully demonstrates that there will be phases in a path, loops and turns, detours, it will never be cut straight through because it isn't supposed to be. I know you may feel like the quality of your work is determined by the engagement it gets, but we are living in a world that has numerous of people that are still covering their ears or wish to ignore what's in the dark. However, don't let that discourage you about this work that's meaningful to you. You saw a vision amid your pain and felt drawn to share it. Continue to do it because wisdom is given its name for a reason, you have it. Not because of what's trending right now at the moment but because it's timeless. You aren't speaking a foreign language, you're speaking a universal one known as empathy. Someone is always listening and is deeply soothed by your readings. Others will catch up when it's time.

Pile Two

Your readings are versatile and colorful in every way because you have the gift of channeling insight that helps others on the path of confidence and unconditional self-love. Your readings are meant for everyone to read and resonate with. The impact of your readings makes others dig deep to realize that external judgement can be wounding, but the judgement that we inflict on ourselves is scarring. This can look like overworking ourselves, allowing people that don't deserve us to stay in our lives, critically insulting our body, face, mind, and talents, etc. Your readings touch others in a way that makes them realize that a huge chunk of peace that they're longing for, starts within, and that it's time to embrace themselves so that we can reach empowerment. You make people feeeeeeeeelllll good, ok? Not a tingling sensation, but in a powerful way. Your readings help others make the first step when it comes to improving their self-esteem which is is to re-evaluate how they accept compliments. When someone compliments you, they're acknowledging YOU. We forget that and tend to move towards a self-loathing response or deny ourselves the praise by thinking about someone else, but you hit the right spot in telling people about themselves to where they'll finally say "thank you" in many different ways. You offer people a new perspective in how they see themselves that will help make positive changes to their personal development and cutting out anything that deters them from that. Keep sharing your messages because a pivotal way for more kindness to appear in this world is when we start being kinder to ourselves. Your readings evoke that in other people, I hope you know how valuable your insight is.

Pile Three

This group is a combination of both piles one and two. Something is interesting about the vibe you have as a reader. You're both youthful and wise beyond your years. I would describe you guys as the "mothers" of the community—you guys are original and creative, abundantly blessed with new ideas to bring that are both innovative and iconic. You could be discouraged by your peers by either their envy or criticism (most likely both) of your unique way of channeling stuff for the collective, or face shadiness about your age as if it makes you any less talented or useful. You're able to effortlessly bounce between both dark and light topics. What stands out the most in any reading that you do, is how others feel nurtured by what you're saying, and how you help guide others to removing blockages when it comes to love (in general, not just romantic). Readers in this pile are divinely drawn to divination. Even if you do "give up", it doesn't stay that way for long because you're meant to channel insight for others. The issue is how you feel when you're doing it. Maybe you feel both over-qualified or under qualified to the point where you may feel like you have to shrink yourself to get engagement for your posts, or even when you put so much time and effort in your readings—you still don't feel like it's enough. It's imperative for your gifts and your wellbeing to flow with how you feel and do readings because you want to, not for the money or the attention. You cannot win over everyone's validation. You don't need to. You strengthen your gifts when you become more aligned with knowing who you are and what you bring to this community. Ancient wisdom runs deep within your soul, but your role in this lifetime, is to manifest it into something that embodies who you are right now. Keep doing readings with your own twist, you don't have to be like everyone else. You are only successful as you are authentic with yourself.

Pile Four

I feel like you guys point out the things about spirituality and self awareness that other people won't, in your readings. You guys are truth seekers and revealers. You have no interest in channeling things that people want to hear when you can just say it to them for free without any cards (but still you have no interest in doing that either LMAO). You guys are underrated channelers that could rub a lot of people the wrong way but in the end, people are thankful for the raw honesty that you bring when it comes to reading for any major aspect in their life, especially love. I feel like you're highly against selling people a dream or false perceptions of what divine love and past life connections look like. You bring so much realness in this community but it's not something that's appreciated until it's too late for people to realize, but again, people always end up thankful that there are readers like you that are able to draw the line between what's hidden or what's simply an illusion. You don't deliver the truth in a way that's irresponsible though, you know what precautions to take as a healer, you're here to build someone's character, not break it down. You execute your messages in a way that's wholesome and from the heart without belittling the collective. You're valuable in this community because people need to know that the practice of divination isn't a cheap scam. Psychics are real. Some good—some bad, but readers like you help the collective discern which are the bad apples, but enlighten that the good exists.

#divination #intuitive #psychic #pick a card #oracle #spirituality #tarot #pac #pick a pile

318 notes · View notes

closingwaters · 5 months

Text

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @kadavernagh @closingwaters

SUMMARY: Regan feels a pull that differs from the dead, and stumbles upon Teagan. With a scream, she manages to set the nix free.

WARNINGS: None

The discovery, like many great ones, had been an accident. A happy one, maybe, if Regan could feel such a thing. Screaming near the hardened goop along Worm Row was out of frenzied desperation – there wasn’t enough time to get somewhere more isolated, and most people had learned to stay away from the substance’s margins by now. It had been a good instinct; there was no one there. But when the scream came, the ooze quaked, flying from the pavement and the trees like cracked pieces of pottery. Underneath, green leaves sprawled from the branches, as all of the others that had been outside of the goop had already shaken off their fall colors. Like it was preserved.

Did that mean those trapped underneath might still be alive? She couldn’t feel any death radiating from the area, but that didn’t mean much in the face of the unknown. It was dwarfed by a far larger question: could they be freed? She needed to think on this, what it might mean. Tell someone, maybe. There was a thought. Who could she even tell? I screamed at the goo and it exploded. Elias would think she was insane. Jade would think her strange…er. Emilio… well, that could work, but could she stomach it?

Regan stuffed her hands in her pockets and pulled in a long breath. The cold air was irritating to her lungs after screaming, making her skin prickle all the way from her neck to her –

No, that wasn’t the cold. It was weak, but unmistakable. The presence of fae. Everything was heightened right now, her muscles exercised in the way they needed to be, her attention sharp as a scalpel. She easily identified the origin. A tall projection sticking up from the goo, right at the edge. About the size of a person. As Regan tread closer and the light bounced off the rough angles of the structure, she could pick a face out of it. Limbs. Features. Familiarity. Teagan.

Her stomach hardened like the substance she was staring down. She knew what needed to be done. Cliodhna would have said Fate brought her here today and showed her the path. Regan couldn’t refute that. Óinseach, she berated herself; she knew well how the burden of proof worked, but often, that changed nothing.

There was no point on asking Teagan. Regan knew better than to rest her hand on the substance. Touching it obviously hadn’t gone well for Teagan, or countless others. And then there was the scream. If she had a hand on Teagan, even with the hardened goo in between, it could kill her.

This one, at least, would not be so torturous. Regan reeled a deep breath, winding herself. She shuffled backwards, probably further than she needed to, but she didn’t want to risk the harm. The scream behaved, exploding out, the force of it covering the ooze. And as a fissure crackled through Teagan, Regan chose to focus on the lack of death filling her lungs. She’d survive this yet.

The coarse embrace of whatever the goo was began to loosen, the textured connection retreating its grasp. There was nothing. For a long while, lungs burned and vision remained obscured, pain sweeping under skin like tremors of an earthquake and ears catching final muffled remnants of a hollow and terrifying scream. All this, accompanied by the clanking of a toppling bucket.

Teagan gasped as her tomb crumbled around her, setting her free. Knees buckled, a struggled whimper escaping her while she surveyed her blurry surroundings. Several sensations and discomforts attacked her at once, the most jarring being a crisp and chilling breeze. It was warm the last time she had been graced with the dance of wind on her skin. The startling realization sent her to the ground in an unceremonious bundle of weak limbs.

“Where…” She trailed off, voice catching painfully on her jagged throat. Her entire body felt too dry, the last drops of water from the bucket next to her not being enough to sate her. “Water. Water.” Teagan all but begged for it, only just then able to put together the blurry set of colors in front of her. Regan. Why was she there anyway? She wondered blearily, attempting to roll over to her hands and knees to crawl. It was futile, and she remained on her side, looking pitifully at Regan.

“What happened?”

The hardened covering cracked and then practically exploded, revealing the trapped individual underneath. Regan was quick to clamp her mouth shut. Teagan was free. Anything more would just vibrate her organs and bones into a different kind of goo. “Teagan?” Between the scream and whatever sensory overload she must have been experiencing right now, Regan didn’t really expect the woman to hear her. She barely appeared to register she was there. But as scared eyes found her own, Regan tried again. “Teagan. You’re out.”

She hadn’t exactly planned on helping out a giant, pink amphibian. What she had would have to suffice. Regan reached into her bag and pulled out her water bottle, placing it carefully in Teagan’s shaking hands. Pink as she was, she still looked pale, sickly.

“Come on. We need to –” She couldn’t decide what was more pressing – examining Teagan or getting her out of pedestrian sight while she looked this way. She probably couldn’t even hold a glamour up. Yeah, she needed to get out of here. “Can you move?” That was negatory, Regan realized, as Teagan rolled on her side like an obedient dog. Not good. Regan crouched down, offering a hand to Teagan, her other arm supporting her from behind. “I think… I think we both have questions. You must be disoriented. I don’t even know how long you were in there.” She surely didn’t either. They’d need to figure that out. Or, actually, Arden would know. Right, Arden. That was the proper place to bring Teagan.

Regan started shepherding Teagan toward the car, one shuffling step at a time. She couldn’t help but notice the tail – her tail – was longer, though however long she was trapped in the goo probably halted her healing. “I felt your presence from under the… substance. I thought I could get you out by screaming. So I did.” Which begged the question: were there others?

Right. They both had questions, and in a public space neither one could have them answered. That’s when Teagan realized the state she was in. Her glamour was down. “Shit…shit.” No matter how hard she tried, the illusion would not comply. The veil failed to conceal her true nature, and Teagan had no other choice than to force her body to will itself off the ground. She was grateful for Regan’s help, almost surprised at the strength she displayed. Teagan had nearly all her bodyweight resting on the banshee, and she only saw a tinge of extra effort. Though, given what the woman’s job likely entailed, it made sense for her to be able to lift above her own weight.

“You could sense me even through that?” She chuckled lightly, no humor able to be found in such a pathetic sound. “I appreciate what you did. Don’t even know how long I was trapped in there.” Teagan breathed shallowly, struggling to keep her feet moving one in front of the other. What should’ve been a daily task became a painful chore, nearly sinking whatever optimism was left in the nix. If she focused on it any longer, she was sure it was leave her completely, so she refocused on Regan and her car.

“What is today?” She asked hoarsely, “It was October, last I remember.” Her brows sewed together, terrified at the answer she might receive. “Feels much colder than when I fell in. I was on my way to Arden.” Teagan’s eyes widened with worry, thinking of her partner. “Is she okay? Is she free? Did she…” The nix could only imagine where Arden’s mind went. Surely she believed she was dead. How long had she been grieving? How long had Teagan’s stupidity caused her girlfriend to be in pain? She stifled a sob, opening the door and fell into the passenger seat, chugging the water so quickly that much of it splashed onto her face.

The strain and weight of Teagan’s muscles was immense, but Regan held firm, trying her best to heft Teagan toward the car. Gradually, she seemed to be waking up from her haze, questions obviously flooding her mind. And soon, Regan’s ears.

October. So it had been over a month, and perhaps closer to two. “It’s November 26th.” Patient now oriented to time and place, Regan thought wryly. “Don’t worry about that now. There is nothing more pressing than getting you stabilized.” How she was alive, Regan wasn’t sure, but she surely needed food and water. The goo must have kept her in some kind of a… stasis. She tried to steady Teagan as she opened the door for her. “Sit. I want you to sit for a minute before we leave.”

Selfishly, Regan kind of needed that too. This was making her head spin. Which was something her lungs didn’t take kindly to.

More questions. “She’s fine. She –” Well, best not overplay it. Regan wasn’t sure Arden was actually all that fine. “She’s been worried, I’m sure. She hasn’t been harmed or trapped.” She squeezed her eyes shut for a second, trying to shut out the insanity of this. “All of my training, all protocols, they would instruct me to bring you to the hospital right now. But I obviously cannot do that.” There was a pink problem. And Teagan didn’t need to share how she felt about hospitals a second time. “And so… I’m going to bring you to the morgue. Arden can meet us there, if you wish.” A pause, though this wasn’t particularly a question. “Okay?”

The urge to panic was strong, the nix’s mind screaming at the date given to her. Two months of her life were gone. Halloween had been missed, and so had Arden’s birthday. Plans had come and gone, time stopping for her, but painfully continuing for her girlfriend. How had she spent those days? With a bottle and some cigarettes most likely, and the thought made the nymph’s eyes water from the fountain of guilt. She closed her them tightly and willed her thoughts to slow, focusing on Regan. It wasn’t the time to break down. Falling into her prison was her own fault.

Teagan nodded weakly, her stomach grumbling and her head beginning to throb and pulse painfully, making her groan. “Sitting here is just fine with me.” She coughed, a poor attempt to dismiss the dry patches in her throat. The discomfort made her want to sink further into her seat, wish for the safe embrace of her bed, or Arden, or both. Both would be preferable. But Regan had other plans, and despite any hesitancy Teagan had, she knew it was for the best that she did what she was told. It wasn’t like she was capable of doing more than groaning in pain anyway.

“Okay. As long as you don’t take me to a hospital, I will do as I’m told. The morgue is fine, but, um…” She patted her pockets, only just then remembering she had left home without it. “Can you contact her? I don’t have my phone and for her sake, I need her to know that I’m okay. Alive. Please?” Tired eyes landed on Regan, a shimmer of light brightening in them. Gratitude. “And I really appreciate this, Regan. I know you’re doing your protocols and all that, but I still appreciate it. You’ve helped me so many times now.” Teagan swallowed, her throat burning at the friction. She couldn’t wait for the mayhem to be over, or at least for sleep to overtake her.

Teagan was either being reasonably agreeable, or didn’t have the energy to argue. Either way, Regan got what she requested, and the fae took a steadying seat. She was coming to understand Teagan’s physiology a little more. The way those projections – gills – on the sides of her face drooped, the leathered texture of her skin. Evidence of her captivity and the physical toll it had taken. She hadn’t fully realized she’d been studying Teagan until the woman spoke and surprised her, croaking voice not helping anything.

Regan thought for a moment, decided there was no harm in it and potentially a lot of good, and sent Arden a quick message. She was pleased they’d have each other again, but didn’t particularly wish to be present in the middle of all of their… soggy reunion feelings. She’d punt anything but medical questions to when they were all at the morgue, and let Teagan take it from there. While she had her phone, she also shot Marcy a quick text, requesting the lobby to be cleared out and Rickers distracted. That was easy to do, and Marcy was nicer about it than Regan was. Regan just locked him in his office sometimes.

Business accomplished, she glanced over at the exhausted fae in the passenger seat. Teagan didn’t look like she would fall unconscious if the wind brushed her skin now, so Regan made the executive decision to climb in and hotfoot it. An ambulance siren would have been nice. She could probably imitate one. But sometimes secrecy won over urgency.

“Think nothing of it.” Regan would be doing enough thinking for both of them. She had felt Teagan. But Teagan wasn’t the only one who had vanished underneath the goo; there were others, perhaps hundreds. And they were alive.

#wickedswriting #writings #waving words #regan and teagan #c: regan #still breathing

10 notes · View notes

arielhopepeace · 1 year

Text

Part Three

18+ only

Tw: mention of cancer, death, cheating, slight smut, masturbation, age gap

5,500 words

Joel POV

The sun bears down onto my skin, darkening it with its harsh rays as sweat drips from beneath my hard hat. Today is ridiculously sweltering, and honestly making me feel like it should be outlawed to have to work in this type of heat.

My thoughts are enough of a distraction from the fact that I’m cooking out here, though. Ever since I left y/n’s house last night, I haven’t gotten the feel of her body against mine out of my mind. She was so soft, like a cloud that I reached up into the sky and grazed, letting the fog run between my fingertips.

I know that me going out of my way to help her change her locks is just furthering me into the friend-zone with her. It dawned on me that I needed to leave her house once the feeling of needing to kiss her began to build within my stomach, giving me that light tingly feeling of butterflies that I haven’t felt in eons.

Y/n is so effortlessly beautiful, that it makes me feel winded any time I’m around her. I hoped she hadn’t felt my racing heart and trembling hands as we embraced, the close proximity only adding to the apprehension I already had just from being at her house.

My mind was so dead-set on getting to know her, but the more I think about it, the more I realize that it would be inappropriate. Isn’t there some sort of rule against dating a student’s parent? Even if I hadn’t already friend-zoned myself, I wouldn’t want Sarah to get involved and either hate her teacher, or have to suffer with losing her if it didn’t work out.

I’ve never thought this far ahead about a woman since my wife, and I know that it’s because y/n is different. Nobody understands the pain I feel, but she does; and she doesn’t give me the pitiful apologies that are only from the surface, they’re from that deep chasm within, as if she’s sympathizing with her younger self as well.

It’s tiring spending all my time thinking about these fabricated ideas of a woman who considers me as nothing more than a student’s father. I’m honestly incredibly nervous to see her again today, even though every part of me can’t wait to gaze upon her perfectly symmetrical face.

After work, I head to the hardware store, buying everything I need in order to change her two locks. I look ridiculously dirty, and I feel grimy from all the dirt and concrete that has gotten kicked up by my boots. There’s wood shavings in my hair as I check myself in my rear view mirror, doing my best to ruffle anything that doesn’t belong out.

“God,” I groan as I shake my head, knowing that she’s going to look perfectly stunning, and I’m going to show up looking like I rolled in the mud.

I send her a text to let her know that I’m here, noticing that all of her windows, and even her front door is wide open. What the hell is she doing that for in this heat?

As I grab my things out of the truck cab, I jump slightly at the sound of y/n greeting me from beside the open door.

“Shit,” I curse lightly, still stretched into the cab, “you scared me.”

“Sorry,” she laughs sheepishly. “I’m just letting you know that it’s really hot in my house. For some reason, my A/C went out some time last night, and I can’t get a guy out here until tomorrow.”

Closing the door, I lean back, finally meeting y/n’s gaze as my mouth instantly dries at the sight of her. Her hair has been pulled up into a loose bun, and she’s wearing nothing but a black bikini. My cock is immediately awake, poking against the prison of my jeans and begging to be let out.

I quickly move the supply bags to in front of me, hoping to shield the ridiculous, embarrassing erection that has popped up.

“Oh, uh, I could take a look at that, too,” I finally answer.

My god, what am I, fucking fifteen?

Y/n cocks her head slightly, “I couldn’t ask you to do that for me on top of the locks.”

“Actually,” I begin as we walk toward the house, “you didn’t ask me to do either. I offered both.”

She giggles from behind me, prompting a smirk to spread onto my face. “Please, let me get you a beer or something.”

I set my things down by the front door, watching as she walks away into the stifling house. My eyes are on her hips, watching them swing side to side, her ass having the perfect bounce to it. Gazing at her doesn’t alleviate the uncomfortable situation in my jeans, forcing me to reluctantly turn my eyes away to focus on the task at hand.

As I begin to unscrew the current doorknob, y/n twists open the beer, sitting across from me in the house as I rest on the doorstep. She places the bottle next to me on the living room floor, my eyes desperately trying to not stare at her chest. I don’t think she realizes how attractive she is, and how attracted I am to her. I’ve never been the type of guy to objectify a woman by any means, I just am dumbfounded by her looks.

“Did you have a good day?” she asks sweetly, her voice so charming and gentle.

“It was so hot today,” I wipe my sweaty forehead on my dirtied shirt. “But yeah, it was okay. How about you? How was school?”

“It was good,” she nods with a small smile. “I’m having the kids write a non-fiction essay for English. Nothing super long, but I just want to know where their writing is at.”

“An essay?” I chuckle. “Sarah will be thrilled,” I tell her sarcastically.

“Actually,” y/n laughs, “she said she was excited. I asked her what she wanted to write about, and she picked you.”

My hands stop their work, pinning my gaze to hers as a smile forces my lips apart. “I’ll never understand why that girl loves me so much, but she makes me feel like the luckiest dad in the world.”

Her face goes soft with admiration, her brows fitted together with a smile on her supple lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever known a kid to love their parent so much. Well, maybe except for me,” she teases. “Some kids in my class don’t even have parents for various reasons. I’ve looked into all of my students, just to make sure I don’t bring up any rough subjects on accident, or maybe in a story.”

I continue unscrewing the knob, beaming wide. “That’s so nice of you, and incredibly smart.”

“Well, you kind of have to be smart to be a teacher, don’t you?” she laughs lightly.

“Oh, for sure. I think you’re the perfect person for that job.”

“You do?”

“Of course,” I chuckle. “You’re overly nice, compassionate, considerate, eager to understand. All the kids love you for a reason, y/n.”

Her hand brushes against my leg, patting it gently just above my knee. “You’re sweet, Joel. What would I do without you filling my head with all of these compliments?”

A sharp, unexpected laugh leaves me. “Maybe you’d have a smaller head.”

She gapes at me as she giggles, smacking my arm playfully. “Oh, shut up. I don’t seem conceited, do I?”

“God, no,” I laugh. “I’m only teasing. You have a perfectly normal shaped head; physically and metaphorically.”

Finally, I’m able to pop in the new doorknob, taking a few sips of beer before resuming my task.

“How do you know how to do all of this?” she asks from beside me.

“Well, working in construction helps, but I also just like to be handy. I’ve done a lot of extensive research on repairs and mechanical things, even cars. I probably could tell you what was wrong with your A/C too since you want to work me to death out here.”

Y/n laughs with her head tilted back. “You’re more than welcome to use my pool once you’re done, it’s where I’m headed to soon.”

“Ah, no. I’m so dirty from work, I’d rather take a shower.”

“You can use my shower, too. Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

If only she were an option. I can’t stop imagining kissing her as I run my fingers across her smooth skin, savoring every push of her lips. Jesus christ, what’s wrong with me? That uncomfortable situation has returned, making me shift in order to shield my tented jeans.

“Has Sam been back?” I ask, deciding to change the subject away from whatever led me to my dirty thoughts.

“No,” she shakes her head. “And I’m glad he hasn’t. I have an appointment tomorrow to get looked at. Hopefully they can tell me that nothing’s wrong with me, because I was up late last night freaking out about it.”

“I’m sorry that you have to worry about that. He’s—” my voice trails off, deciding not to let my personal opinions of him be said. “You just deserve better than that.”

“Yeah, well,” she sighs, “I’ll find it one day, won’t I?”

I nod. “Of course you will.”

After finishing both of the knobs, the sun still has yet to set, allowing me enough light to check out her A/C unit. Y/n follows me, my eyes immediately locking onto the problem before me.

“My god,” I mutter as I crouch down, placing my finger beneath a cut wire. “Somebody cut it.”

Y/n places her hands on her hips. “Cut it?!” she shouts. “Gee, I wonder who would’ve manipulated my house that I have to pay rent for alone,” her voice drips with sarcasm.

“You really think Sam did this?” I ask as I gaze up at her.

“Of course he did,” she shakes her head. “He knows I’d have to pay a ton of money to get it fixed. He’s being spiteful because I kicked him out. I honestly wish I knew where he was staying so I could slash his fucking tires.”

I can’t help but laugh at her foul language, her sudden spark of anger only making me adore her more. “Nah, don’t stoop to his level. I can fix this for you right now for no charge.”

“Joel, please let me repay you somehow. Can you at least let me make you dinner tonight?”

“It’s already almost seven-thirty. Are you sure?”

Y/n nods vehemently. “I’m positive. I haven’t eaten yet, anyway.”

“How about I get this fixed up, go home, take a shower and change, then I’ll come back.”

“Will you bring a swimsuit? I’ll make you steak,” she says in a sing-songy voice.

A small chuckle pushes past my lips. “Sure, fine.”

Y/n does a giddy clap and bounce, her breasts moving in her top and I immediately advert my eyes, standing as I go to grab different tools out of my truck.

“Are you a good ol’ steak and potato kind of guy?” y/n giggles.

I close my truck door, walking back to the A/C unit as I laugh. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Okay, so steak, potato, beer, and football?”

“Any sport is fine with me, actually,” I laugh. “You make me sound so ‘suburban dad’.”

She crosses her arms. “You are a suburban dad, Joel.”

“Okay, touché,” I chuckle. “Do you think I’m mundane?”

“No!” she responds quickly and with immediate passion. “Why would I want to invite you over for dinner if I thought you were dull?”

“To be polite,” my face splits with a grin.

“You are the furthest from mundane, Joel. I promise you.” She rests her hand on my shoulder, electrifying me. “And how do you like your steak cooked?”

“Medium rare, but really I’m good with anything.”

Y/n tsks at me. “If the hard working man wants medium rare, then he’ll get medium rare,” she giggles. I’ll see you later, okay? I’m gonna start on dinner.”

“Thank you so much, y/n. Really.”

“Please, it’s the least I can do.”

My eyes follow her, admiring the dip in her back and the way her thighs rub together as she walks away, shaking my head in disbelief at her beauty once again, forcing myself to concentrate.

In the shower at home, my right hand grips my hard cock as the other rests against the wall, my wet fingertips digging into the slippery tile. My chest heaves as I pant, feeling so close already just from the memory of y/n in that goddamn bathing suit.

The swell of her ass, the curve of her waist, and the fullness of her breasts all haunt me in the best way. My eyes clamp tightly shut as I groan, wishing it was y/n’s cunt squeezing me instead of my own palm.

“Fuck,” I moan, my balls tightening as my orgasm reaches its pinnacle.

A choked groan catches in my throat, my head thrown back as I cry out into the shower ceiling above, shooting my release down towards the drain. I keep my hand wrapped around myself as I slump forward, feeling winded from the intense rush of euphoria.

I haven’t been affected by a woman this way since high school. Never in my adult life have I been so attracted to someone, that I needed to cum in the shower just to alleviate my pent up sexual frustration. I feel like y/n has put some witchy spell on me that has turned me into this unrecognizable, ravenous, depraved man.

When I’m back in my bedroom, I decide to dress casually, but still attempting to look decently nice. I toss on a gray t-shirt and dark blue jeans, doing my best to tame my hair just a bit. Grabbing my cologne, I spray a little bit onto my neck and chest, rubbing my hands along the fabric to press the mist into it.

Before I leave, I grab my swim trunks, hesitating on bringing a shirt. Will y/n think I’m weird if I wear one? I’m just hyper-aware of my body now that I know what her very recent ex looks like. He’s the type of guy who’s a personal trainer, and I’m the one who guys urge to go to the gym.

Deciding to not bring an extra shirt, I head out the door, knowing that Sarah is probably watching a movie at Mrs. Fredrick’s house next door. I feel a little guilty for dumping her there to be with y/n, but I know neither of them mind. It just makes me feel like a bad father.

As I park in the driveway at y/n’s house, I’m relieved to see that her front door and all the windows are closed. Hopefully that means the air stayed working after I left. I’m not sure why I feel nervous as I walk up to her house with my swim trunks gripped into my palm, but I can’t shake the feeling.

My knuckles gently rap against the metal door, y/n’s voice shouting out for me to come in. I push it open, instantly being greeted by the smell of food that makes my stomach roll over with agonizing hunger.

“It smells amazing,” I say as I approach the kitchen, seeing that she’s still in her two piece, making my neck tense.

“Oh, thank you,” she answers happily as she pulls something out of the oven. “You can have a seat, I’m just finishing up.”

Y/n wobbles a bit, my brows furrowing together. “Are you okay?”

“I may have had three glasses of wine while I cooked, but I promise I’m fine,” she giggles. “Let me get you a beer.”

She glides over to the table, setting a bottle down in front of me before she twists the top off, taking the cap with her. I gulp down over half of the bottle, hoping it’ll settle the nervousness that has made its way into my sternum.

Y/n easily makes her way beside me holding two plates, setting the one with a bigger steak in front of me. “Hope you’re hungry,” she says as she gazes down at me.

My eyes briefly flick down her body, then back down to my plate. “Starving.”

She perches on the chair next to me, smiling brightly before she begins to cut into her meat. “Did you bring your bathing suit?”

I nod, cutting into my ribeye to see a perfectly pink center. “I did,” I chuckle. “The steak looks perfect, by the way.”

Y/n sips at some water from a wine glass, bobbing her head as she swallows. “I told you that you’ll get what you asked for.”

“You followed through.”

Her arms gesture around. “And so did you. My house feels amazing, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I smile at her. “I don’t mean to pry, but are you going to be okay here? Like, will you genuinely be able to pay your rent?”

“Oh, yeah,” she nods. “Sam was just being a dick and saying I wouldn’t be able to, but I think I can. I might have to budget a little and stop drinking wine,” y/n laughs, “but I’ll be fine. Thank you, Joel.”

“Well, of course. I wouldn’t want you to be out of a place to live.”

Y/N’s eyes narrow playfully. “Would you have a way to fix that, too?”

I chuckle, shrugging. “I’d find a way.”

“Because you are Mr. Solution To Everything,” she laughs, flashing that impeccable smile. “Forgive me for being a bit tipsy, I got a call from my ex mother-in-law while you were gone.”

“Oh,” I shift, “what did she say?”

“Just that she’s glad we’re not together anymore, and that her Sammy deserved better than me from the start. She said I’m too young and immature for him. The worst part is, she wouldn’t even let me get a word in, so I couldn’t tell her what a fucking cunt she is.”

A shocked guffaw flies from my throat, my eyes widening. “You’re bold when you’ve been drinking.”

Y/n’s palm slaps against her mouth. “I’m so sorry. I keep forgetting that I’m your daughter’s teacher and I can’t just talk to you any way I want.” She places her hand on my arm. “Forgive me.”

“Please,” I scoff, “I don’t care how you talk to me, y/n. You could say anything and it wouldn’t make me think of you any differently.”

Her eyes are on mine, a smirk playing at her lips. “And how do you think of me?”

Is she flirting with me?

Doing my best to remain collected, I smile back at her, dabbing my mouth with a napkin. “Fondly.”

“Hm,” she giggles carelessly, drinking more of her water. “I’m glad my messy life hasn’t made you think that I’m also a mess.”

“No, not at all. I’m just happy I was able to comfort you when you needed it.”

Y/n wiggles in her chair, finishing up her steak before she pushes her plate away. “I have a surprise. It’s not a big deal, and I’m not even sure you’ll like it.”

My brows scoop up with interest. “Okay,” I smile, “show me.”

She leaves the table, walking to the fridge to retrieve a small tray, presenting it in front of me as she returns. In y/n’s hands on a plastic platter are a dozen vanilla cupcakes topped with strawberry icing, as well as a small berry placed in the center of each. They’re so ornate yet delicate and charming.

“My god, those are adorable,” my eyes meet hers. “And they look amazing. You really did too much for me, y/n. I mean it.”

She sets the dessert down on the table, taking her seat again. “I still feel like it isn’t enough. You saved me hundreds of dollars today just out of the kindness of your heart, and I’ve made you dinner and cupcakes.”

I laugh, reaching out my hand to rest it gently over hers. “And it’s all perfect and delicious. You don’t have to do anything else for me, I promise you. You didn’t even have to do anything, anyway. I wanted to help you.”

“Why are you so kind?”

My posture straightens as I blink at her, unsure of how to answer that question. How do I explain that I’d do anything for her because I find her so fucking perfect, without sounding like a lunatic? I’ve known her for three days, and I’d be more than willing to build her a brand new house with my own two hands. What in god’s name has this woman done to me? How has she made me feel such a vast array of emotions in only a few days?

“You’re easy to be kind to,” I finally respond, giving her a soft smile before I continue eating my delicious meal.

After dinner, I’m standing in the bathroom, gazing at my reflection in the mirror. My body isn’t at all where I’d like it to be physically, and I now feel suddenly incredibly panicked about going swimming with my shirt off. The muscle definition I used to have in my stomach is gone, and the lean physique I used to sport is starting to wane, as well. I wouldn’t classify myself as overweight, but definitely out of shape.

Sliding my shirt back on as I let out an uneasy sigh, I leave the bathroom, walking out the sliding glass door to see y/n with her feet in the pool and the tray of cupcakes beside her.

I chuckle as I sit onto the rough lip of the pool, plunging my feet into the warm water. “Cupcakes and swimming?”

She turns to me as she nods. “That whole thing about getting a stomach ache if you swim after eating is a myth, you know.”

“I’m a dad, of course I know,” I laugh, picking up one of the desserts.

My fingers carefully peel the paper back, opening it just enough for my mouth to sink into the soft treat. The strawberry icing bursts in my mouth, being offset by the delectable, mellow, vanilla cake beneath it.

“God,” I groan, “you’re so good at baking, y/n. These are amazing.”

Her eyes are on me as she gives me a small smile. “Thank you. I wasn’t sure what kind you’d like. You seem like more of a chocolate kind of guy,” she giggles.

“When it comes to desserts, I’m not picky.”

She nods, still gazing at me. “That’s good to know.”

I bite into the fresh strawberry at the top, discarding the leafy bits onto the tray along with my empty cupcake wrapper. “Thank you,” I say as I swallow.

Y/n laughs as she looks at me, leaning forward to wipe the tip of my nose with her thumb. “You have frosting on your nose,” she giggles.

She places the pad of her thumb into her mouth, sucking the freshly removed frosting off as she keeps her eyes on me. That arousal she gives me returns, making me shift where I sit, and this time, I don’t have something as restricting as jeans and briefs, only swim trunks.

“I’m gonna get in,” I say quickly, standing to walk to the stairs in the shallow end.

“Are you going to wear your shirt?” she asks with her head cocked.

“Oh, um—” my voice trails off, my eyes adverted away from her gaze, “I’m just more comfortable with it on, I think.”

“Hey, that’s okay,” she says softly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that.”

“No,” I laugh, standing near the stairs still, “I guess I’ve just grown to not really enjoy my dad bod.”

Why am I always so painfully vulnerable with her?

Y/n is standing up, the water splashing slightly as she removes her feet from the pool. She walks towards me, giving me a small smile before getting into the water in front of me.

“I wouldn’t judge you, Joel, but please do what makes you the most comfortable.”

Letting out a determined sigh, I slide off my shirt, tossing it aside as I step into the ridiculously warm and inviting water. Y/n walks over to the cupcakes that sit at the edge, gesturing for me to join her and grab another one.

Once I’m beside her, we stay quiet as our eyes are locked, each of us taking a bite of our cupcakes. With a small laugh, I wipe the frosting that has now gotten onto her nose. Setting my dessert to the side, I suck the frosting off my thumb just as she did, seeing if she really has been flirting with me this whole time.

Y/n smirks, taking another bite of her treat as she leaves a bit of the icing at the corner of her mouth. I go to remove it with my finger, but she moves her head away, shaking it.

With just the darkened look in her eyes alone, I know exactly the game she’s playing at. I lean in to her, keeping my breathing even as I swipe my tongue slowly up the corner of her lips. My body feels ignited from my bold move, and her devilish chuckle assures me that that was precisely what she wanted me to do.

I’m suddenly tossing every worry, moral, and negative thought out the window as I eagerly take her lips against mine. Her wet, bikini covered breasts press against my bare chest, her fingers dancing into my hair as I slide my tongue along hers.

I could easily be dreaming right now, and just have a painfully hard dick when I wake up. But I’m not. This is fucking real.

Y/n wraps her legs around my waist, allowing me to hold her beneath the water as my hands drift down to the perfect ass I haven’t been able to get my eyes off of.

“Joel,” she breathes as she pulls away, my lips trailing down her soft, spacious throat. “You’re so hot. I want you so bad.”

“Shh,” I coo, nipping at her flesh, “just enjoy this.”

My mouth finds hers once again, her hands running down my torso to where I’m fully hard for her. I can’t help but let out a small groan at the feeling of her palm against me, my hips involuntarily thrusting up into it.

“I need you,” y/n whines softly. “Please.”

I chuckle, swiping my tongue up her ear before taking the lobe between my teeth. “What do you need me for, hm? Tell me, angel, what is it?”

Her chest heaves against mine, her hand still rubbing against me through my swim trucks. “Everything. I need you for everything.”

My hands move around to the front of her swim suit, lifting the top off to reveal the breasts that I’ve been so desperate to see; to have my mouth on. I carry her over to the steps, setting her down on a higher one as I close my lips around one of her nipples.

She yelps, fisting at the hair on the back of my head. I pull the pearled center between my teeth, gazing up at her to see her hazy eyes meeting mine. I do the same to the other one, my fingers keeping the nipple I just left company by pinching it gently.

“This fucking bathing suit has been driving me crazy all goddamn day,” I rasp, dragging my tongue up her chest to her neck. “You’ve been just begging me to fuck you, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” she answers quietly. “Yes, please. It’s all I want.”

“My god, me too. Thought about that pretty little cunt in the shower before I got here,” I admit, dropping my hand down below the water line to rub her through her bottoms.

Y/n’s head falls back, her body a writhing, panting, half-naked, fucked out mess and I haven’t even been inside of her.

“Did you want me when you first saw me?” I ask as I continue to circle her clit through the fabric.

“Yes!” she cries. “You’re so fucking hot, Joel. I’ve wanted you since I met you at the park.”

Her words fuel the already raging fire within my stomach, wanting desperately to be buried inside of her right now. “Good. I want to keep you this desperate for me.” My fingers stop, bringing them up to adjust her bikini top back onto her reddened breasts.

“What? No, no, no. Please!” y/n begs, gripping at my wrists. “Why are you stopping? Please don’t stop.”

I chuckle, leaning in to kiss her firmly with a quick swipe of my tongue. “A few reasons,” I say between kisses. “One, you’re a bit tipsy and two, don’t you have that appointment to get checked out tomorrow? I don’t think you have anything, but it would be nice to know, wouldn’t it?”

Her brows are furrowed with desperation as she hangs her head. “Oh, my god, Joel. I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think about that.”

“Hey,” I say gently as I pick her chin up to meet my gaze, “don’t apologize, sweet girl. It’s easy to get caught up in the moment.”

“And I’m not too tipsy. The alcohol just helped me make that little jump towards you,” she says with reddened lips and cheeks.

My mouth presses against hers again, savoring the cupcake flavor on her sweet tongue. “I’m glad you did. I just would rather go further when we’re both completely ourselves.” I inwardly kick myself. “Is that stupid?”

“No,” she beams as she cups my face in her hands, “not at all. You’re an amazing, sweet man, Joel. And oh my god, you’re hot as fuck.”

I laugh loudly, gently running my nose along hers. “Yeah? I’ve thought that exact same thing about you since I met you.”

Her eyes run down my body. “And you have such a great body. I really don’t see what you do, but I understand the way you feel.”

“Well, I’m glad you like it,” I chuckle. “I guess I was just comparing myself to Sam and felt—inadequate.”

Y/n rolls her eyes as she scoffs. “Oh, fuck Sam. He was the first guy I was ever with that looked like that, and I promise you that isn’t what first attracted me to him.”

“Really? What was?”

“He was kind and he made me laugh, the looks were just a bonus.”

I chuckle. “And what attracted you to me?”

Y/n hums with a warm grin, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Everything.”

On the short drive home, I have a ridiculous smile that hasn’t removed itself from my face since I left y/n’s. Every single moment about tonight was perfect; from the food, the dessert, the pool, her lips, her body, the way she whined for me, and the compliments she gave me. I couldn’t have made a better night up in my head.

After getting an exhausted Sarah from the neighbor’s house, I tuck her in to bed, planting a kiss onto her forehead before leaving and returning to my bedroom. There’s a text on my phone from y/n, and I open it immediately.

Y/n

10:00pm

Thank you for coming over for dinner, and for stopping what I never could’ve. I’d feel horrible if I gave you something just because Sam is a piece of shit and I can’t control my body around you.

10:10pm

I’m glad you can’t control it around me. Let me control it for you. You’ll find out tomorrow whether or not you have something, so try not to worry. I really think you’ll be fine, but it would just be safer this way. Thanks to you, I have to go stock up on condoms for the first time since college.

Y/n

10:12pm

Joel, are you telling me that you haven’t had sex since your wife passed away?

10:13pm

Is that a turn off for you?

Y/n

10:15pm

Oh, my god, no! I just hope I fulfill your nine year dry spell, is all. That’s a lot of pressure lol. Also, maybe if I don’t have anything, we could go without the condoms? I’m on birth control.

My neck tenses as I imagine feeling y/n in all of her natural glory. A twitch runs to my cock, making my stomach twist with arousal.

10:16pm

Absolutely no pressure. I can already tell that you’re gonna be a lot of fun. And yeah, that’s more than fine with me. Guess the condoms will live to see another day lol.

Y/n

10:20pm

Lol, goofball. Good night, Joel.

10:21pm

Good night, y/n.

****

#pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fic #yn fanfic #smut #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller fic #tlou smut #tlou fic

29 notes · View notes