#I knew his voice sounded familiar I COULD NOT PLACE IT

[pretentious-blonde]

patched up

pairing: remus lupin x reader

summary: you help remus clean up after the full moon, reminding him once again how much he is loved, even if he thinks he is underserving

warnings: cuts, wounds, physical pain

a/n: all i write is hurt/comfort, and I'm not even mad

Remus sat on the old leather couch, a book in his hand that just couldn’t seem to grasp his attention. His free fingers traced small circles on your legs, which you had ungracefully thrown over his own as you lounged together in the living room. It was still early, just coming up for noon, you both were aware of the time. Even if the knowledge was unspoken. 

It was the full moon tonight, and despite the routine that you both had become familiar with, the boy couldn’t shake the nerves that coiled and twisted inside of him. 

You pretended not to notice what he was doing, glancing at the door every couple of minutes, waiting for the inevitable knock. James and Sirius would arrive any moment now, take him away, far away for yet another transformation. You were used to it by now. 

One thing that was always constant was that they had always been there for him, he appreciated that, but he hated leaving you. Especially when you gave him that soft, reassuring smile. Like everything would be fine. Like everything was fine.

“Rem,” you spoke softly, catching those big, brown eyes. His body was tense beneath you. 

“I’m alright, dove,” he gave you a weak smile, his fingers stopping their patterns to give your calf a light squeeze. “Just… you know.”

And you did know. Painfully so.

You nodded, understanding him completely. You were about to speak more, but were interrupted by the shrill ring of the doorbell. He stiffened even more at the sound. Hand stilling.

He sighed and closed the book, setting it aside. His gaze moved to the hand on your leg, not wanting to move it, wanting to keep the inevitable away for just a second longer. 

“It’s time,” he tells you quietly, like he does every month. His voice carried a sadness that he couldn’t hide completely. 

You place your hand on top of his own, your smile gentle but knowing. “I’ll be right here. Waiting for you to get back, okay?”

He stood up, pulling you with him, tall body towering over your own. He let his hand linger on the small of your back as you both headed to the front door. When he opened it, James and Sirius stood waiting outside, both smiling softly as they knew what was to come. The car behind them was still running, headlights cutting through the fog, casting a warm glow behind them. 

“Hey, mate,” James begins, smiling up at Remus. “You ready?”

Sirius leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest, his usual smirk missing from his face. “We’re ready when you are,” he said. His voice light in an attempt to ease your boyfriend’s nerves. “If you need a breather before we go, just say the word.”

Remus shook his head, he would rather just get this over and done with, no more stalling. You could feel the stress in his body increase as the hand on your waist held on a little tighter. 

Sirius, sensing the clear tension that settled heavily in the air, finally cracked a smile. “Don’t worry,” he waved his hand in front of him. “You’ll be back here with your girl before you know it.” He said, winking in your direction.

James also turns his attention to you, giving you a mock salute, “He is in safe hands, don’t you fret.”

“And we won’t allow him to get too grumpy when we return him,” Sirius added, side-eyeing the man standing next to you. Remus runs a hand over his face at their teasing.

You rolled your eyes and gave them a half-glare, happy that they were trying to keep things light. 

“I trust you both,” you say, tone teasing but nonetheless truthful. “Bring him back in one piece.”

James nods. “You have our word.”

Remus lets out a small, grateful smile before turning his attention back to you. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, allowing his hand to linger on your cheek for a moment. “I’ll be back tomorrow evening, darling. I promise,” he tells you, his gaze was intense. The act of leaving you now was painful. 

You leaned forward and hugged him tightly, his own long arms wrapping around you immediately. Secure and firm, he never wanted to let go. 

“I know you will,” you whispered into his chest, voice muffled by his worn jumper. “I’ll be here.”

Remus reluctantly loosened his embrace, kissing your forehead gently as he allowed himself to linger. 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he murmured as he held your chin. Warm, tired eyes burrowing into your own. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you say quickly. He already knew that but—god—did it feel good to hear you say it back. He turned towards the car behind him, giving you a small wave before climbing in. 

Remus settled into the back seat as the other two slid into the front. He watched you as the car sped away, trying to push down the knots his stomach was tying. Sirius leaned back, tossing him a lighthearted grin from the passenger seat.

“Come on, Moony,” Sirius said, trying to help him relax. “It’s just another moon. We have done this hundreds of times now.”

"Another moon, another miserable night,” Remus grumbled, no longer having the will to fake a smile. You weren’t there anymore. 

James glanced back from the driver’s seat, a sympathetic look now in his eyes. “You’ll be alright, mate. Besides, from the way you’re moping, I’d say you’re just lovesick.”

“Definitely lovesick,” Sirius said, nodding his head in agreement.

Remus sighed, staring out the trees flying past the window. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I am. I’m damn lucky to be.”

James and Sirius exchanged a quick, knowing look, but didn’t tease him further. Remus just wanted to get through this—so he could go back to the one person who made everything else worth it.

Remus tried his hardest to be silent when he entered, opening the door gently to lessen the loud creak, his movements were slow and heavy as he stepped inside. It was late—much later than he intended to be—every inch of his tired body screamed in protest at the slightest movement. He winced as a sharp pain shot through his ribcage, having to reach out and steady himself against the wall, closing the door behind him. 

It had been bad this time. Really bad. James and Sirius had confirmed it, as if the fresh wounds couldn’t tell him that already. Their concerned faces still clear in his memory. 

The cuts on his body were deep—deeper than usual—one stretching across his chest, another on his arm, and a particularly nasty one that covered the side of his face. He had no recollection of how he acquired them, but they offered a fresh reminder of what he was. What he could become. 

He trudged up the stairs, each step more painful than the last, eventually making his way to the bathroom. He avoided the mirror, the last thing he wanted to see was his reflection—the scars, the bandages, the tired eyes that always seemed more hollow after the events of a full moon. He quickly redressed the lacerations on his torso, delaying touching the one on his cheek. 

He didn’t want to see what it looked like, but he had no choice. He needed to change it. He would just have to do it fast. 

Glancing up quickly, he caught a brief glimpse of himself. He felt the air knocked out of his lungs. Immediately he looked away, biting down another wave of familiar self-loathing that flowed through him. 

He hated this—hated how he looked, how his body was always going to be a physical reminder of how cursed he was. How much of a monster he was. 

With shaky hands, he removed a bandage from its plastic casing, placing it on his face as swiftly as he could. He pulled out a loose set of pyjamas and quickly slipped them on his aching body, just wanting to crawl into bed and pretend the previous night never happened.

He opened the door to your shared bedroom and paused in the doorway, taking in the sight of your sleeping figure. You were lying peacefully on your side of the bed, the soft rise and fall of your chest, the sound of your breathing drew him closer to you. 

He paused before he got in, just standing there for a moment, taking you in, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips for the first time in over twenty-four hours. He loved you. God, he loved you. The one thing in his life he would never get near his tribulation. The one thing that kept him going. 

Carefully, he slipped in next to you, taking extra care not to rouse you. The ache in his arms flared up as he pulled back the heavy duvet, but he forced himself to ignore it. After all, what was a little discomfort when he could be close to you?

He shuffled closer, wincing at the pain that shot through his muscles, but it appeared to melt into the background as he felt your warmth permeate his skin. 

For a moment, he was content just laying there next to you, watching you sleep. If you were awake you would probably call him a creep. He stifled a chuckle at the image that formed in his mind. 

His heart ached—not from the wounds or exhaustion he had sustained, but from the overwhelming combination of emotions he felt for you. He hoped you were sleeping well, lord knows he wouldn’t be. Not with the soreness that was coursing through his drained body, but his own well-being didn’t concern him right now. What mattered was that he was here, with you. 

With a soft sigh, he gently pulled your sleeping form closer to him, his arms trembling slightly with the strain. The throbbing in his chest flared up again, but he ignored it. Instead, he buried his face in your hair and let the steady sound of your breathing soothe him. He kissed the top of your head, whispering into the silent room. 

“I’m home, love,” he murmured, voice almost inaudible as sleep began to pull him under. “Promised I would be.”

The first thing you felt when you stirred was a familiar warmth, strong arms wrapped around you, and for a brief moment, your heart swelled with relief. He was back. He always came back to you. But every time he managed to crawl back home you couldn’t help but worry if it would be worse than the last time. You shifted slightly, turning in his embrace in order to get a better look at him—that’s when you noticed. 

The fresh bandages, hastily applied, peeked out from his long sleeve, another covering the side of his face. You ached for him at the sight of them. You pulled your arms from beneath the duvet, reaching out to touch the dressing. Your fingers hovered just above it, pausing mid-air as you stopped yourself. The last thing you wanted to do was hurt him more. You didn’t know what lay beneath them. 

You wriggled out of his hold, taking additional time and care so as to not wake the man sleeping soundly next to you. He needed the rest. You were certain he would be in pain as soon as he rose, and as much as the idea of staying in his arms sounded heavenly, you decided to make yourself useful. 

Padding quietly to the kitchen, odd socks on your feet, you grab two cups from the cupboard above your head. You had to go on your tiptoes to reach them. Usually, Remus would insist on getting them for you—he had once seen you clamber up onto the counter and it nearly gave him a heart attack—but he was preoccupied today. 

The kettle bubbled softly as you pulled out the jar of tea, along with the packet of biscuits—chocolate, of course, his preferred choice. You prepared it in the way he taught you, letting it brew for a good couple of minutes before removing the teabag, pouring in a healthy glug of milk. You returned to the bedroom, steaming mugs in hand and the packet of biscuits under your arm. 

The brunette began to stir at the soft crackle of plastic as you placed the treats on the bedside table, holding your own mug close to your chest as you sat on the floor beside the bed. You watched his eyes as they fluttered open. 

“Hey,” you whispered, tilting your head to the side to look at him horizontally. “How are you feeling?”

He winced as he shifted over, his body still unbearably sore. His tired eyes met yours, and despite everything, he managed to give you a faint smile. It was hard not to when you looked at him like that. 

“I’ve been better,” he replied, his voice husky with sleep. 

You shook your head at his attempts to downplay his clear discomfort, trying to mask the worry in your eyes that was surely present. 

“I made you tea,” you gesture to the cup next to you, pale wisps dancing around the top of it. He liked it hot, straight from the kettle. It amazed you how he could handle drinking it so fast. “And your favourite.”

“I’m a lucky man,” he said as he sat up, voice slightly strained as he finished his sentence. He reached out and dipped the biscuit in his mug, making a sound of relief as he popped it into his mouth, allowing the rich flavour to melt over his tongue. 

He took a sip of his tea, sleeve rolling up slightly as he leant over, bandage visible. You didn’t want to mention how poorly they had been applied, you didn’t want to remind him. But it had to be done, for his sake. 

“Rem,” you began gently, not wanting to upset him. “You need to change those.”

Immediately, he stiffened, his body pausing mid-sip. He loathed this part—being looked after and the vulnerability that came with it. 

“Do I?” He muttered, voice lacking the spark it had when he woke up, clearly embarrassed at your statement. 

You nodded solemnly, cringing at the discomfort in his eyes. “It might get infected,” you tell him. “You’re tired. Let me help you, please?”

He hesitated for a moment, an internal battle occurring in his head, before giving you one of his kind smiles. “Alright,” he responded, trying to keep the sadness from his voice. “Can I finish my tea first?”

You giggled, worry easing just a little. “Of course,” you say, nodding your head. “We’ll do it after.”

He placed his soon-empty cup on the side next to him, sighing heavily as he nodded to you. “Alright, love,” he said reluctantly. “I’m ready.”

You stand up slowly, reaching out to take his hesitant hand, leading him towards the bathroom. He traced your knuckles with his thumb as you both continued down the hallway. When you opened the door, he immediately hopped up on the counter silently. Ignoring the mirror and instead choosing to look down at his lap.

The first aid kit was under the sink, a pack that you always kept fully stocked. You quickly grabbed it before returning to your place in front of him, standing in between his spread legs. Your heart felt heavy at how exhausted he looked. How broken. But you refused to let him see that. He didn’t need to worry about you being worried about him. He had enough to deal with as it is. 

“Can I take your jumper off?” You ask him softly, afraid of raising your voice. You needed to take care of him, and from the looks of it, he wanted to be as far away from this situation as possible. 

His eyes left his lap and locked with yours. For a second, he looked as though he might say something, but instead, he just nodded. Words seemingly too hard to form right now. 

You tried to keep your hands steady as you reached out, gently pulling the fabric over his head, keeping the material as far away from his body as you removed it. You folded up the material and placed it to the side, allowing him to get more comfortable with his bare skin showing before you gave him your attention again. But nothing could have prepared you for what you saw. 

Bandages—there were so many of them, scattered haphazardly across his torso and arms. Each one was a significant reminder of what he had been through the previous night. You swallowed hard, putting on a brave face as you knew he was watching your every movement. 

“You ready?” You asked, needing verbal confirmation as you knew this was going to hurt. Not just him, but yourself as well. 

His lips twitched up into a half-smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” he quipped, trying to take the edge off, but the pain was clear in his low voice. 

You peeled off the dressings, not earning a large reaction from the boy sitting in front of you. Most of them had become unstuck as he slept, making your job easier. You reached for the cloth and antiseptic, deciding to start with the easier gashes first. Your touch was diligent and gentle as you cleaned him, dabbing carefully at the blood and dirt that clung to his skin. 

He must have been shattered last night to skip this. That fact made you even more determined to fix this. To fix him. You couldn’t offer much, but you would do whatever you thought would help. Every few minutes, you’d glance up, wordlessly checking on him. Waiting for the swift bob of his head as he urges you to keep going. 

“Am I hurting you?” You knew the answer already, but you needed to know how much. 

“Only a little,” he lied, a faint smirk appearing on his face. “I’ve been though worse, dove.”

You roll your eyes at his ill attempt of humour, but at least he was able to crack a joke. That was a good sign. 

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” you murmered as you pressed down on a particularly nasty cut, earning a small hiss from him. You hurried up when you heard the noise, not wanting to be the one behind his torture. 

Finally, you turned your attention to the injury on his face, the angry red line that ran from his collarbone all the way up to his cheek. The sight of it yanked at your heartstrings and you knew you failed to mask your reaction, his body stiffened. Eyes darting away from yours as he attempted to look away. You caught his chin before he could withdraw into himself, forcing him to look at you. 

Big, doe eyes filled with guilt, shame even, and it devastated you. He cleared his throat with a sharp cough, his voice gravely. “You shouldn’t have to do this,” he muttered, gaze dropping again despite the grip on his chin. “You shouldn’t—have to take care of me like this.”

You removed your hold on him, allowing both of your hands to continue working, dabbing gently as his mouth curled at the stinging sensation. “Remus,” you whispered, your voice filled with compassion. “I want to take care of you. I love taking care of you.”

He shook his head slightly, the conversation paining him more than your actions. “You’re too good to me,” he tells you, his voice monotone as if he was just speaking a fact. “Look at me, darling. I’m—I’m a mess.”

You smiled at the angelic boy in front of you and placed a kiss on his cheekbone, just above the cut. He really couldn’t see what you saw. How his friends saw in him. How he treated you all. He was the most selfless person you had ever met, going above and beyond for each and every person he cared for. 

It wasn’t a skill that could be taught. It was innate. It was Remus. Always had been. 

“You’re not a mess,” you say firmly. “You are mine. I love you—every scar, every mark, every part of you.”

You saw his throat bod as he swallowed, his eyes slightly glass as he stared at you. He always struggled to allow people to give him affection, not believing he deserved it. He didn’t know where to put all the love you gave him. It always felt unworthy of it. 

But in that moment, just the two of you in the cramped bathroom, illuminated by the small ceiling bulb. It felt right. Your fingers brushing over his scars, some fresher, some older, he thought maybe…just maybe. It would all be alright. 

You finish the last dressing, smoothing it over his skin with the same tenderness you treated all the others. “All done,” you tell him, feeling proud of your handiwork. 

Remus lets out a relieved chuckle at your pride. “I’d say you’ve missed your calling, love. Should’ve been a nurse.”

“Oh yeah?” You laugh, feeling the tension leave the room. “Maybe I’ll change careers.”

“I take it back,” he says quickly, eyes softening with affection. “I want you all to myself. I’m selfish.”

“Well, you’re in luck. I have the whole of today off,” you say, throwing the used bandages and their wrappers into the bin by the door. “We can do whatever you want.”

He raised an eyebrow, your words tempting him. “Anything?”

“Yep, anything at all,” you nod at him. “Within your...physical capabilities,” you quickly add. There is no way that would be happening in his condition. 

“Well you’re no fun,” Remus frowns playfully, mischief still swimming in his eyes. “But I’m sure I can come up with something riveting for the both of us.”

You put your hands on your hips, assuming a determined stance. “I’m ready for whatever you’ve got in mind.”

He hums, pleased with your statement, lowering himself down from the counter and pulling his jumper back on. Grimacing as it brushes his skin. He motions for you to follow him into the living room, watching as he winces as he sits down on the couch, his face briefly tightening in pain. But then, true to form, he opens his wide arms and looks at you expectantly. “Come on then.”

You go to take a step forward but hesitate. You would love nothing more than to drape yourself over him, but the sight of his bandages stops you. “I don’t want to hurt you…”

A look of warmth crossed his face, shaking his head with a tender smile. “It’ll hurt more if you don’t let me hold you, darling. Come on.”

You can’t help but melt at his kind words, you gently ease yourself onto the couch, mindful of his injuries and not putting your full weight on him. His arms encase you instantly, pulling you impossibly closer despite the clear discomfort it caused him. 

“You’re stubborn, you know that?” You scold him, your cheek resting on his chest, mindful of the dressing on the opposite side. 

“Stubborn? No.” He quips, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Hopelessly in love? Maybe.”

You giggle, feeling his chest rise and fall beneath you in a steady rhythm. “A bit of both, I think.”

It’s his turn now to chuckle, his tired bones relaxing further into the soft cushions. “You might be right.”

You both just lie there in a comfortable silence, the sound of the world beginning to wake up outside only added to the ambience. He was at peace with you In his embrace, glancing down at you as you gazed at him softly. Fingers tracing gentle circles on an unharmed piece of his chest. 

“So…” you begin, continuing your motions. “Any grand idea for today?”

He shakes his head, stopping to meet your eyes, lips curling into a lazy smile. “Honestly? Just this. Just you.” His voice is playful but his words have never been more true. “Don’t need anything else.”

“Smooth,” you say sarcastically, suppressing a smirk of your own. 

“I’m serious, love,” he chuckles. “I can’t think of a better way to spend today.”

Your heart soared at his words, you carefully shifted to cup his face. “I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

He pushes himself further into your palm, eyes closing for the briefest of moments, his hand coming up to cover your own. “Have I mentioned that you’re too good for me?” He tries to make it sound like a joke, but the familiar self-doubt can still be heard in his voice. 

“Unfortunately, far too much,” you playfully glare. “You stubborn man.”

He reopens his eyes, now filled with an overwhelming amount of affection. It almost takes your breath away. 

“Then I’m sure you’ve heard me say how lucky I am as well,” he teases, his expression never faltering. 

“I’m the lucky one,” you grin cheekily, brushing back a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “My boyfriend makes an excellent cup of tea.”

“Is that all I’m here for?” He asks in mock offence, pulling you flush against him, despite the twinge of pain it caused. “Keeping me around for my tea-making skills?”

“Exactly,” you nestle your head against him. 

At that moment, everything felt right to him. Just the two of you, safe, together. Nothing else mattered to him apart from the girl in his arms. He knows the pain will linger—the scars, the transformations, all of it. But with you—his anchor—it feels just about bearable. And for the first time in a long time. He allows himself to feel hope. The hope of your future together. 

[arc-misadventures]

Are We Even Human Anymore?

Class B, Spartan, Jaune Arc was walking down a road on the island of, Patch. He looked to his side to see a a few buildings that had gouges carved into the wood, a result of the recent, Grimm attack that had just took place. Luckily, Jaune, and the rest of team was already here to conduct standard routine patrol of the island to weed out any pockets of, Grimm.

He walked by, rifle in hand as he eyed the islands local militia, and members of the, Vale Republic Guard. Vale's standing army made of volunteer soldiers. Where the, Spartans were, Vale's spear tip to break through the, Grimm hordes, the VRG was the shield wall that held them back for the, Spartans to strike.

He spared them a fleeting glance as he walk over to see the, Spartan on command of this mission. Class A, Spartan, Raven Branwen.

A Spartans rank was decided upon by a variety of factors: Spartan children at the age of five were all considered, Class F, commonly considered the trainee class. When a trainee reached the age of age of twelve they were promoted, a sign that they were no longer solely a trainee, but an apprentice.

They were promoted to the ranks of, E, or D Class based upon their performance. And, then a B Class, Spartan, would give them training in that trainee's chosen field of expertise. A trainee could have many teachers offering tutelage to help broaden their skill sets.

Because of, Jaune's birthday present from his parents, Jaune sought out, Raven Branwen to learn the blade under her, being one of the few, Spartans to use swords. The pair had developed a close bound over their training, leading to, Jaune to be assigned to, Raven on missions quite often. As a result of this familiar bound, Jaune knew some of, Raven's little quirks, and whatnot. So as he neared her, and saw her nervously fidgeting with her hands, he knew full, and well something was up.

He called out to her on their helmets radio, concern lightly seeping into his voice as he eyed his friend. "Raven?"

"Yes, what is it?" Raven's response was filled with an air of nervousness, and worry as she all, but jumped out of her crimson, and raven black armour to face him. Cueing, Jaune on to the fact that something was wrong, but what was the question.

"Are you, are you okay, Raven?"

"I'm fine! Now, give me a status update on the situation?"

"The Grimm threat has been neutralized. Miniman causalities were sustained by the islands local militia, and VRG forces. No civilians were harmed, and no fatalities were reported either."

"Good, good good good... Inform the local commanding officer that we will be moving out shortly to patrol the area, and eliminate any other possible, Grimm threats."

"Yes, Ma'am." As, Jaune made his way to find the local commanding officer, he spared, Raven one concerned glance, hidden behind the visor of his helmet. The nervousness etched into her voice, and her desire to get away from here as fast as possible, but him on high alert.

There was something here on, Patch that made, Raven's nerves on edge. But, what could that be?

Jaune shook his head of these thoughts as he headed towards the highest rank officer among the, VRG. A major with blonde, hair, and a stubble across his face.

"Major, may I speak with you?"

The major gave him one glance before he issued some final orders to his subordinates, before walking over to, Jaune. Stopping before him, and offering him a salute, of which, Jaune offered one in kind. Despite the fact the major technically outranked, Jaune, It was common practice for most soldiers of the VRG to see, Spartans as their superiors due to their position as, Spartans.

"Major, Xiao Long, reporting, Sir!"

"At ease, Major. I am here to report to you that me, and my team will be moving out to explore the area, and eliminate any potential, Grimm threats in the area."

"Y-You're leaving already, Sir...?" There was a noticeable sound of disappointment in his voice, as he his eyes turn to look past him. Jaune followed his gaze to see he was staring at, Raven.

"Is there a problem with that, Major?"

It wasn't uncommon for officers in the, VRG to wish that, Spartan teams to linger in a spot that had just been subject to a, Grimm attack in case of the possibility of a second attack. Or, if the case the commanding officer was some fat pig they would 'ask' the, Spartans to remain to protect their shiny junk.

"Ah! No... No, Sir... if, Raven wants to leave she may leave." The way he said, Raven's name gave, Jaune pause for concern. There was no respect in his voice that one would expect to give when addressing a, Spartan. There was a sadness, and a air of familiarity in his voice as he watch his teacher from afar.

"How do you know her name, Major?" Jaune had dealt with several civilians trying to get close to himself, or his fellow, Spartans. Often they were doing this as a means of gaining status. Leading to many, Spartans to be cautious of any civilian, even those in the military when they wished to speak with a, Spartan.

"We... we were close once, Sir. I was just hoping to talk with her, and give her this." He saw the mean reach under his armour plating, and pulled out an envelope, and offered it towards, Jaune. "I understand why she wouldn't want to talk with me, I just thought she should see this. Can you give this to her, Sir; Please?"

Jaune eyed the envelope warningly as he grabbed it, and opened it, inspecting the contents. Inside was a letter, and some photos, Jaune didn't see it as anything dangerous so he decided it was safe to give it to her. He was about to close the envelope when he saw something that caught his eye. It was a photo of a smiling woman around his age, with violet eyes, and golden locks of hair with an all too familiar face.

"Who is the woman in this picture?" Jaune watched as the, Major looked around nervously at, Raven before returning his gaze back to him.

"I-I think it would be best if, Raven explain that to you, Sir." Jaune gave him one last glance before he nodded at him, and placed the photo back in the envelope.

"Very well, I shall do ask you ask, Major."

"Thank you, Sir!" Major Xiao Long, offered him a salute, which he returned in kind before making his way towards, Raven.

"Ahh good, you're finished, let's grab the others, and get going, Jaune."

"That Major back there seems to know you, Raven. He asked me to give you this.' Jaune offered the envelope to, Raven who even under the helmet he could see the nervousness in her eyes as he watch her slowly take it from his hands.

She opened it, and read the letter, her hands shaking as tears started to well up in her eyes. She then took out one of the photos he had been looking at earlier. A chocked gasp of sorrow escaped her lips. She soon removed her helmet, letting a mane of raven black hair escape it's confines, as she whipped away tears falling from her crimson eyes.

Jaune swiftly removed his helmet as he watched his teacher, his friend cry. He know, Raven for years, and she always appeared as this stoic, and collected person who was a master of her emotions, but to see her break down just from a photo? Something was wrong, something terrible.

"Raven? Raven, What's wrong?!" He placed his hand on her back as she struggled to reign in her tears, it was like watching a child bursting into tears at the lose of a loved one.

Raven soon raised her head as she took sharp gasps of air as she calmed her nerves. She looked to the sky as she steadied her nerves before turning to address her friend, and student.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I just... I didn't expect this to impact me so..."

"It's okay, Raven. It's okay... But, what the hell just happened? You just broke down into tears, I've never seen you like this before. What is in that letter?"

She took a deep sigh before she turned to look at the back of the, Major as he ordered his troops about.

"That man over there... He's someone I am... I was close to... very close to..." She pulled out another photo of the smiling blonde girl in the photo, and returned the girls radiant smile with a sorrow one of her own. "His name is, Tai Yang Xiao Long. When I was younger, just a, B Class, Spartan I met him here while out on a mission. He was just a captain then, and he was showing me, and my squad around, Patch. Local hotspots where, Grimm seemed to appear from, and what not. We stuck to each other quite a lot while we were out here, he even saved my life one time. The two of us just... clicked, you know? We just naturally fit together, so much so it hurt when we we apart from one another for too long. I used to spend my time off with him."

A smile spread across, Raven's face as she looked through another photo, before it turned into a sad smile.

"I was in, Atlas for a joint mission to deal with, Atlasian Spartans when I realized I was pregnant with his child... I was then kept in, Atlas Academy as I went through the pregnancy."

"Wait, the girl in the photos... She's your daughter?!" Jaune was shocked, Raven had her secrets just like everyone, and Jaune never wanted to pry. But, to suddenly learn his friend had a daughter his age was rather... shocking.

"Yes... she's my daughter. Her name is, Yang, Yang Xiao Long. A perfect mix between me, and him..."

"I thought she looked a lot like you, but I assumed she was your younger, Sister, not you daughter! I assume she is my age then, and since I never saw her till now. She's, Auraless?"

Raven nodded her head as she gave a hum of confirmation. "After she was test, and proved to be negative... I felt relieved."

"Relieved?"

"Yes, relieved." Raven took a deep sigh before looking at the sky. "You know what this life of our demands of us, Jaune... I didn't want that for my daughter. But, since she was, Auraless she couldn't stay with me... So, when I came back to, Vale I popped over to, Tai, and said my goodbyes; To both him, and my daughter..."

"I understand why you left her with this, Tai fellow. But, you never visited them again? You could have still been their for them, no?"

"Look at me, Jaune. Do I scream mother, housewife, any of those things?"

"Nope. You being a mother is odd enough as it is, you being a housewife, wearing an apron, and baking cookies? Now that's just crazy talk!" The pair shared a laugh at the shear ridicules of the thought of someone like, Raven as housewife. "But, just because you didn't... couldn't settle down with him, that doesn't mean you couldn't have spent time together. Getting to spend time with the man you love, and sharing in happy moments with your daughter."

"I didn't want her to get too attached to me! I was scared that if she grew too close to me, and if I died fighting against the, Grimm... It... It breaks my heart to just think about how she would react if I died... My heart can't take it, Jaune..."

"Maybe, but I think you would be just as devastated if you died as well. Because, she may not know who you are on account of you never being there for her. I think she's chasing after you in her own way." Jaune pulled out a photo of a smiling, Yang, grinning from ear to ear. Dressed in an all too familiar deep green uniform. A cadet officers uniform. "You may say she following her dad, but that smile of her reminds me more of you, Raven. In her own little ways, Raven, she's chasing after you. How much would it hurt to say hi to her? Not nearly as much as never getting the chance to I reckon."

She looked at him before she turned her gaze to look at the man she loved. "But, how am I supposed to do that? Just walk up to her, and say. 'hi?"

"You start slow, Raven. You first reunite with that, Tai fellow over there. And, then eventually he introduces you to your estranged daughter. Simple as that."

"But, is it though?"

"Are we even human anymore?"

"The unofficial moto of the, Spartans."

"That's right. Because of our training we've gone through since our childhood, we've become so detached from our emotions that we no longer seem human. This, Tai fellow, and you apparent daughter appear to keep you tethered to your humanity, Raven. Go over there, and reunite with your old flame, before that rope breaks, and you lose that humanity that we fight, and die for."

"Ha! When did you so wise, and philosophical, Jaune?"

Jaune shrugged his shoulders at her before he looked towards, Tai. "I'm a 'knight.' I probably picked up a thing, or two reading all those books about knight."

"Yeah, probably... Okay..." Raven straightened her back, as she put the envelope in her pocket. "Wish me luck."

"Luck."

Jaune smiled as he watched as, Raven walked over to, Tai, and gave him a tap on the shoulder. The surprised look, followed by that infectious smile he gave her brought a smile to his face in turn.

If we, Spartans, seemingly heartless killing machines could generate such a smile with our mere presence, then where is the truth in a question such as: 'Are we even human anymore?'

Because, how could anything, but a humans pure love for one another elicit such a reaction?

The question shouldn't be: 'Are we even human anymore?' But, 'What's stopping us from being human?'

Isn't that was make people human: Searching for what makes us human?

[yesihaveaobsession]

Enchanted Encounters

Alastor x female witch! reader

Summary: With Alastor knowing the effect he has on the pretty witch (you) he has to get a potion for Charlie, but you don't like giving your potions out willy nilly, so Alastor has to charm it out of you.

A/N- I love writing alastor x female witch reader stories 🫶✨️- enjoyyy!!

Your fingers danced over the tiny vials of ingredients for potions in your little nook. The scent of herbs and magical items filled the air, creating an inviting and slightly intoxicating atmosphere. As you began to arrange items for one of your latest creations, searching for a specific ingredient, you felt the familiar chill that signaled his presence—Alastor’s.

"Ah, my favorite witch!" His voice was warm, the ever-present static hum of his magic crackling faintly. He stood in the doorway of your little coven, a grin spreading across his face, his crimson eyes sparkling with mischief. "What delightful brews do we have today?" he asked, tilting his head slightly, his grin widening just enough to make your heart race.

You turned to see him, his tall form casually leaning against the doorframe, his posture relaxed yet commanding. Your pulse quickened as you met his gaze, those deep red eyes pinning you in place like always. You felt the familiar heat creeping up on your cheeks, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't keep the smile from pulling at your lips.

You liked him, and he knew it—oh, did he know it. He played his cards right, never putting in much effort yet managing to have you wrapped around his finger. But he still tried, still teased, and still enjoyed every second of the hold he had over you.

"Just some simple potions," you replied, trying to sound nonchalant as you busied yourself with your ingredients. "Nothing you'd find particularly interesting."

Alastor chuckled, the sound rich and melodic, as he stepped inside the coven, his movements smooth and deliberate. The room seemed smaller as he approached. "Oh, but I find everything you do interesting, my dear," he said, running a long finger along the edge of your counter before picking up a shimmering vial filled with vibrant blue liquid. He raised it to eye level, inspecting it with a curious glint. "What's this one? A love potion, perhaps?" His eyebrows lifted in mock intrigue, the corners of his mouth quirking up playfully.

You felt your breath hitch in your throat as you glanced up from your cauldron. He was close now—too close. His tall, slim frame loomed just inches from yours, the scent of something warm and familiar, like old vinyl and dark wood, filling the space between you. Your heart pounded, and though you tried to focus on the ingredients before you, your eyes kept drifting back to him.

"No, it’s just—" you started, but your voice faltered.

"Just what?" he interrupted, his grin widening as he leaned in, eyes gleaming with mischief. "A little something to make someone fall in love with you?" His voice dropped, the teasing lilt in his tone only making you more flustered. His crimson eyes danced with amusement as they roamed over your face, clearly enjoying your reaction.

You tried to regain control, focusing on the cauldron. "It’s nothing of the sort," you muttered, hoping your voice didn’t betray the fluttering in your chest.

Alastor’s smirk deepened as he straightened slightly, still holding the vial between his fingers, which tapped lightly against the glass. His gaze never left yours, as though he could see every thought flitting through your mind. "You know," he began, leaning casually against the edge of the counter, “it’s quite dangerous to wield such power alone. Perhaps you’d be better off with a... partner in crime?” His voice dripped with suggestion, the words rolling off his tongue as smooth as silk.

Your heart stuttered, and you barely managed to choke out a response. "Partner in crime?"

"Indeed," he purred, taking another slow, deliberate step forward. His face was inches from yours now, his eyes slightly hooded as his smile curled into something more intimate. "Imagine the chaos we could create together." His voice was a low murmur, a quiet promise of trouble.

The air between you crackled with unspoken tension. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, the subtle static that accompanied him buzzing just under the surface of your skin. Every instinct in you screamed to look away, but you couldn’t. The way he looked at you, so intensely yet playfully, made your pulse race even faster.

A nervous laugh escaped your lips as you forced yourself to look down, attempting to regain your composure. "I can handle things on my own, thank you very much."

Alastor chuckled again, a deep, velvety sound that sent a shiver up your spine. "Oh, I do find that adorable," he said, stepping back with a dramatic flourish, his grin never faltering. "But I actually need a potion for Charlie. She likes you best, you know."

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you regarded him skeptically. “And why should I help you with that? I wasn’t planning on giving her anything today.”

“Ah, but that’s where you’re mistaken,” he replied smoothly, his voice light yet persuasive. "If you have something that could be useful, why not share it? Think of the... enchanting effects it could have—on both of us." His smile widened, his eyes flickering with amusement as he trailed his fingers lazily over the edge of your counter, letting them linger there.

With a huff, you brushed past him, feeling the brief warmth of his arm as yours grazed it. His smile grew even wider, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. "Excuse me," you muttered, reaching for a jar of herbs on the nearby shelf. You could feel his eyes on you the whole time, watching your every movement with that predatory gaze.

He leaned in slightly, his voice a low murmur that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. "You know, your potions are far more effective when shared with someone you have... chemistry with." His words were teasing, but there was an edge of something deeper, something darker, in his tone.

Ignoring him—at least, trying to—you focused on your work, your hands trembling slightly as you grabbed another vial from the shelf. Alastor’s presence loomed just behind you, his gaze practically burning holes into your back.

"You know," he mused, his voice soft yet insistent, "I can’t help but admire how fiercely you pretend not to be affected by me. It’s quite charming." His fingers danced over an old bookshelf, brushing away a layer of dust as he continued to observe you, his gaze never wavering.

“I’m not pretending,” you said, biting your lip to keep your voice steady. “I just have better things to focus on.”

“Oh? Like avoiding my gaze?” he teased, his voice filled with laughter. "It’s a challenge for you, isn’t it? I do love a good challenge."

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was racing as you moved around the room, purposefully keeping your back to him. Every time you tried to focus on your potions, you could feel his presence looming just behind you, like a shadow you couldn’t shake.

“I must say,” he continued, his voice light and teasing, “the way you avoid me only makes me want to tease you more. It’s like a delightful game.”

Finally, you turned to face him, meeting his gaze head-on. "You think you’re funny, don’t you?"

"Funny? No, darling," he said, taking a slow step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "I’m absolutely captivating." His voice was like honey, smooth and irresistible, and for a moment, your resolve faltered.

“So, about that potion for Charlie…” His grin was unrelenting, as was the mischief in his eyes.

"Not happening," you shot back, standing your ground.

Alastor’s expression softened, but his playful demeanor remained. “Are you sure? Because I can be very persuasive.” He took another step, the faint hum of static in the air growing stronger as he closed the distance between you.

With a determined huff, you brushed past him again, your heart pounding as you moved across the room. You were convinced he could hear it. "I have no intention of being persuaded, Alastor."

“Oh, but the way you’re trying to ignore me is just too cute,” he called after you, his laughter filling the small room. "At this rate, I might just have to resort to begging."

As you gathered the final ingredients, you could feel his gaze still locked on you, his presence a constant reminder of the tension between you. It was maddening, but deep down, you couldn’t help but enjoy the chase. After all, you were a witch—and Alastor was certainly a spell all his own.

[idkyetxoxo]

Daeron Targaryen - Flawless

Summary - A commoner and a prince defy societal norms but as their secret affair is exposed, they grapple with intense emotions and the fear of their love being destroyed. They must choose whether to defy the world for their love or succumb to the pressures tearing them apart.

Pairing - Daeron Targaryen x reader

Warnings - None

Word count - 2130

Masterlist for Daeron • House of the Dragon General Masterlist

I fell in love today. There aren't many words that you can say that could ever get my mind to change. She's enough for me, she's in love with me.

"If we're caught, there will be a heavy price to pay," I whispered, my lips grazing Daeron's as we huddled together in the dim stables, the air thick with the earthy smell of hay and the soft snorts of nearby horses. 

My heart pounded in my chest, each beat a reminder of the risk we were taking, and yet it only deepened the pull I felt toward him. The danger was intoxicating, fueling my desire for the man before me.

"I do not care," Daeron murmured, his fingers tender as they traced along my cheek, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear before cupping my face. 

His touch was so gentle, it made my knees weak. His violet eyes, those piercing, otherworldly eyes, locked onto mine with a fire that sent shivers down my spine. 

Then, without warning, his lips claimed mine. Familiar and firm, the kiss ignited something deep inside me, a flame that only he could kindle. The taste of him, the warmth of his hands moving against me, sent waves of longing through my body. 

I surrendered to it, letting him guide us down onto the soft, hay-covered floor. 

His hands, rough yet achingly tender, roamed over me, sending sparks of electricity with every touch. 

The tension between us was palpable, the thrill of being discovered heightening the already burning heat that simmered in every breath we took.

"Here?" I asked, my voice a breathless whisper as I momentarily pulled away, gazing up at him. My heart raced, not from fear, but from the sheer weight of my feelings for him.

Daeron wasn't just a prince to me. He was more than the silver-haired, violet-eyed fantasy I had dreamt of. He was real, here, with me, like something out of a story too good to be true. 

I had always thought him untouchable, a man destined for greatness far beyond my reach, and yet, in this moment, it felt like we had defied the world and carved out a place for just us.

"Do not deny me," he breathed against my skin, his lips brushing along my neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. 

Each kiss, each small bite, left me trembling, and I knew I would carry these marks long after the moment ended—a visible reminder of what we'd stolen from time.

"I wouldn't dream of it," I whispered back, my fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer as he fumbled with the laces of my dress. 

The anticipation between us built like the brewing of a storm, the tension rising, until it felt like we might shatter from the force of it.

But the storm came differently. The stable doors creaked open, a sound so mundane yet terrifying in that moment. We froze. Too late.

"Daeron!" A voice boomed through the quiet space like a thunderclap. My blood ran cold as I shoved him off me, scrambling to sit up. 

My hands shook as I tried to lace my dress, my fingers clumsy with panic.

In the doorway stood Gwayne, Daeron's uncle, his large figure casting a dark shadow over the stables. His face, twisted in disappointment, was a mask of barely contained fury. 

He looked at us as though we were children caught misbehaving, but there was something crueler in his eyes—contempt, as if we were something beneath him. Filth.

Daeron rose first, and I hurried to follow, my cheeks burning with humiliation as I fumbled to fix my dress, every second stretching into an eternity of shame.

"What is the meaning of this?" Gwayne's voice was as cold as winter's first breath, each word cutting through the air like shards of ice. 

He looked between us as if we had committed some great sin.

"Nothing," I mumbled, my voice barely audible. I couldn't bear to meet Daeron's gaze, though I could feel the tension radiating off him. 

I wanted to explain, to defend what we had, but the words died in my throat.

"It is exactly what it looks like," Daeron said, his voice steady as he met his uncle's glare, his shoulders squared in defiance.

For a brief moment, his boldness sent a flicker of warmth through me, but it was quickly drowned by the flood of shame that pooled in my stomach.

Gwayne's lip curled in disgust. "If you're going to indulge in such... affairs with women like her," he spat, his words dripping with disdain, "at least have the decency to be discreet. Or is that too much to ask?"

My heart twisted at the words. Women like her. The insult stung like a slap, his meaning clear.

In Gwayne's eyes, I wasn't worth Daeron's time. I was nothing more than a passing indulgence, something beneath Daeron's station. A common girl. A nobody.

Daeron's hand reached for mine, but I stepped back, my entire body stiff with humiliation.

"Women like her?" Daeron's voice was tight, strained with disbelief and hurt. "She is not—"

"You know exactly what I mean," Gwayne cut him off, dismissing his defence as if it were beneath him.

Tears stung at my eyes, the weight of my reality crashing down around me. Of course, this was how it would end. 

Daeron, a prince destined for greatness, and me, the blacksmith's daughter, foolish enough to believe in fairy tales. 

How had I let myself think, even for a second, that we could ever be more than a secret tryst?

But then Daeron's voice, soft and urgent, broke through the chaos. "I love her."

The words stopped me cold. I looked up, shocked, searching his face for any sign that this was some cruel jest. 

But his eyes—those beautiful violet eyes—held nothing but sincerity. He meant it.

Gwayne, however, was unimpressed. "Don't be ridiculous," he scoffed, dismissing Daeron's declaration with a wave of his hand.

"You think this is love?" Gwayne's voice dripped with venom, his gaze flicking over me like I was dirt under his boot. "This is folly. A prince does not sully himself with... commoners."

It was too much. The weight of Daeron's love, the sting of Gwayne's scorn, the sheer impossibility of our situation—it all overwhelmed me. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't stay.

Without a word, I turned and fled.

Daeron's voice called out to me, but I didn't stop. Not until I reached the empty streets beyond the stable did I let the tears fall, silent and unrelenting. 

Tears for what we had, for the love I had found—and for the reality that had torn it apart.

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───

A week had passed since that treacherous moment in the stables—a week that felt like an eternity. Every day, Daeron sought me out, and every day, I found a way to avoid him. 

Each time I caught sight of his silver hair in the distance or heard the familiar lilt of his voice in a crowded street, I slipped away before he could catch me. 

I knew that if I saw him—if I let him speak—my resolve would crumble. I couldn't afford that. 

Not if I wanted to move on, not if I wanted to survive this heartbreak, I needed distance.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, I found myself at my favourite place, opposite the riverbank, away from the prying eyes of Oldtown's streets. 

Here, I could think, breathe, and mourn the love I could never truly have. 

The gentle sound of the water soothed my soul, the quiet trickle of the current carrying away my unspoken pain. 

I held a small daisy between my fingers, twirling it absentmindedly as I stared at the water. My thoughts were scattered, filled with memories of him—his touch, his smile, his violet eyes that seemed to see straight into my soul. 

I didn't know how to stop loving him, but I had to try. It was the only way to protect myself from a heartbreak that already felt inevitable.

But the peace I'd found was short-lived. Footsteps crunched behind me, slow and deliberate. 

Someone sat beside me, and without turning, I already knew who it was. His presence was as familiar to me as the air I breathed.

Daeron.

I glanced over to see him, his silver hair catching the fading light, his violet eyes locked on mine with an intensity that made my breath hitch. He was silent, watching me, waiting for me to react. 

My heart pounded, and instinctively, I moved to stand, to flee, but his hand shot out, gently covering mine, the warmth of his touch rooting me in place.

"Please, don't leave," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. His plea wasn't just in his words—it was in his eyes, the way his fingers trembled ever so slightly over mine.

I sighed, unable to meet his gaze for long. "Daeron, you know we can't do this," I began, my voice breaking under the weight of the truth. "We were never meant to be."

"No," he interrupted sharply, his voice laced with frustration. "Don't say that. Don't you dare say that."

I shook my head, the weight of the world pressing down on me. "Your uncle was right," I whispered, my eyes fixated on the moving water. "I am flawed. I'm not—"

"Stop," he said firmly, cutting me off with a fierce determination. He reached up, cupping my face with both hands, forcing me to look at him. 

His touch was tender, but his words were anything but. "Do not ever think that. The only flaw here is that you're flawless. Too perfect for a world like this, for people like my uncle who are blind to your worth."

His words hung in the air, leaving me speechless. The walls I had built around myself, the ones I'd spent days fortifying to keep him out, began to crack. 

I could feel the warmth of his hands on my skin, the urgency in his touch, and despite my better judgment, my resolve began to weaken.

"Daeron, I can't—" I started, but he silenced me with a look, his thumb brushing my cheek as his gaze bore into mine.

His love was a gift I didn't know how to accept. I wanted to believe his words to trust the fire in his eyes that promised a future I never thought I deserved.

But how could I? The world wasn't kind to girls like me.

"I love you," he declared, his voice trembling with an intensity that left no room for doubt. 

"I do not care what anyone thinks or what anyone says. I will defy them all. I will defy my uncle, the court, the world if I have to—because I cannot live without you."

My breath caught in my throat. There was no hesitation, no doubt in his words. 

He spoke with the conviction of someone who had decided to throw caution to the wind, to face any storm for the sake of the one he loved. 

His declaration was a promise, a vow. And in that moment, I realized he meant every word.

"Please," he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper, "don't shut me out. Don't leave me again. I will fight for you, for us—just let me."

Tears welled up in my eyes, but this time, they weren't from pain. They were from the overwhelming rush of emotions his words stirred in me. 

I had been so afraid, so convinced that I wasn't worthy of him, of this love. But here he was, on his knees beside me, begging me to let him love me.

I nodded, my throat too tight with emotion to form words. "I'm sorry," I finally managed to whisper, my voice barely audible. "I'm sorry for pushing you away."

He shook his head, dismissing the apology without a second thought. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

Before I could say anything more, he pulled me toward him, his lips finding mine in a kiss that was desperate and raw, as if he feared that I might vanish if he let go. 

His arms wrapped around me, holding me close, and in that moment, everything else faded away—the judgments, the fears, the obstacles that had seemed insurmountable. 

All that mattered was him. All that mattered was us.

As we sat there by the river, the world around us fell into silence, and for the first time in days, I allowed myself to believe in a future where we could be together. 

A future where love, not fear, guided our path.

Because Daeron had chosen me. And no matter what stood in our way, I would choose him too—again and again, for as long as I lived.

The only flaw, you are flawless but I just can't wait for love to destroy us, I just can't wait for love.

A/n - Inspo of course came from 'Flawless' by The Neighbourhood, I need them to come back desperately :(

[sunflower-lilac42]

𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗴 ; 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴 ꕤ

➪ summary: late at night, bella gets a call from trevor saying that one of his best friends got traded to Philly. which leaves her to run around target and her apartment to make everything right for him

➪ warnings: jamie's trade

➪ word count: 1.4k

➪ file type: au (and they were roommates) fic

➪ sunny's notes: i cannot believe it took me this long to get this amazing couple back out. i promise to be more active with au's going forward, including the 'rebirth' of ice bound.

au masterlist || nhl masterlist || navigation

“Hey, Trev. What’s up?”

“Bella? I need a favor.”

“Okay… what’s wrong?”

“Jamie just got traded to the Flyers.”

It was like her heart stopped. Sure she hadn’t known Jamie for that long, barely met him more than twice, but being traded was hard no matter if you wanted it or not. However, there was a bright side to this trade, he knew people here, her and Cam, so at least he wouldn’t be completely in the dark, “Oh god.”

“Do you think that he could-”

“Yeah, of course. No need to even ask. Jamie, when are you going to get in?”

She was grabbing her keys from the counter and getting her shoes on as she held her phone between her shoulder and her ear, “I don’t know.”

His voice sounded distant, physically but emotionally. She frowned and opened her door to leave, “Well you let me know okay, honey? I’ll be there to pick you up.”

“Thank you, Bella.” She heard Jamie’s voice once again, it still sounded distraught and far away. 

“Always. You have a safe flight and Trev?”

“Yeah?”

She halted, not actually knowing what she was going to say, “Uh, am I still on speaker?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you take me off please?”

Trevor did as he was asked, sending his friend an empathic look and holding the phone to his ear, “What’s up?”

“He’ll be okay, you know that right?”

“Yeah, I know.”

There was a silence separating his last words and the next ones, “Please take care of him for me.”

“Of course, I will Trevor.”

“Thank you. Love you.”

“Love you too, Trev. Now go get some sleep, okay?”

He nodded, “Yeah, okay.”

She hung up and started driving to the store to pick up some things for Jamie, knowing how much he would need things that felt familiar to him. She sent a text to Trevor once she got there, asking for his favorite foods, things that he loved, his favorite video game, etc. She was practically running around the store gathering things, probably buying too much in some people’s opinion. 

She wasn’t totally shocked about the price, she knew she had thrown a lot into the cart, but she paid for it anyway. When she arrived home, she changed the sheets in the guest room and stocked up the guest bathroom with more toiletries than a person would need. There was something off about it however, something was missing. She couldn’t tell what it was but when she saw her childhood stuffed animal sitting on her couch she knew she should put it on his bed. It always helped her through tough times, so why couldn’t it help him?

When she realized the time, she headed to the airport in a flurry. She knew she would be there early but thought it would be better to wait outside the terminal for him instead. She pulled up near the curb, waiting for him. His plane had landed about 20 minutes ago, so she just sat on her phone, occasionally glancing up to see if he was still walking out of the airport.

Once she saw him, she jumped out of the car and stood on the other side of it, waiting for him to get close to her. Once he was in arms reach of her, she pulled him into a hug. She could tell he had been crying, his eyes were puffy and red. Her heart broke when she heard him sniffle into her shoulder, “You ready to go home?”

Jamie didn’t process what she said, all he could hear was “ready” and “go”. He nodded, nonetheless, detaching himself from her. She popped the trunk open and he placed his suitcase in there before getting into the passenger seat. She pulled out of the airport and started to drive home, the two of them sitting in silence until the sound of her phone ringing blared through the car’s speakers. The two moved their eyes to the screen to see Trevor calling, “You want me to answer it?”

She looked over at him, “If you want. You don’t have to.”

He shrugged and pressed the answer button, “Bella! Why’d you take so long to answer? Is Jamie there? Is he okay? Did you find him? Did-”

“Calm down, Trevor. I’m here.”

“Oh good. How was your flight?”

Jamie frowned, “It was okay.”

Bella could see the way he was beginning to feel uncomfortable. He was still thinking of the way he had to leave so abruptly, barely getting able to say goodbye to the team, let alone Trevor. She smiled slightly at Trevor’s worry, “Trev?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re just getting back to the apartment, can we call you back later? Maybe after Jamie gets settled in?”

“Oh yeah, sorry. Take care, you guys.”

“You too, Trev.”

She hung up and pulled into the parking lot of her apartment building. She could tell he was still hesitant about this, still distraught with everything that had happened, still upset about the news. She let him sit there, grabbing his luggage from the trunk before walking around to his side of the car, “You read to go up?”

He nodded, fully getting out of the car. The two walked up the stairs, Jamie taking his bag from her so she wouldn't have to. She opened the door and gave him a brief tour, “This is your room. I put some things in there for you if you want them, the bathroom has toiletries if you need them, and yeah. I’ll be in my room if you need me, okay Jamie?”

He gave her a small smile in acknowledgement in which she returned before leaving for her own room. It must’ve been less than five minutes from when she left to when he showed up in the doorway of her room. Bella had barely changed out of her clothes into one of Quinn’s hoodies and a pair of sweats due to having been out in the cold. She was getting ready to watch something on her laptop when she heard the knock.

She looked up with a smile, “What’s up, Jam?”

“Can I lay with you?”

She wasn’t bothered by the question, only scooting over to make room for me. She knew he needed comfort, needed to not be alone, it wasn’t a big deal. He was holding her stuffed animal tightly, it did bring him some sort of comfort, even if it was embarrassing. He sat down next to her and placed the sheets and comforter overtop of his legs, “I’m sorry if this is weird.”

She shook her head, “It’s not. Trust me, you’re not the first person to ask.”

That made Jamie’s stomach twist into an unfamiliar feeling but he shrugged it off, not wanting to pay too much attention to it. She pulled up Disney and looked at him, “What do you want to watch?”

He just shrugged, “Well, I was going to watch Tangled because it’s my comfort movie.” 

He nodded, totally fine with watching the movie. It was a quarter of the way into the movie when Jamie broke out into sobs. Bella looked confused as to what set him off but wasted no time in wrapping her arms around him, letting him cry. 

“Everything is changing, Bella. Why does it have to be me?”

She frowned, unsure of how to answer that so she stayed silent. He let out more mumbles and cries before being able to calm himself down, apologizing profusely to her for the way he acted, “Hey, you just got traded, Jamie. I’m not going to say I know how you feel because I don’t. I can only imagine what you’re going through, but it’s not going to be bad forever. There are some great guys on the team and you know Cam and you know me, you’re going to get through this okay?” 

He nodded once more, a small smile forming. She let him settle his head back onto her shoulder before playing the movie and before she knew it, he was fast asleep.

[perry-the-platypus-f1cs]

Ao3 link:

Bell knew he was dying after he saw Adler draw his gun. In truth, he was dead after he found out what they did to him. No name, no birthday, no nothing; he was a shell of who he was—a book with its pages ripped out, a long-forgotten song twisted and turned by a cruel artist.

What he did not expect was how much it would hurt. the bullet piercing his cheek embedding itself within his already broken body. He experienced pain worse than this before that he knew, but he doesn't know when, how, or why. He feels himself falling. He feels the ground crunch and crack underneath him. He feels it all—every pain, every ache. He can feel blood pour from his mouth; he can taste the horrible metallic flavour of blood he's felt time and time before, all of which he doesn't remember because of Russell Adler.

Bells pov: My mouth is dry. My back hurts. My neck aches everything *HURTS*. I crack my eyes open slightly only to be met by the harsh sunlight and a dark silhouette. My eyes blink and focus in on the man that, for some reason, seemed familiar. like he was from a dream that I no longer remember. I have a feeling I know him from somewhere. I can feel my eyes adjust further as I lazily blink my ears, suddenly awakening at the sound of the man speaking, "как разочаровывает... очень жаль, ты всегда был лучшим из нас, Сэмюэл." His words are harsh and cutting. I can feel my heart sinking, but for whatever reason I do not know, until I feel rough hands wrap around my arms and hoist me upwards into a kneeling position, blood still pouring from my mouth.

*BEEP*

*BEEP*

*BEEP BEEP BEEP*

The steady beeping of a heart monitor wakes me from what felt like hell. My body still aches, but the pain has subsided. I blink my eyelids heavy once I can finally open my eyes. There I am met with a harsh, sterile white light that blinds me for a few moments. I blink again and again, trying to shut my eyes to the light. Once my eyes go into focus, I turn my head to get a better look at my surroundings, only to be met with sterile white walls and medical equipment. It's safe to assume I'm in a hospital, but where and why? As I speculated, I did not realise that someone had entered the room until a voice spoke up, snapping me from my thoughts, "You're finally awake." The voice spoke calmly and almost surprised. I turn my head towards the door where the voice came from, and I see a slightly tall, lean man wearing hospital scrubs and a medical mask. I go to speak, but my mouth is dry and my throat is sore, and so I respond with a raspy and shaky voice, "Where am I?" I ask tensely and am unsure if I should trust the man.

He walks up to my bedside, grabbing a clipboard that was resting on one of the side tables, and speaks in a gravely rough voice, "You are currently in Lappi Central Hospital." I am Doctor Michaels. You're currently under my care. It truly is magical that you're alive considering your wounds. "In fact you were pronounced dead until last week, when you regained brain activity.” As he speaks, I'm looking around the room, realising how much unusual medical equipment I'm strapped up to. “There is someone here for you, and she will explain everything else to you," he says before placing the clipboard back down and looking at me before walking out of the room, leaving me in a questioning silence, glancing around the room, 'Who could be here for me?' I think to myself. I wait for a few minutes until once again the door opens, but this time a woman steps in.

She's dressed in a purple blouse and grey pants with a lanyard strapped around her neck. I glance at the label, anger bubbling in my heart as I see the logo. She sits down in a chair next to my bedside and speaks with a slight American accent, "Hello, Bell. My name is Kate Laswell—"I cut her off before she can continue "your CIA." I say, despite my weak state, my voice still conveys my hostility towards her. She looks slightly surprised by my hostile town before composing herself and speaking again. "Yes, I am. Will that be a problem, Bell?" she questions, tilting her head slightly, waiting for my answer. I speak up again, lying through my teeth. "No, it won't; I'm just wondering how CIA personnel managed to get into Soviet territory," I say. The last part, matter of fact, she picks up on this but dismisses it and continues to talk.

"As I was saying, my name is Kate Laswell. Now you may be disoriented and confused, but that is completely normal for your current situation. Speaking of which, there are several scientists still trying to figure out how on earth your body managed to maintain itself without any physical changes during a forty-year coma.” She finishes speaking, looking at me, waiting for my reaction, and I feel a cold sweat fall down my back as I hoarsely speak up, my voice quivering, “Fifty years? I ask, my eyes wide in disbelief. “That's neither possible,” I say in disbelief, shaking my head and looking down at myself strapped up to weird machines I've never seen before in my life. I then glance back up at her, “Your playing some sick fucking game here; there's no fucking way."She cuts me off sharply as panicseeps into my voice, opening the file in her hand and turning it around for me to see the file is worn more so then the last time I saw it, but sure enough it was *Bells* file *my* file all blacked out in dark marker. The only thing the eye can see is my callsign and that dates and names of the missions I went on, as well as some other small details, but still the reports and everything else blacked out in harsh ink. The file itself was tattered and worn. Laswell then speaks up again.

“Bell. What happened to you is a historical phenomenon. You were found several hours away from civilisation in the Solovetsky Islands by a group of Cold War historians. You were airlifted to this hospital, and the CIA was contacted when they saw your uniform.” She spoke slowly, “Your body sustained its injuries and kept you alive for forty years without a physical change to your body. That is unheard of in human history.” She finishes leaning back in the chair and closing the file, placing it next to the clipboard on the side table. Her words rendered me speechless as I looked up at her before I spoke again. Now my tone is cautious: “So... what happens to me now?’ I ask uncertainty,

hoping she’ll give me a straight answer, thinking back to all the time. Adler and Park answered my questions with vague answers or deflection, but this once it seemed intelligence agencies taught their staff to be blunt because a few moments later Laswell speaks up, “That depends on what you want." Bell, all of your files and reports are classified to high heaven and hot hell. You could return to the service after you're medically cleared. We could use someone of your calibre and intelligence. You already know that the work is never finished. Or you could live the rest of your life as a civilian.” I do not know what it was, but the way she worded it made it seem like the second option would be hell, and to be fair, she was right just for the wrong reasons. I know for myself that I can never return to being a ‘normal’ civilian, but she's barking up the wrong tree if she believes I will work for the CIA again, especially after what I now know... But what other choice do I have? I can't return to Perseus. Hell, I don't even know if Perseus even still exists.

I let out a sigh, “Well, then what choice do I really have? ...” I ask rhetorically before answering my own question, “I’ll go back to the service; I can get you a file that is easier to read,” I say, looking up at her. Hearing my answer, she smiles slightly, nodding her head in understanding before standing up and handing me a thick folder that she had also brought along with her “read up.” She says calmly, “You’ve got some history to learn up on,” she says before standing from the chair and walking out of the room, leaving me with the folder and file. ‘Well, ‘Gotta start somewhere.'" I think to myself as I open the folder and begin to read the contents, mulling over the information in my mind. The folder itself is... muddled mostly dates with pinned events, but what else can you expect from the CIA?

(Time skip after a few weeks within the hospital bell is finally released after staff cheeks his vitals)

After leaving the hospital and stepping outside, all I can do is wait, sitting in a desolate airport after getting an Uber, which was an experience. What the hell even is an Uber? It was a taxi, but weird. I'm brought from my thoughts by a voice behind me: “Hello again, Bell.” I swiftly turn my head around and see Laswell standing with a suitcase in her hand. I speak up, with a raised eyebrow, “same flight?” She nods before saying, “Follow me, our pilot is ready.” I stand up, garbing my small duffel bag that she left for me at the hospital. I'm wearing the now clean underclothes that I wore when I was found. It's a black tracksuit with built-in padding. It looks odd without the tack vest and feels weird, but it's all I have. I'll buy more when I get to America. As me and Laswell are walking through the airport, she leads me to a secluded part of the airport before we exit onto the landing pad, and parked just a few meters in front of us is a helicopter. I look at Laswell and speak up in a humorous voice. “A helo really?”

(everything is translated through Google translate and I apologize. If there is anything incorrect please leave a comment and tell me what it is and as always have an amazing day or night!)

[duckinthetrashcan]

WHY THE FUCK IS JESSE. FROM MINECRAFT STORYMODE. IN MY LITTLE PONY WHAT IS HE DOING HERE. WHY ARE YOU HERE. Absolutely terrifying jumpscare I was not expecting to hear his voice today

[eupheme]

— come on and show me

[part ii | part iii | masterlist]

logan howlett x f!reader x wade wilson

rated e - 5.5k

tags: Logan POV, MMF threesome, jealous!logan, reader is wade's girl, mutual pining/crushes all around, voyeurism, dirty talk, open relationship, oral sex, fingering, Logan doms both of them, 69ing, fucklicking, ball worship, come eating, PiV

a/n: I want them to kiss and I also want them to kiss reader to here this is! 💕

Right now, all he can hear is Wade running his goddamn mouth. Drowning out the sounds you make - so fuckin’ pretty, and the prick is too busy listening to himself to appreciate it.

There’s one thing that Logan knows for sure - and it’s that Wade’s not doing it right. Not like he would.

(or - Logan tries to shut Wade up, and it doesn’t quite go as expected)

Logan can hear Wade from here.

Running that goddamn mouth already, and the sun’s only barely up.

Can hear you, too. The little whimpers that you try bite back. He can imagine the way your teeth sink into your lip - the thought has him shifting in his chair, breakfast forgotten.

So fuckin’ pretty, and the prick is too busy listening to himself to appreciate it.

Knows he could make you even louder, too. It’s almost like he’s at the mansion again, looking at another toy he can’t touch.

What a waste.

The sounds crescendo, the chanting of a name layered with that endless babble that makes his teeth grind, before the sound breaks.

Trying not to look interested when the door opens a few minutes later. Snatching up the newspaper that’s been sitting on the cluttered tabletop for a month now, flicking it open.

Ignoring how Wade strolls out, adjusting the waistband on a pair of grey sweats that are hanging way too low on his hips for comfort.

Rummaging around for a bottle of water, the glow of the fridge illuminating the curve of his ass. The cut of the pants look familiar, Logan's eyes narrowing as he wonders if those are his missing pair-

The edge of the paper flicking up again into place again, just as Wade stretches - bending further, before the bottle is snatched from the back.

Logan huffs.

“Hey roomie,” Wade hums, flicking the cap at him. It sails through the air, disappearing into his forgotten cup of coffee with a little 'plunk', “Don’t let me interrupt that killer Ed Tom Bell impression you’ve got going on, just hydrating for round two.”

“Ooh,” A cock of his hip, as he turns - head tilting as he thinks, “Does that make me Josh Brolin? God, I love him.”

“That’s all?” Logan’s eyebrows lift as he sneers - ignoring another reference he doesn’t understand, “Been going at it for a while.”

As soon as he says it, he regrets it. Opening himself up for an attack. He can already hear the sing-song response at the admittance that he’s been listening.

Screwing the Pavlovian pooch, with the way that he's more than aware that his dick’s half-hard. The result of taking care of himself one too many times - an attempt at getting himself back to sleep, pretending that he isn’t jerking himself off to the beat of the frame that bangs against the walls.

Luckily, Wade zeros in on the exact wrong part. Sputtering, as water drips down his chin, “That’s all? What do you mean, that’s all?”

“You heard me,” The paper crinkles in his fist, “In fact, I’m surprised you even got round one off. Much less that she’s sticking around for another.”

“You wound me, and yet, flatter.” Wade’s hand flattens over his heart, “I never knew you thought about me like that.”

“I haven’t been thinking about you, you ass,” Logan snarls, teeth bared, “I just know that if you’re talking, then you’re not doing it right.”

Wade grins at that, teeth scraping over his lower lip as they stretch wide.

Eyes flicking over his form, assessing in a way that has Logan bristling - voice going syrupy-smooth, “Is that right? You think you can do better, mutton chops?”

The breath he inhales is ragged. That feeling back again - an urge to curl his hand around Wade’s throat, and squeeze.

“Yeah,” Logan growls out, “Yeah, I fucking do.”

The table shakes as Wade plops himself down on the edge, a leg crossing over the other. Interest gleaming in his eyes as his head tilts towards the bedroom door.

“Alright. Bring on the magic tricks, Angier.” His hands splay wide, wiggling, “Gonna show me how to make your fingers disappear?”

Logan glares, his eyes flicking down to where the fleece pulls across his hips.

“Right.” He spits, “Like you’ve got another in you?”

“Hey now, pookums. Marvel Jesus, remember?” Wade’s hand makes a sweeping gesture in front of his crotch, “Just give me three minutes and I’ll have risen.”

“That’s disgusting.” Logan barks, “And get off the table.”

If anything, it makes Wade sit harder. His legs pivoting until he can spread his thighs on either side of the paper, ankles dangling off the edge.

“Disgusting?” His tone pitches up, “Says the man that’s rocking a stiffy. Gonna jerk it at the breakfast table when I leave? You know Blind Al eats there.”

The paper twitches reflexivity in his hands, and Wade’s smile pulls wider as Logan shoots him a death glare, lips curling over teeth.

“Why the fuck would I do something like that?”

Wade hums, “Call it an educated wish.”

“Call it an educated get-the-fuck-out-of-here.” Logan scoffs. His eyes flicking towards the bedroom, the door still shut, “You’re talking like she wants this.”

Wade’s finger presses at the edge of the newspaper he’s hiding behind, and Logan bats his hand away.

He’s still not gotten used to all the skin, he doesn’t know where to look. The slightest shift back in his chair, but he’s already pressed up against the wall.

“Oh please, as if we don’t take turns roleplaying as you,” Wade sighs longingly, “This would be a wet dream come true.”

His eyes narrow then, as his tongue runs across his lip. Voice dropping again, coaxing.

“Look,” Wade says it like he’s leveling with him - talking man-to-man,“If you wanted to fuck her, peanut, all you had to do was ask.”

And for a moment, Logan truly considers it. Not just the fantasy that’s been playing through his head for weeks.

Weirder shit has happened, he supposed.

He’s already been claw-deep into Wade’s guts. A brawl in that shitty van that lasted until morning. Bound tip-to-tip in the void for god knows how long.

Getting walked in on in the bathroom at least twice in the last month. A gleeful “mind if I cut in?”, before Logan’s fist is sending him into the vanity.

The last time it took a full week to get the sink fixed.

Not to mention that Wade apparently seems so certain that his clothes were now their clothes.

So fucking keen on sharing.

So it wasn’t a stretch to think he might want to share you, too.

There’s something caught between his teeth, heavy on his tongue. About to loosen, when the door is opening.

Swallowing them down as you step through, thighs bare under a too-big t-shirt. Arms wrapping around Wade’s shoulders as your lips press against his cheek.

“Thought you were coming back, Red.” You coo. Drawn out by the sound of bickering as you had basked in your afterglow.

“Morning, Logan.” A smile sent his way after, turning sheepish, “You’re up early. Hope we didn’t wake you.”

He grunts in reply. Pretending there wasn’t a little jolt in his stomach at the sound of his name. That he hadn’t been thinking about spreading you across this table, lifting the hem of your shirt up-

If he’d been in your bed, no one would have had to wonder.

The whole damn floor would’ve been woken up.

“He thinks I fuck bad, so I’m gonna prove he’s wrong,” Wade adds in, cheerfully, “That okay with you, gorgeous?”

Logan glares over the top of his paper. A rough clearing in his throat as your eyebrows lift, glancing his way.

He hadn’t really meant to bring you into this, or at least, that’s what he’s telling himself.

That eye contact dropping, as you lean into Wade, your chin propped on his shoulder, “Is that right? How are you going to do that?”

Logan’s answer comes out flat, as he examines an ad in the bottom corner of the page,“I’m not doing anything.”

Wade sighs, his head knocking back against your shoulder.

“Come on, Wolvie. I would love for you to prove me wrong,” He needles, digging deep, “Put your money where my cock should be.”

Logan still doesn’t look up, “Not interested, I’m busy.”

The sigh that pulls from his lungs is long, a near-whine.

“What, with reading?” He exclaims, “Jesus you really are old. The retirement home called, they’re missing a resident.”

Logan’s eyes snap up now, narrowing, “Fuck. Off.”

With a sigh, Wade fucks off. Legs curling, until he’s rolling off the table. Your hand fitting in his, a water bottle tucked under your arm as you head back towards the room.

“The offer still stands!” He calls.

A beat, before you turn.

“Logan?” You call, as he’s helpless - his eyes pulling away. Drawn to you.

A little wink sent his way. Your finger gesturing towards his chest, as you smile.

“Your paper’s upside down.”

Logan’s still not quite sure how he got here. His feet moving on his own, fingers catching the bedroom door just as it starts to close.

Almost backing out when he sees the look of Wade’s face, pleased as fucking punch.

Standing by the edge of the bed now, as you kneel on it in front of him. Fingers slipping across his chest - curious, with the way your eyes flicker over his face. Eager, though you hide it well.

“So what exactly did you tell Wade to get him so worked up?” Your fingers twine around his neck, as his find your hips.

He hums at that - flicking towards his roommate before they find yours again.

“All I said was that if I can hear his mouth running from out there,” Logan’s fingers dent into soft skin, tugging you closer, “He can’t be doing a good job.”

There’s a shift off to the side. Wade sinking down into the beanbag chair he pulled up,“Can you believe that? As if I don’t have a good grade in my oral and my dickabilties.”

“A gold star, babe.” You shoot him a tender smile, before they focus on Logan again. Shoulder lifting, as your grin grows, “I mean, Merc with a Mouth, right? Seems like part of the package.”

He huffs, eyes dropping to your lips.

“You think it’s good,” Logan’s tone is almost pitying, “But it’s only because you haven’t had better.”

That pulls a gasp from your throat, eyebrows lifting.

“Yeah, I think you’re trying to emasculate me, but honestly…” Wade’s hand splays wide over his crotch, “Sploosh.”

“Sploosh.” You echo softly, and he can feel you shift closer. Can smell the fresh curl of arousal that heats your skin, as his hands ghost higher. A small smile, as your head tilts, “So you just all talk then, or…”

“No.” Logan scoffs, “No, I’m not.”

He closes the gap, more certain now. Mouth pressing against yours, as you squeak - tense in his arms, until you go liquid.

Soft tits pressed to his chest as his tongue sweeps against your lips. Swallowing a pretty moan as they part for him, his own groan rumbling in his chest as his hands wander.

Slipping down, ghosting against skin. Feeling the goosebumps that rise, as he draws circles against your hip. His name whimpered, and it shoots straight to his cock.

Not even a heartbeat, before the chatter begins.

“Bet your pussy’s wet already, isn’t it baby?” He coos, “A kiss like that, it’s even got me a little worked up. And I’m just producing this show.”

Logan’s eyes crack open as he glares, “You’re not producing shit, asshole.”

“Ooh, I bet you SO wish you worded that in a different way-”

You huff against his mouth, your touch guiding him back. The thought lingers, curiosity burning. Letting his fingers toy with the hem of your shirt, knuckles brushing your thigh.

Tracing around to the curve of your ass, his wide palm splaying out, then squeezing against bare flesh.

“Is he right?” He rasps, his lips brushing against yours. Half-hating that he’s letting Wade get in his head, but the thought-

You gasp again, and his teeth flash with his smirk, “Are you wet for me already, sweetheart?”

“She’s been since she first saw you. Goddamn Niagara Falls,” Wade’s voice has softened - teasing now, “Isn’t that right, gorgeous?”

An amused shake of your head, as something silent passes between them. Logan doesn’t pretend to know how your relationship works - other than the fact that Wade was willing to do anything to save this world for you.

And that there’s something inside him that tightens - a flicker in his belly - whenever he looks at you. Whenever Wade flirts with him. That sharp annoyance from their meeting slowly bleeding out with each day goes by.

Something else taking root, the more time he spends with both of you. He’s not good with his emotions. Doesn’t want to name that ache when he saw you together.

A silent wish, with his shifting daydreams. With the jerk of his fist in the morning. Imaging you in his bed, at first. And then, more - two sets of hands. Two mouths at his cock, and then he’s suddenly coming harder than he has before.

He’s become greedy, the more you both give him.

“Show me.” It’s a command, soft and low.

Logan can feel your thighs press together, that little squirm. Tucking this new discovery away as you lean back, eyes dark with desire.

The briefest hesitance, before your fingers loosen from him. Slipping down, under the hem of your shirt. The nails on your other hand bite into his shoulder as you sigh - two fingers gliding through the wet folds of your pussy.

Pulling them back for him to see. Glistening, your arousal stringing between them. His hand is already curling around your wrist. No resistance as he tugs - guiding your fingers past his lips as they part.

Sucking the sweet taste of you as he groans, deep in his chest. Eyes fixed on yours so he can see the way yours widen, feeling how your fingers flex against the swipe of his tongue.

“Logan.” You sigh his name, and it only makes his moan - eyes shutting as you press down against his tongue. The need slipping into your voice, pleading.

“I wanna feel your mouth. Show me, too,” You sigh, as you slip from him, “Show me what you meant.”

Christ, he’s been aching for this. Eager to drown himself in your pussy, if you’d let him.

There’s a sharp clap that forces his eyes open. Wade’s enthusiasm as he drags the bag closer, chin cradled in his hands.

“Yeah, Logan. You gonna show us your dickabilites, or what?”

He shoots him a withering look. Softening before he turns to you, his chin tipping up.

“Lay back on the bed for me, sweetheart.”

You listen so sweetly, and it makes his cock throb. A quick dart of your eyes over to your boyfriend, who only nods.

“Take that off, baby,” Wade coos, “Show him how pretty you are.”

He’s not sure when he started letting Wade make orders, but for once he’s not wanting to argue about his suggestions.

Because fuck, you are pretty. No arguing with that.

Letting his eyes sweep over every inch that is revealed, as you lift the hem of your shirt. The curve of your hips, your soft tits that he can’t wait to get his mouth on.

Baring yourself, as you lean back against the pillows. His eyes are fixed on your cunt, already fitting himself between your thighs. Fingers reaching - ready to part you open. Taste you himself, bury his tongue inside you.

Your hand reaches out, pushing against his shoulder.

“Wait, you too.” You pout, “Let’s play fair, okay?”

He huffs, lips quirking. Hands catching the hem as he tugs his own shirt off, Wade diving for it as he tossed it towards the floor.

Twin gasps rise, and if he was a much younger man, he may have blushed.

“Fuck.” Wade groans, a hand dropping down his crotch and squeezing.

You’re already leaning forward, a hand flattening against his skin. A soft "wow" slipping from your lips - feeling the way his muscles jump as you slide over his pecs, the thick hair covering them.

A hand hooking around his shoulder - a smirk hidden as you tug him down on top of you.

Soft, beneath him. Those needy whines he loves so much caught between your teeth as he noses at your neck. Teeth nipping at skin, an urge to leave a mark for later.

That cry finally loosened as he moves down. Teeth and tongue biting and soothing at the tight peaks of your nipples. Broad hands cupping and squeezing, liking the way they fit in his palms. The way you moan, arching into his touch.

“Give me more of that,” He murmurs against your skin, "I want to hear you."

Your body tensing beneath his when he settles between your thighs. They have to spread, to fit his shoulders. Opening you up, putting you on display.

Watching how you clench - a throaty chuckle as his thumb presses just shy of your folds. Tugging you open, seeing how your skin glistens with slick already.

“Pretty fucking sight, you know that?” His eyes flip up to yours.

You’re propped up on your elbows. Teeth sinking into your lip, breath held as your eyebrows slant in anticipation. Lips parting with his words, a minute shift of your hips.

“You should see it when it’s stuffed full. Boston cream's got nothing on her."

There’s an embarrassed groan of his name. Logan ignores him - letting his thumb rub against the tight nub of your clit, instead. Your word turning into a sharp, inhaled breath.

Teasing, each circle achingly slow. Aware of the two sets of eyes on him, burning his skin. A low ache in his belly, his glaze fixing on yours, watching as you inhale as his mouth lowers.

A soft lick, tongue lapping against your slit. Tasting you more thoroughly, dragging against soaked skin, as his fingers tease at your entrance.

Focusing on your clit, tight flicks with his tongue. Letting his lips suck on the tight bud, as he sinks down to one knuckle, then another. A second finger slipping in once you get used to him, making room for himself as he scissors you open.

He can hear the soft, wet sound of your cunt, with each plunge of his fingers. Flexing and curling them until he can feel you clamp down.

The quiet sounds you make - soft breaths and gasps - turning louder. Panting now, as you whine. Hips lifting to meet the curl of his tongue, until he pulls back.

“Should be hearing this,” Logan grits out. A quick glance towards Wade as his fingers pound into you, “Not you talking out of your ass.”

There’s silence for a long moment, the words coming out distracted.

“You talk about my ass an awful lot for a man who pretends he's not interested,” Wade manages, slowly, “You change your mind about that, too?”

His breath shallow, as Logan growls in annoyance. Attention returning back to you. Fingers working faster, head dropping again to tongue at your clit.

A leg hooks over his shoulder - a heel digging into his back, tugging him closer. Logan loses himself - growling into your pussy. His own hips pressing down into the bed, as he tugs at his belt and button, relieving the too-tight ache of denim.

Feeling how you leak against his palm, tighten around his fingers. Chase that winding pleasure as you arch into his mouth. A hand drifting off the bed, reaching. Grasping.

“Logan.” You’re begging again, pleading. For more, for anything. For him not to stop, and he leans into the way you tug at his hair, guiding him to the right spot.

You come with your fingers entwined with Wade’s. With your thighs clamped against Logan's ears as he rips a cry from you - long and loud - threatening to suffocate him.

Would be the way he’d choose to die, if he could.

The sounds come flooding back, as your thighs loosen. Boneless and languid, your smile wide as your fingers trace his scruff, the sharp curve of his jaw.

Perhaps he was wrong, to think he could silence Wade entirely. Your orgasm has only made him more vocal - complaints about how “fucking hard he is” mixing with rambling praise.

“Wilson.” He finds himself growling. Beckoning with two fingers, as Wade practically springs from the bag.

“Oh my GOD,” Wade is gushing, clambering onto the bed with him, “This is way better than joining the Avengers. Even if they do have Thor.”

“Huge praise.” You smile drunkenly, pushing yourself up to press your mouth against his.

And under his direct instructions, Logan finds that Wade almost listens.

“Get on your back,” He points, as you scooch to make room.

"Ooh, dirty." Wade grins, splaying out on his back, hands tucked under his head.

“No,” Logan makes a frustrated sound - ignoring another comment. A twirl of his finger, “The other way.”

His head is cradled near your hips now, legs stretched out toward the pillows.

Logan’s next words are a growl, “Now, clean her up.”

Wade groans, as he catches up.

“Fuck.” He whines, “Yeah. Come here, baby.”

Hands guiding you into place, your knees framing his head, as you face towards the headboard. Wade’s mouth already tipping up to meet you, a soft moan as his tongue swipes against your slit.

“I don’t want to hear you until she comes.” Logan rasps, and he can see the way Wade’s hips lift.

Just now catching the darkened fabric, where it tents.

Another thing to catalog.

Content for now to let his hands drift as he stands behind you at the edge of the bed, his chest pressing to your back. Sucking a mark in the hollow under your ear, feeling the buzz of your whine against his lips.

Hands cupping your breasts again, feeling their weight. Pinching at the tight peaks, before his thumb is smoothing over them.

Your eyes are blown wide, fingers curling against your thighs. Panting as the overstimulation tips towards pleasure, the feel of the sweet mouth below you soft and familiar.

Shifting as you sit, rocking back to where Logan’s cock presses against your lower back. His hands tugging at the zipper, shoving his jeans down as he works himself free. Kicking them off, after.

You gasp when you see him from over your shoulder, and he can’t help the way he twitches in his hand at the sound. Can’t pretend he isn’t leaking from tasting you, his cock heavy as he lets go to let it hang between his thighs.

“Fuck, that’s not fair.” It’s muffled, and you hum in agreement as Wade lifts you to get a better look, “God didn’t make you perfect enough as-is? Just had to make you proportional, you goddamn stallion.”

A derisive sound as his arm wiggles out from under you, fingers reaching.

“And Jesus H. Christ, look at the girth-”

Logan bats his hand away.

It should annoy him. That Wade isn’t listening. That he’s commenting on his cock - but it doesn’t.

Can’t help but think that in here, in this room, the chatter isn’t so bad. Would never admit that he’s wrong, just that when he’s admiring and not on a dumb-as-fuck tangent, it’s almost - flattering.

Maybe that’s too far. Tolerable, perhaps.

“You want my mouth?” You offer sweetly, breaking into his thoughts. Hungrily.

There’s a flash of white teeth as Logan smiles. A hand pressing gently against your back, until you’re stretched out over Wade.

“No. I’m still gonna fuck you, baby.” He rasps, “Just wanted a little peace and quiet while doing it.”

You moan, thighs inching wider. Head turned so you can watch the way he moves behind you. Adjusting your hips until your ass is in the air, his fingers gripping the base of his cock as he lines himself up.

“Keep going, Wilson.” He grits out, when the man goes still beneath them.

A rough chuckle rattles.

“Not a fucking chance, human tripod. I am SO watching this.”

Fuck it. He lets him.

Letting the tip of his cock press against your entrance. Wade’s arms curling around your thighs, holding you in place as you string tight above him.

“God, it’s even bigger from this angle. Feels like I’m in a goddamn eclipse right now.”

“Why do you sound surprised, babe?” Your voice is strained. Face buried against Wade’s stomach, fingers curled in the sheets, “I thought you guys fucked in the void.”

That fleeting curl of warmth leaves him.

“We what?” Logan growls, leaning back to glare at the peek of dark brown eyes, the top of a bald head he wants to slap.

Teeth bared, as he snarls, “We didn’t fuck. I beat the shit out of him in a goddamn van.”

“All night long.” Wade laughs - and then sighs fondly, “And isn’t that just the same thing?”

Fingers encircle his cock from below before he can retort, squeezing. A tug as he guides him into the tight clench of your pussy, and Logan thinks he really should just shove his claws into Wade’s dick.

But that desire bleeds away, as you stretch around him. The twin groans from beneath him, the sounds blending together.

“Oh,” You moan, clenching around him. Back arching, as he slips in another inch, “Makes sense. Was… was just wondering why it took you so long to join us.”

Logan goes still for a moment, with this new information. A realization that he could have had this the whole time, if he had asked.

That Wade hadn’t been joking before.

He groans, hips snapping forward. A grunt below as your knees squeeze against Wade’s throat, but from the way you squirm, Logan can tell that his mouth is at work again.

Teasing at your clit, as his own hips slowly start to move. Feet planting on the bedroom floor as his hands fit against your waist.

Using the leverage to drive himself deep. Hips flush as his balls slap against your skin, growing sticky with your release.

“This is hot, this is so fucking hot,” Wade groans, babbling as he sucks in a breath, “I’m so going to jerk my dick raw thinking about this later.”

And with the reminder, he supposes he can throw his roommate a bone.

“Come on, baby,” Logan rasps - reaching. A little nudge against your chin, angling your head, “Looks like he needs a little help.”

It’s benevolent. It’s selfish - his fingers biting into skin as you realize what he means. Watching as you tug at the waistband of Wade’s sweatpants, pushing them down.

The man moans, from between your thighs. Sweet nothings mumbled as your hand wraps around his cock, angling it into your waiting mouth.

Watching how the leaking tip presses into your cheek. The buck of his hips as you fist moves, while you suck - your spit slicking up his cock.

It looks like the rest of him. Mottled skin, the tip flushed a deeper shade of red. Long and thick in your hand - Logan’s cock throbbing at the way you swallow him down, how your lips part to make him fit.

His pace picking up. Pounding into your tight, wet cunt as Wade groans against your clit. Tongue lapping and licking, winding you higher as Logan drives you towards a second.

Slowly drifting, as the flicks of his tongue grow longer. The tip pressing against your folds, as you groan around his cock.

Further down. Tasting the tang of your release - the salt of skin where you’re split open, stretched wide.

And then further. Logan jerks, as something wet drags along his shaft.

“Wade.” It comes out as a rough growl. Pitching into a huffing whine when it happens again, flattening against the heavy weight of his balls.

Choking him, as his rhythm stutters. Hips flexing into you as he grinds himself flush, teeth gritting.

“Fuck.” It’s hushed, pulled from his lungs.

Having to find himself again - hold back the urge to come right that second - as you squirm beneath him. Wade’s tongue traveling from your clit to the tight seam of his sack, his hips rocking in your mouth.

Finding a rhythm together, Logan’s head tilting back. The room filled with lewd sounds of their joining, of wet mouths and the rhythmic pounding of the headboard against the wall.

Lucky that Al was out for the morning, or else they’d never hear the end of it.

Your cries pitch up, as his cock drags against the spot his fingers found. Something clenching deep in his guts, eyes dragging down to how you look wrapped around him. The pink peek of tongue beneath, how the combination makes his toes curl.

Imagining another morning. Sharing you in another way, his cock buried in your ass while your lover fills your cunt. Whimpering between them, unable to form words.

The sound you make now are not that different - the cadence of your panting is one he’s coming to recognize.

“You close, sweetheart?” He rasps, arcing over you, “Can feel your pussy clenching around me. So fucking tight, can’t wait to feel you come all over my cock.”

It pulls a moan from you, head lifting from Wade’s cock. Resting against his stomach, as your hand wraps around him. The jerk of your fist messy, off rhythm.

“Yeah, you are.” Logan hums, as his hips rut into you, “Come on, Wilson. Make our girl come.”

There’s a rough groan. Wade listens for once, head tilting to suck at your clit. Logan concentrating on the angle that makes you cry out, a hand fisting in the sheets.

Their names a mumbled mess on your lips, as you’re yanked higher and higher. Your moans pitching up, growing louder.

Just like his dreams. Even better, really.

“Please,” You whine, “I’m, I’m-”

A high-pitched gasp, then, as your face buries against Wade’s hips. As your pussy clamps down around his cock, fluttering with the steady saw of his hips.

“Good fucking girl.” The praise is soft, as his thumbs rub circles against your skin, “That’s it, let him taste how sweet you are.”

Working together, the tight licks against your clit going lazy again. Dipping to your entrance to taste your release against his shaft, Wade’s cock leaking and bobbing against his stomach.

Drawing out your pleasure, until the stars fade from your half-lidded eyes. Until the rushing in your veins ebb, and the pulse around his cock fades.

A low sigh, before Logan’s reaching - his chin tucking against your shoulder. His hand curling around yours, guiding it back to Wade's cock.

“Don’t forget about him.” Another command, but gentle this time. His hand moving with yours, palm mapping your knuckles as he sets a rhythm, “There you go.”

He could let go. You’ve found yourself again, eyes hazy. But he keeps his hand there. Keeps a pace that is so much firmer than your own, his own hips matching the rhythm as he chases his own end.

Wade’s groan replaces yours. A hand leaving your thigh to wrap around his, biting down hard into muscle. It only drives him deeper into you. Logan’s own moan bitten back as the tongue against his dick slips against his sack again.

Then against the thin layer of skin just behind, teasing.

“Fuck.” It’s a rough growl.

His hand works faster, teeth gritting. Feral sounds caught in his throat, as the pressure in his belly grows.

The last thing he sees before he comes is the drips of white against his knuckles. The warmth, a ragged groan against the inside of his thigh. Your mouth closing around to catch the rest, taking Wade’s cock into your throat with a soft sigh.

It robs him of his breath. A shuddering moan, as he grinds himself deep. Spilling into you again and again with each pulse of his cock, blood rushing in his ears.

Legs threatening to give as he empties himself, as his chest presses flush against your back. His face buried in your hair, as your tongue traces his knuckles. Cleaning them, as he did for you.

When he can, Logan eases from you with a grunt. Watching how you gape, then clench, now empty.

A bead of his release welling up, dripping against your skin. You go to move, but Wade’s hands curl around your calves - pulling you flush.

It’s hard to look away, as he licks away Logan’s come. A sharp ache of desire with the sound of a needy groan, as his tongue dipping inside.

Maybe Wade doesn’t have such a bad mouth, after all.

Logan’s arm is numb, but he can’t bring himself to move. Can’t remember a time when he’d let his brain turn off like this. A brief moment of silence, and it’s bliss. His world standing still.

“So that’s how you do it.” You muse quietly, dizzily. Head cradled against his chest - fingers dragging through the hair, gently scratching.

A stirring on his other side, where Wade is using his bicep like a pillow.

“Mm, I don’t think I got it,” Wade counters, but it’s soft - hazy at the edges. “Think I missed a couple steps. Was that round two or three?

"Three," You say - as Logan grunts, "Two."

The fingers on his chest drift down, dipping over his stomach.

“Well, either way...” You hum, snuggling a little closer, “Maybe you oughta show us, one more time.”

Wade flips over then, chin propped in his hand, “At least. Maybe even twice. We’re bad learners, peanut. Dumb as fucking rocks, really.”

“Mhmm,” You sigh, “Really dumb. Can't even count.”

And he can’t stop the twitch of his lips, even with his eyes closed. Had forgotten what it was like to be warm like this.

To be wanted.

And maybe, he even feels… content.

Something he never thought he’d be, again.

thank you so much for reading! it means so much and I am so happy to be dipping my toes into these pairings💖

[s0dium]

Victoria Secret

A/n: For all my Geto lovers, i made sure the fucking was extra juicy. Enjoy!

Synopsis: Your secret indulgence? Buying lingerie. You've managed to keep this "hobby" under wraps until your worst nightmare, Geto Suguru, discovers your secret. Unexpectedly, he proposes a deal: he'll keep your secret, in exchange you help set up his friend Gojo with your roommate, and after that he will even buy you ten sets of your favorite lingerie. There’s just one catch—you have to model them for him. What could go wrong?

"W-what are you doing?" You manage to gasp but Geto just kisses the hollow of your throat. "Why? Do you want me to stop?" He murmurs against your skin. And you know you should say yes, but you shake your head. Like a fool. "Good girl."

Warnings: Teasing, praising, body worship, nipple play and sucking, soft-to-rough sex, unprotected sex, breeding

Word count: 5.5

Every Sunday, at precisely three in the afternoon, you sneak out of your apartment for what you call your "secret indulgence."

Your eyes gaze at the velvet-lined shelves, mentally dissecting the lace and silk items that sit on the red fabric. A familiar, gentle melody fills the boutique, playing overhead as soft light casts a warm glow on the meticulously displayed delicate fabrics. As you run your fingers over each fabric laid before you, you stop when you find one that feels like a whisper against your skin.

This one is perfect.

Carefully you hold the item up on either side, feeling the fabric between your index finger and thumb. Intricate floral patterns cover the lace material and you note the high-waisted cut and scalloped trim that would certainly flatter your figure. You hum in contentment. Yes, this piece of underwear will go perfectly with your collection.

Your "secret indulgence" you may ask? It is collecting lingerie.

Your indulgence was secret for a reason as well. Far too often people assumed that you collected lingerie for a boyfriend or even an audience, but it wasn't like that at all. In fact, it was the opposite, you collected lingerie for you. It wasn't like you never thought about trying it on for someone though, you just never seemed to have an opportunity too. Unlike many of your peers, you're not a social butterfly, never one to attend college parties or gatherings. Even your best friend Shoko has to drag you out of your room every once in a while. Yet, ever since you can remember, there's something about lingerie that captivates you—perhaps it's the delicate lace, the intricate patterns, or how damn good you looked in it. You were simply in love with it.

And up until now, you were pretty damn sure your indulgence was perfectly secret as well.

"Y/n! Just the person I needed to see."

Oh what the fuck.

Your steps halt instantly at the sound of the familiar voice, freezing you in place. You didn't want to look back, you didn't need to look back, you knew who was behind you. You purse your lips as a rush of thoughts floods your mind: Had he seen you leaving the boutique? He wasn't a fool; surely, he'd deduce that the two bags you were clutching came from somewhere significant nearby.

Shit shit shit. Fuck it.

With a nervous bite to the inside of your cheek, you slowly turned around, facing the tall man behind you.

"Geto." You dead pan. There’s a tightness around your mouth, the corners pulled down just enough to betray your displeasure. The usual spark in your eyes is conspicuously absent, replaced by a guarded, cool glare that clearly communicates your discomfort at this encounter.

Geto smiles and takes a few steps toward you. Your first instinct is to step back but you stay in place, taking in his appearance. He's wearing a black tank top today, one that clings to his well-defined muscles and shows off the tattoos covering his arms. He pairs this with casual grey sweatpants that hang loosely around his hips and of course, his long black hair is partially tied up in a man bun like it usually is, while the rest cascades down his back.

Of course he looks good.

Thin sharp black eyes scan you before landing on the two bags you are clutching. His smile grows. You know you're fucked. The last person you needed to uncover your secret.

"Enjoy your shopping?" He chuckles, nodding to the bags and you harshly bite your lip.

"Just some clothes for the summer" You respond dryly, making sure to be heard over the bustling people around you.

"Ah, you don't have to keep secrets from me." Geto chuckles and he gestures to the tattoo and piercing shop across the street. "You know I work there right? I see you go into the little shop every Sunday."

No. No, you did not know that.

You pause before speaking again. "Can I help you with something Geto?"

"Actually, yes you can. I need a favor."

"Favor?" Your eyebrows raise and you scoff. "What could I possibly help you with."

Geto smiles and takes another step forward. "I know we aren't friends, but Shoko is your best friend and she is also mine so I thought maybe we could benefit each other a bit."

You dont respond this time and he continues.

"My best friend, Gojo, im sure you know him."

You have to fight to hide the disgust on your face upon hearing the white-haired man's name. Of course, you knew Gojo, every one on campus knew Gojo, you specifically for the amount of girls he has "toyed" with.

"Yes, I know who the fuck Gojo is." You roll your eyes and you notice Geto has taken another step forward, effectively closing the distance between you two.

"Well, he is head over heels for your room mate-"

"Head over heels or just want to fuck her." You sarcastically snap back, cutting Geto off.

"Is there any difference these days?" he replies, a slight smirk playing at the edges of his lips, challenging the cynicism in your tone.

"And you want me to do what, exactly? Set her up with him? No way," you snap back, your voice rising slightly in indignation. "She's my friend, and I'm not some kind of matchmaker. Gojo can go screw himself."

"No, no, that's not what I'm saying at all," Geto quickly interjects, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace. "I'm just asking you to let her know that he's available, that he likes her. Just make him out to be an option, you know? Your roommate can do whatever she wants with that information."

"Still, why would I want to do that?" you question, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion and frustration. The warmth of the afternoon seems to intensify the tension between you as Geto steps closer, diminishing the gap until he's just inches away.

"Because in exchange, I'll buy you anything you want," he offers, his voice low and persuasive.

"Um, what?" Your response comes out more as a reflex than anything else.

"Let me rephrase that," he continues, nodding slightly towards the bag of lingerie you're holding, which causes your cheeks to flush with embarrassment. "I’ll buy you what you really want."

"No," you retort firmly, feeling the discomfort rise.

"No?" He echoes, his tone a mix of amusement and disbelief.

"Yes, no. Besides, I'm not strapped for cash. I can buy what I want whenever I want—"

"Didn't I tell you you don't have to lie to me?" Geto cuts in, his voice lowering a bit. "Please, I know how expensive that store is, and I'm not offering just one thing. Say, how about 10 sets from that store you love?" he declares, his eyes flashing with a mix of challenge and amusement.

"10? Can you even afford that?" you retort skeptically, your eyebrows arching in disbelief. This game of his was becoming more intriguing and absurd by the minute.

He leans back, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Oh, and I have to go shopping with you and see you try it on," he adds, as if the deal wasn’t provocative enough.

"Why the hell would you want to do that?" You feel the tips of your ears grow red and you scoff. The idea of Geto Suguru choosing lingerie for you sounds so personal sends a shiver down your spine.

"Because," he pauses, his gaze intense, "its not about buying you lingerie, Consider it… a test of trust, can't just give you hundred of my dollars and let you do whatever you want, I want to make sure you use the money the way our deal assures you will which is... buying lingerie."

You pause, absorbing his words, the heat of the afternoon sun pressing down on you, making the moment feel even more surreal. "Fine. We follow each other on Instagram, so I'll DM you when it's done. But like you said, it's up to her what she wants to do with that information."

"Alright by me. See you soon," he replies, his tone casual yet carrying an underlying note of finality.

As you turn away, walking down the busy street, your mind races with the absurdity of the conversation.

What the hell just happened?

Your fingers hesitated over the blue send button, poised to confirm the completion of your part of the unusual bargain.

Earlier, you had shared with your friend the prospect of a date with Gojo Satoru, carefully omitting the details of the deal behind it. As expected, she was ecstatic, thrilled by the idea despite Gojo's questionable reputation—a fact that gnawed at your conscience. But what could you do? The arrangement was already in motion. Now, it was time to let Geto know that you had held up your end of the agreement, and it was his turn to fulfill his promise.

You took a sharp breath through your nose and pressed down on the screen, watching as the word "delivered" appeared beneath your message in the chat. Just as you were about to set the phone aside and start getting ready for bed, it pinged with a new message. It was from Geto Suguru. Your heart raced as you read the simple words.

When do you want to meet?

The sun blazes down as you approach your favorite boutique, the heat making the pavement shimmer like a mirage. Despite the sweltering temperature, you've donned a big, baggy sweater over your shorts—a choice more about comfort and less about fashion, especially since you didn’t want this meeting to scream 'date'. It’s your casual armor, albeit a warm one on a day like today.

As you near the boutique, you spot Geto Suguru waiting by the entrance. He leans casually against the wall, dressed in some graphic t-shirt and black jeans, his eyes hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses. This time his hair is completely up in a man bun that shows off his black gauge earrings and hints of a tattoo on his back. The moment he sees you, his lips curve into a knowing smile, as if he can read your thoughts about the outfit.

"Hey," he greets, pushing off from the wall to stand upright. His voice is smooth, a calm contrast to the bustling street around you. "I was starting to think you were gonna bail."

"And miss a chance at free money? I think not." you quip. "Hope Gojo enjoyed his date by the way." Sarcasm drips from your words and Suguru chuckles.

"Probably not as much as I'm gonna enjoy this." he counters smoothly. "Come on," he says, gesturing towards the boutique's door. "We got some shopping to do."

The moment you walk through the boutique doors, cool air hits you in refreshing waves, making you sigh with relief. The boutique interior sparkles with delicate lighting and the gentle clinking of hangers, an ambiance you know and love all too well. You notice that the store is unusually quiet today, with no other customers around—just the shop owner standing by the cashier, who flashes you a small, welcoming smile as you enter. As you step further, your eyes lock onto a stunning pink lingerie set draped elegantly on a mannequin right by the entrance. Its intricate lace and delicate details shimmer under the boutique’s soft lighting, radiating an aura of both luxury and temptation. It's new, and most definitely pricy.

"You’re staring," Geto observes with a smirk, catching you in your admiring glance.

"I'm appreciating," you correct him, the corner of your lips twitching upwards. The price tag hanging from the mannequin does nothing to deter you; it's clearly on the pricier side, but today, Geto’s wallet is on the line. "And since you’re offering, I think I’ll indulge."

Geto's laughter fills the air, playful and unbothered. "I should’ve known you'd go for the gold. Well, it’s your day. Let’s make my pockets weep then," he says, gesturing grandly towards the set.

Who were you to deny him?

You dive into the racks, your fingers grazing over silks and satins, selecting the most exquisite pieces you lay your eyes on. One by one, you gather a collection of lingerie sets—each more lavish than the last. There’s a daring scarlet set that promises to captivate, a royal blue ensemble that speaks of deep oceans, and a classic black lace number that's timeless in its elegance. By the time you're done, nine luxurious sets accompany the initial pink one on the counter.

Geto watches with a mixture of admiration and apprehension as the pile grows, his eyebrows raising slightly at each new addition. But he doesn’t protest; instead, he engages in light banter with the shop owner, who carefully folds each set into sleek boutique bags.

As the total rings up—a sum that makes even the shop owner blink twice—you don’t look away from Geto's face, watching for any sign of regret or hesitation. None comes. He simply pulls out his black card, the smirk never leaving his lips as he hands it over.

The transaction goes through with a soft beep, and you can’t help but feel a thrill of victory as he signs the receipt. You reach out to grab the bags and head toward the door, already planning where each piece will go in your wardrobe, when Geto’s voice stops you.

"Where do you think you’re going? We still have the other part of the deal, remember?" he says with no attempt to hide the amusement in his voice.

Geto's reminder hangs in the air, the playful edge in his voice more pronounced now. As realization dawns on you, you let out a low groan, remembering the full scope of the deal. "Oh," you say, hesitance hanging from your voice. "Right, the 'trying on' part."

"Exactly," he grins broadly. "Come on, my car is parked outside."

"HAH! You think I'm going to your house?" you scoff, raising an eyebrow in mock disbelief.

"Why not? Or can we go to yours?" he counters quickly, his grin turning into a challenging smirk.

You bite the side of your cheek. Your place was an absolute mess right now and you don't think you can handle Geto Surguru in your room. "Fine, yours it is," you finally concede.

The drive to Geto's place unfolds in a tense silence, your gaze fixed on the cityscape sliding past the car window. Your heart pounds with a mix of dread and nerves, the quiet amplifying the whirlwind of thoughts in your head. There had to be a way to get out of this. The idea of layering your clothes under the lingerie flickers through your mind, but you dismiss it almost instantly—Geto would see right through that. The thought of making a daring escape through a bathroom window doesn't seem entirely out of the question, though it feels more like a scene from a comedy than a realistic plan.

As you mull over these scenarios, you wonder about Geto's intentions. Was this all just a game to him, a way to tease you? He'd watched you choose each piece with care, so there was no question of you running off with his money. Was this some weird way he got off?

Your so into your thoughts that you dont even realize your at Geto's door.

"Welcome to my humble abode," He says through a grin as he swings upon the door. Rolling your eyes at his grandeur, you step inside, instantly taken by the loft's undeniable charm. The space is open and airy, with high ceilings and large, sunlit windows that overlook the bustling city below. Exposed brick walls add a touch of urban cool, while modern art pieces dot the walls, giving the place a curated yet lived-in feel.

"The bathroom is over there," Geto points nonchalantly towards a sleek, sliding door on the far side of the room. His tone is casual, as if inviting you to try on clothes was an everyday occurrence. He saunters over to a plush couch, settling in comfortably. "You can start whenever you're ready."

Feeling a flutter of nerves, you clutch the bag of lingerie a bit tighter. "You want me to—to try on all of them?" Your voice barely hides your anxiety.

"Nah, just two or three," he responds, his voice calm and nonchalant as he picks up a magazine from the coffee table.

With your heart pounding so loudly you're sure he can hear it, you make your way to the bathroom. The cool, modern aesthetics of the loft seem to blur as your mind races. Was this just a fucking joke to him?

As the door closes behind you, you set your bags down on the bathroom floor.

Holy shit Holy shit Holy shit.

You were going to die, this was it. You were going to die out of embarrassment because of god damn Geto Suguru. Your face burns a deep shade of red, heart racing as you lean against the cool, marble sink. Fuck, you're overwhelmed, your thoughts a tumultuous whirl, but you know you need to pull yourself together. Yes, the task is simple: pick two sets of lingerie, try them on, and get this ordeal over with. Just two sets, then you can leave. That's all.

Peeking through a slight crack in the bathroom door, you see Geto lounging effortlessly on the couch, casually flipping through a magazine as if he hasn't a care in the world. A quiet curse escapes your lips at his composure— god you hated him.

Turning back to the task at hand, you rummage through the bag containing the 10 pieces of lingerie. Each piece is stunningly beautiful, making the choice unexpectedly difficult. The last thing you wanted was to make it seem like you where trying to impress him. After a moment's hesitation, your hands settle on a set of black lace lingerie—bold but the plainest out of all of them.

Slipping into the black lace, you feel the fabric glide smoothly over your skin. The lace is intricate, delicate yet firm, offering a sensation that is both luxurious and comforting. As it settles into place, you notice how perfectly it cups your breasts, enhancing your natural shape without discomfort. The fabric molds to your body, sculpting your curves in a way that boosts your confidence, even in such a vulnerable moment.

Turning to face the mirror, you take a moment to really look at yourself. The lingerie accentuates your figure beautifully—your waist appears slimmer, your hips more pronounced. Yes, this was exactly what you loved about lingerie, how it made you look and more importantly how it made you feel. Despite the situation, you can't help but feel a surge of self-assurance. It's a small victory, but in this moment, it's enough to steady your nerves.

Now was the hard part.

Slowly you step out of the bathroom, your heart pounds fiercely in your chest, echoing in your ears. The moment the door clicks shut behind you, Geto's attention shifts from his magazine to you. He lays the magazine aside, his gaze instantly locking onto you. His eyes rake up and down your figure, taking in every detail of the black lace lingerie that clings to your curves.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Geto muses, a teasing grin playing on his lips. "If it isn't the bravest fashion model of our time."

"S-shut up," you stammer, trying to mask your discomfort with irritation. "Just remember, I'm only doing this because of the deal."

"Oh, and you're doing it magnificently, may I add. Who knew you hid such bold taste under that sweater."

"It's just underwear, don't read too much into it," you retort, your cheeks warming under his scrutiny.

"Turn for me," he commands softly. "I want to see the back."

"What?" you falter, caught off guard.

"Turn for me, I want to see behind," he repeats more firmly.

Fuck it.

Reluctantly, you turn, exposing the delicate lace detailing on the back.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, almost to himself, his gaze lingering appreciatively on the design.

"What?" you ask, your voice wavering slightly—unsure if you're more startled by the compliment or by the intimacy of his tone.

"Nothing, baby," he responds, his hand dismissively waving as he looks away, pretending to refocus on something else in the room. "Go try on the next one."

You dont say anything, instead slipping back into the bathroom and rummaging through the bag. Your heart still thumps audibly in your chest, but now there's an undercurrent of excitement mixed with the nerves. The flutter in your chest isn't just from anxiety though; it's also from a burgeoning sense of empowerment. You realize that you have control over how you present yourself, a certain power over Sugruru.

After discarding the set you were wearing, you reach into the bag and pull out the pink set you splurged on earlier. The fabric is luxurious, with a hint of sheerness to the bra that would no doubt show your nipples. The underwear is equally bold, designed as a thong with delicate straps that loop around each thigh, highlighting the curves of your hips and legs.

As you slip into the pink lingerie, the fabric settles against your skin like a whispered secret. The sheer material of the bra makes you acutely aware of your own body, and as you adjust the straps around your thighs, the ensemble frames your form in a way that feels almost artistically deliberate.

Yes, just after this you would be done. So why not go out with a bang?

As you step out of the bathroom, the transformation in your demeanor is palpable. The delicate pink lingerie accentuates your confidence, which resonates with each step you take towards Geto. His eyes lift to meet yours, and the moment they travel down to take in the full view, his expression shifts dramatically to one of... shock? His usual composure falters, and he lets out a low, incredulous whistle.

"Jesus Christ," he breathes out.

You shift in place, playing with the silk hem of your underwear.

After a moment, he composes himself slightly and gestures towards him with a slight tilt of his head. "Come here," he says softly, his voice low and inviting.

You pause, the hesitation clear in your stance. The intensity in his gaze and the palpable tension in the air make your heart race even faster.

Seeing your reluctance, Geto's expression softens. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes never leaving yours. "Please," he adds, a hint of something more vulnerable in his tone this time.

The room seems to pulse with the silent energy between you as you take a tentative step forward, then another, drawn by the magnetic pull of his gaze. The air thickens with a charged mix of anticipation and desire as you finally stop just a breath away from him.

He looks up at you, standing up from his seat, his gaze intense yet tender. "You look incredible," he murmurs. You flinch when you feel his hand his finger trace your jaw and his other hand play with the hem of your lace underwear. He bends down, his lips just grazing your cheek, a feather-light touch that sends shivers down your spine, making your entire body quiver. "If you want me to stop, say it now," he whispers. When you remain silent, he brushes his mouth against the hollow of your temple. "Or now." He traces the curve of your cheekbone. "Or now." His lips meet yours.

For a moment your so shocked that he kissed you, you don't do anything. It feels like you are having an out-of-body experience like you can't believe this as actually happening to you. Then in a matter of seconds, his lips move against yours and you melt. Suguru is gentle at first, then unyieldingly hard. You feel yourself falling —not just physically, but emotionally too. You open for him and his tongue snakes its way inside your mouth. His hands move from your face to your lower back as he pulls you toward him, closing whatever space was left between you. He pushes you against him as he deepens the kiss. One of his hands remains on your hip, while the other travels to cup your breasts.

"W-what are you doing?" You manage to gasp but Geto just kisses the hollow of your throat."

"Why? Do you want me to stop?" He mumbles against your skin. And you know you should say yes, but you shake your head. Like a fool.

"Good girl."

Without a warning, Geto sweeps you up in his arms with an ease that leaves you breathless, carrying you effortlessly across the room to his bed.

Geto stands over you, his eyes tracing the contours of your body splayed elegantly across his bed.

"Shit baby, you let anyone else see you like this?"

You thickly gulp and shake your head.

"Oh thank god." He murmurs, climbing over you to place light kisses along your neck, trailing down your chest. Each kiss is soft yet deliberate, sending a cascade of warmth through your entire body. You close your eyes, allowing yourself to be fully immersed in the sensation.

"Your skin feels like silk," he murmurs.

"Did you steal that line from a hallmark card?" You crack.

"Nope just stating a fact." He skims the underside of your bra with his fingers. "Always watched you come out of the store, always wanted to see how you'd look in what you bought." He lifts his head to give you a wry look "You're so smooth and perfect you know that right?"

You let out a soft gasp when his lips find your nipple, pulling your lacy bra down so soft lips can evoke your nub.

"Oh god sugu-" He doesn’t let you get to the last consonant, his eager, hot mouth enveloping one of your nipples and sucking. His tongue flattens, rolling your peak and swirling around your areola, fast and rough until you’re whining. His ears go hot at the sounds you’re making, all desperate and needy.

"So beautiful, fuck your tits are so beautiful" He groans into your skin like it was cocaine. He then switches to your other breast, sucking and licking until he knows you will be sore. Jesus, your breasts feel so good in his mouth, so soft and sweet, why didn't he do this sooner? How much longer did he think he could maintain this facade of being your 'enemy' when all he truly desired was to have you underneath him?

You are squirming underneath him now, the stimulation of his wet tongue on your nipple is becoming unbearable and so was the growing heat between your legs. Your tits feel so good in his mouth, supple, sweet, far better than his imagination could ever conjure

"God, sugu-"

"Love it when you say my name." Suguru breaths between licks and you feel your stomach twist with.

"Sugu please" you manage to gasp, "please touch me please anything please-"

"Fuck you?" Suguru coos, and the words make warmth blossom from your core.

"Please." You breath.

And who was he to deny you?

Without much of a word he pulls your lace panties down to your ankles, making you instinctively hide your bare cunt with your hands, but he clicks the roof of his mouth with his tongue and swats your fingers away. Then, as he stands over you, Suguru steps out of his black pants and pulls off his t-shirt. As you glimpse Suguru, you feel your breath get caught in your throat. His large, incredibly toned frame is a clear testament to rigorous workouts, and intricate tattoos weave across his skin, adding to the attraction.

You were no longer in the kiddie pool.

You are too immersed in his figure that you dont even notice he has lowered down his black boxers just enough so his long length springs out and slaps against his abdomen.

You thickly gulp.

"I dont think that will-" You stammer, the sheer size or his dick making your gut twist and turn. "I think it will hurt I dont think it will-" As you continue to stammer, searching for the right words, Geto cuts you off with a deep, consuming kiss that immediately shuts you up. When he finally pulls back, a confident smirk plays on his lips.

"It will, baby, it always does," he murmurs, his voice low and dark.

Geto positions himself atop you, his strong legs straddling either side of your body, anchoring him in place. He leans over you, the intensity of his gaze capturing yours as he methodically entwines his fingers with yours. With a firm but gentle grasp, he pins your hands down on either side of your body, his proximity reducing the world to the space between you. The warmth of his breath brushes against your face, his presence both overwhelming and exhilarating, as he holds you there under him, completely in control yet tender in his touch.

Before you can even get a word in, you gasp when you feel large pressure against your hole.

"Slowly baby," he hushes you before you can protest. "I'll go slowly."

Suguru's slow roll of hips hips into you is enough to make you scream. The way his dick parts your walls and fills every single inch of you makes your brain go hazy, especially when his tip smooshes against your cervix, sending blots of electricity throughout your body.

"Talk to me baby," Suguru murmurs, his voice cracking from the vice grip your cunt has on dick. "Want me to move?"

You're too lost in the hazy pleasure to form words, all you can do is nod, making Geto breathe out an air of what must be relief. His thrusts started out shallow and slow, testing the waters for how much he could get away with. What your limits were, and if you could fully take him for what he wanted.

You feel like you are going insane from the pleasure. Your cries came silent from your throat, eyes screwed shut in complete bliss. Your body adjusted rather quickly to him, Suguru coaxing you to relax as he peppers kisses along your neck, sucking and biting your sensitive skin. And as you adjusted, your hips began to buck against him at their own pace, beckoning him to move faster.

Of course, Suguru doesn't miss this, and without missing a beat he speads up his thrusts, the pap pap pap of his skin against your echoing in your ears

"Shit, you feel so good baby." Geto practically whines. You don't know it, but he's starting to lose his grip, the overwhelming pleasure beginning to unravel his usual composure.

The delicious friction of his dick scrapping your walls has your heart pounding in your ears and your breath close to hyperventilating. Everything is too much too good all at once. The proximity of Geto's body is overwhelming, his warm skin against yours, his ragged breath hot against your neck. When you gaze into his face, the sight nearly makes you faint—his eyes scrunched shut, lost in euphoria, beads of sweat lining his black hairline. His mouth is slightly open, panting, a sight that makes your cunt flutter from excitement.

"Su-Suguru, so good you're fucking me so good." you babble and he can only groan in response. Your toes curled and uncurled as he continued to wreck your body with his completely brutal thrusts. The pain of him hitting the tip of your cervix nearly every time mixed with the kisses he peppered on your neck and lips was all enough to end you to heaven.

He knows you're close. And you know it too. The way Suguru is fucking you is truly a primal display of affection; him rutting into your cunt like an animal in heat and you frantically scratching and clawing at his back.

Thats when an idea hits you, no, a need overcomes you, You need Suguru, you need all of him, all of him inside you filling you up and making you his.

"Sugu cum in me please," you beg through a hoarse voice. "Fill me up please please please."

He’s been pressing kisses and biting into your shoulder, but you don’t miss the way he practically whines at your words.

"Course baby, course I will."

As if on cue, you feel your seize up and your mind go blank. It feels like your body is free falling into a euphoric grave, electric arrows of pleasure coursing through your sin and directly to your core.

"Oh shit" Suguru curses at the way your cunt clamps down on him and it isnt to long before he follows you, shooting thick ropes of cum straight into your belly. In a fluid motion without leaving your insides once, he picks you up so you are straddling him, and his bare chest is pressed against yours.

“You’re so warm,” he murmurs into your ear. And you can only sigh in response.

'I'll buy you 1000 more lingerie sets if we can do this again."

[sttoru]

‘the king of curses doesn’t like sharing. especially not when it comes to his partner.’

☀︎｜tags. heian era!sukuna x female reader. sfw/fluff ? ig. set in the heian era, duh. jealousy & possessive themes. size difference (reader gets referred to as small!). tried to be realistic w/ sukuna’s characterisation so. . . don’t be surprised to read about him killing somebody. therefore, mentions of blood. reader is implied to have a fear of blood (dw sukuna takes care of it teehee). reader gets called 'brat'. not beta read; this sucks ass.

you were taking a stroll outside of the estate, the hem of the floral kimono you’re wearing lightly dragging along behind you. the weather was perfect with not a single cloud in sight.

a pair of silent footsteps follow yours and you sigh. even though it was an usual occurrence, you still aren’t used to having one of sukuna’s servants at your side at all times. your over protective lover insisted that it was for your own ‘safety’. as if anything or anyone could harm you whilst you stay within the four walls of the estate far up in the mountains.

sukuna is continuously busy and thus decided to assign you a personal maid that accompanies you and takes care of your every need when he isn’t able to. well - looking at the bright side of things - at least she tries her best to hide her presence from you. she tags along silently and only speaks when spoken to.

you stop near a sakura tree and tilt your head back to admire its beauty. after a few minutes pass, you hear a different pair of footsteps walking up your way. you turn your head and see a familiar male servant approaching you with his head held low.

his hands were holding onto a platter with a cup of warm tea and a few of your favorite delicacies. the brown-haired man greets you politely. maybe a bit too politely as his voice carries a bright smile, “good afternoon, my lady.”

you return the greeting with a smile of your own. it was like you to treat the servants around the estate with kindness and care — a total opposite of the king of curses. you take a pastry from the platter and look back up at the man, “thank you for bringing me these. i appreciate it greatly.”

the way you treat the ones of lower status has always been an admirable trait of yours. it might have stirred some forbidden feelings for you in the heart of the male servant. he knows that it was impossible - he’d seen how easily sukuna gets rid of those who get too close to you.

but, he isn’t here. the king of curses isn’t present in the current moment. the brown-haired male shifts in his place a little, fingernails digging into the material of the plate he was holding. he was going to do it — no one could hold him back. not even the maid who stood a couple steps away.

“y-you look very beautiful, my lady.” the servant stutters and bows his head at you. you are surprised to hear such a flattering sentence leave the lips of the man in front of you. none of the men around you had dared to be this straightforward in ages. they all knew the possible consequences that such actions could bring after all.

perhaps it was due to the absent intimidating presence of your lover. still, you can’t help but feel grateful. you giggle softly, covering your mouth with your free hand, “thank you so much.”

the male servant gulps at the sound of your laughter. ‘oh, how lucky the king of curses is - to have such a beautiful woman at his side,’ the man thought to himself. he was sure that he could treat you better than the indifferent sukuna himself.

he hesitates to continue the conversation for a second. there was an urge deep within him; to ask if you’d like to have some tea with him in the dining area. it would be extremely bold and maybe way out of line considering that you’re taken.

but, the way you reacted to his earlier compliment gave him a huge confidence boost. one that would sooner or later send him to his grave.

“would you perhaps be interested in joining me for a drink, my lady?” the servant asks and anything that happens after that instant, is all but a blur.

you can’t process the next few moments as everything happens way too fast. the last thing you remember seeing, was the servant before you. a sudden gust of wind passes by and the sounds of quick slashes fill your ears. you couldn’t figure out anything else as your vision gets blocked by something. or rather - someone.

a familiar and large hand covers the back of your head. the scent of the person holding you is also oddly familiar—a certain scent that made a shiver run down your spine from both excitement and light fear.

“sukuna?” you guess and guess correctly. your voice was muffled due to your face being smushed against his torso. you didn’t yet understand what happened, so you try to pull your body away from the king of curses, only for his grip on you to tighten.

sukuna’s face was as emotionless as ever. his eyes look down at the pile of blood near your feet — what was once a human being had now turned into nothing but a pure crimson liquid.

“foolish. absolutely foolish.” the king of curses grumbles, his tone filled with disgust. he doesn’t soften the grip on your body for even a moment. one of his four arms holds you captive against him, his hand firmly yet somehow tenderly cradling your head just above his midriff, “it seems that i cannot leave this place for a single second.”

sukuna glances at your personal maid who had been bowing to him the moment he appeared out of thin air. she could feel his piercing gaze on her and knew exactly what to do without being told: to clean up the mess that stained the garden’s pavement.

“sukuna,” you try to move your head again, but was still restricted. you let out a small whine in response. you just wanted to see your lover after spending an entire day without him. any thoughts about that servant from earlier had long vanished, “i want to see you. can i?”

the request is an innocent one. there isn’t a visible change in sukuna's expression, but the way you asked him that was quite. . . endearing, if he were to explain it. he would comply if it wasn’t for the literal bloodbath he created. which he doesn’t want you to witness.

“not yet.” he replies and effortlessly uses one of his arms to pick your small body up. your lover notices how you try to steal a glimpse at the scene behind you while he moves you around in his embrace. he grunts and gently smacks the back of your head, “no peeking, brat. do as told.”

sukuna knows how much you hate the sight of blood. he's being considerate towards you — even if you do not realise that just yet. however, he also does not have a single regret about murdering that servant. it was to be expected. anybody who dares to make a move on his woman should suffer his wrath.

plus, it's not like you don't know about sukuna's ruthless actions. you’ve come to get used to them; more and more male servants keep dissappearing without a trace after they’ve been ‘too friendly' with you. it's easy to guess who’s behind those disappearances.

it doesn’t bother you in the slightest. as long as you don't see it happening and as long as you get to stay under sukuna's care and protection - you don’t mind.

“can i look now?” you huff after sukuna has carried you away from the garden. the king of curses clicks his tongue at your impatience.

he sighs deeply before allowing you back on your own two feet, “i do not understand why you’re so adamant on looking at me, but fine.”

you waste no time and immediately open your eyes. your gaze doesn’t wander off towards your surroundings—it instantly settles on sukuna. he looked the same as usual; there was not a single change about his appearance and yet you find yourself smiling at the sight of him.

“i missed you.” you hug your lover and feel him returning the gesture a few seconds later. he looks the other way and may seem indifferent to your display of affection, though the man was secretly grateful for it. for you in general.

“mhm.” sukuna lets out a small noise of acknowledgment and that is all you get out of him. he doesn’t have to say much; his body automatically does the talking. he squeezes your body against his — your small frame disappearing behind his beefy arms.

the king of curses doesn’t understand why, but the way your eyes sparkle when looking at him, intrigues him. sukuna had never seen another human look at him like that before after all. they all cower in fear; except for you. you don’t show a single ounce of fear. thus why you are something - someone - he must keep for himself.

he has and will never have any intent on sharing you with anyone. you’re his, for as long as he exists.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Beneath a Dragon's Gaze

Summary: With Madame Sylvi indisposed on the evening Prince Aemond comes to visit, he requests someone different | Word Count: 1.7k~ | Warnings: sex work, smut, hair pulling, biting, titty sucking, darkish Aemond

A/N: saw ep 3 and felt silly 😁 not proofread an inch

“The Prince has asked for you.”

She could not help the wide-eyed look and the familiar flipping of her stomach, now feeling entirely different with the words that had come from her fellow woman’s lips. The Prince. Well, it could have meant either of them only weeks before, but no longer. They frequented this establishment quite often, as an upper-class brothel, with only the finest whores and service, it was only natural, and they had the coin to pay for it.

Suddenly, she felt quite cold in the sheer dress she had chosen that evening, doing very little to conceal the flesh that hid beneath, her nipples having formed peaks against the satin. What could she possibly say to that? There was no possibility of refusing. 

“Very well,” she responded, knowing it was not her place to question. There was no question as to which now, it was most certainly the very same who frequented for the warm embrace and soothing voice of Madame Sylvi, who spent hours in her company and paid her a hefty price for it. For secrecy. But she knew just as well that the only reason Aemond had requested her instead, was because on this night, his usual appointment was indisposed. 

Her heart raced as she slalomed through the scantily clad crowd, each step bringing her closer to the corner where the prince awaited. The halls were dimly lit, the soft glow of candlelight casting flickering shadows that danced along the walls, alongside those of curved figures, twisted with pleasure. She could hear the muted sounds of such from the other rooms, but they did little to quell the nervousness that gripped her.

When she reached the curtain, she paused for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady herself. The Prince. Aemond Targaryen. Known for his fierce demeanour and sharp intellect, he was not a man to be trifled with. Yet, beneath that cold exterior, she had heard whispers of a man burdened by the weight of his family.

Sliding the curtain across, met with the Prince, eyepatch already discarded and down only to his breeches, sat with cup in hand on the plush settee, his lone eye raising to her as she dipped for a curtsy. She felt her throat close at the sight of the sapphire, somewhat mirroring what was happening between her thighs.

"Madame Sylvi sends her apologies, my prince. She is unable to attend to you this evening."

Aemond's gaze lingered on her for a moment, and she felt her cheeks flush under his scrutiny. "I did not call for Sylvi tonight," he said finally, his tone giving nothing away. "I called for you."

Her lips parted to question. But she dare not let the words free. She was not one to ask about his intentions, a mere whore.

“Undress.”

The Prince’s eye never wavered as he watched, flesh revealed as she bared herself to him. He stood as if uncurling himself, finishing what was left in his cup before moving his hands to unlace his breeches, his head gesturing to the settee.

“Get on your hands and knees.”

His commanding tone made those flutters awaken once more. She had been employed at this establishment for so long, of course being naked and bared to an abundance of men was second nature. But there was something about the way he wanted her, the way it seemed not spurred by desire of any kind, but a need, like air, that ignited her nerves that she had not felt since her first few days in this line of work.

Still, bare arsed and exposed to a Prince, was a different matter entirely.

She felt his presence behind her, knowing he was naked as his thighs brushed against hers. He nudged her knees apart and pushed gently on her spine, encouraging her to arch her back. Though she could not see his face, the rippled design of the copper in front of her reflected enough for her to sense the detachment in his actions. So, she remained silent.

Prince Aemond guided himself to her centre, barely wet, and pushed his cockhead inside. He had barely breached her when his hands gripped the flesh of her buttocks, watching intently as his cock slowly slid deeper into her cunt, being swallowed by her body. She closed her eyes, the lack of preparation making the act more uncomfortable than pleasurable, but she hoped that with time, her arousal would ease the discomfort.

As Prince Aemond continued to push himself inside her, she focused on her breathing, trying to relax her body and ease the discomfort. The room was silent except for their breaths, the flickering candlelight casting shadows that danced on the walls. Each inch he gained felt like a stretch, a challenge to her body's readiness, but she bit her lip, determined to endure.

His hands, firm on her buttocks, began to knead her flesh, his grip alternating between gentle caresses and possessive squeezes. The friction built steadily, her body slowly acclimating to his presence. The initial pain started to fade, replaced by a growing warmth and the stirrings of pleasure.

Aemond moved with a deliberate pace, his thrusts measured and controlled. He seemed intent on watching every inch of his cock as it disappeared inside her, his breathing heavy and laboured. She could feel his intensity, the way he held back his own urges to maintain that slow, torturous rhythm.

Despite the initial discomfort, her arousal began to build. Her body responded to his movements, her inner walls slickening and accommodating his length with increasing ease. Soft moans escaped her lips, unbidden but honest, as pleasure began to mix with the remnants of pain.

Aemond's hands slid from her buttocks to her hips, pulling her back against him with each thrust. The new angle allowed him to go deeper, hitting spots inside her that sent jolts of pleasure through her body. Her fingers clenched the sheets beneath her, seeking some anchor as the sensations intensified.

He leaned forward, his breath hot against her ear. "Do you feel that?" he murmured, his voice husky and edged with restraint. "Do you feel how you take me in?"

"Yes, my prince," she gasped, her voice trembling with the effort to maintain composure. "I feel it."

Aemond's pace quickened slightly, his control slipping as his own desire took precedence. The sound of their bodies meeting filled the room, a rhythmic, primal music that spoke of need and release. Her moans grew louder, her body arching and pushing to meet his thrusts, seeking the pleasure that now consumed her.

With a sudden, possessive grip, Aemond's hand tangled in her hair, pulling her head back to expose her neck. His lips found her skin, teeth grazing lightly before he bit down, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to claim. The sensation sent a shiver down her spine, her body responding with an involuntary clench around his cock.

He groaned against her neck, the sound vibrating through her. "Take me, all of me," he whispered, his voice filled with approval and satisfaction. 

She surrendered to the sensations, her body melting into his as pleasure overwhelmed her. Every thrust, every touch, every whispered word from Aemond drove her closer to the edge. The discomfort was a distant memory now, replaced by a wave of ecstasy that built with each passing second. His movements so erratic, his stones clapped against her womanhood with every harsh push, slapping against her bud in a steady, unyielding rhythm.

The sensation pushed her over the edge, her own climax washing over her in a powerful, all-consuming wave. She cried out, her body convulsing around him, every nerve ending alight with pleasure. Finally, with a deep, guttural moan, Aemond drove himself to the hilt inside her once more, his body shuddering and then withdrawing quickly as he found his release and coated her buttocks and thighs with his pearly spend.

They stayed like that for a moment, both catching their breath, their bodies still joined. Slowly, Aemond released his grip on her hair and hips, his hands soothing over the marks he'd left. He pulled out of her velvety walls gently, leaving her feeling both spent and fulfilled.

She expected him to leave, to gather his clothes and slip away into the night, as most men often do with a flick of their coin into her lap. But instead, Aemond surprised her. He curled into her body, his head resting against her chest. His lips found her breast, mouthing at her skin with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the intensity of their earlier encounter. His hand moved to her other breast, caressing it with a gentle, almost reverent touch.

She looked down at him, her fingers threading through his silver, moonlit hair. He seemed to take more pleasure in this simple intimacy than she did, as if seeking comfort rather than mere satisfaction. His eyes were closed, his breathing steadying as he continued to nuzzle her chest.

"I hate it," he murmured after a long silence, his voice muffled against her skin.

She blinked, unsure of his meaning. "Hate what, my prince?"

Aemond shifted slightly, his hand stilling on her breast. "Sometimes, I think Madame Sylvi just says anything to appease me. She tells me what she thinks I want to hear, not what she truly believes."

There was a bitterness in his tone that caught her off guard. "Why do you think that?" she asked softly, her thumb stroking the back of his neck.

Aemond's grip on her breast tightened slightly, and she felt a shiver of unease. His lips brushed against her nipple, then his teeth grazed it, sending a jolt through her body. "Because it's easier for her," he said, his voice lower, more dangerous. "Because I'm a prince, and she fears offending me."

She gasped softly at the sensation, the mix of pleasure and pain reminding her of the precarious balance between comfort and control. "But you deserve honesty, my prince," she managed to say, her voice trembling.

He bit down a little harder, enough to make her wince. "Do I?" he asked, his tone a warning. "Or do I deserve the truth, no matter how it feels?"

Her heart raced, the threat in his words unmistakable. "The truth, my prince," she whispered, trying to maintain her composure. "Always the truth."

Aemond's teeth released her nipple, his tongue soothing the sting. He looked up at her, his eye fierce and unyielding. The sapphire lodged in the other piercing and dark. 

"Good," he said, his voice a soft growl. "Because I have no patience for lies, no matter how pretty they are."

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blackswxnn @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch

@castellomargot @emmaisafictionwhore @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @justbelljust

@minholy223 @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @primonizzutto

@qyburnsghost @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince

[reiderwriter]

Hi, so I have a request, but please don't feel pressured to write it now.

I was wondering if you could please do a scene or scenario where Spencer shouts out in desperation and panic "where's my wife" after a close call with the team on a very dangerous case.

A/N: I put a bit of a twist on your request so I hope you still enjoy it! Thank you for requesting~♡

Warnings: minor injury to canon characters, explosion, temporary loss of hearing, sight, etc.

The force of the blow was so strong that when Spencer Reid finally came to, a few seconds after hitting the ground hard, he couldn't hear a thing. 

Whether it was adrenaline, or an injury, or pure shock, his senses were numb, and the only thought in his head as he started screaming was of you. 

“Wh-where,” he coughed, shaking his head to try and focus. “Where's my wife?” 

His voice was quiet and weak at first, but it didn't matter to him. After all, he couldn't hear the words at all. He just felt his lips form the words and knew the familiar vibrations in his throat meant the sound was escaping into the wind. 

You pushed through crowds with a scream as you tried to get through to your team. Spencer wasn't the only one close to the blast. 

Emily, JJ, Morgan, and Hotch were all in various states of disarray around you as you ran back from the car across the street. You'd run back to check some files, feeling something off, and the heat and loud boom behind you was the confirmation you'd been looking for that you were right. 

After his first few attempts, Reid still couldn't see you, much less hear you or touch you or press his arms around you and not let go. He struggled to his feet and began calling again. 

“Where's my wife? Where is… WHERE'S MY WIFE?” His voice broke, and he  coughed gasped through each word, but he didn't stop. 

He stumbled forward, looking to see you through the haze of dust that had erupted from the blast site. Morgan ran to his side just as he tripped, pulling an arm under his as they stumbled together away from the rubble. 

“Where is she? She was right here, I need-” he coughed, leaning more on Morgan than he was walking for himself as his ankles twisted under him. 

“Hey, hey kid, we're okay. We need to get away from the blast, okay? Away.” 

Spencer kept rambling, though, his ears ringing as he blinked away his confusion and the panic creeped in stronger. 

“My wife, where is she? Morgan, I have to find her, she could be hurt,” he demanded, his voice stronger now as he pushed out of Morgan's grip. 

Ambulances and police cars were beginning to pull up, half of them already having been on route when your team had pulled up. 

Spencer searched through the crowd, sorting through faces until he found the one he desperately needed to see. 

Emily and JJ had been thrown back towards the cars, but both seemed to have missed big shrapnel and other injuries. He watched them clutch each other and stumble behind the cars as they called into their phones, requesting backup. 

Hotch was similarly talking fast to surrounding officers, and though he looked fine, he clutched his knee in his hand. The already dark material of his pants was somehow darker, and shinier in places, and it was only a moment later that Spencer realized a large chunk of shrapnel was jutting out of his leg, just above the knee. 

Rossi had been the furthest from the blast, bar you, and it was him that Spencer saw next, dusting off his clothes as he moved quickly to assess the scene. 

Morgan was still worriedly trailing behind him as he tripped over his feet. 

“Where's my wife? Where's my wife?” 

He finally saw you then, as you dove into the dust and smoke to assist your team. He was just about to fall to his knees when you ran to him, holding him up under his arms as he wrapped himself around you. 

“Found you. I found you, you're okay?” He asked, hands gently cradling your cheeks as he asked, tears in his eyes. 

“I'm fine, Spencer. Are you-” 

He silenced you with his lips, mouth slanting down on yours as he pushed every fear, every emotion, every ounce of adrenaline into your body. He kissed you like you'd never been kissed before, with desperation and longing and relief. 

And when he pulled away, he collapsed into your arms. 

Luckily, Morgan had been only steps away and took some of his weight off you as you stood, gasping for air and reeling from the kiss. 

You were so dazed, you collapsed to the floor, your knees giving in beneath you, and both Spencer and Morgan came down with you. The three of you were weak and traumatized, and emotions were running high, which is why you tried not to be offended by Morgan's line of questioning. 

“How long have you two been married?” He asked, and you were suddenly taken further aback. 

“What?” 

“Reid was looking for his wife. He was shouting ‘where's my wife? I need to find her.’ He was desperate. He was pushing away from me, and then he saw you, and he relaxed.” Despite the blow of the explosion and the now whirl of shrill sirens surrounding them, Morgan laid every word out carefully, like you would blow just as easily given the chance. 

“I'm not… we're not…Morgan, we're not even dating. I don't know what that was but…” 

Your hands carefully stroked Spencer's hair, gently smoothing it out of his eyes as you searched for answers in the man's unconscious form. 

You didn't stop until the paramedics arrived four minutes later, sitting unblinking as they hooked him up to an oxygen tank and carted him off to the nearest hospital. 

XXX 

The second time Spencer Reid awoke, it was dark outside, and the lights were low. But you were at his bedside, sleeping with your head by his legs, and your breathing was steady. So he let his eyes close again, not registering any of the pain the day had inflicted, and let himself sleep beside you. 

XXX

The third time Spencer Reid awoke, you were gone. He wasn't alone, though. Rossi sat upright in a chair beside the window of his hospital room, reading from what looked to be a case file. 

“Spencer, glad to see you returned to the land of the living,” Rossi said, noticing the younger man's movement and walking to his side. He pressed a button, and a doctor raced in, closing the door gently behind him. 

“Where is she? Where is-” 

“Spencer, it's okay. Everyone's okay. The doctor needs to run through some questions with you to check if you're feeling okay. Do your best to answer, okay, genius?” 

Spencer nodded, ignoring the small ache in his head, so similar to the headaches he'd been plagued with in earlier years. 

The doctor ran through standard questions, checked his blood pressure, checked his reactions, and made sure physically he was fine before moving on to more probing issues. 

“Doctor Reid, I'm going to ask you some simple questions about yourself now to assess for any neurological damage.” 

Reid nodded, regretting it instantly, but wanting to get out of the hospital as fast as possible to see you.  

“How old are you, Doctor Reid?” 

“Thirty, I'll be thirty-one this fall.” The doctor nodded and continued. 

“Where did you grow up?” 

“Las Vegas, Nevada. My mom still lives there. She's a patient at Bennington Sanitarium.” 

The doctor nodded and continued. 

“Are you married, Doctor Reid?” 

“Yes, my-” Spencer had to cut himself off as he processed the question fully. Was he married? No. He didn't remember any wedding. He had no romantic arrangement with anyone at this point in time. So why was he saying yes? 

Your face flashed into his head, and he grabbed his chest as his heart ached. It wasn't your face as he usually saw it, but that dazed and shocked expression you'd worn after he'd kissed you. 

He blanched and reclined slightly, suddenly needing all the pillows on the bed for more support as he realized the weight of his mistake. 

“Doctor Reid? Doctor Reid, did you understand the question?”

“What? Oh, no. No, I'm…I'm not married, I guess.” 

Rossi and the doctor shared a look before the doctor took his leave, promising to check in on you again in a few hours. 

The concerned look from Rossi as his bedside was almost too much to take. 

“Stop looking at me like that, Rossi,” he said, grumbling to himself, suddenly upset at the end of his delusions. 

“Like what? I'm not allowed to look at you now?” 

“You're not allowed to pity me. Where's everyone else? They're okay?” 

Rossi took a seat next to him and sighed.

“Hotch is in surgery - non-critical. They just want to be sure the shrapnel that landed in his leg didn't strike anywhere near a nerve or an artery. Morgan survived with a few bruises and scrapes that make him look even more like an action movie hero. He's coordinating with local law enforcement to catch out bomber.” 

Reid nodded along to each revelation, but his patience was growing thin. Rossi was watching him squirm. Reid, waiting for your name to pop up in conversation so he could talk about you, think about you with a valid excuse. 

“Emily and JJ are back at the motels, Penelope met them there to help them out. Emily's left arm is broken, and she has a nasty cut on her face, JJ twisted an ankle and sprained it pretty bad, so she'll be sitting for a while. I, myself, survived with pleasantly few cuts, a boon given my advancing years-” 

“Y/N, what about Y/N?” Reid finally burst, looking pathetically down at Rossi from his hospital bed. 

“Eager, aren't we?” 

“I need to know she's okay, and that... that she doesn't hate me.” 

“You can find those answers out yourself, kid. My shift is almost over.” 

Rossi stood and grabbed his cup of coffee, saluting Reid as he strolled out of the door. 

Reid was confused until the door opened again thirty seconds later, and you rushed in, breathing heavily as you took in his appearance, checking for damage. 

“Y/N,” he said, sitting up again. “Listen, I'm so, so sorry for kissing you yesterday. My mind must've been jumbled after the explosion and- and I thought you were actually my wife, and we were married-” 

You closed the distance between you quickly, grabbing his cheeks like he had grabbed tours only a day before and planting your lips back on top of his again. 

You kissed him the way you'd been kissed once before. With desperation, and longing, and relief. And when you pulled back, there were tears in your eyes that you didn't let fall, as you pressed yourself into Spencer Reid's arms. 

“Don't. Don't scare me like that again. I thought we'd lost you, I thought you'd kissed me and then - and then died!” You ranted, your arms gesturing wildly, every few seconds pausing to rake a hand through your hair. 

“You're not angry?” 

“Yes. Yes, I am angry, Spencer. You got hurt again, I'm seething.” 

“At me. You're not angry at me for kissing you?” He asked, smiling up as you goofily, a little bit worse for wear, but still shining nonetheless. 

“Oh. No. I was confused, but I'm not angry.” 

“Good,” he said, nodding, the two of you falling into an awkward, tense silence. You picked at dust on his shoulder as he stared at you, neither of you bold enough to say another word until the tension was palpable and Spencer Reid burst open. 

“Can I kiss you again?” 

[inkspiredwriting]

A Life Worth Fighting For

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

A/N: It's time we all got our five back. Five needs y/n, in every timeline. If I'm honest, I don't want to read anything more about this Five/Lila relationship. For me that never happened. From now on I'll be posting the stories that I've already finished writing

Warnings: spoilers for season 4 episode 5-6

The air shimmered with energy as Five and Lila landed in yet another timeline, they found themselves in a cozy, well-kept house that radiated warmth and comfort. The scent of fresh coffee hung in the air, mingling with the subtle fragrance of flowers from somewhere nearby.

Lila glanced around, her brow furrowed with suspicion. “This doesn’t look like any of the timelines we’ve been to,” she muttered, her hand instinctively moving toward the handle of the knife strapped to her thigh. “Too quiet, too… perfect.”

Five didn’t respond immediately. He was scanning the room, his sharp eyes taking in every detail. The polished wooden floors, the cushy furniture, the family photos lining the walls—it was all so domestic, so ordinary. It felt like the calm before a storm, and after seven years of battling against the odds in a timeline where everything was wrong, he couldn’t trust it.

“We need to be careful,” Five said finally, his voice low. “This place looks safe, but it’s too familiar. We could be in one of those timelines where something’s just a bit off.”

“Like that time where your younger self shot at us??” Lila quipped, her lips curving into a smirk that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Exactly,” Five replied, the memory flashing through his mind. “Let’s find out where we are and who’s running the show here.”

Just as he was about to suggest searching the house, the door to the living room swung open. Both Five and Lila instinctively tensed, ready for whatever was about to step through.

But what they saw caught them completely off guard.

Another Five stood in the doorway, looking just as surprised as they were. This version of Five was dressed casually, in a button-down shirt and jeans, a far cry from the suits that the time-traveling Five was used to. He looked… settled.

“What the—” the other Five started, his eyes narrowing as he processed the scene before him. “What are you doing in my house?”

Five stepped forward, his gaze locked onto his counterpart. “We’re from a different timeline” he said, his voice steady.

The other Five’s eyes widened in recognition, then narrowed again with suspicion. “A different timeline? What do you want?”

Before Five could respond, Lila spoke up, her tone laced with annoyance. “Listen, mate, we don’t want to be here any more than you want us to be. We’re just trying to get back to our own timeline, but we’ve been stuck in the wrong one for seven years. Seven years!”

The other Five’s expression softened slightly, though the wariness didn’t leave his eyes. “Seven years? What happened?”

Five took a deep breath, trying to steady himself as memories of those long, grueling years came rushing back. “We got trapped,” he explained, his voice quieter now. “No way out. We were stuck there for what felt like a lifetime. And… well, we ended up together.”

For a moment, there was silence. The other Five’s eyes flicked between his counterpart and Lila, his expression growing darker with each passing second. “You ended up together?” he repeated, disbelief coloring his tone. “You and her?”

Five nodded, bracing himself for the reaction he knew was coming.

The other Five’s jaw tightened, and without warning, he stepped forward and smacked his counterpart on the back of the head. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he snapped, his voice a mix of anger and incredulity. “Do you even know what you’ve done?”

Lila’s eyes flashed with anger, but Five raised a hand to stop her from retaliating. “I didn’t have a choice,” he said, though even as he spoke the words, he knew how weak they sounded.

“There’s always a choice!” the other Five shot back, his anger unabated. “You’re telling me that in seven years, you never once thought about the consequences? About Diego? He’s her husband in our timeline, for Christ’s sake! They have three kids together!”

Five flinched at the mention of Diego, a pang of guilt stabbing through him. “I don't have a girlfriend or wife,” he said defensively, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “I have no one.”

At this, the other Five’s anger seemed to shift, turning into something more like pity. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Because you gave up,” he said quietly. “You gave up on yourself, and you gave up on your family.”

For a long moment, Five couldn’t find the words to respond. The weight of what his counterpart was saying pressed down on him like a lead blanket. Had he really given up? Had he allowed himself to lose sight of everything that mattered because he was too tired, too lost, to keep fighting?

The silence between them grew heavy, filled with all the unspoken regrets and what-ifs of a life that could have been.

“Look,” the other Five said, his voice softer now, “I know how easy it is to get lost in this mess, to lose sight of who you are and what you want. But you can’t just throw everything away because things get hard. You have to fight for what matters.”

Five looked down, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He wanted to believe that it wasn’t too late, that he could still find the life he’d always wanted, the love he’d convinced himself was out of reach. But the last seven years had left him scarred, beaten down by a world that had taken so much from him.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of laughter coming from outside. He looked up and saw that the other Five was gazing out the large bay window, a small smile on his lips.

Five followed his gaze and felt his heart clench at the sight that greeted him.

In the garden, a beautiful pregnant woman was playing with a little girl, who looked to be around four years old. The woman’s laughter was like music, her face glowing with happiness as she twirled the giggling child around in her arms. The little girl had a mop of dark hair and eyes that sparkled with mischief—eyes that Five recognized all too well.

“That’s Y/n,” the other Five said softly, his voice filled with warmth. “And that’s our daughter, Maddie.”

Five stared at him, his mind reeling. “I want what you have,” he said finally, his voice barely a whisper. “I want… her.”

The other Five nodded, his expression firm but not unkind. “Then fight for it,” he said. “Don’t give up on yourself. Don’t give up on her.”

Five’s throat tightened as he watched them, his heart aching with a longing he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years. This was it. This was what he had wanted, what he had fought so hard to protect but had never truly believed he could have. A family. A home. A life filled with love.

He could have had this. He could have had her.

“I can’t believe…” Five started, but his voice broke, and he had to swallow the lump in his throat. “I can’t believe I gave this up.”

“You didn’t,” the other Five said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Not yet. You still have a chance to find her. You still have a chance to make this life your own.”

Five closed his eyes, trying to block out the overwhelming tide of emotions threatening to drown him. He didn’t deserve this—this kindness, this hope. But he wanted it more than anything. He wanted to find his y/n, to have his own Maddie, to fight for a life worth living.

When he opened his eyes again, he found the other Five watching him, a knowing look in his eyes.

“Go,” the other Five said gently. “Find her. Fight for her.”

Five nodded, and then turned to Lila, who had been watching the exchange in silence. She looked at him with a mixture of sadness and understanding, knowing that whatever they had shared was over.

“We should go,” Five said softly, his eyes meeting Lila’s. her expression unreadable, and with a final nod to the other five, he teleported them both away, leaving the other Five standing alone in the quiet house.

A few moments later, the front door opened, and Y/n and Maddie walked in, their faces flushed with happiness from their time in the garden. Y/n smiled warmly at Five, the love in her eyes undeniable as she approached him.

“Everything okay?” she asked, a note of concern in her voice as she noticed the tension in his posture.

Five looked at her, his heart swelling with an overwhelming sense of gratitude and love. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as he kissed her gently on the lips.

“Everything’s perfect,” he murmured against her lips, his voice filled with emotion. “I’m just… so happy that I have you. You’re my one true love, y/n. No one else. Just you.”

Y/n smiled, her eyes shining with love as she leaned into his embrace. “I love you too,” she whispered, resting her head against his chest.

Five held her close, the weight of everything that had just happened slowly fading away as he focused on the warmth of her body against his, the sound of her heartbeat, the soft rise and fall of her breath. This was his life, his family, his everything.

And he wouldn't give that up for anything in the world...timeline or not.

[sanarsi]

Favourite Lamb

post-Jackson!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: Joel finally has what he wanted – a quiet life, a farm, and you. After a hard day at work, you're eager to take care of your man. Warnings: +18, MDNI, porn with a little bit of plot, old man!Joel, soft/rough throat fucking, soft!dom!Joel, blowjob, post-Jackson!Joel, age gap (not specified) Wordcount: 2k An: We love taking care of our man so it's nothing more than giving him pleasure. Music I worked with: Sweet - Cigarette After Sex

Masterlist

A quiet noise woke you from your sleep. You looked around the dark room, noticing that the other side of the bed was still empty. You frowned, realizing that Joel still hadn't joined you even though it was late and he should’ve been home by now. 

Another noise caught your attention, so you slowly stood up and quietly opened the door. The dim light reached the hallway from the living room where a quiet curse had come from. You recognized the voice, so you headed towards. 

A loud sigh echoed off the walls as you peeked out from behind the wall. 

“Joel?”  Your soft voice caught the attention of the man sitting on the couch. 

He looked up in shock to see you up at this hour. “Shit,” he cursed, realizing it was probably his fault. “I didn’t mean to wake you up, baby, sorry.” 

You smiled softly as you walked deeper into the room. He didn’t take his eyes off you as he placed the glass of whiskey on the table and held out his hand so you can walked over and let him pull you onto his lap. 

“Where were you?” you asked, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and snuggling into his chest.

"Detector at the eastern border has stopped working," he explained, sighing quietly with tiredness and wrapping arm around your waist, hugging you tighter. “I know it's late but I just wanted to get this over with,” he added before you could point it out. He hated when he gave you reasons to worry and you hated it too. 

Now, that you lived far away from everything and everyone, you worried about him more than ever. For the first time in years, you allowed yourself to look away from each other as you tended to your little farm. Sometimes it scared you that you didn't see him for more than ten minutes. It was hard to get used to this kind of life after having eyes in the back of your head every day.

“And you fix it?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. 

At first, silence answered you, and then a quiet snort. “No.” 

You laughed quietly and rested your forehead against his temple, allowing yourself a moment of closeness you had been missing all day. 

“We’ll take care of it tomorrow,” you suggested, and Joel knew very well that there was no point in arguing with you about it. "And now I will take care of you," you added, nuzzling his cheek. You felt his muscles relax beneath you before he smiled in amusement. 

"Yeah? You want to take care of me?" He glanced at you and grabbed your chin between his fingers to pull you in for a soft kiss. You purred contentedly and without hesitation, you pressed yourself harder to him, deepening the kiss. Your tongues lazily played with each other as you slowly adjusted your position until you were straddling him. 

“Mhm,” you murmured against his lips. “How does that sound?” 

Joel looked at your delicate features and innocent smile and his heart immediately skipped a beat. 

“Perfect, baby,” he whispered as his hands began to smooth over your bare thighs. 

The rough touch of his warm hands sent shivers through your body, encouraging you to grind your hips against his. His quiet sigh echoed against your lips before you leaned in for a kiss again. The taste of whiskey on his tongue brought you a familiar feeling of safety, and the grip of his hands on your ass ignited your core. 

Cock in his pants was getting harder with every passing minute as you pressed your warmth against his. In moments like these, he was reminded of how much he hated being away from you for so long. 

You moaned as he dug his fingers deeper into your flesh. The lazy kisses grew deeper with each passing second making the material of your panties wet. 

“I missed you, baby,” he whispered against your lips before letting his hands disappear under your tank top. 

You sighed as you felt his large hands on your breasts. He began to tease your nipples with his thumbs, drawing a soft moan from you. He loved the sounds you made just for him. 

His sweet little girl…

"She missed me too?" he asked, starting to plant kisses on your neck. His thick stubble teased your delicate skin, making you shiver as another wave of arousal soaked your underwear. 

“Always,” you gasped under his touch. 

You let him take off your top, which landed on the other end of the couch. His attention immediately focused on your tits, he began massaging one and with a quiet growl began kissing, sucking, and nibbling on the other. 

You could feel his movements becoming more and more needy, and even though you wanted to give in, you had other plans for him. 

“I was supposed to take care of you,” you reminded him, running your nails over his scalp. 

Joel pulled away from your nipple with a smack, looking at you with a drunken gaze. He was breathing heavily and it was possible that if he wasn't as tired as he was at that moment, he would have started arguing with you about it. But today was your lucky day because he gave in without resistance, leaning comfortably against the back of the couch. 

"Right," he nodded. "Go ahead." 

You laughed under your breath and leaned down, placing a sweet kiss on his lips before you started moving lower and lower, to his neck and the exposed part of his chest. Your soft lips made him unable to resist the bliss that began to take over his senses. He closed his eyes, relaxing under your touch as you started to unbutton his shirt, kissing every exposed part of his chest. 

The lower you were, the more you had to retreat until you finally ended up kneeling between his legs. He couldn't deny himself this sight, so he began to watch as your fingers easily managed to fasten his jeans. Without a word, he lifted his hips so you could slide the material down his thighs. His cock was already standing stiff, showing its shape under his boxers. 

You unconsciously licked your lips as saliva began to flow into your mouth. It had been a while since you had the chance to look at him from this perspective. Joel would rather make love to you than see you kneeling in front of him. Maybe he was really getting old and would rather see you cry with his cock inside you than you choke on it. 

“Not too deep,” he reminded as you began to slide his underwear off. 

You looked at him with a sweet smile and rolled your eyes at his protectiveness. “I told you, I don’t mind.” 

“I know, baby,” he sighed and clenched his jaw tighter as you cupped his base. “But not too deep,” he repeated gently, with concern. 

You nodded quietly before your tongue met his tip. A familiar taste took over your senses as you slowly began to wet his head. Joel moaned softly as he felt your tongue gently caress him, up and down and around, until you sucked on him, letting a line of saliva run down his length, stopping at your fingers. He hissed at the sudden surge of pleasure, watching your lips wrap around his thickness. You didn't even give him a moment to breathe before swallowing him halfway. 

"Oh fuck," he gasped and twitched as his balls tightened painfully. 

You began to work on his cock, taking one half into your mouth with wet sounds and pumping the other with your hand. A shuddering breath left his lungs as he realized why he didn't like it when you gave him a blowjob. 

One answer – he always came too quickly. 

Then he heard the first choking sound and his cock throbbed dangerously. "Easy, baby, easy," he tried to calm you down, slow you down. But despite his words, you did it again. 

You knew the effect you had on him, the way you choked on him, he was experiencing fucking nirvana. He didn't want to admit it, but you had already witnessed him come in mere minutes. And now you were going to do that again. 

He couldn't control his moans anymore as you swallowed him deeper and deeper over and over again. His hips were thrusting towards you as if he couldn't control his own body. His mind was saying something different than his balls, that were dripping with your saliva. He wanted more but at the same time he didn't.

You felt his cock harden, heralding the approaching fulfillment, so you only sped up your head movements. Loud gasps mixed with growls, and while he fought the pleasure, you sucked your cheeks in contentment, licking the sensitive flesh at the tip.

“Baby…” he gasped in warning. 

You moaned with your mouth full and his cock twitched deep in your throat. The next sound of you choking was like a red rag to a bull for him, he couldn’t help himself as he placed his hand on the back of your head. You didn’t protest as he began to hold you in place, your nose pressed against his mound, and began to thrust his hips upward. You relaxed, letting him go as deep as he could and the sounds leaving his throat were enough payment for the tears in your eyes.

“Yes, yes,” he hissed, “you’re such a good girl.” His cock slowly took your breath away and you instinctively tried to pull back but he wouldn’t let you. “I know, baby, I know.” And he kept pushing until his breathing couldn't keep up with his movements and his cock began to throb.

You moaned tearfully, to which he responded with a blissful groan before hot cum shot straight down your throat. You swallowed everything that leak out of him as he came down from his peak, fucking your mouth slower and slower. Finally, he sighed in relief and let you pull away for air.

You almost choked on your own tears as you straightened up and began to wipe the drool from your chin. Joel looked at you with a drunken look, bliss written all over his face while you looked like a disaster, crying with red eyes and swollen lips. A feeling of regret appeared in his chest as he realized the state he had brought you to. 

"I'm sorry, baby," he said worriedly, leaning down to you. His warm hands found their way to your cheeks, wiping away the traces of tears. He hated that he was losing control with you, but as much as he tried to fight it, he just couldn't. He hated the sight of you in such a state, but he loved the feeling of your lips around his cock. "I didn't mean to—"

"I liked it," you interrupted him with a gentle smile. Joel blinked a few times, not being able to tell if he heard you correctly.

“You… like it?” he asked in disbelief. You barely had time to nod before he pulled you up onto his lap and hugged you to his chest. You licked your swollen lips and rubbed your eyes to get rid of the last traces of the glass effect. His strong arms wrapped you in warmth as you pressed yourself deeper into him. He watched your innocent smile with a tender gaze and allowed himself to press his cheek into your palm as you began to stroke his stubble. 

"Like I said, I don't mind." You leaned in to steal a gentle kiss. Joel, eyes closed, smiled at the tender gesture and nuzzled your nose. 

"I love you, you know that?" he whispered, running his fingers over your skin. 

"You have no other choice," you smiled wider, to which he snorted with laughter and pulled you in for a kiss.

Tags some babes @bbyanarchist @xdaddysprincessxx @yorksgirl @joelssluttyknee @amyispxnk @21stcenturywitchcraft

[xoamiiren]

FORGIVE AND FORGET , ⋆｡°✩ 𓈒𓈒 silly arguments

𖥔 PRECIS. In which, they try to ignore you after a petty dispute. PAIRING. sulky bf!enha x sorry gf!reader GENRE. fluff WARNINGS. skinship, mild kissing, post argument, petnames

authors note ୨୧ they’re all whipped for (y/n) 🧸

─────────

HEESEUNG

The silence in the apartment was thick, almost suffocating. You had been tiptoeing around it for hours, trying to ignore the gnawing ache in your chest. But as time passed, the weight of Heeseung's absence, even though he was just a few rooms away, became unbearable.

Finally, you couldn't take it anymore. You took a deep breath and left your room, determined to make things right.

The soft glow of the gaming room greeted you as you stepped inside. Heeseung sat at his desk, headphones snug over his ears, fingers deftly moving across his controller. His eyes were glued to the screen, but you knew him well enough to see the tension in his posture—the slight furrow of his brows, the way his jaw was clenched just a little too tight.

You approached quietly, trying to gauge his mood as you stood behind him. The sounds of an in-game explosion filled the air, and you pretended to be interested, your gaze lingering on the screen. But it was no use—Heeseung didn't acknowledge you, his cold shoulder a sharp reminder of the earlier argument.

Enough was enough.

With a small sigh, you reached out and gently turned his chair toward you. His eyes flickered with surprise, but his expression remained stubbornly neutral, his gaze sliding away as if you weren't even there.

You didn't let it deter you. Leaning down, you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, then another to the other side. When he continued to ignore you, you moved closer, placing tender kisses along his jawline, silently pleading for his attention. Heeseung turned his face away, his resistance wavering but still there.

A faint smirk played at the corners of your lips. You weren't giving up that easily.

You lowered your lips to his neck, brushing them against his skin, feeling the slight shiver that ran through him. He tensed, but you could sense the walls he'd built around himself starting to crumble. You pressed on, kissing the warm skin of his collarbone, peeking out from the edge of his hoodie.

Heeseung's breath hitched, and you felt his resolve begin to melt away, his shoulders relaxing as he subconsciously leaned into your touch. Still, he tried to hold onto his anger, his hands gripping the controller as if it were the last line of defense.

But you knew you'd won when his character faltered on the screen, losing the match in a flash of red. He let out a frustrated sigh, finally meeting your gaze. The anger in his eyes had softened, replaced by something warmer, something that spoke of surrender.

Without a word, Heeseung wrapped his arms around you, pulling you down onto his lap. The tension between you dissolved in an instant, replaced by a comforting sense of closeness.

"You’re impossible, you know that?" he murmured, his voice low and affectionate as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your familiar scent.

You chuckled softly, your fingers threading through his hair as you settled into his embrace. "But you still love me."

Heeseung grip tightened around you, a smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, I do."

JAY

Jay had been avoiding you all day. When you tried to cuddle him in bed that morning, he rolled right out, leaving you alone with the cold sheets. When you tried to sit and listen to him play his guitar, he sighed, put it away, and left the room without a word. Now, he was in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, hair falling into his focused, hard eyes as he chopped vegetables for dinner.

You couldn’t stand the silence anymore. With a determined shuffle, you made your way into the kitchen, standing beside him. The rhythmic sound of the knife hitting the cutting board filled the room, but all you could focus on was the distance between you two. You watched the way his jaw tensed, the way his hands moved with precision, and it hurt more than you wanted to admit.

Finally, you groaned softly and latched onto him from behind, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"Jay," you whispered, but he didn’t respond. You squeezed tighter, hoping to break through the barrier he had put up.

"Jay…" you tried again, sliding your hands up under his shirt, resting them on his chest. You couldn’t see it, but his breath hitched, and a blush crept up his cheeks.

"I'm sorry…" you muttered, voice filled with genuine regret. The sound of chopping stopped, and the room fell silent. Slowly, Jay turned to face you, his expression softened, the hard edges of his irritation melting away.

“That’s all I wanted to hear, baby,” he murmured, pulling you into a warm embrace.

The tension dissolved as he held you close, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. The argument felt like a distant memory as you found comfort in each other's arms, the quiet kitchen now filled with the warmth of forgiveness.

JAKE

You knock gently on Jake's door, the sound echoing in the quiet apartment. No answer. A pang of guilt twists in your chest as you slowly turn the handle and peek inside. Jake is curled up on his bed, his back to the door, the soft glow of the setting sun casting a warm hue across the room.

Taking a deep breath, you slip inside and quietly close the door behind you. The bed dips slightly as you crawl in beside him, but he shifts away, his silent rejection a small but painful sting. You try to wrap your arm around his waist, hoping for just a little closeness, but he pushes it off with a huff, pulling the blanket tighter around himself.

You sigh softly, rolling over to face the opposite direction, feeling the heavy weight of the silence between you. The minutes tick by slowly, each one a reminder of the distance that shouldn’t be there.

Just when the silence starts to feel unbearable, you feel Jake’s arms snake around your waist, pulling you back toward him in a tight embrace.

His breath is warm against your neck as he whispers, voice tinged with frustration and affection, “I can’t! I can’t stay mad at you…”

A soft giggle escapes your lips, the tension in your chest easing as you lean back into him. “I’m sorry, Jake…”

He squeezes you a little tighter, his voice softening, “I know, love. I know.”

In that moment, wrapped in each other's arms, the petty argument fades into the background, leaving only the warmth of your connection, stronger than ever.

SUNGHOON

Sunghoon could outlast anyone in the silent treatment game, and right now, he was proving it. It was day three of his cold shoulder, and you were growing more frustrated by the hour. Unlike him, you couldn’t stand to let an argument linger for more than a few hours, but Sunghoon? He was the Ice Prince, and he wore that title with pride.

This morning, you decided to take matters into your own hands. If words wouldn’t thaw him out, maybe a more direct approach would. After he left for a bit, you took the time to get dolled up, wearing the dress you knew he adored, with your hair perfectly styled and a hint of his favorite perfume lingering in the air.

When Sunghoon returned, you greeted him with a soft smile, hoping to see some sign of forgiveness in his eyes and admiration for his pretty girlfriend. But instead of acknowledging you, he glanced your way, then walked straight past you and out to the balcony with a book in hand.

Your frustration peaked. You had tried everything—apologies, subtle hints, even this!—and yet he still acted like nothing had happened. As you watched him settle into a chair outside, calmly opening his book, you finally snapped.

You marched out onto the balcony, snatching the book from his hands with a huff.

For a moment, he just looked at you, his expression…expectant? Surprised. Then, to your utter confusion, he smirked and let out a quiet laugh.

“What’s so funny?” you demanded, feeling your anger and confusion mix.

He leaned back in his chair, a playful glint in his eyes. “I forgave you two days ago... I just wanted to see how long you could go like this. Impressive, love.”

Your mouth fell open in disbelief. “You mean—”

Sunghoon shrugged, his smirk widening. “I knew you wouldn’t last as long as me.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Hoon… that’s so stupid.”

“Maybe,” he said, his tone softening as he reached for your hand. “But it’s kind of fun, isn’t it?”

Rolling your eyes, you sat down beside him. “Next time, just tell me you forgive me, okay?”

“Alright,” he chuckled, pulling you close.

You handed him his book back, and together, you settled into a comfortable silence. As you leaned against him, the tension finally faded away, replaced by the warmth of his presence. Reading together, the world around you seemed to melt away, leaving just the two of you on that peaceful balcony.

SUNOO

You hesitated outside the bathroom, listening to the faint sound of Sunoo humming softly as he went through his nightly skincare routine. You knew he was still upset, but you couldn’t help but smile at how cute he looked when he was focused, even if he was giving you the cold shoulder.

Gathering your courage, you pushed the door open and stepped inside, hoping to join him for the last part of his routine, a ritual you both cherished. However, the moment you entered, he pulled off his sheet mask with a swift motion.

“I’m finished,” he mumbled, his tone clipped, before he brushed past you, leaving the bathroom.

You sighed, feeling the weight of the silent treatment as you watched him walk away. Not willing to give up, you followed him into the living room where he was already curled up on the couch, surrounded by an array of snacks, ready to watch his favorite drama.

You crept closer, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, before softly asking, “Can I watch with you?”

Sunoo shrugged, rolling his eyes slightly, but you noticed how he scooted over to make room for you. It was a small gesture, but it gave you hope. You pouted softly as you settled beside him, the space between you feeling like a chasm.

The drama played on the screen, but the tension between you both was hard to ignore. The silence stretched on, making the atmosphere even more awkward.

Finally, Sunoo turned to you, his gaze serious and alittle sad. “I didn’t like what you did, baby… it wasn’t nice.”

His words were gentle, but you could hear the hurt behind them. You bit your lip, feeling a pang of guilt.

You leaned in, brushing your lips against his in a soft, apologetic kiss, “I know, Sun… I’m so sorry.”

He looked at you for a moment, searching your eyes, before finally softening. His arm slipped around you, pulling you closer as he let out a small sigh.

“Just don’t do that again, okay?“

You nodded, snuggling into his side, relief washing over you as he pressed play on the drama. The warmth of his embrace and the familiar sound of the TV made everything feel right again. The argument was forgotten as you both got lost in the show, the comfort of being together making the night feel perfect once more.

JUNGWON

Jungwon was upstairs in his bedroom, the soft sound of pencil on paper the only noise breaking the silence. He was hunched over his sketchbook, eyebrows furrowed as he worked on a drawing—something he often did when upset. And right now, you were the reason for his frustration.

You took a deep breath, hesitating outside his door before gently pushing it open. His gaze flicked toward you for the briefest moment before he returned to his sketch, pointedly ignoring your presence. The tension in the room was thick, making your heart ache with guilt.

Stepping fully inside, you spotted a stack of scrap paper on his desk. An idea sparked, and you grabbed a piece, quickly doodling a tiny strawberry with a smiley face and little arms, dancing cheerfully across the page. In a small speech bubble, you wrote, "Jungwon, I'm sorry, and I love you."

Gathering your courage, you crumpled the paper into a ball and, with a playful smirk, tossed it at his head. It bounced off lightly, causing him to pause. Jungwon glanced over at the crumpled paper before picking it up and smoothing it out. When he saw the doodle, the corners of his mouth twitched, fighting back a smile.

He scribbled something on the paper before tossing it back to you. Unfolding it, you found his response: a doodle of a sulking Jungwon with crossed arms and the words, "You better be."

You giggled, grabbing another piece of paper. This time, you drew a tiny version of yourself with big puppy dog eyes, holding a sign that read, "Forgive me?" You sent it flying toward him.

Jungwon caught it, his resolve cracking as a small laugh escaped him. He grabbed his pencil again, quickly sketching a doodle of the two of you, now with a heart between your cartoonish figures. He added a note: "Only because you’re cute."

You beamed, heart swelling with relief and affection. Without thinking, you rushed over to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders from behind. “I really am sorry, Jungwon,” you whispered, resting your cheek against his.

He finally turned to look at you, his expression softening. “I know,” he said, his voice gentle as he pulled you into his lap. “But next time, don’t make me wait so long to forgive you.”

You nodded, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Of course not.”

He smiled, pulling you close as the two of you settled into a comfortable cuddle, the earlier tension melting away as you both laughed about your silly doodles. The argument was forgotten, replaced by the warmth of being wrapped up in each other’s arms.

NI-KI

Ni-ki’s usually playful and laid-back demeanor was nowhere to be found as he sulked in his room, still miffed from your earlier argument. But you had a plan—you knew just how to get him to forgive you. When you found him playing music on his speaker, you flopped beside him on the bed, flashing a smile.

“I like this song,” you chirped, hoping to break the ice.

Ni-ki didn’t say a word. Instead, he quirked a brow and hit the next button on his phone, the song switching immediately. You suppressed a grin at his pettiness but refused to give up. It was later in the day when he moved on to practicing dance moves in front of his mirror, you tried to join in, matching his rhythm with exaggerated precision.

He stopped mid-dance, a sigh escaping his lips as he grabbed his water bottle and headed out of the room, leaving you standing there with an amused expression.

The final act of your mission came when you found him sprawled on the couch with headphones on, eyes closed. Without hesitation, you gently flipped onto his chest, resting your head there and closing your eyes. You felt his body tense beneath you, but he didn’t push you away.

After a moment, he grunted, pulling his headphones down around his neck as he wrapped his arms around you, unable to resist any longer.

“You’re annoying as hell…” he muttered, voice laced with defeat.

“Mhm,” you hummed in agreement, snuggling closer, knowing you’d won him over.

[fatecantstopme]

Lustful Agony

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x plus size!reader

Summary: It's sex pollen, aka my favorite trope.

Warnings: cursing, use of pet names, an insane amount of smut, dubcon (cuz sex pollen), unprotected sex (p in v), oral (F receiving), masturbation (F).

"Would you please be careful?" you snapped.

Your partner froze and offered you a sheepish smile. "Sorry, doc. I wasn't paying attention."

"I noticed," you huffed. "There are any number of things in here that could kill us, so tread lightly."

"Maybe I should wait here."

You glanced in his direction and nodded. "You know what? Good idea. Stay there and don't touch anything."

You continued on through the dusty lab, hoping to find at least one working computer, but after 20 minutes, it seemed hopeless. Every computer had been destroyed and most of the paper files had been shredded or burned. All that remained was hundreds of glass vials filled with various liquids and gases that did gods-only-knew what.

"I'm starting to think this might be a burn and run," you called back to Bucky--still standing where you'd left him on the other side of the lab.

"If we blow this place, is there gonna be a toxic cloud?"

You shot an annoyed look in his direction. "I said 'burn', James, not 'blow'. We're not blowing up a lab filled with unknown chemicals and biological agents."

"Right, yeah." He looked at the ground, feeling slightly embarrassed. He always seemed to make a fool of himself in front of you and he hated it. He never wanted to be the fool, especially around you.

Your well-trained eyes scanned the room again before falling on a secured biological containment chamber. You knew that would be the best option for storing items for burning. All you'd need to do was get all the bio vials into the chamber and light it up.

You crossed the room to the chamber, feeling Bucky's eyes following you. He hated being in a position where he felt like he couldn't protect you, but he was out of his element here. As the resident hazardous materials expert, this was your area of brilliance.

You grumbled in annoyance when you noticed the lock on the containment chamber was activated. You were familiar with this particular model, and if you were lucky, these Hydra assholes hadn't been smart enough to bother changing the code. You input the pin, silently crossing your fingers, a smile spreading across your face when you heard the distinct sound of the mechanism unlocking.

You lifted the hood slowly, hoping to find the chamber empty. You had a momentary thought that you and Bucky should be wearing appropriate PPE, but the thought occurred to you too late.

A sound of surprise escaped your lips as a puff of sweet-smelling pink dust blew into your face from inside the cabinet. The tactical suit and gloves you were wearing did nothing to protect your respiratory system from the unknown substance.

The dust seemed to dissolve almost instantly, fading into nothingness before you could even alert Bucky to the hazard. He, of course, had heard your surprised gasp, thanks to his super soldier hearing.

"Doc? Everything okay?" he called worriedly.

"Not sure," you replied. "I, uh, I got hit in the face with some pink dust...and I'm willing to bet it's not fairy dust."

Bucky's blood ran cold. "Pink dust?"

"Yeah, smelled like some kind of super sweet candy--or those sugary wine coolers I drank in college."

Any color that remained in Bucky's face quickly drained. "Look at me."

His tone was so firm, it frightened you. Bucky normally joked around with you, but you could hear the fear in his voice and it scared you more than anything else.

You turned to face him and his expression confirmed your fears. "Do you know what it is?"

Bucky nodded. "I think so, but we won't know for sure for at least 30 minutes, possibly longer."

"Am I going to die?" your voice was so soft--so small--that even he almost didn't hear it.

"Not if I can help it."

When your eyes met his piercing blue orbs, he could see the terror reflected in them. He wanted to go to you, help you, but he knew he couldn't--not if you still had even the slightest trace of the dust on you.

"You need to rinse off before we get out of here," Bucky said calmly. "If it's what I think it is, then I can't get that stuff anywhere near me."

"Why? What'll happen?"

Bucky's gaze didn't quite meet yours. "I will tear you apart and not even realize it."

His words cut you like a knife. You knew deep in your soul Bucky would never hurt you, but if this substance could turn him into a wild animal, you wondered what the hell it was going to do to you.

You'd spotted a decontamination area when you'd first entered the lab, so you slowly made your way there, careful to avoid getting anywhere near Bucky.

Bucky radioed in to Sam to give him an update on the situation. You heard him describing what had happened and asking for another team to be sent in to destroy the facility.

You stood under the spray of the shower head and let the water pummel your skin. The pressure was almost painful, but you knew it was necessary to ensure the substance was no longer on your skin. You'd inhaled it, so you were screwed, but there was no reason for Bucky to be too.

After several minutes, you felt comfortable saying you were clean. You just wanted to get the hell out of this lab and back home.

You voiced as much to Bucky, but he shook his head slowly. "You're not gonna make it all the way home, (Y/N)."

You didn't like Bucky's use of your first name in this context...he always called you 'doc', and the change made you feel like death was around the corner.

Your face must have given away your fear because he continued. "I just mean you won't make it home before the symptoms start. Once they do, you won't want to be around anyone."

"So what do we do?"

"Safe house. It's our only option."

You groaned inwardly. You had zero desire to stay in that drafty little cabin another night, but you trusted Bucky's instincts, so you simply nodded.

Bucky was quick to usher you back to the quinjet, filling you in on his conversation with Sam. "He'll send in another team in full Level A hazmat gear. They'll take care of the place."

"Okay."

"You alright, doc? How you feelin'?"

"I feel fine so far. Just moderately terrified."

"Don't be. You're gonna be fine."

You wanted to believe him--really you did--but there was something in his voice that made you question if he even believed it.

By the time the jet touched down by the cabin, 25 minutes had passed since the moment of infection. Bucky still hadn't told you what you were dealing with and it was driving you insane.

You followed Bucky into the cabin and watched him drop his bag on the floor. He turned to look at you, eyes clearly sizing you up, checking to see if you were okay.

"Just tell me," you whispered--somewhere between a plea and a demand.

He sighed deeply. "How do you feel?"

You closed your eyes and took mental stock of your body, seeking anything out of the ordinary. "I feel hot, but that could just be the anxiety."

"How hot?"

"I don't know, like feverish, I guess."

Bucky groaned and the sound sent a wave of need through your body--a need that shocked you to your very core. This was absolutely not the time for your stupid crush to rear its head.

"Please don't hit me, okay? I'm just gonna touch your hand."

"Why would I hit you?" you asked a second before his flesh hand met yours. The feeling was pleasant and it warmed you from the inside out, until he removed his hand. You inhaled sharply as an intense pain you couldn't describe shot through you.

Bucky jerked his hand away, his worst fears confirmed. "I know what it is."

"Please," you whimpered.

"It's a biological agent Hydra developed when their attempts to make a useable super soldier serum failed. It was designed to induce a euphoric sexual state that would result in agony and possible death if penetrative sex was not performed and an orgasm was not achieved."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Hydra believed they could create super soldiers the old fashion way--by breeding them. Sprinkle some of the magic dust on a super soldier and he'd fuck his way through a room full of women without a single care for their well-being. They called it 'sex pollen'."

Your breathing was labored as pain began to spread through your body. You tried desperately to ignore it and focus on Bucky's words. "What happened?"

Bucky couldn't look at you as he responded softly, "None of the women survived the mating process."

You realized now what he'd meant back at the lab. You didn't really want to know, but you found yourself asking the question anyway, "Did they do it to you?"

Bucky closed his eyes, desperately trying to push the dark memories back down. "Yeah. They did."

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

Bucky shook his head, banishing the memories. "It doesn't matter. What matters now is how we handle this."

"If the sex pollen had that kind of effect on a super soldier, what's it gonna do to me?"

"I imagine it's going to be significantly worse for you if you don't...umm--if you don't reach climax."

"So I have to orgasm? Seriously?"

"I wish it were that simple."

Before you could respond, you doubled over in pain, an agonized groan escaping your parted lips.

Bucky rushed to you without thinking and laid his hands on your arms. You let out a pained whine and he pulled away, suddenly remembering what was happening.

"It feels like my skin is on fire," you cried.

"I know, doll. I know."

It was killing Bucky not to be able to help you. He was your protector in every situation, but he couldn't protect you from this. He knew exactly what kind of hell you were in for and it nearly broke him.

The waves of pain subsided and you were able to pull yourself upright. "Well this is fun," you mumbled.

"It's gonna get worse, (Y/N). Much, much worse."

"That's comforting, Buck. Thank you."

He gave you a sad look. "You can't do this alone."

"What do you mean?"

"The pollen was designed to force the creation of life...the only way to alleviate the pain is to give the pollen what it wants."

Your brain had become too muddled to understand what he was saying. "Plain English, Buck. Please."

"You, uh, you have to have sex."

"So you're saying I can't just masturbate this away?"

Bucky shook his head. "You have to have sex and your partner has to umm--ejaculate inside you."

Another wave of pain raked its claws through your skin, but you managed to stay upright this time. "What happens if I don't?"

You saw the look of sadness on Bucky's face and you knew you wouldn't like his answer. "You'll die."

"Well, fuck." You winced, reaching out to grab the back of the couch for stability. The pain was only increasing and you knew it was a matter of time before you couldn't take it any longer. "How sure are you that I'll die?"

"I mean, I don't know any regular humans that survived contact with the pollen. They were used as test subjects during its creation."

"I swear, Hydra gets more disgusting every time I learn something new."

Bucky was dying to help you. Seeing you in pain was agonizing for him and he knew his pain paled in comparison to yours. He would do anything for you--all you need do was ask.

"I'm gonna try waiting it out," you said firmly.

"What?" Bucky said, shock evident in his tone.

"I'm sure as hell not gonna force you to fuck me, Bucky. So I'm gonna wait it out."

"(Y/N), you're not forcing me to do anything. I'm offering to help. I don't want you to die."

You shook your head. "I'd rather die than force you into this."

"I'm offering--"

"Don't," you snapped. "No matter what you say, I'm going to feel like I'm forcing you to do something and I can't deal with that. So please, let me try to handle this alone."

Bucky knew for a fact he could overpower you with ease, especially when you were in such a state. He could make the pain stop and you would be glad for it in the moment. But he couldn't do it. He would never ever hurt you like that, even if it meant watching you die. It just wasn't something he was capable of.

"Okay, doll."

You could tell he didn't want to agree, but you were glad he wasn't arguing. All you wanted to do was tear your clothes off and try to find some sort of relief. The fire burning under your skin was intensifying by the second.

"I'm gonna take a cold shower and lock myself in the bedroom. Please stay out here."

Bucky simply nodded. He wanted to sit on this couch and listen to the sounds of your pain about as much as he wanted to get shot in the face. But he respected you too much to ignore your wishes.

You dragged yourself into the bathroom and stripped down to nothing before climbing into the cold shower. The frigid water seemed to help at first, but you discovered the effects were short-lived.

You leaned your head against the cold tile and let out a pained sob. You wanted the pain to stop so badly, but you didn't want to involve Bucky. You couldn't. Bucky was your closest friend and partner. His was the relationship you valued most in life and you wouldn't risk it for anything. It didn't matter you were in love with him. It didn't matter you'd wanted him from the moment you'd laid eyes on him. What mattered is you knew he didn't feel the same.

Bucky had a new girl in his bed several times a week. You were pretty sure you'd never seen the same girl twice in the three years you'd known him. Each one was a tall, blonde, model-thin, gorgeous woman. You didn't check a single one of those boxes. You didn't think Bucky was shallow, he just had a type. He was one of the hottest men you'd ever seen, so it only made sense for him to be with the hottest women.

You didn't think you were ugly, by any means. You just weren't his type. You were shorter, very curvy, girl-next-door average. You'd accepted it long ago and vowed to never tell him how you felt for fear of jeopardizing your friendship. Your current situation was as close as you could get to your biggest fear and you weren't willing to risk it. You loved him too much to lose him entirely. Even if he insisted he was willing to help, you knew he would come to regret it. Things would be awkward between you and eventually your friendship would come to an end.

"Not worth the risk," you muttered to yourself.

The cooling effects of the shower had long since worn off, so you turned off the water and grabbed a towel. As you wrapped it around your body, you found it was too small to cover everything and the scratchy material was painful against your overly sensitive skin.

You dropped the towel to the ground and opened the door a crack. "Bucky?"

"Yeah, doll?"

"Um, the towel hurts my skin, so um...please don't look while I walk to the bedroom."

Bucky inhaled deeply, calming himself. Sure, he wasn't impacted by the pollen, but the fact that your naked body was a few feet away from him certainly did.

"I'll close my eyes."

You tentatively opened the door and peeked out. You could see Bucky sitting on the couch, eyes closed as promised. You quickly rushed from the bathroom to the open bedroom door, shutting it behind you. In your haste to get out of sight, you neglected to lock the door.

You nearly collapsed onto the bed, the need to feel some relief the only thing on your mind. Normally, you would have been embarrassed to even consider touching yourself when Bucky was so close by, but this was an extreme circumstance. You mentally told yourself you needed to be quiet at the very least, given his excellent hearing.

You tried to get as comfortable as you could, but it was impossible. The only parts of your body that didn't ache were the ones you were actively touching. You slipped your dominant hand between your legs and felt another wave of embarrassment hit when you felt just how wet you were.

The moment your fingers brushed between your folds, you let out a loud moan. You slapped your hand across your mouth and hoped Bucky mistook the sound for one of pain.

Bucky was breathing heavily as he sat on the couch less than 10 feet from the bedroom door. He could hear every tiny little sound you made, even as you desperately tried to stay quiet.

He knew he shouldn't be turned on by those sounds--not when you were experiencing something so awful--but he couldn't help it. He'd dreamed of hearing you moan for him a hundred times before. It took all his will-power to not bust down that door and give you what you needed.

You let out a particularly obscene moan and Bucky had to stifle his own. His cock strained against his pants and he hated himself for being turned on. He tried to tell himself it wasn't his fault--he'd wanted you for years--but he couldn't shake the feeling of shame.

Ten minutes went by and the sounds coming from the bedroom continued. Bucky gripped the back of the couch with all his strength, determined to not give himself even a modicum of pleasure from this.

Another five minutes passed and he heard you let out a pained sob. His heart skipped a beat and he listened closely for any more noise. He heard the distinct sounds of you crying and his resolve broke. He immediately went to your door and knocked.

"Doll? You okay?"

"It hurts so much," you whimpered.

He leaned his forehead against the door. "I know, sweetheart. Please let me help you. Please."

He could hear you writhing around on the bed, whimpers of pain reaching his ears and making him tear up.

"I can't--it didn't work," you cried. "I'm so hot--it hurts."

"Please, baby," Bucky begged. He placed his hand on the doorknob, dying to turn it and get to you.

"Bucky," you whimpered.

The pain in that one simple word made his decision for him. He turned the knob and was surprised to find the door unlocked. He opened the door a crack, but kept his eyes away from the bed.

"Let me help you," he pleaded again.

Your eyes roamed his gorgeous figure and you let out a choked sob. Nothing else mattered in that moment--all you could think about was him.

"Make it stop," you begged him.

Bucky's eyes snapped open, meeting yours in a desperately hungry look. He didn't say a word, didn't even allow his brain to process the deeper meaning of what he was about to do. You'd asked him to help you--to stop the pain--so that was exactly what he was going to do.

He stripped out of his tactical suit as fast as possible, leaving himself in his boxer briefs, cock straining to be set free.

You reached out a hand to him and he went to you without a thought. He climbed onto the bed, hovering over you as his eyes scanned your face.

"Are you sure about this, doll?" he asked softly.

"I need you," you whimpered back.

Those three little words shattered the sliver of resolve he'd had left. His lips met yours in a hungry, devouring kiss--all teeth and tongue. His hands latched onto your soft curves, touching every inch of skin he could reach.

Everywhere he touched felt like ice against your burning skin. The sensation both incredible and painful all at once. Whatever bit of shyness or insecurity you had was wiped away by the sheer intensity of it all.

Bucky's lips attacked your neck, your jaw, your collarbone--nipping and sucking bruising marks into your skin. While it felt good, it wasn't nearly enough.

"Need more."

Bucky nudged his knee between your legs to spread them wider for him. "I know, baby. I know."

He quickly descended down to your aching core, blowing hot air against it in a teasing manner. You whined and scratched at his scalp, reminding him this was not the time for teasing.

He flicked his tongue between your pussy lips, seeking out your clit immediately. The second his tongue brushed against it, you cried out in pleasure--the first real feeling of relief you'd had since you'd been infected.

Bucky smiled to himself as he settled in to properly feast on your pussy, reveling in the essence of you against his tongue, invading all of his senses.

You gripped his hair in one hand and the sheet in the other, gyrating wildly as Bucky ate you with abandon. The pleasure was blinding, but you could still feel the undercurrent of raging fire flowing through your veins.

Bucky seemed to instinctively know exactly what you enjoyed, following your body like he had a roadmap to your pleasure points. He sent you over the edge with ease three times before finally coming up for air.

You reached for him, still hungry for more. "Bucky."

"I'm here, baby." He kissed you deeply, hands gripping your hips tightly. He wanted to take his time with you, but he knew he couldn't--you needed more from him and you needed it now.

He was quick to discard his underwear before lining himself up with your entrance. His cock nudged against your aching hole and you both moaned.

"Please, please, please, please..." you begged.

Bucky knew what you needed and he wasted no time sheathing himself inside of you. You cried out in pain as his cock stretched you more than you'd ever experienced before. The pain quickly subsided into pleasure and the pollen seemed to sense its purpose was near.

You felt a surge of need and you begged him to fuck you. "I need it, please, Bucky."

"I've got you, sweetheart." He began to thrust gently, trying his best not to hurt you. The sensations began to overwhelm him as much as they were overwhelming you, prompting him to move faster--losing himself in the feeling of you.

"Fuck, baby. You take my cock so well."

Your pussy fluttered in response, a soft whine escaping your lips.

"Best pussy I've ever had. So tight and wet for me. Made for me, weren't you?"

You nodded rapidly, not really registering what he was saying.

"How many times you think I can make you cum, baby? Six? Seven? Think the pollen can get you there?"

Your eyes widened at his words. Unsure if that was possible even with pollen.

Bucky grinned down at you. "I think I can get seven. Bet this pussy will give me whatever I want, won't she? Gonna make my girl scream my name all night long."

You felt the coil in your belly snap as another orgasm rushed through you. You clung to Bucky, a string of profanity spilling past your lips.

Bucky didn't let you come down from it before pushing your body towards another orgasm. He wanted to feel you gripping his cock like this as long as possible--especially since he might never feel it again.

"Baby, you feel so good," he murmured, placing soft kisses to your face. "Love the way you're squeezing me."

"Feels so good, Bucky," you moaned.

"Fuck, been wanting to hear you say that for so long. Needed to be inside this tight little pussy so badly. It's better than I ever imagined."

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wanted to ask what he meant--if he'd really imagined it, but you were too far gone to articulate a coherent thought.

As another orgasm crashed into you, you momentarily wondered if it was possible to die from overwhelming pleasure. You'd been in so much pain for so long and the sudden change to blinding pleasure was incredible. It was unlike anything you'd ever experienced.

"How many more can you give me, sweetheart?"

"Wanfeelcum," you mumbled incoherently.

"What was that, baby? Too fucked out to speak?"

"Wanna feel you cum, Bucky," you begged.

He was already so close to the edge he nearly lost control at the sound of your voice. But if he was being honest with himself, he didn't want this to end. He was scared if he came, if he gave you what you needed, then you'd be satiated and it would all be over.

"Need to feel you cum on my cock at least one more time, baby."

You whimpered, but nodded your consent.

Bucky picked up the pace, hitting your sweet spot with each thrust. You weren't sure whether it was the pollen or his skill, but you went flying over the edge of blinding pleasure with an intensity you'd never experienced. You screamed his name as the waves crashed over you, pussy gushing juices as you squirted all over his cock and abdomen.

"Fuck yeah, baby. So fucking sexy..." he murmured. "Gonna fill you up. Give you what you want."

"Want your cum," you begged.

"That's right, pretty girl. Gonna give you my cum. Fill up this sweet pussy till you're stuffed."

"Yes, Bucky! Please!"

Bucky's hips stuttered as he came, filling your pussy with ropes of warm cum. Bucky kept thrusting slowly as he whispered your name into your skin over and over like a prayer.

Slowly, the haze created by the sex pollen began to fade, leaving you completely blissed out. Awareness of what you'd done began to creep in, but the feel of Bucky's weight on top of you kept you in the moment.

He finally slowed to a halt, but his lips were still pressing into your hot skin. After several more moments, he raised himself up just enough to kiss you sweetly, making sure you felt his adoration.

The moment he rolled off you, the full weight of what you'd done hit you like a ton of bricks. If your body would have cooperated, you would have turned over onto your side, curled up in a ball, and cried.

Bucky felt the sudden shift in your demeanor and he felt his heart clench in his chest. "(Y/N/N)..."

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

Surprise lit up his face. "What?"

"I shouldn't have done that--I'm so sorry."

"I'm gonna stop you right there." He sat up a little so he could look down at your face. You wouldn't meet his gaze, but he continued anyway. "Don't you dare think for a single second that I did something I didn't want to do. You were in pain and I couldn't let that stand. I would do anything for you, (Y/N). Anything. I don't regret it and I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

Your eyes finally raised to meet his and you saw nothing but honesty in his gaze. You knew he cared about you, but you were still worried you'd crossed a line neither of you could come back from.

Bucky stared at your face, taking in just how incredibly beautiful you were. He was trying to commit it to memory--never wanting to forget any bit of it.

"Thank you," you whispered.

Bucky shook his head. "You don't have to thank me, doll. Like I said, I wanted to." He paused for a moment, a silent war raging inside of him. He seemed to make a decision and once he did, the words just flowed from his mouth. "I mean it, (Y/N). I've wanted to for years--wanted you for years. I never wanted it to happen like this, but fuck baby...here we are. I would do anything you asked of me, okay? I'll rip my own heart out and light it on fire if you ask me to. So if you ask me to pretend this never happened, I will, but I need you to know I don't want to. I want to make love to you over and over again, hear you scream my name, watch your beautiful face as you fall apart for me...I want you. I will always want you."

You were completely breathless by the time he stopped talking. The words coming out of his mouth weren't what you'd ever expected to hear. "You want me?"

"I've always wanted you. Every part of you. Inside and out."

"What about all the other women?"

"What?"

"The ones you bring home all the time."

He touched your face gently, turning your head to look at him directly. "They're fine for a night, but they're not you. They were a poor substitute for the woman I really wanted, but couldn't have."

"Bucky..."

He looked a little crestfallen, mistaking your tone for rejection. "It's okay if you don't feel the same--"

Your hand gently pressed against his lips, shutting him up instantly. "If I could move properly, I would have kissed you to shut you up."

His eyes lit up and a small smile played on his lips.

"Of course I feel the same. Of course I want you. I only pushed you away tonight because I didn't want to lose you. I was afraid you would regret it."

He leaned down so he was inches away from your lips. "Oh sweetheart, I could never regret anything to do with you."

Your lips curled up in a sweet smile. "Really?"

"Mhmm."

"Buck?"

"Hmm?"

"Any chance we can make love? I wanna be in the moment...really in it."

"Right now?" he asked in surprise.

You nodded.

His lips met yours in a loving kiss. "I'm more than happy to oblige."

You grinned as he rolled back on top of you, lips pressing against yours hungrily.

"I'll make love to you as many times as you want. Whatever you want, I'll give you. Just ask."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

You smirked slowly. "Then I might have some ideas..."

"Oh really?"

"Oh yes." You pulled his face down to yours to whisper some of your inner desires into his ear.

"My god," he murmured. "You're gonna be the death of me."

You laughed lightly and he joined in before pulling you in for a passionate kiss, dead-set on giving you everything you wanted and more.