#I still don’t even have to look up reference for him

[trippinsorrows]

dreamland: faded

authors note: this is part two of the 'can you stand the rain' mini series within dreamland. make sure you've read 'the rough patch' before reading this one.

keep in mind the characterization, history, past struggles and other things while reading.

warnings: angst and violence

words: 6k

song inspo/rec listening: faded (acoustic version) by sara farell

Solana knew the minute she laid eyes on her that she would be an issue. Young, pretty, curvy, a charismatic smile that could sway even the hardest of the hard. A far cry from Alicia, also pretty and charismatic, but in a less….dangerous way. Her retirement and stepping down to move closer to her parents that were getting up in age came at no surprise. Solana sensed it coming in the past few months, though selfishly, she hoped Alicia would stick around just a little longer. So did the kids.

Her oldest set of children often referred to Roman’s long time receptionist as “Aunt Alicia.” She’s been missed, for sure, but by none more than Solana. Because if Alicia was still here, she wouldn’t be here. 

Celeste. 

Celeste Davenport.

Solana hasn’t a clue where she came from or just how she landed the job as Alicia’s replacement, just that from the day Solana Reigns walked into Bloodline Headquarters to surprise her husband for lunch, she knew there was something about the woman that she didn’t like.

Didn’t trust.

—------

Especially when Solana walked towards her husband’s office only for the twenty something to stand up and clear her throat. 

“I’m sorry, Solana.” Her voice was sugary sweet, the “kindest” smile on her pretty face. “Mr. Reigns is preparing for a meeting right now.” The lack of being properly addressed didn’t bother her as much as the overall overstepping. “I’ll have to take a message.”

Solana just looked at her, taken back by a lot of things, somewhat disturbed by how pretty and young this girl was. For reasons she didn’t understand. Not at that point, at least.

Solana cleared her throat and tightened her grip on her Birkin. “You’re the new receptionist, right?”

She nodded, pushing her jet black hair over her shoulder, providing a glimpse of the tattooed heart on her shoulder. “Celeste. Celeste Davenport.”

Normally, Solana would say something polite, something friendly and aligned with her character, but again, there was something about the woman that she couldn’t shake. “Well, Celeste, I know you’re still new here, but—”

“Ehhh,” she interrupted, shrugging casually. “Been here about a month now, so not too new.”

Solana’s smile was even as she calmly countered, lifting up her hand to show off her wedding. “I’ve got a little bit of time on you.” It didn't miss her how something flashed in Celeste’s eyes but was quickly pushed away.

“That’s a beautiful ring,” she complimented. It felt inauthentic, though. Forced, almost.

Solana didn't bother with a thank you. “You should know that when I and/or our children come to see Roman, we don’t wait.” She kept her voice and gaze even. “I don’t wait.”

The same way Solana didn’t wait for a response as she continued her trajectory over to the double doors that lead to his office, doors she placed two quiet knocks to, followed by his deep voice barking from the other side, “what?”

A small smile on her face, Solana didn't spare Celeste a glance before welcoming herself into her space with her husband. 

A husband who didn't waste any time meeting her halfway across his office, pulling her body into his and kissing her like he didn’t just see her a few hours earlier as they got the kids ready for school.

“What are you doing here?” His deep voice rumbled, hands moving to her ass, squeezing her cheeks through her fitted scrubs. 

She smiled, stroking his beard. “Figured I’d come drop in and see you before I start my shift.” It was a long one, hence her making double portions the night prior, as she’d likely be late for dinner or miss it altogether, hence him needing to handle early evening duties. “And make sure you don’t forget—”

“I gotta pick the kids up.”

“Except—”

“Lina, Leya, and Tama later because they have practice,” he finished for her, making her smile grow as his hand shifted to the small of her back. “I know, baby. I got this.”

She didn't doubt it, but she also couldn't help but to point out, “see, the family calendar is helpful.” Solana giggled, seeing the way his face instantly shifted into a scowl. 

“It’s still annoying,” he mumbled, prompting her to roll her eyes. With so many kids, several of which who were in extracurricular activities, it was pertinent that they kept a calendar to track everything. Multiple, in this instance. Hence, along with the large dry erase boards on the wall near the kitchen laying out weekly schedules, Solana started to implement digital calendars as well. She found a neat app that she put on all the kids phones, Roman’s as well, to help keep them all just a tad bit more organized.

Of course, her technologically challenged husband grumbled and struggled the most with it, needing tutorials from Koa and Kai, as well as herself, before learning how to properly use it. And, now that he got it, it seemed like it was working well. 

At least that was working.

“So….” She trialed off, hands moving up and down his chest. “The new receptionist.”

His scowl deepened. “Who?” Solana rolled her eyes as it hit him. “Oh, the new girl. Cindy.”

“Celeste,” she corrected.

“Does it matter?” She wasn't sure she’d ever seen him look so disinterested and disconnected. It comforted her in a strange sort of way. “What about her? She’s no Alicia. I know that.”

That sparked Solana's interest. “How so?”

And, with the biggest expression of disgust, he answered with a straight face, “she talks.”

Solana sighed, a small smile breaking on her face as she buried herself into his chest, once more, comforted. “You’re impossible.” He said nothing, just holding her, Solana speaking from the heart more than anything. “Just….be careful with her.”

At that, Roman pulled back to look down at her, expression speculative. “What do you mean?”

Solana considered how to word it, not wanting to offend or upset him, just truly speaking from a place of looking out for him. “She’s young and pretty—”

“Solana, you know I would never—”

“I know, I know.” She did. She really, truly did. “But, that doesn’t mean she won’t.” Because Solana knows people, knows that true intentions can often be hidden, cloaked behind a pretty, white smile. “Just…be careful.”

It wouldn’t be the first time she had to warn him.

Later that day, Solana walked into work feeling a little better, though that was a given. Being around her coworkers, being able to interact with patients, just being in her element like that, always helped in one way or another.

Walking into the staff lounge in the back of the pediatrics office, Solana found herself naturally smiling at seeing someone already present. “Hi, Dr. Garcia.”

Robert Garcia lifted his eyes from the phone in his hand, a smile falling on his face as well. “Nurse Reigns.” He hits the side button, sliding the iPhone in his back pocket. “I didn’t know you were working today.”

“Bit of a last minute thing,” she answers, walking past him to the refrigerator to set her pink Stanley covered in stickers, courtesy of her middle and youngest daughters, on the top shelf. “I thought you were at Main today?”

Dr. Garcia is on the newer side, having recently moved to the area from down South, currently operating out of both of the city’s major hospitals, Main and Central.

He gives a lazy shrug and half-hearted smile. “Bit of a last minute thing.”

Solana chuckles, “I get it.” She grabs one of the energy bars from the stack of them located on the counter when she notices his expression shift just so slightly. “Everything alright?”

He looks at her, shaking his head, smiling almost shyly now. “Would you judge me if I asked you the craziest question in the world?”

Solana smiles warmly. “I have seven children, Dr. Garcia. I’m sure your question can’t be any crazier than what I hear during family dinner.” 

He chuckles. “Fair enough.” Robert leans back against the counter, crossing his arms. “What perfume do you wear?” Solana’s face gives away the surprise she wasn’t expecting to experience, forcing him to put up his arms in a defensive manner. “Crazy, I know, but my wife’s birthday is coming up, and I’ve been wrecking my brain trying to figure out what to get her, and every time I’m around you, I can’t help but notice how amazing you smell.”

Solana’s smile falters just a bit as she focuses more on the initial question rather than the explanation. “Thank you, umm—” Shaking her head, she closes her eyes and tries to retrieve the answer. “Oh my gosh, what is it called?” A question posed to herself rather than him. “And, my daughter was just asking me this morning if she could borrow it, too.” Samaria. It was Samaria, but Solana thought it a bit too grown for her, instead letting her use her Mon Paris one instead. “Baccarat something? I’m sorry, my husband got it for me—”

“Baccarat Rouge 540?” 

“Yes, that!” Solana claps from instant recognition. “I don’t think I would have guessed that.”

He, too, chuckles. “That’s quite alright.” Making a face, he nods to himself. “Maison Francis Kurkdjian, huh? Your husband has nice taste.” His eyes flit to hers. “But, that should be pretty obvious though, I suppose, no?”

At that, Solana’s smile drops a bit. Unsure. She’s unsure of how to take that. What to make of it. A genuine compliment or…something else.

Thankfully, she doesn’t have much time to think—overthink it—a knock on the door from one of her coworkers, Kim, pulling her from the conversation that felt like it’d taken a turn. 

“Patient in room 3 is asking for you, girl.” She shares, blue eyes sparkling with humor. “Sanchez kid. Wants to show you all the cool signatures he got on his cast.”

At that, the mother of seven smile returns. “Of course, he does.” An adorable little boy who reminds her a lot of Tama when he was younger. Solana offers the doctor a small smile, before walking out with her coworker, eager to start her day, strange starts aside. 

—------

The second warning came not even a month later. 

Another surprise visit at his office, this time with her girls as Solana was taking them out for a salon visit so they could all get mani-pedis. The elevator doors dinged open right as Samaria sent her mom the link for the latest purse she wanted. Something also sent to Roman, of that, Solana was certain.

Aroha was out the doors as soon as there was space for her to dart, dressed in her Tinkerbell costume, the latest to her growing collection. “Daddy!” She said prematurely, yet happily, clutching her bunny from Build-A-Bear she’d affectionately named after herself. Roro.

Samaria talking about the Marc Jacobs bag, Lina and Leya chatting among themselves as the rest of the Reigns girls’ exited the elevator, up until an interruption.

“Well, hello there,” Celeste greeted, standing up. Solana took in her bodycon dress and low neckline. A bit too low to be considered business professional, in Solana’s opinion. However, as Celeste was also top heavy, it wasn't hard for the wife of the Tribal Chief to be understanding of the dilemma that often came with finding outfits that didn't show off at least some skin. “You must be Roro.”

Aroha looked up at her, clutching her teddy bear, saying nothing. A strange reaction for her social-butterfly of a daughter.

Catalina, however, moved to stand behind her little sister, eyeing Celeste up and down. “Only some of us can call her Roro. You can call her Aroha.” There was no mistaking the skepticism—and dislike—in both Lina’s voice and expression, borderline glare. “And, just who the hell are you, anyway?”

“Lina,” both Solana and Leya scolded at the same time, though Solana could acknowledge not as much irritation with her daughter’s language as she would typically have from such an interaction. Not with that situation.

Celeste didn't break from her smile, introducing, “Celeste. I’m your dad’s new receptionist.”

Aroha’s response was quick and to the point as she hugged her stuffed animal to her chest. “I like Alicia better.”

“Same,” Lina agreed, crossing her arms over her chest, continuing to look Celeste up and down. “And, you work for the Bloodline, not my dad.”

“Girls, that’s enough,” Solana scolded. She and Roman had always taught their children to be honest, but that could be attained without being disrespectful, and right then and there, the conversation had easily drifted into the disrespectful category. She cleared her throat, offering Celeste a contrite smile that didn't really meet the eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m Leya,” Cataleya introduced herself with a small wave, Aria already by Roman’s double doors, knocking, too busy to do the same. 

Not that she would. 

Even Leya’s introduction felt….off, for her little girl.

It was clear Solana wasn't not the only one not feeling Roman’s new receptionist. 

A comforting thing…but also not. 

Solana sat more on the quiet side of things, as she let her daughters bombard Roman with a variety of things. Lina asking Roman if he’d work out with her and Tama that weekend. Samaria sending him yet another link for the latest purse she wanted. Roro asking for a pet guinea pig. Leya simply asking for his opinion on an art project she’d been working on.

She left them alone, allowing them that time to bond until before she realized it, he’d sent them out and on their merry way to wait in the car.

“You wanna tell me what’s bothering you?” Roman asked, standing in front of her, hand on her back, the other behind her neck. 

Solana opened her mouth, prepared to dismiss his concern, because she knew he worried about her. Didn't like seeing her upset or bothered, and she hated that it was even impacting her that much.

“It’s silly.”

“Baby, we’ve been over this too many times,” he sighed. “If it’s impacting you, it’s not silly.”

Similar words that they told their kids all the time. She just hated having to still be on the receiving end at her big age. Especially after so many years together. 

“I just…” She trailed off, a frown falling on her pretty face as his thumb gently brushed across the nape of her neck. “There’s something about that girl, Roman.”

He also frowned. “Who?”

“Celeste,” she answered. Solana shook her head, taking a deep breath. “I don’t like her.”

“The receptionist?” He asked, looking genuinely confused, same as he did the last time she brought her up, which made her feel silly all over again. It was so obvious her husband was paying this woman no mind, so why was she? “She say something to you?”

“No.” Not really. “It’s….I don’t know. I just don’t like her.” 

Roman just looked down at her, reading between the lines. “What are you really worried about, Solana?”

A good, solid question. Fair, too. She swallowed. “I trust you, Roman.” With her life. “You know I do.”

He shifted his hand to her cheek. “Then you should know I barely interact with that damn girl. I don’t even know her name half the time, and I don’t care to know, because I don’t care about her.” He spoke truthfully, from the heart, brutally honest. The way he’d always been. It’d been a consistent thing with him since they married all those years again. Roman’s thumb brushed against her skin, ghosting over her scar. “I only see you, Sol….alright?”

He dipped his head just enough for their lips to meet, a soft kiss, a promise of sorts. She nodded quietly, letting him hold her, the act washing away her concerns.

Or, so she thought. 

—-----

Solana wanted to leave it at that. 

She planned to leave it that.

Planned to just trust that Roman could handle if and when something became an issue. 

She planned to trust her husband. 

There was nothing to be concerned about. Roman’s new receptionist being….off didn’t mean anything if her husband had no intentions on biting. For years, he always told her that he only saw her, and seven kids later, she had no reason to doubt that. 

Not at first, at least.

It started with longer days. They happened every so often, but Roman always did his best to keep them far and few in between. That started to shift, her needing to either leave work a little early to pick up the kids from school and/or practice. Or, arrange to have someone else do it, because Roman wouldn’t be home until late.

He’d make it for a portion of dinner some days. Others, she and the kids would be cleaning the kitchen, his plate cold in the microwave by the time he walked in the door.

Then, the time they actually spoke to each other seemed to be cut shorter and shorter. Mostly conversation in passing as they transported their children to and from with all their extracurricular activities. 

Then, there were other times, honest times of miscommunication or misunderstandings that caused some issues. Issues that weren’t handled in the best way. 

Tense exchanges that escalated into arguments. Unfamiliar territory. Solana hardly ever argued with her husband, but she had the past few weeks, and there was no sign of things sizzling out. If anything, the fire continued to spread, leaking over into a particularly nasty one that resulted in her emotionally disclosing something she’d been sitting on.

Not from wanting to keep it a secret from him, per se, but from her not knowing how to process, yet alone share, potentially life changing—and shattering—news. 

A spillage that she regretted exposing the way she did. Something like that…it called for a sit-down. A deep, honest, hard conversation between husband and wife as they worked together to figure out if and how they should tell the kids. 

Solana regretted it. Not just that. But, the argument as a whole. 

It stuck with her. So much so that the next day, while on the way to work, she stopped at her husband’s office. Needed to see him. Needed to apologize and ask if they could set aside time to sit down and talk. No arguing. No bickering. No snide remarks. Just clear, open, honest communication. Be the way they used to be, because truth be told, Solana just missed her husband.

And, she needed him. 

Maybe now more than ever. 

All of which she was prepared to say and was going to say, too caught up in her head to notice the strange absence of Celeste at the desk. 

But, there’s not enough being in her head to save her from the influx of emotions that course through her the minute she opens the double doors and is met with an unforgettable sight. Something that will forever be stamped into her head and tattooed onto her brain.

A deeply scowling Roman is in the midst of shoving off Celeste who was clearly straddling his lap, her dress is hiked up to her mid thigh, exposing a portion of her exposed ass. 

It’s been years since Solana has felt like this, felt like she’s been plucked out of time and placed above it, hovering, watching with horror as life and reality unfold before her. Like an outer body experience. It doesn’t feel real. It can’t be real.

But, the minute Roman’s equally horrified gaze lands on her, Celeste’s wide, nervous eyes glued to her, she knows. Knows that this is very real. 

And, it’s heartbreaking. 

Still struggling come to grips with what she just walked in on, Solana finds herself quietly closing the doors behind her. Her focus is on the ground, refusing to land on them, yet using that as a guide as she slowly makes her way over to them.

A bit of an automatic thing, as she’s still very much too overcome with any and all the emotions to really process what she’s doing. Not until she realizes Roman is calling her name and also reaching for her. Reaching for her because she’s no longer standing. She’s now the one straddling someone, Celeste, her fists raining down on top of the younger woman who cries out in pain, forearms covering her face. 

“Baby, stop!” His deep voice enters her hemisphere, further angering her, as she forces Celeste’s forearms out of the way, twisting her arm, trying to break it. 

“You disgusting whore!” It sounds and almost feels like someone else. Someone not herself, but it is her. Solana. And, she’s livid. “I knew it! I fucking knew it!” Anger mixes with something else, as Roman lifts her off Celeste who scrambles to run out, Solana managing a final kick to her ass before Roman has her completely restrained, allowing the other woman to flee.

The door slamming shut behind her disgraced trail signals something for Solana. Signals the most uncomfortable, awful, horrific thing she could have never conceived could happen.

He cheated on her.

Roman cheated on her.

He fucking cheated.

The rage rises once more with a new target. 

Her husband.

“Get the hell off of me!” She shouts, fists angrily slamming against his forearm as he continues to hold her. “Let me go, Roman!”

“Solana, please—”

“I said get the fuck off me!” Her voice is livid and icy, her elbow moving into his chest, a sharp intake of breath allowing her that space to escape. She breaks apart from him, moving to the opposite side of the room. Distance. She needs the distance. His office suddenly feeling much smaller than it’s ever felt before. Too small. Claustrophobic. She can’t can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t exist. 

“Oh my God,” she gasps, hands to her face, feeling wetness. Tears. She’s crying. “I can’t—”

“Solana.” Roman’s voice is surface level steady but underneath that is a sea of turmoil that’s evident in his weary gaze as he looks at her, keeping a distance but also never taking his eyes off her. “It’s not—”

“You—I told you—I told you—” She can barely get her words out, Solana crying into her hands, unable to console herself in the moment. It’s just all too much. 

“Sol—”

“What the hell, Roman?” Words finally find her. So many. All of them. Every single last one. None of them, kind or pretty, or anything she’s used to with the man who’s supposed to be her husband. Right about now, he feels like anything but. “I tell you that I may have breast cancer, and you go and do this?” Her voice breaks, as she closes her eyes, unable to stand the sight of him looking at her. Desperate and almost pleading.

Pathetic.

It’s pathetic. 

He is pathetic.

His voice is bolder, firmer, filled with a conviction that feels nothing but inauthentic. “Solana, I didn’t—”

“I saw you!”

Her eyes didn’t betray her. No, the sight she walked in on was unmistakable, and him trying to shove that little girl off his lap doesn’t make a goddamn difference to her. Not one. Because, it was saving face. It was being caught in the act and trying to make it less a betrayal than what it is.

But, that’s exactly what it is. 

A betrayal from the very person she would have sworn on her life would never.

But, he has, and it’s crushing.

“I can’t—I need—” Stammering accompanied by her heading for the door. She can’t breathe.

“Solana, please—” His long legs have him right behind her, hot on her heels, evoking an instinctual turn and shove of him away. 

“Don’t,” she hisses, voice cutting into him, deeper than even the sharpest of knives. Her eyes shutting as she keeps her hands raised, another sign of the burning desire to have him as far away as possible. It prevents her from seeing the way he swallows, an attempt to keep building emotions at bay. “Just….don’t.”

He doesn’t try to interfere or stop her, just allows her to walk out, the departure feeling different than any other time. Because, it is. Because, in that moment, too swallowed and overwhelmed emotions, she’s not entirely sure just what she’s walking away from. 

—-----

She should have called out.

Solana knows this the moment she arrives at work and after emptying her items into her locker, navigating to the staff lounge to refrigerate her water, the door barely shut before she breaks down in tears. 

Heavy, heartfelt sobs, the shock wearing thin and settling into a sort of pain that has her chest tight, her stomach in all sorts of knots, and her heart aching. A physical, undeniable hurt.

Placing her cup on the counter, Solana moves her hand to her chest, trying to settle herself. She can’t remember the last time she had a panic attack, but one is loading and pending.

Roman cheating on her is just something she could have never anticipated, never expected. Not even in the worst of her nightmares. But, the more she thinks about it, the more she starts to put the pieces together.

The late nights, change and lack in communication, the arguing. The lack of physical intimacy. The dismissal of her concerns about her. 

For each connection and realization, she’s hit with more questions. Just how long has it been going on? Weeks? Months? Is that how she got the job?

Because she’s his mistress?

Just the thought has Solana feeling nauseous. Sick, she feels sick to her stomach.

Solana wants nothing more than to tell herself this is nothing but a misunderstanding. Part 2 of the situation that led her to finding out about Fetu so many years prior. But, that was different. Roman had done nothing to make her believe he was being unfaithful. The conversation wasn’t even suggestive, just misleading.

This though….this is different.

His behavior has been different, and it all lines up. The sight she walked in being the final piece to the gut-wrenching puzzle. 

And, what kills her maybe more than the actual cheating, is the fact that it hasn’t even been 24 hours since she told him about the results of her mammogram, something that has her terrified of what those follow-up tests could come back with, and he does….that?

Broken.

She feels broken.

Solana is too caught up in her racing thoughts and broken heart to pay attention to the entrance and sound of footsteps. “Solana?” A sharp gasp as she looks up to see Dr. Garcia looking at her, face full of concern. “What’s going on? What happened?”

She shakes her head, wiping at her eyes. “I’m sorry. I just—I need a minute.”

“Are you hurt?” His professional instinct kicking in, clearly, as he moves closer, doing a one over. “Did–did something happen?”

Yes. Everything. Everything happened, but she’s not prepared or even wanting to disclose that, any of it, to her boss, of all people. 

“Please.” She sniffles. “I’m fine. I just—I just need to be alone.”

He shakes his head, lips pressed together. “I’m sorry, but I can’t allow that. What kind of doctor would I be to leave the best nurse I’ve ever had alone when she’s clearly upset?” Solana looks at him, unsure as to why another feeling is building in her stomach. Discomfort. 

It’s discomfort. 

She’s certain she must look a mess, having been crying since she walked into that devastating scene. But, her wishes not being respected in this moment isn’t helping. It’s only making things worse.

“Was…was it your husband?” At that, her eyes widen. 

Did he really just…

Solana swallows, clearing her throat. “That...that’s none of your business.”

“It was,” he surmises. Another assertion that only further upsets her. “Well, whatever he did, know it’s because he’s an idiot.”

And, the hits keep coming, each jarring statement chipping away at her hurt and building up her anger. “Ex—excuse me?”

Dr. Garcia takes a step closer, prompting Solana to straighten, realizing her back is already pressed against the counter. “If you were my wife, Solana, I’d make sure to never cause any tears to stream down that beautiful face.” His gaze drops to her chest, burning dark. “Not for any bad reasons, at least.”

What the hell?

Solana feels like she’s in some sort of twilight zone. She’d been right with her instincts about Celeste, but how had she not picked up the same with the man she worked for?

The compliments. The smiles. The questions that teetered the lines of professional and personal. How had she caught that but missed this?

So many questions racing that it doesn’t dawn on her he’s closed the gap between them until he has her boxed in, his hot breath fanning her face.

“He doesn’t deserve you, Solana,” he breathes, Solana’s panic setting in when she realizes how close he is. Too close. And his hand reaching for her hip is confirmation of just that. “I could—”

Two things happen at that exact moment. Solana prepares to not only push this man, but punch the living shit out of him accompanied with her knee ramming into his crotch, because this is beyond a boundary being violated.

It’s harassment. 

Sexual harassment. 

But, she doesn’t get the chance to, she doesn’t get the chance because Robert is snatched away from her with a level of aggression she’s only ever seen in one person.

Roman.

The same man who has Robert by the back of his coat, the last thing she sees of her husband being his almost feral expression before he slams the man down onto the ground, jumping on top of him.

It’s all so fast. Too fast, because it takes a good minute for her to recognize what’s happening. To realize her husband is beating the living shit out of Dr. Garcia, clearly blinded by unbridled fury. 

She’d like to say that the horror of seeing Roman viciously assault her technical boss was more than enough reason to get her to try to get him off, but it isn't. There’s a delay in her response. Emotion overload? A small part of her believing Robert deserving? She’s not sure. She just knows it takes a minute—or two—for her to say something, and it’s mostly due to the blood she sees starting to imbue itself on Robert’s lab coat.

And Roman’s fist.

“Stop!” She yells, moving over to the men, wincing when she realizes Robert’s face is also caked in blood, his eyes practically swollen shut. “Roman, get off of him!”

It’s like talking to a brick wall, her words in one ear and out the other. A part of her wants to leave it alone. Even saying his name feels off. Wrong, almost. But, she also knows that it’s only a matter of time before people overhear the commotion and call for hospital security. Then, it’s really bound to get ugly, and she can’t have that.

She also recognizes that the longer Roman continues to beat on this man, the higher the likelihood he’ll end up doing something he’ll regret later.

Maybe.

“Roman, you’re going to kill him!” Her shouts seem to be sounded out with every heavy, destructive blow of her husband’s fist onto Robert's face. 

“Good,” is all he responds with, completely immersed and controlled by his rage. He only sees red, and that single word is all she needs to hear to know that he has no plans on letting up or letting go.

Not until he’s completed a newfound task.

To kill the man he’s about halfway through beating to death. 

Solana moves quickly, recognizing verbalizations aren’t about to prevent a murder from being committed in front of her.

“Roman, that’s enough!” She hisses, going against her better judgment, her wants, and grabbing him by his shoulders. It’s at that touch, touch that also feels wrong, the same type of wrong she feels at even having said his name, that penetrates the armor of rage. Big, heaving shoulders, mouth slightly parted, heavy breaths falling out, eyes partially crazed, partially aware, he's finally looking at her.

But, she can’t sustain the eye contact too long, can’t bear it. She just uses the advantage to steer him off of a now unconscious Robert. Roman backs away, Solana ignoring his burning gaze on her as she crouches down to check for Robert’s pulse.

To make sure there still is one.

“What the fuck was that, Solana?”

It’s the last—and worst—thing for her to hear. Relieved that Robert is still among the living—for now—she stands up, turning around to look at Roman who seems 100% unbothered by his actions and 100% focused on, in his mind, what triggered said actions.

“Excuse me?” She whispers, hoping and praying he’s not asking what she thinks he’s asking. What she deep down knows he’s asking. 

But, he is. He absolutely is. Roman angrily gestures to the man behind her. “What the hell were you doing with him?”

Her eyes shut.

Of course.

Of course.

Solana licks her lips, doing her best to remain calm when she feels anything but. “Are…are you seriously going to stand there and ask me that?”

He also briefly closes his eyes, voice tinged with irritation and something else. Hurt. He sounds hurt. “Nothing happened, Solana. That’s what you don’t seem to unders—”

“Nothing happened?” She interrupts, scoffing, those damn emotions returning for another round. “You’re gonna stand here and tell me nothing happened when I literally saw you with a whole ass woman, dress pulled up, on your lap, and I’m just supposed to believe you?”

“No.” His voice is much lower than she would like, his eyes too soft, his expression too defeated. “You’re supposed to trust me.”

She nods, looking away at the open window of the lounge. “The same way you’re supposed to trust me?”

Silence.

A heavy, devastating silence that’s complicated by a crushing realization that this scene is far too similar. Familiar. History repeating itself. 

She remembers the question she posed to him so many years ago. The last time they ever encountered something as serious and damaging as this.

“What kind of marriage can we have if you don’t trust me?”

A question she now has to pose to herself as well.

What kind of marriage can we have if I don’t trust him?

It’s a thought that nearly crushes her. Does, in some ways. The tears return, her voice breaking and paving way for her pain. “Roman, we can’t….we can’t keep doing this.”

Standing before her, he’s never looked so…so lost. “What do you mean?”

“The fighting, the arguing, the…trust—” That feels all but gone at this point. Maybe on both sides. “I—I want us to—to get through the boys’ birthdays next month—”

“Baby—”

“Because it’s not fair to them—”

“What are you saying—”

“Maybe even Lina and Leya’s quinceaneras—”

“Solana.” Desperate. He is desperate in this moment, vulnerable gaze focused on her. “What are you saying?”

It’s a good, valid question. What is she saying? Solana doesn’t know. She doesn’t know what the follow-up of her mammogram results will bring. Doesn’t know how she managed to miss all the signs that her husband was being unfaithful. Doesn’t know she missed the signs that Dr. Garcia was attracted to and flirting with her. Doesn’t know just how she can manage this, all of this, and try to pretend like everything is alright up until the passing of two, or maybe four, of her seven kids upcoming birthdays. 

It’s all so confusing, and she knows nothing except, right now, in this moment, she answers as best she can. What she feels is best. Even if saying it breaks her heart in a way she never thought possible. 

“I think we need to separate for a while...”

------

so....whose side ya'll on?

we'll see more of the kids' reaction to certain things in part 3, little do you know.

[snail-day]

Second Male Lead Syndrome

Sum: Maybe you don't got this nerdjo!

Nerd! Gojo x Reader x FWB! Geto

Previous // Next Part // Masterlist

WC: 2.4k

TW: Angst, Yearning, Anxiety, love triangle-ish, alcohol references.

a/n: A bit short...but I promise the next one will be longer and fluffy <3

Second Male Lead Syndrome — a tragic but familiar condition. Occurs when the audience falls hopelessly in love with the second male lead. When he's sweet and thoughtful, perhaps a little bit stupid, and still doesn’t get the girl. Not because he didn’t try hard enough. But because he never stood a chance.

Satoru had always laughed at those characters. Thought why waste all that time on a girl who didn’t have their eyes set on you. It would never work out, plenty of fish in the sea, etc.  

Until now.

When the room is dim. Soft, warm lighting flickers against the walls. The playlist he curated for you hums softly in the background, some gentle acoustic loop he’d replayed twenty times to ensure the instrumentals didn’t overpower the mood, mostly to ensure he could still hear your voice. The dice scattered like different colored fallen stars across the table, and everyone is still buzzing from the final boss fight. The victory. And the drinks.

And you’re giggling.

But not at him. Not like how he imagined tonight would go. 

You’re pressed just a little too close to Suguru, your shoulder brushing his. Your knees angled towards his. The sound of your laugh, light and tipsy, spills like wine from your lips as Suguru leans in - voice low, mouth grazing the shell of your ear as he murmurs something only you get to hear. Something that makes you smile like that, he hung the stars. Soft. Genuine.

And how your body leans into his like it’s instinct. Like he's the male lead in your fairy tale.

Satoru feels the punch to the gut. The anxiety and thoughts spiraling.

Perhaps Satoru had poured your drinks a little too strong. Just enough for you to laugh at Suguru’s jokes without overthinking them. So much that you don’t seem to notice how Satoru hasn’t said anything in a while, since the campaign ended. How his throat’s been dry since he saw Suguru press his hand to the small of your back.

That’s fine. He doesn’t drink. He wanted you to have fun. To loosen up. To look at him the way you’re looking at Suguru now - with stars in your eyes, a lazy smile on your lips hanging onto every little word he speaks. 

When Suguru offers to take you home, Satoru nods too quickly. A weird hiccup of a smile jerks across his face. He can’t even stop himself from asking, “Oh - wait, do you two… know each other?”

You blink. Suguru answers first. “Nope. First time meeting tonight.” His voice is light. Easy. Full of lies.

Then why does it feel like you’ve done this a dozen times?

His broad, firm hand rests on your lower waist, as if it’s the normal placement. His lips brush your ear, and you laugh and Satoru just stands there, watching it all happen like some pitiful side character in the background of a romance anime.

Cool. Awesome. Great. Everything is fine. Everything is wonderful. Amazing actually. 

When he leans in to hug you goodbye, you hesitate. Something breaks in his chest. 

Just for a second. But he feels it. The stiffness in your spine. The polite curve of your arms. The awkward way you both move in the same direction and fumble for an angle. It ends up being a weird, lopsided side hug. Like coworkers. Or strangers who once made small talk in a group chat.

Still, your cheek brushes his chest. And his heart, traitorous and loud, slams against his ribs like it’s trying to get to you. He can’t help it. You’ve captured him, maybe without even knowing it.

He remembers earlier. Just the two of you in the kitchen.

You’d gone to grab more cups. He followed. Said something about helping. Maybe even meant it, but mostly, he just wanted to be near you.

And then you turned. Bumped into him with a soft, surprised “oh!” - the rim of the stacked cups hitting his chest, your body brushing his in a way that sent a spark straight through him. His baby blues went wide, snowy lashes fluttering, before his lips moved into a crooked smile as you looked up at him.

And fuck.

The overhead light hit your features just right, soft eyes sparkling, lips parted, cheeks flushed from laughing in the other room. He could see the curve of your throat, the way your breath caught just slightly from the impact, and he froze. His heart stuttered. Stumbled. Something in his chest bloomed. Warm. Stupid, maybe even a little hopeless.

His pale cheeks flushed, a soft red hue blooming across skin that rarely saw the sun. Embarrassment? Or awe, or maybe just the raw gravity of you standing this close? His mouth parted, but no sound came. Not a joke. Not a clever line. Just this aching silence as he tried to remember how to breathe.

He should’ve stepped back.

But god, you were so close. And you were looking at him like you saw him, just for a second. Like maybe you somehow knew how badly he wanted to lift a hand and cradle your face, just to see if you’d lean into it. To see if you’d soften into his touch.

His fingers twitched at his side. He didn’t touch you. Didn’t dare. What if it made you uncomfortable? Instead, he just stood there, letting himself feel it. The burn in his chest. The ache in his spine from holding himself still. The desperate, idiotic hope that you might say something to break the tension. That this moment could mean something.

Instead, he laughed. A little loud. A bit awkward.

“Oops, sorry,” he said, a bit winded, like you hadn’t just knocked the breath out of his lungs.

And you, god, you just smiled. Brushed past him like nothing had happened, cups hugged to your chest, already back in the living room.

He stayed there. Alone. Staring at the space where you’d been. Swallowed hard and wiped his sweaty palms against his pants like that might make the heat in his body disappear. Moving to slowly fan himself.

He’s been replaying that moment ever since, chest tight, fingers aching, wondering if you even noticed how hard he was trying not to touch you.

You say, “thank you.” Pulling him back from his thoughts. Smile at him, a little flushed, a little tipsy. Your voice soft, barely there, and it hits him harder than anything. Something about it feels... personal. Like you're sharing a moment with him, even if it's fleeting. A moment he plans of selfishly keeping for himself.

He watches you go, watches Suguru’s hand fall to your lower back, slipping a little lower to the curve of your bottom when you think no one’s looking.

Satoru’s heart drops, and it feels like it’s stuck somewhere in his throat, aching to escape. He tries to look away, tries to force himself to move, but he can’t stop watching. He’s breaking, and he knows it.

If it were him…

If it were him, he would be so careful with you. He would be the one bringing you to his guest room, making sure you were comfortable, asking if you needed anything. He would keep his distance, respect it, because you’re tipsy, and you shouldn’t make any decisions right now, but damn it, if he had just a little more time with you... He’d do it right. He wouldn’t rush, wouldn’t make you feel anything you didn’t want to feel. He’d just be there.

Imagining it for a second: You on the plush bed. Him nearby in the armchair, a safe distance but close enough that he could feel the warmth of your presence. He could put on a movie, something silly and light. Keep it all casual. But he would be there, just for you.

And maybe you’d look at him like you did Suguru. Maybe you’d laugh with him the way you laughed with Suguru. But maybe... maybe not. Maybe he’s just fooling himself.

Satoru shakes his head, white hair tumbling, breath shaky. He tries to laugh at his own thoughts. But it’s not funny. It hurts, this stupid ache in his chest that he can’t shake. He can't help the sting in his pretty baby blues.

Suguru glances back at him as you both walk down the hall, with a smile that seems to border smug and something else, like he knows something Satoru doesn’t. Acting like he’s already won the girl. Satoru can't help but wave at him. To call out, get home safe!

A laugh escapes under his breath, a dry, bitter sound. Just shut up, Satoru. But it’s like his mind won’t let him stop. It just keeps playing the same damn scene over and over.

He closes the door quietly, pressing his back against it. Lets out a shaky breath as he sinks down to the cold floor, heart still hammering in his chest, and he wonders if you even noticed him at all tonight.

Of course, you didn’t. You barely know him. You might never look at him that way.

But god, he wishes you would. Just once.

Second Male Lead Syndrome, Yeah.

Yeah, that tracks.

Because you were never going to pick the weird, twitchy nerd who overplans events like this and builds NPC backstories with tragic romances just to feel something. You were never going to pick the guy who practices your character intro alone in his room fifteen times, rehearsing the words in front of a mirror, trying to make it sound casual. Trying to sound like someone who knows what they’re doing. The guy who lit a candle because a Reddit post said vanilla makes people feel comforted, and for a second, he thought it might work. Might make you feel a little more at home.

You were always going to pick the one with the guitar. The one with the voice like honey, deep and effortless, who doesn’t have to try. The one whose touch doesn’t tremble when it’s on your arm, whose hands know exactly where to go without hesitation. The one who stands next to you with a calm that makes it look easy.

Satoru, on the other hand, is all scrambled signals. His heart races whenever you look his way, his mind spirals when he hears your laugh, and yet he can’t seem to say anything that makes sense. All he’s good for is stuttering through words, trying to look cool but always coming across as the awkward guy who thinks too much about the wrong things. His white hair falls into his face, messy strands he constantly pushes out of his eyes with the back of his hand, the motion becoming so habitual now as he feels the back of his hand become damp. His glasses slipping down his nose even though he keeps adjusting them, his thumb swiping over the frames in vain. A perfect image of someone who can never quite get it together.

And his heart? God, his heart is still pounding so hard that it’s all he can hear. Every thump is a reminder that he’s falling for someone who will never fall for him.

Why did nobody warn him this could happen?

Warn that his heart will ache in a place he can’t quite reach.

But it's fine. You both were just simply not meant to be. That's how life works, right?

He starts cleaning up, clumsily, awkwardly, trying to do anything to distract himself from the growing ache in his chest. He grabs the dice first, tossing them a little too forcefully into the velvet bag, the clattering sound loud against the quiet. Then the maps, scrunched and crumpled slightly from too many fingers running over them in nervous gestures. Finally, the snack pile looking more like a sad, squashed dragon than something worthy of a group of excited players. It wasn't worthy for someone like you.

He tries not to think about Suguru’s lack of goodbye. Or the way you didn’t look back when you left. The way your smile seemed to fade the moment you turned away from him. He tries, really tries, but his brain keeps betraying him, whispering that you're already slipping further away.

I just wanted to get to know you.

But no matter how hard he tries to focus on folding the papers, stacking the snacks, all he can hear is the quiet thrum of his own voice whispering in his mind:

I was never the main character, was I?

And it hurts, the pull of his heartbeat, the way it feels like he's running in place while you’re already walking away. Like he’s standing still in a world that keeps turning without him.

So for the first time in a long, long while, after the last chip crumb was swept and the candles were blown out, he didn’t stay up to play League. He didn’t refresh Reddit - not even the post he made about you, about how to win the girl. Didn’t pace around the living room rerunning conversations he wished had gone differently.

Instead, he grabbed his worn white teddy, the one no one knows about, the one he keeps tucked behind his pillows, and curled up in a ball on the far side of his bed. No Twitch stream humming in the background. No playlist lulling him into false peace.

Just silence. And stillness.

And somehow, for the first time in weeks, Satoru fell asleep. Not the jittery kind of rest he was used to, where his thoughts wouldn’t stop spiraling, but real sleep. Deep, heavy, and warm.

He didn’t even hear the chime of your message:

Got home safe! Thank you for today <3 I actually… have had a change of plans for Saturday and I was wondering if we could play a game together? Or we can go outside too! Touch grass as the kids say! :) Let me know! Goodnight Toru

Your name lights up his screen. The little heart. The nickname. The open door.

But he’s already dreaming.

Wrapped around a teddy bear and too heartbroken to know that maybe he was the main character after all.

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[theseinfernalangels]

Could you do #34 for Brennan

It’s gives me the vibes a younger fem!reader who’s never been loved by a real man 😖

34: Kisses that start on their fingers and run up their arm, eventually ending on their lips.

A/N: Anon has me giggling fr 😭🤭

“Love,” Brennan says softly, watching you with what you like to refer to as the Confused Puppy Eyes. “It’s really not that big of a deal.”

You shake your head, grabbing at the roll of bandages that he’d snatched from your hands. “I’m fine, Bren. Seriously. Don’t worry about it.”

The older man frowns. Your mannerisms were sometimes confusing to him, but this was on a while new level. You’d gained a few pretty gnarly-looking wounds on your arms from helping some First-Years in combat earlier, and they would be so easy to fix with his signet — but for some reason, you won’t budge.

He takes a deep breath in. Fine. If you want to be that way and play hyper-independent, then he’ll just have to break your walls in. Easy.

Slowly, Brennan sinks to his knees in front of you, keeping his eyes fully trained on yours. The motion completely surprises you; Brennan, while being the sweetest man you’ve ever met, was not one to get on his knees for anyone.

Well…Excluding that one time. But that was besides the point.

You raise an eyebrow, not quite understanding the gesture. “Bren?”

He doesn’t reply, instead dipping his head to press a kiss against your knee. Your eyes soften, and while you’re distracted, he gently pries the roll of bandages from you again and inconspicuously rolls it under your shared bed. Instantly, though, your back straightens, and that soft look on your face twists into a scowl. “Brennan!”

“Hush.” The words on your tongue die as he reaches up and grabs at your own injured arm, tugging the blood-streaked limb closer to his face. He inspects it with narrowed amber eyes for a moment before he looks back to you. “Don’t talk, okay? I know you’re tired, love.”

You blink, completely forgetting the sharp words you’d been ready to bite at him just a moment ago. Sometimes, Brennan insisted on being the one to fix everything, even though you were damn well capable of doing it all yourself. There was no doubt that it was frustrating, but when you added his gentle words and soft touches, you guess you could settle for handing things off to someone else for a change.

And that’s exactly what he does. Taking your hand in his, Brennan brushes his lips over your knuckle like a prince, and you stiffen as you feel the familiar rush of warmth exuded by his signet.

“You know,” he whispers, moving his head up to your wrist. “I get that you prefer to be an independent woman sometimes.” He turns your hand over to mouth against your pulse. “That’s okay. I respect you and your autonomy. You’re so strong, my love, and you’re so capable of a lot.”

A shiver runs down your back at the words, and you have to fight to stay still in your place. Why did your lover have to be so…considerate? You always took care of yourself — not even boyfriends or your family could really attest to keeping an eye out for you — so why did he have to go and raise that bar?

He shifts a little, running his lips up your forearm. Slowly, easily, you feel your flesh start to knit back together in streams of warmth and light. “I respect that,” he repeats. “But I’d like to ask something of you.”

Pulling away, his eyes meet yours again. “Let me take care of you,” he says, more of a suggestion than a question. “I can handle this one, okay? Let me help you here, and then you can take the reins back. Promise.”

Your free hand curls into a little fist, but you can’t force yourself to look anywhere but at him with the way he looks at you. It’s soft, caring, but also stern — something that the Lieutenant Colonel could never really put to rest, even in the safety of his bedroom.

Finally, your shoulders drop at the unexpected pressure of his stare, and you sigh, averting your gaze defeatedly. “You’re not gonna let me say no, aren’t you?” You ask quietly.

To no one’s surprise, Brennan shakes his head. “Nope,” he hums, moving back to start trailing kisses back up your arm. “I like taking care of you, sweet girl. I’m gonna end up doing it, whether you want me to or not. These kind of things become unconscious after a time.”

Your fingers flex awkwardly when he reaches your shoulder. The wounds on your arm are long gone now, but the man continues his ministrations and moves his lips against your skin as if to consume you. “I just don’t want you to feel obligated,” you object halfheartedly. “It’s not fair to you with how busy you are. You need rest, too, Bren.”

He nods, his other hand snaking into your hair to gently pull your neck as he noses along the column of your throat. “True,” he admits. “But I’m more concerned about you.” He nips at your skin before making his way to your jawline. “Which is why we’re here now.”

Your lips quirk up a little as he presses a lingering kiss to your cheek, and then he pulls away, looking at you expectantly. 

“What do you say, huh?” He whispers, fingers running along the now-bloodless skin of your arm. “Let me take care of you for a bit?”

Your brow furrows. “But you just— Oh.” You cut yourself off when his own smile turns a little sly. “I suppose this is the part where you actually kiss me?”

The feeling of his mouth settling on yours is the only answer you need.

[riamaple]

Life on Your Line (Ch. 11)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Summary: Cursed to sacrifice your life to save another, you were never able to connect with others, always meant to drift before you could belong. Death was all you knew. Then, one day in Brooklyn, you saved a young man, and for some reason, you kept seeing him again. And again. And again. No matter where you went, across decades, you always found your way back to him.

He was forced to live to destroy, you were forced to die to save—bound together in ways neither of you could understand.

Warnings: Angst (with an eventual happy ending). Death and Dying. Self-Sacrifice (Immortality / Resurrection). Canon-Typical Violence / Description of Wounds. Suicidal Thoughts. Implications and References to Child Death, Suicide, Self-Destructive Behavior / Self-Harm.

< PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Word Count: 1.3k (Shorter than usual but it's because it's Part 1 Epilogue and I'm posting this back-to-back with Ch. 10!)

CHAPTER 11: August 27, 2024

“Hey, Avery?”

You looked up at Mandy, blinking at her smile while the edges of your lips twitched upward in response. “Yeah?”

She giggled before placing a white paper bag onto the countertop. “I brought you your favorite.”

You lightly smiled, taking the bag. “What’s the occasion?”

She chortled, shrugging as she walked past you. “What? I can’t get you an eclair now and then?”

You gave a small, quiet laugh. It was a little strained, but Mandy’s energy was enough to make you try. “No, I’m not saying you can’t.”

“Good!” She winked before chucking her bag into the back room, which always made you roll your eyes. “You can’t go wrong with getting a sweet treat while working!”

You hummed before crossing your arms, your small smile still present. “Yeah? And tell me—why are you here today? I said you didn’t have to come in.”

Mandy shrugged again. “I don’t know. I was bored.”

“Aren’t you writing a novel?”

She shrugged again.

You shook your head before reaching for one of the stacks of books beside you. “Well, if you’re really that bored, you can help me put these back where they belong.”

Mandy scoffed. “I swear,” she began while grabbing a stack, “why the hell is it so hard for people to put books in the right spot?”

“Incompetence?”

“Stupidity,” she concluded with a dramatic sigh. 

You chuckled again as you walked around your store, your body moving on autopilot. Finding every book’s home was an easy task for you, and your movements were slow as you reached their rightful place. Your fingers traced the spine of each book before sliding them back onto the shelf.

Behind you, Mandy was watching you from the corner of her eye. You had noticed that she’d been more present in the past few weeks, but not necessarily that she had been watching you carefully. She was always perceptive, but she was keeping an eye on you in ways even you hadn’t realized.

Maybe being shaken had somehow made Mandy nervous too.

Over a month ago, you were reading a novel on your couch, the television playing softly in the background while Brooklyn murmured outside of your window. It was supposed to be a calming night, but then the news started to report on an attack at the GRC voting by the Flag Smashers.

By the way, you thought that was a stupid fucking name.

When you raised the volume, you saw him on the screen.

James Bucky Barnes.

You tried your best not to fall apart, but nothing was ever in your control. Crumbled to the floor, you watched his face shine underneath the streetlights as he walked to the building. He glanced at the camera, his frost-blue eyes dimmed by the night and the weight of the incoming battle, but there was still the same sharpness and softness within them that made you feel afloat. His hair was cut shorter, and his metal arm was no longer silver, but black and gold like the beautiful art of kintsugi.

That was what he was. Beautiful.

God, he was so beautiful.

The footage had cut to different moments of the night. Civilians rushing around, James speeding by on a motorcycle, and Sam Wilson, the new Captain America—which, thank fuck, because that John Walker guy was not it—soaring around and fighting a helicopter.

Whenever it cut back to James, you were on your feet, hands to your chest as you tried to keep your breathing calm. You’d seen him fight before—the way he moved so precisely and gracefully through the violent nature of his punches. But seeing that the last time you watched him fight led to a knife wound in his stomach, you couldn’t help but feel terrified.

Then you felt proud.

You felt so proud when the camera showed him breaking open a van full of hostages. The reporter called him a hero, but you already knew that. Your heart leaped to see James doing what he always did best—protecting those who couldn’t protect themselves. 

At that moment, you felt so much relief—relief that he was surviving without you. There was a second where you wanted to run out and find him, throw yourself in front of him from any dangerous threat, but you didn’t. You stayed in your quiet apartment, watching James fight for others and himself.

You were happy.

Then your chest began to hurt.

Seeing James again after ten years tore you apart. He was alive again, but that didn’t revive you. You weren’t there when he needed you the most—you couldn’t do the one thing you were cursed to do. The world took him away from you and spat him out when you were at your weakest. Too weak to move. To feel. To love.

Well, actually. That last one was a lie.

You were never weak enough to love, but to act upon it? It exhausted you. It hurt you.

Seeing him hurt you because you knew you couldn’t let him back into your life.

You flinched at the sound of a book hitting the floor, and you looked down to see that you were the problem. Sighing, you bent over and scooped the novel off the floor before sliding it into its home. A dull ache seeped into your chest and you shut your eyes, focusing on your breathing as the world tried to spin you around.

“Avery?” Mandy called behind you. “Are you okay?”

You exhaled and walked back to the front desk with a forced smile. “All good,” you replied, grabbing another stack of books.

When you turned back around, Mandy continued to stare at you. She had also seen the news—watched James Barnes run around and save the city alongside Captain America. The entire night, she only thought about you and how you must’ve felt seeing the man you loved back in action.

She tried to ask you about it the next day, but you said you didn’t want to talk about it. You didn’t lie and say you were fine—you definitely were not. For the past few weeks, you moved slower, sighed heavier, thought longer.

Loved harder, even when you didn’t want to.

Mandy didn’t push it any further, but you could feel the weight of her stare. So you kept your back turned to her—to the customers roaming around—to the front door that would open and close now and then.

Eventually, with three books left in your arms, you gazed at the top shelf. Rolling your eyes at people’s stupidity to put things back where they belong, you rolled the wooden ladder to the shelf you needed to get to and climbed up.

You reached up, sliding the book back into its place before carefully climbing down the ladder. But then, right as you were close to the bottom, you heard a snap and you felt your foot fall through one of the steps. With nothing underneath it, your foot swung forward while the rest of your body fell back. Your one hand lost its grip while the other let go of the books, and you yelped as you braced yourself to fall—

Into a pair of arms. 

You opened your eyes, blinking as you found yourself in someone’s grasp—very sturdy and comfortable, you noticed. With one foot still on the ladder, you were leaning back into this man’s chest, his arms underneath your armpits and wrapped around you. You could suddenly smell his cologne and hear his soft sigh, definitely out of relief that he happened to be right where he needed to be. Your cheeks flushed red as you slowly stepped off the ladder, and he helped you stand up.

“Damn.” You couldn’t help but sigh in embarrassment, turning around to face your savior. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize the ladder was ready to—”

Frost-blue eyes met your gaze, and you froze.

END OF PART 1: LIFE ON YOUR LINE

NEXT CHAPTER >

AN: We'll be back in 3 weeks with PART 2: BREATH IN YOUR MARGIN :) Thanks everyone!

General Taglist! @a-century-of-sass @clemicious @fallenxjas @paryl @frog-fans-unite @sebastians-love @buckvoidsyy @recorddust @nj01 @avengersgirllorianna @western-nightss @chonkybonky @weasleyswheezeys 

Thanks for reading :)

[waywardsou2]

My full Thunderbolts* review

Spoilers below

Yelena’s struggle's with her life feeling meaningless and just wanting a family that loves her hit so close to home in ways that I can hardly speak of. Her saying “Daddy I’m so alone” ripped my heart apart

John's quote of “on your left” and “I should have seen that coming” killed me I just…what the fuck the references were...I noticed them instantly how could you not

The killing of Antonia was so pointless and a horrible way to get rid of a character they had no idea what to do with

Bob is the sweetest character I have ever seen in my life and I need more content of him, the fact that after all that has happened, they are still experimenting on people is just fucking horrible. And vulnerable people no less. Fucking sick but it's America so what did I expect

I really hope Valentina dies she is such a bitch and I fucking hate her for what she did, trying to make a commodity out of the thunderbolts, she's just another power hungry official and I really hope she is kicked to the curb sooner rather than later.

Bucky being congressman was not explained, and I don’t understand it and I fucking hate it. Pointless subplot. (I actually made a post that is a potential explanation for this)

Having John Walker's wife and kid leave him and having Bucky say it was a low blow but I fucking appreciate it so much, but I also feel bad for him, more than I thought I would as a John Walker hater.

I think this movie has actually made me warm to John...he's still an asshole but part of me feels bad.

I think Bob might be a split personality, potentially. Or have some form of DID because by the looks of it Sentry/Evil Bob existed before he was experimented on, I just think the experiments made it worse. He’s kinda like the middle of the road for experimentation. Steve was the best and John was the worst, Bucky is a grey area and Bob is the middle…HE’S THE LIGHT AND THE DARK (And yes I know it wasn't the super soldier serum but still)

The way the light in the room ebbed and flowed from light to dark when Bob and Yelena were talking was so subtle but such a good hint

I am so fucking happy (and this is something I would never thought I would say) that there were no romantic plot lines, no interests, no sub plots. They didn’t try to pair Bucky with anyone, and they didn’t pair Yelena with anyone.

I really an rooting for a Bob and Yelena friendship, I need them so badly. Yesterday fast

The fact that we didn’t get to see Bucky’s rooms was a fucking crime and a waste of potential and I am so fucking mad about it. The on screen whump we could have been whiteness to would have been immeasurable (thank god I am writing a fic about this)

Alexi trying to do better by Yelena and having them actually talk things out even if it was only for a little bit was a golden moment and as someone with a shitty father figure I will cherish it for the rest of my life.

The movie was really good but there were a few meaningless subplots and a lot of things left unanswered but overall I really loved the movie. Even though it was small scale New York it was still the most exciting and climax filled movie. The editing was pretty good although some of the SFX was a little dodgy.

Sentry was the creepiest thing I have ever seen 10/10 would smash

No but seriously he was creepy as fuck and he made me flinch several times in the movie

It’s funny because the whole “dark person inside you” was actually something that my therapist discussed with me and this was literally something I faced. This is what my depression looked like with me and… oh my god it hit really close to home. And apparently it's a decently common conceptualisation of people's "inner demons" is literally a person. So this was a really good representation in my opinion. Especially with the darkness consuming Bob as he was beating up Sentry

I wish we could have seen the trauma of the other characters, that felt like wasted potential. I guess we saw what was necessary since the other stuff has mostly been explain and even shown before but still. It felt like such wasted potential to not extrapolate what was already there

The use of sound and things just going dead silent as the void took over was…perfect. Like literally the absolute nothingness was incredible

All of the characters holding onto Bob when he was struggling because beating down the darkness is never the answer was just

Something I actually talked to my therapist about also is that beating up your darkness or trying to fight fire with fire is not going to work. It’s only going to consume you and pull you down and make it worse. You have to accept it come to terms with it and learn to live with it and slowly it will fade…this is a perfect metaphor for basically all my mental health and I'm sure a lot of other people too.

Everyone with depression needs to see this movie because I swear as emotionally traumatised as I am…I feel like a cured me. It was so important for me to see that especially when my life has been feeling like shit lately

And that fact that I saw 0 AI in this movie was fantastic. No fucking AI my Marvel thank you very much. *spits on you* (at least from what I could tell I'm hoping I'm right)

THE END CREDIT SCENE WITH FUCKING THE “NEW AVENGERS” AND BUCKY HAVING TALKED TO SAM SAYING IT DIDN’T GO WELL. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME. WHO EVEN NEEDS DR DOOM WE HAVE A WINTERFALCON DIVORCE ARC ALREADY ON THE WAY. DR DOOM MOVE OVER YOU PIECE OF SHIT LITERALLY NOTHING IS GOING TO COMPARE

Yelena sticking by Bob because she knows what it’s like when your at your lowest was so sweet. She knew he just needed someone. And he’s so kind

Omg I need to talk about Bob because he is a serious contender for DID because the different person, the gaps in his memory, the lows and the highs…if you have DID and you have seen thunderbolts (because I do not have DID) please tell me that you recognise that as DID or if it was just me

YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MAD I WAS WHEN I FOUND OUT THAT BITCH HAD BOUGHT THE OLD AVENGERS TOWER. YOU HAVE NO RIGHT LADY, NONE. YOU NEED TO GET YOUR GREASEY MITS AWAY FROM WHERE IT ALL STARTED

I think Mel mentioning the 2012 Avengers movie was a nice hit. Because it really is a reset. I think my cousin was right, they needed to go down, to come back up again. Which meant taking a gamble to make some shit media and shrinking things back down to small (kind of I’ll get to that in a sec) and then working their way back up. Because this movie was just New York. New York was in danger and it was saved. Back to the old classics

However speaking on that the fact that, the Fantastic 4 showed up and were “extradimensional” does mean that the multiverse is still open. This leaves so much open for Doomsday we are going to basically (I think) have the original civil war plot line from the comics on a multiversal scale. That’s my vague idea based on what Thunderbolts set up

I really hope they give me more Bob content. I love these guys now. This is my favourite thing ever. New favourite Marvel anything. It is #1 golden cup and everything. Oh my lord.

Ok I’m going to take a shower I might be back with more

Ok I’m actually back the next day

I think I called it, I really think it was Bucky’s turn to be mischaracterized because a lot of that didn’t feel like Bucky, he was still a dork and still caring like he usually is. But it just didn’t feel like him, especially since his running for Congress wasn’t explained and it just seemed like a non-event. So…yeah, unfortunately, at least to me, Bucky didn’t feel like Bucky. Dare I say he was boring.

I was kind of hoping for more lore on the other characters but Ava and Bucky just got…side lined almost, they were there for a reason and I know Bucky is going to have a big role to play soon so they needed to be in this movie but it just felt odd. They were there just because

The intense found family aspect of this movie was honestly so beautiful and the messages of mental health were incredibly deep, though provoking and not stupid for once. Nothing was overlooked or changed to fit some sort of censored narrative. It was all blatant and in your face just how mental health should be represented because it is exactly like that. It’s big and loud and affects lots of people

[benjaminobrien493]

No Ordinary Boy - Chapter Twelve

“Um… would you mind not picking at the couch? It’s new.”

  Shit. “Sorry”, Tommy mumbled, clasping his hands instead.

  “It’s alright”, Jane Prohaska smiled at him. “It’s perfectly normal to be nervous, here.”

  I’m not nervous, Tommy almost snapped, before he realised she would likely see right through that.

  Prohaska had the appearance of a wise old owl, which was surprising, because Tommy was fairly certain she was younger than him by at least ten years or so.

  “So, Thomas-”

  “Tommy.”

  “Tommy. My apologies. Why don’t you tell me why you’re here today?”

  Tommy hesitated. Was this a trick question? She knew perfectly well why he was here.

  “M… my family recommended you. They said you could help.”

  “Well, I certainly intend to try. You’ve had… an interesting life, to be sure.”

  Tommy felt himself scowl, and Prohaska raised her hands in apology.

  “Sorry if that came off so blunt, but… well, it’s true. Your service in the Navy during the War on Terror, then… before that…”

  The therapist trailed off, but Tommy knew what she was referring to. 

  That fucking place. Did we ever escape it, really? 

  “That was over twenty years ago.”

  “And yet, I see no record of therapy since then, or… well, any other form of help, really, in the file provided by your general practitioner.”

  “My parents didn’t really believe in that kind of stuff.”

  Liar. You just didn’t want to go. 

  Tommy’s mind flashed back to the day they had been rescued, and then the days that had followed, with him and the others talking to the authorities, answering the same questions over and over again. His mother insisting that he see a doctor, his father arguing to just give Tommy some time to talk about what had happened…

  Tommy brushed his thoughts aside. As he’d said, that had been more than twenty years ago, and he wanted to get better. Tommy wasn’t even in the service anymore, and he wanted his family to stop looking at him like he was an unexploded bomb. If this helped… if it even could help, how bad could it be?

  “What do you want to know?”

  “When you were… out there”, the therapist asked, “was there any point in time that you would say was… particularly arduous?”

  “Winter. No question about it.”

  “Hmm. The first winter… or the second?”

  “Both, I suppose. Though… they each had their own reasons for being difficult.”

  “Well, let’s start with the first winter, then. What would you say made it so… difficult?”

  000000000000000000000000

  “Jackie, please eat”, Shauna begged, pushing the bowl of leftover bear meat towards her friend. 

  Were they even friends anymore? Jackie didn’t give off that impression, as she lay like a fallen statue on the floor. She wouldn’t even look Shauna in the eye.

  Shauna’s gaze drifted to Jackie’s fingers, still nestled in the bowl of hot water, and she struggled not to flinch. The frostbite had caused extremely painful-looking blisters, which in turn had caused the digits to strongly resemble a group of fluid-filled sausages. 

  Then the thought of sausages filled Shauna’s brain, and she heard her stomach rumble.

  Goddammit. How could Jackie not be hungry?

  “Please”, Shauna whispered, holding a piece of the meat close to Jackie’s mouth. Her friend’s eyes flicked up at Shauna, and she flinched.

  Jackie didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to. Her hazel eyes were full of anger, and betrayal, and so much disappointment. Shauna felt tears brimming in her own eyes.

  “Fine!” She snapped, slowly getting up off the floor, as she saw Tommy standing across the room. He looked like he was going to say something, but he shook his head and walked away.

  Shauna felt like running after him and begging him to fix Jackie, but she knew there was no point in it. They would just have to wait and see. Jackie would get better.

  She has to get better. Please… please.

  That night, Shauna bedded down in the attic with Taissa, as Tommy and Natalie settled in across from them.

  Shauna watched as Natalie snuggled into Tommy’s arms, and felt the familiar pangs of jealousy she always felt when she saw them together. They looked so perfect, just… just so right…

  Shauna, like many of the girls here, had been nursing a crush on Tommy over the last few months, ever since they had seen how competent he was with the rifle, and how he had seemed to take charge, showing them how to set snares and cook meat, even how to sew.

  Shauna had sewed a little bit back in Wiskayok, but Tommy had showed her and the others stitches that Shauna had never even heard of, and when he helped put their winter outfits together, Shauna had found herself actually enjoying what she was doing, for the first time since the plane had crashed.

  She knew that Tommy was truly, deeply in love with Natalie, but there had been moments in their time out here where Shauna had imagined a world where Tommy was the father of her child instead of Jeff, visualising him taking her out into a quiet neck of the woods and fucking her over and over again, as she begged him for more, and more, and more, until neither of them could walk and they lay naked and covered in sweat on the forest floor…

  Jesus, Shauna thought, coming back to herself, these pregnancy hormones are no joke. 

  She rolled over, and tried to go to sleep. Eventually she drifted off, and was woken by the sound of Natalie dressing herself, as the morning light emerged through the attic window. Tommy wasn’t there, and Shauna figured he must have gone ahead to prepare for the day’s hunt.

  Shauna tried to go to sleep again, but felt the tug on her bladder, and sighed as she saw Natalie creep down the ladder. She must have gone to the bathroom a dozen times yesterday, but she showed no signs of slowing down. It was a miracle she hadn’t had to go last night, to be honest.

  Shauna sleepily rose from her makeshift bed and descended down into the main room of the cabin. The bucket they were using was in the corner, and she was about to make her way over to it when she saw Natalie holding hands with Tommy, who was cradling a sleeping Jackie with his free arm.

  “What are you guys doing?” She asked them. How could Jackie still be asleep-

  Then Shauna saw the dark, red stain on Jackie’s shirt leaking down towards the floor, and her eyes widened. 

  “Jackie?”

  They told her afterwards that her scream had woken them up, but Shauna didn’t remember screaming.

  She remembered everything else, though, particularly what came next.

  000000000000000000000000

  “YOU FUCKING MURDERER!” Natalie heard Shauna bellow at Tommy, while she struggled to hold Shauna back.

  “He didn’t have a choice, she was never going to make it-”

  “YOU KNEW, DIDN’T YOU?! YOU KNEW THIS WAS GOING TO HAPPEN!”

  “Yes, but Shauna-”

  Shauna started to wail, long, loud and heartbroken, as the others crowded around them.

  “Is she…”

  “Oh, my God.”

  Many of the Yellowjackets were crying, as Tommy continued holding Jackie on the floor. There was no hiding what he had done. His knife was lying right next to Jackie, and they could all see it was covered in blood. 

  Tommy’s right hand was shaking, and Natalie could see it was covered in dried blood as well. She hadn’t even noticed when she’d grasped it…

  Then Coach Scott limped in from the bedroom, and Natalie saw him gape at her boyfriend.

  “Tommy, what the fuck?!”

  But Tommy didn’t say a word. He didn’t even look at his brother. He just sat on the floor, and held Jackie’s body in his arms, as the room was filled with a shocked silence, save for the howling of the blizzard from outside.

  “Why? Why, Tommy, why?” Shauna sobbed, as the tears began running down her cheeks. 

  “She asked me to”, Tommy mumbled, and Natalie felt her heart break at the blank look on his face.  

  000000000000000000000000

  Eventually, Tommy was pried off of Jackie, and directed over to Ben’s bedroom. Natalie sat next to him on the bed, grasping his hand, but he barely even felt it.

  The difference had been marginal, after all. The knife sliding in, the slight exhale of breath as the air left Jackie’s lungs for the final time… it had been very reminiscent of Tommy’s other kills, when he delivered the coup de grace to their struggling, dying bodies.

  He could still see the light leave Jackie’s eyes, as he slid his knife into the place where he knew her heart would be. Belatedly, Tommy realised he’d left the knife beside Jackie’s body, but he didn’t think the others would let him have it back anytime soon.

  “Look, I… I get it, alright? But… Jesus, Tommy…”

  Tommy suddenly realised Ben was standing in front of him, as he looked down at the floor.

  “She asked me to”, he repeated. Was that all he could say? His mind scrabbled for something a bit more argumentative, but came up blank.

  “She was already dying”, Natalie argued. “He told me you said that to him yourself.”

  She was doing a much better job coping with this than Tommy was, and he felt absurdly grateful that she was here, showing him her support. He didn’t know how he would react if she looked at him the same way the others had looked at him…

  Especially Shauna. Poor, poor Shauna. Tommy remembered her sitting next to Jackie the previous day, trying in vain to get her to eat.

  Had that only been yesterday? It seemed so long ago, now.

  “Well, yes”, Ben spluttered. “But… I didn’t mean for him to go and do this…”

  Tommy kept his gaze on the floor. He still hadn’t looked his brother in the eye yet. He couldn’t, somehow. It just seemed too hard…

  Ben hesitated, then spoke to Natalie.

  “Will you meet me outside, please?”

  “Okay”, Natalie whispered, and Tommy felt her squeeze his hand before they both left the room, as he kept right on staring at the floor.

  000000000000000000000000

  “Did you really know?” Taissa asked Natalie, as the Yellowjackets stood in a semi-circle around her.

  Jackie’s body had been covered with the blanket she had been using, but Natalie could still see her feet poking out the bottom. She winced. This… was not going to be easy.

  “Yes”, she said to them. “He told me yesterday. He also told me, the night before, that Jackie had asked him to do it.”

  “He told you she told him?” Mari scoffed. “So, you didn’t see her ask him?”

  “No, but-”

  “How do you know he was telling the truth?”

  “Because I trust him!” Natalie snapped.

  “Trust?” Shauna mumbled. She was not standing with the others. She was kneeling right next to Jackie’s covered body, not looking at any of them.

  “How are any of us supposed to trust him now? He’s a murderer.”

  “No, he isn’t”, Natalie snarled, as she felt angry tears come to her eyes. “Jackie was going to die, no matter what. Tommy saved her from days, maybe weeks of pain. Tell them, Coach.”

  She looked in desperation at Coach Scott, and the girls now turned on him.

  “Did you know Tommy was going to kill her as well?” Akilah asked the older man.

  “No, I didn’t”, Coach Scott mumbled. “I can’t believe he did this. I never would have allowed him to.”

  Natalie stared at him in disbelief. Was he not even going to defend Tommy?

  Then Coach Scott hesitated, and she saw his jaw set.

  “Because the truth is, I was debating the merits of doing it myself, just last night.”

  Gasps went around the room, but Natalie felt herself sag with relief. She didn’t know if Coach Scott was telling the truth or not, but he was going to defend Tommy, and Natalie felt her heart swell.

  “Natalie is right. Jackie was going to die”, Tommy’s brother told the group. “With frostbite that serious, way out here, far from anything even resembling proper medical treatment… the damage to Jackie’s hands and feet would have eventually turned septic, and poisoned her from the inside.”

  He paused. “I know it may not seem like it now, but… Tommy did just about the only thing any of us could have done to ease Jackie’s suffering.”

  Silence fell at his words, and Natalie saw the looks of anger on her teammates’ faces turn to sadness.

  “What should we do with her body?” Van asked, quietly.

  “We’ll have to keep her in the shed for now”, Coach Scott said. “We can’t travel to the graveyard, not with a storm like this going on.”

  “I’ll take her”, Natalie said. “I’ll need at least one more person-”

  “I’ll do it”, a voice quietly said behind her, and everyone in the room jumped as they saw Tommy standing behind her. Natalie hadn’t even heard him leave the bedroom.

  “She’s my responsibility. I started this; I’ll finish it.”

  000000000000000000000000

   As he and Natalie dressed in their winter clothes, Tommy stared at the window at the storm outside for a long time, hearing it howling and whistling, before they silently pushed the door open and left the cabin, making for the shed as they carried Jackie’s body between them.

  Tommy had cried all the tears he could cry, and now he just felt numb. It was a terrible thing he had done, a truly horrendous, awful thing. What would he say to Jackie’s family, if they were ever rescued from this place?

  Would he spend the rest of his life in prison, if they did go home? He didn’t know. He wasn’t sure.

  But he did know, and he was sure, that what he had done to Jackie- whether it was murder or mercy, in the eyes of the law- would only be the first of many tough, ruthless decisions he would have to make, the longer they stayed out here.

  Especially if winter carries on like this, he thought. What is this, the third day? We’re three days in and we’ve already lost Jackie. What the hell are the next three MONTHS gonna look like?

  They carried Jackie into the meat shed, lying her down in one of the corners.

  Staring down at her covered form, Tommy was at a loss what to say.

  “I’m sorry”, he began.

  “It’s okay”, Natalie said beside him.

  “Actually, I was…” he pointed to Jackie.

  Natalie’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

  She paused. “Well, it’s still okay. Your brother was right. There was nothing else any of us could have done for her.”

  She shut the door behind them, and reached over to take Tommy’s hands in both of hers. As he felt his fingers curl around hers while she stared up at him, Tommy once more felt a surge of gratefulness towards his girlfriend.

  “I love you”, he said.

  “I love you too”, Natalie whispered, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to his lips. It was strange to be doing this now, considering the company they were currently in, but Tommy felt his hand come up to stroke Natalie’s cheek, as her warm, soft mouth moved against his.

  Eventually, they left the meat shed, walking hand in hand through the blizzard back to the cabin. It was a short walk, of course, but still an extremely cold one.

  As the day progressed, their group of seventeen was forced to stay in the cabin again as the blizzard continued to rage outside. Tommy sat down on the floor, Natalie pressing against him, and the hours slowly ticked by as they watched and waited for the snowstorm to pass.

  “Hey, guys?”

  Tommy was dragged out of his stupor by the sound of Travis’s voice.

  “Yeah?”

  “I know we can’t go out now, but… when the storm’s passed, I wanna go look for Javi. Will you help me?”

  Tommy knew Javi would have frozen to death by now in the blizzard. He had likely been dead for at least the last two days. But after what he had done to Jackie, Tommy didn’t feel like talking about death right now, so all he did was nod.

  Travis nodded back, and moved away, as Tommy felt Natalie’s eyes on him.

  He knew she believed Javi was dead too, but all Tommy could do was shrug.

  “Let’s just… see what happens.”

  “Okay”, Natalie whispered, and she laid her head down on his shoulder, as they fell into silence again.

  000000000000000000000000

  The storm finally passed the next day, so Natalie, Tommy and Travis set out towards the crash site, thinking Javi may have sought shelter there. There was no trace of him to be found, but as they turned to go back, they decided to dig a grave for Jackie. It proved completely pointless, as the ground turned out to have frozen solid in the blizzard.

  “What the hell are we going to do with her, now?” Natalie asked.

  “Maybe we could store her in the plane, somewhere?” Tommy suggested.

  They looked through the remains, but couldn’t find any place where Jackie would fit without being completely exposed to starving predators.

  “Shit”, Tommy said. For once, he looked at a loss as to what they should do.

  “What now?” Travis asked. “Do we just keep her in the shed until spring?”

  “I mean…” Natalie shrugged. “Do we have a better idea?”

  Both boys shook their heads, and Natalie began to feel sick. Were they really going to keep Jackie’s frostbitten body in the shed where they stored their kills?

  Jesus Christ, Natalie thought, as she tried to adjust the jacket made out of deer hide that Coach Scott had tanned for her to wear. It had been well put together, but they didn’t have any zippers or buttons for her to close it up, so she was forced to wear it open against the elements.

  Pity we don’t have any spare belts. Maybe I could-

  Then Natalie looked around the wreckage of the plane, towards the seats, and started to get an idea as she gazed at the seatbelts.

  000000000000000000000000

  “Remind me to tell my mom to give you a job when we get home”, Tommy said, as they carried the seatbelts between them. “’Cause with your fashion ideas, you just might end up being the next Christian Dior.”

  “Shut up”, Natalie mumbled, but he could see she was smiling as she walked next to him, and he smiled back at her, for the first time since he had made the decision to end Jackie’s life.

  In truth, Tommy did not know what lay ahead of them, not for sure anyway. But he did know that Natalie’s love and support would be what kept him going, no matter what winter had in store for them.

  000000000000000000000000

  As it turned out, winter had quite a lot in store for them, as they progressed through the next two months.

  As time passed, most of the Yellowjackets slowly came to accept that Tommy had done what was necessary, to Natalie’s relief. Most, not all. To everyone’s surprise, Shauna spent most of her time in the meat shed with Jackie’s now-frozen corpse, and during the first month, Natalie did not see her exchange so much as a single word with Tommy. Despite this, Natalie still made sure to keep the remaining knives out of Shauna’s reach, and Lottie’s as well. She was taking no chances, not when it came to Tommy’s safety.

  The initial frosty reception she saw him face from the others, however, gradually disappeared as Tommy, her and Travis continued bringing in game from the outside. Once again, it would be Tommy’s skill as a hunter that prevented the group from starving to death, as he showed Natalie and Travis how to properly track animals through the snow.

  As they began bringing in birds, foxes, rabbits, bobcats, lynxes and even a couple of coyotes during the first month of winter, Natalie saw the demeanour of the others change from fear and anger to a grudging thanks, as they ate what the hunters brought back without complaint.

  But to Travis’s increasing despair, though their group of three set out every day, trying to cover as much ground as they could, none of them found so much as a trace of Javi. They had begun mapping out the territory around them after the disastrous expedition south, and they continued to do so as their group of hunters set out on their ‘reconnaissance missions’, as Tommy described them, which now covered up to eight miles in every direction around them.

  Despite the two months Javi had spent learning to hunt from Tommy, then Travis, there was no earthly way he could have made it eight miles in this environment. But Travis kept insisting they go out every day, hell-bent on finding some trace of his brother. Natalie knew it was useless, as did Tommy, but neither of them really had the words, nor the heart, to tell Travis his brother was most likely dead.

  In regard to their vegetable intake, meanwhile? There wasn’t very much to go around. They initially had plenty of cattails left over from the autumn months when they had begun saving up food, but as they progressed through to the end of the first month of winter, their supplies began to dwindle.

  Then just as it seemed they were about to run out, another huge blizzard broke out again, lasting for four days in total. Natalie spent the vast majority of said four days lying next to Tommy, alternating between sleep and sex as they cuddled together for warmth, trying to ignore their pangs of hunger as the storm raged outside.

  Wanting some privacy, they had now set their bed up in the pantry with the door closed off to prying eyes. Despite their situation, Natalie still felt a thrill every time it was referred to as their bed. It wasn’t a bed, not really, just two pillows and some blankets, but it was theirs. Her favourite thing about it was the bearskin blanket given to them by Coach Scott, fashioned from the bear Tommy had shot, and it was wonderful to snuggle under it as she listened to Tommy’s heartbeat while she ground her naked body on top of his, both of them struggling to keep their moans under control.

  They had officially run out of condoms now, and Natalie knew they were tempting fate with the pullout method, but it just felt so good when Tommy made love to her. She felt so peaceful, and so content, and with the door closed off to the outside, they could pretend they were the only people in the world, staying in a land where they could wear no clothing and make love all day if they wished.

  And Natalie wished. Oh, God, how she wished, as Tommy brought her to her hands and knees and entered her again, from behind this time as he groaned, while Natalie directed his hand to push her head into the pillow, so she could moan as loud as she wanted to with no fear of the others hearing them.

  Everyone else, save for Coach Scott, was now sleeping in the main room, as the attic was deemed far too cold to stay in now, but Natalie was determined to keep them well away from this part of her and Tommy’s relationship.

  Despite their wonderful, glorious lovemaking sessions, Natalie gradually became hungrier as time passed. Before coming here, Natalie had heard stories about people fasting and saying it was an otherworldly experience, that it made them look at things from a whole new perspective. What was Natalie’s perspective about fasting? She felt hungry, and tired, and angry. How could nobody have come for them? The Canadian wilderness was a big place, but surely the outside world would have had some idea of where the plane fell. How could they not know where they were?

  They may not have starved to death yet, but everybody’s cheeks were hollow, and it wasn’t hard to sense the morale of the group starting to drop, even after the storm passed, and Natalie, Tommy and Travis set out yet again.

  Due to the cold temperatures, everybody’s feet were starting to swell up, so they tore pages from the porn magazines and filed their shoes with them, hoping to bring the swelling down. It still hurt to walk, and as they made it through the second month of winter, the fresh game began to dry up, yet again. A week passed where the only animal they saw was a snowy owl, but when Natalie tried to shoot it, her hunger caused her vision to blur, and the shot she took missed by miles.

  “Fuck!” She screamed as the owl took off, flying above the trees.

  “Natalie!” Tommy yelled, holding out his hand, and Natalie tossed him the rifle, where he expertly chambered the next round and fired. The bird dropped to the ground, and Natalie knew it was dead, but it didn’t make her feel any less miserable as she dropped to her knees and began to cry.

  “I’m sorry”, she mumbled, tears rolling down her face as Travis went to get the fallen bird. “I’m so sorry-”

  She was cut off as Tommy kissed her. His mouth was warm, and his body solid against hers, and just for a brief moment she melted in his embrace.

  “It’s okay”, he whispered, rubbing her back soothingly. “It happens.”

  “I’m just so… so…”

  Tired. Frustrated. Hungry. Mostly hungry. The words went unspoken, but Tommy nodded his understanding.

  “It’s okay”, he repeated, pressing his forehead against hers as she closed her eyes, revelling in his warmth as she nuzzled against his face. She tried to stand up, but felt dizzy, and swayed on her feet as Tommy continued to hold her.

  “I think we should go back for today”, he murmured, and Natalie nodded mutely as Travis rejoined them.

  “We’re calling it”, Tommy said.

  “What? No, we still have to look for-”

  “I said we’re calling it”, Tommy interrupted. His tone hadn’t changed, but Natalie could sense the firmness beneath it, and Travis relented, though he still didn’t look happy.

  Javi is dead, Natalie felt like screaming at him. What is it going to take for you to see that?

  000000000000000000000000

  The owl they brought back lasted only a single night before the group picked it clean, and as Tommy, Natalie and Travis prepared to set out yet again the next morning, Tommy struggled to keep down the despair he was feeling. Natalie probably shouldn’t even be with them, given her obvious exhaustion, but as he saw her struggle to pull her hunting outfit on, tying on the black headband that she had woven from strips of cloth to keep her hair out of her eyes, he couldn’t help but admire her strength. She might not be as muscular as him and Travis, but mentally speaking, Tommy would say his girlfriend was stronger than anyone else here.

  As they moved towards the door, Lottie suddenly stood up, and Tommy tried not to groan. She had become, if possible, even more demented over the previous two months, and now insisted on performing rituals when they set out, in order to ‘protect’ them.

  She seemed to have conveniently forgotten that, if she’d had her way, Tommy would be dead, but he still held out his palm as Lottie smeared ash into it. Lottie then began to burn some sage, wafting it over them, and Tommy rolled his eyes, not caring if Lottie could see him or not.

  This is bullshit. He was tired, and hungry, and they didn’t have time for this.

  Then, finally, Lottie handed Travis the tea she had brewed from pine needles.

  Stage Three of the Bullshit Ritual. Though Travis seemed to be going along with it, neither Natalie nor Tommy had ever drunk so much as a sip of Lottie’s pine tea, because every time she brewed it…

  Tommy watched as Lottie pricked her finger and swirled it around in the liquid.

  Yep. Crazy. 

  “It’s not like this Wicca bullshit’s doing us any good”, Natalie said.

  Thank you, my darling.

  “Well, you keep coming back alive, don’t you?” Lottie asked.

  “Not because of you”, Tommy said. “Let’s go”, he motioned toward the door, and they began to set out, as he saw Lottie open her mouth.

  “Got something to say?” He asked.

  Lottie didn’t speak, but her eyes narrowed, and Tommy felt her gaze on him the whole way out the door, as he stepped into the cold.

  Probably for the best that Natalie confiscated the knives, he thought. 

  The day proved to be another fruitless one, as they aimed to stretch past the eight-mile limit, but as they struggled through snow that was coming up to their knees, Tommy saw Travis come to a stop.

  “What is that?” He asked.

  “What?” Tommy asked. But Travis didn’t answer him, taking off at full pace through the snow.

  “Travis!”

  But the younger boy still didn’t answer him, as he knelt in the snow, starting to dig.

  “Javi!”

  Javi?! Tommy thought. But as he drew closer, he saw what it was.

  “Travis, it’s just a fox! It’s just a fox!” Natalie shouted, trying to pull Travis away from the tiny skeleton.

  “I… sorry. I’m sorry.”

  And now we’ve progressed through to the hallucinatory stage of hunger, Tommy thought, as he drew up beside them. How wonderful. 

  “We should probably head back soon”, Natalie suggested. “It’s gonna be dark.”

  “We need to be searching out further, and getting up earlier. Javi could have found another cabin, or I… I don’t know, but…”

  Jesus Christ.

  “We can’t set out further, it’s too dangerous”, Tommy said. “We’re already running on fumes. We won’t have the energy to make it back. And even if we did, what if we get out past the mountains, and another snowstorm springs up? We’ll be dead, no question about it.”

  Javi is dead. He still couldn’t say it. Why couldn’t he say it?

  Travis turned to him, glowering, before Natalie spoke up.

  “We could probably start another hour before sunup. Give ourselves a bit more time.”

  She was looking at Tommy, pleading with her eyes, and he folded under her gaze.

  “Okay. We’ll try it tomorrow. But if we see anything dark on the horizon, or if anybody starts feeling faint, we are heading straight back. I’m not discussing it.”

  Travis nodded, and they began to turn back in the direction of the cabin.

  We’re already exhausted, his mind screamed at him. We are gonna run straight into a brick wall at the rate we're going. For God’s sake, call off the search. Javi is DEAD. He’s been dead for months. 

  Tommy knew it was true, but his mouth just couldn’t form the words.

  You are in charge out here. If anything happens to them, it’s on you. 

  Tommy knew this. He knew it.

  So why? Why couldn’t he say it out loud?

  As they reached the cabin, Tommy stopped to check the meat hanging in the shed, while Jackie’s body lay in the corner, still under the blanket.

  Tommy winced. I’m sorry. Really, I am. I should have been stronger. I shouldn’t have left you out here. 

  In the last two months, he had tried to come to terms with the fact that, legally speaking, he could now be referred to as a murderer.

  Could I, though? What would a judge say? Jackie was already dying, surely that might help me. No, don’t be stupid. Murder is murder. You knew that when you stuck the knife in her heart. 

  But Tommy didn’t know, not for sure anyway.

  Then as he continued to look at the blanket covering Jackie’s body, another thought crossed his mind. One that he had been trying to keep out of his brain the last couple of weeks. He still hadn’t told anyone, especially Natalie, because… well, because it might be the thing that ended them for good, and Tommy didn’t know if he’d be able to live with himself if he went through with it.

  Ah, the logical, pragmatic part of his brain said to him, but if you DON’T go through with it, you won’t be able to live, full stop, because at the rate things are going, you and everyone else here will FUCKING STARVE TO DEATH before winter ends. 

  No, the moral part of his brain argued. There has to be another way. There’s no coming back from this if you do it. The others will hate you for even suggesting it. 

  We’re starving. We’ve been starving for the better part of a month now, and it’s only going to get worse. Do we even have a choice, if we want to make it to spring? 

  Tommy shook his head to clear it of the war raging inside his brain, and stepped out into the cold, heading towards the cabin.

  This couldn’t happen. Not today. He didn’t have the energy to put up with it.

  Tommy stomped his shoes on the porch to rid them of the snow, and opened the door of the cabin, where he knew Natalie waited for him.

  000000000000000000000000

  “The fuck are you doing?” Natalie heard Mari ask, as Misty crouched near the pot, where their dwindling reserves of meat were cooking.

  “Me?” Misty asked.

  Natalie groaned. She’s not allowed. She knows she’s not allowed.

  Ever since the doomcoming, Misty had been banned from taking any part in the preparation of food, but she seemed to have forgotten about it tonight.

  “Get away from that”, Mari snapped. “You know the rules.”

  “It’s not like I’m gonna poison anyone”, Misty protested. “Again.”

  “Get the water”, Akilah motioned towards the door.

  “But that’s not fair”, Misty whined. “I’ve been doing it every day, and it’s freezing out there. I…”

  She trailed off as she looked out at the group.

  “Fine!” She snapped, sounding like she was about to cry as she stomped out the door.

  Tommy turned to Natalie, and she saw the guilt on his face. “Maybe we could-”

  “No”, she cut him off. She was not in the mood for helping Misty, not after all the crap she had pulled before winter set in.

  You’ve got such a big heart, my Tommy, and I love you more than anything for it. But for the love of God, please use your head. ESPECIALLY when it comes to Misty Quigley. 

  After swallowing down their meat soup, which in typical fashion had ended up being much more soup than meat, the two of them set off for Coach Scott’s room, where they had been storing their ever-expanding map of the area.

  “Hey”, he greeted them. “How’d it go?”

  “Great”, Natalie mumbled. “Except the part where we failed for the millionth day in a row.”

  “Yep”, Tommy said. “But…”

  He handed the piece of paper they had been drawing on to his brother, and Coach Scott gazed at the new area they had mapped.

  “Wow, these are getting pretty good.”

  “Natalie actually drew most of this one.”

  “Mm-hmm”, Natalie said, and a small, proud smile emerged on her face as Coach Scott added the new drawing to the board they were using.

  “So, that’s what, like, seven miles in each direction?”

  “Eight”, Tommy answered.

  “Except for the owl yesterday, there’s been zero sign of game this week”, Natalie said.

  “Or Javi”, Tommy added, and an uncomfortable silence began.

  “You guys know”, Coach Scott began. “At this point… I mean…”

  He trailed off, but Natalie and Tommy nodded.

  “Yeah, we know”, Tommy. “Not even a Sherpa could have made it this long out there.”

  “But…” Natalie said. “You know, Travis…”

  “Yeah���, Coach Scott said. “Yeah, that’s gotta be tough.”

  “I’ll talk to him”, Tommy said. “We’ll set out earlier tomorrow, but if we don’t find anything… the search will stop after that. It’s already gone on too long.”

  “Yeah”, Natalie whispered. Truth be told, she wouldn’t mind if Tommy went and said to Travis that the search for Javi would stop today, but she was just too tired to think any further than that.

  The two of them ended up sitting in front of the fire, gazing into the flames with the bearskin blanket wrapped around them, the snores of the others filling the air behind them.

  “You wanna go to bed?” Tommy asked.

  “In a minute. Really enjoying the Stone Age TV, right now”, she quipped, and Tommy chuckled.

  They gazed at each other, and as Natalie leaned in, Tommy met her lips halfway in a gentle, passionate kiss, and as her hand came up to stroke his cheek, Natalie knew this night would end with them naked in the pantry again.

  Not that I have a problem with that, she thought, as they alternated between kissing and nuzzling against each other’s faces, as though they were a pair of mated animals showing each other affection.

  Mated, yes. That’s what we are. Not boyfriend and girlfriend. Not married either, but… mated. Yes, I like the sound of that, Natalie thought, as she moved to straddle Tommy’s waist, before they heard a gasp beside them.

  Natalie looked around to see Travis sitting up, his hand on his chest.

  “Travis?” Tommy asked.

  But Travis didn’t seem to have heard him, as he started to make a choking sound, rocking back and forth, his eyes bulging out of his head as Natalie rushed to his side.

  “What happened?” Akilah asked.

  “I don’t know, I think he’s having a panic attack or something-”

  Then Lottie knelt down next to them, grasping Travis’ arms.

  “Travis look at me. Breathe with me, okay?”

  Travis continued to gasp, and Lottie tightened her grip on him.

  “You can breathe, okay? Breath is the only thing in the world right now. Breathe in. And out.”

  Travis gazed at her, and started to breathe a bit more easily.

  “You’re doing great. One more.”

  Travis breathed in, and out… and his body seemed to relax, as he gazed up at Lottie.

  Wow, Natalie thought. Maybe I misjudged you, Lot-

  “Your brother’s alive. I know he is.”

  Natalie saw Tommy’s mouth drop open, and she knew his thoughts mirrored her own.

  Did she- just- what- no- NO- 

  “You should get some rest”, Lottie mumbled, as she moved away from Travis.

  Now Natalie saw a thunderous look emerge on Tommy’s face, and he moved straight towards Lottie, as she did the same.

  “Can I talk to you?!” Natalie hissed, as she spun Lottie around. “What the fuck was that?”

  “Javi is dead”, Tommy said to Lottie, his lips curling into an angry snarl. “There’s no way he’s made it this long out there.”

  “Exactly”, Natalie agreed. “Giving Travis false hope is just going to make things worse.”

  “There’s no such thing as false hope”, Lottie whispered. “There’s just hope.”

  “What?!” Tommy whispered, trying to keep his voice low, but Natalie could see some of the others looking at them.

  “Did you read that in a fucking fortune cookie?” Natalie mocked Lottie.

  “What do you want from me, Nat? I just said what I felt.”

  “I want you to say less, Lottie. A lot fucking less.”

  “So do I”, Tommy growled. “Because it doesn’t matter how much you fucking feel about it, Lottie. Two months, out there, alone in the cold? Nobody could survive that, let alone a thirteen-year-old boy.”

  Lottie looked at him, but didn’t say anything, as she started to look upset.

  “What?” Tommy jeered at her, with a nasty grin emerging on his face that Natalie didn’t like one bit. “Are you gonna tell us the gods of wind and dirt are saying Javi’s still alive? We all know you’ve lost your mind, Lottie, but surely even you can see how fucking crazy that is-”

  “Okay, enough”, Natalie interrupted, as she saw Lottie open her mouth, her eyes flashing dangerously. “That’s enough.”

  The others gazed at them from across the room, Travis included, and though Natalie didn’t think he had heard Tommy’s words, she still saw the pain in his eyes.

  She instantly felt terrible. Maybe we shouldn’t stop the search. Not tomorrow, at least.

  Chickenshit, the logical part of her brain whispered in her ear, as she and Tommy headed towards the pantry.

  The search should have ended weeks ago. And you fucking know it, too. 

  000000000000000000000000

  As they lay down in their bed together, Tommy began drifting off to sleep with Natalie in his arms, her warmth pressing against him. Neither one of them was in the mood for sex after what had just happened, but Tommy was happy enough to settle for this.

  “I don’t think we should stop the search. Not tomorrow, anyway”, Natalie murmured.  

  Tommy sighed. “We can’t keep going out there, Natty. We’ve combed the area, over and over again, for two months straight. If there was a trace of him out there, we would have found it by now. We don’t have the energy to keep going until winter ends, it’s simple as that.”

  “I know. I know. But… just a few more days? For Travis’ sake?”

  Now Tommy groaned. He hated having to do this, but as he looked into Natalie’s beautiful blue-green eyes, he couldn’t find it within himself to refuse her.

  “Okay. We’ll give it three more days. But that’s it.”

  “Thank you”, Natalie whispered at him, kissing him softly.

  Three more days. Then Travis is gonna accept that Javi is dead, whether he likes it or not. Even if I have to hammer it into his thick, stubborn skull, Tommy thought, as he closed his eyes.

  As for what he was considering in regards to Jackie… it could wait. Just for now, for the next few days… it could wait.

  I hope Natalie understands. Please, please, for the love of God, let her understand. 

  They were the last thoughts he had before the two of them fell asleep, wrapped in each other's arms. 

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I know that Malleus is a sensitive topic here. Even though, he has his weaknesses (which is made very apparent in the canon material); he also has his strengths. One of the things I could immediately think of revolves around his familial attitude towards his family (Lilia, Silver, Sebek). Malleus cherishes his family very much. After all, his fears of losing Lilia was so immense that it ultimately lead him to the overblot. At the core of his character, I see him as someone who is fundamentally familial at heart. Most of his actions in Book 7 are rooted in this aspect of his character. This contrasts his tendency towards self-isolation and enriches his story.

Hey, I want to clarify that Malleus is only a sensitive topic if an ask's tone is aggressive or pushy to begin with. For example, I've previously been spammed with demands to explain why I dislike him + reasons why I should change my mind, told I was "hate criming" him (gross misuse of the term, by the way) for expressing those opinions (I would link to the post, but I actually never publicly responded to this ask or really talked about this publicly), and accused of "[wanting and expecting]" the worst out of him". It's a loud minority that has made me wary when Malleus is brought up. I can't help it, it's sort of gut reflex at this point/j But I'm generally fine with people wanting to discuss him, gush about him, critique him, whatever, so long as things stay civil and open-minded.

I also want to make it clear that even if someone personally dislikes a character, that is not the same as them disregarding the character's positive traits or claiming that the character has no positive traits to begin with. Malleus is certainly no exception to this. (I have a post going over some of the things I enjoy about him, although please keep in mind that it's not meant to be an exhaustive list of his good points.) Personally disliking a character also doesn't mean that you're automatically flagging a character as flat or poorly written. A character could be the best written thing in the entire world or the most complex character ever and people could still dislike them for any reason. Design, vibes, whatever.

That being said, I don't think "familial" is an adjective I've ever personally associated with Malleus? I definitely get those vibes when I browse romantic Malleus fandom works (it's very common to see him being portrayed as a loving, protective father and husband), but not that much with canon content. That's not me claiming Malleus feels nothing toward his Diasomnia members (he definitely DOES care for them), but I don't get the sense that he views them as family or that he’s overtly warm towards them??? At best, I see him perhaps viewing Lilia as a guardian or father figure, especially since it was the fear of losing Lilia that kicked off the major conflict in book 7 + his grandmother seemed too busy with royal duties to raise him. Furthermore, we see that Malleus hatched because of Lilia's magic and how excited he is to see Lilia in multiple flashbacks to Malleus's childhood. He clearly respects Lilia a lot and associates him with the few genuinely happy parts of his childhood. However, I don't see him breaching professional boundaries with Sebek and Silver and skirting into familial territory. (I discuss this more in detail in an older post, so I'd suggest taking a look if you're interested!) Lilia does refer Diasomnia as “not related by blood [but] we are still family", and I believe even their VAs referred to Lilia as a father and Malleus and Silver as brothers. Problem is, I don’t see this reflected in Malleus himself and how he behaves.

It's obvious that Malleus seeks companionship, but that he doesn't realize this about himself without outside help (he couldn't even identify that he was lonely until Yuu pointed it out to him early in book 7). He's so enabled he has become used to the isolation that comes with being at the top and never really thought to question it. This comes through in many of his behaviors: he becomes upset at being left out or uninvited to ceremonies and meetings, when his grandmother (his only living relative) fails to spend time with him despite promising to, and constantly faces struggles connecting with his peers (he tries to, but usually fails in these attempts). And because he fears being left behind, he tries to stop everyone from leaving him. Malleus is also pretty emotionally stunted and awkward due to his growing up alone. This could be a matter of our individual POVs differing, but I think Malleus's loneliness and longing to be with others--despite being raised in relative isolation--is being conflated with being familial?? I genuinely do not recall any standout moments in which Malleus acts familial towards Silver or Sebek, or even towards other peers (though if you can think of any, please share). The only thing that comes to my mind is when Malleus helped Lilia with raising baby!Silver... but even then, I sort of wonder how much of that was intentionally arranged by Lilia to expose Malleus to humans + combat the bigoted worldview he might otherwise develop. Their current day relationship dynamics just don't read as familial to me.

But also 💦 “familial” is a pretty vague term and could mean different things to different people. I think it assumes that families have amicable dynamics within themselves, and I don’t think that’s always the case. Maybe our definitions are entirely different and that’s also contributing to our conclusions looking nothing alike.

[arkaiveofurown]

Hii! How are you

So I'm new here, idk if you take requests, but if you do, could you please write something about katakuri? Like big mom arranges Katakuri's secret lover's marriage with oven or cracker. But katakuri speaks up (for the first time) against his mom.

Braver Than Silence

Pairing: Charlotte Katakuri x Reader

He was raised to hide everything soft and vulnerable—his mouth, his thoughts, his love. But in your light, Katakuri found something he never thought he deserved: freedom. And when Big Mom threatens to take you away, he learns that some truths must be spoken, even if it means defiance.

Word Count: ~2,900 words

tag: fluff, secret relationship, family conflict

my masterlist here ♡

——

a/n: this is such a nice request——thank you so much! it’s my first time writing about katakuri and i really hope i did him justice (⸝⸝╸-╺⸝⸝)

——

Katakuri doesn’t speak much.

He watches. He calculates. He acts only when necessary.

But you know more.

You know how his eyes soften when you smile. How his shoulders relax when you brush his hand. How his scarf sometimes slips when you’re alone and he doesn’t rush to pull it back.

He doesn’t say, I love you.

He doesn’t have to.

Because when you sit together on the cliffs just outside Totto Land’s borders, you rest your head against his shoulder, and he lets the silence hold the meaning.

“Do you think she’ll ever know?” you ask softly, referring to Big Mom.

Katakuri is still. “If she finds out, she’ll take you away.”

You nod.

And neither of you say what you both feel—because even in your secret, the danger is real.

Still, he brushes your pinkie with his, letting it curl around yours.

He’ll protect you.

Even if he never says it.

⸻

It happens at a banquet.

The room is filled with laughter and sweet, dripping wine. Crackers crunch under feet and the table overflows with frosting, pastries, and fresh meat.

You’re helping Smoothie with the seating arrangements when Big Mom’s voice cuts across the room:

“I’ve decided it’s time. You’ll marry into the family officially.”

You freeze.

“I’ve chosen Cracker,” she continues, smiling wide. “He’ll treat you well. You’ve been around long enough to be trusted. This is good for Totto Land.”

The room goes quiet—except for Cracker, who gives you a smug little grin.

You feel Katakuri’s stare before you even look.

But he doesn’t say anything.

Of course he doesn’t.

Of course he will always put the Charlotte Family first. He upholds their pride and status above all else. That’s how he was raised. That’s who he’s always been.

Of course it’s them over anyone else.

Even over you.

Even over himself.

⸻

You don’t cry—not until you’re alone.

When Katakuri finds you that night, he says nothing at first. He just closes the door behind him, the click of the lock soft, heavy.

You face away from him, staring at the cold mirror in your room.

“I can’t marry him,” you whisper. “I can’t even pretend to want it.”

He steps closer, and you feel the heat of his body behind yours.

“It’s not your fault,” he says quietly.

“It’s yours?” you snap. “For not saying anything? For always hiding me like I’m a shameful secret?”

The air thickens.

“If I told her, she’d hurt you,” he says. “You know she would.”

“So what?” Your voice breaks. “I’m just something you visit in the dark while your mother decides my future?”

He flinches—but doesn’t move.

“I love you,” you say finally, trembling. “But I won’t survive this if I’m treated like nothing.”

Silence.

Then, low:

“You’re not nothing,” he says.

You turn your face halfway toward him.

“Then why are you always quiet when it matters?”

He’s quiet for a long time.

Then:

“I wasn’t afraid she’d say no.”

You look at him.

“I was afraid she’d say yes.”

He steps around you slowly, enough for you to see his eyes. Not just shadowed by his scarf, but guarded. Worn.

“I’m afraid of what she’d do if she knew.”

You stare at him.

“To her, love isn’t sacred. It’s… strategy,” he says, voice rough. “Everything personal is a tool. If she knew how much I loved you, you wouldn’t be safe. You wouldn’t be yours anymore. You’d stop being someone I chose—and become someone she controls.”

He looks away, jaw tight.

“She’d use you against me. Or worse—decide to ‘correct’ me by handing you to someone she could command more easily. Someone obedient. Someone like Cracker, just so she could show her dominance.”

You blink hard, something cold crawling down your spine.

“She wouldn’t be giving you a place in the family,” Katakuri says. “She’d be taking you from me.”

You stay quiet.

He lowers his voice even further. “That’s why I never said anything. Not because I’m ashamed. Not because I doubt you. But because the moment you’re exposed, you’re no longer mine. You’re Mama’s… ”

His eyes lift to meet yours again—something raw flickering in them now.

“I didn’t want to lose you to her.”

⸻

Katakuri doesn’t sleep that night.

He stands on the balcony, arms crossed, scarf pushed down. The moon reflects off his sharp features, jaw tight with thought.

Brûlée appears behind him.

“You’re thinking about her.”

He doesn’t deny it.

Brûlée sighs. “You always protected your siblings. Even when you hated them. But this—this is different.”

Katakuri doesn’t answer.

“Are you going to let her go?” she asks softly.

And his jaw clenches.

“No,” he says. “Not this time.”

⸻

It’s rare for Katakuri to speak in front of the family.

Even rarer to challenge Big Mom.

The room is full again—this time for a wedding announcement feast.

You’re standing beside Cracker, your face numb, hands clenched behind your dress. Your heart is pounding in your chest, but the cold weight of the moment makes it hard to breathe.

Katakuri enters late, his scarf half-lowered, his mouth visible.

Gasps echo as he speaks.

“She’s not marrying Cracker.”

Big Mom’s grin falters, eyes narrowing.

“What was that, Katakuri?”

“She’s not marrying anyone,” he repeats, his voice like steel. “She’s mine.”

The room goes dead silent.

Then chaos.

Cracker shouts. Smoothie drops her drink. Perospero starts laughing.

And Big Mom stands, her towering figure looming over the room.

“You went behind my back?” she roars.

“I protected her from you,” Katakuri replies, his voice calm but unwavering. “Because I knew what you’d do if you found out.”

Big Mom’s eyes flare with rage.

“And you thought I wouldn’t control you?” she spits, her voice dripping with venom.

Katakuri takes a step forward, his presence growing more intense. He stands taller now, his usual reserve slipping away for the first time in years.

“I’m not your soldier anymore,” he says, his tone full of finality.

The tension in the room is suffocating—everyone watches, breath held.

Big Mom’s eyes narrow dangerously. “You think you can just defy me? After everything I’ve done for you?”

“I’ve spent my life protecting this family, but this time… I won’t let you control her,” Katakuri says, his voice softer now, but no less fierce. He’s speaking from the heart. “I’m done letting you decide who belongs to who. She isn’t a pawn in your game.”

He pauses, his eyes now searching for yours, as if he draws strength from you.

“And she’s never been a pawn,” he continues, voice thick with emotion. “She’s the one who’s always accepted me—all of me. My flaws, my imperfections, the things I’m not proud of. She loves me for who I am. Not because of the family name, not because of what I represent, but because she sees me. For the first time in my life, someone sees me for who I am, and that is what I won’t let you take from me.”

You stand there, stunned by his words, feeling a warmth spread through your chest despite the storm that rages around you. But it’s the way he looks at you that holds your attention the most—the quiet, raw tenderness beneath all his resolve.

Big Mom’s face contorts with rage and disbelief. “This is the son I raised? A traitor who chooses his love over his family?”

Katakuri doesn’t flinch. “I choose her because she’s made me see something you never let me have—freedom. I choose her because I finally know what it means to be myself, not just the thing you made me into.”

Big Mom’s fists clench, shaking with fury. “You are my son. My right hand. You owe everything to this family. And you—”

Katakuri interrupts her, his voice finally cracking the surface of his usual calm. “I don’t owe everything to you. I owe my loyalty to the family, yes. But I owe my heart to her.”

The silence is deafening now.

Katakuri steps closer to you, his hand reaching out for yours. “Come here,” he says, his voice quieter now but full of an undeniable pull.

You move before you think, your feet carrying you to him instinctively. His hand takes yours, fingers firm and grounding, as though they’re the only solid thing in the room. His grip tells you everything—you’re not a secret. You’re not something to be hidden anymore. He’s done hiding.

And for the first time, you see fear in Big Mom’s eyes.

Because she’s losing control.

Of him.

⸻

You’re sitting beside him in his private quarters, the storm long passed.

He didn’t let go of your hand the entire time.

You rest your head on his shoulder now, feeling the way his heartbeat finally begins to slow.

“Do you regret it?” you whisper.

“No.”

A pause.

“I should have told her long ago,” he murmurs. “But I was afraid.”

“You’re not afraid of anything.”

“I’m afraid of losing you.”

You tilt your face up to him.

“And you didn’t,” you whisper.

He pulls his scarf down completely.

And kisses you.

Not in secret. Not in shadow.

But in light.

Braver.

[areyoutheregoditsmejessica]

sorry for not wanting to watch yet another series where even when the black woman lives she’s still “sacrificial” in her love.

i’ll never believe that anyone should come before one’s own kids.

however,

i feel sorry for season 2 athena who watched her involuntarily-high-on-LSD boyfriend stand on the ledge of a firehouse in hopes to be reunited with his family if he just stepped off and died. i feel sorry that athena offered to shoulder the burden with him.

i feel sorry for season 2 athena who was so excited about may’s homecoming dress but once she realized how uncomfortable her boyfriend was, dialed back because she always cautious of the sensitivity surrounding his lost children.

i feel sorry for season 2 athena who asked bobby to move in to her house because she knew that the idea of another family, an instant family scared him but took that leap of faith anyway.

i feel sorry for season 5 athena who noticed her husband had the weight of the world in his shoulders so she decided to hesitantly offer up the idea for them to take the honeymoon they never had only for him to not say yes.

i feel sorry for season 7 athena who had to hear her husband say in what they both thought were their last minutes together on earth that he never deserved her, but he kept building a life with her anyway.

i feel sorry for season 7 athena who verbally expressed to her husband that she was concerned about his odd behavior and how she continues to fear his actions but stays anyway because she hoped she could love him enough to make him want to stay.

i feel sorry for season 8 athena, clueless to the fact that her husband has been dying for hours, would not have gotten a chance to say goodbye to her husband had his firefighter not called her to walk down that tunnel. i feel sorry that athena begged him to stay with her i feel sorry that athena had to be blindsided then watch him die in agony.

bobby’s mental health struggles over the course of the series are understood and are at zero fault of his. and we know that athena never held that against him. she herself has referred to him as perfect.

it doesn’t make sense that them both being first responders that either would leave the decision of their final resting places up to their significant other. i feel sorry that athena had to carry that burden of looking/thinking of something in the first place.

after 8 seasons of this, we know the seasons (er, episodes) are written in a vacuum. but i do wish if we were doing the whole “full-circle moment” we should’ve never been witness to bobby and athena as not only a couple but THE flagship couple of the series.

season 1 deeply anguished suicidal bobby nash who found a new home at the 118, then curated an A1 firehouse, then eventually went out a valiant hero being shipped back to minnesota to be buried with his family would be beautiful. he could’ve even had a new wife in L.A. who was more of a supporting character and was just an extension of the bobby character. it’s not the best writing to make a woman’s character just about a man but in this scenario it would’ve been palatable.

but that’s not what this series has been. we’ve seen athena pick herself up and put herself back together after divorcing michael. we then learn the backstory of her tragically losing her fiancé in her early-mid 20’s. we see her take leap after leap after leap of faith with bobby, and joyfully so. athena is played by NUMBER ONE on the call sheet. she’s not just a supporting character or an extension of bobby. she’s her own character. her sending him back home doesn’t elicit any positive feelings for me. it makes it feel like athena (and her kids) were just a mere pit stop, a rehabilitation, something to bid his time, until he could get back home to his “real” family. not full-circle at all. something geometric, but i’m not sure what. i don’t know what the proper solution would be as for bobby’s final resting place, and i do wish we never had to find out canonically. but seeing that plane and the headstones did not fill me with peace or closure or any warm and cozy feelings.

if anyone is upset by….*gestures around* all of it that’s totally valid. and if it just specifically the handling of the death and the (lack of) funeral it’s also completely valid and not hysterical at all.

[fallout4reacts]

Oops my hand slipped. I just had to get this idea out of my brain and on paper immediately.

[seventh-district]

Are you sad? Are you miserable? Is your life falling apart? Is your body falling apart? Does your head feel like it’s full of cotton, or perhaps TV static? Does it feel like the world is crumbling around you? Is it getting harder to force yourself through the daily motions? Is happiness getting increasingly harder to find?

Why not consider making a large, hyperfixation-fueled impulse purchase?

They won’t tell you this, but all of the happiness and satisfaction you’re searching for, along with each of those little chemicals that make your brain feel good, are all hidden within your very next large, hyperfixation-fueled impulse purchase!

So why don’t you go on ahead and grab that credit card, throw caution to the wind, and chase that good feeling? You certainly won’t regret it. No one has ever regretted making a large, hyperfixation-fueled impulse purchase! Never!

[riamaple]

Life on Your Line (Ch. 10)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Summary: Cursed to sacrifice your life to save another, you were never able to connect with others, always meant to drift before you could belong. Death was all you knew. Then, one day in Brooklyn, you saved a young man, and for some reason, you kept seeing him again. And again. And again. No matter where you went, across decades, you always found your way back to him.

He was forced to live to destroy, you were forced to die to save—bound together in ways neither of you could understand.

Warnings: Angst (with an eventual happy ending). Death and Dying. Self-Sacrifice (Immortality / Resurrection). Canon-Typical Violence / Description of Wounds. Suicidal Thoughts. Implications and References to Child Death, Suicide, Self-Destructive Behavior / Self-Harm.

HEAVY Warning(s) for the REST OF THE STORY: Frequent Discussion of Suicide/Suicide Attempts, Suicidal Thoughts, and Self-Harm/Self-Destruction Behavior — The reader is going through a rough time starting now. There will be no graphic descriptions of Suicide/Suicidal Attempts or Self-Harm unless I put a warning otherwise. Please read the rest of the story with caution.

< PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Word Count: 7.3k

CHAPTER 10: April 2014 - November 2023

April 19, 2014. 9:01 AM

I miss James, but what else is new?

It’s been two weeks since I woke up and I can’t help but wonder where he is. I keep hearing his voice when I close my eyes — the way it shook when I had to leave him that day. We were both so afraid, but I've never been more certain to walk away.

I hope he’s doing okay now.

I keep forgetting that I don’t have my locket anymore. I’d reach for it and touch my skin instead. Every time, I feel a little sad to not have it, but also happy that it’s with the man I love most.

Maybe it was something I needed to let go of for a bit. Besides, when I see him next, I’m sure he’ll try to give it back to me.

When I go to bed, I imagine him next to me. For once, we’d be lying down together, looking at each other. It wouldn’t be him holding me or me holding him because one of us was dying. We’d just go to sleep together.

Did I mention James gives great hugs?

I know I did, but it’s true. For someone who’s been trained to kill for so many decades, he sure knows how to embrace someone.

I want that someone to always be me.

I’m leaving DC soon. I should have the moment I woke up, but I couldn’t help but wonder if James was still around. Maybe he was waiting for me to come back, even though I never told him it would take a month for it to happen. But I’d like to think he’d wait as long as he could for me. I walked through crowds to see if I could spot him.

I haven’t yet.

Yet.

I’ll keep waiting for him to come back to me — or when I go to him. Hopefully, the next time we meet, it won’t be because I have to die.

I just want one day where I don’t have to worry about that.  

I miss him so much, and I wonder if he misses me.

I know he misses me too.

<><><>

April 25, 2014. 9:03 PM

I moved back to Brooklyn yesterday. I haven’t lived here in 65 years, but I figured it was time I came back home.

I knew Brooklyn changed a lot — I watched it evolve through the screen — but seeing it in person is nerve-wracking. My history is still here, but it’s like someone spilled coffee onto the pages, making it antique and forever stained by a mistake.

Everything is so much busier. I remember those days when I could walk down the streets alone, but now there isn’t a chance to do that. The apartment I found is mostly away from the noise, thankfully. There are a lot of cracks and it smells like dust — it needs a lot of work.

For the first time in decades, I decided to give it a lot of work.

Maybe I don’t have to treat every one of my places like a temporary shelter anymore. For once, I could treat it like a home, decorated with paintings and bright curtains and maybe a plant. Something I could protect while I wait for James.

Brooklyn is huge. I don’t imagine I’d have to move anytime soon. Even if I have to, maybe I can bring home with me.

I also got a bookstore. I saw online that this old man was giving up his — a bookstore that sells new and used books at a discounted price — so I quickly snatched it up. He was grateful that someone else was passionate enough to take over, saying that people need books to survive. That stories shouldn’t be thrown away.

He’s not wrong. 

The store could use a lot of new updates and changes, but it still feels cozy. It won’t be long until I can get this place up and running to its fullest again.

I thought I was going to start today, but instead...I visited my baby.

I haven’t been to her grave since I left Brooklyn. And I cried. Fuck, I cried so much. I don’t remember what it feels like to hold her or the sound of her giggle. I missed her when I lost her, but I miss her even more now that her name in stone is all I have.

I brought all of my journals with me. All of my stories that share who I was and who I am. Who I try to be, and who I lost and loved. I hid them all by her grave.

My baby girl can keep my stories safe. She was always good at sharing stories.

<><><>

August 4, 2014. 10:38 PM

There’s still no news of James. Seems like he disappeared without a trace. That’s good — it means he’s hidden, but it also means I have no idea where he is.

God, I miss him. I miss him so much.

I wonder if he thinks about me as much as I think about him. When I walk by certain people who look like him — items that remind me of him — I have to stop and think. Does he do the same? Does he look at roses and think about me? Or jewelry and hold onto my locket?

Does he stop and look behind himself, hoping to see me? Because I do.

I used to think this curse meant I’d never belong to anyone — that I couldn’t have anything permanent — that I was always meant to lose, whether it’d be losing my life, my joy, or myself. When I tried to hold onto something, it’d slip away. Hope for the better, and it’d be the opposite.

I tried to pretend I didn’t want anything. Bu t…I want James.

I want to live with him. I want us.

A life where we don’t have to scramble — where I can just grab his hand and know I can do it again the next day.

Is it foolish to hope after everything I went through? Of course, it is. But maybe, after more than 100 years of being a vessel of this curse, I deserve something other than survival.

I deserve James, and I can’t wait to see him again.

<><><>

May 28, 2015. 5:23 PM

I think about James every day.

Not in a hurtful way, like during those days when he was under HYDRA’s control and I begged for him to escape. I think about him now over simple things.

I walked by an elderly couple sitting outside a cafe, feeding each other pastries and laughing. I started to think about that kind of life with James. I’d love to have breakfast with him with coffee, maybe with juice as well. Learn if he’s a savory or sweet guy. I’d like to think he’s a sweet guy.  

I want to know how much he has figured himself out so far. If he prefers dogs or cats — if he hums while he cooks, if he even cooks — if he leaves dishes in the sink instead of washing them right away. There’s so much about James I don’t know, but that makes me love him even more. I don’t want us to hide anymore.

I’d love to run with him, not because there’s a threat.

I’d love to hold hands with him, not because one of us is dying.

I’d love to hug him, not because we have to say goodbye, but because we’re happy to say hello.

That's what I want, James, and I hope you want the same.

<><><>

June 23rd, 2016. 11:30 PM

The news lies.

We already knew that, but this time they’re really lying. I refuse to believe that James bombed the United Nations — that he killed the King of Wakanda.

There was a photo of his face from the security footage, but I know that’s not him. I don’t care what anyone says — I know what he looks like and that’s not him. We’ve stared into each other’s faces enough for me to know that he’s been framed.

But they’re calling him a terrorist. A murderer and a threat to the nation, but that’s not who he is.

James, I know you. You didn’t do this.

I lived long enough to know that the world lies all the time — make you believe you can have something good, only to take it away. You’re a good person, James, and the world is trying to take that narrative from you. I wish I could find you and tell you you’re not who they say you are.

You’re not a monster, James.

You’re mine.

<><><>

December 25th, 2016. 9:14 PM

I cried today.

I decided to walk around the city because I knew the streets were going to be emptier than usual. No stores were open for the holidays and everyone was inside, celebrating and spending time together. It’s not the first time I walked around during this time of year because, I mean, I don’t have anyone at home waiting for me.

But then I came across this family — a lovely couple with their baby in their stroller.

I started to cry because I suddenly imagined myself and James as that couple, with my daughter as the baby.

She would’ve loved James. Definitely would’ve called him Bucky because she’d think that nickname is silly. I wonder if James wants kids — if he’d be the kind of parent kids dream of having.

I don’t think I am. If I was, then my baby wouldn’t have died so young.

James is still missing. He disappeared with Steve a few days after he was framed. And yes — he was framed by some asshole named Zemo or whatever. Even then, they still labeled James and Steve as fugitives — traitors to the nation. They cleared James for the bombing, but still want him to answer for his crimes as a brainwashed assassin.

Fuck them. It must be so easy, huh? To let others take the fall and point fingers at them. People don’t understand what it’s like to lose control of everything.

Fuck those entitled assholes.

I’m just grateful that Steve is with James — the Falcon and Black Widow too. It sucks to see them on the run, but they’re protecting James. Someone other than me is finally looking out for him.

I do wish that Steve came to find me though — that James told him about me and brought me along with them. 

I don’t need much. I just want to hug James and tell him that I’m here.

I miss him so much that it hurts. I hope he doesn’t miss me as much — he doesn’t deserve any more pain.

I hope you’re having a better holiday than me, James. I look forward to the day when we can celebrate together.

<><><>

January 18th, 2017. 3:12 PM

I almost lost James 13 years ago today.

I still feel sick when I think about it. How he bled so much from his stomach while that HYDRA agent laughed at us.

But what horrified me more was that when I thought about that day, I realized that right now, I want to be sent to him.

I’m so selfish. I can’t believe I wished something was happening so that I could see him. That’s fucked up. Asking for the worst to happen to him so that I could be his little savior.

But that doesn’t change the fact that I love him and miss him. I really, really miss him. It's been almost 3 years since I last saw him. I know that means he’s safe (or at least just alive), but I can’t handle not knowing where he is now. Did he get caught? Is he trapped somewhere? Does he need my help?

I wish I could get sent to him without either one of us having to die.

Or, if we have to, I’d get to hold him before death comes for me again.

God. I’m really in love with this man, huh?

<><><>

June 3, 2018. 1:58 AM

Fuck you. Actually fuck you. Do you think this is funny? It’s so fucking funny, huh?

Kill half of the universe but leave me alive.

Fuck you.

I can’t believe you didn’t let me save anyone this time. You put me near Times Square when everyone started to vanish, letting chaos wreck us. I kept waiting for you to tell me to save someone — for my heart to get pulled — but all I did was watch people disappear while others get injured by moving cars and falling helicopters.

You didn’t even let me save a child. I watched a fucking child die again while I survived.

Just let me die. Let me see my family. I just want to hold my daughter again. I’m so tired of pretending to be someone I’m not. Taking on so many different fake names and pretending that I wasn’t buried next to my baby in 1904.

Let me go. Let me fucking go. What more do you want from me? Why can’t you give me the satisfaction of death? After more than a century of this bullshit, you could at least let me die.

Instead, you made me fucking watch a child die. The boy didn’t even vanish — he fucking died from an accident.

Then I watched the news and fucking hell — you erased half of the population in the universe? The whole fucking universe? All of them are gone, but I’m still here.

I didn’t ask for this damn life. I never wanted this curse, but you thought I was the perfect person for it. What is it about me that you found so fitting? Because all I see in the mirror is a pathetic human being.

You gave me nothing but pain and empty years, when all I want is my family. I want to hold my daughter again, but you won’t let me go to do that.

Genuinely, fuck you.

<><><>

December 17, 2018. 1:01 PM

They announced that they’re almost done with the memorial in Greenwich Village — the one for all of the heroes who were snapped after they fought for us. It’s supposed to be open to the public next month.

I know James is fine, but I have to check.

Even though James went into hiding again, there's a part of me that knows he was involved in the fight. There’s another part of me — the part I hate — that is nervous that he’s gone because he hasn’t shown up. I haven’t seen him at all on the news. A few of them have popped up to talk to the press — mainly Steve and Natasha Romanoff. But I’m just hanging onto the idea that James doesn’t want to talk to the public. Why would he after everything they called him?

I’m 100% certain that he’s okay. After everything I did for him, he has to be alive. I know he’s fine, but I still have to check for the sake of my mind.

<><><>

January 29, 2019. 1:13 PM

I can’t do thi

<><><>

February 20, 2019. 6:19 PM.

I tried to end it all.

I know I can’t die, but I couldn’t help it. I just want it to end. Everything hurts and I want it to stop. I tried to stop it, but I keep on coming back. My body is on the verge of failing, but it keeps holding on. I tried to leave and I just come back the next day.

Stop. STOP

STOP

Why won’t you let me die? I have nothing left now — it’s the perfect time to let me go. I had something until you took him away. Why the fuck would you do that? Of all people who deserved to live life just a little bit, you fucking killed him.

You could’ve at least let him live. I didn’t mind being here anymore because I had something to protect. But you didn’t send me to him when he needed me. I told him — I told him that I’d be there when he needed me.

You fucking piece of shit. You made me a sacrifice, but a liar too? James died probably thinking I’d come save him, but I didn’t.

Did I do the same thing to him that you do to me? Give him hope, only for it to rip it away at the last second? I’ve been in love with this man for decades and you take him away from me. Do you like to see me suffer?

Let me die. LET ME FUCKING DIE

I gave you everything and you took away my everything. The one person who still cared about me — who didn’t let me face you alone — gone. GONE

I SHOULDN’T BE HERE I should be dead and he should be alive. It should’ve been ME. Why wasn't it me? Why do you have to hurt me? What did I do to you that made you want to hurt me like this? How fucking dare you take the love of my life? How dare you do this when I finally allowed myself to dream and hope and think about the life I’ve wanted for so long? You piece of shit. Fuck you. FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT I HATE YOU

I want to see my family. Let me hold my baby again. Let me hold James. I want to see everyone. I want to be with them.

I want to die. I don’t want to be here. Everything hurts. It fucking hurts let me GO YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT FUCK YOU FUCK YOU I FUCKING HATE YOU

LET ME GO

<><><>

March 18, 2019. 10:28 PM.

I give up. You win.

You won’t let me leave. I tried too many times. In every imaginable way, I tried.

I lost count of how many times I died and woke up. Felt death at my fingertips, but watched it walk away while I couldn’t move my body.

Couldn’t eat. Couldn’t sleep. I can’t even dream anymore.

I’m constantly drowning, unable to swim to the surface no matter how close it is. I don’t know if the surface I’m looking for is life or death, but I just want to breathe again. But you make me let go of my breath, and throw me back into the water. You’re making me drown.

I tried to stop the pain, but you just gave me more. I’ve died in so many ways but this is the worst I’ve ever felt. Who knew physical pain hurts less than losing the love of your life?

The pain won’t stop. I tried to make it stop.

But it doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing matters anymore.

I never mattered, anyway.

I spent my whole life running away from my feelings. I fought against them because I knew they’d hurt me. When I finally took the chance — finally allowed myself to imagine a beautiful life for myself — it killed me.

You’re right. I don’t deserve love. I don’t deserve hope or happiness or joy or

I don’t know. I don’t deserve anything. If I did, I would’ve gotten what I wanted decades ago.

I wanted someone to love me back and I let myself believe that with James. Believe that when he and I finally meet again, we could be happy together. Walk through the city during the holidays, our hands together while we shiver from the cold.

But his body is gone and I’m the only one shivering.

I don’t want to shiver. I want to be still. Dead.

I’ll never see James again. Soon, I’ll forget what he sounds like, how he feels, how he moves, just like everyone else. I don’t remember how Henry sounded when he laughed. How my parents smiled. How Minnie hugged me. How my baby girl ran around. 

I don’t even remember the day my baby girl took her first steps. All of those memories. Gone.

James will become a faded memory too. I don’t want to forget him, but it’ll happen.

I begged you to make me a memory, but you won’t listen. Of course you won’t — you never did what I asked.

I don’t care anymore.

You win. I’ll do my job and save someone else. Hope you’re happy.

<><><>

May 28, 2019. 8:20 PM

It’s a wonder how I’ve been able to keep my bookstore open during this time. 

I thought that my store would’ve closed after the Snap, but I think people just need some form of normalcy in their lives. That’s the whole point of stories, anyway — to go into a different world and forget about the one you’re actually in for a moment. But I don’t know how I managed to even stay active. I’ve been more fatigued lately — I think the emotional rollercoaster I’ve been on in the past few months made me tired. But still, here I am, running a bookstore in Brooklyn.

Talk about the past, huh?

Something unexpected happened today, though.

I was working, tidying up the store when a young lady walked in. It was that teenager from 2014. Mandy. And she looked at me like she knew me.

Because she did.

She told me she remembered me. Other than James, I never had anyone come up to me and say they recognized me. Of course, I always try to avoid getting recognized by people I saved, but I also think you make it easier for me.

So for her to say she knew me? What the fuck.

She said she just graduated from college. She got a degree in English and is looking to be a writer. I tried to pretend I didn’t know her, but she refused to leave me alone. She said that you can never forget the face of the person who saved your life.

That’s a lie. No one but James had ever recognized me.

I tried to say she got the wrong person, but man, she’s persistent. She reminded me a little bit of Minnie, who was bubbly but also stubborn, but in a good way. She kept saying I’m the reason she’s still alive.

That hit me harder than I thought it would. More than a century of dying had gone by, and no one — except for James — was ever appreciative of my sacrifice. I felt this kindness from her — gratefulness — that I don’t deserve. So I still tried to lie, saying that if I died, how could I still be right here?

She said if we can live in a world where an alien erased half of the universe, then we can live in a world where people can come back from the dead.

Can’t argue with that.

Then she said she wanted to work for me. She was looking for a job while continuing to write for herself, so working at a bookstore would be perfect for her, right? I mean, I have been more fatigued lately, so it’d be nice to have extra help.

But I was hesitant.

I didn’t want to let anyone into my life again. Why would I after everything I went through? I said no, but she asked again. When I went to say no again, I couldn’t. She looked at me like a hero, even though I’m not one. But most of all, she looked at me like a person.

Not a ghost. Not a memory. A real fucking person.

I really wanted to say no. I promised myself I wouldn’t tell anyone of my curse.

But I think losing the one person who did know…it hurt me more than I realized. Even if James didn’t know who I truly was, it was nice to be seen.

God, it was so nice.

I told Mandy to come back tomorrow.

<><><>

September 10, 2019. 5:29 AM

Something’s wrong. 

Something is seriously wrong.

I saved a woman on August 10 and I can’t move my arm.

I can’t move my fucking arm.

I was in Queens when the car crash happened. I went there to go to the Museum of the Moving Image. I just wanted to give myself something nice to do. A little…bit of fun, I guess. But then I felt the pull and pushed this woman out of the way, and I got hit instead. My arm was pinned underneath the car as I died.

I can’t even have a good day anymore.

I woke up an hour ago and I’m still horrified, because my body hurts more than it usually would and I can’t move my arm. 

This never happened before. I’ve died in ways that made it difficult for me to move around when I wake up, but never this much and I’ve never been paralyzed before. I’ve been trying to shake it awake but it won’t wake up.

It took all of my strength for me to go to the bathroom and figure out why this is happening, and when I examined my heavy arm in the mirror, I found a scar.

A scar.

It’s on the back of my forearm and it doesn’t look great. It starts at my wrist and goes to my elbow. I never had any proof of my deaths on my body before. Never had a scar when I woke up, or felt this exhausted, or lost all feelings in a limb.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.

Am I dying? Or are you punishing me for some reason? What did I do?

I don’t know if I’m going to feel my arm again. Fuck, I hope this isn’t permanent. I don’t need proof of my death. I already know I died.

I died a long time ago.

<><><>

May 30, 2020. 6:59 AM

I can’t speak.

I can’t fucking speak. Fuck, I’m so scared right now.

I was stabbed in the neck on April 30 and now I can’t speak.

The last time I died, my arm was numb, but after a day, I was able to move it again. If it’s the same now, I should be able to talk tomorrow or maybe by tonight. But holy shit — my body hurts so much too. I only got stabbed, but the rest of my body is still screaming as if it also got harmed. It’s almost painful to move around — like when your foot falls asleep and it’s difficult to shift your muscles around.

When I looked in the mirror, I found another scar. It’s on the right side of my neck, exactly where I was stabbed. I have to cover it up somehow, whether it’s with my hair or wearing a scarf, because it’s not gonna go away.

The scar on my arm never went away.

I think I know why you’re punishing me. 

It’s because I tried to leave, isn’t it? For trying to die when I’m people’s chances to keep on living. 

Or maybe I did it to myself — I pushed my body too much in such a short period of time that it’s now just…failing. 

The pain I feel now is just as bad to how I felt when I failed to save someone. Did you increase the amount of pain I feel? Stop me from screaming when all I want is release?

I feel so trapped and I can’t even ask anyone for help. No one knows how to help me — fuck, I don’t know how to help myself.

Mandy wanted to figure it out, but I said not to. If we tried again, I’d just feel hopeful that there would be an answer.

I can’t feel hope again.

<><><>

December 19, 2020. 8:10 AM

I think I actually ruined my body when I tried to kill myself.

I saved a man on November 19 and I feel like my stomach is empty. I was shot in the guts and now it feels like I’m on an empty stomach. It’s not hunger — it just feels hollow there and it hurts.

There’s a bullet scar next to my belly button.

I’m not supposed to have these. All of these scars — they shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t even be here.

My body is becoming a weak, fragile mess and I hate it. This is all I have and you have to hurt it too. I know I tried to push my body to the limit, but it’s you who won’t let me go past it. Let me cross the finish line and hug my loved ones again.

You’re making me feel the weight of my actions. I feel like I’m constantly getting pulled underwater, unable to move to the surface. I’m just sinking to the endless bottom.

I’d drown, but even then you wouldn’t let me go.

I just want it to be over, but you just had to remind me how empty I feel.

Literally.

<><><>

July 27, 2021. 4:03 PM

I’m so fucking scared.

I failed to save a woman today.

I failed.

I don’t want to be punished. If saving someone still means I’d feel pained, I don’t know how much agony I’ll feel tomorrow for failing. I’m so scared.

Please. Just end it if you’re just going to make me go through hell.

Please.

<><><>

July 29, 2021. 10:28 PM

Mandy stopped by yesterday and today and took care of me.

I was on the verge of death but was unable to pass.

I managed to text Mandy that I was still around. I didn’t expect her to show up and make sure I was eating and resting well. I scared her — she didn’t expect me to not be able to move a muscle.

I didn’t know that would happen either.

Breathing also hurt. It was like my lungs didn’t want to work, and I was forcing them to. The pain overall was just as bad as when I first tried to kill myself… 

I don’t even know how much it’d hurt now if I tried to end it again.

Mandy took care of me when I didn’t ask. Helped me sit up and literally fed me. I felt so pathetic, but she said not to worry about it.

For someone who’s so energetic and bold, she was very gentle. Somehow, she also made me laugh too.

She’s also really smart — we finally have each other’s locations now on our phones because she said when I disappear, there’s a chance my phone could also vanish, so she’d know if I’m gone or not. She said she’d have a better time knowing if she needs to run my store or not then.

I told her she could just close my store while I’m gone, but she said everyone needs a good book available for them at all times. Stories can help people, she said.

She’s so sweet. I don’t deserve her kindness, but she just offers it to me.

Maybe it’s good that someone knows about my curse.

<><><>

January 3, 2023. 4:10 PM.

I feel terrible. 

I hurt Mandy yesterday.

I wasn’t expecting her to visit me. She went to DC to celebrate the holidays with her family. She told me I should join her, but I promised myself I wouldn’t let anyone else into my life — tell people about myself because everything I’d say would be a lie.

Spending the holidays alone isn’t new, but it was so much harder this time. I made the mistake of walking around again — I saw a young couple laughing in the park. I started to imagine me and him like that, and I ended up running back home. But when I came back, my apartment felt emptier, more lonely. Even my TV couldn’t make me feel like I wasn’t alone.

I was just so alone. I wanted to be held again, but he’s not here.

Mandy stopped by last night without letting me know first. She brought snacks and said she wanted to watch a movie with me — spend some time with me. Again, I don’t deserve that, but I still let her in because how could I refuse her?

I was setting up some bowls for the snacks when she went to the bathroom, and then she suddenly ran up to me. I was so confused — she grabbed onto me and was looking for something with big eyes.

I didn’t realize I left the blades by my bathroom sink.

I made Mandy cry.

Fuck. I didn’t mean to. I swear, I didn’t mean to hurt her. I swear.

She was checking for wounds. Looked at my wrists and arms and found nothing. I told her I wasn’t going to do it. 

She didn’t believe me. She didn’t fucking believe me.

I started to cry. I just broke down and said I wasn’t lying. I’m not a liar. With her, I’m not. I’ve been lying my whole life, but I swear I would never lie to her. I really wasn’t going to do it. I thought about it, but I chose not to do it because even that wouldn’t get rid of the pain.

I told Mandy about James.

For the first time in my life, I told someone else about the man I loved.

I told her about the first time I saved him. Then the war. Then about when he was the Winter Soldier and that day in DC.

I told her everything. I promise I’m not a liar with her.

I told her I love him. He’s gone, but I still love him. I’ve been trying to move on, but I fucking miss him so much. But he’s never coming back. I’m never going to see him again.

Mandy let me hug her and I just cried. I’ve been alive for over a century and she’s just a baby in her 20s, and yet I was sobbing in her arms. I felt so weak and pathetic, but I couldn’t hide it anymore.

I miss James. Fuck, I miss him so much. Sometimes I just want to forget about him so it’s easier to go about my life.

I finally let myself feel happy to be in love and you fucking took him away from me. Is it funny? To watch me suffer so much after everything I’ve done for you? I hope you’re laughing.

When I was more or less done crying, Mandy made me a cup of tea. Then we just sat on the couch. We didn’t watch any movies or eat any snacks — she just let me breathe. It was nice.

Then Mandy made me promise her that I would never try to end my life. I told her that it didn’t matter. I’d still come back. But she still made me promise her I wouldn’t try in the first place.

I said yes, and she ordered us some Chinese food. It was delicious.

I wonder if my daughter would’ve been like her. Caring, smart, energetic.

Lively.

Mandy’s not my daughter, I know that. No one will ever replace my baby, but I can’t help but wonder.

I like to think she’d be like her.

<><><>

October 18, 2023. 10:19 PM

I think you enjoy watching chaos unfold. This isn’t a realization I made recently — I started to suspect it when you cursed me. But I just had to say it.

Yesterday, the Avengers brought back all of those people we lost. I didn’t think it was possible, but I guess we do live in a world where people can come back from the dead.

The people who came back were appalled. Shocked and horrified to see that 5 years went by. It’s scary, isn’t it? Waking up to find out you died — that people mourned for you and said goodbye. But it must be nice to not wake up in pain.

The streets became so overwhelming that I had to close my store so that no one came in. It became too loud too fast. Everything was moving while I’m stuck in place.

I sent Mandy home, told her to go to DC and find her friends and family who disappeared. I sat in the back of my store alone for the whole day. It was easier to feel nothing there.

I guess there’s more people for me to save now. More opportunities for me to wake up in searing pain. To wake up after saving someone whose life is apparently more valuable than mine.

Like James.

God. James is back too.

I 

I thought I’d be happy, but I don’t know how to feel about that.

<><><>

November 3, 2023. 1:15 AM

Mandy asked me about James the other day.

I’ve been thinking about him a lot, but that’s not a surprise. But she asked me if I would go look for him now that he was back. I didn’t respond right away, and she knew something was off.

She said I should, and was just more confused when I didn’t say anything. She asked if I still wanted him.

Of course I do, but do I deserve him anymore?

For so many years, I have thought about James — dreamed of him. And over time, I thought about what he did and didn’t know. Even though I saved him so many times, I realized that he doesn’t even know the full extent of my curse.

Who I get to save — that was never my choice.

Would James be disappointed if he found out? That while I chose to save him every time, I never chose to get sent to him. You sent me to him. I know I went for him myself in DC, but all the other times, it was you.

If James and I were to meet now, would he be disappointed? That I’m just a regular person who was entrusted with a curse without a say. No power other than to perish. Not special.

Not worthy of someone like James.

I let myself believe that I deserve someone like him. Let myself be happy and say I love him. I love him so much. 

James. My James.

You have no idea how much I love you.

I love you so much that I let myself imagine a life with you. Where I could sit next to you with my head on your shoulder, maybe an arm wrapped around your waist. Maybe you have your head on mine while we did something cliche — watch the sunset or some bullshit like that — because our lives have been so unusual that cliches feel like a luxury. I imagine a life where I don’t have to die and you don’t have to survive.

We could just live.

But I’m not allowed to have that.

I went back to my journals and reread my entry about saving you for the first time. Visited all of my stories about saving you. Of those days where I wondered if you even like coffee, or what kind of pet you would have. I'd love to know if you like sweet or savory.

I'd also like to know what your favorite color is, and favorite tunes, and if you’re a morning person or night owl. If you like to read or watch movies or both. If you like to go out or stay home on a lazy day.

I reread the entry from the 40s where I said I would love to sit down and have coffee with you and tell you all about my life.

I don’t think that’s going to happen anymore.

I knew losing you would be hard, but it killed me more than I thought it would. Death wasn’t enough to get rid of that pain. I didn’t realize how much it would hurt to lose you.

I wanted to die when you died.

I did die when you died. My heart stopped with yours.

Losing you was horrible, and that was when I didn’t even know much about you. If I learn about all of these things now, I don’t know if I can handle losing you again. I already couldn’t handle it — I’m afraid I’ll hurt myself somehow if I know more about you.

I’ll still save you. James, I promise I’ll give everything to save you. I know you’ll need me — not because you’re a soldier, but you’re someone who always goes out of their way to protect someone else. You’ll always be in danger, so I’ll be your shield.

I’m sorry. I just don’t want to hurt anymore.

I’m hurting all the time, but this? Having hope for us — letting myself act upon my love for you — that will be taken away.

The world isn’t fair to me, but I can make it be fair to you.

Hey world? Fuck you. Really, fuck you.

Killing James was cruel, but killing him THEN bringing him back to me is the cruelest thing you could’ve done.

James is not the monster. 

You are, and you made me one too.

I’m the kind of monster that would scare children. Zombies who come back from the dead — ghosts who haunt the innocent. I’m sure I’ve haunted James. I mean, when he died, it killed me.

So did it kill him when he watched me die too?

He doesn’t have to watch anymore. He won’t know who I am. He’ll only get glimpses of me, just like before. I’ll continue to save him and love him from a distance like I always have, but he’ll never get to know me. 

I will never tell him my real name. He'll never know anything about me. I’ll just be his sacrifice, as well as everyone else’s. Nothing more, like how it’s supposed to be. I’ll just be the ghost story they tried to make him be.

Rose is dead. She’s been dead for a really long time. I know that. 

After all, I buried her myself.

You closed your journal, and continued to sit on the grass in silence. Your pen dropped to the ground as your shoulders sagged, your eyes glazed over as you stared at a tombstone that was barely lit by your phone flashlight. The air was cold and still, just like you.

You sat there for a long time. The clouds moved over you, blocking the moonlight every now and then while the distant city slightly echoed into the cemetery. 

To anyone, the night would’ve felt peaceful.

But you never knew what peace was.

Quietly, you reached for the metal container, opening it before dropping your last journal into it with the rest of your writings.

No more stories. No more histories.

No more you.

You placed the container next to the tombstone and buried it under the numerous, white rocks you sprinkled around it—an attempt to make the gravesite a bit prettier. Then you picked up a bouquet of flowers and set it on top. You didn’t move again. Silent and still, you did nothing.

Because nothing could be done anymore.

Slowly, you grabbed your jacket and got to your feet. You pulled the sleeves over your arms, hiding the numerous scars that trailed around your skin. You took one last look at the rock hiding your memories before sighing.

Then you glanced at the name on the tombstone, and your hands curled into fists as your eyes quickly watered. Your breath hitched and you turned away, storming off before you made a poor decision of any kind. You vanished from the cemetery, leaving behind the old tombstone that held a name.

A name that saved others, but not the person it belonged to.

A name that brought James peace, even when you couldn't.

A name that had stayed dear to your heart after all these years.

Rose.

NEXT CHAPTER >

General Taglist! @a-century-of-sass @clemicious @fallenxjas @paryl @frog-fans-unite @sebastians-love @buckvoidsyy @recorddust @nj01 @avengersgirllorianna @western-nightss @chonkybonky @weasleyswheezeys 

Thanks for reading :)

[koukaaa-descent]

the new guy in my head is kind of frightening but in a good way Help

[janamensch]

The enemy of my enemy is someone my sister probably wouldn’t even want me to talk to, but also he’s fighting the same people we’re fighting so he probably can’t be THAT bad, right?

[tonycries]

FEVER FEVER FEVER

Synopsis. Sèx pollen - it’s never felt so good.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, sèx pollen, PÚSSYDRÚNK MEN, creampíes, bréeding, making them whímper, oraI (fem), true form Sukuna, Sukuna’s two mouths, ínappropríate use of jujutsu, 7:3 technique, GOJO’S POWERS, matíng presses, overstím, bóndage, first times (Choso), losing control, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. Can you guess the title reference heheh?

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - WICKED!

Toji Fushiguro swears he isn’t affected - he swears that stupid, stray technique didn’t actually hit him when finishing off today’s job.

After all, it’s not like he’s some weak, pathetically needy-

“Please, doll.” Toji gasps - he heaves - hot and heavy between your pretty legs. Letting his roughened tongue slide its pathway across that perky scar sitting right on the edge of his white-glossed lip, re-tasting you. Himself. And he can feel the way his overworked tip twitches at that cute wide-eyed gaze of yours, mouth dropping at him begging. “Don’t make me ah- say any of that s-stupid stuff again.”

You huff out a low bout of teasing laughter that makes him flinch, “Hmm, but I don’t think I heard you properly, baby?”

God, he wished he couldn’t smell your sweet saccharine scent fogging up his mind, he wished the mere sound of your honeyed tone didn’t have him gushing out in another sweltering hot wave. Growling, “W-when this is over I swear—”

“Time’s ticking…”

Damn.

“P-please-” The word comes out strangled - pained. “Can I p-put it back inside, ma?”

It’s a beg - a plea.

One that has Toji’s ears flushing an angry red, and his eyes looking up at you tearily in a way that uttered he’d die right now if he didn’t get another taste of your heavenly cunt.

You can barely even start to let your head shake with a nod before a choked-up groan bursts from Toji’s wobbly lips. And he’s flipping you over with one simple push of his large, strong arms attached roughly onto your hips. Pushing your pliantly face into the soft, silken pillows on all fours like he couldn’t bear hearing any more of those sweet sounds of yours. For the sake of his sanity. 

“Yes-” he gasps, digits curling around his thick hilt to guide them into a pretty peck against your cunt. “Yes yes yes yes- finally- ah finally-”

He’s drooling. Still so greedy even after hours now. 

Swollen cock so rawly red and angry, he’s splattering out freshly translucent swashes of precum against your puckered hole. Creamy and drizzled with rings of cum from just before that he hadn’t been able to lap up mere moments earlier. 

Toji couldn’t get enough- he doesn’t want to. Doesn’t think it’s even physically possible. 

“Can’t believe what ya d-do to me-” His words are hushed, unsteady - like they were on the verge of shattering into a million pieces. Pressing a lingering trail of kisses down your arched spine, he gulps in your heady pheromones. “-oh, s’not even that fucking p-pollen, ya have no fuckin’ idea.” 

But ah he gets even harder at your scent. Shuddering out a heavy groan, every powerful limb of Toji’s utterly loosening at the way your toasty cunt was hugging him so tightly all over again. You’re being massaged against his mouth-watering abs when he pushes even further in-

“Where the fuck do you think you’re g-going, huh?”

It takes you a few cockdrunken seconds to realize that this is Toji talking to you - deep baritone a few octaves higher, cracking ever-so-slightly at the end in a way you’d never even imagined before. And a few more to recognize that you’d been clawing at the rickety headboard, jittery hips sneaking mere inches away from his ruthless size. 

You’re gasping, letting go immediately. “I-I didn’t mean- you’re just so big, Toji.”

And, truly, he was. 

There’s so much of him.

You didn’t know whether it was the sex pollen that had him fitting out the snug inches of his girth so massively bigger than usual. Strawberry tip red and painting your puffy pussy lips to be dripping wet, it seemed like just the tiniest piston has his rotund head spreading open your taut insides. 

Has Toji’s head reeling. Has him getting angry at the slightly melty recoil that had his bawling tip parting from your insides for a split-second. 

Addicted. 

But this makes Toji hiss, it makes his strong arms wrap around your waist in a vice-like bodylock. Eyes crinkling with watery beads of tears, he catches your lips in a filthy, filthy kiss. “No- don’t fuckin- you can fucking take it- want it- need it, ma, please- think m’gonna die without ya-”

Gripping harshly onto your hips to slam into the very depths of your pussy, he’s feeding your sopping slit with every his girthy inch. All the way until his hefty balls kiss wetly up against your ass. 

THUD!

“Oh shit-” your voice quivers, eyeing the sagging end of the bed. “Toji, you broke the-”

But that didn’t matter to Toji. Why would it?

SLAM!

In fact, it’s the fucking last thing he could think about before swiftly maneuvering your body to press against the fucking floor with a strained gruff. 

And in a split-second, something muscular and weighty is being pressed onto the back of your head. You gasp when you realize that it’s Toji’s foot, angling his gyrating hips perfectly right to swipe an oozing glide of wispy precum down your battered g-spot. 

He’s panting - heaving out, “Heh, s-spread ‘em-” Frantically kneeing apart your limp legs wider, “oh, yeah tha’s it. Shhh sh sh-” You didn’t know whether Toji was trying to soothe you or his greedy self. “Take this f-fuckin’ cock f’me, alright?”

Splaying out one palm midway down your stomach to massage and feel for his riotous nudge, exactly where he could feel himself ramming in for the nth time. Over and over- 

Hmm…maybe this sex pollen wasn’t too bad. 

“W-what?” You’re whirling your bleary gaze over your shoulder to sputter and Toji registers that his drunken mouth has accidentally babbled out loud. 

But the only response you mercifully get is Toji spooning his fingers down to swirl over your neglected clit. A sleazy grin smearing all over his face at the way his thick digits slip and slide from how coated your sensitive nub was with his seed. 

“M’jus’ s-sayin, ma-” he grins, and you feel his tight, cum-filled balls thwack! thwack! thwack! against your overstuffed cunt even harder. More wickedly. “This sex pollen’s making me a bit…hungry again.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - 7:3

“M-my love-” Nanami hisses through a wince at the way his rich baritone was breaking pathetically - hoarse, choked-up. He’s never felt this way. Never. “J-jus’ one more?”

Never been so greedy. So horny.

Like he’d die if he doesn’t paint your pretty pussy white.

And if the way your husband had you folded into a mean mess of a mating press wasn’t enough to agree, he’s planting a pretty peck right against the battered bullseye of your g-spot with his swollen tip. Hard. 

The spongy cushion making him collapse onto his elbows with a groan, repeating his same, syrupy mantra. “Please o-one more-”

Nanami’s stamina was incredible by itself but now?

Now it had you blinking back your sobbing tears, swiping away the sweat-dampened strands of blond from his face with a trembly hand, “Only one more?”

Oh, Nanami’s voice opens to agree, his lips crack open to repeat them- those words barely babbling out of his loose mouth before your clingy walls suddenly give him a tempting squeeze. And any and all rational thought is sucked thoroughly out of him-

“I-I don’t know-” he’s breathing out, letting his head fall into the safety of the crook of your neck. Hips still stuttering forwards to spearhead into your gummy depths. Mindlessly. He could feel the drippingly wet slosh of his cum coating his shaft. Drinking in your sweet, sweet scent, “Don’t- don’t know why this is happening. Don’t know if it’s ‘nough- don’t hngh- know if it’ll ever be. J-jus’ want you a pretty m-momma, darling.”

And it’s all that he’s been thinking about for the whole day now.

Right from the very second he’d been hit with a special grade technique during a mission, to the moment that Nanami had stormed up to your apartment and taken you right then and there on the living room floor.

Hours ago.

“P-please-” 

Nanami doesn’t even know what he’s begging for, but it’s just about all that he can sputter out like a little prayer. 

However, you do, apparently. Flashing him a cockdrunken smile that makes his breath hitch, and his tip bawl out a new velvety wave of precum that splatters against the ends of your cervix. You hum, “Mhm- o-one more, Ken–”

Immediately being shut up by a sudden slam! into your sweetest spots, he’s rutting in so deep, so thoroughly that you’re left deliriously wondering whether the circumference of his girth would be left indented onto your melty walls. Again. And again and again and- shit, was he using his jujutsu?

Was he even in control?

“Can’t stop- can’t stop can’t stop- I-it’s like-” Jackhammering pound after angry pound so hard that you’re being pushed further and further up the floor. “You’re too good to me- no!” he cries, accidentally sliding out from between your glossy folds to smack! smack! smack! his furiously reddened cock down the splatters of seed that drip down from your slit. Twitching until he bullies back in- “-promise m’gonna m-make it up to ya- hah- promise m’not gonna miss.”

And then he’s letting your unsteady fingers clutch tightly around the silky fabric of that yellow, speckled work tie that he hadn’t even bothered removing. “H-hold onto this- hold- in case I get too…” 

“Ken-” you hiss, feeling the cold circumference of Nanami’s wedding ring prod at your clit. So full you have the distinct thought that you could almost explode. “M’not s-sure if it’ll fit though-”

But Nanami didn’t want that - couldn’t even bear the thought-

“W-won’t fit?” Nanami shudders, eyes wide. “It won’t…won’t fit?” 

Sounding so devastated. 

Cracking a low whine at the very back of his throat when he immediately flinches away - spreading out his rounded fingers across your stomach to press. He coats his warm cock with a sudden gleam of cum eagerly, “S’this o-okay now? Will- will it fit, my love?”

And it’s so, so filthy.

You’re mewling like such a slut, “Yes- yes yes yes yes- m-more-”

Nanami was practically burning up, heaving for air. His feverish pleas panting out condensely against your face. 

“Gonna fill this ngh- cute cunt up until she’s overspilling.” Rummaging his dick inside your gooey cunt dangerously accurately, grazing up the thumping pace of his veins down the crevices of all your sensitive spots. Even hidden ones. “Have you all round and ah- glowing with my kid.” Uncharacteristically leaving a sodden swat! at your plump clit to watch your gush out in another creamy ring. “Can’t rest- can’t fuckin’ stop until I do. Feels like m’burning.”

Your fingers wrap even more desperately around his tie, pulling - hauling.

Yes, he gulps. This is what he wanted - what he needed. What the pollen was begging him for. 

His lips leer down to glissade wetly across your own, not even a kiss because he could barely even manage one. Unable to even raise his droopy eyes to meet your stare, “-hah- what do you want- t-tell me what you want, my wife.”

Your own lips quiver. “I-I want two babies, Ken-”

Oh. 

Oh, fuck. 

When Nanami was out of control, he was unrecognizable. 

Hips slamming against yours in a few more sloppy strokes, before filling up every empty space with hot pumps of his seed. Voluminous. It’s spurting against your walls with a wet thwack! and not even your hand around his tie makes him slow down.

The air crackles with a few more sparks of jujutsu - except Nanami couldn’t control it. Couldn’t grasp the way even with his technique, he was so drunk on your pussy that his cock was just barely drawing wet glides of cum down your g-spot. Almost missing. 

Making him malfunction his cursed technique. 

Yet, the only thing you can register is when your own orgasm hits, white-hot tingles flashing down your spine. Toes curling, pulse thundering so loudly in your ears that you almost miss-

“O-one…just one more, my love?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - (Un)affected

“I don’t…I don’t-”

Now, Geto Suguru had absolutely zero idea what he was about to babble away - maybe that he wasn’t affected by that sex pollen curse he’d swallowed, maybe that he wasn’t losing a slight bit of his sanity with every feverish drag of his fingers down his painfully hard cock.

“-don’t need anythin’ but your hngh- pretty face, gorgeous. Help out your leader, would ya?”

And oh, you looked like such a dream below him - with your glassy eyes blinking up at him, tongue darted out so obscenely to catch the stray splatters of his aphrodisiac-like precum. Pearly, winking beads that drip! drip! drip! down his visibly throbbing length. 

His beautiful second-in-command.

And he was so ruined. 

Sounding so pathetic when he whispers, scared at the way he knew his words would crack pathetically at the very end. “B-bring yerself closer, no need to be hah- shy- let me- let me…please.”

But he looked so pretty above you.

Splayed out in such a messy way on the throne for the association leader, dark brows knitted, sweat trickling in glistening rivulets down his forehead. Strands of Geto’s long, dark hair stick to his forehead when he smacks your pouty lips with his angry cock until they’re rubbed raw. 

“Wan’ you to cum, Sugu–” you’re batting your lashes in a way that makes his swollen cock twitch in his hands. Smearing your palms up and down the creamy skin of his muscular, manspread thighs, “-cum on my face, please?”

Fuck, he was so unfairly sensitive right now that just the singular gust of your words hitting his cock made Geto’s abs ripple. Make his entire body wrack with shudder after shudder as his weepy tip spits out a translucent few beads of precum. 

“S-such a naughty mouth.” he’s hissing, trying for the life of him to not act like the simplest glide of your palms had Geto fighting back his high already. “Better be ah- careful. Can’t talk like that n’ not end up s-stuffed full, honey–”

It’s a warning. 

For both of you.

Geto’s finding his roughened digits fly down faster and faster his length, squeezing ever-so-slightly harder near his mushroom slit.

You whine, “But I want that, Sugu.”

You little minx. You evil, evil little-

And he can’t fucking stop the way his hefty balls clench - painfully, obscenely, sluttily in a way that has the pinkish divot at the very end of his cock spurt out in a ribbon of steaming hot seed.

You’re closing your eyes, waiting for more- but Geto has other plans. 

Plans that have him swiping over the thick pad of his thumb to press down hard at the very ruby head of his erection, choking back a slew of swears when he wavers off his orgasm for just a second. Just long enough to drag you upwards with one free hand attaching to your waist. 

Up, up, up-

“Sit on m-my cock, gorgeous-” he’s spitting, wet and panted against your lips. Dizzying. You gasp at the sodden drag of Geto’s bawling tip down your pre-soaked pussy lips, meshing in a wet, wet French kiss. “-c’mon. Ride me. Ride me please- m’burning up.”

And it was the only opportunity you’d get to hear the dangerous Geto Suguru whine, to see him blink his long, teary lashes up at you when you sink your drooling cunt down his girth just an inch. 

He was so warm splitting you open. 

So steaming hot when your tight pussy floods with string wads of cum, such a mind-numbing orgasm that Geto can feel it before he even registers it. One that has his toes curling, his arms locking around your waist to fuck up into you like he hates you. 

“D-don’t get it twisted m’early because of the ah- p-pollen.” he groans, back muscles flexing with every perfect curved arch upwards into your greedy hips. The wet thwack! of skin-on-skin resounds throughout the tatami room and makes Geto drool. Unable to even spell out coherent sentences right now - well, not until he feels your sloppy hips slow down just a tad.

“Sugu- m’tired.”

Truly, his stamina was too much. 

Swat! His fingers leave branding little imprints, before roughly attaching to pinch your pulsing clit, “Work on it, gorgeous- tha’s an order. Because m’not hngh- anywhere near done. Jus’ milk me- milk me dry…oh, yeah let that pretty pussy have her fun-” 

“O-oh fuck fuck fuck-” You clutch precariously at the mahogany woodwork of his chair, thighs aching with the sheer effort to try and bounce your drippingly wet pussy down onto his rudely jostling cock. “-there’s so much- ah- can feel it drippin’ down my thighs-”

“Sh-shut up.” Geto’s managing to get out through grit teeth, planting another unabashed smack on your cunt simply to prove his point. Begging, “God, please- mercy-”

Because your honeyed tone is so sweet, your words so filthy that they have him spurting out a few more fatigued rivers of cum. 

Rasping out the tiniest of whimpers with each of your damp bounces, he makes you work. “O-open that mouth.” And you listen - of course, you do - letting those pretty, spit-glossed lips fall open into a soft ah! All so perfect for him to spit- the taste makes you hot. Burning, like an aphrodisiac. And now you’re feeling dizzy. “Bein’ way too talkative f-for a ngh- second-in-command. Aren’t ya?”

And obviously you don’t point out the slight drizzle of drool that makes its way down the corner of his coral pink lips, obviously you don’t point out just how hot and heavy he was swirling lewdly inside your walls. Stretching you out to the max - still so hard despite cumming for the nth time already.

No, instead, you smile drunkenly. “Why? D-does it affect you, sir?”

Smack!

“Sh-shut up n’ keep riding me, gorgeous.” And you could’ve sworn that Geto’s voice broke.

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Bed chem.

Choso was ruined. Absolutely fucked out…and he was so pathetically embarrassed about it. 

Unable to wrangle the teary ah! ah! ah! ripping from the very depths of his throat every time your drenched cunt was dragging down his sensitive shaft. Still clothed, still glissading along his thumping veins teasingly - but he felt like he could cum already. 

“P-please, baby-” The thick pads of his jittery fingers find their way to the edges of your soaked underwear, hooking inside ever-so-slightly - and the tiniest sneak peek of your puffy pussy lips makes him gulp. “-please I feel like m’gonna hah- die without ya.”

“But, Cho—” And that nickname in your sweetened tone is enough for him to buck right off the silken sheets. “-how am I supposed to help you with the pollen, otherwise? M’jus’ being a good friend.”

You wanted him to say it.

You wanted your best friend to beg.

“I-I…”

And oh, he trails off - because you’re helping him slide your sticky panties just enough down your thighs. Flashing him such a dangerous smile right as you watch Choso’s mouth drop, dark brows scrunching together when he heaves out a moan.

“I d-don’t know, baby- I don’t- I don’t know-” And he felt like he was burning, he felt his melty mind getting dizzier by the minute as your slobbering cunt drags in determined gyrations against him faster. Swollen folds spreading to coat the pattern of his throbbing veins in a gleaming sheen. Humping so ferally. “B-but you smell so good and f-feel so oh- all I want is…” 

You don’t get to hear the rest of his sentence. 

Within a split-second, your panties are left in tiny tatters for him to breathe in. Filthily.

Drinking in his fill before he has one pinning both your wrists behind your back. The other plugging into your cunt to circle a slow swivel enough for him to bully inside-

Heaven. He was in heaven. 

“This. This is what it oh- feels like? This is a-all I want-” he’s hiccuping, voice breaking into such a pretty whine every time his raw cock is tapping against the softest areas of your gummy walls. “-to fuck my p-pretty best friend. All I’ve ever wanted- S’my first ngh- time, y’know?”

You’re fluttering your eyes back open to bore down at Choso’s fucked-out expression. “S’your first time? Wh-why didn’t you ah- tell me, Cho?”

And maybe because he was embarrassed, maybe because all it takes is a single clench of your saturated cunt around his girthy shaft for him to shoot out a few wisps of cum. Half-orgasming already. 

But Choso only plants his powerful thighs flat on the mattress to pressurize his slow drills upwards.

Tentative, almost. As if he wasn’t utterly rummaging your insides, poking at your glossy cervix with sopping wet glides of his fat cock, stretching out your taut channel to massage spots you didn’t even know existed. 

The pollen had him greedier than ever. 

“Mhmm– because th-there’s no one else f’me.” His lower lip wobbles cutely, dewy eyes drooping to an almost closed state with every drag of his cock down your elastic walls. Filthy. Feverish. “S’jus’ for a bit- just- hah- just for the pollen, remember?”

Oh, right. You’re shuffling your hands precariously onto Choso’s bulging pecs to determine your grinds even more thoroughly. Pound after pound that left your ass stinging with impact. It was so hypnotic that you’d almost forgotten about the entire reason you were…helping in the first place. 

You fingers bully between his plump lips, muttering, “Open f’me, Cho?”

And of course Choso would do anything you command in a heartbeat. Anything. The only thing on his mind when he lets his mouth fall slack - just in time for your syrupy stream of spit. Hitting right onto the middle of his tastebuds, swallowing. 

So heady that he half-wonders whether you were the cause of the sex pollen itself. 

Holding back a few strained pleas for mercy, he’s placing a wet line of pecks down the side of your teary cheeks- shit, when did you even start crying? Choso can’t help but let his pinkish tongue loll out to lick a languid stripe up those salty dredges, groaning. 

“Just for the p-pollen and…”

“And what?” you’re crying out, feeling one set of his ringed fingers curl deftly around the nub of your clit. Swiping a wet drag of his rotund pads down the very sensitive edges of the hood, it makes your thighs shiver down even faster to meet Choso’s addicted pace. 

“And then…”

In a split-second, you’re being flipped over so meanly. Splayed out like such a slut on the plush mattress when Choso drags your limp legs up onto the curves of his deltoids, abs flexing and rubbing up against your ass when he folds in half down, down, down into the meanest mating press you’ve never thought possible. 

Choso’s gleamingly sharp canines sink into your ear lobe, breath feverishly hot against your ear. In fact, all of him was absolutely burning right now. Heaving. “-then m’gonna hngh- marry you.” Spitting into your open mouth - broken. Desperate. “F-fuck the talking stage, fuck dating- m’gonna wife you up.” You feel his hips get sloppier and sloppier, spearheading Choso’s fat cock to the very bruised bottom of your pussy. “Shit- gonna propose. Be my wife- the mother of my kids. Breed this cunt- Let me please- ngh- please by my wife.”

Maybe it was the sex pollen that had him babbling so much, maybe it was you.

But either way - Choso doesn’t care. He doesn’t give a shit when you’re opening your lips enough to mumble, “I-I do- Cho.”

His best friend. Enough to make him rut up into you wildly like an animal. Clashing his wet tip over and over in sopping slides down your g-spot. Again. And again and-

And the only answer is Choso’s whimper, “A-and please…can your h-husband cum inside, baby?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Mouthy?!

Sukuna’s hooking two of his fingers into the corner of his mouth - his other mouth. A wide, ravenous smile. Larger, greedier, positioned right underneath your shamefully spread cunt. “Move that damn hand before I hafta do it myself, woman.”

And oh he sounded so impatient - so utterly strained like just a few seconds longer would have Ryomen Sukuna rampaging. 

Your entire body burns with embarrassment, jittery legs almost coming to a close at the feverish pant of his second mouth. Drooling, ravenously condensing out little droplets of saliva that splatter onto your quivering hole like a blank canvas. 

“B-but are you sure, Kuna?” you’re whimpering, biting back tiny gasps at the way his tongue drags its sodden taste-buds along where you were straddling him with your sheeny inner thighs. Face sitting but…not quite. “Y-you’re that needy?”

Oh.

Oh, you should’ve known better than to accuse the infamous King of Curses of being needy - no matter how utterly true it was right about now. 

Sukuna didn’t know what potion Uraume had accidentally knocked into his last meal, but it had him so ruined. He couldn’t even breathe without all the blood in his towering body rushing straight into his painfully swollen cocks, couldn’t even think without feeling like his veins were boiling with the sudden greed to taste you.

Because Sukuna might have had his meal…but he was still starving. In a way he didn’t even know before rolling his tongue past your glossy folds. 

And he was chuckling out a dangerous bout of rumbling laughter that makes your lower lip wobble, “Don’t fuckin’ call me n-needy. M’jus-” Addicted? Hypnotized? Battling with the feeling that he’ll die without your pretty pussy? Deep voice petering out when he couldn’t even begin to justify the way that Sukuna was dragging his lolling tongue down your sodden folds, twirling the very pointed tip over the hood of your clit. “-fuck- I don’t need to give you an explanation, p-puny human. Just ride me.”

That’s all the answer you’re getting before he hunches over - long tongue tunneling even deeper around your melty walls and Sukuna was drooling. Smacking many, many wet kisses.

He’s throwing his head back into the decadently royal pillows with a slight, cracking whimper at the sweet, sweet taste of you on his tongue. Not that he’d ever admit it, of course. Swivelling wetly so that every single bead of your juices drip its silky way into his widely opened mouth. “Jus’ need a taste- just one taste.”

Your juices were like nectar, making the pollen rush.

“C-can you even taste like this, Kuna–?” your voice comes out in tiny whines. Positioning your shivery hands on either side of his shoulders to steady your legs - it just felt so unbearably good. 

Swat! 

And even with his thick, calloused fingertips, it felt like Sukuna was putting in twice the strength to plant a branding smack onto the curve of your jiggling ass. “Silly girl, of course I can taste this pretty cunt of yours-” Smoothing over the raised digits, and bearing you with such a sleazy grin. “-askin’ soo many q-questions, huh?” 

“But-”

Smack! 

“Shh, why don’t we let her speak for a second, now- hm?”

Silencing down his own grunts until all that resounds in the chamber are those sloshing squelches of your cunt dragging back and forth Sukuna’s monstrous tongue. The sounds of his wet muscle gyrating in and out hotly - it was almost burning. 

“Heh, real talkative this one is, too.” he’s snickering. Two of his arms attaching roughly onto your trembly hips, and a third covering your sagging mouth. “-why dontcha hngh- play with this pretty cunt of yours a lil’, brat? Make her all nice n’ even wetter f’me to taste?”

And it’s all you can do to dance one hand down to run over your poorly neglected clit, toying with that nub just the way you liked - and the way Sukuna liked, too. If the way his mouth - both his mouths - were smiling told you anything.

Yet, he wanted more.

“Fuck- fuck, wait.” And Sukuna smacks! away your hand with his free one - he couldn’t even last a few minutes with anyone other than himself staking a slutty claim on your cunt. “Let- let me.” Every roll of his tongue goes hand-in-hand with the meanest little drag of his fat thumb down your clit. At your surprised yelp, “Shut up and ride it.”

You’re clenching your teeth, bouncing your thighs up and down to glissade a ride everywhere from the ridges of Sukuna’s defined abs to the edges of his slurping tongue. 

“Heheh yeah-” he’s giggling - giggling. Drunk on you and your ravenous hips, you were moving against him so filthy at this point and he almost feels himself - the king of curses - blush. Head lolling backwards but eyeing down to watch how spearheaded you were on his tongue, surging in and out in wet sloshes to fuck your pretty cunt open on him. “Clenchin’ around me so tight- looks like you’re gonna cum, hm?”

“I-I am…so close, Kuna-”

“Don’ needa tell me- this cunt is speaking ‘nough for the both of ya. Right about-” Your eyes spark with sudden stars as he leaves another sudden smack! on your ass, your clit, and then one on your thigh. Before pulling- hauling- “-now.”

And the very moment you feel that build-up within your stomach snap - gushing out in wet wave after wave of your orgasm. All you can do is grab on helplessly to the- the headboard?

Blinking open your bleary eyes to realize that you were sitting on Sukuna’s mouth. His actual mouth. Cracked wide open for him to lap up every single bead and splatter of your squirting.

Such a filthy mess.

“There we go-” he’s groaning, eyes falling half-lidded. And through the corner of your eye, you catch the way his second mouth licks its lips devilishly. “-now I’m almost full.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - “D-do you hate me?”

“What?” you’re blinking down at your dear boyfriend. “Of course not, Toru-”

“Then, y-you really think this will hold me back, sweetheart?”

The words are barely out of Gojo’s mouth before he already knows that they’re bluffs, already knows that the strongest is powerless against those thick black blindfolds restraining his wrists to the bedposts - and you. 

You, you, you-

With your trembly legs straddling his lap, hovering your cunt just above his strawberry blushed head so deliciously. Your sodden pussy lips slobbering all the way down his length in a way that Gojo finds dizzying. He just can’t help but tug-

“Now now, I said no pulling.” Your honeyed tone makes his fat tip twitch despite the way it was dripping with a filthy warning. “Jus’ the tip, Toru. Remember?”

Right…not. 

“Yes yes yes yes-” Gojo gasps wetly, feet planting on either side of the mattress to buck up and push. To smear a pretty peck right past your folds and against that tight ring of muscle, hot. And, shit, maybe it was that fucking pollen but Gojo whimpers, how he wished he could touch you. “-jus’ the tip. The tip hngh- please jus’ take me I don’t even c-care.”

But he did.

Oh, how much Gojo cared ever since he’d let himself be hit by that weak sex pollen jujutsu as a joke. 

Never expecting to end up babbling thoroughly pussydrunkenly like this, to have his twitchy cock sinking in a mere inch into your melty walls and feeling like he was about to burst. 

“You say that but this is way more than ‘just the tip’, Toru–”

And Gojo can’t help but look, to snap his teary eyes downwards and drink in the way your puffed-up pussy lips were bulging all around his thick cock. Just barely past his sensitive slit, he could catch that thumping pulse at your cunt like you wanted to milk something delicious. 

“A-are ya sure, pretty?” he’s snickering, gripping on tightly to use the lewd leverage of his ties to rut up, up, up- “Doesn’t l-look like hngh- s’enough to me.”

Shit.

He can’t help the way his prattling mouth sags open when your tight cunt swallows up another greedy inch. And if any of you two had been in a slightly less delirious state of mind, then you’d have noticed the way the dim bedroom lighting flickers, the way your bed shifts. 

Keening at the slight thickening where his hilt was fatter, spearheading your taut pussy so open. It’s like his prominent veins were throb throb throbbing to massage forbidden sweet spots that you didn’t even know existed. 

You’re taking a few sloppy seconds to find your voice, gathering up every shred of will in your body to make sure it doesn’t break. “D-don’t act like you’re hah- forgiven for g-getting yourself into this mess, baby-”

Ah, Gojo practically purrs underneath you. “Jus’ feel like m’gonna d-die without ya-” Bed creaking when he riotously thrusts upwards to match your tantalizing pace with a much sloppier one of his own. That smack-on-smack after every pound music to his ears - but not enough. “But, if you let m-me outta these ngh– ties then maybe I could-”

“Toru…”

Oh, he was in trouble.

But that angry scoff on your pretty features only had Gojo moaning, gulping in desperate heavals of your scented pheromones. Dizzying. 

“Satoru.”

Fuck- fuck fuck fuck, Gojo was out of control. 

Head throwing back at your voice, lips gasping. Furiously ramming upwards into you with every ounce of strength he had - and Gojo could feel his limbs weaken, his bones ache with fatigue but he needed more. 

Maybe it was the pollen, probably it was him.

Burning for it.

“Aww don’ be like that. J-just the tip- just the tip-” he’s hiccuping out, eyes rearing almost half-closed. Sweat drips down the middle of his spine, your slick smears down in a wet gush onto his tufts of white when your pussy lips kiss his toned pelvis. Way past the tip but Gojo couldn’t stop- “-a little more-” Pushing mindlessly deeper, “-the tip- fuck you can take it- jus ah-” Wouldn’t stop. Can’t stop.

“Toru-” your words pitch into something pathetically whiny now. “-m’so close…”

He already knew

Of course, he already knew. His six eyes could catch that extra wad of drool coating your inner walls, the way your rapid pulse was probing even louder against his overwhelmed cock. Almost painfully. 

“Mhm– I know I know-” he gasps, ripping out a guttural moan when you’re craning over your pretty self to lick a path down the side of that sliver of drool at his mouth. “-cum f’me then- cum- hngh- cum on my cock, please?”

“I should hah- leave you right now, for lying about j-just the tip.”

But who was Gojo Satoru against you?

The slight threat only just leaves your glossed lips before he feels a stubborn pricking behind his eyes. Fuck, what a spectacle this would be to anyone right now. Big, bulbous tears crinkling down the side of his cheeks, Gojo bats his wet lashes innocently up at you. “Please?”

And with a shudder, you’re cumming - crashing headfirst into your orgasm. 

Fuck, you’re wondering whether this curse was contagious with how strong those waves of your high are. Peak after peak and only much, much later do you realize that Gojo’s already ripped straight through his restraints.

Left as mere tatters by the pillow when he latches on roughly to your waist and pounds up his drilling rams, over and over to target your poor, bruised g-spot. Fucking you through your high, vision swimming, lights exploding- 

And Gojo doesn’t even realize he’s cumming until he’s managing to crack his glowing eyes open to bore down at the milky ring of white painting around his thick hilt. Gasping in wonderment, he’s running a singular digit down the glossy puddle - before popping it into his mouth. Sucking. 

“Sweetheart…would you h-hate me if I said I’m ah- still feeling the sex pollen?”

“...”

A/N. Hope you lovelies have a great dayyyy <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

[screampied]

#TRYNA FUCK ME I'M LIKE OKAY! g. suguru

☆ sum. suguru geto wasn’t used to losing a race, especially to a fucking rookie—but you’ve got him confused, intrigued, and… hard? long story short, ever since he hit it he’s never been the same.

wc. 6.8k

warnings. fem! reader, street racer! geto, pwp, unprotected, 2 fast 2 furious references, bratty reader, rivals to lovers ( ? ), geto has a dīck piercing, big size kink, riding, he fucks you on the hood of your car, cunnīlingus, sore loser geto gets humbled lel, overstim, squīrting, dirty talk, praise, petnames.

an. chase atlantic inspired me again </3 same au as this one.

second fucking place. he got second place and he lost to you, a newbie—the newest racer with the prettiest trendy wheels, flashy rims, and a hot pink 2001 honda s2000. stupid, stupid, the reality of losing left a sour taste in geto’s mouth. he can’t remember the last time he’s lost, ever. .

the moment he saw your car bolt in front of him at those last few milliseconds of the race with fiery pink smoke coughing from your steel pipes dusting near his front window, he just knew he lost to you. geto scoffs. “tch,” he’d mumble, slamming his car door shut, and releasing the straps of his custom-made helmet. you leaned against your slick hood, innocently fanning yourself with a pamphlet of the track’s course layout that was given to every racer before glancing at geto. he was quite tall and he looked down at you with a look of intrigue and bitter annoyance. “cheater.”

“excuse me?” you raise a brow. you knew damn well who he was, suguru geto—one of the if not the best street racer in tokyo. notorious for his wins and extremly cocky ego - except this time, your win against him bruised that little detail a bit. a small grin spreads across your glossed lips before your eyes rove up and down his dark leather ripped clothes. “you said somethin’?”

“you heard me, sweetheart,” he utters, bringing a gloved hand up to his face. doing so, geto tucks his sticky black tresses back inside his helmet. he’s so close, that he practically has you cornered against the hot hood of your car and his eyes stare at the medal that’s pinned near the left side of your chest. that gold medal that was supposed to be his. “besides,” and you nearly gasped once you felt your rear tap against the front of your vehicle. “your ‘riding’ could use a ‘lil work, rookie.”

you saw the look in his eyes. he’s challenging you, geto sees you as a potential threat and he wasn’t fond of losing.. ever.

it just wasn’t in his vocabulary.

you don’t know why but beating one of tokyo’s top street racers made cocky pride swell right up in your chest. the same kind of cocky pride that he was used to, and damn were you a force to be reckoned with. he just had to learn that the hard way.

“do i?” you reply, reaching an arm inside of your car to twist the keys out of the ignition. with a roaring sputtering growl, your engine gradually turns off and the sounds of whirring wind fill the air.

geto’s got his hands buried in his pockets as his tall lean body stands still. he’s checking you out.

his head slightly tilts to the side with his helmet cracked open and you can feel his eyes trailing up your entire physique.

he’s studying you - trying to figure out just who this pretty girl that just dusted him in a race.

you’d be lying through your teeth if you didn’t idolize him just a little bit. he was well known not just in tokyo but worldwide. the fangirls loved him, and the racers despised him with envy.

beating the suguru geto was a rare fever dream of itself.

“or are you just upset you’re not in the spotlight for once?” brat.. though your comment made him scoff with a sly smile curling against his thin lips.

“mm. for a new racer you sure have a smart mouth,” and his eyes quickly dash toward your car.

hot pink, it even looked freshly new and painted. and just to put the icing on the cake, it also has a pretty character design painted near the sides with the addition of a cheetah print wheel.

he lost to . . that?

geto’s quietly admiring your ride though—it looked like it was straight out of a movie. once he looks down at you again, he speaks in a gruff intimidated tone, finishing his sentence. “it’s only your first win, don’t be cocky.”

“i’ll be cocky if i want,” you murmur, and there’s a loud competitive tension between you both.

people started to leave the car meeting spot until it was just the two of you. your car’s parked near one of the garages where geto’s car was coincidentally parked also. you’re still leaning against the pink hood of your car before walking up to him. you close the awkward distance between you both, being just a few inches apart.

you’re bold, and he liked your spunk although he’d never flat-out admit it.

just . . . who were you?

geto didn’t like losing—that’s already been established. but now, he’s starting to realize he probably has to deal with you in future races, and oh- he knew you were gonna be a problem.

and he was right, because perhaps he’d finally met his match.

“besides, even if i did cheat,” you retaliate, your tone sounding more and more coy and foxy. playfully, your arms wrap around his shoulders and you tap against his sheer black helmet that had ‘s. geto’ autographed in bold purple near the other shell. vexed, mousy eyes glare at you through the protective gear and you lean up all the way close. “what are you gonna do about it, suguru?”

famous last words,

because one moment you’re being nothing but a mere brat and the next, you found yourself bent over the hood of your pretty blush-colored honda.

well, fuck.

suguru geto didn’t take disrespect lightly . . although, he liked the brat in you. a nice change of pace, even though it pissed him off a bit - a lot.

“s- shit,” you gasp, feeling your thighs squeeze together. geto’s domineering aura sends you chills, the kind of chills where it runs through your entire soul.

he’s so close that you could almost taste his loud cologne on your tongue. it’s a manly scent, you’d probably guess one of the main ingredients was oak moss. as you’re pondering deep in thought, still trying to get over his loud smell—a hand gingerly starts to brush down your skimpy lace-up chaps.

his touch felt good. . and sure, maybe you’ve fantasized about this exact moment once or twice while watching his races broadcasted on live television. geto’s pressed up against you as you’re idly hunched over, biting your lip. with a huff, you’re so close to your tinted window that you were practically having a staring contest with your rosy windshield wipers. “aw. you planned to spank me over my car?”

“not exactly, pretty girl,” he tsks with a clicked tongue, and that’s when you feel it. something poking against your rear — oh, he was hard.

it was something hard and you don’t quite think it was his helmet..

that couldn’t have been anything else other than a raging boner, and it makes you smugly hum. geto groans once he feels your ass wriggling against his skin-tight leather jeans. “think you’re funny, yeah girl?”

“a bit,” you utter in a breathy tone, feeling his fingers zig-zag down the exposed straps of clothing that reveal a bit of skin. you didn’t mind his touch - in fact, you only wanted more.

the inside of the garage was widely spacious—big enough to fit your car and geto’s iconic skyline gtr. it’s a gorgeous midnight dark purple that glimmers in the dead of night, akin to a raven’s wings.

with the garage lot being empty, it was just the two of you, the witching hour steadily approaching. all that could be heard was the occasional squawks and chirps of squaking birds and loud cars honking near the far distance by the freeway. as he’s still got you pinned over, you bite your pointer finger with a cheeky hum. “hilarious even.”

but, you don’t find anything funny moments later when the street racer’s tongue is shoved right between your splayed, plush thighs.

not at all, in fact- the only ‘words’ that came from your mouth were babbling inaudible whimpers, and he made sure you’d eat your sentences… just like he’s eating out your first place cunt like the starved man he was.

with widened eyes and a stretched jaw hanging open, you stare back with a hand on your ass, giving your skin a soft squeeze. geto grunts, on his knees as you’re hauled right over your pretty decorated hood.

hell! you figured he’d ask to rematch but this..

it seemed like all he wanted to do was take out his loss on your pussy… with his second-place tongue.

and that’s just what he does too.

not that you were even complaining—suguru geto was a nasty man to no one’s surprise. he’s nasty on the road and he’s even nastier with his tongue recklessly driving up and down your slobbering twitching cunt.

you feel a crooked nose sloooowly drag its way like a trail against your entrance. geto starts near the bottom and then makes his way up, making sure to have his button nose dripping with your mess. letting off a sweet whimper, it doesn’t take long before he’s starting sucking against your swollen clit.

“hng,” a needy whine dashes from your throat, and you can already feel a shaking judder spasm between your legs. geto’s unapologetically sloppy with his mouth too. as he’s repeatedly flicking the pointed pink tip of his tongue in crazed different directions, a throaty hiccup leaves from your glued lips. “fuuck, do you usually mhm--do this to your opponents who hah, beat you?”

“only the ones with the smart fuckin’ mouths,” he replies with a quickness, taking a moment to spit right on your sticky cunt. it’s a loud ‘ptui’ and it’s a filthy slimy trail that dribbles past his lips, polishing near the creasing crevices of his mouth.

a rubber-gloved hand snakes toward the crack of your pried open thighs and he spanks your pussy, causing a cute shrieking squeal to leave out your strained cords. “also, a reminder again. you didn’t beat me. i let you win. big difference.”

“s- sure,” you sheepishly moan, feeling vapid air circle around you both.

the night was eerily and silently dead—you swallowed thickly, praying no one would see you bent over your flashy pink hood getting eaten out by one of the most famous street racers in the world. although, the thought of getting caught made you throb in a way you didn’t think it would.

he’s mean with his tongue.

geto was competitive in everything he did, including with how he ate it.

your strapped pants were pulled down along with your panties lazily sticking toward the side of your feeble quaking thighs.

within minutes his jaw would angrily ache, growing slack and locking from how it was reaching soreness - but he didn’t care.

if he didn’t win his race, the least he could do was win by eating you out…right?

geto’s designer mauve-colored helmet probably costed thousands and rests near the side of him. he took it off before he started to feast himself between your sprawled legs.

through hazed doe-like peripherals, you stare at it and admire the designs that paint across his visor.

everywhere, there’s writing and designs—and again, you spot his famous autograph that’s nearly written near the side. typical, of course, he’d autograph his helmet.

he’s suguru fuckin’ geto.

regardless though, you’re still nothin’ but a whining mess though, and as he continues to eat you out, you let off a sweet ‘ooh!’ as soon as he bites near your pearly clit.

it’s soft and tender, but it still makes you babble out a sobbing moan. his teeth gently nibbled against your pussy . . . leisurely slithering his tongue between your flooding flaps.

so good, each time you hear the wet smacks from his lips, you can hear geto huskily groaning out satisfying ‘mmmh’ ‘s.

it’s a feeling that makes your legs stagger within the firm hold of his hands. geto’s still wearing his gloves and each time the stretchy rubber rubs onto your skin, you moan. “fuck, fuckk,” you whine, and he’s groaning right against your sobbing cunt. his hair’s pinned back into a high messy ponytail - a few ravened strands running down the sides of his face. pretty long lashes of his were closed as he was slurping you clean.

so damn sweet . . . he wonders why he’s never seen you on the track until now. well- you were new. maybe he has seen you, but geto’s never been one to pay attention.

either way, you were a meal he didn’t wanna stop tasting, ever.

and despite the bitter taste of defeat continuously lingering on his flat tongue even still . . your cunt sprinkled a bit of flavor to it, an aftertaste of vying rivalry . .

“mmph,” he grunts, feeling you push him further into your cunt with one hand. with a twist, you turn your torso just a bit to look down at him, bringing his face further. geto’s slick wet tongue slides across your nub before he’s sloppily thrusting it in and out of your weeping flowery entrance.

you whimper once he reaches that spot, feeling a sudden heave of a breath snatch its way out from your puffed lungs. geto’s dark brows amusingly knit together and he’s already nose deep—the hooking bridge that smears against your pussy makes you nearly wail out a needy weep.

he’s smearing his face everywhere, and wet splotches of your juices started to coat his clear face.

but he doesn’t mind - geto’s always been one to get a ‘lil dirty during a match.

two slack lips munch against your clit wholly before his lengthy tongue reaches toward your winking hole. “pff,” he clicks his tongue, letting off another husky groan once he feels the tint in his pants arises.

fuck, you made him hard—even more, now that he was eating you out.

the louder you were, the more his dick twitched underneath the rough fabric of his jeans. it’s almost painful- the way his hardened bulge prods its way against the leathery fabric makes him suck his teeth. he needs you.

geto’s lips remain glued against your cunt before he uses a gloved thumb to peel your pudgy sweltering folds apart just a biiiit more.

his tongue creates a downward slope that trickles its way below your clitoral hood that’s frantically throbbing right in his mouth.

ba dum, ba dum, ba dum. . .

pulse pulse pulse after fucking pulse,

a smoky chuckle echoed from his lips as his shoulders slightly shake and fuck- it vibrates against your pussy. “god, she’s a ‘lil crybaby isn’t she,” he breathlessly mumbles as his thumb peels your soaked flaps all the way down. he’s intently staring inside, studying all the pretty nerves and your twitching nub before spitting right inside yet again.

airy cold breath fans over your nude slit and you whimper, feeling his tongue douse itself back inside. “were you drivin’ around this wet the entire time, princess?” and you moan, feeling the rubber of his palm smear a few circles around your clit. “drivin’ around, tryin’ to beat me with a pretty pussy this fuckin’ soaked?”

with a shivering whimper ghosting past your splintered lips, you snivel out a soft mewl.

“sugu—fuuuck, ‘m gonna cum,” and as your breath gets caught in your throat, you feel him grab a nice chunk of your ass.

at his very grip, he gives your rear a rude spank and the recoil makes him hum in amusement. so soft, the way it bounced just from his palm alone.

oh, and spanking you became his favorite thing to do, especially since you were so fucking noisy.

as a shrilling whine prepares to race out your strained esophagus, you nearly yank his head forward again, hearing him groan against your clit. “d- did you hear me? ‘m close, gonna cu—”

“yeah yeah girl, i heard you,” he swats your hand away, and the low grit that rumbles from underneath his tone makes you throb for the nth time.

geto brings a few digits up toward your cunt to rub against your runny folds, and he starts making out with your pussy - with tongue.

sloppy smacks slosh out from your crying folds and you gasp, feeling him impishly nip your clit with his teeth once more. “mmf,” and his eyes start to become low and hooded.

he’s pussy drunk, very much so.

geto eats you out until you’re abruptly coming undone on his tongue, letting off a sweet euphoric battle cry with your toes curling in your knee-high boots. fuck, and even as he’s savoring the syrupy taste that pours on his flat flushed tongue, he’s still eating you out.

with brief circular maneuvers of his tongue, he’s got you whimpering from the sensitivity. as a staticky twinge pulses through your pussy, your hand grabs at his hair hard, tugging near his roots, having to literally pry him apart.

your cunt was so sensitive, throbbing a plethora of pulses as your mouth fatally goes dry. “f- fuck,” you moan, and you can feel your legs stick together once they instinctively close shut.

“tsk. drama queen,” he soils his lips together that were now perfectly glossed from top to bottom with your juices.

oh, his chiseled chin was just shimmering with such sparkling sap that it even poured a stream down the lower part of his face. his tongue slides near the cracked corner of his right lip, and he’s just luxuriating at the treacly taste of you. if you tasted this good, maybe the second place wasn’t so bad after all. .

as he’s still lapping up his lips with a wolffish grin, geto notices you openly gawking at his bulge and he snickers, patting his fly with a gloved hand. “it’s rude to stare, sweetheart.”

“it’s rude to walk around with a bulge that big.”

“oh yeah? how ‘bout you fix that problem for me then, rookie?”

a brat, almost as much of a brat as you.

geto gets silenced once you slam your lips onto his, not even batting an eyelash that you’re tasting yourself on his tongue that’s swirling around yours.

it’s intense, you could feel your heartbeat start to match the exact pulsing pace from between your legs. his lips were icy, and you moaned—tasting a bit of mint that resides on his tongue.

his breath is freezing cold, it’s an almost sweet candied taste and you whine in his mouth once his hands start to roam up and down your body.

geto’s feeling you up- feeling up the pretty girl who just beat him in a race.

rough protected hands drag down your frame, taking in your curves before toying with the leather straps that droop against your pink lace-up chaps.

it’s as if even the kiss was far more competitive than the actual street race.

both desperately fought to win, swerving through each tongue like swerving lanes.

geto grunts, lightly pushing your ass back against the hood of your car. as tongues twist and tango in lewd unison, he seductively sucks on your pointed tip.

as geto’s eyes open halfway, you open yours, and he’s just staring at you with a look of feral - a carnal smug grin tweaking on each side of his lips.

“turn around again, pretty. hands on y’r hood like…this,” and once he spreads you apart, you moan once he rubs his bulge against the middle fabric of your pants. “good hah- messy girl.” his bulge was so damn hard, it felt like a brick.

the more he rubbed himself against you, the more your body ached and yearned for more.

oh..

his hands, geto kept his racing gloves on the entire time. as the stretchy rubber sensually crawls down your waist, you hear the jangling of his studded skull belt. with a few shuffles, he leans up close, pinning your hands behind your back like you were under arrest.

“just for the record again, you didn’t ‘beat’ me, you cheated,” and you scoff, feeling frigid air waft between your inner thighs. oh- here he goes again. talk about a sore fuckin’ loser.

“sur— mmph,” and he cuts you off, placing a gloved palm over your mouth.

“quiiiiet, you’ll get your turn to talk,” he cuts you off, and you let off a moan once you feel his bulbous tip smack against your sopping cunt.

it’s loud..

dozens of paps and squelches leave it right away and he plants a wet kiss near your exposed neck.

the rubs from his blushing reddened cockhead make loud noises that constantly replay through your empty mind.

“see? let her talk,” and you swallow thickly, feeling him use an extra hand to pry your legs apart further. clammy, big hands glue against the pink hood of your car before your tongue tastes the metallic fibers of his glove. “so eager. poor baby,” he coos against your ear, feeling you trying to swallow and gulp him down right away. your twitching pussy’s aching, and you can’t help the pathetic whimpers that hiccup from your lips. you even try to wriggle your ass but he rubs a hand underneath your clit. “aw, impatient are we? what’s the sayin’, princess? slow ‘n steady wins the race?”

‘okay…but i beat you,’ was what you were saying in your head… but you sort of forgot his hand was covering your mouth. duh girl.

“mmph—” you let off a muffled moan against the palm of his hand, trying to wriggle your ass against him harder.

geto lowly groans and then you groan, feeling what was a piercing that attaches toward his pre-creamed dewy frenulum. geto strokes himself a bit, fisting his cock. with hooded, jaded eyes, he watches his loose skin peel back before arising up again and he hisses. the frenulum perfectly hooks itself over his tip, and oh- how you wished you could have seen it.

you couldn’t see but, fuck did you feel it.

you’re so wet, your swollen pussy lips resemble a blossoming flower as he spreads you apart with two scissoring rubber fingers.

his dick piercing almost tickles once it starts to rub against you some more. he swipes it all against your clit, teasing it near your opening before pulling it right back out. “fuck,” you whine once he finally removes his palm from your mouth, glossy strands of your saliva coating the entirety of your hand. “h.. hurry up, suguru. ‘m gonna fall asleep at this rate.”

geto rolls his eyes, and that’s when with a semi-loud thud, your chest lands against your hood.

“oh please..” he murmurs, a brow twisting upward in annoyance. one of his hands still has its grip on your wrists and you bite your lip in anticipation.

geto’s tip leaked with creamy coating pre, and you felt remnants of it sprinkle against your entrance. with a raspy grunt, he drags his angered pierced crownhead down your drooling folds before roughly smacking it against your cunt.

more sloppy wet splats! of squelches spurt out from your folds as if it’s saying its own kind of lewd language and he grunts.

geto makes sure you’re arched over the hood of your car before whistling at your presented frame. “so damn…pretty,” and within seconds, he’s easing his way inside.

immediately, your eyes widen with your jaw collapsing down like earlier—fuck, he’s big.

from the countless times, you stared at his bulge, you figured as much. geto’s vast head had a rosy-pink tint of vermillion with how close it mirrored to being a pinkish red.

sucking in a greedy breath, he watches as he’s gradually disappearing inside of your cunt. his pierced dick made things even more sensitive, and you moan once you feel the piercing softly graze its way inside of your fluttering orifice.

pasty gummy walls welcome him, and now it’s his turn to bite his lip.

“hng, f- fuckin’ big,” you try to inhale a single breath, and he raises your leg just a bit. it now sits over your hood- and damn it, the angle he has was just brutal.

you just knew you were gonna feel him everywhere.

geto’s obelisk-like girth was wide ‘n fuckin’ tall, you felt him fully and the shaft ring that’s on top of his top continues to kiss against your sensitive throbbing nub.

prince albert to be specific!

it decorates his tip perfectly, making sure to tickle inside of you as he’s feeling you clamp down. “shiiiit,” you slur out your words in a mere whiny syllable, gasping at the curved column of his fat dick search through your walls like a maze. he’s expanding through you and you can’t help but part your lips, squealing before letting off a cute, ‘ooohh!’

your hand prints stick against the pink-stained hood of your car due to the insane amounts of perspiration and you whine once he gives you one biiiig thrust.

just one- and ah!

it rocks your world - literally.

you let off a cute squealing shriek, your legs shimmying a bit from his pressed-up weight.

“atta girl, bare ‘round me, good girl—fuck,” and the warmth you envelop his dick with makes him groan. your pussy was clingy, already so eager to devour him whole.

within a few punctuated thrusts to start, geto’s finally fucking you and each vigorous piston of his honed snatched hips makes your crossed eyes roll back in needy rapture.

his hands now stick toward your sides and you’re just whimpering from his size over and over again.

weighty inches pound into you at full speed, giving you whiplash every time as he impales your sweet greedy cunt. “fuck, mhm,” you bawl a fist against your car, gritting your teeth. riiiight there, the moment his tip smooches its way against that pretty bullseye spot, it’s over. there, he locates a spongy texture with the mushroomy pierced crown of his cock and it earns out a sobbing whimper from you. “ahng! right there, fuck. faster, there sugu.”

“right there, fuuuuck. faster there, sugu,” he mocks your whiny babbles, fully exaggerating.

to hell with him, you didn’t even sound like that but oh, did he enjoy getting on your nerves. just like you did- cute.

geto’s hefty sack smacks back against you from each nudging thrust he creates with his hips. every time, it makes him groan at how your body cutely slams back against him. with how sharp your ass pounds on his dick, those pretty wet sounds singing straight from your cunt- a sound way better than screeching tire wheels. “god, so fuckin’ warm. hah, squeezin’ all around me,” and as his irregular breathing patterns pick up, he leans in to kiss a slope down your neck. “bend over just a bit more- hah. there we go, m- my good girl.”

as your chest continued to lie flat down against your car’s hood now—he’s got you at such an angle to where you feel his cock expand everywhere.

it reaches every depth and rummages through every open orifice or just about near it. “oh my god!” you whimper out, hearing the sloppy sounds of your cunt whistle through the silent night. geto’s hitting you deep, slamming his keen hips into you with such rhythm, and each time he does, your brain short circuits.

tiny invisible stars circle and float over your head as you’re completely dumbfounded, thinking about nothing but how big his cock is and the way his pierced tip just plummets its way in and out of your drooling cunt.

speaking of drooling—you were starting to drool from the slit cracks of your mouth. you couldn’t help it- his dick was out of this world, and maybe you were exaggerating but fuck, you didn’t want him to stop. ever.

geto’s hastily rearranging your insides with just a few inches and it felt oh so good.

it was so good that you forgot the two of you raced together. you forgot about street racing as a whole, and instead, he had you dumb from his dick. “biiiiig fuckin’ stretch baby,” he’d grunt, starting to witness viscid stringy strands glue against each slapping thighs. geto’s dick slips out for a minute and he groans, gradually sliding himself back in.

it’s a sloppy ‘pop’ that rings between your cunt and it’s cute. you were wringing him dry, and with how wet you were, it wasn’t exactly helping things.

geto’s hot breath brushes against the open part of your neck before he gives your ass another playful swat. “fuck, that’s it. fuck back against me, don’t get lazy, uh huh. work those hips baby, f- fuck.”

as you weakly try to sway your ass into him to coordinate in sync with his crazed hips, he holds you in place—pumping inch after inch into you.

his cock sheaths inside between your syrupy-coated pussy almost effortlessly, and you let off a melodic moan the second his tip starts making out with your g-spot.

the pierced bulbous head dared to french kiss against there—making you writhe around him, on the verge of losing composure. you don’t think you’ve felt more sensitive than ever.

geto’s silvery dick piercing probes up and down your pearly clit every few seconds and he grunts at the gripping friction. “suguru…..fuuuck!” and as your words start to get bouncy, more sweet whimpers rose out of your sore throat. “more, more.”

“ungh,” he purses his lips together as he feels your cunt hungrily swallow his cock from top to bottom. with a rough pound, your ass smacks against his base—right near his tender plump testes and he groans.

such power-

even geto’s stunned for a moment, and his head throws itself back. the air surrounding you both starts to feel thick as smoke, and his eyes glance at your exposed backside that’s oh-so-pretty while arched.

all for him, and him only.

geto’s hips were simply maddened, and even he didn’t care about the race anymore.

well actually, maybe he did a little..

your pussy was brimmed with cock — sooo full, and you felt yourself starting to pant quicker and quicker. it’s as if you were having a literal street race with your breathing. geto’s getting lost inside of you, and it’s only a matter of time before his hips turn wildly sloppy.

gloved hands still reel you back into him as he’s breaking sweats within each long millisecond that passes. “pheww,” he’d wipe a sheet of sweat off his forehead, veins bulging in his beefy tatted arms. the drenching grip you had on his dick had him craving more…more of you.

the stoutness of his shaft jackhammers inside of your walls repeatedly until you’re on the verge of breaking yet again. geto grunts, the loud quick snap of his hips bringing him back to reality every time he’s about to go into another fantasm.

“fuuuck, ‘m gonna cum,” his words come out in a quiet rasp, and he claws a hand near the back crown of your head. “god,” his jaw tightens, and geto leans right up close to your neck, panting heavily against the outer shell of your ear. as long tangled tresses of hair freely cascade past his shoulders - all ruffled and messy from his helmet, he groans. “where do ya want it, sweetheart. tell m—”

“insideee,” you whine, barely giving him time to finish his husky words. your legs slightly raise against your headlight as it’s still stretched up and over.

geto’s still hitting you deep - so deeply good, swollen tip massaging every part of your clit and all. dozens of your toes curl up in erotic excitement as your tongue lolls out. you probably looked a sight. “inside, sugu, in- fuckin’- side.”

sassily smacking his lips together, he spanks you. “tch, dumb girl,” and the racer brings a hand to wrap around your neck. with a firm safe grip, his gloved thumb caresses a trail up your neck before he drills into you much quicker.

each snap of his hips draws out harmonic whines from you, gargled moans following out of your throat shortly afterward. the burn that’s twinging near the undersides of his thighs grows more and more intense before he geto lets out a guttural growl.

so……damn….. wet..

your flooding cunt’s slathering all over him, dripping near his base and he can’t help but snicker. “hah, fine. better hold still though.”

“fuck,” you whimper in response, feeling his sharp hips pound into you at such a pace. his rhythm was insane and there was no way in hell you could match his pace.

when it came to geto’s speed- yeah, you’d always lose. sure, you may have won today but when it came to his cock- you were losing with the hasty speed of his hips drilling into you at such miles per fuckin’ hour. .

as his turgid fat tip gives its final thrusting pumps inside of your cunt, geto’s body starts to violently shudder.

oh.. you were about to wring him dry. with a mewling slosh sound leaving the front your folds, you gush out yet again.

but at the same time…. so does he.

geto’s head remained tossed back with his round adam’s apple bobbing out of his throat. gnawing in the inside of his squishy cheek, he lets off a low grunt. his abs cockily flex through the white tee that tucks underneath his half-on leather jacket.

geto pulls out though, and it’s quick like the flash. he doesn’t finish inside to your devastated surprise, and a downturned pout forms on your lips. he huffs, watching such creamy-white amounts gush ‘n goo out in ropes and he sprays it on the outside of your pussy.

“damn,” he murmurs, feeling the awkward needy fidget of your hips. cute. darkened eyes remain on you the entire time and he grabs ahold of his veiny cock, aligning hit pierced tip against your pearled throbbing clit. “heh.. ain’t that a pretty sight,” and he smears it all against your pasty-creamed entrance.

now . . it’s painted with his color, white.

and geto came a lot because it’s still trickling out in ribbony globs, filthily oozing from the thick girthy sides and all like an erupted volcano. his teeth get caught by his quivering bottom lip as he watches such immoderate ropes of cum leave out of him. “such a- hah, messy girl,” and as he’s still lathering his sloppy seed that’s pouring out, sticking wads of splotches between the heat of your thighs, geto squeezes your ass. “awww,” he huffs breathily, noticing a few ivory stains splattered near the pink bumper of your car. “oops. might wanna clean that, sweetheart.”

hours passed . . many hours, and to say that you got fucked stupid was merely an understatement.

suguru geto had the stamina equivalent to a toyota supra MK4. his horsepower was his hips- with the added addition of his cock driving in and out of you.

but oh- you knew he wouldn’t be running out of gas soon.

or would he?

so. . many rounds, geto had you questioning your insanity the entire time, all because of his dick. if it was one thing he knew how to do, it was to fuck.

whether it involved his tongue or not, he knew how to make you feel good. it was one of the many things he excelled at, truly.

the only thing that got in the way was his cocky smug ego. every few seconds, he’d boast and remind you for the umpteenth time that your win was an unruly cheat, a hoax, or that he just couldn’t see the finish line because of your pink fucking smoke.

of course, geto didn’t say that part, that would have been him admitting that he lost the race and his pride couldn’t let him admit that he lost fair in square—

but your pussy could.

“hngh,” he falls back against your front cottony plus seat. geto grunts with a scowl entrapped in his thoughts. you pushed him - the audacity.

both of you were still sensitive but you had a tiny trick up your sleeve. “got some.. nerve,” and with low-dropped eyes, he watches you align yourself on his swollen pierced tip yet again.

he’s soft-flaccid, and he was pretty ran down. maybe now, geto was finally starting to run out of gas. with sweltering reddened lips smearing together, he watches you pick back up his expensive helmet, putting it over your head. “oh, gonna ride me while wearing my helmet, yeah? do your wors— oh.. fuck.”

his priggish words come to a not-so comedic halt the moment your cunt slams down on his cock. geto was still sensitive and he slouches back against your programming warming seat, dark eyes rolling back.

“goddamnnn,” and as your hips swerve around in circles identical to 360 car donuts, he sees you touching yourself while wearing his helmet. “fuckin’ brat—god.”

“aw,” you mock the exact faux caring tone he did to you earlier, making him touch you by bringing his shaky rubber hands toward your chest. geto’s fingers feel against the cropped top you wore, squeezing at your jiggling neglected breasts. “c’mon, sugu. i gotta guide your hands now too?”

“tch, shut up,” he groans, his heavy-sunken base sticking near your skin. dried splotches of cum glue against your sheeny ass as your hips continue to whirl ‘n rotate. you were unpredictable—you moved and jerked while he sat there with the most pussy drunken expression. geto lowly grunts, already feeling his balls starting to tighten up. he was trying to stop a sleazy grin from forming and oh.. was your cunt just making it impossible. “shit, ‘m not gonna last. s- still fuckin’ sensitive…. fuuuckk.”

the pink honda’s loud grumbling engine resounds through the echoey walls of the isolated garage with only the sounds of sheer skin slapping and a mixture of grunts following afterward. without thinking, you lift his helmet off of you, leaning in to kiss him and he returns the gesture almost right away.

geto’s lips were a tad bit delayed once they pressed onto yours. its a small yet cute detail- how he’s so pussy drink that he could barely crash his lips onto yours. as he’s moaning from your hands feeling on his burly tatted arms, his tongue sloppily delves into your mouth with no rhythm whatsoever.

maybe you were crazy, but you think you heard a whimper leave from his lips as he tried to nibble on your tongue. geto grunts, feeling that same pressure from earlier build up and fuck.. you were about to make a mess out of him . . . again!

his dick stills itself inside of you and his hands continue to roam down your body, further and further away from your jostling bouncy tits. “fuck ‘m cumminggg,” he’d moan between sultry kisses as stringy strands of saliva entangle with one another.

wetly, they form a web of sheeny lustrous cobwebs. geto’s foot rests against your bedazzled hard brake pedal before within seconds, he cums again.

this time, inside.

but it’s different this time- so so different.

it feels tenderly warm..

such hot gooey amounts dribble inside of you, spraying further inside your precious womb and you hum at the feeling.

his pierced cock fitting real nice and snug inside and you moan into his mouth, cocking your head in different directions as you trap his lips with another steamy kiss. “mmph.” a muffled whimper gets caught against your lips and you can already start to feel the whiteish searing ropes of fresh cum trail down the insides of your thighs. geto feels you slowing down on his lap—still buried balls deep, and he grunts in defeat..

soon, embarrassment overtakes him once he realizes how early he finished.

it’s a lot, again.

a thick load splatters heavily inside and past the inner lining of your cunt and he’s shivering underneath you. once you finally break away from his lips, your eyes meet his.

geto’s staring back at you, and you don’t see that cocky sly look in his eyes that everyone else sees.

right now, he looks…needy, and you think you broke him.

“what . . ?” he grouses, his hands still attached to your waist. his grip- it was gentle and tender a rubber thumb softly caressing down your curve. geto wasn’t ready for you to leave the garage, at least not yet.

“say it, pretty boy,” you whisper, pressing a kiss near his chin. your touch - it drove him mad.

never in a million years would he, suguru geto- have thought he’d get humbled by a rookie . .

humbled by you.

geto’s shooting straight daggers at you, but you can tell how flustered he is because he breaks eye contact a second later. you’re making him nervous, the same feeling he was making you at first when you had your first encounter with him.

as geto’s still warmly buried inside, he grunts once you take it upon yourself to softly wrap a hand around his throat.

oh- you were a mere tease, mimicking his exact movements from earlier. slightly wide-eyed and all, geto stares at you. and as he does—there’s that familiar glimpse of brattiness glimmering in his irises again.

you fucking turned him on..

“heh, f- fine then,” he stammers, heaving every few seconds to catch his irregular breaths. his body felt like it was on empty. no more gas left in him and that same cunning grin that plastered on his lips slowly started to fade.

geto’s not so cocky now, and in fact— he lets off a soft quiet whimper once you start to grind against his lap.

shakily, his hand squeezes your ass before finishing his sentence in a shaky defeated rasp.

“you . . fuckin’ win, sweetheart,” and you let off a sweet gasp once a loud smack! interrupts the moment, his hand swatting against your ass. “mhm,” geto grunts, “didn’t s- say stop. finish ridin’ me, sweetheart,” and his gloved finger swirls itself inside of your stuffed full cunt before pulling it right back out.

again, he’s filthy.

and even while being in such a state, geto brings his fingers up to his lips, slowly poppin’ them into his mouth before tasting the concoction mixture of both bittersweet messes. your syrupy cum and his.

quickly, he presses the tips of his rubber fingers toward his uvula, before staring at you with a greedy smug expression. he’s panting harshly, still trying to get over how you just outrode him literally, and he laps up his fingers right in front of you.

geto reclines your seat back a bit as you still straddled him, and he gives your ass its final spank before tiredly huffing,

“best- two out of three, what do ya say, r- rookie?heh..”