#and going out of each others way to make sure things run smoothly for them

[yb-cringe]

the way qjaiden shows love is so subtle you would barely even see it unless you watched her vods. legit. like i think she and roier are very similar in that they’re not great with being outwardly caring or good with their words so everything is so Minuscule.

like qjaiden is there for Any dodgy conversations that qroier has. she was watching any convos he had go down in case he needed her. she immediately started looking into who ruined the venue. she spots anyone who looks shifty to scope them out. she immediately jumps to his side if he asks and picks him up the second he goes down.

its all just small really quiet things that she doesnt do for others that say So much because she they just dont do compassion and care the way like cellbit does. its not words, it’s action for them.

[aperrywilliams]

A Bit Rougher (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

------------------ 

Author Masterlist

------------------

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Summary: You and Spencer have been in a relationship for a little bit more than four months now, and the team doesn't know. One day, the BAU girls ask you by your mystery partner they know you have - even if they don't know who it is - and bring up a topic you are not so sure to share with Spencer yet: your kinky side in sex. What happens when the same Spencer puts a test on you on that matter?

Word Count: 6.5k (I'm not sorry)

Warnings: SMUT/18+/MDNI. Where do I start? Reader sleeps with Spencer (obviously). Talks about sex life. Mentions of tantric sex and rough sex. Mentions of some kinks like choking, spanking, and dom-sub dynamics. Clothes get ripped, Spencer calling you 'my girl' (oh God), masturbation (f receiving), fingering, kind of choking, dirty talk. Spencer does his best as a dom (soft!dom because it can't be any other way), penetrative sex, spanking, begging, more dirty talk, creampie (it really doesn't exist another word for this?), and aftercare. Spencer is the best boyfriend in the world. If I forgot something, please let me know.

A/N: This one was a request. I can't find the original message, and I don't know if the person who asked wanted their name here (I can quickly add it if they want to).

---------------

The moment rays of sunlight peek through the curtain and hit my face, I turn to my back to avoid them, not ready to fully start the day yet.

Still half awake, half sleepy, I can feel a pair of hazel looking at me. I peek one eye open, and I see Spencer smiling at me.

"Good morning, beautiful," he rasps. And I don't know why such simple words have me blushing like a schoolgirl. Beaming, I return the greeting.

"Morning, handsome."

I get my reply with a lingering kiss on my lips, which I fully savored until a sudden thought came to me.

"What time is it? We need to get up."

Spencer, with his calm voice, shakes his head.

"It's a bit early yet. We have time. Also, you have some clothes here, so you don't need to go to your apartment before driving to work."

Smart me for bringing clothes to his apartment. It's an obvious decision, though, considering I have spent more nights here in the past weeks than in my place.

A devilish smirk makes an appearance on my face.

"So, we do have time, don't we?"

"Yes, sweetheart. We do," Spencer mumbles, scooting closer and peppering kisses on my face and then down to my collarbone.

Oh boy, this is what I call a good way to start the day.

-

How much time can you fool a bunch of the best profilers in the country, hiding your relationship with one of your coworkers? Spencer and I keep the count. The mark is set now in four months and two weeks.

It's not that we are embarrassed by what we have or anything close to that. It's just that things started so casually and naturally, and they're running so smoothly, so we want to keep it to ourselves as long as we can.

And by now? It's working.

We have also been careful about it. On our first nights together, we woke up early and went home for a shower and a change of clothes. After some weeks, we started to pack extra in our go-bag. Now, we have at least a change of clothes in each other's places. The second rule is never to get to work at the same time or on the same transportation. Spencer usually takes the metro even if I can drive and make time in the parking lot. Just one day, we did it, and we were so worked up in our making out session that we almost got caught by Morgan, who parked two cars away from mine.

Naturally, any form of PDA at work is completely off-limits. That's the toughest rule to follow. After all, we spend more time at the office and on the road than we do at home, so avoiding any kind of touch is definitely a challenge.

Despite all that, I can't help but feel happier every day as I fall deeper for Spencer. I often feel like a schoolgirl with a crush, constantly distracted by thoughts of him. Clearly, my behavior hasn't gone unnoticed, at least not by the three girls cornering me right now in the BAU kitchen.

"So, are you going to deny you're having fun these days?" Emily teases me while JJ and Penelope giggle in agreement.

"Where did that come from?" I say, intentionally diverting my gaze to the mug I'm filling with coffee.

"It's just basic observation, my dear," Penelope chimes in.

"Basic observation? I honestly don't follow you guys at all," I reply, feeling a bit overwhelmed by this unexpected Tuesday morning interrogation. This time, JJ steps forward with her evidence laid out right before me.

"We have all noticed the changes in you over the past few months—the giddy smile that lights up your face when you read a text on your phone, the new pep in your step, and how you hurry home every time we finish a case. Do I need to say more?"

"Busted!" Garcia points a mocking finger at me. I roll my eyes in fake annoyance. After all, they are completely right.

"Okay, okay. Yeah. I'm seeing a guy. Happy?" I confess, and Garcia squeals.

"Yay! We need to know everything about him."

Oh. That's dangerous territory.

JJ notices my discomfort and tries to ease it a bit.

"Penelope, I'm sure we'll know more with time. Right?" JJ looks at me, and I nod appreciatively.

"Okay. But the basics. Is the guy good?" Emily asks. A silly smile appears on my face.

"Of course he is. He's caring, fun, always attentive-" I'm about to start a rant about how my mystery man is perfect. But Emily's snort stops me at mid-sentence.

"What?"

"Emily is asking if he is good in bed!" Penelope clarifies, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Oh, Lord. What have I got into?

"Are you really expecting me to tell you about my sex life?"

The three girls nod in unison with no shame. Well, I guess I got my answer.

"Like if you haven't done it before. And for what it is worth, we all have said something about it more than once. That's why we created girls's night in the first place," Emily points eloquently, as always.

Touchè. They are right. I have said more than I would like to admit about my sex life. But now it's not that simple. We are talking about Spencer, even if they don't know it yet.

"Then? Is he good or not?"

I contemplate my answer not because I don't know what to say but not revealing more than necessary.

"I don't think good is enough to describe sex with him. The first time we slept together was amazing. The whole night was if you know what I mean. Since then, we have taken our time, savoring the moment, giving, and receiving a new part of ourselves when we do it. So, yes, sex with him is more than good."

"But it could be better," Garcia interjects, and I look at her baffled.

"How's so? Didn't I just say the sex is great?"

The three women nod in agreement, but I think I'm missing something here.

"Don't take it the wrong way, my lovely. We are really happy you are having fun and enjoying yourself," Garcia says, patting my shoulder. "But it sounds pretty vanilla to me. And it's not bad! Not at all!"

I frown, and Emily rolls her eyes, continuing Garcia's idea.

"What Penelope tries to bring here is what we talked back then about your last partner. Remember? The one who liked tantric sex?"

Oh. Yeah. I remember that one. It's not one of my finest choices, if I have to be honest. But it wasn't the guy's fault.

"Yeah. What about him?"

"You forgot how you complained about him being basically a statue? That you wanted it rough, and the guy never got the memo?" Penelope fills in, arching an eyebrow. My cheeks are flush crimson right now.

"I can't believe we are talking about this in the office kitchen," I mumble, embarrassed. "But that was different."

Emily scoffs. "What? Did you change your kinks now? What happened with the choking, the spanking, the begging, and all those things?"

"Emily Prentiss, can you please shut up? This conversation is too much for a morning in the office," I complain, shaking my head to try to cool my red face.

"Okay, okay. I'll stop. But if you are still into it - and I'm sure you are - maybe it's a good idea to share it with your partner. Healthy sex life and all that, so it doesn't happen what it did with the tantric guy."

"Well, thank you all for your concern. But I think I'm good. Now, can we please drop the subject?"

Luckily for me, the girls listened and changed the topic. By the time we leave the kitchen, I feel less embarrassed and ready to continue my paperwork.

But the conversation kept popping into my head from time to time during the day. My sexual preferences haven't changed 180 degrees, that's true, but with Spencer, it's different. I wouldn't want to bring something like that up if it's going to make him uncomfortable. Our relationship is still fresh, and I'm happy with our current sex life.

And talking about Spencer, I haven't seen him the whole morning. By the time lunchtime arrives, he doesn't come back to his desk, so I go with the girls and Morgan.

When we come back from lunch, I finally see him at his desk, concentrating on a pile of files. A smile creeps in my face. He looks so damn good with the crocked tie, messy hair, and shirt sleeves rolled up his forearms. This man has ruined me just sitting there. I'm doomed.

"Hey," I call his attention, and he turns his head to look up at me.

"Hi," he returns a smile.

"I haven't seen you around in hours. Are you okay?"

A frown appears on his face, but he brushes it off quickly.

"Me? Oh, yeah. Fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. It's just Hotch that had me checking and analyzing a pile of boxes with folders from old cases in the store office. That's all."

It makes sense. Spencer's fast reading is a blessing and a curse, and obviously, people tend to use it often in the office.

"I'm sorry, sure it wasn't a very entertaining task."

A shy smile creeps on his lips, and I have to use all my self-control not to pounce on him right now and pepper his face with kisses.

"It's okay. I'm already done, anyway. How has been your morning?"

"Oh. Mostly paperwork. As everyone. But I think I'll be done soon, too." Before continuing, I check my surroundings to ensure nobody else is listening. "Maybe we can go home early?" I suggest seductively.

The flush in Spencer's cheeks is endearing. It's like the ones I sported this morning when the girls were interrogating me. And they want me to tell this boy about my kinks? No way. I won't do that if it means he won't feel comfortable with me again.

"We could. But I'm afraid plans will have to wait," Spencer says as his gaze shifts from me to Garcia and the quick tip-tap of her heels, heading to the conference room.

Fuck. A new case.

-

Don't get me wrong. I love my job. But being stuck in the middle of the desert, looking for an unsub that seems to be a ghost? And I say 'ghost' literally because we are looking for a guy who is dead for the town records. No, this is not my idea of a 'normal work day.'

It's frustrating, and not only for the lack of progress. The heat here is like hell. The AC barely works, and everyone's mood is bitchy.

We are not making any progress by now, so Hotch sends us to the hotel for the night. Once in my room, I text Spencer, not with an explicit purpose but to talk to him for a while. But he doesn't answer my texts. Is he sleeping by now? Considering he's a night owl, I found it very rare. But maybe he's drained like everyone else, so I let it slide.

In the morning, after my shower, I'm checking my phone, and I don't have any messages. Has Spencer received my texts?

I don't want to sound paranoid, but it's like something is going on. At the precinct, I barely get a hello from Spencer. Okay. Maybe it's the stress. I don't give it too much thought, either. Not when we have work to do.

And boy, we have been working hard on this one. Some clues give us hope, but we're far from catching the unsub.

In the little spare time we have between interrogations and visiting dumping sites, I try to share moments with Spencer, but it definitely seems like he doesn't want to be alone with me in the same room, even if he doesn't say it or shows signs of annoyance or animosity towards me.

I can't tell why he is so distant, but it's starting to worry me. Did I do something? And it's killing me because the more I think about it, the more I miss him. A kiss, a hug, anything from him would ease the ache I'm starting to feel.

It doesn't help that he has been choosing to wear the sexiest clothes he has in his go-bag. Those tight grey pants that accentuate his ass, those button-ups with sleeves rolled up.

We have been here for six days, and I think I'm going crazy. I have been trying to be subtle and professional. But I swear that if one more day goes by without being able to feel Spencer's touch, I don't know what I'll be able to do.

It seems heaven has listened to me because we finally managed to catch the unsub, and we're on the jet on our way home. But I'm nervous. I didn't even want to sit next to Spencer like I usually do. I don't know why. What if he wants to break up with me, and I'm just dragging things out?

What the hell am I talking about? I don't believe I'm thinking clearly here. But this week has been so odd that I don't know what to think.

Maybe when we land, I can finally talk to Spencer and put an end to my overthinking. With that in mind, I doze off for the rest of the trip.

Once the jet is down, I'm starting to gather my things when I hear Spencer rushing out, saying goodbye to everyone.

Disappointed and frustrated, I leave the tarmac.

Maybe a full night of sleep in my bed isn't a bad plan after all.

But be that as it may, fuck you, Spencer Reid.

-

As if all that had happened wasn't enough, when I got to the parking lot, my car fucking didn't start. I knew I had to get it checked before.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

That delayed my arrival home for another 45 minutes.

Now, disappointed, frustrated, and with no car, I slam the door shut. The apartment is pitch black, and I have no energy to flick the lights on, so I drag myself to the bedroom. When I open the door, a yelp escapes my mouth when I see a silhouette of a man sitting in the chair I have in one corner.

I'm about to reach for my gun when the bedside lamp flicks on, and the scare turns to confusion when I see Spencer sitting there.

"What the fuck!"

"Hi," he says as if he hadn't almost scared me to death two seconds ago.

"Spencer! What are you doing here?" My voice sounds harsher than I intended, but Spencer brushes it off quickly.

"Waiting for you," he says matter-of-factly.

I'm officially confused. We were together an hour ago? He left without saying anything.

"I don't understand. The way you left the jet in such a hurry, I thought I was the last person you wanted to be with."

My words come out resentful, but I can't help it. Spencer's eyes soften. I averted his gaze as I dropped my go-bag, unholst my gun to set it on the safe, and sat at the end of the bed to remove my boots.

"Hey, don't say that. Of course, I want to be with you," Spencer says, standing from the seat and kneeling to help me remove my boots.

"I'm sorry, but it didn't show that way. You avoided me all week!"

Great, now I sound like I'm making a tantrum.

From his place where he knelt on the floor, his eyes met mine, and I don't know why suddenly I felt a shudder running down my spine.

"Sweetheart, you know we were working, weren't we?"

That condescending tone escaping Spencer's lips? It is something unexpected. But why does it make me kind of nervous? It's a type of nervousness that gives me butterflies in my stomach.

"I know! But- but then in the jet. And you left."

Why am I babbling? Since when did Spencer have looked at me with those piercing eyes?

He stands and offers me a hand to help me to do the same.

"Is my girl upset?" He asks when we are both upright.

'My girl'? That's new. Spencer always calls me by my name, a short version of it, or beautiful, or sweetheart. But thinking about it, 'my girl' doesn't sound bad at all.

"No! I'm not-"

"Oh yes, you are. Look, I wanted to prepare a surprise for you tonight, so I left in a hurry. I was thinking about a bubble bath, dinner, wine, and a movie. I even had the table done with candles ready to lit," he says nonchalantly, and I feel silly for thinking the worst scenarios all week.

"Oh," is the only thing escaping my lips.

"But now, thinking about it, maybe you don't deserve it. Not if you're questioning me like this," Spencer shakes his head in fake - I hope - disappointment.

Okay. Stop right there. What the hell is going on here? Why is Spencer talking like that? About me as 'not deserving' something? What's next? That I'm a naughty girl? - Uhm, I wonder how it could be hearing those words from his lips.-

"What? Why I-"

"Come here," he requests as now he is the one who sits at the edge of the bed and pats the spot in his lap. It doesn't sound too commanding, but sure as hell, I don't need anything more to comply. I need to know where this is heading.

As I'm at Spencer's reach, he pulls me by my wrist to land on his lap while his other hand cradles my face.

"Tell me, uh? Why are you upset?"

His voice drips like honey, and I start to feel hot here.

"I- I don't know. I just missed you, I guess."

"You guess?" He arches a questioning eyebrow.

"Yes. I mean, I do know. I have missed you," I confess, defeated. Oh yeah, now I'm the needy one.

"It helps if I say I have missed you, too?" he says, caressing my cheek tenderly with his knuckles. "I have seen you tense all week; that's why I thought I could do something special for you tonight."

I close my eyes, and for the first time tonight, I let myself enjoy Spencer's embrace.

I exhale a heavy breath as I get lost in his arms.

When I open my eyes, Spencer's are fixed on mine. But his look is not as sweet or reverent as it usually is when we are like this. No, this one is dark and raw. His pupils are fully dilated, and I feel like the breath leaves my lungs.

"Spencer-" I barely mumble.

"I know," he whispers, moving one hand to cradle my neck and bring my lips to his.

Oh God, what I have been craving for days is finally happening, and I can't stress enough how happy I am.

The kiss starts slow and sensual. But not far from that, it gets needy and messy, charged with all the pent-up emotions from the past days. If I had any doubt about Spencer's distance in the last week, this kiss quickly eased my anxiety.

My fingers go to undo the buttons of his button-up, but Spencer stops me with one of his hands, grabbing both of my wrists.

Why didn't I notice before how big and strong his hands are compared to mine? I mean, I always admired his long and deftly fingers, but this? Wow. It's new territory.

"But I want to touch you," I pout when he keeps hold of my wrists in his hand. The cocky bastard raises an eyebrow, contemplating my request.

"You will have to be patient this time and earn it, darling," he says casually, and as my eyes go wide, my jaw goes slack. These words have never come out of Spencer's mouth before. But why am I suddenly starting to feel hotter and more worked up? I blame it on sex abstinence.

"Please, I have missed you so much," I insist, trying to escape his grip to get what I want: undress him. But he doesn't budge, tsking his tongue.

"I already told you. You need to earn it. To my knowledge, only good girls get what they want, and I don't think I'm wrong, do I?"

Jesus Christ! I had never heard Spencer say 'good girl' before, and I'm sure now I'll be addicted to hearing it every chance I get.

"Spencer, please. I'll do anything. I promise. I want to be a good girl. I want to be your good girl."

Spencer's smirk tells me he likes my response, and I'm not at any ounce ashamed of sounding desperate.

He maneuvers me so that I am now on my back on the mattress. I watch his every move intently, and I get lost in his gaze, which screams lust and desire.

He kneels between my spread legs, staring at me intently as his hands move to the edges of my blouse. Just when I think he's going to work on unbuttoning it, he grabs it and rips it open.

A yelp escapes my lips at the raw sound and the view of buttons flying. Spencer doesn't seem fazed by his display of caveman style. And me? I won't mind if he rips all my clothes right now. His hands go to caress my breasts over the fabric of my bra. And then pull it down to free the skin. The cool air quickly stiffens my nipples.

Spencer leans down to suck one of them, twirling the other one with his fingers. A moan escapes my lips at the pleasure his touch is giving me.

"You like that, uh?" he mumbles, still with his mouth sucking and lapping.

"Yes!" I say, as my hands fly to his hair so I can ground myself in something.

After giving enough attention to both of my nipples, he helps me to get rid of the fabric of the ruined blouse and my bra. Now his mouth is sucking a hickey under my jaw, and I feel like I can faint of how aroused I am. One of his hands goes south and stills at the button of my work pants. His breath is hot in my ear.

"I'm going to take care of you. If I do something you don't like, just say it, okay?"

That's a sliver of the Spencer I know, and I can't even think of something this man can do to me that I wouldn't like.

"Okay," I manage to blurt when his fingers work on my pants, leaving me clad only in my panties in a matter of seconds.

Under his intense gaze, I feel exposed, but I also feel safe. There is no place where I would rather be right now.

"You're gorgeous. You know that?" Spencer says, trailing feather touches on my skin aflame with desire. "You don't know what you do to me, do you? I barely can control myself," he continues his praises, thumbs toying with the waistband of my panties.

I'm about to combust.

"Spencer, please."

"What is it, my girl?" he asks, kissing my neck as his fingers slide down my legs, removing the soaked fabric that used to cover my most intimate part.

"I - I need more."

"Are you already desperate for me?"

I can feel how his fingers trace soft patterns in the skin between my thighs, explicitly avoiding the spot where I need him the most.

"Yes! I am. I - I can't-"

I don't even care if I sound coherent at this point. I'm already so turned on and desperate that I can't be bothered by my lack of speech. Spencer still doesn't budge, though.

"I know you want to beg. And I know you can do better than that."

Oh God. I don't know how Spencer's words manage to make me more aroused, but they do.

"I need you," I croak, eyes pleading him to take me. I can feel his fingers ghosting my throbbing clit.

"I need you, sir. Please. You can use me whatever you want, but please, touch me!"

What the fuck? I just called Spencer' sir' and offered my body explicitly to him to use. And the bastard doesn't even flinch? Who is this guy in full control, and who am I acting like a pathetic submissive?

I don't have the answers, but honestly, I don't care. Did he want me to beg? If this isn't begging, I don't know what it is.

"I know you do, baby. Do you think I didn't notice how needy you have been all week? How have you tried to get my attention all these days?" Spencer's voice drops almost two octaves as his finger finally starts rubbing circles on my clit.

Just feeling his touch makes me whimper pathetically.

His lips ghost in my ear, and I can feel his breath heating the spot before his teeth nibble my earlobe.

A mewl leaves my mouth, and if I wasn't soaked before - which I was - now I'm dripping.

"Tell me, this is what you wanted?" His voice is commanding but feels like honey leaking on my body.

"Yes! Please, don't stop."

His movements are deliberate and precise, and when he buries a finger into my core, I can feel the coil in the pit of my lower belly beginning to form. My moans increase in number and volume.

"So needy, my sweet girl. Like that? That's how you want me to touch you?" Spencer coo as he watches me tremble under his touch, adding a new finger to fuck me.

His ministrations continue, but his free hand moves slowly from my cheek down to my neck, caressing the exposed skin with his thumb.

"Or maybe you want me to touch you like this?"

A mewl escapes my lips when he poses his open palm over my throat, not squeezing but seizing how much of my neck he would be able to cover with his huge hand.

"Yes! Please, do it. Please Spencer," I babble, feeling my orgasm closer and closer. And he complies. Applying the minimal pressure in my throat is enough to highlight all of my senses. That, plus the way his ring and middle finger pound in and out of me and his thumb toy with my clit at the same time, sends me to the edge.

"Spencer!" I scream as my climax washes over me.

I don't remember having an orgasm like this in a long time. My vision blurs and I feel like I'm floating on a cloud of pleasure that I don't want to come down from. I can hear Spencer's encouraging words in the distance as he helps me ride my orgasm.

"That's it, my girl. You did so good for me. See how good I can make you feel?"

With hooded eyes, I see Spencer sucking clean the fingers that were fucking me seconds ago.

"You taste amazing. I'll never get tired of it," Spencer says, with a satisfied grin on his face.

Still dizzy, I gesture for him to come closer. When he does, I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him in for the most passionate kiss my current post-orgasmic state will allow. I can taste myself on his tongue, and it is like my sex drive reminds me I want more. I need more.

"Please, fuck me," I mumble between kisses, and I can feel the smirk forming on his lips.

"I just did that," he states when we part from the kiss. "Are you being ungrateful?" Is he joking? I hope he does, but I won't take the chance of not having his dick in me tonight.

"No, baby. I'm thankful for the way you have touched me tonight, but I want you to feel good, too."

Spencer looks at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Is that so? Are you willing to do what I want to make me feel good? It's not only for your benefict?"

"Yes! Whatever you want. I'm yours. Take me the way you want to do it. Whatever you want to give me."

I don't know at what moment I became this kind of submissive, but if I have to beg again to have Spencer inside me, I will do it without complaining. And considering he's still fully clothed, I don't know what kind of plan he has right now.

"On your elbows and knees."

It's simple, and the moment the words leave his mouth, I move quickly to obey.

Unfortunately, from this position, I can't see Spencer, but I can hear him undressing. When I listen to him undoing his belt buckle, I have to do everything in my power not to rub my thighs together in search of some friction. And Spencer notices.

"I can bet you're dripping again. Don't you?"

The anticipation is killing me. When I feel the mattress dip with Spencer's weight, I can't stop the mewl that leaves my lips. It doesn't help when he presses his body to mine, and I can feel his hard cock pressing my ass.

"Can you feel what you do to me? I want to fuck you so bad. I want to ruin this pussy." Spencer's voice is husky and low, almost predatory, and I can't wait to feel him.

While we've used dirty talk before, I think this is the first time I can feel it coming naturally from Spencer. I'm usually the one with the filthy mouth.

When I feel his tip teasing my entrance, I instinctively push my ass back, gaining a laugh from Spencer.

"Be patient, once inside there is no coming back." Before I can say anything in reply, I feel him push his cock between my folds, and the stretching is painfully delicious.

"Oh, fuck!" I yelp as I hear Spencer hissing when he bottoms it out. He is still there, grabbing my hips to keep me from moving.

"So warm. So tight. Made for me," he mumbles, leaning to kiss my shoulder blades.

"Just for you, it was made for you," I agree, in a new state of pleasure and urging him to move. Spencer pulls back almost completely, only to thrust hard again, setting a slow but deep pace.

"That's my girl, taking everything I give her. You wanted this, didn't you? I know you do. Fuck! So good for me."

Another thing I'm not used to is Spencer being a talker during sex. I mean, yeah, he's very vocal, moaning, whining, cursing, and so am I, but his words are now taking me there faster than I expected.

"Spencer, yes! Don't stop, please!"

"I won't, baby, I won't. Not when this pussy tighen me like this."

His pace quickens, and in the room, you can only hear the sinful sounds of skin hitting skin, our moans, and the dirty words escaping Spencer's mouth.

"Spencer, please, harder," I beg to him. I don't know why, but I want to go to my limit, and I trust Spencer. I need it. He's quick to deliver, and with every thrust, I'm entering into a new space of ecstasy.

He is pounding me harder, and my broken moans are testimony to the brutal pace he leads. I can feel him hitting in all the right places.

"Like that?" He asks, panting in my ear.

"Y-yes."

"I can't hear you, darling," the bastard demands, not faltering his thrusts.

"Yes! Fuck, yes! Like that! Oh, fuck-"

My voice cracks when I feel a sharp smack in my ass.

And I can't stress enough how good it feels and how it helps the ball forming in my lower belly to grow.

"What a sight. You should see how my fingers are red imprinted on your skin," Spencer says, amazed with his doing, not ever slowing his thrusts, and I can feel closer to a new earth-shattering orgasm.

"We need to even the score, right baby?" I can't even catch what he's talking about when I feel a new smack in my other ass-cheek. And then I lose it. I'm teetering to my end, and I need Spencer to fall with me.

"Spencer, I'm so close. Please, I need-"

"Are you going to come? That's what you're trying to tell me?"

"Yes! I need to cum, please-"

"I'm right there with you, my girl. Come on, cum on my cock. Show me how you fall apart because of me."

And I did. My orgasm crashes me like a freight train, screaming Spencer's name once and again until my throat goes dry. He keeps his pace, chasing his own end, and after three deep thrusts, he stills, and I feel him spilling inside of me, grunting as he does so. The feeling almost makes me cum again.

We stay in that position for a few moments, him inside me and trying to catch our breath. I feel like I'm out of this world, savoring the post-orgasmic euphoria of the best sex of my life.

Spencer pulls out, and I hiss at the loss of him. Carefully, he helps me turn over and lie down to rest my back on the mattress. I close my eyes, regulating my breathing, content and completely satisfied.

"Are you okay?" Spencer asks me, but I'm still lost in the haze of pleasure. I can barely acknowledge the moment he goes to the bathroom to bring a warm cloth to clean me up.

"Uh? Yeah. Amazing." My words escape before I can process them, but I'm not lying. And I can feel the tons of endorphins running in my brain right now.

"Are you sure?" Spencer checks again. And because I'm more alert now, I can see his worried eyes.

A tired smile forms on my lips as I turn to the side and bring a hand to his cheek.

This man just has fucked me senseless, and now he sees me with those panicked eyes as if he had broken me. And maybe he did, but in the best way possible.

"I'm fine, Spencer. I'm more than fine, actually. That was something else," I confess, caressing his jaw. He lets out a breath of relief, and his cheeks turn a shade of pink.

"So you liked it?"

"Liked it? Did you just forget how I was screaming your name just minutes ago?" A satisfied chuckle escapes Spencer's lips. "But I need to know something," I prompt, propping myself on one elbow to have a better view of Spencer's face.

"What is it?"

"Where did this idea come from? It's not like you woke up one day and said, 'Next time, I'm going to choke her and spank her,' right?"

"Well, yeah. It wasn't that kind of spontaneous idea, even though I have thought about it before," Spencer looks at me sheepishly.

"Yeah? Well, then?"

"I heard you. Talking with the girls the other day at the BAU's kitchen." I narrow my eyes, trying to pinpoint the exact moment, and when recognition washes over me, my entire face flushes.

"Oh, God."

"I know I did wrong. It wasn't a conversation for me to hear, but you were talking about your mystery man, and I - I don't know, curiosity got the best of me."

Spencer looks apologetic, and I feel kind of embarrassed right now. It's funny for two people that minutes ago were fucking like there is no tomorrow.

"Don't apologize. It's my fault for spilling those kind of things in the office kitchen." Wait a minute. "From what part you heard?" Spencer purses his lips in thought.

"The part when you admitted seeing someone."

"So you heard when I said I was happy with our sex life, right?" He nods. "Why did you feel compelled to try something different, then? I'm not complaining at all, but I don't want you to feel obligated to do something because of me."

Spencer shakes his head. "I don't feel obligated. I wanted to. But can I ask why you didn't tell me what you liked before?"

That's a valid question, and I don't want to make him feel like I don't trust him because it is not like that.

"It's just- I mean, I love what we have. And I'm falling for you even more each day. I don't want to lose that, and I thought maybe I would have made you uncomfortable saying those things. I didn't want that."

Spencer's eyes glisten with warm understanding. How could I have doubted that he would comprehend? One of his hands goes to push back a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

"I love what we have, too. And you won't lose this or me if you share those things with me. I know I'm not the best example of a sharing person, but I'm learning to do that with you. And I want you to be happy and satisfied in this relationship."

"I really am. Seriously!" I quickly reply. God forbid Spencer from thinking I'm not happy and satisfied because it's far from the truth.

"And I'm happy to hear that. But there is no harm in experiencing new things, right?" He says, caressing my cheek.

"You really mean it?" Spencer nods and chuckles.

"It's not an altruistic offer, you know? I pretty much enjoyed what we did tonight." Only remembering what we did minutes ago brings a wide grin to my face.

"Sure you did. Okay. We can keep trying things. One condition, though."

"Name it," Spencer states, opening his arm for me to scoot closer to his side, which I happily do.

"I want you to choose the next kink to explore," I request, glancing up at him to gauge his reaction.

With narrowed eyes, Spencer is contemplating his answer. After a few seconds, his lips turn into a mischievous smirk, and he looks back at me.

"Have you heard about temperature play?" he asks, and I immediately bit my lower lip in excitement.

What can I say? This man is full of surprises, and I'm the lucky one who will experience all of them. I can't wait.

------------------

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers

[thbbie]

༄ nerd!choso x f!reader (uni/college au)

nerd gojo is cocky and loud and honestly? a little mean. nerd choso on the other hand is the nerd poster child. a fumbling stuttering mess. nervous and shy and he can never look anyone in the eye. need choso who's glasses always slip down his nose at the most inconvenient times pushing them back up with a shaky finger.

he's just so easy.

so eager too. like the word no doesn't exist to him, ever the people pleaser choso just want to do well and never inconvenience anyone no matter what. that was you're impression of him at least.

what ends up catching you off guard is when the shy stuttering demeanour disappears like the flick of a wrist.

the two of you had been assigned a project together, and god were you happy about that. you moved to go sit next to him and before you could even say anything he told you not to worry about the project not making eye contact at all.

oh. maybe he just didn't like you. i mean, not wanting your help at all? that's rude, sure you aren't the smartest but you aren't an idiot either.

he invites you to join him when he plans on work on it —sometimes the library sometimes a cafe; still not letting you do much though so what was the point?

the projects due in a few days so he called you out again, texting you that it's all done and just needed to go over it with you so you know what your talking about during the presentation.

you sit across from each other at the little table, knees nearly touching beneath it. he's wearing a band tee that's maybe meant for someone ten times his size, swimming in the fabric practically, his dark hair falling over his eyes and down his neck instead of his cute signature pigtails. choso pushes the bulky frames up the bridge of his nose every once in a while in between his aggressive typing.

no promised run through in sight.

bored, and feeling terribly useless you get up to order yourself something else; it's been hours and the end doesn't feel any closer, a great way to be spending your saturday evening.

once you've placed your order, about to pull your wallet out to pay, someone beats you to it; handing the barista the cash of your shoulder before smoothly adding his own drink to the order.

he puts his card back in his wallet when the order is paid and offers you a handsome grin when you turn to look at him in question raising your brows at the content smile on his lips. before either of you could get a word out you're interrupted by a hand sliding around your waist, pulling you back into his chest.

choso.

you can't see his face but you imagine there's a scowl on his pretty face, the other man (who's name you are yet to receive) is still all smiles but it's tense. menacing. you are so confused

the awkward tension with you stick in the middle goes on until the superhero in disguise of a barista swoops in to save you, "umm, your drinks," as she slides the three of them over the counter flashing you a reassuring smile when you give her a sheepish look of thanks.

you free yourself from chosos hold to hand the man his, a smug smile shot choso way, lifting the cup slightly as of to say cheers.

you then grab your own and hand choso the one you ordered for him; sure he didn't ask but you guys were doing a project together. the last thing you need is for him to hate you and end up telling the prof you hadn't pulled your weight (which would be his fault anyway)

"thank you baby" wait what? who? he whispers it close to your ear, the sound sending a shiver right through you. "let's go baby we've wasted enough time here already" huh

yes one could assume that choso doesn't get much ver often (at all) but calling you baby after buying him one (1) drink? it cannot be that bad.

the stranger looks unfazed, offering you a small wave and a wink as you walk away with choso. smiling when you respond with your own polite wave.

choso and you leave, rounding the corner of the coffee shop, still confused you ask "choso what the fuck was that? baby?? i thought you didn't like- mph"

he presses you into the cool brick wall of the cafe, his slips crashing against your own, fervent and needy. your drinks fall to the ground, contents spilled and forgotten,"mmph- do-hahh- don't like you? what do you think all those dates were?" "dates? mmmhn~ what, are you-" is that why he'd only ever want to work on the project on the weekends? outside of school hours? he thought of them as dates? is that.. his idea of being romantic?

you push him back by his shoulders, panting a little "you never said they were dates!" "did i have to spell it out? i though it was obvious! i even asked if you were seeing someone before. now shut up i wanna keep kissing you.

..i can keep kissing you right?"

unbelievable. "yea, cho. you can keep kissing m- not here!"

and he listened, he took your hand and led you back into the cafe, making a beeline for the bathroom and locking the door behind you both. his lips are back on your without a moments notice, still just as needy as they were a moment earlier.

your hands wrap around his neck as you melt in the kiss, using his shirt and hair as leverage. chosos hands start to wander slipping beneath your shirt and teasing the band on your pants, his fingers slipping beneath it to smooth over the soft skin.

his hand descends and moans in your mouth when you tug at the ink locks further, touching more of you until your pants won't allow him further access. cursing under his breath as he impatiently tugs them down, a little paper falling out of the pocket to the ground with them.

curious, choso leans down to pick it up; a set of numbers written on it. a phone number. "hah! what's this? the guy from earlier?"

he runs to fingers over your wet folds, collecting the slick to push them both in at once. leaning down to middle your moans with his mouth. "maybe we should call him, hmm? what do you say pretty? lets show the stranger you liked so much hm how slutty you are for me hmm?"

he dials the number in his phone while speeding up the two fingers inside you. it rings once, twice, thrice before the other man picks up "hello?"

choso pulls his fingers out of you, quickly replacing them with his cock and brings the phone closer to you "come on pretty, say thank you for the drinks that we spilled on the pavement. so thoughtful of him wasn't it?"

"mmph- choo~ sttop i-it's ahhh"

"hm, i guess not, sorry man she doesn't sound all that thankful" and choso doesn't sound remorseful at all. he speaks through gritted teeth and repressed moans, shit you're gripping him so tight.

he drills into you faster, holding you body up against the tiled wall of the bathroom. it's actually quite pretty, clean and well lit, you might've been able to admire it better if choso wasn't fucking you like he hates you, his hips slamming against you repeatedly, after he's just told you he didn't. he liked you. a lot by the looks of it.

you'd completely forgotten the guy on the phone until he finally speaks up, chuckling into the line as he says "well, the pretty girl might not be thankful i certainly am. so thoughtful of you to call me, sharing her pretty sounds with me. you're so thoughtful cho~" his voice is unserious and teasing, but low — like he's somewhere crowded and wants his words to be heard only by you and choso.

"nghh~ fuck [name] 'm close- s-shit hold the phone" handing it to you to free up his hand and rub angry little circles on you clit.

"awhh is that because of me cho~ am i getting you close?"

choso twitches inside you. his glasses low on his nose but both of his hands are too busy to push them up, preoccupied with more important thing.

"shut up dumbass"

you're completely delirious, your head thrown back in bliss, loud squelching sounds coming from where the two of you meet. you clench around him, tight. sweet wet cunt squeezing his high out of him, he pulls out just enough to release on your folds and inner thighs, biting your shoulders to ground himself.

everything stills for a moment while you both catch your breaths, flushed and sweating. "the phone" you both say at the same time only to discover the screens gone dark. you hung up, it must've been sometime between when choso handed you the phone and when you both came.

regardless of when it was, good riddance is all choso can think as he straighten his glasses and cleans you up with toilet paper and cool water from the sink.

[melwnst]

────── ⋆⋅☆ MIDNIGHT CONFESSIONS, D.W

summary. You and Dean always find your way back to each other.

⭑.ᐟ this is part 2 of unanswered, read part 1 here(it’s kinda sad). I loved writing this one🫡, please interact and request if u have any! <3

word count.870

supernatural masterlist/full masterlist

──────────୨ৎ──────────

Dean’s not sure how long he’s been standing in front of your door. His feet ache, his hands sore from keeping them in fists for so long, his entire body wet from the rain that started falling harder not long ago. His eyes still adjusting to the night that fell probably hours ago.

You’re on the bed, but you can feel him. You’re not sure how exactly- but you know that he’s right behind your door. You feel his presence, you can almost hear his brain running, his heart beating fast.

You decide not to open the door, not until he decides to knock.

You were harsh-the last time you saw him. It was only a couple days ago, but being without him, the dread felt too heavy- like it’s been months since he last touched you.

Maybe you didn’t tell him the right way- or telling him he was a coward wasn’t the right thing to do, but it’s too late to take it back. Plus- it seems like it worked in the end, if he does decide to knock instead of turning back.

Dean doesn’t know why he’s stuck. He woke up thinking it was going to go smoothly. He was going to show up at your door apologize, tell you he loves you, and all would be good.

But now that he’s here? He’s not so sure he can.

Except he does. You stand behind the door for what feels like hours before you hear the slight knock on your door.

It’s barely here, so hesitant, you can barely hear it over the rain falling outside.

A part of you fights. It fights to not open the door, let him stay in the rain a little longer to make sure that he really wants to be here- but you can’t wait any longer.

You swing the door open, and Dean stands there, his hands in his jacket’s pockets. His hair is dripping on the wooded floor, his clothes sticking to his body, he looks so-desperate.

One second, Dean feels like he can’t speak. The next- seeing you standing there looking so hopeful that he won’t disappoint you, his throat isn’t so tight anymore. He can actually speak without feeling like he’s about to break any second.

‘Just hear me out, please.’ Is what he manages to say before you step out of the room. Maybe it’s not logical- you should let him in, but because he’s so wet, the only thing crossing your mind is joining him in the rain, because you just want to hear him say it-you don’t think.

‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me- I wanted to answer. You didn’t deserve that.’ Dean looks up, he almost looks like a sick dog.

‘No, I didn’t.’ Maybe your tone is harsh. You don’t want to be so mad over the fact that he can’t say it because you know he wants to. You know the only reason he didn’t is because he was scared to let you in. What you’re mad about - is that he didn’t trust you enough to tell you- to let you in- to not break your heart.

‘I’m sorry.’ Dean steps closer. Your arms were crossed on your chest, now they’re being held by him. His hands go from your elbows to hold your hands. He brings them up to his mouth, and kisses them ever so slightly, making you close your eyes.

‘Why didn’t you just trust me?’ You open your eyes to see Dean sigh with his head down.

‘I trust you. I trust you, it wasn’t that.’ He nods his head.

You step even closer to him if that’s possible- and press a hand to his cheek.

‘Then why couldn’t you tell me? Do you not feel the same?’

Dean melts into it before answering.

‘I’ve never felt this way. I’ve never said it with the intention of a future together, I was scared.’

Dean’s never been one to admit that. He doesn’t talk about his feelings- he buries them, he doesn’t even trust himself with them. That’s when you know he means it.

‘I love you. I love you and I should’ve said it. I should’ve said it before you did because the moment I saw you, I knew. I’m so sorry, I didn’t imagine this happening but I froze.’ He admits to you- his hand on top of yours still on his cheek.

You look at him. Really- look at him. You can see how sad this makes him. How he knows how much he’s hurt you by just being scared. And you feel sorry for how harsh you were to him. You were hurt- but you should’ve understood. You should’ve been there.

‘We both suck at this, huh?’ You suck in a laugh, and Dean looks at you like you’re the only thing that’s ever mattered.

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way- he wishes he could change it, but he can’t, and you’re still here. You still accept the flaws, the fears, the uncertainties, because you feel them too.

You’re not sure about anything.

The one thing you’re sure about, is that you love Dean- and he loves you, and that’s all you need right now.

[rosiebbydoll]

The Right Time - Sukuna x Reader - Chp. 7

Chp. 6 - Chp. 7 - Chp. 8

summary: Your life was blissfully chaotic. Being a single mom and raising a daughter with a bigger attitude than yours was a challenge, but you love every second of it. You decided to move to the city to be closer to work. You’ve been at your new apartment for about three weeks now and everything has been great. Until, your annoyingly hot neighbor decided to open his mouth.

cw: female reader, modern au (no curses), 18+, enemies(ish) to friends to lovers, mechanic!sukuna x librarian!reader, found family, slow burn, fluff, smut, crack, angst, toxicity, Sukuna is emotionally constipated, Nobora is readers daughter, Choso and Yuji are Sukuna’s nephews, Toji is a present father in this, LOTS of family fluff, manga spoilers? (more tags will be added)

wc: 8.9k

chp warning: Sukuna pov, angst, tension, toxicity, mentions of death, mental health issues

a/n: time for some Sukuna pov, a slumber party, and angst.

It’s been a month and a half since Sukuna last tried to kiss you. Not that he’s counting, of course. It’s not like the memory of that moment gnaws at him late at night, or that he replays it in his mind when he thinks you aren’t looking. No, he’s doing just fine—at least, that’s what he tells himself.

He’s definitely not going out of his way to be around you as much as possible. He’s not picking up the boys and Nobara after school, just so you have a little extra time at work, and he’s certainly not checking your car every other morning to make sure it’s running smoothly. That would be ridiculous.

He’s not reminding you to eat when you get that distracted look in your eyes, or telling you to slow down when you’re running yourself ragged. He’s not as invested as you might think—at least, that’s what he tries to believe.

But the truth is, being close to you has become the norm. It’s as natural as breathing. When you’re at his place, he finds himself sitting next to you on the couch, close enough that your knees brush. When he’s at yours, he claims the spot beside you without a second thought, as if it’s always been his. Your routines have blended together so seamlessly that he can’t remember what it was like before—before your laughter filled the quiet spaces, before your presence made his apartment feel less empty.

He tells himself he’s not getting soft. He tells himself he’s not catching feelings. But then you smile at him, tired but grateful, and he feels that stupid fucking warming feeling in his chest. Maybe this is just how things are now. Maybe this is what it means to care for someone so much that their happiness becomes your own.

He’s also noticed you and Toji are slowly starting to get along again. Honestly, Sukuna knew you two would make up eventually—neither of you can hold a grudge for shit. Not gonna lie, he actually found the tension between you two fucking hilarious. He’d grab popcorn if he could.

But now, seeing you both chill out and actually talk like normal people, he’s gotta admit it’s kinda nice. Toji’s been through more crap than anyone deserves, and you? Well, you’re his friend too, or whatever the hell you call this thing between you. He knows you both need each other, even if you’d rather eat glass than admit it. So for now, he’s biting his tongue, keeping the smart-ass remarks to himself (which is honestly a struggle), and letting you two figure your shit out.

Toji’s got every right to be suspicious of Sukuna hanging around you so much. Sukuna’s not exactly known for his commitment skills. He’s the type to sleep with someone, give them the “don’t catch feelings” speech, and then bounce. He’s upfront about it, at least. If they get attached, that’s their problem. He’s not losing sleep over it.

But Yorozu? That’s a whole different mess. She’s been blowing up his phone—and apparently Toji’s too—for months. Texts, calls, even those weird Instagram memes at 2 a.m. Annoying as hell, but Sukuna gets it—kind of. She’s used to their old routine: he’d hit her up, they’d hook up, then go radio silent for a few days. Eventually, one of them would cave, send a “u up?” text, and she’d be right back in his bed. Rinse and repeat.

That’s just how it was. They never wanted to date, never even really liked each other. They’d known each other since high school, ran with the same crowd, had this weird, unspoken agreement. It was easy, predictable, and honestly, kind of sad if he thinks about it too long. It was like having a security blanket made out of bad decisions.

Yorozu’s not his type. Or, at least, he’s pretty sure he has a type now—after meeting you. She’s rude, selfish, loud as hell—basically a female version of him, which is probably why he can’t stand her half the time. He actually tried to like her once, really gave it a shot. But every time he imagined anything past just hooking up, his stomach turned. The thought of waking up next to her on purpose? Hard pass.

Honestly, he wouldn’t even call what they had “friends with benefits.” It was more like, “I’m bored and horny” No emotions, no effort. Just easier than going out and pretending to care about some stranger at a bar. They used to party together, get wasted, make bad choices. But even that got old. Now, just seeing her name pop up on his phone makes him want to throw it out the window.

He hates how she made him feel—empty, like he was losing pieces of himself every time they hooked up. There were nights he’d just lie there, staring at the ceiling, wondering what the hell he was doing with his life. If it wasn’t for the boys or Toji dragging him out of his own head, he probably would’ve gone off the deep end.

Then you came into his life. Not stumbled, not tripped—full on body checked him and then chewed him out like he was the world’s biggest asshole. He still thinks about that first meeting and laughs. It was real, honest, and, still, hot as fuck. And then he found out you’re a single mom, busting your ass every day, handling shit most people would run from. You amaze him, even when you’re just doing the boring stuff—like right now for example.

You’re sitting on his couch, shoes kicked off, a stack of library paperwork balanced on your lap. You’re telling him about some city council meeting you had to sit through, how they spent forty minutes arguing about the color of the new library signage.

Your voice is half-exasperated, half-amused as you mimic the councilman who insisted that “burgundy speaks to the soul of the city.”

Sukuna sprawls at the other end of the couch, pretending to scroll through his phone. But really? He’s hanging on to every word. He watches the way your hands move as you talk, the way your brow furrows when you get annoyed, the little laugh that slips out when you remember something especially stupid. He notices how you keep absently straightening the corners of your paperwork, how you push your reading glasses up your nose when you’re thinking. He’s memorized all your habits—hell, he looks forward to them.

He wants to tell you that you make even city bureaucracy sound interesting. He wants to say that your passion for books, for your library, for your community, is the hottest thing he’s ever seen. But he doesn’t. He just smirks, tosses another sarcastic comment your way, and acts like he’s only half-listening.

You roll your eyes at him, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips, and it kills him in the best way. He’ll never let you see how much he cares, how much he wants to hear every little story about your day—even the ones about overdue fines and cranky patrons.

You’d come over to his place in the first place because Nobara was with her dad for the weekend. Sukuna knows you get a little lonely when she’s not around—he’s definitely picked up on that, even if you never say it out loud. Not that he can talk. He gets bored out of his mind when the boys aren’t around. You both have Toji to keep you entertained, but if he’s busy, it’s just the two of you, left to your own devices. Maybe it’s fate that you ended up in each other’s lives, filling in the gaps when everyone else is gone.

Now it’s the weekend again, and Sukuna’s dad has the boys. His old man’s a member at some fancy golf club, and they’re having a “Bring the Kid” weekend. The boys haven’t shut up about it all week—hyped about golf carts and free snacks. So, once again, you and Sukuna are kidless. Alone with one another.

And instead of making out with you on his couch—or doing whatever else he’d much rather be doing with you—he’s watching you sort through paperwork and complain about city council drama and overdue book fines.

As you shuffle your papers, something on his coffee table catches your eye—a fancy envelope, half hidden under a magazine. Curiosity gets the better of you, and you reach for it before Sukuna can even tell you not to.

You open it and scan the contents. “Wait, you got invited to Kento’s wedding too?” you ask, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

Sukuna raises a brow. “Why the hell are you so shocked?”

You shake your head, still trying to process it. “You two are total opposites. I’m still trying to wrap my brain around you guys even talking, let alone being friends.”

He just shrugs, grinning. “What can I say? Opposites attract.” He winks, and you roll your eyes, grabbing a pillow and chucking it at his face.

“Pretty sure Toji got invited too,” you say casually, starting to gather your papers into your tote bag. “We should all go together.”

Sukuna pauses, genuinely surprised by your suggestion—especially with Toji in the mix. But there’s no way he’d turn you down. “You really think the grump’s gonna want me third wheeling?”

You laugh, flashing him that smile that always gets him. “Oh, please. I’ll be the third wheel with you two.”

He shakes his head, chuckling, trying to hide how much he loves this—just you, him, and the easy banter. And still, he can’t bring himself to kiss you. He’s supposed to be terrifying, the guy everyone’s afraid of, but when it comes to you? He feels like a helpless little blob.

It took everything he had that night just to work up the nerve to walk over and try. Now, all he can do is sit here, pretending he’s not completely obsessed, hoping you don’t notice how much he wants you—how much he wants all of this, just the way it is.

As Sukuna watches you pack up your bag, a bold idea pops into his head. It’s a nice Friday afternoon and soon it’ll be too cold to do anything selfish or spontaneous.

“Wanna go for a ride?” he asks, trying to sound casual.

You pause, looking up. “Where? I mean, I need to go grocery shopping, but I was gonna save that for Sunday.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “I mean on my bike.”

He sees the nerves flicker across your face, and it makes him grin. You don’t know it, but he’s never let any girl ride his bike before. That machine is his baby, his pride and joy. The first time he even considered asking you, he’d thought he was losing his mind. But with you, it just felt right—like you belonged there, holding onto him as he weaved through traffic.

Still, every time you’ve been on the bike with him, it’s been to get somewhere. You’ve never just gone for a ride together, no destination, no rush.

You hesitate, glancing down at your outfit. “I mean, sure, but where are we going? And should I change? I feel like I’m not exactly dressed for bike riding. Like, recreationally.” You laugh, a little self-conscious.

Sukuna tries not to make it obvious he’s checking you out in your cute little librarian getup. You look perfect to him, but he’d rather you be comfortable. “I dunno, we could just drive around. Haven’t had a chance to ride in a while—been too busy with the boys.”

You nod and stand up, smoothing your skirt. “Okay, well, I’m gonna go change real quick into something a little more…” You trail off, glancing down at your cardigan and long skirt. “You know, something less like what a librarian would wear.”

Before he can respond, you’re already slipping out the door to your apartment. He’s honestly surprised by how quickly you agreed—he’d expected to have to coax you into it, maybe even beg. And let’s be real, he absolutely would have.

Almost thirty minutes later, you return, transformed. You’re wearing black leggings, a fitted black jacket, and sneakers. The change is striking. Sukuna raises an eyebrow, trying—and failing—not to let a smile tug at his lips.

“What?” you ask, catching his look. “I just didn’t want to wear that long-ass skirt.” You laugh, giving him a look that says he should understand.

And honestly, he doesn’t really get it. He adores you in anything you wear. Your style, whatever it is, always seems to suit you perfectly. You carry yourself with a confidence that’s impossible to ignore.

Looking at you now, he feels a tightness in his chest. You’re making an effort to vibe with him, to fit into his world, and it means more to him than he’ll ever admit out loud.

“Looks good,” he says, smirking as he grabs his keys, eyes lingering on you a moment longer than necessary.

He holds his door open for you as you both head out and head towards the parking lot. You’ve been on his bike before—quick runs, errands, just getting from point A to B. Never like this. Never just to ride.

His black Kawasaki gleams under the fading sun, and he feels that old pride mixed with something new—something softer—when he hands you your helmet. You don’t need instructions anymore. You just meet his eyes, a silent “ready?” passing between you, and climb on behind him.

Your arms wrap around his waist, more comfortable than the first time, though there’s still a hint of tension—like you’re waiting to see what he’ll do next. He likes that. He likes that you trust him enough to climb on, even when you have no idea where he’s taking you.

He fires up the engine, letting the low rumble settle between you, vibrating through both your bodies. “Hold on tight, baby,” he calls over his shoulder, his voice playful above the noise. You swat his shoulder in mock annoyance at the nickname, pretending it bothers you.

He takes the long way out of the city, winding through the fading sprawl until the streets give way to tree-lined roads. The air is cooler out here, tinged with the scent of pine and distant rain, and he feels you gradually relax against him. Your grip shifts from cautious to comfortable, your hands resting with more trust and ease. He keeps the speed steady—not showing off, just letting the road and the gentle rhythm of the ride work their magic.

He can feel you start to enjoy it—really enjoy it. You lean into the curves with him, your laughter caught by the wind when he takes a turn a little sharper than usual. He doesn’t say much, just glances at you in the mirror every now and then.

He rides past the river, through stretches of golden trees, the city shrinking to a distant memory. He finds himself slowing down, wanting to make the moment last a little longer, to keep you close. You’re not talking, but the silence is good—comfortable, intimate in a way he never expected.

At a stop sign, he looks back at you. “You good?”

You lift your visor, cheeks flushed, eyes bright. “Yeah,” you say, your voice softer, more open than before. “This is nice.” He gives you a rare, genuine smile. “Yeah. It is.”

He takes you further, out to a scenic overlook he’s never bothered to stop at before. He kills the engine, and the world goes quiet except for the sound of your breathing and the faint tick of the cooling bike.

You slide off, pulling off your helmet. Your hair is a little wild, eyes shining with excitement and something softer. He leans against the bike, arms crossed, trying to play it cool, but you can see right through him.

You look at him, a hint of a smirk on your lips. “Have you taken every girl you’ve met out here?”

He lets out a low laugh, shaking his head. “What makes you think that?”

You let out a giggle and look out to the view, “Just a hunch.” Your nose crinkles as you laugh and he feels his cheeks getting warmer.

“I’ve passed this place so many times, but I’ve never stopped and enjoyed the view.” He says staring directly at you.

You take in the view and turn, stepping closer. “Well I could get used to it, so you better not bring anyone else out here.” Your smile makes him melt.

He meets your gaze and smiles just as bright. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

For a moment, you just stand there, the world quiet and open around you. He wants to reach for you, to close that last bit of distance, but for now, he just lets you be.

Out here, with you, it’s easy to forget everything else. Easy to just breathe.

“You should teach me how to drive one of these days,” you say as you get back on the bike. It’s not too late in the day, but neither of you wants to be out too long.

“Yeah? You think you can handle it?” he laughs as he turns onto the road, the two of you riding off together, the world wide open before you.

You nod and hold onto him tighter than before, resting your head against his back as he guides the Kawasaki back into the city. The ride makes you both feel at peace, like everything feels rights once again. You can see the city lights start to glow as dusk settles in, and you can feel his heartbeat through his jacket, steady and warm beneath your cheek.

By the time you get back, it’s just after 8 PM. Sukuna parks the bike, and you both head upstairs. He unlocks his apartment and pushes the door open, only to find Toji sprawled out on his couch, chopsticks in hand, halfway through Sukuna’s leftover ramen.

“You’re the weirdest fucking landlord,” Sukuna says, not even bothering to hide his annoyance.

Toji just shrugs, mouth full. “I was lonely and you two were gone, so I decided to eat your food and wait for you.”

Sukuna rolls his eyes. “Figured you guys were together,” Toji adds, shaking his head like he’s the only sane one here.

You flop onto the couch beside Toji, dropping your helmet on the coffee table. “Sukuna took me for a ride on his bike,” you say, stretching out your legs.

Toji nods, like that explains everything. Sukuna claims the far end of the couch, sprawling out as if to reclaim his territory. For a moment, it’s quiet—just the hum of the city outside and the faint clink of Toji’s chopsticks.

Then you turn to Toji, curiosity in your voice. “Hey, do you still have that bike from high school?”

Toji’s eyes widen in surprise, a genuine grin spreading across his face. “Didn’t think you’d remember. Yeah, it’s sitting in my garage. Hasn’t seen daylight in years.”

Sukuna sits up, frowning. “No fucking way. You have a bike? Why the hell did you never tell me?”

Before Toji can answer, you cut in with a smirk, “Because he sucked at driving.”

Toji scowls, and you giggle, the sound lightening the room. Sukuna shakes his head, grinning. “Lame ass. You should let me fix it up for you so you can actually go riding with me.”

You laugh again, teasing, “Aw, that’s a cute double date for you guys.” You stand, stretching your arms over your head, and let out a yawn.

Sukuna watches you, noticing the way your energy dips. “I think I’m gonna head out and get some sleep. I kinda feel like crap,” you mumble, rubbing your eyes.

Sukuna nods, concern flickering in his eyes. Toji huffs, “Oh, you say that now that I’m here.”

You roll your eyes and punch him lightly in the arm. “Shut up. If you’re so lonely, you can come spend the night,” you tease, and Toji laughs, shaking his head.

“Is Megumi with his grandparents?” Sukuna asks, peeling off his t-shirt and tossing it aside.

“Nah, he’s with his cousins, Mai and Maki. They’ve been begging to see him for a while,” Toji replies, his gaze drifting off for a moment.

“They’re related to him on your side, right?” you ask as you gather your things and head toward the door.

“Mhmm,” Toji agrees, not elaborating.

Sukuna knows better than to push Toji about his family. That’s a conversation neither of them wants to have.

You wave, offering a tired smile. “Well, I’ll see you guys later! Night!” You slip out the door, leaving the apartment a little quieter, a little emptier.

For a moment, Sukuna and Toji just sit there in the silence, the weight of the day settling in. Then Toji lets out a huff.

“Wanna go to the bar?” he asks, breaking the quiet.

Sukuna raises a brow, glancing at the clock. “Toji, it’s 8:30.”

Toji grins, turning to him. “Are you really the one lecturing me about this right now?”

Sukuna groans, but the corner of his mouth twitches up in a reluctant smile. “Only for a couple hours, c’mon.”

Toji’s laughter echoes through the apartment as they grab their jackets and head out—just two idiots killing time until the world feels right again.

The bar is crowded, warm, and humming with low music when Sukuna and Toji settle in. They’re halfway through their second round, trading pointed remarks and letting the tension of the week bleed out over a game of darts.

Toji lines up a shot, squinting one eye as he focuses on the dartboard. His stance is confident, but when he releases, the dart veers wide, thunking loudly into the wall beside the board. A fellow drunk glances over with mild annoyance.

Sukuna smirks, taking a slow sip of his drink before setting it down on the sticky bar table. "Ya need your glasses, old man?" His voice carries that familiar mocking tone, eyes gleaming with amusement.

Toji fires back without missing a beat, shoulders relaxing as he turns to face Sukuna. "Oh fuck off, Ryomen." He sits back down in his chair with more force than necessary and Sukuna steps up for his turn.

He lines up his shot, eyes narrowing in concentration as he balances the dart between his fingers. With a smooth flick of his wrist, the dart sails through the hazy bar air and lands just shy of the bullseye, the tip quivering in the red ring. He turns back toward Toji, a smug smirk curling on his lips, ready to rub his near-perfect throw in Toji’s face.

But when Sukuna glances over, he realizes Toji isn’t even watching—he’s too distracted, eyes fixed on something, or someone, across the room. The victory feels a little hollow as Sukuna shakes his head, his smirk fading into an amused scoff.

Toji’s was intensely watching a woman with long hair and a fitted dress walks by, her perfume lingering in the air between them. Toji's eyes follow her path to the bar, not even trying to be subtle about it.

Sukuna's laugh is sharp, a little dangerous, the sound cutting through the ambient noise of the crowded bar. He shakes his head, watching Toji's obvious interest with a mixture of amusement and judgment.

"You're such a dog," he spats as Toji reaches for another dart, rolling it between his fingers before taking his position again.

Toji grins, completely unbothered by the accusation, flicking another dart with a little too much force. It hits the board this time but nowhere near where he was aiming. "Oh, you're one to fucking talk," he retorts, eyebrows raised in challenge.

They keep going, the game turning into a back-and-forth of biting insults and dark humor, each jab landing with the ease of old friends who know exactly where to hit. This was nice. They haven’t hung out in so long. And we they did they always ended up arguing about you. It felt like old times once again.

Then, as if summoned by the universe to ruin his night, Yorozu appears.

She moves through the crowd like she owns it—every step radiating confidence, every glance calculated for maximum effect. She doesn’t spare Toji a second look, just slides up to Sukuna’s side, her perfume slicing through the thick haze of beer and sweat that hangs over the bar.

“Sukuna,” she purrs, her voice smooth as silk, “so nice of you to finally crawl out of your cave and come see me.”

He doesn’t even bother to look at her. His eyes remain locked on the dartboard, jaw set. “Didn’t come here for you.”

Toji jumps in, trying to diffuse the tension before it can ignite. “You can’t steal him tonight, Yorozu. He’s with me.” There’s a warning in his tone, and he watches Yorozu warily over the rim of his glass.

She laughs—a low, knowing sound—and lets her hand linger on Sukuna’s forearm. “Oh? You’re still leaving me high and dry? I’ve been so lonely without you, baby.”

The word makes Sukuna’s skin crawl. He only calls you that. He finally glances at her, his face a mask of indifference, eyes flat and cold. “I’m sure you’ll survive.”

Yorozu leans in, her tone dripping with suggestion but never quite crossing the line. “Seems like you’ve forgotten all about me. I haven’t forgotten about you.” Her fingers trace along his tattooed jaw, a touch that feels more like a threat than affection.

He shrugs her off, voice icy. “Maybe you should try harder.”

Toji shoots Yorozu a look that’s all warning, but she ignores him, circling Sukuna like a vulture scenting blood. “You’re in a mood tonight. Or maybe you just need a little company. I could remind you what you’re missing.”

Sukuna finally turns, pinning her with a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Yorozu, fuck off.”

She bristles, but her smile doesn’t waver. “Oh, baby. Don’t be like that.” He turns away from her to breathe so he doesn’t punch the bitch in the face.

He knocks back another shot, the burn a welcome distraction from the urge to physically remove her. All the while, his thoughts drift to you—your laughter echoing in his mind, the memory of your hair tangled from his helmet, your cheeks flushed from the ride. He’d give anything to be anywhere but here, with you on the back of his bike, your arms around him, instead of trapped with Yorozu’s hand creeping up his thigh like a curse he can’t shake.

Toji’s patience finally snaps. “Yorozu, maybe it’s time for you to go home.”

She rolls her eyes at Toji, then shoots Sukuna a glare. She steps in close, her voice low and venomous. “Call me later, baby.”

His jaw clenches as she stalks off, fists tightening until his knuckles go white. She disgusts him—her touch, her voice, the memory of every moment he ever spent with her. It makes his skin crawl to think he ever let her close, ever kissed her, ever fucked her. The regret sits in his gut like poison.

He exhales hard, trying to shake the feeling, and Toji returns with a tray of shots.

Toji, reading Sukuna’s mood better than anyone, grins. “Let’s see who can outdrink the other, buddy.” He’s trying to distract him, and Sukuna is grateful for the effort.

The noise of the bar fades away, Yorozu’s perfume lingering like a bad memory. Sukuna drinks until the edges blur, the world softening, but nothing can drown out the thought of you.

By the time Toji hauls him out, Sukuna’s words are slurred and his steps are unsteady. He barely registers the cold air or the walk home. All he can think about is how much better the night could have been—how much better everything is when you’re around.

Toji is just as drunk and has the brightest idea to go to your apartment instead of Sukuna’s. He claims it’s too far of a walk. Even though it’s right fucking next door.

You’re jolted awake by the loudest knock you’ve ever heard—practically a battering ram against your front door. Groggy and half-asleep, you shuffle to the entrance, rubbing your eyes.

You crack the door open and squint into the hallway. “What the hell—are you guys drunk?” you ask, voice thick with sleep.

Toji and Sukuna stand there, both swaying slightly, their expressions guilty and sheepish. They nod in unison, lips jutting out in matching, exaggerated pouts—grown men reduced to overgrown children by a few too many drinks.

You can’t help but let out a tired chuckle, rolling your eyes. “Oh my God. Fine, but you’re both sleeping on the couch.”

They nod again, relieved, and stride past you into your apartment like they own the place. Sukuna pauses in the entryway, turns, and suddenly engulfs you in the biggest, clumsiest hug you’ve ever received. He squeezes you so hard your feet nearly leave the ground, his arms locked around you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

Your eyes go wide—you can barely breathe, let alone hug him back. “Sukuna, seriously—air,” you manage to gasp, laughing despite yourself.

He finally leans back, still holding onto your shoulders, and flashes you the drunkest, goofiest grin you’ve ever seen. His eyes are glassy but warm, and for a second, you see the real him—unguarded, vulnerable, and just a little lost.

You sigh, shaking your head as you guide him toward the living room. “C’mon, drunky. Couch is this way.”

Toji’s already kicked off his shoes and claimed a spot, sprawling out like he’s done this a hundred times before. Sukuna follows, still grinning, and flops down next to him, immediately making himself at home.

You grab a couple of blankets and toss them over the two of them, your exasperation softened by a smile. “Try not to break anything or puke on my rug, alright?”

Sukuna just mumbles something incoherent, already half-asleep, while Toji gives you a lazy thumbs-up. You shake your head and head back to your room, the sound of their muffled laughter trailing behind you.

As you crawl back into bed, you can’t help but smile. Drunk idiots or not, you’re glad they came to you. But you’re still tired and want to actually get some fucking sleep for once.

You get comfortable in the middle of your bed, finally starting to drift off. Suddenly your bedroom door bursts open. Before you can even sit up, Toji and Sukuna stumble inside, both looking entirely too pleased with themselves.

Without a word, they each collapse onto the bed—Toji on your left, Sukuna on your right—like it’s the most natural thing in the world. The mattress dips beneath their combined weight, springs groaning in protest.

Toji’s arm flops over your stomach, heavy and careless, while Sukuna’s head lands dangerously close to your shoulder, his breath warm and tinged with whiskey.

You just stare at them in disbelief, sandwiched between two grown men who are clearly too drunk to care about boundaries or personal space. Toji’s eyes are half-lidded, a lazy grin tugging at his lips, while Sukuna is already sprawled out, one leg dangling off the edge, because he’s fucking huge.

“No. Absolutely not. Get off of my bed.” You demand, your voice sharp. But they ignore you completely, Toji mumbling something unintelligible as he burrows further into the pillow, and Sukuna letting out a satisfied sigh, already looking too comfortable.

You lay there in defeat, arms pinned awkwardly to your sides, and just stare up at the ceiling. Maybe if you ignore them, they’ll disappear. Maybe this is some strange nightmare, and you’ll wake up alone in your own bed, free of these two disasters.

It grows silent, the only sound the soft, uneven breathing of your unexpected bedmates. You start to think they’ve finally passed out, relief just beginning to settle in your chest, until—

“So, how did you guys meet?” Sukuna asks suddenly, his voice low in the dark.

You raise a brow at the question, glancing over at Toji, who props himself up on one elbow, looking almost amused.

“He bullied me,” you say bluntly, shooting Toji a look.

“That’s a lie,” Toji scoffs, but there’s no real heat behind it.

Sukuna glances between you two, a smirk tugging at his lips. “This I gotta hear.”

You stretch out, getting comfortable. “He was one of the upperclassmen tutors when I was in, like, fourth grade. I was terrible at math, and he made fun of me for it all the time.”

Toji rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t argue.

“But once he found out his wife was my best friend, he stopped being mean and actually begged me to be his wingman.”

Sukuna grins. “So did you do it?”

Before you can answer, Toji jumps in, “No, she told on me. I got chewed out instead. It was love at first sight.”

You huff, shaking your head. “Yeah, after she chewed you out, you didn’t leave her side. It was so fucking annoying.”

Sukuna furrows his brows, laughing quietly.

That sounds familiar.

You and Toji both smile at the memory, a comfortable silence settling in for a moment. Sukuna just nods, looking oddly content.

You turn and lay flat on your back, trying to get comfortable. “You know, this is weird. You two just laying in my bed.”

Toji turns on his side, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Is this where you confess you’re in love with both of us, and then we—”

You quickly grab a pillow and shove it over his face. “Sukuna, help me suffocate him.”

Sukuna laughs, watching as Toji wrestles the pillow away and flips you onto your back, whacking you hard in the face with it.

You just lay there in defeat, the pillow still covering half your face. “Get out of my bed,” you say, voice muffled.

Both men ignore you, settling in and staring up at the ceiling like they own the place.

After a moment, you sit up, glancing between them. “Did something happen?” you ask, your tone softer.

It’s quiet. Both men just stare off into the darkness, not saying a word. You let out a sigh, realizing they clearly don’t want to talk about whatever’s weighing on them.

“Fine,” you say, trying to lighten the mood. “Let’s talk about something else, or I’m leaving and sleeping on the couch. You two can have your privacy.”

Then Sukuna breaks the silence, his voice low and lazy,“Rank the guys you’ve slept with.”

Toji groans, turning his head to glare at Sukuna. “What the hell, Sukuna?”

“I’m nosey,” Sukuna shrugs, not even bothering to hide it.

“As fuck,” Toji mutters, rolling his eyes.

You sigh, resigned. “It’s fine. You’re both drunk enough you might forget, and honestly, it’s not that impressive anyway.”

Sukuna props himself up on his elbow, suddenly interested. “Still wanna hear it.”

You take a deep breath, then start, “Well, there’s Hiromi. And he was amazing, like, when I tell you—”

Sukuna immediately frowns, cutting you off. “Didn’t ask for details. Just the ranking.”

You giggle, shaking your head. “Fine. I guess I’ll put Hiromi first. Sentimental value, and his nose is a bonus.”

Toji and Sukuna deadpan at the nose comment.

You continue, “Satoru can be second. And that’s it.”

Toji snorts. “Still only two? Boring ass.”

“Whore,” you shoot back, glaring at him.

Sukuna, though, just stares at you, his brow furrowing. “Did you just say Satoru?”

You nod, unfazed. “Yeah, Satoru Gojo. He’s the biggest donor to the library. When I first started working there, we messed around a lot, but then he went and married the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen in my life. No hard feelings, though—it was just for fun.”

Sukuna looks at you in disbelief. “You know him?” You ask.

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Who doesn’t know that asshole? He’s basically famous. Richest guy I’ve ever met.”

Your eyes widen. “And his husband has a bike, too. We ride together when we can.”

“This world is so tiny,” you mutter, almost to yourself.

You turn to Toji, grinning. “What about you, whore? Rank the people you’ve slept with.”

He raises a brow, pretending to think.

“Rank them,” you insist, nudging him.

He frowns, but there’s a softness in his voice. “My wife was—and is—the best. Everyone else can fuck off.”

You snort. “I think you’re just saying that because you forgot their names.”

You all start to laugh, the tension in the room breaking.

“Nah, you know she’s the only one that matters,” Toji says, his tone genuine.

You nod, smiling, then turn to Sukuna, eyebrow raised. “Your turn.”

The room quiets again, all eyes on him. He definitely doesn’t wanna talk about this. This bit him in the ass quick.

“Well, Yorozu is definitely not number one tonight,” Toji laughs, earning a sharp glare from Sukuna.

“Yorozu?” you ask, curiosity piqued.

Sukuna huffs, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

Fuck you, Toji.

“She’s the one you heard with Sukuna,” Toji says bluntly, and Sukuna flips him off without missing a beat.

Your eyes widen in surprise. “Oh! I thought she was your girlfriend when we first met!”

Of fucking course.

Sukuna groans, dragging a hand over his face. “Not my girlfriend.”

“So, just a fuck buddy?” you press, genuinely curious.

The biggest mistake of my life, actually.

“Not even that,” Sukuna mutters, his tone making it clear he’d rather not get into it.

“Well, do you like her?” you ask, pushing just a little more.

He frowns, clearly irritated. “I thought you wanted me to rank the people I’ve slept with?”

You grin, teasing, “Well, now I’m more interested in this.”

Sukuna turns away, pulling the blanket up and making it obvious he’s done with the conversation. “Well, I’m not,” he grumbles, settling in to sleep.

“Aww, did I hit a nerve?” you tease, your voice playful. Toji can’t help but laugh, shaking his head as he rolls over to face the other side, already half-asleep.

You sit up for a second, glancing around your bed at the two men sprawled on either side of you. “Are you guys seriously sleeping here right now?”

The only reply is Sukuna’s (already loud) snoring and Toji shifting to get more comfortable, drifting off.

You let out a long, dramatic groan and flop back onto your pillow, staring up at the ceiling. Guess you’re not getting your bed back tonight.

Sukuna wakes up with his head pounding, mouth dry, and stomach churning—a hangover that feels like punishment. For a moment, he’s disoriented, the ceiling above him unfamiliar. Then the memories of last night start to trickle back: the bar, Yorozu’s voice like static in his ear, Toji’s sharp laughter, the warmth of your apartment, laying next to you.

He turns his head, expecting—hoping, maybe—to see you sleeping peacefully beside him. Instead, he’s greeted by Toji, sprawled out, snoring with his mouth wide open, looking like an ogre who lost a fight with a pillow. Sukuna frowns, the sight somehow making the ache in his chest worse.

He sits up, careful not to jostle the bed, and slips out of the room. The apartment is quiet, sunlight filtering through the curtains. He finds you in the living room, perched on the edge of the couch with a mug of coffee in hand, a towel wrapped around your hair. You look fresh, alive, like you’ve already lived a whole day while he’s still trying to drag himself out of the fog.

“Well, good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” you say, your voice soft and sweet, like you’re trying to make the world a little easier for him.

He groans, offering a half-hearted nod. He feels like hell—like he needs a shower, a gallon of water, and maybe a new brain. More than anything, he needs a minute to himself to process everything that’s clawing at the back of his mind.

You watch him as he heads for the door, concern flickering across your face. “Are you, uh… okay?”

“I’m fine,” Sukuna grumbles, not meeting your eyes.

“Okay. Do you want a coffee or anything before you leave?” you ask, your words trailing off as you watch his hand tighten around the doorknob.

He forces a crooked, disheartened smile. “I’m fine, drunky,” he mutters, trying to sound lighter than he feels.

You stare at him for a moment, searching his face for something he won’t give. When you finally look away, he slips out the door, closing it behind him with more force than necessary.

As soon as he steps into his own apartment, he barely makes it to the bathroom before he’s hunched over the sink, the nausea catching up with him. He rinses his mouth, splashes cold water on his face, and stares at his reflection—red-eyed, tired, and older than he remembers being.

This is where it always gets hard. Sukuna knows how to charm, how to flirt, how to piss people off or keep them at arm’s length. That’s the easy part. He’s spent years perfecting the art of being untouchable, of making sure nobody gets close enough to see what’s really underneath. It’s almost second nature now.

But opening up? Talking about his past? That’s something he’s never been good at. He hates the word “trauma”—it sounds too clinical, too dramatic, too much like an excuse. But he knows, deep down, that’s exactly what it is. He knows he should probably talk to someone, go to therapy, do something other than drink and bury it, but he deals with it in his own way. Alone.

He doesn’t tell you much, either. You both skim the surface of things, sharing just enough to build an understanding. Toji has a dead wife. Sukuna has a dead brother. You’re a single mom, holding your world together with both hands, and he’s a single uncle, pretending he’s got it all under control. Maybe that’s why you all fit together in this messy, complicated way—each of you carrying baggage like a second skin.

He believes some things are better left unspoken, kept locked away where they can’t hurt anyone else. Tomorrow marks five years since his brother died, and the weight of that anniversary sits heavy on his chest. It’s a rough subject—one he never talks about, not even with Toji, not with anyone.

With that, everything with you and all that happened at the bar. It’s all just becoming too much. Too much to handle. Too much to deal with all at once.

Sukuna sits on the edge of his bed, head in his hands, and lets the silence fill the room. Grief is a strange companion—sometimes sharp and fresh, sometimes dull and distant, but always there. He wonders if it will ever get easier, or if he’ll always feel this hollow ache, this sense that something vital is missing.

He wishes he could tell you. He wishes he could let you in, but he doesn’t know how. He’s never done this before—never cared about anyone this much, never let anyone close except his immediate family. Even with Toji, their friendship started out of pity more than anything else. Sukuna always felt like an imposter, like it was fake for him to even have a friend.

And now, with you, it’s the same—only deeper. It feels like fate that he was such an asshole to you at first, like he was destined to push you away. But you let him in anyway, showed him kindness, became a real friend to him. That terrifies him. He doesn’t want to lose that, and he definitely doesn’t want to drag you into the mess of his problems.

He can’t talk about this with anyone. He can barely stand to think about it himself. So, instead, he goes through the motions: takes a shower, letting the scalding water beat down on his aching body, hoping the heat will wash away some of the heaviness. For a few minutes, it almost works—almost. But as soon as he steps out, it all comes rushing back.

He takes some painkillers, throws on a fresh white T-shirt and gray sweatpants, but it doesn’t make him feel any better. The apartment is too quiet, too empty. When the boys are gone, the loneliness creeps in, filling every corner. It’s suffocating.

He can’t just sit here and let it eat him alive. So he grabs his keys and heads to his shop—the only place that ever feels like an escape. He doesn’t talk, doesn’t process, doesn’t heal. He just keeps his hands busy and his mind distracted.

He spends the next hour cleaning his bike, even though it’s already spotless. He wipes down the chrome, polishes the paint, checks the oil—anything to keep his mind from wandering. But it’s not enough. The thoughts keep circling, relentless and sharp.

So he organizes his tools, lines up the wrenches and sockets, sorts the spare parts he’s already sorted a dozen times before. He even power washes the shop floor, watching the dirt and grime swirl away, wishing his thoughts would do the same.

But nothing really helps. He’s still stuck in his own head, spiraling, unable to climb out. Maybe one day he’ll be able to talk to you about this—about his brother, about the grief that never really leaves, about how much he wishes he could be someone better for you. He’s still learning, still trying, still discovering new things about you every day that make him want to try harder.

But deep down, he doesn’t think he deserves you. Not even as a friend. He doesn’t know if that’s just him being cruel to himself or if it’s the honest truth. He wishes he could escape his own mind, but all he can do is keep moving, keep cleaning, keep distracting himself—hoping that, eventually, the ache will fade. But for now, he just keeps working, lost in the noise of the shop, the only place where the silence doesn’t swallow him whole.

He gets home late that night, the weight of the day pressing down on him like a physical ache. Everything feels heavy—his limbs, his thoughts, the silence echoing through his apartment.

He feels grimy, like the world has left a residue on his skin that he can’t quite scrub off. Without even bothering to eat, he heads straight for the shower (again), letting the hot water scald his skin raw. He stands there longer than he should, hoping the steam will clear his head, but the knot in his chest doesn’t budge.

After drying off, he pulls on a clean shirt and boxers, barely glancing at his reflection. He’s too tired to care. He crawls into bed, the sheets cool against his skin, and grabs his phone—anything to avoid the quiet.

He doom-scrolls, letting the endless feed numb his brain. Then, your name pops up at the top of his messages, and for a moment, something softens in him.

You’ve sent him a handful of videos—short edits of bikes roaring down open highways, clips of skilled riders weaving through city streets, the kind of adrenaline-fueled content he never admits he loves. Mixed in are Harry Potter edits, because he once let slip that he actually liked the movies, even though he’d never read the books. You remember that, just like you remember everything he says.

You even took the time to send him book suggestions, carefully curated lists and little notes about which ones you think he’d enjoy, because he mentioned—almost shyly—that he wanted to start reading more. It’s not just the big things, you pick up on every offhand comment, every passing interest. You always listen, always care, always find a way to make him feel seen, even when he tries to hide behind sarcasm or distance.

It’s your way—quiet, thoughtful, persistent. You make sure he knows he matters, even on the days when he can’t find it in himself to believe it.

He watches the videos, a small, reluctant smile tugging at his lips. It’s stupid, but it helps—just a little.

Toji’s messages come next. A couple of texts about working on his bike, and a quick check-in to make sure he’s okay. Sukuna doesn’t reply, but he reads them twice, letting them settle somewhere deep inside.

Then there are pictures from his dad—shots of the boys at the golf club, grinning in their tiny polos and caps. He hates to admit it, but the sight of them makes something in his chest ache in a good way. Those brats, always finding a way to get to him.

And then, Yorozu. A string of unread messages, her name lighting up his screen like a warning. Without hesitation, he deletes the entire thread, blocks her number, and tosses the phone onto the nightstand. He should’ve done that years ago. Why now, after everything, does he finally have the nerve to cut her off? Maybe it’s you. Maybe it’s the way you make him want to be better. Or maybe he’s just tired—tired of the noise, the drama, the ghosts that won’t let him move forward.

He stares at the ceiling, the room spinning just a little, and feels the loneliness settle in again. He wishes he knew how to let people in, how to talk about the things that eat him alive from the inside out. But all he can do is close his eyes and hope for sleep, hoping that tomorrow will feel less impossible.

When Sukuna wakes up the next morning, he honestly feels a little better. He didn’t get the best sleep, but at least he doesn’t feel like death. He quickly sends his dad a text that he’ll meet him in an hour and jumps up to get ready.

He washes his face and brushes his teeth. He slips on some light-washed jeans, a gray t-shirt, and his leather jacket. He throws on his white sneakers, slides on his silver rings and chains, grabs his sunglasses, and heads out the door.

As he opens his door, yours opens too.

“Oh, hey!” you say with a smile, a doughnut in your hand.

Sukuna’s eyes go straight to the doughnut, and his stomach grumbles. He hadn’t eaten anything since—when was the last time I ate? You giggle, disappearing back into your apartment for a second, and come out holding another doughnut. “Take it, or it’ll just go to waste.”

He doesn’t even have to say anything. You just offer, like you always do.

He takes the doughnut and immediately takes a big bite, barely pausing to breathe. “Where you headed?” he asks as you both walk toward the parking lot.

“Grocery shopping, then meeting Hiromi to get Nobara. What about you?” you ask, rummaging in your tote for your keys.

“Getting the boys from Dad,” he mumbles around a mouthful of doughnut.

You nod, and Sukuna follows you to your car, just to make sure it starts. You give him a thumbs up when you turn the key and he watches you pull out, lingering for a moment in the lot.

He wanted to tell you it was his brother’s death anniversary, but he couldn’t. He doesn’t want pity—not that you’d give it. You’d just be genuine. But still, he can’t bring himself to say it.

He sighs and heads to his Mustang, letting the engine purr for a moment before pulling out onto the highway. On the way, he stops at a convenience store and grabs some ice pops, just something simple—something that reminds him of being a kid.

When Sukuna pulls up to meet his dad and the boys, they’re already waiting, standing in the parking lot. As Sukuna gets out of his car, Yuji is bolting toward him, Wasuke shouts at him to slow down, and Choso just stands there, unimpressed.

“Hi, Uncle!” Yuji beams. Sukuna picks him up easily, balancing the bag of frozen treats on his arm.

“Hey, brat. Did you have fun this weekend?” Yuji nods, his smile huge.

“Grandpa showed me how to play golf!” Sukuna nods, listening, and gives his dad a small nod in greeting.

“Hey, Choso. Did you have a good weekend?” Choso nods and quietly goes to hold his uncle’s hand.

They walk in silence, the only sound the crunch of gravel beneath their feet, until they stop at a tombstone nestled beneath the outstretched arms of an old tree—Jin’s grave. Wasuke’s knees creak as he kneels at the headstone, his hands trembling as he clasps them in prayer. Yuji and Choso kneel too, their movements uncertain, as if afraid to disturb the hush that hangs over the grave.

Sukuna lingers behind, standing a little apart, eyes fixed on the name carved in stone. He closes his eyes, jaw tight, fighting the tears that burn at the corners. He won’t let them fall. Not here. Not now. But the ache in his chest is relentless.

Jin’s grave rests beneath the tree’s constant shade, a patch of quiet in the crowded cemetery. In spring, the branches are heavy with blossoms that drift down to cover the stone, softening its edges. Sukuna likes to imagine the tree is protecting Jin, shielding him from the rain, the wind, the world that moved on without him. But he knows it’s just a story he tells himself, a comfort that never quite reaches the emptiness inside.

Yuji begins to talk, his voice too bright, too alive for this place. He chatters about school, about Nobara, even about you—trying to fill the silence, to pretend for a moment that Jin might answer back. Choso gently tells him to slow down, but Yuji keeps talking, as if he can summon Jin with words alone.

Wasuke and Sukuna watch in silence, letting the boys speak to the father they barely remember. Sukuna’s thoughts drift, heavy with regret. Jin would have loved you. He would have laughed at Sukuna’s clumsy attempts at kindness, called him an idiot for ever being a dick to you. Jin was always the gentle one, the steady one, the brother Sukuna admired but never found the words to thank. Now it’s too late. The words are trapped in Sukuna’s throat, forever.

With a sigh that’s almost a sob, Sukuna digs through his convenience store bag, pulling out a handful of ice pops. He breaks them apart for the boys, the plastic crackling loud in the quiet. “Me and your dad used to split one of these after school,” he says, his voice rough. The boys’ eyes widen and they gently take the sweet treat with a soft smile.

Sukuna hands an ice pop to his father, then takes one for himself. He splits it in half, the gesture automatic, and lays the other half gently at the base of Jin’s grave.

He gazes at the cold treat in his hand, already beginning to soften and melt in the warm afternoon sun. A gentle smile tugs at his lips as he recalls the memory of Jin—how they used to stop by that same convenience store after school and share a frozen snack together, sitting side by side on the sidewalk.

Lost in the warmth of that though, he smiles again as he watches the frozen treat melt before him. Slowly, he lowers himself to sit beside the boys, while Wasuke stands quietly behind them. The four of them gather beneath the sprawling branches of the tree, sharing a quiet moment and a sweet memory.

summary: helloooo, everyone! I hope you are all having a great week! so, since I am on summer vacation I have so much time (and I never sleep) so I plan to post every week and sometimes I may post more than once.

I really hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I wanted to show more of how Sukuna feels and get his side because we usually only see readers. I fear Jin will forever haunt the narrative (he makes me sob). I hope this angst wasn’t too bad, I did tear up writing though, but I’m just a crybaby.

as always, please let me know how you felt about this chapter. I love reading your guys' comments! I hope you all are having an amazing day. i’ll most likely post later on this week! love you all! mwah!

taglist is open: please comment and let me know if you want to be on it!! (:

@sukubusss @megumuro @puran-poli @emochosoluvr @poopooindamouf @tojiswifeforlife @bookfreakk @withtanxp

@pandabiene5115 @fava-boi @not-aya @jkslvsnella @saltypuffin1040 @777pluto @blueemochii

@zeppelid @miakxn @iseeyouuu @storiesbyparadise @flowerpot113

@mullermilkshake @nessca153 @bestwomanalive @bunbun444

@yourfalletedfish @drymayonnaise @shartnart1 @odysseusmom @your-mum3000 @caught-the-feels

[redroomreflections]

A Family of Her Own

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

A Family of Her Own Series

1/7

Masterlist | General Masterlist

w/c: 3.8k

Summary: After the fall of the Avengers, Natasha Romanoff returns home to her secret family—a life she's carefully hidden away for years. Struggling to balance her role as a mother and wife while avoiding the dangers of her past, Natasha is forced to make difficult decisions that impact her loved ones.

The soft hum of the refrigerator was the only sound in the small, run-down trailer. Natasha leaned casually against the counter, arms folded, her sharp eyes fixed on Ricky Mason. He was standing close, too close, but that was part of their routine. Banter, teasing, pushing each other’s limits. His lips curved into that familiar smirk as he crossed his arms, mimicking her stance.

"I hear things, you know. Something about the Avengers getting divorced."

Natasha let out a soft, dismissive chuckle, her gaze never wavering from his. Her lips pulled into a crooked smile, just enough to make him think he was getting somewhere. He wasn’t.

"Ugh, it’s fine. I’m actually better on my own."

She said it smoothly, confidently. No hesitation. Natasha Romanoff was always fine. She had to be. And if there was a flicker of something behind those green eyes, Mason wouldn’t see it. She wouldn’t let him.

“Are you sure?” Ricky titled his head slightly. Natasha was always a tough cookie to crack. Though he’s sure it came with the territory.

The question hung in the air for a moment, a challenge he tossed at her like it was nothing. Natasha shifted her weight slightly, stepping in just a little closer, closing the gap between them. She tilted her head, her eyes locking onto his with the kind of intensity that would’ve made anyone else back down. But not Mason.

"Yeah. I’m sure."

The way she said it left no room for doubt. Mason raised an eyebrow, but he wasn’t fooled, not entirely. There was something about the way she held herself—too casual, too composed. He let out a breath, deciding to poke just a little more.

"Because you can tell me, you know. That’s the way the whole friends thing works."

Natasha's lips quirked into a smirk, amusement flickering in her eyes. She leaned back slightly, her gaze still locked onto his. She wasn’t going to let him see anything more than what she wanted him to see.

"I have friends."

"People who have friends don’t call me."

There was a beat of silence, a brief pause where something unspoken lingered between them. Natasha didn’t flinch. She didn’t break eye contact, didn’t let her smile falter. This was the game they played. Mason might have been onto something, but if he thought he could crack her, he was wrong.

"Oh, come on. You’d miss me if I didn’t."

Her voice was smooth, light, almost teasing. Mason chuckled, shaking his head. He wasn’t going to push her any further. He knew better.

But there it was again—that subtle shift in her eyes, a flash of something deeper that she buried as quickly as it surfaced. Mason didn’t miss it, but he wasn’t going to call her out. Not today.

“If you ever get tired of being ‘better on your own,’ you know where to find me."

He turned to leave, but before stepping out, he paused, throwing her one last look over his shoulder. She met his gaze, still composed, still every bit the Black Widow.

******

The hot water poured over Natasha’s skin, steam filling the tiny bathroom. She kept her head down, eyes closed, letting the heat soak into her muscles, washing away the grime of the past few days. It was the only time she allowed herself to be still—moments like this, when no one was watching, no one was waiting.

Her mind drifted, not willingly, but out of habit. The sound of the water hitting the floor reminded her of something else, a smaller echo, lighter footsteps.

Stella.

She could almost hear the little girl's voice, high-pitched and insistent, always asking to jump in with her. Every time, Natasha would give in—how could she not?—and the same thing would happen. Stella would giggle, waddle in, and the moment the water hit her face, she’d screech like it was some big surprise.

Natasha’s lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile breaking through. The memory was sharp, vivid, but she pushed it away as quickly as it surfaced. She couldn’t linger on it. Couldn’t afford to.

The water rolled over her back, and she let out a slow breath. This was all temporary. The accords, the separation, the silence—she told herself it was necessary. That it was safer this way. Her family didn’t need to be tangled up in her mess, her enemies.

Stella didn’t need to know why her mama couldn’t always come home.

The thought hung in the air for a moment, but Natasha didn’t let it settle. She wiped a hand over her face, letting the heat pull her back into the present. She had more important things to focus on. Things that required her mind to be clear, her heart colder.

Still, as she turned off the water, the final hiss of the shower rang in her ears, and for just a second, she could hear that screech again, faint and far away. A small piece of her life, one she kept locked away, just out of reach.

She stepped out of the shower, shaking off the warmth like a soldier readying for battle.

It wasn’t time to go home yet.

*****

The low rumble of the movie filled the trailer, the worn-out speakers crackling slightly as the dialogue continued.

“You’re not a sportsman, Mr. Bond.” Hugo Drax recited his lines on screen.

Natasha smirked to herself, leaning back into the creaky couch, damp strands of hair still clinging to her neck. Her thermal t-shirt clung to her skin, and the grey sweatpants she’d pulled on after the shower felt too soft, almost unfamiliar after days of tactical gear and dirt.

Natasha muttered along. “Why did you break up the encounter with my pet python? Because I discovered he had a crush on me.”

She knew the lines by heart. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen Moonraker a hundred times already. But sitting here, alone in the trailer, the dialogue fell flat, the empty space swallowing up the sound.

The movie flickered on, oblivious to the tension tightening in her chest.

Her mind drifted, unbidden, to you. How you’d watch these same old movies together. The way you would stretch out on the couch, feet bare, legs sprawled across Natasha’s lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. She could almost feel it—the gentle press of toes against her thigh, the warmth that spread under her skin, grounding her in a way nothing else could.

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of Natasha’s lips, but it didn’t last. The memory was soft, fleeting, and the cold reality of the trailer in Norway wrapped around her like a shadow.

******

The air felt stifling as Natasha and Yelena sat across from each other, both nursing cheap beer and open wounds. Yelena’s eyes sparkled with a teasing grin, but Natasha wasn’t in the mood to play along.

“Did you ever look for your parents? Your real ones?” Yelena pried.

The question hit harder than Natasha expected, but she didn’t flinch. She rarely did. Years of training kept her from showing anything she didn’t want to reveal. Her response was sharp, automatic.

“Well, my mom abandoned me in the street like garbage. What about you?”

Yelena shrugged, almost too casual, her tone light as if they were discussing the weather.

“They destroyed my birth certificate, so I reinvented it. My parents still live in Ohio. My sister moved out west.”

Natasha leaned back in her seat, arms crossed, eyebrow raised. Yelena was always full of stories.

“Is that right?”

“You’re a science teacher. You’re working part-time, though, especially after you had your son. Your husband, he renovates houses.”

The words tumbled out of Yelena’s mouth with a smirk, a fabricated life she was painting for Natasha like a twisted game of make-believe. But for just a second, a flash of something else flickered through Natasha’s mind.

Her son.

Nick, tiny and fussy, gnawing on her finger as another tooth threatened to come through. His chubby hands reaching up for her, his babbling filling the air as she cradled him close, the warmth of his little body against hers.

And Stella. Always loud, always full of energy, tugging at Natasha’s sleeve, begging her to play, to jump in the water with her. Stella's laugh, so bright it echoed in Natasha’s mind even now.

For a split second, she let herself feel it—the tug in her chest, the pull toward the life she kept hidden, buried under layers of secrets.

But it was only a second. She blinked, shutting it down, locking it away as quickly as it had surfaced. She couldn’t afford to let Yelena see it.

“That is not my story.”

Her voice was firm, steady, betraying nothing. Yelena laughed, clearly unconvinced but playing along.“What is your story?”

Natasha looked away, her gaze fixed on some far-off point, something Yelena couldn’t see.

“I never let myself be alone long enough to think about it.” She said.

And that was true. As much as her family—the real one—crossed her mind in these quiet moments, she never let herself dwell on it for too long. Never let herself fall into the temptation of the life she had with you. She couldn’t. Not here, not now. Not with Yelena looking at her like that, trying to pry open the parts of her Natasha wasn’t ready to share.

Her story was too dangerous. Too fragile. And if Yelena knew the truth, if anyone knew about her family it would unravel everything.

So, she kept it locked away, deep inside. She could protect you by keeping you invisible, untouchable.

*******

The sun dipped low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue across the small house nestled in the middle of nowhere—a place that felt like home, yet remained a secret. The air was still, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the trees that surrounded the property. It wasn’t isolated, not by any means; there were neighbors close enough to wave at, but the land was expansive enough to feel like a world away.

Natasha stood on the front porch, her heart pounding in her chest. Behind her, Melina, Alexei, and Yelena lingered, uncertainty written on their faces.

“What is this place?”Alexei asked.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say she’s taking us to a secret family,” Yelena replied. Natasha’s eyes flickered between them. Melina’s face was knowing. She didn’t need answers.

“Just wait here for a moment.” She held up a hand. Her voice was soft but firm, and she didn’t turn to face them fully. Instead, she kept her gaze on the door. Her entire life behind it.

Melina stepped forward, concern etched on her features. “Natasha, are you sure about this?”

Natasha finally turned, meeting her mother’s gaze. There was warmth there, a flicker of understanding.

“I need to do this. I need to let you in.”

She felt a tug at her heart—a longing for connection she had kept at bay for so long. But this was different. This was her family, the ones who had fought with her and for her, the ones who understood the weight of their shared past.

It’s quiet in the house. Almost too quiet. Natasha steps inside to see her home immaculately cleaned. No sign of toys, no sign of people living here.

She swallows the lump in her throat and makes her way through the house into the kitchen. It’s there she finds you. All three of you.

It’s Stella that notices her first. She’s dressed in a princess costume with a crown on her head. When her eyes meet her Mama’s, she gasps and shouts,

"Mama!"

Your head snaps up, and for a moment, it's like everything is frozen. A look of surprise and confusion crosses your face, followed by a flicker of hurt. The room is silent, and then there's the sound of a baby's whimpering.

Natasha looks at the high chair sitting near the dining table. There's Nick, fussing and red-faced.

“Mama, you’re home?” The two-year old raced across the room, her crown shifting on her head, as she raised up her arms.

You move toward the high chair, wiping your hands on a dishtowel. Stella reaches her, and Natasha scoops her up.

"Hey, Stella, I missed you." Natasha places a gentle kiss on Stella’s hair. The two year old wraps her tiny arms around Natasha’s neck.

"You've been gone forever. Why don't you come home anymore? Did you miss me, mama?"

"Yes, I've missed you every second."

Stella leans back, her brows furrowing. “Did you change your hair? Not red anymore.”

Natasha smiles a soft chuckle leaving her. "Not exactly. I dyed it.”

"Oh, well, it's pretty. Can I dye mine? I want blue."

Natasha glances at the highchair where you're busy wiping Nick's face. There's no expression on your face, no hint of how you feel. She looks back at Stella.

"Let's talk about that later, okay?"

Stella nods. "Okay."

"Are you hungry?" You speak up.

"No, no,” Natasha shakes her head. “Can I see him?”

She walks over, and Stella wiggles in her arms. She wants to run to her brother, but Natasha is holding her close.

"Nick." Natasha gently nudges his cheek. His tiny lips pout, and his eyes widen as he stares at his mother. It seems that he looks to you for confirmation of whether or not Natasha is a safe person.

"He's grown," she says.

"He has," you reply, watching her.

"Hey, big guy." She kisses his chubby cheeks, and Stella giggles.

"He's soft, Mama." Stella reaches out and runs her fingers over her brother's arm. "Isn't he soft, Mom?"

"He is, sweetie."

Natasha puts Stella down.

“He has some teeth now,” Stella informs her. “He even bites Mommy’s boobies now when he’s eating. She always says ouch.”

You choke back a laugh and cover your mouth. You turn to the sink. Natasha grins and chuckles.

"Is that right? Are you biting your Mommy’s boobies, Nicky?"

Nick simply reaches his arms out much like his sister.

"He missed you, too," Stella says, her hand resting on Natasha's leg.

"I know, I'm sorry. Mama had to go away for a bit."

"Why do you have to leave all the time? Why can't you stay home?" Stella pouts.

Natasha crouches down. She takes Stella's hands in hers.

"I can't, not right now, but I'm here for a little bit, okay? And we're going to spend time together."

"Really? Will you take me swimming again? I really want to swim in the pool, but Mama won't let me. She says she's afraid I'll drown."

"Of course, I'll take you swimming."

"Can you bring a shark? Please?"

Natasha chuckles. "I'll see what I can do."

She stands and looks at Nick who is still reaching for her. He's babbling, his lips moving and his face getting redder.

"He wants you to hold him,” Stella reminds her.

"Oh, okay." Natasha lifts him up and holds him close. She's always careful, and she always loves the way her son feels in her arms. He snuggles close, his chubby arms wrapping around her.

You watch them for a second longer. Stella decides she’s had enough and leaves to her bedroom. No doubt to find something new to show Natasha. When Natasha puts Nicky back into his high chair, she has your attention again.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?” She asks.

You bite your lip and shake your head.

"No. I'm not mad. Surprised."

"I shouldn't have left you hanging like that, though."

"It's okay." You say softly. She reaches out an arm to pull you in.

"How long are you staying?" You ask.

"Just two days. I promise. I want to spend some time with them."

You nod, and Natasha kisses your temple. "Thank you.” She says. “For keeping them safe.”

“It’s what we agreed on,” You say. “I was afraid they would find us. Ross. He seems to be on a witch hunt for you.”

“I’ve taken care of that for now,” Natasha shakes her head.

You frown and tilt your head.

"Taken care of it?"

"Yeah. We'll be okay. I'll explain everything. I have to tell them everything, too. But for now, I'm home.” She wraps her arms around your waist, hoping to get closer, hoping to feel you.

"Can we just forget about it, for a while, at least? Can we go back to the way things were?" She asks.

"I don’t know if that’s possible,” You mumble. You feel her hand run along your back soothingly. You’ve missed her touch.

"We'll figure it out. Okay?" She asks.

You nod and wrap your arms around her neck. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too."

She looks into your eyes, leaning forward, her lips resting against yours. It’s not a kiss. Not yet.

"I love you," she says.

"I love you." You respond.

She closes the distance, kissing you tenderly, holding you tightly. Your lips are soft, and she can taste the remnants of coffee on your tongue.

“Forgive me,” Natasha whispers. You want to ask her what for. Why would she need forgiveness? But the words are lost in the soft press of her lips against yours.

She pulls away, her forehead resting against yours.

"I'm sorry," She says. “I’ve been gone too long. He doesn’t remember me.” She’s referring to Nicky.

"He does. He will," You say. "You have time."

Natasha gives a small smile.

"I'm tired. Can we just...go to bed? Just lay with me for a bit."

“Mama, did you leave people on the porch?” Stella shouts in curiosity. It’s then you follow her voice. She’s standing with her face against the screen door, seemingly having a staring contest with a blonde woman.

Natasha laughs and turns toward the door.

"Oh, right." She steps outside and comes back with three people trailing behind her. Stella clings to her, tiny hands gripping her t-shirt, as they all walk back into the kitchen. “This is my family.” Neither of you know who she is referring to.

“You have a family?” Melina whispers in amazement. Though she’d guessed it the longer they waited outside.

"Who are they?" Stella asks.

"This is my mom, and dad, and my baby sister Yelena,” Natasha supplies. You look over at her curiously. “This is my wife, y/n and our children. Stella is two going on twenty five. Dominic, or Nick, is almost eight months.”

“Wife?” Yelena furrows her brow. “I was way off then.”

You glance between Natasha and the new arrivals, unsure what to make of it.

Natasha sighs.

"There's a lot to talk about."

"Clearly," Alexei says, his eyes wide as he takes in the small family before him.

"Why don't you sit down and get comfortable," You suggest, gesturing to the living room. "I'll get everyone something to drink and maybe a snack. Natasha can catch you up."

They all sit, Stella moving with them to sit upon the couch. She and Yelena end up in another staring contest.

"This is awkward," Yelena whispers.

"Just give it time," Melina says.

"I have so many Barbie’s upstairs,” Stella offers up small talk. “Do you play barbies?” She turns her head to Alexei.

"No, no. I don't," He says.

Stella nods and turns her gaze to Melina. "What about you?"

"No, no barbies," Melina responds.

“Uncle Steve plays Barbie’s when he comes,” Stella sighs.

"Steve plays Barbies?" Yelena's brow raises.

"Yes. Uncle Steve is really good at playing. He lets me have the car and the doll."

"Then I will play Barbie’s too,” Alexei gestures. “Bring them.” His one sided competition would never end. Not even when it came to playing Barbies.

“You don’t know what you just started,” Natasha helps you bring in the drinks and a few bags of chips. You don’t usually have guests.

Melina takes the drink from Natasha and watches the way the two of you interact. There's an ease, a comfort, and it makes her wonder just how much she really knew about her daughter.

"I’m sure there are things you want to know,” You sit with Nicky in your lap. He eyes the newcomers curiously.

"Like why we never met you, why this is the first time you are bringing us to this place," Yelena says, looking around. “Why no information is out there about you.

"I thought the house was a cover," Alexei speaks up.

"It is," Natasha says.

"But, it's real?" Melina asks.

Natasha looks around the room, and the smile on her face is genuine. It's full of warmth and love. “It is.”

“I’m sure I’m in a database somewhere,” You begin. “I’m former SHIELD.”

Yelena and Alexei share a look, and Melina looks at her daughter.

"What is your full name, y/n?" Melina asks.

You smile politely. "My name is y/n Romanoff-L/n. My maiden name was y/l/n. I was born in 1986. I'm 30. I have a degree in computer science. I met Natasha shortly after her defection but we didn’t start dating until years later.”

"And that's when you had Stella," Melina states.

"Yes," You smile.

"And when did you get married?"

"Four years ago," Natasha supplies.

"This is real news," Alexei states.

Natasha chuckles. "We've been together for a while. 8 years."

"It's not a traditional story," You say, bouncing Nicky in your lap.

“How does being hidden work for the kids?” Melina asks.

"It's not easy. We try to make it seem as normal as possible. Stella doesn't understand everything. She's not even 3 yet. But we're working on it."

"Mama, can you open this?” Stella asks as she passes Natasha a juice box as if it’s her normal thing.

"Natasha being a soccer mom was not on my list of things,” Yelena mumbles.

"I'm not a soccer mom," Natasha defends.

"You kind of are," You chuckle.

"Mama is a super-duper cool spy," Stella states.

"You've told her that?" Alexei asks.

"Not in detail," You say. "But, we've talked about it."

"Mama has to protect us from the bad guys," Stella adds, taking a sip of her juice. “And when I’m big enough I’m gonna do it too. Like Wanda.”

“She has the biggest crush on Wanda.” You elaborate.

"And how does Wanda fit into this?" Yelena asks.

"I work with Wanda," Natasha states.

"But the whole time you've been doing that, you've also been coming home to a wife and kids," Alexei points out.

It wasn't always easy," You admit.

"It's not," Natasha shakes her head.

"I'm going to get dinner started. If you'll excuse me."

Natasha looks over and watches as you get up. You're carrying Nicky and Stella is trailing behind you.

"You can join her if you'd like," Natasha suggests. "She's used to doing this on her own, but, the more help the better."

"Your life is so complicated," Yelena sighs.

"Tell me about it," Natasha laughs.

next part

[steddiealltheway]

It’s a cold Wednesday night in January that has Eddie turning the thermostat up and allowing the government supplied heat to fill the trailer. He glances up at the vents and gives them a quick middle finger, wondering if they bugged the place to observe him or make sure he isn’t spreading their secrets.

He doesn’t really care at this point if they’re watching though. They already held him at the hospital for long enough, poking and prodding as if he wasn’t even human. But he didn’t turn into a vampire or some shit because of those damn bats. No. The jagged, ugly scars littering his body served as a lovely reminder that he was ultimately human.

Eddie glances at a nearby mirror and cringes at his face, taking a look at the long scar running down his cheek, jaw, and neck. The Corroded Coffin guys all said it made him look metal, and he would throw in a, “Hell yeah,” before smoothly changing the subject to something that didn’t involve him for once.

He takes a finger and slowly trails it over the pale pink skin, wondering if there will ever be a day he won’t notice it.

“Eddie,” Steve calls out gently from the room down the hall.

Eddie jumps back and glances toward him, hand falling to his side and flexing uncomfortably as if he’s been caught doing something wrong.

“You okay?”

Eddie smiles and gestures toward the thermostat. “Damn thing wasn’t working for a minute there. You’d think with the amount of hush hush money they were able to pay all of us, they’d be able to give me and Wayne a better trailer.”

But Steve only crosses his arms and leans against the door frame, eyebrows raising gently. It’s not entirely accusatory, but it’s clear that he doesn’t believe a thing Eddie’s saying.

Although they’ve grown close while going through the same treatment and tests in Owen’s new secret facility, it still surprises Eddie how easily Steve can read people. More specifically, how easily he can read him of all people. “Just got lost in thought,” Eddie confesses while making his way back to his room as he sees Steve squint at the lights in the living area.

Steve steps out of the way as Eddie brushes by him and closes the door. He hope it’s enough honesty to end the conversation.

“What were you thinking about?” Steve asks, ignoring the signals Eddie is giving him.

Eddie sighs and runs a hand over his face and climbs back into his bed, quick to pull up the blanket around himself in an attempt to get some much needed warmth while simultaneously covering his scars from Steve. “Stuff.”

Steve rests his hands on his hips for a second and stares, mouth opening and closing for a moment before deciding against whatever he was going to say. Instead, he climbs into the bed with Eddie and joins him under the blanket, keeping enough distance so they’re not touching, but they can still feel each other’s body heat.

Eddie glances over at him, noticing the way the one lamp turned on in the room gives him a nice golden halo. He looks gorgeous and untouchable - exactly how Eddie used to think of him through high school and sometimes even now. The perfect golden boy. But despite the name Eddie gave to him years ago, he can’t ignore the flaws that Steve possesses, yet they somehow make him even more perfect to him. Or maybe just human.

Eddie shakes his head and glances away. He wishes Steve came over to smoke so Eddie could blame the drugs on the way his thoughts race when he’s next to him. Instead, he has to face up to his enormous crush on the perfect golden boy.

“Have any plans for Valentine’s Day?” Steve asks out of the blue.

Eddie snorts and glances at him, only to laugh harder when he sees the adorable look of confusion on his face.

Steve’s brows furrow but the edges of his lips quirk up. “What?”

Eddie pulls a strand of hair in front of his face to try to hide his wife smile. “Kind of random, don’t you think?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I never said I was great at starting conversations. But I was just thinking about what holiday is next.”

“The worst one,” Eddie complains.

Steve turns toward him. “And why’s that?”

Eddie sighs and let’s himself go on a tangent. “It’s the one day of the year where people feel like they have to do all this shit for their partner, and the rest of the year, they think they can just get by doing the bare minimum. And people are left realizing what it would be like if their ‘other half’ actually put in an effort day to day. And then for all the single people, it’s a day where love is shoved in their face, and they have to feel bad and sometimes disgusted by all the public displays of affection going on around them and… I just hate it all. The stupid chocolates in the red heart boxes and the teddy bears and big heart shaped balloons and roses…”

“I didn’t realize you had such strong opinions about Valentine’s Day,” Steve says with a laugh.

“Well, now you do.”

They both sit in the silence for a few moments, Eddie thinking about all the other things he didn’t even touch on about Valentine’s Day that he hates, while Steve is probably taking in everything he just said.

Steve bumps his shoulder and asks, “So, I’m assuming that means you have no plans.”

Eddie laughs. “That’s what you got out of that?”

Steve shrugs and looks away with a smile.

Eddie glances at his clock and notices it’s technically Thursday now, and in these early hours, Steve will usually either silently fall asleep or he’ll lay awake in the silence until one of his thoughts has to make itself known.

Either way, Eddie knows he’ll be up for a few more hours, but he’s never regret the sleep he’s lost since they’ve made this silent arrangement.

The bed shifts, and Eddie follows Steve’s lead, laying down fully and staring at the ceiling, trying his best not to reach out for the hand laying beside his. He wonders if he should add something to the ceiling like some type of mural with stars and whatnot.

He tilts his head to the side, envisioning how it would look in the lamplight since he and Steve refuse to sleep in the dark. Or maybe it’s just Steve and Eddie’s picked up on the habit of leaving the lamp on.

“Do you think you’ll make plans?” Steve asks quietly.

Eddie turns to look at him, at a lost for a moment before realizing he’s still on the Valentine’s Day subject. He smiles sadly, “No.” Steve glances over at him and holds his gaze, expecting more. Eddie sighs and gestures at himself. “I mean, I’m not exactly what people want to bring home to their parents at the moment plus with the,” he gestures to his face and drops his hand quickly, averting his gaze back to the ceiling.

He hopes Steve will let it go and not connect the dots back to earlier.

A silence settles between them, but Steve’s gaze burns into the side of Eddie’s face. Then, he finally asks, “Is that what distracted you earlier?” When Eddie doesn’t answer he continues, “I saw you looking in the mirror, and I know you usually go out of your way to avoid them.”

Eddie wants to question how Steve noticed, but he doesn’t want to get his hopes up about something that was just passively rather than intentionally observed. “Yeah,” Eddie states simply.

The bed shifts as Steve turns on his side to fully face him. “And you really think you can’t get a date because of them?”

Eddie sighs and rubs both of his hands over his face. “Steve, who is ever going to love me like this?” He turns and continues, “Privately, yes, someone could maybe get past the scars. But in public? You really think someone is going to be proud to say, ‘Here’s my boyfriend,’ and show off me?”

“Yes,” Steve says instantly as if he has no doubt in the world.

Eddie turns away, trying not to get choked up about it. Because how can he explain to him that while it’s nice that Steve has that confidence in him, Eddie wants Steve to be the one to be proud of him. To want him like that.

“Do you think my scars make me unlovable?” Steve asks.

“No! Jesus, Steve,” Eddie rushes to say and turns to him. He reached out and lays a hand over his side, feeling the way the skin puckers under the thin t-shirt. “These are metal as hell. Hot even. They make you more lovable if anything.”

Steve grabs Eddie’s hand and slowly pulls it off his side to hold it up, the scar on it being presented out to Eddie. “And this doesn’t make you more lovable?”

“Steve…” Eddie protests quietly as Steve pulls his hand close to stare at it.

“The scars you got protecting us. You think those make you less lovable?” Steve asks, pulling his hand close enough that his lips ghost over the skin.

Eddie lets out a breath that sounds like Steve as Steve presses a soft kiss into the tough skin. He stares at Eddie with a worried look in his eyes as he whispers, “Too much?”

Eddie shakes his head, too stunned to get the words out.

Steve intertwines their hands and pulls Eddie’s arm toward him. “These scars,” he says kissing the next one on his forearm, “Are beautiful on you.” He moves on to the scar on his elbow stretching to his bicep, lips trailing against the sensitive unmarked skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. “How could anyone hate these?” He asks leaving three soft, lingering kisses before shifting on the bed to hover above Eddie, still holding his hand but now against his stomach so he can press a kiss against his shoulder. “These scars show everyone what you were willing to sacrifice for us.”

As Steve moves to the scar on his neck, Eddie’s head drops back, giving him more access as he groans out, “Steve.”

“These scars,” Steve says, kissing up his neck over and past the scars, “Are exactly,” he murmurs as he kisses past his jaw and peppers kisses up his cheek, “Why I love you,” Steve finishes by pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth near where the scar that Eddie traced earlier ends.

Eddie glances up at Steve as he hovers over him, trying to make sense of everything he’s saying until it finally clicks. “You love me?” Eddie asks.

Steve nods and squeezes his hand before letting it go so he can lightly caress his cheek. “I have since you decided to be a hero and sacrifice yourself. Which was exactly what I told you not to do by the way.”

“I’ve never been great at following rules,” Eddie breathes out and reaches a hand up to run through Steve hair. “Steve?”

“Mhm?”

“I love you, too,” Eddie confesses.

Steve smiles and asks, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. He pauses before adding, “You know, one time when I was little, I captured a squirrel and it may have attacked me and left a scar on my lip.”

Steve laughs. “Is that so?”

Eddie smiles and nods.

Steve’s eyes dart down to Eddie’s lips and he moves his thumb to swipe over his top lip. “You know, I think I see it.”

Eddie debates telling him that it was actually his bottom lip, but instead he just breathes out, “Steve.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks with a teasing smile.

“Steve.”

Steve keeps smiling as he hums, “Hmm?” When Eddie huffs, Steve fakes surprise with a gasp, “Oh. You want me to find the picture for you!”

Eddie groans, “Steve!”

“Uh huh?”

Eddie huffs and cups his face. “You are infuriating.”

“Is that s-”

Eddie interrupts him by taking matters into his own hands and leaning up to kiss him. He feels Steve smile against his lip before finally kissing him back.

Steve pulls away and breathlessly asks, “So, do you think you’ll have plans for Valentine’s Day now?”

Eddie’s head thumps back on the pillow. “Oh my god.” Steve laughs. “Oh my god!” Eddie says and shoves Steve off of him only to roll over so he hovers above him. “You were trying to ask me out this whole time?”

“No, I just wanted to know your opinion of Valentine’s Day.”

Eddie gives him a light punch to the arm and smiles wide as he stares down at Steve, lying beneath him in the golden lamp light. His perfect golden boy.

“I still hate it by the way. Even if I have plans now,” Eddie comments seriously.

“Don’t worry, I’ll put in the effort year round for you and make sure to keep you away from the public that day,” Steve says running a hand through Eddie’s curls before tracing it down the scar on his cheek in a way he thought no one would be able to do - lovingly.

Eddie leans down and gives Steve a quick peck. “I’ve also got some scars on my hips I might want you to check out.”

Steve laughs loudly and pulls him into a kiss that truly makes Eddie breathless, all while tracing his hand over the scar on his cheek. And for the first time, Eddie learns to love the scars adorning his body.

[ma1dita]

plan b

'between certainties and doubts' installment part of the mean!remus agenda, aka a moment from a terrifyingly convoluted teenage situationship between remus lupin and an unidentified Hogwarts student (x fem!reader) wc: 2.5k a/n: there's a first time for everything. MDNI-- smut ahead, afab reader, cunnilingus, p in v, virginity loss, mentions of blood and contraceptives; feel free to send requests for them

—

The TV hums in the corner of Remus’ bedroom; a static, grating sound that crackles every few seconds like popcorn kernels on an open fire.

Neither of you say much in response to it—having learned to block out the noise after the second shitty show that’s come across the screen in the past hour. Too hyperaware of the feeling of his leg hair under the thigh he’s propped on his lap, his rough fingers trace shapes into your skin, making you shiver.

“When will this blasted show get on?” he grumbles. But to be honest, Remus doesn’t mind keeping you here longer, conveying an air of nonchalance despite the sparks that fly under the pads of his fingertips in the softness that kisses your denim shorts as you lie in a heap on his faded linen bedspread. The air is sticky, your skin is warm, and everything smells like sunlight.

It took Mr. Lupin three rounds of charmwork after quite an embarrassing display of begging from his only child late last night after dinner. Lyall worked on it into the early hours before his shift at the Ministry, and Remus fell asleep sitting up in anticipation to impress you, not quite sure what to do now that you see each other every day of this sun-soaked summer in Mold. So close yet so far away from being of age—he’s left to act like a child begging for a new toy for anything that needs to be magicked until the start of term.

So close, yet so far.

Your body is almost on top of his, and he has a thought that’s been simmering since you walked in, slow-cooking in the knowledge that no distance is somehow still not enough.

His cheeks redden. Maybe he can blame it on the heat.

The day prior, you’d both lugged the metal box up the hill he resides on—a fit of giggles and half-delirium all the way home from the thrift store. The antenna on top swivels with the soft gust of wind that blows through the open windows despite it all.

Lest he overreact, everything was going smoothly—so much so that Remus felt like he couldn’t breathe, too scared to fuck this up before it gets good.

Whatever this is, is really good.

Helga, he hasn’t even kissed you yet.

But in the three weeks, eighteen days, eleven hours, and thirty-four minutes that have passed since that run-in Tesco, Remus has thought about kissing you for all of it. What a peculiar, dangerous thing he’s wrapping himself around.

But he’s no stranger to a summer fling.

Your hand curls around the back of his neck, playing with sandy brown strands that swirl around your fingernails as if dancing, and you ignore his gaze, choosing to keep your eyes glued on the flickering screen. You don’t remember letting yourself get so comfortable around Remus. There’s no list to check off, no permission to this secret thing that lays atop the both of you like a thick blanket—and maybe that’s what makes it all the more exciting.

You’re still trying to learn all of him and somehow in the secret that is summer, he unravels at the slightest touch of your fingertips.

“Doctor Who comes on at half six, yeah?” you mumble, readjusting the pile of pillows under your head.

“If the telly even survives the next few hours.”

A laugh escapes you like the sound of windchimes tinkling in the breeze at the furrow in his brow, so earnest in wanting to get whatever this push and pull is into a steady flow of motion. He’s overthinking it again, hands clammy and throat hoarse. There’s a tension that lingers after the laughter, both of you staring dumbly at the other to speak next. But nothing is ever awkward with Remus, you find out—he’s not the type to speak unless he has something he really wants to say. You wonder if he has anything to note about the closing distance between your bodies as your arms brush again.

Humming the theme song under your breath, you lean your head on his shoulder, and Remus stiffens. This was not the plan, he thinks, you were supposed to watch the show, stay for dinner, and then if he had the guts to kiss you by the time he walked you home, then so be it!

One-night stands were somehow more practical in the past—drunken fumbles in a broom closet and nothing identifiable if he so wished to leave the light off. He doesn’t like them looking at him while he fucks them, something more detached and carnal. Less to explain of the stories that hide within his skin, no questions asked or answered.

But he’s watching the silly smile you have on your face and everything about you is light in itself that he can’t help but keep his eyes on you. And then he has to ask— ”Something funny, lovely?”

“Can’t believe there’s a day Baker won’t be the Doctor. He’s fun, isn’t he?”

He’s not quite sure where you’re going with this, but the words escape him before he can strap his mouth shut, “What do you like about him? Surely he’s not all that.”

“He’s kinda cute. Silly when he lets himself be,” you muse, nose tickling the collar of his t-shirt, “Nice brown hair and pretty eyes…”

Your eyes blink up at him now as he tries to rework his brain chemistry to focus on what you’re saying. Remus can almost taste the orange popsicle that stains your lips and swears a Niffler has made a home in his throat.

“Oh yeah? Bet you won’t say that when someone new comes along,” he gnaws on his bottom lip, and you’re smirking at him like he’s missing an important bit.

Can’t the boy throw you a bone?

“Don’t want anyone else. Quite like how things are going. Yeah?”

Remus swallows—you watch it travel down his throat, reaching out to rub the movement with the pad of your thumb and he sighs like you’ve lifted the weight off his shoulders even if all of yours is on him already.

Heart beating fast in the stillness, you both wait, watching each other for the next move.

To hell with his plans then—he moves right on to the next one and does what he’s wanted to do since the first night on his roof.

And so the next natural plan of action is to kiss you.

You wouldn’t be able to describe it if anyone asked how it felt to kiss Remus Lupin for the first time—but he had the stupid look on his face that boys get when they lean in so you shut your eyes instead.

Trapped in laughter, your lips lock and it all goes blurry from there. The kiss escalates into a proper snog—the pressure lifted from your shoulders and replaced with that of intermingling lips, hot breaths, and a growl that creeps out of his mouth as he loses himself in the feel of you.

Hands memorizing the curves of your spine, gripping the plush of your hips, and tugging at the sorry excuse of clothing you put on this morning to beat the heat feels like floating amongst the clouds, swimming against his faded linens. His movements are hasty—not like someone who wants to get the ordeal over with, but someone who yearns to discover all of you, down to the essence of it all.

When you open your eyes, Remus’ lips have detached from yours and you find yourself face down in a pillow.

Maybe you should tell him that you’ve never—

A moan rips from your throat in satisfaction at the way he licks you open from behind, eating your pussy out with a determination that only warrants the highest of praise. Remus has pulled you onto your knees, tasting, caressing—whatever thought process you had earlier is interrupted by flames of pleasure spreading across your belly and fingers clenched around down feathers.

“So pretty,” he mumbles greedily against your sopping lips, placing a kiss there that makes your heart stutter, “This what you want, lovely? Want me?”

Cheek splayed against his pillow, a crooning whine is the only answer you can produce. It’s unlike you to be at a loss for words, confidence flying out the window—but Godric, when Remus puts his mind to something, he makes sure he’s good at it.

“Merlin, you’re really good at that,” you whimper, echoing your thoughts. He lifts up, body encompassing yours like a shadow and the brunet laughs against the nape of your neck. This is the farthest from what you expected your summer to look like, but you’re not about to complain. If he keeps going, it’ll be the farthest you’ve ever gon—

“Not my name,” Remus inhales the scent of sweat and sun in your hair. His lips are printing a stamp of his smile wherever they reach, shorts hanging low and unbuttoned on his waist and all of him presses against you, hard.

“Remus, fuck, please…”

His thumb swipes at your clit in precise motions—shit, if your body could take a screenshot to remember how he’s making you feel, this was how it would do it. Looking over your shoulder, his emerald eyes are almost black with want, reflecting into your own. You nod, “I want you.”

Remus’ sigh of relief sends goosebumps across your skin. The sounds of rustling fabric make you try and turn over—and then he’s got a hand at the base of your scalp, using the other to notch his cock between your thighs, “This okay? Gonna make you feel good, lovely girl.”

You can’t shrug from this position so you wiggle your hips against him and the stiff warmth teasing against your opening makes your brain sound like the static of the TV in the background—the whirring sound of the TARDIS dampened by the lust that overcomes you. He breathes heavily, the suction of your slick entrance kissing his cockhead in a way that makes him hiss until he realizes you’re moving your hips back, the force swallowing his length inch by delicious inch. Your knuckles are turning white, gripping him like a fist—it makes him gasp loudly, “Woah…easy does it. You’re so…tight and wet f’me,” he groans, biting his lip. Remus’s hips stagger with the shake in his breath, thrusting shallowly until you welcome him in. Sweat drops off his forehead onto your body and rolls down your spine.

“There we go, gorgeous,” he swallows, sounding elated as he drives himself deeper into you, “taking me so well, yeah?”

You cry out again, an arm reaching out behind you to grab onto anything you can—slapping against his bicep and his stomach before locking onto his forearm, “Fuck! Feels so…” The liquid fire running through your veins melts any friction between you and him—skin smacking against skin in slow, purposeful movements that dig into the pit of your belly, faster and faster as you keen against him like a dog in heat.

Your knees shake against the mattress at the increasing force he puts into fucking you, whining against the pillows as his hands spread you open, liking the way your ass ripples against his hipbones.

“I need…I…” you murmur desperately, so close to the precipice but not quite there. Frustrated at how close you are to coming, your lip trembles and Remus sees, reaching down to press circles onto your clit hurriedly in an attempt to chase the wave of pleasure.

“Rem,” you sob out, “I can't—I need...”

And then he throws caution to the wind and turns you over, and you see him for the first time in his naked glory, all the scars and spattering of freckles. He’s like a work of art under the late rays of light—as euphoria crashes through your system and clenches him deeper into your guts, you grin at him, never losing eye contact.

Van Gogh would’ve loved you, you think as your vision resurfaces.

You’d come by just looking at him, mouth agape in a whimper and stomach pressing against his in shallow breaths as your body arches closer to his skin, closer to what he’s kept hidden. Remus shudders under the weight of your stare.

Something in him shifts as he lets go, looking down at the sheen that covers your naked body instead. Remus Lupin denies himself a lot of things in this life—but right then and there he concludes he won’t deny himself this sight ever again.

—

When you wake up, the TV’s pitch black. Remus wiped the blood off his fingers and his cock in the bathroom as to not embarrass you, cleaning your crevices gently with a warm washcloth.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he takes a breath, licking at his lips, “Before we did anything.” Silence follows—there’s an answer here somewhere in the summer breeze, cool enough to raise goosebumps on sticky skin that keeps you two attached at the hip against the twisted linen sheets. You say nothing at first, dragging a finger downward on the curve of his neck, tracing a mark that leaks towards the flush of his collarbones. Remus shivers when he realizes you’re more interested in the scratches you left on him rather than the ones that already litter his body.

“Why wouldn’t you let me see you?” you counter, “Before we did…that.” Neither of you has an answer—but there’s a sort of understanding that passes in the moment.

I didn’t want you to see me differently.

Soft smiles and cuddles are enough for now— gentle hands in knowing and getting to know the other when laid bare for the other to see. Proof, maybe— in case for some reason this might never happen again. There’s an absence of fear here though; you feel it when he wraps his arms around you and pulls your body back against him, on top of him now so that he can see you eye to eye.

And you see all of him, for the first time, in the waning light of his bedroom, and you hope it’s not the last.

By the time the sky outside gets dark, you both sit in the parking lot of the drugstore downtown with a Beatles song playing softly in the background of his mom’s old sedan. Your hands are wrapped against the seatbelt, words tight, “Can’t you come in with me?”

“The pharmacist goes to church with my mam,” Remus sighs, rubbing his face and deciding to look out the window, “Listen, Levonelle is free since we’re und—”

“It’s not about that, Remus,” you grit, “I’m the new girl in town who has to have the mandated talk with an adult about Plan Bs and safe sex, and you want me to go in there alone!” Jaw clenched, you swat his hand away when he reaches out for yours.

“Hey. M’sorry, okay? Would be easier if we were at school,” he murmurs, finally making contact to rub your cheek gently.

Would it be?

“I’ll be right out here, okay? And then we can do whatever you want for the rest of the night, promise.” Remus kisses your temple, and the furrow in your brow straightens out. You're sore and your legs feel like jelly as you step out of the vehicle, teeth clenched as something gnaws its way through your heart. This was different from the bliss he opened your eyes to earlier.

Now, you're walking into what's after.

You slam the car door on your way out anyway.

—

i don't do taglists anymore! follow @ma1dita-mail and turn on post notifs <3

[violet-fluff]

Levi x Reader

Talk of the Hour

Petra and the other girls lean in closer to Y/N as they giggle and shush each other.

“So, what was Levi like in the underground?” Petra asks, curiosity in her eyes.

Mina blushes. “I heard he was a bad boy.”

Y/N looks around the room to make sure the coast is clear before smiling at the fawning group of girls. “He was!”

All the girls squeal and start giggling.

Y/N laughs and shushes them. “Whenever Levi was around, people would walk away. Some other guys would try to seem tougher than him and pick fights, but they obviously never won. Levi had this certain…swag…to him. From the way he dressed to the way he acted.”

Nifa gasps. “He dressed like a gangster? That is so unlike him.”

“Well, there are no such thing as nice clothes in the underground. Unless you have money to buy them, but remember, people down there don’t even have money for food.” The girls frown and ‘aw’ at the sad explanation, but Y/N continues, “Although, Levi always kept his clothes clean. He would always wear his tan trousers, his brown flowy shirt and would layer his red vest over top.”

Y/N blushes. “He worked with what he had, but he was always the best dressed.”

“I always wore the same outfit because someone always needed money for medicine.”

Y/N and the other girls freeze, their faces turning ghost white as Levi, the talk of the hour, walks in.

Y/N awkwardly laughs and clears her throat. “Levi…we were just talking about you!”

Levi scoffs. “Yes, I heard.”

Petra smiles. “Nothing but good words though!”

Levi crosses his arms as he leans back in his chair. “I am happy I no longer need to wear those clothes anymore.

Y/N smiles as she looks down at her metal leg, it being the reason Levi had to constantly keep maintenance on his only outfit.

“Um, if you don’t mind…how did you lose your leg, Y/N.” Nifa asks awkwardly, but curiously.

“Well, lack of sun and lack of nutrients tends to make humans weak. Mix an injury with a weak body, and you get an infection that doesn’t want to go away.” Y/N explains. “Levi always got me medicine, but they weren’t working very well.”

Levi grimaces as he reminiscences on past memories. “Her leg looked like it was from Hell itself. That thing was all black and purple with-…”

Y/N nudges his shoulder as she notices the grossed out faces on the girls. “Don’t gross them out.”

Levi rolls his eyes. “Point is, an underground operation would have killed her anyway. Y/N was destined to die.”

“But when Erwin came to get Levi, he agreed to go on the promise that I also get brought to the surface for medical treatment.” Y/N taps her metal leg. “Thankfully they also gave me this nifty leg so I can still walk.”

Mina clasps her hands together. “I’m glad you’re still here, Y/N. You help keep this place running smoothly.”

With being disabled, Y/N is not able to fight titans, so Erwin gave her the job of doing the clerical tasks like paperwork, record keeping, and holding down the morale amongst the soldiers.

“Y/N has the perfect job because she likes to talk a lot.” Levi unnecessarily.

Nifa smirks. “Captain, when are you going to propose?”

“Alright, time for me to go do something else now.” Levi smooths his pants as he stands to leave.

Y/N rolls her eyes as the girls start laughing.

[treacheryinblue]

「 ON DISPLAY 」 noah sebastian ⨯ f!reader

▷ chapter six

noah is your neighbor and your new favorite view thanks to his lack of curtains. you're pretty sure he prefers it this way. but the man you've created in your imagination is nothing like reality and you soon find yourself falling prey to a past lifestyle you had been desperately on the run from. trigger warnings : language, smut, violence, mention/flashbacks of abuse, alcohol and drug use, sexual harassment/assault (nongraphic). word count : 9k

masterlist

a/n : sorry for the super mega delay :') extra sorry for the barely there proof reading/revisions of the last half :')))

NOAH POV

“I'm only going to ask this one more time,” he breathed out with irritation, a hammer filthy with blood dangling at his side. “Where. The. Fuck. IS SHE?!” 

The man tied to the chair flinched and cried out in fear, his words gurgled and incoherent from the pool of blood constantly filling within his mouth. Noah had made sure of that happening when he pried a couple of his teeth free, yet he still received no answers despite his more grizzly methods. This guy was good, but Noah would break him eventually. They always broke. 

Unless he broke first. 

When no answer was given, he swung the hammer down-no hesitation-until it smashed the bones of the man's right hand with an astounding amount of ease. It was the third wack he had taken, his attempts to make sure the guy never even held a pencil again quite thorough. All of this gore could stop if only he gave him the answers he so desperately needed. A truth he had told the guy multiple times, though his kindness was only met with a hardened stare and silence - other than the howls of pain. 

The scent of blood - metallic and copper-like - filled the air, and Noah wasn't one of those sickos who enjoyed the smell of death. It was all part of the job, though. A small price to pay to keep things running smoothly. 

Muddled senses aside, his mind was on one thing and one thing only right then: you had been taken. How had this happened when he had been so cautious? Guards, cameras (something you were not knowledgeable of), a persistent fucking need to hear your voice every half hour or so. Where had he messed up? Maybe he had been too lacking with the guards when it came to allowing them to watch you from their cars. He should've demanded they remain by your side always no matter what sort of threats you gritted out to them. 

Something had flown under the radar. Or rather someone. And now you were gone. Noah could feel his chest tightening as he turned away from the ragged man to begin pacing before him again. His head was pounding and his heart rate had yet to cease from beating wildly within his chest. This felt like the few times he had done those powdery white lines and regretted it each time. Noah knew he was too high strung for it but had that stopped him? No. Just as knowing better about you hadn't stopped him from making a dire mistake either. 

Noah groaned as his phone vibrated within his pocket. He snatched the device and immediately brought it to his ear after connecting the call. 

“What?” He hissed, his anger and annoyance radiating in waves. 

“No hits from the tracker on her phone. The last location was her apartment, as we already knew.” 

It had been pointless to even ask for your phone to be tracked because these guys weren't amateurs. They were going to cover their bases when kidnapping someone like you. 

“Fuck!” Noah loudly erupted, the hammer he held dropping to the floor, forgotten. 

“I'm trying to check all the security cameras in the area but the roads were fucking packed. I keep losing them.” The guy explained, his voice wavering. He was obviously scared of Noah’s outburst, even from over the phone. 

“What kind of car?”

“Black SUV. Looks like an Expedition, maybe an Escalade. These city cameras are fucking shit so it’s hard to tell.” 

Noah nodded to himself as he stored that information away. “I need you to find any and all information you can on her dad. All his properties. Businesses, houses, fucking bicycles. All of it. If his name is on it, then I need it sent to me.”

Without waiting for a response, Noah ended the call and tossed his phone aside. He then took in a deep breath before turning back to the man bound to the chair. He was who had tried to stop Jackson from going into the apartment building once all hell broke loose. Jackson was good but often underestimated because he was young and looked even younger, so the man had made a mistake by thinking Jackson wouldn't be able to take him down. A big mistake judging by the bullet holes in his shoulder and thigh that were dripping blood onto the floor still. 

“Tell me something useful and all of this can end.” 

The man chuckled before spitting a mouthful of blood to the floor to join the ever growing puddle. “By way of death, yeah?” 

“Depends on what sort of information you give me.” Noah shrugged, the gun he had tucked into the back of his pants now held firm in his hand. “Tell me a location and maybe you'll walk free.” His gaze then fell to the wound on his leg and he grimaced, head tilting to the side. “Well…maybe not walk.”

“There's no point when you're already too late. She's probably back in his hands as we speak and if she doesn't agree to what he wants, she's dead.” he slurred.

“What does he want?” Noah’s brows furrowed, though he was pleased to be getting something out of the guy. 

“What do you mean?” The guy groaned as he shifted in the seat, his mangled hand attempting to move as well but the ropes were too tight and continued to bite into his flesh. “He wants her! That's all he's ever been after!” 

Noah stared at the guy for a long moment, remaining silent as he did, jaw tense. He was thinking, trying to formulate a plan to get you back once he had even an inkling of a location. As much as he wanted to just go in guns blazing, he knew that would be the stupidest idea. 

“Tell me where he's keeping her,” he again demanded. “I'm beginning to grow bored.” 

That meant he would kill the guy shortly if he didn't prove himself to be useful. Maybe he would extend his life a little longer, though it wouldn't be much of an existence when tied to a chair and bleeding out. 

“You're going to kill me either way,” the guy again spit blood out, red drops dribbling down his chin. “So I think I'd rather know you're struggling to find her once I die than help you.” 

Noah growled as he quickly rushed the last few steps to the guy. He had the gun pressed to the side of his head, the safety off but not yet cocked. “There are things that I can do to you that are worse than death,” he reminded the man. 

When the guy didn't say anything, Noah angled the gun down and fired into his uninjured thigh without a second thought. The man cried out in pain, his body tensing and writhing against his restraints in a vain attempt to free himself. It was useless. They both knew he would bleed out in minutes now. 

“Where is her father keeping her?!” Noah grabbed the man by the back of his hair and jerked his head back at a sharp angle. The gun was pressed under his chin, promising a hasty execution. 

The guy laughed between his sharp gasps of pain. “They said you guys were in the dark over here but I didn't think it was true. Not with the reputation Karlsson and King has,” He took in a sharp breath before continuing. “You're really a let down when compared to how they talk of you.” 

Something inside Noah snapped. He forcefully pushed the man back after shoving into his chest so he hit the ground with a thud, and then before another word could be said, he fired a single shot into the guy’s head. 

READER POV

The air was damp and stale as you took in a deep breath. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Anything to halt the nausea creeping up. That, plus the slight rocking that was contributing to your sickness, instantly told you that you were on a boat. You had always been the type to get sea sickness since you were a child, so much that it had angered your father during vacations. 

You weren't sure how much time had passed since you woke up the first time. That was when your panic had been in full force. You had yelled and screamed, tried to pry the handcuff off your wrist so many times that lacerations now bleed around the tender skin of your hand. All of your attempts had gone unnoticed, or whoever was lingering around didn't care enough to come check on you. 

Slowly your eyes fluttered open again as the sickness worked its way higher in your esophagus. Fuck, you were going to throw up. But then you'd be stuck with the stench of it and that would only make this whole situation a million times worse. Nope. You had to swallow it down. 

You groaned as you turned on the twin sized bed, the handcuffs connected to the headboard keeping your arm at an odd angle for so long that your shoulders were sore. It just went along with the rest of your body that was also in pain thanks to the brawl with Hawk. At least you could no longer taste blood but the sharp pain every time you moved your mouth told you that your lip was split. Wonderful. 

“Good mornin’, sleeping beauty.” 

Another groan escaped you, but this one of pure annoyance. You would know that voice anywhere. Hell, you were well acquainted with the majority of Vane and your father’s men. You could probably pick their elbows out of a lineup. 

“Dante,” you heavily sighed. “Can't say I'm happy to see you.” 

“As feisty as ever. That's no way to speak to me, though, princess. We go way back.” 

You shot a glare at Dante, your face otherwise expressionless. He was completely deranged if he thought you were even minimally happy to see him. 

“Can we just get this over with? Tell me what you want, why I'm here, yada yada.” 

Dante took a couple of steps further into the room until he was standing at your bedside. You resisted the urge to shrink away from his looming presence because you didn't want to show any weaknesses. No vulnerabilities. Nothing he could feast on. 

His eyes trailed your body and your stomach instantly churned again. Gross. Why were the men employed around you always such creeps? 

“I don't know. I think I enjoy seeing you like this more.” He reached out to brush your tangled hair back and your skin burned beneath his touch. It was nothing like when Noah touched you. There were no butterflies or lingering excitement. All you felt was disgust. 

Dante smirked before his fingers gripped your hair and your head was forced back. You winced as the pain splintered through your scalp, your jaw clenching so hard you thought you would shatter your teeth. 

“Boss isn't here yet so he would have no idea we played a bit,” he lowered his voice. “Doesn't that sound nice, princess?” 

“Fuck off!” You kicked out a leg but your foot only brushed his thigh before he stepped out of the line of impact. “Touch me and I'll fucking kill you.” 

Dante laughed from deep within his gut. He pushed your head away when he released your hair, his laughter fading to amused silence. “I was going to offer you some breakfast but I think I'll let you starve down here a bit longer.” 

Stomping away, he slammed the door behind himself, leaving you alone with your nausea. 

When the door opened again you knew at least three hours had passed because of the minutes you had counted. Your bladder was ready to burst and your mouth was so dry that drinking the ocean water sounded pleasant right then. 

“Are you going to be nicer this time?” Dante grinned down at you but he was already leaning over to unlock your wrist from the cuff without your response. 

“Bathroom break. I don't want to have to clean up your piss if you go on yourself.” 

You rubbed your raw wrists as you sat up, completely ignoring his statement. Dante then grabbed your arm and forced you off the small bed, a shove to your back placing you in front of him. 

“Walk.” 

“Okay, asshole. Find some goddamn patience.” 

Dante chuckled. “I really hope he knocks that smart mouth of yours right off.” 

The journey to the bathroom didn't take too long, but your lack of sea legs had definitely extended it by thirty seconds. You occasionally stumbled into a wall when the boat rocked one way, then went straight for the opposite wall when it righted itself. You really fucking hated boats, even nice ones like this. 

“You have three minutes.” Dante pushed you into the bathroom and promptly pulled the door closed before you could protest. Lucky for him you really needed to pee. 

After finishing your business, you hesitantly approached the bathroom counter. You didn't want to see your reflection. You knew you looked horrible. You didn't need a mirror verifying that for you. So, you kept your eyes down as you washed your hands and continued to try to concoct a plan. 

Could you use anything in the bathroom to defend yourself? No, it didn't look like it. You doubted a toilet paper roll would cause any damage. Your eyes frantically flitted around the bathroom in search of something, anything that could help you. You refused to believe that you were helpless to these men. Never again would you let that happen. 

“One minute!” Dante yelled, a bang on the door accompanying his countdown. 

Maybe all you needed was the element of surprise. 

You quickly stepped back into the small room that housed the toilet and climbed up onto it. You crouched, preparing yourself to attack when the moment arrived. You knew you only had seconds now before your time was up and Dante would storm in to drag you out. 

And that's exactly what happened. 

“Come on!” Dante again yelled, but when you didn't emerge, he didn't hesitate to invade the space. Since the area was small, he would find you. You weren't trying to hide necessarily, you just wanted to best him, even if only a little bit. 

As soon as his large form appeared in the doorway, you lunged at him. Your foot roughly pistoned into his chest to force him back and then you jumped down, kneeing right between his legs. Dante groaned in both pain and anger as he doubled over to grab his shriveled balls. This was it. Your chance to run. 

You bolted for the door, ignoring Dante’s demands for you to get back to him. Like hell were you going to do anything that he said. 

As fast you could you ran down the hallway, up the stairs, and onto the main level of the…yacht? Right, you knew you had recognized this boat. It was the exact one you had spent your childhood on with your family, back when you were too young to be sold to Vane and you were none the wiser to the horrible things your father was in control of. 

It had been quite some time since you were on the yacht last, but you still remembered bits of it. For example, you knew this door you were heading for would take you through the galley, then out into the dining room. As you pulled the door open, you were hit with a sweltering heat from the ovens and stoves being on in preparation for a meal. 

“Jesus,” you murmured to yourself. Just as you were about to exit the galley from the opposite door, you paused. Sitting there, as if waiting for you, was a long chef's knife. 

“Don't mind if I do.” Grinning to yourself, you snagged the sharp knife and then exited the galley. Your breathing was uneven and heavy as you tip toed through the formal dining room, your gaze shifting all around in case someone decided to jump out at you. But oddly enough, the yacht was mostly empty. You hadn't even seen a singular employee, which was unusual. 

There was then an intense shove on your back that sent you stumbling forward into the living area and down to your knees. The knife that had been in your hand was knocked away, a boot coming down to apply pressure to your wrist. You were too shocked to even realize what had happened until you looked up to see Hawk standing there, sporting a few injuries of his own. 

“Glad to see our last encounter had some lingering marks,” you laughed. Deep wounds were still present on his face from where you had shoved the bits of glass into. It may have hurt your hand like a bitch, but you knew it caused him more pain than yourself. 

“I'm really going to enjoy making you bleed,” Hawk threatened as his boot twisted down onto your wrist, forcing a cry of pain from you. 

“Hawk! No!” Dante came stumbling in a few seconds later, still nursing his bruised balls. “You heard what boss said. He doesn't want any more marks on her.” 

With Hawk temporarily distracted by Dante, you were able to reach over his leg with your free hand and snag the chef’s knife. You didn't even think as you sunk the blade into his calf, immediately causing him to stagger back and yell. Blood gushed from the wound, staining the previously pristine white carpet you were lying atop. 

“You fucking bitch!” Hawk erupted while applying pressure to the deep wound. “I'm going to fucking kill you!” 

Dante was suddenly yanking you up and wrestling the knife from your grasp. You grunted and fisted your free hand, aiming it right for his jaw. The hit landed, but not as hard as you would've preferred. It barely even fazed him. Dante bent your wrist to the side and you gasped from the pain shooting up your arm, the knife falling to the floor once more. He huffed in annoyance before pushing you back onto the couch, somewhere you couldn't cause anymore damage. 

“Quit your fucking hollering,” he spat at Hawk while pushing his sweat dampened hair out of his face. 

“Let her stab you in the leg and let's see how much you yell!” 

Dante ignored Hawk, his sights instead set on you. “Hawk wasn't lying when he said you were quite the fighter now.” He deviously smirked. “I like this grown up version of you, princess.” 

“Yeah? Well, I still hate you.” 

The insult only caused Dante’s smirk to grow. He was just as sick as the rest of them. 

“Come on.” Dante reached forward and grabbed a handful of your hair to yank you up from the couch, now dragging you back down to the underbelly of the yacht where you had been before. 

“Let go of me!” You yelled while trying to retrieve your hair from his fist but his grip was relentless. “I can't wait until Noah finds me and kicks your ass. And he will find me, you know. Just you fucking wait. You're going to be so sorry.”

The words continued to spill from you, though you weren't even sure how true they were. It's what you wanted to believe. Noah would come after you, right? He would continue to protect you. He would pull you close and tell you everything would be okay, that he would never leave your side again. 

…right? 

Dante laughed before dropping you down onto the twin bed. You tried to kick him away, but he easily overpowered you. Both of his hands held your wrists down, his face mere inches from your own. There was a fire in his eyes and you weren't ready to find out what that would lead to. 

“You think your precious King is going to come for you? I thought you were smarter than that, princess.” He smirked, his breath warm and unsettling as it crossed your skin. “You don't really know who he is, do you? The sort of things he gets into?” 

As his grip loosened on your wrists, you thought you were going to be released, but all it did was give his hands the ability to trail down your arms in a way that made your stomach turn. 

“I hope he does come,” Dante murmured after tucking his face into the crook of your neck and deeply inhaling your scent. You grimaced as you tried to turn your head as far to the opposite direction as you possibly could. “Then I'd get to see your face when you realize that he's also one of the bad guys.” 

Click. The cuff had been secured around your wrist again, keeping you from leaving the bed. 

With that, Dante forcefully shoved himself away from you and stomped out of the room, slamming the door on his way. 

X X X 

You weren't sure how much time had passed this time. Even counting down the minutes had lost its appeal since that's all you had to do. No other form of entertainment was provided to you. Meals had been brought to you twice, both of them left mostly untouched at the end of the bed. And when Dante came for your bathroom breaks, or sent one of his little lackeys, they were now going into the bathroom with you. At least they turned their backs, unlike Dante who held intense eye contact with you throughout the duration.  

The longer you were captured, the more you began to lose hope. Perhaps Noah wasn't coming for you after all. Maybe he figured you being taken was a blessing because it was one less headache for him to have to deal with. You sucked in a sharp breath as the thought burrowed its way into your mind, immediately causing you to feel the effects both emotionally and physically. 

Your stomach turned, your hands shaking. Tears burned behind your eyelids but you didn't want to let them fall. Unfortunately, you were only but so strong. A couple managed to slip down your cheeks, though you quickly wiped them away before they could saturate the flat pillow. 

What the hell was the hold up, anyway? How much longer would you be kept beneath the boat, just waiting to find out what the fuck was going on? 

The sound of murmuring voices outside the door caused your eyes to spring open. There had only been one person coming in and out at a time, never two. You strained to hear what was being said, but you couldn't make anything out. The voices grew louder and more urgent until fading off as they walked away, or so you assumed. 

You were just about to close your eyes again when you heard the door unlock and open slowly. You squinted through the dim light in an attempt to see who it was because the movements didn't sound anything like Hawk or Dante. They were much more heavy handed and footed compared to this new visitor. 

“Nick?” You squeaked out when you finally were able to make sense of the familiar face in the doorway. 

Nicholas stood there unmoving and expressionless, though his bright eyes were locked on you. Sitting up, you tried to pull your wrist from the cuff again, your panic once more settling in. Was he here to help you? Or had he been working for your dad all along? 

“Nick!” You whisper-yelled, your tone pleading. “Please let me out. Please.” Your voice cracked and the insufferable tears began pooling again, your vision becoming blurry from the amount of them. 

He still had yet to say a word. He merely stared at you, blinked rapidly a few times as if he was trying to make sense of what he was seeing, and then slowly backed out of the doorway. 

“Nick! Don't leave me here! Please!” Your begging was useless, though. He had quietly closed the door, leaving you alone again, but now with just your sobs to keep you company. 

NOAH POV

Too much time had passed. You could've been taken anywhere at this point, but that didn't mean he was going to give up. 

There were men all around the city checking up on leads, scoping out your father’s properties, and reporting back on anything that was even slightly interesting. He refused to let this end in tragedy. 

Noah’s jaw tightened as he watched the footage of you being taken again and again. You were limp as you were tossed into the backseat of the large SUV without a second thought, like you were nothing more than a tedious basket of laundry. He recognized the man in the grainy footage because he was one of the three who had come to Jolly’s office that day in search of you. He wasn't the one who spoke, but instead the large one to the left that Noah had easily pinpointed as the muscle of the group. 

This was his fault. He should've done more to keep you safe. He should've kept you closer, but he had been scared. Allowing you in would've meant dropping his walls and barriers, subsequently revealing the true means behind Nocturnal. That would've only put you into even more danger. 

Shaking his head, Noah promptly exited the screen that held the footage. His elbows then propped up on the desk, his hands scrubbing over his face in both exhaustion and annoyance. He had barely slept a couple of hours since you were taken and it was really starting to catch up to him. Jolly had demanded he sleep but it was no use. As soon as his eyes would close, he’d be haunted by images of your face. Of how scared you must've been. Of how alone you probably were now. And that's only if you were still alive. 

No. He wouldn't allow himself to think like that. 

The irritating sound of his phone ringing brought him back down to reality. He heavily sighed, but ultimately snatched his phone up and brought it to his ear to answer. 

“What?” 

“Her dad owns a few yachts,” the guy opened the conversation with. 

“And?”

“And a couple have been docked at the marina for about a week now.” 

Noah sat up a little straighter, his brows knitting together as he thought. That was definitely interesting since you were from the other side of the country. Why would your father’s yachts be here? 

A banging at the door caused Noah's eyes to flick upwards, but he made no move to answer it yet. Only Jolly knew the code to get inside, so he already knew it wasn't him demanding his presence. 

“Send me what you have on the yachts and the marina.” 

Ending the call, he crossed his office to the door that was again being pounded on. Noah slid his phone into his pocket, the same hand clutching the top of his gun that was tucked into the back of his pants, just as he swung the door open. Standing beyond the threshold was not a face he was expecting to see. 

“Ruffilo,” he breathed out with disdain. 

Nick smirked, his own expression full of amusement. “That was a shitty greeting.” 

“Well, I'm in a shitty mood.” 

“Girl troubles?” 

Noah's eyes narrowed in on him, both of them falling silent as they stared the other down. He knew something. But what sort of information could he possibly have? 

“What do you want? How did you even get up here?” 

Nicholas shrugged, one hand shoved into his pocket, the other twisting around the Zippo lighter in his palm. He never went anywhere without that damned thing. “The door was open so I just walked in.” 

“You walked in?” 

“As one does when a door is unlocked, yes.” 

Noah heaved a breath of pure annoyance before turning away from the door, silently telling Nicholas that he could come in. 

“What do you want?” He repeated, his voice more stern this time. He was in no mood to play games, especially not with Nicholas. He always had an affinity for mind games and that was the last thing he needed right then. 

“I think I could have some intel you'd find…appealing.” Nicholas grinned as he closed the door and then wasted no time in making himself comfortable on the couch. He leaned back into the cushions, one arm extended over the top. 

“But, I want something in return for it.” 

“Of course you do. What makes you think I want anything you have?” 

Noah was bluffing. He probably would've given Nick anything right then if what he knew pertained to you. Although, he couldn't let on how desperate he was. 

The smile Nicholas wore only extended until it took up the majority of his face. There was always something so sinister about this particular expression and it made Noah’s skin crawl. Fucking psycho, that's what Nick was. 

“I'm going to be straight forward because I don't have time to linger.” Nick sighed, as if he was upset his little game had been disturbed. “I know where she is and who's keeping her. I'll tell you everything if you help me with one simple task.” 

Noah raised his brows, awaiting whatever it was Nicholas could possibly want. He wasn't in the mood for these dramatic pauses of his. 

“Help me kill Red.” 

Well, that wasn't something he had seen coming. 

“You want to kill your own grandfather?” 

Nicholas shrugged in a nonchalant manner, his lighter opening and closing a couple of times. “He's in my way. And you know how much of an asshole he is.” 

Oh, Noah definitely knew. He also knew that Red had been his top target for years now, ever since his parents had died. He could've killed him many times but none of those moments had been right. They easily would've landed him in prison or dead as well, and he didn't want either of those things to be the outcome. 

Taking in a deep breath, Noah nodded. “Fine.” 

Appearing visibly taken back, Nicholas opened his mouth to speak but then promptly closed it to further contemplate. He spoke only after a few long seconds had passed. 

“That's it? You'll help me?” 

“Yes.”

“You're not even going to ask me why or question me more to see if my intentions are true?” 

“No, because I don't care. All I want is the information you promised me.” 

Noah eyed his former best friend, waiting rather impatiently for him to come forth with whatever he knew. When Nick didn't yet speak, Noah again let his aggravation be known. 

“You're telling me what you know before I help you with Red,” he exclaimed. “I'm already wasting time that I don't have.” 

Nicholas appeared as if he wanted to argue but he bit back his retort. Good. This meant he knew what was good for him. 

“Park Cove Marina,” Nicholas sighed, eyes rolling. “The yacht she's on is called The Genevieve. Poetic, huh?”

If he had been in a better mood, Noah probably would have chuckled at that. Did this mean your choice of alter ego at Nocturnal was done with a purpose? He made a mental note to question you on it later once you were safe and in his arms. 

“There's about five men on board, all with instructions to keep her locked away in a room beneath the boat. They've been told not to harm her, but…”

“But?” Noah could feel the heat within himself rising. He was going to kill anyone who laid a finger on you. If you had suffered even a mere paper cut, someone would pay. 

“But we both know how headstrong she can be. All injuries are superficial, though.” 

You weren't dead. That's the main thing Noah chose to take from Nick’s reveal. But just because you were currently unharmed, didn't mean it would stay that way. He had to move fast, with or without backup. 

“Weapons?”

Nicholas shrugged in a nonchalant manner. “Your usual handguns and knives. Nothing automatic from what I saw.” 

“What's their objective?” 

“Why the fuck are you talking like a military asshole?” Nick looked his childhood friend up and down with a grimace before he finally continued. “They're waiting for their boss to get there. I don't know what's taking him so long but I'd say you have…maybe until tonight to get her out.” 

“Her father is here?” Noah previously assumed the man had sent his little worker bees to get the job done.

A smirk ticked up Nick’s lips and he adjusted his position on the couch, one hand tugging at his suit jacket to try to make himself seem more casual. All of his motions were robotic; learned from studying people to make himself appear more normal. Noah saw right through it. He always had. 

“No, not her father. He has his hand in this, sure, but he's not the one calling the shots.” 

X X X 

It hadn't taken Noah long to put everything together. With a little more prying of information out of Nicholas, the big picture was slowly coming along. He had placed a new target on your father’s head, one he would get to eventually, but there were a couple more in front of him that needed tending to since he wasn't an immediate threat. 

His top goal was to get you out safely, though. After that, he would go on the much needed rampage to prevent this from ever happening again. No longer would you have to run and hide behind a fake identity. You could live the life of freedom you rightfully deserved. Noah was going to make sure of it, even if he had to die trying. 

And he truly meant that. 

Hidden beneath the cover of the deepening night, Noah peered up at the yacht from across the marina. He knew this wouldn't be difficult once on the boat, if what Nick said was true about there only being five or so men, but not being seen ahead of time was the true test. He didn't want to give these assholes any time to call in backup. 

“Are we set?” Jackson questioned as he exited the car to stand by Noah’s side. It was just the two of them. Jolly had opted not to join, claiming he needed to tend to things at Nocturnal. Noah wanted to argue with him but he knew Jolly was serious about keeping their main operation going. Jolly wouldn't let anyone get in the way of it, not even his closest friend and partner. 

“Just waiting for the ‘okay’ from Nick.” 

Nicholas had skirted around telling Noah what he was even doing on the yacht to begin with. He would only smirk and change the subject, but something was telling Noah that Red had something to do with this. You couldn't have one egotistical asshole with an agenda without another there to impede. 

Against better judgement, Noah had stopped questioning him on it. For now. He would get the answers he was searching for, even if it meant having to use force to get them. Nick was tough to crack, though. Psychopaths didn't react to threats or pain the same way a normal, law abiding citizen would. But until it came to that, Noah was going to have to trust Nicholas. After all, your life depended on it. 

Just as the realization dawned on him, his phone vibrated in his hand. A message came through from Nicholas, exclaiming to him that the coast was clear. Nick was to be their lookout until they made it onto the yacht. After that, he would have to continue to play the part so as to not draw suspicions onto himself. 

Didn't bother Noah one bit as long as Nicholas stayed out of his way. 

“Let's go,” he murmured to Jackson, nodding his head in the direction of The Genevieve. 

The pair stuck to the shadows, the sound of the boats rocking atop the water helping to shield the sound of their footsteps the closer they drew to their destination. It was a quiet night other than that, with only the faint sound of music drifting down the long dock. In the distance Noah could see lights from another yacht, one that was more than likely hosting some sort of party, or whatever it was rich pricks did to show off their wealth. This party was also of no concern to him. Maybe it would assist in their cover in the long run. 

With his hand clutching his gun, Noah’s sights remained set on your father’s yacht. His anticipation was rising the closer he got to the boat because that meant he was closer to retrieving you, so he had to take deep breaths to keep his heart rate at a normal level. He needed to leave his adrenaline for when the inevitable fight would begin. 

Circling around to the back of the yacht, he remained on the edge of the dock with Jackson right behind him. They would separate once on the boat. He lifted a hand to signal to Jackson to halt so he could listen for any sounds of people around. When he figured it was clear, Noah carefully stepped onto the rear of the yacht, and headed for the narrow staircase to take him to the main level. 

Dim lights were on, but that was the least of Noah's concerns. He was more focused on the pool of blood on the white carpet in the living room area. His jaw tensed but he quickly averted his gaze back up to what was in front of him. He couldn't dwell on the possibility of that being your blood. He needed to focus on the mission and worry about your potential injuries later. 

“Take the right stairs and go up,” he commanded of Jackson. “I’m going to go down and find her.” 

Jackson gave a swift nod and then disappeared to the right side of the yacht, his position crouched, gun extended out in front of him at the ready. Only when he could no longer see him did Noah continue his way to the left, down the long hallway-like cut that would bring him to the stairs to head down. Just as Nicholas had explained. 

He had just turned towards the top of the staircase when a voice sounded through. It was a faint murmur, but it was getting louder as if they were climbing the stairs. Noah pivoted to the side and pressed himself flat against the wall. As soon as the man was in view, Noah jutted his elbow out, the collision impacting the man’s nose and sending a rush of blood out immediately. He didn't give the man time to figure out what was happening, though. Noah had tucked his gun away and had the man in a headlock before he could even call out for help. He tightly squeezed around the man's neck, cutting off all air flow. The man slapped against his forearm, but every hit became less impactful until he fell still in his arms. 

Killing didn't used to come naturally to him; his first time taking a life still haunted him periodically. But when he was trying to protect someone he cared about, he would take on the task without a second thought. 

After slowly lowering the man to the floor to prevent any sounds from calling attention to himself, Noah continued his trek down to the underbelly of the yacht. This would need to be faster than planned because he didn't want to risk anyone stumbling across the dead body above. His heart was pounding within his chest, his eyes frantically searching for the door Nicholas had described. He said it wouldn't be locked because you were handcuffed to the bed and there was no threat of you escaping. Idiots. They should always lock the door from the outside when holding someone captive. Thankfully their stupidity would benefit him. 

READER POV 

If this told you anything, it was that you'd never last in prison. Solitary confinement? What a joke. You'd be ripping your hair out before the door was even locked. You didn't mind being alone when it was in a comfortable space such as your apartment or even Noah’s, but you were the exact opposite of comfortable right then. You were terrified. Annoyed. Confused. In pain. You had tried prying your hands free from the cuffs again after seeing Nicholas and obviously that hadn't worked out in your favor since you were still trapped. 

Dried blood now stained your wrists, the wounds you had created throbbing and stinging with every move you made. So, you tried to lay as still as you could. Your senses were already beginning to dull from all the other pain you felt within your body. Your shoulders, hips, face. Your fucking dignity. How weak did you have to be to not even be able to take a couple of days of being trapped? 

Sleep came and went, or maybe you were passing out from lack of water and food, but you were trying your best to stay alert. The last time you let it overtake you, you had woken up to one of Dante’s henchmen stroking your face and ogling your chest like a starved man. That was just great. Now you couldn't even go to sleep to pass the time because there was no telling what these Neanderthal-like creatures would do to you. 

“He's not coming,” you whispered to yourself. Your eyes squeezed shut and you angled your head to bury it into the single pillow you had been given. There was a tingle in your throat as you tried to hold back your tears, your jaw clenched tight enough to cause an ache in the muscle. “No one's coming.” 

Fuck. You needed to snap out of it. This wasn't you. You weren't the type to wallow in your pain and give up. You were better than that. Stronger. You may have been broken in the past by these men, but you sure as shit weren't going to let it happen again. 

Taking in a deep breath, you winced as you sat up the best you could, your arms slowly shifting to a downwards angle to help ease your tight shoulders into the position. Okay, problem number one: you needed to get the handcuffs off. But how? The bed frame wasn't the newest but it wasn't like this was some rundown boat. It was still in good condition, no weak spots, so you wouldn't be able to break it without enough leverage. And that wasn't something you were going to get in this position. 

Honestly, you had even contemplated somehow breaking your hands so you could squeeze them through the wrist openings, but that plan was quickly shot to hell. Not only would you need your hands to further escape, but you also didn't have the means to break your hands like this. Or the guts. 

Unfortunately, your brainstorming could only go so far because it was interrupted by the door abruptly swinging open. It crashed against the wall, the sudden sound causing you to jump and turn, eyes wide. Two bodies tangled together, grunting, throwing punches and desperately trying to pull free a weapon. It took you a moment to comprehend what was happening, but once you did, there was a flutter in your chest and a grin spread across your lips. 

Noah. 

He had actually come for you. He was fighting Hawk, though. This couldn't be good. Not when he had a good eighty pounds on Noah, if not more. You yanked at your restraints in another vain attempt at freeing yourself. There was no way you were going to let Hawk take Noah down right in front of you. Fuck that. 

Noah slammed Hawk to the floor as the thought crossed your mind, his fist connecting with his nose hard enough to send blood flowing from it. The bone made a deafening crunch sound that was vulgar enough to even make you wince. Hawk’s eyes drooped as he struggled with Noah, trying his best to land hits of his own but Noah somehow managed to block every single one. He was fast and smart, easily anticipating every move Hawk was about to make. 

Wild eyes glanced your way before dropping to the pillow bunched at your side. “Toss me that,” he breathlessly requested, nodding to the pillow. 

You shook your hands to show that you weren't able to really do that, but you then groaned and shifted around uncomfortably until you could kick the pillow just enough to send it falling to the floor within Noah’s reach. He immediately grabbed it with one hand, the other retrieving his gun before he simultaneously layered the two on Hawk’s face. Pillow first, his fist pressing down into it, then he fired the gun straight into the fluff to muffle the sound. It was still loud enough to make you yelp with shock because everything was happening so fast and you hadn't really registered what the hell was going on. 

But…at least Hawk had grown completely still. 

Your eyes were still wide, breathing heavy as you stared at the pool of blood growing beneath where Hawk remained. 

“You just…he’s…” you stammered over your words, heavily swallowing. Fuck, you were actually going to be sick this time. 

“Yeah,” Noah shrugged after pulling himself to his feet and rushing over to you. He didn't say anything else before he grabbed your jaw and pulled your face to his, your lips connecting in a forceful kiss. You ignored the sharp pain from your busted lip because just having Noah there made everything feel so much better. What pain? All you felt was warmth. 

The kiss didn't last long, but it was just enough to give you the taste of him you had been craving. Noah pulled back to gaze down at you, his eyes softening when he took in the bruises and cuts on your face. The look was fleeting, quickly covered with a blazing anger. 

“We need to get out of here,” he murmured. Noah released your face and glanced at the cuffs securing your wrists. He cursed under his breath in ever growing annoyance. 

“Do you know where the keys are?” 

“Um…” you tried to rack your brain and then slowly dropped your eyes to where Hawk’s body rested. “Try his pockets.” 

Noah didn't hesitate to step back over to Hawk’s lifeless body, immediately digging through his pockets. He was moving quickly as he emptied both front pockets with no luck. Then, he shoved Hawk over on his side like it was no big deal, just a dead body, so he could search his back pockets. 

“Got ‘em,” he breathed in relief. 

The moment your wrists were free, you threw your arms around Noah and practically jumped into his body. His own arms circled around you, holding you as close as possible. Burying your face into the crook of his neck, you fought back your tears the best you could. You were just so damn happy to see him. It was impossible to even put it into words. 

How he had become so important to you in such a short time, you would never know. 

Noah's hands tightly clasped your lower back, then secured at your hips before running up your back, like he just had to touch you wherever he could. You could feel his fingers trembling and while you weren't entirely sure why, something told you it was the anger he was experiencing. Not because of you, but for you. 

“I'm okay,” you repeated into his neck again and again, reassuring him as much as you could of the statement. “It'll take more than a few cuts and bruises to keep me down.” 

“I'm so fucking sorry,” Noah breathed into your hair just before planting a kiss to the top of your head. 

You shook your head, refusing to let his apologies settle. “Let's just get out of here, okay? We need to go before my dad shows up.” 

There was a depth to Noah's eyes as he blinked at you then gave a shake of his own head. You could tell there was something he wanted to say, but for whatever reason he was holding back. You weren't sure if it was something you needed to question right then, not when survival should've been your top priority. 

“We can talk about it later but you should know now that it's not your da–”

Noah was cut off by a body filling the doorway, a gun pointed in your direction. You jumped and immediately backed into Noah who grabbed your waist, your breath catching in your throat. Even Noah was tense against you, until you both settled upon realizing it was Jackson standing there. He released a sigh of relief, though you were very aware of the blood that coated his black jacket and stained his jeans. Shit. 

“How many?” Noah asked as he began to take inventory of his ammo. He casually passed a knife your way without a word, your fingers shaking as they secured around the hilt. 

“Two,” Jackson responded between his labored breathing. 

Noah gave a single nod. “Same. That means there's hopefully only one more wandering around.” 

Their voices sounded miles away because you were staring down at the knife, silently wondering to yourself if you'd be able to kill someone if it came down to it. Just because you had previously stabbed Hawk in the leg didn't mean you had the guts to bury the blade somewhere more lethal. 

“We should work on getting off the yacht instead of searching for him,” Noah continued, to which Jackson gave a nod of agreement. “Let him live to send that asshole our warning.” 

Hands were then smoothing over your shoulders, fingers digging into the sore muscles hard enough that you nearly moaned from the sensation. Noah’s body crowded your own, his hands slowly working their way up your neck until he was cradling your jaw again. His touch was soft, much softer than it had ever been. 

“Are you okay?” 

You took in a deep breath and slowly exhaled, shrugging simultaneously. “Ask me that once we're somewhere safe.” That wasn't necessarily an easy question to answer. Physically? Yes, you were fine, just sore. Mentally? Eh…

Noah mimicked your deep breath with one of his own, the worry evident in his eyes. You were thankful that he opted not to press the topic for now. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed your forehead, the scent of him encompassing you. 

“You're to stay between me and Jackson, okay? Move quickly but quietly. Once we're off the yacht, I want you to bolt east. You'll see my car. Don't look back, just run. Can you do that for me?” 

“You think I know which way east is?” 

Noah tried to fight his smile but it peeked through enough to cause a smile of your own to form. He shook his head as he ran a hand over your hair, lightly brushing the messy strands back behind your ear. 

“You never fail to amaze me,” he teased, and you both softly chuckled. 

Jackson bounced impatiently in the doorway. “We gotta go.” 

With a final look Noah guided you forward with a gentle press to your lower back. Jackson took the lead, his stance something from an action movie. You were impressed but you also felt very under prepared. Maybe even a little useless. What the fuck were you supposed to do if something happened? Get all stabby? You tried to ignore the 'brought a knife to a gunfight’ line that was hindering your thoughts. You kept telling yourself that you'd be fine. Jackson was obviously heavily trained and Noah wouldn't let anything happen to you. Unfortunately, you were more concerned about something happening to them. 

“Breathe,” Noah whispered from behind you, leading you to realize that you had been holding your breath as the three of you took to the stairs. “Can't have you passing out.” 

Jackson paused at the top of the steps, a hand held back to signal for you to stop as well. He looked back and forth before motioning for you to continue, so you did. One foot in front of the other. The knife held close at your side, ready to defend yourself. 

Thankfully you made it through the yacht without incident, though there was something eerie about the silence. It didn't feel right. You felt as if you were being watched, and not just by Noah behind you. Was it really this easy? You refused to believe it because things were never this easy for you. Not when it came to your father. 

A shock rippled through you as you jumped from the yacht and onto the dock. Noah had told you to run but you couldn't seem to get your legs to obey. It felt wrong to leave them behind. That's not how you wanted to be remembered–as someone who ran. You kept a brisk pace, Noah still trailing close behind. Just as you were about to glance back at him, a shot rang through the silence, followed by a sudden groan of pain. 

No! 

Noah bumped into you, nearly sending both of you toppling to the damp dock. Your first instinct was to immediately turn and reach for him, and what you saw was a pained expression written all over his features. He was grabbing at his side with one hand as the other aimed his gun upwards, a few rounds firing out towards the yacht. You were too focused on helping him stand, along with the help of Jackson, to even think about looking up to see who remained. 

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Jackson took most of Noah’s weight that he couldn’t support himself, but what was given to you was far more than what your overly exhausted and dehydrated body could properly manage. You winced from the heaviness draped over your shoulders, though you refused to give up. If it had been you, Noah would've slung you over his shoulder and carried you to safety without a thought. You could at least manage to be his crutch. 

“How far is the car?!” You whisper-yelled at Jackson. More shots sounded around you but none must've hit, thank fucking god. 

“It's not far. You're going to get into the back and stop the bleeding. I'll get us out of here. Okay?” 

The bleeding. 

You glanced down to see your own shirt stained from where Noah’s injured side was pressed against you. Your eyes widen with fear, a sob threatening to break free. No, no, no. You couldn't lose him. You refused to. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. Noah didn't deserve this. None of the people helping you did. 

“He’s going to be okay,” Jackson continued when he caught sight of your face and the tears welling in your eyes. 

“I've had worse,” Noah then groaned between a sharp gasp, his brows knitting together. 

Once the three of you had finally made it to the car, Jackson helped you haul Noah into the back, where you also took up space. Then, he was off, flooring it through the marina to get you all to safety. 

“I don't know what I'm supposed to do!” You loudly announced as Noah began helping you lift his shirt. There in his right side was a bullet hole weeping blood, the crimson staining your hands from your attempts to press against it to halt the bleeding. 

“Just find something to help stop the bleeding,” Jackson exclaimed in a tone that was far too calm for this situation. Fuck, he was good under pressure. Not something you could say about yourself. 

Doing a quick glance around, you didn't see anything of use. Noah's car was insanely clean, unlike how yours used to be filled with clothes and forgotten water bottles. Your eyes fell to your shirt and it was suddenly ripped off your body, the fabric pressed firm to Noah’s injury. 

“I need you to tell me if there's an exit wound.”

“What?” You had no idea what Jackson had just said. The sound of your own blood was rushing through your ears, fingers sticky with blood still trembling while pushing the fabric of your shirt firm into Noah’s wound. He was pale, his eyelashes fluttering across the top of his cheeks when he didn't even have enough strength to keep his eyes open anymore. 

“An exit wound!” Jackson repeated louder, needing to be heard over your near hyperventilating-level panting. “Did the bullet come out?” 

Your eyes frantically searched Noah’s body and you shrugged, the question being too much with everything else overworking your brain. “I don't know! Fuck! I don't think so.” 

Jackson didn't say anything else, but you did believe you felt the car lurch forward slightly to indicate him pressing harder onto the accelerator. 

“Where are we going?” You questioned through your sniffles and tears that you hadn't even realized had started falling. 

Jackson took in a deep breath before he responded. “Nocturnal.” 

“He needs a hospital!” 

Why the fuck would you guys need to go to the club? You knew going to the hospital with a gunshot wound wasn't the most ideal, but you were willing to risk everything to make sure Noah made it through this. Police interrogation be damned. 

“Everything he can get at a hospital, he can also get at Nocturnal. Trust me.”

Well, it wasn't like you had much of a choice.

▷ tag list

@bloody-spades

@simpforromance

@koffemilk

@traffordonna

@oobleoob

@mentallyillbartender

@respectfulrebel

@lilsugacubeot7

@missduffsblog

@lacy1986

@aprosiacperson

@mayaslifeinabox

@dravenskye

@blvckmvgicwoman

@badomensls

@trvshdxddy

@concreteangel92

@moostress19

@happyclifford

@lolidontknowanymore

@shaydayhere

@flowery-mess

@wheels1193

@thelavenderdaisy

@palesworrdsman

@bruce9818

@bridemassacre

@lonelydragonlady

@jaded-and-hollow-souls

@geminigirlfromfinland

@cheyyyyr

@guacinyourarea

@latenightmusiclover

@acatatonicpeace

[ziminy]

Deep in the water

Where mermaid gojo falls for a human

Tags: smut, ageless blogs do not interact, dark themed (kinda) , f!reader, merman!Gojo, handjob, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, creampie, nipple sucking, lots of kisses, inexperienced Gojo (he learns real fast), obsession (a bit too much if you ask me), size difference, marking, biting,

Author's note: I've been thinking about merman Gojo for months, I swear he fits the description perfectly.

Masterlist kinktober masterlist

After months of saving money, you finally got on a ship, ready to see the other side of the world. You couldn't help but feel excited.

The sea breeze, the big shiny sun on the sky, the port full of people. Everything looked so lively, it made you smile.

Your day so far was going smoothly, and you had a feeling that so will be this trip.

Sure, it was all good at the start. Leaving the port, the people cheering in the background as you were getting further and further from the land.

Everyone on the ship was so nice, you even managed to make a few a acquaintances.

You also saw some dolphins, and something that seemed like a really big fish, but you can't really say what kind since it was in the water and you couldn't really see it.

So, the first day was like a dream. But it was the next one that made you feel uneasy.

Since you woke up you felt a pair of eyes on you. You tried to play it off at first, there were a lot of people in there, so it wasn't surprising you felt that way. But it made you feel a little bit paranoid and you couldn't enjoy your time just the way you did yesterday.

And it didn't helped the fact that it started raining.

It was just a few drops at first, not a big deal, it would go away. Or so you thought. Because the weather got worse and soon the rain became a storm.

It didn't helped the fact that it was night, and people were panicking left and right.

Why did you decided to leave the land? How could you be so stupid. Gosh, what will you even do now.

"We're sinking!" someone yelled, making people scream.

Sinking? How? Wasn't a boat made to stay on water? Was it not waterproof? Or were you hit? But by what?

"We're going to die!" someone else screamed. Making people panicking even more.

Children crying left and right, people pushing one another to get to some smaller boats, hoping to get away.

"Women and children first!" someone said, trying to control the crowd somehow.

It was in order at first, people getting on boats in a calm manner.

"We're running out of boats." someone yelled, making the crowd go crazy. Everybody pushing each other left and right.

When did all of this started? You can't help but feel disappointed with yourself. Did you really had to get on a boat? Why did you wanted to see what's on the other side of the sea so bad?

Without even realizing, you were knocked down by rushing people. The last thing you remember was the comfortable silence of the night, after the storm stopped. The sea sounding just like the previous day now, calm, and looking like the event from earlier didn't even happened.

You sighed, finally founding peace, knowing that at least you're going to die stress free.

You close your eyes, inhaling, take a deep breath of the salty scent. You open your eyes to look at the stars for one more time, and when you were about to close them again, a figure appeared before you. A half naked man, white hair and a big grin on his face.

You sighed again, annoyed that you can't even pass away in peace. All you did was to shake your head before you lost your consciousness.

That stranger didn't let you go just yet, his wet cold hands on you, dragging you to him. His face getting closer to yours, he looked at you for a moment before his lips were wrapped around yours, kissing you in hope that it would do something.

You see, he was passing by the port when he saw this ship leaving, going in the same direction he came from.

He was curious, that was the first time this close to the land after all. He had questions and he wanted to know the answers. So, he followed it quietly.

He saw lots of interesting things, the way human socialize, how some tend to hang with people that looks similar to them. Or their relationships with others. Smaller humans tend to stay close to very few people, always sticking to the side of the same person.

He found it interesting.

And when the night came he was even more excited of how things were.

Singing, dancing, everybody laughing and looking like they're having fun. He wants to experience that too.

Imagine his surprise seeing everything changing in a blink of an eyes. The laughter being changed to screams full of fear as everybody were trying to get away as far as possible from the big boat. Some even threw doors or whatever wood platforms they could find.

Not everybody could escape, some throwing themselves in the water, drowning, choosing to freeze to death or sink to the bottom of the ocean that accept their fate.

But when the waters calmed, there was a human who was a lot calmer than the rest who sat on a wooden plank.

So, he decided to approach it. Cautiously swimming towards it, trying his best to not make a sound.

He sat next to it in the the water, looking at it. You didn't said a thing to him, you looked as calm as a few moments ago.

You were different, he had this feeling inside of him that told him that. So, he decided to make his presence felt. He got on the wood surface, looking down at you who was laying down and looking at the sky.

You still didn't said a thing, in fact, you looked annoyed.

Did he came at a bad time? But he really wanted to get to know you.

His heart sink when he saw you closing your eyes, somehow losing the warmth your body had a few moments ago.

But he liked your body. You had this thing that he didn't had, you were hot unlike his cold body. He wanted to know how it was to be this warm.

He had no other choice but to save you, so, he kissed you. Later on dragging you deep in the water, to a place where the normal human being couldn't reach. A cave somewhere far away from the surface, a place where it was dry and full of air for you to breathe.

He had no idea he'll have to do this, so, you'll have no other choice but to lay on the cold stone for the moment. That until he makes this place more comfortable for you.

While you were sleeping, he got everything he could think of, some algae for you to sleep on, some fish for you to eat, and some pretty shiny rocks as a gift. The fish likes it, so you might like it too.

But when you woke up, instead of the calm person he saw before, you were panicked too. Looking at him terrified and trying to get away.

"Wh- where am I?" you said, almost forgetting how to speak.

"I bought you from the ship." he said, half of his body in water, hiding his tail.

"What happened to it?" you said, trying to regain your memories.

"It sinked." he said shortly, but that was more than enough to finally remember what happened. You were calm again, but it didn't lasted for long.

"Where are we?"

"In a cave." obviously, you're not blind. You sighed, trying to think rationally.

"But where exactly?"

"Underwater, not far from the ship." so still in the middle of the ocean. Couldn't he said that from the start.

"How is the weather outside?" that question made him gulp, unsure of how to reply yo you. "Did the storm stopped?"

"No." he lied, trying to keep you in there for a little bit longer.

"I see." you looked at your surroundings and then at him. He was pretty for a guy, like, he was beautiful rather than handsome. That if you only look at his face, because if you lower your gaze to his body, he was very muscular. Broad shoulders, a defined chest, and look at his arms. "Aren't you cold?" you said, finally realizing that he's half naked, and that your clothes are wet.

"Not really?" he never felt cold before, so he haves no idea how that is.

"I had a luggage with me, around this big, it was a dark brown. Did you see it by any chance?" you asked, wanting to change into something that's not wet, but if your thinking about it, there's no way that bag didn't got in the water.

"I'll look for it." he said and got under water, swimming away from there.

There was a big hole the ground , and it had water coming from it. How did it not flood the place, you had no idea, but at least you're safe.

You looked at the place you woke up from, a pile of big green slimy vines, no wander you were feeling weird when you woke up. And next to you was some raw fish. It was too late to throw it in the water and save it, so you have no idea what to do with it.

A lot of time passed by, and that guy didn't came back. Guess you're left all alone there to starve to death.

But when you lost all your hope, he appeared out of nowhere. "I found these." he said and dropped some suitcases on the ground. "There's more." he said and disappeared again.

None of those bags were yours, but there was no harm in looking in them since no one is around. So, you opened one by one and inspect everything that was inside.

So much gold and jewelry, you would make so much money if you sold that. Maybe this trip wasn't that disappointing after all.

"I'm back." he said and left more luggage on the ground.

"None of these are mine." you said after looking at new bags that he brought.

"I'll go look for it again." he said and disappeared again.

It wasn't his fault if he didn't found it. The fact that he got all of these was impressive. So you didn't blamed him for anything since it wasn't his fault to behind with.

But he came back, this time with three more luggages and one of those were yours. And unlike the others, those look completely dried, like they weren't even in water.

You opened all three of them, looking at what the other two contain and trying to decide what you'll keep and what you'll throw away.

"Did I found the right one?" he said, resting his elbows on the rock surface, only having his upper body out the water.

"Mm." you hummed, taking a pearl necklace out of a luggage, you looked in awe at it. Should you sell it or should you keep it? It looks pretty but the money you can make off it.

"You like it?" he asked, being more interested in you than the necklace.

"It looks pretty." that's all he needed to hear before he disappeared again. Coming back much later with a handful of pearls. "Where did you found these?" you said, not believe your eyes.

"I had them." he was so happy with the fact that you liked his gifts.

"You must really like pearls." you said, looking at them and then handing it back to him.

"Not at all." he said, giving them back to you.

"But you have so many." you said, pushing them towards him.

"I find them all the time." this back and forth game was getting on your nerves.

"They're yours, so why are you giving them to me?" he could make some good money with them.

"Because you like them." you blinked a few times. Is he stupid or what? "Take them. Do whatever you want with them." sell them and make a profit. However, you felt too guilty to do that since it was a gift.

"Do you have a box to put them into?" with a big smile on his face, he gets underwater once again, coming back later with a jar.

That could work too, you thought as you put the pearls in it.

The silence was broke by your grumbling stomach, letting everyone know you were hungry. You bite your lip, embarrassed of the situation.

"Is there anything to eat?" he pointed at the fish laying on the ground. "It's raw." he looked confused at you. "You can't eat raw fish." well, he definitely can, but if you can't no worries. He'll get it done for you.

So, he ran to the only person he knew that had a fire. An octopus that a lot of people tend to avoid because of his shady nature.

"Suguru." the white haired merman said when he got into the other fish lair. "Cook this for me." he said, handing the fish to the octopus.

"Why?" the black haired merman said, looking uninterested in what the other man was planning to do.

"You're the only one with a fire underwater." and he haves it for a reason.

"What kind of games are you playing now?" the octopus sighed. "You know what, I don't even want to know. Just give me the fish." he said, grabbing the fish and looking around for something.

"I have a guest." the white haired merman said, following the other, happy to talk about his life.

"And they asked such an odd request?" the white haired merman hummed in response. "What a weirdo."

"She's a human." she? A human? The octopus already seemed annoyed.

"Then she probably haves food on her ship."

"She's underwater."

"A human that can breath underwater? Never seen that before. She probably made a contract with somebody." the octopus was looking for something to talk shit about, not wanting to have anything to do with someone that's not from the ocean.

"She's in that cave, the one that's dry on the inside." he remembers that one. The octopus managed to obtain it by making a contract with a big fish. "Her ship was destroyed by a storm." not his problem.

"Don't you know how humans are? She'll hunt you down the moment she gets the chance." well, the merman doesn't agree with the octopus.

"She's not like the others I've seen before." the black haired man raised an eyebrow, not believing a word that dumbass was saying. "She's calm, she doesn't seem to be afraid of me."

"Anybody can put an act on."

"Her body is warm." it was like he wasn't even listening. "And she smells nice."

"It might be poisonous." the octopus shrugged.

"Just cook that so I can go back. She's waiting for me." the merman didn't looked like he cared what the other man was saying.

"Whatever." the dark haired merman said, rolling his eyes and getting ready to cook the fish. "Here." he said after some time, making Gojo to run from there the moment he got the chance.

"I'm back." the white haired man said when he got back at the cave. "I got food." you walked towards him, lowering yourself to pick the food from his hands.

Your eyes couldn't help but move on the water, it looked like a deep hole, how does he manage to swim in there? "Thank you." you said after a while, trying to brush off that unsettling feeling.

You sat down somewhere further away from the water, too afraid of falling in there.

You ate quietly, taking small bites of the unseasoned food. It was tasteless, who ever cooked that had no skills. But it was better than nothing, surviving was your main goal after all.

Your gaze kept moving from your food to the entrance of the cave, still having questions about how you got there, but not daring to say a word.

"How's the food?" the merman asked, all a smile as he looked at the way you chewed your food.

"It's alright." you can't really complain when you knew your circumstances.

It went quiet after that, no one dared to say a word. You couldn't speak with your mouth full and he didn't said a thing because he enjoyed watching you.

"I never asked for your name." you said after a while, wanting to thank this stranger for helping you.

"Gojo Satoru." he said, his voice making something tingle in your head. Every time he opened his mouth you felt like that.

"I'm Y/N." he kept repeating your name in his head over and over again, too mesmerized by it. "Thank you for saving me. I have no idea what I would have done without you." you should be more careful with your words, really, because his eyes started twitching, his pupils becoming bigger, like a predator who was about to jump on his prey. You made his mouth dry, and he didn't know what to do. There was this urge inside of him to bite you, pin you down and show you his way of doing things. But if you wanted to show him how humans does it, he won't say no.

Before you say anything more unimportant, he wants you to see the real him. Would you still be greatful if you knew what he was?

"Have you ever heard of underwater people?" he asked, his questions completely out of subject.

"Like mermaids?" he nodded. "I've heard stories about them."

"Have you seen one in real life?" you shook your head. "What do you think they look like?"

"I heard they're really beautiful." was he beautiful then? "And they have a really good voice." he doesn't know what to say about that, he knows too many annoying mermaids to say that he agrees with you. "I heard that you can die if you hear them sing."

"They're voice can hypnotize people, it doesn't kill." he corrected you.

"Well, I'm not really an expert. So I don't know." guess you're right, he shouldn't jump to conclusions just yet.

"How do you feel about them? Do you want to meet one?" what's with all these weird questions? Was he planning on scamming you? You can't help but feel suspicious.

"I mean, if I get the chance. I doubt I'll ever meet one tho." he can't help but laugh at your words. If you only knew.

"Are you scared of them?"

"A creature so beautiful that can hypnotize you? Who wouldn't?" he bite his lip, already knowing that he screw up. "But that's their beauty." he looked at you, hoping that you'll say more. "It's normal to feel scared of what you don't know." his eyes were full of fireworks. So, in conclusion, if he does reveal himself to you, you'd be afraid but it was normal.

It's normal to be afraid of the unknown, he kept repeating those words in his head.

He placed his palms on the ground, helping himself to get his body out of water. Now sitting at the edge of the cave entrance, his white tail on display for you to see.

You looked terrified at first, then shocked, and then you looked confused. Your eyes kept moving from his face to his body, his tail, and any other details that he haves that would give him away that he's not human.

"What are you?" your expression didn't showed any signs of happiness, and your voice full of anxiety, concerned for what happened to him.

In response, he moved his tail up and down, making your eyes move with it.

"Are you sacred of me?" he said while moving half of his tail back in the water, hiding it from your eyes.

"Why did you bring me here?" you ignored his question, trying to find an answer for your situation first. You have to know his motives before you can respond to him.

"You were dying."

"Would you still have helped if it was someone else in my situation?" he nodded, making you sigh. "Then I trust you. As long as you don't plan on harming me I don't see a reason to be scared of you." his heart was beating so fast, he was so scared for a moment.

"I can become a human if you want!" he said, wanting nothing more than you to feel at ease.

"You can do that?" what if you met a mermaid before and you had no idea?

"Yes, I can!" he sounded so enthusiastic to show you that he can look just like you. "Wait here." he jumped in the water, going to the only person who could make his wishes come true. "Suguru, Suguru."

"Why are you here again?" the octopus sounded annoyed.

"Make me a human." the black haired man looked like he saw a ghost.

"What? A what?"

"I want legs."

"For what?"

"I promised her that I can transform into a human." what a foolish man. "Give me legs for a day."

"It would cost you."

"You're really going to ask me to pay you? Me? Your friend?" the octopus rolled his eyes.

"You'll have to get something from her, and it haves to be personal."

"Like what?"

"Figure it out." guess the merman haves no choice but to ask you for something. Maybe he can ask for a pearl since you liked them so much?

"I'm back." he said, hopping out the water. You nodded, looking at him and then at his tail. You can't get used to this.

He got a contract in his hands, looking at it for a moment and then at you. "What's that?" you asked, looking at the golden paper.

"I'll become a human with this." he said and sign it, his body started glowing and soon all the features that made him look different from you disappeared. He even had legs legs now.

You looked at him in shock, it was that easy to become human?

You kept studying him. How can he look like this? How did everything disappeared so easily, so fast?

He tried to get up on his feet, but almost lost his balance, that made you to jump up and catch him, a hand wrapped around his arm to keep him in place. "I never had legs before." no wander he was so wobbly.

His tail made him look big, but now that he's standing next to you he's even taller than you thought he'd be.

You looked up at his face, then lower and lower, trying to see what else changed on his body. And oh god, what did you just see. You had no idea mermaids had dicks, and he was bigger than anything you saw before.

You didn't mean to stare, truly, you also didn't mean to have your mouth open, your jaw almost touching the floor. Damn, this took you by surprise.

"Do you have any clothes?" he shook his head. He had no idea what even was that.

Guess you'll have to try and ignore it. And man, it was hard. It made you feel guilty, he probably had no idea what public decency even means. Try to think of something else, shift the conversation to something that doesn't have to do with his body.

"Can you breathe underwater?" you don't even know why you asked that, it was pretty obviously. But you can't think of anything better.

"Yes." he said, walking closer to the water. "You can do it too." so there was a secret breathing technique for breathing underwater? When your going home you can sell this and make big money.

"How?" you sounded so enthusiastic, he can't help but laugh.

"I'll show you." he got his face closer to yours, closing his eyes and leaning in. It made you jolt from there, letting go of his hand and jump a few steps back. He looked surprised at you.

"What are you doing?" you asked, your heart beating way too fast. Both of you looked so surprised at each other's actions.

"Don't you want to breathe underwater?"

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean we have to kiss."

"How else will you do it if not this way?" he didn't understand your reaction. "We already did it when I found you on the surface. That's why you can understand what I'm saying." he said, all nonchalant like it was a normal thing.

"Huh?"

"If you kiss me again you'll be able to breathe underwater, maybe even swim faster too." should you believe his words? I mean, he didn't looked like he was lying. Perhaps the fact that he wasn't human made you doubt his words, but you would have been skeptical either way, so.

Should you trust him? He helped you all day without asking for anything in return, he looked so happy to fulfill any of your requests. And this made you feel guilty, the fact that he did nothing but good and you're still doubting him.

"Alright." you nodded, getting on your tip toes, your lips touching his for a moment before you take a step back. "Can I test it out now?" you took him by surprise, and he couldn't understand this feeling inside of him that made his body stop.

You looked at him, and that made the fire inside of him grow even bigger. Your big eyes, and soft lips, how you're so much smaller than him. He was feeling like when he's hunting for food, he knew that he could fool you just the way he wanted. And perhaps, it was in his nature to play with the food before devouring it.

"You'll have to wait until I get my tail back." can't he popped it out whenever he wants it? "Tomorrow I'll take you out."

"Then, where will you stay tonight?" if he can bearly stay on his feet, can he even swim?

"Here." it was so pathetic the way you believed him so easily. How you thought nothing about it when he said that he'll sleep next to you. You said nothing even when he wrapped his hands around you, trapping you in place with no way of getting away from him.

It was a few hours after the sun went down when you woke up. You sat up, looking around and trying to remember where you were. Ah, how could you forget that you were stuck in the middle of the ocean.

"What are you doing?" he opened his eyes, looking at you, his voice a little deeper than usually.

"Nothing." you said shifting a little around and trying to get in a better position to sleep.

"Mm." he groaned at the way you kept moving around, the way your body was right into his, the friction was a little too good.

You looked down at him, your eyes moving lower on their own, trailing down his glowing skin until you got see his hard happy little friend.

You didn't mean to gasp, truly, but you couldn't help it when his cock was hard against your leg, pulsating and moving it from time to time.

"What?" he was confused.

"Nothing." try to not pay attention. If he says nothing then so should you.

"What is it?" he wouldn't let it go. He wanted to know what made you react that way.

"No, no, it's nothing. I'll go back to sleep." you layed down, your head on his arm as your back faced him.

He dragged his body closer to yours, his hard cock right into you, making you jolt at the sensation.

"You wouldn't react like that for nothing." he looked at the back of your head, trying to understand what was going on in there.

You turn your head for a moment, looking at him with big pleading eyes before you could feel his dick twitch.

Was he not feeling that? Can he ignore it just like that? Was it because he's a merman? You had so many questions.

He wrapped his free hand around you, moving closer to you, a little sigh escaping from his mouth when he pressed his body against yours. He couldn't help when you felt this hot.

You bite your lip, trying not to look like a pervert. He was playing with your morality and it made you feel so guilty.

If he had nothing to complain about, why do you keep thinking about it.

Humans, huh? Always so dirty minded. Or perhaps the fact that mermaids reproduce different was the problem. And now you can't help but wander how it's for his kind.

Do they transform into their human form to make it happen? Or do they do it the fish way? Can he get pregnant? Can you get him pregnant? Oh god, how do you make that happen?

"You're so warm." he said in your ear, feeling the way your body heats up. His hand traveling on what little skin you have exposed, wanting to feel you better. But there was a place where it was warm even with your clothes on. "Especially here." his hand went in between your legs, trying to feel that hotness your body radiates.

Maybe both of your species were getting intimate the same way? No wander there were so many stories about men jumping off their ships to be with a mermaid. Now it wasn't surprising that you were feeling all horny for him, it was normal. His kind was known for being promiscuous.

You sat up, looking down at him who didn't dared to move an inch, his hand still in between your thighs.

"You win." why trying to fight the urges? He'll make you feel more miserable in the end.

"Hm?" have he done something to make you feel like this was a competition? He doesn't really get your words.

Perhaps he understood it after you moved his hands away, pushing him on his back and getting in between his legs. It didn't took a genius to understand what's going on.

He didn't tried to stop you. If that's what you wanted to do, then go ahead. He enjoyed how you felt on him.

Your hand wrapped around his dick, moving it up and down slowly. He couldn't help but let his head back, falling it on the ground because of this new feeling. Was this why you were so embarrassed before? Because you knew about the pleasure he could get from you?

Pretty moans filling the cave, his voice was hypnotizing, making you want to hear more. No wander you felt seduced from the first time you saw him.

Your hand movement went faster, making one of his hands go to your shoulder, nails sinking into your skin. You'll make a mess out of him before he'll do that to you.

You can torment him even more, and so you did, getting just the tip in your mouth, his cock being welcomed with your hot wet tongue. The moan he let out, lounder than any other.

He's going crazy, the way you suck him in, your mouth hotter than anything he felt before. He couldn't help but thrust his pelvis forward, meeting your mouth halfway through. His hands went to your head, grabbing a handful of your hair and shoving you downwards.

He could feel something deep inside of him, it made him desperate for it. If this is the end of him, he won't regret shit. In fact, he can't help but want to release that faster, even if sucks the soul out of him.

With a few more thrusts, he pushed his cock all the way inside your mouth, cumming down your throat.

He let go of your hair, falling on his back trying to catch his breath. He had no idea what was that but damn, he could do it again.

When he thought it was over, he moved his gaze on you who were taking off your clothes. His eyes fixed on you as you got yourself exposed for him.

You got on top of him, lowering yourself while holding his cock with one of your hands. So there is more to come. He wants to help you, is there anything he can do?

He looked at you, at the way you had your brows furrowed and eyes fixed on his lower half. You tried to get him inside of you, but it didn't seemed to fit. He could feel something even hotter from between your legs, touching the tip of his cock but no matter how hard you try to push him in, it didn't seemed to cooperate.

Do you plan on giving up? Was this the end of it? Skipping on what could be the hottest sex in your life with a merman because he was too big to fit inside? You bite your lip in frustration trying to think of something.

"Give me your hand." you said, sitting in front of him as you took one of his hands in yours

He gave you his hand so happily, trying to anticipate your next move.

What he didn't expect was your warm pussy, the source of that hot feeling from between your legs.

With his hand in yours, you moved it between your folds, spreading your wet juices around. So you could feel even better than your mouth? He doesn't think he can let go of you now.

Moving his hand away for a moment, you shoved two fingers inside of you, moving it in and out of you, making some quiet sounds that reached his ears right away. He wants to do that too, it looks too fun to let him out of it.

Getting your hand to the side, he placed his own back on your pussy, trying to get two of his fingers inside your wet hole.

It sucked him in so easily, and oh, it feels better than he anticipated. His eyes never leaving your pussy as he kept moving his hand. Faster and faster, he didn't spared you a single moment, too lost in how you felt around him.

"Not so hard." you sighed, a hand over his as you tried to guide him. You had this expression on your face that he couldn't understand it. You didn't looked in pain, you didn't looked happy or sad either. So what was it?

"How do you feel?" he wanted to understand you, your emotions and expressions. Everything that could be described as you, or yours.

"It's good." but it didn't looked that way. "Kiss me." but you could breathe underwater now?

A hand went behind his head, dragging him closer to you, smashing your lips against his. And the other went between your legs, on your clit, circling it.

He moved your hand away, pressing his palm against your clit and trying to follow your actions. Maybe he'll understand you better if he does the same things as you.

Oh boy, the way you were squeezing his fingers got him losing his mind.

He really can't get enough of you, and it wasn't surprising by how he was overstimulating you, keeping his hand moving even after you came. He was focusing on your moans, on how your body reacts and how he wants to sink into you even deeper.

"Satoru." you moaned his name so deliciously, now he gets why you wanted to kiss him. It was a way to devour each other, being able to keep going and feel the others presence for much more longer.

You placed your hand on his, moving it away from you as you pushed him back. Holding into his shoulders, you got back into his lap, finally being able to fit him in.

This got him holding his breath. Wrapping his arms around you, dragging you in his arms, having your chest pressed against his and waiting for you to sink your hips into his, to get more of him inside.

Just as much as it got his mind blank, it also woke up the predatory side of his, wanting to bite you, eat you alive and leave nothing out of you. He wanted nothing more but to have you as part of him, playing with you even after you become lifeless.

His head got closer to your shoulder, opening his mouth and biting into it, softly, just to see how you'll react. He doesn't dare to give into his instincts just yet, or at least not a lot.

He doesn't want to hold himself back, and he wants you to do the same. If you plan on hunting him down, do it. He can't wait to see who's the more powerful one between you two.

You moved yourself up and down, slowly, raising your hips and letting them down. You kept doing the same thing over and over again, your arms wrapped around him, to hold him close, just the way he was holding you.

He kept biting you, sucking on your skin and going with his hands lower on your body until he moved them on your ass.

He wanted to do something too, help you move with ease and show him more of this foreign feeling. And so he did, grabbing your butt and moving you up and down.

Your moans so sweet. He looked up at you between his eyes lashes like you were his last meal.

"Satoru, Satoru." you kept saying his name, it only made him bite you harder than before, making you moan even harder.

You were squeezing him again. Are you doing it intentionally? Because fuck, keep going.

Resting your head against his, you wrapped your hands around his neck, cumming on him and making him moan before he followed your lead, filling you up to the brim with his cum.

"You can stop your magic now." he was still inside of you, enjoying the warmth of your body. He was too much for you, you were still horny and you fear this might be taking the whole night.

"Hm?" he had no idea what you were talking about.

"You're so pretty." you looked right into his eyes, kissing his forehead and then his lips. "I don't know how much longer I can last, so stop playing with me." he moved his hands on your body before kissing your neck. You had a sweet scent and he's afraid you might attract others. All merfolks looked good, so he's afraid you might find someone else attractive and leave him.

"I'm not doing anything." he said, looking up at you, blue eyes just like the ocean following you. You moved your hips again, slow, taking a break every time you raised your hips.

"Lies." he shook his head. "I wanted to feel you from the moment I first saw you." human greed might be the same as his. Just the way you were craving for his body, so was him.

"I'm not doing anything, really." he said, moving his lips on your chest, getting one of your nipples inside his mouth and sucking on it slightly before biting it. You looked like you liked it, so he'll continue to do it. "But if it helps, I want you too." he said, moving his mouth on your shoulder before sinking his teeth in it.

What does he mean? Was he not doing magic on you? Why were you feeling like this then?

You moved your body away from his for a moment, making him look desperate at you. He wanted to leave more marks, his scent on you, to let everyone know about his presence.

"You're not doing anything?" he shook his head. So you're the one who started all this? It wasn't his pheromones? He didn't put you under a spell that made you crave for his body?

He looked at you, his hands moved on your hips, dragging you back on his cock and making you gasp when he hit that deep spot a bit too hard.

You were so confident a moment ago, and now you wanted to back down?

"You can pretend that I am, if it makes you feel better." he said, moving his hips into you. "I won't do a thing." not unless you make him to.

He'd happily make you dumb for him, but it was so much fun when you were the one starting everything. He won't experience this if he plays with your mind. But there are other ways to make you want him. Just the way small fish stick together to their own kind, he'll make you feel like everything was danger besides him, he'll make you run from everything unfamiliar.

"No, it's-" your protest won't work on him.

"If that's what you want to believe then go ahead." he dragged you back into his arms, your chest pressed against his as he moved his dick inside your warm hole.

You shouldn't have made a move without consulting him first. Now look at this, you're stuck with him. What if he doesn't want to help you go back home anymore? If he even had the intention to do that.

"Then, are you alright with this?" he laughed, making your heart skip a beat.

"Why wouldn't I?" with his hands still on you, he guided you up and down his cock, showing you what he learned so far. He'll mimic your moves, whatever you're doing he's doing.

He loves the human way, it felt much more intimate. Your body right into his, heck, he's even inside you somehow. This was better than what he had in mind, like, so much better that it managed to calm his carnal desire. He wanted to chop you into pieces, he wanted to be under your skin in a way or another. Or even better, if you did that to him he wouldn't complain. But now he can have you next to him, touch you, feel you, and be inside places he never thought of.

You were so warm, he can't get enough of it. On the outside, your skin was burning, and it made him stick more to you, push his body into yours to try to feel you better. And on the inside? He was melting. He never felt something this hot before.

Somehow, this made him want to see how much further he can get inside of you, how much of himself he can push in? He didn't mean to go too far with this, he really didn't, but he realized his mistake only after you feel on your back, off him.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his senses getting back to him a little. He still can't believe he lost control of himself for a moment.

"Yeah." you said, looking up at him.

"Let me help you get up." you shook your head.

"Come here. We can do it this way." you could do it in other positions? Now he wanted to test his creativity.

He looked down at your body, observing it from a different angle.

He got closer to you, trapping you between him and the ground. He positioned himself on top of you, getting inside your pussy, slowly. He haven't even been out of you for long and yet he's acting like he haven't touched you in years.

He's surprised how much easier he can move now, it gave him much more control over you. You can't move without his approval, and he can't help but feel exited.

He was nothing but a whore, getting pussy drunk from this little. He was about to forget his own name, and he would happily do that if he could be inside you forever.

"I love you." or more like, he loves your body. But his confession went to deaf ears, you acted like you didn't heard him. "Y/N." you chose to ignore him. "I love your body." he looked right into your eyes, and honestly, you can feel whatever witchcraft he's doing. His magic worked on you, and you're afraid to admit you don't have much willpower to object.

A hand placed next to your head, while the other went to your hips, dragging your body up so he could move more freely, to get even deeper than he already is.

He was smart, and as much as you don't want to think about it, you might not be able to fool him. He had a brain and he was using it, he was working way to fast, understanding you and how your body works.

He could smell the fear off you, and it was much more sweeter than your pleasure. It made his mouth water, it made his pupils bigger, his eyes fixed on you like was about to eat you. Kill you and store you somewhere even deeper than a underwater cave.

"Touch yourself." you looked surprised at him. He knew how to talk like that? Since when? "Right here, where you did it last time." he was talking about your clit. "You looked like you were enjoying it, so do it. Touch yourself until you can't do it anymore." he had no shame, or perhaps he didn't even knew what that even means.

You gulped, a hand traveling between your legs, doing circles on your clit and waiting for him to say something else. But he had nothing more to say, you knew your body the best. He wanted to know more too, fuck, he'd go and do another contract just to be able to know you better than you knew yourself. He'd sign a hundred more contracts to be able to read your mind.

"Tell me where you like it." he said, wanting to see you break. There had to be a limit to this please, and he wants to see you crumble. "And how." he sounded out of breath. "How should I touch you?" fucking mermaids, fuck him and his beautiful face, he was so perfect that it annoys you. His voice, seducing you every time he opens his mouth to let words out of it, his body that seemed to crave for your touch. Reacting to everything you say and do, learning everything your body likes. "Come on, tell me." he begged. "I want to please you." man, what did you just said. He's making you forget about your morals.

You bite your lip, looking at him with pleading eyes. He had no idea how to react to you, everything you do is so new to him. He's so hesitant, and he hates it. He wants to do everything right, he wants to do you right. How does he know you like it if you're not telling him?

You took his hand in yours and placed it somewhere on your body, somewhere where you wanted to feel his touch. "Touch me how you want, I'm not picky." that was the problem. He wanted you to be more precisely, he wanted you to ask some very specific requests. Don't let him guess, because if it's after him, he wants to skin you alive so he could wear you. How else would he know if he's not in your shoes.

"How is it here?" he stopped his movement, too focused on trying to figure out your body. He likes all of you, from head to toes. "And here?" he moved his hands somewhere else. "Here?" he was talking too much, he was doing the most and yet nothing at the same time.

You moved a hand behind his head, dragging him down and smacking your lips against his. "You're thinking way too much. Stop it." but he still had questions.

Whatever, he haves more than enough time to find out.

Kissing you, he started to move his hips again. This time, he was less careful. He pushed all of him in, and with each movement, the force he was using increased, and so was the speed. The thrusts that were slow and soft at first now being changed to this animalistic like movement. His tongue in your mouth, fishing for yours while his hands were groping and touching everything he could. Your breasts, your arms, hips and anything that was on your body.

Your sounds, he wanted them. He wanted to eat your voice, if he could even do that. His heart was beating so fast and he knew he couldn't do anything until he fills you up with his cum.

The cave was filled with wet souds, and if he could, he would let every single creature in the ocean know about you two. How he makes you feel, the way you roll your eyes and how your body reacts to his.

Your insides are squeezing him again. Do you like it? Because he can't figure it out and it's infuriating him.

"Wait, wait." you didn't looked like you wanted him to stop though. You had your eyes closed, mouth half open, and the cutest expression on your face.

His mouth moved to your shoulder again, wanting to bite you to keep himself in place before he does something he'll regret.

You were trembling, your legs closing around him. "Fuuck." you cursed under your breath. Biting your lips, you let out a muffled moan, cumming a lot harder than before, making him cum right after you too because of the way you were hugging his cock so tight. "No more." your chest was moving up and down, and it was hypnotizing him. "Really, I can't take it anymore."

He doesn't think he could too. Anything more and he feels like his body would give up on himself.

But it was more than enough for that night, perhaps, he'll go and make another contract tomorrow and ask for some legs again.

And now that he thinks about it, he did what it said in the contract. He got something of yours, your body. So, now he can sleep reassured.

The next day, you woke up a lot lately than you usually do. But you can't really figure out what time it was since you haven't seen the sun in a long time.

"You're awake?" someone got inside the cave after a while. Oh, you almost forgot about him.

"Yeah." he looks like a merman again.

"I got you food." that same bland fish. But it was better than nothing.

"Thank you." you said, taking the fish and trying to finish it as soon as possible to get over with it. He looked at you, tail swinging left and right and a big dumb smile on his face. Next time he gets legs again, he'd like to fuck your mouth again. This time he knows what to do so don't think you'll be able to rest for a bit.

"I saw some pretty clothes." he said, suddenly remembering of some suitcases he found. "I want to see them on you." he didn't want to let other people see you naked, so, he might as well dress you with the most beautiful things he finds.

"Sure?" that was all he needed before he disappeared, coming back later with some dry looking suitcases.

"How are they so dry?" you looked at the clothes. It was like they don't got wet in water.

"I put them in bubbles." he said, making a small bubble appear on his palm. "I take up the water to dry and then put them in bubbles so they stay that way." how could you forget he wasn't even human.

"I see." what else could you say?

"Try them on."

"Now?" he nodded. All you did was to sigh, looking at him for a moment and how he didn't plan on getting out the cave so you could change, or at least turn around.

He had a tail now, he couldn't do anything at the moment. So, you took your clothes off, making him look with the same old predatory eyes on you. He should have went to get another contract before he came back, he wants his legs now.

He stood at the entrance of the cave, half of his body in water and the rest on the ground, looking at every single move you made. "Turn around." he said, making you do a spin. "Walk a little." he wanted to parade you, put you in a bubble and show everybody how beautiful you were. In his eyes, you were like one of those pretty gems, and he knows others would think the same, because of course they do. They weren't any different from him.

"What do you think?" you asked after you tried everything on.

"I'll get more clothes for you." he was ready to go back and look for something new.

"No, no, it's alright. Come here." you stopped him, making him jump out of water and crawl next to you. "I feel tired. Stay here for a little longer." he sat down, waiting for you to get in his arms and get some rest.

He loves studying you, you were so fascinating in his eyes.

You're careful with your moves, even when you touch him. Your hands were so much smaller and yet it would always managed to leave such marks on him. He can't help but want more.

He wants his legs back, but that dumb octopus won't give it to him. Saying that he's too busy to make a contract and trying to find all kind of excuse to not give Gojo what he wants.

You look so cute, looking at him with big doe eyes, eyelashes moving prettily. It's like you're begging for him. He wanted to give you all of him, but he couldn't when he didn't had what you needed. Stupid tail, stupid dick. He's stuck with only cuddling because of this.

"I've been thinking about it." he said one time after he got you food.

"Hm? Did something happen?" he had a serious expression on his face, and it made you put questions.

"I don't know when I'll get my legs back." what a weird sentence, it didn't made sense but at the same time, it does. You never thought you'll hear something this stupid, and yet, you fully believe him.

"It's alright. I don't see a problem with you being a mermaid." but he does. He's so close yet so far. This fire inside of him was eating him, his desire for you was way bigger than any morals he might had. How can he become one with you again if he's not human? How can he calm his cravings if he's not deep inside your warm pussy?

"What if you become one too?" he said without even thinking.

"What?" you looked surprised at him. He wasn't lying was he?

"I rather be human, but you can become a merfolk too. I can show you so many places. You could even leave this boring cave and find a way cooler one." right, how didn't he thought of that. He'll get a few contracts before leaving, and then search for a pretty beach where you could satisfy your desires. He already can see it, under the stars, your bodies pressed against one another and kissing each other like there's no tomorrow. The places you two could do it.

"You're sure?"

"Yeah! Absolutely! I know a guy who can do it. I'll go talk to him and I'll be right back." he jumped in the water and gone he was. "Suguru, Suguru." the octopus was already sighing. "Do something for me."

"No."

"Come on. Just hear me out." the dark haired merfolk shook his head, already being done with the merman.

"What do you want."

"You can make me a human, right?"

"I can give you the illusion that you're a human, but yes, I guess." the octopus already knows what Gojo was going to say. "I'll give you legs if you leave me alone."

"I mean, sure. But I'm here to ask you to make Y/N a mermaid." the octopus froze in place. A human? Becoming what? A human? One of those monkeys on the surface becoming what?

"No." like heck he'll do it.

"Come on. She said that she'll find a cave with me where we can live until we die." humans are so deceiving. Can you believe that such a weak creature managed to capture this dumbass attention?

"Alright. I'll see how you're stupid human is before I decided on doing something." and that's how you woke up with Gojo and another merman in the cave.

"This is Y/N." the white haired merman said, presenting you to the one who didn't wanted to get out the water. "And this is Suguru, he's the one that gave me legs."

"I thought that you can just do it, like blinking." you said, but all you got in response was Satoru's laugh.

"I wish." he had a smile on his face. "Anyway, can you give her a tail?"

"Hmm." the octopus said, still not convinced. You had a pretty face, he doesn't know about your intentions or what you might have in your head. "What do you think about him?" the dark haired man said, pointing his finger at the merman who was next to him, tail in the water and moving it left and right.

"He's good." you didn't elaborate anything more.

"He's different from you." the octopus said, making you nod. "He could kill you whenever he wants." you nodded again. "He could do it right here right now, and no one would know about it."

"Suguru." the white haired merman said, his happy face now serious.

"I know." you were well aware of it.

"Aren't you afraid of him?" you didn't said a thing.

"It's normal to be afraid of what you don't know." Gojo said, repeating the same words you told him.

"I mean, is there anything not to be afraid of?" you sighed. "He's beautiful, like, truly. I never seen anything like this before so it's a bit scary. Is he even real?" you started talking, making the merman to smile again. "I'm afraid of my own kind, sometimes I get scared of my own shadow." the white haired merman jumped out of water, coming next to you. "Even you're a bit scary, if I'm being honest."

"He's always like that. That's why no one talks to him." Gojo said, dragging you in his arms and rubbing his head against your hair.

"What about now?" the octopus said, placing his hands on the ground, pushing himself up so he could sit down on the cold rock. "Am I just a bit scary?" he would have lied if he said he didn't expected you to act cool, put a act on and try to look brave. But no, instead you looked terrified at his tentacles. "Hah." he puffed, already knowing that he was asking too much from you.

"It's normal to be scared, that's the circle of life." Gojo came to your defense. "She looked even more scared when she saw my tail." he said it like it was something to be proud of.

"How?" you couldn't understand them. It was truly strange. It didn't made any sense to you, no matter how much you tried to think about it. "What happened when someone touches your.. Um.." you pointed at the octopus tentacles.

"Want to find out?" you shook your head. "Thought so." you're just like he imagined. Weak and pathetic. "I could figure something out for you."

"Really?" the white haired merman said, happy with the news. "Give her a tail like mine, we'll match."

"That doesn't rely on me." what a disappointment. "If you want to do a contract with me, you'll have to pay a price."

"I'll do it." Gojo said, willing to do it on your behalf.

"That's not how it works. She's the one doing the contract, she'll have to do it." the octopus said, moving his eyes from the merman to you. "I'll give you a tail in exchange for something."

"I don't have money." you replied instantly.

"Humans, so materialistic." he was talking like he wasn't getting fishes bankrupt left and right. "You'll have to find a merman to spend the rest of your life with." Gojo didn't looked happy at those words. "He needs to have white hair and blue eyes." wait a moment, was he actually helping? "And a white tail too." the octopus said, looking at the merman and trying to find stuff that described him. "His name haves to start with a G and a S." can he get more specific than this? "It haves to have the letters, a, o, u. Lemme think." he paused for a moment. "T too, and a r. Oh and a j."

"Where will I find someone like that?" you asked, not thinking too much about that ridiculous request.

"I wander so too." Gojo was blinking prettily, all a smile and already thinking of where to get out for the first time. So many places to see, so little time. "Anyway, I'll get the contract ready by tomorrow." the octopus jumped back in the water. "Here." he threw something to the merman. "Do whatever you want with it." and with that, he left.

"What's this?" you looked at the golden paper. All he did was to kiss you before he sign it, suddenly starting glowing and then having his legs back.

He wasted no time, jumping on you, kissing you while his hands went under your clothes.

"I've been dying to do this." he said, pausing in place to look at you taking your shirt off. He's going to make it up for all the time he had to only look at you. And it was showing because he tried to get inside of you right away. "Why does it not fit?" you did it last time. He doesn't understand why it doesn't work now.

"I'm not ready yet." so there's a certain time he haves to do it? Damn, he missed his chance. "Kiss me more." he can at least do that.

His kisses were much softer now, knowing that he can't do anything, he should at least enjoy the way you felt on him.

You took his hand in yours, going back between your legs and showing him how much wetter it got. And that got him an idea.

Getting his face away from yours, he pushed you down, getting between your legs. You're so sweet, he could never get enough of your scent. It was intoxicating, and he got even more drunk for you the moment he tasted your juices.

He moaned, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed, tasting more of you. Why didn't you told him that he could do this? How could you hide this from him.

He wrapped his hands around your thighs, dragging you closer to him, pushing his face harder into you. He took a deep breath before taking a long lick of your juices, another moan escaping his mouth.

He was sucking on your clit, and then cleaning any excess juices that got out of you. Liking and sucking, he kept doing that again and again.

"Put it in me." you left out a broken whimper.

"Not yet." he haven't had enough of you yet.

"Your fingers. Do it with them." oh right, he can do that. There were so many things that he could do, he lost count of them.

Two of his fingers went inside you, moving them in and out. He didn't forget about your clit, especially when he knows that you like it there.

Your sounds were the best, your voice singing so loud for him. He loves it, truly. And perhaps you liked what he's doing too, because you started squirming around, making him try to hold you in place, and making the fingers inside of you to curl. "Toru." his eyes went wide open, looking up at you crying his name. What did he do to get you like that? Then it hit him, and he curled his fingers again making you let out another cry.

His mouth was watering. There's so many things he doesn't know about you and he wanted to see them all. He got up from between your legs, his hand still moving, giving you all the attention you needed.

"What's that?" he sounded so happy. Big grin on his face and looking down at your face. He kissed your cheek, licking it after. He really was about to eat you alive, and if the psychotic expression he had wasn't obviously, then dunno what else you needed to know that you're in danger. He started biting you, your cheeks, your lips, and even your neck. Perhaps he put too much pressure because he could see your face changing.

He moved his fingers in and out, giving you a break because he started to curl them again, his palm against your clit, rubbing it while moving his hand.

You grabbed his arm, trying to calm your breath. But nothing really worked when he was doing his best to see what new expressions you'll show him.

"Kiss me." he didn't wanted to, but he did it anyway. Smashing his lips against yours, and not really doing much since he was more interested in torturing you.

He kept his face closer to yours, looking down at your pussy who was sucking him in. That idiotic smile still on his face, wanting to add more fingers in you and see how much you can take.

"Come on, do it already. I want you inside of me." he couldn't give a shit about your pleas, he's too focused on his new discovery. "Satoru." you looked at him so cute, but he didn't wanted to entertain you. "Come on, Satoru." it was like he wasn't even listening to you.

You cupped his face with your hands, kissing him and trying to make him move his focus on something else. Your hand went over his, getting his fingers out of you, slowly pushing him down so you could get on top of him.

"I don't want to." he said, somehow coming regaining his composure.

"But I do." he had a serious expression on his face, but that didn't stopped you from getting on his lap, wrapping his hands around you. "I'll do it if you don't."

"I want to do it." but can you trust him when he switches so fast? It was a bit scary, how he loses control over himself.

"I'll do it." you shook your head, a hand on his dick to keep him in place and slowly sinking your hips down to meet his. He let out a sigh, still not over the fact that you stopped him.

You moved up and down, taking your time with the action since no one was rushing you. He looked impatient, but he didn't dared to do a thing. He just kept his arms around you, looking at how you move yourself on him.

He got his face closer to your body, wanting to bite you, but you stopped him. "Don't do a thing. Just stay in place." you took his hands off you. "No touching." why? This was bullshit.

You don't trust him? Fine, he can sit in place. It's not like he can't do it.

So, he stood there, watching you, his eyes moving up and down everytime you moved. One of your hands went lower, between your legs, rubbing your clit softly. He could do that, he can definitely do it. And the fact that you're not letting him makes him feel offended.

You keep gasping, your voice a lot quieter than before. Did you enjoyed it that way? Because he would be more careful next time. But of course he will, he can't be put in time out again. How can he explore your body if he's forbid from doing anything.

Your warm walls are squeezing him again. But he's doing nothing more than watching you, forgetting about himself as he's too absorbed by you. Have anyone else told you that you look beautiful when you cum? Because heck, he could watch you all day.

You're breathing hard, resting your head against his shoulder as you try to come back from your high.

"Can I touch you?" he asked, already raising his hands.

"Sure." he placed his hands on your hips, caressing your skin for a moment before he moved it to your ass, grabbing it and moving you up and down.

Slowly, just the way he saw you doing it. He watched his actions, paying attention to how you're reacting before he increased the speed.

He'll be more mindful from now on, he promises. But now, fuck, you feel good. He would have got lost in the feeling again if he wasn't trying hard to sane.

His lips on yours, trying to take some of his pain away, to take his thoughts away from how hard he wants to fuck you right now.

"Is there something on your mind?" he looked so defeated, you couldn't just sit there and not ask him.

"No, it's alright." lies. You cupped his face again, looking at him before kissing his forehead.

"Come on, tell me." one of your hands went to his hair, playing with it and making him sigh again.

"Let me fuck you." you laughed. "I'm serious. Let me do it." he looks so lost, what will he do if you say no?

"Sure." he raised your hips, holding you in place before he started to fuck himself into you. Moving fast without giving you a moment to spare.

He loved you when you were louder, when it didn't look like you were keeping yout voice from him. He wanted to do stuff to you, for you. So don't leave him hanging, let him do more.

With his face in your shoulder, he sink his teeth into your skin, making you let out a few broken cries.

He kept going, and going, he didn't stopped bullying himself inside you even after you came, and he definitely didn't stopped even after he did it.

"You'll get a pretty tail, right?" he asked some time later, before going to sleep. You were in his arms, ready to fall asleep and wake up tomorrow ready for another day.

"I don't see why not."

"There are so many things you have to see." he rested his head against yours. "I'll show you everything."

"Mm." you murmured something in response before falling asleep, dreaming about being a fish and swimming around in a big blue ocean, the sun above you and surrounded by all kind of marine life.

Author's note: now I'm thinking of octopus Geto. I'm too lazy to write something about it but I'm full of ideas at the same time. What a life.

[willowfey]

ok nobody asked for them but also nobody can stop me so here are my overly sappy completely self indulgent please talk to me about them

tedependant headcanons 🫶🏻

• ted wants to be obsessed with someone. like that one post said he’s a THAT’S MY WIFE guy without a wife, so once trent enters, it’s like. his new passion project is just Being The Best Partner He Can Possibly Be and trent finds it so impossibly endearing (they’re obsessed with each other anyway, it’s fine). their relationship is so healthy tho despite the obsessive aspects bc it’s like. their goal is to have the best relationship and so they simply just Will.

• ted loves baking for him (and rebecca), but he also just loves feeding him in general. loves packing his lunch for him when he has somewhere to go, cuts his sandwiches into cute shapes and sends him with a note. he’s always finding new recipes, new ways to make it cute and fun. it’s entirely unnecessary but it always makes trent smile, which of course makes it very necessary in ted’s eyes.

• the way ted’s voice went all high in the scene where he goes “yeah, but he’s our dork” about trent, that’s like. a thing. if ted is feeling flustered/affected his voice goes a little high and that’s a dead giveaway. trent doesn’t realise this at first until one day he asks someone “do you think ted actually likes this shirt or do you think he’s just being nice i’m not so sure” and they go “what? he loves it, didn’t you hear his voice go up?” and it’s like a lightbulb moment of New Things To Ponder Over About Ted. the only reason he never noticed it before is because it was always directed at him and that makes things fuzzy. (trent puts on one of ted’s shirts the morning after he stays over for the first time and ted’s voice goes higher than the kettle and trent is like ahhhhh okay)

• trent likes to read aloud to him. on opposite ends of the couch facing each other with their legs intertwined, in bed side by side with the lamp on, sitting cross legged on a stool while ted takes a bath after a long day. u know that poem about…. asking for a glass of water not because ur thirsty but because u just want the hand attached to the glass? ted never remembers the plots of the stories trent reads. which is good, actually, because that means he can listen to him tell them again and again.

• they’re both dorks. they both love getting Really Into something and analysing it and finding the joy in it and it’s about the THEMES and the PARALLELS, trent is a writer and ted is ted, so they definitely get VERY into tv shows. like, binge watching and making it their whole personality. sometimes beard is invited over for watch parties if it’s smth he’s into, other times it’s just them, but they WILL be extra about it and make themed snacks. and speaking of trent being a writer, u know the second he found out about ao3 it became his new favourite thing. he’s the one writing those beautiful poetic character study fics that make u cry at 3am, mostly bc the main character reminded him of his husband but u don’t need to know that. (sometimes trent lets him read it and ted always acts as though he’s the most talented writer on the planet and “those guys should hire you ya know, you know their characters better than they do!”)

• ted loves playing with trent’s hair. it’s smth he always loved with michelle too, and smth he rly missed when they stopped being intimate. it’s relaxing to him, and he loves knowing it makes the other person feel good too. at first he thought maybe he would always associate it with her, but whenever they’re laying together and he’s running his fingers through trent’s hair, he’s the only person he could possibly be thinking about.

• when ted is having a panic attack, trent is the only one he wants around. something about his voice is just soothing and grounding. trent gives him space, doesn’t crowd him or anything, just keeps talking to him smoothly until his breathing finally evens out. if ted is at work and trent isnt there (he usually is, but sometimes he’s not), and smth makes him overly anxious, someone else might call trent and just hand the phone to ted, knowing he’ll be able to talk him through it. (yes my word choice was on purpose. and ted will find he is very good at this in all scenarios.)

• ted loves to just. say what he’s thinking. like sometimes they’ll be talking and ted will go “i’m sorry to cut you off, i promise the interruption will only last a second, i just wanted to tell you that your eyes look all starry in this lighting, especially with the colour of your shirt makin them pop, and it’s just a little distracting is all. but i am very interested in what you have to say so please continue” and trent is just. so taken aback every time. and then he kinda fumbles is words and takes a minute to regain his focus bc wtf was he even saying?? how is he supposed to focus now with ted literally staring into his eyes like that, what the hell

• trent finds his humour so stupidly delightful, not because the jokes are actually funny, but because it’s ted. if he’s out by himself and someone says smth that sets it up, trent will be thinking “this is what ted would say right now” and make the joke himself in his head. later he’ll tell him and ted will go “oh no…. you know what this means right??” and trent goes “what??” and ted says, in mock horror, “this means you’re just as bad as me.” and it’s like. are we about to kiss right now???? (answer: yes)

• when trent is home, he lives in silk pajamas with a robe and slippers. ted claims he’s perfectly happy in boxers and a tshirt, but he’s CONSTANTLY stealing the robe bc it’s just so cozyyy. so eventually trent is like fine. and buys him a matching one. and maybeeeee ted also likes the feeling of the silk too…. so now they’re THAT gay couple with matching pajamas and monogrammed robes. (“how else will we know whose is whose??” “well for starters they’re different colours, but i hear you”)

• ted hates tea. everyone knows this. trent tries to tell him that they all taste different, maybe there are some he’d like, but ted insists that there is absolutely NO world in which he’d enjoy drinking that leaf water. trent lets it go, as far as ted is aware. until one day when they’ve been dating for a few months, walking together at a winter market, and trent splits off for a minute to get them a warm drink. ted uses this as an opportunity to buy him that thing at the booth he saw a little ways back for a christmas present (to add to the other 3 he already bought….. listen, he’s enjoying being in a relationship again). anyway trent shows back up with their drinks and says here, try mine, i got their seasonal one. ted tries it and it’s AMAZING. warm and toasty and sweet and cinnamony and creamy, like christmas in a cup. he tells trent as much, and trent just hides his smirk behind his hand. “you like it then?” he asks. “this is damn delicious!” ted says, “what is it?” trent smiles proudly and says “a snickerdoodle chai latte,” “which is….” “tea.”

ted is gobsmacked, bamboozled, he’s been HAD. his world has been flipped upside down by this simple drink, by this very un-simple man who has yet again challenged something that ted was so sure he knew about himself. trent just gives him this cute little squinty eyed face and says “told ya” walking away towards another booth.

and that, actually, is the moment that ted realises this is the love of his life and they’re gonna get married and grow old together

[jscrawls]

HIII!!! YES I AM, I'm Pink! You can call me Pink!! I'm so obsessed with the color pink I literally go by the name Pink!!🫶🫶 I love widow!reader🤤🤤 self love really is a thing😋😋 I love love love widow!! Come wuh luh wuh with me, widow plsplspls!! The kids miss you! I need Talia and Widow to meet, or Bruce and Bucky!!🤭🤭🙏🙏🙏

I feel u pink! I'm the same way with the color purple😭💜💜💜 *gestures at blog layout*

And GIRL, are u in my walls because I was LITERALLY just drawing Talia and my reader oc today. like deadass we're sharing brain waves or something- 😳

🔹🔹🔹

"so we meet again for the first time."

The near-monotone voice has you glancing over your shoulder at the stranger, locking eyes with a tall dark haired woman. The early morning buzz of the cafe around you sets you on edge, who is she and why's she approaching you?

You hum questioningly as you turn in your chair to face her fully, a to-go cup warms your hand as you look her up and down suspiciously. "Well hello to you too, We've met then?"

"once or twice, I quite enjoyed your course."she smoothly slides into the seat across from you despite not being invited, her standout green eyes still locked on yours as if she's trying to look through you with X-ray vision.

She's very pretty, but so are most dangerous things in your line of work so you know better.

"what a pity, I don't remember a thing from those days. Apologies Miss...?"

She smiles - more of a smirk really -and glances down at her immaculate looking manicure. "you may call me Talia, and here I thought i was rather memorable."

Her nails drag across the table and she attempts to grab your hand, her lashes fluttering innocently. The second her hand touches yours you twist your hand away and pluck the small blade out from under her fingernail. That's an interesting way to utilize coffin nails, you'll have to remember that one.

She snorts, seemingly unbothered at being caught so quickly. "you're a sharp one, faster reach than I remember as well. Did Bruce teach you that or is that all your own doing, pretty thing?"

You scowl at her antics and subtly glance around the coffee shop, is she alone in this or should you expect a sneak attack at some point? You sigh exasperatedly and roughly set your cup down.

"knock it off, you're ruining my coffee run way too early for my liking, do you have a goal in mind here or are you just playing games with me."

She smiles even wider and leans back in her chair, looking as satisfied as a cat that got into the cream. You're not sure you want to be the cream here.

"I could play games with you in a different way if this is boring you." She again leans forward, her voice dropping into a soft coo, nearly a purr as she looks you up and down suggestively. You'd take that only one way if she hadn't just pulled a stunt like that on you.

"I don't know if that's a threat or if you're hitting on me right now."

She reached over the table to grab your to-go cup, a small chuckle escaping her just before she takes a long swig of your discarded drink. "it could be both, if....you're fast enough to keep up."

Once again you don't know if she wants you or wants to fight you.

🔹🔹🔹

Things were awkward enough with Bruce meeting your pre-death co-workers, explaining you had a whole entire husband in another universe to your og gaggle of freaks was tiring as is.

Between the whole 'killing is kinda okay sometimes' thing with the avengers and certain personalities making themselves known. *Cough Stark cough*

Things were still relatively tense, for lack of a better word.

Then Bruce met Bucky.

Your hadn't exactly noticed them sizing each other up at first, too caught up in catching up with your sister's in everything but blood. It wasn't until Yelena looped an arm around your neck and obnoxiously jabbed a thumb in their direction.

"(name), your boy toys not playing nice."

Confused, you quickly looked where she was pointing while Natasha snickered into her hand in front of you. Bruce was talking to Barnes.

The two men were standing in the darkest corner of the room, (Emos) facing each other with mirrored poses of crossed arms wide stances and matching scowls on their faces. You couldn't accurately read Bruce's lips due to the angle he's standing at, but you can read Bucky.

"I think you're misconstruing.... It's not like..."

Your eye brow goes up as you pick up bits and pieces from watching Bucky, Natasha and Yelena share a look before starting to whisper conspiratorially in your ears.

"ten dollars they fight." Natasha giggled like a little girl, which had Steve giving her a weird look from across the room.

Yelena scoffs and gestures at the two men again. "Twenty dollars they pretend they're above it until you walk over."

She roughly nudges your side while Natasha rolls her eyes at her antics. "That's literally what I said but with extra steps."

"well your bet was boring, it's looking like it's not a matter of if, but how. So I gave a how, be less boring next time Natalia."

you sigh loudly at their behaviour and step away from the two women to get in-between the two men before something stupid happens.

"what're you two doing." You say flatly, arms crossed over your chest while you give them both a scornful look.

"nothing..." "we're having a civil conversation, (name)."

They nearly speak over each other as they hurriedly answer, avoiding your eye as they shoot dirty looks at one another like you don't see them.

"does a 'civil conversation' usually include clenched fists?" You don't even have to glance down to see them instantly loosen their hands, can they not do this right now? You can hear Yelena muttering loudly behind you, probably to Natasha.... Unless she's recording something for Kate.

Bucky's the first one to break. "Tell your man he's growling at the wrong dog here."

He gestures a metal hand at Bruce, staunchly refusing to even look at him now that he's caught out arguing. The man's well over 100 but he's certainly not acting like it right now.

Bruce huffs and pushes the offending hand out of his personal space. "I just asked a question. I didn't realize it was so difficult for you to answer a yes or no."

Dear God they're insufferable together, it's like someone took all the sass out of Damian and Peter and shoved it into two grown ass adult men with mortgages and head trauma. You pinch the bridge of your nose between your eyes as if fighting off an instant headache, maybe you should've prayed to Thor more that this would go well...

"you two can measure later, make a boys night out of it for all I care. But you're not embarrassing me in front of everyone else, Bruce let's go."

You grab his arm to drag him away before he can protest or say anything, you love your sisters but you're not letting them win any bets at the cost of your already crumbling reputation.

🔹🔹🔹

| M.list |

A/n: I hope you liked this pink!

@viilan

[brunolover808]

Homelander x reader ||Burnt Rubber ||

There was a sound disturbance reported multiple times. So Homelander was tasked with this to gain some points in popularity.

Just two years ago you were the world's greatest racer. The fact that you have world breaking records under your belt was nothing. Now you were just a memory in the racing world. Losing control on the race way and causing a pile up was somehow unforgiving. It is a common danger, but then they started to pull your records. Come to find out you had been arrested in your teen years for driving with no license. Sadly the company that was in full support of you dropped you in an instant.

Now...well now you are a no-body. Just someone who drives cars at a dealership to keep the oil flowing and making sure the tires are nice. Dead end, no excitement.

Till you found out there was street racing. Not entirely illegal, as long as you don't get caught. So for the past year you have been racing every Friday night at midnight. You pulled up in an old memento your ass of an old sponsor gave you. A Dodge Challenger, bright orange. A sore eye, but easy to keep an eye on if anyone wants to make sure you have been winning each race.

Tonight was no different, the only thing was the group of audiences seemed smaller. Odd, you approach one of the regulars asking what is going on. They don't recognize you besides one of the racers for the night. You were told that some of the people think the cops will show from how many cars have been out today. Not even phased you return your car waiting for them to call you forward to the ready line.

It took about 20 minutes before someone waved for your car to pull up to the line. Your tired move slowly as you and 7 others break in front of the line. Everything was going smoothly, the cars revving their engines as a sexy woman stepped in between the middle cars. She held a handkerchief looking at the cars. You were ready to punch the gas. You watched intently till something shook your car. Was it an earthquake, no it happened too fast.

Boom

Landing just about a car's length away from the line stood the man clad in stripes. Golden shinning hair and deep sucken blue eyes in the headlights.

"Now now, everyone, you are under arrest, I am here to arrest you all. Police-"

Before he could finish his sentence, that was likely made up on the spot, people ran for their cars and the racers were already reversing. You on the other hand were waiting, watching as Homelander shook his head and tried to calm everyone down. He even lasered a tire of one of the racers. His focus is on everyone, and not you. Easy out. Just like any race you punch the gas making your car hurl forward and drive past Homelander.

In that moment you might have not seen, but his head turned slowly to your car as it drove past him. Almost like a flash of light he recalled your face. That amazing face that used to be behind a helmet as you took sharp turns and nearly flipped your car. Homelander was a fan of your racing since it was so risky and aggressive when it came to anyone else winning. This was going to be fun for him.

Already the cops had shown up at the location where the race was supposed to start. You had left the blue and red lights behind you and now trying to out run something that wasn't a vehicle. The billowing cape streaking the sky as you try to weave between each car was on your tail. It was toying with you, he was toying with you. From what you have seen, he could go faster than that. Though he was just giving you enough space to use your skills to try and lose him.

In your career of racing you were able to easily gain speed. Now once you had the bustling city coming up, you were at a loss. You had to do something to be able to not end up in a crash, though maybe he would enjoy it. You were speaking to yourself as you did your best to think. Going down side roads would only slow you down and end up with possible casualties.

"Fuck it." You cursed under your breath.

With one jerk of the wheel and the emergency break pulled, your car turns sharply. The tired immediately screeched against the asphalt and the smell of traction burning off into the air. Even Homelander had to speed off to the side to avoid the smoke and strong smell.

Your wheel vibrating and trying to jerk out of your grip. You feel the car finally straightens out and you release the emergency brake so you can speed down an alleyway. Your speed slowing down so you can cut the corners close with just a few scratches to that orange paint. Though you had to slam on your brakes as the figure standing at the end of the alley would have left more than a scratch to your paint. You nearly got whiplash if it wasn't for having experienced such a stop before.

The quick hand reach for the reverse, but already Homelander was at your window knocking.

"Okay, get out before I have to rip your door off."

A cold chill ran down your spine as you took the gear and shifted it to park. You take your foot off the break and turn your car off before opening your door. He steps back as you slowly get out of the car, the door blocking him from you.

"I don't want any trouble, please let me-"

"I recognize you. You were the world's fastest racer. No one could compare to you, I am your biggest fan."

"O-oh... Well thank you. "

"No problem, it just means that they will get a kick out of you in jail." His hand grips the door pushing it to force you to step out of the way till the door is closed.

"Please sir, I can't go-"

"Call me Homelander- if you are going to be begging. "

You were left stunned as he approached you. You freeze in place as you tilt your head just a little to meet his eyes. Those blue eyes that look as though unamused and more intrigued. Like he was waiting for you to continue to beg or even kneel before him to kiss his shoes. Though instead you were getting worried.

"What do you want from me to get me out of jail?"

"What." He laughs before continuing. "There is no get out of jail card... But there are some services you can do to get out of jail. Let's say community service." He said before he put a hand on your shoulder.

"What? "

"Sorry, let me make this clear." He clears his throat with a smirk. "You can either go to jail or you can take the challenge of seeing how fast I can take you for a ride."

You had two clear choices. You either spend time behind bars or you spend time taking Homelander. Two evils, and you were always ready to take a risk.

[callme-holly]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

requested by @rhea-is-bored-again

Darry Curtis:

Darry respects you so much; you two are so incredibly alike when it comes to how hard-working you are, and you probably help each other balance each other out. He’s always looking out for you, making sure you’re eating and drinking, even if he doesn’t always remember to do it himself. It’s rare for him to have people around him who can match his pace, so to have someone just as dedicated beside him helps to push him on and keep him going. He always makes it known that he’s there to help you whenever you need it and that you’re never alone. He supports you in everything you do and helps out whenever he can.  You both have that responsible parent energy, and the other boys love you for it. You’re both a power duo and help everything to run smoothly around you both.

Sodapop Curtis:

Soda admires your determination and finds it so attractive. He loves how dedicated you are to what you do and respects you massively for it. He thinks you should slow down sometimes, not wanting you to wear yourself out, but he won’t ever pull you away from your work. He loves watching you work towards your dreams and is your biggest hypeman. He’ll support you in everything, cheering you on and supporting you when things get a little tough.  If you ever feel even mildly discouraged, he’s there to pick you up and remind you of why you’re doing what you’re doing.

Ponyboy Curtis:

Pony heavily admires your work ethic and indempence. Sometimes he’ll try to help you out but finds you work better on your own and respects that you don’t always need him there to do things for you. He loves to just watch you work, giving you little reminders to take breaks because he gets worried that you push yourself to far. If you ever hit a wall and feel like you can’t move forward, he’s there to guide you through it and remind you what you’re working towards. He knows exactly what it’s like to dream big and wants you to achieve it no matter what. 

Johnny Cade:

Johnny thinks your determination is so inspiring, and he just knows you’re going to go far. He’s in awe of how well you handle everything and loves just how calm you are to be around, even when things aren’t always on track.  He supports you in everything you do, gently pushing you on with your dreams, and is always there to catch you if you fall. If you ever get overwhelmed, he’ll bring you back down with gentle compliments, telling you that it’s okay to ask for and accept help. He admires the way you never let the stress get you down, and you help to boost his confidence so much; your calm presence helps him to wind down and feel more controlled about certain situations. 

Dallas Winston:

Dallas loves how   you are and finds it so hot. He supports all of your dreams and is so incredibly proud of you; he can’t help but show you off every chance he gets, telling people about your work and what you do.  If anyone ever tried to bring you down or look down on your work, he’d shut them down very quickly. He’s very protective of you and always pushes you to do your best no matter how tough things get. He can sometimes be a little harsh, but he just wants you to be happy and achieve your dreams.  Sometimes, he might act like he doesn’t care, but it shows in the little things he does, such as slipping you extra cash or stealing you supplies to help you out.

Steve Randle:

Steve finds everything you do incredibly attractive and admires your dedication. He’s so lovestruck and will sometimes just sit and watch you work because he loves seeing you so passionate about something.  He’ll tease you about being so busy 24/7 but fully supports you and is so incredibly fond about everything he says towards you. He’ll randomly bring you food or drink, pulling you away from your work for a few minutes because he knows you’re not going to take a break for yourself. 

Two-Bit Mathews:

Two will joke around a lot but admire your ambition and will never disregard it or make you feel bad about it. He’s your biggest hype man and will always support you or help you out when you need it.  He loves how serious you get and will sometimes purposefully get in the way just to get you to stop and slow down for a minute. He’ll always lighten the mood when you get stressed and will remind you that one day you’re going to make it big and all your work is heading towards something worth it. 

[boosnotes]

BAILE INoLVIDABLE

Shadow T. Hedgehog x reader

Warnings: none

Genre: hurt/fluff/no comfort/angst

A/n: Y TU FUISTE Mi BAILE INOLVIDABLEEEEE

You looked down at the analog photos, he preferred those types of things, saying it was "more real" that way, now you were glad he was so insisted on it. They were mostly about you and him, maybe someone else would pop up in the picture now and then, or he'd take a photo without you noticing him.

Your heart misses him; your brain on the other hand is telling you is for the better, he left by his own choice, and things were always going to end this way; nevertheless, he was half of you, he had become that faster than it should. You used to believe you were going to grow old beside him, taking care of each other for a long time, having a garden full of chao.

You reminisced about a night, it was after everyone was saved from the metal virus, Tangle wanted to make a winning celebration. Shadow almost escaped, however, you pulled him and with your best puppy eyes, convinced him to at least stay for a bit. It was beautiful, even with Sonic gone for a bit, the joy of winning was contagious. The warm lights filled the place, the balloons gave the world a pop of color, the pleasant smell of homemade food and snacks, and the bickering of a certain group; all of it made you feel at home.

The dance floor was overflowing, the good music and the energy made everyone want to dance, but you stayed next to your favorite Hedgehog, you had promised to stay at his side the entire night for him to cave in. The DJ changed the song once again, it made your ears perk up with recognition, it was your favorite song, yet you had to contain it, all for Shadow. Your body fiddled around, already reacting to the familiar melody, your feet and fingers tapping to the rhythm. From out of your sight, you hear a familiar exhale.

"You can go if you want, I know you want it." He muttered under the music, just enough for you to hear him. Your head turned towards him, the pupils in your eyes growing larger, you were about to accept, but declined.

"No, I told you I'm staying by your side. You're just gonna run off." You pouted, he tried to argue, but even so, you didn't listen. With a tilt of your head, a challenge you raised. "Then dance with me." He opened his mouth, but no words came out, you left him speechless. With a triumphant smirk, you stepped forward and grabbed his hand. "Come on, it will be fun, just this one and we leave."

"I don't know how to dance." You barely heard him, still, with his eyes staring away from you and the embarrassed face he made, made you understand everything right away, how cute. It wasn't every day the ultimate like form admitted not knowing how to do something.

"I'll guide you, no problem." You offered, you'd be glad, teaching him something so simple, but he'd probably end up doing it only with you, it filled you with pride and selfishness. "Please, just this one." You beg, you drop your head to the side, looking up at him with a helpless look. He groaned, nonetheless, finally relented which made you jump and pull him into the dance floor.

Laughter came out of your chest, genuine laughter, one that was not heard every day. Shadow, at that moment, only had eyes for you, glowing with adoration, it was only the two of you, no one else around. You stopped dragging and held his hands, placing them where they belonged, one on your waist and the other on your hand. You moved slower, trying to show him how to feel the flow of the music, spinning him in his place, it was awkward, yet also a memory you were going to carry for the rest of your life.

Slowly, he gained confidence, he grew familiar with the short set of movements with ease. Slowly but surely, you tried to match the tempo of the song, with a few missteps that you made it seemed it was your fault, things went smoothly, even letting him spin you back a couple of times. Your permanent smile started hurting your cheeks, the happiness you felt wasn't worth hiding, he had to know what you were feeling.

Sadly, Eggman's robot broke the cheerful atmosphere, making Shadow leave you to fight against him. Sonic came back soon after, winning the fight as always. When you turned to look for him, you realized he was gone, leaving you nothing to do but help out the city on fire.

The buzzing of life outside your window brought you back to reality, the cold empty side that was once occupied all the time, whip-splashed you. Your heart was the weakest muscle you had, the ache that came from it made you physically ill. Hugging your own form for some resemblance of comfort, tears started pouring from your eyes, salting your face and body. Your head felt like exploding, why was he like this? Did he really have to leave? To fend off all for yourself? When did he stop loving you? He told you it was for your own good, but he's such a coward, that you hated to love him.