#and still have pains in my shoulders at the end of the day

[cottagecore-moss-king]

Well darn. This wasn’t how his day was supposed to go. Of course, when Sivana decided to try and make his way out of Fawcett to who knows were, Marvel had called in some of the League members. And of course Sivana screwed up the magic and technology mix he was operating. When doesn’t he?

So, here he was, fighting along side his crew as they try to take down the giant robot. 

“Hey Sivvy! You know, it’s a-bot time you try something other than giant robots!” He joked as he caught the fist soaring at him. 

A lucky shot from Batman hit part of the exposed wires on the arm he was holding, and Marvel dropped it down. Green and Gold electricity arced around the open wires, and began crawling around the machine.

“I’ll beat you, I’ll beat you all!” Sivana screeched. Honestly though, he does this every month, Marvel has got to find a better way at keeping his rouges from getting supplies. 

The robot lunged at Superman and charged up a green light from it’s blasters. 

“Superman look out!” 

Marvel lunged to push him out of the way of the magic blast. He had hoped that with the speed of Mercury he’d make it out unharmed too, but it seemed like luck was not on his side. 

The magic blast clipped his shoulder, and ripped through the demigod like his own lightning. 

It burned. It felt like his muscles were cramping and crushing under the weight of the sky. And then everything went loose, like he had been released from that extra small box. 

He groaned, but his voice came out much higher than it normally would. Marvel shot up. He hadn’t been de-transformed had he? No, he wasn’t in any pain from when he fell out of the sky.

Are we small again?

It would appear as though the machine that Sivana made has regressed your champion form to a younger age. Solomon was of course the first to speak up, at least speak up with something helpful, as Billy no, Marvel, stared back at their hands. 

I created this form to suit you Batson, this regressed form is still a prime condition of what you may be, despite it’s… eccentricities. 

Oh us! You have sandal wings! I never knew you thought those were cool! 

The gods in Marvels head were all delving into different appearances and whom he may have gotten them from. 

No, obviously he got the lighting from me Mercury, I don’t care if your flashes have lightning, it’s my whole deal.

Looking back at the fight, which had yet to sway either way, it had only been a minute or two since he dropped from the sky. 

Pft, guys how funny would it be if Billy pretended not to know Sivana AND, kicked his ass as a child?

Marvel knew it wasn’t the best, but, all the gods started trying to egg him on.

Come on, I’ll give you 15 minutes of speed in your Batson form~.

I will grant you super strength to fight back the bullies who harass you!

Billy was sold on the idea of just causing chaos, he adored seeing the mayhem he could cause. But the gods offers were also too tempting to resist, and he was down for gaining powers in his Batson form if it means sowing a bit of chaos around.

Granted, Batman or Superman might not appreciate it, but it’ll all be good in the end, he’s sure. Like, 80% sure.

Getting up and dusting himself off, Marvel looked up at Sivana. 

“Πήγαινε από δω τρελό μανιακό!” (Get out of here you crazy maniac!)

He saw the glances that were sent his way by his team mates. Er. Ahem, the ‘strangely dressed people’. He was a little sad that Diana or the Green Lanterns weren’t here to translate, but they would get there eventually.

He was so giddy to realize that when he flew, his little wings on the side of his ankles flapped like they were keeping him in the air. But he didn’t have time to get distracted, he had a maniac to deal with. 

One sonic boom later and Marvels foot was connecting with one of the joints of the large robot. He was going to have fun fighting.

A little snicker came out at Sivana’s face looking out at him through the glass of the head. He could always go straight for the headshot, but where would the fun be in that?

However, the fun was made to come to an end. Before he could even get to Sivana no less! Superman had stepped in and gotten a little to close for comfort for Billy. 

Billy hissed. Honest to the Gods hissed! He was secretly delighted. He always adored animal behaviors, and to be able to communicate without words was awesome. 

“Κάντε πίσω!” (Back off!)

“Hey kiddo, why don’t we head out someplace safer?” He said, kneeling down to be at eye level with Marvel’s new form. 

“ποιος είσαι εσύ? ξένος κίνδυνος!” (Who are you? Stranger Danger!) He drew himself up and puffed himself as big as he could, like a big cat almost. Superman didn’t get the warning, and still reached out and grabbed Marvel’s arm. 

Billy didn’t even get to think before he bit Superman in his arm. His Marvel form was mostly comprised of magic, so he made a pretty good mark on Supes arm. 

“Hey! Not cool kiddo, we gotta get you out of here.”

Billy huffed. He was not amused, and there was no fun in listening to Superman. He could still take on Sivana!

Or he would, if Sivana was still fighting. Someone had pulled him out of his robot and whisked him away. 

While Billy was distracted Superman gathered him up and pulled him into the air. 

“We’re heading back to the watchtower now. Cyborg, can you go get Zatanna or Wonder Woman?”

He can’t leave! He’d have to get back to the Rock in order to find out how to fix this. If he vanishes from the watchtower Batman will be livid!

Thrashing about and wiggling, Billy struggled in Supermans hold. 

“Woah, kid you gotta hold still!”

“Άσε με να φύγω!” (Let me go!)

Superman was determined not to let go of Marvel, but being a street kid had its perks. You knew how to wiggle your way out of adults grasp.

A bit of superspeed and dirty fighting and Billy was back on the ground.

“Hey! Kiddo you gotta get back here! It’s not safe!”

Billy jumped over a fallen tree in his path and continued running. He’d make it to Fawcett eventually, and there he’d be in his home element.

When he finally started to see Fawcett, it was by one of the poorer crime ridden streets. As he ducked and wove through the old and creaking buildings, he came across a warehouse.

Dammit! That’s where that trafficking ring is coming later tonight! I can’t bust it like this!

And a stroke of genius hit him. Solomon would say it’s a stupid idea, but Billy thinks it’ll go just fine. 

Chapter 2:

Billy ignored the Gods protests as he sped into the building. He’d hide out here and wait until the league came and left before leaving and coming back as an adult to bust it. It was perfect!

“Hey buddy, are ya lost?”

Billy whipped around and puffed up at the two sitting in the warehouse. They had cards in front of them and one of them was smoking a cig. 

‘Well shit.’ 

“Don’t cha worry buddy, we won’t hurt ya.”

Billy just sneered at them. ‘Batson luck strikes again.’

“Μιλάτε Ελληνικά?” (Do you speak Greek?)

“Uhhh, Penny, ya got yer phone on ya?” 

“Yeah give me a sec.” the second guy, Penny, pulled his phone out from his pocket and crouched down across from him.

“Could ya say that again buddy?” he asked tapping his lips and making a talking motion then pointing to his phone. 

“Μιλάτε Ελληνικά?” (Do you speak Greek?)

Glancing down at the screen as cigarette guy leaned over. A quick glance and Penny was typing something out and Cig guy went back to the table. 

“Όχι, αλλά έχουμε μεταφραστή. Θέλεις να μείνεις εδώ μέχρι να έρθει η αστυνομία?” (No, do you want to stay here until the police come?)

“Όχι, όχι αστυνομία.” (No, no police.)

Penny and the cigarette guy looked at each other and smiled, turning back to Billy.

“Σίγουρα, γιατί δεν μένεις μαζί μας; Δεν είναι ασφαλές να κυκλοφορείς μόνος.” (Of course. Why don’t you stay with us? It’s not safe to walk around alone.)

Wandering over to the crate they had left their cards and were sitting around, Billy noticed an open pack of cookies next to the game. Penny notices hims staring and grabs a cookie and takes a large bite of it. After a little while he motions to the package and nods his head. 

Billy didn’t really want to find out if they drugged the cookies, but he also had to play up the innocent little kid until his friends saved him. 

He reached out and nibbled on a cookie, it tasted kinda weird, but not stale.

‘Billy you idiot that’s drugged!’

‘I figured that Solomon, thank you for the generous assistance. Now everyone be quite I need to focus.’

Billy slowly finished the cookie, ignoring the gods yelling and arguing, and sat down next to Penny on the floor. 

Penny handed him another cookie, and Billy grabbed and ate it quickly. His Marvel form was pure magic, and invulnerable to most drugs, even ones for metas. But he still needs to pretend it’s doing something to him. Billy put on his acting face and screwed it up like he was in pain. It might have looked more like he was disgusted, but rubbing his stomach helped to seal the deal.

“Awe, little buddy isn’t feeling good. Why don’t cha pick ‘im up and comfort the lil guy.” While Cig guy certainly didn’t sound mocking, Billy still felt offended at being treated like a baby. He couldn’t show it though without breaking his cover, and so he let himself be lifted by Penny and dropped in his lap. What would be a soothing hand in a different situation ran up and down his back, occasionally combing through his hair.

“I think Donny’ll like him. Get ‘im nice and wrapped up pretty fer her and we’ll make an even prettier penny.”

Billy racked his brain trying to remember who Donny was. He didn’t have all of the code names memorized, but had them on a list back at the rock. 

“Yeah, she likes when they’re too small to fight back. And this one looks skinny enough to-”

BANG!

“Unhand my brother you bastards!”

Part 3

Billy shot up at the warehouse door slamming violently open. In the middle of the doorway stalking forward viciously was Wonder Woman. She sprinted towards the two when they made a run for it and launched herself at Penny. 

Grabbing his collar she jerked him back connecting his skull with her fist in a sickening crack. Penny went boneless in her grasp and she let him drop to the floor. 

A couple of other league members had filled in after her, and were now approaching them. Batman and Superman were on the other side of the warehouse, preventing Cig guy from escaping out the back. 

“Γεια σας εκεί μικρούλα.” ( Hello there little one.)

“Γεια σας, ποιος είστε;” (Hello, who are you?)

“Είμαι η Νταϊάνα, Είμαι ήρωας με τους φίλους μου.” (I am Diana, I’m a hero with my friends.)

Diana was acting much nicer than Superman did. She had even crouched down so that she was closer to Billy’s level on the floor. 

“Κατευθύνομαι σε ένα ασφαλές σπίτι. Θα θέλατε να γίνετε μέλος μας;” (I’m heading to a safe house. Would you like to join us?)

Diana waited patently for Marvel to respond, as he looked around at the heroes. Superman was very specifically not looking at him, either that or the wall was the most interesting thing in the world to him. Batman was engaged in a conversation with the Flash and Nightwing, and Red Hood and Robin were sulking in the shadows.

“Είναι σύμμαχοί μου, δεν θα σας κάνουμε κακό. Έχεις το λόγο μου ως Πριγκίπισσα.” (They are my allies, we will do you no harm. You have my word as a Princess.)

Billy turned to look Diana dead in the eye while pointing to Superman and saying “Έχει άβολη γεύση” (It has an unpleasant taste).

Diana followed his direction and looked over at Superman, who was doing anything to avoid looking at Baby Marvel, and struggled to keep from laughing. 

“Λοιπόν, δεν πρέπει να τον φας αγαπητέ. Δεν είναι βρώσιμος.” (Well you mustn’t eat him dear. He isn’t edible.)

Billy looked over at him, still desperately ignoring the two of them looking at him. 

“γιατί δεν πάμε να ζητήσουμε συγγνώμη.” (Why don’t we go and apologize.) She stood up and held out her hand for Marvel to grab. Billy reached out and did what he thought a scared kid would do. He wanted to bite, but he didn’t want to be mean to Diana, she was like his sister! So, he grabbed her hand with both of his and clung tightly to her. 

When they approached Superman he knelt down before finally looking at Billy and offering a small smile. 

“Λυπάμαι που δαγκώνω.” (I’m sorry for biting.) Superman just blinked for a few minutes, before Diana was able to translate. 

“He says that he is sorry for biting you Kal.”

“Ah, it’s no problem kiddo, we were both just worried.” When Diana went and translated Superman’s forgiveness, and knelt down besides him.

Billy plopped down on the floor and curled up next to Diana. He loved cuddling with his family, and Diana was always so comforting. 

Diana and Kal engaged him in conversation, with Diana allowing for translation between the two when Flash sped over. 

“Hey y’all how’s it, Woah!”

For the crime of sneaking up on Billy and startling him, his punishment was to be kicked. Unfortunately with the man moving at superspeed, Billy missed, but the effort and message was there. 

“Sorry there kiddo, didn’t mean to scare you!”

Billy just stared up at him with big eyes as he apologized and crouched down. 

“The names Flash, can I chat with Diana real quick?”

Billy could hear Mercury gushing over how lovely flash was, and how proud he is to have helped create the speedsters, and saying many other not very PG 13 things about him.

Billy just ignored him as Diana translated, and was ready to just chill with Diana while they talked, until she got up and walked away with Flash. Superman must have seen the anxiety in his eyes, as he talked calmy to him. He talked on about the weather and the fact that his dog was playing catch and maybe they could meet one day. It was all boring stuff, but Billy didn’t mind, he wasn’t supposed to be able to understand it any ways. 

“All righty, where’s the little bugger?” Billy perked up at the familiar British accent. Constantine was here! He’d fix this right up and then he wouldn’t have to make Batman angry about magic in the watchtower!

He almost ran over to Constintine, but decided not to. It’s not like he doesn’t like his kid form, it’s just… he gets treated like a kid already, and Marvel is the only one that gets treated like an adult. He kinda misses it. 

“He’s over here Constantine, don’t startle him, he’s got good reflexes,” snickers Superman waving over the magician. Diana came back to crouch beside Billy and began speaking to him. 

“Ο σύντροφός μου ο Κωνσταντίνος θα κάνει κάποια μαγικά για να αντιστρέψει αυτό που είναι πάνω σου. Θα καθίσετε ακίνητος για αυτό;” (My partner Constantine is going to do some magic to reverse what is on you. Will you sit still for this?)

Billy nodded his head, the gods groaned, they weren’t done causing chaos, but they never were, so he just ignored it. 

Constantine didn’t bother introducing himself, just getting the materials out and setting it up around Billy. Superman and Diana backed up out of his way, but stayed near by for support. Wither the support was for Constantine or him Billy didn’t know.

Standing up tall and holding his hands out in front of him, Constantine began to speak,

“ .mrof tluda sih ot kcab noipmahC eht nruT” (Turn the Champion back to his adult form.)

Tingling and a prickling sensation shot through him, and a small sphere of golden light appeared around him. 

The floor swayed under him, wait no- that’s just Billy swaying. But, he was much higher visually than before. And a lot larger. Billy would be relived, if he could quell the nausea in his stomach. 

“Marvel, how are you feeling?”

He brought a hand up to motion for them to pause, but had to put it back down to keep from falling over. 

“Mmhm, gim’e sec.” he muttered. Taking slow and deep breathes, Marvel waited patiently for the world to stop acting like a boat on the sea. He could feel a hand on his shoulder as someone knelt besides him. 

“Are you feeling ill brother?”

It was Diana, thank the Gods for her. Marvel nodded, and then looked up. 

“Just give me a minute Di, I’ll be good.” His smile was a little shaky, but he felt it could be excused. 

“Marvel, why don’t you take the rest of the day off? You can come write your report tomorrow.”

He got up and stretched, being small really felt weird when you went back to being big suddenly. 

“Thanks Supes, I think I’l take you up on that, see you tomorrow.”

“Will you be alright heading back? Perhaps an escort would do you well.” Marvel shook off Diana’s worry with a wave.

“No, I’m feeling a bit better already, it won’t be an issue. I’ll just skip patrolling today.” Marvel headed for the doors and slipped out, waving goodbye to everyone as they went back to talking and moving around with the two guys.

‘I wonder why there were so many people there. They can’t have al come to pick me up. I can ask about it tomorrow.’

The next day Marvel strolled into the Watchtower feeling much better. 

“Hey guys! How’s it going!”

“Ah Marvel! I’m glad to see you’re doing all right, Flash was telling us what happened earlier.” Hal was talking to Flash, who was clearly telling an animated story, apparently about the day before. 

“Ah yeah, thanks for the assist guys. Why were there so many of you though? I couldn’t have been that difficult to catch.” Marvel knew he was definitely that difficult to catch, but how could they have figured it out.

“Oh, Batsy hacked into the cams and saw what was going on, and ran a background check on the guys when we got ready to pick you up. Turns out they were Meta traffickers who had a few points in child sex trafficking as well. We got real worried about ya and ran on over to help. Diana wasn’t very happy so they’re all pretty much in the hospital, and those who aren’t are firmly in jail.”

Marvel’s eyebrows shot up at that information. He’d known they were meta traffickers, but not child sex traffickers! He’s kinda glad that Diana had busted in when she did, otherwise who knows what would’ve happened. And he’s glad he still was able to get them caught, even if it wasn’t his intention. 

“Well, I guess I owe Diana and Bats a thank you present huh,” he joked weakly, and Flash just patted his arm. 

“It’s alright Marvel, I’m sure they’re just glad you didn’t get ah… sold to someone with bad intentions.” Flash was quick to exit the awkward conversation, and so was Hal. 

Marvel just sighed, he’s still getting those thank you presents, and maybe he’s add a small something for Flash for trying to help at least. But right now he needs to write his report. 

So, Plot Idea.

For one reason or another. Captain Marvel (Aka; non-feral Billy Batson) has to with the JL fight against someone or whatnot. Yet, somehow, he accidentally gets de-aged.

But the twist.

He does not just go back to little sweet mortal Billy Batson; no Captain Marvel form becomes younger. And he not the same age as Billy, it more between the ages of 6-8, instead of Billys actual 10-12 year of age. For the cherry on top is that he is dressed in traditional clothing, as it makes him seem older than he actually is. But since Soloman was like let’s give you something as cool as Eldrich Memory, he remembers everything.

But because he knows what happened doesn’t mean he would not stir shit up.

He looks around confused (playing his role), then the villain starts their monolog. And Billy is like ok, time for some fun, and curb stomps the villain all why laughing. The rest of the JL are just watching in horror as a 6-8 year old is beating the life out of the emery with such ease. When they try to calm the child, only to have a hiss and Billy acting like the true feral cat he is, because he has ‘no idea who they are’.  He even goes as far as speaking a very old and dead language that they don’t understand.

All why this is happening his gods are laughing and egging him on.

[covenofagatha]

But you're my stepmom! (Chapter 10)

Word count: 2600+

Warnings: oral, bathroom sex, strap-on, smut, mommy kink, little bit of angst at first

Author's note: so sorry this took so long to post lol things have been crazy

Taglist (hope I didn't miss anyone, and if I did, I'm so sorry!): @stayevildarling@i-just-cannot@hazey-g@buttercandy16@320viada@evilangels-stuff@rmaximoff@morganismspam23@aboutcustardcreams@sasheemo@rigglemethat@walkethisway@mommywandas@r-3-becca@harknessshi@ihaveawifebutwerenotmarriedyet@polaris-likethestar@ahintofchaos @dorabledewdroop @toomanylesbiancouples @accidentally-made-a-sideblog @chiar4anna @lonelyhalfwitch

When you had found out your dad was cheating on your mom two years ago, you could feel the numbness seeping into every crack and crevice in your body. You remember looking at his phone while you two were watching a tv show and seeing the dirty texts he sent to a woman he used to work with. He was never very subtle about texting her, and you just had a feeling. Deep down, you knew what you were going to find. 

That didn’t mean it still didn't hurt. 

The betrayal, the anger, the sadness. They all rushed over you but you’re still not really sure if you actually felt any of it. You were in a daze for the rest of the day, the need to scream building in your throat gradually. 

You finally couldn’t take it anymore and you went for a run the next day, which is something you never would usually do. The thumping of your feet against the pavement sounded like why? why? why? Why would he do this? Why would he choose her over his family? You ran until it felt like your legs were on fire and your lungs were about to burst until you finally doubled over, bit down on your hand, and let the guttural scream claw its way out of you. Your teeth had broken your skin and you could still see the small white scar if you flexed your hand just right. 

After that, you locked the pain somewhere deep down inside you. You hadn’t even gotten to really confront him about it.

But when Agatha says that your dad is having an affair, you feel your stomach drop and somewhere, the buried feelings start begging to get free, rattling on the bars of their enclosure. 

“What?” You ask quietly, a lump growing in your throat as you crane your head up to look at her. Your hand on her stomach stalls. She has a distant look in her eyes. 

“Monday night after you left, your dad couldn’t find his phone so we were looking for it. I found it on the kitchen table while he was looking in his office and he had just gotten a text. I glanced at it and it was from a woman.” Agatha doesn’t continue, but you can only imagine what the text said. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, the lump getting bigger. You remember making that mean comment to her the first night you got dinner about him cheating again. 

She laughs ironically. “I guess I can’t be mad. I mean, look at us.”  

You glance up at her to meet her sardonic eyes. “Yeah, but look at who you cheated on versus who he did. I’m sure this other woman isn’t even half as hot as you are.” 

She softly smiles and then leans down to peck your lips with hers. “That’s sweet of you to say, honey.” 

“So what are you going to do?” 

She sighs deeply and starts gently tugging on the ends of your hair. “I don’t know. Confront him? Get a divorce? I’ve spent the last two days just trying to figure something out.” 

Her cold silence makes sense now. So does the way she fucked you earlier. 

You turn your head and press a kiss to her bare shoulder. “I’m sorry,” you repeat, because what else is there to say? “Is there anything I can do to help?” 

Her fingers tighten in your hair and they pull to tilt your head so you’re looking right at her. “I can think of something,” she says, a teasing lilt in her voice. 

“Oh, yeah?” Your eyebrow raises and she smirks with a daring nod. “Anything for my step-mother.” 

You kiss down her stomach, making sure to sink your teeth into her delectable abs and suck hard. She moans and arches her back off the bed. Soon enough, her midsection is littered with red marks and fuck, it’s hot. 

If your dad is too much of a fucking idiot to appreciate this woman, you’ll just have to take matters into your own hands. 

You settle between her thighs on the bed and slowly drag your tongue up the inside of her right thigh. A noise slips out from her lips and you do the same thing on the other side to hear it again. 

“Stop teasing, baby,” she warns in a low voice. She’s glistening. 

You chuckle and then lick up through her folds. She groans and raises her hips so you can get in closer. Your tongue swirls around her clit. 

“Fuck,” she swears under her breath. You begin to lap at her, heat growing between your own legs at the way her breath stutters and her thighs begin to shake. 

“Did he ever make you feel like this?” You ask, words garbled since your mouth is full of her cunt. But she rolls her hips on her face seemingly involuntarily, so you know she understood. 

“Never,” she says breathlessly and you pick up the pace, swirling and sucking, wanting her to feel good. 

She cums quickly and then she pulls you up into a deep kiss, tongue moving over yours to taste herself. 

“What does this mean for us?” You wonder aloud after she cleans your face and you both are cuddling again. If Agatha and your father get divorced, will this affair end? Will it become more?

“What do you want it to mean?” 

“I don’t know,” you say, because you don’t. “I like this, though.” 

She kisses your forehead and you can feel her smiling against you. “I do, too.” 

***

Dinner tonight with Agatha and I? is what your dad texts you the next day while you’re at school. You frown and quickly shoot Agatha a text about it. The two of you hadn’t spoken any more about what she was going to do about your father’s infidelity so you just want to be aware if you’re walking into a trap. You’re not sure you can take another dinner where your dad sits you down and tells you that he’s getting a divorce. 

Agatha responds that she hasn’t talked to him yet. You did know that he was away on business – although, that could just be code for having an affair – so he hasn’t been home. And you don’t think Agatha would be one to confront him over the phone. 

You text your dad back that you’ll be there. You’re curious to see what it’s about. 

The rest of the day passes quickly while you worry about what dinner could bring. You take a quick shower when you get home from school and put on a casual black dress. You don’t really care about looking nice for whatever restaurant you go to, you just want to look good for Agatha. Your mouth almost waters at the thought of whatever she will wear. She always manages to look ethereal. 

Your phone buzzes with a message from Agatha. Your father is meeting us at the restaurant. I’m outside. 

You can sense the tension radiating off the older woman the moment you step outside. She tersely watches you walk over to her car and slide into the passenger seat. Agatha’s wearing pants with a silky button down shirt and she looks hot. 

“Hey, baby,” she says, leaning over to press a kiss to your cheek. 

“You okay?” 

She grimaces and puts her sunglasses on. “I’ve barely talked to him since he left on his trip. He just asked if the three of us could get dinner.” 

Your brow furrows. “Are you going to say anything tonight?” 

Agatha purses her lips and reaches over to pat your leg. “I wouldn’t do that with you there. I’m not putting you in the middle of this.” 

Your heart warms because your mother did not hesitate to put you in the middle of her problems with your dad. She had broken almost every boundary and turned you into her therapist, and it now fills you with immense gratitude that Agatha won’t do that. 

Even though you are very much in the middle of it, with you and her having sex and all. 

“Thank you.” 

You both launch into small talk until you pull into the restaurant parking lot, where you see your dad waiting out front. Your stomach begins to sink just at the sight of him. 

You can’t believe he did it again. 

“Sweetheart, are you alright?” Agatha asks, voice tight with worry. She must see how you’re looking at him through the window. You’ve never opened up about your parents with her, but you can tell that she at least partly knows how you must be feeling. 

You clench your jaw and steel your nerves. “I’m good.” 

You try to not get angry when your dad’s face lights up at the sight of the two of you. 

“My favorite girls!” He booms and pulls you both into a hug. You can feel how tense Agatha is and you’re sure you feel the same. “How are we?”

“Good,” you mutter and Agatha says something along the lines of that as well. 

He made a reservation so you’re immediately led to a booth tucked in the back of the restaurant. You sit opposite your dad and Agatha doesn’t hesitate before sliding in next to you. 

“How was your trip?” Agatha asks, tone laced with something sharp like she’s trying to catch him in an act. 

Before he can answer, the waitress comes over. She looks a few years older than you, with brown hair and pretty blue eyes. Almost like a younger version of Agatha, you think. She takes your drink orders, her gaze lingering a bit too long on you as you ask for a sprite. 

You can see Agatha scowling at her out of the corner of your eye. 

Your dad starts talking about his work when she leaves but you suddenly lose all focus when Agatha slowly moves her hand to your thigh and grips it possessively. 

She clearly does not like the waitress, who comes back a few minutes later with your drinks. Fully aware of this, you reach out to take your sprite from the waitress and your fingers brush right in front of Agatha’s face.

Her nails dig into your leg and you subtly smirk at her. Her eyes have completely darkened. 

After everyone orders food, you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. You’ve started throbbing from the tight hold Agatha has on you – both literally and figuratively – and you’re not sure you’ll last another minute without some relief. 

Just as you push open the door, someone grabs your wrist and shoves you inside. You gasp and whirl around, fear clenching your heart, only to find that it’s Agatha. 

She closes the door behind her and locks it. You’re so thankful it’s a single-person bathroom. 

Agatha advances and you step back until you hit the sink. 

“I know what you’re doing,” she hisses, trapping you against it by putting her hands on either side of you. 

“What do you mean, mommy?” You ask innocently, enjoying the way her dark eyes flash. Her hand comes up to wrap around your throat and a thrill runs through you. You’re sure you’re absolutely dripping now. 

“You were making eyes at that dirty waitress,” she accuses. “Looks like you need a reminder of who you belong to.” 

Before you can ask what she means, she flips you over so the sink is cutting into your hip bones and you can see the reflection of you both in the mirror. You look like a mess. And she looks like she is enjoying every bit of it. 

And then she grinds her front against you and you feel something hard in her pants. You watch your mouth fall open in the mirror. 

“You-” You don’t even have the words and the ache inside you is only getting worse. A smug smile spreads across her face as she reaches down to unzip her pants. Her other hand moves your underwear to the side, not even bothering to take it off.

She drags her strap-on up and down your slit, laughing cruelly at the way your hips move to try to get her inside. 

“Please,” you whine, feeling empty. 

She leans down so she can whisper in your ear, “Who do you belong to?” 

“You, mommy,” you say desperately and you let out a loud moan when she finally pushes into you.

“Be quiet,” she jeers and spanks you hard. You bite down on your lip to keep from moaning, but also to keep from telling her that spanking makes noise, too.

She sets a rough pace from the beginning, grabbing onto your hips with bruising force. You let out little gasps as she thrusts into you, over and over, already bringing you close to the edge. She reaches around you with one hand and starts rubbing your clit and your head falls forward in pleasure. 

Agatha pauses for a second so she can yank you back up by your hair. “Look at yourself,” she says, forcing you to watch yourself in the mirror. She resumes her fast pace. “Look at how well you’re taking my cock for me. Look at how much of a slut you are for me.” When she calls you a slut, you physically can’t stop the sound that comes out of your mouth. 

“Mommy, please,” you pant, your entire body feeling like a livewire. “Wanna cum.”

“Do you think a brat like you deserves to cum after making mommy jealous like that?” 

“M’sorry, mommy, I’ll be good,” you practically cry. You meet every thrust, eyes rolling back in your head from how perfect she feels. Your body is on edge from all the effort it’s taking to not cum. “Need to, so close.”

“Who do you belong to?” 

“You, only you,” you sob. 

“Good girl,” she says, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. “Cum for me, sweetheart.” 

Two more thrusts and a rub of your clit and you cum all over her cock. It’s explosive and you bite on your lip so hard that you taste blood. She begins to slow down as you come back down to earth and you rest your head against the mirror to recover. 

Someone knocks on the door and you freeze since your step-mother is buried to the hilt inside of you at this current moment. 

But she just sweetly calls, “Occupied!” and you can’t help but laugh breathlessly. She pulls out of you and you wince. 

“Wow,” you say as she helps you clean up. “You know I wasn’t flirting with the waitress, right?” 

She smirks and pulls you in for a deep kiss. “I know, baby. I just couldn’t spend another minute listening to your dad talk.”

“Join the club.” 

You feel like everyone is watching the two of you as you make your way back to the table, but in reality, they’re not. Your dad is on his phone texting someone – you think you see a woman’s name at the top – but he quickly swipes out of it when he notices that you both have come back. You glance at Agatha just in time to see her eye twitching. 

“There you ladies are! I thought you had gotten lost. Everything okay?” He asks. You think you’re just imagining the condescending tone, but Agatha stiffens next to you so maybe not. 

“Actually yeah,” she says. “I’m filing for divorce.” You gape at her as she spins on her heel and walks away. 

You turn your head back to your dad, who looks back at you, dumbfounded. 

“Sweet pea-” he starts but you hold up your hand to cut him off. 

“No. Fuck you. You don’t deserve anyone.” 

And then you leave to follow Agatha, feeling suddenly like the weight inside you has finally lifted. 

[sanarsi]

Kinktober Day 12

Handjob

Oberyn Martell x prostitute!f!Reader

Gif credits @iamasaddie

Summary: Oberyn is busy discussing important matters for the kingdom but he can't resist taking care of you as you sit thirsty on his lap. Warnings: +18, MDNI, fingering in front of witnesses, pussy slapping, praising, dom!Oberyn Wordcount: 0,7k An: We're moving on bitches because my writer's block has been going down for now (please, I want to finish this fucking Kinktober by the end of the year. I swear I'll never get into this again). My birthday and the Sleep Token concert are comin up so I'm super happy and everythin in my life is slowly starting to fall into place so that means I'll be able to get back to writing and enjoy it <3

Masterlist and Kinktober Masterlist

You looked at the papers lying on the table. You didn't even try to read them, you just had to focus on something to keep yourself from going crazy.

Sitting on the prince's lap, all you could do was feel.

And now you felt him way too well.

“Oh gods,” you whispered, arching against his chest.

You glanced down to see his fingers slowly rubbing circles over your clit and didn't even dare to say anything, even though you could feel yourself leaking onto his robes.

You bit your lip to control a moan and pushed your hips a little into his hand.

His fingers disappeared immediately and a moment later you felt a slap straight to your pussy. You squealed quietly at the piercing pain and felt heat on your cheeks from embarrassment and excitement.

“Stay still,” he growled, glancing at you before returning to his conversation with the men next to him.

You didn't know what they were talking about but only because you weren't even listening to them. All you could focus on was how his fingers were slowly guiding you towards fulfillment.

You snuggled closer to him and spread your legs more as he gave you the attention you craved.

His fingers returned to slowly massaging your already swollen clit. As always, he did it perfectly. Each movement sent waves of pleasure through your hips, reaching places you had no idea about.

With a grimace of pleasure, you watched as his hand covered your pussy and after a moment, his two fingers sank into your soaked slit. You whimpered as you felt him slowly begin to fuck you.

With each passing second, you were getting closer to heaven, but his movements were too slow to end your torment.

You arched your back, dropping your head onto his shoulder as you drowned in the excessive pleasure that seemed to have no end. Your quiet moans, however, were not ignored and after a moment, you could feel a gentle kiss on your neck before you were once again left at the mercy of his fingers.

There was no shame in you even though several men were watching you, for you only he mattered, the only one who didn't give you as much attention as you needed, as you desired.

You tightened your hand on his thigh, silently begging him to let you end the fight with your own body, which was slowly starting to disobey you. You felt your pussy burn and with it the rest of your body, waves of pleasure passing through it as if you had already come even though you were far from it.

Despite this, you remained silent, knowing that you shouldn't speak. Your only permission was to sit on the prince's lap and humbly accept his caresses. And that's exactly what you did, except that with each subsequent entry of his fingers into your pussy, you were getting worse at controlling your moans.

It didn't escape his attention because after a moment, his touch was once again focused on your clit.

You whimpered when he slowly started massaging your sensitive spot again and you didn't try to fight the burning feeling of an approaching orgasm.

“My prince...” you whispered, barely catching your breath and tensed up, not wanting to break the feeling that was getting closer to your core.

You froze, counting the seconds until waves of pleasure spread through your body, pulsating through your body, bringing you the desired relief.

You moaned loudly, and everyone in the room fell silent, focusing their attention on you.

You panted heavily, trembling on his lap as his fingers gradually slowed their movements, allowing you to descend from the peak to the world of the living.

You smiled blissfully as you felt Oberyn run his nose down your neck to your ear where he placed a gentle kiss.

“Very good,” he praised you while running his fingers over your slit to collecting your juices before plunging them into your mouth. You sucked them in with a purr, licking them clean and only then did the prince's attention return to the matters he had discussed earlier.

But this time he had a satisfied slut on his lap.

Tags: @mattmurdocksdumpy @milly-louise @rosi3ba3z @candlelover @gothcsz @tateypots @chloe302225 @natalieispunk @amyispxnk @mandoloriancookie @libre-sol @alex-does-art-things @xxchumanixx @ch3rryyyyyyyyyy @bbyanarchist @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @ilovejoel-andjavi @uncassettodiricordi @puddles221b @syd-djarin @audie-writes

[kusanagihaku]

and everything you do

⭢ haku x mc, 2.5k

y is for yellow. ˖⁺‧₊⟡ alphabet series | ao3 insp by this haku fanart!

The doors of the Galaxy Express hiss open, and you stumble in. 

You feel Haku’s weight slip off your shoulders as you gently lower him onto the plush of the closest red seat. He collapses, unceremoniously, onto the worn velvet, blinking slowly up at you with unfocused eyes as you right him. 

“Nearly there,” you murmur. You brush his hair away from his forehead. “On the train home now.” 

He closes his eyes in response. 

At least the bleeding seems to have stopped, you think. The cut on his cheekbone is no longer beading with fresh blood, dried smear instead catching on the pad of your thumb as you run it over the soft of his cheek. Small wins. 

You make sure he’s sitting semi-upright before moving to sit next to him. Before you can, however, his hand shoots up to stop you. 

With surprising strength, his arm winds around your waist, tugging you to him so hard you can’t help but lose your balance, knees buckling and tumbling into his lap. 

You yelp softly in shock, but Haku’s arms stay firmly anchored around you. His other hand comes up to grasp at the front of your blazer, holding you in place as he tips his head forward to rest on your shoulder. 

You soften. 

He must be really exhausted. 

Unsurprising, really, with the number of all-nighters he must have pulled over the last week. Where the missions of the other houses are often action-heavy and return you battered and bruised to the drafty embrace of the cathedral, Hotarubi’s missions are instead research-heavy, requiring Haku and Subaru to stay up nights on end in preparation. You’ve seen first-hand the amount of work Haku pours into every mission they go on, flipping through tomes of books way past moonset. Sometimes Subaru walks you back to the cathedral when your work ends past midnight, and you return the next morning to see Haku still in the same spot you left him. 

It’s partially why you find yourself gravitating towards Hotarubi missions – you’re more useful hitting the books for Haku than you are hitting… well, hitting anything with your fists. 

(The other half of the reason remains shrouded in a vague mist of Hotarubi nice, Subaru sweet, biggest fucking crush on Haku, Zenji fun… you try not to think too much about it.) 

You reach up to pat his head gently. “I’ll text Jiro to come take a look at your ankle, alright?” 

“Mmph,” Haku says. He shifts slightly, so that his chin is tucked into the crook of your neck instead. The grip on your blazer loosens. “No need, I’ll be alright.” 

Any closer his lips get to you and he’d be able to read the race of your heart through the thrum of your skin alone; you hope he doesn’t notice. 

You tsk, instead. “I know you ghouls heal at like, double the speed or whatever, but I still want to make sure it’ll heal properly.” 

Haku snorts. It sounds pained, still. His breath tickles your ear lobe as he says, “You don’t have to. I have you to lean on, don’t I?” 

You sigh. The ghouls may have double the strength, but they have double the stubbornness, too. “I’ll just get Jiro to bring the salve that Professor Nicolas used on me on my first day, alright?” 

Haku’s arms tighten around you at that. There is a small smile in his voice as he says, “How the tables have turned.” 

You tilt your head.

“Me bringing you to Darkwick on the Galaxy Express way back then because of your injured ankle…” Haku continues, laugh breathy against your ear. “Now it’s your turn to bring me home, huh?” 

You think you may be imagining it, but there is a gentle press of lips against the curve of your neck. It sends a warm shiver down your spine and a warm flush up your cheeks; you hurry to cover it up by shifting your arm and reaching into your pocket for your phone. 

“Wish you were sitting on my lap the first time, though,” Haku murmurs, and your brain short-circuits. 

“Um,” you say, intelligently. Your fingers fumble the password to your phone, failing to unlock it, and Haku snorts again. 

“Sorry, princess.” 

He doesn’t move though. You start to think he’s not sorry at all.

“I’ll, um.” You swipe at your phone screen again, ignoring the heat in your cheeks and the sudden overwhelming awareness of Haku’s arms holding you flush against him. “I’ll just.” 

You navigate to your texting app, with some difficulty, and as soon as your app opens Haku laughs, drowsily. “My chat is pinned.” 

Right. You forgot you did that. 

You bite your lip. “I, um, pinned it for the mission.” 

You didn’t, and you know Haku knows it too. 

There’s no mistaking it this time – you feel the soft of Haku’s lips smile against the spot where your neck meets your collar. “Mmhmm.” 

You don’t know if you’re going to combust first from embarrassment or from the way his breath is fanning out against your neck. 

But it’s a good reminder that he’s still alive, albeit in pain, and his breath evens out, eventually, as you tap out a quick missive to Jiro to meet you at the train station…

The Galaxy Express announces its arrival at the station with a soft chime. 

You awake with a start – you must have dozed off for a few minutes in the warmth of Haku’s embrace, lulled to sleep by the steady rocking of the train. Oh, to fall asleep in Haku’s arms under other circumstances– 

The train chimes again, and you stand up, gently pulling yourself free from the lock of his arms around you, before turning around to help Haku stand as the train pulls into the station. 

As soon as you get Haku to his feet, his weight warm against your shoulder, you spot the ever-reliable bird’s nest of hair hovering outside the train station, and the even-more-reliable ghoul floating behind him. “Jiro!” 

Zenji floats immediately to your side as you help Haku out of the train. “My goodness, Haku! What have you gotten yourself into!” 

You bite your lip and shoot him an apologetic glance. Can’t answer him now, with Jiro so close, but Zenji just nods in understanding, choosing instead to fret over Haku’s injuries. 

It takes a moment to navigate out of the Galaxy Express and down the steps of the train station to the sound of Zenji’s chatter, but the two of you soon stand in front of Jiro as he surveys your mess.

“Honour student,” Jiro nods. “Kusanagi.” 

His eyes sweep over the surface cut on Haku’s cheek, before choosing to attend to the ankle injury. The bottle of whitish-green salve is already in his hand as he kneels down. He prods a little, with the cold tips of his fingers, then spreads the salve around where you think (?) Haku’s ankle is swollen. 

Jiro stands up at last, capping the bottle of salve. “It doesn’t look too bad. The swelling isn’t as bad as you made it out to be; it looks like he should be able to walk back by himself.” 

You sigh in relief. “Thanks, Jiro.” 

Jiro just shrugs, tucking the bottle into your hand. “If you didn’t say he was limping I wouldn’t have known it was injured at all.” 

You narrow your eyes as the pieces click together in your head, but before you can turn to Haku Jiro retrieves a few bandages from his pocket and thrusts them at you. 

“Some bandages for his face,” Jiro says. “Normally I’d put them on for patients, but he seems like he’d vastly prefer you doing it for him.” 

You turn to glare at Haku, but he just grins, brightly. “Spot-on as always, Jiro.” 

Jiro merely nods, before turning to stride away. 

“Thanks, Jiro!” You call out after the ghoul, before turning to Haku with a huff. 

“You–“

“I told you not to call him,” Haku points out, eyes twinkling, and you huff again. 

“I thought you were injured!” 

“I am!” He grins, and leans against you. “God, I’m so tired, it’s so hard to walk, my ankle hurts–“

You burst out laughing, in spite of yourself. “You’re so annoying.” 

And if you slowly make your way back with Haku’s arm still wound around your shoulder and his laugh brushing against your ear, limping closer and closer to the grey drizzle of Hotarubi, well– that’s nobody’s business but your own. 

(Neither of you notice Zenji fading back into transparency, adoring smile gracing his face as he watches the two of you bicker. He has a new idea for a love story to write, after all, and a brother to tail.)

-

Haku winces in pain the moment the antiseptic hits his skin. 

You bite your lip, pulling the cotton gauze away from his cheek. “Sorry.” 

He shakes his head minutely from where he is laid in your lap. “It’s alright. I can take it.” 

You dab around the wound, gentler this time. “You’re gonna have to keep the bandage on for at least a day.” 

“As long as it doesn’t scar,” Haku responds. He blinks slowly up at you, lazy smile spreading across his face. “Damn, if I knew all I needed to do to lay on your lap was to get a little scratch on my cheek I would have done it sooner.” 

You flush, and bop his nose with your index finger. “Stop smiling. I can’t clean your wound.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, and bites down on his lips. The twinkle of mirth in his eyes don’t disappear, though, and it is only a matter of seconds before he opens his mouth again. “Will you give it a kiss after?” 

Startled, you press a little harder on his wound than you intend to, and he hisses in response. “Sorry!” 

Haku groans, hand coming up to brush his cheek before looking up at you like a wounded puppy. “That much against giving me a kiss? I’m hurt.” 

You bite back the thrum of your heart and will your eyes not to flicker to the soft pink of his lips, warm in the bruise-blue of Hotarubi evening. 

“If you’re well enough to flirt, you’re well enough to clean your own wound,” you threaten lightly, instead, and watch as Haku’s eyes crinkle up in a golden smile that sinks right into the butterfly swirl of your stomach. 

You can’t help the responding smile that surfaces on your own cheeks either – there has always been something in the sunlight of his laugh that bubbles through the map of your veins, bright and warm and magnetic. 

God, you’re so gone for him. 

You hastily drop his gaze and drop the gauze, and unwrap the large plaster Jiro gave you. “Stay still.” 

“As you say,” Haku murmurs, then much to the relief of your one remaining braincell, shuts his eyes. 

As you manoeuvre the length of the plaster onto the scratch on his cheek, you thank your past self for turning on the small lamp near the foot of his futon mattress. The scratch looks deeper than you thought in the warm light, an angry red that will scab over only in a few days. You’ll have to grab some hydrocolloid cream from your own stash to make sure it heals well. Maybe you can bring it over tomorrow. 

You run your fingers over the edges of the plaster, gently pressing the adhesive into place before brushing his fringe away from his eyelashes. He still looks exhausted, to be honest, purplish-grey bruising under his eyes both a haunting of sleepless nights past and a promise of sleepless nights to come.

You wonder, for the thousandth time, if there is anything else you can do to help shoulder his burden just as much as he is trying to shoulder yours. 

“If you stare so much you gotta start paying me in kisses, princess,” Haku says softly, smiling, eyes still closed. His hand comes up to cover yours, pressing your palm against his injured cheek. 

“I wasn’t–“ 

Haku hums, amusement threading through exhaustion. He doesn’t open his eyes. “Liar.” 

He intertwines his fingers with yours, shifting your hand so he can press his lips against your palm. The light brush of his kiss against your skin sends your heart racing; the fond gesture fuels the sudden whirlwind that has grown its new home in your throat. “I’ve seen the way you look at me.” 

You open your mouth to retort, but come up empty. God, you thought you were subtle, but everyone and their mothers and apparently Haku himself knows about your big fat crush on him. 

So much for keeping it a secret and living out a quiet rest of the year, really.

His voice is low, words sleep-warm and slurring as he continues, “I could love you like that, you know. I want to. If you’d let me.” 

The drum of the rain against the wooden veranda outside intensifies, filling the space between the both of you. The creaks in the Hotarubi ceilings expand between you and what you are too afraid to have. 

Can you? Can you really, with the sword of your curse hanging over your head? It already feels like you’re taking too much from him, just like this, wrapped in the secret moments you share and tucked into liminal pockets of time you steal between missions. His head on your lap, your hand in his. It feels too greedy, to take what he so readily offers. To agree with him feels like you’re reaching for too much. 

And yet you do not move your hand. 

Haku breathes out. It is too light to be a sigh, too heavy to be anything else but letting go. “Sing me a lullaby, will you?” 

You blink. “Uh-“ 

He settles your interlaced fingers on his stomach. His wrist is still mottled yellow and green from where he blocked an anomaly from flying at you two missions ago; you resist the urge to run your free hand over the bruising. His voice is slow and sleepy as he mumbles a, “Just want to hear your voice, princess. Please?” 

How easily you fold, whenever it is Haku asking. 

When you begin humming your voice is a little shaky, a build of uncertainty and self-consciousness, and you nearly stop if not for the reassuring squeeze of Haku’s hand on yours. You hum through the opening bars of a song whose name you cannot quite remember but is familiar all the same, a star-dusted melody has been trodden into the paths of your brain long before its lyrics floated away. 

The slightly off-tune off-time of your humming melts into the grey of the rain and the warmth of the room; you feel Haku slowly slipping out of consciousness, barely aware of how your hand has come up to rest against the green silken threads of his hair.  

And you know, you know I love you so. 

Haku’s breathing evens out. You skim your thumb over the back of his hand. 

You know I love you so. 

[holylulusworld]

Together alone

Summary: You try to believe in your blooming relationship with Clark.

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, loner reader, introvert reader, love-struck Clark, low self-esteem, fluff, Lois bashing, Lois is the worst,

Catch up here: Not alone any longer &  Alone again - Naturally

The world looks much brighter today. Clark invited you for another date—a real date this time. He officially asked you out. Not as a friend, but as a man who’s interested in you.

Even the boring story you’re writing about seems to be more interesting as your fingers fly over the keyboard.

“All done before the deadline,” you say to yourself. “That’s great. This way, I’ll have enough time to choose an outfit for my date with Clark.”

You gasp. A date! It’s a date. Clark Kent. Investigative Reporter. Superman. A hero asked you out.

Doubts creep into your mind. What if he only tries to be nice? What if he only wants to ensure you’re not spilling his secret? What if... what if...

You start panting heavily. Hands clasped together, you rock back and forth in your chair.

“Stop,” you tell yourself. “Stop!” You say it a little louder. “Clark is not like the others. He’s nice and sweet. Clark likes you. He wouldn’t have asked you out if he didn’t like you.”

You nod to yourself and push the nagging voice in the back of your head away. She holds no power over you. Not since Clark held you in his arms for the first time.

He’s so nice and sweet. You still can’t believe he’s interested in you, but you believe Clark when he tells you that he likes you just the way you are.

“I need to find something cute but sexy to wear. Let’s take a look at the wardrobe.”

You feel nice. No, you feel pretty in the floral blue off-shoulder mini dress you found hidden in the back of your wardrobe. It was hidden there for two years, bought for a date that never happened.

The man asking you out never showed. Weeks later, you saw him with some other girl he met on his way to his date with you. One look at her, and he was done for.

He didn’t even have the decency to call to cancel the date.

Shaking your head, you take a deep breath. Clark will show, and you’ll have a nice day. He is not like the other people leaving you hanging. Even though he’s not human, Clark is the best person you ever met.

You smile when a knock saves you from listening to the nagging voice again. Clark. He’s here to stay, not to play with your fragile heart.

Hastily opening the door, you stare into the wrong eyes. Lois sneers as she looks you up and down.

“I told you to stay away from my boyfriend,” she snarls and pushes against your shoulders, making you stumble and slip on the floor. You end up on the ground, whimpering in pain. “Clark is off-limit! Stay away from him, you frigid bitch!”

“Why are you here?” You sniffle as you try to scramble to your feet. “Clark is not your boyfriend. He doesn’t want to be with you! You broke up with him. We did nothing wrong.”

“I don’t care if I broke up with Clark,” she snaps at you. “You can’t come around and claim him to be yours. If I ever see you together again, you’ll regret your birth.”

She stands over you, panting heavily as you stare up at her. This is not the woman you called your friend not so long ago. Maybe she was never the woman you believed she was.

Lois is showing her true colors since Clark asked you out for the first time. And she doesn’t even know about his secret.

“Because I had to come here, my car got destroyed,” she accuses. “Superman had to use his powers and accidentally destroyed it. This is all your fault. As always, you’re nothing but a burden.”

You whimper. This is your worst fear coming true. Being a burden to anyone is the last thing you want. “ I—” Your voice cracks. She’s not wrong. You’ve been a burden to Clark from the beginning. He had to save you, and now he feels responsible for you.

“It wasn’t Y/N’s fault your car got destroyed,” Clark says after he landed on your balcony, as so often lately.

Usually, he’d come to you after dark, so no one would watch Superman come to you. You whimper when Superman steps inside your living room. He frowns, seeing you on the ground. Clark can hear your heart race and hear the tiny whimpers leave your lips.

His hands ball into fists, and he’s close to ripping Lois apart. Clark won’t, of course not. He’s not like that. If he uses his powers against a human, Clark will hate himself for the rest of his life.

“Last time was a warning, Lois Lane,” Clark steps closer. He easily picks you up to place you on your couch. Before he turns toward Lois, he checks on you, carefully running his hand over your hair. “This time, it won’t be a warning.”

Faster than you can blink, he grabs Lois by her upper arms, jumps out of the window with her, and flies up in the sky with her. She screams in terror, clawing at him.

“You’re a hero! Why are you doing this?”

“Because—” he snarls at her, “Y/N Y/N/ and Clark Kent are under my protection. You’re a threat, and I won’t allow you to hurt one of them ever again. So, consider this a final warning.” Clark’s eyes flash red for a second. “If you ever get close to Y/N or Clark again, I’ll forget for only a second that I’m a hero.”

He lands on the closest roof, putting Lois back on shaky legs.

“I—I,” she stammers. For the first time in her life, Lois Lane is speechless and scared to the bones. “I won’t.”

“Good,” Clark pushes off the roof, ignoring Lois, who falls to her knees and hugs herself.

“Y/N,” Clark softly speaks to you. “I’m sorry for scaring you. The moment I heard Lois say all those hurtful things, I lost control. Please forgive me.”

He kneels in front of the couch, carefully touching your knee.

“Clark, I,” you sniffle and hold out your hands for him. “I’m not mad at you. She was so vile, and I didn’t find my voice. I’m mad at myself for being pathetic. You had to save and defend me once again because I couldn’t do it myself.”

“Blossom,” he scrambles to his feet to wrap you in a hug. “I’d do anything for you, Blossom. If I must, I’ll burn the world for you.”

“Please don’t burn the world for me,” you hide in his chest and sigh. “Even though, it was funny hearing her scream bloody murder.”

Clark holds you a little tighter. He sighs and closes his eyes. Today, he lost control because of his feelings for you. He was scared to do something he’d regret.

“I promise this will never happen again. Please don’t think bad of me for scaring Lois.” He nuzzled you.

You crawl onto his lap and wrap your arms around him. “I’d never think bad of you, Clark. We all lose control sometimes. You didn’t go too far; that’s what counts.”

“I ruined our date.”

“Lois ruined it.” You softly say. “I like the end of it, though. We could order food and watch a movie and cuddle on the sofa.”

Clark nodded against you. For a moment, he just held you in his arms. You both were lonely. Now you are still two lost people in a world you don’t belong to, but at least you are together.

Tags in reblog.

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 48

ao3 link| part 1 . . . part 45, part 46, part 47

Everyone forms a circle in Steve’s living room. Sitting crossed legged on the floor, waiting. Some people are missing, El wanted to stay with her dad, and Jonathan’s still avoiding Nancy at all costs. There’s a walkie in the center of the circle, open to the same channel. If El needed them, she could listen.

Steve, Robin, and Nancy are talking in the kitchen. Probably getting a little bit drunk. Coping in a way that they won’t let the rest of them. Trying to be the strong ones, when they don’t have to. Tonight’s going to be rough for all of them, they could break just once without consequence.

It’s almost time, Dustin goes to get them.

“Nance,” he hears Robin say, “he won’t come. He’s still pissed at you.”

“And me,” Steve adds.

A glass gets placed hard on the counter. “I don’t care. Before all of this, he was my friend.” He hears their steps move toward the front door and the rustle of keys. “We were there for each other when this started, we’re going to be there for each other as it ends.”

“But if he doesn’t want to talk to you,” Steve tries to reason.

“I don’t care.” There’s a slight waiver to Nancy’s voice. Dustin’s not sure he’s ever seen her cry over this. Seen any of them cry over this. “I don’t know how I can get through this without him, and I’m not going to find out.”

Dustin walks to the hall as the front door opens. Jonathan’s behind it, looking like he was in the middle of a debate with himself. He doesn’t look good. Eyes red rimmed and drooping. Clothes rumpled and looked like they were a few days old.

“Hey,” he says with a hollow voice.

“Hi,” Nancy responds.

He clears his throat. “I’m still pissed at you, but—” he trails off.

“I know.”

The clock on the wall ticks five minutes till nine. “Guys,” Dustin calls down the hall. “It’s almost time.”

Steve’s head nods, solemn. “Let’s go.”

Eddie’s there when they return to the living room, sitting on the floor. “Kids said I could join,” he says to Steve. Something unreadable in his eyes. “Is that ok?”

“Course it is,” Steve says as he sits next to Eddie. Closer than Dustin was expecting.

The circle closes and they join hands. Tangible proof that everyone is still here. Dustin is between Robin and Erica, with Steve just on the other side of Robin. Right there. Alive.

Right on cue, the fireworks start.

Dustin squeezes his eyes shut with the first boom. Sparks visualize in his mind. Red arms of flesh swinging at him. He takes the fireworks and throws it. They win, but at what cost.

Erica tightens her grip on his hand. He squeezes back to show her he’s alive.

“Steve,” Robin whispers.

“Still alive,” he responds. Voice wet.

Dustin feels her shift closer to him.

He forces his eyes open, forces the visions to stop. Those of the group who have their eyes open meet his gaze. All of them in a state of fear or grief. They are all in this together. The fireworks continue to boom.

Nancy keeps looking over to Mike to make sure he’s there. Before nodding at each of them, counting heads. Jonathan’s legs are pulled up to his chest. Will keeps flinching his one arm, ready to feel the eeriness creep at his neck. Lucas moved his arm around Erica’s shoulders, holding her close.

He looks at all of them and knows that he isn’t alone. He isn’t alone in his pain, or his wishing things could be different. As Mike and Nancy look at each other again, he knows they spend so much time wishing the other wasn’t a part of this. As Max can’t hold in her cries anymore, he knows that Lucas wishes he never told her about the upside down that day.

As Steve mutters out a quiet, “I work at Scoops,” Dustin wishes he never dragged him into this.

But the past can’t change. It’s already been written. Dustin can hope and wish and pray that things played out differently. He can blame himself for the rest of his life, but it won’t change anything. Because their paths would have always converged in the same way. Always leading them here.

The radio crackles in the center of the circle, El’s voice comes through. “Almost over.”

He knows that he’ll always probably blame himself. That he will always wish that things were different. That he’ll wish the nightmares were normal ones about his teeth falling out in class or forgetting he had a test. He’ll wish that time was different, that his life never had to change like this. But maybe he can make peace with the fact that it will never change.

Maybe he can make peace that these people don’t blame him for this. They’ll wish the same as him, that they never got involved, but it was inevitable. That night when Will went missing, it changed the paths for everyone in this room. Choices were made that can’t be taken back, and they’ll regret some of them for the rest of their lives.

But, with each other, they can move forward from this as one and finally heal. The last fight has been fought. Been won. As the time moves forward, so can they. Together.

“Brace yourselves,” Dustin whispers, knowing what the big finale is like. They all wait for it to end.

He used to love fireworks. Would beg his mom to bring him to the fair every year just so he could see him. And when he was old enough, he would bike there with the party and just stand there in awe. The perfect mix of science, his greatest love, making art in the sky.

As the last boom of the night rings through the air, Dustin hopes he can enjoy it again someday. He promises himself that one day, he will.

No one moves for a few minutes after they end. Sitting still to calm the beatings of their hearts. They made it through.

Almost in synchrony, they all start to move. Standing up, wiping the tears from their eyes. Returning to normal. Finding themselves again.

“Steve?” Eddie asks softly after Steve doesn’t move. Sitting there rigid.

He nods. “I’m ok.” He straightens his back, revealing the wet trail of tears down his cheeks. “You ready?” he asks Robin.

“Yeah.”

She gets up first, holding out her hand for him. They go in two different directions. Robin getting a bag from the hallway, while Steve grabs a bottle of alcohol from the cabinet and a box of matches.

Dustin follows them as they go outside. “What are you guys doing?”

Steve places the bottle of alcohol, what looks like expensive tequila, next to the fire pit. “After that night, we made a pact. A year from then, we burn our uniforms.”

“To prove that we made it out,” Robin continues, her voice sounding dry. “To prove that we never have to go back.”

She hands Steve the bag and he dumps the uniforms into the fire pit. The blood and sweat soaked uniforms ready to be set ablaze.

Steve unscrews the tequila and pours it over them, wasting more than he probably should.

“You want to do the honors,” he asks Robin, handing her the box of matches.

She takes it with shaky hands, striking the match and tossing it into the pit. The fire starts instantly.

Robin sobs as she falls into Steve. His cries are silent as he wraps her in a hug. Holding each other as they watch the outfit from the worst night of their lives burn to ash. Dustin walks back inside, letting them have this moment to themselves.

Eddie is watching from the sliding doors. “What are they burning?”

“Their Scoops uniforms, they were wearing them when it all went down.”

Nancy walks up to the door. “I never knew what happened to them that night, every time I try to ask, they avoid answering it.”

She looks at Dustin for answers he doesn’t even know the whole of. “I think they were tortured. When we went into that bunker, we got separated. They held the door closed so me and Erica could escape into the vent. After we rescued them, Steve’s face was beaten up and they were tied to chairs, and drugged. I never got any confirmation, but I knew.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie breathes out. Still staring out the glass. His arms held close to his chest.

“Do you remember their faces when we went into that vent,” Erica asks from behind them. “They were scared, but they still chose to save us.”

Dustin turns, seeing the group that had formed behind him. All watching the fire outside. He nods. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget.”

“There are so many things from that night that I won’t forget,” Max speaks up.

“There are so many things from the last four years that I won’t forget,” Mike adds.

Will reaches to grab his hand. “Yeah.”

“We should go back to the living room,” Nancy says. “So we’re not just staring at them.”

Eddie is the last to leave the room, still staring at them through the door.

“He’s been acting weird all week," he explains as Dustin hangs back. “I knew it had to be something bad, I just didn’t imagine that.”

“No one wants to imagine half the things that we’ve been through.”

“Yeah, guess so.”

They rejoin the group in the living room. Jonathan grabs his keys and fills his car with the people who want to go home. Him and Nancy talking before he leaves. She hangs around, making sure everyone left is taken care of.

Eddie just sits on the couch, looking out of place. But he’s waiting for something, Dustin can tell.

“Hey,” Mike nudges Dustin’s shoulder. “I just wanted to let you know that we’re going over to my house for the night. Just in case you didn’t want to go home.”

Dustin thinks about it. He was going to see if he could stay the night here. Be close to Steve. But he might be ok. And by not being here, Steve could worry about just himself for a night. Not Dustin as well.

“Yeah,” he says. “I think that’s a good idea.”

Eventually, Steve and Robin come back inside. Robin nods at Nancy before climbing the stairs up to Steve’s room. Steve and Eddie share a look when they pass. He stops and places a hand on Dustin’s shoulder, pulling him into a hug, before following Robin up the stairs.

Before Eddie can get to his room, Dustin stops him. “I’m going over to Mike’s, call me if anything happens.”

Eddie nods. “I got them, don’t worry.”

“Thank you.”

Nancy waits by the door. Mike, Lucas, and Dustin follow her out to the car. They drive to the house is quiet. Everyone is still reeling from tonight.

Jonathan’s car is parked out on the street when they get there. Will, Max, and Erica coming out with their bags.

“You could stay too, you know,” Nancy says to Jonathan. “No one should be alone tonight.”

“I thought about it, but I think it’s better if I go home.”

Nancy nods, accepting.

“See you around, Nance,” he says before getting back in his car.

“You could stay in the basement with us,” Mike offers, “if you need to.”

Nancy nods again, blinking away the tears in her eyes. Following them inside.

The basement floor is covered in blankets and pillows. Everyone finding a spot to lie down comfortably. Dustin stares at the ceiling, waiting for the tired fall of his eyes. So he can wake up tomorrow and feel better. Feel less like pure dread.

Slowly, he can hear the people around him start to fall asleep. Tomorrow will be better than today, he repeats in his mind. Peaceful sleep taking over.

the notes you guys left on my last post literally made my day, you have no idea. hugs for all of you.

tag list (closed): @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar,

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@papergrenade, @waelkyring, @sweetheartprincess28, @katouasobj, @astercomoasflores

[albaskies]

‘You didn’t have to do that, you know.’

His voice lingers in the air like a sweet scent of honey, and pulls her to a halt just before she reaches the door leading up to the dormitories. 

Ginny turns, drawn by the ever-familiar sound that still makes her heart sing despite herself, and finds Harry slumped in a solitary chair at the far end of the common room. His head rests in his hands, his shoulders seem stiff under the weight of his own exhaustion. And yet, his voice is soft - so soft that she wonders if she’s imagined it. It’s only when she notices his gaze fixed upon her that she has the confirmation that it was not just a trick of her mind.

The quiet in the room is mitigated by the gentle crackle of the fire, its warm glow flickering across the walls, and by the occasional whispers of a few lingering Gryffindors, not yet ready for sleep.

She smiles gingerly and draws closer to where Harry is sitting, the air around them feeling somehow thicker and thicker at every step she takes towards him. She is sure, quite sure, to notice his posture relax, his muscles loosen, and for a fleeting, desperately terrifying moment, she just knows — he feels it, too. 

She stops right in front of him, her knees slightly brushing his, and she realises she’s been holding her breath.

‘Do what?’

She knows what, of course, but her throat has suddenly gone dry under the weight of his unwavering gaze, never once leaving her.

He smiles tentatively, and it still feels unreal that she can make him do that, that she can be the reason for it.

‘Well.’ He shrugs. ‘Telling people off on my behalf.’

She hums, then winks at him. ‘You looked like you needed saving, and I do have a debt to settle.’

He snorts, the glimpse of a short-lived moment of lightheartedness brightening his eyes, then quickly shakes his head, coming back to reality.

‘Everyone is right to be disappointed, especially you’, he says, then pauses, staring at her intently, struggling to find the right words. ‘Because I-’.

What he did remains hanging in the air, his voice breaking right in the middle of it. She tries to contain the urge to sit on the armrest of his chair and to throw her hands around his neck, holding him tight, telling him it’s OK, he’s OK, and they’ll be just fine. 

Instead, she looks at him, faking a shrug to dissimulate a shiver.

‘You took orders from something someone wrote in a book.’

There’s another pause, a beat, and the air around them suddenly feels unbreathable.

‘Yeah.’ His eyes flash before her, and she feels them burning on her skin, like the scariest and yet most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. ‘I’m very sorry, Ginny.’

How do you tell someone, you know, I think I’m in love with you. I think I’ve been for the longest of times and damn you, damn you, for looking at me like that right now. Just when I had almost moved on, just when I had almost let you go. Damn you for having those eyes, that face, those hands. I’ve spent so many sleepless nights over the years, but your smile is the most beautiful sunrise I’ve ever seen. I want to spend my days telling you about it, laughing with you, crying with you. I want to kiss that sad frown away from your face and make all this disappear. I want to take your pain away, I want to make you smile like you do until the air in my lungs runs out. I want the good, I want the bad, I want it fucking all.

I’m so screwed, she concludes. She gives in, stops resisting. I’m so fucking screwed.

[fangirlmermaid]

You Are The Only Exception!

Summary- Reader performs a brand new love song about Matt at a concert.

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo x fem!reader

Note: Thank you to everyone who voted for my poll! It was a tie so I will be posting the Chris Fanfic soon!

Warning: Small sexual tendencies, a very sassy and pissed-off manager

(as usual, there may be spelling or grammar mistakes)

(Sorry that it's long)

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was the intermission part of your show. This was usually the time you spent talking to the fans and getting the latest gossip about what was going on in their lives. Not this time. You were nowhere to be seen, making your boyfriend Matt confused but he just assumed that there was a problem you had to take care of.

Matt and his brothers sat in their box seats talking stupid shit when they heard a commotion from the audience below them. You weren’t in your red bodysuit, you were in this gown. Matt's eyes grew hearts, which caused Chris and Nick to wrinkle their noses in disgust at their brother's reaction. No matter what you wear Matt always looks at you like you are the most beautiful girl in the world but seeing you dressed in that outfit took it to a whole other level, Liam Neeson could be near, and his attention would still be on you.

You walked near the end of the runway where the microphone and stand stood.

“Boston, how are we feeling tonight?!” 

The crowd screamed you could feel the positive energy

“You guys seem like a cool crowd, I feel like I can be honest with you guys”   

The crowd cheered

“So as you know my parents got a divorce when I was younger. I had a Wii growing up it’s a whole Wiispiracy” you announced nonchalantly.

The crowd laughs at your joke.

“Seeing how love caused both of my parents to go through pain made me scared to fall in love” You continued. 

Even though you were playing cool Matt knew how deeply terrified you were when you guys started to date. Always looking over your shoulder, expecting Matt to break up with you if you made one small mistake. It was a rocky start in the beginning but now you guys have been going strong for a year. 

“Until I met a special someone. He dressed up as Batman for Halloween, I don’t want to talk about it” You murmured, thinking of Matt caused your cheeks to heat up. Especially when he was Batman!!!!

The crowd screamed

Matt looked a little flustered, but he couldn’t stop smiling no matter how hard he tried not to. 

“I know I said I would never write a love song… but I’m just a girl” you shyly said twirling your (H/C) hair.

The crowd roared so loud that Salem could hear it.

The brothers looked at each other shocked, In your whole career you never once wrote a love song, especially about any flings you were rumored to have had in the past. Matt’s heart swells. He jumps off his seat and starts to cheer louder than before. Both of his brothers are laughing at Matt's reaction. Though Nick and Chris acted like they were grossed out on the inside they were happy that Matt found someone who goes to great lengths to show and express how in love they are with Matt. 

Your guitarist was strumming a soft rhythm on her acoustic.     

When I was younger, I saw my daddy cry

And curse at the wind

You decided to write this song when Matt took you on a Mini-Golf date. It was the day after your third LA show. It was your free day before you had to be in Arizona. Matt cleared his whole schedule just to spend every second with you. Matt was showering you with compliments and affection on that day. You knew Matt was normally shy when it comes to PDA but not on that day, it got you giggling like a school girl.

That she would never let herself forget

And that was the day that I promised

I'd never sing of love if it does not exist 

You remember the exact moment when you saw yourself having a future with Matt. You guys had been dating for four months. You were hanging out in his room, lying on his bed while he lay on top of you, fast asleep, using your steady heartbeat as a lullaby. 

You saw how peaceful he looked, causing you to smile softly. You played with his hair delicately trying to not wake him up. The thought of waking up like this daily didn’t scare you like it did initially. 

But darling, you are the only exception

You are the only exception

You are the only exception

You are the only exception

Your dancers came out and started to slow dance with their assigned partners. When you decided to add this song to the Boston setlist (instead of randomly dropping it at 3 AM), you decided to shorten intermission but you told your dancers that they should still take that time to rest before the next performance. Instead, they said no and wanted to participate in that performance. 

And up until now I had sworn to myself

That I'm content with loneliness

Because none of it was ever worth the risk

As it was a brand new song you were the only one singing. You noticed some members of the audience were looking to either their partner,

friends or the special person with love in their eyes. You were glad your fans had found someone who made their lives happy. 

But you are the only exception

You are the only exception

You are the only exception

You are the only exception

Your eyes wandered over to the box seats where you saw the three goofballs. You pointed at your boyfriend who shyly smiled forming his hands into the shape of a heart (rare for him to do anything more than hand-holding in public). His brothers had to hold onto the back of his shirt as if he would fall.

When Matt comes to your show you forced yourself to NEVER look at him. You knew you would be distracted by his cuteness and would mess something up, so you always forced yourself to be busy once you were on stage.

I know you're leaving in the morning when you wake up

Leave me with some kind of proof it's not a dream

You closed your eyes and grabbed the mic when you hit the high note. The crowd applauded and cheered.

“Sing it with me!” you invited. You threw your arms forward encouraging the crowd to sing along to the chorus.

You are the only exception

You are the only exception

You are the only exception

You are the only exception

You turned your back to the audience, gripping the mic in your hand. As the band kept playing you walked back to the main stage.

You stopped and looked over your shoulder bringing the mic back near your lips.

And I'm on my way to believing

Oh, and I'm on my way to believing

The music ended and you lowered your mic. The audience roared and applauded causing you to give a satisfied grin. Your eyes made their way back to the box seats, All three brothers were cheering you waved to Chris and Nick then blew a kiss to Matt just before the lights went out.   

Then you ran to change.

When the lights came back on, everyone turned their attention to Matt waving to him and thanking him. Matt didn’t want to steal your night, he pointed at the stage trying to turn the attention back to the stage.

~~~~~~~~~~

Once the attention was off of him, Matt slipped away with the bouquets of your favorite flowers which is something he always does when he goes to your shows.

He flashed the security guards his backstage badge, once he was clear Matt walked towards your dressing room. 

Knock Knock

“Wanda, I’m just putting my shoes on!” You yelled behind the door 

Matt rolled his eyes “This kid” he muttered before knocking again. 

Matt heard a soft come in and opened the door. He noticed that you were busy lacing up your Doc Martens to look at him, Matt was still filled with glee that he was too afraid to sound like an idiot to speak, so he decided to drink in your beauty. 

 You turned around to see your boyfriend “Hi, baby” you smiled, and Matt shyly presented you with the bouquet. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach a feeling you never want to get sick of.

You noticed Matt hasn’t said a single word since he came in causing your Anxiety to hit you like a bullet train. A tornado of negative thoughts spun into your mind.

Did he hate the song?But he looked excited when he was out there, was it an act?

This would’ve been the biggest slap in the face if he broke up with you just after you sang your heart out for him. 

You placed the flowers down at your makeup station before grabbing his hands “Matt what’s wrong, is it the song? Did you not like it? I know I should’ve talked to you about it but I-”

Matt cupped your cheeks and kissed you passionately, he learned very quickly that the makeup team hated fixing your smudged makeup. He still gets scared by the death stare they gave him. 

However, after this performance, he didn’t care. He loved you so much that he wanted to scream it to the world (even know they were already aware of it).

You both pulled away breathing heavily “I loved the song, beautiful” Matt assured causing a smile to fall on your lips. You brought him into a chaste kiss “I just wanted the world to know how much I love you!” You admitted, Matt brushed some hair behind your ear “Baby, that was the sweetest thing anyone has done for me” Matt assured, Your eyes grew hearts “Well you are the only exception” you chuckled.

Matt gave a light laugh before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in close. You wrapped your arms around his neck “And you’re mine” Matt sealed that promise with another kiss.

Matt’s lips trailed down to the sensitive part of your neck, you tilted your head to give him more access. A soft moan escaped your lips as you gripped the back of his hair. 

The door swung open causing the two of you to break away from each other. You both were facing a pissed of Wanda “You got to be kidding me” your manager scoffed, you glanced at your boyfriend both of your faces were red as a tomato as if you were two teenagers caught in your bedroom by your mom. 

Wanda pulled out her walkie talkie “Can we get makeup in (Y/N) dressing room?” Wanda sighed, Matt placed a gentle kiss on your knuckles. The makeup team groaned when they saw Matt, “Okay fix her makeup, and cover up that hickey!” Wanda ordered pulling Matt out of the room. 

Wanda dragged Matt back to the backstage entrance “The only reason why you're not dead is because you are (Y/N)’s boyfriend. But I promise, if I catch you back here before the show is over I’m going to be your worst nightmare, got it?” Wanda threatened her eyes full of rage, Matt nodded, his eyes full of fear. Wanda pointed at the two security guards “And if you two jackasses let him back here before the show is over imma fuck your day up, understand?!” Wanda threatened striking fear into the two enormous security guards. 

Wanda walked back to your dressing room muttering how men always ruin everything. 

Matt walked back to his seat shaking, part of him hoping that they were able to cover up that hickey but another part of him hoping they don’t so the entire stadium knows that he loved you and the song…but mostly you.

[raysrays]

Fatal Attraction Chapter Six (NSFW)

18+ MDNI‼️

CW for the entire story: Breeding, Size Difference, Size Kink, Jealousy, Scent Marking, Age Difference, Vaginal Sex, Possessive Behavior, Angst, Twisted, Creampie, Angry Sex, Anal sex, Vaginal Fingering, Hair-pulling, Biting, Master/Pet, Light Dom/sub, Violence, Knotting.

Content disclaimer: This story is inspired by the amazing artist @PammyJammy117 on Twitter/X/Bluesky. I in absolutely no way own or claim the idea of the "Cryptid Rengoku" character. Please give credit to the original artist who inspired the story.

*Please read authors note at the end! <3

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five.

Y/N Perspective.

It was finally the day, the day I’d leave with Tamayo and Yushiro to search for Giyu Tomioka. Kyojuro had sulked all morning, his mood dark despite granting me permission. Apparently, agreeing doesn’t mean acting mature about it.

I stopped by his den, knowing I wouldn’t see him for a while. Which… would be strange, considering I’ve gotten used to seeing him almost every day.

I ran my fingers through the thick fur between his ears, gently massaging. His tail coiled around my thigh, pulling me closer, as he leaned into my touch like a cat.

“I don’t want you to go,” his voice, low and resonant, echoed around us. “Stay here with me. Forget this nonsense of traveling. I’ll keep you warm, and fulfilled… you know I can.” His words dripped with persuasion.

I smiled softly, tracing the edges of his ears. “I’ll be back soon, you know that. Time will fly by, I promise,” I tried, my voice tender, though the reassurance felt weak.

His ears twitched, flattening with frustration. “My mate is leaving me… for who knows how long. I’ll miss you.”

My heart clenched, unfamiliar pain filling the space between us. I had never seen him like this, it’s more of a sad begging than an anger.

I continued to stroke the soft fur along his head and shoulders, pressing gentle kisses between his eyes and on his forehead. His purring and soft clicks were a small comfort, a sign that I was soothing him. When I pulled back to look at him, though, his expression still seemed sad. It was hard to believe that this was the same cryptid monster that scared half the world. Right now, he looked more like a big, heartbroken puppy.

“I have to go, Kyojuro… but I promise I’ll be back soon! And when I return, I’ll bring so many food offerings, you won’t know what to do with them all.” I smiled brightly, hoping to lift his mood.

It worked. His ears perked up, and that familiar sharp, toothy grin spread across his face.

“You… you really mean it?” His voice had a spark of excitement.

I laughed, unable to resist how cute he was in this moment. “Of course! I promise.”

Suddenly, his tail coiled around my waist, pulling me up to his height until we were eye-to-eye. He pressed his forehead against mine, the touch warm and intimate.

“You will come back to me,” he murmured, his tone soft but commanding. “I won’t let you stay away for long. You are mine… my mate. I don’t want anything else to try and take you away.”

His voice was gentle but firm, leaving no room for argument. Not that I wanted to. The truth was, I wasn’t planning to run.

I know now, I’m falling in love with this cryptid, I’m falling in love with kyojuro…

I felt his tail tighten around my waist, and his teeth grazed my skin in warning nips.

“Just hold still,” he growled low, the rumble vibrating against me.

Before I had time to process, a sharp, burning pain shot through me as his teeth sank into the flesh where my neck met my shoulder. I gasped, my fingers clutching the fur on his shoulders, holding on as the sting pulsed through me. After a moment, he withdrew, licking the blood from his lips.

“Forgive me, little human,” he murmured, his tone almost tender. “But I need my marks fresh before you go. My scent must linger.”

I nodded weakly. No matter how many times he did this, it never got easier. But if it meant he’d let me go, I wasn’t going to fight him. I’d just have to cover it up with my clothes and bandages later.

He leaned in, licking the blood from my neck and shoulder, his touch both cleaning and claiming.

“Go now,” he commanded softly, his voice lingering in my ear. “But don’t take too long. Tomioka may not be the most vicious monster… but he’s not one to underestimate.”

“I understand,” I replied, managing a small smile. “I’ll keep my guard up.”

His gaze lingered on me for a long moment before his grip loosened, and he set me gently back down.

“Farewell, my mate. Be careful,” he said, his voice softened now, almost vulnerable.

I gave him one last reassuring smile before turning to leave the den, the weight of his gaze still on me as I walked away. As I made my way back to the safe house, the tension in my chest slowly eased.

When I arrived, Tamayo and Yushiro were busy preparing medical supplies.

Yushiro glanced up as I emerged from the woods, his expression a mix of confusion and irritation.

“What the hell were you doing out there? You should be helping us pack,” he snapped, his voice laced with annoyance.

“Sorry… just doing some last-minute searching,” I said, chuckling awkwardly.

That was such a terrible excuse…

“Searching? For what, exactly?” he scoffed, clearly unconvinced.

“It doesn’t matter,” Tamayo cut in, her tone gentle but firm. “Y/N, go finish gathering the rest of the supplies.”

I silently thanked her for the save and hurried inside to help with the packing, the dull ache in my shoulder still nagging at me.

————————

Once everything was loaded up, we set out on the road. Climbing uphill, lugging bags full of supplies. This was definitely the last thing I wanted to be doing.

The air grew colder as we traveled further north, though it wasn’t unbearable yet. Still, it made me miss Kyojuro’s warmth, the way he’d wrap himself around me, engulfing me in his heat, making even the coldest nights bearable.

But for now, I pressed on. I made small talk with Tamayo and Yushiro, though the conversation mostly revolved around Giyu Tomioka and what we might face if we encountered him.

If I’m being honest, the thought made me nervous. As Kyojuro’s mate, Tomioka would undoubtedly pick up on his scent, a fellow Hashira’s scent. What concerned me was how he’d react. Would he respect it… or take it as a challenge?

The journey to our destination took about three days. We had to camp out multiple times and take frequent breaks because of the brutal weather. The northern shore was nestled in one of the most inconvenient, hard to reach places.

And this “beach” was anything but inviting. Jagged rocks in place of sand, a gloomy atmosphere hanging over us, and a biting chill in the air. It was a stark contrast to Kyojuro’s warm, vibrant territory.

But then I reminded myself: Giyu Tomioka is known as “The Kraken Hybrid.” A place like this, dark and cold, made far more sense for him than any forest ever would.

“We’re at the heart of it now,” Tamayo announced, her voice cutting through the wind. “We’ll set up camp and the research stations here.”

Yushiro and I exchanged a glance and got to work, picking a spot close enough to keep an eye on the waters but far enough from the high tides that we wouldn’t be caught off guard.

Our setup was decent, but Tamayo hadn’t mentioned how long she planned to stay here. Given the conditions, I hoped it wouldn’t be long.

I was debating whether to head out on my own to try and find Tomioka. With Kyojuro’s scent still on me, he’d be more likely to approach if I was alone. I didn’t want a repeat of what happened in Shinazugawa’s territory, these monsters are cautious around groups. It’s the same with Kyojuro. There’s no way he wasn’t aware of Tamayo’s safe house at the edge of his forest. He had to have known.

Tamayo’s spent her life researching and hunting these creatures, yet none of them have ever come near her. I don’t understand it. Still, I’m determined to bring her something, proof that her years of hard work weren’t all based on conspiracies and old folklore.

I’m hopeful. If we just keep looking, we’ll find something.

It took the rest of the evening to set everything up, and by the time we finished, we were all exhausted. Tamayo eventually sent Yushiro and me to fish by the shoreline. As usual, the silence between us was heavy, almost awkward. I never understood why she was so insistent on pairing us together for tasks like this.

When we got back with our catch, we started a small fire and cooked the fish. Surprisingly, it tasted pretty good, though I couldn’t help but think how much better it would’ve been with the right herbs and spices.

“We’ll rest tonight and begin our search tomorrow,” Tamayo said as we ate. “I want to stay for at least four days, long enough to find something of value.”

Yushiro glanced up from his food. “None of us are familiar with this territory. Where exactly do we start?”

Tamayo paused, considering his question for a moment before responding. “We’ll split up. Y/N, you’ll take one side of the shore, and Yushiro will take the other. Go as far as you can. I’ll cover the beach and the cliffs.”

I looked at her, concern creeping in. “Are you sure that’s safe? That’s a lot of ground to cover on your own.”

She smiled softly, her eyes calm but resolute. “I’ll be fine. You two focus on the shoreline. Pay attention to the water, if there’s any sign of activity, report it. We’ll meet back here before sunset.”

“Understood.” I nodded, but as I stared down at my lap, a dull sting pulsed in my shoulder. Kyojuro’s mark was deeper this time, more intense than usual. Even now, I could still feel the lingering burn of his claim.

I did my best to ignore the ache of the cold as we settled in for the night. The chill seemed to cut deeper out here; Kyojuro’s warm den had really spoiled me.

The ocean’s steady rhythm was soothing, the waves crashing, the wind sweeping through. If only it weren’t so cold, I could almost imagine this place as paradise.

By morning, the sun barely touched the sky. This place seemed locked in a gloomy haze, with a heavy, off-putting atmosphere hanging over everything.

Yushiro and I followed Tamayo’s plan, starting from the center of the shoreline and walking in opposite directions. It was growing frustrating. No matter how far I walked or how long I looked, there was nothing. no sign, no trace, nothing to even hint that something might be lurking here. I found myself scanning the waves for anything, but the ocean remained silent.

This went on for two days. Each morning, we repeated the same routine, and each evening we returned to camp empty-handed. Yushiro’s patience was thinning with each frigid, uneventful day. He’d begun pestering Tamayo to abandon the search early and return home.

But I was convinced we would find something. We had to. I knew these creatures were real. And Giyu Tomioka was out there somewhere.

As the day slipped into night quickly. I sat by the fire, restless and frustrated as Tamayo and Yushiro slept. Was the Kraken Hybrid really this elusive?

Unable to shake the feeling, I rose from my sleeping bag and wandered down to the shoreline, watching the stars scatter across the sky. For all the cloudiness in the mornings, the night sky was surprisingly clear, blanketed in starlight.

I paced along the familiar stretch of beach I’d walked each morning, trying to clear my mind. Of course, Tomioka wasn’t going to just reveal himself to a group of human hunters. He wasn’t foolish, but his ability to stay hidden was annoying.

I walked until the glow of our campfire faded into the distance. Just as I decided to turn back, a splash broke the quiet of the ocean. I whipped my head toward the sound, my heart leaping as I watched ripples spreading across the water. That was no wave… what was it?

Before I could react, something slick and cold wrapped around my ankle. I looked down, my stomach twisting as I saw what looked like a tentacle coiling tightly around me. Then, with a sudden, forceful pull, I was yanked off my feet, hitting the gravelly shore before plunging into the freezing water.

Panic seized me. Saltwater stung my eyes, blurring my vision, but I forced them open. A pair of deep blue eyes stared back at me, unblinking, intense, a stoic gaze that sent a shiver through me despite the water’s chill.

My lungs burned, my heart racing as I tried to pull myself together. I needed air. Desperately, I struggled, kicking hard and paddling toward the surface.

Finally, I broke free, gasping and coughing, my throat raw from the saltwater. My nose ran, my eyes were bloodshot, and my limbs ached from the struggle. But as I gulped down fresh air, I realized something with a strange, thrilling certainty.

I had just encountered Giyu Tomioka.

Shit.

I struggled to paddle toward the shore, my lungs heaving as I gulped for air. The shock of the icy water set my body trembling.

I barely had a moment before another slick tentacle wound around my wrist, followed by another around my ankle, pulling me back. I turned, eyes widening as a dark figure began to emerge from the depths, moving closer to the shore, water cascading down its form.

As my vision cleared, I took him in. Long hair, dark as midnight, framed a face with eyes as deep and cold as the ocean itself. His upper body was muscular, almost human, though gills lined his abdomen. But his lower half tentacles, thick and sinuous, replaced what should have been legs. Despite his stoic expression, he was… beautiful, in a chilling, otherworldly way.

“Why are you here?” he asked, his voice low, resonant.

I hesitated, my mind scrambling for the right words. “My name is Y/N L/N. I’m… a researcher.” That sounded better than ‘hunter.’ “I’m here with—”

His gaze swept over me, his tentacles tightening around my limbs, pinning me effortlessly.

“No… that’s not who you are,” he murmured, his eyes narrowing as he focused on my neck, where Kyojuro’s mark lay hidden beneath my shirt.

“You’re Rengoku’s mate,” he said flatly, a hint of distaste in his tone. “I can smell him all over you. So, tell me, what business does his mate have this far from his territory? You’re miles beyond his borders.” His voice took on a harder edge, and a flicker of irritation crossed his face.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. He knows who I am, and he definitely doesn’t look thrilled about it.

“Yes, I know I’m far from where I’m supposed to be. But I wasn’t lying, I really am a researcher. And as you’ve probably already guessed, I’m not alone here. To keep it brief, I’m here with my team to prove your existence.”

He blinked, expression blank, then raised a brow. “And you expect me to just expose myself to humans? To become some exhibit in the name of ‘research?’” His voice sharpened, irritation clear.

Damn it. Why was I phrasing this so badly?

“N-no, that’s not what I mean!” I stammered. “We’re only looking for proof that monsters once existed… without disturbing any of you.” I tried to explain, but my words still sounded flimsy.

He tilted his head slightly, watching me intently.

“We’re searching for evidence, anything to show that the guardians of this world weren’t just myths,” I added, my voice betraying my nerves.

“So, you trekked all the way here just to prove I exist?” he asked, his tone skeptical.

I nodded. “Yes. I mean, I know about the Hashira… obviously, since I’m Kyojuro’s mate. But—”

“But you couldn’t sell him out,” he interrupted, his gaze piercing. “Not even for the sake of ‘research,’ could you?”

I let out a sigh, feeling both frustrated and exposed. Was I really that easy to read?

He studied me with an unsettling intensity, his deep blue eyes flickering with something unreadable. His grip didn’t loosen, the tentacles wrapped around my wrist and ankle holding firm.

"How foolish," he finally said, voice low and cold. “Humans always believe they can wade into waters they don’t belong in and remain unscathed. Do you even truly understand what you're meddling with?"

"I… I think I do," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, though my pulse was pounding in my ears. "We don’t want to interfere; we’re just searching for traces, something to prove that monsters, your kind… existed. It’s about respecting history, preserving the truth.”

He gave a quiet scoff, his grip tightening, almost like he was testing my strength. "History. Truth. Words humans cling to when they’re desperate for answers. But do you really want to know the truth?" He leaned closer, his breath brushing my skin like a cold breeze. “What will you do when you find it, human? What will you do when it terrifies you? It appears Rengoku has not told you enough. That alone is concerning.”

What, What does that mean?

My mouth went dry, but I held his gaze. "I’ll face it. Because… some of us still believe in what you once were. Guardians. Protectors."

He stilled, his expression hard to read, but something softened in his eyes, a flicker of surprise.

“You think we still carry that purpose? That we owe humans anything?” His voice was a mix of bitterness and curiosity, a quiet challenge in his tone.

I swallowed, choosing my words carefully. “I think… your existence isn’t owed to anyone. But maybe there’s a reason you’re still here, and maybe we’re meant to remember that reason.”

He looked at me for a long moment, his face unreadable, then released a deep sigh, as though weary.

“Fine. Out of peace and my small remaining of respect for Rengoku. You and your group can stay… for now,” he said at last, his voice almost a reluctant murmur. “But you’ll find nothing else. That will have to make do for you.” His tentacles released me, revealing the suction marks on my arm and leg.

I nodded, a small flicker of relief sparking in my chest, even as my heart still raced.

“Don’t return here with such a foolish reason. Rengoku and I have a truce but it would be irresponsible to abuse it,” he warned, his grip easing as he let me go, leaving my skin cold without his touch. “I’ll be watching. And if I sense even a hint of disrespect, I will not be so forgiving. You and your people will leave soon. I don’t wish to see you return any time soon.” He spoke coldly.

“Yes… I understand.” I finally manage to choke out.

His blue eyes glowed in the night.

"Y/N L/N," he murmured, his voice cold and unyielding, "you’d be wise to tread carefully. There are other Hashira who would not be as… forgiving, so long as you bear that mark. If Rengoku has led you to believe he has no enemies, then he’s as much of a liar as I remember."

With that, he slipped back into the waves, the dark water swallowing him until there was nothing left but silence.

I stood there, reeling. His words echoed in my mind, unsettling and sharp.

A liar? Kyojuro? No… that can’t be right. Kyojuro may be fierce, even terrifying to some, but he’s also warm, compassionate, and always so… open. Sure, he has his intense side, his possessive moments, but a liar? He’s never seemed anything but honest, at least with me. Or so I’d thought.

I glanced down at my wrist, the fresh marks from his tentacles still vivid. I had to play this off right, I was soaked, freezing, and shaken after encountering Tomioka, so it wouldn’t be hard to look convincing. I hurried back to camp.

“Tamayo! Yushiro!” I called out, rushing toward the fire where they were sleeping.

Yushiro grumbled, half-asleep, while Tamayo sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. "What’s going on, Y/N?" she asked, her voice still groggy.

I knelt down in front of her, catching my breath, and held up my wrist. Tamayo’s eyes widened as she took in the marks, my drenched clothes, and my shivering frame. She reached for my hand, her smile growing with every detail.

Yushiro finally woke up, blinking in surprise as he noticed the marks on my wrist. Shock and disbelief crossed his face.

Tamayo quickly ushered me into the tent. “Come now, let’s get you warmed up and take a closer look at these!”

Inside, she helped me out of my soaked clothes and handed me a dry blanket. She lit a lantern, inspecting the marks on my wrist and leg while scribbling excitedly in her notebook.

“Did he speak to you? Why did he grab you? Was he angry?” she asked, her questions coming rapid-fire.

I explained that I’d gone for a walk because I couldn’t sleep and had wandered too close to the sea. “I think… he may have thought I was prey or something,” I added, as casually as I could manage.

Tamayo nodded, jotting down every word with satisfaction, pausing only for a few follow up questions. Seeing her so pleased was a relief. After all the times I’d come back empty handed, I’d finally managed to make her happy. That, at least, felt like a victory.

——————-

The hike back felt just as awful and exhausting as the one coming in. Our journey home took nearly as long as our initial trek, with the weight of the distance settling heavily on my shoulders. Tamayo was eager to return and report her findings, while I couldn’t shake the anticipation of finally seeing Kyojuro. I missed him, more than I cared to admit, but there were now new questions I needed answered.

When we finally reached the cabin, we were greeted by a few of the other hunters. I helped Tamayo and Yushiro unload, my mind already drifting to the promise I made to Kyojuro. Food offerings. I couldn’t come back empty handed. he’d make such a fuss if I did. And the last thing I needed was for him to get all upset and pouty.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I finished helping and excused myself to the kitchen. I carefully prepared the offerings, making sure to include all his favorites. My heart raced a little as I arranged them, the thought of him looming over every movement.

Surely he would be pleased with these. I was gone what? Around a week two weeks total? That’s quite a while, but I got his permission, so he can’t be too angry with me.

As I slipped quietly back into the woods, I glanced down at my wrist. The marks from Tomioka's tentacles had faded, but they were still visible, a subtle reminder of what had passed. Of course, Kyojuro would notice them. He had a knack for being... dramatic when it came to anything remotely concerning me. I could trip and scrape my knee, and he’d insist on us cuddling for what felt like hours, as if that alone would make everything better.

Am I complaining? Maybe a little. But, deep down, I know I shouldn’t. After all, at least he wasn’t a heartless monster.

The forest path seemed to stretch on forever as I made my way back to the den. But the moment I stepped inside, the familiar clicking began. Slowly, Kyojuro emerged from the shadows, his crimson eyes glowing in the dark, a sharp, predatory smile spreading across his face. I set down the food I was holding, and smile at him happily.

"My little human, my mate! You’ve returned!" His voice rumbled with delight, and before I could react, his tail wrapped tightly around my waist, pulling me in close.

He sniffed eagerly, his nose brushing against my chest before he nuzzled into me, demanding affection. And, of course, I gave in, my fingers running through his fur as he purred loudly, tail tightening possessively around me.

"You smell like the ocean," he growled lowly, his voice thick with something primal. The intensity of his gaze never wavered as he held me in his embrace.

I could feel the warmth of his body radiating through the layers of my clothing, the undeniable presence of him filling the space around us. His scent, a mixture of fire and earth, was comforting in its own way, grounding me after the long journey. But the ocean, he couldn’t stand the trace of salt and waves that clung to me after my time with Giyu.

"You know," I murmured, my fingers still tracing the curve of his tail, "it’s not like I went swimming in the ocean. Just a little... coastal air."

His growl deepened, almost playful now, as if he didn’t quite believe me. "Coastal air, hm?" His eyes gleamed in the dim light, as though he could smell the exact essence of what had happened, and every part of him was keenly aware of it. His grip on me tightened, but not in anger, more like a quiet claim, a silent assertion that I was his, no matter where I’d been.

Kyojuro pulled back slightly, his gaze still locked on me as he gave a slow, exaggerated sniff of the air. “I can still smell him.” His voice was steady, but the tension in his tone was unmistakable.

I sighed inwardly, but I didn’t try to pull away. “Kyojuro... it’s not like that. Tomioka just—”

“Tomioka,” he interrupted, his voice turning sharper, though his hands were gentle as he cupped my face. “I see he hasn’t the common decency to not touch what not his.” His gaze shifts down to my wrist, though there was a flicker of possessiveness beneath the surface. “But you’re mine. Always.”

There it was again, that crazy intensity. That overwhelming, fierce loyalty that I both feared and craved. The way he could consume every thought, every moment, with just a glance. I tried to breathe past the lump in my throat, but the reality of his words settled over me, heavy and consuming.

“I’m yours,” I whispered, not even needing to say it to reassure him, but more to remind myself.

His sharp smile returned, his tail loosening its grip just enough to allow me to breathe fully again. “Good,” he purred, the possessiveness in his voice morphing into something deeper, more intimate. “Because I don’t share.”

Oh fuck…how did that sentence send shivers down my spine?

He leaned in, his face so close to mine, and I couldn’t help it, my hands slid over the fur on his shoulders, drawing him closer. His growl deepened as his tongue flicked over my bottom lip, his teeth grazing over the skin, sending sparks through me. And when he finally sealed our lips together, I melted into the kiss. It was fierce, possessive, overwhelming... all the things he was and more.

I had missed this, these moments of pure abandon. He knew exactly what to do to make me moan, what to make me lose myself in the moment. And by the time we broke apart, I was breathless and trembling, my core aching with need.

"Did you miss me?" he asked, the low echo in his voice was smooth and low, his tone already turning dark and filthy. "Is my mate craving something?" His voice rumbled through the air.

And fuck, I couldn't lie, i didn’t want to just give in so quickly, I wanted to pretend that I hadn't missed him this much, that I didn't want him. But I did, oh God how I did.

“Yes,” I admitted, barely above a whisper. “I want you, Kyojuro.”

He let out a low growl, a purr rumbling through his chest. “Good human,” he murmured against my neck now, his claws already moving to my pants. “You know how I feel about these obnoxious clothes you wear…. Take them off.” He didn’t wait for my answer, his mouth trailing down my neck, nipping and biting at my skin, making my heart beat fast.

"Take off your clothes now," he demanded again, his sharp claws pulled at my pants as I fumbled to untie them. "And let me see you." The command in his voice sent shivers down my body.

I did as he asked, shedding the rest of my clothes until I was completely naked in front of him. He stepped back and let out a sharp growl of approval before his clawed fingers ran up my thighs, my ass. And he finally wrapped his whole hand around my waist.

His touch burned over my skin, searing in its intensity. My breath caught as he firmly held me, pulling me closer until the heat of his cock pressed against me. The softness of his fur rubbed against me, making my skin tingle. I shivered in his arms, my pulse racing as his hands and tail explored my body. But he was too skilled, too attuned to my needs. It didn’t take long for me to find myself writhing in his grasp, aching for him.

"Please," I whispered. "Kyojuro, please—"

He stilled, and for a moment, I thought he’d just keep teasing me. Then he leaned in, nipping at my ear with a low growl.

“Look at that,” he breathed, his voice rough and thick with need. “My little human, desperate for my cock.” His tail wrapped around my thigh, lifting me up and positioning me just where he wanted. “Don’t worry, my mate, I’ll make it feel so good. I'll fill you with my seed until you're full of my scent. No more salt and ocean. Just me.” And with that, he thrust his thick cock into me roughly, making me cry out in surprise.

His girth stretched me so wide it hurt. He was merciless, holding me up and pounding me hard, my body struggling to accommodate him due to our time apart. My breasts bounced with each thrust, and the sound of my wetness echoed around the den, it was both humiliating and arousing.

"You’re so wet," he rumbled, his breath hot against my ear. "You love this, don’t you? My little human missed me." He nipped at my ear, his tongue running over the lobe. "Taking my cock. Being mine. You’ll never be full of any other’s scent. Not when you’re my mate.” His hands tightened, gripping me so hard, there would no doubt be bruises later.

He didn’t let me reply, his lips claiming mine as he fucked me. My mind blurred, my body consumed by the pleasure. He wasn’t gentle, not this time, and I loved him for it. He fucked me hard and rough, using my body for his pleasure. But he also knew every spot to hit, every spot that would send me over the edge.

“I wanted to be gentle with you,” he growled between thrusts. “But after not seeing you for so long, I just can’t hold back.”

The click of his voice vibrated against my skin.

And the orgasm, oh God, it built quick. There was no slowing it down, no stopping it, as it crested and crashed through me, leaving me screaming into the darkness. He didn’t stop fucking me though, not until I'd come multiple times on his cock.

Finally, when I couldn’t take it anymore and my body trembled from exhaustion, he pulled out. His tail released its hold on me, letting me slide down to my knees, where I fell onto the soft ground, my legs weak.

He stood over me, panting softly, his cock still hard. His eyes gleamed as they roved over my body before he leaned over me and gripped my hips, forcing me onto my fours.

“I know you are tired beautiful human… but I’m afraid I’m not satisfied.” His tail wrapped around my ankle and pulled my legs apart.

I could hear his low chuckle as I tried to catch my breath. “This hole has never been used before…” I felt his tongue lick up my ass. My eyes widen and my body shivered. No way… he was not about to— “It looks so good all pink and wet.” I moaned as he lapped at my rim. “You want me here?” he asked with a chuckle.

"Kyojuro," I gasped, my breath coming short. "No...please, you can’t."

His laughter only deepened, his large hands spreading my cheeks roughly apart. “It’s not for my own pleasure. My mate needs to be fully claimed by me. You smell like ocean, so it must be done,” he said as he pressed his tongue against my rim, teasing it in a way that made me cry out and writhe in his hold.

He kept up that torture for what felt like an age. Licking my ass, his tongue sliding through my cum as he used it to lubricate my rim, sliding it in and out slowly. I squirmed and whimpered, overwhelmed, and his low growls only grew more pleased.

Then, once my rim was nice and stretched out, he finally stood over me again, his cock hovering over my ass. He pushed the tip inside of me, and I cried out, my body trying to clench down.

"It’s okay, my mate," he murmured softly, his voice gentler now. “It’ll sting a bit at first but I’ll take care of you.” His hands stroked my back gently and he slowly pushed his cock deeper inside of me.

I clenched down, trying to stop the pain, but he kept pushing. He stretched my ass out wide with his thickness, filling me so completely I felt I might burst. My whimpers and cries filled the air as I struggled to bare the sensation, even as it was edged with pleasure.

But when he was finally seated fully in my ass, my body gave into the sensation and I moaned, my muscles relaxing.

He let out a deep growl and wrapped his tail around my body, pulling me back against him as he started to move. "This feels amazing," he rasped, he purred, clicking loudly in pleasure.

I felt full and tight, every thrust making me writhe and clench down on his cock, the pleasure mingling with the pain in a way that was maddening. But I didn’t have the ability to think, not while his tail wrapped around my body, holding me in place as he fucked my ass.

He began to move faster, my moans and his growls echoing through the den now. His tail tightened around my waist and his teeth sunk into my neck. I felt him grow thicker inside of me and then I felt him fill my ass with his seed.

"Fuck! It’s so warm and wet..." he growled, his moans growing more desperate as he kept emptying his cum inside of me. The sound of it dripping out of my ass filled the den. I felt his knot expand keeping what could be contained inside of me. I tried to clench down but he held my body still as he continued to come. I moaned and wiggled in his grasp.

"You’re mine," he growled deeply. "I can’t share you with anyone."

And with that, he held me there, his cock still buried deep in my ass, until his knot finally released and he collapsed next to me on the ground. I was exhausted from his fucking, and my body ached in the most delicious way.

He pulled out of my ass, making me gasp as his cum only spilled out of me more. He wrapped me in his tail and nuzzled his face in my neck.

"Sleep little human," he growled softly. "I’ll take good care of you, always."

I felt him pick me up, carrying me to our nest. He laid me down and wrapped around me, holding me securely. This was the warmth I had missed. Despite my body being so sore and exhausted, I was completely blissed out.

I fell into a deep sleep knowing I was safe, knowing I was loved, and knowing he’d always protect me. And the ocean would no longer be a problem. Not after Kyojuro had me all to himself. I smiled, snuggling in his arms.

————————

When I finally awoke, it was to him licking my neck. "Good morning, my little human," he purred. His claws slid through my hair.

I rub my eyes opening them slightly to adjust to the light. The sun had risen, and its warmth filtered through the trees.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, his voice a soft rumble.

"Yeah," I answered, still groggy. "How long have you been awake?"

"A while," he chuckled. "I wanted to make sure you got enough rest." I sighed, feeling relaxed and content. But as I shifted, a dull ache throbbed through me.

"Your body will be sore for a few days," he said, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "You took me so well. It makes me proud to have such a good mate."

"Thanks," I mumbled. "I guess."

"Are you hungry?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah, a little," I said, stretching.

Kyojuro’s eyes gleamed, his tail curling around my leg possessively as he shifted to sit up, still keeping me close. “Good. I’ll catch us something fresh,” he said, the hint of a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “But don’t you move a muscle. Rest those sore limbs. I’ll be back in no time.”

I watched him rise, his form lit by the morning sun as he stretched, flexing his muscles with a lazy confidence. “What about the offerings I made you, we could just eat those.” I suggest.

He chuckled lowly and shook his head. “As much as I love you my mate. You made those offerings for me. And if there’s one thing I won’t share with you… it’s the gifts you bring me.” He smiled playfully his tail wagging almost like a dog.

He gave me one last intense look, as if memorizing every detail before he turned, disappearing into the woods.

Left alone, I sank back into our nest, feeling the lingering warmth he’d left behind. My body was sore, as he’d warned, but there was something comforting about the ache, a reminder of just how much we’d missed each other. The birds were chirping, and a soft breeze drifted through the trees, rustling the leaves. I closed my eyes, letting myself be lulled by the forest’s quiet rhythm, still wrapped in the warmth of last night’s memory.

Before long, the sound of Kyojuro’s footsteps drew closer. I opened my eyes as he emerged from the shadows, carrying fresh game in one hand, his eyes bright and eager. He set it down, then moved over to sit beside me again, his tail flicking with satisfaction. “Told you I’d be quick,” he said, as he leaned in to brush a stray strand of hair from my face.

“Impressive,” I murmured, smiling up at him.

He tilted his head, amber eyes softening as he took me in. “Impressive is having you back in my arms,” he murmured, voice lowering. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you here.”

The intensity in his gaze sent a familiar flutter through me, that possessive spark still so alive and undeniable. And as I reached out to touch his hand, I knew the same warmth would pull me back, over and over again.

Kyojuro held both my hands in one of his as if they were the most fragile things ever, a completely contrast to the night before. He raised my hands to his face nuzzling against him, brushing a warm kiss across my knuckles. “I want you to feel safe, always,” he murmured, the conviction in his voice sending a shiver down my spine.

I squeezed his hand, taking in the steady heat of him, grounding me in the moment. “With you, I do,” I whispered. “It’s like… nothing could ever hurt me here.”

He smiled, a hint of pride flickering in his eyes. “That’s how it should be.” Then, with a playful tilt of his head, he added, “But I might need to remind you every now and then, just to be sure.”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “Always so protective.”

“Of course,” he replied, a low rumble in his chest. “I’d fight the every monster in the world if they tried to take you from me.” He leaned in closer, his gaze unyielding. “You’re mine.”

The intensity in his voice stirred something deep inside me, a thrill mixed with reassurance. “And you’re mine,” I replied, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw, feeling the strength in his muscles as he leaned into my touch. “No one else, nothing else matters.”

His eyes softened, the fire in them shifting to something warm and tender. “Good,” he whispered, then bent down to press a lingering kiss against my forehead. “Now,” he said, his voice lighter, “how about some food? You’ll need your strength if we’re going to spend the day together.”

“Sounds perfect,” I replied, feeling a renewed warmth spreading through me.

I prepared the food over a small fire with practiced ease, never straying too far, as if I couldn’t bear to be away. And as we shared the meal, surrounded by the gentle sounds of the forest, I felt something settle within me—a deep, unshakeable peace, knowing I was exactly where I was meant to be.

The first few days back at Kyojuro’s den going back and forth like I usually did. The days were a whirlwind of passion and comfort. We spent hours exploring each other’s bodies, the weeks of separation making every touch feel new and electric. His fur was just as soft as I remembered, his eyes just as intense. And the way he’d hold me at night, his tail coiled around me, made me feel like I was home.

I knew I had to talk to him about Tomioka. I wanted to know the history between them. Tomioka said kyojuro had enemies, that he was a liar. And that part genuinely unsettled me. No matter how hard I tried to push it down.

The thought gnawed at me, even in moments of warmth and ease, like a shadow lurking just beyond the firelight. I had questions, and I needed answers.

One evening, as we lay entwined in our nest, his breathing slow and steady beside me, I finally gathered the courage. I shifted slightly, just enough for him to sense I was awake. He glanced down, eyes gleaming with that familiar, protective warmth, his arms wrapping tighter around me.

“Kyojuro,” I began, voice barely above a whisper. “Can we talk?”

“Of course,” he murmured, his expression softening. “Anything, my mate.”

I hesitated, searching his gaze, feeling the weight of the words I was about to say. “When I was with Tomioka… he mentioned things. He spoke of enemies you might have. That there were… conflicts, even lies.” My voice faltered as his eyes grew darker, the warmth in them receding.

He held my gaze for a long, tense moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he sighed, a sound filled with something I couldn’t quite name, was it regret? Resignation? “Giyu…” He spoke his name like a wound he was trying to close. “He’s not wrong, not entirely. There are… old tensions among us, unspoken alliances and rivalries. The Hashira, we each walk our own path. Sometimes, those paths cross in ways that are less than ideal.”

I felt a chill, like a draft sneaking into the den. “And what about the lies?” I asked, unable to mask the tremor in my voice.

He closed his eyes briefly, his clawed thumb brushing my cheek in slow, soothing strokes. “There are things I’ve kept from you, yes, but not out of deception. I wanted you to feel safe here with me, untouched by the struggles I face.”

“But I need to know, Kyojuro,” I pressed, the urgency rising in my voice. “If there are things out there that could put us in danger, if there are people who’d come after you, don’t I deserve to know?”

A spark of pain flickered in his eyes, and he nodded, a reluctant acceptance settling over him. “Yes. You deserve to know everything.” He paused, his voice taking on a new gravity. “There are other Hashira who don’t agree with my… my methods, or the way I’ve have chosen to live my life. They see it as a corrupt, and wrong. Giyu is cautious, wary. He wanted to warn you, perhaps hoping you’d run away.”

The words struck me harder than I’d expected, and I found myself reaching for his hand, squeezing it tightly. “I’m not running away. No matter what.”

He smiled, the slightest edge of vulnerability showing in his fierce gaze. “I know you wouldn’t.” His clawed fingers traced my palm, lingering there, as if trying to reassure himself of my presence. “But if Giyu or anyone else threatens what we have… I won’t hesitate to protect you. Even if it means facing my past and the ones I once called allies.”

We fell silent, the weight of his confession settling between us, mingling with the night air. It was a silence heavy with truth, with the understanding that we were bound by forces beyond ourselves.

As he pulled me close, nuzzling against the top of my head, I felt the strength of his vow in every touch, every breath. And while uncertainty lingered, so too did an unbreakable trust, a quiet promise that, no matter the challenges, we would face them together.

The night deepened, a stillness settling over us that carried both comfort and an edge of unease. Kyojuro’s warmth enveloped me, his breath steady against my skin, and for a while, we lay in silence, just listening to each other’s heartbeats. I wanted to let go of my worries, to lose myself in the safety of his embrace, but Tomioka’s words still echoed in my mind, a reminder that nothing was as simple as I’d once thought.

As if sensing my thoughts, Kyojuro tightened his hold, his hand holding my back. “There’s more to it than even Giyu understands,” he murmured, breaking the silence. “I’ve had to make choices that others wouldn’t, things the other Hashira see as betrayals.”

“Betrayals?” I whispered, unsure if I wanted to know more, yet unable to stop myself from asking.

He nodded, a somber look in his eyes. “Not everyone agrees with the way I protect or take what’s mine. To them, I’m reckless. They don’t understand… that love isn’t a weakness. That it gives me strength.” His eyes softened, that fierce possessiveness tempered by a tenderness that left me breathless. “And that strength is why I’ll always protect you, even if it costs me.”

I reached up, my hand finding his cheek, and he leaned into my touch, his eyes slipping closed. “I don’t want you to give up everything just for me,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “I don’t want you to be alone in this.”

“You’re here,” he replied, his voice a low rumble, the barest hint of a smile curving his lips. “That’s all I need.”

For a moment, it felt like nothing else mattered, that the forest around us, the Hashira, the threats they posed, all of it faded in the face of what we shared. But even as I held him close, I knew there were things left unsaid, truths lurking beneath the surface.

We spent the next few days in a fragile peace, an unspoken understanding passing between us. Kyojuro was attentive, almost more than usual, as if determined to make up for the tension between us. He brought me fresh food every morning, wrapped me in his warmth each night, and filled the hours between with quiet affection. His hands were always on me, grounding, reassuring, and in those moments, I almost forgot the dark clouds that loomed over us.

But the shadow of Tomioka’s warning still hung in the background, a persistent reminder that there were others out there who didn’t share Kyojuro’s loyalty. And one evening, as I watched him prowl the edge of the den, his gaze sharp and alert, I felt a pang of worry I couldn’t ignore.

“Kyojuro,” I called softly, breaking him from his vigil. He looked over, his eyes immediately softening as they met mine.

“Yes, my mate?” he asked, crossing the distance to sit beside me. His tail curled around me instinctively, pulling me close.

“Do you think… they’ll ever try to hurt us?” I asked, forcing the words out even though my heart clenched at the thought.

His jaw tightened, a shadow flickering across his expression. “I’d be lying if I said some of them wouldn’t try,” he admitted. “But they’d be fools to underestimate what I’d do to keep you safe.” His voice was low, deadly, a reminder of the strength that lay just beneath his warmth.

I nodded, finding comfort in his resolve, but a small part of me couldn’t shake the fear. “And if they come… will you tell me?” I asked, my gaze steady, my voice as firm as I could make it.

He hesitated, his fingers brushing over mine. “I’ll never leave you in the dark again,” he promised, his eyes searching mine with a sincerity that took my breath away. “We’ll face whatever comes together.”

As he pulled me into his arms, his words settled over me like a shield, a reminder that, no matter the dangers, we had each other. And though uncertainty lingered, for the first time, I felt a quiet sense of resolve, a strength that mirrored his, a fierce determination to stand by his side, no matter what.

In that moment, I knew that whatever lay ahead, I was ready.

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A/N: I want to say thank you everyone for being so patient with me for this chapter. I haven’t been able to go through all of my in box but the messages and DMs have been nothing but supportive. I’ve never been so grateful to be apart of such a kind and loving community, thank you all so much. Unfortunately life happens and it’s hard to bounce back and continue projects like these but it helps when everyone is so kind.

I also I want to make it clear this blog is a safe space and no hate or cruelty is tolerated, I love all of you. Stay safe and know you are loved and supported🫶🏻

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Tags: @im-0-addicted-0-to-0tea @emmenic726 @fandomenbylover @staygoldsquatchling02 @nicora04

[im-so-normal-iswear]

Hiii, could I request like the ‘06 gang (Sonic, Shadow, Silver) x reader (platonic or romantic is fine) that’s scared of vaccines/shots since I have to get ones soon and I like shake just thinking about it (I’m really sensitive (idk why) and my arm always hurts way longer than other people’s for some reason)

GRAHH SORRY FOR RANTING I LIKE NEVER EVER DO REQUESTS SO I’M REALLY NERVOUS ANYWAYS THANK YOU SO MUCH IF YOU DO THIS OR NOT‼️‼️‼️

A/n: dw lol, ur not rambling

Triple S x reader scared of shots

Sonic:

Sonic’s the first to notice your nervousness as you anxiously tap your foot. He gets it, sitting still isn’t his thing either, so having to go through something uncomfortable? No thanks! But he’s not about to let you do this alone.

Sonic want to make sure that you aren't just suffering the whole time, so he tried to keep things light hearted. Making jokes, random distractions, etc to get your mind off the shots. Maybe making you do trivia of him

He’s tossing questions at you like, "What’s my favorite food? Wrong! It’s a chili dog AND cola! Gotcha"

When you reach the clinic, Sonic sees how tense you are, so he offers his hand with a smirk. "It's fine, you can hold on if you need to!" He’s playful about it, but his hand is warm, steady, and there for you to grip onto if you need. He’s always right there, "You got this! Think of it as just a tiny pinch!"

Once it’s over, Sonic doesn’t let you dwell on the soreness. Instead, he’s already planning a day full of fun things. "Hey, I know the perfect way to forget about that shot, let’s go grab some food or go to an arcade!"

He’s all about making sure you end the day on a high note, reassuring you every time you wince. He’ll even make you laugh by pretending his arm hurts too, just to keep your spirits up.

Shadow:

Shadow is the quiet support type. He notices how your usual energy fades the moment you realize you need to get a shot, and he can see the worry in your eyes even if you try to hide it. He may not say much, but he’s not about to let you go through this without his support.

Shadow isn’t big on comforting words, but he has a way of grounding you when you’re feeling anxious. He’ll place a steady hand on your shoulder, looking you in the eyes. "You’re stronger than this. You’ve faced worse." A bit of a tough love guy.

He knows you’re sensitive and that your arm tends to ache more than others afterward. So, he might take some to reassure you that when you get the shot, it'll be okay, and it won't be as harsh as other injuries you've attained.

When it’s over, Shadow stays by your side, silently making sure you’re okay. He’ll help you find a comfortable way to hold your arm, reminding you to relax the muscles around the injection site to ease the soreness. He even surprises you by making tea. If you wince, he might mutter, "hm, humans and your sensitive bodies..." but he'll still massage your arm, it'll probably hurt more than just getting the shot tho tbh-.

Silver

Silver is the most empathetic. He sees how anxious you are about the shot and starts trying to comfort you to the best of his abilities.

He knows fear is a big deal, and he’s very vocal about it. "Hey, it’s okay to be scared!" Silver’s the type to assure you it’s natural to feel nervous, and he offers to be there for you.

Silver tries to create the calmest atmosphere possible. He takes deep breaths with you, even suggesting meditation or some grounding techniques to help soothe you. "Let’s just close our eyes and focus on something peaceful for a minute."

After the shot, Silver feels terrible seeing you in any discomfort, so he’s extra attentive. He’ll offer to massage your arm if you’re okay with it (it's way more gentle than Shadow) or bring you anything to help ease the soreness, will give cuddles to ease the pain.

All 3 of them:

He’s the one to keep you smiling, whether with jokes or challenges to keep your mind busy. He’d bet Silver and Shadow on who can make you laugh the fastest, anything to keep you from focusing on your anxiety.

Shadow’s calm presence is there as a constant reminder that he's there, I mean if he didn't want to be there, he just wouldn't, but he is there. He doesn’t need to say much, but the way he holds your hand or pats your shoulder speaks volumes. He keeps things practical, making sure you know that your strength is what’s helping you through this.

Silver would be the one to say the gentle words that help you accept your fear without feeling judged. If you’re feeling sensitive afterward, he’d be there. "You did amazing. You’re stronger than you think, and you’ve got us all here to take care of you."

A/n: sorry if you expected Archie silver, you’re getting idw

[fingertipsmp3]

Also at what point should I be concerned about shoulder pain. Like just out of pure scientific interest.

[phagodyke]

was gonna say smth else but this turned into a vent sorry everyone just ignore. typical weekend post on this blog u know how it is here we go👍

[milo-is-rambling]

Most of the time I think life is so so good and then I have one minuscule moment of pain again and it’s like nvm I need to die

[in-class-daydreams]

Imaging you and ex-husband Gojo getting into an ugly fight for one of the first times since the initial divorce.

"Does your little boyfriend know you kissed me?" he asks lowly.

Your living room was not the ideal place to get into spats like this, but you'd rather here than either school where eavesdroppers can spread your business all over the place.

"He doesn't, actually!" You turn and stalk towards the kitchen, calling over your shoulder, "He's not my boyfriend, so it doesn't matter."

Satoru and his ridiculous long legs easily keep up with you. "Is that how that works?"

You turn to face him, only to bump right into his chest. When did he get that close?

Jabbing a finger into his chest, you say, "If, by some insane lapse in judgement, I kissed you while I had a boyfriend, I'd own it and come clean. It's called 'communication,' Satoru, look it up." Again, you turn to make your way into another room, eager to be away from him, but he grabs you by the wrist.

"I hate when you do that! You say some pain in the ass thing, then you try to walk away! You do it every time," he gripes. "And what would you tell him, huh?"

"I'd tell him your fucking lips were dry!" you snap. "And that it was a mistake."

Satoru grabs you by the face with one hand, squishing your cheeks together and forcing you to look at him. With one flick of his finger, he uses his technique to force his blindfold off. You're left looking into his crystal blue eyes that make you feel like a teenager again.

"You still love me," he tells you.

"I don't."

"I can tell. You look at me the same way you always have."

"No."

"Say it!"

"Fuck off!" You turn and bite his hand hard. He yelps and recoils. His fault for always letting you through his infinity. "You want me to love you, Satoru?" you shout. "You wanna act like you've changed?"

Memories of him walking into the restaurant with another woman on his arm flash in your mind. Holding back tears, you continue, "Maybe you have. But you changed for other women instead of me, so why should I give a damn about what you want?"

Satoru always blamed himself for the divorce, as much as you tried in the past to reassure him that there were a dozen factors working against you. He's done his best to take what you've said in the end days of your marriage to heart and become a better man. Communicating with dates, being better about speaking his true thoughts, all of it was an attempt to be the type of man you wanted to be married to. For you to imply that all that was too little, too late cut him deeper than you could ever know.

And so, in a stroke of pure idiocy, Satoru reaches out, cups your face, and kisses you like he'd never get to again.

Heehoo

Click [here] to keep up with ex-husband Gojo and his estranged family | Ask stuff about Sen and the fam [here]

[imaginedisish]

My Girl (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey guys!! So sorry this took so long. Here is the secret relationship/breeding kink fic. I honestly really like this one...and I hope you guys do too. Was listening to "Juna" by Clairo while writing it, but went with "My Girl" for the title. ENJOY!

Summary: You and Logan have been in a secret relationship for months, but everything comes to a head when a new mutant visits the Institute, and won't leave you alone...Logan shows him, and you, who your man is.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT!!! Thigh riding, Fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), breeding kink, praise kink, possessive!Logan, jealous!Logan, unspecified/implied!Age Gap, established relationship, creepy!OC who hits on reader and doesn't lay off, minor violence, afab!/fem!reader, fluff/feelings, cursing, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it?

Word Count: 5,313 this is why it took so long also, smut right under the cut...

You remember the first time he fucked you, vividly. 

It was late at night, after a mission. You almost died in his arms. And that was what broke that thing inside him, the burden of time that he carries, that deep-seated pain that made it justifiable to stay away from you. He had held back for so long—had done his all to resist falling for you. He was screwed from the beginning, and he knew that. But he had become so terrified at the thought of losing you that he hadn’t realized it could happen all the same if he stayed away—if he forced himself to remain a friend. 

So, when he fucked you that first time, that first night, he fucked you like it’d be the last—the only time. 

“Goddammit, so fucking perfect,” he mumbled, his lips bruising yours, shoving himself deep inside—as deep as you could take him. “Needed you this whole time. Can’t live without you.”

“Logan,” you whined, his hips snapping against yours. “D-don’t stop, please.” “Never gonna stop, pretty girl,” he promised. “Can’t go back. Can’t be anywhere but here.”

For months now, you’ve been together—but nobody knows. There’s no doubt about commitment—nothing casual about the relationship in the slightest. You start and end every day in Logan’s bed. You’ve talked about running off together, getting married, and settling down. For the first time in his long life, Logan sees a future where he’s happy—genuinely happy. 

The sun peaks through the curtains. You curl yourself into Logan’s chest. His arms are wrapped around your back, holding you tight against him, even in his sleep. You listen to his breathing as the fall breeze creeps through the open window. Everything is calm and quiet in the morning, when everyone is still tucked away in their bedrooms, sound asleep. 

Logan groans, tugging you closer to him, nuzzling his face into your neck. “Go back to sleep.” His voice is heavy, laden with exhaustion. “Too early.” He kisses the spot just under your ear, and you moan involuntarily, feeling extra sensitive in the haze of the morning. He smiles softly against your neck, and kisses you again, his teeth grazing your skin. You moan louder this time, intertwining your legs with Logan’s. “Love those pretty little noises you make.”

“Feels good,” you murmur, his thigh slotting between your legs, pressing against your core. You can’t help but grind down on his thigh, rocking your hips back and forth. “Need you, Lo,” you beg. 

“You’re gonna ruin me,” Logan husks, his palms warm against your bare skin as he slips underneath your shirt—which is really his. 

He’s slow in the morning, pressing soft kisses on your bare shoulders, letting his touch linger longer than normal. He likes the peace of it all—waking up to each other, smelling you next to him, feeling the other side of his bed warm and full of you. When he fucks you, early like this, he takes his time. 

His fingertips trace the curves of your stomach, falling into your dips, gripping your flesh. Logan breathes you in, his lips softly melting into yours. “Still too early?” You mumble between soft, lazy kisses. 

“Never too early to want you,” Logan husks, dragging his thigh against your core again. “Always need you.” You can feel his erection through his boxers. “Gonna take care of my girl. Gonna make you—”

There’s a knock at the door. “Logan?” It’s Scott’s voice on the other side. He knocks again. “Logan, you in there?”

Logan tries to ignore him, his fingertips dragging down your sides, bumping into the hem of your panties as he trails wet, open-mouthed kisses down the hollow of your throat. You let out a breathy moan as Logan bites down on your pulse point. He smiles under your jaw at the soft sound, content that you can’t hold back. 

“Logan,” you whisper, running your hands up his arms, to his shoulders, your fingertips finding the nape of his neck. “He’s not gonna stop.”

Sure enough, Scott knocks again. “Logan, I know you’re in there,” he calls, banging on the door now. “Wake up. We have some tech guy on his way.” 

Logan groans into your neck. “Why do you need me, Summers?” Logan licks your collarbone teasingly, hiking your t-shirt farther up your body. 

“He’s…a mutant,” Scott explains. “He can speak with machines, computers, code—you name it, he can do it. He’s gonna fix some stuff around the mansion. Charles asked me to make sure you’re awake just in case…” Scott trails off.

Logan finishes Scott’s sentence. “In case everything goes to shit?” 

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Scott huffs, likely shaking his head on the other side of the door. “But yes. In case things don’t go as planned. I’m also looking for—"

But Logan cuts Scott off, saying your name for him. 

“Yeah, I can’t find her. Do you know where she might—”

“On a run,” Logan chimes in, and you suppress your laughter by pressing your face into his chest. “She’ll be back soon.” Logan’s arms wrap around your back, holding you against him. 

“Alright,” Scott says, shuffling, slowly stepping away from the door. “If you see her, let her know what’s going on, okay?”

“Trust me bub,” Logan husks, his fingers digging into your flesh, tickling you. “I’ll make sure she knows.” 

Scott mumbles something unintelligible as he walks down the hallway, his footsteps echoing as he disappears down the stairs. 

Logan’s lips are attached to your neck again, sucking playfully. “Where were we?” He teases, his nails grazing down your back. His palms settle on your ass, squeezing your flesh tightly in his hands. 

You moan, your chest flush with his. “Logan,” you whine. “We need to get up,” you insist, your hands pushing against Logan’s broad shoulders, your fingers digging into his muscular biceps. “Can’t stay in bed anymore.”

Logan grunts, his thigh still nudged between your legs, rocking into your core. You want him, and it’s tempting to let him take you right here, right now. But you can’t. And he knows it. He presses a chaste kiss to your lips and pulls you tightly into his chest. “Later,” he promises, his lips finding the shell of your ear. You smile at the thought. There was always a later with Logan.

You snuck out of Logan’s room, unnoticed, as always. It was still early—too early for the ruckus of a morning at the mansion to begin. You got ready for the day and slipped downstairs. You’re still shocked at just how oblivious the rest of the team is. Truly, no one knows about you and Logan. 

You’re in the kitchen now, nursing a cup of coffee, waiting for the day to start. Familiar, heavy footsteps approach, and you smile before you can even see his face. 

“Hi pretty girl,” Logan coos, standing behind you and wrapping his arms around your front. You lean into him, feeling the warmth of his chest and the strength of his heartbeat. He presses a chaste kiss to the crown of your head and walks over to the coffee pot. 

Scott enters the kitchen as Logan takes his first sip of coffee—one second earlier and he would have seen Logan holding you. “The guy is here,” Scott announces from the doorway. He looks at you and smiles. “Oh! Hey! How was your run?” He asks cheerfully. 

You almost spit out your coffee, remembering what you were actually doing this morning. “Great!” You say, doing your all to hold back your laughter. “Surprisingly relaxing.” Logan snorts and plays it off like he’s sniffling.

Scott smiles, none the wiser, and nods, cocking his head towards the hallway just outside the kitchen. “Come meet the tech guy!” He backs out of the doorway and into the hallway. Logan settles his coffee cup—which reads #1 Professor—next to yours on the counter and gives your waist a quick squeeze as you hop out of the chair. You walk shoulder to shoulder into the foyer. All the signs of your relationship are there—out in the open—and yet, still, no one seems to catch them.

You step into the foyer, and there’s Scott and the Professor by the front door, chatting with a younger man—who’s about your age. The man’s eyes find yours, and he smiles softly. “Hi there!” He calls, waving. “I’m Mark!” He strides away from Scott and the Professor and towards you. “But you can call me Techno.” He smirks and winks, extending his hand out, waiting for you to take it.

Logan grabs his hand instead, gripping it tightly, catching Mark off guard. “Wolverine,” Logan growls. “And you can’t call me Logan,” he adds, gritting his teeth. “So, you turn on computers, bub?” 

Mark grimaces, wrenching his hand from Logan’s grasp. “A little more than that,” he asserts, closing his eyes and bawling his fists. You look up as the lights flicker, and televisions turn on and off. Your cell phone rings in your pocket, and you pull it out. The screen reads: Incoming Call from Mark.

Your lips part. “How did you…” You trail off. 

Mark shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. “My powers essentially let me communicate with electricity and tech,” he explains. You can practically hear Logan seething beside you. 

“A technopath,” Charles offers as he rolls over to join the three of you with Scott in tow. 

“Exactly,” Mark says, nodding to Charles. “Makes it easy to put my number into pretty girls’ phones.” Mark winks at you, and you press your lips into a straight line in response. 

You shake your head. “I’m not inter—”

You’re cut off by the sound of Logan’s claws unsheathing. “These,” Logan pauses, lifting his claws to Mark. “Make it real easy to hurt creeps who put their numbers into girls’ phones without asking first, bub.” 

Mark rolls his eyes, and the corners of your lips twitch up. You try to force down your smile, try to slow the rhythm of your heart. You secretly liked when Logan got possessive over you. He was inherently protective, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on just a little. 

“Let’s stay on course,” Charles reprimands, guiding Mark to the hallway to the left with a wave of his hand. “Let me show you some of the machines I’d like you to work on.”

“It would be my pleasure, Professor Xavier,” Mark says harshly, his eyes locked on Logan as he backs away to follow Charles and Scott.

Logan lowers all but his center claw, giving Mark the middle finger as he turns around. “Don’t mind Logan,” Scott says as they disappear into a room, the door shutting behind them.

“Logan,” you whisper, now that everyone is gone. “Don’t worry,” you assure, bringing a hand to his shoulder. 

He turns to look at you. “He’s a fucking creep.”

“It’s going to be fine.”

 It is not going well, or fine.

Mark is something of a nuisance. He’s only been here for an hour, but he has already created multiple excuses to talk to you, to pull you away from whatever task is at hand. 

You’re in the middle of teaching an English class, discussing Mrs. Dalloway with a group of older students. “So, what are we to make of Clarissa and Sally’s relationship?” You ask the students, to no avail. 

This was your hardest class of the day—especially given the fact that you’re not even a decade older than most of the students. You had joined the X-Men in your early 20s, your powers having shown themselves a bit later than in most mutants, and only a few years have passed since then. Convincing the students who have been here their whole lives that you deserve to teach has been nothing short of a challenge. 

So, when Mark butts his head in on your class, annoyance burns through your body. You take a deep breath and swallow down your frustration. 

“Hey!” He chimes, his head poking through the open classroom door. “Mind if I take a look at your computer really quick?”

The class perks up, more focused on you than they were just seconds ago. You fake a smile, nodding and pushing yourself off the front of your desk so that he has space to access the computer. 

He slips behind the desk and smiles widely. “You didn’t have to move,” he remarks. “Would’ve been nice to have you close.”

You want to gag. You turn away from the students, whispering so they can’t hear. “Listen,” you chide, narrowing your eyes. “I am not interested, so could you please—”

“What are you doing in here, asshole?” Logan’s voice echoes against the walls of the classroom. For the first time all year, the class is paying incredibly close attention. “The Professor told you to check the computers in the lab down the hall.” Logan fully enters the room, striding over to Mark, his hands bawled into fists at his sides. “Beat it, bub.”

“Whatever,” Mark mutters, his head down as he exits the classroom. The bell rings, and the class stands, grabbing their things and filing out the door. 

You groan. “Please read the next twenty pages for tomorrow!” You shout over the hubbub and shuffling of students. “I know it’s a challenging novel, but I think you guys can…” The students are gone before you can finish your sentence. “Handle it.” 

Logan smiles sympathetically, closing the distance between you and him. His presence is comforting, warm, everything you’ve ever needed. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. “Sorry,” he apologizes, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Didn’t mean to make your class harder than it is already.”

You take a deep breath, your annoyance fading away. “You helped,” you whisper. “Mark is the one who ruined things,” you insist. “He won’t leave me alone.”

Logan chuckles. “You don’t like him?” He teases. “Don’t like a guy your own age flirting with you?” He’s egging you on, trying to joke, but you can tell part of him is a bit serious. 

You shake your head. “Only like you.” You press your lips to the hollow of his throat and Logan grunts. 

He reluctantly pulls away, the palms of his hands dragging down your arms, his fingers intertwining with yours. “Gotta get to my class,” he husks, his fingers slipping, tugging longingly as he steps to the door. “Meet me after?” He asks, but he already knows the answer. You’ll be outside his classroom door before the bell rings, waiting for him.

You nod, and he smiles, his hands gripping the doorframe like some invisible magnet is pulling him away, and he’d give anything to spend another second with you. He slips down the hallway, and into his classroom. 

You spend the next thirty minutes or so grading papers, waiting for the period to end so that you can walk across the hall to Logan’s class. Another few minutes pass, and you start to collect your things, readying yourself to meet Logan. Your heart thumps in your chest at the thought, even after all the months you’ve spent together. 

You grab your bag and head to the door, closing it behind you and locking up. You cross the hall and stand outside Logan’s door. He’s teaching a younger group of kids—ten to eleven-year-olds. You would trade places with him in a heartbeat if you could. The younger students loved you. There was no question of respect, no doubt of your power. But Logan was given the class as a challenge—Charles wanted to test his patience. 

And, honestly, seeing him with the children did something to you. You loved watching the way he doted on them, carefully explaining material in a way they’d understand. He was an excellent teacher, and one day, you’re sure, he’d make an even better father. You find yourself falling into fantasy: Logan, late at night, a baby—your baby—on his chest. You can see it now—him changing a diaper, teaching the child to walk. Your heart squeezes in your chest, your eyes falling closed as you daydream about the future—your future together. 

You’re so distracted that you don’t hear Mark walk up to you—don’t feel his hand grab your shoulder.

You yelp and jump. “Oh my god,” you mumble, turning around and coming face to face with him. 

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, his hand lingering for far too long on your shoulder. He finally peels away, his arms falling to his sides. He leans against the wall, trying to appear casual and cool. “What are you doing tonight?”

The bell rings before you can think of a polite way to shoo Mark away, and the students exit Logan’s classroom, happily shouting greetings in your direction. You stood outside Logan’s door every day, and the students were always excited to see you.

A few of them run up to hug you, complaining about Logan’s gruffness. When they hear Logan’s footsteps approaching the door, they bolt down the hallway, their laughter booming against the walls. 

Logan steps out into the hall, and he groans audibly when he sees Mark next to you. But Mark ignores Logan, his eyes trained on yours. “Got plans?” He asks again. 

You roll your eyes. “Dude, I’m not interested!” You groan, too irritated to pretend to be nice. Mark smirks and parts his lips, ready to persist like the creep he is.

Logan steps in front of you, his claws already out. “Listen, bub,” he growls, his claws just inches from Mark’s chest. “If you don’t fuck off and stop harassing my girl, we’re gonna have a problem.”

Mark scoffs. “My girl? What are you, her father? You can’t possibly be dating her.”

You can see the anger in Logan’s eyes, the honest rage. “Lo,” you soothe. “Don’t do it.” But you know it’s too late. His decision is already made.

Logan shoves Mark against the wall, his claws pressed against his throat. “I’m her fucking boyfriend, bub,” he grunts as Mark squirms helplessly under his hold. 

“Oh, her boyfriend?” He teases, despite the fear in his eyes. “Aren’t you too old to be a boyfriend?”

Logan shoves him harder into the wall, and Mark yelps pathetically, like a small dog. “More serious than that,” Logan asserts. “Guessing you wouldn’t know anything about that though, would you?” 

“Alright, break it up!” Scott’s voice echoes from down the hall. He runs over, Jean and the Professor by his side. Rogue and Gambit follow close behind. But Logan doesn’t budge, the tips of his claws almost digging hard enough to draw blood. 

You bring your hand to Logan’s shoulder. “He isn’t gonna hurt me,” you whisper to Logan. “I could handle him easily if he tried.” You slide your hand to the nape of his neck, trying to soothe him, to relax him. “Nothing’s going to happen, okay?” 

Logan retracts his claws and lets go of Mark, who stutters away from Logan and into the center of the hallway. “I’m getting the fuck out of here!” Mark shouts, but Logan doesn’t react. He simply intertwines his fingers with yours. 

“You okay?” He asks, his thumb brushing circles into the side of your hand. 

You arch a brow. “Are you okay?” You smile and lean into him. 

“So…” Scott trails off, interrupting. “You two are…”

“Together.” You finish his sentence, your eyes still on Logan’s. You can feel the tension in his shoulders stretch down to his hand. He’s rigid, still on edge. You know he needs to get out of here, needs to be alone with you. 

“How long has this been going on?” Scott asks, genuinely caught off guard. “Did anyone know about this?” 

You turn to the team to see heads shaking side to side—save for the Professor. “I did, of course,” Charles confesses. “But I felt it was best left a secret until the two lovebirds decided otherwise.”

Rogue shakes her head, the corners of her mouth twitching up. “I can’t believe you never told me!” 

“Told you what?” Jubilee calls from down the hall, approaching the group. She blows a bubble as she stands next to Rogue, her eyes trailing down to where your and Logan’s hands connect. Her eyes widen and her bubble bursts. “No way!” She cheers, jumping up and down. 

“Settle down,” Charles laughs, extending his hand down the hall to where Mark was just moments ago. “Scott, make sure our technopath friend makes it out the door alive.” Scott nods and heads down the hall. Charles turns to you and Logan. “As for the two of you,” he pauses, winking. “We’ll discuss more at a later point.”

You smile in understanding, and Logan squeezes your hand—another sign it’s time to go. He’s still worked up about Mark; he needs to get this out of his system, needs to relieve all the built-up tension. 

“Got something I need to take care of,” Logan says to the group, tugging you down the hallway.  

He strides through the mansion, practically yanking your arm out of your socket. “Logan,” you whisper, trying to catch his attention. You’ve never seen him like this—rage and jealousy like fire in his eyes, dripping from his pores. He leads you up the stairs and towards his bedroom, and it suddenly dawns on you what exactly he needs to take care of. 

Logan pushes the door open and slams it closed the second you’re inside. His hands are immediately on you, grabbing at the pillowy flesh of your ass, pinning you to the door. His lips find yours—hungry and rough, the wiry hairs of his beard scratching your face. He tastes you, his tongue seeking more of you as it swipes across your lower lip. You open your mouth, inviting him in, your tongue tangling with his.

Logan hoists you up without breaking the kiss, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. You can feel his erection straining inside his jeans, pressing against your heat. He grinds into you as one hand slips under your top and drags up your back, holding you tightly against him. 

“Need you,” he mumbles against your lips. “Always fucking need you.” He tears you away from the door and towards the bed. He throws you onto the mattress and climbs over you, slowly, like an animal stalking its prey. “Tell me you need me, pretty girl.”

“N-need you,” you stutter as he settles on top of you, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head. 

“I’m not too old for you?” Logan teases, one of his hands loosening its grasp on your arm and trailing down your body, settling on the hem of your shirt. “You don’t wanna be with anyone else?” He hikes up your top, pushing it above your breasts. 

You can feel the heat pooling between your legs. “No,” you whine, arching your back as his fingertips play with the bottom of your bra. “Only wanna be with you,” you breathe as Logan slowly, teasingly pulls your bra up. “Please,” you beg, spreading your legs wider. “Want you to fuck me.” 

Logan smirks, finally tugging your bra and top over your head and casting them to the floor. “Gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” Logan soothes, palming your breasts with his free hand, rolling your nipples under his thumb. 

“Fuck,” you moan as he pinches a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. 

Logan hums, his fingertips trailing across the valley of your breasts, doing the same on the other side. Logan pinches harder, and you moan louder this time. “That’s it,” he coos, his lips finding your pulse point, sucking roughly. “Don’t be quiet, darlin’,” he demands. You whisper his name, your voice whiny and needy. “Show me how much you need me. Keep making those pretty little noises, baby.”

“Feels good,” you whimper as his hand traces down your stomach, to your hips, gathering the fabric of your skirt in his fist and yanking it up to your waist.

He chuckles darkly. “You wore this just for me?” He asks, his thumb hooking inside the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs. “Wanted to make it easier for me to fuck you?”

“Fuck, yes, just for you,” you pant, watching as Logan lifts himself off you, tugging his t-shirt up and over his head. He dexterously unclasps his belt buckle and throws the leather to the floor. He balances on his forearm as he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, pushing them down his thighs along with his boxers. “I’m all yours, Lo,” you promise as he presses his forehead to yours.

Logan’s hand glides down your side, slipping between your legs and finding your folds. You moan as his fingertips prod at your entrance, spreading your slick. “Fuck, all this is for me?” He pinches your clit before swiping through your folds again. “You’re soaked already, princess.” His fingertips brush your clit, tracing achingly slow circles into the bud. 

You rock your hips against Logan’s touch, searching for more friction. “Logan, need you,” you whine, squirming underneath him. “I’m yours.”

“All mine?” He whispers, his touch suddenly disappearing. You groan at the loss of contact. “Say it again, pretty girl,” he demands, guiding his cock to your folds. 

“All yours,” you answer, trying to move your hips lower to feel just an inch of him. “Please just—”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he slams into you, down to the hilt with one thrust. He throbs against your walls as he works you open, his hips still, his cock splitting you in two. “Fuck,” Logan grunts. “So fucking tight. Perfect little pussy. Wanna stay right here forever. Maybe I won’t even fuck you. Maybe I’ll just make you sit on my cock.”

But you need him to move, need him to take you. “Logan, f-fuck me,” you choke, trying to move your hips. His hand grips your waist, stopping you from sliding up his length. “Please, move,” you plead. 

“So impatient,” he chides, kissing you bruisingly, biting your lips. He finally pulls out and slams back in, bottoming out again. His hand slides down your waist and slips between your legs. “You gonna be a good girl and let me fuck you the way I want?” 

His hand is just above your clit, inches away from where you need him most, waiting for your answer. You nod emphatically. “Yes,” you say with pleading eyes. “Anything. You can do anything just please—oh fuck!” Logan pinches your clit and starts his machinations, swirling around the bud. He pulls out and pumps back in, setting a ruthless pace. 

His hips snap against yours, taking all of you with reckless abandon. His lips swallow your moans, consuming you, drinking you in. Of all the times he’s fucked you, it’s never been quite like this. There’s a hunger in Logan’s eyes that you’ve never seen before, an undying need you’re not sure can be satisfied. Something feels different about this time—more intense, fervent, and feverish. 

Logan thrusts in and out of you, bottoming out with every pump, still stretching you out. His fingertips stroke your clit roughly, your walls already fluttering around him. He curses under his breath, his chest heaving against yours. 

“Look at you,” he groans, fucking into you. “So beautiful like this. Always so beautiful.” You can feel his cock twitching inside you. “Wanna make you mine, sweetheart.”

“I-I already am,” you stammer, his fingers drawing tight, rapid circles into your clit, pushing you closer to the edge. “Always gonna be yours.”

“Want more than that,” Logan grunts, his hips rocking, his pace quickening. He’s so deep inside you—hitting exactly where you need him most with every thrust. 

“Whatever you want,” you pant, your chest pressing flush to his. “It’s yours. I’m yours.”

“Yeah?” He growls at the shell of your ear. “You gonna let me fill you up? Gonna let me stuff you full of me?”

“Yes, please,” you cry out as he pumps in and out, shoving himself as deep inside as he can possibly fit. You feel so full, so complete. Nothing compares to having Logan this close, to having him be so connected to you. You’re already coming undone underneath him, falling apart. “Want you to stay inside.” And then the words fall from your lips without a second thought. But you mean it, and you want it more than anything…

“Wanna have your baby, Lo.”

Logan groans at your words, his cock throbbing with need. “Fuck, don’t tease me like that, sweetheart.” 

“N-not teasing,” you stammer. “I mean it.”

“Shit,” Logan growls, his skin slapping against yours, your words spurring him on. He’s letting himself go, letting himself plunge deep inside you, fast and hard. “Such a good girl,” he praises, his length dragging against your walls, pushing deeper still. “You gonna let me fuck a baby into you?”

“Yes!” You cry out, the fire burning in your belly spreading up to your spine, coursing through your veins. Your walls flutter around his length, squeezing him tightly.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Logan coos, rutting into you, his hips stuttering. “Want you forever.”

You throw your head back as his fingers swirl around your clit. “You have me Lo, always gonna have me.” Your walls clench down around him, and the tension snaps. Electricity shoots up your spine as your orgasm crashes into you. It’s intense—more intense than anything you’ve ever felt. Pleasure washes over you in waves, heat blooming across your chest and up your neck.

Logan is right behind you, whispering a string of praises as he finishes inside you. “Did so fucking good for me. Always so perfect, beautiful.” His thrusts slow until he’s still inside you, but he doesn’t pull out. “Don’t wanna move, princess,” he husks, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“You don’t have to,” you say, your voice hoarse. Logan rolls you onto your side, hoisting your leg up and over his hip, keeping himself deep inside your cunt. You close your eyes, your heartbeat finally steadying, your chest still heaving in time with Logan’s. 

The silence is comfortable, calming. You listen to Logan’s breathing as he runs his hands up and down your back. “You okay?” He asks, pressing a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. 

You hum. “I’m perfect,” you mumble, burying your face into his chest. “Do you really…” You trail off, suddenly nervous to ask the only question on your mind, despite everything that just happened. 

“Yes,” Logan answers immediately. “I meant it. Wanna be a family. Wanna be with you forever.”

You melt into him, wrapping your arms around his back. You can feel his cock growing hard inside you as you move to get more comfortable. “I want that too, Lo,” you sigh. “More than anything.” You smile against him, thinking about your future, thinking about how all this started because some asshole wouldn’t leave you alone. You can’t help but giggle at the thought.

“What’s so funny?” Logan asks. You can hear the smirk in his voice. 

You look up at him. “You’re crazy, you know that?” You joke, your smile widening. “You could’ve hurt that guy.”

Logan’s smile widens too. “Just crazy about you,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. He flips you onto your back and hovers over you, his cock still deep inside you. “Should’ve kicked his ass.” You bite your lip, waiting for his next move. “You’re my girl,” he groans, sliding out of you slightly. 

“Yours,” you breathe as he thrusts back in. “All yours.”

tags: @cosmiccandydreamer @alsoprettyinpink @alastorssimp @1800-fight-me @iamburdened @chaoticweirdogeek @loganobsessed @seasonofthenerd @witch-lemon @the-occasional-artist1125 @https-murdock @afw5 @wolviesgirl @the-ruler-of-death @xtwistedchaosx @wittyjasontodd @galacticglitterglue @silversprings-mp3 @zxaera @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @prettyseaveins @ilysmdovie12 @evasmlp @derbygracie @rammakela @honeyfewr @ricefordays-blog1 @manipulatour

[dawnwriterimagines]

Traitors Among Us

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x Fem!Reader Task Force 141 x Fem!Reader (Platonic)

PART 2

Part Three: The Guilty Plea

Part Four: The Verdict Due

Summary: You're a rat, a traitor. At least that's what Task Force 141 believes due to the evidence and claims scattered against you. It doesn't matter what you say, everyone's against you, ready to end you for it...until the truth comes out.

Warning(s): Torture, Heavy Angst, etc.

If you liked this would you Buy my a Coffee?

---

Drip.

Drip..

Drip...

Your shoulders seize up involuntarily as freezing droplets continue to hit your skin, eyes squeezed shut to try to ignore the sound that had been going on for who knows how long.

Another drop of water hits your spine from the faucet placed above you, it's cold as it runs down your bare skin. It feels like ice. Hitting the same spot over and over and over...

Drip...

Not even able to take a deep breath, you release a strained cry, it can hardly leave you, not that you hadn't cried enough already. You could feel the dried blood, tears and snot still on your face and a testament to your torment. You haven't been able to get the metallic taste of your blood of of your mouth since you got in here.

You breathe slowly, trying to relieve the pain in your chest. Body positioned downwards, chest pressed down to your knees, a leather buckle holds you down and over a metal stool. Wrists torn open by old shackles and stretched upwards to connect to the steel pipe in the middle of the room.

The stress position had been Johnny's idea, putting you in it to begin with. The bastard...

Kyle had been in and out to collaborate with Price on the interrogation, he didn't have the heart to do you any harm like his Captain. But, that didn't stop him from stomaching your screams as he turned the handle up, piercing cold crashing down atop you, it beats down on your back, by the time it's done your shaking, and your skin a bruising purple hue. It goes on like that for hours, even as you beg. He reads you the files again.

Price would then take the baton from the corner of the room, the side of your face already swollen from the last strike, you were seeing red out of your left eye and soon you wouldn't be able to see out of it if the swelling continued.

"Please..." you shivered, miserably.

"Over in a jiff, love, but i need somethin' from you, you know that." Was his reply, he tapped the baton against the metal below you, the reverb makes you jump each time, leaving you to stare at it as you watched his boots walk around you.

"Cap'n, It's not...It's not--me..." you tried, breathless. "I'd never.."

The steel baton came down on your shoulder, first. There was an immediate response from your constricted muscles, limbs that had all tensed up at once despite their numbness. Pulling at the shackles that kept you in place, the hit shocks you, nearly silencing you completely, it hurts, then it burns. Mouth open in a silent scream, you squeeze your eyes shut in an effort to block out the pain that crawled through your shoulder. "It's not me!"

You've been suffering from hypothermia for a few days since then. Your shoulder crushed right out of place or just plain broken, you weren't sure. It's not like you could feel much of your arms in this position.

It hurt. Not just the painful strain that this position was currently putting on your muscles, but everything else...

Of course, you've handled torture alike this before. Captured and tortured by enemies, ransomed for pay and fought tooth and nail to live, then found your way from that hell...only for the men who you'd kill for, to do the same thing to you with no remorse.

In the quiet of the empty room, you sobbed in agony. Squeezing your fists, but you couldn't even feel them, as far as you knew your fingers could only twitch in response to your demand.

You weren't sure what you were doing here.

Well, you knew. There was a mole, all evidence pointing to you, whatever it was had completely stunted their mission earlier in the week, left them hiding in a safe house for days until they were picked up by evac. Apparently, you'd leaked mission details to some hostiles over seas, you weren't sure which ones, they were hoping you could tell them. You had absolutely nothing, lost.

Of course, they didn't believe you. Although you expected to have at least a sliver of trust, someone to speak up against these claims and believe you...

It must've been too much to ask.

It came out of nowhere, at first you had been in bed with Simon, your fucking Fiancé, then that meeting with Price, then just...they'd cornered you in that room. Knocked you out without even an explanation, woke you up strapped down, confused, stripped of your uniform and feral as you demanded answers. Nobody listened to you.

That first night you thought you were gonna die. The second night you thought you had. The third night you were just convinced this was your hell.

You were soaked to the bone, and unable to stop shivering. The only sound you could hear was your own chattering teeth in this never-ending void of darkness.

It was so fucking dark in here, your eyes darting around to every corner, hoping for even a measly crack of light that your eyes could adjust to. Every sound, scratch, scrape or click made you jump, you couldn't see shit in here, so just about everything made you hyper aware. You couldn't help your anxiety as the sound of the faucet, the constant drops against your spine, the jingle of your shackles and the whimpers that echoed against the walls as you struggled to comfortably breathe. Maybe it was the thought of a mouse crawling up the stool and along your skin, or someone in here just staring at you in the corner, or the door finally opening for Price to start slicing into you demanding answers you didn't have.

You were on the cusp of losing your mind. If you hadn't already.

But it's been a few hours since then...

Maybe even a few days...

It could even have been a week.

You weren't too sure.

Simon had been the last one in here. He'd pulled the strap loose around your neck, hauling you up to an upright position by your jaw, eliciting a whimper from your lips. Able to breathe a bit easier, your lungs finally decompressing and you gulp down air greedily, "Simon..." this had been the first time you'd seen him since. He wears his balaclava, he is Ghost, not your Simon Riley.

As your bloodshot, swollen eyes raise to look into his cold ones, so unfeeling. You hadn't even realized you were so hopeful for his trust in you until then, looking at you like you were absolutely nothing to him, the same look he always had before pulling the trigger. "Simon, please, stop this..." your words slurred by your shivering, exhausted. "You know me...please."

Your tears slide over the leather of his gloved hands, while he holds tight to your face and cuts your pleads short with a painful squeeze. "Shut up," he says. His eyes are blank, but his voice is low and seething. "Shut the fuck up!" Simon harshly grits out to you, jostling you harshly. You squeeze your eyes shut, weeping miserably, throat closing up to your agony.

He had to know that you would've never done this to him. He should've known that. Given you the benefit of the doubt at least. You'd have never done this to him...

"I'm sorr-" you try, he squeezes harder to silence you swiftly, and snatches a tiny bowl off the tray he'd brought in. Raising your jaw a bit higher, he pours down a chunky broth into your mouth, letting it all just fall down to your throat. It's disgusting. He doesn't ease up for even a second as you toss and turn your head to breathe.

"Don't say a fucking word," he seethes, his hand enveloping your neck and keeping your head raised upward. "As if I should believe you..."

He then takes the next cup to do the same, your eyes bloodshot wide and you jerk away from him as you choke, unable to stomach anything, but he doesn't let you. This time you inhale accidentally, blocking your airway, eyes watering as you writhe for oxygen, your shackles clang violently as you attempt to retaliate, the first fight you've put up in days. His grip doesn't let up, even as you struggle and start to vomit up whatever he decided to shove down your throat.

When he finally lets go, you curve over and heave up whatever's left in your mouth, hyperventilating as you empty your guts on the floor. Hacking up whatever you can, it hurts, your throat burning from the sobs that leave you in between coughs. "If you love me, if you--ever had--" you spat at him. You'd given him everything, every part of yourself, nearly given him your life in the battlefield, and yet...it wasn't enough. "You would fucking believe me!" your voice cracks with the effort it takes to scream at him, to curse him to hell.

"My trust? That's what you want," Hollow eyes stare back at you, his attention flickering around to the uncomfortable shift of your shoulders in those cuffs. Your swollen left eye that had been hit so hard, the white of it had filled with blood. The black and blue littering your sides and your spine, the loss of color in your skin from the stress position and the cold that had you uncontrollably shivering. "You've had it before. You must've sold that to them too."

Your head drops to the stool again, releasing a heavy breath. "It wasn't worth much, if it was so easy to lose..."

Usually it's not very easy to set Simon off, you've known him always to be quite mellow, besides the barely concealed rage he had settled in his chest since you've known him. But, today, you were an exception.

Fisting a hand in your hair, Simon yanks at it, pulling you upwards for your to face him. His other hand coming up to wrap around your throat before your tortured scream can even manifest. In that moment, it feels as if he'd snapped your spine in half, having not used the muscles to stretch that area in over a week. Your shackled wrists shifting in the cruel position.

His eyes are wild and rageful, the balaclava that covers him twists just the same, his grip very telling to his violence as he squeezes down any chance at air or even a sentence. "Easy to lose..." he repeats, spitting in your face as he strangles you. "Easy t'lose your life! If you don't tell me the fucking truth," he pulls out the knife you'd seen him slit so many throats with before, you hear the familiar sound of it first then its cold steel pressing into the side of your ribs. "I'm gonna carve out your heart, and I'll take it real slow, let you feel every little thing I do to you in here," he shakes you harshly as a startled cry escapes you, your tears are burning hot against your cheeks. "You don't get to cry. Or whine. Or beg!"

"Stop--" you try to squirm away from him, to get as far away as possible, from this place, from this moment.

"Just tell me the truth," Simon's face twisted in agony, for just a second, his thumb drags along your jaw, meaningfully. "You'd be doing us both a favor..."

As his vast hand finally loosed around your neck just enough to hold you up, awaiting the bitter truth. Simon's knife catches on the protrusion of your ribs, nicking the skin, drawing blood on purpose. You stare up at the ceiling, the flickering old lights, the dripping faucet that's tormented your already fragile state for weeks now. "The truth..." you spoke, hoarsely. "You've all shown me...it doesn't matter to you. If it ever... Believe what you want--" you close your eyes, you're exhausted. Sleep had evaded you for days. "You and your truth and this team, you can all go to hell."

And finally he lets you go, letting your fall forwards, unable to find the relief of a cold floor but back to the strenuous position you'd been placed in. "AH!" nearly popping your shoulders out of place, or maybe they had, you bite down on your tongue, shaking in silence.

If you could see Simon's face, you could've relished in the uncertainty flickering in his eyes, the sudden doubt that led his knife back in its holder and his nails to bite into the flesh of his palms. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing leaves him, instead he stands there.

You can't say a thing to him now, everything that's happened was just a little reminder that whatever you said, whatever you did, it didn't matter. Their minds had already been made. You really would die here.

Simon stands there a little longer, he doesn't say anything, you're not sure if he stays there to watch your suffering a little longer or to wait to say another heart-wrenching thing. Maybe he's just there to wait for you to die. But, he just watches as you wretch and cry in a ball atop that stool.

He leaves not long after, he didn't bother to strap you down this time. He left the old light on, but it must've been older than you thought.

The single bulb fizzled out completely hours ago. Not unless one of them decided to cut the silence and turn on the light to start another 'questioning', so suddenly being able to see more than darkness wasn't anything to be excited about.

They'd leave you in the dark until then, to await the next moment any of them would grace you with their presence.

To be honest, you'd imagined you'd be stronger than this. But, there was nothing to hold onto, so what did strength matter?

It was too late anyway.

They'd broken you days ago.

---

The truth had come out, two days later.

"Oh god..."

"Oh my fucking God," Simon rushed down the corridor, Price tailing right behind him. "Oh my God!" his normal monotone voice now a mess of fear and panic, breathing harsher, on the cusp of hyperventilating with every stride as he ran faster than he ever had in his life.

Finally getting to the interrogation wing of the department, he bangs his fist on the plexiglass of those silently monitoring the rooms, "Open the fucking door!" he's buzzed in before he can pull on the handle another time.

Rushing down the hall to the now green lit room, lights flickering to life with every step closer down the hall of empty rooms. He nearly rips the door off its hinges as he bursts inside, the lights of the your tiny prison don't come to life as they should. Light spilling into the cell, to hit your limp figure first.

He doesn't deserve to say your name. "(Y/n)," Simon rushes over, to his knees instantly. A puddle of vomit, water and spoiled broth soaks through his uniform.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry," he sobs out his mistakes, unhooking your chains and cutting through your buckles as fast as he could. "Oh my god, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" he catches his fiancé as you collapse, turning over and off the stool, your legs having lost all sense of feeling. You fall into his arms, catching you carefully. "Price!" he cries out, desperately.

"They're on the way!" Your captain assures, he sees the medical team rushing down the hallway, a stretcher, a box of medical supplies. Christ.

You're freezing to the touch, your skin a hue of blue, not to mention the bruises, the cuts and the swollen areas throughout your face and spine. You suddenly inhale, sharply, coughing terribly. You're sick, breathing shakily, "Simon...?" you breathe, confused. You can't see. Your eyes swollen shut from your torture at their hands.

"It's me, it's me," Simon assured, although he knew it probably brought you no comfort. He snatches the blanket offered up by Price, your captain a mess of himself, holding himself together at the doorway, nails biting into the steel.

As Simon wraps you in the first glimpse of warmth you've had in days, you ease up a bit, fingers twitching upwards to pull the threads closer around yourself. "It wasn't..." you shiver, Simon listens intently as he rises with you in his arms, running off to meet the medical team halfway. "It wasn't me..." you gasp out. "It wasn't..."

Simon can't say a thing as he hears your tormented voice stutter in fear of him, lips pressed tight together, heart sinking and as the nurses take your body, he collapses to his knees.

Part 2