#and then I stumble around in complete darkness

[ariestrxsh]

.• ° * જ⁀➴ content warning: smut, angst, manipulation, cheating, toxic relationship, crying, oral (f!receiving), rough car sex, hair pulling, toxicbf!chris, gf!reader

.• ° * જ⁀➴ author's note: sorry guys i kind of made chris a cheating asshole in this (but i'd still let him hit bc i'm lowkey a cuck).

.• ° * જ⁀➴ summary: you and chris get into an argument after you find him cheating on you at a party, but you can't stay mad at him for long, especially when he knows just what you like, and he gives it to you in the backseat of his car.

.• ° * જ⁀➴ this fic is very loosely inspired by this post (it started off as a roadrage fic that leads to sex but the fic really took me down a different road, so i took the rough car fuck from it and kind of changed everything else so idk)

(i used two different songs for inspo, but they both have the same name, and i actually like this concept a lot bc the halsey song more fits where the reader's head is, and the current blue song more fits where chris' head is, so keep that in mind if you ever listen to the songs associated with my fics.)

Drive

You set foot out of the bathroom at a New Year's party your boyfriend had dragged you to, your eyes scanning the sea of faces in search of him.

You didn't recognize most of the people here, but they all recognized you. Chris knew almost everyone, and they all knew of you by association. Chris was a bit of a social butterfly, especially at parties, constantly flitting through each room and getting easily distracted, so you weren't sure where to even begin looking for him.

You had a better chance of finding one of his brothers first and hoping that maybe one of them had seen him. You continued to look for either of the three of them through the crowd while music thumped loudly through some shitty speakers.

You found your way through the living room and the kitchen, bumping into a few people who knew your name but failed to tell you theirs and were no help in finding Chris. The smell of marijuana burning floated into your senses as you wandered out back, thinking for sure that you'd stumble upon your boyfriend outside lighting up a joint, but he was nowhere to be found.

You did, however, find Nick who was getting hit on by a group of girls who were all giggling and playing with their hair while they all completely missed the obvious signs that he was totally uninterested and also gay. "Hey, have you seen Chris?" You called to Nick as your heels clicked against the stonework in the backyard.

Nick politely excused himself and started walking towards you. "No, I haven't, but thank God you're here. I thought they were going to eat me alive back there," Nick whispered in your ear, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as the two of you started to walk back inside. You frowned at him. All you wanted was to find Chris.

"You know, I saw a cat earlier. If we can find the cat, I'm sure we'll find Matt close by. Maybe he's seen Chris," Nick suggested, shrugging. You and Nick pushed your way past a bunch of drunk college kids when Matt caught your eye at the top of the second floor.

He was bent down, petting a black cat and scratching the sweet animal under the chin as she purred and brushed up against his leg. You two made your way over to the banister and started climbing the steps. "Hey, have you seen Chris?" You called to him, startling the cat and causing her to run off to one of the dark rooms down the hall.

Matt glared at you. "No, I haven't," he huffed. "I can't find him anywhere. I swear, I left him alone for like ten minutes," you rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling in your stomach and the thoughts creeping into your mind that he might be somewhere entertaining another girl.

"I wouldn't go up there if I were you. I think there might be someone hooking up in one of those rooms," Matt pointed down the hall, smirking. He turned his attention to Nick. "Hey, since Chris can drive himself now and we don't have to wait for him, do you wanna go?" The rest of their conversation was drowned out by the sound of your heartbeat thumping away in your ears as you peered down at the only room you could tell was lit up.

You saw what looked like two pairs of feet stumbling around as their shadows broke through the light shining through the crack in the bottom of the door. Something told you that Chris was in that room, and even though you had nothing to go off besides a gut feeling, you had to be sure.

After Nick and Matt had made their way back down the staircase and out the door to Matt's car, you finally worked up the courage to march towards the door. You pressed your ear up to the wooden barrier. You couldn't make out what the two voices on the other side were saying, but one of them definitely belonged to Chris.

You subtly turned the knob and threw open the door. Sure enough. Your scumbag boyfriend was getting close and friendly with another woman who had her lips latched onto his neck, and he had his hand resting on her hip. He immediately pulled away and backed up as he realized he'd been caught.

"Hey babe," he said, trying to sound casual. You could tell by the sneer on the girl's face and her body language that she wasn't happy to see you. Your glance flickered between the both of them a few times before you felt tears starting to well in your eyes. You turned away and bolted down the stairs and out into the front yard.

It was a shame Nick and Matt had already left because all you wanted to do was go home, and now the reason you were crying was your only ride. Chris followed closely behind, chasing after you. "Babe, what's wrong?" He asked, playing dumb, as if that could really get him out of this one. You pushed him away, but he pulled you close again.

"What the fuck were you doing with that girl!?" You asked through your tears, raising your voice. "We were just talking," he sweetly told you, wiping away a bit of your smeared eyeliner. "Chris, I'm not stupid! She was kissing your neck," you sobbed in response, shoving him again.

"Babe, you're embarrassing me," he shot back, sounding a bit annoyed with you. "You're the one making out with some other girl at a party where everyone knows we're together, and you're the one who's embarrassed?! You're unbelievable!" You yelled.

"You're always jumping to conclusions and accusing me of shit," Chris responded, embracing you once more. "Shhh. Come on, baby. Come home with me, and I'll show you how sorry I am," he cooed in a soft voice, trying to de-escalate the situation.

"You're not fooling me, Chris. I'm not giving into you this time. Just take me home.." you said, your voice trailing off as he started kissing and nibbling on your ear. "Please. Come home with me. I'll make you feel so good," he whispered into the crook of your neck, pressing his body up against yours.

Your knees and your willpower grew weak as you turned your head to expose more of your throat to him, a soft moan escaping your lips.

As angry as you were with him, he could always win you over with sex. It was like a vicious cycle. He'd hit on another girl in front of you, you'd get jealous, the two of you would start fighting, and then he would console you with sex. You hated that it always worked, but you couldn't help the effect he had on you. He was intoxicating, and you were addicted to him.

"Mhmm. Please, Chris.." you hummed back, giving into him. He had you in the palm of his hand. He reached behind you and opened your door for you, leading you into his car and closing it once you'd gotten in.

It still had that new car smell. He climbed into the driver seat, turning the key in the ignition. You listened to the sound of his engine purring as he pulled away from the street, one hand on the steering wheel and his other on your thigh. His pretty blue eyes shifted between the road, his rearview, and his side mirrors.

You watched the way the streetlights overhead illuminated different parts of the car as you drove underneath them, shadows bouncing off the leather interior, creating a strange illusion, kind of like how it felt to be in a relationship with Chris - like a long, late night drive where the lights and shadows played tricks on your eyes to the point where you didn't know what was real and what wasn't.

"Why don't you put on some music, babe?" Chris suggested, breaking you out of your thoughts and attempting to distract you from bringing up the girl from the party again. "My phone's dead. Can I use yours?" You casually asked him, reaching for his phone that was sitting in his cup holder.

"Mine's dead, too," he replied, trying to grab it before you did. You watched his screen light up as an incoming message came through. "Bullshit!" You yelled, snagging his phone out of his hand.

When you opened his lock screen, it was open to a new contact he'd just saved, and you saw a woman's name you didn't recognize, and when you pulled down notification bar to see who the text was from, it was from her.

"Give it back," Chris demanded, trying to wrestle his phone out of your hand while trying to maintain his focus on the road. The text read: I had fun with you tonight. I hope I didn't get you into too much trouble with your girlfriend. Text me the next time you're lonely. ;)

"That's it, Chris. Let me out of the fucking car," you told him, throwing his phone at him and reaching for your door handle. "Jesus Christ," Chris said, rolling his eyes and turning down an empty road that was dark besides one lone streetlight at the corner.

"I'm not kidding. Stop this fucking car or I'll jump out while it's moving," you threatened. "I know you will," he scoffed at you, hence the reason he was pulling off of the main road and bringing his wheels to an abrupt stop.

Chris had pulled over on the side of the street in a residential area, but there was stretch of empty field before you'd hit any houses, and there were no people around because it was around 11 p.m. on New Year's Eve night and everyone was either out at a bar or a house party or nestled comfortably into their beds ready to start off the new year with a good night's rest.

You threw open the car door. "Don't - slam it," Chris started to say, but he was cut off by you slamming the door shut in his face. You grew even more pissed off at the audacity of him to care about his car in a moment like this. You started marching down the street, your heels angrily clicking against the sidewalk as you tried to hold back your tears with arms crossed over your chest.

He rolled down his tinted window. "Get in," he told you, but you ignored him, not even bothering to slow your strides. "Get back in the car," he repeated through gritted teeth. "No, you can leave. I'll find my way home."

"We're 45 minutes from your house, you've been drinking, and your phone is dead. I'm afraid I don't have a choice. I'm not leaving you out here alone like this," Chris told you, slowly driving beside you, his wheels inching forward with your angry stomps. You gave him the silent treatment, continuing down the pavement.

He stopped the car and pulled himself to his feet, coming around to the opposite side where you were and grabbing you by the wrist. "Look, I know you hate me, and you can tell me all about it in the morning, but for now, let's get you back to my place, and I'll do my best to make it up to you," he softly cooed, looking into your eyes as he grabbed both sides of your face and pulled you into a deep kiss.

You kissed him back, your lips moving in unison with his, but you pulled away. "What? You gonna leave me over it?" He asked genuinely. You stared at him blankly. "Because you never do," he pointed out. He was right.

This was a pattern, and there was a part of each one of you that loved the drama of the tumultuous relationship the two of you shared. You both knew it wasn't healthy, but Chris loved the way you'd get jealous over him and cause a scene. It made him feel like you really cared. And you loved the great lengths he'd go to in order to win you back over after a big fight.

And, of course, you were both addicted to the makeup sex. Neither one of you understood the psychology of why neither one of you wanted out of the relationship. After all, you two really did think you loved each other. You just only had really fucked up ways of showing it.

"Come on. You know you want me. You'd get bored with anyone else," he said in a seductive tone as he winked at you. Again, he was right. He pushed you up against the car and started kissing you, wedging his knee between your legs.

"I need you, baby, and I know you need me, too. I'm the only one who can give you exactly what you like, hmm?" He moaned into your mouth in-between sloppy kisses. "Fuck me, Chris," you moaned back.

"Yeah? You wanna go back to my place, and I'll fuck you nice and good," he purred into your ear. "No, Chris. I want you to fuck me right now," you sternly replied. He raised his eyebrows at you. This was out of character for you, but he liked it, and he wasn't going to let the chance go to waste.

"Fuck. You're so hot," he rapsed as he pulled open the back door. "Get on all fours," he ordered you, pushing you into the backseat. He pulled the hem of your black dress up over ass and started taking down your panties.

He eagerly spread you open, and you shuddered at the feeling of his hot breath radiating onto your core. He leaned in and buried his tongue in between your folds, lapping up your wetness. Your face was pressed against the cold, leather interior as a mewl passed through your lips.

He started to harshly suck on your clit, moaning against your sensitive nerve endings as he brought his hand down and slapped your ass hard. You yelped, leaning back into him. You reached around and entangled your fingers in his soft, brown locks as he continued to eat you like a man starving.

"Like when I eat it from the back?" He seductively asked you. "Mhmm," you whimpered, biting your lip and nodding your head. He wrapped his lips around your bundle of nerves, and he began methodically flicking his tongue over it as your whole body started to tremble.

He slurped up all your juices as he roughly kissed your drooling cunt. He created a bit of suction on your clit again, pulling away slowly and stretching your flesh, which made the feeling far more intense. He smirked after he released it from his lips and it snapped back into place. You whimpered at the delightful sensation.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he praised you. You dug your freshly-manicured nails into the seat as he brought you closer to the edge. His tongue explored you in ways that no one else ever could. You felt the knot in your stomach come undone as he devoured you, paying close attention to every part of your vulva, stimulating you with his soft, wet mouth.

You started to shake as you finished onto his tongue, strangled moans pouring into the car. Chris chuckled against your heat, licking you clean. He released his mouth from you, and you heard the sound of him fiddling with his belt. Then his zipper.

You felt him draw a line up your slit with his tip, dragging it through your wetness. He slapped it against your entrance, laughing at the way you sent your hips back trying to coax it in. "You forgive me, baby? You forgive me for getting mixed up with that girl?" He cooed, teasing you with the head of his cock.

"Of course, Chris. I could never stay mad at you," you whimpered, eager for him to put it in. He smirked, snapping his hips forward and burying himself deep inside you. "So big," you whined as you generously accepted him, your pussy stretching around him and accommodating his thickness.

"Take it," he groaned, starting to buck his hips back and forth. He admired the arch of your back and all your perfect curves as he had you in his favorite position. His eyes wandered towards your ass and the way it jiggled every time he jerked his hips forward, driving himself deeper into your hole.

He grabbed ahold of your hair and used it to steady himself as he pounded away. "You take my cock so well," he growled, rutting into your gspot with every jagged thrust. Your eyes rolled back, and you let out a deep, guttural sound that you almost didn't even recognize coming from yourself.

He started to break a sweat, a few drops of perspiration forming on his forehead, his thick hair sticking to it. The car windows started to fog up with the moisture from your combined breath as the two of your bodies moved as one unit in an escalating exchange of energies.

He relished in the way you squelched around him and the sound of skin slapping against skin. "Harder," you practically sobbed as you felt the pressure building in your abdomen again. He fucked you ravenously, picking up his strides and giving it to as hard as he could, sending satisfaction through every inch of you.

His eyes were slammed shut, his eye brows knitted together, and his jaw dropped, pleasured sounds unfurling from his lips. They were deep, sensual, and almost frustrated - almost animalistic. His car rocked back and forth as he took you in the back seat, your fingers grasping for anything to hold onto as you felt your stomach flutter.

"So close," you managed to whine as you reached the point of no return. With Chris still gripping your hair tightly, he kept his pace as steady and strong as he could while on the brink himself. "Cum on my cock, babe," he demanded, his voice textured with lust. He gripped your hair even harder, tugging with even more force than before as your orgasm rippled through you, fully surrendering to him.

Your bodies reacted to one other in a language of unspoken desire as he pumped you full of his warm, sticky load and your walls throbbed around him, creating a positive feedback loop in which each of you triggered a more intense climax in one another.

"Oh, fuck," he rasped, his dick twitching inside of you as he filled you with every last drop. He relaxed his hold on your hair, and you collpased into the back seat of his car. He pulled out of you, admiring the way his cum glistened on your skin in the faint moonlight as it peeked out from behind the clouds.

"Come on. Let's get you cleaned up, go back to my place, and I'll do that as many times as it takes me to make up for what a jerk I was to you tonight."

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[wisecura]

Sweeter (NSFW)

SatoSugu x f!Reader p.2 - 4k (all for the fuckin' smut)

summary: THE PWP FOR: entering high school only to be met with the two hottest strongest sorcerers of your generation was not something you were prepared for. so, what happens when they take a strange liking to their cute, sheltered underclassman?

an: man I'm getting some good practice for writing smut. I hope it's as coherent as my tired brain thought it was. loosely proofread, so please enjoy-

MINORS DNI AFTER HERE

warnings: do not read if you are sensitive to dubcon, or any kind of dark fic topics, small age gap (not even mentioned, they're past high school), arranged marriage, poly relationship, possessive undertones, manipulative undertones, manipulative, some gaslighting, Dom-Suguru, pussydrunk, creampie cleanup, breeding kink, virgin reader that somehow knows how to deepthroat a large cock (with minimal instructions-first try!), if they sound mean-i'm sorry, immature (sheltered) reader,

did you want to read it again?

The wedding was straight out of a fairytale, bathed in the rich, traditional colors that only added to the day’s dreamlike quality.

There he was—Satoru, the man you were about to call your husband.

Each time you glanced at him, dressed sharply, standing poised and perfect, it took your breath away. Marrying the most sought-after bachelor around, a man wrapped in prestige, wealth, and unmatched power and strength, felt crazy. The only word to describe it was surreal. 

Satoru gave your hand a reassuring squeeze as they announced your union. The kiss–though he'd kissed you plenty of times before, was now on the lips. A little deeper, holding the back of your head, keeping you close, preventing you from pulling away too quickly, leaving you breathless.  

During the reception, amidst the laughter and clinking glasses, you caught snippets of conversation from Satoru’s relatives, their voices low, gazing at you with a gleam in their eyes. One topic staying constant on their tongues: producing an heir.

It was a layer of expectation that loomed large, suddenly making your new reality even more daunting than you had anticipated.

As the night drew to a close and the estate began to quiet down, the weight of what was expected in your marriage truly settled in. Would Satoru really expect... that... so soon?

The thought of... consummation, when you hadn't even been dating, churned in your stomach as you hesitantly approached his, now your bedroom door. All your belongings were already here, making this vast place your new home, but this final step—something you felt completely unprepared for—loomed large.

With a shaky breath, you knocked gently on the door. The sound echoed slightly in the still hallway, perfectly in tune with the rapid beating of your heart. When the door finally swung open, Satoru loomed above you, his silhouette framed by the soft light spilling from the room, haloing him in an almost ethereal glow.

"You came," he remarked, a hint of surprise coloring his voice as if he hadn't fully expected you to follow through. You stood awkwardly a the door, feeling a little shy. Where you not supposed to-

"Come on," his hand reaching out to grasp your arm, pulling you into the room with a gentle tug that caused you to stumble slightly. As you regained your balance, your eyes quickly scanned the room.

It was strikingly sterile, devoid of personal touches, which made it feel less like a bedroom and more like an impersonal guest room. You assumed your belongings had already been neatly stored away in the closet. However, what really caught your attention wasn’t the room’s lack of personality but rather what—or rather, who—was on the large king-sized bed.

Suguru was there, lounging casually as if his presence in this intimate setting was the most natural thing in the world, the sight throwing you off.

"S-Suguru?" Your voice wavered, tinged with disbelief. He hadn't been at the wedding celebrations, and it had been months since you'd last seen him. Overcome with a mix of surprise and relief, you quickly crossed the room and threw yourself onto his lap, wrapping him in a tight hug.

"Even I didn't get this reaction," Satoru muttered from behind you, his tone a mix of amusement and mock offense.

Suguru's response was a deep, resonant chuckle that vibrated through his chest, warming you with its familiarity. The position was intimate, but you'd sat on their laps plenty of times before.

Obviously nothing would happen tonight if he was here. 

"It's been a while, pretty girl," Suguru murmured, his hand gently caressing your face and tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You leaned into his touch, realizing just how much you had missed his presence.

"Heard you got married while I was gone," his voice low and teasing.

You laughed, the sound muffled against his chest as you nuzzled closer, reveling in the comfort his presence provided. The familiarity of his scent and the steady beat of his heart soothing your nerves. 

"Ok, now I'm starting to get jealous," Satoru's voice came from behind you. You heard his footsteps as he approached, and you felt the bed give way under his weight, his body pressed against your back, effectively sandwiching you between the two of them.

Suguru's hand reached over your shoulder, affectionately patting Satoru on the head.

"Now why would you be jealous? She's your wife," Suguru teased, his voice light but carrying a note that stirred a chill down your spine. You were still not quite accustomed to being called someone's wife.

"And here you are, all cuddled up next to her," Satoru huffed, his tone playful yet pointed.

"You promised we'd share, Satoru. Don't get greedy now," he added, reminding Satoru of some unspoken agreement that seemed to include you in their plans. You felt nervous as you let outa small breath.

"Promised you'd share?" The words slipped out, small, tinged with disbelief as you craned your neck to look up at Suguru. Almost instantly, you felt Satoru's presence push behind you. His body pressed closer, his breath warm on your neck, and his arms cinched tighter around your waist—a clear sign he didn't appreciate being ignored–even for a moment.

"Of course, sweet girl. We couldn’t possibly let you end up with just anyone," Suguru replied, his tone casual but obviously carrying an coolness that had you momentarily stunned.

"But what do you mean by 'share'?" The question hung awkwardly in the air, your brain not fully wrapping around his meaning. 

Suguru's response was matter-of-fact. "Well, technically, you can only marry one of us, right?"

Before you could digest this, Satoru piped up from behind, his voice laced with a mix of jest and arrogance, "And I’m the heir to the Gojo family, so obviously I’m the better choice."

This boast earned him a scathing look from Suguru, who, despite the tension, continued to stroke your head in a seemingly soothing manner. Yet, the gesture now felt more like a claim being staked, adding to the surreal-ness of the situation. 

"You've always been part of us, yeah? Every moment we've spent together built towards this. It's natural for us to be together. All ours."

Your mind reeled, struggling to piece together the implications of his words. "I... but I thought we were just friends. What do you mean I've always been yours?"

Satoru's breath was warm against your ear. "Think about it. Who's always been there for you? Who have you spent all your time with? It's always been us, hasn't it? It's not just friendship. It's more than that, and deep down, you know it," he whispered, each word designed to reshape your understanding of the past few years you shared together. Willing you to understand.

"But... How? A marriage is supposed to be between two people–a man and a woman–not... not this," you protested weakly, trying to grasp the reality they presented against everything you thought you knew–everything your clan has taught you.

Suguru laughed softly, a sound that used to comfort you but now seemed to carry a darker undertone. "Who says it has to be just two people?–man, woman, same difference. What we have? It's special, unique. We don't need to follow society's rules. We make our own rules because we're meant to be together. All of us."

Satoru nodded, adding, "Exactly. Why limit ourselves? You're ours, and we're yours. We've shared everything, haven't we? Our food, our time, our secrets. Sharing our lives through marriage is just the next step."

Your face flushed red, a mix of confusion and realization washing over you. "I... I do love you both," you admitted, your voice trembling. "You are the most important people in my life. I can't imagine being without you." Despite the situation, your heart knew these feelings were genuine. You've obviously never confessed, and this just felt so new. So nerve wracking.

Suguru's expression softened, his earlier laughter fading into a more sincere, tender smile. "And we love you, too. More than you can imagine," he assured you, hands collecting your hair together. "We've never planned to let you go, not now, not ever."

As Satoru buried his face deeper into your neck, you felt the warmth of his breath and the gentle kisses he planted along your skin. Each kiss was soft, almost reverent, as he murmured right into your ear, “No matter what happens, even if you wanted to leave, we wouldn’t let you. You're part of us, and that’s how it’s going to stay. We’re in this together, forever.”

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, making your heart swell with happiness. It felt right, being here with them, more right than anything else ever had. They were no longer just dreams or fantasies—they were real, tangible–and  you finally saw them for what they were. 

Yours. 

Suguru’s hands joined Satoru’s at your waist, tightening his hold just as his gaze pierced into yours. His question was direct, catching you by surprise. "Have you been with anyone before?" His eyes seemed to search for any hint of deceit in your response.

You shook your head, knowing exactly what he meant, your cheeks warming with embarrassment. "No, I’ve.... never been with anyone. I don’t even really know how all this is supposed to work," you admitted, feeling your heart race under his intense attention.

Sensing your nervousness, Suguru suddenly took charge, his voice firm as he instructed Satoru to give you some space. "Scoot back a bit, let's not crowd her," he said, a playful note creeping in his voice.  Satoru moved back reluctantly, mumbling a mix of playful huffs and complaints. “She’s my wife,”

"It'll start with kissing," Suguru ignores him, instead focusing his attention on you. "Already done that," you chimed in quickly, remembering the kisses shared with Satoru, the one from the alter-really only wanting to be helpful.

You didn't expect Suguru’s poutily looking away. A hint of annoyance flickering across his face. Sure, he expected the two of you to already kiss when you were married but…. "Satoru’s already kissed you…." he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Curious, you asked, "What’s wrong?" Satoru couldn't help but chime in with a grin, "Suguru’s jus��� jealous." Your face turned a deeper shade of red at the tease, but before you could respond, Suguru pulled you into him, his lips meeting yours in a deep, all-consuming kiss. It was intense and filled with an urgency that seemed to be fueled by Satoru’s taunting.

His hands trial down your body, squeezing and pulling you closer, exploring you completely. You're sat in his lap, as he forces your hips to grind into his, an obvious bulge pressing against you, his eyes damn near black–blown out, watching you closely as you break for air.

Looking down, his palms massage your thighs, hitching your nightgown up higher, fingers finally reaching your covered slit as you let out a small whimper from the contact. 

You felt all eyes on you, and couldn't help the nerves that coiled in your stomach–even now with you splayed across his lap on display, hungry eyes watching you–you still felt embarrassed. You heard shuffling from behind you, turning your head to meet Satoru-but before you could, Suguru’s hands grabbed your chin to face him. 

“Eyes on me, Doll.” The breathy puff of air you let out was all instinctual–the way he so easily commanded your attention with his pet names. And the tremble in your rolling hips forced his eyes back down, trailing his hand across your chest, your stomach, and finally down to the soaked fabric. “Satoru, I think your wife likes me more.” 

Your hands grip onto the fabric of his shirt, and you so desperately want to look back when you hear the slick sounds from behind you, Satoru’s annoyed sulky puff at Suguru’s comment sounding out around the loud, wet slaps. 

“hah–gimme a minute with her, and let's see who’s talkin’–” But once again Suguru ignores him, his fingers teetering the border of your panties, obviously distracted, before finally sliding a finger along your drenched folds. He lets out a soft chuckle, burying himself in deeper, a sickening squelch reverberating the room, now matching the pace of the sound behind you. So filthy, and you really didn't know any better-

You can't help the low moan you let out, or the way your nails dig into his shoulders, hips bucking into his thick fingers, seeking a release you didn't expect. And just as sudden, he withdrawals his fingers, bringing them up to your face, as if he were scolding you. 

“Look at how filthy you are.” he coos out, voice husky. “So cute.” You’re beet red. 

"Please, tell me you’re gonna let me have a taste.” Satoru's voice sounds out behind you, begging, more desperate than you've ever heard from him before. “C’mon Suguru, please.”

You could hear the rasp in his words, laced with heavy desire, as you watched Suguru shocked, no- stunned at the request. You couldn't see his face, but the audible fapping noises behind you were enough to give you a picture. 

“What do you think, doll? Should we let him taste?” His voice dripping in amusement, as you shake your head, mouth agape, “t-that’s nasty, Sugur–” before you could finish your protest, Suguru leans over you, pulling Satoru in by his neck, pushing you down on the bed in the process.

Now hovering above you, slotted between your legs–his hardened length firmly pressed against your center. You finally have a clear image of them both, as you see his fingers being shoved into Satoru’s mouth, grip choking him, and the lewd image of his fingers fucking into his mouth would stay ingrained into your mind for weeks after–you've never seen him so rough before.

And what shocked you moreso was when Satoru practically moaned at the contact of your taste on his tongue, lolling out, leaning into his aggressive hold as if it were the most natural thing ever. He greedily laps Suguru's fingers, fingers gripping Suguru’s wrist close, eyes rolling back, a sinful expression gracing his face.

You have a clear view of just what Satoru was up to behind your back, his massive hand actively stroking his girthy cock, now inches from your face. You can't keep your eyes off of it as you study it religiously. You've never seen one before. Was that thing supposed to….fit inside you? ]

Suguru chuckled lowly at your reactions, gaze locked onto you before pulling his fingers from Satoru’s mouth, releasing his hold on his neck. 

“He’s such a nasty boy, don't you think? Getting all hard from his wife being felt up like that.” Your eyes find Suguru’s again as he watches you closely. You can't respond-and how were you supposed to with two very large, very big men standing over you?

“You nervous?” you nod before you could stop yourself. Without hesitating, he pushes himself into you, spurring a small whimper from you, “It’s okay baby. We’ll take good care of you.” His fingers find your clit through your panties, as he continues grinding into you, each touch bringing you closer and closer to the edge, mind going fuzzy as you watch Satoru stroking himself. 

His eyes meet yours, glazing over, pupils matching Suguru’s, and they both sense your impending orgasm growing with every passing second, your body responding to Suguru’s touch despite your initial hesitation. "You're so wet already, doll," he murmurs, his breath hot against your neck. “Feels so tight ‘n warm.” 

Satoru chuckles, licking his lips as he watches Suguru's movements, leaning down to hover over your face, “Wanna taste?” And before you could answer, he’s leaning into a deep kiss, tongue slipping past your lips, and you can taste your own slick on him.

Breaking away, his fingers make their way to your mouth, eyes watching you, burning you. He moves his thumb away from your mouth, replacing it with the tip of his cock instead, tracing your lips with it. "Open up."

You feel a shiver run down your spine as you hesitantly part your lips, allowing Satoru to slide his cock inside. Your eyes widen as you taste him for the first time, a salty white thickness coating your tongue. Suguru takes this opportunity to slide a finger inside you once again, curling it just right to hit that spot. 

You moan involuntarily, your hips bucking against his hand, allowing Satoru's cock in deeper, almost choking on it. Satoru smirks, his hands moving to grip your head, guiding your movements. He loves the way you look with his cock in your mouth, so innocent yet so sinful. He thrusts deeper, his hips rocking against your face, as you continue slurping on his thick cock. “Eh eh, no teeth baby, hollow out that mouth, jus like that, goooood girl–”

“Cmon now Satoru, she can't breathe.” Suguru reprimands lightly, your head going dizzy at the lack of oxygen. 

“You sure you're a virgin?” Satoru moaned out, “sure doesn't seem like it.” 

“Easy now, Satoru, don't make me tie you down.” You barely catch the words, Satoru filling your mouth as drool pooled around the edges. You’d complain, but the moans coming from Satoru were godly, and the feel of Suguru grinding into your clothed cunt had easily clouded your thoughts.  

“So good fer me,” Satoru praises, pulling his cock from your mouth, leaving behind a trail of saliva. They both are mesmerized at how your body takes them both so well, each stimulation eliciting such a vulgar reaction from you. You already looked fucked out and they haven’t even started. 

Suguru pulls your panties down now, fixated on your weeping bare cunt, drawing satorus attention. “Sucha pretty little hole.” His fingers trail the edges, before dipping inside, and you moan at the intrusion.

“Let's keep this mouth busy, yeah?” and before you know it, Satoru’s cock is back on your tongue, thrusting in deep, as you gag. The sight of your pretty mouth struggling to accommodate him only spurs him on, and you do your best to relax your jaw–only hoping that you were doing it right. 

Suguru's eyes flicker with a primal hunger as he watches you struggle to adjust to Satoru's cock. He withdraws his fingers from you slowly, leaving you aching and empty for just a moment before he replaces them with something much larger.

You feel his cock press against your entrance, causing your eyes to widen, not sure he’d be able to even fit there. Satoru chuckles at your reaction, gripping your head firmer as he thrusts deeper into your mouth. Suguru leans down, his lips grazing your ear. "Relax," he whispers soothingly. "It'll be easier if you just relax, baby."

You nod, trying to settle down, trusting him completely, he slowly pushes himself inside you, his thick length stretching you wide open. You whimper around Satoru's cock as Suguru fills you up, pleasure and pain melding together in a heady mix, the stretch almost unbearable.

Satoru groans at the feel of your throats vibrations, as Suguru gives you a moment to adjust before he starts moving, his hips rocking into yours in a slow, steady rhythm. Satoru matches his pace, thrusting in sync with Suguru. You feel completely filled, sandwiched between them both. They take turns praising you, their voices muffled by their own pleasure-filled moans.

"Fuck, you feel incredible."  Suguru's husky voice echoes through your mind as he picks up the pace, thrusting deeper inside your sloppy pussy. "Such a good girl, taking both of us so well." Satoru adds, his breathing labored as he watches Suguru claim you, eagerly awaiting his turn.

Their movements become more erratic as they lose themselves in their lust, their hands roaming over your body possessively. 

Suguru's thumb circles your clit faster, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you, as Satoru thrusts harder into your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat with each movement. You moan around him again, the vibrations sending shockwaves through him, causing his hips to stutter. They continue to worship your body, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge. “Should I cum in this pussy?” Suguru says, staring down at you through hooded eyes.

His words send a bolt of pleasure straight to your pussy, your walls contracting around him involuntarily. His grip on your hips tightens, his thrusts becoming rougher as he groans, "Fuck yes, I'm going to cum inside you, this pussy will be dripping, ‘m gonna give you so much." His eyes bore into yours, filled with a possessive hunger that makes you squirm. Satoru groans at the sight, his cock pulsing against your tongue.

Satoru pulls out of your mouth momentarily to trail wet kisses down your neck, leaving your mouth open for you to sputter out a string of curses and moans. He circles your nipple with his tongue, making you arch into him as Suguru continues to fuck you mercilessly. “Fuck, she's so responsive.” His own climax building at the sight of your impending orgasm. 

Suguru grunts in approval at your response, his hips driving harder into yours, his cock stretching you deliciously. You can hear the offensive wet sounds of their movements filling the room, making your core clench even more around Suguru's length. "you're so goddamn tight,"

Suguru curses, his control slipping. Satoru's lips leave your nipple to trail kisses along your collarbone, his breath hot against your skin. "You're going to cum for us, aren't you, sweetheart?" He asks huskily, his hand wandering down to grip your thigh, holding it aside so he could see better. 

"Mhmph," you moan, nodding vigorously, your body trembling under the dual assault. Suguru grunts, his pace relentless as he feels your pussy begin to spasm around him. "That's it, take it all, you're doing so well," Satoru praises, his voice rough, strained with arousal. Suguru's movements become erratic as he chases his own climax, his thrusts becoming rougher, deeper, more primal.

"Fuckfuck–yes, cum on this dick,” He curses as his orgasm hits, his cock pulsing inside you as he releases hot streams of cum. Your walls tighten around him, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave, making you buck wildly against him.

Suguru growls as he feels you clamp around him, cursing as he sinks his fingers into you tighter. Satoru watches intently, his hand gripping the base of his cock tightly to prevent himself from cumming too soon. Suguru's movements slow, but he doesn’t pull out, letting his cum fill you as he catches his breath. "Holy shit. You were holdin' out on us." 

Suguru presses soft kisses against your neck while he waits for you to come down from your high. Suguru withdraws from you slowly, his cum trickling down onto the king bed below you. Before you can catch your breath, Satoru takes his place, his cock pressing against your sensitive entrance. "My turn now," and before you can protest, he thrusts in deep as Suguru leans in to capture your pathetic whimpers with a filthy kiss.

Satoru's fingers dig into your hips as he thrusts deeper into you–the stretch so familiar but so different, his movements calculated to drive you wild. "So wet,so sososo so good," he groans, his pace increasing steadily. He loves the feeling of you around him, the way your walls clench with each stroke, recovering from your orgasm-pulsating just right-so hotsohotsohot, Suguru’s cum working as a lube for your poor abused hole–no doubt overstimulated. Suguru watches from the side, stroking himself lazily as he watches Satoru claim you, his own lust rekindled. They both lose themselves in the moment, completely consumed by their desire for you. 

"You're going to take every drop," Satoru grunts, his own orgasm building. Your eyes roll back as you feel your climax approaching at a scary speed, your body begging for release as he hits all the right spots.

When you finally cum, your pussy milks him greedily, pulling out every last drop of cum. They both groan in pleasure, the sight of you too good to pass up, as Satoru pulls out, he chuckles at your spent form, the sight of his cum dripping from you making him hard again already. Collapsing on the bed next to you, spent and satisfied.

He reaches out to trace patterns over your sensitive folds, playing with the mess they've made together, slick pooling at his fingertips. "Look at what a good little slut you are, stuffed by two men's seeds," he teases, leaning in to press a tender kiss against your thigh before looking over at Suguru with a mischievous glint in his eye. "You think she can handle us both filling her up?"

Suguru looks over at you with a hungry gaze, he runs a hand through his dark hair, eyes trailing down to where their cum pools between your legs. "We'll have to see," he says, a wicked smile playing on his lips. He moves closer, positioning himself beside Satoru so that they're both looming over you, staring down at your spent form. "But first, Be a good boy, Satoru, and clean her up." 

His hand on the back of his head, but you don't think he needed much convincing. Satoru leans forward without hesitation, his tongue licking up the mixture of their cum from your inner thighs- drawing patterns, his movements slow and deliberate, savoring the taste of both of their essences mixed with your sweetness. You whimper at the sensation, your body still sensitive and now overstimulated.

Suguru watches, his hand gripping Satoru's hair tightly, his own cock stirring again at the sight of Satoru’s tongue dipping into your pussy, tonguing the white mixture, with a nasty blissed out expression.

"Spread wider for him, doll," he instructs, his voice husky with desire. You obey automatically despite you craving the need to shut them tightly, your legs trembling as Satoru's tongue delves deeper, arms pinning your bucking hips down to the bed. 

You moan out loudly, your body writhing beneath him, as Satoru licks and sucks at your swollen clit, relishing in your responsiveness, swallowing down every drop that your pussy gave him.

Suguru reaches over him to fondle your breasts, pinching your nipples gently as he watches Satoru work his magic on your sensitive nerves. "Such a good girl," he praises, his free hand stroking his hardening cock again. "So responsive, so eager for more. You really ready for round two?"

Satoru smirks up at Suguru, licking cum from his lips before leaning up to meet his lips in a filthy kiss. You watch in a haze of pleasure as they share your taste, their tongues tangling together hungrily. When they finally pull apart, Suguru's eyes are dark with desire as he looks down at you. 

"I think she's ready for whatever we want to give her," 

did you want to read it again?

come home, this one has a second home

[rezwrites]

Hey! I am a fan of your vampire Agatha… maybe can I request a second part where someone discovers the secret space where Reader is and Agatha kills this person in front of Reader?

of course!

Warnings: +18 MDNI, description of murder/blood, Stockholm Syndrome, claustrophobia(reader gets put in a small closet briefly) brief mention of periods, bondage

a/n: part one here. Don’t like? Don’t read.

Waking up from that first night you found yourself in a tiny storage closet, body fully bound and frozen, propped against the door. Unsure of how long it’s been, but clearly long enough to hear the heavy steps of combat boot and the sporadic chatter of police radios. All your attempts to draw attention to yourself are rendered feeble when your body refused to move an inch. The voices faded as you desperately tried to move your body or make a sound, chest squeezing with terror. Heaving quick, shallow breaths you felt lightheaded, ears starting to ring.

The door suddenly opens, the intrusion of light makes you wince before you realize you’re falling. Smells of faint bleach and chemicals reached your senses, before realizing Agatha is holding you. “I see the paralytic is starting to wear,” her face emotionless as she picked you up bridal style, all you could muster up was a small noise. Looking at the wall you see a keypad disguised as a thermostat, the clicks of the doorknob locking after she swiftly entered a code.

“Those cops couldn’t find anything, and the investigators came up with nothing from the CCTV,” she started down towards the end of the hallway, stopping ahead of a slightly ajar door. Using her foot to open the door she descended down the stairs, the motion sensor lights activating, “Like I said, you probably went out the back avoiding the cameras. Whatever they find afterwards won’t trace back to me. Not that I was careless.” She ended with a slight chuckle, tossing you on the lone bed, another small grunt coming from you.

Crisp, white sheets crumpling underneath you as she dragged your limbs to the edges of the bed, placing new binds on you. Her red eyes beamed against the silver slivers of the moonlight coming from the small windows at the top of the room. Draping a cover over you she set you up with another IV, before bidding you a goodnight.

The days blurred together in a limbo. Waking up in a haze, only to crash back into unconsciousness. Your only sense of time and only form of social interaction is when Agatha comes down to see you.

Agatha would let you walk around after hours under her strict supervision. You try to plan an escape but you feel dejected every time you remember how a solid punch to her face didn’t phase her. Some nights when hopelessness weighted you down completely, Agatha would walk you around herself, your bare feet lightly dragging along the frigid tiles. Those nights she would bring you to her office, perching you in her lap as she worked the night away.

She never fed from you when you were on your period. Instead you’d wake up to some chocolate on your pillow or her putting some mild pain-relief in your drip line. Quite thankful she doesn’t peep when you wash up after her feeds, scrubbing away the blood and Agatha’s sticky arousal. From time to time you’d catch her mumbling about bringing you somewhere, always afraid to ask her to clarify. Each time you asked her how long you’ve been here all you’d get is a cold stare and a ‘don’t worry about it’. The outside world forgotten as your new world revolved around Agatha.

—

One night you were startled awake to the door crashing open, the sound reverberating off the walls. A thin man, hardly any older than you stood in the doorway, the light from the hallway illuminating his silhouette. He struggled down the stairs, his breath heaving. He must have a bad wound by the way his bloody footpath trails behind him.

He looked so disoriented, stumbling about in the dark. His eyes widened upon seeing you, “There you are, I knew you were here.” He forced himself to steady out, “I’m a private investigator hired by your family’s lawyer.” Frantically, he untied your wrist binds, “That woman… she’s a monster!”

An image of Agatha’s hurt face showed itself in the back your mind, you couldn’t bring yourself to move off the bed. Just as he tried to urge you to move, her voice rung out, “That’s not a nice thing to say.” She suddenly appeared behind the man, her face hard and furious. She grabbed his throat in an iron grip, “It’s also not polite to try to steal someone else’s property.” You finally see a deep gash across his lower back.

“She belongs with her family!” He choked out. Agatha turned him around, his back against her. Her hard stare at you caught you off guard.

“Do you want to leave?” Agatha asked you, abruptly. You swallowed hard, eyes shifting between her and the man. Anxiety built up at the thought of leaving.

Despite everything Agatha has done, she’s never hurt you outside of her feeds. Rarely, she’ll even bring you out at night to get some fresh air, only if you behaved.She always keeps you fed and clean. Slowly you shook your head. She turned her attention back to the man, grip tightening on his neck, “See? She’s alive, and doesn’t want to leave.”

Quickly, you closed your eyes once the sound of cracking bones reached you ears. The sound of her dragging the body up the stairs struck terror deep within you, still well aware of the strength and power she holds.

You didn’t reopen your eyes until you heard Agatha’s footsteps coming down the stairs again. She rebounded your wrists, a soft smile on her face. Her hands smelled of anti microbial soap. She patted your head, before softly cupping your face, “I’ll bring you home soon.”

[naoyoki]

can we get reader who ran away from home and is living on the streets and then toji stumbles into her after he got some stuff from the 7/11 and feels bad so he offers her to stay at his rundown apartment for a bit (can you add in some smut perhaps 🤭)

a/n : of course belleza !

✦★mdni , some angst , smut , afab!reader , loss of virginity implied , face fucking , cunnillingus , thigh biting , marking , fingering , oral , implied curse au .

PINNED PREVIOUSLY

"i don't have a home," your gaze was low, afflicted with guttural shame that twisted and churned at your stomach, or maybe it was the hunger, "not anymore, at least."

the man in front of you, frankly, made you pee your pants out of complete fear. yes, this man might be handsome, but he was menacing nonetheless. there were moments you had crossed paths, and the neon light of the 7/11 proved his features to be eerie. not his actions though, he wasn't around much but whenever he did he placed some food in front of you, and left without a word. but for whatever reason, he stayed today and began to...chat?

"haven't you asked for a job at the convinient store?"

you scoff, "don't you think i have already tried?" taking a fat chunk of the sandwich this bizarre man gave you, you continued, "they think i'm a junkie or something."

he crouched to your level, green eyes merging with your own, "you don't look like one though."

you laugh, even though it was muffled due to your full mouth, "because i'm not."

"want a job?"

you stop, ".....what—mmmgh, what kind of job?" you were homeless and poor, but your dignity and integrity was yet to be mangled. and if you had to run for your life in a few seconds because this guy turned out to be a psychopath, so be it.

"i need someone to clean my house, since i'm not home a lot. you up for it?" you exhaled your worries away. thank god it wasn't something fucked up! but hold on.

"you're...not gonna kill me, are you?" your words make him drop his head while he chuckles.

"not wasting my time with murder, c'mon." he extended his hand once he rose from the ground. your hand twitches in hesitance but nonetheless accept this kindness.

it took some months to adjust to toji's rhythm. he would come to his apartment, which wasn't anything pretty but livable nonetheless, spend three or four days around, then leave for weeks. his actions were completely shady in nature.

but with these months flying by, your relationship deepened. one summer night, when fireworks ignited the sky, you two had a heart to heart. conversations of sorrow, grief, and longing for life to be different turned into a hug and tear wiping, and this turned into you relinquishing to the desperation of closeness.

it was an unfamiliar yet thoroughly welcomed feeling of toji's tongue dancing on your cunt. you grabbed onto the strands of his dark hair as he split your folds open to insert his muscle. it was like a starved man tasting a five star meal for the first time, liking, teasing and nibbling on your skin.

"fuck you're so good, fuck keep going~" your hips moved at the compass of his rhythm. you jolt once you feel a finger penetrate you out of nowhere.

"shit! toji, what are you—oh~!"

"loosening you up." he said in-between kisses through your thighs. delight filled your heart by the blatant desire, of which has never known itself to you.

the tears you shed were due to a mix of emotions. pain, pleasure, comfort and happiness. quite the strange combo, but getting the embrace you have only dared to dream of. and you believe this feeling was mutual as toji held onto you delicately.

[fangdokja]

He crushed a man’s skull beneath his boot and turned to you with a smile.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured: A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Marine Corps x Reader

♡ Oneshot. #1

♡ Word Count. 963

The battlefield reeked of death—the sharp tang of blood mixed with gunpowder hung thick in the air. Smoke curled around the shattered remains of buildings, a grim reminder of what once stood in defiance of destruction. You stood amidst the wreckage, small and fragile against the chaos, your lips pressed tightly together in the silence you’d perfected over the years. Not a single sound escaped you, though your trembling hands betrayed what your carefully composed expression could not.

He was a towering figure in this nightmarish theater, a soldier honed not just by war but by something darker. The brutal efficiency in his movements was terrifying to witness; each step deliberate, each strike calculated. His broad shoulders rippled with tension under the tattered remnants of his uniform, the black tactical vest clinging to his chest soaked with the blood of both comrades and enemies. His eyes as cold as steel burned with an unrelenting fire as he surveyed the carnage around him.

“Stay close to me,” he growled, his voice deep and gravelly, as though dragged from the depths of the abyss itself. You didn’t dare disobey. Not after what you’d seen.

The man—no, the madman—had just butchered three men who dared to corner you. Their screams echoed in your ears, a haunting melody of snapping bones and gurgling cries. He hadn’t hesitated. His massive hands, calloused and scarred, had torn one’s throat open as if it were paper, while his boot crushed another’s skull with a sickening crunch. The last had tried to beg, but his pleas were cut short as the man plunged a blade into his chest, twisting it slowly as if savoring the act.

“You’re shaking,” he said, his tone devoid of comfort. His gaze flicked down to you, taking in the quivering of your small frame. “Good. You should be scared. That’s what keeps you alive.”

He reached for you, his hand large enough to engulf your shoulder completely. His touch wasn’t gentle—it never was. It was possessive, a silent declaration that you were his, and that no one else could lay a finger on you. The blood smeared across his gloves left a crimson stain on your clothes, marking you as part of the carnage he’d wrought.

“They were going to take you from me,” he murmured, his voice low and menacing. “Do you understand what that means?”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Words felt useless in the face of his overwhelming presence, and your selective muteness provided a convenient shield against his unrelenting intensity. But he didn’t need your words. He’d learned to read you—your body language, your eyes, the subtle shifts in your posture. And right now, he saw fear.

He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. “It means I’ll kill every last one of them if it means keeping you safe.”

As if to punctuate his statement, a figure emerged from the smoke, a rifle raised. The man’s reaction was instantaneous. He grabbed you by the arm and shoved you behind him with a force that left you stumbling. In the same motion, he drew his sidearm and fired a single shot. The enemy soldier dropped, blood spraying from the precise wound in his forehead. The man didn’t even blink.

“Pathetic,” he muttered, stepping over the corpse as if it were nothing more than debris. He turned back to you, his expression softening in a way that only made him more terrifying. “Come on. I won’t let you die out here.”

You hesitated, your feet rooted to the ground. The logical part of your mind screamed at you to run, to escape this monster masquerading as your savior. But your body betrayed you, obeying his command as if compelled by some unseen force. You followed him, your steps faltering but obedient.

The slaughter continued as he carved a path through the battlefield. His methods were brutal, each kill more horrific than the last. He used everything at his disposal—guns, knives, even his bare hands. One soldier was left choking on his own blood, his windpipe crushed by the man’s iron grip. Another was disemboweled with surgical precision, his intestines spilling onto the ground in a grotesque display. The air was filled with the wet sounds of flesh tearing, the crack of bones breaking, and the muffled gasps of dying men.

Through it all, he remained composed, his expression unchanging except for the occasional glint of satisfaction in his eyes. He didn’t just kill; he dominated, ensuring that each enemy knew their place beneath him in their final moments. It was a display of power so absolute that even you, his supposed charge, felt its oppressive weight bearing down on you.

By the time the chaos subsided, the ground was slick with blood, and the bodies lay in grotesque heaps. He stood amidst the carnage, his chest heaving with exertion. Blood dripped from his hands and splattered across his face, but he didn’t seem to notice. His eyes found yours, piercing through the haze of smoke and fear.

“You’re mine,” he said, the words more a statement of fact than a declaration. “No one will take you from me. Not now. Not ever.”

Your breath hitched, and for a brief moment, you considered running. But the thought died as quickly as it came. Where would you go? He would find you. He always did.

Instead, you nodded, the smallest of movements. It was enough to satisfy him. His lips curled into a predatory smile, and he reached out to cup your face with a blood-streaked hand. The contrast between his rough touch and the gentle way he held you was jarring, a reminder of the duality that made him so terrifying.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “You’re learning.”

[riotwritesthings]

An Agony We Deserve (Throwing Off Sparks)

WinterIron - M, 9.9k, WIP - reluctant soulmates, thriller/horror?, CW salt, not particularly Steve friendly, violence

There are legends. Soulmate bonds have started and ended wars, they used to reshape the world without any warning. People would change in an instant, abandon and betray everything, become completely unrecognizable, but those are just legends- It can’t be- But they are.

This chapter got a wee bit long, but hopefully it was worth the wait! and yes I took some liberties with the Mark XV armor, but only a couple.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

~~~

Chapter 5: what will I do

An awful mechanical rattling sound snaps Tony awake.

He flails his way upright, his back immediately complaining about the position he’d slept in. His elbow collides with something hard and Bucky grunts beside him.

Tony blinks into the dark of the cabin around him, trying to remember moving to the couch, or when night fell-

It finally clicks that the loud clanging sound is coming from the ancient phone on the wall, and there’s only one person who’s likely to call here.

Bucky’s hands reach out to steady him as Tony climbs clumsily to his feet. He barely detangles their legs in time to avoid falling on his face, and he’s not sure when that happened either.

His head pounds in time with the ringing of the phone as he stumbles across the small shack. When he lifts the receiver the noise finally cuts off, and Tony is pretty sure that Bucky echoes his relieved sigh.

He clears his throat and presses the phone to his ear, trying to ignore the awful taste in his mouth. Like liquor and a mix of the preserves he half-remembers finishing both jars of, and just a hint of vomit.

“Big Bob’s Burger Hut,” Tony says in greeting, his voice still hoarse with sleep.

“Bad news,” Rhodey says without preamble.

"I can’t believe you woke me up for bad news," Tony grumbles, his nose wrinkling as he smacks his lips. He needs water-

He hasn’t even finished the thought before Bucky pushes himself off the couch and heads for the kitchen. The wave of gratitude that rushes over Tony makes him sway on his already unsteady feet, and he watches avidly as Bucky starts filling two glasses of water.

Even in the dark, with just the glow of the moon filtered through the window and the cracks in the roof, watching Bucky move is almost hypnotic. The bunch and pull of his shoulders, the shift of muscle along his back as his tips his head back to down a glass of water in one go.

Tony can still feel the warmth of where they must have been pressed together as they slept, along his legs and his entire left side. As Bucky turns towards him, he’s struck with a half-memory of falling asleep to the steady pattern of Bucky’s pulse beneath his ear-

“And I can’t believe you didn’t answer with a restaurant more on-theme for Lithuania, which is where I know you are,” Rhodey shoots back pointedly, breaking into Tony’s wandering thoughts.

“What?” He demands, his spine straightening in alarm.

“Ross traced your call yesterday, he-”

"How?" Tony interrupts, “how did he get the okay for that? I thought you and your phone both have super-top-secret clearances that keep Ross up at night with jealousy?”

“I don’t know,” Rhodey says with an audible roll of his eyes, "it seemed more important to figure out what he knows, rather than how."

“Good point,” Tony allows, “please continue.”

He gratefully takes the glass of water that Bucky hands him, then shakes his head minutely when Bucky gives him a questioning look. So instead of pretending he’s not listening, Bucky stays close as Rhodey starts to explain.

"It doesn’t seem like he got the content of the call, although it might just be that you told me a grand total of nothing useful," Rhodey says. He sounds tired, and it occurs to Tony that if Rhodey is still in Germany it’s also the middle of the night for him. “What I do know is that he tracked down exactly where you are, and he’s already sent a team to pick the two of you up.”

“Shit,” Tony says with feeling. He flicks his gaze up from watching Bucky’s thumb tap anxiously against his glass to meet the man’s eye, and Bucky nods. “Okay,” he says as as Bucky wordlessly steps away, “okay, we’ll get moving again-”

“That’s not all,” Rhodey interrupts, “apparently Rogers found out too, because he and Wilson just busted out of custody in Berlin.”

“Great,” Tony groans and Bucky pauses in gathering supplies to glance at him.

“Ross has the resources, but Rogers is a man possessed, and my money is on him finding you first,” Rhodey says. “So if I were you, I’d be getting ready to explain why you stole his other half.”

That choice of wording has a strangled laugh bursting out of Tony’s chest. Rhodey has no idea just how right he is, and Tony doesn’t know how he’s supposed to explain it.

Bucky flinches a little as he stands at the sink filling spare jars with water.

“Don’t be jealous, SourPatch,” Tony says, his voice tight despite his best efforts. “I have no idea what to say to him either.”

He’s not sure which would be worse, being caught by Ross' team or being confronted by Steve.

Either way, he’s pretty sure someone is going to try and take Bucky from him. He can’t let that happen, they- They decided to stay together. He won’t let anyone separate them.

But all Tony has on him is a prototype watch gauntlet, which could really use a charge after their last fight to escape. He needs something-

“How soon can you get to one of my workshops?” He asks in a rush, shoving his fingers through his hair.

“I’m almost back to New York, heading there now,” Rhodey replies without missing a beat despite the long pause. “Pepper and I are going to see what we can find and actually share from SI and your files to continue fighting the Hydra rumors.”

Bucky’s lips pull into a frown, guilt flooding through him again. Tony can feel it filling Bucky’s chest as he gathers up the shirt and suit jacket Tony scattered around the shack.

“Perfect,” Tony says, his attention on the tense line of Bucky’s shoulders. “And while you’re at it, tell FRIDAY to run Find My Friend, version 3.15.”

Rhodey huffs, but doesn’t ask. “Will do. Stay safe, Tones.”

“You too,” Tony says distractedly. He hurries to hang up so he can turn his attention to Bucky and say, “Stop being sorry.”

That has Bucky’s head jerking up, and he looks at Tony wide-eyed for a second. Then he drops his gaze and starts loudly gathering up an armful of jars.

“It’s not your fault that people think I might be with Hydra now,” Tony insists as crosses the shack to start grabbing jars too. “Honestly, I’m surprised it took this long for those particular rumors to start, I’ve heard just about everything else. Plus, it’s not even your fault that people think you’re Hydra, so stop feeling guilty over things that aren’t your fault. It’s really bumming me out.”

Bucky doesn’t reply, but his worried frown lessens a little and his shoulders relax.

They load up their stolen truck without talking, focused on moving quickly. More than once Tony catches Bucky pausing to stare out into the night, like he’s listening for something.

Last thing before they head out, Tony leaves most of the cash from his wallet on the table, more than enough to cover all the jars and the samanė. Just in case whoever owns this place ever intends to come back, although he’s pretty sure it’s abandoned.

As he tucks his wallet away he realizes that Bucky is watching him, an odd look on his face. But he just shakes his head when Tony raises an eyebrow at him.

Without a word they agree that Bucky should drive, and they pull away from the shack with all of the truck's lights turned off.

---

“Are you sure this is apple?” Tony asks, his nose wrinkling.

He squints down into the jar of preserves. Dawn has barely started to glow on the horizon, and in the weak light he can’t quite make out the color.

“Pretty sure,” Bucky says with a snort of laughter. He doesn’t turn his gaze away from the dark of the dirt road in front of them, but when Tony starts to stick his fork back into the jar he protests, “Quit stealin’ my apples if you don’ even like 'em.”

“Excuse me, we both stole these from some poor unsuspecting farmer, I can eat and not enjoy them if I want,” Tony argues. “Plus, I haven’t decided yet. I’m still not convinced this isn’t- crabapples, or something.”

“Give it here,” Bucky demands, holding a hand out.

Tony considers protesting, but whatever fruit is preserved in this jar is leaving a weird aftertaste on his tongue. So he shoves the fork into the jar and hands it over with a final ‘ick’ noise.

Then he has to try not to stare as Bucky shoves the jar between his thighs, pulling the denim tight across thick muscles.

Now that Tony is more awake, last night is less hazy. He remembers moving to the couch when his back started to complain about sitting on the floor. He remembers the liquor hitting him again, and he’s pretty sure Bucky had wrapped an arm around him without protest when Tony tipped over into him.

He definitely remembers their legs tangling as Bucky made himself comfortable, too. Bucky's fingers carding through his hair as he drifted off.

And now Tony is having trouble thinking about anything but Bucky’s warm weight against him, wrapped around him. Their newest stolen farm truck isn’t big, but Bucky still feels entirely too far away.

But not so far that if Tony were to reach out-

“Then what?” Bucky asks, and it takes Tony a second to remember what the hell they had been talking about.

“Right,” Tony says.

He tears his gaze away from the jar shoved between Bucky’s thick thighs, and even manages not to get caught up staring at Bucky’s mouth as he takes another bite of preserves.

“So the UN got together,” Tony says, forcing himself to stay focused. “And 117 of those countries agreed that maybe The Avengers- maybe we shouldn’t be able to run around the world doing whatever we think is best and making, just- a giant fucking mess everywhere we go in the process.”

He starts digging around on the floorboard for one of the jars of water in a useless attempt to hide the way his hands have started to shake, the tremor in his voice. Like there’s a point in trying to hide anything from Bucky.

“I thought they had a decent point, and that we should at least be part of the conversation,” he continues, pretending that opening the jar takes all of his attention. “Steve- He disagreed, we argued, as we do. Then the ratification of the Accords was interrupted by a very convincing frame job. And then Steve and I argued some more, you broke out of confinement, and now here we are. Boom, you’re all caught up.”

Tony takes a big drink of water, although this hasn’t been quite as upsetting to get into as he expected. Sure, the guilt is just as overwhelming, all of his mistakes still weighing heavily enough to crush him if he let them. But the pain of leaving the team, of fighting with Steve-

The wounds are more than healed, they’re completely scarred over. No more painful to think about now than the friends he made and lost way back in college.

He cares way more what Bucky thinks of all his mistakes.

Not that it matters, Bucky is stuck with him. Tony learned the hard way last night that they can't even stay mad at each other, no matter the fucking reason. Bucky can’t leave him.

A sick feeling of relief is trying to grow in Tony’s chest again, and he viciously shoves it down.

When he finally glances over Bucky has a thoughtful look on his face. He must have heard the very basics of what happened with Ultron and Sokovia, but Tony can’t blame him for wanting to know exactly what he’s found himself in the middle of.

Bucky opens his mouth, and Tony braces himself for all the familiar questions. Maybe Bucky can't stay mad at him, but he’ll still probably want to know what the hell were you thinking? How could you let that happen? Why didn’t you know better by now?

“An’ what exactly was the battle of New York?” Bucky asks.

It startles a sound out of Tony that’s caught somewhere between a laugh and a groan.

“Not relevant at the moment,” he says with a quick shake of his head. “So we are definitely not getting into that whole story right now.”

Bucky’s expression doesn’t change, but Tony can tell that he’s pouting. Which is a little unfair, since Tony can’t exactly interrogate him back.

They’ve already determined that Bucky remembers basically nothing between being taken into custody by the anti-terror taskforce and running into Tony. And touching anything Bucky remembers before that feels- dicey.

“How long have we been on the road? About two hours?” Tony asks instead.

The sun still hasn’t risen, but the sky is light enough now that he can make out the empty fields around them. Apparently it's also light enough that Bucky can finally look away from the road to give Tony a curious look.

“A lil’ over that, yeah,” he replies.

“And we’re going- North? Ish?” Tony guesses.

"No, East," Bucky says with a huff and shoots him another look. “We’re drivin’ into the sunrise.”

“I don’t know, I’m an engineer, not a navigator,” Tony defends himself, glaring at the haze of fog that turns the entire horizon into a glowing golden line. “And for all I know those crabapple preserves are making me fucking- hallucinate.”

Bucky snorts and pointedly shoves another forkful of preserves into his mouth. Tony ignores him in favor of doing some quick mental math.

“Good,” he finally decides, “pull over here.”

"What?"

“You wanted to know what ‘Find My Friend’ means, right? Pull over and you’ll find out,” Tony says with a smirk.

Bucky looks doubtful, but he pulls over to the side of the dirt road.

Tony considers getting out of the truck to wait, but that seems like a good way to get spotted by a satellite. So he rolls the window down instead and turns off the rattling heater in the truck, listening carefully.

All Tony hears though is the soft sounds of wind through the dry grass around them. He can feel Bucky’s curiosity spiking, and Tony keeps his gaze fixed out the window to hide his smirk.

The minutes tick by without another sound. Even the wind dies down, and Tony’s confidence wavers.

Just as Bucky starts to get twitchy in response to Tony’s growing worry that something has gone wrong, Bucky’s attention jerks around to the right. A second later Tony can hear it, too.

The dull roar gets louder, quickly moving closer, and Tony grins when Bucky shoots him a worried look. Within seconds the sound descends on them, whipping the air around before dying out with a soft crunch of grass. Because he’s looking for it, Tony can barely make out the distortion of the air a couple of feet from the passenger side of the truck.

“Found you,” comes FRIDAY’s familiar voice from the spot of shimmering air.

Bucky sucks in a sharp, alarmed breath.

“Took you long enough,” Tony says to the empty air. “Now get in the car before you give the old man a heart attack.”

Tony glances over in time to see Bucky shoot him a quick, unimpressed look.

The back door of the truck opens, and the suspension groans in complaint as a heavy weight settles into the back seat. Once the door has closed, the air shifts and the dark gray Mark VI armor is revealed as it drops its visual camouflages.

The quiet sound that Bucky lets out this time sounds much closer to impressed. Tony doesn’t bother trying to hide his smug grin.

"Bucky, meet FRIDAY, my AI, currently playing the part of my armor," he says, gesturing to the mass of metal awkwardly crammed into the backseat. Then he turns his attention to the armor and says, “FRIDAY, meet Bucky, m-my- Apparently, we are s-soulmates.”

Tony is a little surprised to find himself still stumbling over the word, after their conversation last night. Almost like ‘deciding’ to stick together doesn’t change how goddamn weird it is that he has a soulmate. To find out that soulmates are real.

FRIDAY takes a split second longer than usual before replying, “A pleasure to meet you, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Nice- uh, nice to meet you too,” Bucky says slowly.

His eyes flick from Tony to the armor and back again. He’s trying to play it cool, but Tony can feel Bucky’s awe as a warm ball in his own chest. He tries not to let his smug grin get too wide.

“Any trouble?” Tony asks the AI.

“None, Boss,” she replies, “there were lots of eyes on the tower, but Colonel Rhodes ensured I was not detected leaving.”

“Good-”

“How’d- how did she find us?” Bucky asks quickly, looking torn between being confused and concerned.

“Homing devices under my skin,” Tony says dismissively, but Bucky’s concern spikes. So he adds, “Don’t worry, the suits are the only things that can access them.”

Bucky looks like he wants to ask more questions, but Tony waves him off and turns back to FRIDAY.

“Hand over the helmet, I need to check the news,” he says, turning a little more to face the backseat.

“Of course,” she says and the arms of the suit start to lift before pausing. FRIDAY’s voice sounds almost hesitant when she adds, “Boss, Captain Rogers has been trying to reach you near-constantly on the Avenger’s emergency channel, and I have several messages from Agent Romanoff-”

“Nuh-uh-uh,” Tony cuts her off quickly, shaking his head. “We’re not dealing with that right now. Just the news, thank you.”

He’s aware of Bucky watching with fascination as FRIDAY has the armor nod shortly before grabbing either side of the helmet. There’s a hiss and clack as latches open, and then the helmet lifts away.

“Wow,” Bucky mutters under his breath, craning his neck to get a better look down the empty neck hole of the suit. His voice is distracted as he asks, “So that’s th- that’s your armor?”

He’s more than just impressed, Bucky is awed and almost painfully curious. Tony has to struggle to fight down his smug grin as he twists forward and drops back down in his seat.

“One of them,” Tony says, holding the helmet up for a moment. “This is the Mark VI, codename Sneaky.”

“Sneaky?” Bucky repeats slowly, quirking an eyebrow.

“What? Tell me that wasn’t sneaky!” Tony protests with a huff. “Radar, sonar, pathetic human eyes, nothing can track this baby.”

Bucky hums thoughtfully, then points out, “We did hear it comin’, though.”

Tony nearly chokes on his offended gasp when he can’t completely fight down a laugh. He knows that Bucky is teasing, and for once there’s no tiny part of him wondering if there’s a hidden barbthat he’s missing. If Bucky is just waiting to catch him off guard.

“Yeah yeah, well you let me know when you figure out completely silent flight,” Tony mutters and slouches down pointedly in his seat. He drops his chin in an attempt to hide his twitching lips as he continues grumbling loudly under his breath.

“Will do,” Bucky says easily. He ignores Tony’s top-notch pouting in favor of pulling back out onto the road, the truck’s suspension creaking much more loudly than before.

“Mean to me,” Tony accuses, shifting his grip on the helmet so he can cross his arms. He’s still struggling to stop a smile from spreading across his face.

Bucky isn’t fighting down his grin at all and Tony’s breath catches to see the way it crinkles the skin around his eyes, the hint of a dimple in his cheek. It’s a real smile, one that Tony vaguely remembers seeing in photos of Bucky from before the war. Seeing it in person, because of him-

Then Bucky glances over at him just long enough to wink and blow him a kiss.

Tony chokes on nothing as his heart lurches in his chest. Bucky’s gaze is fixed firmly on the road again but Tony can see the way his eyes go wide, like he hadn’t been expecting himself to do that either. There’s a faint pink rising in Bucky’s cheeks, and Tony can feel a matching warmth on his own face.

He quickly yanks the helmet down over his head in a useless attempt to hide his blush.

Everything is dark for a second, and then the internal battery kicks in and the familiar lights of the helmet’s HUD fills his vision. FRIDAY has already pulled up a multitude of news sources on the display for him, and he starts to pour over them. But in the back of his mind Tony can’t think about anything except how dangerous this is.

Talking with Bucky- being with him, it’s just-

It’s easy.

He knows exactly when Bucky is teasing and when he’s being genuine. He knows there’s no actual judgement in Bucky’s dry tone, and he knows that Bucky isn’t playing up how impressed he is just to stroke Tony’s ego. He can feel all of Bucky’s emotions somewhere in the complicated mess that’s taken up residence in his chest.

They’re not always clear, but Tony is quickly learning how to decipher them.

Tony is so used to second-guessing everything, every move someone makes and every single thing they say. He’s been doing it his entire life, but now- Now he can’t even force himself to go through the familiar routine of over-thinking all of Bucky’s motivations.

He knows why Bucky is here, why they’re both here. He knows what Bucky means by every single thing he says.

It’s all dangerously easy.

Even if the bond would let them stand to be separated, why would Tony want to?

Why would he want to be away from this feeling of easy familiarity, even if it isn’t real? It feels real.

And there are so few people that he can read completely, that he can trust completely. Why would he not want to stick with Bucky? Even if talking to Rhodey hadn’t felt so- so different than it did before, it wouldn’t compare to what he’s feeling now- The level of connection-

How could he want to walk away from that?

When they ‘decided’ to stick together, they both knew that it was for show. They just needed to pretend for a second that they have a choice. In any of this.

But he’d also heard the sincerity buried in Bucky’s voice when he’d agreed. And Tony had felt the strange mix of resignation and relief that had flooded through the other man.

So does it matter how real the choice actually is?

If the soulmate bond was only half as strong, if it did give them some semblance of a choice-

At this point Tony is pretty sure that he would choose to stay right here. In a stolen truck, on the run from everyone he knows. With Bucky and this easy familiarity.

He isn’t sure how he feels about that realization.

---

It takes Tony a couple hours to go through all of the info he can find, and by the end he can determine that Rhodey was wildly sugarcoating things.

The gossip mill is running rampant, as expected, and no one can even begin to agree on why they ran off together. Tony is a little amused that not a single person, from reporter to blogger, has guessed the truth.

But Tony is much more concerned with the military response to their little escape. Basically everyone is looking for them, the US, Wakanda, and every country in between. All things considered, he’s a little surprised they haven’t been swarmed by half a dozen strike teams yet.

The only upside is that SI was quickly cleared from any suspicion of ties to Hydra, which makes one more reason he was right to put Pepper in charge. The ratification of the Accords has also been delayed until the ‘mystery bomber’ is caught, and at least that buys him a little more time on that front.

He already has a couple ideas about how they can fix this, how to clear their names and maybe even make some progress on the Accords front. But all of his possible plans start with figuring out who’s trying to frame Bucky, and why, and then actually finding the asshole.

And they can’t exactly do that here, without access to any of Tony’s computers or equipment. There’s only so much he can do from the suit without pinging an alert and drawing attention to themselves. They can’t even stop long enough for Tony to rig up some kind of relay that will let him do a little more digging.

All of his ideas require them to be not on run, which means at some point they’ll have to stop. It’s just a matter of who will find them first when they do, and hoping like hell they’ll at least let Tony get on with one of his many plans.

As if to really drive that point home, he gets a notification that Steve is calling on the emergency line. For the fifth time in the past hour.

Tony rejects the call for the fifth time in the past hour.

Talking to Rhodey was one thing, but he is not ready to talk to Steve. He’s not ready to- to have to finally explain all of this to someone else. And Steve will definitely demand an explanation, he won’t settle for ‘I’ll explain later’ after- after everything that happened with Ultron.

He can’t put it off forever though, and he’s pretty sure Steve and the Avengers will be their best best to actually solve this mess. He’s just-

He’s not ready yet.

The helmet isn’t exactly stuffy, but the rush of fresh air over his face when he pulls it off is still a relief. Tony drags in a deep breath and then lets it out slowly as he rests the helmet in his lap, his mind still racing.

“We still most wanted?” Bucky asks, the words casual but his tone soft.

He can probably feel how quickly Tony’s thoughts are spinning and colliding into each other, and Tony feels a little bad. No one should be subjected to the inside of his head.

"The most wanted," Tony says with faux-excitement. “Not to brag, but hanging out with me is probably one of the few things that could make you more dangerous and wanted. And here we are.”

“Hooray,” Bucky says dryly, and Tony laughs.

The sun is high in the sky now, and Tony glances around at the identical fields around them. Not quite identical, he realizes, the randomly scattered houses have increased in frequency. He glances into the backseat to make sure the armor is still cloaked.

“Where are we going, anyways?” He finally thinks to ask.

Bucky snorts and glances over at him with a grin as he asks, “Did you get kidnapped a lot, as a kid?”

“Haha,” Tony says, rolling his eyes, “three and a half times. Now answer the question.”

"‘An’ a half?’ How does that work?"

“Keep dodging the question and find out,” Tony warns, reaching for the handle of the car door.

The laugh that Bucky lets out is deep and rolling and so real. Warmth spreads through Tony’s chest and spirals out through his limbs, melting away a lot of the tension that built up in his muscles as he read through the news.

“There’s a safehouse near the Russian border,” Bucky says slowly, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. "One of th’ generals kept it- It was off th’ books. An’ that was years ago, so- I don’t think anyone still knows about it. If it's still there."

“That’s the spirit,” Tony says, and Bucky snorts again.

“Dunno how old they’ll be, but these should still be a computer or two lyin' around,” Bucky adds, glancing over at him with a small grin.

Tony clutches at his chest and slumps back against the door, pretending to swoon. Bucky smiles wider, until his blue eyes practically shine with it and crinkle around the corners.

“And what are the odds we’ll find some old weapons lying around?” Tony asks knowingly as he sits upright again, and Bucky smiles innocently. Tony shakes his head with a chuckle and then asks, “So, where near the border, exactly?”

Bucky’s expression pinches again as he haltingly admits, “I’m not- I don’ remember, exactly. But I- I know I can get us there s’long as- as I don’t think about it too hard.”

That raises the question of how often Bucky had to navigate his way to this ‘off the books safehouse’, but Tony knows better than to voice it. He doesn’t need the bond to tell him to keep his mouth shut, it's obvious in Bucky’s tight shoulders and the haunted look that’s completely replaced his smile.

Tony is once again flooded with the urge- the need to reach out to him. It’s just like when he saw Bucky sitting miserable and dejected in the corner of that one-room shack and Tony had been physically incapable of not doing something. And when he’s not futility trying to keep hold of an unfair anger, he doesn’t want to resist.

But he still doesn’t know what to do. For all of the ‘need to comfort’ that the bond throws at him, it doesn’t exactly come with instructions on how to comfort a stranger. Especially one who used to be, and sometimes still is, a deadly assassin.

“Well, three cheers for muscle memory, I guess,” Tony says after a pause that stretches just a little too long.

A weak smile twitches at the corner of Bucky’s lips. Much more importantly, Tony can feel the chill receding from Bucky’s mind as he lets go of the half-memories. As he realizes that Tony isn’t going to ask him to drag them up.

Bucky relaxes back in his seat minutely, and Tony gets a little more brave. Under the flimsy guise of getting a look at the dash, he scoots awkwardly across the bench seat until his shoulder brushes against Bucky’s.

“We’ll need more gas before that,” Tony remarks, fighting down his grin as Bucky shifts to lean against him the tiniest amount. “And by gas, I mean a new car.”

“There’s a town not far from here,” Bucky says with a small nod.

His fingers tap against the steering wheel for a second, and he starts to lift his hand away before quickly wrapping it tight around the wheel again. Like he was going to reach out but then stopped himself. Tony has the strangest urge to pout, but he settles for leaning a little more heavily into Bucky’s shoulder.

When Tony drops his gaze he catches sight of the helmet still clenched between his hands. He’d almost forgotten he was holding it, and his grip tightens as reality tries to make itself known.

There’s a good chance he’s missed at least one more call since he took the helmet off. And he still hasn’t even looked at the message from Natasha, it makes his chest pull tight just to think about after he- he attacked her-

Tony is fighting and running from his own team. He’s running from everything, all of his responsibilities. And Steve apparently thinks he’s abducting people for unknown reasons now, that’s how low his credibility has fallen. It’s no wonder people think he’s gone rogue, or that he’s working for Hydra.

He doesn’t even realize that he’s started anxiously tapping his fingers against the metal of the helmet until Bucky’s hand spreads over his, his fingers slipping between Tony’s to gently still them.

Tony drags in a shuddering breath as warmth rushes up his arm and through his chest, trying to wash reality away again.

It nearly works. The amount of calm he gets from the simple contact is absurd, honestly, but it’s hard to care about the why when Tony can literally feel his heartbeat steadying.

“I- We should- Once we get to this safehouse, we should probably call Steve back,” Tony reluctantly bites out. He curls his fingers around Bucky’s, making it clear he has no intention of letting go, and uses his free hand to set the helmet beside him on the bench seat.

“‘We?’” Bucky asks, glancing over at him with one eyebrow raised. Tony doesn’t miss the pleased warmth that floods through him at the word, though, or the way Bucky’s fingers tighten around his.

“We,” Tony agrees with a firm nod, trying to pretend the word doesn’t make him a little breathless too. “You are not getting out of dealing with this with me. And by this, I mean your best friend. Who thinks I kidnapped you. He’s going to want proof of life.”

“Okay,” Bucky says easily. “Should we pick up a paper with today’s date, too? Send 'im a photo?”

Tony lets out a snort that turns into surprised laughter, once again caught off guard by Bucky’s dry humor. Bucky keeps his attention fixed on the road, but he’s also not trying to hide his wide grin as he carefully twists his hand in Tony’s grip until their palms slide together. Their fingers slip together again easily, and now they are officially holding hands.

The heat that floods Tony’s face and the way his heart skips in his chest over hand holding makes him feel like a pre-teen again. But that doesn’t stop him from tightening his grip on Bucky’s hand. He settles back in his seat a little more, pressed a little more firmly against Bucky’s side.

They fall into comfortable silence as a small city starts to grow in the distance. Bucky’s thumb drags absently along the side of his hand, and Tony smiles as he tips his head back against the seat.

---

The town seems to have already quieted down for the evening as they drive in. They find a delivery van is an empty alley, and its suspension complains way less about the weight of the armor in the back.

Spending this long in a vehicle that he’s not driving is making him a little crazy, but Tony slides into the passenger seat without complaint. The passenger seat that is entirely too separate from the driver seat.

Tony’s left side feels cold, and his hand feels painfully empty. It doesn’t matter that Bucky is less than two feet away in the other seat, navigating them out of the narrow alleyway. Without that physical contact Tony feels-

He feels untethered.

And he knows that should freak him out. It would have just a couple days ago, but Tony-

He can’t care about that right now. He has so many bigger problems right now than the urge to hold hands, so why worry about it?

Especially when he also knows- knows it to his core- that when he sticks his hand out and wiggles his fingers expectantly, he only has to wait a second before Bucky’s fingers are lacing with his. Instantly he feels calm and grounded again, and Tony lets out a slow breath.

As they drive out of town without incident, he makes a mental note of yet another place on their tour of Europe that he’ll have to make a little anonymous donation. The list is getting pretty long.

Tony ends up dozing on and off as Bucky drives them through Belarus. The entire time, Bucky's fingers stay laced through his, thumb running absently over the side of Tony’s hand.

The sun is going down when Tony wakes up, but there’s still enough light to see that they’re driving through a sparse forest. Tony’s arm kind of aches from hanging between the seats, but he squeezes Bucky’s hand and smiles to himself.

“Pretty sure I’ve seen this horror movie,” Tony says, his voice thick with sleep.

Bucky huffs out a laugh and squeezes his hand back as he asks, “So what’s your fate gonna be?”

“I- do not actually remember,” Tony admits, “but I’m pretty sure I’d rather be found by a strike team.”

“Think we’re about there, so let’s find out,” Bucky says, still grinning as he pulls off the small dirt road and onto a smaller dirt road.

“Uh-oh,” Tony says dryly. Then the house comes into view, and he says, “Oh.”

It’s not nearly as bad as he was expecting. Instead of a creepy log cabin, the house looks like it’s been plucked out of a suburb and dropped in the middle of a forest. There’s only one story, but it looks solidly built and probably has multiple rooms, at least. And indoor plumbing.

As much as Tony is looking forward to that, he’d also sworn to himself that he’d stop putting off calling Steve as soon as they got here. He probably owes that to Steve, he did run off with the man’s oldest friend, and all of their best chances to find the real bomber involve getting some kind of help.

But still, he really doesn’t want to call Steve.

Bucky does a couple sweeps around the perimeter of the house while Tony uses the armor to scan the woods for any signs of life, and eventually they determine that the place is about as abandoned as they can hope for. Another quick scan tells Tony that the house doesn’t have power for any kind of security system, so he waves Bucky on and the man easily rips through the multiple rusted locks on the back door.

“From farm house to weird, forest safe house,” Tony says as he looks around the dark kitchen. “We’re really moving up in the world.”

“Next time I’ll find you a safe-mansion,” Bucky promises, sounding oddly sincere.

Tony clutches his hands to his chest and flutters his eyelashes, but he knows Bucky can tell that his heart isn’t in it.

All of his thoughts are on the phone call that he has to make. And figuring out what the hell he’s even going to say, because he still hasn’t done that. The idea of saying to someone that he has a soulmate is still- It still doesn’t feel quite real.

Tony is way past trying to deny the bond between them, but- But if it gets out, other people will. He has no doubt there will be demands for some kind of proof, despite the fact that no one has ever found hard proof of the soulmate bond. There are only stories, and now Tony is living one of them.

Who is even going to believe him-

“I need a shower,” Tony decides, using the helmet like a flashlight and pointing it down the narrow hallway. “Shower, and then dealing with things.”

“I’ll try’n fix the power,” Bucky says, peering around the corner into the living room. When Tony hesitates Bucky turns to him with a small smile and says, “Save me some water, if there is any.”

“We’ll see,” Tony says, but they both know he will.

He’s halfway through a dark, cold shower when the lights flicker on, and apparently Bucky found the generator.

Spending the day eating preserves while driving down rural roads has left his suit pants flecked with bits of fruit, and Tony winces as he pulls them back on. Even with the lights on, he doesn’t really want to go raiding the closet of a Hydra general, so dirty slacks it is. His button-up is a lost cause though, and he has to face the chill of the house in just his undershirt.

Bucky blinks at him as he walks into the living room, then hurries off to the bathroom himself with his chin ducked low.

After getting the suit inside and making sure that turning on the power didn’t trip any of the out-dated security systems, Tony manages to dig up some old military rations while he waits.

When Bucky does come back, it’s with a wide grin and a large knife that he must have found somewhere. Tony shakes his head with a huff and doesn’t ask.

They eat in tense silence, sitting across from each other with their legs tangled under the small kitchen table. When they’re done, Tony solemnly sets the helmet in the center of the table.

No more putting it off.

“Ready?” He asks.

“No,” Bucky says with a weak attempt at a grin, and Tony nods in agreement.

“FRIDAY,” he says, “get me- Get us Captain Spangles on the emergency emergency line.”

The eyes of the helmet light up, and Tony drags in a steadying breath.

“Tony!” Steve says in a rush of air as soon as the line connects. His strained, frantic voice fills the small kitchen as he demands, “Where is- what did you do to Bucky?!”

"What- nothing," Tony says with a roll of his eyes, “why would-”

"What did you do?" Steve interrupts to demand again, sounding beyond panicked.

However low Steve’s opinion of him might be at the moment, Tony can’t imagine what Steve thinks he’s done that has him this worked up. When Tony glances up at Bucky, he seems just as confused.

“Steve,” Tony tries, “what-”

"It wasn’t his fault," Steve cuts him off again, and Tony huffs. “He wasn’t- you don’t understand, you- You can’t blame him,” Steve insists, skipping from one thought to the next without finishing any of them. “It wasn’t his- he’s-”

“I know,” Tony interrupts this time, his annoyance spiking to match his confusion, “Dammit Steve, I’m trying to tell you that I know he wasn’t in Vienna.”

“You- Vienna-” Steve repeats slowly, “That- okay, good. Right. That’s good.”

Tony gets the distinct feeling that they’re having two different conversations. Talking to Rhodey had felt like- like talking to a stranger, but at least a familiar one. This, though-

This is something else.

“So, so where is he?” Steve asks and he’s trying not to sound panicked now, but he’s not fooling anyone.

“Right here, drama queen,” Tony huffs, distracted. Steve hadn’t been talking about the Vienna bombing, he’s sure of that, but what-

“'M here, Stevie,” Bucky chimes in, his voice hoarse.

Tony fixes him with a look, trying to convey that he’d hoped Bucky would sound less like an abused hostage during this phone call. Bucky’s lips twitch weakly and his legs shift against Tony’s as he clears his throat.

"'M fine, I swear," he adds and Tony is all too familiar with the complicated mix of emotions behind the words, because he’s feeling it too.

They are fine, but they’re not sure that they should be. They’re more fine with all of this than they were yesterday and they should be concerned about that, right? But Tony isn’t, and he can tell that Bucky isn’t either. Why would he be, when he hasn’t found a reason yet that he wouldn’t choose this? Choose Bucky? When it feels so-

Right.

“You- g-good,” Steve stutters, clearly caught off guard. Like this conversation isn’t going the way he expected, and Tony knows that feeling too. “T-That’s good, so wh- What happened? I mean, w- why’re you-”

He trails off, struggling for words, and Tony is pretty sure he should be offended again.

Bucky bites his lip so hard the skin goes white and Tony is momentarily distracted from trying to figure out what the hell is going on with Steve. He’s already reaching across the table to pull Bucky’s lower lip free before he catches himself and drops his arm back to his side.

“Why’m I with Tony?” Bucky asks, his gaze flicking up from the helmet to meet Tony’s and the tiniest smile pulling at his lips.

Tony’s breath catches and he wonders if Steve can hear the same thing he can, the way Bucky’s voice curls warm and familiar around his name. Like he’s been saying it forever.

A surprised inhale from the other end of the line means that Steve probably did.

"Well, yeah," Steve says in a hard rush, like all the air is being knocked out of him. “I mean, I thought-”

He cuts himself off, but Tony is dying to know what exactly Steve had thought was going on. Before he can ask, though, Steve is talking again.

“I know I told you about Tony, but I didn’t think you’d hit it off quite that fast,��� Steve says with a strained laugh, and Tony isn’t buying it.

Something is off-

“Uh, yeah, we-” Bucky starts and then his voice cuts off as he looks up at Tony again, like Tony has any idea how to start explaining this. Bucky abruptly laughs softly and shakes his head as he says, “You’re not gonna believe me.”

Steve lets out a frustrated, incomprehensible sound that almost manages to make Tony smile.

“Listen Stevie,” Bucky says and then pauses, swallowing hard.

He blinks rapidly, expression twisted, and Tony’s heart clenches in his chest at the sight. When Bucky’s right hand starts to creep across the table Tony doesn’t hesitate to reach out and wrap his fingers around Bucky’s again.

Bucky jolts slightly, like he hadn’t even realized he was reaching out. But then he grips Tony’s hand back tightly and his lips curl up at the edges. Tony has no idea what Bucky is going to say, no idea what he would say. But he knows they’re in this together.

“I had to leave with Tony,” Bucky finally says simply, like that explains it.

To them it does, and Tony feels a small smile spreading across his own face. Steve makes another confused, frustrated sound.

"I don’t- I don’t understand, " Steve says slowly, "why- I mean, is that- are you sure-"

It’s obvious he’s trying to choose his words very carefully, and now Tony is sure there’s something Steve isn’t saying. Before he can demand answers, however hypocritical that might be at the moment, Steve is cut off by another voice in the background.

For a minute all Tony can make out is hushed conversation. Bucky frowns down at the helmet, like if he just focuses hard enough he’ll be able to identify voices or words. It might be working, because Bucky’s frown deepens a second before a new voice comes on the line.

“Start from the beginning and tell us exactly what happened,” Natasha says briskly.

The air rushes out of Tony’s lungs as the image of the last time he saw her flashes through his mind. Crumpled against the wall in that brightly lit building, her hair a mess, unmoving. He hadn’t even known if she was still alive when he’d turned and left with Bucky, hadn’t even thought to check, he’d just-

Tony can still feel the burn of the repulsor against his palm and he flexes his hand anxiously, stomach churning. Bucky leans across the table and captures Tony’s shaking hand in his.

It’s almost like they’re having some kind of strange seance, sitting on either side of the table with their clenched hands framing the glowing helmet. The image makes Tony smile weakly, and Bucky smiles back as he drags his cool metal thumb over Tony’s palm.

After dragging in a steadying breath, Bucky says, “I- I remember bein’ in custody.” His expression twists as he struggles to remember, that same deep chill creeping over his mind again. Tony clings to his hands tighter. “I- someone must’ve a-activated the solider-”

“We’re pretty sure it was someone disguised as a doctor,” Steve interrupts, his voice getting louder as he no-doubt leans over Natasha’s shoulder. There’s a soft ‘oof’ as she elbows him in the gut.

"Do you know who? Or why?" Tony can’t resist breaking in to ask.

“We’re working on it,” Natasha says, a subtle iciness in her voice that Tony hasn’t heard in- he doesn’t know if he’s ever heard it directed at him. “Vision is trying to track where he went after Berlin,” she continues, "so if you can remember anything-"

She trails off pointedly and Bucky’s forehead creases as he squeezes his eyes closed. His foot taps against Tony’s as he thinks, and the cold is sinking deeper.

“The doctor-” Bucky says slowly, his voice hoarse, "he- he wanted to- to know something."

Bucky’s grip tightens on Tony’s hands. The cold is sinking deeper into his mind, deep enough that it sends a shiver down Tony’s spine.

Tony has to bite his lip so he won’t tell him to stop, that it’s not worth it. He knows they need answers, he just- he doesn’t care.

On the other end of the line he can hear Steve whispering to someone, still sounding a little more worried than Tony thinks the situation really calls for.

Bucky’s eyes abruptly fly open wide, so blue and fixed on Tony.

“Siberia,” he says shortly and the other end of the line falls silent. “The base, the other soldiers in cryo- He wanted to know where it is. And I- I told him.”

Steve swears colorfully in the background of the call, but Tony isn’t in the mood to tease him about it.

Natasha gets what Bucky can remember of the coordinates and then asks, “Anything else?”

Bucky nods silently, then huffs when Tony squeezes his hand.

“Yeah. He wanted to know about one of my- my missions,” Bucky says, dropping his gaze. He takes a deep breath, bracing himself, and then looks back up at Tony. “He asked about- about December 19th.”

Tony feels his expression pinch as he tries to figure out why this doctor-imposter would want to know that, and he’s about to ask-

On the other end of the line, Steve sucks in a sharp breath. Alarmed, almost panicked.

It doesn’t make sense.

Unless-

There’s a buzzing starting in Tony’s ears.

He can feel Bucky watching him with concern, but Tony is staring at the helmet on the table. Like he’ll be able to read Steve’s face through it.

There is one reason Steve might be so damn worried about Bucky being with Tony, but he shouldn’t know about that.

Tony only found out about his parents yesterday, there’s no way that Steve- He would have said something if he-

“Did you know?” Tony asks, his voice flat. He can barely hear himself over the roaring in his ears.

“About the Winter Soldier program?” Natasha asks, sounding caught off guard by his tone. “Yes, I-”

Tony isn’t listening to her though. He’s listening to Steve in the background, breathing a little too quickly. He can hear Steve coming up with some excuse.

Tony knows him better than most, after all. Or at least he used to. He thought he did.

“Don’t bullshit me, Rogers!” Tony snaps and Natasha cuts off abruptly.

There’s a shuffling sound as she apparently hands the communicator over to Steve.

“Did you know?” Tony grits out, his voice rough.

Steve swallows audibly and then says, “I didn’t know it was him.”

The laugh that tears its way out of Tony’s chest startles even him, harsh and edged with hysteria.

Someone in the background of the call gasps.

When he looks up again Bucky’s eyes are wide, pained and surprised.

“Tony, listen,” Steve starts, like he’s going to explain himself.

"That’s worse!" Tony snaps, cutting him off. "That’s so much- you knew that Hydra had my parents m-murdered and didn’t tell me on the chance that it was your brainwashed best friend?! That’s fucking worse!"

Steve is silent, and Tony can just picture the flexing of his stupid jaw.

“How long have you known?” Tony demands and he’s dimly aware that he’s shaking. Bucky’s hands are still clutching his tightly. “Did- Did you know while you were giving me shit for keeping secrets?”

“I- I thought-” Steve starts, which isn’t a no.

“Stop, I don’t care what you thought,” Tony hisses, “you should have told me, I-”

‘I talked to you about them,’ Tony doesn’t say. ‘I told you that I blamed Howard for the crash and you just kept letting me.’

“No wonder you didn’t want my help looking for him,” Tony says instead, shaking his head.

Laughter is trying to bubble up his throat again, but it can’t make it past the thick knot of hurt. Even with the artificial distance of the bond, he’d never questioned if he could trust Steve-

But Steve hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him. Steve never intended to tell him.

“Tony,” Bucky says softly and Tony blinks, dragging in a ragged breath.

His lungs burn. His eyes burn. Bucky is watching him with that same sad, guilty look.

Apparently this is another thing Bucky is going to blame himself for. Tony wants to tell him to stop, but he can’t get any words out past the lump in his throat.

“Buck,” Steve says and Tony is sure that his sad, hopeful tone would have made him feel something, before.

Now he just feels angry. And he feels the gentle warmth of Bucky’s thumb running over the back of his hand.

“You should’a told him,” Bucky says softly, shaking his head. “He deserves t’ know.”

In the background, Natasha is trying to insist that they get back on track. Someone else is demanding to know what they’re talking about.

Bucky meets Tony’s eye again, one eyebrow raised in question and a tiny smirk pulling at his lips. Tony nods in relief, letting out a hard breath.

“I didn’t know if- I wasn’t sure-” Steve is saying as Tony reluctantly lets go of Bucky’s hands.

He grabs the helmet and disconnects the line, cutting off Steve’s excuses.

Silence falls over the kitchen, broken only by Tony’s still unsteady breathing. He grabs for Bucky’s hands again almost desperately and Bucky doesn’t hesitate to lace their fingers together.

“That-” Tony says slowly, “did not go the way I expected.”

Bucky huffs out a soft laugh and taps his foot against Tony’s again as he asks, “You okay?”

“Nope,” Tony says easily, “you?”

“Been worse,” Bucky says with a shrug and a tiny grin.

Tony manages a weak laugh of his own, and then sighs.

“So, Siberia,” he says, and Bucky simply nods. After a second of thought Tony admits, “I know Steve and the others are probably going to be heading there now, but-”

“You don’t wanna just leave it to 'em?” Bucky guesses when he trails off, and Tony smiles a little wider. “It’d take us a couple days to drive there,” he warns.

"Or, we could fly," Tony suggests. “We might be spotted, but I’d rather that than more Winter Soldiers running around.”

Bucky doesn’t look at all thrilled with the idea.

“I would never drop you,” Tony adds, and Bucky’s lips twitch.

“Okay,” Bucky says reluctantly, “okay, we- We can fly.”

He still looks far from excited, so Tony resists the urge to cheer.

“We probably won’t get there before the team,” Tony admits, “but at the very least we’ll hopefully get there in time to have a chance of tracking down loose murder puppets.”

Bucky nods, looking thoughtful, and then that guilty expression starts to creep across his face again.

“Stop it,” Tony says seriously, and Bucky doesn’t even need to ask.

“Fine,” Bucky says with a weak laugh. “I just-” He sighs and his expression turns grave again, “I can’t believe he didn’ tell you.”

Tony can feel the mix of emotions tangled in Bucky’s chest, but picking out individual feelings is difficult. Disappointment and confusion and something that- it might be loss.

It’s similar to what Tony felt talking to Rhodey, but more. Like a wire that’s been cut, too short to be reconnected.

Bucky sighs and shakes his head, like he’s trying to clear it. When he looks at Tony again his eyes are clear, a small smile on his face, and it takes Tony's breath away.

“I’m gonna eat more before you fly me through the Russian skies,” Bucky says with a tone like he might as well be facing a firing squad, and Tony laughs. “Want anythin’?” He asks, grinning and pleased with himself.

“Crabapple preserves,” Tony says without hesitation, smiling wide.

“You and the apples,” Bucky huffs as he starts pushing himself to his feet, “you-”

The small window above the sink shatters.

Bucky falls silent, his eyes going wide.

Red is spreading across the front of his shirt.

It’s blood, Tony realizes slowly.

Everything is happening so slowly.

Shards of glass are still falling to the tile floor with oddly musical sounds.

The fingers of Bucky’s right hand are still tangled with Tony’s, and they start to go limp.

Distantly, Tony can hear a door slamming open. More windows breaking.

Bucky’s eyelids flutter and start to close.

It’s blood, it’s blood, it’s-

Tony doesn’t remember getting to his feet. He doesn’t remember speaking, but he must have. The armor is closing itself around him even as he tries to catch Bucky’s falling weight.

He can hear approaching footsteps. Someone is shouting.

More muffled gunshots ring out.

Tony barely feels the impact of the bullets bouncing off his armor.

He tries to curl himself around Bucky protectively, but there’s red spreading from his stomach and his leg.

Red.

It’s blood.

All Tony sees is red.

The charge and blast of the repulsors sounds like screaming.

Gunfire.

His HUD inside the helmet flashes warnings and Tony ignores them.

Men dressed in all black continue pouring into the house. Holding rifles. Firing them.

Red.

Shell casings rain around the feet of the armor as Tony moves.

Someone is shouting. The repulsors scream.

Red. Red. Red.

The roar of gunfire.

Repulsors scream. Or maybe it was a person.

All Tony can see is-

Shine of metal. Muzzle flash. Light and sparks.

And red.

Red.

Red-

Tony yanks the helmet off ungracefully and gulps in fresh lungfuls of air.

His hands are shaking.

He blinks rapidly, trying to clear the red from his vision.

Everything is too bright again and he needs to find Bucky- he needs to feel settled-

Tony’s eyes land on a blood splattered figure and he gasps, going tense until he realizes that it’s- It’s him.

His reflection stares back at him. His armor is splattered with blood, standing out bright against the Mark IV’s shades of gray.

He was in the kitchen, but this- there’s a dusty mirror and chipped sink in front of him. Where is he?

As he continues staring at himself Tony realizes that there’s blood on his face, somehow. It must have gotten there before he put the helmet on, which means-

It’s Bucky’s blood.

Bucky.

Tony remembers Bucky falling, the red- the blood spreading across his clothes.

What happened after that? He remembers-

Red.

Tony’s breath wheezes in and out of his chest. He needs to find Bucky- He needs- he needs to remember-

“Tony.”

The weak croak makes Tony jump again and he spins in place. The heels of his armor make an awful sound as they drag against the tile.

Bucky is slumped against the wall in a walk-in shower that looks vaguely familiar. Blood is running sluggishly down the drain. Bucky’s eyes aren’t quite focused as they move over Tony.

It looks like they’re back in the bathroom of the safe house, but how- When- Tony doesn’t-

“Wha’ happened?” Bucky asks, his voice weak and wet.

“I- I don’t-” Tony chokes out, his own voice breaking, "I don’t remember."

[wolfsong-the-bloody-beast]

I love it when I get this kind of hint while playing a horror game because it immediately makes me go

[chimerafeathers]

[ on youtube ]

a concept for the type of OP i'd love to see for the second season of Dungeon Meshi! both s1 OPs are great, but i'm really hoping for one that captures both the "dangerous fantasy adventure" and "comedic cooking adventure" aspects of the series in equal measure, because it's the integration of those two concepts that makes the series special to me. the joyous whimsy and the dramatic horrors are equally important!!

[brutal-nemesis]

E&T: Deep in the Bowels of Gluttony

I am forcing more CAVE WHUMP into your enclosure (with an added dash of inspiration from my favorite national park that I can never visit ✨)

Suggested Vibe: Duma’s Scourge from Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia (youtube)

←Previous - Masterlist - Next→

Ingredients: a lot of gore. eating is involved in the goriness if you couldn’t tell. it is also very gross. Wow! Oh and there is a little bit of burning

By the time Erebus finished crying, his hand had grown back.

He hadn’t even realized it at first, too caught up with gut-wrenching sobs to be aware of anything else besides how much his head hurt, how hard it was to breathe, how terrified he was to be in this strange place all alone, how he might never make it back home, or even back to his cell, how hopeless he felt, how-how-And then he’d noticed the stump of his left hand, no longer ending in a jagged tear, little strings of skin dangling off of it, but a-it was growing, it had to be, those little white nubs poking out of the mass of muscle had to be the bones of his hand, bones that had definitely been…Before he knew it he was crying in earnest again, his body’s sudden strange capability to repair itself overshadowed by the trauma of the past hour, fear and exhaustion replacing awe and relief, because even if he could heal, it didn’t change the fact that he was stuck here, now saddled with the possibility that not even death could set him free.

If there was one good thing about this world, it was the fact that he was more alone than he’d ever been, and no one knocked on the door to interrupt his crying, no one commented on the redness of his eyes or asked him if he was okay too soon after he’d started to calm down. He caught his breath slowly, peacefully, washing the tears off his face using the fresh water from one of the pools near the sea, scrubbing the dried blood from his perfectly healed arm, revealing a ring of scar tissue around his wrist. The thought that neither of these hands were the ones he was born with almost sent him into another spiral, but he shook his head and put it out of his mind. That was enough for today. 

Today…Frowning, he looked up at the sky. Its blackness hadn’t changed in the slightest since he’d arrived here, and something told him it wouldn’t anytime soon. Even back in the windowless cell, he’d had meals and Neteri’s visits to help him keep track of the passage of time, but now there was just…nothing. It was all down to whatever cycle of waking and sleeping he fell into, and given how tired he was now, he was ready to get that started. 

Walking back to his pack, left at the base of the cliffs, he noticed his leg was no longer in pain, either. Once he arrived, he pulled the knife out and used it to slice the stitches still woven through his flesh, wincing a bit as he pulled the thread out. The holes left behind healed quickly enough that he could ignore them and busy himself finding a good place to lay his bedroll for the…night? For now. 

He ended up settling down along the cliffside, too afraid to lie out in the open despite how quiet it was here, and it wasn’t long before his exhausted body gave in to sleep.

When Erebus woke up, the sky was the same empty black as before, and it was impossible to tell how long he’d slept for, but he felt rested enough despite the circumstances. So now he was just supposed to…wander until he found something? He considered flying to get a better idea of what was around, but he decided it would be better to save his strength for the next fight. Since crossing the sea was out of the question, he headed back into the rocky maze he’d first arrived in. Eventually, he found himself at the entrance to a cave, a gaping hole in the side of the mountain rising even higher than the cliffs around him.

If the demons were tied to elements like their counterparts, the dragons, then whatever one was tied to the element of earth was definitely in that cave. His instincts screamed at him not to go into the dark, cramped space where his wings likely would be more of a hindrance than a help, but if he was going to get out of this place, then he’d have to go in eventually. So best to get it over with while he was here.

Erebus had never been inside of a cave, but he’d heard about how beautiful they could be, and…how dangerous. But he’d be okay. He could heal, for some reason. He’d be fine. He could handle this. He had to.

Burying his doubts, Erebus headed inside the cave, almost immediately tripping over a small, rounded protrusion of stone. They littered the ground, and the ceiling, too, their lengths varying. He’d have to take care to avoid them, then. 

Soon enough, though, the ground began to slope downwards, and the dim gray light streaming in from the cave’s entrance began to fade, not enough for even his new eyes to see with. It wasn’t long before he was stumbling along in the dark, unsure how much progress he was making, or if he was even headed in the right direction. He could be a couple steps away from a dead end, for all he knew. Or even a cl-At that moment, Erebus’s boot caught on a rock, his desperate grasps for something to catch himself on meeting empty air, and now he was falling, spinning, bouncing off the uneven stone, everything was slippery enough to slide out of his grasp but hard enough to break his bones, faster and faster until-

Cold. Deep cold, water, he was underwater, he had to get to the surface, had to find it in this spinning dark void, no way to tell which way is up, which way is death, swimming flailing reaching-his hand broke the surface, and he worked his way up desperately, his sodden clothes and heavy sword making it difficult, but he made it, he breathed, he coughed, he dragged himself out and laid on the bumpy stone next to the water’s edge, panting as his body throbbed and stung with a hundred cuts and bruises. Of course he hurt himself before even finding the demon. Of course. If only he had some way to know if he was even going in the right direction, but no, he was just supposed to stumble around in the dark.

One of his horns hurt, and upon poking at it gently, he found that the tip had broken off, exposing the tender flesh inside. Not like they served any purpose, besides telling him where…wait. What he wanted most was to get out of here and go home. To get out of here, he’d have to fight all the demons. Starting with the one hidden somewhere in this cave. So, by that logic, what he wanted most was to find the demon in these caves. He closed his eyes, not that it changed anything, and drilled that thought into his head. He needed to find that demon. Wanted to. Had to.

Erebus couldn’t help but smile as his horns started to tingle ever-so-slightly. 

It took some time to get used to navigating the cave based on the feeling in his horns. The changes in sensation were rather subtle, so it was difficult to tell immediately after changing course if he was heading the right way. It would have been much easier if he could take a direct path, but the twists and turns of the cave forced him to switch directions constantly, sometimes leading him to dead ends or passages he was too large to squeeze through. Progress was slow, but he was making progress, he was, the tingling was stronger now, his scrapes and bruises from his fall earlier had healed, and his clothes were beginning to dry, despite the cave air being rather cool.

Well, now that he thought about it, the air had grown warmer than when he’d first entered. He’d been so freezing from his wet clothes that he hadn’t realized it until now, but it was definitely getting warmer. That had to be a good thing, right? It wasn’t getting any lighter, unfortunately, so he was still stuck feeling his way along through the darkness, nothing but the tingling sensation in his horns to guide him, but at least he wasn’t shivering as much anymore.

It was getting warmer and warmer, hot now, and humid, the stickiness of the air reminding him of summers back home. Were caves supposed to be this hot? He’d been grateful for the warmth at first, but now he was sweating profusely, the thick, moist air making it somewhat difficult to breathe as he clambered up slopes and squeezed through small gaps, the feeling in his horns growing so intense he was starting to get a headache, made even worse by the slightly rotten smell that was starting to permeate the air.

Erebus stopped at the edge of some sort of drop-off. It was impossible to tell how far down it went, only that it was longer than his arm. He’d been scared of this, of having to fly while blind. Out of breath, he sat to rest for a moment, letting the slight breeze cool him off a tiny bit, wishing it didn’t smell so rancid.

Wait…breeze?

The air was moving, pulsing past him in a hot wave, and then a cooler gust in the opposite direction. It was rhythmic, over and over, back and forth, in and…in and out. 

Breathing. It was breathing.

If-if Erebus could feel its breathing, and the intense heat from its body, its stench, then it must be close, just off that ledge maybe, after all this time wandering around in the dark he’d finally found the next demon. With renewed energy, he stood and drew his sword. He’d have to approach this carefully, making sure he didn’t fly straight into the wall instead of hitting his target. After waving his hand over his head and not feeling anything above him, Erebus carefully took flight. It was difficult to move so slowly in the air, especially as he started to head down, but he didn’t want to risk falling who knows how far and landing on who knows what. 

Feeling his feet catch on something, he tried to land, but the ground beneath was slippery and almost gave way beneath him, causing him to fall for the second time today. Thankfully, he landed on something soft, though it was weirdly wet and sort of slimy, like…Erebus cried out and scurried back, but everything he touched was the same, squishy and warm and smooth and…and…It was flesh. All around him. He-he’d somehow flown into the demon’s mouth, he must have, its breath was rushing by him with even more force now, the nauseating scent of rot all around him. He had to get out. He just had to fly up. He could do this. He’d be fine. 

But…where was his sword?

He’d dropped it in his panic, like an idiot, and now he needed to find it. He wouldn’t stand a chance against the demons without it, and then he’d never be able to go home, never see another person again, he couldn’t accept that, he had to calm down, had to focus. He wanted that sword more than anything. It was his way out.

His stomach sank when his horns told him his sword was below him.

There wasn’t any choice but to fall further into the belly of the beast in order to kill it.

He took his time lowering himself, but it was more difficult than before. The heat was making his head throb, not to mention the toll all this flying was taking on him. Being unable to glide was putting a lot more strain on his wings than he’d realized, and though he couldn’t quite feel it through the sheen of sweat covering his face, he tasted the blood dripping out of his nose. By the time the buzzing in his horns peaked and his hand wrapped around the cool hilt of the sword, the world was starting to spin, and he all but collapsed next to the blade, which had buried itself partway in the fleshy ground. 

Erebus didn’t know if he had the energy to stand. The heat and all of that careful flying had sapped all of his strength, leaving him sprawled on the hot, soft flesh of the demon’s insides. Was this it? Was he just stuck here until he fell further and ended up digested? The healing he had for some reason was slow, probably too slow to keep up with stomach acid. He breathed in deeply as the slightly cooler air coming in rushed past him, trying to calm himself down. The demon’s breaths were deep and long, so they were difficult for Erebus to match perfectly, but he tried anyway, the less rancid-smelling air coming in making him feel a little better somehow. But why would…memories of dust, Neteri’s forehead against his, the puff of her breath against his cheeks. Sharing breath. He was sharing breath with this huge demon, gaining a little of its life force as he did so. 

Once he felt well enough to stand, he did so, holding onto his sword for support. He could do this. After bracing himself as best as he could, he started to pull, wincing at the awful squelching sound the blade made as it slid out of the flesh it was buried in. It came out with a sickening pop, squirting what Erebus could only assume was blood all over him. Some of it even landed in his mouth, and it…it tasted good. Really good, like a rich, meaty stew. 

His empty stomach started to growl.

This was a demon. Not a person.

He hadn’t eaten in over a day.

No one would ever know.

He needed energy.

Hands shaking, he pulled out his knife.

Just a little bit. 

It was warm, wet, chewy, almost rubbery, the texture making him gag slightly, but he didn’t care, not when it tasted this good, buttery and savory, little hints of spice dancing through it, shifting from one flavor to another, and he was powerless to stop, grabbing more and slicing it off, shoving it in his mouth before he’d even finished chewing the last bite, his hands and face slick with that delicious blood, the perfect sauce to go with his meat, the fingers on his right hand had grown claws at some point, and now he was tearing away at the walls with his hand, ripping chunks off with his teeth, continuing to slice and shred long after he’d eaten his fill, even as the ground below started to shake, a guttural roar drowning out the sounds of flesh tearing and blood dripping, the force of it sending Erebus to the ground, snapping him out of whatever trance he’d been in.

What…what had he just done?

How could he be sure there wasn’t anyone else out there in the blackness? 

He could feel the ghosts of his parents watching him, watching their son turn into the monster he looked like. 

He had to get out of here. 

The walls shifted and pulsed as the demon’s breath sped up, roars and moans sounding out so loudly around him it made his head hurt. Its mouth might be closed now, trapping him inside. He’d have to find another way. Or just…make his own.

A large section of one of the walls had already been ravaged, cut and torn away during his frenzied eating, so he resumed work on it, slicing away chunks with his sword now, tossing them to the side instead of bringing them to his mouth. Progress was faster when he could focus, but it was almost impossible to tell how far he’d come, how much he’d carved away, how close he was to breaking through the skin. He came across a more rubbery section and ended up having to almost saw away at it, blood spurting all over him as he went, as if he wasn’t already covered in it. How whole body felt so sticky and sweaty and gross, and all he could think about was washing off somehow after he got out of here.

Blood was flowing out steadily now, coming out with more and more force, and soon enough it was all Erebus could do to hold onto his sword, his anchor buried in the fleshy wall, praying he wouldn’t get swept away by the jet of hot, sticky, delicious-smelling blood. H-he must’ve cut into a major blood vessel. Those shot blood out like crazy, from what he remembered. Maybe this would be enough to kill the demon? Then he’d just be…trapped inside its corpse. For now, it was still very much alive, its roars and moans starting to get louder, more desperate.

All of a sudden, the ground beneath him lurched, and Erebus’s sword slipped out of the cut it was in, sending him tumbling backwards, the river of blood sweeping him away before he could try to stand up, stab the floor, do anything to save himself, but he had to, he couldn’t fall any further down, couldn’t lose the tunnel he’d carved out in this sweltering blackness, couldn’t sink into the sea of blood and digestive acid that was likely waiting for him below, he had to stop somehow, the sword was too long, his wings couldn’t generate lift, nothing to do but desperately scratch at the slippery ground below, dig his claws in, deeper, deeper, deeper, hold on, arm trembling with the effort, he couldn’t afford to let go, to fall, the blood was coming with less force now, the tremors not as frequent, just a little bit longer until…

The great beast fell silent, fell still, its blood merely trickling by now, dripping in imitation of the water in the cave surrounding it. 

Erebus dragged himself to his feet, coughing up blood. He’d tried to keep his mouth closed during the whole ordeal, but some had still made its way in. Was the demon actually dead? It was hard to tell for sure, but he supposed it didn’t matter. He had to get out of here regardless, and any other escape route besides his tunnel was out of the question. Nothing to do but resume work, then, and hope he could get out of here soon.

Time crawled by as Erebus hacked away at the wall, and just when he was starting to think he wasn’t headed towards the surface of this thing’s body, his sword met with a different sort of resistance than before. It wasn’t like the blood vessel, more stretchy and tough, but he was pretty sure he was able to poke through, and soon enough he’d made a gap large enough for him to squeeze through. He didn’t realize how hot it’d been in there until he was sitting outside it, the cave air unbelievably refreshing after being swallowed up by that rancid heat. 

After feeling around a bit, Erebus decided he must be on the demon’s back or something. The slope down was pretty steep, enough that he wasn’t sure he could walk down effectively in the dark. His wings were still exhausted from flying earlier, so…scooting down very carefully it was. For the first time today, he was able to move downwards at a reasonable pace, not having to be careful of random rocks jutting out of the floor or ceiling. He was starting to get a bit excited to leave these caves and be able to see again. The water in the sloth demon’s domain would be perfect for washing all of this blood off of him, and there were few things he loved more than feeling clean. Already, he was starting to realize everything he’d taken for granted in his previous captivity.

He’d taken light for granted, too, and the moment he saw it, the moment he could see at all, he teared up a bit, but that might have just been because it was bright. Navigating the rest of the way down the demon’s body was much easier now that he could see, and it wasn’t long before he was back on solid ground, nearly running towards the cave exit. Finally. 

The dark, starless sky was a welcome sight, almost as beautiful to him as the small pools of water a little ways away. He was lucky this exit dumped him out closer to the water than the entrance he’d originally gone through had been. Curious, Erebus looked down at himself, and couldn’t help but wince in disgust. He was covered from head to toe in blood, most of it dried to a brownish-red, cracking a bit around his joints, little pieces of the demon’s flesh caked on here and there. His hair was sticky and matted with it, and the coppery, still tempting tang of it was all he could smell and taste. He’d never been so revoltingly filthy, and he was secretly glad no one was here to see it. 

It was a quick walk to the nearest pool of water, and while it looked a bit different than the other little pools from before, he paid it no mind. Water was water. He fell to his knees in front of it and stuck his hands in, ready to-HOT! Erebus pulled his hands out of the fiery water, screaming as they burned so intensely he could feel it in his very bones. All he could do was lie on his side and wait for them to heal, tears streaming from his eyes as he wailed. None of the water in the sloth demon’s domain had even been warm, so why was it nearly boiling all of a sudden? Unless he wasn’t…

“You really wanted to make a good first impression on me, didn’t you, intruder?”

Blinking away tears, Erebus looked in the direction of the familiar voice, his blood running cold when he saw who had spoken.

It was Shiori.

Next→

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[terpia]

Had an unexpected celebrity encounter

[famewolf]

I want to play Dragon's Dogma 2 so badly!!!! it sucks there was no pre-download option for PC, but thankfully Percy said he'd turn my computer on and download it for me while I'm at work today

probably won't start playing until tomorrow, but I've got my vacation hours all sorted out and I'm rearing to go!

[satoruxx]

you're sweating when you wake up, skin sticking painfully to your bedsheets as your bleary eyes dart around, attempting to make focus of your surroundings. the room is still dark, barely touched by the slight bit of moonlight that attempts to peak through the closed windows—defiant. it takes a minute to realize that the sounds that are breaking the silence are actually coming from your own throat—breathy, wheezing gasps of terror.

your stomach drops when your fingers grip cold and empty fabric. he's gone he's gone he's go—

"what are you doing up, pretty?"

your head snaps to the doorway. satoru stands there, sweats hanging low on his hips even as his hand remains curled around a glass of water. his hair is tousled with sleep, but his cerulean eyes are sharp and lively.

as soon as he sees the panic lacing your expression, his eyes widen, long legs practically tripping over themselves as he stumbles towards you.

"what happened?" he asks sharply, frantically placing the cup on the bedside table to take your face into his palms. shades of blue dart back and forth across your features as he perches one knee on the mattress and peers down at you. "are you okay?"

his touch sends electricity through your veins—a splash of ice water pulling you away from that painful reverie.

your heart both clenches and soars, the idea of what you saw being terrifying, and yet finding out it wasn't true being that much more relieving.

"i just—" your voice comes out choked, and satoru's fingers twitch against your skin imperceptibly. "had a bad dream."

you think your brain must be cruel for conjuring up a dream in which satoru could suffer to such abhorrent extents.

"oh sweets." satoru's sigh is sympathetically soft, thumb brushing over the apple of your cheek just barely. "it was just a nightmare."

"i know," you swallow, voice shaking. there's an uncharacteristic wetness pooling at your waterline. "i-it just felt so real."

"baby..." satoru immediately pulls you against the steady planes of his chest, thick arms snaking around your waist to eliminate any measly amount of distance between you two. you prop your chin on his shoulder, sighing as you feel his snowy hair tickling at your cheek.

"it wasn't real, sweetheart," he says, pulling back just slightly to push a piece of hair from your face. his thumb then drags under your eyes, wiping away the unshed tears. "see. you're here, i'm here. everything's all good."

"yeah." you're nodding, unable to take your eyes off of him because he's real and alive and so breathtakingly perfect. "yeah, you're right."

he gives you a lopsided smile, eyes bright and glowing. "i don't like to brag, but i usually am."

you snort out a laugh, missing the way his expression turns pleased at the sound. "hilarious. you love to brag."

"you got me there," he shrugs, grinning as you stick your tongue out at him. the lighthearted banter solidifies the fact that satoru is fine and unharmed and completely yours, but you can still feel the apprehension coursing through your veins. chills run up your spine—you try not to show it.

but of course, satoru has always been able to see right through you.

his teasing smile goes soft, and he inhales deeply.

"was it about me?" he asks, climbing into bed next you. you lay back down carefully.

"yeah," you mumble, watching him tug the blankets over your body and tuck you both under a cocoon of warmth.

"hm." something in his tone tells you he's not unfamiliar with the feelings you seem to be experiencing—his body shifts closer to yours. ocean eyes carefully asses you, deep and calculating and so concerned even as he smoothes a warm palm over your shoulder blades. "wanna tell me what happened?"

the truth is you do want to, because satoru has always understood you better than you've ever understood yourself—you have no doubt he'd be able to comfort you just as well as he normally does.

and yet...

"no," you answer, pressing your nose into his neck. a deep breath in, the lively scent that is so inherently your gojo satoru filling your very soul. "it's okay. i think i'll be fine."

when you shut your eyes, images flash behind them—of bloodied bodies and stitches and swapped souls. yet a chaste kiss to your forehead pulls you back to where you're supposed to be, warm and grounding.

"i know you'll be fine," satoru murmurs, lips tickling your brow as he speaks. you think you can hear the gentle smile as he says it, and your grip on him tightens—never letting go. "i'm right here after all."

[stunie]

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁ “MY BOYFRIEND IS GONNA KICK YOUR ASS !”

WINDBREAKER BOYS PROTECTING YOU FROM PERVS. ft. kaji ren, togame jo, umemiya hajime, sakura haruka, hayato suo, toma hiragi, kiryuu mitsuki, & kyotaro sugishita x f!reader

sfw. wc: 2.6K. oh how i’ve been wanting to write this since i finished the manga! but individual warnings are below <3

KAJI REN. referred to as she/her, ‘my girl,’ comments about your outfit

“My boyfriend’s real scary y’know.” Your voice falters a bit as you take another step back, hands coming up defensively. “And he’ll be here any moment.”

It’s a lie that you hope sounds convincing— because Kaji coming to save you today may be nothing more than a desperate wish of yours. How would he even find you in a place like this? You’re not sure exactly how much time has passed since you’ve started running, but you’re certain that by now, you and Kaji should have already been inside the bakery, finally getting to taste test the new fruit pastries you’d been dying to get your hands on.

It started off as just a loud whistle your direction, then led to an uncomfortable conversation about how you’re not interested— and that you have a boyfriend. One thing led to another, and somehow you’ve ended up here, out of breath from speed walking and completely lost— and to top it off, the only person near you is the one you’ve been running so desperately from.

You wish Kaji was here already.

“Oh yeah?” The man in front of you takes a step towards you, lips contorting into a sick grin when he sees your hands trembling. “I don't see him.”

Your lips tremble a bit when he reaches you, towering over you with ease. “Don’t you dare touch me.” You warn, “My boyfriend will beat your a—” you yelp as you’re suddenly pulled to the side, stumbling into someone’s chest as they pull you flush against their front.

The familiar scent of candy melts away your fear in a split second.

“Kaji!”

You can tell when you glance at him just once that he isn’t happy. His forehead is damp with sweat, and he looks disheveled, chest rising up and down with labored breaths— he must have been running around trying to find you this entire time.

Your boyfriend clicks his tongue in annoyance, eyes narrowing as he sizes up the man in front of him. “Problem?”

He rips off his headphones, letting them hang around his neck as the man feigns an apology, unapologetic eyes looming over your figure again seconds later. “But y’know man, you should be keeping a closer eye on your girl,” he points to you with a smug smile, “she was practically begging for me to say something with the way she’s dressed.”

“I wasn’t!” You protest, face burning as you tug on ren’s coat. You thought your outfit was cute— and definitely not anything crazy— you double checked. You really did. But he’s pointing at you now, rambling on about how you wanted this— and you can’t help the way tears start to blur your vision.

“Huh?” Kaji snarls, head tilting to leer at the man. The arm around your waist pulls you tighter against his chest, and you hear the angry thumping of his heart. “What'd you say?”

“Okay, okay, I’m leaving now.” The man chuckles in defeat. “I was just joking. Wasn’t gonna actually do something to your girl.” he waves him off. “You should lighten up—”

He chokes when Kaji grabs a fistful of his shirt, pulling him off balance before knocking him backwards, your pursuer falling roughly onto the floor as he winces in pain. “Then get outta here already.” Kaji glares, a stark contrast to the gentle way his hand is pressing against your lower back to guide you away.

“And don’t let me catch you looking at my girl again.”

TOGAME JO. referred to as she/her, ‘my girl,’ you wear his jacket

Togame gives you a sleepy smile as he watches you from Miniso’s entrance, excitedly sorting through the newly restocked blind boxes. He was resting his back against the wall behind him when he caught his first glimpse of that guy.

He’s wearing a dark hoodie, head turning back to shamelessly stare your direction as he passes by slowly. It’s enough to get togame back up on his feet immediately, quickly heading your way just as the man reaches to get a feel of your thighs—

“How shameless.” Togame laughs, big hand squeezing painfully into his wrist. “Tryna bother my girl?”

In any other situation, Togame would chuckle at your obliviousness, your headphones cancelling out any noise as your eye catches the cinnamoroll section, letting out an excited gasp as you head that way. You really had no idea.

“M-my bad man.” He stutters, ripping his arm from Togame’s grasp. “Just thought she was my sister— was just gonna tap on her back to grab her attention.”

Togame raises an eyebrow at the lazy excuse, leaning down until the man takes a nervous step back, eyes darting to the side to avoid Togame’s glare. “Sister? That’s my Shishitoren jacket she has on, no?”

The man feels heavy beads of sweat roll down his face when Togame’s hands curl into clenched fists. “You mean to tell me your lil sis is from Shishitoren?”

“I said it was my bad,” he repeats, chuckling nervously. “It won’t happen again okay? I won’t bother her again.”

Togame’s hands return to his pockets. “Won’t let you off so easy next time,” his voice is low as he steps aside to let him off, “so you’d better keep your distance.”

UMEMIYA HAJIME. referred to as she/her, ‘your girl’

Umemiya instinctively perks up when he hears two voices behind him, momentarily tuning out your gushing about how cute the little plant kits at barnes and noble are.

“….She's probably taken.”

“Is that her boyfriend behind her? Think she's talking to him.”

There's a chuckle between them. “Doesn’t matter. Go tell her what you just said to me when she's alone.”

“What?” The man laughs. “Ask her if i can grab a handful of that ass?”

More laughter.

Umemiya’s jaw clenches, eyes darting back at you in a flash, and he’s relieved when he sees you’re still gushing about the flower kits— completely oblivious to the two men just beyond this aisle. He’s by your side in an instant, arms wrapping around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Oh.” You turn to press a quick kiss against his temple, smiling when he melts into your touch. “Hi, Haji. Did you find a book?”

“Nothing here.” He sighs dramatically, his embrace around your middle tightening just enough for you to barely notice. “But we can grab some of those flower kits.”

“Really?”

“Of course—”

“Hey.” A familiar voice interrupts him with a stifled laugh, followed by a tap on his shoulder. With the roughness, it’s more like a jab— but he lets that slide.

“Ah— your friend, Haji.” Your voice comes off as a mix between a question and a statement.

“Hey, my friend has something to ask your girl.”

Umemiya’s jaw clenches again, and your eyes widen a bit at the sudden change in the atmosphere. The first friend’s hand is swat off of his shoulder in a split second, Umemiya straightening back up to look back at them.

Their first thought is that he’s a lot taller than they had pictured. A lot more muscular too— and they take note of the way his muscles bulge against the fabric of his shirt. “What, you have business with her?”

They flinch at the tone.

“Ah— sorry.” The second friend stutters. “We got the wrong person.”

SAKURA HARUKA.

“Ah— what happened?” Your hands delicately cup Sakura’s face, ignoring the way his cheeks instantly turn into a deep shade of scarlet. “N-nothing happened!” He weakly swats at your hand, a futile attempt to dissipate the heat spreading through the tips of his ears.

“I was only in the bathroom for five minutes.” You laugh. “How’d you manage to get into a fight so fast?”

He stiffens when your arms come to wrap around his bicep, resuming your ramble about some recipe you wanted to try tonight. Macarons…or something. He doesn’t pay much attention, because he knows whatever you end up making will be good anyway.

“—Are you listening, Sakura?”

The clueless look he gives you confirms it. “So you weren’t. I had a feeling— but it’s okay.” You giggle. “But you didn’t answer my question from earlier either. How’d you get into a fight?”

His eyebrows furrow deeply as he decides whether or not he should tell you. “They were….” he clicks his tongue angrily, “they were talking about you when you walked by.”

You can feel his muscles tense as he deepens his scowl, still trying to fight off the blush plastered across his face. “I just gave ‘em what they deserved.”

HAYATO SUO. referred to as she/her, mentions of how you’re dressed

“What a bitch. She was totally asking for it.”

I know— dressed like a whore.”

Suo stands up from the bench outside your local convenience store, hands dusting off the dirt on his pants. You had asked him to wait outside earlier because ‘you wanted to grab him a super delicious snack that he would most definitely love.’

He had a feeling the two dirty men who entered the store minutes later were bad news, so he was already on high alert before listening in.

“That whore— you mean my girlfriend?” Suo’s voice comes out calm, a stark contrast to the sickening anger and pressure he feels building up inside his chest.

“Huh—oh. Yeah.” One of them chuckles, jutting their thumb at the entrance. “That bitch inside your girl? You let her prance around with her tits hanging out for everyone to see?”

He's calm and composed as they size him up, their chins tilting up to look down at him. “She's pretty, isn't she?” and Suo fails to stifle the chuckle that escapes his lips. “Did she reject you too harshly for your liking?”

One of them balls his fists, muttering profanities under his breath as he leans closer to him. “Now how'd you know that? You should really teach that bitch some fucking manners.” He reaches forward to grab Suo by the collar, eyes blinking in confusion when he finds himself spun behind Suo seconds later, feet struggling to find their balance.

“—The fuck did you do?”

“It’s a bad habit of hers,” Suo continues. “I understand it though, not wanting to be around a pathetic thing like you.” The edges of his lips tug into a faint smile.

The other man’s eyebrows twitch, spitting empty threats as he he throws a wide swing, only to find himself reduced to his knees seconds later. “T-the fuck...” he grumbles to himself— he could have sworn he could practically see his fist connect. What happened?

“You'd be better off looking for someone to protect yourself the way I do for her.” His words are mocking as he heads towards the store’s entrance. “And— it'd be really unfortunate if i see something like this happen again.”

TOMA HIRAGI.

“H-Hiragi? What are you doing?”

Your lips are pressed in a nervous line as your hands come to shyly rest on his chest, sucking in a breath when his arms come to roughly cage you against the train’s walls, strong body towering just over yours.

“Do you…need more space?” You whisper, heart racing at the proximity. You can smell his cologne so well at this distance.

Hiragi simply shakes his head, distracted gaze shifting between you and something behind him every few seconds. “It’s okay.”

He swears his stomach isn't churning like this without good reason. It’s not just a coincidence that the same person who he had noticed eyeing you at the boba shop had gotten onto the same train. He could let it go at that, but the same man had been slowly worming his way through the crowd to get closer to the two of you. And while he’s not certain, he thought he saw the man take out his phone and try and angle it beneath you, but not before jolting and dropping his phone onto the floor when Hiragi's hands abruptly slammed against the wall beside you.

The train suddenly rocks, sliding his phone to the other side of the train, and you’re knocked off balance, face slamming against Hiragi's chest. “S-sorry!”

“It’s okay.” He gives you a smile, hand coming to cradle the back of your head and pull you closer. “You okay?”

“I’m okay...” you mumble, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “Your chest is hard.”

He responds with a light chuckle. It’ll be okay like this, he thinks. He’ll protect you with his body for now, and figure out what to do with that guy later.

KIRYU MITSUKI. ‘pretty thing’

“It’s no wonder she doesn't like you,” Kiryu sighs. “You're gross.”

Your mouth is ajar as you stare at the state of the man who was harassing you only moments ago, his unconscious body resting neatly against the wall after Kiryu had dragged him there.

“Sorry you had to watch that, pretty thing.” His hand comes to gently interlace with yours. “But he didn't leave me with much of a choice, did he?”

“It’s okay.” Your voice drops to a whisper. “That was so cool of you.”

His eyes widen a bit before his lips curl into a small smile. “Oh? You think so?”

“Mhm. I don't know what would’ve happened to me if you were there...” your voice trails off a bit.

You really don't know what would have happened, because it's not like you know how to fight or anything. Getting hit on is enough to make you nervous, so a pushy guy like that was too much— you froze up as soon as he started spitting threats after you expressed your disinterest.

There’s a light squeeze around your hands, and you’re reminded of this gentle warmth that Kiryu always brings with him. “Don't worry about it.” He gives you a small smile. “I’ll just need to accompany you more often when you go out. It’s no problem.”

KYOTARO SUGISHITA.

“You’re like a bodyguard, Kyo.”

You giggle at the huff beside you. “How’d you even react that fast?”

It all happened within a second. You were walking beside him, stopped for a brief second to bend down and peer at the plushies lining the shop window, not noticing the man approaching you— his grimy fingers coming to take a peek under your skirt. Before you had even registered the feeling of the cloth moving, there was a loud crack, and the man was on the floor, groaning with his hands covering his bloodied face and a very angry Sugishita on top of him.

“He made me angry.”

Of course he would be. And if you weren’t with your boyfriend, it would be an entirely different story. You’d bring along your assortment of self defense items, ranging from pepper sprays to taser lipsticks— and you’d be a thousand times more cautious. Pay extra close attention to everything around you.

With Sugishita, however, it’s different. You think of it as being able to turn off your brain… or something like that. Whatever lets you truly relax and enjoy your time with him, and it’s always okay because your boyfriend is there to protect you. “Well, don’t be so mad, cutie.” You smile, your fingers reaching to interlace with his as he tenses at the nickname.

“Everything is okay— I’m okay. I’ll even get us smoothies to help lighten the mood.”

He lets you drag him to your favorite smoothie shop in silence— still fuming about the incident. He wonders why you’re not shaken up. Ifnhe had been one second later, that piece of shit would have lifted up your skirt. In public. His jaw clenches at the thought, angry eyes darting at any anyone who dares look your direction.

“Why’re…” his voice trails off, remembering what Umemiya said about toning down his choice of words around others. “Why’re you so happy?”

“Hmm? I’m not too worried.” You laugh. “You’re my bodyguard right? Nothing will happen if you’re here.”

part 2

[secretsandwriting]

heyyyy ryyyyy <333

since ur requests are open i thought id go ahead and ask if you're mayhaps open to anything for batmom? i don't have a completely solid idea but maybe smn like batmom has been getting threats or maybe hate or smn from somebody and everyone's reactions and how they get hella protective?

obv no pressure and you definitely do not have to write this

hope you have a great day bb

Heyyyyy, so this grew hands and wrote itself, I hope you enjoy it. It did end up with a lot of backstory.

Earned Position

5.3k words

You knew this would happen. Once your relationship with Bruce got out there would be an influx of love and hate. You also knew that everyone else knew that as well. It was common knowledge than anyone around a celebrity of sorts would experience that. 

Of course you did the normal things, turned off most notifications and only looked through areas online you knew would mostly be safe. You blocked tags and and only followed people you knew or ones who didn’t post about drama. 

When you did stumble onto hate, you moved on. If someone kept sending you nasty messages you blocked them, when they made other accounts to keep sending the same things, you changed your settings so only those you followed could message you. 

It wasn’t something you wanted to deal with but it was something you could handle. Something you started mentally preparing yourself for when Bruce’s attention on you lasted more than 4 dates, even more so when you caught yourself daydreaming about him.

You were not going to let random bitter people on the internet destroy your happiness like they did their own. Your family however, wanted to destroy what was left of your haters' happiness. Something you were trying to curb, but trying to tell a family of vigilantes who considered you the best mom in existence not to destroy your haters was like talking to a brick wall. Over the years, you had gotten used to it. It barely even registered anymore. But there had been a recent influx of the hate and while it didn’t bother you, it bothered the rest of your family. None of them could stand people talking bad about their mom.

While you hadn’t been there while the older ones were young, the second you had introduced yourself to them, you had taken a very important role in their lives. None of them realizing it at first. All of them had gotten used to the random women Bruce brought home that it took a little while for them to realize how important you were. 

Dick wasn’t sure at first. Thinking you were just another girlfriend that wouldn’t last long. So he didn’t really interact with you much. Ignoring your existence when it wasn’t too rude, or at least obviously rude. Until one night when he was staying at the manor and had a nightmare about his parents death. 

Bruce had an open bed policy. As long as there was still room for him, his bed was open. A policy he had started when Dick had gotten old enough he was worried he wouldn’t be allowed to go when he had a nightmare. Bruce had always reminded all his kids, that nightmares don’t go away just because you’re older and that needing comfort wasn’t something they would outgrow. 

The thing was, you were there. Girlfriends didn’t mind when children did it but they never liked it when his adult kids did it. The shaking in his hands and the way he saw them fall in the darkness of every blink told him the only way he was getting any sleep was with someone. 

Hopefully he could just slip into Bruce’s side and leave before you woke up. That was the plan until he found Damian on Bruce’s side and you had been pulled closer to Bruce taking up what was left. You moved a little and Dick took that as his sign to deal with it himself until he heard you whisper his name. He hummed so you knew it was him and not some random stranger standing over Bruce’s side of the bed. 

“Nightmare?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on.” You lifted the blanket next to you, “Bruce told me you guys come here when you have nightmares. There's plenty of room over here for you.” Dick hesitated for a second before giving in. He needed sleep anyway. You weren’t when you said there was plenty of room, Dick had most of your half of the bed. Once he had settled on his side, facing away from you, he felt you pull the blanket over his shoulders. 

“Night Dick, sleep well.” For some reason, that was what did it. Once the tears started they didn’t stop. Silent sobs made him shudder and he felt one of your hands gently rubbing his back. “Oh Dick.” There was no pity in your tone and he found himself rolling over and curling into you. Your chin resting on his head while you rubbed his back. 

The next day, he followed you around like a puppy. Your side of the bed became his favorite when he had nightmares and it wasn’t long before he turned to you for general comfort over anything.

Jason met you at his grave. Neither of you exchanged words, but he caught something in your gaze he didn’t quite understand. He also wasn’t sure why you were at his grave either, he didn’t know you when he was younger. 

When he saw the Gotham News post about Bruce and Your 2nd anniversary, it brought more questions than answers. Why were you at his grave alone? Let alone longer than a few seconds. It was an odd way to gain more of Bruce’s affections. 

Every Tuesday you would be there, leaving flowers and talking softly to the stone. Every time you left, you would smile and nod, the look in your eyes he couldn’t figure out was still there. Every time he would strain to heat what you were saying and only be able yo a few words here and there. 

6 months into it, the routine changed. You brought a blanket and Basket with your usual flowers. You did what you normally did with the flowers but instead of talking to the stone you waved him over. When he didn’t move, you stopped what you were doing and looked at him. 

“Jason Todd, I have been keeping your secret for 6 months. Helping me spread this blanket and having lunch won’t change it.” He stared at you while you waited expectantly. Eventually when he could get himself to move, he came over and helped. He sat down where you motioned for him too, all while trying to figure out how you knew.

“Bruce mentioned this used to be your favorite when you were younger so I asked Alfred to teach me how to make it. I hope it's up to your standards.” He looked at the plate of food you handed him. It was almost overflowing with food, all of which reminded him of the good times back at the manor before he died. “Alfred also sent your favorite cookies when he heard I would be eating at your grave.” The bag of cookies was placed next to the basket, within easy reach.

“Why?” Was all Jason managed to choke out around the lump in his throat.

“I decided early on in life, no matter who I was with, I would love their family as my own. My grandfather hated my grandmothers side and it caused a lot of pain in all the generations. I decided I would never do that to another family.” Jason found himself back in control enough to start eating. 

“So when I started dating Bruce and he told me about you, I decided to treat you like you were my own. Even though I had never met you and you were dead. Most of what that meant was keeping your grave clean and always making sure there were fresh flowers. While I did that, I would tell you everything that was going on.”

“How did you know it was me?”

“Your eyes, they may be a different color but they looked too similar. So I did a little digging and found pictures of your biological pictures to place the face shape it matched. I think however you look more like Bruce then either of them.”

“Are you going to tell them?”

“As much as I would love to. It’s your choice. You’ve been keeping this to yourself for a reason. If I can help you get to a place to tell them, I would love to. But I won’t say a word until you're ready. However, I would like to keep having lunch with you.” 

A year later, Jason reintroduced himself to the rest of the family a lot calmer than originally planned and was glued to your side anytime he felt overwhelmed that night. Every Tuesday after that, lunch was scheduled.

Tim was nervous when it came to you. He was still living in the manor so he saw you more than the older two. You always seemed nice and respected his privacy but Bruce was always with you so you obviously would. 

It was when he wasn’t around that worried Tim. Bruce attracted golddiggers and they were always mean when Bruce wasn’t there. When you were given a copy of the key, Time braced himself. 

Of course he knew that if he told Bruce anything that happened like that, Bruce would break it off. He had always told them that they came first. But he also knew that Bruce liked you a lot. All the other ones Bruce liked a lot that turned out to be horrible, he broked it off. Tim had seen how it had made him upset and he really hated doing that to him. Maybe he could deal with it for once. 

So when Bruce left for a business trip, Tim was Expecting the worst. What he didn’t expect was for you to knock on his door and ask if you could join him. When he agreed and stepped back so you could come in. He expected you to go to his bed or his desk chair not, the oversized bean bag on the floor.

“I have a question for you but you can’t tell Bruce yet.” Here it comes. “What would a funny way to tell him I know he’s Batman?” Tim wasn’t expecting that one. “I was thinking a lot of batpuns but his paranoia is too bad for that.”

“How did you figure it out?” You walked him through your process and didn’t say anything as he wrote parts of it down. Once you finished explaining the process for Bruce, you explained any way it was modified in figuring out their identities.

“Who do you think I am?”

“Red Robin.” Tim found himself getting excited. 

“You know those notes you leave him in his office?” You nodded. “You should leave those in the Batcave.” You considered it but your thinking was interrupted but Tim shouting. 

“No! One night when we’re all in the cave, you could bring some snacks!” 

“You just want snacks when he’s lecturing you don’t you?”

“Maybe..”

“Alright, but you have to tell the others so they can tell me what snack they want.”

So Tim slowly and carefully went through all his siblings, letting them know you figured it out, Bruce didn’t know, and what the plan is. Every time he relayed a snack to you he’d watch how carefully you’d write it out to make sure you had it correct or look up recipes if you couldn’t find it in stores. 

Two weeks later, Tim was the one who sent the signal in the middle of a lecture everyone was receiving and he got a front row seat to see Bruce’s face when you walked in and handed out snacks before giving him a kiss and telling him to be nice and leaving. 

Any other worries were left in the dust when you helped him win the nerf war for the best seat in the home theater. He thoroughly enjoyed his spot next to you while Bruce swore revenge from the other side of the room.

Damian treated you politely but that was it. His mother was still alive and he didn’t want another one, one was more than enough. Not only that, but you were weird. 

One time when you were over, you found one of his report cards. Immediately you were praising him. He didn’t understand why, he had basically failed one of his classes with an A-. You should be disappointed like his mother would be, not hanging it up on the fridge and telling people not to touch it. Definitely not taking him out for ice cream and calling him so smart. He definitely shouldn’t be feeling any pride when he walked past it, but he still was. 

When he was practicing his violin and Messed up, you were supposed to tell him to stop failing, that he should be better. Not smiling at him and telling him he’s making good progress. You should be telling him that he should have memorized that piece in a day. He shouldn’t be feeling any pride when he finally does memorize it, it took him 4 days to learn it.

When he was struggling to learn a language, you were supposed to tell him to work harder. He could do better, after all, he already knew so many. Instead you just smiled and recommended a break to refresh his mind. 

When he snapped at you in Arabic, he expected you to be upset since you didn’t know what he said and it was obviously not something nice. Instead you set the rule that if he was going to use Arabic to speak to you when upset, that he had to teach it to you and if what he said wasn’t something you had learned yet, he had to tell you in english. When he told you what it meant, you didn’t even get upset. He definitely shouldn’t be as excited as he was when you actually started learning. 

So many more little things piled up, leaving Damian confused. The differences between how you and his mother treated him was so big he didn’t know how to process it, he liked you and all the little things made him happy in a way he hadn’t really felt. But he still loved his mom, When he had enough of it, he asked you to stop. He still wanted to love his mom. Once again, you did something you weren’t supposed to.

“Oh Damian, I’m not trying to replace your mom nor am I trying to make you feel like you can’t love her or she doesn’t love you. Your mom and I show our love in different ways and its ok for you to love or like both of us. You mother loves you and she will always be allowed in your life if thats what you want.” You weren’t supposed to do that, but Damian was really glad you did.

Barbara wasn’t sure how you would react to her. She wasn’t just Bruce’s kid. She had a loving family she went back to every night. Most people weren’t really a fan of that, one of Bruce’s past girlfriends had some strong and hurtful things to say about it. 

When you took her for a day out, she found herself warming up to you but still waiting for the other shoe to drop. One of the new places you had planned to go, didn’t have wheelchair access. Like all the other girlfriends who had done this, she expected you to be annoyed that your plans had to change or you would just leave her outside while you shopped. 

You didn’t seem to notice her hesitation, just looking at what was next on your list and starting the trip there. When Barbara stared a little longer at a new movie that was in theaters, tickets and snacks were bought and you listed to all the lore she told you about before it started.

While it had been a nice day, Barbara wasn’t convinced. One day was easy to fake. Sure she had lots of fun, but Barbara was used to fakes when it came to Bruce’s girlfriends. Of course she wasn’t complaining about you being nice, she just wasn’t sure how long it would last. 

“Did you hear about that boutique?” She looked up from her food to look at her dad. “That new one that you tried to go to with Bruce’s girlfriend? Well there was a report that it didn’t meet the Americans with Disabilities act and the boutique is in trouble. People are speculating they’ll have to close down.”

Later that night, Barbara looked into it. They were in trouble, pretty big trouble from the looks of it. Towards the end of the article she found the name of the person who reported it, she wasn’t sure who she was expecting. Not you for sure but the Name Y/n L/n took her by surprise and filled her chest with feelings she couldn’t describe. 

The boutique ended up closing but a new one opened. Once it was open, you were the first to ask her to go. That weird feeling came back when she wheeled herself up the ramp and through the door you held open for her. Later that night, in the privacy of her room. She decided she liked you. 

Steph seemed like she liked you, she acted like she liked you, she didn’t really like you. Sure you were nice, Bruce loved you, the others were warming up to you, but she wasn’t sure how to feel about you. So she stuck with not actually liking you but pretending to. 

So when she was around you, it was all smiles and jokes. She wasn’t a big fan of it all but she did it because she knew you were important to Bruce and that was enough of a reason for her. She knew Bruce and the others could see through the act but as long as you couldn’t, that was enough. 

When Bruce announced he had to leave for a business trip right before she could hand him the parents visit for one of her AP classes, something the new teacher liked doing. She tucked the paper away. When Tim gave her a questioning look, she shook her head and later swore him to silence. 

Every time she heard someone mention their parents were going, she felt a pang of jealousy in her chest. Every time Tim mentioned bringing it up to you, she swore him into silence again. It wouldn’t be the first time no one showed up for her. She was however thankful you wouldn’t be at the manor as much so she didn’t have to pretend to like you.

When the day arrived, Steph was not having a good day. School dragged on slowly. Slower than normal. When school finally ended, she had to sit in the classroom and watch everyone else that was in her class leave and the parents of her classmates show up while no one was there or coming for her.

Someone sat in the seat next to her, she expected another family member of one of her classmates. Definitely not you. She couldn’t return your smile, too unsure of how you found out, the fact you actually showed up, and how she felt about you being there. You leaned a little closer so that the others in the room wouldn’t easily overhear. 

“I know I’m not your parent and someone you just pretend to like so if you want me to leave I will. But I figured someone was better then no one. Oh, and Tim wanted me to tell you he didn’t spill. Your teacher called the manor because no one had RSVPed for you and I answered it.”

That night, as Steph showed off all her hard work to you, the charade fell. She actually enjoyed her time with you and the boost of pride as you oohed and ahhed over all her projects and listened to her explain all the little details. That night, Steph realized, she didn’t need to keep pretending. She liked you, until she found out you didn’t like her favorite show but a nerf war solved that. 

Cass could tell you were different then the other girlfriends, your body language as you interacted with all of them showed it. However that didn’t mean she knew how to interact with you.

She had learned that she was fairly hard for new people to interact with. She also knew she had trouble interacting with people she wasn’t fighting. So it wasn’t a surprise when it started rocky. 

What was a surprise, was when you found out she was still having trouble reading and writing, you stepped in to help. Well, that wasn’t the surprising part, a lot of girlfriends did that. The surprising part was the amount of patience you had when it was only the two of you. 

When one method didn’t help, you tried another. Never once did you snap at her or call her a name. Everytime you got frustrated you would stop and look at her, say something along the lines of “If I had as much trouble with this as you do, I wouldn’t want to keep trying. You're doing absolutely amazing! I’ll keep looking for other ideas, but for now, lets take a break and get a treat.” 

Cass wasn’t sure why that always made her feel better, but it did. Every treat you brought was something you made just for the tutoring sessions and it always reminded her of what Alfred had told her once. “Something made with love for you will always taste better.”

And when a method that made it a little easier to learn was found, Cass found herself smiling along with your cheers. Bad days where she couldn’t seem to make any progress were always met with the same excitement, cheers, patience, and treats that all the others were. 

Cass still wasn’t sure of what to think of you exactly, but she knew she liked you and that you cared about her.

So when Tim saw the new rise in hate, a sibling meeting was called. They all went through each site, blood boiling as they saw what people were saying about their new parent. Plans were made, declarations of war were ready, and anger fueled all of them. Bruce could tell something was going on, but he wasn’t sure what it was and as long as it didn’t get out of had, he wasn’t sure if he had the energy to deal with it. 

War was declared in an interview by Steph. The lady was asking questions when the topic switched to Bruce, then you. The reporter was clearly trying to subtly find some dirt on you and Steph was not going to stand for it.

“Oh yeah! Y/n! She’s the best!” She put on her best press face. Trying to hide her anger over the hidden intent. She didn’t have to lie or act when talking about you but the change in the lady’s face going to disappointment when she didn’t get anything she wanted was making her look very punchable. 

“She’s always showing up for us and making sure we’re doing ok. If Y/n and Bruce were to break up, I think most of us would go with Y/n.” The way the lady kept trying to get anything really got on her nerves and Steph decided she needed to get out of there before she started using the lady’s face for target practice. You wouldn’t like that.

Cass was the first one to resort to violence. They had asked a thinly veiled question, basically asking if you were a golddigger. So she punched him in the nose and leaned down to flip the camera off. She hated interviews already but that made it so much worse. She hoped you wouldn’t be too upset with her punching the guy though.

Jason, surprisingly enough. Did not get violent… physically. He did however curse one out and threaten him when the reporter implied you were forcing them to say nice things. When the reporter kept pressing Jason broke his mic and told him if he ever heard him talking bad about you again, a broken mic would be the last of his worries. Jason knew you would be disappointed but he had held back, he didn’t shoot the guy like he wanted.

Tim threw his coffee at one reporter because he heard them say you were nothing but a regular person who didn’t deserve any attention. He then took over her segment, threatening the company to air it or he would make sure they went bankrupt. Once he finished his threats, anything he said was praising you name. Telling everyone how amazing you were and how much they all loved you.

Barbara made it a point to bring up everything you did for the community when they tried to throw some shade at you in an interview. She had documents to prove it and hacked their systems to add them into the interview so they couldn’t claim it was fake. She also made sure to run over his foot when she left. 

Dick punched a reporter when they tried to ask him what you were really like behind closed doors. He told them the truth, that you were just as good, kind, patient, and loving behind closed doors as you were out in public. He didn’t throw a punch until the reporter disregarded that as asked again because she couldn’t be that good. Dick knew a lecture would be coming once you saw, but he would rather sit through a lecture then let anyone tarnish your name.

Damian spent 10 minutes cursing and threatening a reporter in Arabic when they asked him if you had ever hurt him. When he was done, he told them in english, that if he ever got asked that question again, he would impale them. He knew you were going to make him sit down and translate everything and the general response you would give but he didn’t care, no one speaks bad about either of his mothers.

Bruce figured out what was going on after Steph’s interview. He saw the ones where they assaulted or threatened the reporters and made sure his lawyers were on standby to keep the kids out of trouble. After all, he had seen more than they had. 

He had watched as you tried to connect with Dick early on, how you worked hard to try and get somewhere. He had woken up before you when Dick had come in that night and heard how you handled it. He had woken up the next morning to find you holding Dick close, like you were trying to protect him from the nightmares. He had seen how you never turned Dick down when he wanted comfort, no matter how serious or silly the matter, and he had heard your excitement when you told him Dick liked you.

Bruce had seen the way you never missed a visit to Jason’s grave, on a visit of his own, he saw how much care you showed the stone marking it as his lost son. While he hadn’t been sure why it was alway the same time on Tuesday, he didn;t mention it. He felt the way you would sob in his arms after each visit, a year after the tradition started, you always said you had promised not to tell and he watched as you kept that promise even if it tore you to pieces. Once the shock and tears wore off for a little bit, he could see the trust that Jason had in you.

He heard the way you questioned if you should have a key to the manor, you didn’t want to make Tim uncomfortable in his own home, or how you questioned if you should visit while he was gone. Not wanting to stress Tim out when there was no reason too. He saw the way you and Tim grinned at each other when you brought snacks down for all the kids he was currently lecturing. He head the excitement in your voice as you told him about the tour Tim had given you of the Batcave and the shared laughter as you and Tim worked together to win the nerf war.

Bruce saw how you worked to give Damian the affection he didn’t think he needed. He felt you crying in his arms upset over the fact Damian thought you would be angry because he made a mistake or struggled in a class. He heard you practicing your Arabic as you got ready for bed and he watched as you stress paced over whether or not you said the right thing to him about his mother. 

He saw how angry you had been when you came back from your day out with Barbara. He had heard your call with your lawyer as you tried to figure out what to do. He saw you going through the laws and making a list to make sure your lawyer didn’t miss any. He heard about the movie you didn’t particularly care about and the lore you remembered in case of another because you wanted Barbara to have someone she could tell all of her favorite things too. 

Bruce saw the pictures you had taken from the school night. He heard all the details from you as you praised Steph’s work. He saw the way Steph stopped acting around you and the silly arguments the two of you would get into for fun. He heard the way you would listen to her as she verbally worked out her problems. He saw the way Steph looked for you in a crowd, the way she knew you were there but not where you stood exactly, the thought of you not being there never crossed her. 

He saw the way you stayed up late, researching different ways to teach reading and writing. He heard the patience and kindness and you worked with Cass. He saw the way you always made a treat just for Cass to have after each lesson because you wanted to reward her hard work. He heard the way you cried for Cass when she had a bad day and got frustrated with herself because you knew she was smart and you wanted her to see it too. He heard your celebrations when Cass made any progress, no matter the size. 

Bruce heard, saw, and felt the way you worked hard to have a relationship with his kids. How you had mourned for their losses, celebrated their wins, and felt their pain. He saw the way his kids blossomed under your care, growing to be better and more confident in themselves. The way you cared for them as if they were your own flesh and blood. So when he was asked about his kids behavior, he said as much. 

“Y/n has worked hard to be accepted by them. She’s given so much of her time, effort, patience, and love and never wanted anything in return. She always shows up for them, no matter what the occasion is, big or small, it doesn’t matter. If they want her there, she’ll be there. Everytime they need or want her, she’s there. She never judges them and treats them as if they were her own blood. Of course their upset and lashing out, people are insulting the woman who has cared for them more then most of their biological mothers.”

Later, a clip of you scolding Bruce and all the kids went viral. While you were scolding them over their behavior and making the kids who had reacted with violence or threats write apology letters because asking mean questions does not make it right to respond badly especially when its someone just trying to start drama. Everyone one noticed that there was no actual bite to your tone and no anger when they all refused to stop acting like that. In fact, there was a small soft smile on your face as you shook your head at your family.

[mommynott]

Lights, Lust, and Leather

12 Days of Dickmas — Theodore Nott x reader

Summary: Christmas break has you feeling lonesome, taking matters into your own hands you decide to decorate the common area when suddenly your…enemy? 👀 Stumbles in…and let’s just say he’d much rather decorate you.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, SMUT, chars 18+, college au, ewb!theo, enemy!theo, dom!theo, blow job, throat fucking, restraints, rough sex, degrading, dirty talk, choking, slight slapping, spanking, slight brat taming, slight edging, PIV, creampie, dom&sub, enemy!theo going to fucking town

The Common Room felt deserted, almost empty in the absence of the other Slytherin students. It was the first day of Christmas break and the vast majority of the students were eager to head home for the holidays.

But you had stayed behind. You decided to take it upon yourself to decorate the usual brooding common room, turning it into a dark Christmas wonderland.

With a slick twirl of your wrist, you flicked your wand toward the speaker, ‘Santa Baby’ starting to coo ever so softly around the area. A gentle yet merry smile painted over your face as you rummaged through a box filled with string lights.

Singing softly along to the cheerful music, you felt content. Just a few classmates had stayed behind. But with one particular classmate…you weren’t sure how to feel. Would something even happen?

Wearing a tight verdant v-neck along with a form-fitting, black leather skirt. You felt completely enveloped in the cozy holiday feel. Climbing up on the ladder you had set up next to the fireplace, you carefully began to hang the twinkling lights, draping them with ease yet sophistication.

However, that damn skirt seemed determined to reveal more with each movement. You found yourself teetering precariously on the ladder diligently hanging the set of lights with one hand as the other tried to tug down the leather.

Even with the ladder, you couldn’t seem to reach certain areas across the fireplace. “What the fuck-“ Mumbling a groan to yourself, you messed with your skirt, trying to pull it down to cover the creek of your ass.

Maybe wearing a skirt this short wasn’t the brightest idea. Fuck it. No one was around anyway. You shrugged your shoulders with a sigh as you reached even higher, placing the lights as you could.

At this exact moment, Theo stumbled into the empty common room, his mind still occupied with the final grades yet to come and the fact Mattheo had taken off with some random girl for a week.

Unaware that he had even entered, you were heavily concentrated on the decor. Your tongue creeping from between your lips, your eyes squinting at the bulbous lighting.

As Theodore stepped deeper into the space he froze, his eyes falling on a sight that immediately banished all thoughts of finals and grades from his mind. There, amongst the twinkling lights and Christmas decorations, was you.

You struggled on the ladder. Your skirt having ridden up to reveal a tantalizing expanse of tempting and smooth skin. The skin he knew so fucking well.

Suddenly, a familiar voice echoed behind you. "Well, well, well…" Theo had walked in on your festive preparations, eyeing you down fully. His stare was searing into your juicy ass just as you turned your head with a smirk.

Playfully rolling your eyes to the Italian. “Nott…” With a soft giggle, you swore you felt your cheeks flush up. Fuck. How could he always get you this flustered? You hated him. Loathed him. In every aspect…besides sex.

Taking another stride toward you, Theo shoved one of his hands in his pocket. Slowly caressing his knuckles down your bare thigh with the other one.

His gaze now shifting up to meet with yours. “-Surprised you’re doing all of this.” In his usual taunting tone, you could feel your jaw clenching. Why do you have to be so annoying yet so fucking hot?

“You’d be surprised by a lot of things I can do, Nott”

Theo now palmed around your thigh, giving it a faded squeeze while a deep chuckle muttered from his lungs. “Hm…Would I be though?— I think I’ve seen all you can do, Bella.” For fucks sake. That damn Italian nickname. It drove you up a wall.

You could feel the heat already shooting down between your legs from not only his words but his touch too. The sexual tension already spilling over the edge. Something that happened quite often with the two of you.

“Actually, you haven’t.” Replying in a snippy manner, you slowly cocked your head to the side as you continued to hang the Christmas lights onto the mantle.

Trying to ignore Theodore, you shifted over, standing on your tiptoes. Your smooth skirt riding up more so. He could hardly hold it together at this point.

“Being a fuckin’ brat today aren’t we?”

Through a growl-like tone, Theo took a step back and you sighed. Your eyes rolled once more as you faced him. “Maybe I wouldn’t be if you weren’t such a dick.” Mumbling your words, you fully turned your back.

Putting your focus back on the decor. Theodore, walked to a nearby couch, plopping down as he placed his hands behind his head, manspreading as he observed you.

Engrossed in the twinkling lights, you began to think he had wandered off. But no— Theo was still there. His sight traced down your entire body. Admiring every single crook and curve. “Fuckin’ hell-“ Breathing his thoughts aloud, your head whipped around in surprise.

“If you’re still here, why don’t you get off your ass and help me?” The irritation radiated off of you, but fuck, Theo found you that much hotter when you were angry, annoyed, bratty. Liking the challenge of you.

“You see…I could help you…” he started, relaxing further into the couch with a sly shit-eating grin. “…But what fun would that be? I’m enjoying the view, Tesoro.”

Even through his annoying aura, Theodore held his charm. Something that always worked on the ladies. Even you. “God— You are so fucking annoying…” Sneering your words, you felt the rage bubbling inside of you.

The rage that would so easily turn into passion with him. Fuck me. Suddenly you realized what you had said. What you had done. But you weren’t upset about it in the least.

“The fuck did you just say?”

Theo stood up abruptly, making his way over to you on the ladder. Feeling your knees already start to go weak. You had pushed him over the edge like you always did. His aggression was going to be taken out on you like it always was.

“I— nothing. I said nothing.” Stifling back your flirty laugh, you gave Theodore a bratty yet knowing look. Coaxing him deeper into sexual frustration.

“Oh, you’re going to regret this, brat-“ Before you could even respond, he picked you up easily. Throwing you over his shoulder, his free hand yanking the string lights off of the mantel.

“Hey! Those took forever to put up!” With a whine, your body limped against his own. Feeling his strong hands holding tightly onto your thighs. “Don’t care.”

Practically spitting out his words, he stormed you both off to his dorm room, locking the door behind him before throwing you down on the bed. “I got under someone’s skin didn’t I?” You were only fueling the fire now, but fuck. You loved to see Theo so angry.

The way he’d dominate the fuck out of you. The way he’d pound into you like crazy. Angry sex with Theodore Nott? Top fucking tier.

“I’m going to fuck that bratty mouth of yours until you can no longer speak.”

Nothing but dominance danced in Theo’s eyes. He stalked over, plugging the string of lights into the outlet behind his bed before sitting you up on your knees. “Maybe that’s what I wanted…”

The excitement was coursing through your veins but all of a sudden he brought both of your hands behind your back. Tying your wrists together with the wired lights. Feeling the warmness of them against your delicate flesh.

“W-what are you doing?” Stuttering through a low laugh, you felt Theodore tighten them snuggly. However, he didn’t respond. He was in full Dom mode now. Throwing off his shirt before Unbuckling his belt, he tossed them both to the side.

His ocean gaze filled with an assertive winter storm now as he shuffled his jeans off, pulling out his massive hardened length. “Open up, marmocchia-“

The Italian pet name for brat slipped through his lips while he grabbed a fistful of your silky hair. Bringing you closer to his cock. “Needy for me hm-“ Cutting off your words, Theo took his free hand, using his thumb to part your lips open before ramming his blood-filled throbbing cock into your mouth.

“Fuck— Shut the fuck up and suck me, slut.” He groaned loudly, both of his hands wrapped throughout your locks now.

Thrusting his hips against your face, your once siren-like eyes turned to a doe-eyed stare. Taking him all in as your hands instinctively fought against the restraint of the lights.

—Gluck Gluck Gluck- the noises you were making while he fucked your throat was making Theo’s dick spasm with pleasure. Snaking his hands down quickly, he took the material of your shirt and tore it straight down the middle, your forest green lace bra popping out.

“Let’s get these perfect titties out, Tesoro.”

He growled, tugging your breasts right out of your skimpy bra, seeing those hardened nipples perk right up. Theo fought out a groan, mercilessly thrusting down your throat while his hands found their way back into your hair.

One gripping hard on the back as the other brushed through your strands gracefully. Pushing his length further down your throat, you gagged against him, tears now pricking the corners of your eyes.

A low and menacing laugh freed from Theodore as he fucked your face even harder. Taking one of his hands and lightly slapping the apple of your cheek. “Open up that throat, slut- I know you can do it…Open.” The assertiveness was prominent through his grunts.

You tried to loosen up your throat muscles, your mascara dripping down your face as you did. But when you heard an approved moan from Theo, you knew it was working.

“Ah— Good fuckin’ girl…Just like that”

Seeing him bite his lower lip through your blurry vision, you felt a sense of pride run through you. Knowing you were feeding Theo with nothing but pure bliss.

He started to cram further and further down your throat, seeing the outline of his cock down your esophagus. Fuck. Your binded wrist felt hot to the touch by now, whimpering through his intense plows.

This went on for a good few minutes until Theo felt like he could fucking bust a nut on the spot. Not only that but your throat had an intense beating. And he fucking knew that.

He slowly pulled out, drool falling from your mouth as you inhaled sharply. “Fuck—“ Your voice was burnt, sounding hoarse. He did in fact keep his promise.

“C’mere…Imma fuck that perfect pussy of yours now.” Your cunt throbbed with excitement as he spun you around. Not having access to your hands, your head fell directly onto his silk bedsheets.

Your ass flawlessly perked up for him. But that leather skirt? It remained on, he just made sure to carefully roll it up.

-Smack! Theo’s hard and heavy palm swatted across your bottom causing it to redden instantly.

“Gods— P-please fuck me…please.” You begged the Italian through a whimper, veering your head to the side so your submissive eyes could lock with his.

A cruel and ungodly smile of seduction plastered over his features before he gave another slap to your ass, watching as it rippled. “How can I say no when you beg like that?” With a smirk, he slammed his needy cock deep inside of you without warning.

“Cazzo— You’re so fuckin’ wet for me-“ Theo rasped through his rough slams, feeling your walls stretch out with ease. Tightly grabbing your restrained wrists with one hand, the other dug into your hip, surely breaking skin.

But fuck did you enjoy this. “I forgot how big you were!” Crying out from the swirling sensations of pain and pleasure, he couldn’t help but chuckle under his breath.

“Yeah? I’ll have to fuck you more often, Cara Mia.” Thrusting into your soaked cunt even harder, he pulled back on your wrists, hovering you just above the bedding.

“-Yes—Yes…Fuck! I’m so close, baby—“Your moans only seemed to get louder with each passing second. The gushing sounds of your wetness and Theo’s skin slapping against your own echoed around you.

But suddenly, he quickly pulled out of you. Just as you were on the brink of climax. “-The fuck?!” Squeaking out, your brows furrowed up at him, seeing that taunting, edging look in his eyes.

“Not yet.” Firmly speaking, he swiftly untied your wrists, wincing from the blood pooling back to them. “On your back, slut.” With his demanding tone, he didn’t even give you a chance to respond.

Tossing you over on your back, a raspy yelp emitted from your lips, breathing heavily as Theo restrained your left wrist to the bed, using the sparkling lighting.

Your lips parted but no words seemed to come out. You simply watched as he moved over to your other wrist, tightly binding it to his bed frame. “But what if-“

A hint of concern tainted you. —what if something went wrong? But Theo could see the anxiety spiking within your mind. A small closed-mouth smile twitched on his lips.

“It won’t- I promise…I won’t let anything happen to you…alright, Tesoro?” He reassured smacking a sweeter kiss to your lips as he positioned himself between your legs.

That was the thing with Theodore Nott. As much of an asshole he could be with you, he would randomly show a more soft and affectionate side. Something you wanted to explore even deeper. “O-okay…” Bright red tinged your cheeks, Theo teased your leaky slit with his pre cum covered tip.

Lifting that black leather skirt so it bunched right around your midsection. “Fuck…you’re drenched.” Through a breathy rasp, he tilted his head back momentarily. And right when you’d least expect it, slipping right back between your clenched walls.

Twisting your own hands and gripping the bases of the string lights, you pulled them ever so slightly, feeling the burning bulbs dig further into your flesh. A burn you were slowly craving more and more of.

“You fuck me so good, Theo!— just like that!” Arching your back, you could feel the now warmed sheets shifting beneath your body, Theo only railing into you faster than before.

“That’s right, slut— No one else fucks you like this, hm?” His domineering tone croaked through his own deep moans. The sensations you were sending through Theodore were otherworldly. “N-no fuck!— Only you…only you, Theo…gods- I’m so close!”

Your moans now turning into screams that bounced off of the stone walls of his dorm room. He smirked, wrapping one hand around your throat, the other grabbing onto the top of his bed frame.

The pounding of the wooden oak ramming against the wall was hefty and loud, your eyes practically rolling into the back of your head.

“Yeah? My dirty little slut wants to cum? Release for me.” He husked, those dead eyes flickering between your own. Rolling his hips smoothly at great speed, he was hitting all your sweet spots.

However, as soon as you got the go-ahead, you didn’t wait any longer. Throwing your head back against the pillow, your eyes squeezed shut while your legs trembled. The rush of your juices squirting out all over Theo’s length, soaking it whole as you hit a sensational orgasm. “See…”

A ragged whisper strumbled through his lips, the Italian accent rolling off perfectly along with it. “…No one fucks you like I do…no one makes your body react the way I do…no one can make you feel as good as I do.” His raunchy words only made your heart flutter.

As fucked up as that was, it was true. You were catching your breath, your body fully limp after finally cumming. The pulsating feel of bruises forming shooting up to your wrists.

“You’re…right….”

You moaned through Theo’s plows, your gaze locking with his before you continued. “…But it goes the other way too, Theo…” bucking your hips forward, pushing him deeper inside of you. He smiled, sweat beading down his forehead from how hard he was fucking you.

“And you are also right, Bella.” His muscles flexed, both of his hands holding onto the headboard now as he let himself lose control within you. That perfect fucking pussy

“Fuckin,— God- you’re going to make me cum…Fuck—“ he tripped over his words, feeling his dick twitching within your warmed walls. His seed shooting deep inside of your cunt could have had you cumming again.

Just seeing the way he tensed up, his groans, the way he never took his hungry eyes off of you. Not even for a second. He kept his cock inside of you as he came to a full stop.

Both of your breaths matched each other, a comforting silence wrapping around both of you like a cozy winter blanket before he leaned down. Pressing a lingering soft kiss to your lips, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You’re too good, Tesoro.” He complimented, pulling out of you and watching his white load dripping out of you. Letting out a satisfied groan as he did. Theodore quickly grabbed a towel to clean you up before untying your wrist.

Massaging your now bruised arms, you hissed. Giving the Italian a cheeky smirk. “I suppose I should go finish hanging those up.” With a giggle you pulled your leather skirt down, throwing your bra back on.

But your shirt? It was a torn mess. Before you could even say something about it, Theo playfully tackled you back on the bed. “Nah- you’re not going anywhere…That can wait.”

The most sarcastic and egotistical grin spread across your face as you stifled back a loud laugh. “Oh? Thee Theodore Nott wants to hang out with me huh?” You teased him, feeling as he wrapped his strong arms around you, pulling you into a spooning position. “Oh shut it…don’t let your head get too big.”

Playfully rolling his eyes, he smacked a kiss to the crook of your neck as you both relaxed. Weirdly enough as much as you both loathed each other in a public setting, when it was just the two of you— and sex was involved- Theo wasn’t half bad. You could get used to this. Maybe Christmas break wouldn’t be as boring as you anticipated.

AHHHHH THE START OF DICKMAS !!! I hope everyone enjoyed the first of twelve 🎄🎁

If you haven’t already please go check out @nottsangel @nottswitch @slytherinslut0 as they’re also doing fun little Christmas works!❄️

Dividers linked in my masterlist 🌙

Love my naughty smut sluts 💋

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Had a thought: reader has a hand-print bruise on their arm — like they stumbled and were caught or pulled out of the way of a curse or smth and the helper accidentally left a bruise when they grabbed reader. Jjk men see it b4 reader can / thinks to tell them so they just see a clearly-handprint bruise with zero context 🙃

Hand Print

Tags: Drabble, Fluff, JJK men getting angry, JJK men getting protective 🫦, smut (Suguru’s, Choso’s, and kinda Sukuna’s), dark content on Mahito’s, mdni

Incl: Satoru, Suguru, Nanami, Choso, Toji, Sukuna, Mahito

SATORU

You had forgotten it even happened. Silly, clumsy you — nearly falling while exiting the subway onto the station platform. Thankfully, that good samaritan was right behind you.

His hand clasped onto your upper arm tightly as he pulled you back up to your feet to find your balance. You didn’t even give it much thought-! You thanked him and went on about your day.

Satoru’s six eyes can immediately spot the bruise before you’ve even taken off your coat after getting home.

“Baby —“ Satoru’s voice was bone chilling when he spoke. He’s normally got such a happy tone, but when he uses that baritone that comes out during fights, you’re frozen out of fear.

“Wha..?” You weren’t even able to get your words out before Satoru has your arm up in the air. His eyes wandering over the bruise that was wrapped around your upper arm.

“Who the fuck touched you?” His heart is slamming into his ribcage. He doesn’t know what happened, but he knew enough. You were hurt, and he wasn’t there to protect you.

He wishes he could extend his infinity out to you at all times, but even he has limits unfortunately.

“Satoru- My arm-“ You whine while your lofty boyfriend with his abnormally long limbs is nearly holding you up by your wrist. You looked pitiful — dangling from his grip.

“Who.” He demands again, and those stormy blue eyes meet yours. His mind is racing — thinking of who he’s going to kill. Will he snuff them out like a cigarette with his infinity? Or maybe he blow a whole in them with hollow purple. Maybe he could figure out a new technique to rip them in half on an atomic level.

“It was an accident!” You cry as you try to pull your arm aways from his unrelenting grip. “I was about to fall off the subway, and this guy grabbed me so I didn’t fall and break my neck.”

Satoru’s face stays cold, and his eyes look back at the obvious handprint bruise on your arm. Judging by the way it’s awkwardly positioned, he knows you’re telling the truth.

“Oh! Well baby, why didn’t you just say that?” Your entirely too happy boyfriend is immediately back with a coy grin as if he wasn’t just fantasizing about murder. “You got to be more careful when getting off the subway, silly goose.” His finger lightly thump you on the forehead.

SUGURU

You’ve always been so clumsy your entire life: tripping over your own feet, bumping into the corners of tables and walls, accidentally stubbing your toe, the list goes on…

You were racing down the broken escalator at the mall to try to get to your favorite store before it closed for the day. You were just so focused on getting to your destination that you weren’t paying attention to ahead of you.

You barrel straight into this guy who miraculously grabs onto you and the railing before both of you take a nasty fall. The two of you pant in each other’s arms for just a moment before you’re backing away — professing your deepest apologies for not being more careful. The guy just awkwardly smiles and waves you on, knowing you were probably trying to get to a specific store.

You didn’t even think about the little incident afterwards. You have so many “near misses” in a day that you just completely black them out.

Suguru’s lips are clasped to your neck, giving you sloppy kisses right on the sweet spot of your neck.

“Fuuuck, pretty girl… can never get tired of this pussy.” He groans softly into your ear. Both of you are so lost in each other, feeling your essences mix with each time his massive cock slips into your clammy entrance. You’re practically sucking him in at this point — greedyyy.

“Sugu- Ah~!” You’re breathy as your hand reaches up to clasp the pillow behind you. The way your pussy flutters around him as you’re nth orgasm is about to take over has him nearly seeing stars.

Nearly.

His eyes normally focus on you while he fucks you until you’re nothing more than a puddle in his arms, but right now, that damn bruise has his attention.

“What fucking monkey touched you?” He asks in a low growl before he’s pinning both your arms above your head. He slips his cock out of you — eliciting a frustrated whine from edging you.

His eyes are too busy scoping out the rest of your body. How did he miss the fresh bruise that was so blatantly displayed on your arm.

“Sugu..” You whine — still mindless and cockdrunk. Your thighs part as you try to seduce him back between your legs.

“Hey.” He snaps his fingers in front of your eyes. “I need my girlfriend right now — not my slut. Who touched you?”

“What are you talkin’ about?” You lazily whine as you look over towards your arm, and you think for a moment of how the bruise must’ve gotten there..

“Which fucking monkey touched you?” He grits again. His temper is only building. How were you unable to remember who touched you?

“Hmm.. oh! I was running down those broken escalators at the mall, and I nearly sent me and this guy down the entire flight. Thankfully, he was able to grab us both.” You’re finally able to recount the memory to Geto.

Your poor stressed boyfriend pinches the bridge of his nose. He instantly knows that you’re telling the truth because this is just so damn like you.

“What have I told you about being aware of your surroundings? Now you’re going to make me have to punish you.”

Great! Now you’re not getting to finish at all tonight! :(

NANAMI

It was another normal Sunday evening in your home. The lights were turned down low, and the curtains were drawn so the golden hour sun could pool into the kitchen and dining room. You and Ken were listening to your playlist while cooking dinner together.

Cooking dinner with Nanami wasn’t like some normal, ordinary task. Cooking with him was almost as intimate as having sex with him — the way his hands so carefully massaged into your hips. Your back was pressed flush against his toned chest, and his chin was either resting on yours or resting on your shoulder.

He wasn’t dead weight either. Nanami could cook his ass off. You were the one who needed the extra help, so right now, Nanami was guiding your hands on how to perfectly and evenly chop zucchini.

His eyes grazed over your hands, taking in your form to see if he needed to correct you in any way. That’s when he saw the bruise peaking out from underneath your shirt sleeve.

Nanami’s hand is quick, and he swiftly disarms you so you don’t accidentally cut yourself before he tugs your arm sleeve. His usually calm face slowly twisted into a scowl.

“Who did that to you?” He asks lowly with an intimidating glare. Of course, he’s not mad at you, but he is mad that someone touched his wife.

“What…?” You ask with a small pout, not knowing what he was talking about in the slightest. You had clearly forgotten about that nice stranger who pulled you back onto the sidewalk when a car decided to ignore the pedestrian walking symbol. They had saved your life.

“The name of the person who grabbed you.” Nanami demands as he gestures to your marked up wrist. “Now.”

“I- wait, Ken… That’s not what it looks like…” You try to explain with a small frown.

“Then please, do tell me what it is before I go find them for myself.”

When you explained to him that the person who grabbed you actually saved you from severe injury, Nanami let out a sigh — partially of relief and partially of stress.

He brings your wrist up to his mouth before he places light kisses around the bruise. “You have to be more careful, darling… I need you here with me.”

CHOSO

Yuji was the one to grab you harshly and pull you back, creating that nasty bruise on your arm. He really didn’t mean to grab you so hard!! He just forgets his superhuman strength sometimes.

You were about to run into someone while at the school. Yuji was just trying to be a good brother-in-law and protect you. He was nearly in tears when he saw the huge handprint on your arm.

“Please don’t tell Choso. He’ll kill me if he finds out! Please! Say you swear!” He pleads as he clasps his hands together and grovels at your feet.

You tried reassuring him that his brother wasn’t going to kill him, but Yuji wouldn’t rest until you promised not to tell.

“Hi baby.” Choso greets you as usual, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple as he casually strolls towards the bathroom to shower. He’s glistening with sweat from training with Yuki and Todo all day.

“Mm! Wait for me!” You call out, trailing behind him like a horny dog (it’s okay girl me too). Choso happily waits for you in the shower. His dark hair comes down to his shoulders as he lets his hair down and steps into the hot water, immediately rinsing his body of the filth and grime.

“Missed you, baby.” He hums as he slowly corners you against the shower wall. His hand gently cups your chin to press a passionate kiss to your lips.

You softly giggle as you feel something already poking at your leg. “So sensitive~” You tease as you go to wrap your hand around his length.

Choso quickly grabs your arm, going to pin it above your head. He wanted to touch you first. You’re always taking care of him. He wanted to return the favor.

When you softly hiss in response due to him pressing on your bruise, he freezes. “Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?”

“No- no, you did nothing.” You try to reassure him with a wave of your hands. Your bruise catches his eye.

“Did I- Did I do that?” He immediately asks as he takes your arm and cradles it gently into his oversized hands. His face slowly shifts to a guilty pout.

Your eyes widen as you realize your poor boyfriend doesn’t understand the concept of human bruising. He truly thinks he grabbed you so hard that your skin immediately started to bruise.

“No, nonono, baby, you didn’t do that. ‘s okay.” You go to reassure him, gently holding your hand to his cheek, brushing your thumb over the small tattoos under his eyes.

“Then… who did?” His voice shifts to a less panicked one, and his gaze hardens slightly.

Your heart skips a beat as you realize just how quickly he can turn on that more dominant, powerful side of him. “Uh.. well.. it was an accident.. We shouldn’t go on a witch hunt or anything like that…”

“Right. Who grabbed you so hard that they left a mark on you?” He doesn’t relent, towering over you with such an unamused gaze. His eyes are angry while staring at you.

“You have to promise me you won’t hurt him, Cho. It was really an accident. He was trying to save me.”

Choso stays quiet. He’s learned not to make promises that he can’t keep, and all of his thoughts are about how he was going to hurt this mysterious guy who laid a hand on you.

“Choso… It was Yuji. He was trying to keep me from running into somebody! He didn’t mean to hurt me-“

Your boyfriend’s face shifts to one of surprise. He didn’t expect Yuji to be the culprit of the bruise on your arm. His eyes flick over to the bruise, and he lets out a hefty sigh.

“Sometimes… older brothers have to be the one to teach hard lessons…”

“Choso, it was an accident.”

TOJI

“Mmm.. shit…” Toji hums before he goes in for another bite. You watch him with a playful gaze. He always gets so hungry after a completed hit, and when the job takes more than one day, he misses your cooking almost as much as he misses you.

“Toji, slow down. No one’s going to take your food from you.” You gently chide with a laugh. Little three-year-old Megumi is in his high chair, eating like an animal because he’s mimicking daddy.

You’re happy that your husband appreciates your cooking because you did nearly die while trying to get the ingredients to make this stupid dinner.

You were in the parking lot of the grocery store with Megumi in your arms, and while walking towards the store’s entrance, a car nearly backed over you and the small child in your arms.

Thankfully, a stranger was behind you, and he was fast enough to yank you and Megumi back away from the car. It was honestly a miracle that you and Megumi made it completely unscathed.

Well, almost unscathed. You did have a pretty nasty bruise on your hip where the stranger grabbed you with such strength.

“Look at what kind of table manners you’re teaching your son.” You continue on while wiping Megumi’s face clean with a baby wipe. The small child whines and tries to break free from your grasp.

“Can’t help it, doll. Your cooking’s too good.” Toji finally lifts his head up from his plate, and with almost lazer focus, he immediately notices the bruise on your hip due to your shirt hiking up a bit since you’re bent over dealing with Megumi.

“What the fuck happened?” He immediately asks, gesturing his fork towards the bruise on your hip. “Did some fuck touch you?”

You look at him with a hint of confusion for a second, but as soon as you look down and see the bruise, you immediately remember the event that transpired earlier today.

“I-“

You don’t even get the next word out before Toji’s on you, lifting your shirt up to see the perfectly drawn out handprint bruised into your pretty skin. The scar on his lips twitch in frustration, and your heart begins to stutter — understanding exactly what it looks like.

“Toji-“

“What the fuck happened?” His voice is a low grumble as he eyes you closely. He’s itching to hear a name — someone to kill for touching you like that. Only he gets to touch you there.

Your words are choked up in your throat, misunderstanding Toji’s possessiveness for anger towards you. You can’t even think of what to say before your son speaks up for you.

“Mama and I saved by a man!” Megumi shouts, looking up at his dad, even your toddler understood the gravity of the situation.

“Saved?” Toji questions as he shifts his gaze over to Megumi with a raised eyebrow — still angry but albeit a little amused.

“Yeah! Car almost hit mama and me! The man grabbed us to save us.” Your toddler explains it as if it’s a fond memory for him.

Your eyes meet Toji’s, and you nod your head slightly, agreeing with your son. “I was going into the market, and a car nearly backed over Megumi and I. The guy grabbed us up before it completely hit us.”

Toji takes a big breath, and his large palm finds the back of your head, guiding you to lie on his chest for moment. He just needs to he close to you after the gymnastics his brain just did.

“Christ, mama. Don’t worry me like that.” He mumbles lowly before pressing a kiss onto your forehead.

“Daddy, ew! Gross!”

SUKUNA

It was time for nightly worship for you and the other concubines, except here recently, it’s only been you attending nightly worship. The concubines had been dropping like flies recently… like actually dropping dead.

Why would Sukuna need concubines when you were already his most devout follower? Not to mention, he immediately made up his mind once he felt your precious cunt for the first time — so fucking tight and wet, begging to be bred by him — he didn’t need anyone else. You were the solution to all of his problems. Hell, he might even give you his heir one day.

He was sat in his throne with a mere red and black silk robe covering his monstrous body. One of his hands was occupied with a chalice of… well, you don’t really want to know what he was sipping on.

His other oversized hand was tenderly resting on your head. His palm was as big as your head, covering the crown completely, while you had your chin propped up on his thigh — on your knees in front of him. This was his favorite sight. He could really appreciate your beauty when the other concubines weren’t making so much racket. It was the right decision to have them disposed of.

You’re so pliant with your head in his lap. He finds it amusing how comfortable you look before him — as if he isn’t the literal incarnate of evil. He almost finds you adorable like a small kitten.

“What are you thinking about, woman?” He asks, surprisingly breaking the silence between you two. He’s the type of man to value the quiet, and he hates small talk, but he can’t help but want to hear your voice.

“Hm?” You hum lazily, being broken out of your daydream. Your eyes meet his as you look up at him. “I’m just thinking about bedtime… It’s been an eventful day.” You answer softly before a yawn escapes you, earning a small snicker from Sukuna.

“You shall retire in my chambers tonight. Go dispose of your clothes and slip between the sheets. I’ll be in there in just a moment.” He pats your head, signaling you may get up now.

Scurrying off to Sukuna’s chambers, the King of Curses narrows his eyes. He could’ve swore he just saw a bruise on you, and it’s definitely not one that he left…

Once he was inside his chambers, his eyes rested upon your small, frail body. You looked so cute, curled up in his massive bed. He slips his robe off, revealing his sculpted body. He looks like more than a king. He’s no less than a god.

Slipping between the sheets so he can finally feel your flesh against his, Sukuna can’t help but check. One of his hands captures your arm, and he looks at it. A deep scowl forms on his face as he sees the mark of another on you.

“What fool dared to touch you?” He demands, blood pressure already rising.

“What-?” You ask a bit confused, but you’re quickly reminded when Sukuna presses down on the bruise, making it worse. He’s sick in the head, thinking that if he can’t remove the bruise from you, he’ll just make his own mark right on top of it-

“Ow-! Kuna-!” You whine as his thumb presses down firmer. “Why are you- oww! please! I’m sorry, my lord! The gardener was just trying to save me from tripping and falling-“

His hand releases. “The gardener, huh?” He muses before making a few hand symbols. You’ll never see that gardener again. He should’ve known better than you touch you. You watch Sukuna with a slightly fearful look, and Sukuna feels his stomach twist with detest.

“Don’t look at me like that. It displeases me.” He frowns when he notes your fear does not simply vanish. Releasing a tense breath, he carefully brings your arm up to his mouth, and he presses a gentle kiss to the darkening bruise on your arm. “I had to make my own mark. I forget how fragile you mortals are… I… apologize.”

MAHITO

His eyes were wide and filled with utter rage as he saw the bruise displayed on your arm. He didn’t know how to cope with these new… emotions. Mahito didn’t believe he could feel a thing such as jealousy until you came around, his pretty pet. you just didn’t know it yet.

His foot was tapping violently against the ground as he tried to think of a way to bring it up casually in front of the others. He didn’t need Kenjaku on his case again for “falling for you”… whatever that fucking meant.

“Did you have a run in with the sorcerers, pet?” He finally asks as you and Jogo are playing Mahjong.

You look down at your arm at the blue and purple bruise that was welping up on your skin, and you nod your head at Mahito’s question.

“One of them got me good… He barely touched me though, so it caught me off guard.” You finally respond, and Mahito feels his very soul light on fire. Another man dared to touch you? You? His pet?? Even worse, it was a sorcerer.

“Did you kill him?” Mahito asks as he has to place his hands underneath his thighs to keep from reaching out to grab you up. Last time he did that, Kenjaku threatened to swallow him up like an uzumaki, but he can’t help it. He constantly feels an overwhelming urge to just touch you. If he could, he’d merge your soul with his so you’d be bound to him for life.

“No… he got away before I could finish the job.” You pout as you place your next tile down on the playing board.

“What did he look like?” Mahito’s heart starts to race. The thought of killing the guy who dared to touch you is intoxicating. He wants to hear the man cry and beg for mercy. He wants to coat himself in the man’s blood then fuck you until you cry.

“Oh, um, he had pink fluffy hair, and a jujutsu tech uniform on with red sneakers.”

“You ran into Sukuna’s vessel, Yuji Itadori???” Kenjaku perks up from the newspaper he was reading, and he immediately stomps over to you, needing more information.

“Yuji Itadori…. I’ll kill him.” Mahito mumbles to himself before breaking out in a small laugh. The thought of it— it’s so euphoric.