#bites and attacks op

[r0ttenb0gb0dy]

so i finished the black ops 6 campaign and

case...they could never make me hate u baby <3 that's my BABY !! i intend on drawing "my" case (i know he has a name and stuff but like he's me soooo...) but um what the fuck was that and why was it the best campaign in years?!?

[nyallve]

JUNIE BIRTHDAY - Series 1

canonically they probably took her to an island and just let her wreck havoc collecting local flora for the whole day. happiest shes ever been

[pup-pee]

hes so me i i love mikey i

[torgawl]

sorry i can't take this chapter seriously the flying head took me out whekshej

[zorosunwashedleftcheek]

Switchin’ Up Positions

Summary: OP men and their fav positions 👅

feat: Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Kidd

cw: f!reader, NSFW, spitting, biting, bruises, idk what to tell you this is a freaky fic

a/n: ignore how I already posted Zoro’s section. it’s NOT my problem… and i edited it bc it was highkey cheeks. Also if this is rushed… i don’t care

Zoro: ✨Riding✨

As a swordsman, he is constantly aware of what and who his back is facing towards. It’s been engrained in him since he was a young child to never leave the area unguarded.

And as much as he trusts you, there’s nothing stopping an enemy from breaking down the door and stabbing him in the back while he’s balls deep in your cunt.

You’re the one who proposed the idea of riding… and he shot it down immediately. He saw it as relinquishing control and hated the idea with every once of his being.

But he couldn’t stop thinking about it… when he’s on top of you, he’s never able to fully focus on you, his ears straining as they listen for enemies outside the door, waiting to attack him while he’s pounding your pretty wet pussy.

So after a few night of thinking, he begrudgingly made his way to your quarters and muttered something along the lines of, “I guess we can try it if you really want…”

And it’s been smooth sailing ever since. He still had complete control, one hand constantly gripping your hips to guide your pace. And he was able to pay attention to you fully and completely.

He found subtleties that he had never noticed before because he was too busy being paranoid. The way you would mewl just barely when his fingers curled and twisted in your cunt. The way your thighs would twitch when he pressed down on your tummy while also thrusting in.

Riding quickly became his go to.

~

He tastes of sake.

It’s as if he’s trying to consume you, his tongue jammed down your throat and his teeth clacking against yours. Zoro took everything he did to the extreme, and kissing was no exception. He may not be super experienced or skilled, but he was hungry, and that more than made up for it.

“C’mere…” Zoro wraps an arm around your waist and drags you down onto the bed, rolling you on top of him and running his hands up and down your bare legs. You’re wearing a skirt… far too small for his liking. And watching you dance and twirl with others all night pissed him off. …Sure, Zoro denied your numerous pleads to dance, but that didn’t mean that another man could fucking dip you, your head nearly touching the ground like that one guy had done.

Now the two of you are alone on the Thousand Sunny, the night still too young for the other Strawhats to retreat.

Zoro kicks off his pants and boxers in a swift motion, his cock sliding out to rest against his stomach, precum beading the tip. He looks up at you expectantly, a stupid smirk on his lips.

God, you hate that you know exactly what he wants.

Zoro grabs your skirt, bunching it up around your waist to watch as you hover above him, your fingers hooked around your panties to pull them aside. He licks his lips at the sight of your pretty pussy, a small string of arousal connecting your folds to the fabric of your underwear.

His hand slides to up and down your thigh, soothingly, before he brings his thumb down to your clit. Rolling his thumb with familiar practiced movements over your pearl, he watches with amused eyes as you suck in a harsh breath, your face flushing as you lick your lips.

“Put it in?” You huff softly, bracing your palms on Zoro’s bare abdomen and rocking your hips forward to rub against Zoro’s length. His mouth twitches and he curses softly under his breath.

Zoro scoffs in response, using his freehand to pop open your blouse. He trails his fingers down the expanse of your stomach before circling around to unclip your bra, freeing your breasts to his hungry gaze. “Why are you asking my permission. It’s yours. You put it in.”

Your nose wrinkles at his expression, he’s looking at you as though you’d asked the dumbest question he’s ever heard. You click your tongue, but lift yourself off of him. Grabbing his twitching cock, you give a few good pumps to spread his precum across his length before positioning his fat, pink tip against your leaking hole.

Zoro twists his hand in your hair and tugs you down for a kiss, his teeth scraping against your bottom lip. You’re dizzy just from his mouth, it’s astounding how you’re ever able to survive his dick.

You can hear Zoro hiss into your mouth as you slowly yet surely suck him inside of you. He’s snug, his tip scraping your walls with every small movement.

“Fuck… you’re good.” Zoro murmur quietly, breaking the kiss to watch your pussy eagerly gobble him up, your hips shimmying to accommodate his cock as it bullies its way into you.

“Zoro…” You groan softly, leaning back and bracing hand on his thigh, your back arching towards him, your tits laying tantalizingly close to his mouth.

“You want it? Yeah, I gotcha, just hold on.” Zoro plants his feet on the mattress, one large, calloused hand moving to grab your hip while the other paws at your breast, squeezing and rolling your areola between his thumb and forefinger. “Use those pretty thighs and help me out, how about it?”

Zoro starts out with a brutal pace, never one to ease into anything. He enjoys the feel of your nails biting into his thigh while the other rests on his navel. Your face is all screwed up, your nose wrinkled and your lips parted as he drills into you. You work to match his pace, but you don’t contribute much. It’s alright though, Zoro likes it that way. He loves having complete control, adjusting how fast you move and how deep you take it. His favorite thing to do is grab your hips and hold you up until just his tip is inside of you, and then watch as you squirm and roll your hips, desperate for the rest of his cock to fill you up.

Zoro leans forward, sucking your tit into his mouth and pressing searing kisses and bites down the valley of your breasts.

Your eyes meet his piercing grey gaze and he can feel your pussy flutter around him. God, everything got you wet, didn’t it?

Your brows furrow, a pout making its way onto your face as you pant, strangled whines and moans slipping past your lips.

“Shit… fucking…” Zoro closes his eyes and drops his head back against the pillows, he can’t even look at you without getting the urge to cum. Your pretty flustered face and those fluttering eyelashes always did him in.

He has to end this quick before he accidentally cums first.

Zoro wraps an arm around your back, tugging your chest down again his. He mouths at your shoulder, leaving shiny saliva in his wake as he adjusts his hips, allowing his cock to ram against your g-spot with each brutal thrust.

He continues to bite and suck along your neck and shoulder while his eyes focus on your thighs watching them twitch and shudder as your ass bounces up and down with each thrust.

“You… gonna cum?” Zoro chokes out as he feels you clamp down around him. It’s more of a statement than a question. He’s fucked you enough times to know your body better than he knows his own. Snaking a hand down to grope and massage your thigh, he drops his head back once again, willing his orgasm away for a few more moments.

Zoro’s not one to talk during sex. He’s way too concentrated on the sensations to try and string together sentences. But he knows that you absolutely adore the sound of his voice, the way it drops an octave when he’s aroused. And in emergency’s he knows that his voice can bring you to the edge with only a few sweet croons.

You give a small, weak nod, a whine tumbling out of your lips, “Fuck… yeah… ‘m gonna cum, Zoro. You’re gonna make me cum… please…”

His lips quirk at your needy voice, god, you’re so sweet to him. “The hell’s stopping you? I wanna feel you cream my cock. Come on… do it already. I’m getting bored.”

His words do unimaginable things to you, the low rasp alone can bring you straight to the edge. Within moments your gummy walls are clamping down around him as you roughly grind against his throbbing cock.

“Ah… shit, Z’ro… I can’t-“ You coo weakly, burrowing your face against Zoro’s neck as he continues to rock your hips, his navel bumping against your clit with each steady movement, causing your thighs to tremble as sharp hisses to escape your lips.

Zoro does his best to ease you through your orgasm, but eventually he has to hoist you off of his cock and set you down on his thighs so that he can pull out in time. Grabbing his blushing cock, he finally allows his orgasm to tear through his body. Zoro’s eyes squeeze shut, his body tensing as he shoots hot ropes of cum onto your stomach. He can feel the evidence of your orgasm dribbling out of your leaking pussy and pooling on his thighs.

“Fuck you’re so messy…” He drawls as a wrack of pleasure shoots down his spine.

-

The two of you lay in your mess, dozing in and out of sleep until you eventually grow uncomfortable, your mixed cum beginning to dry on both of yours’ body. Zoro doesn’t seem to mind in the least, his muscled arms wrapped tightly around your body, keeping you trapped as he snores softly.

“…Zoro.” You huff, tapping his cheek.

No response.

“Zoro.”

Nothing.

“Zoro!”

You smack his cheek, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to catch his attention. His eyes shoot open, searching the dark room for the cause of your yelling. “Hell’s your problem, woman?” He scoffs, raising a hand to his face and wiping sleep from his eyes.

“I feel gross. Let’s shower.”

“I don’t need a shower, I’ll wipe myself off with a towel or something.”

“God, you’re gross.” Sitting up on Zoro’s chest, you glare down at him. “Come on, just keep me company at least.”

“How about you ask the guy you were dancing with to shower with you.” Zoro grumbles, turning his head to the side to avoid your annoyed gaze.

“You’re still mad about that? You’re so stupid. Dancing doesn’t always have to be romantic.”

Zoro scowls at your insult, “You’re the stupid one, that guy’s dick was practically waving in the wind and begging for a hug when you asked to dance with him.”

“Oh shut up. I’m sorry, okay? I’ll never dance with anyone else ever again.” You tease, crossing your arms over your chest. Zoro’s gaze lazily slides to where your tits are being pushed up and squished together and his scowl slowly melts into a smirk.

You glare at his expression, but there’s no real heat behind it, that hungry look in his eyes has returned, his nap seemingly replenishing his energy. Perhaps there was only one way to get him clean.

“Shower sex?”

“Deal.”

~

Sanji- Missionary

Let’s be lowkey, Sanji’s default vanilla

He does NOT pull bc he’s such a freak, and when he finally gets together with you, he’s definitely clueless. He’s gotten all of his knowledge of intimacy from romance books and poems for sure

He’ll go along with anything you want, but his go to will always be good old missionary

He likes to see your face, to know that he’s making you feel good, but most importantly, he wants you to look into his eyes and see the undying devotion he has to you

He’s SO talkative, literal yapaholic in bed

He likes being able to lean in and let your soft moans and whispers fill his ear as he rocks gently against you, soft praises tumbling past his lips as his arms hug you tight against him

He's constantly searching for reassurance and praise, he wants you to tell him that he’s doing great, that he’s making you feel good. And in return he’ll whisper the sweetest nothings in your ear as he eases you through your orgasm.

He absolutely adores the feeling of your arms wrapped around his shoulders and your face burrowed against his neck. He can cum just from feeling your bare legs lock around his waist, and it’s happened numerous times before.

Sanji would never admit it, because it’s a little perverted, and Sanji is definitely NOT perverted, never ever forever, but he also loves missionary because he can feel your breasts squished against his chest. He loves sliding a hand down and caressing and kissing the fat, never pinching or biting, as he wouldn’t want to bruise your pretty skin.

~

“Are you ready for me, love?” Sanji murmurs, his fingers continuing to pump in and out of your leaking pussy, your first orgasm of the night steadily dribbling over Sanji’s wrist.

You give a small nod, grabbing for your lover’s wrist and intertwining your fingers with his shiny, slick, ones. Sanji ducks his head down, kissing your knuckles and lapping up a mix of your cum and arousal. “Please, Sanji… need you.”

He could cum just from your words alone, but instead he gives a mute nod and leans back on his haunches. Sanji stares down at you with bated breath as he massages your thighs with deft fingers. “God… you’re beautiful. I’m gonna make you feel good… I promise… I promise…”

Grabbing your hip with one hand while the other guides his flushed cock to run along your slit. The cook’s breath trembles just slightly and he has to bow his head, his eyes squeezing shut tightly, “I could never get tired of you… you make me feel things that I’ve never felt before… I need you…”

“Sanji…”

Sanji knows that tone, you’re getting impatient. He gives an apologizing murmur, his face flushed in slight embarrassment as he finally rocks forwards, stopping once he’s half way in, his cock easing you open and stretching you perfectly. “You’re so perfect… I love you… I couldn’t live without your touch… You feel so good… so so good… please.”

You love Sanji with every bone in your body, but during sex, he could get a little preoccupied with praising your body that he nearly forgets he’s inside of you somehow. With a soft laugh, you cup his face with your hands and tug him down to your mouth, your tongue darting out to run along his bottom lip, “Shhh, Sanji. I know. Just feel me, yeah?”

Closing his eyes with a shudder, Sanji melts against your mouth, his chest pressing down against yours as he begins to rock his hips into you with slow, firm, thrusts. “…Sorry… y’ feel good…” He mumbles against your lips, his words muffled as he speaks into your mouth.

You go to respond, but instead, a soft moan is torn from your lips, eliciting a shiver to travel down Sanji’s spine. His mouth begins to wander, as it always does when he’s inside of you, and he trails soft, ghosts of kisses across your jaw and down your neck. “I love you… you complete me… y’ make me… ngh… so, so happy-“

Sanji is never one to be aggressive during sex, he’d obviously comply if you asked him to, but he prefers soft, firm movements as he rocks against your pretty, puffy pussy. He wants to make love to you, make you feel beautiful and wanted.

“Sanji… you feel so good… faster?” You murmur softly, your back arching against his so perfectly as you gasp and coo against his ear.

Sanji very nearly whimpers at your soft question, your voice just too pretty, too sweet, to be asking anything of him. You were an angel, perfection incarnate, and Sanji would be a fool to deny you anything.

“Of course… legs around my waist, love, wanna feel you hold onto me.” Sanji purrs, licking the shell of your ear, eliciting a delectable squeak from your lips. Your ankles easily hook around the curve of Sanji’s spine, your thighs squishing against his hips and causing a weak groan to sound from Sanji’s throat.

You can feel Sanji’s stomach tensing as he moves, sliding his cock out to the tip before snapping his hips forward, making your eyes roll and your back to arch as if offering yourself to the heavens.

The bed creaks beneath your body as your toes curl, your hips rolling to meet Sanji’s movements. “Good?” Sanji murmurs, his stubble tickling and scratching your collarbone as he slides his lips across your shoulder.

“…yeah. It’s good-“ You gasp, twisting beneath Sanji’s hands. Sweat dots at your forehead and you can feel your orgasm approaching, glancing at Sanji, you know he’s not far behind.

Sanji grimaces, his eyes meeting yours for a moment before they quickly dance away to watch himself piston in and out of your wet pussy, he listens to the squelches of your body as it practically begs for him. Sanji shudders at the sound, his shoulders bunching up as he listens to your body.

Everything about you is perfect in Sanji’s eyes. You could gut him like a fish and he would thank you before preparing himself into a dish for you to eat. You hold Sanji’s heart in your hands and he trusts you completely, knowing that you’d never break it.

“Damn it, angel.” Sanji hisses, running his hand down through his hair before catching your lips in a passionate kiss. “Please cum. Please, please. I wanna see you cum, angel. Wanna feel it- feel you.”

God, you can’t believe what Sanji’s words do to you. You bury your face again his neck as your hips buck up against him, searching for your release, “Come on…” You mumble impatiently, your face twisted; your nose scrunched and your brows furrowed.

Sanji leans forward, pressing feather-soft kisses to your furrowed brow and scrunched nose. His hand slides down your navel and lower, rubbing firm circles against your clit. His other arm wraps around your neck, tucking you firmly against his chest as his fingers splay across the back of your head. Sanji’s pace begins to stutter, shuddering breaths escaping his lips.

You writhe so sweetly against him, your heels digging into the small of his back. He watches with rapt attention as your orgasm washes through you, reveling in the feel of your nails digging into his shoulders. Sanji feels as though he’s staring at an angel as your lips part, your lashes fluttering and your throat bobbing.

Sanji very nearly cums inside of you, too enraptured with the sounds and sensations he’s caused you to make. You’re mid orgasm when Sanji suddenly pulls out, his eyes widening and his breath catching in his throat in a panic as he coats your stomach with sticky cum.

Normally Sanji would never cum on you. As much as he absolutely adored the sight, something about it made him feel strange, as if he were defiling a priceless artifact. Usually, he would use a condom, or jerk himself off into his hand… or your panties on special occasions- your hand on really special occasions.

“Shit- sorry, sorry, angel.” Sanji groans, his face going beet red. He pulls back to sit on his haunches as he gnaws on his bottom lip. His eyes are glued to the sight of you covered not only in your own cum, but his as well. It makes his heart pound faster.

You hold a finger up, needing a moment to catch your breath, your thighs twitching from the pleasure. Finally you open your eyes and look up at him with a sweet smile. Catching his embarrassed face, you quickly think of ways to reassure him.

Your lip quirks as an idea comes to mind.

Sliding your index and middle finger across your navel, gathering up Sanji’s mess, your fingers swirling as if painting a canvas. Sanji watches with rapt attention, struggling to keep his eyes from rolling back as you bring your fingers to your lips and slowly lick up his cum.

You let out loud exaggerated coos as you suck on your fingers, your gaze focused on your sweet lover. His eyebrow twitches, and he sniffs, pinching the bridge of his nose with a groan.

“You taste as good as your food, baby.” You hum, your fingers pulling away with a pop.

~

Ace: Against The Wall

Ace is a straight up show off

He loves to throw his weight around, and casually display his strength as if it were normal

Another thing about Ace is that he’s impatient. He wants what he wants and he’ll take it as soon as possible

That doesn’t change during sex. Ace loves picking you up and throwing you around, his hands exploring your body as he shoves you against a wall. At first it’s simply because he was too lazy and impatient to make his way to a bed, he’d simply drag you into a spare closet or pin you against a door

But he soon realized that he preferred a good old wall instead of a bed. He likes the way you giggle when he hoists you up, your thighs wrapping around his waist (or in some cases his face), he loves the way you cling to him after you cum, too weak to hold yourself up and relying on Ace to keep you from falling

Sometimes Ace likes to pretend his legs give out, he likes the adorable look of panic on your face before Ace quickly snaps his hips up, adjusting your weight and burying himself deeper inside of your walls, gravity helping to sheath himself deeper inside of you

You stopped letting Ace eat you out against the wall after a situation during a storm. A violent wave sent the ship rocking and Ace had gone careening backwards, falling straight on his back… with you still on top of him. It was a horrible experience as the two of you had made your way to the infirmary, Ace happily holding his two missing teeth in his hands as you waddled, a wound on the inside of your thigh that suspiciously looked like a bite mark.

-

You haven’t seen Ace in weeks. He’s been on some excursion, fighting some bigshot or another. He hasn’t left your mind in the time he’s been gone. You thought of him while cooking, while fighting, damn it all, you even thought of him while cleaning the toilets. Ace is your other half, and it’s like you can physically feel it when he’s apart. When you can’t hear his laugh or feel his touch. It hurts.

But that doesn’t matter anymore because Ace is back.

The ship has been a flurry of activity the whole morning, preparing his welcome back feast. Technically, Ace had arrived back home yesterday in the middle of the night but he’d spent most of his time in the infirmary before passing out from exhaustion. Marco’s the only one who’s seen him. Ace hadn’t bothered to say hi to anyone, too tired to think of anything but sleep.

But now was the time to celebrate the return of the Fire Fist.

You’re rummaging through yet another closet, Marco having asked you to search for tablecloths. But for some reason you can’t seem to find them anywhere.

If you’re being honest, you’d prefer if there wasn’t any sort of party, you’d much rather have a quiet day with Ace, just him and you. But you suppose that’s selfish, the rest of the crew want to see the safe return of their crew mate just as much as you do.

Just as you’re about to give up on what you think is the fifth closet, your eyes catch on a hint of fabric poking out from the bottom shelf.

With an annoyed gruff, you brace your hands on the wall and hoist yourself up, standing on the bottom ledge and praying it doesn’t snap under your weight as you stretch your arm out, your fingers just barely brushing against the cloth.

Just as you manage to hook your finger in a fold, you hear the familiar squeak of the closet swinging shut. A curse escapes your lips as you twist around in an attempt to reach for the door, but in the process, your foot slips and you go tumbling towards the floor.

You yelp, bracing yourself for the pain that’s sure to follow, but it never comes. Instead you feel a pair of arms wrap wrapping around your chest, tugging you backwards away from the shelf. Hold on… those arms… they feel a bit too familiar.

“Clumsy girl.” Ace muses with a chuckle, pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek and tightening his hold around you, “Y’miss me?”

Spinning around, a grin already on your face, you meet the familiar eyes of one Portgas D. Ace. His silhouette just barely visible in the dim light of the closet. Adrenaline still pounds at your chest, but it’s mixed with excitement as you wrap your arms around Ace’s neck. “You scared me.” You scoff, a playful pout on your lips as you tug him down for a light kiss.

You’re expecting some banter in return, but instead; Ace lets out a groan as if he hadn’t drunken water in weeks and you are the sweetest of nectar. Suddenly his hands are slipping up your shirt to press against your abdomen, walking you backwards against the shelf as his mouth practically devours yours.

“Jump.” Ace pants softly, hooking his hands beneath your thighs.

-

Ace is thrusting into you with reckless abandon, the shelves creaking and groaning with your weight as the ledges dig into your back. Mouthing at your throat, Ace coos quietly, “Missed you so, so much, pretty girl. Yeah? You miss me too? You’re sucking me in right now.”

His hands devour your body, his fingertips warm to the touch as he pushes your shirt up around your neck. Ace pulls back for a moment to watch your tits bounce with thrust. His freckles glow faintly as he licks his lips.

Your quiet coos and moans surround Ace, your eyes kept focused on the door as if physically willing any crewmates from walking in on the two of you. You distantly pray that they can’t hear the sound of Ace’s skin slapping against yours.

But Ace is decidedly not trying to be quiet.

If anything, he’s louder than normal. A stupid grin on his face as he lets out low groans and cries of passion as if he’s in some cheap porno. You scowl at him, your stomach flipping as Ace brushes against your g spot. “Quiet!” You hiss, your scowl broken by a sweet gasp as Ace drives his hips up while tugging yours down.

Ace grins madly, throwing his head back and letting out a long, loud moan. “God… I missed you so much…” He cries out, grabbing the shelves and shaking them, objects wobbling and clattering together, “I can’t believe I’ve gone so long without your pretty body… your pretty little pus-“

You grab the back of his neck, a scowl on your face as you tug him into a deep kiss. Ace chuckles against your mouth, your lips finally managing to shut him up for once. You grab his hand, prying his fingers off of the shelf and guiding his palm to cover your breast.

“…missed you.” Ace finally murmurs against your lips, his voice much softer as he rolls your nipple between his fingers, his hand massaging the underside of your tit.

“Shit- Ace… missed y-“ You’re barely able to get your words out before Ace is slapping a palm over your mouth, pausing in his movements and bracing his knee against the shelf to hold you up as he reaches behind him to grab the doorknob. Your brows furrow in confusion, you hadn’t heard anything, but a few moments later you hear the sound of a pair of footsteps making their way down the hall.

Ace grins wildly, holding a finger to his lips. You know that mischievous look on his face. Shaking your head, you glare at Ace, already knowing what he’s planning. He quirks his head, pouting his lip in a false questioning look.

There are voices outside the door, some dumbasses chose this particular hallway to have some stupid conversation while you’re getting fucked balls deep only feet away.

Adjusting his stance, Ace grab your hips and begins to move once again, careful not to let his skin slap against yours. Biting his lip, Ace grins at your annoyance, using his freehand to massage your thigh while the other keeps its hold on the door.

You can feel him pulsing inside of yours, his tip ramming against your g spot with each thrust. It feels good. Too good.

Bringing your hand to your mouth, you bite down, your breath shuddering. Ace guides your head down against his shoulder, pressing featherlight kisses to your ear.

“Come on… good job being quiet, baby.” Ace whispers softly, resting his chin on your shoulder. His words are sweet and smooth, each thrust sending your heart beating out of its cage. “Gonna cum when there’s people right outside? I swear you’ve been gripping me even tighter since they showed up.”

Your hand moves away from your mouth to grip at Ace’s shoulder, your face is pressed firmly to his neck as your thighs begin to tremble from the strain of keeping quiet.

“Ace…” You groan, your words muffled as you grind your hips down against Ace, your clit bumping against his navel with each buck of your hips.

“You know I love your voice, but you gotta keep quiet.” Ace murmurs, “Can you be quiet, or do I gotta stop?”

With a firm shake of your head, your thighs tighten around Ace’s waist. You’re so close, you think you might actually start crying.

-

It feels like an eternity as you wait for whoever’s outside to leave, Ace continuing his steady thrusts into your wet pussy. He whispers quietly to you, his lips brushing against your ear as his filthy words flood your brain.

But finally, the sound of voices fades and you nearly sob in relief. “Faster.” You snap impatiently, too frustrated to try and be cute.

Throwing his head back, Ace lets out a laugh, “Yeah… yeah I can do that.”

Your brain positively melts as Ace bucks his hips into you with reckless abandon, each roll of his body causing his cock to drive straight against your g spot.

Shuddering moans and cries fill the closet as you writhe in Ace’s arms, squirming as you chase after your orgasm.

“You gonna cum, pretty girl? Yeah… me too.” Ace pants, “So you better make it quick before I accidentally cum inside.”

You click your tongue at his teasing but you can’t deny the excitement at the thought of Ace cumming inside of you. Fucking his seed up into your cunt and putting a pretty baby in your stomach. You know that Ace has… difficulties with the idea of fathers, but you can’t help but think he would be a great one.

Before you know it, you’re thrown into an orgasm, your back arching as you throw your head back. Ace just barely manages to cup the back of your head in time, stopping you from bashing yourself against the shelves and probably giving yourself a concussion.

Your thighs tense and your whimper, pawing at Ace’s chest as you slam your hips down against Ace, chasing after your orgasm.

Ace curses, turning his head to the side at the sight of your pretty face. Your cheeks are puffed out adorably, your lips pursed and your brow furrowed in concentration. Glancing down, his eyes catch on the small flame that had burst on his foot. Ace flushes in embarrassment, stomping it out.

Ace hauls you off of him, holding you up against the wall as he pulls out, your pussy tries to cling to his cock, and it practically breaks Ace’s heart. With a grunt, he cums over his hand, careful not to get any of his mess on your clothes.

“I want…” Ace pants, stooping down to grab his boxers and wipe off his sticky palm, “I want you to go to the bedroom… I’ll meet you in about fifteen minutes, ‘kay?”

He lowers you to the floor, pinching your shaking thighs playfully, “You’ll make it there alright?” He teases, wiping up any evidence of orgasm with his underwear before tugging your pants back on. Ace goes about fixing your clothes, buttoning your shirt, zipping your pants and fixing your mussed hair.

Once he thinks you look presentable enough, he quickly tugs his own pants back on, throwing his boxers to a corner and silently promising to grab them later (he won’t).

Pressing a kiss to your cheek, Ace opens the door and shoves you out with a smack on the ass, “See you soon, sweetheart,” He coos, walking in the opposite direction. He sends you a stupid wink before turning the corner.

~

Kidd: BACKSHOTS!!!!

BACKSHOTSBACKSHOTSBACKSHOTS FACE DOWN, ASS UP, THATS THE WAY WE LIKE TO FUCK!!!

Guys I may or may not love backshots as much as I love Kidd

Kidd loves every position as long as he’s able to see your body jiggle and move. He especially loves hitting it from the back in any way; doggy, prone bone, face buried in the pillows and your hips wiggling around, throwing your ass back against him like the needy thing you are

He’ll bend you over anything, a desk, a bed, the railing. Hell, if you’re flexible enough, he’ll make you bend down and touch your toes while he plows your shit

One of his favorite things to do is make you grab your ass and present your pussy to him, showing off the way you drip and leak for his fat cock

Kidd uses any jewelry you have to his advantages. Bracelets? He’s forcing your hands above your head while you practically suffocate in his pillows. Anklets? He’s tugging your legs apart until you’re nearly doing the splits as he bullies his dick into your tiny cunt. But his absolute favorite piece of jewelry that you wear are waist beads.

Even if you’re completely and utterly exhausted, too tired to move or even cry anymore. He’ll take control of your waist beads and force you to keep throwing your ass back against him, the fat jiggling and practically begging for him to slap and fondle

Let’s be honest, Kidd’s fucking feral. He licks and bites his way down your spine, leaving a path of red kisses in its path. By the time he’s done with you, you’re absolutely covered in Kidd’s lipstick. Red pigment smeared down your spine and across your face.

~ Metal clatters against the ground as your body is roughly shoved down against the cool metal of Kidd’s work table. Your bikini top has been haphazardly tugged up around your neck, the strings all tangled, showing off your pretty tan lines. Your skin tingles from the temperature as you lift your head to look behind you. Kidd grins wolfishly at your lustful gaze as he toys with the strings of your bikini bottoms.

Kidd isn’t quite sure what’s come over him, he’s seen you in a bikini hundreds of times before. Damn it, he’s seen you naked even more. But the sight of you lounging on the deck of his ship, your skin shiny from tanning had made his heart jump to his throat. You had been sleeping on your stomach, the slope of your spine and the curve of your ass on full display for the crew to see.

He had been working in his workshop when he had caught a glance of you through the window, your tits squished against the floor and your lips pouted slightly in sleep. Kidd hadn’t even realized what he was doing before he was activating his devil fruit powers, latching onto the silver bracelet he’d bought for you last month and tugging. You awoke to your hand being dragged by a seemingly invisible string. You were bleary from sleep but you already knew what was going on.

Your captain was waiting for you.

And that’s how you’d been practically dragged to the workshop, your feet stumbling over steps and nearly sending you crashing into the railing. The crew snickered and whistled at the sight of your hand being dragged by an unseen force. They knew exactly what Kidd wanted.

You’re barely able to get the door to the workshop open before Kidd is grabbing the back of your neck and tugging you into a bruising kiss. His hips rutting against your thigh as he drags you towards his desk, haphazardly sweeping his hand and sending his little ��projects’ (deadly weapons) flying. Sliding a hand to your shoulder, he slams you down against the table, hoisting your hips up onto the surface so that your toes just barely graze the ground.

“You’re lucky I didn’t go out there and fuck you in front of the whole crew.” Kidd snarls, his hand groping your ass, his touch rough enough to make you flinch as he swats your thigh. Your hips jolt, your body jerking against the table as a sharp keen escapes your lips. “Maybe I should make an announcement, huh? Call everyone in here and make ‘em watch you cream my cock like the slut you are. How’s that sound?”

He chuckles, reaching down to poke and prod your hole through the bikini bottom, pinching your clit and rolling the nub between his fingers, watching the fabric grow damp with your arousal as your feet twitch. You twist around to look at him, your thighs clenching at the sight of your lover; he’s practically drooling at the sight of you laid out across the table. His bottom lip caught between his teeth as he kicks your legs apart, stepping forward and rutting himself against your clothed pussy, earning a gasp from your lips.

“What’s got you all worked up?” You tease, rolling your ass back against Kidd’s raging hard on. Even through his clothing, you can feel that one prominent vein on his cock that never fails to drag you into orgasm. Arching your back, you wiggle your hips in the way that makes Kidd’s eyes roll back as he attempt to hold himself back from fucking you hard and deep right now.

Kidd snarls, his eyes locked onto your ass as if entranced. In one swift movement, he tugs the string of your bikini, the fabric falling to the side to give your captain a wonderful view of your messy cunt and puckered asshole. “Tch. Show me.”

This was Kidd being nice, giving you a few moments to prepare yourself, because there are many things that your captain is, but patient is definitely not one of them. When Kidd had first asked you to expose your weeping hole to him, you had been an embarrassed, blubbering mess. Arguing and telling him that it was weird.

But that was then, and now it was like second nature as you ease a knee onto the table and reach your hand behind you, sliding your pointer and middle finger between your dripping folds and sliding them apart to reveal your pulsing hole to Kidd, arousal steadily dribbling out of your cunt and over your skin. Sliding your digits inside, Kidd watches with rapt attention as you scissor your fingers, preparing your tight pussy for Kidd’s above average cock. More slick drips down your wrist as your ass shakes, your knee jerking and your head dropping down against the table.

With a growl, Kidd unbuttons his pants and you can hear his fat cock slap against his abdomen as he watches your fingers eagerly “Whaddya need, baby?” He croons, his voice sickening sweet as he wraps a hand around your hair and tugs your head back up. Hoisting your back against his chest, Kidd licks up into your mouth, biting your lip and stealing the breath from your lungs. His other hand travels up your navel, across your stomach before grasping the fat of your breast, tugging and twisting. It’s painful, his fingers pinching and flicking your areola as if it were a toy, making you squeak and squirm against him. Yet your hand continues to work at your pussy, it’s better for both of you if your cunt is plenty stretched by the time Kidd enters you. Once Kidd loses his patience, there’s not much that you can do to stop his from entering you.

You try to respond, your chest fluttering as you try and fail to catch your breath. Kidd’s mouth chasing yours every time you try and pull away. “Mph- Kidd… can’t-“

It’s not until you fear that you might actually pass out, black spots dancing in your vision, that Kidd finally pulls away. Lipstick and saliva smeared across his lower face, and most likely yours as well. “I said, whaddya need?”

You pant, tears dotting your lashes as Kidd finally releases his bruising hold on your tit, his hand sliding to your shoulder and shoving you back down against the table. “Fuck… fuck me, Kidd… shit.”

Kidd catches your wrist, stopping your hand from continuing its ministrations against your pussy, before slamming it down by your face, your eyes linger on the sight of your shiny fingers, strings of arousal coating your skin. Without a moments hesitation, Kidd aligns his twitching length with your entrance and bottoms out inside of you. One moment he’s outside of you, and the next he’s balls deep, his tip very nearly kissing your cervix.

A mix between a relieved groan and a chuckle fills your ears as you let out a ragged cry of pleasure, a sharp jolt of pain coursing up your spine before it melts away into a blissful throb. Your back arches and your hips jerk back against Kidd as he massages your ass, his attempt at comfort. Slowly dragging his cock back, the ridges of his vein catches on your ring of muscle and you shudder, a soft coo sounding from your mouth. Kidd pulls back until his tip is just barely lingering inside of you, his gaze focused on the sight of your pussy all stretched out around him, your arousal coating his cock and dripping down his balls.

You shimmy your hips enticingly, whining with need and impatience as you look at him from over your shoulder, “Come on. Hurry up.” You huff, looking up at him with flushed cheeks and pouted lips.

Scowling at your order, Kidd scoffs and rolls his eyes, but the sight of your pretty face makes his heart jump, he secretly loves it when you’re bossy, “Yeah, yeah. You always say that shit and then cry and beg me to slow down a few minutes later. You’re annoying you know that?”

You open your mouth to shoot back an equally sharp retort, but all that comes out is a choked cry as Kidd’s hands move to grip your hips, his fingers digging into the flesh as he hauls your ass back against him, beginning his punishing pace.

Your core aches with each brutal thrust. It’s painful, the pleasure coursing through your body just enough to make it worth it. Or maybe the pain is what making it feel so good? You’re not quite sure that it even matters.

“Fuck, you love it when I treat you like this. You probably couldn’t even cum if I’m not at least a li’l mean, huh?” Kidd teases, his teeth baring as he ducks his head down. Starting at the small of your back, his mouth attaches to your skin, sucking and biting and licking his way up the curve of your spine, leaving a mess of saliva, bruises and lipstick stains in his wake. You taste of sun tan lotion, coconut oil, and sweat. It’s making Kidd’s knees buckle with how good you feel on his tongue.

“You talk… way too much…” You bite out, dropping your head in your arms as your eyes squeeze shut, your head buzzing with pleasure.

“Good thing my teeth are as sharp as my tongue.” Kidd snarls, biting down on your shoulder. His canines dig into your skin as he feasts on your pretty figure. As if to punctuate his point, Kidd thrusts into you, purposefully pressing his tip to your cervix and making you keen in a mix of pain and pleasure.

Stars dance in your vision as you very nearly wail, your body writhing on the table in your attempt to wiggle away. It’s in vain as Kidd grabs your hips and drags you back. “See? I ain’t all talk.”

Kidd snakes a hand around your front, his fingers digging into your abdomen as if searching, “I can feel myself right… here.” Kidd sounds triumphant as he massages the slight bulge. He groans as he presses down, your gummy walls closing in around him as he resumes his thrusts. “Maybe I should put a baby up there one day, how’s that sound, babe?”

You bite your lip, unable to respond anymore for fear that you might let out a sob. Tears dot your lash line, your face splotchy and your breath shuddering. Each rock of Kidd’s hips send electricity up your spine. “I-“

Kidd cocks his head, leaning forward to peer at your face. He grins rakishly, wrestling you into a chokehold and brushing your hair past your ear. He presses a kiss to your cheek, “Are you gonna cry? Go ahead, you know I don’t mind.” Kidd grunts, snapping his hips. He’s close, both of you can tell, he’s struggling to keep his rhythm, his hips stuttering every few moments.

“‘m not… gonna cry.” You choke out, the metal beneath the two of you has grown slick with sweat and condensation. Each time Kidd thrusts his cock into you, there’s a squeak as your skin rubs against the table. You can’t help but giggle at the stupid sound, your cheek pressed against Kidd’s bicep as your eyes roll back.

“God, you’re so sweaty. What’s your problem?” Kidd gruffs, but you can hear the hint of endearment in his voice. “Just cum already, yeah?”

You turn your head, your tongue lolling out in search for Kidd’s mouth. Grinning at your fucked out expression, Kidd eagerly accepts your tongue into his mouth.

You bite down on Kidd’s lip as your orgasm washes over you like a wave. Your entire body jerking and twitching as your hips chase after Kidd’s cock, sucking him in deeper and deeper.

Kidd watches with bated breath as tears slip down your cheeks, your cries and moans quickly swallowed by his eager mouth. He continues to thrust impatiently into your creamy pussy, dragging you through your orgasm while chasing after his own.

Your cum creates a foamy ring around the base of Kidd’s cock. His face burning, Kidd allows you to kiss him one final time before he pulls back, blood coating his bottom lip from how hard your teeth had dug in.

You feel empty as Kidd finally drags his dick out of your cunt, your hole pulsing with his absence. Kidd grunts in annoyance as he jerks himself off, his bicep flexing around your throat as his own orgasm washes through him, his cum painting your back.

“I’m gonna cum in your pretty pussy one day, and it’s gonna be the best day of our fucking lives, I promise.” Kidd grunts, releasing his hold on you and running a hand through his hair. He steps back from between your legs, admiring the view of your body on display for him to see.

The lipstick marks on your back are partially covered by his cum, oil and sweat still lingering on your skin as bruises form on your ass. Your thighs tremble, your fluids coating your folds and dripping down onto the table.

-

You wake up in Kidd’s arms, your body aching as you lounge across his lap, your nose nestled against his neck. He’s toying absentmindedly, one hand tinkering with a small trinket (bomb), while the other massages your thigh.

Your body feels as though it’s been through the wringer, your thighs aching and your core throbbing. There are bruises on your hips from the table repeatedly digging into your skin.

“Hi.” Kidd grunts, barely soaring you a glance.

“…Hi.” You croak, clearing your throat as you sit up to peer at Kidd’s little invention. You smooth a hand through your hair, groaning as your hands run down your face.

“I told you you’d cry.”

[nemo-writes]

𝗮𝗯𝘀𝗼𝗹𝘂𝘁𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝗺𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻 I chapter three

(dr. jack abbot x nurse!reader)

⤿ chapter summary: a terrifyingly familiar presence breaches your last safe space, and now a simple and heartfelt gesture becomes a violation. in the aftermath, fear finally makes you reach out for help.

⤿ warning(s): stalking, panic attacks & unhealthy coping mechanisms.

⟡ story masterlist ; previous I next

✦ word count: 2.7k

The day begins the same way the last three have: 05:30, kettle on, one level tablespoon of Assam spooned into the infuser. While the water climbs toward a boil you unlock your phone, already braced for what waits. A fresh number—there is always a fresh number—has delivered its dawn bulletin:

Left at 05:01 yesterday.

Early bird. Porch light flickered twice—loose bulb?

Navy coat looks sharp against the fog, pretty girl. 

They never mention the hospital, never a word about ORs or co-worker names. The watcher keeps to the edges of your private life, and somehow that makes the trespass worse. You capture a screenshot, block the number, and delete the thread. The image joins dozens of others in the hidden laptop folder named Archive—date‑stamped, time‑stamped, waiting for the moment you finally believe the police will do more than shrug.

Four‑minutes steep exactly. Mug warmed. First swallow. Routine: a ladder you climb every morning. Eggs scrambled ninety seconds, plate rinsed, shower seven minutes. Before dressing, you check the tiny motion‑sensor camera you mounted inside the apartment entryway two nights ago; its LED blinks a steady red reassurance. The matching camera on the fire‑escape window does the same. No motion alerts overnight. Still, you test the deadbolt twice and angle the hall chair beneath the knob until you return.

The drive is identical to yesterday’s and the day before—same streets, same mirror checks at every light. No car follows twice, but you look anyway. At 06:50 you badge through the employee entrance. Stepping into hospital feels like sliding into armor: fluorescent lights, antiseptic bite, the hum of vents. The messages have never followed you here.

You adjust your usual gray scrubs and square your clipboard. Pre‑op checklist in your left hand, suture cart in your right, you call out “sponge count zero” with the same crisp authority as always. But small hesitations creep in: rereading the cefazolin vial, tapping the clock twice to verify time‑outs. 

Margot’s eyes track each pause. She eventually corners you by the blanket warmer.

“Nightmares?” she asks, voice low.

“Just the usual insomnia,” you answer, pinching your lower lip. A nervous habit. Your smile feels brittle, but it holds.

Fin notices too; his jokes grow louder, as though volume can fill the quiet shadow clinging to you. Jules slips extra Hershey Kisses into your scrub pocket. Even Dr. Garcia joins in by firing off sarcasm like covering fire whenever an intern looks as if they might ask why your phone stays face‑down on the desk, silent yet weighty.

Slowly but surely, the afternoon bleeds into evening. 

You finish vitals, sign the narcotics log, and at 19:04 bypass the stairwell that leads to the roof—no silhouettes against twilight tonight. Instead you head straight for the lot, head down, keys ready.

The cameras in your apartment greet you with their steady red eyes when you arrive. Door locked, sweep performed—closet, shower, under bed—all clear. Only then do you change into a soft purple T‑shirt and loose pants. You have long since stopped parading around in your underwear. 

The phone buzzes the moment the fabric falls over your head. New number:

Purple again. My favorite.

You freeze. Curtains closed, lights low—and still they see. Screenshot. Block. Delete. You drag the dining chair beneath the doorknob and place the kitchen scissors back on the nightstand, steel glinting like a talisman. Then, a mug of valerian tea, strong enough to taste like soil, goes down in three determined gulps.

Lying in bed, you count the protections: two cameras, one chair brace, scissors within reach, every screenshot archived. Routine is armor. Repetition is a prayer. You breathe in for four, out for eight, the same cadence you teach anxious PACU patients, and tell yourself that as long as the messages stay outside the hospital walls, the armor will hold.

Sleep comes in splinters, broken by phantom creaks and imagined footsteps. At 02:47 you wake up, heart sprinting, and check the camera feed: empty hallway, silent fire escape. Dawn is only a few hours away. Soon the kettle will hiss, the tea will steep for exactly four minutes, and another text will arrive—about a porch light or the time you start your car—but never about scalpels, never about sponge counts.

Despite the hour, you’re halfway through wiping down the already‑clean kitchen counter—busywork to quiet the apartment’s hush—when your phone vibrates. For once the screen doesn’t show an unknown number.

It’s Jack.

Haven’t seen you on the roof in a bit. Everything okay?

The text lands like a gentle hand on your chest. You swallow against the sudden tightness in your throat, thumb hovering. Finally you type back:

I’m alright—just busy. See you tomorrow?

Three dots pulse, then: Works for me. Sunrise tea?

He doesn’t mention anything about the hour or how you should be asleep and not messaging back. You’re grateful. 

Sunrise tea, you confirm, and set the phone facedown.

Pacing the kitchen, you notice how full the fridge is: a dozen nearly‑dated eggs, chicken thighs you’d planned to roast, wilting cilantro, limes, onions, and two unopened cans of black beans. You haven’t cooked a proper meal since the messages started; take‑out cartons and tea have been enough to survive. Now the sight of real food sparks something steadier than dread—a need to do, to give.

An apology, you decide, should be edible.

You wash your hands, set the chicken on the board, and fall into the rhythm your muscles remember: trim fat, score skin, rub with salt, cumin, smoked paprika. Onions sizzle in the cast‑iron, releasing a sweetness that chases the apartment’s stale anxiety. Beans simmer with serrano and garlic; rice toasts before absorbing broth. Cilantro stems thunk under the knife; lime zest perfumes the steam fogging the window. 

When everything’s done you portion a generous serving into a sturdy glass container, your favourite one: rice pilaf on one side, glossy black beans on the other, two pieces of golden‑skinned chicken nestled on top. Into a tiny jar goes some honey‑lime dressing. You label the lid in block letters—Jack—and slide the meal into one of your spare tote bags. 

The apartment smells of cumin and toasted garlic, of normal life. The cameras still blink red, the chair still braces the door, the scissors still gleam, but cooking has threaded warmth through every corner. You finish the last dish, the one’s that’s for you, dry your hands, and stand for a moment in the quiet kitchen, breathing in the proof that you can still create comfort instead of just barricades.

Tomorrow at dawn you’ll climb to the roof, hand Jack the container, and share five minutes of sky. Routine will tighten around you again, one careful knot at a time—but tonight you fall back asleep with the scent of lime and cilantro on your pillow, and relief, thin but real, settles in your chest like steam escaping a cooling pot.

. . .

You arrive at the hospital just past sunrise, thermos in one hand, tote slung over your shoulder, and—for once—a real, living sense of calm beneath your ribs. Not the fragile kind you usually glue together with caffeine and a tight jaw, but something gentler, something earned. You even caught a pocket of golden morning light in the parking lot, the kind that made the hospital look almost soft at the edges. 

Dr. Miller catches sight of you just as you pass the nurse’s station. He’s leaning against the counter, coffee in one hand, chatting with a pair of interns, but pauses when he sees you. His eyebrows lift, and he gives a slow, amused smile. “Well, you look dangerously close to content. Should I be worried?”

You huff a laugh, smoothing your coat as you badge in. “Don’t start rumors, Dr. Miller.”

He points at the canvas tote on your shoulder. “Big plans?”

You nod once. “End of shift.”

He doesn’t ask more, just grins, and you take that grin with you like a good omen. The rest of the day moves at a steady clip: vitals to log, meds to verify, a code yellow that resolves without anyone crying. You let yourself coast on the rhythm of it, not in that desperate, overcompensating way you usually do, but in a way that feels like a return to something—like an exhale. 

You slip into the lounge at 18:45, already imagining the click of the container’s lid, the familiar smell of the garlic and cumin, the soft weight of it in your hands as you climb the stairwell to the roof. You open as the lights inside flickers to life, cold and blue, attention on the glass container exactly where you left it, lid on, untouched. 

Except—no. Something’s wrong.

The lid is snapped shut, perfectly aligned. The container looks full. But it isn’t. You can feel it before you even lift it—something in the tilt, the balance. Your stomach lurches as you peel the lid off  and confirm what you already know. The food is gone. Not spilled. Not disturbed. Not even a forkful left to scrape from the edges. Just... empty. Clean. Wiped down.

A rare mix of anger, rare but hot, pulses against your ribcage, but before you can storm out and demand answers, you feel the paper crumpled under the container. Your breath stops. It’s your note—the one you’d carefully taped to the top that morning: NOT FOR GENERAL CONSUMPTION. HANDS OFF GREMLINS, it reads in your blocky caps. But now that line has been crossed out in thick, decisive strokes. And underneath it, slanted and dark and horrifyingly familiar: 

That was great, thanks pretty girl.

The world tilts. Your lungs forget how to work. You’ve seen that name before—only in texts, never spoken, never written. Anonymous. Cryptic. Repetitive. A whisper against your spine on nights when the lights were off and your phone lit up with unknown numbers. But this—this isn’t a text. This is here. This is your space, your name, your cooking, your boundary, and someone has walked right through it with ink-stained hands and a stomach full of what you made with care.

A hot flush crawls up your neck, floods your ears. You stagger back a step and catch yourself on the counter. The container slips from your hand and hits the lounge table with a muted thud. The silence in the room turns sharp. 

Then, you shove the fridge shut. The door clangs and rattles in its frame. The room feels like it’s shrinking, like the air has gone sour, too full of other people’s breath. You snatch the note and crush it in your hand. Your teeth clench so hard your jaw pops. You don’t remember turning, but you’re already out the door, slamming into the corridor.

Fin is halfway down the hall with a tablet in hand. He startles and drops it when you barrel past. “Boss? Are you okay—?”

You don’t hear him. You don’t answer. The world has narrowed to one screaming thought: Find Gloria. Now. You need the Chief Medical Officer, need her badge, her keys, her authority. She can pull the security feeds. She can call the police. She can make this stop.

You’re moving before you think to move, feet pounding the tile, vision blurring at the edges. You don’t realize you’re shaking until your elbow clips the corner of the nurse’s station and jolts you. Jules tries to intercept you, her mouth forming your name in alarm, but you dodge past. Margot reaches out, grabs your arm, and for a second your momentum dies.

“What happened?” she demands, voice low, sharp, anchoring.

You look at her. You try to speak. Nothing. Just breathless silence. Then, rasping through a throat too tight to breathe, you say, “Need Gloria.”

She gets it instantly. Her eyes go cold. She lets you go. Already calling instructions behind you as you sprint toward the elevators.

Your fingers hurt. You look down and realize the note is still balled in your fist, crushed so tightly your nails have dug half-moons into your skin. The static in your head has turned into a roar. You feel cracked open, like your worst fear has been confirmed and now all your secrets are leaking out of you for the world to see. All this time, you thought if you could just hold on—just stay composed, stay ahead, stay vigilant—you could keep this from touching the parts of your life that mattered. But now it has. Now it’s here. The hospital was supposed to be your safe place, your fortress. But someone breached it.

The elevator doors open. Thankfully, nothing but an empty gurney is inside. You step in without hesitation, eyes fixed forward, spine locked. You don't even blink when the doors slide shut.

You get out the seconds the doors open and round the corner toward Administration so fast the world blurs, shoulders locked, chest heaving, pulse hammering in your ears so loud it drowns out thought. You barely register the sound of a door opening until a figure steps out from the consult room ahead—short but solid, dreadlocks brushing her shoulders, clipboard hugged tight to her chest.

You collide before either of you can brake.

Papers scatter like startled birds. A pen skitters across the tile and bounces under the nearest corner.

“Whoa—hey!” Kiara grabs you, steady hands catching your elbows before you fall. 

“Slow down, honey,” she says, trying for lightness. “What—”

Then she sees your face.

Whatever was holding you together unravels in a blink. Your eyes fill, your mouth opens, but nothing coherent makes it past your lips. The crushed note slips from your hand, landing between you. The marker-scrawled name glares up from the paper like a fresh wound.

Kiara’s clipboard hits the floor beside it.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she breathes.

Her arms come around you before you can bolt or speak or even breathe. And the second she does, the sob rips out of you—gut-deep, involuntary, raw. You bury your face against her soft sweater and shake, fists twisted in the soft cotton, the fabric quickly going damp with tears. Your legs threaten to give. Kiara cradles the back of your head like she would a grief-stricken mother in a quiet room, voice low and steady in your ear.

“I’ve got you. You’re okay. Breathe with me. In, two, three…that’s it. Out, two, three.”

You try. You try to follow her rhythm even as your chest jerks, lungs refusing to cooperate, every breath full of glass. The hallway seems to narrow around you, fluorescent lights too sharp, voices too distant, the floor too unsteady beneath your feet. 

You gasp, trying to speak—Gloria, fridge, note—but your tongue won’t work. The words hit the back of your throat and collapse.

Kiara doesn’t push. She doesn’t ask. Not yet. 

She bends, scoops the note up from the floor, her arm never leaving your shoulders. Her eyes flick over the overwritten scrawl. Her expression goes from gentle to granite.

“Okay,” she says, voice gone iron. “We’re taking this to Gloria. Right now.”

It’s almost scary how easily she connects the dots without a single ounce of context. For now, you can only nod, your body still trembling, your mind clawing for control that just isn’t there anymore. But you’re not alone. Kiara keeps an arm firmly around you as she pulls her phone from her pocket, dials with one hand, presses it to her ear.

“Gloria? Yes, it’s Kiara. I have an urgent security issue. Clear your office.”

A pause. Then a quiet “Thanks.” She ends the call, squeezes your arm, and begins steering you gently toward the elevators.

“She’s waiting. Margot’s on her way too,” Kiara tells you as she guides you through the hallway. 

You nod again, unable to speak, but this time it’s not empty. The words aren’t caught in panic—they’re being held for you, steadied. And for the first time since the messages started, since the stalking began, since the fear turned chronic and tight and unseen—something inside you loosens.

Not gone. But held.

Held by hands stronger than your own.

divider credit

[rebellum]

Ohh okay so THIS is the post that explains what happened and why ppl are saying op was turned down

Yeah this is fucking unhinged

aita for calling out someone for being manipulative towards a trans friend? Names have been changed for privacy reasons and TLDR at the end because this is long.

I (24f) am cis but have had a lot of trans friends (binary, nonbinary, and neopronoun) throughout the years and am very supportive so i take this very seriously. So I met this girl my first year in college (we were 18 at the time) and we became friends. We're polar opposites, she talks a lot and I don't, she parties a lot and I like to do more sophisticated things, she's a typical extrovert basically, and I'm more introverted. Anne (24f) was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder. I don't know when, she just told me this years ago. I've seen tiktoks about bpd and researched Google about bpd a little so I know all about how they have fave persons and will "mimic" people in the friend group and become clingy, manipulate, etc. I've seen pics of her in high school, noticed that she was a theater kid, she said she was good at acting and even said she thinks her bpd helped with her acting although I'm not sure how, but she said she only joined the theater club because a boy she had a crush on was in theater. That should've been my first red flag but I was naive. She has a degree in something else (not theater) because our second year in college her favorite character in a TV show did a certain job, she got interested in that, and now she also does that as a living. She doesn't talk about her bpd, she's only mentioned it a handful of times. I can count on one hand how many times. And I get it because she said someone once told her people with bpd should be sterilized and not be allowed near children. Which is really messed up and I hate that someone said that.

However on with the situation. One of our friends Mike (25m) is a trans man. We met him four years ago. He's very handsome, broody, introverted, intelligent, great listener, very accepting and understanding, similar to me but opposite to her. Now we didn't know he was trans until two years ago, because I asked him on a date and he turned me down, and when I asked why he told me that he was mostly T4T and only viewed me as a friend. We were like woah you're trans, okay that's cool, etc. He explained that he was lucky enough to get on puberty blockers and transition young etc which is why he passes. I said okay I'm not trans and you're mostly T4T fair enough.

Well last year Anne suddenly tells us that she is trans too. She says she's bigender. She says she is okay with either she her or he him because she feels like a man and a woman at the same time. Some days she's a woman, some days she's a man, and some days she's both, according to her. She says she does not like they them pronouns. Suddenly her and Mike are spending all this extra time together. Last month he confided in me that he thinks he's in love with her, after years of him only seeing her as a friend, and then they started officially dating.

Here's the problem: she has not changed her outward appearance, her name, started any kind of medical stuff, joined any groups, bought a binder etc. We all continue to call her she and her because she fully presents as female and doesn't have a problem with it. Also she's very effeminate in body language, the way she talks, etc. I know technically I could call her a he or a him, too, but she never asks me to or corrects people when they call her she because well technically she is a she too. Mike is the only one who uses he and him pronouns with her as often as she and her, but she has never thanked him. It really feels like she's saying she's trans and then going about her life exactly as a cis woman simply to convince Mike to date her.

First off, Anne and Mike are NOT compatible. She likes to party, smoke weed, talks a lot, I'm not sure how she graduated with such good grades or why she does so well in her job because she is honestly a LOT to handle and I'm saying that as nice as possible. Mike would never touch weed or go to clubs and he says he would be fine staying home while she does those things but how could you trust someone to party while high and not hook up with others? I've seen her make out with five people in one night at a frat party. They also had wildly different childhoods, such as she grew up in a conservative community and doesn't speak to her family, and he grew up in a liberal area and is close with his family. But more importantly she has a history of joining theater because she had a crush on someone in theater (plus she admits she is good at acting, so maybe she is acting now?) and getting a degree and job in a field because a favorite fictional character did that and now this? It feels like she was attracted to him, found out he usually dates other trans people, and found a way to continue being cis but claim to be trans without having to do anything trans related, basically mimicing her favorite person. As soon as they met they hit it off, or should I say she clung to him and pretended to have the same likes and dislikes whenever they were alone I assume.

It sounds terrible I know, which is why I discussed this with a group chat first that neither of them are in, and the group chat not only agreed that she is far too "obnoxious" for him (those were NOT my words!) but that she is faking being trans in an attempt to make him fall in love with her (which seems to be working.) I would NEVER have gone further without making sure with them first. So then a few of the people in my group chat and I held an intervention with Anne alone. The six of us (the others don't live close enough to come) met up with Anne at her place and told her what she was doing was wrong and gross and that she needed to get help for her bpd and to stop catfishing Mike. She didn't take well to what was said, which I anticipated, but she went crazy. She was screaming at us, insulting us, sobbing while yelling etc, literally said if we ever contacted her again she would call the cops, so we left.

I immediately called Mike before she could and asked him to meet me at a restaurant nearby and that it was very important. Since Mike doesn't know anyone in the group chat I went alone and I explained EVERYTHING before she could gaslight and manipulate him even further. He left, did not finish or pay for his food. I messaged him several times, but a few hours later he texted me to never to speak to him again, and then blocked me on everything. I showed up to his house and Anne was there. Mike said if I ever contacted him again he would get a restraining order on me so I left. I've discussed this with the group chat and now suddenly half of them changed their mind and don't want to talk about it anymore. Several of them left the group chat. Not only that but several of my friends who know either Mike or Anne or both have blocked me on everything. When I've tried to contact these friends through other means and explain everything, they either didn't respond or said for me never to contact them again because I was being transphobic. Listen I know under NORMAL circumstances you shouldn't question when someone comes out but this is NOT a normal situation, and now I am concerned Anne is unsafe for Mike but also an unsafe person to know, as she literally is trying to destroy my life because I called her out on some seriously messed up and abusive behavior.

TLDR am I the asshole for trying to protect my trans friend from a potential stalker?

What are these acronyms?

[everlastingauthor]

Monster One Piece Men

✎ᝰ. Author's Note: Hello! So I'm probably going to be on Tumblr for some time. I'm thinking about taking a break from Instagram and posting on Tumblr, so to start it off, here is this fic. Please remember not to feed my work to any AI or re-upload it. Stay hydrated, take your medicine, and remember you are loved!

✎ . Tags: Vampires, Zombies, Demons, Monster, Romance, Reader is human and female, Monster Fucker, Spice, & Dark Romance

✎ᝰ. Characters: Mihawk, Crocodile, Smoker, & Shanks

✎ᝰ. Request Open: Yes

➤ Summary: In this world, the OP men are monsters, your monster boyfriends, while you, dear reader, are human. How did you meet your monster boyfriends and what romance awaits you?

• Dracule Mihawk, a vampire, let you into his castle when you traveled all the way to learn about swordsmanship from him. Your village was being attacked and held hostage by pirates, so you decided to learn from the greatest swordsman and the most feared vampire. At first, Mihawk thought about turning away but he saw the determination in your eyes and that you were stubborn. So he let you in his castle.

• At first he tried to scare you by flashing his fangs, lurking in the dark, and letting you watch him hunt fools who came to his island looking for a hunt. But Mihawk saw how you gazed at him, with a look of awe and not fear. He began to see how you would approach him without fear, wipe the blood from the corner of his mouth whenever he finished eating his prey, & help around the castle.

• He started to become protective of you whenever you trained, he would tend to your injuries, he would place a blanket over you whenever you fell asleep in his library, make sure you ate and hydrated, and he would snap at anyone who tried to harm you. Eventually, he even came with you to save your village, and after he did, he began trying to court you, and successfully he did.

• Mihawk never dated a human, he thought they were too fragile to date and to have fun with. But he learned to be gentle with you, to make sure he doesn't harm you with his strength, nails, or fangs. Mihawk didn't need to worry about pouncing on you for blood, he had self-control. And you were always willing to give him your blood whenever he was thirsty. He took a taste, but he wasn't greedy; he drank with care and only took what he needed. After that, he would give you water and fruits.

• Sex with Mihawk was passionate and gentle, but sometimes you two could end up on the bed, wall, and ceiling. He loved biting your thighs, breasts, and stomach. He would do his best to bring you to the height of pleasure, he would whisper sweet nothings into your ear, and tell you how much you mean to him.

• Sand demon Crocodile who came from the hellfire sands, Sand demon Crocodile who saw you from afar in a village. The way you smiled at him when he entered your cafe, how you greeted him, and gave him his coffee along with a sweet pastry. He began entering your dreams and seeing you. At first, you thought you were just dreaming about him, but then he let it be known that he wasn't just some random person in your dream like the others, he could shift and change your dreams. He would push away the nightmares and make sure you had a good rest.

• Eventually, you went to see him, to seek him outside your dreams, and when you found him. You stood in front of him and wanted to know more about him, and he asked you to come with him. To leave the island and go with him, he whispered how he would take good care of you in the real world and the dream world. At first, you thought you couldn't just leave behind your business, friends, and family. But you loved the sand demon, so during the night, you ran off with him. Some say they saw you disappear in a shimmer of golden sand.

• Crocodile let you stay in his home a very luxurious place, that you had to make a map so you wouldn't get lost. You found it adorable how you owned pugs cute little babies that he let you name because he hadn't had time to name them. During your stay, Crocodile would spoil you with gifts like jewelry, clothes, and anything that you wanted. He would take you out dancing and show you how his abilities worked.

• Eventually he showed you his true form, the demon form he was born with in hell. He thought you would be scared of him that you would be repulsed and run away. But you didn't, you cupped his face and told him how beautiful he was, that human form or demon form, that you loved him no matter what. You even had him stay in his demon form for a month to show him you weren't scared.

• Crocodile waited to have sex with you but once you were ready, oh boy was the supernatural sex very supernatural. He made you wet in your dreams and in reality, he would mark up your skin and let you grip his horns while he thrusted in and out of your cunt, it took you some time to get used to his size but eventually you did. His favorite thing to do was screw in the dream world making sure an orgasm woke you up before making you orgasm again in reality.

• Poltergeist Smoker, who became attached to you after saving you from a group of pirates, didn't like being referred to as a ghost. He told you to think of him as your guardian angel, but in reality, he was a poltergeist who was supposed to haunt you. And sometimes he did by making you get up early for work, keeping you alive, and cleaning your home. Whenever you tried to run at him or hit him, all he had to do was turn into smoke, and you would smack into the closest thing next to you. After a while, he would catch you before you hit things.

• Smoker would show you tricks he could do as a ghost, such as possession, making objects float, and being able to mess with things. He would scare any robbers away from your home and tell you about ghosts and the different types. He shared his weaknesses with you which is something he would never do but he trusted you, and you never used any of his weaknesses to hurt him.

• He would float and pick you up, dangling you from the air and watching you laugh, which made a warm feeling blossom throughout his chest. The way you looked at him whenever he would scare someone away from your home, how you would look for him whenever he used his abilities to hide himself, and how you kissed his head and covered him up whenever he fell asleep in bed.

• Eventually he asked you out on dates and those dates are what started your relationship with Smoker, he wasn't sure how you could truly love a poltergeist a monster like him, who was supposed to be haunting pirates at sea but instead he was here with you protecting you, and he wondered would you even want to be with him for all eternity?

• Sex with a ghost was interesting when you and Smoker started off having sex. He was sure to tell you some things so that you wouldn't be scared. He was cold to the touch but you didn't mind because it made the sex more interesting especially easy for him to get your nipples hard before sucking on your breasts. Sometimes he would cloud you with smoke while his mouth went to work on your body, he would leave love bites in many spots, wanting to show you were his. Floating and fucking was a fan favorite of yours especially when Smoker didn't realize he made you both float.

• The werewolf who saw you as his full moon and wouldn't stop chasing you, even though you were a damn monster hunter. His monstrous crew thought he had a death wish whenever he followed you, and you would threaten to shoot him if he continued following you, but why didn't you shoot him? Well, that stupid grin he had, that stupid, adorable grin he had when he met you at the bar. He complimented you, bought you drinks, and listened to you talk about how you come from a family of monster hunters. But you left your family behind because all your brothers and sisters successfully hunted monsters, but you always failed leading you to be mocked and belittled by your family.

• Shanks invited you to be part of his crew, to live with monsters and show you that not all monsters are well..... monsters. And he made a deal with you, if he couldn't change your mind on monsters and leave his crew, well he would let you kill and take his body back to your family, because your family would be thrilled if you caught the famous redhead werewolf. His crew begged him not to do this deal but it was too late and you agreed.

• At first, being the only human in this monster crew scared you, because your parents would tell you stories about how monsters were just these horrible people who would eat your soul, rip away your flesh, and do horrible things to you. But the more you hung around Shanks and his crew the more you found yourself laughing, feeling comfortable, and being yourself. And through all that you and Shanks were getting closer as he taught you to embrace your wild side.

• Shanks started dating you when he asked you out first, you hesitated because of what your parents would think, their dear daughter, who comes from a family that hunted monsters for generations, dating a werewolf, a monster!? But you thought more about how he and his crew made you feel like family, part of a family, and not an outcast. So you agreed to date Shanks but also be part of his crew, his crew heard from outside the door and were relieved that their captain wouldn't be a rug or head mounted on the wall.

• At first, you were scared to have sex with Shanks, he saw that and understood, so he told you that when you were ready, just tell him. Of course, the two of you started off slow, and Shanks told you whenever you get too overwhelmed and want to stop, just let him know. Shanks was gentle but could be rough whenever you asked and after getting comfortable with him, the sex did get rougher. A lot of grunting, moaning, sweating, and howling. He would always make sure that he had your legs trembling and telling you how much he wanted to fill you, but until you were ready for babies he wouldn't. You didn't mind the marks he made on your thighs and ass it was a reminder you were his.

╰┈➤ One Piece Taglist: Comment to be added to the Taglist

[asceluffy]

How OP MEN would react if you told them to leave you while you’re wounded during a battle.

cw: mentions of blood and injuries. gn!reader

Luffy

“Luffy, leave me and continue fighting.” You’d say as you lay on ground with blood dripping out your fresh cuts.

He’d pause for a bit, brows knitted.

“Huh? Why would I? Are you stupid?” Blunt as ever.

You’d cough up some blood when you chuckle at his words, in which in turn would alarm him.

“Oi oi oi, stop! you’re hurting yourself more!” A panicked look on his face.

You’d push him away with all the strength left in you and he’d contemplate.

“Just—stay here ok? I’ll kick the enemy’s ass in 10 seconds and come back for you.” Then he’d take off, a surge of determination coursing through him.

Law

“Captain, leave me and continue to fight!” You’d say with shaky breath.

He would click his tongue, clearly pissed.

“Don’t give me that crap, (name)-ya! You’re clearly on the brink of death!” He’d sigh as he puts up his hand so he can start treating you with his powers.

You’d swat his hand in protest, folding it before he could say “Room…”

“Hurry, Law! The others need your aid, I’ll be fine!” He’d glare at you but sigh.

While gritting his teeth he’d say, “You better stick with your words.” Before joining the others in the battle.

He had to be quick, he can’t bear the thought of losing someone he loves dearly again.

Zoro

“Zoro! Don’t lower you guard and continue fighting!” You’d say as you clutch on your torso—probably 5-8 broken ribs if your hunch is true.

“You’re an like idiot like that cook!” He’d reprimand you, helping you lean on a wall. “No way in hell I’m leaving you to die here!”

You’d groan in pain, making his angry look dissolve into a worried one.

“C’mon, I’ll get you to Chopper.” He’d say, putting your arm around his shoulder. But before he could do that, you’d pull away.

“I said I’m fine, Zoro!” You’d argue, trying to mask the pain behind your voice. “Or are you underestimating me?”

At your last sentence he’d smirk, putting the hilt of Wado Ichimoji between his teeth and biting on it.

“If you die, I’ll kill you.” He’d say seriously, before turning his back to you and continue slashing the enemies.

Sanji

He’d immediately stop on his tracks when he heard a blood curdling scream from you.

Knowing that it was because you were trying to protect him from an enemy who was about to attack his unguarded back, it made him feel much much worse.

As swift as he was, he’d be able to catch you before you could even fall on the ground.

You’d look up at him as he asks you if you were ok, immediately scanning the room and screaming for Chopper’s aid.

“Sanji, I’ll be fine—please, save our allies.”

Then, you’d notice how his lips trembled a bit. That voice you just spoke with him just reminded him of his mother, so delicate, so comforting.

“No, no, no. I won’t leave you here.” He’d say with a soft voice, using Sky Walk so the two of you can leave in the midst of the battle.

[diejager]

This is omegaverse related so please here me out… What about something different? What about…

A

Feral Omega?

I’m talking like, this omega isn’t your typical omega. This omega is downright dangerous, reports of Omega going feral but causes of harm to them due to some omega discrimination.

So what if, reader who is feral omega, is down right butchering enemies. And doesn’t hesitate to almost maul some alpha recruits if they want to mess with her..

Cw: omegaverse, feral!reader, violence, blood, weird pack dynamic, discrimination, protective behaviour, tell me if I missed any.

You were a ‘one-of-a-kind’ omega —spoken with utmost reverence by them. You were their strong and independent omega, whispered in crowded halls, mumbled in darkest nights, screamed in busy moments, and kissed to in warm and comfortable beds. You were anything but a strong and dedicated and reliable soldier, someone Ghost had grown to respect after a joint Op, then coaxed to rely on by the others when they saw how welcoming Ghost was and simply how skillful you were at your job. 

You were small but spry, less bulky but flexible, weaker but resourceful. You were everything they sought for in an omega. You were so much alike Soap, yet molecularly different. Though it was every alpha’s dream of finding a soft and loving mate to provide and protect for, someone smaller and more fragile than their thick muscles and broad build, there was a thrill in being reminded that they weren’t always at the top, being grounded and brought back down from their high horses. Against all of traditional mating couples, your current age and time had demanded more equal partnering, a relationship where both parties stood on the same ground. 

And Ghost and Price thrived on that, their employment demanded a level of independence from their mates and pack mates, the capability of standing on their own and manage grief and stress. That’s where Soap stood, an omega at it’s finest, strong and independent and emotionally knowledgeable, the glue to their pack, and Gaz, the stabiliser, the soft and gentle hand that reminded them of who they were. 

Then you came bulldozing through their well-built dynamic: feral and wrathful, full of hate and anger for the world who had wronged you. When the military had rejected you for both your sex and gender, you’d worked up the ranks in the CIA with your blood, sweat and tears, starting from a fresh agent - a rookie - to an experienced one. You’d gotten so far that Laswell had eventually reach out to you, acknowledged by someone so powerful and partnered with The Ghost had gotten you the acknowledgment and respect you’d dreamed of. 

It was a rough start with Ghost, but he learned to rely on you as much as you did him, you had formed a mutual understanding that only grew into fondness after meeting the rest of his pack. They were a functioning mix of weird and quirky: a leading alpha that was a big, soft bear, another alpha that was rough on the edge but caring, an overenergetic and fiery omega and a beta that represented everything you liked in one, calm, open-minded and smart. It was odd seeing you join them so often and continuously on Ops that didn’t need much of CIA intervention, but you all made it work.

You’d become a familiar face on base, a blunt and no-nonsense agent to new people, but cracked jokes and smiled with those you knew. Fiercely protective of your pack as much as they were with you. If Soap was a menace, then you were an omen, your deep frown and growling snarl, baring your teeth as a warning before you attacked. The world had taught you to bark and bite —and bite you did, a strong and dangerous one, leaving you bruised and roughed up, but your opponent gasping for life and battered.

Honestly, sometimes you were more trouble than it’s worth, but wouldn’t have it any other way.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @haven-1307 @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[nyc-tophile]

𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 | Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier x fem!reader

After helping Bucky face his past, you began to break through his walls—until a nightmare unraveled his progress and pushed him into silence. Despite the distance and pain, you stayed, offering quiet support. And one night, as he sat beside you, something unspoken passed between you. The fragile beginning of trust. But nothing is ever peaceful for long, and you know that.

Warnings: ooc winter soldier, PTSD and trauma triggers, nightmares, panic attacks, emotional distress, references to captivity and torture, physical violence, intense psychological tension, anxiety, mild injury (facial hit), mentions of weapons and threat of violence, stalking/being hunted, and moments of vulnerability and recovery.

Author’s Note: I apologize for the late post; I wanted to take a day to relax from writing. I’m also really sorry if this part sounds rushed. I was trying to get it out as soon as possible because I didn’t want to keep you guys waiting. I hope you guys enjoy it still, and any feedback is appreciated <3

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟓 | 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟕

It had only been a few days since you talked with Bucky. You thought things were going well, and the two of you had settled into different routines that seemed to work.

Your mornings started late, you’d wake up, head to the kitchen, make coffee, and eat something simple. Bucky, on the other hand, was always up by 5 a.m. You’d find him outside on the patio, just sitting there, staring straight ahead.

With two coffee cups in hand, you slid open the patio door, set one cup down beside him, and placed the other on the opposite side of the table before taking a seat.

“How are you?” you asked, turning to face him, then to the trees surrounding you both.

He didn’t answer right away, sitting in silence until he finally said, “Trying to figure out life.”

You understood. Going from being held captive for most of his life, forced to kill, to now hiding in a secret mountain safehouse after surviving a fall from a train, it was a lot to process, a difficult bite to swallow.

You nodded slowly, taking a sip of your coffee, your eyes drifting to the sunlight filtering through the leaves. It was calm and quiet. The only sounds were the gentle flow of the river and the soft hum of insects nearby.

“How about we do something today?” you asked, turning to face him. You noticed his eyebrows draw together, his mind elsewhere.

“Steve said we can’t leave unless something happens,” he replied, turning to face you now, his expression once again serious and unreadable.

“Yeah, well, I know that. But I was organizing some things in the living room, and I saw some board and card games we could play!” you chirped.

Bucky glanced at you, his expression unchanged, but his eyes lingered a second longer than usual.

“Board games?” he repeated, as if the concept was foreign. Maybe, in some ways, it was.

You gave him a small smile, nudging the cup of coffee closer to him. “Yeah. Not exactly a covert op or anything, but... It’s something. Better than sitting around in silence all day, right?”

“I don’t remember how to play most of them,” he admitted quietly.

You shrugged. “We’ll figure it out. I mean, I doubt I’ll be amazing at it either. But that’s kind of the fun part.”

After a moment, Bucky finally stood, taking his mug with him.

“Alright,” he said. “Show me these games.”

You blinked, then smiled as you followed him inside, something light and unfamiliar beginning to settle in your chest. It wasn’t joy exactly, not yet. But it was close. Hope, maybe. Or something like it.

You led the way back inside, the warmth of the sun fading into the cool stillness of the safehouse. The floor creaked softly beneath your steps.

Walking to the stand beneath the TV, you pulled out different colorful game boxes, stacking them in your arms before moving to the center of the room. You sat cross-legged on the rug, scattering the games out in front of you.

You glanced up and motioned for Bucky to join. He did, slowly, lowering himself onto the couch with hesitant movements, his eyes scanning the boxes in quiet curiosity.

You picked up a deck of cards and started shuffling them.

“Go Fish?” you offered lightly.

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s a real game?”

You grinned. “As real as it gets.”

The first few rounds were stiff. Bucky moved like he was still waiting for a command, like playfulness was a foreign language. But you didn’t rush him. Each glance he gave you lasted a little longer than the last, the tension in his shoulders gradually easing.

That’s how the rest of the day went—the two of you switching between different games.

Your laughter filled the house as you taught him how to play UNO, watching his face twist in confusion as he tried to understand why he had to pick up twelve cards.

That’s what it was like for the next few days; it became a routine. Morning coffee, quiet afternoons, the occasional card game or two. He was still reserved, but he stayed near. And that was something.

-----

Then came the night it all changed.

It was late, the kind of late where the world feels suspended. You’d just stepped out of the shower, the air cool against your damp skin, your hair dripping quietly onto the wooden floor.

The house was wrapped in stillness. Even the trees outside were silent.

You moved through the hallway, bare feet padding against the floorboards, and sat on the edge of your bed. Towel in hand, as you rubbed your hair dry, letting the comfort of routine calm you.

You thought of Bucky, how he’d scowled earlier while trying to learn rummy, grumbling about the rules just before laying down a perfect hand without realizing it. The sound of your laughter, his reluctant smile… it lingered like warmth in your chest.

You exhaled quietly, the memory warming your chest. You folded the towel over your lap, settling into the calm.

Then you heard it.

A sharp, guttural scream tore through the quiet night. Your heart jumped into your throat.

Without hesitation, you dropped the towel to the floor, feet already moving. The hallway blurred around you as you sprinted toward Bucky’s room, the sound of your heartbeat pounding louder than the creaking floorboards beneath you.

You found him tangled in the sheets. His chest heaved with ragged breaths, sweat glistening on his forehead. His eyes were open, caught in the grip of a nightmare that refused to let go. He muttered something you couldn’t quite make out, words in Russian, broken phrases that made your skin prickle.

Then, suddenly, too fast to react, his arm lashed out, metal fist swinging blindly in panic. It struck your cheek hard, a flash of white-hot pain exploding behind your eyes.

You staggered back but didn’t fall. Didn’t yell. Didn’t run.

One hand pressed to your stinging cheek, the other outstretched—calm, steady.

“Bucky,” you said softly. “It’s me. You’re safe. It’s just a dream.”

Everything stilled.

His eyes focused, recognition piercing the fog. Then came the shame. The horror.

He collapsed backward, trembling, eyes avoiding yours like the weight of what he’d done was too much.

From that night on, everything shifted.

-----

Bucky became quieter. Not the quiet of someone at peace, but the heavy, weighted silence of someone waging a war inside his head. The tension in his shoulders never fully relaxed, and his gaze often drifted, distant, haunted, like he was still trapped somewhere he couldn’t escape from.

It wasn’t just the way he flinched at sudden sounds or how he’d stop mid-step if he caught a glimpse of his reflection in a dark window. It was the way he seemed to fold inward, shrinking from touch, from comfort.

Simple things became triggers. A dropped spoon would send a shiver down him, his whole body rigid like he expected an attack to come next. The worst were the shadows, late at night, when headlights passed the window just right, and the flicker made him freeze like prey in the dark.

-----

One evening, you were sitting at the kitchen table, folding laundry, lost in the soothing rhythm of the task. The smell of warm cotton and detergent filled the room.

Then came the sound.

A plate crashed onto the floor behind you. The noise sending a jolt through your spine.

Bucky stood frozen by the counter, hands shaking, eyes wide and glazed. His chest rose and fell in short, sharp bursts. His knuckles were white where they gripped the edge of the sink.

You didn’t speak right away. You didn’t need to. You moved to him slowly, carefully, resting your hand lightly on his arm.

He didn’t flinch, but he didn’t look at you either. Just kept breathing like he was trying not to fall apart.

You stayed there with him, silent. A steady presence in the wreckage of a moment.

-----

Day by day, you adjusted. You walked more softly. Shut drawers more quietly. Left the lights on in the hallway so there were fewer shadows. You paid attention to his body language, the way his jaw clenched, or how his hand would twitch when the silence got too loud.

You didn’t ask questions he couldn’t answer. You didn’t push him to explain what he was feeling.

Instead, you offered something gentler. A hand brushing his when you passed each other. A warm meal was left waiting on the stove when he didn’t join you for dinner. The quiet reassurance of someone who wasn’t leaving.

There were nights when he’d snap, his voice sharp, his words clipped, his frustration bubbling over into anger aimed at nothing and everything. You never took it personally.

And other times, he’d disappear into the corners of the safehouse, places where the walls felt far enough apart to breathe. You let him go, knowing he’d return when he could.

But you never left. Not once.

You offered silence when words failed. Held space when his grief and guilt grew too loud to bear. And in return, he started to lean, just a little.

Not in big, obvious ways. But in the softest ones.

A brush of his fingers over yours when he passed you a mug. A lingering look that held more than he could say. The way he sat a little closer some nights, his shoulder nearly touching yours.

It wasn’t a fix. It wasn’t a cure. But it was something.

And in that slow, quiet way, he began to trust you again, not fully but one breath, one step, one moment at a time.

-----

It was well into the night now. You sat alone on the couch, eyes watching the soft dance of flames in the fireplace.

Your mind wandered through memories. The day you first saw Bucky, the fragile beginning of trust, the card games, the laughter, the nightmares.

But also the progress.

You heard his footsteps approaching from down the hall, slow, hesitant. You didn’t move. Didn’t speak. You just stayed there, eyes fixed on the flickering fire.

Then, you felt the weight of the couch shift as he sat down on the opposite side.

The quiet night wrapped around the two of you like a blanket. The fire cast a gentle glow across the room, its light dancing over his face.

He didn’t say anything. Neither did you.

But somehow, the silence wasn’t heavy anymore.

His shoulder rested just close enough to yours that you could feel the warmth of him, not quite touching, but near. Present.

It wasn’t an apology. It wasn’t a promise. But it was something.

And in a life where so much had been stolen from him, where so many nights ended in pain or panic, this stillness, this choice to sit beside you, was a beginning.

You glanced over at him once, just for a moment.

He was staring into the flames, jaw relaxed, expression unreadable—but calmer than before. The haunted look he so often wore had softened, just barely, like the shadows in his mind had quieted for the night.

You didn’t speak. You didn’t need to.

Instead, you leaned back into the cushions, letting the silence settle, warm and full.

For the first time in days, you both just existed, together, in the same space, breathing the same air, sharing the same silence.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough for now.

You didn’t know what the future days would bring, whether the weight he carried would rise again, or if this peace would hold.

But as the fire crackled low and his presence remained beside you, something in you reminded you that he was still trying. And you were still here.

-----

It was the next day, the morning started slowly and quietly; the sun filtered weakly through the cabin’s windows, casting pale light over the quiet room. You sat at the small kitchen table, cradling a warm mug of coffee, the steam curling lazily upward. Outside, the forest was still, serene, and untouched.

Bucky stood by the window, eyes scanning the trees beyond, his metal arm resting on the windowsill. The quiet had become a fragile comfort after days of restless nights and silent fears.

Then, the satellite radio crackled sharply in the corner, breaking the stillness. Static hissed for a moment before Steve’s voice came through, low and urgent.

“This is Rogers. We’ve got a situation. Hydra’s been tracking the signal from your safe house. They’re moving in your direction. Natasha’s on her way up, but stay alert.”

Your heart jumped. You exchanged a glance with Bucky, whose jaw clenched tightly. The faint flicker of steel in his eyes was back, that cold, hard edge beneath the man you’d come to know.

“Fucking Hydra” you said, annoyance lacing your words, setting down your mug

For the first time since arriving here, it felt like the past was closing in again, but this time, you wouldn’t face it alone.

You moved quickly but carefully, the weight of Steve’s warning settling heavily between you. Bucky was already gathering the few weapons stored in the cabin, old pistols, some knives, and the rifle Steve had left behind. His metal arm flexed, a familiar but still unsettling sound in the quiet room.

“I’ll check the perimeter,” Bucky said, voice low, steady. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw the conflict inside him, the soldier trained for battle, and the man trying to protect what little peace he’d found.

You nodded, your fingers tightening around the edge of the table. “I’ll stay inside and keep watch. If they come, we won’t be caught off guard.”

The silence stretched between you, no longer weighted by fear, but by unspoken understanding.

Outside, the wind picked up, rattling the windows. Bucky moved toward the door, pausing just long enough to let you see the resolve in his gaze. “Be careful.”

You gave a small, encouraging smile. “I will, I promise.”

The door shut softly behind him.

Alone, you turned toward the fireplace, the flames flickering uncertainly in the growing dusk. Your mind raced, memories of past fights, losses, and the fragile hope you’d found here.

And yet, beneath it all, a fierce determination blossomed. Not just to survive. To protect each other. To rebuild from the shadows.

Because whatever Hydra’s coming for, they weren’t getting you without a fight.

The cabin felt smaller somehow, the walls pressing in as the silence stretched. You paced slowly, the weight of the rifle heavy in your hands as you moved from window to window, eyes flicking over every shadow, every trembling leaf outside.

Time seemed to warp, minutes stretched like hours, and your breath came shallow, barely louder than the crackling fire behind you.

A sudden crack, a twig snapping underfoot, made you freeze. Your heart hammered as your gaze snapped toward the door.

Footsteps. Someone was out there.

You gripped the rifle tightly, knuckles whitening.

Then, the sound of quiet movement by the back window. You shifted cautiously, careful not to make a sound.

“Bucky?” you whispered, voice trembling.

A figure emerged from the trees, Natasha. Her presence was a comfort, sharp and focused, her eyes scanning the surroundings with practiced precision.

“It’s just me, relax, Rogers said, Hydra’s close,” she said softly, moving inside, already assessing the cabin’s defenses.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Bucky appeared behind her, silently sliding the door closed, his eyes locking with yours for a brief moment, the unspoken promise of protection and trust shining there.

“We’ve got this,” was all he said.

You trusted him, but something in the air had shifted.

A stillness that felt too deliberate.

Natasha moved through the room without a word, checking the locks, peering through the corners of each window like she’d done it a hundred times. Bucky remained near the door, rifle slung over one shoulder, his posture rigid.

Bucky didn’t move, eyes locked on the trees. You stepped closer to the glass, heart pounding. Nothing. No sound. No wind. No birds. Just silence.

Then, Bucky tensed, and Natasha froze.

You didn’t see it yet. But they did.

That’s when you knew, Hydra had found you.

join my тαgℓιѕт -

@avgdestitute, @chimchoom, @xoxo-moonlight, @justanotherlonelybard, @spring-soldier, @vyviiennestar

[karaaaak]

Is it 4 am when I posted this, yes. Do I car. No. Get attacked with my draft about some things about some of the specters I find neat! If anything I say in this post is wrong, or could have something added to it I would LOVE feedback, I’m still getting the hang of long form posts lol

Anywho! Most of my point here are going to be from either Wikipedia or someone else’s post. I have really bad memory so if I say something that seem familiar to a post you or someone you know made then people mention it and I’ll tag them!

First specter I’m gonna talk about is Eulalie’s.

Eulalies specter, as show, is a chimera, more specifically a Baku!

Baku’s are “Japanese supernatural beings that are said to devour nightmares”. Which explains Eulalie dreameating and possibly also the dispeller of evil spirits ability

Another fact I found interesting is that in a legend about the Baku “a child would wake up form a nightmare and call for the Baku by repeating “Baku-San, come eat my dream” three times. Then the Baku will come into the child’s room and eat the nightmare and the child will go back to sleep peacefully. However calling the Baku should be used sparingly, because if they remain hungry after eating a nightmare they may also devour the child’s hopes and dreams as well.”

Im not to sure if that is relevant to Eulalies character at all but I felt like it was worth adding!

Another thing that many have pointed out is that the markings of Eulalies arms resemble burn marks. Along with the fact that after using her dispeller of evil spirits ability she coughs a flame of fire.

Next specter I wanna talk about is Bernice’s!

I don’t have too too much to talk about with her specter, just some bits and bobs I picked up on rereads

Bernice’s specter in one of my favorites, just because of the fact it’s similar to a self defense mechanism for lack of a better term. Basically what I mean by that is the things she list is death her specter has a large amount of, and another things. Which leads me to the mouths.

The mouths, to me, are extremely interesting. If i remember correctly I read this on a post so credit or op even though I can’t remember who it was 😭. But the placements of the mouths on her specter could be the places she was touched without consent and/or inappropriately. The mouths seem to work as a self defense to her body, biting at whoever comes near on their own. Proctecting those spot of her.

Another thing about her design is the focus on teeth. First then her death and her teeth falling out, and on her specter, with the large teeth on the extra mouths. This association comes from the Edgar Allen Poe story she was based on, Bernice. If you haven’t read it I will spare you you read and put the wiki summary here

“The story is narrated by Egaeus, who is preparing to marry his cousin Berenice. He tends to fall into periods of intense focus, during which he seems to separate himself from the outside world. Berenice begins to deteriorate from an unnamed disease until only her teeth remain healthy. Egaeus obsesses over them. When Berenice is buried, he continues to contemplate her teeth. One day, he awakens with an uneasy feeling from a trance-like state and hears screams. A servant reports that Berenice's grave has been disturbed, and she is still alive. Beside Egaeus is a shovel, a poem about "visiting the grave of my beloved", and a box containing 32 teeth.”

Weird, i know. 😭

Another thing is her pearls. I couldn’t find any mentions of pearls in her story but she has a strange association with them. From them falling off during her death, her having many of them in her specter, and even her outfit in the fast pass episode (fast pass at the time of writing this but ep 126). I’m not to sure what this mean but i figured it throw it in!

Im think thats all imma do in this post, maybe if i find motivation ill make a reblog of this with Ada and Monty (if not Monty then Annabel)

[nmr0709]

Lucid dreaming

Aka Caleb's standard myth

Spoilers:

First off- why did every myth not have a satisfactory ending?! Infold, you'll put every single girl in depression. I wasn't over Sylus's dragon myth and then this?

Onto main-

MC visits Skyhaven, for a mission with Farspace fleet .

Caleb is super smart. Hell, he'll give even Dr.Zayne a run for his money. Fucking sly fox this guy is.

He guesses her purpose, invites him over to his place.

Beautiful house. Beautiful place.

Long story short, he's nominated as a new Commander of Tuum fleet, with the previous commander and soldiers being placed under him. MC is there to investigate this and he gives her the files for clearance.

MC notices that things ain't adding up. People who were hostile, after medical examination are now docile. Before she can catch one person, Caleb comes in with food and tells her he has a meeting.

Caleb- knows MC better than she knows herself. And has planned down 20 steps ahead of her. Never give this man chess to play. He'll wreck everyone hands down.

Cue MC snooping around( again) and getting caught( again). Really girl? Really? Why the hell .... There's a reason you're on field and never in covert ops..but Pls Learn Subtlety

She manages to steal a chip and access his files before being revoked access and Caleb confronts her. Says either you be happy and stay out of this mess or I'll be dragged to HQ and questioned.

At this point- Caleb is shady af. Like so shady he makes Sylus pale in comparison.

Next up mega banquet to celebrate Caleb's promotion.

Caleb is attacked by the previously demoted colonel and company, he sends MC away to safety while he deals with them.

Guy has no qualms about manipulating her just so she can stay safe?! Like red flag but also green?

MC waiting for him realises she's been duped, and self implants a chip without him knowing.

The man that he is- goes to her- tells her she is his forever- and faints in her arms.

Guy is scary fine but absolutely down for her. Like yandere tendencies and controlling and possesive...gurl you down bad for him? It's toxic but...idk at this point. She enables him a lot ngl

Next- Caleb faints, has a seizure, and loses all his memories thanks to his chip

MC- she plays him and tells him he is hers. Gives no in lination of telling him anything about his lost memories. ( GURLL WHATT?!!)

They go to an amusement park- she faints thanks to her chip- turns out Caleb had all his memories and was playing her.

What in the 5D chess is this??!! Caleb my man. My amazing hunk of revived corpse and flesh. Wut. I'm shook. But very very impressed with your tactics ngl. Extremely well played.

MC is taken to infirmary to get her chip removed forcefully - she will lose her memories but will retain some recall of it.

cue her throwing a fit- refusing it- Caleb somehow convincing her ( slight gaslighting?)

She's done with him. Removes his tie and coat.

Those bite marks on his hand? Hers. Apparently he gives her his hand everytime she's sick so that she doesn't accidently bite her own tongue off. ( So sweet man but don't distract me)

MC is ultimately forced to have the chip removed. Has little recollection of ehatvexactly happened on Skyhaven. And goes back.

End note-

Infold I will curate every single myth and play it on loop till you cry.

Point is- amazing amazing portrayal of Caleb and backstory. Human experimentation for the ultimate weapon, Caleb being chosen and put through it( not all details revealed yet in myth) , him being forced to give up his emotions and humanity and yet, he never forgets MC.

Caleb is the walking red flag of LADS but.. idk even at this point. Guy's like the morally grey character with a solid backstory and reasoning for it. Can't wait for more.

To the fans thinking Sylus is a red flag? Brothers and sisters, compared to this Bucky Barnes inspired persona, he's a green forest.

More on analysis and emo dump later.

Toodaloo!! And thanks for reading this monster of a post.

[dadyscumslutprincess20]

I’ve never asked for requests before, so I feel embarrassed 😭 if you could do a version of where either the reader is pleasuring Ryu shi oh or either he is eating her out. Idk I feel so embarrassed😭

Ryu Shi Oh x Fem!Reader (Black and Korean)

Genre : Smut 🔥

Warning ⚠️: office sex

~ Kind of short , writing five at once can do a part two for this if requested ~

Embarrassed , exposed and so dirty is how you felt as your back laid gently on top of your husbands office desk , his strong vainly hands holding your legs causing your knees to touch your chest , your breast exposed as they pressed together , your legs wide open for the whole world to see your cheeks becoming hot as you remember your husbands office is full of large windows his desk behind in the view were the street and the working lot which had workers loading the trucks lucky for you they were all busy trying to get their work done as fast as possible

You would be screwed if any happened to look up towards your husband’s office seeing his taller muscular figure sat on his knees his face buried deep in your soaked cunt your juices covering his face as you lost track of how many times you’ve came already but Shi Oh didn’t care using his tongue to draw different shapes inside your dripping hole

Groaning as he feels you tighten on his tongue slowly taking his tongue from your dripping hole as he licks from your dripping entrance up to your clit before attaching his mouth on to your clit as he starts to cut and lick at your clit letting go of one of your legs slowly trails down your thigh giving it a hard squeeze before slowly working his hand down to your dripping hole teasing your hole his long fingers playing with your fluids

“S-Shi Oh p-please stop teasing” Reader moans out as you use your elbows to sit upright pleading eyes looking your husband in the eyes

Letting out a small groan causing vibrations to run through your clit , your hole tighten as you feel two of Ryu Shi Oh’s long slender fingers enter your entrance plumping his fingers in and out of your soaked cunt , letting out a moan biting at your bottom lip not wanting to make to much sound knowing one of his workers was standing outside of his office door , just the thought sent shivers down your spine

Biting down on your lip as Ryu Shi oh slowly inserts two fingers in your dripping hole your walls tightening finally feeling full not wasting any time as he pushes he fingers in and out of your cunt at a fast past while he ducks and licks at your clit his eyes looking up at you with lust removing his mouth from your soaked cunt standing to his feet making sure not to remove his fingers instead picking up his past

Letting go of your leg with his other hand not before telling you to hold them in place , his talk figure staring down at you a smirk held on his lips watching with great eyes as he grabs at your neck slightly giving it a squeeze

“Your such a needy whore you know that” Ryu Shi oh says voice deep and full of lust , he eyes never leaving yours causing you to moan quickly shaking your head in denial

“Yes you are love, your a brat you know never knew how the wait I was in a important meeting you know than you came in with your whining..” Ryu Shi oh continues a smile forming on his lips as you look at him with teary eyes tears running down your face as you shake your head in detail once again only causing him to get annoyed

“And now you lying to my face”Ryu Shi Oh says his voice a bit raised as he gives you a dark look

“N-no S-Shi” reader moans put tears continuing to run down your cheek your hips slightly buckling on Shi oh’s fingers as you fell him slowly down his pace

“You lying brat” Shi Oh says in a raised voice hands never leaving your neck as he slowly drops by to his knees before his attacked his mouth to your soaked cunt as he starts his violent assault to your now sensitive clit

“S-SHI OH” Reader moans out legs shaking as you try to close them only for Ryu Shi Oh to force them back open giving you a death stare as you quickly hold them back in place trying your hardest to keep them open as Ryu Shi oh sucks at your clit his fingers curling inside your cunt picking up his past as his fingers constantly hit at your g-spot forming a knot in your stomach as you look down at Ryu Shi Oh with pleasing eyes only for him to chuckle causing vibrations to run through your body

“P-Please .. S-Shi I n-need to c-cum please I c-can’t..” reader moans put nails now digging in your thighs sure that you’ll have a bruise from how tight of a hold you had on your thighs blood dripping from your now nail markers left in your thigh throat slightly sore from how loud you were

Watching as Ryu Shi oh rolls his eyes giving a small hm that send causes vibrations feeling the knot in your stomach finally snap as you feel your juices cover Ryu Shi oh’s face his eyes widening as he removes his mouth your juices dripping down his chin taking his fingers from your dripping hole as he sees he’s hand is covered in your juices feeing his pants tighten as he looks at you with dark eyes

“Do it again on my dick this time ,yeah” Ryu Shi oh says as he stands to his feet eyes full of lust as your body shivers

[tacticaldiary]

hi hello, if you have the chance, could u write a ghost x reader of an overworked/ burnt out reader who faints or something. just stressed out overprotective ghost to warm our hearts <3

thank you so much xxx

Bone Tired

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort ; Fluff

Ghost knows she's been pushing herself but he didn't think it was this bad. She nearly gives him a goddamn heart attack by collapsing right in front of him.

"Don't make me tie you to the bed."

"Jokes on you, I'm into that." She snickers at the long-suffering sigh he lets out.

Masterlist

Just because they weren't deployed on a mission didn't mean things were any less busy for them back at base. Drills, morning runs, training, paperwork, and more; there was always something to keep them busy.

"Focus." The low timber of his voice snaps her out of her thoughts, dragging her back to the present. "I would've incapacitated you three times by now." Ghost says with a frown. Or at least she thinks he's frowning under that mask. He sure sounds like it.

"Yeah, sorry L.T." She blinks, widening her stance and dragging her tired mind to attention. Everything just felt...off. Her clothes were too itchy, the bright fluorescent lights hanging from the room were too prickly, and the training mat under her feet felt difficult to get her footing into. Maybe she was catching a bug? She'd been feeling mildly feverish the past few days, after all, sporting a headache she opted to power through with painkillers.

Grunts and groans and jeers echo around them as others take their turn to spar with each other. She'd already lost against Gaz once, a rare outcome in itself, and now she was pretty sure Ghost was going easy on her. She's surprised she isn't face-first on the mat right now, actually.

Blinking away the knowledge that her arms feel like lead and her mind foggy, she lunges at him with her fist, an attack easily parried and side stepped by the man.

In all honestly, she's known for a while that she needed a proper break. A few days to herself full of nothing. The last op she'd been on had been long and gruelling, a solo one at that, weeks' worth of trekking through a mountain range far south in the cold to get to an isolated camp where their target had been laying low. It was a success, but she swears she can still feel the snow bite into her flesh if she thinks too hard about it.

The moment she'd got back there had been debriefings with Price to attend, files to be reported to Laswell, all the while keeping up with her usual routine and drills...

Her eyes widen as she's spun around, an arm circling her throat and pinning her in a hold.

"You're sloppy." Ghost clicks his tongue from behind her, and if she were any less exhausted, maybe she would have felt a shiver go down her spine.

Here, they were just soldiers, but in private? That's a whole other story. Their relationship had to be kept under wraps for a multitude of reasons, but Simon was one of the best things that had ever happened to her. Having someone who understood her work, who shared the experience and knew exactly what she was talking about, who knew the best ways to comfort and listen and advise her...it was rare.

A rare and beautiful thing, that's what they had. They helped each other grow, made up for the others weaknesses and blind spots.

But they weren't in private right now, so after she taps his arm to concede, he pushes her away, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Are you ill?" He asks tightly, eyes going up and down her body as if he could detect whatever was making her pause. She'd seemed fine the last time he saw her, but clearly something was wrong if she was this...dazed?

She shakes her head. "Just didn't sleep well last night." She lies through her teeth. She couldn't afford to be sick right now, couldn't afford the luxury of wasting time resting. She still had to report to Laswell, attend a meeting on what the next steps were to reach their targets close contacts. Then she promised Soap she'd hit the shooting range with him, and then Gaz asked her to help him with that paperwork he had to fill out...

Taking a step back, she stumbles a little.

It all bubbles up inside her, overwhelming and insurmountable, a mountain of work that keeps piling up to reach new heights and-

Was Ghost talking? She blinks, trying to get the ringing out of her ears. It was loud and annoying, and it made the headache she'd been sporting since yesterday stronger.

Ghost's eyes widen. He's definitely saying something. She hopes Simon knows she wasn't ignoring her on purpose. She was always good at reading him, so maybe if her vision would stop spotting and focus, she could actually see his eyes properly and figure out what was wrong.

In the end, the roaring in her ears becomes deafening, to the point where she squeezes her eyes shut. How easy would it be to just...stay like this. Just for one moment. To revel in the nothingness of the dark, where she got just one second of silence away from the list of things she had to keep doing.

Just one more moment.

Another step back, an unsteady sway.

She hits the ground hard, the last thing she hears being the yell of her name from that familiar, rough voice.

                                  · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Bleary eyes blink themselves awake, squinting against the warm glow of the lamp by her bedside table. Groaning, she attempts to sit up, only to widen her eyes in alarm when a hand firmly pushes her back.

Instincts kicking in, her hand flies up to latch onto the wrist in a weak grip.

"It's just me." The low voice has her relaxes instantly, hand falling away onto the bed.

"Simon." She says, surprised when her voice doesn't come out as more than a whisper. "Where...what happened?" She winces at the throbbing in her head as she takes in the scene. Simon settled down in a chair next to her, a book laying open faced on her side table.

"You passed out." He says, plainly worried. "The medics said you fainted from exhaustion. Ain't that something to explain, love?" Now that he's ditched the mask, she can see the creases of worry in his forehead, the downwards quirk of his lips. "Damn near gave me a heart attack."

"Passed out?" She echoes, trying to remember. "I...guess I did."

She sure feels like it. Her body feels like lead, as if it's doing everything it can to ensure she stays in bed. Shivering slightly, she looks around for another blanket. When she reaches for the fluffy duvet folded at the foot of her bed, it's immediately snatched out of reach by Simon.

"Give it." She demands, reaching a hand out.

"You have a fever." Simon shakes his head, holding the item out of reach. "It'll break quicker this way."

"I'm fine." She protests, managing to sit up this time under his unimpressed stare. "I'm alright, Simon. Can't afford to be sick right now."

"That's not how it works." He sighs, standing up. "I thought I'd hurt you for a moment." She watches him walk towards the small table near the opposite wall, fiddling with something there while he talked. "Damn near took a year of my life away with how you crumpled onto the mat."

"It wasn't you." She assures him quickly. Some of the tension visibly drains from his shoulder in what she can only assume is relief. Needless as it is, she feels a little guilty. How long had he been thinking her passing out had been his fault? No, this was on her, on her busy schedule and-

Wait, what time was it?

Dread curls up in her gut as she slowly turns towards the small window. The lamp was on when she woke up, of course it was night.

"I was just tired is all." She says, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "But I'm as fresh as a daisy now, and I've got so much shit to do." She lets out an anxious, long breath as her brain kicks in, charting how much time she'd lost, how quickly she'd need to work to get it all done-

"I have that meeting with Laswell...I wonder if Price thinks I just didn't show up to his office..." She doesn't realise she's been muttering her thoughts aloud until Ghost cuts her off.

"You're not going anywhere, sweetheart." He declares over his shoulder. "Get your ass back in bed."

"I can't, there's too much I have to do today." She protests. "And I've already lost half the day-"

"I wasn't asking."

"Simon-" He turns around and she finally sees what he's been doing.

"Don't make me tie you to the bed." His threat is much less effective when he's holding one of her mugs that says 'Bad Bitch' in obnoxious neon pink calligraphy, the phrase surrounded by a flowery border. She'd got it for him as a gag gift for his last birthday and had cackled at the dead, unimpressed stare he fixed her with. It had remained in his room for a while before she'd snatched it, claiming she'd actually appreciate it.

"Jokes on you, I'm into that." She snickers at the long-suffering sigh he lets out. Her laughs morph into a deep chest-rattling cough that wipes the smile off her face and leaves her wincing.

Sitting next to her after tossing the pillow onto the mattress, he brings the warm mug of tea up to her. "Easy does it." He mutters quietly when she grabs it from him and takes a drink.

"Thank you." She sighs, handing it back.

"Talk to me." He orders, not unkindly. Simon wasn't someone who was all lovey-dovey, but he loved just as hard and much as the next person. Just because he didn't choose to flourish it with pretty words and smiles doesn't mean she felt any less cared for.

He was a man of action, through and through.

Little touches throughout the day, silent glances checking in with her. Staying by her side during missions, working in tandem and recognising when she needed space versus when she needed him near.

He was her other half, and it had been eating away at him that he didn't fucking realise she was this unwell until the consequences caught up with her.

Ghost won't admit the primal flash of fear that struck through him when she'd crumpled to the ground like that. He thought he'd hurt her while sparring, that he'd done something to make her pass out like that. Even after the medics cleared her and he carried her here, tucked her in and everything, there was still a nagging worry of 'what-if' in his mind.

The relief of hearing her confirm it wasn't him was tainted by the knowledge that he hadn't noticed her pushing herself.

After a moment of deliberation, she gives in, tucking herself back into bed and thinking for a moment. She tells him everything, tells him how she hasn't had a second to herself in these past few days, telling him about the load she has on her shoulders and the crushing time limit ticking down in her ears for every task she had.

He listens quietly, to his credit, doesn't interrupt her even when she trails off, having to muster up the energy to keep going.

The fact that talking tired her out to this degree made his heart twist uncomfortably.

"I didn't think I had a choice but to take it all head on." She finishes, stifling a yawn. She looks up at him for his response when he doesn't talk, finds him staring at her with a half-lidded gaze, a furrow in his brow.

"Why didn't you ask me?"

"Ask you what?" She asks, confused.

"For help."

That was...a good question. It takes her a second to come up with a sheepish answer. "I...I didn't think of that." She admits, drawing out another quiet sigh from him.

"You're going to be the death of me." He grumbles, but she can't complain when he's gently tugging her to the side and climbing in with her under the covers. "I've sorted things out with Price and Laswell. Do whatever else you need to when you're capable of not face planting into the mats again."

A warm feeling of gratitude washes over her, her heart warming with the kind gesture. It was so...it was so Simon.

When he tangles their legs together and tucks her into his side, she wrinkles her nose. "I'm all sweaty." She tries to argue, tapping at his shoulder half-heartedly when he lays down with her, a strong arm around her waist pulling her in.

"I've had your blood on my hands before, I don't think sweat is going to be a problem." She can hear his voice rumble low in his chest, right under where he head rests, and she hides a smile in the fabric of his shirt.

When he runs a hand through her hair, she practically melts against him.

Eventually, her shivering stops, replaced with a bone-deep warmth that nothing could chase away. Simon. The warmth of him, of his care, of his love. She'd take it over a heatpack any day.

His arms around her make her relax. Nothing would nag at her, drag her away to chain her to a desk under Simon's watch, that much she knows. Safe. Protected. The feeling was rare living the life she did with her job, but Simon made it so easy to believe that she was untouchable as long as she was with him.

Before she knows it, her eyes flutter shut and her breathing evens out, because goddamn did the bastard know exactly where and how to touch her to get her all sleepy and relaxed.

"Thank you." She mumbles against him, words half incoherent.

"Always, love." He rumbles back, brushing his lips over her head.

Requests Are Open! Reblog, Like and Comment!

(16/07/2023)

[muletia]

Naga ratchet anon here with the merformers ideas that have been tumbling about in my brain! I've been brainastorming family scenarios cuz I'm also a sucker for silly family scenarios. Also, Optimus is so dad coded, big gentle dad

I really want to give Optimus a lil girl to spoil, but in my heart, I can't stop imagining him having a son and imagining mer OP and his son to that one bit in lion king where Simba is trying to wake up Mufasa. Imagine OP and his mate resting, the sun is just barely rising, and then OP's and his mates infant comes rushing in, nibbling and tugging on OP's fins to get him to wake up. OP going for a swim and his lil baby boy sticking close to pa, swimming alongside him excitedly

Now Ratchet, poor stressed out old man Ratchet. I can't picture him with anything but a chaotic little girl. After mating, his mates pregnancy is actually very calm and the birthing goes smoothly, the baby is so tiny, Ratchet can cradle them in one palm, they are so calm and peaceful, barely crying...and then bam when that kid learns how to co-ordinate themselves in the water the stress hits. Ratchet and his mate cannot have one peaceful day anymore, Ratchet's kid giving him a heart attack at least three times a day minimum, he turns his back for all but a second and his kid is GONE. Mer Ratchet going into mother hen mode and herding his offspring back to their underwater nest/den while his baby is all grumpy and pouty they can't go exploring >:(

Megtron. Fisty girl. Headbuts and bites everything, including Megtron. I can see Megtron at first being a little annoyed at the disobedience, even if the headbutts and bits barely hurt him, but when Megatron see's his offspring terrorising Starscream and chasing after him relentlessly Megtron smirks proudly. Most of the time the baby stays with his mate while he hunts to provide, but imagining Megatron growing just the teeniest, tiniest of soft spots for his offspring. The baby headbutting and chewing on his arm, to which Megtron will either - not harshly - push them over and the two continue to rough house. Or - very rare - Megtron rolls over in a form of mock defeat, sort of like how lions will pretend to be hurt when their cubs try to "attack" them

This last one is mostly for laughs but Knockout with a boy who is the same species of merformer as him, and is also just as prideful with their looks. His offspring is constantly trying to puff out their chest to look grand and intimidating, Knockout thinks it's amusing, until he tries to cuddle up with his mate and his baby - his own flesh and blood - chirps at him angrily and puffs up at him. No cuddling mama for pa. Knockout and his offspring now "fight" for your attention like the attention seeking babies they are

Okay, this is PEAK

Aaaa I adore all of these scenarios, I’m not even sure if I have anything to add, because I don’t know if I could possibly top them.

I’ll just say that I lost it at the Knockout part, because he would totally be jealous of his own sparkling like the boyfailure he is. He’d be so pathetic about it, purposefully sending his kid off to bring or fetch something just so he could get a moment alone with you. And I can totally imagine him puffing out his bottom lip and crossing his arms across his chest, watching as you and your little one cuddle up together while he gets left out. You are absolutely not making a second child. No way