#but you know your rights so you just silently wait for him to order

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Hi! I just have to know- will there be a part 2 to Not Quite Poison? I absolutely loved it and the ending was amazing!!!! ❤️❤️❤️

AN: Much love <3 I am so sorry for the wait!

Not Quite Poison {pt. 2}

Barty Crouch Jr. x Potter!Reader

Summary: How Barty came into the dark mark, making his way onto the right side for the wrong reasons.

WC: 20K

CW: this is Uhm.. not happy- not at all. Ambiguous ending. Not proof read, slight!stalker!Barty, obsessive!dark!Barty, the first 10k~ heavily mention the reader but she isn't physically there. Grammar and spelling mistakes. Barty gets kinda creepy at times. Slight Jegulily agenda if you pay attention. Voldemort- does mention the war, heavily cannon divergent, ambiguous ending.

Barty stood in front of the cracked and foggy mirror, the faint chill of the Crouch manor seeping into the room. The glass reflected a version of himself he barely recognized- tie slightly undone, shirt and robes pressed, and hair falling into his face in deliberate order. But none of that mattered. His attention wasn’t on his reflection.

It was on the photos tucked into the edges of the mirror, curling slightly from age and misuse. Polaroids, each imbued with movement and life. Pandora waved energetically in one, her hair a wild halo as Regulus stood beside her with a faint smirk. Another showed Dorcas and Evan laughing together, Regulus rolling his eyes in mock exasperation beside them. They were snapshots of stolen moments, pieces of a life that felt like his own secret treasure.

But one photo sat above the rest, pinned carefully at the center of the mirror’s edge. It was only slightly worn, its edges dulled from handling, but it was the one he couldn’t resist touching. You were in it, your smile soft and warm as you looked up at the camera- no, not the camera. At him. The movement of the photo revealed your mouth forming silent words, likely teasing him as you had been when he’d snapped it.

Barty’s lips curved into a slow smile, a rare, unguarded expression. He adjusted his tie absently- the way you had taught him, his fingers deft but distracted as his eyes stayed locked on your image. The rest of the world felt muted, the chill of the room, the weight of his family name, the suffocating expectations of his father- they all faded. 

He leaned closer to the mirror, watching the way your eyes flicked to the lens and back to him, like you couldn’t help but connect with him even through the photo. 

The other photos were carefully labeled in his neat, slanted handwriting. "Pandora, 1976," "Reggie & Dor, Hogsmeade." But your photo? 

It bore only one word, scrawled with a steady hand, both a promise and a confession: Soon.

Barty straightened, his grin softening but never fading as he tucked his tie into place. He lingered for a moment longer, his fingertips brushing the corner of your photo, almost like he was reaching for you. He didn’t say anything, but his mind buzzed with thoughts of you- your laugh, the sharpness of your words, the way you carried yourself like the world owed you everything and nothing all the same.

“Soon,” He murmured under his breath, his reflection smiling back at him like a man with a secret.

“Barty!” His mother’s voice, sweet and quick, echoed up the grand staircase, breaking through the quiet of his room. The chill seemed to deepen as her tone carried a faint edge of excitement. “Almost ready, dear?”

Barty sighed, his shoulders stiffening for a brief moment before he rolled them back, forcing his usual air of nonchalance to return. His fingers lingered on the tie one last time, tugging it into perfect place as his gaze flickered back to the photo.

You.

Still smiling, still teasing, still looking at him like he was someone worth the attention. Like he was someone free. For a split second, he thought he saw your lips curve, mouthing words he couldn’t quite hear but knew by heart: “Goodbye.”

He shook his head, the corners of his mouth quirking up in amusement at his own foolishness. “Losing it, mate,” He muttered to himself, though his voice carried no real conviction. With a deliberate motion, he grabbed his coat from the back of the chair, draping it over his shoulders as he turned toward the door.

He paused at the threshold, his hand brushing the doorknob as if something unseen was holding him back. His gaze flickered over his shoulder, back to the photo on the mirror. The light caught it just so, making your image shine in the otherwise dim room.

With a final glance, his voice dropped to a whisper, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Don't wait up.”

And then he was gone, his footsteps echoing down the stairs, his usual swagger returning to his stride. The door to his room swung shut behind him, but not before the Polaroid on the mirror caught a draft and fluttered faintly.

Barty descended the grand staircase with an air of practiced indifference, the polished marble underfoot reflecting the flicker of flames from the towering fireplace in the entrance hall. The heavy scent of his father’s cigars clung to the air, mixing with the faint notes of his mother’s perfume- something floral and delicate that always made Barty feel oddly grounded, even in the chaos of the Crouch manor.

His mother was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, her sharp, hawkish eyes softening the moment they landed on him. “Your tie is a mess, dear,” She tutted, stepping forward to fuss with it before he could protest. Her hands moved with deft precision, undoing and retying it until it lay perfectly flat against his chest. 

Barty stood still, letting her work, though his smirk never faltered. “And here I thought I’d perfected it,” He teased lightly, his voice warm enough to draw a small smile from her.

“You’d perfect it if you cared enough. Merlin help whoever has been doing it for you,” She quipped back, smoothing down the front of his robes. She smirked softly up at his bewildered expression. He quickly corrected it. Her touch lingered for a moment, her expression softening further as she looked up at him. “Now, behave yourself tonight, Barty. The Blacks don’t tolerate nonsense, and you know how your father gets.”

As if on cue, his father’s voice boomed from the adjacent room, carrying the same air of authority it always did. “Bartemius!” He barked, stepping into view with his usual commanding stride. “Do you understand the importance of this evening? The Black family is powerful, and their influence extends far beyond-”

“Far beyond whatever petty scandal you think I’ll cause, I’m sure,” Barty interrupted smoothly, his tone playful but edging on insolence. “Don’t worry, Father. I’ll be the picture of decorum.”

His father’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he leveled Barty with a glare that carried years of frustration. “You will not embarrass this family,” He said firmly, his voice low and cold. “This is not some juvenile gathering for you to treat as a joke. You’ll act like a proper heir.”

Barty raised a brow, his smirk sharpening as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “A proper heir,” He echoed mockingly. “Yes, sir. Anything else?”

His mother shot him a warning glance, her hand resting lightly on his arm as if to ground him. “Barty,” she said gently, her voice cutting through the tension. “That’s enough.”

For once, he relented, letting out a quiet sigh. His father grunted in approval, muttering something about “finally showing sense,” before retreating into the next room to oversee last-minute preparations.

Barty turned back to his mother, his smirk softening into something genuine as he leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Don’t worry, Mum,” He murmured, his voice low but warm. “I’ll be on my best behavior. Scout’s honor.”

She gave him a skeptical look, but there was a flicker of affection in her eyes as she shook her head. “You’re impossible,” She said fondly, brushing a hand through his hair one last time. “Go on, then. Charm everyone.”

“Oh, I plan to,” He said with a wink, straightening his coat with a flourish before stepping toward the front door. He cast one last glance over his shoulder, his grin firmly in place. “Love ya, yeah mum?”

“I love you too.” She sighed with a fond tilt of her head. Wincing when she lifted her fist to cover her lips, giving a particularly harsh cough into her hand.

Barty’s smirk faltered as his mother’s cough echoed through the entrance hall, sharp and brittle, like the crack of ice. Her fist clenched tightly over her mouth, and for a moment, her graceful composure wavered. The sight sent a flicker of unease coursing through him, and his easy confidence dimmed.

“Mum,” He called softly, his voice unusually serious. He took a step toward her, his sharp green eyes searching her face for any sign of reassurance. “That damned cough- how long has it been this bad?”

She waved him off with a weak smile, though her eyes didn’t quite meet his. “Don’t fuss, dear. It’s just a bit of the winter chill. I’ll be fine.”

Barty’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t convinced. “It’s not just a chill,” He pressed, his voice lowering as he stepped closer. “You’ve been coughing like that for months. Have you even-?”

“Enough, Bartemius,” His father’s cold, commanding voice cut through the moment like a blade. The elder Crouch stepped back into the room, his presence as suffocating as ever. His gaze flicked briefly to his wife, but his expression betrayed no concern, only irritation. “Your mother is fine. Do not make a spectacle of this.”

Barty turned to his father, his smirk gone entirely now, replaced with something harder, more volatile. “Fine? Are you serious? She can barely breathe, and you’re sending her off like it’s nothing?”

His father’s lips thinned, his gaze narrowing as he stepped closer. “Do not question me, boy,” He said sharply, his voice low but brimming with authority. “Your mother is being well taken care of. Winky sees to her needs, and the best healers have already examined her.”

“Then why isn’t she getting better?” Barty shot back, his tone teetering on the edge of defiance. His fists clenched at his sides as he stared his father down. “Why does she look worse every time I come home?”

His father’s eyes blazed with unspoken warning, but before he could respond, the soft sound of shuffling feet interrupted them. Winky, the house-elf, appeared in the doorway, her large, watery eyes darting nervously between the two men.

“Master Bartemius,” She said hesitantly, bowing low before turning her attention to Mrs. Crouch. “Mistress, your room is ready. Winky will bring you some tea to help with the cough.”

Mrs. Crouch offered Winky a kind smile, though it was strained. She rested a hand lightly on Barty’s arm, her touch as calming as it had always been. “It’s alright, dear,” She said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Winky will take care of me. You have your evening to focus on.”

Barty’s shoulders stiffened, his jaw clenched so tightly he thought it might crack. He wanted to argue, to demand answers from his father, to do something, anything, to fix the wrongness of the situation. But his mother’s gentle squeeze on his arm stopped him.

Reluctantly, he nodded, his gaze lingering on her as Winky guided her toward the stairs. “Mum-” He started, his voice softer now, almost pleading.

She turned back to him, her smile as warm as it could be despite the pallor of her skin. “Go charm everyone, my darling,” She said, her voice faint but full of love. “You'll do great.”

As she disappeared up the stairs, Barty turned back to his father, his expression cold and unyielding. “She’s not fine,” He muttered quietly, his voice shaking with suppressed anger. “And you know it.”

His father didn’t flinch, his gaze as impassive as ever. “You will do as you’re told,” He said simply, brushing past Barty without another word. “And you will not embarrass this family.”

Barty watched him leave, his fists trembling at his sides, his mind racing with a storm of anger and helplessness. He looked toward the staircase, where his mother had disappeared, and the faint sound of her cough echoed faintly in his ears.

Taking a deep breath, he straightened his coat, his smirk slowly returning to his face like a mask. “Soon,” He muttered to himself, the word heavier now, filled with a quiet, burning promise.

With one last glance toward the stairs, he turned and stepped out into the frosty night, his mind already planning his next move.

~~~

The sharp crack of apparition echoed in the chill of the frosty evening as Barty and his father arrived at the grand gates of the Black Manor. The towering estate loomed ahead, its gothic architecture bathed in soft, flickering torchlight. Every inch of the property was designed to intimidate and awe, a testament to the Black family’s legacy. The ornate iron gates swung open soundlessly as a pair of house-elves bowed low, ushering them inside.

Barty’s father strode ahead without hesitation, his posture as rigid and commanding as ever. Barty followed at a slower pace, his smirk firmly in place as his sharp green eyes took in the scene. The grand entryway was already buzzing with finely dressed purebloods, their polished masks catching the warm glow of chandeliers that hung like constellations above.

A house-elf approached, bowing deeply as it extended a silver tray bearing elaborately crafted masquerade masks. Barty plucked one with a flick of his fingers, the edges gleaming with silver filigree, and slipped it on with an air of practiced ease. The mask concealed just enough to meet the evening’s requirements but left his sharp features unmistakable.

“Remember what I said,” his father muttered lowly as they stepped inside. “Behave.”

“Always,” Barty drawled, his tone light, bordering on mocking. He didn’t wait for a response, brushing past his father and into the heart of the gathering.

The ballroom was a study in decadence. Rich, dark wood lined the floors, and the walls were adorned with tapestries depicting the Black family’s ancient lineage. Every detail, from the gilded accents on the furniture to the symphony playing in the background, spoke of old wealth and untouchable power.

Barty snatched a glass of sparkling champagne from a passing tray, tilting it back as he wove through the crowd with the grace of someone who had long ago mastered the art of mingling while detached. The wine was crisp and cold, doing little to drown out the lingering tension from earlier.

His eyes flickered across the room, scanning for familiar faces. It didn’t take long to find them. Near the grand windows stood Regulus and Evan, their masks impeccably chosen to complement their dark, tailored robes. They both exuded the kind of effortless control that came with knowing they were the center of their world.

Barty approached with an easy smirk, catching the tail end of Evan’s complaint. 

“...what does she even see in him?” Evan muttered, his voice dripping with disdain as he gestured toward the dance floor. 

Barty followed his gaze and found Pandora spinning in a slow, dreamlike circle with Xenophilius, her hair glowing like a halo under the chandelier light. Xenophilius was gazing at her as if she had just descended from the heavens, and Pandora, true to form, looked entirely unbothered by the attention of the room. Even with their flimsy masks, there was no mistaking Pandora’s ethereal glow.

“Pandora,” Regulus supplied in his usual flat tone. “She’s entertaining Lovegood.”

Evan snorted, swirling the dark liquor in his glass. “Entertaining? She’s throwing the whole bloody circus.”

Barty chuckled, his smirk widening as he clinked his champagne flute against Evan’s glass. “Maybe she’s tired of the same old crowd,” He suggested, his voice light but with an edge of cynicism. “It's a sad sight when a witch like her plays to the back row.”

Regulus arched a brow, but a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “And you'd suppose there is much better here?”

Barty spread his arms in mock innocence. “More entertaining, at least.”

The conversation drifted, but Barty’s attention lingered on Pandora and Xenophilius. The carefree way Pandora laughed, the subtle glances Xenophilius stole, the way they moved as though the rest of the room didn’t exist- it tugged at something unspoken in Barty. Jealousy? No. Longing? Possibly. He drained the rest of his champagne, the burn sharp against the lingering weight of his earlier thoughts.

The scene stirred a memory, unbidden but vivid. 

You, standing just like Pandora now, on a crisp autumn day. Hidden away with him in the dark forest. The sunlight danced on your cheeks as you turned to look at him, mischief glinting in your eyes. “You’re staring,” You teased, your lips curving into that sharp smile that never failed to disarm him.

“Can’t help it,” Barty had hummed, his voice soft but steady, though his heart was pounding in his chest. “You’re a vision.”

You’d laughed then, light and airy, brushing his words off with a playful roll of your eyes. But the way you looked at him lingered- like he was the only person in the world who could keep up with you. You had hardly been seeing each other for a few months, and he could rightfully say he'd die satisfied.

The memory dissipated as quickly as it came, leaving a faint ache in its wake. Barty’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second before he masked it with a careless shrug, his eyes snapping back to Regulus and Evan.

“What’s the point of all this?” He asked, his voice louder now, cutting through the haze of his thoughts. He gestured vaguely to the room, to the glittering masks and the polished floor. “We all know these little gatherings are just an excuse for the old guard to pat themselves on the back.”

Regulus regarded him silently for a moment, his gray eyes unreadable. Then, his eyes flickered with amusement as he took a slow sip of his drink, letting the weight of Barty’s question hang in the air before answering. “Perhaps you’re just jealous,” He remarked coolly, his tone casual but pointed. 

Barty stiffened slightly, his smirk faltering for barely a moment before he covered it with a raised brow and a scoff. “Jealous?” He echoed, the word dripping with disdain. “Of what, exactly? Lovegood’s charming lack of awareness? Please.”

Regulus’s lips curled into the faintest hint of a smirk as he leaned slightly closer, his voice dropping just enough that it carried an air of intimacy. “Not of Lovegood,” He cheeked smoothly, his gaze unwavering. “But perhaps of how effortlessly he can occupy someone’s attention. Someone who’s a bit... untouchable, wouldn’t you say?”

Barty’s green eyes narrowed, his easy charm flickering as he straightened his posture. “I’ve no idea what you’re on about,” He shot back, his tone sharp and defensive. But the slight tightening of his jaw betrayed him.

Evan, standing just to Regulus’s left, let out a bark of laughter that he quickly muffled with his drink when it echoed a little too loudly in the grand ballroom. “Oh, come off it, Barty,” He teased, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Everyone knows about your little Potter situation. Been obvious since, what- first year?”

Barty’s grip on his empty champagne flute tightened, the delicate glass threatening to crack under the pressure. “You’re treading on thin ice,” He muttered darkly, his voice low enough that only they could hear.

Regulus exchanged a knowing glance with Evan before continuing, his smirk widening ever so slightly. “It’s not exactly a secret, Barty. You’ve been positively tame lately. More reserved. Dare I say... domesticated?” He arched a brow, his words carefully chosen to needle Barty just enough. 

Evan snorted, clearly enjoying himself. “Spending all that energy elsewhere, are you?” He quipped, his grin mischievous as he swirled the dark liquid in his glass. “Don’t tell me she’s got you wrapped around her little finger already. It's hardly been a few months.”

“Enough,” Barty hissed, his voice sharper now as his composure cracked. His smirk was gone entirely, replaced by a cold, dangerous edge that made both Regulus and Evan pause- if only briefly.

Regulus tilted his head slightly as he studied Barty. “Relax,” He mumbled, his tone smooth but calculated. “We’re only pointing out the obvious. It’s not like you’ve done much to hide it- from us anyway.”

Barty clenched his jaw, his sharp green eyes flicking between the two of them as he fought to rein in his temper. “You two don’t know the first thing about it,” he muttered, his voice low and venomous.

Evan raised his hands in mock surrender, though the grin on his face didn’t waver. “Alright, alright. No need to get your knickers in a twist,” He chuckled lightly, though his tone carried a hint of mischief. “Just saying, you’re a bit less... feral these days. It’s almost endearing.”

Regulus’s smirk returned, though his gaze remained as unreadable as ever. “Endearing isn’t the word I’d use,” He murmured, his tone thoughtful. “But... she does seem to have softened you. If only slightly.”

Barty didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he traded his empty flute with a new glass as an elf passed. Only then he drained the champagne in one swift motion before setting the glass down on a table with deliberate precision. “You two really enjoy the sound of your own voices, don’t you?” He prodded, his smirk returning, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

Evan chuckled, unfazed by Barty’s sharp tone. “Always,” He said with a wink, raising his glass in a mock toast.

Regulus remained silent, his piercing gaze locked on Barty as though he could see straight through him. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the tension hanging heavy between them.

Finally, Barty let out a breath, his smirk softening into something closer to resignation. “You lot don’t know half as much as you think you do,” He muttered, his voice quieter now.

Regulus’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes- curiosity, perhaps, or maybe understanding. “Perhaps not,” He shrugged, his tone measured. “But we know enough. All I ask is you be careful with this obsession of yours- just because you have her now doesn't mean your recklessness can keep her.”

With that, Regulus turned away, his attention shifting back to the dance floor where Pandora and Xenophilius still spun in their carefree circle. Evan followed suit, though not without shooting Barty one last amused glance.

Barty remained where he was, his fists clenched at his sides as he stared down at the empty champagne flute on the table beside him. Their words echoed in his mind, each one striking a nerve he didn’t want to acknowledge. 

Because, as much as he hated to admit it, they weren’t entirely wrong.

You had softened him. And for all his bravado, all his sharp words and reckless charm, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Not when you were the one thing in his life that made him feel like the rest of the world didn’t matter.

Barty watched the crowd with a mixture of disinterest and muted irritation. The edges of his smirk thinning with every passing second as he observed his father. 

The elder Crouch, usually so rigid and commanding, was making an embarrassing display of himself. His attempts at impressing the notable pureblood families were painfully obvious- his booming voice, the forced laughter, the way he stood just a little too close to Walburga Black and Orion as he gestured with exaggerated importance. It was pathetic. 

Barty’s fingers tightened to a fist. 

“Look at him,” He muttered under his breath, his tone edged with disdain. “Groveling like a damned house-elf for their approval.”

Regulus, who had returned with a fresh drink, raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He simply followed Barty’s gaze, his expression as impassive as ever.

Evan, meanwhile, let out a low chuckle. “You’d think he was a Gryffindor the way he’s going on,” he quipped, swirling the liquor in his glass. “Does he ever stop to breathe?”

Barty’s smirk returned, faint but biting. “Not when there’s an audience,” he replied coolly. He drained the last of his champagne, the glass clinking softly as he set it on a passing tray. “Though I suppose someone has to make a fool of themselves tonight. Saves me the trouble.”

Evan laughed again, but Barty’s attention had already shifted. Across the ballroom, someone new had appeared- or at least, someone unfamiliar. Even beneath the gilded mask, the stranger exuded a quiet confidence that set them apart from the rest of the crowd. They moved through the room with deliberate ease, stopping to exchange words with all the right people: Walburga and Orion, the Rosiers, the Malfoys. Each interaction seemed to command attention without effort, as though the very air bent to accommodate them.

Barty’s eyes narrowed, his curiosity piqued. He noted the way his father, who had been so eager to ingratiate himself moments ago, now seemed to shrink in the stranger’s presence. The elder Crouch stood at a distance, his usual bluster subdued, his posture stiff.

Barty’s smirk widened, his earlier irritation melting into something sharper- spite, perhaps, or maybe just reckless amusement. “Well, that’s interesting,” He murmured, more to himself than to Regulus or Evan.

“What is?” Evan asked, glancing over his shoulder.

Barty didn’t answer. He was already weaving through the crowd, his stride confident and easy, his mask barely concealing the mischievous glint in his eyes. If his father was going to cower, Barty would do the exact opposite.

He approached the stranger with all the charm and bravado he could muster, his smirk firmly in place as he came to a stop just within their line of sight. “You’re making quite the impression,” He said, his voice smooth and light, as though they were old acquaintances. “I thought it only polite to introduce myself. Bartemius Crouch, Jr.”

The stranger didn’t speak, his red eyes locking on Barty’s with an intensity that seemed to pierce through the polished veneer of his charm. His gaze swept over Barty in a way that felt almost invasive, as though he were seeing beyond the finely tailored robes and cocky smirk. 

Barty raised an eyebrow, unfazed- or at least, pretending to be. “Not much of a talker, are we?” he quipped, his tone light and mocking. “I’ve got to say, you’re doing wonders for the mystique.”

Still, the man said nothing. Instead, he extended his hand, his long, pale fingers steady and deliberate. 

Barty hesitated for half a second, the silence unsettling in a way he wouldn’t admit aloud. But he didn’t back down. He never backed down. With a sharp smirk, he clasped the stranger’s hand in his own, his grip firm as if to assert dominance.

It was a mistake.

The instant their hands and eyes met, Barty felt it- a sharp, burning force slicing into his mind like a blade. His vision blurred, and his breath hitched as he tried to pull away, but the man’s grip tightened, unyielding and cold as iron. 

A searing pain lanced through his skull as the stranger’s presence flooded his mind. His memories flashed before him in rapid succession, too fast to grasp: flashes of childhood, the weight of his father’s disapproval, the taste of rebellion on his tongue. 

And then, abruptly, it shifted. 

The memories slowed, becoming clearer. There you were, comforting him in Diagon Alley, pushing him against a tree in the forbidden forest, kissing him in a broom closet- like you meant it. The warmth of your presence, the way you seemed to fill every space you entered, the way your voice lingered in his mind long after you were gone. 

The stranger’s smirk deepened, his expression dark and knowing. 

“No,” Barty growled through gritted teeth, his voice strained as he tried to push the man out. He summoned every ounce of willpower he had, but it was useless. The stranger’s grip tightened further, his fingers like a vice around Barty’s hand.

“She's rather beautiful.” The man spoke slow, deliberate as he stepped closer to Barty, lips hovering near his ear. “A blood traitor no less?”

Barty’s eyes snapped to the stranger’s hand as his grip tightened, the sharp edges of his smirk now gone, replaced by a look of thinly veiled fury. “Careful how you talk about her,” Barty growled, his voice low and venomous. The man’s words struck a nerve, twisting something primal and protective deep inside him.

The stranger tilted his head, his red eyes narrowing with amusement. “You misunderstand me, Bartemius,” He said smoothly, his tone dark and deliberate. “I’m not questioning your devotion. I’m simply questioning... how long you’ll be able to keep her safe?”

Barty stiffened, his jaw clenching as his mind raced. Before he could retort, the man released his hand, taking a measured step back and gesturing toward the far end of the ballroom with a flick of his wrist. “Come,” he said, his voice like silk, commanding without raising in volume. “We have much to discuss.”

For a moment, Barty hesitated. His sharp green eyes flicked to his shocked father. His eyes snapped to  Regulus and Evan, who were being ushered quietly out of the ballroom by their respective parents. Regulus looked tense, his usual calm veneer betraying a hint of unease. Evan’s normally sharp tongue was eerily silent, his gaze focused on the floor as he followed without question.

Barty’s attention snapped back to the stranger, his pulse quickening as he considered his options. The man’s words hung heavy in the air, and despite his usual defiance, there was an undeniable pull- an unspoken command he couldn’t quite resist. And after he had seen you? There was no way he was leaving without answers.

“Don’t keep me waiting,” The man added, his voice sharper now, cutting through Barty’s hesitation like a blade.

Reluctantly, Barty straightened his coat and followed, his smirk slipping back into place as he trailed the stranger through the opulent corridors of the Black Manor. His sharp eyes scanned the halls, noting how quiet it had become, the laughter and music from the ballroom fading with every step. 

The stranger led him down a winding staircase, the air growing colder and heavier with each step. At the base of the stairs, a heavy iron door loomed ahead, its surface etched with intricate runes that seemed to shift in the flickering torchlight.

As the door creaked open, Barty stepped into a dimly lit chamber, its stone walls lined with shelves of dark artifacts and ancient tomes. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and burning incense, the flickering light casting long shadows that danced across the room. 

Inside, the gathering was already underway. The Blacks, Malfoys, Lestranges, Averys, and Mulcibers stood in a loose circle, their faces carefully blank but their postures tense. Regulus was rigid, his hands clasped tightly in front of him as he stood beside Walburga, who surveyed the room with a piercing gaze. Evan lingered near his parents- Pandora and Felix nowhere in sight, his usual confidence replaced by a quiet, watchful stillness.

Barty’s sharp gaze flicked to the center of the room, where the stranger stood with his back to the crowd. His dark robes seemed to absorb the flickering light, his pale hands resting lightly on the edge of an elaborate marble table. Slowly, he turned to face the gathered families, his slick black hair gleaming, his red eyes glowing with an unnatural intensity.

It was him. 

Voldemort.

Even in his most human form, Voldemort’s presence was suffocating, an overwhelming mix of charisma and malice that seemed to fill every corner of the room. His lips curved into a smile, cold and sharp, as his gaze swept over the gathered families.

“Welcome,” Voldemort said, his voice smooth and commanding. “It is rare to gather so many esteemed families under one roof. Tonight marks the beginning of a new era- a turning point for our world.”

His red eyes lingered on Regulus for a moment, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as Walburga stepped forward, her expression a mix of pride and caution. But then his gaze shifted, landing squarely on Barty. 

The air seemed to thicken as Voldemort studied him, his smile widening ever so slightly. “Ah, Bartemius,” he said softly, his tone laced with amusement. “The defiant son.”

Barty met his gaze head-on, his smirk sharpening into something more unstable. “And here I thought this was a party,” he drawled, his voice light but edged with steel. “You’ve got a funny way of celebrating.”

A ripple of tension passed through the room, several heads turning toward Barty with expressions ranging from shock to disapproval. But Voldemort merely chuckled, the sound low and dark. “I like him,” He said, his voice carrying an unsettling warmth. “Such fire. Such conviction.”

He stepped closer to Barty, his red eyes gleaming as he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I wonder, though... will that fire be enough to protect the things you hold most dear?”

Barty’s smirk faltered, his jaw tightening as the meaning behind Voldemort’s words became clear. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He said evenly, though his voice lacked its usual confidence.

Voldemort’s smile widened, his gaze sharp and knowing. “Oh, but I think you do,” He murmured, his voice a soft, dangerous hum. “It’s written all over you, Bartemius. Your every thought, your every action- it all leads back to her.”

Barty stiffened, his fists clenching at his sides as his mind raced. He wanted to deny it, to push back against the weight of Voldemort’s words, but he couldn’t. The truth was too raw, too close to the surface.

Voldemort straightened, his gaze sweeping over the room once more. “Loyalty is a powerful thing,” He said, his voice louder now, addressing the entire group. “But it is also a weakness. Those who cannot control their attachments will find themselves undone by them.”

His red eyes flicked back to Barty, his smile turning razor-sharp. “I wonder, Bartemius... how far would you go to keep her safe?”

Barty’s heart pounded in his chest, the weight of the question pressing down on him like a vice. He met Voldemort’s gaze, his sharp green eyes blazing. “Farther than you’d ever understand,” he said firmly, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him.

Voldemort chuckled, a low, sinister sound that echoed through the chamber. “We shall see,” he said simply, his red eyes gleaming with dark amusement.

~~~

The room in Grimmauld Place was dimly lit, the heavy drapes drawn tightly shut. Shadows flickered against the walls as the fire in the corner crackled weakly, doing little to dispel the chill that clung to the air. Regulus sat on the edge of his bed, hunched over, his face buried in his hands. His shoulders trembled as quiet, restrained sobs broke the silence, his other hand resting on his forearm, fingers tracing the dark outline of the new mark branded into his skin.

Barty sat on a worn chair by the fireplace, elbows resting on his knees, his sharp green eyes fixed on Regulus. His shirt was untucked, his tie discarded and forgotten on the floor. There was none of his usual bravado or sharp wit. For once, he looked exhausted- every ounce of his energy focused on Regulus, who seemed barely aware of the world around him.

Evan paced near the window, his footsteps soft against the worn rug. His expression was tight, jaw clenched as he stole glances at Regulus before shaking his head and resuming his pacing. Finally, he stopped, turning on Barty with a glare that carried as much confusion as anger.

“You’re an idiot, Crouch,” Evan spat, breaking the tense silence. His voice was low, but the sharpness of his words echoed in the small room. “I’ve seen you reckless, sure. I’ve even seen you stupid. But this? This is a new level.”

Barty’s head snapped up, his expression darkening instantly. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he shot back, his voice rising, though his sharp tone was tempered by the sight of Regulus shaking on the bed.

Evan gestured angrily toward Regulus. “This! All of this! Regulus had no choice. His mother would’ve killed him if he’d refused. My father would of crucio’d me. But you? You didn’t have to do it, Barty. No one was forcing you.”

Barty stiffened, rising to his feet in one fluid motion. He pointed a finger at Evan, his voice cold and edged with fury. “Don’t you dare stand there and act like I wasn’t forced,” he growled, stepping closer. “You heard what he said. You saw him.”

Evan didn’t back down, his jaw tightening as he jabbed a finger back at Barty. “Oh, I know exactly what I saw,” He said, his voice sharp. “You saw a threat to her. And instead of doing the smart thing- literally anything else- you let him mark you like some lapdog.”

“Shut your mouth,” Barty snarled, his fists clenching at his sides.

Evan’s laugh was bitter and humorless. “You’re not denying it,” he said, shaking his head. “Every bloody move you’ve made since second year has been about her. She doesn’t even truly know you. Her family hates you, for Merlin’s sake! And now you’re tied to him- forever. For what? Some girl who wouldn’t look at you twice if-”

“Don’t you finish that sentence,” Barty snapped, his voice dangerously low. He took another step forward, his green eyes blazing with a mix of rage and something far more vulnerable. “You don’t know the first thing about her.”

Evan scoffed, throwing his hands in the air. “What’s there to know? You’ve been reckless, selfish, and stupid- real stupidity, Barty, not your usual charming kind- the kind you use to hide your genius- in the name of protecting a girl who wouldn’t want this!”

“Don’t act like I don’t know that!” Barty shouted, his voice cracking under the weight of his frustration. His fists trembled at his sides, and for a moment, the firelight caught the sheen of unshed tears in his eyes. “Don’t you think I know what I’ve done? What I’ve sacrificed?”

Evan opened his mouth to respond, but Barty cut him off, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “He already knew, Evan. About her. About everything. He didn’t have to say her name- I could see it in his eyes. If I hadn’t done it, she’d be a pawn. He’d find a way to destroy her, to use her, just to punish me.” His voice shook, but his gaze didn’t waver. “I made a choice. I’ll live with it.”

Regulus’s quiet voice broke through the tension like a whisper in a storm. “You shouldn’t have done it,” He murmured, his words trembling as he finally looked up from his hands. His gray eyes were red-rimmed, his cheeks pale and damp with tears. “You didn’t have to.”

Barty turned to him, his expression softening, though his voice remained firm. “Yes, I did,” He said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument. He crouched beside Regulus, resting a hand on his shoulder. “If I didn’t, it wouldn’t just be me paying the price. You know that.”

Regulus’s gaze dropped back to the mark on his arm, his fingers trembling as they traced the outline. “What happens when she finds out?” He whispered, his voice barely audible.

Barty hesitated, the weight of the question hanging heavily in the air. He glanced at Evan, who was watching him with a mixture of anger and something closer to pity, and then back at Regulus. Finally, he stood, his jaw tightening as he straightened his posture.

“I still saved her,” Barty said quietly, his voice steady. “That’s all that matters.”

The room fell into silence again, the fire’s soft crackle the only sound. Evan shook his head, turning back toward the window with a frustrated sigh. Regulus curled further into himself, his hands covering his face as he tried to muffle the quiet sobs that escaped him.

And Barty stood there, his fists clenching and unclenching as he stared at the floor. His mind was already miles away, picturing your face, your soft smile, the way your eyes seemed to see straight through him. He didn’t know what you’d say when you found out- or if you’d ever forgive him. But one thing was certain.

He’d do it all again. For you.

~~~

Returning to school after winter break wasn't the hard part. Facing you was.

It was hell to lie to you, especially when everything has just been getting good. If he said he wanted to tell you, he'd be lying. He knew he should; he knew you had a right to know the danger he was now apart of, but that ever arrogant and cocky part of him assured him it wasn't something he would have to worry about.

Because he was Bartemius Crouch Junior. Only rivaled in intelligence by Lily Evans- the brightest wizard of his age. He knew what he was doing, and even in his anxieties, he told himself above all else he needed to keep you safe. 

But he was still as much himself as he ever would be. He couldn't help but indulge in you.

The castle was quieter than usual, the last traces of the winter chill lingering in the air as students trickled back after the holidays. Barty leaned against the doorway of the empty boys' dormitory, his sharp green eyes trained on the frost-lined window across the room. His tie hung loosely around his neck, his uniform rumpled as though he’d thrown it on in haste. But that was a front, like everything else these days. The chaos of his appearance was deliberate, a way to distract from the turmoil bubbling beneath the surface.

He hadn’t seen you since before the break, not properly. Brief glimpses in the common room or the Great Hall weren’t enough. They never were. And now that you’d agreed to meet him- alone- his pulse was racing in a way he hadn’t felt in weeks.

The door creaked open, and there you were, framed by the dim light of the corridor. You slipped inside, shutting the door softly behind you. Your eyes found him immediately, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“You’re a mess,” you teased lightly, your voice carrying the warmth that had kept him sane through countless sleepless nights. “Didn’t anyone teach you how to tie that thing properly?”

Barty grinned, stepping forward to close the distance between you. “You did, actually,” he murmured, his voice low and playful as his fingers toyed with the edge of his tie. “But I seem to forget every time you’re not around to fix it.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no hiding the way your smile widened. “Lucky for you, I’m feeling generous,” you replied, reaching up to undo the messy knot. Your fingers brushed against his chest as you worked, and Barty inhaled sharply, his grin softening.

“Merlin, I’ve missed you,” he breathed, the words slipping out before he could stop them. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as you glanced up at him in surprise. He didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, then another just beneath your jaw.

“Barty,” you chided half-heartedly, though your voice wavered as his lips trailed down the column of your neck. “You’re impossible.”

“Am I? Tell me about it.” He murmured against your skin, his grin returning as his teeth grazed the sensitive spot just below your ear. “Or have you just forgotten how much fun I am when we’re alone?”

Your laughter filled the room, light and melodic, and Barty felt the tension in his chest ease for the first time in weeks. He moved to kiss you properly, capturing your lips in a way that was both soft and desperate, as though he were trying to make up for every second you’d been apart.

You melted into him, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair as the kiss deepened. Barty’s grip on your waist tightened, and without breaking the kiss, he guided you backward until your knees hit the edge of the bed. You let out a soft gasp as he lowered you onto the mattress, his weight settling over you.

“Missed you so much,” He murmured between kisses, his voice rough with emotion. “You’ve no idea.”

You cupped his face, forcing him to meet your gaze. “I missed you too,” you said softly, your thumb brushing over the faint shadows under his eyes. “What’s going on with you, Barty? You’ve been… different.”

The question sent a jolt of panic through him, but he masked it with a crooked grin, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Different? Me? Never,” he teased, his tone light. “I’m the same charming git you’ve always adored.”

Your brows knit together, but before you could press further, he silenced you with another kiss, pouring every ounce of longing and frustration into it. His hands roamed up your sides, his touch gentle but insistent, and soon the only sounds in the room were the rustle of fabric and the muffled sighs that escaped your lips.

It didn’t go further than that. It never did. Not because the desire wasn’t there, but because Barty couldn’t bear the thought of letting you see all the cracks in his carefully constructed facade. This- just you, just him, just this moment- was enough. It had to be.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as you both caught your breath. His hands cradled your face, his thumbs tracing the curve of your cheekbones as he studied you. “You’re perfect, you know that?” He murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, your fingers brushing over the back of his neck. “What a romantic,” you teased, though there was no mistaking the affection in your tone.

“You make me that way.” he replied, his grin softening as he leaned in to kiss you again.

The sun had long since set, plunging the room into soft shadow. The lone candle on the nightstand burned low, its golden light flickering uncertainly across the walls, casting fleeting glimpses of the intimacy shared within. Barty lay beside you on his narrow bed, his body curled protectively around yours. His hand cradled your cheek, thumb tracing slow, deliberate lines as if committing every detail to memory. His other hand rested on your waist, his fingers pressing lightly into your skin- not to possess, but to ground himself, to remind him you were real.

His green eyes softened as they fixed on you. There was a kind of rawness in his expression, a vulnerability he never let the rest of the world see. The weight of the war, of his family, of all the lies he carried- it all seemed to melt away in your presence. In this space, there was no Voldemort, no Crouch manor, no mark on his arm. Just you. Just this moment.

And Merlin, he thought, you were stunning. The way the candlelight danced across your face, your lips curved into a faint smile- it was almost too much for him to bear. His chest ached with a quiet, desperate sort of love, the kind he’d never admit aloud because to say it might ruin it. You deserved softness, honesty, all the things he could only give you in the silence of moments like this.

“What are you smiling about?” You teased, brushing your nose against his, your fingers weaving through the hair at the nape of his neck. The gentle tug of your touch sent a shiver down his spine, and he exhaled softly, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment before finding yours again.

“You,” He murmured, his voice thick with affection. His thumb paused on your cheek, pressing lightly as his smile deepened. “Thinking about how breathtaking you look right now.”

Your laughter was soft and warm, filling the small space between you like sunlight breaking through a cloud. “You’re such a sap,” you teased, but your tone was tender, your own gaze brimming with affection.

“Only for you,” he replied without hesitation, his lips curling into a lazy smirk. But there was nothing lazy about the way he watched you- intense, as if the weight of his world rested entirely in your hands.

You kissed him then, slow and soft, and Barty let himself get lost in it. He tightened his hold on you, his arms wrapping more securely around your frame as though he could somehow hold you closer than skin allowed. The desperation seeped through him, the way his lips lingered on yours, the way his hands mapped the curve of your waist. You were his anchor, his reprieve, his reason to keep fighting against the tides threatening to drag him under.

But then your lips began to trail down his jaw, feather-light and slow, leaving a line of soft kisses along his neck. He let out a quiet sigh, tilting his head slightly to give you more access, his fingers threading through your hair. He was wholly yours in this moment, every wall he’d built around himself crumbling beneath your touch.

And then your hand slipped beneath the sleeve of his shirt.

The moment your fingertips brushed against the raised, rough skin on his forearm, Barty’s entire body went rigid. His breath caught, and his heart thundered in his chest. Panic surged through him, sharp and consuming, as if the world had suddenly tipped sideways. 

You froze, your touch tentative as your brow furrowed. “Barty,” you murmured, your voice soft but edged with a quiet dread. “What’s this? Did you get a new tattoo?”

His heart dropped. He should have prepared for this, should have thought of an excuse, should have done something other than lie here like an idiot and hope it never came up. His green eyes snapped open, the warmth in them vanishing as his hand shot out to catch your wrist. He gripped it firmly but not harshly, his touch trembling slightly. “It’s nothing,” he said quickly, his voice sharper than he intended. “Don’t- don’t worry about it.”

But you didn’t let it go. You never did. You tilted your head, searching his face for the truth he was so desperately trying to hide. “Barty,” you said again, your voice firmer now, though it trembled at the edges. “Show me.”

He never knew pain as intimately as he knew it that night. When you left, closed the door on him and a chapter of his life he never wanted to end- he didn't know what to do. He spent hours, early into the daylight just wondering how he could properly gravel for your forgiveness. 

He knew it was stupid. Regulus told him. Evan had told him. Pandora warned him. Dorcas had walked away.

So, he wandered.

Barty's footsteps echoed down the quiet corridor leading to Gryffindor Tower, the early morning light filtering faintly through the frosted windows. He wasn't thinking about where he was going. Having wandered aimlessly in what seemed to be a never ending circle, his legs numb down to their calves. That familiar exhaustion pangs- the aches powerful as ever. Every thought was consumed by you- your expression when you saw the mark, the pain in your voice, the way you had turned and walked away without looking back.

He had been through countless battles- against his father’s expectations, against the oppressive rules of his world, against the looming shadow of Voldemort. But this? This felt like defeat.

He leaned against the cold stone wall, his head tipping back as he exhaled a shaky breath. The smirk he so often wore was gone, replaced by an emptiness that reflected in his sharp green eyes. “You’ll understand,” he muttered to himself, though the words rang hollow. “You have to.”

Barty’s pacing resumed, his frustration and desperation bubbling to the surface. He had never been good at waiting, at sitting still, and the gnawing ache in his chest made him feel like he was coming apart at the seams. He wasn’t even sure what he would say to you- how he could explain the choices he had made, the things he had done. All he knew was that he had to try.

You, in all for fire and passion, had taught Barty things he never thought possible. You taught him a world so far separated from his own he never saw it to be truly real; and the consequences of his daydreams were crashing down through his pride and arrogance. 

You showed him patience.

You showed him kindness.

You showed him something he never knew he could believe, that someone with his father’s blood running through their veins could love. 

Not in the way he loved his friends. Not how his father claims to love his mother. Not how his father claimed to love himself. A love so terrifying he would drop his soul at Voldemort's feet a million times over if it meant you would never have to know what it meant to meet heartbreak. But he brought you to that door. He brought you to that fall and did all but shove you in. 

Was this it?

With all of the time in the world it wasn't something that crossed his mind. That it could feel like he was being torn from his chest, torn from his rib cage and left to watch his heart beat outside of him. Knowing you were the one it was going to ruin him further. What was left of his humanity if you weren't their to witness it?

He was an actor playing brave. A crow imitating a lion's roar- if just to shield himself from reality. That he was nothing more than hollowed bones before you and you had turned away. Calling him out for what he truly was. A coward.

Barty was snapped out of his melodrama when he felt a sharp shove against his shoulder. Barty barely had a chance to process the shove before he was slammed back into the cold stone wall. His sharp green eyes snapped to the source, narrowing as he found himself face-to-face with James Potter. James’s hazel eyes were blazing with fury, his glasses slightly askew from the force of his push. Sirius stood a few feet away, leaning casually against the same wall, lighting a cigarette like this was any other morning. But the hard set of his jaw betrayed the tension he was trying to mask.

~~~

Years passed, and the boy who had once been sharp-tongued and reckless, who laughed at the world’s absurdities and sought refuge in fleeting pleasures, was gone. War had hollowed him out, his wit and charm replaced with a cold, calculating precision. Bartemius Crouch Jr. had become everything his father had ever wanted- and feared- master of cruelty, a weapon honed to deadly perfection in Voldemort’s service.

But even as he climbed the ranks of the Death Eaters, even as his name became a whispered fear among those who resisted the Dark Lord, there was a part of him that refused to die. A part that clung to a single memory: soon.

You, standing in the sunlight, your laughter echoing like a melody he couldn’t forget. You, touching his face with a softness he didn’t deserve. You, walking away, your tears falling like shards of glass that had embedded themselves in his heart. Every attempt he had taken to open his chest and run his bunt nails across the organ most at fault for his weakness only buried them deeper. As if a reminder of what would always be too far from his reach. A love so violent.

The meeting had been brief, but its impact lingered in the cold air of the chamber long after Voldemort’s crimson eyes had burned into Barty’s. The Dark Lord stood before him, his presence oppressive, his serpentine features bathed in the dim green glow of cursed fire.

“You come to me with a request,” Voldemort said, his voice a silky hiss. “How unusual, Bartemius. It is typically I who gives orders.”

Barty knelt before him, his head bowed low, but his voice was steady as he spoke. “My loyalty to you is absolute, my lord. I have proven that time and again. But I seek… a guarantee.”

Voldemort’s laughter was low and chilling, a sound that reverberated off the stone walls. “A guarantee? How quaint. What is it you fear?”

Barty lifted his gaze, his green eyes cold but resolute. “If the war turns against us- if there are sacrifices to be made- I ask only one thing. Spare her. Spare her.”

The air grew heavier, as if the magic itself recoiled at his words. Voldemort tilted his head, studying Barty with a curiosity that was far more dangerous than anger. “You would make a deal with me, Bartemius? A deal for a blood traitor? A girl who abandoned you?”

Barty didn’t flinch. “Yes.”

The silence stretched, and then Voldemort stepped closer, his red eyes boring into Barty’s. “You should know better than most, Bartemius, that attachments are a weakness. They cloud the mind, dull the edge of a blade. I have warned you before: those who cannot control their attachments will find themselves undone by them.” 

Barty met his gaze without wavering. “Then I will accept the consequences, my lord. But my loyalty is yours, as long as you promise her safety.”

The Dark Lord’s lips curled into a cruel smile, his pale fingers brushing against Barty’s cheek like a mockery of affection- reminded of another onyx haired folly who kneeled before him with a similar request of his own. 

Voldemort’s crimson eyes gleamed with a twisted amusement, his pale lips curling into a cruel smirk as he loomed over Barty. The chamber felt colder, the green fire casting long, flickering shadows that seemed to reach for Barty like phantoms.

“Watching her,” Voldemort murmured, his voice a silken mockery. “Such a word hardly does justice to the devotion you’ve shown, does it, Bartemius?” His tone dripped with derision, his serpentine features etched with dark satisfaction.

Barty’s jaw tightened, his green eyes locked on the floor, unwilling to meet the Dark Lord’s gaze. He didn’t respond. He knew better.

“Oh, do not deny it,” Voldemort continued, leaning closer, his presence suffocating. “I see everything, Bartemius. The way you slip away, cloaked in shadows, to steal glimpses of her life. The way you linger at the edge of her world, savoring the scraps of her existence like a starving dog. The way you indulge in the very idea of her- her name, her memory, her scent. You cling to her like a drowning man to driftwood.”

Barty’s fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms until they threatened to draw blood. Still, he didn’t speak. He couldn’t. Not when every word Voldemort spoke was a truth he’d buried deep within himself.

Voldemort’s smile widened, his voice dropping to a low, venomous whisper. “How deliciously human of you, Bartemius. To be undone by something so… trivial. A girl who has cast you aside, who would recoil in horror if she saw what you’ve become. And yet you kneel here, groveling for her life.”

Barty’s head snapped up then, his sharp green eyes blazing with defiance. “I would do anything to keep her safe,” he said, his voice low but steady. The words were a declaration, a challenge.

Voldemort tilted his head, his expression shifting to one of feigned curiosity. “Anything,” he repeated, as if tasting the word. “How noble. How foolish.”

He leaned closer, his red eyes narrowing as he studied Barty with a dark intensity. “Tell me, Bartemius,” he purred, his voice cold and cutting. “Do you truly believe she is worth it? This girl who has banished you from her heart and her mind? Who has turned her back on you without a second thought?”

Barty didn’t flinch, his voice unwavering as he replied. “Yes.”

The air seemed to vibrate with the weight of the single word, the defiance in Barty’s tone hanging between them like a challenge. Voldemort straightened, his lips curling into a smile that was both amused and sinister.

“How very predictable,” Voldemort said softly, his voice dripping with disdain. “Love has made fools of greater men than you, Bartemius. It is a poison, a weakness that festers and rots until nothing remains but regret and ruin.”

He stepped back, his gaze sweeping over Barty with a cold detachment. “But I am not without a sense of humor,” he continued, his tone almost light. “Very well. I will grant your request. She will be spared- so long as you remain useful to me.”

Relief flickered in Barty’s eyes, but it was short-lived as Voldemort’s smile turned razor-sharp.

“However,” the Dark Lord added, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, “know this: her life is a gift that I give, not to her, but to you. A reminder of who holds the power in this... arrangement. She lives because I allow it. And if you falter, if you fail me even once, her safety will be the first thing I take from you.”

Barty bowed his head, his voice steady but strained as he replied, “I will not fail you, my lord.”

Voldemort’s laughter echoed through the chamber, cold and mirthless. “We shall see,” he said, his red eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction. “We shall see.”

~~~

The Potter Manor loomed in the moonlight, a quiet fortress against the chaos of the world beyond. Barty crouched in the shadows just beyond the property line, his sharp green eyes scanning the grounds for any sign of movement. The wards around the manor pulsed faintly, an almost imperceptible hum in the still night air. Breaking through them would be tricky, but not impossible. Not for him.

He’d spent weeks planning this. Weeks of arguing with Evan and Regulus, who’d both told him it was reckless, idiotic, and entirely predictable. To stay hidden, stay safe, wait on Dumbledore’s word before revealing themselves. But he had spent weeks of pacing, of running scenarios through his mind until they blurred together, all leading to this moment. If Regulus could act foolishly, could risk his life for a bloody necklace, in the name of love- he could too. He could almost hear Evan’s dry voice in his head: “You’ll get yourself killed over this. Over her.”

Maybe he would. But Barty had never been one for caution.

He rolled his shoulders, drawing his wand from the holster at his side. The wards were impressive, layered and intricate, but Barty wasn’t the brightest wizard of his age for nothing. He murmured the incantation under his breath, his wand tracing precise, deliberate movements. The magic buzzed against his skin as the wards flickered, then shimmered, leaving a narrow opening just wide enough for him to slip through.

Barty exhaled slowly, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips as he straightened. “Still got it,” he muttered to himself, tucking his wand away. His heart pounded as he moved swiftly toward the manor, his footsteps silent on the frost-covered grass. Every shadow felt like a threat, every creak of the night amplified in his mind, but he pressed on. He had to.

The manor was just as it was days ago: grand, imposing, and utterly devoid of warmth. The windows glinted like cold eyes in the moonlight as he approached the side entrance. He pressed his hand against the ancient stone, muttering a soft Alohomora. The lock clicked, the heavy door swinging open just enough for him to slip inside.

The silence inside was deafening. Barty’s sharp green eyes darted around the darkened hallway, his hand brushing the wand at his side as he moved deeper into the house. He knew the layout by heart, every twist and turn, every creaky floorboard that could give him away. He’d never admit why. 

You weren't home yet, he knew that. You would be out, somewhere between here and the heart of London, allowing Remus and his loyal mutt to lick your wounds. To shower you in the attention you deserved; it happened every month. 

The air in your room was heavy with stillness, broken only by the faint rustle of Barty’s cloak as he stepped inside. His sharp green eyes darted around, taking in every detail like a thief cataloging stolen treasures. He closed the door softly behind him, his hand lingering on the worn brass handle before he turned to face the room fully.

It was smaller than he’d imagined for someone with your spirit, but it felt... intimate. Lived in. The faint scent of your perfume lingered in the air, subtle and familiar, wrapping around him like a ghost of your presence. He inhaled deeply, his chest tightening as the ache in his chest grew sharper.

His boots barely made a sound against the plush rug as he crossed the room, his movements slow and deliberate. His fingers brushed against the edge of your desk, tracing the worn wood where years of use had smoothed the surface. Quills and parchment were scattered haphazardly, alongside an open book marked with a ribbon. He didn’t look at the title- he couldn’t bring himself to. It felt like prying, even for him.

Instead, his gaze moved to the bed, the center of the room, and something primal stirred in him. The duvet was slightly rumpled, as though you’d thrown it off in haste that morning. The pillow bore the faintest indent, a shadow of where your head had rested. His breath hitched, and he found himself moving closer, his chest tightening with every step.

He hesitated, standing at the edge of the bed, his fists clenching at his sides. He shouldn’t be here. He knew that. Knew that stepping into this space, touching these pieces of you, was a line he shouldn’t cross. But he couldn’t help himself.

Slowly, cautiously, he reached out, his fingertips brushing against the edge of the duvet. The fabric was soft beneath his touch, and the scent of your perfume was stronger here, mingling with something uniquely you. It made his head swim, his grip on reality faltering for a moment as he let himself sink into the feeling.

Before he could stop himself, he leaned down, his face hovering just above the pillow. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, and the scent hit him like a spell- intoxicating, comforting, overwhelming. It was almost too much, a cruel reminder of everything he’d lost and everything he couldn’t let go of.

Barty’s jaw tightened as he straightened, his hand gripping the bedpost for support. His chest heaved with uneven breaths, the storm of emotions threatening to swallow him whole. Get it together, he thought bitterly, raking a hand through his hair. You’re here for a reason.

But even as the thought crossed his mind, his fingers betrayed him, reaching out to trace the edge of your pillow, the line where your head had rested. His touch was light, almost regretful, as though he were afraid to disturb the memory of you. 

“Pathetic,” he muttered to himself, his voice low and bitter. The sound barely broke the silence of the room, but it felt deafening in his ears. He straightened abruptly, stepping back from the bed as though it had burned him.

He turned away, his fists clenching at his sides as he tried to pull himself back from the edge. But the damage was done. The scent of you lingered in his lungs, the feel of your presence etched into his skin. He wanted to hate himself for it- for the way his obsession consumed him, for the way he clung to every scrap of you like a lifeline. But he couldn’t.

Because even now, as he stood in your room, surrounded by the echoes of your life, he couldn’t stop thinking about the way you’d looked at him once. Like he was worth something. Like he wasn’t the monster he’d become.

The room was dark, save for the faint silvery glow of moonlight streaming through the curtains, painting the walls in cold shadows. Barty crouched in the corner, his sharp green eyes trained on the door, his breath quiet and measured. The faint scent of your perfume still clung to the air, wrapping around him like a ghost, making his chest ache with a longing so sharp it bordered on pain.

His fingers itched to touch something- anything that belonged to you. He had resisted so far, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, but it took everything he had. His eyes drifted back to the bed, the faint indentation on the pillow where your head had rested the night before. He wanted to crawl into that space, to feel the warmth you left behind, to lose himself in the memory of you.

The soft creak of the stairs snapped him out of his reverie, his body tensing instinctively. His heart leapt into his throat as he heard the faint sound of your footsteps approaching, each one measured and deliberate. You were home. 

Barty’s breath hitched as the doorknob turned, and the door swung open. There you stood, silhouetted by the faint light of the corridor, your features softened by the glow. His chest tightened as he drank in the sight of you, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts he couldn’t untangle. 

You didn’t see him. You moved with the ease of someone who thought they were alone, stepping inside and locking the door behind you with a quiet click. Your wand was set on the bedside table, your movements efficient but unhurried. 

He watched, silent and still, as you turned toward the window, your hands reaching for the heavy curtains. The moonlight illuminated your face, catching on the delicate curve of your cheek, the faint furrow of your brow. You looked tired, worn down, and the sight of it made something in him twist painfully. He hated that you felt this way- hated that he couldn’t be the one to fix it.

You turned your back to him, and instinct took over. Before he could think, before he could stop himself, he moved. His hand shot out, clamping over your mouth, the heat of your skin searing his palm like a brand.

You reacted instantly, your body jerking against his hold. He felt your muscles tense, your sharp intake of breath, the fight that surged through you. Before he could say anything, before he could explain, you threw your head back with a force that stunned him.

The crack of your skull against his nose was sharp and jarring, pain exploding across his face. His grip faltered, and he staggered back, a groan tearing from his throat as blood began to trickle between his fingers. 

"Bloody hell," he muttered, his voice rough and muffled as he pressed a hand to his nose. He leaned against the wall for support, the metallic tang of blood sharp on his tongue. "Star, that's twice now. Are you always this violent, or am I special?"

Your wide eyes locked on him, your breath coming in shallow gasps. He saw the disbelief in your expression, the way your body trembled with a mixture of fear and fury. "No," you whispered, shaking your head as if trying to dispel the sight before you. "No. You’re- You’re supposed to be dead."

The words cut deeper than the blow to his face, but he forced a grin, blood staining his teeth. "I think we should talk," he said, his voice low, laced with something almost pleading.

The way you looked at him, as though he was a ghost- something you couldn’t decide whether to fear or pity- made his stomach churn. He had imagined this moment a hundred times, a thousand, but never like this. Never with you looking at him like he was something monstrous.

“I’m here,” he murmured, his voice soft, almost gentle. “I’m alive.”

But the way you stepped back, your hands trembling at your sides, told him that wasn’t enough. And for the first time in his life, Barty Crouch Jr. didn’t know how to fix it.

~~~

Your heart was throbbing at the rate of a hummingbird. What could you do? What would you do? How did he get in here? How did he pass the wards? He watched your eyes dart to the bedside table. He let out a low sigh, almost annoyed, as if he had thought this through a million times over.

“Star..” He warned carefully but you didn't think to heed any warning, running over to try and retrieve your wand. He didn't move, didn't stop you, as you grabbed the beautifully carved wood and held it out to him. The line was clear; no further.

But Barty never listened.

He stepped closer, slowly inching close and allowing the wand to press to his chest. As if begging you to do it- strike him down- because you were the only person who could bring upon his downfall. Could break him down in ways no one else could, and seeing you again, seeing you look at him with nothing but fear in your eyes, it was all the same. Immeasurable pain.

Some people trace scars. When they appear on the flesh of loved ones cherished beyond belief. Running the soft pad of their finger along the marks that were not made by them. Some would even bring their lips to the bundled and protruding skin as if a kiss could ease them into tender health. Promoting its repair.

But the look in your eyes was like watching your fingers curl inwards. Unbeknownst to you through ignorance or arrogance that he mirrored onto you it didn't matter. It was feeling your nails break into the skin, reclaiming his wounds as ones to remember you by, no one else. 

There was no bandage, there was no healing. Just a repeated daggering that left him on his knees in prayer to any higher being that you would forgive him. That you would see mercy for him.

If not that, then dagger him to something unrepairable. Something only you could recognize the madness behind. Your design.

You trembled, and his eyes softened, slightly as his hand ran over your wrist as it held the wand. “Barty-” You warned and he gave a low sigh, as if you saying his name physically affected him.

Barty’s lips quirked into a weak, almost self-deprecating smile as his fingers brushed your wrist. His touch was featherlight, as though he were afraid that the smallest pressure would cause you to shatter. “Say it again,” he whispered, his voice rough, almost raw. “My name. Say it again.”

You flinched at his words, at the sheer vulnerability in his tone. He looked at you like he was dying and you were the reaper, like you were the last thing tethering him to whatever humanity he had left- or ready to take him away from it. And for a moment- just a moment- you faltered. Your grip on your wand trembled, and the air between you felt impossibly heavy.

“Don’t,” you managed, your voice shaking but firm enough to keep the distance between you. “Don’t do this. Don’t make me-” Your words broke off, caught in the tangle of emotions that constricted your throat. You couldn’t finish. Not with him standing so close, with his sharp green eyes piercing through every wall you’d tried to build.

He tilted his head, his expression softening into something unrecognizably tender. “Don’t make you what?” He murmured, stepping even closer, until the tip of your wand pressed more firmly against his chest. He didn’t stop. He didn’t flinch. “Hate me? Forgive me? Love me again?”

Your breath hitched, and Barty caught it. He always did. His smirk wavered, his lips pressing into a thin line as he leaned in, just enough that his voice dropped to a whisper. “You don’t hate me,” he said, his tone laced with certainty. “You can’t.”

The tears stinging at the corners of your eyes betrayed you, and you cursed yourself for the way your chest ached at his words. “You don’t know me,” you said, though your voice wavered. “Not anymore.”

Barty’s smile faltered, his expression flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. Regret? Pain? Desperation? All of it. “I know you better than anyone,” he replied quietly. “And I know I don’t deserve it, but I need you to hear me. Just this once.”

Your grip on your wand tightened, your knuckles whitening as the tremor in your hand betrayed your composure. “Barty,” you warned again, your voice stronger now. “I swear to Merlin, if you take one more step-”

But he did. Of course, he did. He always did.

“I won’t stop,” he said, his voice soft but resolute. His hand slid up your arm, carefully, deliberately, until his fingers brushed the edge of your wand. He gently pushed it aside, though his touch was more a suggestion than a demand. “Not until you know. Not until you understand.”

“Understand what?” You snapped, anger finally breaking through the cracks of your composure. You stepped back, creating a sliver of distance between you, though your wand remained at your side, trembling. “That you lied to me? That you made me believe you were someone you weren’t?”

“I never lied to you,” Barty said, his voice sharp but not unkind. He stepped closer again, closing the distance you’d tried to create, his green eyes blazing with something fierce, unrelenting. “I just didn’t tell you everything.”

You scoffed, the sound bitter as it escaped your lips. “That’s not better, Barty. That’s not-”

“It was to protect you,” he interrupted, his voice rising just enough to cut you off. The words were urgent, desperate, spilling from his lips before he could stop them. “Everything I did- everything I became- it was all for you. To keep you safe.”

“Safe?” you repeated, your voice cracking as you glared at him. “From what? From you?”

“No,” he said immediately, his voice firm. “From them. From him.” His hand rose to his sleeve, and in one swift motion, he pushed it up to reveal the dark, jagged mark etched into his forearm. The Dark Mark.

Your breath caught, your chest tightening as your gaze locked onto the cursed symbol. The sight of it sent a wave of nausea rolling through you, and you stumbled back, your free hand flying to your mouth. Reminded of the night you found it, the pain of knowing the man you loved had sworn himself to a monster.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice breaking as he reached for you again. “Don’t look at me like that. Please.”

You shook your head, tears streaming freely down your cheeks now. “You chose this,” you choked out, your voice thick with betrayal. “You chose him. You chose them.”

“I chose you,” Barty said, his voice trembling but resolute. He dropped his sleeve, his hands falling to his sides as he stepped closer again, his green eyes burning with intensity. “Every choice I made, every risk I took- it was all for you. To keep you out of their reach. To keep you alive.”

You stared at him, your heart warring with your mind, every emotion crashing into you all at once. Love. Hate. Pain. Longing. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me,” you said finally, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and sorrow. “You don’t get to destroy yourself and call it love.”

The words struck him harder than any spell ever could. Barty’s shoulders sagged, his breath hitching as he struggled to find the right words. But there weren’t any. There never were.

“You were my everything,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “You still are. And I don’t know how to stop loving you.”

The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of his confession hanging between you like a fragile thread, ready to snap.

And then, for the first time, you didn’t look away.

“What do you want from me, Barty?” You asked, your voice breaking. “What do you want me to do?”

His chest rose and fell as though breathing itself had become an effort, and for the first time, you saw just how deeply cracked his facade was. This wasn’t the boy who had charmed his way into your life with a grin and a joke. This was someone breaking apart before you.

“What do you want from me, Barty?” You asked again, your voice cracking. “What do you need me to do? Because I can’t keep doing this.”

He hesitated, his lips parting as though the words were caught in his throat. Finally, he exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his fingers trembling. “I need you to listen,” he said softly, his voice rough. “Just… listen.”

You didn’t lower your wand, but the strength in your arm faltered. “Fine,” you said, your tone hard but brittle. “Talk.”

Barty took a cautious step closer, testing the fragile space between you. “He’s got eyes on you,” he murmured, the words weighted with urgency. “Voldemort. Now that he thinks I’m gone, there’s nothing stopping him from... from- ” His voice broke off, his teeth clenching as he struggled to continue. “From using you. Hurting you.”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t lower your wand. “Why?” you demanded, your voice sharp. “Why would he care about me? I have nothing to do with him or his war.”

Barty hesitated, his jaw tightening as he avoided your gaze. “Because of me,” he admitted finally, his voice low. “Because... he knows.”

Your heart sank, the room spinning as his words settled over you. “What does he know, Barty?” you demanded, your voice rising as panic seeped in. “What did you tell him?”

“I didn’t tell him anything,” Barty snapped, his frustration flaring. He ran a hand through his hair again, his movements agitated. “He saw it. In my mind. The moment we met. He knew about you before I could even- ” He cut himself off, swallowing hard. “He knew everything.”

You stared at him, your grip on your wand trembling. “And you let him? You let him see me?”

“Do you think I had a choice?” Barty shot back, his voice rising. His green eyes burned as he stepped closer, his desperation bleeding through. “You don’t know what it’s like, Star. You don’t know what he can do. He doesn’t just ask for loyalty- he takes everything.”

Your mind raced, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place with a sickening clarity. “And that’s why you took the mark,” you murmured, the realization hitting you like a blow. “You didn’t do it for him. Or the war. You did it for me.”

Barty’s face twisted, a mix of guilt and defiance flashing across his features. “No,” he said quickly, too quickly. “It wasn’t just for you. It was for Evan. For Regulus. For all of us.”

“Don’t lie to me, Barty,” you snapped, your voice trembling with anger and grief. “Not now. Not after everything.”

His shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of him as he exhaled shakily. “Fine,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yes. He saw you. I did it for you. Because I thought... I thought if I could keep him away from you, if I could make him think I was loyal, he wouldn’t... he wouldn’t touch you.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening as the weight of his confession settled over you. “You don’t get to make that choice for me,” you said, your voice trembling. “You don’t get to destroy yourself and call it love.” You repeated

Barty flinched, his green eyes glistening as he took another step closer. “I didn’t know what else to do,” he said, his voice breaking. “I couldn’t lose you. Not to him. Not to anyone.”

The silence between you stretched, heavy and suffocating. You could feel the tears stinging at your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “You already lost me,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “The moment you chose him, you lost me.”

Barty’s breath hitched, his hands trembling at his sides. “I never stopped loving you,” he said, his voice raw. “Not for a second. And I know you still- ”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, your voice sharp. “Don’t say it. Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

For a moment, Barty looked like he might argue, like he might push further. But then he stepped back, his shoulders slumping as he ran a hand over his face. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice breaking. “For everything.”

The tears spilled over now, and you hated yourself for it. Hated that even after everything, part of you still ached for him. “You should go,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “Before I do something I can’t take back.”

Barty nodded slowly, his green eyes locking onto yours one last time. “I’ll protect you,” he said, his voice steady despite the tremor in his hands. “Even if you hate me for it.”

And then he turned, disappearing into the hall and leaving you struggling out in open water. He obeyed you, not out of fear, but out of feelings you were sure he didn't quite know anymore.

~~~

The morning crept in through the curtains far too soon, dragging the remnants of another sleepless night with it. Your body ached with exhaustion, every muscle heavy with the weight of your restless mind. Barty’s words echoed endlessly in your head, each one a thread in a web of fear and confusion that left no room for peace. The silence of the room pressed in around you, thick and suffocating.

A soft rustle at the window broke through your haze. Blinking, you turned your head toward the sound, your heart leaping when you saw a familiar figure perched on the sill. The owl was regal, its feathers sleek and chestnut brown, with intelligent golden eyes that seemed to hold secrets of their own. You recognized it immediately- it had once belonged to your father before he passed it on to James.

“Still taking care of them all, huh?” You murmured, forcing a faint smile as you slid out of bed. The owl hooted softly, extending its leg with a delicate flourish, the parchment tied securely with a ribbon bearing Lily’s familiar touch. 

Your fingers trembled as you untied the letter, smoothing the folds before sinking onto the edge of the bed to read.  Only to hear your family owl flutter its way over to perch on your nightstand, as if to comfort you.

My dearest Bam, 

First of all, don’t you dare scold me for calling you that. I know you will. You always do. But it's better then writing out Bambi, isn't it? I guess I've written it anyway.

I need you to come to the Burrow in a week. I'll send Remus. Dumbledore has requested all the Potters be there, and yes, that includes you. Don't ask- I haven't a clue.

I told James, of course, and now he’s stress-pacing through the living room like a caged lion. He’s muttering about plans, protective wards, and Merlin knows what else. You know how he gets. Sirius is egging him on, naturally. I’m tempted to hex them both just for some peace and quiet, but that would probably just encourage them.

Now, onto more important matters- I miss you. I miss our late-night chats in the Gryffindor common room, our stolen hours in the library when we swore we were studying but mostly just gossiped. I miss sneaking into the kitchens with you-Remus- and giggling like children when the house-elves indulged us. It feels like a lifetime ago, doesn’t it? Merlin, we're old now.

Speaking of nostalgia, Harry had his first broom ride last week. James insisted on letting him try it without any help, and you can imagine how that went. He was fearless, of course, but I nearly fainted when he wobbled mid-air. He’s fine- better than fine, actually. He’s already got James convinced he’s the next great Potter Seeker. Merlin help us all. Mark my words, if Sirius brings him Quidditch gear next I will not be responsible for what I do to him.

He keeps asking when you'll visit next. Well, as much as a tiny still developing human can ask anything coherent. He's been pulling down your picture frames and bringing them to James. Like he does with his toys, pointing and grabbing at them before James waves his wand and they appear in front of him. I wonder if he thinks bringing the frame to James enough times, he'll magically make you appear next.

Enough of that, I'm already watery eyed.

Promise me you’ll be good, alright? Or at least try. I know you better than anyone, and I know you’ll do whatever you think is right, even if it’s reckless. Just remember that we love you. Always. 

Take care of yourself, Bambi. We’ll see you soon.  

All my love,  

Lily 

The parchment trembled in your hands as you read and reread Lily’s words, each line feeling like a small dagger pressing into your chest. The warmth of her affection radiated from the letter, but it was bittersweet- filling you with longing and an ache so deep it felt like a chasm you could never cross.

Your gaze drifted to the family owl perched on the window sill, its soft coos filling the silence of the room. Your hand absentmindedly ran over its feathers, seeking comfort in the familiar presence. 

A part of you wanted to crumble under the weight of the letter, to curl up and let the tide of emotions wash over you until there was nothing left. But you couldn’t. Not when you knew that in a week, you’d be surrounded by the same faces you’d worked so hard to avoid. The thought of stepping back into that world- one you had once belonged to so effortlessly- made your heart clench.

You tucked the letter carefully into the drawer beside your bed, as though hiding it could also hide the feelings it unearthed. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you sank back onto the mattress, staring at the ceiling. Memories of Lily’s laughter, James’s boisterous teasing, Sirius’s sharp wit, and Remus’s steady presence flooded your mind. 

You had been running from them.

You rarely spoke to James or Lily, but you allowed Sirius to come every Friday to take you dancing with Remus. Even then, you were reserved. And some Fridays, the order owned them not you.

But next Friday, you would belong to the order two. And what was the best next step? Tell people about Barty? While there was still a mole in the mix? Who could you trust to be honest with? And what was this meeting about?

You were scared.

Guess you'd have to learn later.

~~~

The familiar crack of Apparition left you dizzy, but as the quirky silhouette of the Burrow shimmered into view, a sense of calm enveloped you. Its crooked floors and impossible towers defied logic yet promised the safety and warmth you’d been missing for months. The mismatched windows glowed golden against the cool evening sky, and the scent of fresh bread mingled with the soft rustle of the garden. You glanced at Remus as he steadied himself with his cane, the faintest hint of amusement on his face.

“Don’t let Molly rope you into shelling peas,” Remus quipped, his tone dry but playful. 

“I’ll take a chore over watching you sulk in a corner,” you retorted, the light in your eyes softening the jab. 

The moment you stepped through the door, the Burrow’s chaos welcomed you. Molly’s sharp voice called from the kitchen, “…and if you two so much as breathe near those pastries-” followed by the muffled laughter of Fred and George. Arthur’s chuckle drifted from the sitting room, the newspaper in his hands quivering as he fought to keep a straight face. The air smelled of herbs and roasted chicken, spiced with a coziness that made the tension in your chest ease.

Sirius was the first to notice you, his bark of laughter echoing through the room. Before you could react, he wrapped you in a bear hug that left you breathless, his leather jacket cool against your cheek.

“About time, Bambi,” Sirius grinned, his stormy eyes glittering. “Just have to get ol Albus to get you outside that house, huh?”

“Sirius, you’re crushing me!” You wheezed, though the laughter bubbling in your chest betrayed you.

“Good.” He pulled back slightly, his hands gripping your shoulders as he scanned your face. “Someone’s gotta remind you that there’s more to life than brooding.” He winked before ruffling your hair and stepping aside for the next assault.

James bounded forward, his grin wide enough to light the room. “You look like you’ve been through the wars,” He teased, pulling you into a warm embrace. “I was this close to just picking you up on my broom.”

“Absolutely not,” you shot back, though your smile mirrored his.

“You’re lucky I didn’t leave you on the doorstep,” James added, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Molly made pie, and I’m not sharing.”

Before you could retort, Lily appeared, her arms wrapping around you like a blanket of comfort. “Ignore him,” She murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’re here. That’s all that matters.”

Her soft perfume, floral with a hint of vanilla, wrapped around you as she stepped back. “Harry’s over there,” She said, gesturing to a wicker basket by the hearth.

Your heart leapt at the sight of the tot. His bright green eyes locked onto yours as you approached, his chubby arms reaching out as if he recognized you. Lifting him into your arms, you marveled at how heavy he felt, how much he’d grown. His giggles drowned out the room’s noise, pulling a smile to your lips that you hadn’t felt in weeks.

“Miss him, don’t you?” Peter’s voice startled you. He leaned casually against the wall, his smile tight and fleeting.

“I do.” You admitted, cradling Harry closer. “He’s gotten so big.”

Behind you, Remus chuckled softly, his gaze flickering between the chaotic twins and the steaming kettle on the stove. “Be careful.” He murmured as he passed. “They’ll have you doing dishes if you’re not quick enough to disappear.”

The twins erupted in mock outrage at something Molly had said, darting past you and narrowly avoiding a hex she threw their way. Arthur peeked over his paper, his warm eyes crinkling as he muttered, “Boys will be boys.”

The house itself seemed alive, its wooden beams creaking with the rhythm of laughter and footsteps. A cuckoo clock on the wall chimed cheerfully, its tiny bird flapping its wings as if to join the fun. In the corner, a knitting needle clicked furiously away on a half-finished jumper, abandoned but determined to finish its work. The scent of molasses and butter floated in from the kitchen, promising a feast.

Sirius plopped onto the couch beside you, his arm slinging casually over the backrest. “I’ll trade you one Harry cuddle for a slice of pie,” He offered, waggling his eyebrows.

“You’re insufferable,” You muttered, but you couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips.

“I learned from the best,” He cheeked with a grin, gesturing toward James, who was now teasing Lily about her perfectly sliced carrots. 

“And they are the same size! By the time you're done, Molly will have finished the roast!”

“Eff off Potter.”

“No can do, Potter.”

You gave a small laugh at their exchange and relented, handing Harry over to his god father and leaning slightly into his side as Harry cooed out at the disturbance. He reached for you still, making Sirius gasp in offense. 

He held Harry up dramatically, looking into his tiny, chubby-cheeked face with mock outrage. "Et tu, Harry? Betraying me for her already? And here I thought I was your favorite."

Harry babbled something unintelligible, flailing his little arms in a way that made Sirius grin even wider. “That’s right,” he said. “Tell her she’ll have to fight me for you.”

You rolled your eyes, reaching out to gently stroke Harry’s soft, tufty hair. “You’re too much.” You scoffed, though there was no hiding the affection in your voice. 

“Much to love,” Sirius quipped, cradling Harry in one arm while dramatically gesturing to the room with the other. “That’s what they all say.”

“Sure, Pads,” James called from the kitchen, his voice muffled but dripping with amusement. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Sirius turned to you, feigning a wounded look. “See what I deal with? You’re my only ally in this house of betrayal.”

“Careful, Black.” You teased, leaning closer with a smirk. “You’re starting to sound like a drama queen.”

He gasped, clutching Harry to his chest like a damsel in distress. “How dare you? In front of my godson, no less!”

Harry giggled at Sirius’s antics, his tiny fingers tangling in Sirius’s hair. You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound of it startling you. It felt so easy here, so natural, as though the weight of everything you’d been carrying had lifted just for a moment.

Across the room, Lily smiled warmly at the scene, her hands busy stirring a pot on the stove. “You’re good with him,” she called softly, catching your eye. 

You gave a small, sheepish shrug. “He’s an easy one to love.”

The warmth in Lily’s expression deepened as she turned back to her cooking. “He is.”

The door to the kitchen swung open, and Molly emerged with a flurry of activity, her wand directing plates and utensils to the dining table. “Dinner’s almost ready, everyone! And no-” she pointed sharply at William and Charlie, who froze mid-sneak toward the cooling pies. “you may not have dessert first.”

“Worth a shot,” William muttered, retreating with a grin.

As the household settled into a rhythm of setting the table and filling glasses, Remus appeared at your side, his cane tapping softly against the wooden floor. His sharp gaze swept the room, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he took in the bustling scene. 

“Feels a bit like the old days, doesn’t it?” He murmured, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

You nodded, your chest tightening with bittersweet nostalgia. “It does. I almost forgot what this kind of chaos felt like.”

Remus’s smile grew, though his eyes remained thoughtful. “Sometimes it’s good to forget. Just for a little while.”

Before you could respond, Sirius leaned over, handing Harry back to you with exaggerated care. “Here’s your little prince, m’lady.” He mused, bowing dramatically. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to defend my honor against Potter in a round of ‘who can eat the most Yorkshire puddings.’”

“Is that even a real game?” You smirked, raising an eyebrow.

“It is now,” James called from the table, already rolling up his sleeves like he was preparing for battle. “Lily, make it official.”

“I’m not indulging this,” Lily replied, though there was a fondness in her tone that betrayed her amusement. “Molly, you can't allow this.”

“I'll make more.” Molly tutted as Lily gave a scandalized laugh.

Sirius shot you a wink before bounding off, leaving you holding Harry as the chatter of the Burrow surrounded you. For a moment, you let yourself soak in the warmth of it all- the laughter, the clatter of plates, the way Harry’s tiny hand curled around your finger as he gurgled contentedly. Just turned one, what a milestone.

Remus stayed beside you, his quiet presence a steady anchor amidst the chaos. “You look like you’re exactly where you need to be,” he said softly, his gaze steady and kind.

You glanced down at Harry, then back up at Remus, and for the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to believe it might be true. 

“Now.” He chuckled, tilting his head to the table. “Let's eat, yeah?”

“Mhm.” You mused and pulled Harry closer to your chest. Smiling as the toddler fell asleep the second you hit your seat between Peter and Sirius. As if last night never happened.

~~~

The warm chatter of the meal eventually faded as the last of the plates were cleared. Molly, ever the matron of order, bustled about with a flick of her wand, sending dishes to the sink where they began scrubbing themselves. The sound of forks and knives being charmed into their proper drawers blended with the soft hum of conversation as everyone settled into a comfortable post-meal haze.

Harry, still nestled in your arms, snored softly, his tiny chest rising and falling as he slept. Sirius had returned to his spot beside you, grinning smugly from his victory over James in their self-made pudding contest.

"I told you, Potter," Sirius drawled, stretching his arms behind his head. "There's no defeating me when it comes to food. Or charm. Or- well, anything, really."

James scoffed, leaning back in his chair with an exaggerated groan. “I let you win, Black. Lily told me not to embarrass you in front of Harry.”

“Likely story,” Sirius quipped, tossing a sugar cube at him.

The energy in the Burrow began to shift. The cheerful chaos mellowed into a quiet murmur, and the adults started to exchange glances that carried weightier thoughts. The air thickened, anticipation weaving its way through the room like an unspoken spell. You shifted uncomfortably in your chair, cradling Harry as he slept against your chest, his tiny hand clutching a fold of your robe.

Sirius tapped his fingers idly against his arm, a slight frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. “He’s late.” He muttered under his breath, glancing toward the door.

“He’s Dumbledore,” Remus mused calmly, though his hand tightened slightly around his cane as he leaned back in his chair. “He’s always late, and it’s always for a reason.”

James glanced at Lily, who was tidying up near the sink, and gave a pointed look. She sighed, wiping her hands on a dishtowel and flicking her wand to send the rest of the dishes to the sink. “All right,” she said softly. “Let’s move to the livingroom, yeah?”

As if on cue, a soft pop echoed from the front of the house. The sound startled Harry awake, and his sleepy whimper drew a protective reflex from you, soothing him with quiet whispers as the others stood.

Dumbledore entered the room moments later, his presence commanding yet serene. His bright blue eyes swept the room, lingering briefly on each face before landing on yours. “Good evening, everyone,” He greeted warmly, his voice carrying a calm authority that settled some of the tension.

“Evening, Albus,” Arthur said, rising to shake his hand. “I hope your journey wasn’t too troublesome.”

“Not at all, Arthur,” Dumbledore replied, his gaze flickering to you and the sleeping Harry. “I see we have young company.”

You felt everyone’s attention shift toward you, and you carefully handed Harry to Lily, who had stepped forward to take him. “Thank you,” she murmured, brushing her son’s hair back before retreating to the other room to settle him in his crib.

Dumbledore motioned for everyone to sit, and Molly hastily brought over a fresh pot of tea, her hands fluttering nervously. “Would you like some, Albus?”

“No, thank you, Molly,” he replied kindly, taking his place at the head of the table. “Time is of the essence tonight.”

Lily reentered the room just as Dumbledore spoke, her expression soft but slightly guarded as she took her seat beside James. “He’s sleeping,” she whispered simply, glancing toward the closed door to reassure herself.

The room fell silent as everyone waited for him to speak. Dumbledore’s gaze moved across the table, his usual twinkle dimmed with the weight of the news he carried. “It is with a heavy heart,” he began, “that I must inform you of Voldemort’s latest focus. James, Lily, and Harry have been targeted. As for your current hide out.. it has been uncovered.”

A ripple of tension swept through the room, but Dumbledore held up a hand to forestall interruptions. “The protections we’ve worked tirelessly to create have been completed. The blood ward surrounding your next safe house is now fully functional. It is imperative that you move there immediately.”

James straightened in his seat, his expression hardening with determination. “We’ll go tonight,” he said firmly, looking to Lily for confirmation. She nodded, her hand finding his under the table.

Dumbledore turned his gaze to you, his expression softening slightly. “And you, my dear. It seems he is not stopping until the entirety of the Potter bloodline is destroyed.”

Your heart clenched as the words sank in. You carefully fluttered your eyes closed. Placing your hand over your side, as if not looking at anyone would protect you from leering eyes. You heard a sharp breath fall over the table and felt Sirius reach for you on instinct, grabbing your arm a bit rough.

Dumbledore gave you a small nod, his expression filled with sympathy and sorrow. “The new safe house will protect you three,” He reassured. “The wards are among the strongest ever created. However, you must not leave its boundaries until further notice. Voldemort’s reach grows stronger every day.”

“And my sister?” James started and leaned forward in his seat, when your eyes finally braved the crowd and landed on him, you saw his flushed cheeks. His desperate eyes. Only to Dumbledore to hold his hand up, as if to say arrangements have been made.

The room fell into a heavy silence as everyone absorbed the gravity of the situation. Molly’s hands twisted in her lap, her usual warmth subdued by worry. Sirius broke the silence, his voice low but firm. “We’ll keep them safe, Albus. Whatever it takes.”

Dumbledore’s gaze lingered on him for a moment before he nodded. “I know you will, Sirius. This being said.. there is the matter of where this information comes from.”

You felt Sirius reach over and place his hand softly on your hand, squeezing it as he made eye contact with James from across the table. Everyone waiting on bated breaths.

Dumbledore’s expression shifted slightly, his fingers steepling as he addressed the group. “The information we’ve uncovered is… credible. But I must warn you, the sources of this intelligence are not without their complications.”

James frowned, his hand tightening around Lily’s. “What does that mean, Albus?”

“It means, Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore replied carefully, “That three individuals have offered us this crucial information. Their identities may be… difficult for some of you to accept.”

You felt Sirius tense beside you, his posture straightening as though bracing himself for impact. His fingers still gripped yours, his hold both grounding and protective. Across the table, Remus leaned forward, his hazel eyes narrowing with quiet suspicion.

“Who are they?” Sirius asked, his voice steady but laced with an edge.

Dumbledore gave a small sigh and lifted his hand. With that, the door opened and everyone was made to watch as three figures stepped in, in large cloaks hoods. Gasps filled the room as the figures lowered their hoods, revealing the faces that had long been presumed lost to time and war. 

Standing in the doorway, with a defiant smirk tugging at his lips, was Barty, his sharp green eyes flicking to yours immediately. Beside him, the ever-elegant Evan Rosier, his pale complexion stark against the dark folds of his cloak, stood with his hands in his pockets, his gaze assessing the room with a subtle air of amusement. And on the far left was Regulus Black, his face calm but his silver-grey eyes shadowed with a weariness that spoke of battles waged both out and within.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Despite the pain in your chest and the shutter that ran through you. Your eyes, like everyone else’s, landed on Sirius. The eldest Black son was silent, his expression one of horrific shock. No one noticing how James seemed to stiffen or how Lily covered her mouth with more then just shock in her eyes.

You expected him to shout, to yell, to toss a chair or two, but your breath was taken from your throat when he stood up so quickly his seat toppled over. 

“Mate.” James warned in a stern tone.

“Pads.” Remus huffed, only to watch as Sirius crossed the room quicker than anyone could stop him. Regulus winced and prepared to be struck, only to have the wind knocked out of his lungs as Sirius engulfed him in a hug. Nearly knocking them both over as he buried his face in his younger brother's hair. 

“Pads…” James’s voice softened, unsure of what to say. 

Regulus was caught off guard, his arms hanging limply at his sides for a moment before hesitantly lifting to return the embrace. His movements were stiff, almost unsure, but the faintest flicker of relief passed across his usually stoic features.

Sirius’s voice broke the silence, muffled against Regulus’s shoulder. “You bloody git.” He choked out, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought you were dead.”

Regulus closed his eyes, his own voice steady but low. “I almost was.”

Sirius pulled back slightly, his hands gripping his brother’s shoulders as he scanned his face, as if trying to assure himself that Regulus was really there. “You absolute prat.” He muttered, though the words carried more affection than anger. “Do you have any idea what it’s been like? Thinking I lost you?”

Regulus flinched under Sirius’s intensity but held his gaze. “I didn’t have a choice.” He defended quietly. “I had to make them think I was gone. It was the only way to get out.”

Sirius’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, it seemed like the anger might break through after all. But then he let out a shaky breath, his hands falling away as he stepped back. “You could’ve told me.” He muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “You could’ve… I would’ve helped you.”

Regulus’s expression softened, a rare vulnerability slipping through the cracks in his otherwise composed demeanor. “I…” His voice cracked and he quickly cleared his throat. “I wasn't aware you would… my apologies.” He coughed into his fist and fixed his posture, his voice heavy with regret. “Regardless I didn’t want to drag you into it. You’d already done enough to protect me when we were kids. I couldn’t ask you to risk more.”

The tension in the room shifted, the charged atmosphere replaced by something quieter, heavier. Sirius nodded slowly, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck as he looked away, his emotions still raw and unguarded.

It was Barty who broke the moment, his voice dripping with impatience as he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Touching as this reunion is, we don’t exactly have time for tea and biscuits. The Dark Lord isn’t going to pause his plans just because the Black brothers are having a moment.”

Sirius turned on him so quickly that Barty actually stood up straighter, his smirk faltering for just a second. “Shut your mouth, Crouch,” Sirius snarled, his eyes flashing with barely-contained fury. “You’ve got no right to be here. No right to-”

“Enough.” Dumbledore’s calm yet firm voice cut through the tension, his gaze sharp as it moved between Sirius and Barty. “They are here because they have information vital to your safety. Whatever personal grievances you may have will have to wait.”

Sirius’s fists clenched at his sides, but he said nothing, his jaw tight as he returned to his seat. The room remained charged, the weight of the moment pressing down on everyone. His hand going for yours and squeezing it tight, eyeing Barty with a clear threat. Barty’s eyes just stayed on you.

Evan Rosier stepped forward next, his movements languid and unbothered as he glanced around the room with a faint smirk. “Always the dramatic one, aren’t you, Black?” He drawled, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. “Some things never change.”

“Shut it, Rosier.” Lily snapped, glaring at Sirius as he threatened to open his mouth again. “Both of you.”

Sirius’s hand tightened on yours until you turned your palm over and your fingers intertwined. His focus was clearly shifting to Regulus, his emotions warring between relief and frustration.

Regulus shifted uncomfortably under his brother’s lingering gaze but turned his attention. “Albus.” Regulus spoke carefully and the older wizard waved his hand. 

“Do as you must.”

Regulus nodded and turned to Barty, and for once, when you saw him, his eyes drifted right past yours.

“Evan?” Barty mused and cocked his head to the side. “Do you like these seating arrangements?”

“Not my favorite, I have to say.” Rosier smirked and you saw shuffling in your peripheral. Turning, your eyes fell on a nervous looking Peter, who tried to move out of his seat. 

“Peter? Are you alright?” You asked softly and he glanced at you, as pale as a damned ghost.

“Let's fix it Evan.”

“Of course, Crouch.”

The room was heavy with tension as Peter fidgeted in his seat, his nervous energy radiating outward like a beacon. His pale, sweaty face darted between Regulus, Evan, and Barty, who watched him with an air of casual cruelty that made your stomach churn. The faint smirk on Barty’s lips, the lazy confidence in Evan’s posture, and the calculating glint in Regulus’s eyes- it all felt too deliberate, like a game already decided before it began.

“Peter, mate,” Barty began, his tone almost sing-song as he tilted his head. “Why are you so jumpy? We’re all friends here. Aren't we?”

Peter’s hands gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles white. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he stammered, his voice breaking as his gaze darted to Sirius for support. “I-I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Nothing wrong?” Evan echoed, his voice low and laced with mockery. He stepped closer to Peter, his movements smooth and predatory, as though he were circling prey. “Is that what we’re calling treachery these days? Nothing wrong?”

Regulus didn’t speak, his gray eyes cold and unflinching as they locked onto Peter’s trembling form. His silence was louder than words, and it carried the weight of judgment.

Sirius stood abruptly, his hand still gripping yours as his stormy eyes narrowed. “What the hell are you talking about?” He snapped, his voice sharp and cutting through the room like a whip. “If you’ve got something to say, say it.”

“Oh, we’ll say it,” Barty drawled, his smirk widening as he leaned back against the wall. His sharp green eyes flicked to you for the briefest moment, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them before he turned his attention back to Peter. “But I think actions speak louder than words, don’t you?”

Evan’s smirk mirrored Barty’s as he stepped closer to Peter, who was now visibly shaking. “Let’s show them, shall we?” Evan said, his voice a low murmur that carried a sinister edge.

Peter’s eyes widened in panic, and he shot up from his chair, knocking it over in his haste to back away. “You’re mad,” he stammered, his voice high-pitched and trembling. “I don’t know what you’re on about!”

But he didn’t get far. Regulus moved with startling speed, his wand flicking out in a smooth, practiced motion. “Petrificus Totalus.”

Peter froze mid-step, his body locking in place as he teetered, then fell back into the chair with a heavy thud. His wide, terrified eyes darted around the room, pleading silently as sweat dripped down his face.

Evan leaned over him, his smirk gone, replaced with a look of cold disdain. “This won’t take long,” he murmured, gripping Peter’s arm with surprising strength. With a sharp tug, he rolled up Peter’s sleeve, exposing the pale, trembling flesh of his forearm.

For a moment, there was nothing. Just pale skin, glistening with sweat. But then, like ink bleeding through parchment, a dark, jagged mark began to emerge, etched into Peter’s skin like a brand. The skull and serpent twisted and writhed, as though alive, mocking the room with its sinister presence.

Gasps filled the room, Lily’s fell from her mouth as her wide eyes locked onto the mark. Sirius staggered back a step, his grip on your hand tightening to the point of pain. James stood frozen, his hazel eyes dark with a mixture of shock and fury.

“No,” Sirius whispered, his voice barely audible as his eyes darted between the mark and Peter’s frozen, terrified face. “No. You can’t- this can’t-”

“It can,” Regulus said, his voice cold and steady as he stepped back. His gray eyes met Sirius’s, unflinching. “And it does.”

Barty straightened, his smirk firmly in place as he clapped his hands once, the sound sharp and jarring in the stunned silence. “Well,” he drawled, his tone light and mocking. “I think that clears things up, doesn’t it? Your little rat here has been leaking your secrets to the Dark Lord.”

“No,” Sirius growled, his voice low and dangerous as he advanced on Peter, his body trembling with rage. “You lying, spineless-” He lunged, but James grabbed him, pulling him back with surprising strength.

“Stop, Sirius,” James said, his voice tight with fury as he held his friend back. “Not here. Not now.”

Sirius struggled against James’s grip, his eyes blazing with fury. “Let me go, Prongs. Let me-”

“No!” James snapped, his voice rising as he pushed Sirius back. “Think, Pads. Just think.”

Your breathing was shallow, your vision blurring as the weight of everything crashed down on you. Betrayal from Peter, the looming threat of Voldemort, Barty’s presence- it was too much. The room felt suffocating, the walls closing in around you as your chest tightened.

The tension in the Burrow was palpable, the charged atmosphere crackling like lightning in a storm. Peter’s frozen body remained stiff in the chair, his panicked eyes darting from face to face as though pleading for someone to intervene. Moody had stood quietly for most of the reveal, his magical eye twitching and whirring in his socket, tracking every move. But now, his grizzled face was set in a grim expression, his scarred hands gripping the back of Peter’s chair.

“All right, that’s enough gawking,” Moody growled, his voice cutting through the murmurs and gasps of the room. He yanked Peter upright by his collar, the smaller man letting out a muffled whimper against the binding spell. “This rat’s coming with me. We’ll see what he spills when we squeeze him tight enough.”

“Moody,” James started, his voice trembling with barely suppressed fury. “Make sure he-”

“I know,” Moody snapped, his gaze flickered toward James. “He’s not slipping away.” With a rough tug, he began to drag Peter toward the door, his limp body scraping against the floor.

As the door closed behind Moody, the room fell into an uneasy silence, the weight of Peter’s betrayal and the newest additions settling like a heavy fog. Sirius stood still as a statue, his chest heaving as he glared at the spot where Peter had been. His grip on your hand was almost bruising, and you felt every tremor of his barely-contained fury.

Your heart raced, your breath shallow as you tried to calm yourself. You felt untethered, the world around you spinning out of control. Every pair of eyes in the room seemed to burn into you, their scrutiny suffocating.

And then, of course, he spoke.

“Well,” Barty drawled from his spot near the wall, his voice calm and unbothered as though nothing had happened. “That was dramatic. Bit of a show, wasn’t it?”

Sirius’s head snapped toward him, and before anyone could stop him, he lunged. “You smug-”

“Don’t,” James barked, stepping between them and pressing a firm hand to Sirius’s chest. His hazel eyes burned with a warning as he shoved Sirius back. “Not now.”

Barty’s smirk widened, his green eyes gleaming with amusement as he watched the scene unfold. “Touchy, aren’t we?” He remarked, his tone dripping with mockery.

“Say one more word, Crouch,” Sirius growled, his voice low and dangerous, “and I swear-”

“Enough!” Lily’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. She stood with her arms crossed, her usually warm expression hard with fury. “All of you, just stop.”

The room stilled, but the air remained electric, charged with unspoken accusations and simmering rage. You stood frozen in place, your pulse thundering in your ears as you tried to process everything. But then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw Barty move.

He stepped forward with a deliberate ease, his sharp green eyes locking onto yours. His smirk was gone, replaced by something colder, heavier. Your breathing sped up.

James noticed, and before Barty could take another step, he slammed his shoulder into him, forcing him back with enough force to make him stagger. “Stay the hell away from her,” James snarled, his voice like steel.

Barty straightened, brushing off his robes with an almost lazy motion. He met James’s glare with a calm, calculated expression, but his eyes flicked back to you, cutting through the room’s tension like a knife. “I wasn’t talking to you, Potter,” he said evenly, his voice carrying an unsettling weight.

Sirius was already moving again, but Remus caught his arm, holding him back with surprising strength. “Don’t,” Remus said quietly, his voice low but firm. 

Barty ignored them all. His attention was entirely on you. His sharp features were illuminated by the dim light of the room, his green eyes blazing with intensity. When he spoke, his voice was low and deliberate, cutting through the chaos like a blade.

“I’ll protect you,” He whispered, his tone steady and unwavering, as though making a solemn vow before the entire room. “Even if you hate me for it.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. His gaze didn’t waver, his presence like a storm that refused to be ignored. It wasn’t a plea. It wasn’t an apology. It was a promise. A threat. A declaration that no one could mistake.

James lunged again, but this time sirius and Remus both held him back. “You bastard!” James snarled, his voice raw with rage. “Stay away from her!”

But Barty didn’t flinch. His eyes remained locked on yours, as if daring you to respond, to refute him, to try and push him away. The weight of his words settled over you, twisting your stomach into knots as you struggled to breathe.

“I don’t need you,” you whispered, your voice trembling but firm enough to carry through the room. “I don’t want you.”

Barty’s smirk returned, faint and humorless, as though your words had no effect. “I see.” he said simply, his tone maddeningly calm. “Seems you'll hate me.”

[technologyvoid]

Hank J Wimbleton.... Coffee shop bar au....

[rex3o]

Doting wife p2

Royal au! Sukuna x Reader

Sukuna sat on his throne, his face intense as his son plays around him. His advisors standing quietly in front him their heads bowed. His mind lingered on the event that was a couple weeks ago. Since then, he has not stopped.

Every dinner, he makes sure that whatever is served is to your liking, just to see your happy silent reaction when eating. He has ordered the servants to tend to the royal gardens, to plant specific flowers according to your preferences. Just to watch you walk around the garden with your son and enjoy the flowers. He made you go horse riding with him, just to talk about things you liked.

During his meetings with his advisors he would call for you and ask your opinion on certain matters in his meetings with his advisors.

Yet he knows you still hold yourself back around him, he knows you silently enjoy the effort he is putting despite getting onto him during the event. Though your silent enjoyment and appreciation is enough for him. He longs for more.

He longs for you to willing spend time with him again. He longs for your attention and care he had stupidly taken granted for.

His mind settles back into reality as one of his advisors had briefly mentioned about getting his son's portrait painted for his fourth birthday. There it struck sukuna.

-

You huffed as you stood by your mirror, as your lady in waiting examined the maids handling your gown ensuring it was perfect for the portrait. As they tended your hair, and make up, you looked at yourself in the mirror. Several hours alone with Sukuna. You pondered 'why' ever since you got the news that Sukuna had requested a new royal portrait of you two. You had one which was done a couple days after your wedding and not one since. So why one now?

Lost in thought, the maids finished and you made your way mindlessly towards the main hall, with your lady in waiting behind you. As you looked up, the painter smiled at you motioning you to sit next to Sukuna, as he is ready to paint. Your lady in waiting helped you up to your seat, whilst doing some finishing touches and ensured your dress was quite fine as she walked back to the painter as he started sketching.

The first few minutes, was met with silence. You remained still, only toying with the ring on your finger, as the only thing heard in the room was the harsh streaks of the pencil against the canvas.

"You look beautiful" he utters out quietly for you both to hear. You simply nod in response.

Sukuna tries to carry the conversation by asking how your day had been, if you had eaten, or how your son was and what he did. Till he softly sighs and glances at you.

"I miss you." he says.

"I am right here husband.. no need to miss me" You say without much emotion not wanting to be vulnerable.

"you know what I mean..." as he looks back up.

"I see how your face lights up at dinner, I watch how you enjoy your time in the gardens with our son. How you only like reading a certain genre of books.. how you only like to drink tea in the evening after dinner...how you despise insects after our horse riding trip."

He hesistatess before continuing.

"I wish you would share such moments with me again.. instead of me observing it from a distance. I want to hear how much you like the food that has been served. I want to walk along with you in the gardens with our son, as you ramble on whatever it is you like.. I want to drink tea with you- I just want to be with you again..."

You sat next to him somewhat speechless. Your hand gripping on the ring on your finger tightens as you take a sharp inhale and exhale holding composure.

"Why.. why has it taken you this long." Quickly and quietly you ask not wanting your voice to break. As your eyes remain on the painter and your lady in waiting. Afraid if you lay your eyes upon your husband tears will rush out.

"I have no excuse my wife.. the best way I can put it into words for you, is watching a candle burn down to its final flicker. Once it's gone and the darkness closes in, you finally understand how much that small, steady glow meant. You were that light in my life.. and i took it for granted."

He sighs as he continues "I am sorry it has taken me to loose you to understand the importance you hold in my life"

As he rests his large hand over yours.

"I may not have given you the love you well deserved over the past four years, but let me make the most of the years we have left to make it up to you. I will take however long it takes."

His hand wraps round yours as he takes it up and gently places a kiss on your knuckles. A tear slips down your face, which you quickly wipe away.

"it won't be easy-" you try to say yet Sukuna interrupts you.

"I know my sweet wife.. I know." As you finally look at him, his deep crimson eyes resting on yours. A quiet pull to one another, urging to be met.

Yet the moment broken by the painter looking up and exclaiming.

"Yes, yes, yes, the look of love keep that look your majesties, I need exactly that! and just you wait your portrait will overshadow any other." He says happily as he starts to paint.

Sukuna face having a subtle annoyance stretched over it, you chuckle quietly.

After the tedious hours of sitting for this portrait ends. The only thing keeping you going was your small conversations with Sukuna, as he his hand remained on yours not wanting to let go. You both walk over to see the work of art. As it depicted you sat facing forward with a soft smile on your face, with Sukuna next to you his hand over yours with his eyes on you.

An arm wrap around your waist, as Sukuna praises the painter.

"You definitely did outdo yourself, look at my wife" he exclaims as he looks at you. Not used to his attention you awkwardly chuckle and avoid his look. His hand grabbing your chin pulling your face up as he places a kiss on your forehead.

"My beautiful wife... you know what let's hold a celebration." Your eyes widen at the sudden plan.

"Over a portrait- no- that's too much." you interject.

"Hush, once people set their eyes upon this portrait they will understand why I had to hold such a celebration" Sukuna smirks at you.

You try to continue, but Sukuna doesn't let you as he looks at your lady in waiting.

"Next Wednesday I want the celebration, ensure my wife glows I want it to be about her-" As you try to speak Sukuna keeps cutting in on what to do for the event.

"Next Wednesday is my birthday!'" A small angry voice is heard, you laugh as your son did what you couldn't. He runs over as Sukuna picks up him.

"Apologises brat, then let it be his birthday AND a celebration-" Sukuna orders as your son continues to whine that it is his birthday.

In that moment, everything goes silent on your mind, as your gaze fixed on your husband and son, as you anxiously anticipated the oncoming years on your relationship with your husband.

The new painting embarking a new chapter in your rekindled love.

part 1

-

Authors note: OMLLLL thank you all so much for enjoying the first part guys oml- and im so sorry this took long to come out I was kinda busy w work and shii loool also like I was kinda stumped on how to continue this from the first chapter as I really didn't think further to continue it till ppl started asking for it. So, i am sorry if it seems a bit rushed. But I do hope this chapter does some sort of justice but unfortutnately I will only be leaving it at 2 parts and nothing more.

- R

[coconutdays]

going crazy

s. your boyfriend, handsome and secure suguru geto, doesn't get jealous

w.c. 4.8k

w. fem! reader, biker!geto! x reader , fluff!, smut!

a/n: based on my seat taker biker!geto au! also I feel this does not live up to seat taker! but I tried my best! so I hope you can still enjoy! likes reblogs and comments r always appreciated to know y’all liked it!!!

your boyfriend does not have a single jealous bone in his body. it’s convenient you suppose?

you’ve heard nightmares of insecure men who have to know where there girlfriends are every second of every hour, the direction they’re even going to utter a breath in. the occasional story of a girl who can’t speak to any men whatsoever because her boyfriend will berate her for doing so. 

although you do always keep suguru in the loop about what you’re doing and don’t really talk to guys because at the end of the day, more often than not, they always do not plan on just being your friend, he never expected those things out of you. It was a silent form of showing your respect for him. and he did the same out of instinct too, first too. 

but aside from that, he doesn’t show any jealousy.

there was a time he even tried to set you up with toji zenin when he was still crushing on you. 

your boyfriend is a little peculiar, you’re very well aware of that, but you find his confidence in himself sexy. because you couldn’t look anywhere else if you wanted to. he was handsome, his face chiseled so prettily it was painful. his smooth voice that always had you reeling to get him to talk more. and his spine tattoo that always made you blush at the sight of it befriending your scratch marks after a particularly rough night, 

so you don’t care about the way you dress, because he won’t control what you wear. in fact, it’s one of the things you both love about each other, a recent discovery now that you’ve been dating for a month. suguru is an avid fan of the way you dress, relishing in what new outfit he’ll see you in whenever he sees you that day, and if not possible, asking for a picture. and you love how he loves it. appreciating the fact that he loves when you wear booby shirts to campus or dates with him or particularly tight jeans that attract eyes aside from his, but are worn for the sole purpose of serving cunt–and riling your boyfriend up.

it all comes together to why you wear the dress you do tonight to go clubbing with him and some friends. it’s honestly the hottest thing suguru will have seen you in so far. yes, your previous halloween costumes were something alright, but this…was different. halloween was like a month ago and the outfits for those events were meant to be slutty, purely slutty. this look was meticulously planned by you the moment you ordered the dress online. the sheer dress and its sparkles had been running across your mind that entire week of shipping with the perfect sultry way you planned to do your hair and makeup. 

you 

hey can we carpool later tonight, my dress isnt motorcycle proof :/

suguru

sure princess.  can i get a peek?

you

don’t feel like it hehe wait for it sugu <3

suguru

tease

any other time, he would’ve more than likely have gotten his peek at your outfit, you are weak to his demands naturally, but this was something he genuinely would have to wait for. pictures would not do you justice and you wanted to catch your boyfriends raw reaction when he saw the look for the first time . 

and you were right.

when he went up to your apartment to pick you up and you opened the door, the reaction was worth the wait. the constant warmth your boyfriend’s gaze always held fell the moment his eyes landed on you and took a moment to breathe you in. 

you saw his pupils dart to your cleavage first, staring for a hard second, then to the tightness against your waist and hips bringing attention to your figure. the small quirk of his eyebrow seconds within that let you know he spotted the thong hugging your body under the sheer dress. he did a once over of your legs, looking at what shoes you were wearing, before he brought his eyes up to look at your face again.

he doesn’t say anything, instantly moving forward and getting rid of the space between the both of you to take your head in his hands and plant his lips on yours. you press a hand against his chest when you feel him swipe his tongue across the top of your mouth so hungrily. 

“you’re going to kiss off my lipgloss sugu.” you giggle, heaving a little as you press your forehead against his, blinking up happily at him. 

his stare is firm as his blown up pupils stare back into you, “sorry pretty girl, couldn’t help myself.”

“and why’s that hm?” you bite your lip through your smile, eagerly waiting for his answer, still forehead to forehead with him, his hands still holding you in place.

his hair is in that half up half down duo you go so feral for, you realize this detail when he says, “you know why.”

“no I don’t,” you drag on, a teasing lilt in your voice

“because,” he drags one of his hands down to caress your neck softly with his thumb, you can see a slight crease in his eyelids at your playfulness, “my girlfriend is trying to get away with first degree murder right now.”

“you like the dress?” you give him a toothy smile and you can slightly catch his gaze turn hungry at the sight of it

suguru suddenly raises you up by clasping his arms behind you, below your butt and on your thigh, so you’re above him when he looks at you lovingly, “like is an understatement.”

“well i like your hair today,” you compliment him, still giggly

“yeah?” he smiles, “i’m glad.”

it’s your first time ever going to the club with suguru, so there’s some sort of powerful feeling lingering when you enter the loud building holding hands with him. you’re going in belonging to someone and so is he, as opposed to other people going in and hoping to catch a body tonight or at least a good grind on the dancefloor–satoru cough cough.

the white haired maniac’s influence gets all of you a vip table with liquor already waiting for you and when you get there, suguru sits and plants you on his lap, arms loosely wrapped around your waist.

It’s when you look forward, you see toji zenin give you a quick once over from where he’s seated near satoru. and you ignore it, you always do. he’s never made an advance on you ever since you and suguru became a thing, he’s respectful of the relationship, but his eyes can never lie, he’s into you. it’s why you’ve never uttered a word to him and why he doesn’t either. and you can’t really blame him if the purpose of tonight's look was to turn all heads, not just your boyfriend’s.

“you smell good baby,” suguru mutters into your ear as he brushes a hair away from your face, “are you using the perfume i got you?”

you wrap your arms around his shoulders when you respond with a nod of your head and, “yeah. I finally ran out of my old one.”

“good girl.” he smiles appreciatively before placing a tender kiss on your neck

the softness of it makes you giggle a little and crane your neck a little, suguru pinches your side to tease you for it. 

it’s when a certain lullaby of a song comes on that your ears perk up and your boyfriend observes the reaction, looking up at you and rubbing circles into your waist, “what’s up baby?”

within an instant all the girls at your table begin to get up and rush to the dance floor and you turn to suguru, already starting to unwrap his arms from your waist.

“i have to go dance this babe,” you say hurriedly, like a little kid leaving their mom the moment they see the bouncy castle go up.

suguru can say nothing before he watches you run off to join the other girls on the dance floor, eyebrows raised in amusement at your antics then in reaction to your immediate inclination to start dancing. 

you look pretty, he thinks as he reaches over to serve himself a glass of whiskey. 

and he continues to think it as he ‘talks’ to his friends, nodding and giving small mhms when all he’s really doing is watching you live it up at the center of the club. 

you’re ethereal, the only star in that murky puddle of bodies. maybe your dress is part of the reason for all that shine and glow you’re giving off, but nothing beats the pretty little smile on your face that says you’re having a good time. it’s turning him on to be honest. he always wants to shove himself inside of you when you bear that toothy smile at him. 

and other people think the same, he notes. 

he’s always seen the stares, he knows you’re a sight to behold. there hasn’t been a day where he isn’t aware that so many other people want you. he knew it when you were merely the smart, hot girl he had a crush on his lit class, with so many other guys obviously paying a little more attention when it was your turn to speak, and he knows it even more now with your male following on social media and the way he constantly gets sized up just for being next to you. for fuck's sake he's heard toji zenin talk about how bad you are before he knew about your thing with suguru at the halloween party, hell, he still catches the frat president unable to control the way his eyes eat you up when you're near.

“done already?” satoru asks haughtily when he sees all of the girls that went to dance come back heaving a little

it’s been an hour since they all left at the start of that first song.

“y/n’s still there though,” one of them breathes, taking satoru’s drink from him, “she does not stop.”

“yeah, she doesn’t,” suguru laughs a little, looking back at you, still as energetic as when you first got there.

fuck, you're beautiful.

speaking of before,

he’s painfully more aware of it when he notices the number of eyes gravitating towards you from the dancefloor, tables, and the bar.

it’s like a bunny in a room full of wolves. or those scenes where scooby and shaggy are in a dark room and a thousand red eyes pop up to blink at them. the eyes to you ratio is beginning to get a little mind boggling now that he sees it in a real life setting. this is not the handful of guys checking you out when you go to the library with him or the nth guy staring at you when you walk past with your boyfriend next to you. this is a huge club with you in the middle and catching the eye of almost every guy in here, most of whom come to this place with plans of taking a girl home or putting moves on her. 

the thought manifests itself when a blonde frat bro walks up to you and tries to dance with you. suguru’s heart stops a little for some reason. he’s seen guys come up to you before, actually talking to you and trying to get your number, so he shouldn’t feel this irked when he knows the guy is going to be disappointed by your answer. he actually wants to go up to the guy and beat his face in.

the surge of pride that courses through his body is immense when he sees you put a hand between you and the guy and you make an annoyed face, all before strutting off and making your way back to the table. 

he manspreads a little more for you to sit between his legs, draping one arm on your thigh, the other holding onto his whiskey.

“a guy tried to dance with me,” you huff when you sit down, reaching for suguru’s drink, which he hands over without a second thought, now using the other free hand to fully hug you.

“I saw,” he says, perching his chin your shoulder, watching as you take a sip of the whiskey and cradle the cup in your hands.

“dance with me,” you turn to look at him and pout, “i don’t want guys coming up to me.”

“but you look so good rejecting them.” suguru teases, smirking a little at you

when your face deapans, he laughs and hugs you tighter, “we’ll go in a bit. rest your pretty feet for a second, don’t want them to tire out.”

“okay,” you slump into his hold, pouting

and suguru did keep his promise, like always. he took you dancing after a few minutes of rest and letting you drink the rest of his whiskey.

he protected you from any other guys trying to come up to you, evident in the way no guys even dared get close from a ten feet radius.

he kept you close and let you dance with him, hands appreciatively holding onto you when you pressed your body against his. it was much different to the dancing from that first time at satoru’s party, he was really holding onto you this time. his hands always found your ass, your hips, even the underside of your boobs during every second of every song.

and suguru isn’t a jealous guy, so it was a little weird to you when you saw him notice a guy oogling you and he immediately pulled you in to makeout with him on the dancefloor. it was unlike any other makeout session you had ever had with him before. he was gripping your ass while his other hand held your neck, that wasn’t new, he always did that, but his energy about it was so…all consuming. 

all you know, is that instantly had you horny and you couldn’t help the mewl you let out after he squeezed you in his hold.

“let’s go,” he spoke a bit tensely into your ear so you could hear him past the music.

and you were never one to go against him because everything suguru did always made sense and worked for you, so you nodded mindlessly and said, “okay.”

when you got to suguru’s apartment, he immediately pushed you against the door and resumed the makeout session he had started at the club. one of his hands was planted against the door while the other roughly gripped your waist to keep you close to him. 

“If you ever see toji, i want you to run the other direction,” he spoke ominously against your lips

the command had you furrowing your eyebrows, you mean of course yes you'd do that, but you never would’ve thought he’d ask it from you. he never really cared to address your actions when it came towards other guys. suguru wasn’t ever jealous…nonetheless, you agree meekly, taken aback by his roughness, “okay.”

all your boyfriend did in response was let out a gruff sound of acknowledgement before pressing his body further against yours and beginning to tug your dress off. he started by pushing down the straps, then pushing the upper half down, including your strapless bra until your tits popped out. 

he pushed both of them together the moment they peeked out and then let a glob of spit drop down onto one of your nipples rather obscenely before he went down to mouth at that same breast. it had you keening, you could feel your thong becoming nonexistent with the way you were starting to drench through it.

a bite from suguru had you squeaking before he continued his ministrations on your other breast while his hands worked on pushing the rest of your dress all the way down, even your thong since it caught onto the tight material of the dress.

you were left completely naked in front of him now and he manhandled you by suddenly picking you up and pinning you against the wall next to the door. he let one hand hold one of your legs to his waist, while the other went under and quickly swiped a finger across your folds with ease due to the wetness

“so easy baby,” he muttered against your lips before plunging a finger all the way in and curving it upwards

“you’re being mean,” you complain, feeling completely flustered at his brash actions

“what’s so mean about making you feel good hm?” he leans back to get a good look at you when he plunges another finger in and starts to push them in and out quickly, watching as your eyebrows knit and you start to mewl, “atta girl.”

“nothing,” you mumble, brainless as you wrap your arms around his neck and hook him in closer with your legs, “ow!”

he started adding a third finger when he felt like you were starting to open up more, however your small complaint started dying into a moan when he increased his pace with the third finger. 

“that’s a lot sugu,” you heave through delirious breaths, flustered at the fact that he was staring so intensely at how you were sucking him in

your comment had him finally looking up at you and you dont know if you’d rather he go back to staring at your pussy, because he was giving that same intense stare to you now. the all heavy pressure of his gaze was entirely being directed at your own eyes now, and how could you meet that same gaze equally when he was three fingers into you and making you moan like a slut.

suguru might have granted you a quick mercy when he leaned against you, quickening the pace of his fingers so you could get louder, and breathed into your ear, muttering lowly, “my cock’s a lot more than three fingers but you always cream all over it.”

the dirty sentence has you pulling suguru closer to you, and trying to trap him where he was so you wouldn’t have to look at him in the flustered state he put you in. but your boyfriend didn’t have it, forcing himself out of your grip, and craning his neck back to go back to looking at you.

he pulled out all three of fingers just to land a sharp slap across your pussy before plunging all of them into you again, “let me watch you baby. be good for me, okay?”

he honestly expects you to be able to answer him when three of his very large fingers are stretching you wide open and curling on that one spot that always has you crumbling, you know he expects you to because he turns his head a little when you don’t answer and lands another slap before going back to fingering you.

“speak up princess,” he orders so easily and so sweetly, like he’s not torturing your body right now

and you do your best to force the words out of you, legs quivering and resisting the urge to writhe in his grasp when you gasp, “ok–okay.”

“good girl,” he almost groans with a snarl as he suddenly stops fingering you open and hoists you over his shoulder, a squeal leaves your mouth at the action.

he’s walking you both to his bedroom, you notice from the path of his hallway made out from your view, and the realization doesn’t last long before suguru brings you down again, then pushes you down and bends you over his bed. he lands a slap to your ass and you can makeout the rustle of him getting naked when he says softly, “grab the pillows and put them under your stomach angel.”

and you listen, reaching easily for both of his large and fluffy pillows, and putting them under your abdomen.

you feel suguru’s heavy length press against your ass and bare pussy when he presses up against you, gripping onto the crease between your thighs and ass, and starts mouthing hot and heavy kisses across your spine. you whine a complaint at the fact that you feel so good, but you know you could feel so much better if he just put it in already.

“what?” suguru notices the pitch that you always make when you’re complaining, continuing his line of affection down your spine

“put it in,” you pout, wiggling your ass for emphasis and hissing a little when you feel his cock graze your lips at the action

suguru gives a last kiss to the bottom of your spine before coming back up and grabbing a fistful of your hair and bringing your head up so he could look at you, “how bad do you want it?”

“really bad sugu.” you mewl, feeling gratification from the sting of his hold on you

“you want me to fill up your little hole? even when we both know you’re gonna start crying that it’s beating your pussy up, yeah?” he questions cruelly 

“mhm,” you nod pathetically, “even if i do.”

his lips twitch a little at your admission and he yanks on your hair a little harder when he lands a sloppy kiss on your lips that has a string of saliva connecting both of your mouths when he pulls away.

he stands back up and lands another stinging slap across your ass, groaning, “my pretty fuckin ass.”

as if he couldn’t get any dirtier, suguru then grabs either of your cheeks and spreads them apart to get a good view of your sex, the sudden exposure of which makes you feel even wetter. that last fact seems of no use to suguru when you feel a large glob of spit land and run down your hole.

you suck in breath when you feel suguru start to rub his tip across your folds.

“sloppy little pussy,” he mutters before pressing into you. and you both groan when he starts to inch himself in even further.

the moan you let out when he completely pulled out and slammed back in was sinful and the noises that followed when he started doing that again and again at a faster pace without mercy had you outright screaming. 

you felt like you were constantly breathless, constantly trying to breathe. he hadn’t ever been this hard on you before.

and you thought you knew what hard was from him before.

“i know, i know,” he whispered against your neck when he pressed himself down against you and started jackhammering even closer to your cervix, so on point with your gspot too that you felt your orgasm starting to build up

a particular gutteral squeal from you had him breathing a “so cute” while he never relented his brutish force against you

“sugu–sugu,” you reached around for one of his arms, heaving, grabbing onto it while he violently moved the both of you, “i’m gonna–mmm–i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna cum!”

the confession had suguru suddenly changing positions, hooking his arms up and under your armpits to pull you up to stand flush against his body while he slammed up against you ferociously. it unexpectedly had your high crashing against you after a graze of your gspot.

“that’s it baby, that’s it.” suguru consoled when he felt you twitch in his hold and your juices dripping all over his abdomen and cock, “such a good fucking girl.”

all you wanted to do was fall down and rest, but the most you could muster was letting your body go limp in your boyfriend’s unrelenting hold, letting him use you as he pleased.

“ ‘s too much sugu,” you whined as the overstimulation started kicking in

It didn’t get him to stop at all.

“remember what you said earlier hm?” he brought up, breathing heavy as he lifted a foot up to plant it against the edge of the bed. it was leverage for the scream worthy pace he started forcing on you now.

tears started to fall down your cheeks at the overstimulation. it was so good, too good. It was all so sinfully good. 

you felt your walls start to flutter again at your second nearing orgasm when you sniffled from the tears. and although your boyfriend still evilly abused your pussy, he leaned down and moved your face to the side with one hand so he could be face to face with you. 

you thought he was going to kiss you, but instead he started licking your tears off.

it was the catalyst for your orgasm and you thrashed rather hard against suguru, who you could feel suck in a breath at the sporadic clenches of your pussy.

“fuck,” he breathed harshly, pulling you even tighter against him to more easily meet his thrusts and you could feel his cock twitch as a symptom of his incoming orgasm.

that, and he started to speak up filthily.

“Mine–mine–mine–mine.” he reiterated quickly, punctuating each time with a thrust, “fuck ‘s all mine. god can’t get enough of you pretty baby. so fucking slutty and pretty. fuck–fuck–next time i see toji giving you heart eyes im gonna pump my cum inside you so he can see it running down your fucking legs. fuck–you like that baby? what–a–good–good–fucking–girl. tell me you want that baby.”

scrambling for any piece of sanity just to tell your boyfriend what he wants to hear, in hopes of spurring his lust, you moan out weakly, “i want it sugu i want it.”

“yeah? you want him to see me dripping out of your pretty fuckin pussy? god–i fucking–want–it. he’ll never get to fucking know what it’s like to cream this little hole.”

“so–so dirty sugu,” you moan sheepishly at the embarrassing realization that he might just make you cum a third time because of the added spur of his pussy drunk words. 

“pussy’s fucking dirty,” snarls back at you, pulling you closer to him, “can feel you clenching around me. know you fucking like it.”

the shut down of his words had you shaking in attraction to his ability to shut you up like no other.

“never–forget–you’re–mine,” he thrusts through, “ ‘s fucking pussy, your ass, your tits, your body, your pretty fucking face, ‘s all mine. you don’t need anybody but me. i’m yours i’m yours i’m yours. ‘s dick ‘s all yours, everything, baby. take it–take it–take it.” 

his breathing was starting to get heavier and you could feel his abs start twitching against you, a sign of his orgasm building up just as yours was all over again.

so it surprised you when suguru pulled out and threw you onto the bed, your legs hanging off the edge before he picked them up and slanted them up against his body by hugging them close. “come here, come here,” he quickly let one arm go for a second to guide himself into you again before wrapping it around your legs again. he repositioned the one leg of his back on top of the bed for his leverage and leaned forward a bit to go back to his brutal thrusts. 

“wanna see your face when you cum again.” he muttered as he stared at you squealing and moaning lewdly at his ministrations

suguru started kissing and mouthing at your calves while keeping you in a deadlock of eye contact. his cheeks and ears were tinged pink and his hair had fallen out of the half up half down do he had it in earlier. 

the worshipping of your legs and eye contact had to have been the last straw for you, because after a certain lick of your skin, you started crashing, feeling yourself let go across the entire lower half of your boyfriend, resisting the urge to cover your face in embarrassment because he recently made it a point that he really really liked seeing your face when you came.

the point was proven when he followed soon after you, thrusting half haphazardly into you as he blew his load inside of you in time with every squeeze of your cunt. it was accompanied by a litter of painful bites across your calves and heavy breathing from your boyfriend. he looked like he came hard, it felt like he did, considering how every spurt of his cum was sharply thrusted into you, making you wince in pain every time his tip kissed your cervix.

both of you were breathing heavily after, especially suguru, his skin covered in a thicker veil of sweat than you, who was simply taking all of that force he was exerting. he was still holding onto your legs, resting his forehead on the bare skin of your foot that wasn’t covered by your heel. 

his eyes were closed and he licked his lips, a bit tired, as he spoke, “i think i do get jealous after all, i’m sorry.”

his confession made you slightly clench around him, making him suck a breath in at the sensitivity while you breathlessly giggled, “that’s okay, i never said you couldn’t.”

suguru lazily bit your calf again as a sign of retaliation, "you could sound less excited."

[lymtw]

A Perfect Night For Wine

Toji invites you over with a simple text of:

You busy tonight, doll?

To which you respond with:

I don't think so... Not that I know of. Why?

He laughs through his nose when he reads your message. Even the way you text him has your timidness imbued into it. It's precious.

Come spend the night at my place. You told me you're off tomorrow, right?

I am, but are you sure? Driving home is not a problem for me. I can hang out and go home after.

You're staying. I wanna try something with you and it requires you to stay the night. You can't go home.

Oh okay! I'll be there in 10.

Drive safe.

Toji likes that you're very precise about the time you'll be arriving somewhere, and if you're ever late when it comes to spending time with him, you apologize profusely, nonstop. You won't stop blubbering about why you're late and how sorry you are for making him wait, even after Toji's expressed that he's more than understanding. He's the king of showing up late to plans, so he can't be a hypocrite and scold you when you don't do it often at all.

You're so sorry, though, and you don't shut up about it until he makes you shut up with a kiss. You're helpless, and you can't for the life of you figure out where to put your hands when you're so focused on the grip he had on your waist to pull you up against him.

He releases your lips, cracking a grin at the look of wonder on your face. He can't deny the pride that swells in his chest at his ability to disarm you and prevent you from having a total meltdown over a three minute delay.

Toji has gotten so much better at handling situations like these with you. It's only fair for him to gain satisfaction out of making you feel better. After all, you are a first for him. You're emotionally fragile, you're a nervous wreck, and your voice competes with the wind just to be heard. Toji doesn't set aside the fact that you're also beautiful, warmhearted, and you try for him. He sees your attempts to be affectionate. You'll slowly reach your hand out to hold his and then bail the second he catches you. He ends up having to interlock his fingers with yours because your embarrassment doesn't allow you to try again. He still appreciates that you leave your comfort zone for him and allow him to guide you towards new experiences.

"Stop with the guilty feelings, ma. We have all night and all day tomorrow. What's a couple minutes to ensure you get to me in one piece?" He says, comforting your droopy self. You look like a sad, abandoned puppy, now sporting rosy cheeks from his surprising gesture.

"Okay," you say, feeling a little more at ease. "What did you have in mind for tonight?"

"Follow me," he says, leading you through his living room to his kitchen. He pulls out a stool for you and points at it. "Sit." You want to laugh at the way he says it like he's teaching commands to a dog, but you know he doesn't mean it that way, so you obediently sit down like one anyway.

"Have you eaten anything?" He asks, silently hoping you have because he doesn't have anything to make you dinner. He would have to order in or pick something up.

"I ate a couple hours ago. Still pretty full," you respond, watching him reach up for something in his cabinets. There's now a tall glass bottle with a red label and matching cap sitting on the counter.

"How 'bout it?" He says, a large hand wrapped around the neck of the bottle. "We could go to the couch and watch a movie or something."

He's never seen you under the influence of anything, but based on your reaction, maybe he'll get a show tonight. He's always wanted to know what you would be like if you were more extroverted and outspoken. There's nothing wrong with the way you are, but if things keep going the way they're going between you and Toji, he's bound to meet your chatty alter ego at some point in the future. What better way to have this experience than in a secure place with someone who can handle their alcohol and take care of you if it turns out that you can't.

"Okay, sure." You giggle, excitedly.

You're a lightweight. Even the fruitiest, sweetest alcoholic beverage will quickly take a toll on you while you're sipping on it. Wine is a step up, so you'll have to try your best to keep it together for the sake of not looking sloppy in front of Toji.

Toji brings down two glasses, and pours out the deep red liquid into them. One for you, one for him. He hands the glass to you, and nods at your quiet "thank you".

Toji watches as you immediately take a sip. He sees the way your nose scrunches at what you consider to be a funny taste, but the second you put the glass down, you smile like nothing. You don't like it at all. You hate the bitterness, and the fact that it's made with fermented grapes lives in the back of your head.

"How is it?" He asks, holding back a chuckle. You're too sweet for your own good, pretending to enjoy this for him.

"I like it," you say, pressing your lips together.

"Yeah? I think it's kinda gross. Guess I was expecting more from a fancy ass bottle, but brands are gonna brand, huh?"

You giggle, almost involuntarily. You're one gulp in, and already you're starting to feel the effects.

One of your worst habits includes chugging drinks that don't taste good, just so you can get them over with. You even do this when your drink is messed up at coffee shop. You're too nice to ask the barista to remake it, so you suck it up and drink the incorrect beverage solely for the caffeine you hope it has in it. This time is no different. You hate the taste of alcohol. You don't do plain shots, you can't stand hard ciders, and wine is no exception, but you're doing this for Toji. He cracked open the bottle to share with you, so you're going to drink every ounce of the liquid in the glass, whether you like the taste or not.

You bring the glass to your lips again, taking a much larger sip. The glass is a little less than halfway now, and your eyelids are starting to feel a little heavy. Not in a sleepy manner, but you can't seem to hold your eyes open as wide anymore.

You exhale through your nose, shut your eyes, and then blink them back open to take note of your altered state.

"That was a lot. How are you feeling?" Toji asks, noticing a shift in your demeanor. You seem a little more sluggish now. You turn your attention to him, your eyes rolling when they turn to meet his.

"I'm good, how are you?" You ask, like it was the start of a conversation rather than an ongoing one. Your eyes almost shut completely when you smile at him.

"You're tipsy already, aren't you?" He asks, with a grin on his face.

"Pshh, what? No, i'm not," you say, contradicting yourself with a giggle. "Answer the question, baby. How are you?"

"Fine," he responds, lingering on the pet name. You've got loose lips, now. In any other circumstance, you would address him by his name. Most of the time Toji is the one giving you pet names, for the sake of flustering you. He loves the way you look at him when he calls you doll or sweetheart, somewhat shocked every time the words leave his mouth.

"Yeah? That's good." You pick up the glass one more time, sighing before you mutter, "'scuse me. Gotta finish this."

With that last sip, the glass was now empty. Even Toji thinks you drank that too fast, but he still has the courtesy to ask you if you want more.

"Mhm, I'll have a little bit more. Just a tiny bit." Toji pours as much as he did the first time, chuckling when you nod in approval of the quantity. "That's perfect. Absolutely, perfect. You're a genius, my love." You flash him a smile before starting on the next glass.

Toji was considering having another glass, but that was before you called him "my love" in a tone so warm that he felt like he just had a bowl of hot soup that was now settling in his stomach. That was before you smiled at him in such a free spirited manner. It was too late for him to see you in this state while completely sober, but he sure as hell wouldn't be adding anymore alcohol to his system. He can't miss something like this, so instead he leans forward on the counter, and intently watches your every move.

"I got something on my face?" You ask, dragging your sleeves all over your face. You examine your sleeves and they're clean. "You liar. You're looking at me like that for nothing." You squint at him, a slight scrunch in your nose to define your defensiveness.

Toji laughs, his focus now on the small pinch in your brows. "Don't go picking fights over nothing. It's not a crime to look at my pretty baby."

Your faux tough exterior immediately crumbles, the irked expression on your face dropping to the ground, at the sugary words he uses on you. Your face feels very warm, and now there's an indefinite blush on it. You can't stop smiling at the look on Toji's face. He's so focused that he's gone speechless, and you eventually break into a laughing fit because of it.

"Hey... i'm usually the quiet one. Why aren't you talking, pretty boy? Need me to shut up?"

The pet name has Toji glancing at your glass, noticing that it was full for less than five minutes. This was new— you being flirtatious towards him. He didn't have any complaints about it whatsoever.

Once again, the quantity of the wine in your glass was below the halfway mark. "Nah, baby. Talk to me. You must really like the wine, huh?"

"Mmm..." you lean forward towards him, with your elbow on the counter and your chin in your palm. "What makes you say that?"

He actually snickers this time, earning a sly grin from you. "You're chugging it like it's water. It's either you love it or it tastes like ass and you're dying to spit it out."

You pick up the glass again, one last time. "Let's find out if I like it," you say as if you're not on your second serving. You let the liquid hit your tongue, and you are instantly repulsed by the flavor. The glass is tilted all the way up, signaling that you've finished two cups of wine in less than fifteen minutes. Your cheeks are filled with the drink, blown up like a puffer fish, which makes Toji smile softly with anticipation for your reaction. Your tongue stays on the roof of your mouth, keeping the wine in your cheeks separate, to give you a break for a few seconds. You release the bubbles of your cheeks and your mouth is flooded with the bittersweet liquid. You swallow the burgundy mouthful and smile with your lips pressed together once it's all gone. The mouth drying effect of wine is your least favorite thing about it.

"So?" Toji prompts.

"It's-" you gag, clasping a hand over your mouth with wide, slightly teary eyes.

Toji's chest and shoulders shake as he contains his laughter, his lips pressed together tightly to stifle the smile threatening to show itself, but his eyes tell you everything.

"Wooo, sorry about that," you say, chuckling through the embarrassment. "It's good," you repeat, still muffled by your palm.

"Yeah? Want more?" Toji asks, holding up the bottle with a teasing grin on his face.

You almost gag again but manage to control yourself. "No, thank you. Any more and I'll doze off, and we both know that's not what i'm here for." There was a hint of sultriness in your tone, something Toji was not sufficiently familiar with. It was a completely welcome shift from your normally tentative way of speaking to him.

"I know why you're here, but I wanna know what you think you're here for."

You stand from your stool and lean more of your body onto the counter. Your hand reaches for his, and for the first time, you don't pull back before making contact with his skin. "To love on you, of course," you say, with those pretty rosy cheeks. Your eyes remained glossy and your nose was still red from trying not to bring the wine back up earlier, but Toji thought you looked so cute.

"Is that right?" His thumb brushes over your knuckles, feeling the softness against his rough fingertip.

"Let's go watch that movie you were talking about and you'll see what I mean."

Toji was loving this. Your confidence, your lack of holding back anything you had to say, it was truly baffling how you could be someone else entirely with just a couple glasses of wine.

You keep his hand in yours, and as if it were your house, you say, "come on," and drag him along to the living room.

This time you say "sit" and point at the couch. This time he's the obedient dog and does as you say, sitting on the exact cushion you were pointing at with a smirk on his face. He moves the couch pillow aside to make room for you, but you had another seat in mind. You take two steps towards him before slowly dropping yourself into his lap, straddling him.

"I see you're finally taking your seat on the throne, hm?" He grins, resting his hands on your waist. This is the closest Toji's been allowed to watch you giggle without you burying your face into his neck and it's a trip. He can see the details of the creases around your eyes and the lift in your cheeks as you smile. He feels fuzzy, and he didn't even finish his glass of wine, so he knows it's not that.

"Stop making me laugh and pick a movie, will you? I'm here for that, too."

He picks up the remote for the TV and turns it on. "How are you gonna watch the movie while facing me?"

"Actually,.. can I tell you a secret, baby?" You ask, wrapping your arms around his neck. Your fingers play with the hair that reaches towards the nape of his neck, combing through it gently.

"What's that, princess?" Toji asks, vert eyes flitting between your eyes and that sweet smile of yours.

"I don't wanna watch a movie. I... wanna look at you... and that's it." Your nails gently scratch the back of his head, eliciting a tingly sensation that makes chills run down his spine.

"That's cool, too," Toji says, turning the TV off again, not caring that it was on for less than a minute before you changed your mind. He sighs, adjusting his position beneath you. Your thighs are secured around his hips, your knees touching the backrest of the couch.

"You're so handsome, my baby. God, look at those eyes," you whisper in awe, before giggling and bringing your hands to his face. You trace the bags under his eyes with your thumbs while admiring the haunting shade of green that scopes on you. Toji's hand comes up to loosely wrap around your wrist. He's not there to stop you, he just wants to move along with you as you observe his face.

"I know I don't say this to you enough, but I find you..." you sigh, blinking slowly, "enchanting..." You lean in and kiss the left corner of his lips—his right, and feel the smooth, tattered skin beneath your warm lips. "and I love you," you mumble into the cicatrix. "So fucking much, baby. And i'm sorry that you'll never know exactly how much because you aren't me." You're looking at him with so much adoration and touching him with a delicacy that can't be put into words. It's a deadly combination, one that has Toji in a chokehold and forces him to soften up even more for you.

He tightens the hold he has on your waist, pulling you closer until your stomach is pressed to his, as a result. You being so affectionate towards him is making him feel really good, and you have no idea because you're too focused on appreciating him. He's subconsciously leaning into your touch, his softened gaze meeting your lovestruck one.

"Fuck. I love you, too, princess," he murmurs, squeezing your wrist in his hand. He pulls your hand down to his chest. "Want you to aim for my lips, this time."

"Okay," you say, smiling before closing the distance between your lips and Toji's. He can still taste the remnants of the wine you inhaled minutes ago, but it tastes much better and a lot sweeter on you. Toji can hear your high pitched little hums as you kiss him, happiness pouring into your kisses. You're trying so hard not to laugh in his face, and trying is the best you can do, right now. You never were good at hiding your smile from Toji. He can't see it, but he can feel the way your lips widen, and he's occasionally kissing your teeth when your sluggishness keeps you from matching his pace. With little pants leaving you, you drag your lips away.

He sighs, frustrated by the loss of your softness against him. "Baby..." he groans, the sound almost whine-like to your ears. He wants more, so much more of you, and you're ignoring him. You're too busy kissing his chin, and his cheeks, and the tip of his nose.

You drag your other hand down to his chest and keep your hands splayed out on it as you let your lips trail his jaw, lightly sucking on the skin. Toji can't help but think about how this version of you will be gone in the morning. You won't be as outwardly affectionate, you'll go back to second guessing every move you make with him and shrinking every time he steals kisses from you, instead of confidently kissing him back like you did a minute ago.

You make your way down his neck, pressing kiss after kiss on him before you move towards his ear. "I love you, Toji," you whisper, kissing the shell of his ear after. "Love you, love you, love you soooo much," you barrage, before throwing him off with a bite to his earlobe. You giggle like a menace into his ear, the warmth of your breath luring goosebumps out onto his skin.

He chuckles, repeatedly squeezing the soft skin of your waist between his hands. "Yeah? Tell me again," he murmurs snaking his hands beneath the back of your shirt. Your skin is very warm, and there's nothing to blame but Toji and that shitty wine for making your body react this way.

With uninterrupted hands, you course your fingers through his hair and lean in to bite him again, this time on his neck. Toji chuckles at how you instantly rush to soothe him with your tongue and a warm kiss, even when you inflicted zero pain on him.

"I love you, Toji," you repeat into the wet indentations you left behind. "My love... my handsome man... I cherish you, you know?"

Toji is practically purring at all the affection you're showering him with. The slurring of your words is blocked out and they remain clear as day to him. He manages to hum a deep little "mhm" to your last statement.

"It's just so hard to talk to you sometimes. You... you're so intimidating, sometimes. I don't expect you to understand..." you divert your gaze to his shoulder, not able to look him in the eyes as vulnerability takes sudden control of your emotions. "It seems like I don't appreciate you sometimes—all the time, but I do, Toji. I do appreciate you, and I can't ever say I love you enough to show it. Words aren't always enough."

Toji catches the waver in your voice and his eyes dart to yours. You're tearing up, and you're trying to still your quivering lips by pressing them together.

"Shit," Toji mutters under his breath. You have the saddest expression he's ever seen and it's messing with his heart. He pulls his hands out of your shirt so that he can swiftly pull you into his warm embrace. "Hey," he coos. You're shaking against him, holding your breath to avoid sobbing. Your lungs burn, but you'd rather feel that than make a scene of your tears. "Don't be sad, mama. What's with the tears, hm?" he murmurs. He can feel your tears dampening his shoulder, but the fact that you haven't made a sound is concerning. "Breathe or you'll die," he says, only half joking. He rubs a soothing palm against your back, his other arm around your waist.

You let out what sounds like a mixture between a choked laugh and a sob, slowly but surely regulating your breathing. You don't even feel like saying anything anymore because you know your voice will give way to even more pity.

"You're more than enough for me," Toji says, his chin resting on your head. "I know how you feel, you know how I feel. We're complete." He can feel the way you scrunch his shirt up into your fists. As if he would go anywhere without you. "I get you and you're stuck with me. Got it?" You silently nod against his shoulder in response. "Sit up and let me look at you."

You really don't want him to see you this way. Your eyes feel swollen and you don't feel presentable.

"I can't..." you say, barely audible. You release his shirt and let your hands go limp behind him.

"Why not?"

"I'm not pretty right now. Don't look at me."

"I'm gonna look at you," he challenges with a teasing grin.

"Toji, don't look at me."

"Too late, it's happening. Plan's already in motion," he says, sliding his arms onto your shoulders.

"Toji, don't-" He effortlessly pushes you off his shoulder and gives you a once over. You look defeated and you're unable to look him in the eyes, but at least he can see you now.

"Don't know what you were so worried about. You look the same but more blush-y." You finally give him your slightly reddened eyes, a soft smile appearing on your face. You look like your sober self. "Yeah, you look the same."

"Are you lying?" You ask, still not regaining the full strength of your voice yet.

"I wouldn't tell you if I was, but no, i'm not lying. You're so pretty." Toji wiped away tears that were stuck beneath your eyes, and you giggled. He washed away your sadness within a couple minutes. Toji always did this for you in exchange for your love and affection. He lifted your spirits when you didn't feel deserving of him, and with time, he got much better at recognizing the signs that came with this ridiculous idea you planted in your head.

"You're done loving on me? Already?" He asks in playful disbelief.

"You're not done with me? Do you actually want more?" You ask, hesitantly.

"Don't want more, I need more," he corrects, returning his hands to their rightful place on your waist. "Get all up on me, princess."

You giggle, leaning closer towards him to peck a kiss onto his cheek.

"Mhm, like that," he says, contently, when you pick up the pace and start smothering him. "Yeah, baby, there you go." His forearms go beneath your shirt, encircling around your bare waist and pulling you close to him like before. "Who's getting spoiled like me?" He says through a grin. You're holding back laughs as he continues to praise you for your affection.

"S-Stop," you say through a wheeze, not able to contain the sound any longer when you looked at him.

"What are you laughing at, huh?" He chases you this time, pressing his nose into your cheek before planting a light kiss into your jaw.

"You're so unserious," you say, turning your head as he keeps going with the kisses.

"Mmm... I'm serious about you," he says, feeling the vibration of your laughter against his grin. "So serious."

Your cheeks feel incredibly hot from how much you've been smiling. In this little drunken haze, things are so good. You're so happy, you're so affectionate, and you talk so much. This isn't like you at all, but it's not hurting anyone, especially not Toji. There was one minor slip, but you moved past it so quickly like the words never left your head to begin with. You're just so simple... so easy to take care of.

Toji notices the way your eyes are starting to lid with tiredness, and while he would love for you to doze off in his arms right then and there, you'd probably prefer waking up in a bed.

"Let's go to bed, yeah?" He suggests.

"What? No! I just got here... We can still talk, and kiss and- I'm not even tired."

Toji grins at the way you fight him on this, and he has half a mind to indulge you when you look so adorable, but he has to stand his ground. He's right.

"But, you are. You can't even hold your eyes open, anymore."

You feel sad again because the rest of the night would be going to waste if you both go to sleep early. You're there to spend time with Toji, and yet you feel like it's your fault your time is being cut short. You're thinking you shouldn't have drank the wine so quickly, if at all.

"Listen, doll," Toji says. He doesn't like the sadness that resurfaces on your pretty face. He doesn't think you should look that way because of him. "We're just gonna go lay in bed. We don't have to go to sleep. We can stay up as long as you want. Light on or light off, whatever you wanna do, let's just move it to the room."

You sigh, still not completely convinced that the night isn't over, but Toji managed to persuade you. "Will you carry me, please? My legs feel like jelly."

"Of course. What kind of person would I be if I let you stumble into the room on your own?"

You sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, your face buried into the crook of his neck. "You'd still be my favorite person, but i'd be a little upset..."

Toji stands from the couch, humming in response to your quiet mumbles.

"...but not really upset. Just a little bummed. Not for too long, though, 'cause I love you, but I would expect an apology from you if I fell down," you draw out.

Toji cracks at your little ramblings. It's a ten second walk from the couch to the bedroom, and the whole time you were working through a hypothetical conflict.

"Yeah? You'd want me to say sorry?" He asks, setting you down on the bed.

"Mhm, and then I wouldn't be upset or bummed anymore," you mutter to yourself as you roll onto your back.

"That's fair. Want the light on or off?"

"Off," you blurt. "Let's tell scary stories," you trill, enthusiastically. You pull the blanket over your lower body until it reaches just below your chest.

Toji makes his way to the bed after turning off the light. He takes his shirt off, and out of habit lets it fall to the floor. "We're not telling scary stories this late at night," he says, joining you beneath the blanket.

"But, they're funny," you say, turning to face him. "I don't get scared, either."

"Depends on who's telling the story. I'm sure as hell not gonna feed you a nightmare, doll."

"Boo," you say, lowly. "Whatever, i'm over it already," you mutter, rolling your eyes.

Toji watches you grow more and more tired as you throw random, nonsensical topics at him. You're taking longer to respond by the minute, and you're dozing off while humming in thought. You shake awake each time it happens and try to keep the conversation going, but Toji just shushes you and tells you to go back to sleep.

"I can see the moon through the window," you mumble, looking past him.

"I know, shh..." he hushes you, again.

"There's only like... one star," you whisper, in awe.

"Baby, come here," Toji says, like he's about to lecture you about the rules of sleep, but really he's just thinking that if his body heat doesn't put you down, he's gonna have to stay up with you until you fall asleep on your own.

You scoot closer towards Toji, tucking your arms into your chest when he reaches out to pull you into him the rest of the way. His body exudes so much warmth, you feel like you don't need the blanket at all.

There was nothing left for you to say when you couldn't see or feel anything but him. It was as if you were gone the second he enveloped you in his arms. You were small to the brink of nonexistence, no longer there to tell him what your surroundings were, or to ask him thoughtless, silly questions. You were no longer there to fight off the sleep he only seemed to bring closer towards you. Feeling his warm skin against you made you change your mind about this invisible fiend that was pulling your eyelids down. You now welcomed the calls to rest from your steady heartbeats.

Your silence gave him the answer he needed, but for good measure, he poked at you with a whisper of, "Ma?" and waited a few seconds for your response. Nothing. He sighed and coiled around you tighter. Thoughts of the night ran through his head. Your soft, yet, occasionally bruising kisses and the imprints of your teeth on his skin, your unapologetic laughter, your certainty in using the pet names that claimed him as yours. He was weak for the amount of times you openly told him you loved him. It was a psychedelic dream, to say the least. One he hoped would continue once he followed you into slumber.

You woke up hours later, completely smothered by your bear of a man. All you could do was stare up at the ceiling, while you waited for Toji to wake up because he was literally breathing down your neck. His arm rested over your chest, his legs were tangled with yours, and his face was right beside your face. You weren't feeling the effects of the wine anymore, and luckily, you didn't have a headache or any signs of a hangover. You were back, which meant...

"What are you staring at?" A deep, raspy voice jolts you out of your thoughts.

You look at the handsome face next to you, and as if your heart can hear and see, it wakes up. "Nothing. Just woke up," you lie.

"Mm... you were staring hard at the roof. I thought it came to life or something," Toji chuckles. You smile, briefly, before looking at the ceiling again.

Toji releases you and flips onto his back, wanting to know what's so fascinating about the space you're looking at. "What are you thinking?" He asks, when he discovers nothing but blank space.

You take your time, not wanting to stumble over your words. Your heart skips a beat when he turns his head to look at you. In the time it takes for you to respond, you both could have gone back to sleep again.

"A penny for your thoughts?" he finally says, following the idiom with a question. "Did I even use that correctly?"

You can't help but laugh, nodding your head to answer his question. "I'm thinking about last night. Sorry if I said anything stupid."

Toji turns his body towards you again, thinking the only thing that's stupid is that he's still staring at the roof instead of staring at you. "You didn't. You were calm, from what I got to see, at least."

"So... boring."

"Not boring," he instantly catches. "You were perfect. You didn't have me running around chasing you, you weren't a brat—it couldn't have gone better, ma." He purposely missed something in his less than brief recount of the night to you. He can think back to the emotions that seeped through your little daze, and your insecurity about outwardly showing him love, all he wants, but there's no way in hell he's bringing that up to you, now. "You ramble a lot," he adds, a soft smile emerging on his face.

You can feel your cheeks warming up. "Oh god," you groan in embarrassment. "That's not- Sorry, that sounds... not so fun. Annoying of me, actually."

"Stop, it was cute," he assures, adding more fury to the blush creeping on your face. "Then you wouldn't go to sleep 'cause you kept seeing stuff outside the window."

You wanted to drown yourself in the blanket. Shame and embarrassment were winning their battle against you, as always.

"That was also cute," he says, watching the way your lips twitch as you bite back a smile. "You know my favorite part, though?" He says, grinning as he leans towards your ear.

"N-No, what?" You ask, trying so hard not to giggle.

"When you kissed me and told me you loved me," he murmurs into your ear like it's a dirty secret.

You snicker, the short sound of amusement evolving into laughter within seconds. You throw the blanket over your face and partially over Toji's face. The sight of your veiled body shaking with laughter lured out a couple chuckles of his own.

"That's funny?" He asks, pulling the blanket down, allowing you to see the sly grin he's sporting.

"A little bit," you respond, smiling— a remainder of your laughter.

"Silly girl. Come here," he says, dragging you back into his arms. "There's no reason you should be awake at six in the morning on your day off. Let's go back to sleep," he murmurs into the crown of your head. "We can go out for breakfast, later."

"Okay," you mumble, eyes shut already as you embrace the natural warmth of his body.

"One more thing," he murmurs. You don't raise your gaze, but your ears are open and you're listening closely. "Tell me you love me."

You didn't expect that, but you weren't going to deny him of such a simple thing. The words were easy to recite because you meant them with every fiber of your being. "I love you, Toji," you comply, immediately.

He sighs, contently, almost like hearing those words revitalized him. "Love you, too, mama."

That went out to every version of you.

[dollishmehrayan]

WEIRD THINGS BATBOYS DO WHEN THEY LIKE YOU ── .✦

a/n: this is a request + ask so tysm to whoever sent that but it’s (here) but anyways I’m so excited for my birthday on december 7th this year and it’s just so beautiful to see me grow up honestly and find myself. (Tags: batboys x crush!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Excessive Flexing (Literally): Dick will "accidentally" do pull-ups in front of you. He’s already shirtless and grinning, saying, “Oh, didn’t see you there. Wanna join?”

Compliment Overload: “Is that a new hairstyle? New shoes? You look incredible. Oh, wait, you always look incredible.” He will literally point out your eyelashes looking perfect “wow so nice, your lashes are so long and beautiful.”

The Over-Helper: He suddenly insists on helping you with everything—carrying bags, opening jars, lifting heavy stuff—and does it with the biggest, dorkiest smile. “It’s no big deal, bab- I mean—uh… friend.”

Trips Over Air: He’s graceful in battle, but near you? He’s knocking over coffee cups and walking into doorframes. "I swear, I’m usually coordinated, maybe I’m falling for you?😉”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Overly Cool Persona: He tries to play it cool, acting like he doesn’t care. But then he’ll text you at 3 a.m. with, “U up? I found a meme that reminded me of you.”

Teases You Constantly: Jason’s version of flirting is lightly roasting you. “Did you really think that outfit would work today?” But if anyone else says something, he’s ready to fight.

Surprise Gifts: He’ll give you something like your favorite snack but pretend it’s no big deal. “I just had extra,” he’ll mumble, even though he went to three stores to find it.

Blushes Like Crazy: He’s all tough-guy until you compliment him, and then it’s over. He gets red and stammers, “Shut up,” while smiling like an idiot.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Awkward Genius Mode: He’s smart with everything… except his crush. Suddenly, forming coherent sentences is a challenge. “I-I mean, uh… yeah, computers.”

Googles 'How to Flirt': You’ll catch him peeking at his phone mid-conversation because he’s literally reading “Flirting 101” or reading Reddit threads on flirting gone wrong.

Coffee Delivery: He’ll bring you coffee with your exact order memorized and pretend it’s casual. “Oh, you like this too? Weird coincidence.” It’s not. He asked around for hours.

Accidentally Compliments You: He’ll blurt out, “You smell nice.” Pause. “I mean, not that I’m sniffing you or anything!” Cue him turning bright red and hiding behind his laptop.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Pretends He Doesn’t Care: He’ll act indifferent but secretly monitors everything you do. “I don’t care what you do,” he says while glaring at someone standing too close to you.

Suddenly Overly Polite: Damian, the king of sass, becomes weirdly respectful. “Would you like me to carry that for you? No? Okay. Are you sure?”

Gives You Fancy Gifts: He gifts you rare, expensive things like hand-picked flowers from the Wayne estate garden. “It’s not a big deal. Just take it.”

Random Acts of Bravery: He’ll jump in front of a moving bicycle or push you out of the way of a puddle, then act like it was nothing. “It was instinct. Don’t be dramatic.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Becomes an Awkward flirt: He’s smooth in public but completely loses it around his crush. “Do you need anything? No? Water? A chair?” He’s offering things you don’t need.

Over-Explains Everything: Bruce will start talking about something mundane and give a full TED Talk. “Well, you see, the Batmobile’s engine is unique because…” You just wanted to know if it had cup holders.

Subtle Touches: He’ll brush your hand “accidentally” or adjust your coat collar, lingering just a second too long. But if you call him out, he’ll stammer, “I thought you were cold.”

Silent Protector: He’ll stand silently in the background, watching like a brooding guardian angel. If anyone flirts with you, his jaw clenches like it’s personal.

Bonus: Dumb Things They ALL Do ── .✦

Group Text Fiascos: They’ll text each other for advice, and it always goes wrong.

Jason: “Should I call her pretty or hot?”

Tim: “Say she’s breathtaking. It’s classier.”

Dick: “Just tell her you love her.”

Damian: “You’re all fools.”

Bruce (accidentally replying to all): “…Delete this.”

Staring Too Long: Every single one of them will stare at you for too long, only to awkwardly look away when you notice. They’ll try to play it off, but you know they were looking.

Clumsy Idiots: They’ll all try to do something impressive—lift something heavy, show off their fighting skills—and it’ll backfire hilariously. But the effort is adorable.

[deadsetobsessions]

Danny laid across his throne, legs planted across the left arm of the ornate chair and back pressed uncomfortably against the right.

"Listen," Danny started, letting his head flop to the side as he glared at a hovering Observant. "This meeting has wasted enough of my time. You all have been arguing for hours and that's without Clockwork slowing things down."

"Your Majesty, this is a matter of great importance. Belial means to overthrow and rule my-our world!"

"I am distinctly aware aware of that," Ancients, Danny couldn't wait to go home and rid himself of the formal speech he'd had to adopt in order to be taken seriously. Well, as seriously as he cared to be taken when sprawled across his throne instead of sitting on it intimidatingly or something. He slowly placed his gaze on the suddenly still demon sitting across from him. "Yet you've proposed fifteen different plans that were all unviable for whatever reasons you've cooked up. Your conclusion is that I must step in. Does your world not have heroes to take care of it?"

The demon- another lord of hell from this Belial’s universe- fell silent.

“Ah. But if they do, they would also take care of you.”

“No- no, that’s not-”

Danny allowed his voice to drop to the artic freeze he knew his core was capable of. "I opened these these doors to allow all of you to present me with reasonable concerns regarding your own universes and realms. What is not on the table for discussion is your petty politics. Do you think I am unaware of your intentions in tattling to me? That I do not know you are trying to use me to further your own position?"

"Your Majesty, I-" The demon growled out, fear slowly coating its expression.

"It no longer amuses me. You think that I am young and easy to manipulate." Danny froze the demon to its chair. It tried to break free, but Danny isn't the High King of the Infinite Realms for nothing. "Bring to me a miserable problem like this ever again, one that could be easily solved if you used even a smidgen of your intelligence, and you will find exactly how I tore Pariah Dark from his throne."

Not that Danny knew how he did it either, he just did it.

"Yes, Your Majesty. My-my apologies."

The room is dead (Danny patted himself on the back for the pun) silent. Some of the Ancients looked bored, like Clockwork who knew Danny would never hurt them, but everyone else looked close to crying. He held eye contact with the demon until it looked away.

When Danny settled back into the throne and allowed his ice to dissipate, the room let out a collective sigh of relief.

"The next item on the agenda is another demon, by the name of Trigon." Clockwork announced, the large piece of paper comically huge next to his currently toddler-like body.

"Another?"

He flicked an amused look at the previous demon, who kept his trap firmly shut.

"He is attempting to take over multiple worlds in an attempt to conquer the universe. I had thought you would be interested in this one, Your Majesty, as he plans to begin with Earth 135."

Danny stilled. That was his Earth. His haunt.

"Does he know of the Realms?"

"Vaguely, I believe."

"Then he should know the rules. I will wait to see if my Earth's heroes are capable to step to the task."

Danny would be a hypocrite if he doesn’t let the heroes of his Earth try first, even if he is one of those heroes.

"Of course," Clockwork grinned at him, fully aware of the shit Danny's about to stir back home. Ah, the wonders of being able to influence the time stream. Perhaps the young Ghost King will finally get some friends, and maybe get those pesky speedsters to stop making his jobs so hard. Cujo yipped at Danny as the King begrudgingly moved onto the next topic.

——

Raven shuddered as she watched the footage of her "brothers" laughing while steering their human "meatbags" around. She turned back to the giant circle of donated blood and herb filled candles.

“This is a nuclear option, don’t you think?” Green Arrow mumbled, clearly not against it by the half hearted way he’d said it. The Star City billionaire nursed his cracked ribs.

“No,” she floated over to where Zatanna and Constantine kneeled, trying to see if they needed help with the inscriptions. “Trigon is coming soon, and my brothers will no doubt find their way here in a moment. We are out of time.”

“Yeah. Plus, we don’t want Raven to be turned into a portal.” Garfield piped up, switching animal forms rapidly.

“No one dies.” Red Robin muttered. His wrist computer was open, monitoring the surroundings of the open field they found themselves uneasily occupying. Batman grunted in affirmation, eyeing the tree line. Every hero except the magical ones were on look out, preparing themselves for one more battle against the two demons that were trying to take Raven and force her into becoming a portal.

“Hey guys, we might want to hurrythisupbecausethey’re kind of close!” Impulse slammed into the room.

“Done.” Zatanna got up, motioning for everyone to step back. In Superman’s case, he floated back.

“Too bad you won’t get to use it,” a voice drawled, dripping with malice and the screams of a thousand souls.

“Come now, little sister. Why fight fate? Be grateful father has deigned to spare you. If not for your dirty blood being useful, you would be dead, little sister. Give up, before our patience runs out alongside the lives of your little pets.” Another, mocking, voice gleefully rumbled.

Raven would rather gouge out her own heart than to claim these two as any type of family.

“You won’t touch them.” Raven snarled, powers rising even as the marks on her body burned a painful red.

“Buy us some time!”

With that, the group of beaten and battered heroes rose to clash against just two demons, for a chance to save their world.

——

The Circle crackled. Danny felt a tug on his core. He followed the thread of the summoning. Oh. It was his haunt. Earth 135. Hm. It tasted of blood. Desperation? A hint of anticipation. Oh, an overload of fear. Could use some more hope, but Danny understood that it was rather hard to season these kinds of summonings with hope.

“Stop.” Danny commanded, straightening in his chair.

“Sire, we have more-”

“There is an issue with my haunt,” with that, he followed the summons.

——

“Ugh,” was the first thing everybody on the frozen battlefield heard. The demons had smacked away many of the heroes, but they all turned as one when the circle lit up a bright green. “Why do you people always use blood? I’m dead, I don’t need any more iron!”

A boy

Raven’s eldest brother let out a hideous rumble. “You fools tried to summon the king, and you got a dead boy. And now, you’ve doomed another.”

Constantine looked resigned, and regretful. “I am so, so sorry,” he whispered. It was just a kid. John might be a lot of things, but even he found summoning dead kids for demons to devour was just a step too far. “Shite, we got the wrong fucking-”

“Hey, man, that’s rude,” the boy snapped back, waving John off.

“Brother, kill the whelp.”

“I vote on not killing the whelp. Not killing at all, really,” the boy stepped out of the massive blood circle, wrinkling his nose at the drying stains.

“This is not one of your pesky democracies, fool.”

In response, the demons lunged at him, ignoring the screams of the surrounding heroes as they shoved their human arms through the boy’s stomach.

“So,” the boy continues, “I heard your dad was after my haunt?”

“Your haunt, whelp? This earth shall be his! And through him, ours!” Raven slammed against the demons with her power, shadows enlarging and tossing them away from the unharmed… ghost boy?

“Is it?”

——

Wow, these demons are so rude. Normally, it’d be a breath of fresh air compared to the stuffy halls of his throne room. But since they’re attacking his haunt…

“Thanks. You’re… Raven, right?”

Raven nodded, arms outstretched in concentration as she held her brothers back.

“You have to go. We’re- we’re sorry you got pulled into this, but it’s not safe here.”

“Eh. It’s cool. You don’t have to do that anymore, by the way.” Danny stepped forward once more, green skin shifting and gliding as everything about him sharpened. He flew at the demons piloting the human shells, catching them around the necks and dragging the demons out of their stolen bodies. The threw them even further away as he floated in the air, a beacon of green and white. Raven thought it looked like hope.

“My name is Phantom, the High King of the Infinite Realms,” let it be known that Danny always had an eye for dramatic entrances. He shifted into something more off, more eldritch, more kingly. The crown flared to life above his head. “You have invaded my haunt. You have challenged me. What do you plead?”

“You’re not-” they said.

“Wrong answer,” Danny flew at them once more, body contorting into something undeniably terrorizing, his maw unhinging and crunching down on the demons with a sound that made the present heroes cringe.

“Ugh,” Danny grunted, turning back and floating peacefully to the group of heroes- Tucker and Sam would be so stoked he met Wonder Woman and Batman!- and chewed rapidly. He shifted back into his normal form. “Eating demons always leaves me with indigestion. And their bones get everywhere up in my teeth!” Danny pulled out a giant femur looking bone from his mouth, despite it not logically fitting in there.

“Right. No eating demons, solid life advice.” Red Robin said.

“Right? So, you’re Raven! It’s nice to meet you! Think you can summon your dear ol’ dad for me?”

“But we summoned you to stop Trigon, not help him come here.” Superman said, frowning.

“One! That summoning circle is wack. Those things you piled up as offerings? Mid. Also, if you thought you could control me with those terribly written spells, you’re dead wrong. And yes, I am making puns about death.” Danny jabs an aggressive finger towards the shabby circle.

“Have you considered that maybe not every being that can be summoned wants a shit ton of useless blood? Like what if I wanted food? And two, how am I supposed to beat up Trigon if he’s still stuck in the prison realm?”

“I have a cup of coffee,” Nightwing offered. “Kid Flash could probably get you food, right?”

“Yep, surethinganythingyouwantyourMajesty.”

“You wouldn’t catch me alive accepting food from a speedster. You people fuck up the timelines so much,” Danny grumbled, crunching on the last of Raven’s brothers. Raven thought she should probably sit down.

“But you’re dead.” Batman said, something about his voice catching the sharp attention of his protégés who all started making cutting motions at him.

“Fair,” Danny pointed at him, grinning. “I’ll take two pizza and Nightwing’s coffee as payment for taking care of your little demon overlord problem. Raven, summon your dad.”

——

Didn’t much like the characterization of this piece but it’s been in my drafts for a while and I needed it out

[retiredteabag]

Wishful Thinking

arranged marriage with Nanami… a continuation

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - pt. 4 - next part

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

It was fair to say that the Belmond Eastern & Oriental Express was by far the most luxurious space you had ever occupied.

Your honeymoon was a weekend-long excursion aboard the aforementioned train. It would take you through the breathtaking Malaysian mountains, right through the heart of the country's culinary capital, and finally over to the coast, where you could spend the night on the beach.

You fiddled with your luggage as your husband left to speak with a steward about getting a cup of coffee. Nights ago, after much berating from your clan elders, Nanami discussed the plans of the trip with you. At the time, you had politely asked if there was a possibility you could have a joint cabin. Nanami told you he had already requested two suites, and that you did not have to worry.

When you arrived, however, giving the polite stewardess your last name, they insisted that there had only been one cabin under your now, shared name.

At this news, your husband seemed more distressed than you. For you though, in the back of your mind, you had almost expected it. Certainly, you would not have put it past your family.

Arriving to your room after some questioning from your husband, you found that the king bed, lavishly accessorized with pillows and throws, could actually become two twin XLs.

He had lifted your suitcase from your hands with one arm and set it on the luggage rack as if it weighed no more than the pillow he had simultaneously been extricating from the dual bed.

He ran his now free hand through his hair, he almost looked panicky, "I apologize. I should have called ahead to ensure your comfort. I can speak with them again and see if they have any other open cabins but for now-"

"Nanami, it's okay-" You move forward to help him de-fluff the mattress. "I should have anticipated this anyway..."

He stands up straight, "In any case, I can sleep in one of the scenic cars- I looked and there are couches and-"

You interrupt again, "Nanami, I am not going to have you sleep on the couch" You chuckle, knowing he really would. "I think I might have given you the impression that you make me uncomfortable."

His eyes raised at this, you continue, "I can assure you that you do not. And I don't mind sharing a room with you."

This whole interaction played through your mind as you waited for your husband to return. He had seemed so professional in that moment, so tense, eyes so wide. He had cleared his throat and asked if you were sure. All you had done was laugh, asking if he was hungry and would like for you to order refreshments.

Of course, he had insisted on going in your stead.

--

The train had fifteen carriages. Eight sleeping cars, two restaurant cars, a piano car bar, and an open-air observation car. After having shifted the bed around, you sat at the table overlooking the window in your room. Nanami had brought back coffee, afternoon tea, and a wide variety of treats. Tarts, fresh fruit, scones, and cookies.

There was a mildly awkward silence between you two as the breathtaking Malaysian jungle passed you by. Just as you were about to take a sip of your drink, Nanami pipes up.

"I wanted to make sure..." He says.

You turn to look at him but he's focused on the foliage just beyond the rails. "I need you to say if you're uncomfortable. I know you have a problem with pleasing people, but nothing would upset me more than your silent discomfort."

You choke down your tea quickly. It took you a moment, but you realize then that you hadn't even been trying to appease him or the staff when you suggested sharing the room, it had felt natural.

After having known the man hardly a week, you had come to view him almost as a friend. The notion, of course, might be due to the fact that you hadn't many friends to speak of, but nobody could deny how kind Nanami was.

"I'm not." You wave your hands in front of your face. "Uncomfortable, I mean."

He squinted at you in a funny way, attempting, you guess, to read your expression. Finally smiling, he takes a sip of his beverage and accompanies you in looking out the shared window. If only you could explain how much you appreciated every thought he gave you.

--

There were two restaurant cars on the train, and you would be swapping between them for meals your duration on board. There was a formal dress code at meal times, and as you spun in the mirror, you wondered if you would be able to fit in amongst all the opulence.

See, you had been trained in table manners, small talk, and most every other area of etiquette, even so, you had rarely strayed from clan meetings or school. It was not common for you to have an outing intended for pleasure.

Without the watchful eye of your family or higher-ups, you could do or say anything you wanted. You had a friend there to speak with.

You fiddled with the sleeve of your dress. Turned this way and that to get a look at every angle. Blurred your lip stain with a finger, then considered if you should reapply.

You ran a finger over the waist of your outfit, brushed off some imaginary dust, and pursed your lips.

Yes, you decided, and reached over for your lipstick once more.

A knock came at the bathroom door.

"Yes! Sorry!" You spun and unlatched the lock, pulled the door open. Hopefully you hadn't been hogging your shared lavatory. You took in the man before you.

On your wedding day, he had been dressed to the nines, hair quaffed, and likely just as striking to observe as he was now. However, you had been a tad bit occupied by your mind back then. And since that day, he had dressed comfortably around you. Smart casual, not too much, not too little either... he even appeared handsome in his pajamas, all this to say, before you now, it felt like you were seeing him for the first time.

He was adjusting his wristwatch when you opened the door. Seeing him like this, you almost wanted to hide behind the wall of the bathroom. You knew, based on what type of man he was, that he would likely feel obligated to spare you a compliment. Even the idea flustered your mind. For the first time since adolescence, you felt a sudden embarrassment at trying to look attractive. You wanted to wipe the lipstick off completely.

You tried to rush and tell him something nice before he got there first, but it seemed as though he was distracted by the image of you. His pupils looked huge in the light of the sconces on the wall and his head twitched ever so slightly to take in the whole image of you.

He didn't rake his eyes up and down in a lustful way, no, he kept his looks appropriate and gentlemanly. Even so, he looked wildly absorbed stepping forward to settle against the doorframe. He held out his free hand to help you step down.

"You look...great..." You beg yourself not to trip, holding his palm and settling to the floor. Shaking a little at your poor choice of words. He simply laughs.

"Me?" He keeps his eyes at the back of your neck, your shoulder, your embarrassed little smile, "You," He shakes his head, "you are the sight to behold."

It tickles your stomach, how genuine he sounds.

--

There was a table reserved specifically for you both, the window beside you painted tropical mountains that raced past at record speeds. The food came in courses and everything was delicious. There was wine and lit candles atop the intricate tablecloths in this car. Under close inspection, the wallpaper seemed to twirl in textured spirals of cream. You felt enlivened to be here.

Even happier still, dessert was coming.

"I think it might be time we try and practice." Nanami tilted his head, observing you.

"Practice what?" You asked, brows raised.

"Discovering you." He smiled.

You laugh, "Nanami. We have been talking all meal, what is there to discover?"

"We have been talking about me all meal." He mimics your tone. "That or the food...or the decor."

You roll your eyes dramatically, "I wanted to know about those things. And the food was good. And the decor is lovely."

"I agree," He nods, "but when I asked what type of refreshment you would like, I was hoping you would tell me, not simply go along with whatever I say."

You chuckle. He's a little too attentive, "I don't have much experience with wine, I preferred you picking."

"That may be true," He smiles goodnaturedly, "but you have been affirming every little thing I say. Did you know that? You know you don't have to avoid disagreements with me, right? I want to know who you are and what you think, not have a copy of myself."

No, you hadn't realized you had been doing that. As a child, you had made yourself small on purpose, it was an easy way to get people to like you. Now, it wasn't even a conscious effort. Nobody seemed to notice before, in fact, everyone prior to Nanami had seemed to appreciate how mailable you were.

"How's this," He started again, "What's your favorite dessert?"

You think and think, tapping your foot. You liked all kinds of desserts, earlier you had ordered the cheesecake alongside Nanami. And back in the cabin you had enjoyed the petit fours.

Nanami knocks a knuckle on the table. "See, this is something most everyone knows. Did you order the cheesecake because that's what I like?" He is grinning at you but his eyes seem discouraged at the thought.

"What? No!" You say, "I really do like cheesecake!"

Your husband grins, "Me too." He points to you now, speaking gently, "But what is your favorite?"

You're taking some time to answer but it really was because you didn't know. It's not as if you were granted allowance to every sweet the kitchens made growing up. You racked your brain trying to conjure a memory of a delicious custard you had eaten at a banquet once.

Just as Nanami was about to speak again, you nearly jump our of your seat, "Crème brûlée!" You recall the dish. Pleased that you could provide an answer. "That's my favorite."

As you reply, your hand comes down onto the table. Suddenly surprised by your force in response. Nanami, though, does not seem embarrassed by your show of joy.

"Very good!" He smiles as you awkwardly sip from your glass. "Crème brûlée," he considers, "very fancy, I've actually never had it."

You set your glass down, "Never? Really?" Once again, you assumed those who were not apart of a clan must be infinitely free. Free to eat whatever they crave.

"I've only had it once but it was so good. I wonder if it was because of the difference of texture... I believe that I would like it even without the caramelized sugar on top though, maybe now... since we live away I could make it sometime..." You taper off, pick up your glass and cover your face with it, had you said too much?

Since when were you such a loud-mouthed?

Nanami never once took his gaze from you. In fact, he might not have all evening, eye contact seemed to be a thing of his. "Well, that sounds delicious. I think it would be nice to share some at home."

He was so good at carrying a conversation, especially after you feel into a mood of humiliation from oversharing. At one point he had excused himself to the restroom and you allowed yourself a moment to breathe.

He was so focused on you. Not your clan, or your abilities, or your placement between the higher ups. No, he was purely focused on you. For the first time, a man had made your heart race.

Throughout all your life, at home, at school, in clan meetings, you had been viewed as a broodmare, a piece of meat that would carry on your clan name and ensure strong sorcerer children.

Knowing that, it was not difficult to become revolted by the seductive men who roamed their eyes over your body. Saw you how everyone else did. Wanted you for a prize.

Nanami Kento. You tightened your lips to keep your grin from showing. Did everyone feel this way about their friends? Maybe you are just weak to kindness.

The very man occupying your thoughts was at that moment leaned against the wall of the the locomotive, nowhere near the restrooms.

He had so much praise to speak but he did not want to embarrass you further. It seemed it was easy to do so.

He waited patiently for the steam engines attendant to return. When she had heard his request, she was more than happy to fulfill his wishes.

"Excuse me," He had asked, "I'm here to celebrate my honeymoon, you see, and my wife is very fond of Crème brûlée. You wouldn't happen to be able to specially make some?"

This must be a sign of luxury, he thought. To order something that was not on the menu and still have it presented to you.

Kento grinned like a child on Christmas as he passed between train cars. Two ramekins were tucked behind his back. He lived to see your smile, to hear you laugh, to admire this person, this strange woman he was hardly familiar with, yet craved to know. His wife.

--

When Nanami arrived from the bathroom, he had an oddly mischievous glint in his eye. He seemed to move something to his lap once he was seated. This grin of his was contagious.

"Well, you look suspicious." You chuckle. But it did not last long, no, because the man before you reached out to hand you a small chilled spoon.

"I suppose I cannot hide it." He said, placing two ramakins on the table. It only took a moment before you gasped, pointing at him as if to accuse him of a crime.

"You! Is that- w-when? Wait a moment." You placed both your palms facing him and coughed a laugh. "Did you really- I-" You could hardly believe him.

"Use your words." He hummed, placing the dessert in front of you, "I know you've got them."

The teasing forced you to breathe slowly. "Nanami." You whispered harshly.

"Quite the array of sweets in the bathroom, you wouldn't believe."

"No!" You laughed, Nanami swelled at the sound, "I daresay I wouldn't."

"Try it, is it as good as you remember?"

You take your spoon, look up to the man that had gone out of his way to bring you this small joy, crack the sugar, and scoop the custard into your mouth. It's hard not to make some obscene noise at the shuttering chill it brings you.

"It's even sweeter."

--

That night, after changing out of your dress, and he his suit, the two of you squeeze past partygoers in the bar car and walk your way to the very end where the open observation car was left vacant.

One might imagine the night air humid but only a warm breeze flies past you as you both take in the scenery. It seems impossible to suggest that you had only met this man a week or so prior. The fear you had felt being chained to him left almost as quickly as it had greeted you. How warm it feels to have a friend.

Never before had you been so free to speak of what you wished and to eat what you wished. You had three whole days ahead of you to explore this beautiful country, there were so many excursions to choose from and a man at your side who was very good at making decisions.

"I always wanted to come to Malaysia." He suddenly spoke up.

As fantastical as this whole day had seemed, you couldn't help recognizing the illusion that was being hidden. The two of you were practically strangers. Polite acquaintances perhaps. Married or not, this was likely not how Nanami saw his life going. Without the looming responsibility of a clan on his shoulders, he probably felt less free than ever before. Had he even wanted to be married prior to the higher-ups enlisting him for this role?

"Really? I'm glad you're able to come...though-" you pause, "I am sorry the circumstances are a bit..." You tapper off, waggling your head, hoping he would pick up what you meant.

He, of course, did not follow, "What? No, don't be sorry, what do you mean, 'circumstances'?"

His focus, that was once so ardently on the countryside passing by, was now on you, attempting to read the hidden pages of your shameful smile without breaking your delectably closed spine.

"I just mean... I'm sure you didn't intend to come in this position." You make a show of your hands. Trying to make light and humor of the situation. He simply cocks his head. "Married. I mean, arranged to me. It's just probably not what you expected."

He doesn't speak for a long moment. But then he is bending down and meeting your eyes. You can feel his breath on the exposure of your neck and he still smells of the caramelized sugar he had sought out just for you.

"I'm glad you're with me. You haven't...don't say that." He sighs, looking at you closely and whispering your name, "Don't apologize. I wouldn't have it any other way."

The idea is so absurd, your shoulders tense with your laugh. "How could that be true? You-you barely know me?"

He stretches his hand down to your own, softly strokes it, "And I get to know you. How exciting is that? We can learn together."

And as the wind whips in your face, you feel grateful for the slightness of the moons reflection hiding your flush. He settles your hand down again and smirks at you. A world away from the higher-ups, it's hard to imagine any trouble or obligation coming your way. This weekend was the two of yours. And as your heart raced and mind dazed at your husbands gentle and warm touch, you hoped this feeling never departed.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

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[honestsycrets]

starved | [miguel o'hara x reader]

❛ pairing | new papi!miguel x new mami!reader

❛ type | oneshot: explicit content

❛ summary | peter says he's sex-starved. he isn't. he's just... adjusting to less time with his wife.

❛ tags | breastfeeding miguel, lactation kink, slight pregnancy kink, touch starved, pissy miguel, spanish is not translated, mention of violence, some cursing, f!reader.

❛ sy’s notes | written as per poll request! thank you everyone who voted.

Miguel likes to work.

Or, he thinks he likes to work.

The fate of the multiverse and all that boring ass bullshit. Peter has heard it all, twice, thrice over. What he knows is what he sees. What he sees is an overworked man running through anomaly files, sending out orders, and not spending time where it really mattered.

“Is that who I think it is?” Peter’s annoying ass house slippers flapped over the ground by Miguel’s feet. Peter’s hands rubbed together, sparking little bursts of heat between his palms. “It is! Mireya!”

Mireya, the newest addition to his small family. She was nestled comfortably in the crook of one of Miguel’s muscular arms as if it were the safest place in the entire world, suckling on what was left of a bottle of breastmilk. Miguel turned to place the empty bottle down on his desk. Peter followed, peeping over Miguel’s arm at her. Despite Miguel’s reservations, her bright brown eyes bored Peter with interest. She cooed at him. “Can I hold her? Let me hold her, it’ll be great! Aw look, she has curls.”

“My daughter isn’t your doll.”

“Look how pretty, she’s just like her mami. All sunshine and dimples and--,” Peter reached forward, easing his scrawny hands under her plush little arms and picking her up. Miguel’s hands fell onto his hips, shifting weight from one foot to the other, glancing down at his feet expectantly. “You know, for a new dad, you’re grumpier than usual.”

“Peter.”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he bobbed back and forth, spinning in a circle. She giggled the kind of laugh that was all sugar, making Peter grin even harder. “I mean, wasn’t Mireya your idea? Are you-- y’know?”

“Y’know?”

“Sex starved,” Peter whispered like it was a great, terrible secret. As if in this vast space of silence, someone might catch his words and convict him because of them. Miguel’s half-lidded eyes slid against one another, held for a second, then spread open in an annoyed flick. He fluttered his gloved fingers at Peter to hand Mireya over.

“I’m just saying if you need a night alo--”

“I don’t. I’m not sex-starved.”

He waved him off. His eyes fell on his daughter, boring back up at him with those beautiful eyes he had waited so long to see. He shifted his weight from one leg to another, lulling her back into her late-night slumber, cradled against his chest.

Sex starved, he said. What a shocking joke.

His room was no place for a child. It was perpetually dark, dimmed for his sensitive eyes. So, at the end of the day, Miguel had your room to return to. A real home, one with more than a ratty run-down chair and a lifetime of regrets. A home that he couldn't make alone. Miguel pressed past the bedroom door where he found you overcome by sleep. Just like Mireya in his arms.

He turned his gaze down to Mireya once more, her soft and squishy body a vision of peace. Tiny fists balled up over her belly as she slept in her soft velvet onesie. The whole world in his hands: the start of a happy little family. Only right now, it didn’t feel so happy. Those were the cycles, the push and pull of life.

Tonight would prove to be another silent night with his thoughts. His chest swelled with a rush of air, bunching up his shoulders as he moved to the adjoining room to set Mireya into her warm crib. Torn from his warmth, her palms stretched out, ready to wail. Miguel placed his hand along the wooden rail, his stomach flopping into throbbing anxiety in his stomach. She could wake you up. "Shh," he set his finger in her tiny palm. Mireya’s small hands rested listlessly around her head. The wail never came.

“Mi vida,” your sleepy voice fell over his ears, a gentle caress. He longed to hear it from your lips again. “Is she already asleep?”

“Sí--” he glanced over his shoulder, catching just a sight of one of his favourite little slips. Dusty rose with delicate lace details. He studied the edge of the gown, flowing over your thick thighs as you walked. Shock.

“You look beautiful." You looked down at your soft belly, a mincing smile pulling at your lips. He knew you were nervous, the way your hands obscured your plush belly. Mesmerized, his finger fell away from Mireya's soft grip. Peter's words echoed in his mind, a deep annoyance. It made his skin crawl, this growing annoyance in the acknowledgment that he had no sex in weeks, months. He took a step forward.

“I hope she doesn’t sleep through the night. My breasts are full,” Your fingers skimmed the taut skin. The glint of your wedding band invited him forward as if… you should be his tonight. You were his wife-- and though he didn't expect you to give him relief, he missed you. Miguel dipped his head, stroking the sore muscles of his neck.

Are you, y'know, sex-starved?

“When does she ever..." he couldn't help from saying. He grazed his fingertips over the swollen skin of your breasts, glancing from the skin to your deep, shy eyes. His breath thinned, realizing that you were disengaging, too scared to look him in the eye.

“She does, Miggy,” you breathed. His jaw worked, annoyed. “Lately. You’d know if you came home at night.”

If it was lately, he had no knowledge of it. Every lab screen he pulled up, every status report from Lyla, and every silent night in the lab, obsessing over how his little girl was doing-- he missed it. He should be coming in more often, crossing the threshold of work to family life. His hand cupped the underside of your breast. You winced, embarrassment working on your face. You pushed his hand away, likely feeling exposed by his touch on your tender skin.

“Does it hurt?” He leaned down, mingling his smoky, musky scent with your delicate one. He leaned in to place a soft, open-mouthed kiss along your neck, the warm pulse of your skin against his plump lips.

“Miggy, you’ll wake her up.”

Your fingers laced in his before you pulled him out of the room with a click of the door. He settled his hand on the middle of the door, sliding his hand up your waist, the soft fabric crinkling over the movement. He glimpsed a look at your soft panties cupping your round ass. “Miggy, I… I can’t. I’m tired.”

Of course, you were tired-- He underestimated how much work you took on in her care. He willed the wisps of his desire to snuff out. The distant flicker of hope followed promptly after. Maybe, one day, you would want him again. It wasn't today.

“Ya veo,” he suppressed his frustrated growl, wrinkling his forehead. “Another time.”

It wasn't the next day. Or the one after that. Or the one after that.

The anomaly whirled along a cobblestone street, exploding in a cloud of dust and stone. Its many black dipped hands flickered, dulling into little more than a negligible tremor of their limbs. Everyone else noticed the complacency that came with loss of consciousness. Miguel did not.

Miguel sauntered forward, dragged it by its muddy boots out from the crumbly remnants of the wall, and whirled it into another. It wasn't moving. It was done, tired, exhausted. He didn't care, his large hand encompassing its tendril hair and smashing it over the dusty floor. A violent crack, crack, crack of its head scratched his inert need to destroy something, anything, anyone. It fell from his hands with a slump. Miguel spat a bit of blood to the side, his cheek chewed raw under the tension of the moment.

“You need to take Peter up on that offer.”

Miguel stretched his neck one way. Then the other.

“We’ve been over this,” Miguel grumbled, hiking the pummeled body over his shoulder. It gushed blood, streaming into a diluted pink with the downpour of rain. A simple contusion, Miguel said. It was just a contusion. And a concussion. Maybe a gash or two. It would heal if the thing woke up. “I don’t need help.”

“You thrashed it, whatever it was,” Jess said pointedly. Miguel’s finger ran across his watch. The air was stale without an acknowledgment of Miguel’s churning temper, growing into a churning tempest by the passing minute. He stared long and hard through his mask. She drew out the silence as she waited for his response.

“It’s a contusion.”

The portal whirled to life before them in a slurry of vivid color, an unforgiving abyss. Jess slumped her bike with weight on one thigh, hand on her belly. The longer Miguel stared at her, so full and pregnant, the more he was reminded of you. He pinched the bridge of his nose. There was no use-- he saw visages of you everywhere he looked.

“Doesn’t look like any head contusion I’ve seen,” Gwen slid into the portal. His lip curled, annoyed by the obvious objection to what he was saying. If they would let it go-- he could go on about his life, wait for this obsession with his sex life to abate. Wait for you to come back to him.

“You can’t keep taking out your—“

“I am not sex-starved!”

“Convincing.” Jess sped into the portal.

Miguel soothed the stress out of his forehead, opening and closing his palm, a current of energy coursing through his palms. They picked— and they picked— and they picked at him. At some point, he was bound to explode. He only hoped you wouldn't be in his way when it happened. He whipped the anomaly through the portal and followed after.

On the other side of the portal, there was Peter— again. Cooing with his hands on his daughter— again. His dark mask faded away, his suit wicking water off his frame. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he located you beside Jess and Gwen. You nudged its crumpled body with your shoe. He didn’t often feel ashamed of his actions. Usually, they were necessary. Something was wrong, your face pinched and curled in disgust. He felt the string of your disapproval pulling through his arms, a slight, incriminating tremor flickering through his finger. He willed it away.

“What did you do to this poor thing?” you turned to Jess, a click-click-click off your tongue. He’d hardly call it poor. “It’s overkill.”

“Girl, ask your husband,” Jess folded her arms, reclining on her bike.

“Mi Miggy?” you went to him. You leaned over, pecking his cheek with a terribly insulting kiss, tickling his jawline. He swallowed. Blinked. Then frowned and brushed off your fingers, finding the care misplaced. You could care for an anomaly but didn't care to ask him how he felt. What he needed. Your voice wilted that sunshine quality, dropping almost to a whisper. “¿Qué te pasa, Miggy?”

“Nothing.”

“Miguel--"

“I said nothing!” He knelt down, grasping its ankle and dragging it down the long, drab hall that stored a variety of anomalies. A line of blood soaked the floor, swerving after his rumbling steps. You took a step forward, snatching his wrist between your fingers. He whirled around, a tremble on his lips firmed out into an unforgiving glare. You let up the pressure on his wrist, allowing him to spin his hand free. “Déjame en paz! There is nothing shocking wrong!”

Mireya cried. So did you.

The admittance that Peter was right wasn’t one that Miguel was about to make openly.

Although he showed up that night, as you informally requested, the night proceeded awkwardly. There was no talk over dinner, not as he watched you feed his little girl, swaying by the window of the enormous city below. As you gazed into the sea of twinkling lights, Miguel came up behind you. His palms encompassed your slight shoulders, moist against your exposed shoulders. His naked chest grazed your back.

"Are you going to apologize?"

Why should he have to? If anyone listened to what he was saying-- he wouldn't be in this mess. Still, Miguel steeled his face. He placed a mincing kiss on the top of your head. His voice thinned out, barely a feather on his lips.

"I snapped."

"You did a lot more than that. You scared her."

You let him sit with his regret until you fell asleep. He debated returning to the lab or his room to try again tomorrow. But he knew his wife. You were attentive to everything that he did. You might take it as a sign of his disinterest. After minutes turned to hours, he breached the door and slid into your bed when he was sure you were asleep.

When his eyes coursed over your figure, he realized all he missed. It was too long since he felt the warmth of a real kiss. Not the brief pecks on his lips as he rushed out the door to help Jess or Gwen or any other number of spiders demanding his attention. He missed the warmth in your eyes, the way they turn into crescents with a happy smile or jaunty laugh. He longed for that sensation of your fingers combing through his hair, taking your time and curling his fluffy hair behind his ear, eyes trained on his alone in a sea of spiders. That… sensation of being the only one that you wanted.

Mireya was that for you now. He longed for it every time he came into the room, seeing you sway with his child in your arms, cradled against your breast, feeding her into a restful sleep. What he thought was a mere seed of jealousy turned out to be a terrible beast, tendrils of resentment that you can’t see what he needs. He needs you. And it isn’t his beautiful Mireya’s fault, no. It’s his.

Instead, he lay there with his palm wretched around his cock, soaked in the artificial lubricant, throbbing into his hand. He remembered his words that night. A begrudging -- Mami, give me a baby-- and how well you took him. Your body seemed to know what he wanted, swelling with his child after a few weeks. He buckled into his palm, cranking around the base and swirling up to his leaking tip, bubbling with his need. He circled his finger over the head, swiping the fluid away.

“What are you thinking about?”

Miguel paused, sweat crept down his thick throat over his broad chest. He shuddered under the weight of your silken words. His hand coiled around his cock in one more jerk, somehow accepting that he had been caught.

“Are you thinking about me? Or is there someone else?”

"Someone else?" he breathed. His lips dropped into a frown, agitation simmering to a boil. It cooled when you looked at him-- but really looked at him. The bed shifted under your weight, ruffling pillows aside. You hoisted your legs over his body, pushing his cock against your soft vulva and his stomach, breasts pushing into his face. So close that Miguel inhaled the uniquely sweet smell of your milk obscured by thin lace.

“Why would I have anyone else?” he asked, his chest distantly aching. His gaze tracked from one breast to the other. He stole a glimpse at your face, stricken with shyness. The slight pout of your lips, eyes refusing contact. “Do you even want me?”

Undoubtedly yes.

“You don’t come to see me. You don't fuck me. You don't even--"

"You're always tired."

"But you could wake me.”

“Could I? To deny me again?” It hadn’t meant to come out so passive-aggressive, but with the natural inflections in his voice, he knew you could read him like a book.

“Oh, papi," not that soft voice. He might hope again. "I always want you.“

Hmpf. Debatable.

“Even when you’re jerking off in my bed. Or couch.” You slid your pink tongue along your lower lip, guiding your body against his. The wet draw of your juices over his dick drew his sharp scarlet eyes to the sight, knocking your stiff clit with his dick. For a moment, his words failed. He should have known you would watch him.

“Is that why you're so... angry? Because of me?" He made a small noise, barely a huff. You drew his hands to your full breasts, obscured by a thin layer of fabric. This time, he smothered a groan in his chest. How pathetic, he thought, to be moaning from something as simple as your firm breasts back in his hands. What was he-- twelve? "Have I been neglecting you, Miguel O’Hara?”

“Yes-- you've neglected me,” he murmured, dragging the lace underneath each breast, knocked together by the straps of the fabric. He melded your breasts again between his hands, massaging the sore skin. His thumps flickered over your nipples, stiffening them into peaks. With a small pinch to your breasts, milk dribbled over his fingertips.

"I won't do it again," he wondered if you missed his touch by the full, grateful hum of your lips, your palms disappearing into his dark hair. You coursed along his dick again, eliciting another piteous noise of longing from his throat. "I promise."

“Hm," was the only agreement. "What a mess,” he teased, not bothering to look at you. It had the desired effect, your shoulders shyly bunching up, the cute pout of your lips, warmth in your cheeks, quivering eyes. He loved it when you looked so fucking shy, so vulnerable, and all for him. "You're leaking all over my hand."

“I’m-- sorry,” you flushed, “It… happens.”

“Mhm, you're full,” Miguel flicked his pink tongue along your stiff, fat nipple, drawing it into his mouth with a suckle. Sweet milk soothed his tongue. He hungrily drank it up, shifting his other hand back to angle his cock at the entrance of your core. A hand left his thick locks and jerked to his broad shoulder, stabilizing your hips down to sink onto him. Blood welled to the surface with your claws scratching piteously along his sunkissed skin. With a bit of resistance, he slid perfectly into your body, just like he always did. A satisfied sigh escaped his lips against your breast. It was somehow different-- the tug and stretch of his cock-- as he fucked the mother of his child. Maybe it was all in his head. “Shock, you’re gorgeous on my dick.”

“Miggy--”

He shifted to the other breast, his hands nearly stapled on your hips, encouraging you to do the work. Your warm milk slid into his mouth, down his starved throat. The pleasure of knowing he was draining you of your milk was tempered with the ever-present fact that soon, you’d have his spunk in your belly again. Your hips flushed, drawing around in quick circles, flushed with his pelvis. Small waves of pleasure grew in your belly. Your stiff clit glided against his skin, again, and again with the undulations of his hips. You felt pinned between his mouth and dick, restricted in movement, but all his, devoured by his need.

“Come here, mi hermosura,” Miguel released your breast from those lush lips, sliding his tongue along his lips to catch the remnants of your sweet milk. He slid down along the pillows, flushing your chest to his, and propped his legs slightly for a better angle. His muscular arms wound around your back, cock pumping into you with renewed vigor. He knocked against your cervix in this position, holding you fast and tight in his arms. You nestled against his sweaty chest, accepting his thrusts so well.

“Miggy-- I’m not-- on anything.”

“You're breastfeeding, close enough,” he mused in your ear as though it were a joke.

You might have argued with him if you weren’t so blinded by that fantastic juddering of his hips. As it were, pleasure rocked all thoughts of birth control out of your mind. Miggy, an ever-present lover, groaned as he held out through your orgasm milking and soaking his swollen dick in your cum. Not a moment later, Miguel forced a long stroke of his dick inside your cunt, reaching his climax buried deep in your tremoring walls. You squeezed him tight, milking him dry of his orgasm until it all faded into fuzzy pleasure. You sighed as his arms loosened, warm and full of Miguel after so long. His soft dick slipped free, cum oozing onto his thighs, but he couldn’t be bothered to deal with the mess.

He set a kiss on the top of your head, then your forehead, and eventually snatched your lips in a warm kiss. You could taste the sweetness of your milk on his tongue and flushed. Your head dropped down on his chest, listening for the gentle whining of your daughter. It was silent but for the intermingling of your heaving breaths.

After all the issues: the disappointment, the fighting with Peter and Jess, Miguel couldn’t help but chuckle. All it took was jerking off in your bed. He should have known-- you never did like to be left out on his fun. You were always a jealous lover, even at the threat of his own hand.

“Hm? Why are you laughing?”

“Peter said I was sex-starved."

“Well," you glistened a smile, kissing along his jaw. He huffed. "He wasn't wrong."

[valkyriexo]

Silence | Bang Chan

ᑉ³pairing; Boyfriend Chan x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Angst , Smut

ᑉ³warnings; SMUT MDNI ,dirty talk, swearing, Fingering, oral f reciving, begging

ᑉ³Authors Note; 1k event Commisson giveaway winner @chrizzztopherbang (sorry it took so long :((( )

The restaurant was bustling, filled with the chatter of people enjoying their Friday night.

But at your table, a tense silence hung in the air.

Your parents sat across from you, glancing at the door every few minutes, waiting for the man they’d heard so much about. But as the minutes ticked by, Chan’s absence became glaring

Your stomach churned with anxiety, but you kept a smile on your face, holding onto the thin hope that maybe he was just running late. He had to be coming—this was the night you were finally introducing him to your parents, the people who mattered most to you.

Your phone sat face-up on the table, dark and motionless. No missed calls. No texts.

Not even a simple message to say he wasn’t coming.

You checked your phone again, the light of the screen glaringly bright in the dim restaurant. Nothing. He hadn’t reached out. No explanation. No apology. You swallowed the growing lump in your throat, trying to keep the disappointment from showing on your face.

Your mom glanced at her watch, then back at you with a sympathetic smile. “Honey, maybe he got caught up in traffic or something. We can wait a bit longer.”

Your dad, on the other hand, wasn’t as forgiving. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his face a mask of thinly veiled frustration. “It’s been nearly an hour. If he can’t even make it to dinner with your parents, what does that say about him?”

You opened your mouth to defend him but stopped. You couldn’t deny that this wasn’t just an isolated event. Over the past few weeks, Chan had been slipping—forgetting dates, canceling plans last minute, or worse, just not showing up. But tonight, of all nights, was different. He knew how important this was to you. To both of you.

And he still wasn’t here.

It felt like a punch to the gut. You’d been nervous about tonight for weeks, planning every detail in your head. Your parents had flown in just for this. And Chan, the man you’d been dating for months, wasn’t even here

“Maybe something came up…” you offered weakly, though the words felt hollow, even to you.

Your dad sighed, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, a man who cares about you doesn’t let ‘something’ come up on a night like this. He makes time.”

The words stung because deep down, you knew he was right. You’d been making excuses for Chan for weeks, convincing yourself that his work, his schedule, was just overwhelming, and that it wasn’t personal. But this? This felt personal.

Your mom reached across the table, squeezing your hand gently. “We don’t have to stay, you know. We can reschedule, or…”

The thought of leaving without even hearing from him made your stomach drop. You wanted to brush it off, pretend like it didn’t matter, but it did. You wanted your parents to see the man you loved, to understand why you were so devoted to him. But right now, even you were struggling to remember that reason.

The waiter approached, a polite smile on his face. “Are we ready to order, or should I give you a few more minutes?”

You hesitated, glancing at the empty seat beside you, before shaking your head. “No, I think we’re ready.”

The rest of dinner was strained, your parents trying to keep up light conversation, but the tension in the air was undeniable. Every few minutes, your eyes drifted to your phone, but it remained painfully silent.

No word from Chan. No explanation.

By the time you made it back home, the weight of the evening settled heavily on your shoulders. Your parents had been kind—understanding, even—but their disappointment lingered. You could feel it in the hug your mom gave you before she left, the look your dad gave you as he told you to "think about what you deserve."

And he was right. You deserved better than this.

When you finally walked into your apartment, the quiet was suffocating. You dropped your bag on the couch, sitting down with a heavy sigh, staring at the blank screen of your phone once more. A million thoughts raced through your head—maybe something had happened, maybe there was a reason he couldn’t make it, maybe—

Your phone lit up, and your heart leapt for a split second. But it wasn’t Chan. It was a notification from some random app, and the disappointment hit you like a wave.

You leaned back against the couch, the realization sinking in. He hadn’t forgotten tonight. He’d just… not shown up. And the worst part was, he hadn’t even bothered to tell you.

There was no last-minute excuse, no frantic apology, no explanation. He had simply left you waiting.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, staring at nothing, feeling the weight of it all. But eventually, the front door opened, and Chan walked in, looking exhausted but casual, as if it were any other night. He saw you on the couch and smiled, dropping his keys onto the table.

“Hey, sorry I’m late. Long day at the studio,” he said, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t even look guilty.

You blinked, staring at him in disbelief. “Late? You didn’t even come.”

Chan frowned, confused. “What are you talking about? I’m here now.”

“You didn’t come to dinner,” you said, your voice shaking with a mixture of anger and sadness. “I waited for you. My parents waited for you.”

It was as if the weight of what you were saying finally hit him. His eyes widened, realization dawning. “Shit, wait—dinner. That was tonight?”

You stood up, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yeah, it was tonight. The dinner where you were supposed to meet my parents for the first time. The dinner we planned weeks ago. And you didn’t show up.”

His face paled, guilt creeping in, but it wasn’t enough. Not this time. You had waited, excused, and forgiven too many times before.

“I’m sorry, I really am. I didn’t mean to—” Chan started, but you cut him off.

“No, Chan. You didn’t even tell me you weren’t coming. You didn’t call, you didn’t text. You left me sitting there, waiting, with no idea where you were.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but you shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep being the one who waits.”

Chan’s expression crumbled as he stepped forward, but you took a step back. “Please, I’ll make it right. I swear—”

But you’d heard it all before. And this time, it wasn’t enough.

The silence that followed your words was thick, suffocating. Chan stared at you, his face twisted in guilt, but it wasn’t enough this time. Nothing he could say would make up for the way you felt tonight—alone, forgotten, like an afterthought.

"I said I’m sorry, okay?" His voice was low, almost pleading. But the apology felt like it was more for his own peace of mind than for you.

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. "Sorry? That’s all you have to say? You didn’t even care enough to send me a text, Chan! You didn’t care enough to let me know you weren’t coming to meet my parents!"

“I do care—” he started, but you cut him off, voice trembling with the frustration and hurt you’d been bottling up for weeks.

“Do you? Do you really? Because it feels like I’m the only one putting any effort into this relationship!” The words spilled out before you could stop them, years of unsaid feelings finally surfacing. “I’ve been bending over backwards for you, making excuses for you, and for what? For you to just forget about me over and over again?”

Chan’s jaw clenched, his eyes flickering with anger, but he kept his voice calm. “It’s not like I’m doing this on purpose. I’m trying to juggle everything—the studio, the group, the deadlines—it’s not easy.”

“Don’t you dare try to make me feel guilty for that.” Your voice cracked, and you took a step toward him, fists clenched. “I’ve been patient. I’ve understood every time you’ve had to cancel plans, every time you’ve been late because of work. But this was important, Chan! You were supposed to meet my parents! You were supposed to be there for me for once!”

He flinched, as if your words physically hurt him, but he still tried to defend himself. “I know it was important, but I can’t always be everywhere at once. I’m doing my best, and sometimes things slip through the cracks.”

You stared at him, feeling a bitter mix of anger and heartbreak. “I shouldn’t have to feel like I’m slipping through the cracks in your life.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Chan’s face softened as he realized how deeply he had hurt you. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. You could see the guilt in his eyes, but it was too late. The damage was done.

You turned away from him, your arms wrapping around yourself, trying to hold in the tears that threatened to spill. “I need space, Chan. I need to think.”

“Wait,” he said, stepping forward, his voice desperate now. “Don’t shut me out. Please, we can talk about this.”

You shook your head, your voice cold and distant. “There’s nothing to talk about right now. I just… I need time.”

Without another word, you walked past him, retreating into your bedroom, leaving him standing alone in the living room, guilt and frustration etched across his face.

The next few days were a blur of silence. You avoided Chan’s calls, ignored his texts, and when you saw him, you barely acknowledged his presence. The silent treatment weighed heavily on both of you, but you weren’t ready to face him. Not yet. The sting of being let down, again and again, was too fresh.

At first, Chan tried to give you space, respecting your need for time to process. But as the days went on, he began to grow more desperate. The messages started coming more frequently—apologies, explanations, everything he could think of to get through to you. But you remained silent.

One night, you were sitting in your living room, laying on the couch and scrolling through your phone aimlessly, when you heard a knock at your door. You didn’t respond, hoping he’d go away, but then the door opened slowly, and Chan stepped inside.

He looked exhausted, his usual confidence replaced by an unmistakable vulnerability. He stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say, before finally sitting down at the edge of your bed.

“I know you’re mad,” he started, his voice low and hesitant. “And you have every right to be.”

You didn’t say anything, keeping your eyes glued to your phone. But the tension in the room was thick, and you could feel him watching you, waiting for some kind of response.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I messed up. I know I did. And I can’t stand that I hurt you like this. I’ve been trying to fix it, but I don’t even know where to start anymore.”

Still, you said nothing, but your heart ached at the sadness in his voice. You wanted to forgive him, to let it go, but a part of you needed him to understand just how deeply his actions had hurt you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. “I’m so sorry I made you feel like you don’t matter. Because you do. You’re the most important person in my life, and I hate that I’ve made you feel otherwise.”

You glanced up at him, and the sight of him—his eyes red, his face etched with regret—made something inside you soften. But you weren’t ready to give in just yet.

“I don’t know if I can keep doing this,” you said quietly, finally breaking your silence. “I can’t keep waiting for you to show up, wondering if I’m ever going to be enough to make you prioritize me.”

Chan’s eyes widened, and he shook his head quickly. “You are enough. You’re more than enough. I’ve just been so caught up in everything that I lost sight of what’s really important.”

He reached out, taking your hand gently, and for the first time in days, you didn’t pull away.

“I can’t lose you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know I’ve been an idiot. I know I’ve let you down more times than I can count, but I’m begging you… please don’t give up on us.”

Tears stung your eyes as you looked at him, the vulnerability in his expression breaking down the last of your defenses. You could see how much he meant every word, how deeply he regretted the pain he’d caused you.

“I don’t want to give up on us either,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “But something has to change, Chan. I need to know that I can rely on you, that I matter.”

“You do,” he said quickly, his grip on your hand tightening. “I swear, things will be different. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll be better. For you. For us.”

Before you could respond, Chan sank to his knees in front of you, his eyes locked on yours. The raw vulnerability in his expression made your heart ache. “Please,” he said, his voice breaking. “I know I’ve let you down. I know I’ve been a mess. But I’m begging you, please don’t give up on us. I need you. I’ll do anything to make this right. Just give me a chance.”

You stared at him, shocked by his sudden desperation. The image of him on his knees, pleading with you, was almost too much to bear. The hurt was still fresh, and though his words and actions were sincere, you struggled with the weight of what he’d done.

You looked down at Chan, kneeling before you, his eyes filled with a mix of regret and desperation. His plea hung in the air, heavy with unspoken promises and fear. You could see how much he wanted to make things right, but the pain and disappointment you felt were still raw and unsettling.

“I don’t know, Chan,” you said finally, your voice wavering. “I want to believe that things will be different, but I’m not sure if I can just forgive and forget. You’ve let me down so many times. How can I be sure this time will be any different?”

Chan’s face fell, and he lowered his gaze, his shoulders slumping. “I understand if you’re not ready to forgive me. I really do. But please, just give me a chance to prove it to you. I know I’ve been a fool, and I’m sorry. I’ll work every day to show you that I’m worth your trust.”

Your heart ached at the sight of him, so vulnerable and earnest. You wanted to believe him, wanted to reach out and pull him up from his knees, but the scars of past disappointments were still fresh. You needed to see more than words. You needed to know that the change he promised was real and lasting.

Before you could voice your doubts, Chan moved closer, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity of his gaze was disarming, and you felt your resolve waver as he closed the distance between you. He reached out gently, cupping your face with his hands, his touch warm and tender.

As he leaned in, his breath mingling with yours, you felt a surge of emotion that you couldn’t ignore. You wanted to push him away, to maintain your boundaries, but the vulnerability and sincerity in his eyes made it hard to resist. When his lips brushed against yours, it was soft and hesitant, a plea for forgiveness more profound than words could convey.

You hesitated for a moment, your mind racing with conflicting thoughts, but then you found yourself responding, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was both passionate and desperate. The connection was electric, and for a brief, fleeting moment, it felt like the world outside ceased to exist.

Chan’s kiss deepened, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you closer. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he seemed to pour all his remorse and longing into that single, heartfelt kiss. It was as if he was trying to erase the distance that had grown between you, to bridge the gap left by all the unfulfilled promises.

You leaned back, pulling him with you, your body arching into his touch as his hands trailed over your skin. The sensation was intoxicating, and you found yourself lost in the moment, all rational thought fading away. You needed this, needed him.

His hands continued to trail, and one made its way to your clothed heat.

Your breath hitched as you felt him rub you through the fabric, a delicious friction building.

"Channie..." you breathed out, your voice barely a whisper.

"I need you, Y/N," he mumbled, his lips grazing your neck.

The battle raged on around you. Your body ached for him, for his touch, his kisses. As his fingers slipped underneath your panties, the warmth of his skin against yours, you felt your resolve crumble.

You wanted him, needed him, despite all the hurt and disappointment he had caused. In that moment, none of it mattered. All you could focus on was the way he made you feel.

Chan's eyes were dark with lust as his fingers slipped between your wet folds, the pressure of his thumb on your clit making your breath catch in your throat.

"God, Y/N, you're so wet," he murmured, his voice low and husky. " I missed this.."

As he continued his teasing, you could feel yourself giving in, the pleasure clouding your judgment. Your hips rocked against his hand, seeking more, and a moan escaped your lips as he slid a finger inside of you.

"You like that?" he whispered, his lips ghosting over your ear.

"Yes," you breathed out, your voice shaky.

The feeling of his fingers inside you, curling up just the way you liked, was almost too much to bear. His palm pressed against your clit, the heat and pressure driving you wild, his other hand beginning to slip your clothes off.

Your mind raced, conflicting thoughts tugging at you. Part of you wanted to stop this, to keep your walls up and protect yourself. But another part of you needed this, needed him, more than anything.

"I want to taste you.... To apologize with my tounge in places my words couldnt reach," he whispered against your ear

Chan's voice was thick with desire, his eyes dark and hungry as he looked at you. Your mind was spinning, but all you could focus on was how good it felt.

As he sank to his deeper into his knees in front of you, his face inches from your heat, you knew there was no going back. His breath was hot against your skin as he leaned in, and the feeling of his tongue against your folds was enough to make you moan.

Chan was relentless, licking and sucking at your sensitive flesh, his hands gripping your hips to hold you in place. The feeling of his lips and tongue on your most intimate parts was intoxicating, and you could feel the pleasure building inside of you, a delicious heat spreading through your body.

"Fuck, Y/N," he murmured, his voice muffled against you. "You taste so good."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but let out a moan as he teased your entrance with his tongue.

"Channie..." you breathed out, your voice shaky.

You could feel the pressure building inside of you, your muscles tensing as his tongue lapped at your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you.

The pleasure was overwhelming, and you could feel yourself losing control. Your hips bucked against his mouth, and you dug your fingers into his hair, holding him against you.

"Don't stop," you gasped, the words spilling from your lips without a thought.

You were teetering on the edge, your body aching for release but he wasnt gonna let it end there.

He was apologizing right?

You could feel it coming, the sweet relief just out of reach. You needed more, needed him deeper.

"Please," you moaned, the sound desperate and needy.

Chan responded immediately, his fingers pumping faster, his tongue swirling around your clit. He was relentless, his pace increasing, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Your muscles tightened, and the pressure inside you was almost too much to bear.

Then, suddenly, everything went white. You cried out, your body shuddering as the orgasm crashed through you. Your vision blurred, and all you could feel was the intense, pulsing pleasure coursing through your veins.

As you came down from the high, your breath ragged and your heart racing, you could feel the tension in the room.

But that wasnt the end for Chan

He continued to eat you out, wanting to give you another one.

You were exhausted, physically and emotionally, but Chan's hands held you in place, his tongue tracing patterns across your clit. The sensations were too much, and you could feel yourself quickly building toward another release.

"C-Chan," you whimpered, your voice shaky.

"Let go, baby," he whispered, his words sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. "Come for me again."

As his fingers curled inside you, and as he found that perfect spot, you knew you were done for. Your muscles tensed, and the pressure inside you threatened to burst.

"P-Please" You say without thinking, the pleasure taking over any rational thoughts.

"Oh no, no... this is my apology to you, baby. Im going to make you cum until i'm forgiven"

And then, with one final, torturous swipe of his tongue, you were gone.

Over and Over and Over again, until you could no longer remember why you were even mad at him in the first place.

ઇଓ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Taglist | Thank you for your support ♡ | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like ♡ | © 2024 Valkyriexo 

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[visionsofmagic]

day 10: bruce wayne [car sex]

࿓ synopsis • bats fucks you in his batmobile to teach you a lesson after you disobey his order.

―❦ nsfw, autonomous driving, one has clothes on one hasn’t, suited!bats, batmobile, markings, car riding, possessiveness, jeaolusy, pet names, swearing, master kink, rude!bats, identity dilemma, inner toughts, spanking, begging, brat taming, clothes full on/off, kissing, ‘is all I guess. • 1.9k • thought comic bats while writing but you can imagine this with any version of batman as you like of course. enjoy the beginning of the second week of kinktober event, hope you will like this week too! [kinktober m.]

“bats – please –“ as the gotham’s city’s night lights pass behind the black windows of the batmobile you’re in, your own voice gets silent by the loud sound of the road, yet, they reach to his ears that are covered with his black batman mask. “it’s too much –“ 

the man under you stays still even when his actions don’t stop – fingering your clit, he seems like he doesn’t care about how you’re sitting on his lap, soaking onto his black bat suit, getting wetter each passing time – having no dress on you makes the situation more sinful, especially when he has his own armored suit on, even the mask is still covering his face and ears – his bat ears is a source of balance for you to hold onto while taking his fingers as if it’s the first time he does this.

you have no idea how this man makes you feel stranger to being fucked by him whenever he has you like this – weak yet so powerful because of the whole situation.

it should’ve been a peaceful night, a simple mission – yet, it turned into something more, and you were the one to blame the moment you began to flirt with one of the guests to distract him. you were doing what he told you to from the other line of the call, giving instructions one by one with the help of the device on your ear. it was going all right until the man got interested in you, buying you drinks, joking around, and asking if you would like to follow him to do upstairs. 

you didn’t yet you had to act close to the man to get rid of him because bats told you to leave his side immediately. your mistake was taking that decision; putting one of your hands on the man’s shoulder, raising on your feet, and whispering something into his ear before leaving. apparently, this made bruce go mad – causing him to give you a lesson that you had to learn right away.

the moment you entered the batmobile, he took you onto his lap, taking all your clothes from one to another, looking darker than ever – hands fast, lips kissing yours so passionately that you believe your lips begin to bleed, the suit remains on as he begins to finger you – he just opens the zipper of his armored pants, leaving his hardened cock visible to your eyes.

wanting to touch him, your hand goes to his cock, yet, it is stopped in mid-air. he doesn’t waste any more seconds, slapping your clit, he adds, “you had to earn it. you will not get it until you beg for it.”

now here you are; already cum for one time, its hints still on your thighs and his pants, however, he doesn’t stop – you know he waits for you to beg – you try not to beg, stubborn, believing you did nothing wrong, but, it’s too much – he knows every point to make you beg – the vigilante know your own body more than you do.

when he hits your g-spot with only his gloved fingers, again and again, you cry out loud, “bruuuce – aggh – please -!” the words go out of your parted lips on their own as your hands grip his bat ears strongly, bouncing on his fingers when he doesn’t move them. the knowledge of making a mess out of you doesn’t reach into your brain, so, you continue fucking his fingers – his dark-colored eyes look up, a smirk position on his attractive masked face, mocking you. “please! I need youu – aggh!”

“pathetic,” he remarks, “bouncing on my fingers as if they’re my dick,” a chuckle breaks the lewd sounds – the outworld out of the batmobile is long forgotten. “want it so much? want me to bend you over, fuck you in this car?”

without thinking, you nod rapidly, eyes half-closed, your second cum drips onto his fingers, high hits the body, feeling a bit exhausted yet ready to take his thick cock now. 

your mind can’t comprehend what he’s doing but in a moment you find him lowering his seat, opening enough gap between your bodies and the batmobile’s front. 

afraid of falling into the surface, you try to hold his shoulders – still can’t believe you fucked yourself on his fingers and cum onto them when he talked dirty. the power – the effect he has on you is incredible! the mind is so dizzy because of him that you realize what he has done after a moment, your widening eyes look at the front mirrors of the car, seeing the road in front of you – the scene changes faster than you think – you swear the car moves like a lightning. 

the reality hits your face similar to the feeling of cold water washing your body over on a hot day. however, you can’t focus on it when bruce’s gloved and wet hands position on your waist, highering your ass up, pulling your body closer to his face.

when you hold onto the wheel to stay still, excitement and shock blurring the last cramps of your mind, fear of going in an extremely fast batmobile makes your blood boil – yet the trust you have for bruce is there, strongly holding you. his low voice reaches your ears after a while, and his hot breaths wash your pussy and ass holes that clench around nothing, making you jump in pure pleasure. “you disappointed me,” he says, “you disobeyed a direct order from me. that man meant nothin’ to me but disobeying – oh – what a bad choice y/n.”

you couldn’t wait any longer, knowing his one step away from licking you, lust takes control of you, and you begin to say how sorry you’re – how you didn’t mean to – both you and bruce know you did mean to, to get his attention, to get this side of him, because you’re a brat of him who he will tame.

“keep your begs for forgiveness for later. you have to prove to me that you’re capable of obeying me, you pretty brat.”

“anything, I will do anything for you bru -!” a slap to the ass, a slap to the pussy – scream escapes from your lips. “bats! just give me an order, will do it – just please – please fuck me already!”

“in that case,” he says, not licking you, making you pout in disappointment but when he lowers down your body, his cock’s tip meets with your aching pussy’s folds, he clicks a button, the engine slows down a little bit, the wheel of the car gets closer to you. “hold the wheel.”

you try to understand what’s going on, “what are you doin – aggh!”

his left-hand grips your neck, holding it tightly, closing the gap between your face and his, he points to the wheel that stands right in front of you. “hold the fucking wheel if you want to be fucked, y/n.”

swearing lowly, your shaking hand finds the wheel, holding it strongly, waiting for bruce to push a button – when he does, the engine starts moving faster than before. unlike the previous situation, this time, it’s you who drives the batmobile.

“bruce – how – “ your words are cut off by his deep voice.

“don’t take your eyes off the road. you will take us to the home without an accident. if you turn even a little bit, I will stop fucking you my love.” the difference in his words and voice make you go crazy, and that craziness doubles up when he lowers your body down enough to make him thrust his thick cock into your pussy, filling you up.

screaming with sudden pain and pleasure, your eyes roll over for a second before looking right at the road in front of you – gotham city still stays under the darkness of the night, the only voice that world excepts is the powerful sound of the batmobile riding on the endless looking road, the moans coming from you and swears from bats mixing with the flesh hitting the flesh can be heard by only you and bruce – the sin you commit cannot be known by another.

the focus you put on the road gets distracted whenever bruce shoves his dick into your wet clit. back of your thighs hitting his clothed thighs sends pain through your body, leaving red marks on your flesh – the balls that meet with your ass cheeks increase the sensitivity you have, making you cry as you clean them rapidly to see the road.

his name comes out of you over and over again, the brain is too occupied to drive, the mind is too crazy to function, and the body is too full of him, the man who wants to devour you, and doing it right now – using your body as he pleases, not moving his hips greatly, instead, he makes use of your body by lifting it up, then, pulling it down until his dick fills your walls deeper, harder and rougher.

“fucking brat,” he says, a poison that his voice holds captures you – you feel so pathetic as if you’re his fucktoy now. then why do you feel so high like the most powerful drug in the whole world gets into your veins with the maximum level, you ask yourself, then the answer travels to your mind after he adds, “can’t obey her master? what a pretty yet mindless girl you are, don’t you think?” oh, right, he’s the most powerful drug on the whole world, and now, you’re at his mercy.

“u-huh – agghh – oh myy – bats! please, please, please –“ you have no idea what you’re pleasing for, but he knows – he chuckles lowly, having fuck great entertainment thanks to you that you feel a kind of pride in an instant.

“u-huh?” he mocks, fucks you still, close to the edge, just waiting for the right moment. “too cockdumbed to even understand what I’m saying. but you do good my good girl, keep going, we’re close to the cave.”

the new information makes you happy, smiling widely, and looking outside clearly, seeing the cave’s entering. with the relief, you begin to drive the car more carefully than before, hands getting stronger, losing yourself in the pleasure of being fucked by bruce in his damn batmobile.

finally reaching your destination, you slow down the engine, the cave’s front door opens, and pushing a button, bruce hugs you from behind, making you sit down on his cock with an instantaneous speed, earning the loudest moan out of you.

the mouth standing beside your ear says, “cum. cum on my cock.” and you who doesn’t know she’s waiting for him to allow her – to order, do what he tells, cum on his cock as his hot semen hit the deep inside of you in sync.

kissing your shoulder, he holds your shaking body because of both the coldness of the cave you have entered and the opposite sense of warmness that bruce gives – the smell of highness on the air, chests getting up and down, breaths rapid and low, lust ends – its place gets completed with the affection of love.

“did so good,” the car’s door opens, bruce takes your body in bridal style after wrapping it with his cape. his gentle lips put kisses on your face as he walks into the bathroom of his room, watching your soft features, eyes closed to sleep. he smiles fondly, proud of you. “let me take care of my pretty girl now.”

❦ tagging: @lilvampirina & @snowprincesa1 & @dookiemeshibear *lots of kisses!*

[neuvilyney]

𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ how/when they first realized that they're in love with you ⋆｡𖦹°‧

ft. Tighnari, Wanderer, and Xiao

★ I can't remember if this was a request or not, but I found this draft from last June and I couldn't let it go to waste, so here's this! :D

★ No content warnings that I can think about. Just fluff and the boys not knowing how to cope with catching feels lmao

𝗧𝗶𝗴𝗵𝗻𝗮𝗿𝗶 " 𝗩𝗲𝗿𝗱𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗦𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗿 "

★ Tighnari is extremely in tune with himself: this includes his feelings, his body, and his thoughts. And yet, he finds that around you, everything gets mixed up into one big puddle of goo. Whenever you weren’t watching, his observant eyes were trained on you. He’d analyze you like a foreign species of flora, trying to pick apart what about you made his heart pound in his ears, what made him stutter and blush like a lovesick teenager, what caused the ache in his chest whenever you weren’t nearby. He’s considered the thought of having a crush on you, but each time, he’d simply brush it off as a hormone imbalance or try to rationalize it as a perfectly normal reaction. 

★ Realizing his love for you felt like a double take. “Oh.” and then “Oh.” It’s a split second that changes his entire perspective, and it hits him in the most random of times. He could be pressing flowers and then smile at the realization that those were your favorite flowers. Or maybe he’s jotting down notes and finds himself writing a few letters the same way you do. It could even be something as small as looking up at the sky and wondering if you saw the same shape in the clouds that he did.

★ Once he realizes he’s in love with you, everything makes sense. The puddle of goo slowly melts away and everything feels okay again, and the clarity of everything hits him like a truck. He needs to say something. Tighnari is a man of action. He thinks before he speaks, but he speaks before you can think. He’d take a moment to think about what he would say, but then he’s standing right in front of you with rosy cheeks and a determined look on his face. And then finally, he’d say those three special words to you--

- 𖦹 -

“You’re a pain.” Tighnari couldn’t help but sigh as he crossed his arms, looking at you up and down with a tired expression. Yet, a faint smile tugged at his lips as he watched you struggle with a particularly invasive type of vine. You’re tangled in it like a bug in a spiderweb, a defeated look on your face as you hang limply from the vines. 

You groan, crossing your arms as you glare at him. The sight of him looking at you so smugly made you want to slap him and possibly kiss him. Maybe not in that order though. “I am no such thing! I’m just-- ugh…” The vines dug into your skin as they held you by your ankle, and you sighed in defeat before reaching out to him. His fluffy ears twitched with delight at the way you frowned so adorably, and he swiftly used an arrow to cut the vine, catching you when you fell. However, he clearly didn't think this through all the way. As he held you, watching your expression shift from relief to shock to a mixture of embarrassment and bashfulness, his own eyes widened and a warm blush spread over his cheeks, his fluffy ears twitching whilst his tanned skin continued to redden.

Oh.

Oh.

Tighnari was dead silent when he put you down, and he briskly turned around before starting to walk away. “Wait! Don’t just leave me here!” You sighed, starting to swiftly follow him, doing your best to ignore the way your heart pounded. The walk back was painfully awkward, your attempts at conversation followed by dry responses if a response at all. And eventually, you had enough! The way he refused to meet your gaze, how his hands clenched at his sides just to make sure they didn’t touch yours, he was avoiding you like the plague despite being right beside you. And so, you pivoted on your heel until you stood right before him.

“Okay, what’s with you? Ever since the vine thing, you’re acting like I did something wrong! Did…did I do something wrong?” Your confused and hurt expression made his heart ache, and Tighnari couldn’t help but shake his head fervently-- the way his ears bounced with each movement would have been adorable had it not been for the hurt you felt. Tighnari’s cheeks blushed a soft red, his multicolored eyes trained on you in a serious manner. It looked like he was about to scold you, with his serious frown and crossed arms, so you mentally prepared yourself for yet another lecture. 

“No, you’ve done nothing wrong. Well, getting tangled in the vines was rather stupid,” You bit the inside of your cheek, resisting the urge to say it wasn’t your fault, but he continued regardless. “But, I’m grateful you did. Had it not been for your adorably clumsy nature, I would not have had the chance to catch you in my arms.” As your eyes widened, a small smirk tugged at his lips and he took a step towards you. “And if I hadn’t held you so close, I don’t think I would have realized this just yet.” Tighnari seemed to trail off on this annoying cliffhanger, and you sighed before looking up at him. 

“...Realized what?” As if he’d been waiting for you to ask, he leaned close- close enough that his hair tickled your nose and his lips brushed against your ear as he whispered:

“That you have me foolishly, hopelessly smitten.”

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅𓇼⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

𝗪𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗿 " 𝗞𝘂𝗻𝗶𝗸𝘂𝘇𝘂𝘀𝗵𝗶 "

★ It took him ages to realize he loved you. No seriously, it would take years. Some part of him knew you were special, but he could never figure out why. Was it the way your smile made him anxious? Or perhaps the way your voice made his face heat up with-... with rage? Maybe it was the way every little thing reminded him of you, like an annoying bug that wouldn’t go away. Yet, he found that none of these things were actually…bad. He loved your smile, the way it made his artificial heart race. He adored your voice, the way it made him blush so heavily. And he absolutely loved the way everything reminded him of you, like some part of you was always with him. It took him a while to realize he did actually like you, and not hate you. And then after that, it took even longer to realize he loved you.

★ Realizing he was in love with you felt like a nightmare. It was a panic, a moment of weakness. Him? Love? Please, what a sick joke. Yet…after the panic subsided, he found his heart reaching out to you who he adored so dearly. You would understand, wouldn’t you? Surely you, who had the patience of a mother, would understand his pathetic feelings? Or would you turn him away, and leave him behind yet again? He’d spend days agonizing over the what if’s though he tried not to. He was too prideful to admit someone like you could reduce him to a total mess. The amount of questions circling his brain only served to make him angrier, and he swallowed back his fears for just long enough to shout a very upset sounding “I THINK I LOVE YOU.” Honestly, it almost sounded like he was cursing at you.

★ In summary, Wanderer is an emotional mess. His hundreds of years alive have been dedicated to anything but his feelings. He was destined for something greater than human emotions in his mind. However, when he sees the way your face shifts from shock to a relieved happiness, he realized maybe this was his destiny all along. Maybe loving you, who made him truly feel, was the divine purpose he was meant for all along.

- 𖦹 -

A chill ran down your spine for the fifth time in the past few minutes, and your eyes awkwardly shifted to the ground. He has been staring at you for a creepy amount of time, but it wasn’t his usual glare- and somehow, that only serves to make you more nervous. You gulped thickly, drumming your fingers over your arm before your head snapped to him, and you raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, what is it?” In response, Wanderer simply shrugged. Gods, he could be so infuriating. You could feel your eyebrow twitch as you gritted your teeth, resting a hand on your hip. “I see, so you’ve been staring at me for five minutes just for fun?” Once again, he shrugged. The faintest shade of red dusted the tips of his ears, and his hands limply rested in the pockets of his shorts. You could see the way he turned his head, hiding it behind his intricately-detailed hat. The sight of his blushed ears made your eyes narrow, and you reached out to grab his wrist- causing him to let out a curse. Finally, a reaction!

Wanderer looked down at your hand on his wrist, and then back up at you. And then down to his wrist before he tugged his hand away. Though, he found that he quickly missed the feeling of your soft hand warming his cold skin. The way his hand subconsciously reached out to hold yours once more made him scoff and he shoved his hand back in his pocket, quickly looking away. “What’s the big idea, huh?” His indigo eyes crinkled when he snarled, but a certain glitter swirled within them that made you smile knowingly. Wanderer leaned forward, flicking your forehead when you didn’t respond. He did this a lot, and always smiled at the way you yelped and/or pouted. But this time, his smile wasn’t mocking or amused, but oddly…endearing? 

“You’ve only insulted me three times today!! Come on, we both know something’s up.” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms- and you didn’t miss the way he mirrored your expression.

He sighed, shaking his head before looking up at you. “You really wanna know? Really?” His arms crossed as his wide-brimmed hat cast a shadow over his face, but even through the dark, you could see a blush begin to coat his pale cheeks. When you nodded, he sighed again, leaning close to you. “You’re making my head do weird shit and I don’t like it one bit.” Your confused expression made him groan as he tried to explain further. “Come on, don’t play stupid!! I keep having these…gross and cheesy thoughts about you whenever you get close. And the way you smile…it makes me…happy.” He spoke the word with such disgust, it almost made you laugh. “When I see your hand, I want to crush- no, hold it…” The more he spoke, the more those dark eyes softened until they were nothing more than pools of indigo honey. But sadly, he snapped out of it, growling in frustration and grabbing your shoulders. “S--So what’re you doing to me, huh?! What, are you some kind of witch? Do you enjoy making me feel this weird?!”

The more you processed his words, the more you smiled. Slowly, your head tilted to the side and you laughed, shaking your head when his blush only worsened. “Wanderer…do you lik--” He quickly slapped a hand over your mouth, squeezing his eyes shut before shouting-

“I THINK I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU OR SOMETHING, OKAY?!”

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅𓇼⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

𝗫𝗶𝗮𝗼 '𝗔𝗹𝗮𝘁𝘂𝘀'

★ Realizing his love for you felt like a insult. He figured that his romantic feelings towards you were just…a glitch in the matrix. There was something about you that made his heart do backflips, and he did not like it. And so, he avoided you like the plague. But, distance makes the heart grow fonder after all. With each moment that passed without you beside him, he only felt lonelier. Even despite his eons of solitude, a mere moment without you felt like another thousand years. And so, one lonely night, you call out his name. And there he is, red faced and wide eyed, standing before your teary eyes.

★ He didn’t want to admit he was in love with you. Could he, The Conqueror of Demons, feel something as human as…love? Did he even deserve to? And so, the mere thought of falling in love with you felt almost insulting to him. It was a shock, something that almost angered him. He shouldn’t feel these things! But…if it wasn’t meant to be, then why does he like it? Why does he love the way his face heats up when you smile up at him? Why does he love the way you make him blush and laugh like a fool? Why does he love the way he loves you? Ultimately, he decides these questions are futile. Slowly, his feeling of betrayal and offense morphed into a feeling of fondness. And even slower, he’d finally brush the dust off of the lonely heart he’d safely sealed away behind the armor of his ribs. 

★ He didn’t want to tell you at first. He didn’t know how to tell you. Despite that, after the realization of his feelings, he just couldn’t wait! He felt like an impatient child, bouncing on his feet and biting the insides of his cheeks. But, when you rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder at the sight of his pensive face, he knew it would all be okay. As you gave him the sweetest smile he’s ever seen, he understood his feelings for the first time. For Xiao, falling in love with you was a confusing, terrifying process full of heartache and betrayal. But, loving you? God, it was the easiest thing he’d ever done. 

- 𖦹 - 

You’ve never seen him so anxious before. It was oddly unsettling, to be honest. Watching him shift his gaze every few seconds like a guilty child, the way his fingers fiddled with the material of his pants, even his scowl looked more like a nervous frown. Slowly, you set your pencil down, looking up at him with a concerned gaze from where you watched him pace around the inn. “Xiao, are you oka-”

“YES.”

You deadpanned for a moment, wanting to be amused at his immediate answer that contradicted his expression of pure nerves. Instead, you were only more worried. Slowly, your hands pushed against the table to prop you up and your shoes glided over the wooden floor before you were an arm’s length away from him. Xiao sighed slowly, resting his hands on the sill of the balcony with his head tilted away from you. This is a common occurrence for the both of you. Standing on the balcony, resting on it while watching the sun set. It was calming for both of you, but also made it much easier to discuss feelings neither of you liked. Past memories, traumas, bad days, any and all of it. But this…this was different.

“...No, I’m not.” Ah, there it is. Xiao’s eyes averted from yours, trained on the sky above the both of you as his hands gripped at the wooden sill. Patiently, you watched him, awaiting his next words. He was tense, and in all the time you’ve known him, you hadn’t seen him this afraid since the fall of Rex Lapis. Slowly, his head tilts to meet your gaze. His eyes were wide, glimmering in the fading sunlight while his pale skin carried a rosy tint that reached all the way to his elven ears. 

You smiled gently, reaching over to pat his shoulder- he still tensed, but it was nothing like before. He wasn’t one to let people touch him. Not even you, not at first. He would flinch, shove your hand away, and move from you- always the same actions in different orders. But, over time, he started to relax under your touch. This time was no different as he let out a small sigh.

“There’s something bothering me.” Xiao spoke slowly, his voice gruff and low but also hesitant. “I feel…weird around you. I’ve heard of these feelings in those stories told by Liyuen romantics, how one’s heart flutters around those they…love. But I’m not…capable of that.” He continued on this spiel, and your eyes widened at the way he indirectly confessed to you. But, even as a wobbly smile overtook your lips, you remained quiet. “I’m a Yaksha, an adepti, I-I can’t feel something like this. And yet, I am. I am, and I don’t know how to feel about it.”

Xiao groaned, raking a hand through his hair before he turned to you, a small frown on his lips when you rested a gentle hand on his shoulder. You hummed softly, scooting closer before resting a head on his shoulder. “I feel the same way, Xiao. You may be an adeptus, but you still experience human emotions. Feelings confuse all of us, even adepti like you and humans like me. But, there’s no need to be afraid of them.” Your voice is nearly a whisper, letting your eyes flutter shut as his hand shakily reaches over to hold yours. He sucks in a quick breath, letting out a slow exhale before whispering:

“In that case…I think I’m in love with you.”

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅𓇼⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Word Count: 2907

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅𓇼⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

- Ky♡♡

[samaraxmorgan]

Your Roommate Sukuna

“That Time The Heater Broke On Christmas”

Modern no curse AU, Sukuna X Reader

Synopsis: This housing crisis sure is no joke huh? Rent is just too expensive to live alone, so you put out a listing for a roommate and ended up living with none other than the tattooed bad boy Ryomen Sukuna! This is part of a series of drabbles and oneshots showing glimpses into you and Sukuna’s living situation!!

Contains: frenemies to lovers, tooth rotting fluff, mutual pinning

Word Count: 2.44k

Series Masterlist - My Full Masterlist

Christmas is always a hectic time of year, and after spending the last week in an utter state of chaos trying to get all of your friend’s and family’s gifts ordered and in the mail on time, cookies baked and hidden away from your ravenous roommate Sukuna who swears up and down that he doesn’t even like sweets but the ones you make just taste so much better, and staying up until midnight haphazardly taping in messily folded wrapping paper and scribbled “to and from” tags on countless presents, you were more than ready to flop onto your living room couch and pass out.

But you’re just not allowed to have nice things, it seems.

The apartment is freezing cold when you walk in the front door, cool air pinching your skin and the groan of annoyance escaping your throat leaving a puff of white air in its wake. Sukuna left shortly after you did this morning to spend the day with his brothers, and as you rush your way over to the thermostat to turn the heat back on you can’t even begin to fathom why he would bother turning the air off when you were both only gone for the day. Sure, the bills can get expensive, but he’s not seriously that broke… you hope.

But as you push the buttons on the thermostat and the little screen informs you that the air in fact is on, dread rushes through you. A quick call to the landlord ends exactly how you expected it to, sent to voicemail with a cheery little message mentioning that no one will be available until after the holidays.

You may as well just die in here, you think as you sit down on the couch. The cool leather is almost painfully cold, making you flinch when it hits your skin. Silently you contemplate going back to where you spent the whole day; even if there were tons of people and you ended up leaving early because you were dying for some peace, at least it was nice and warm there.

But you push that idea aside, getting back on the train would be a pain, you’d have to trek through the snow again on your way back to the station, you could come up with a million excuses but in the back of your mind there’s this little nagging feeling that you don’t want to admit is the real reason you would rather stay home. You haven’t seen Sukuna all day.

It’s stupid. You know it’s stupid, but you’ve been so busy and even though the two of you live together it feels like you haven’t been able to see him for almost the entire week. And even though you spent the whole day around people you love, you couldn’t wait to come back home to your dickhead roommate.

Obviously you’d rather die than admit that to him, already picturing that trademarked smirk plastered on his tattooed face, but you can’t deny that something about him is charming. He’s smug and sarcastic and cocky and annoying and- you could really go all day to be honest; but then he has those moments where he can take the air right out of your lungs. Sweet, kind little gestures where this big scary bad guy acts like a total gentleman and it makes your heart race.

You doubt you’ll ever understand how he has that hold over you.

The sound of the door creaking open is your only warning before Sukuna steps into the freezing apartment, pink bangs damp and disheveled falling over his forehead and snow clinging to his black leather boots. He shrugs off his coat with a fluid motion, tossing it onto the stair rail as he fixes you with a sharp grin, flashing his canines mischievously.

“Didn’t think you’d actually beat me back here,” he drawls, a sarcastic lilt in his tone, “Guess you couldn’t go a day without missing my charming personality.”

You roll your eyes, breath puffing out in a faint cloud as you speak, “Missed that loud mouth, you mean.”

“Cute.” Although the word is borderline dripping in sarcasm, you still manage to catch the way a smile subtly tugs at the corner of his lips.

“I don’t suppose you’re any good with fixing heaters?” You ask hopefully, Trying to suppress a shiver as you motion toward the uncooperative thermostat.

He raises a brow, kicking off his boots and stepping into the living room, “The fuck do I look like, an HVAC guy? Just call the landlord.”

“I did,” You flop back against the couch with a defeated thump, tossing an arm over your face, “No one can come out ’til tomorrow, holidays or whatever.”

Sukuna could literally hear the frustration in your voice as he plops down next to you on the cold leather couch, “Tragic.” His tone is teasing, but his crimson eyes linger on your shivering form; with an over dramatized huff puffing an icy cloud in the air he muses, “Guess you’ll freeze.”

You briskly rub your hands up and down your arms, a futile attempt to warm yourself up, “And you won't?”

He peers down at you, posture completely relaxed despite the icy air and an unimpressed frown on his face, “I don’t get cold.”

You can’t help but let out a snort at his audacity, “Yeah?” You prop yourself up on your elbows to grin up at him, “Same way you don’t get sick?”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, letting his back sink into the cool leather cushions of the couch, “That was a fluke.”

“Such a big fat liar,” You tease, elbowing his arm. But the playful jab shifts into curiosity when you notice that his skin is actually warm against your frozen fingers. Without hesitation, you wrap your hand around his tattooed wrist, making him flinch and hiss dramatically

“Fucking christ-”

“You were actually serious?” You interrupt, scrambling upright to press your freezing hands into his arms.

“Yes, I was- fuck, stop touching me holy shit.” He swats your hands away, goosebumps forming on his skin, “How the hell have you not died of frostbite? You a fuckin’ reptile or some shit?”

“Are you a living space heater?” You scoot closer to him, grabbing at his forearms in a desperate attempt to warm yourself up.

“Quit grabbin’ me you fucking weirdo,” He stands abruptly, nearly having to yank his arm out of your desperate grip, rolling his eyes at the pitiful groan of disappointment that escapes your throat, “Just- give me a second, hold on.”

You watch pitifully as he jogs up the stairs, the already freezing cold room feeling so much colder without him sitting next to you, even in the mere seconds that he’s gone. It’s almost embarrassing how you came home early to see him, have missed him and his attitude so much, and then god forbid he walks away this cramped little apartment just feels empty. But within less than a minute you can hear his footsteps thumping down the wooden stairs, a large dark red comforter slung over his arm.

He can’t help but chuckle when he sees your eyes light up, gently shaking his head as he tosses the comforter over your head and watches you scramble to wrap yourself up in it, “How long were you home without considering a fuckin’ blanket?”

“Fuck off.” You mumble as you clutch the blanket in your shaking hands; it isn’t exactly warm, still cool to the touch from sitting on his cold bed, but it’s better than nothing. Shivers still run over your skin as you wrap your arms around yourself.

You can feel the cushions shift under Sukuna’s weight when he sits down on the couch. His eyes peer down to your shivering form laying up against his thigh, silently watching you for a moment as if he’s contemplating something. Without saying a word he squeezes up behind you, wedging himself behind you and pressing his chest against your back. His arm snakes over your torso, pulling you flush against him.

Your body grows stiff in surprise, a pink blush rushing to your cheeks, “What… are you doing?”

“What?” he mumbles, resting his chin on top of your head as if this was the most natural thing in the world, “Not allowed to do something nice? Quit complaining.”

You can hear that signature smirk in his voice even without seeing his face, but the warmth radiating from him is undeniable. His arm tightens around your waist to anchor you to him and you could swear that he had heat radiating off of his chest, flooding into your cold skin and seeping through the blanket to chase away the chill that so stubbornly clings to your skin.

Hopefully he can’t hear the way your heart is pounding.

And although you’re grateful for the comforter wrapped around you, you’re silently cursing it for putting a barrier between you and Sukuna. You need more, need him impossibly closer to you, to wrap yourself up in his embrace and tighten your arms around him. You squirm in his grasp to try and free your arms, and an empty cold immediately strikes you when he releases you within a millisecond, parting himself from you and shoving his back into the cushions of the couch.

“Shit, I’m-”

You unintentionally cut him off when you turn around to face him, slinging the deep red comforter over his tensed up body. From this angle you can see his face and he looks… surprised? For the briefest moment you could catch a look of panic in his eyes before he settled, eyes widened and his mouth dropped open into a small oh. As if he wasn’t the one who started this, but he’s silent as his apology is caught in his throat.

You tilt your head down and grip your fingers onto his waist, attempting to pull him back to you, “Why are you all the way over there? Come back.”

It takes him a moment, like he's trying to process what you'd said, before he shifts closer to press his body firmly against yours. You bury your head into the warmth of his chest where you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and your thigh finds a comfortable space to slot between his legs. His arms wrap around you again, but this time he holds you closer like he's trying to keep you locked against him, caging you against his strong torso in a way that feels almost possessive.

But it's so nice, the protective hold in his arms feels so warm and comfortable; and not just because of the temperature difference. You'd be lying if you said you'd never imagined yourself wrapped up with him, but never in any of your guilty daydreams did it ever feel so intimate. You and Sukuna have never been quite this close to each other, usually sharing nothing more than passive aggressive elbow jabs while trying to share the bathroom sink in the mornings, or maybe the occasional moment where he'll grab your hand in his when he sees you're about to trip and his touch lingers just a little too long.

But now you’re wrapped up in him, the smell of cologne on his neck embracing your senses with a warm woody scent, the heat of his body dripping onto your skin until your shivers finally come to a stop. Your racing heart slows to a steady pace and you let your eyes fall shut for a while, enjoying the peaceful quiet sounds of his breathing and his steady heartbeat.

The two of you stay like that for what feels like an eternity, the silence broken only by the occasional creak of the old apartment and the distant hum of wind outside. Sukuna’s warmth envelops you completely, seeping into your chilled bones in a way that no blanket ever could.

“Better now?” His voice is low, almost a rumble in his chest, and you feel the vibrations against your cheek where it rests against him.

“Much.” You admit quietly, your breath tickling his neck.

“Good. Maybe now you won’t freeze to death.” He mutters, but there’s no bite to his words. His tone is softer, almost fond, and his hand begins to draw lazy circles over your back.

You glance up at him, his face just inches from yours. His crimson eyes are half-lidded, his usual smirk softened into something gentler. You rarely see him like this, but lately you’ve been witnessing it more and more; he’s relaxed, unguarded. It’s a side of him that’s both unfamiliar and heart-achingly endearing.

“You’re awfully cozy for someone who didn’t want to be touched.” You tease, tilting your head slightly to study his reaction.

He scoffs, his cheeks darkening just enough to make you wonder if he’s blushing, “Yeah, well, I didn’t think you’d be this pathetic about it. Consider it a favor.”

“A favor?” You raise a brow, unable to hide your amused grin.

“Yeah. Don’t get used to it,” he grumbles, though his arm tightens around you ever so slightly.

Despite his words, you can feel the contradiction in the way he holds you, his grip firm and unyielding as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away. And you can’t help but wrap your arms around him tighter, hoping this so called favor doesn’t have to end.

“You’re warm.” You mumble, almost to yourself.

“Don’t get all sentimental on me,” His voice is a low warning, but it lacks any real edge.

You tilt your head up to meet his gaze, and for a moment, neither of you says a word. The air feels heavy, charged with something unspoken yet undeniable. His eyes flicker down to your lips for the briefest second, and your breath catches in your throat.

“You’re staring.” He mumbles, but he doesn’t look away.

“So are you.” You whisper softly.

The tension between you grows, fragile yet electric, until finally, he huffs and shifts his gaze away, breaking the spell, “Go to sleep, idiot. You’ll need it for when the landlord shows up tomorrow.”

Despite the abrupt shift, his tone carries no real harshness, and the arm around your waist stays securely in place. You press your cheek against his chest once more, unable to resist a small smile.

“Fine.” You whisper, closing your eyes and letting yourself relax fully into his warmth.

He doesn’t say anything, but the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear is answer enough. Whatever this moment between the two of you is, you’ll take it for now, tucked in his arms as the cold world outside fades away.

A/N: Merry Christmas to those who celebrate!! And thank you to everyone who has been so kind and supportive and patient with me during my writers block <3 I don’t think I’m fully back quite yet but I’ve made massive progress and I’m hopeful that I’ll be writing regularly again soon :) Dividers by @adornedwithlight

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!

[teapartyprincess4two]

Talkative- M. Sturniolo

pairing: Yapper!reader x Boyfriend!Matt

classification: SFW & NSFW headcannons

inspiration: request

warnings: some 18+ content, use of y/n, established relationship

summary: head cannons of Matt with a talkative, yapper girlfriend!

Talkative- C. Sturniolo (Chris’s Version)

Talkative- N. Sturniolo (Nick’s Version)

—

☆ SFW

It’s no secret that you love to talk, you can ramble on about topic after topic and never run out of things to say. Matt loves listening to you, whether you’re retelling your day or just discussing a topic you find interesting.

☆ you always ask him rhetorical questions in between your stories, “Okay, but can you believe she said that?” But you never give him enough time to respond.

☆ he just nods his head and hums in response, confused with all the characters of the story.

☆ when you’re watching a movie you always start asking questions about the characters or commenting on the scene.

☆ “why did they do that?” or “wow that’s a cute dress, I really like that.”

☆ most times he responds just so you know he’s listening, but other times he’ll ignore you because he’s too immersed in the movie.

☆ “Y/n I don’t fucking know, this is my first time watching this movie too,” and “That is a cute dress, baby. You’d look nice in it.”

☆ you’re ALWAYS last to finish your meal, mostly because you keep talking in between bites.

☆ he listens intently, responding in between mouthfuls of food with small “uh huh’s” and “yup’s.”

☆ by the end of your stories you’re usually not hungry anymore, so he eats your leftovers while you start yet another story.

☆ when you guys go through drive throughs he knows to just sit as far back into the drivers seat as possible.

☆ you’re leaning over him, chatting with the worker and somehow managing to learn their whole life story before you can even order.

☆ or when you’re going somewhere new and he needs the GPS you’ll constantly talk over it

☆ after missing like five exits, he begins to find it annoying

☆ “Babe, shhhhh,” he’ll smother your mouth with his hand while he grips the wheel with the other.

☆ that never stops you though, you just mumble from behind his hand.

☆ you’re such a good story teller that he can imagine everything you say.

☆ your stories have him dying of laughter, and it’s even funnier that you don’t laugh, you just continue telling the stories like normal.

☆ by the end of your story his face and ribs hurt from laughing so much, “Holy fuck that was hilarious.”

☆ when you say outlandish things he stares at you in shock, “Y/n! You can’t say that!”

☆ you just stare at him blankly and continue voicing your opinions.

☆ he looks at anyone who tells you to shut up with the ugliest, meanest stank face.

☆ you talk to EVERYONE whether it be in the checkout line in the grocery store or in the waiting room at the doctors office.

☆ Matt just turns away for one second and then when he looks back at you, you’re talking to an elderly lady and walking in the complete opposite direction.

☆ “Aw Matt, she said her cat died.”

☆ “Y/n, the cashier asked for your card.”

☆ “Oh, right! So sorry about that-”

☆ “You know what? I’ll pay for it,” he cuts you off before your rambling can distract you again.

☆ on the odd days that you’re quiet, he’ll know somethings wrong.

☆ you’re just sitting on the couch, scrolling through Netflix on the TV or typing away mindlessly on your laptop.

☆ “What’s wrong with you?” he says abrasively, like if he’s upset that you’re quiet.

☆ you’ll just shake your head, choosing to remain silent.

☆ “Did somebody do something to you? Why are you so quiet?” he’s ready to fight whoever made you upset.

☆ “I’m just tired,” you mumble, followed with a quick shrug.

☆ He doesn’t pry, he just lays with you and waits until your mood picks up so he can listen to more stories.

☆ if he ever starts telling someone a story you’re quick to interrupt, “no that’s not what happened!”

☆ he playfully rolls his eyes and lets you take the spotlight.

☆ NSFW

Although Matt loves listening to you talk, sometimes it becomes too much. So, he has to get creative and think of ways to shut you up.

☆ the movie is getting good and you won’t stop talking, asking about the characters and the storyline.

☆ next thing you know you’re on your knees with Matt’s dick in your mouth.

☆ he’ll let you do all the work as he continues to watch the movie in silence.

☆ sometimes you’re a little too friendly with strangers.

☆ Matt’s not usually the jealous type, but he knows that guys get the wrong idea when you’re talking to them and that they mistake your friendliness for flirting.

☆ he’ll pull you away and take you to a secluded area, “we gotta go.”

☆ “Wait but I wasn’t finished talk-“

☆ “we gotta go, Y/n.”

☆ then he’s fucking you and making you talk to him through it, “C’mon, I thought you weren’t finished talking.”

☆ you’re forced to babble your way through it, each thrust fogging your brain more and more.

☆ other times he’ll let you use your words to praise him.

☆ like when he’s eating you out, he just wants to hear you say how good he’s doing.

☆ “Yes, baby, right there. You’re making me feel so good.”

☆ after, he’ll make you ride him and whisper sweet nothings into his ear.

☆ “You feel so good, baby. So big, I can’t take it.”

☆ your words are always enough to send him into a frenzy.

☆ he’s wrapping his arms around your waist and bucking into you until he cums.

☆ when you guys are done having sex, he’ll cuddle into your side and lay his head on your chest while you play with his hair.

☆ these are the moments when he talks and you just listen, only chiming in occasionally.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n:

YAP 🗣️YAP 🗣️YAP🗣️

thank you for this request I luv that I’m cementing my legacy as a certified yapper 😏

- L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

[brailsthesmolgurl]

"Who is this Karen?"

Preview: How the boys react to a Karen lashing out at you?

Warnings: Slightly longer read than usual, but you get to see how they talk smack to a Karen for disrespecting you :>

ZAYNE

You stood in line, awaiting for your turn to get into the popular restaurant that you and Zayne were planning to try out. Zayne had dropped you off in order to search for a parking spot, claiming that it is way more efficient for one to just wait in line. Right when it was about to be your turn, you stood up, smoothing your skirt and stepped up towards the reception table but someone had beat you to it, pushing you physically to get you out of their way, risking you nearly stumbling. "Hey." You reprimanded the lady in the big red coat, her head tilting towards you with a scrunched up frown on her face. "You can't just do that, you have to line up according to your turn."

The lady scoffed and simply waved her hand off, mocking you in a tone you had never heard from anyone in your life. "Apparently you do not know that this restaurant runs on a star rating don't you darling? First-comers like you should shut up and wait while VIPs like me deserve to be tended to first." You were in a state of disbelief, slack-jawed, fists tightened, ready to mutter a string of colourful curse words in front of this lady before a hand gripped onto your shoulders and you turned.

Zayne stood next to you, assessing the situation that he had spotted from afar as he was coming closer to the restaurant. "Are you alright?" He glanced down towards your legs, to spot for any injury but when he noticed nothing stood out, he rubbed your back as a comforting gesture before he stepped forth towards the woman. "Excuse me." He stated and the lady turned, with the same expression as the first time. "I believe you have to be in line. It wasn't right for you to push someone just to get in front of the line."

"You are not the restaurant owner, talk to me again and I will call the police." Her voice was up an octave now, clearly offended at the both of you calling her out on her mistakes. "This is a restaurant that runs on point systems! Do your research before coming onto me you brats!" Zayne seemed indifferent towards her, she is just like another patient of his that may be suffering a psychotic episode amidst treatment. It is no stranger to a doctor of his calliber.

"Scream much more, and you will get wrinkles on your face." Zayne drew air signs, marking out the spots on her face. His tone was collected, informative even. "Your lips are peeling and your skin is sagging on the edge of your jaw. If I were you, I would get myself checked out for any cardiac anomalies." His statement made the lady gasped in horror, hands immediately flying up to touch her cheeks. Zayne only took his phone out and showing her his medical ID. "Just some words of advice from a fellow cardiac surgeon. You should not delay any further, I think your heart requires immediate attention." He quirked an eyebrow and watched as the lady panicked, albeit judging him silently under her breath and stepping off to get back into her car (that was parked illegally by the street) to leave.

With the lady leaving, the both of you managed to secure your seats fairly quickly. Walking into the restaurant, you turned to ask Zayne about the diagnosis earlier on and he replied with a soft chuckle. "It works once you flash them the ID." He pulled out the chair for you as he always would, waiting for you to be seated before he continues, seating himself down. "No harm in fighting stupidity with stupidity."

RAFAYEL

"So, today we will be going to this beach that I had always been talking about. Are you excited?" Rafayel turned his head over to you when he is at a red light, smiling at you and taking your smaller hand into his. He placed a chaste kiss onto the back of your hand and proceeded to rev his engine when the lights turned green. The date had been planned for more than a week as Rafayel was busy with exhibitions and you too, with your own work. Hence, when the time comes for the both of you to meet, it is only natural for your boyfriend to plan for a romantic getaway.

Approaching the beach, you could taste the brine in the air when Rafayel had opened the roof on his convertible to let you get a better view of the ocean. The seas are mimicking the skies, one owning dashes of sparkles while the other has fluffy cotton balls hung on them, both adding up to be a picturesque scene. It was a right choice for Rafayel to make judging by how enamoured you are with the scene ahead of you. He revved into a driveway and parked right next a red sedan, alerting the lady next to them. "Who do you think you are?" She immediately questioning, sunglasses pushed up onto the top of her head when she squinted her eyes to get a better view of the both of you. "You are going to hit my car!"

Rafayel nonchalantly got out of the car, hands thrown up in an act of surrender. "Lady, calm down. We mean no harm." He then sauntered over to your side to open your side of the door, holding his hand out for you to take, all while still trying to hold a reasonable conversation with the lady who had not stopped accusing him of wanting to hit her car. "As I've said lady, I do not have the wish to hurt anyone. I apologise if my skills scared you." Due to his indifference, it only got the Karen riled up, stomping out of her car and coming right up to both of you. Rafayel instinctively shielded you, his height still towered over the woman.

"THIS IS MY BEACH AND YOU DO NOT HAVE THE RIGHT TO TRESSPASS, YOU HEAR ME YOUNG MAN?!" She angrily pointed a finger at him, her bikini suggested she is here for the beach as well. "So it is either you both get the hell out of here, or I am calling the cops." Grabbing her phone out of her small clutch, she begin dialing the number on it and pressing it to her ear. You looked towards Rafayel with a worried expression, but he only held a smirk as he listened in on her conversation. "Yes! This man with a convertible is trying to kill me in a crash--yeah, okay you talk to him!"

Then she handed her phone over to Rafayel, which he took into his hands and pressed it against his ear. For a man who seemingly 'broke-the-law', Rafayel is not taunted. "Hey there, yeah. Yeah that's me. Yeah, she is claiming that this beach belongs to her." His eyes glinted a hint of playfulness, smile widening at the Karen. "Can I report this for tresspassing or...okay, yeah, I'll call you back if she starts anything on MY BEACH." Specifically emphasising his words, the woman choked onto her breath, looking at Rafayel as he gave her back her phone and tilting his head, still smiling. "A word of advice, next time, if you're gonna play with fire, just be ready to get burned, yeah?"

SYLUS

Sylus would rather be surrounded by thousands of the strongest wanderers now than to be in the grocery store with you right now. This burly, manly man does not see himself to be a fitting piece of a puzzle within a grocery store. Everywhere his eyes darted, he catches sight of men with beer bellies pushing carts with babies while referring to a long, floor-panning grocery list, or a mother who has too many children to provide welfare for, or maybe a family where most of the time the wife is the ruler of the house. No, Sylus is not a sexist, he just holds too much of an ego for his masculinity that he feels like he does not belong in a grocery store. Staring down at you, he sighed inwardly. Regardless of what he had thought of, what he held as a belief, here he is still, nothing different than those wife-pleasers he witnessed littered all over the store.

“How long are we going to be here for?” He groaned, holding up the basket slightly higher when you had gotten your pick of the better watermelon. “N109 does not run by itself given its current glory you know.” His mockery only got you rolling your eyes at him. You would admit, he is a scary man for the eyes, but once you had gotten to know him, gosh, this man would bow to puppy eyes and wheedling words. Feeling your throat getting scratchy again, you pointed at the vitamin water that was placed in the basket and Sylus cracked open the cap then handed it to you. You gulped the drink down your throat, trying to gain moisture to rid it of the scratchy feeling before you felt someone tapped on your shoulder and you turned around.

The lady who tapped your shoulder was skinny, body the shape of a trunk and with hair so blossoming that Sylus may have outwardly mocked her to be a tree. But the man does watch his mouth whenever he is around you. “Young lady, you can’t drink from the bottle like that without paying for it! That is called stealing!” Her loud exclamation got some people turning their heads and you could feel the embarrassment crawling up your back. You fumbled with the cap and was about to say sorry before your boyfriend took up the space next to you, his 6”2’ height made the woman looked like a garden gnome, with weird tree-like hair.

“Why can’t she? She is paying for it afterall.” The corners of his lips curled up, but it resembled an amused smirk rather than a smile as he watched the lady below him started to act out. If he were to be alone right now, there is no doubt that this woman would perish before she could utter another word. But, as what he had always believed in, violence is only to be utilised strategically. And using it on this lady, in front of you, in a public area, would result in serious consequences, so he decided not to. But, this does not mean he would back down either.

“You are supposed to buy things before you consume them. Don’t you know how the law works?” The lady was clearly pissed, voice raising even higher to create a scene. “I am going to call the store manager on you to get you and your girlfriend reported for stealing!” At this rate, she would only cause more trouble than necessary. Sylus simply clicked his tongue with a ‘tch’ and he tilted his head slightly, his right eye taking colour of a bright scarlet. Then, you watch as the woman in front of you tripped over nothing and she fell face-first. You gasped, wanting to go forward to help her but an unseeable force held you back and it got you figuring out the cause of her trip. Sylus was using his energy manipulation skills to get her to practically trip on air.

“Let’s go.” Without wasting anymore time, he grabbed onto your hand, his smirk widening as he lead you to walk through the aisles to get to the counter to check out your items. When he was confronted with why he did that, the confident man simply quirked up one of his thick eyebrow and retaliated. “You think I would back down easily if anyone comes at you like that princess? I would downplay the act of punishment for your sake, but I won't stay idle like a trophy husband sweetie.”

XAVIER

Xavier had came up with the idea to bring you along for some clothes shopping for the upcoming team building event which involves a masquerade ball. A couple of days ago, he had to sit through hours of you sifting through your closet, looking for any gowns that could be reused for the second time until you reached the realisation that you do not own a gown because 1) it’s not practical and 2) it’s a huge waste of money and 3) it does not fit your usual aesthetic for clothings.

"How about this one?" Xavier asked when he pointed at a store with ball gowns being displayed at their windows. Observing your hesitation to step into the store, he grabbed onto your hand and started leading you towards it. The pull was a bit of a drag however as you were stumping your feet onto the ground from wanting to enter such a boujee store. God knows how much those dresses would cost. "It's alright y/n, I will pay for it okay? You don't have to fret about a gown for days. Come on."

After getting assisted by the salesperson, you had managed to pick out a few outfits and you slotted yourself into one of the fitting booths to try them on. At the meantime, Xavier sat on the bench outside, scrolling through his phone mindlessly while he waited for you. He noticed a shadow loomed over him and he looked up, seeing a lady in her mid-40s looking down at him. "Is someone in the fitting booth?" Xavier nodded his head in return, stating that his girlfriend is inside. "Can you ask her to hurry up a little? I am pressed for time and I need to try on this outfit."

"Guess you will have to wait till she is done. She is only at her first dress." Xavier spoke calmly, already sensing discomfort from the way the lady had spoken to him. The curtain to the fitting booth then slid opened and you stepped out, adorning a blue sequin dress that matches the shade of Xavier's irises and he smiled in return, standing up and blatantly ignoring the lady as he walked up to you, gesturing his finger for you to turn and to show him the full outfit.

It was a sweet moment until you were interrupted. "Can you hurry up missy? I am in a rush and I need to try this on." She held up a dress in her hand, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. "FYI, this dress does not fit you, you look fat in it." Your eyes were widened immediately when the lady mocked you. When you turned to Xavier, he too, bear the same expression as you but he was quick to recover.

"I don't think that is a nice thing to say when you should be the one to look at yourself in the mirror." His jab at the lady made her face immediately turned red, all adrenaline rushing towards her head. Xavier crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head while sighing. "I guess there is no need for you to try on that dress of yours, because I'm pretty sure it won't fit you."

And the next thing you know, the lady was rambling, shouting towards the employees for being mistreated but here you stood, next to Xavier, who is not one bit phased by her behaviour. Your boyfriend only watches the show unfold in front of him, and pats the top of your head, smiling at you. “She started it first, I figured if it wasn’t for her, I would have fell asleep waiting for you to be done with your fittings.” And you gave him a hard punch against his shoulder.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Reader falling obsessively in love with kny men after getting poisoned

Pairings: Rengoku x fem!reader; Sanemi x fem!reader; Giyu x fem!reader; bonus Genya x fem!reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: There's no smut going on but it's definitely a close call lol, I just thought this concept is funny so the fics itself and the whole scenarios aren't 100% serious it's getting absolutely heated in every single one though hehe, Not proofread bc I literally finished this last minute before my flight lol, I'm currently in Greece when this gets published so surprise ya girl with your support until she's back 🤍

Rengoku Kyojuro

“And you’re sure this is safe?”, you question while looking up at Shinobu with frightful eyes.

It should be fine. After all, Shinobu is the one who invented a medicine that is supposed to finally force your headache away. She’s a professional, so well-educated that even Kagaya-sama’s very own children get treated by her.

Even though she didn’t have the chance to test this medicine, you should be fine.

Right?

“As you know, I’ll never promise something I can’t keep, (y/n). But you’re here with me and if something goes wrong, I will find a way”, she tries to reassure you, only to spike your panic up even higher.

“Listen Shinobu, maybe I’ll try something e-“

Before you’re able to finish your sentence and stop her, you feel a needle poking through your arm oh so gently.

For a moment, you simply sit there and blink in confusion. Huh, not as bad as you thought. It really seems like your headache slowly but surely starts fainting away while the medicine burns every so slightly through your veins.

Not bad at all.

Until your heartbeat picks up so suddenly that your eyes dart wide open. Like in trance, you yank out of the chair you were sitting in, orbs darting around without a real aim while frantically searching for something.

Or rather someone.

What a quiet and peaceful day it is to roam around the beautiful butterfly estate. Rengoku actually didn’t even plan to come here. After all, he isn’t injured nor does he need something from Shinobu-san. To be honest, he’s only here because of you.

You told him yesterday that you’ll see Shinobu today in order to test medicine that is supposed to end your ongoing headaches. You were a little frightened when you thought about getting an injection, so it was never a question for Rengoku to be there for you. Hopefully, he made it on time.

“Kyojuro.”

He furrows his eyebrows and turns towards that unusual seductive voice.

When your eyes meet his, he forgets how to breathe. There you stand, your kimono opened just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your chest like never before. But what simply sweeps him off his feet are your eyes. As gorgeous and captivating as ever, but this time igniting an so unknown spark, inviting him to a silent dance.

“(y/n), are you feeling alright?”

Your hips swing from side to side as you draw closer to him and place your hand straight over his beating heart.

“I’m feeling better than ever before, Kyojuro.”

Kyojuro can’t help but blush deeply, eyes widening in surprise. A nervous smile plays on his lips while he stammers slightly, unable to hide his flustered state. Is this really you, the secret love of his life, discovering his body with your bare hands? The second your flat palms start wandering over his back, his hands start to fidget. Out of instinct, he avoids eye contact, his very own hands now keeping you in place.

“W-What’s going on. (y/n)?”, he stammers like he never did before.

“Take me, Kyojuro.”

His eyes grow even wider, usual confidence momentarily faltering like a house of cards.

“I-I…um, what?”

With a force he didn’t even know you have, you shove him against a nearby tree, your knee gliding between his legs.

“I want you since the first time I saw you. I won’t wait for another opportunity when you’re right here.”

“(y/n)…D-did you already meet Shinobu-san?”

Are you sick or injured? A quick scan of your body reveals nothing that could indicate a serious wound. No, to be precise, you reveal nothing but your soft curves, your gorgeous frame he has never seen like this before. With your kimono slightly opened and the cleavage that peaks at him oh so invitingly…He never felt your hands pressed against his chest like that before, never got a taste of how well you fit inside of his arms.

No. He shakes his head ever so slightly, forces his own mind back to reality. This isn’t the (y/n) he knows. You’d never sneak up on him like this, even if the words you just spoke are true.

Oh, please let them be true.

“All I care about is you”, you purr, face now only inches away from his.

If his back wasn’t pressed against a tree already, Kyojuro would lose his balance for sure. He was always captivated by that gorgeous colour your eyes have, never able to look away. But now, with that dark gleam inside of them, your hands wrapped around his neck. A little innocent kiss, a dream that comes true right here and now-

“(y/n), come back right now!”, a voice cries behind him so suddenly that he jumps up inside the cage of your comforting arms.

“We are here, Shinobu-san!”, he replies automatically.

Only to regret his words instantly. Just one second more and his lips would have touched yours, only a few moments more in your embrace before it all ends again. It takes him all his strength to let go of you when Shinobu arrives with an injection ready in her hand.

“I’m beyond sorry, Rengoku-san! (y/n)’s strange behaviour is all my fault. But don’t worry, I’ll bring her back in just a moment.”

Faster than he’s even able to comprehend the insect pillar’s words, she sticks a needle into your arm and releases the injection.

You blink a few times, head spinning uncontrollably as you stumble backwards. Where are you? What happened? Your head pounds so roughly against your skull that you feel like puking any given minute.

“How are you feeling, (y/n)?”, Shinobu’s comforting voice rings in your ears.

Slowly but surely, your foggy vision starts to get clear again.

“Since when are you so tall, Shinobu?”, you mumble absently.

“It’s me, (y/n). Kyojuro.”

Oh.

“Kyojuro!”, you mumble in utter surprise.

“But…what are you doing here?”

“Let’s not talk about it. I-I…I need to go now”, the flame hashira announces before turning on his heels and walking away.

You stare at his back in nothing but confusion. What is wrong with him? Is he not feeling well, maybe?

“Is it just me or does Kyojuro walk very strange today?”, you question, earning endless giggles from Shinobu next to you.

“He does indeed.”

Sanemi Shinazugawa

“Watch out idiot, you’re gonna get hit!”, the white-haired man barks harshly at you before dashing towards again.

It happened faster than you were ready to react. A little troll through the woods at night, a deep conversation with the wind hashira. And just a few seconds later, an upper-ranked demon appeared out of nowhere.

“Don’t let it hit you, (y/n)!”

“I’m not stupid, dumbass!”, you bite back while dodging another hit with a tendril.

What a strange-looking demon that woman is. With countless pink tendrils that act as her hair and her long tongue, she really looks different from every demon you’ve seen before.

“Still fighting for your love, you fool?”, she jeers at Sanemi before trying to hit him once again.

"I will show you what love really is! It's a consuming fire that burns away your sense of self, leaving you hollow and desperate. It's an obsession that blinds you to reality, making every thought, every breath, every heartbeat revolve around the one person who becomes your entire world. In this love, you lose your freedom, your identity, and your sanity, as you sacrifice everything to feed the insatiable hunger that never goes away-“

“Can you just stop talking shit, ugly bitch? I just wanna go home”, Sanemi interrupts her dryly

You chuckle to yourself. As if a demon would know anything about love. Their only purpose on this earth is to kill innocent humans for the fun of it.

“What the hell do you know about love, huh? All you do is destroying it”, you blurt out.

Just a moment of sloppiness, a second of turning your back to the tendrils that surround you like a prison. The second you feel it, it’s already too late.

“(y/n)!”, Sanemi cries out, feet rapidly carrying him to your side in order to slice through that fucking piece of tendril that pierced itself through your leg.

He wraps his arms around you tightly, saves you from clashing onto the ground. But the second you open your eyes again, they don’t look like they did before. No, you look obsessed.

“Hey, look at me (y/n). Come back to me”, he insists, a slight tone of panic now taking over his usual so harsh voice.

What if that bitch poisoned you? Shinobu is miles away, there’s no way in hell he’d make it on time. And even now, tendrils continue to circle both of you, waiting for an opportunity to hurt him as well.

“Just see what love does to you! You’ll have to kill her!”

“What the fuck are you talking about”, he hisses under his breath.

“(y/n)?”

“Sanemi.”

Your voice sounds dark, unpromising, coated in something he’s never heard before.

“Hey, are ya alright?”

You’re moving too fast for him to react. In the split of a second, you sit on top of him, your hands holding his in place while your lips start tracing up and down his neck.

For a moment, Sanemi forgets how to exist.

You’re sitting on top of him.

With your lips pressed against his neck.

Almost instantly, blood shoots up his face and straight into his private parts, eyes widen in…horror?

No, not because of you, not because he doesn’t enjoy to finally feel you this close. But this isn’t you. This is the poison of that fucking demon.

Just before he gets hit as well, he slices through another tendril that was ready to attack both of you.

“You can’t save her and yourself!”, the demon shouts at him in sheer amusement.

“Your love will get you killed!”

“(y/n).”

His voice is as tender as never before, hands now grabbing your arms oh so gently.

“You need to come back to me, okay? This isn’t you, this isn’t…how you feel for me.”

He hates the way his heart starts aching as soon as those words leave his mouth. There’s no way in hell someone like you would ever fall for someone like him if it wasn’t for that demon. Not when you’re so gorgeous, so breathtakingly beautiful, so smart-

“But I love you, Sanemi! And I need you!”, you cry out, lips now only inches away from meeting yours.

“You don’t love me, (y/n). How could you ever love me?”

“Let me show you.”

Just before your hand gets the chance to grab his pants, he swings you around in order to lay on top of you – completely out of breath and flustered like never before.

“You need to focus. We need to kill that bitch”, he tries to remind you while dodging another wave of attacks with his free hand.

“You’ll need to kill her!”

“Shut up!”, he barks at the demon behind him.

But that thing’s right. With you writhing like a snake underneath him and those countless merciless attacks, he can concentrate on neither.

“I’m the only one who’s able to save her-“

“I said shut up!”

“(y/n), please get yourself together”, he breathes out.

God, why do you have to look so damn tempting with your legs wrapped around his waist and eyes as flustered as he’s never seen before? Countless lonely nights, he imagined what you might look like, feel like, sound like.

But this isn’t real. That sudden outburst of love isn’t real.

“Looks like you’re busy, Shinazugawa. Maybe you should do things like that somewhere other than on the battlefield”, a painfully known voice comments behind him dryly.

“Shut up at take care of that bitch. I need to look after (y/n)”, he instructs the serpent hashira sharply before picking you up and sprinting into the woods.

“I need you. Please”, you beg between his arms, the way your hands roam around his chest simply driving him insane.

“You can’t help her!”, a faint female voice cries behind both of you.

Screw that fucking demon. He needs to get the real you back, needs to finally confess his damned feelings. Even if all of this is nothing but poison, he simply can’t live like this anymore. Not when you’re so close to him every day, not when he secretly can’t get enough of that sight in front of him right now.

“Come back to me, (y/n)”, he almost begs while letting you down.

Fuck, what is he supposed to do? What if he’s not able to help you? Even if he sends after Shinobu, you might go insane until she arrives. And what if you do something stupid, what if he isn’t able to protect you? And what if this isn’t the only thing that cursed poison does?

“Don’t you love me? I thought you like me back, I thought we have a future together, I…I can’t do this without you!”, you suddenly scream on top of your lungs while bursting out in tears.

“What? I never said that-“

“I don’t wanna live without you. I…I’ll end this!”

It happens almost too fast for him to react. In the matter of milliseconds, you grab your sword and direct it towards your throat, ready to slice it open with full-force.

“You little idiot”, he hisses through gritted teeth while forcing your blade away.

“I love you so fucking much that it hurts, you’re the only thing I’m thinking about constantly! Can’t you see that you’re driving me crazy since joining the corps!? I love you, (y/n)! I always did and I definitely always will! You’ve got me trapped, goddamn!”

And then he presses his lips against yours. Longingly, passionately, as if you’re air and he cannot breathe. Never in his life, Sanemi longed for something so small yet so big. Each and every night, his mind wandered to your lips, your laugh, just you and your fucking perfect self. He can’t stand the thought of you talking about yourself so badly. Him not loving you? Are you fucking insane?

“Sanemi.”

You breathe his name against his lips oh so sweetly.

Sweetly, with that cheeky undertone he knows so well.

“Is that you, (y/n)?”

When he opens his eyes again, he gets greeted by the gleaming kindness that radiates from your orbs just inches away from his.

“I’m sorry for…throwing myself at you like that…”, you mutter with reddened cheeks.

How embarrassing. You can’t believe you were about to touch his groin without permission. Even if you were poisoned, what the hell has gotten into you? And why do you have to remember all the things you’ve said and done? That would have been the least that cursed poison could have done…

“Don’t be, it’s fine”, Sanemi replies equally awkward.

“But…are you actually into me?”, you mumble followed by a swift gaze.

“I…I mean…-“

“He totally is”, Obanai barges into the conversation from behind.

Giyu Tomioka

“Didn’t you say that-ah! This was supposed to be easy?”, you press out while fighting a bunch of demons.

You really have no idea how you ended up here. Just a few seconds ago, you were having the best sleep of the week when your crow interrupted your slumber as rude as ever and literally dragged you onto the battlefield straight on his side.

His side. Giyu Tomioka, to be exact. The mysterious yet captivating water hashira you are eyeing since the first day of joining the chosen circle of pillars. What is it that ties you onto him like a chain, that forces your mind to wander towards him each and every day without any break?

“I will take care of the right side. Stay focused”, he instructs you as absent as ever, not even sending you a single look while your heart is all over the place.

It’s ridiculous and you know it all too well. A man like Giyu would never fall for someone as clumsy and unsettled at you. He will never look at you the way you look at him, not even daring to send you a single smile. Because you’re nothing but comrades, distant known. If it wasn’t for your responsibilities as pillar, he would have never even talked to you.

And you absolutely hate the way this stinging fact bugs you every single day of your life.

“You’re not focused enough, stupid girl”, a voice way too close suddenly purrs inside your ear.

There’s no time left to react. Not even Giyu Tomioka is able to reach you in time when the demon scratches your neck oh so slightly.

Only enough to spill your blood.

Only enough to make you go absolutely insane.

Your mind gets flooded by a wave of emotions, memories, thoughts. All at once. So rapidly that you feel like fainting any given minute.

“What did you do to her?”

“Nothing hurts more but the truth. Did you ever wonder about what she might feel for you, even love, maybe? I will reveal her darkest secrets, her thoughts that were never said out loud. And when she finally loses her mind completely, I will force her to kill you and afterwards herself!”

Giyu’s eyes widen at those words. You, loving him? He never even dared to think about something like this, not when you are admired by everyone around you. Why would you fall for someone as quiet and boring as him?

He swallows hard. But knowing that deep inside him is definitely different from hearing those words coming out of your mouth.

“Giyu.”

Your voice sounds cold and distant, eyes completely blank.

“(y/n), I will get you out of here, I’m sure Shinobu is able to-“

“I love you.”

You hate him.

No.

You love him?

“And I’ve loved you for so long that I lost count a long time ago. I love the way you walk, the way you inspect the world around you so carefully. I love how tender you are when it comes to children. I love your kindness, your calm voice-“

“Wait, this wasn’t supposed to go like this!”, the demon cries out.

“I love the feeling of your eyes set on me even though I know I’d never stand a chance. You are so much more than a friend to me, so precious that it hurts. And I can’t help but imagine myself lying inside your arms every night. I can’t help but stare at you whenever I catch you training. I can’t stop those butterflies from invading my stomach every time you’re around. I love you with all my heart even though I know you’d never love me back.”

HIs mind goes blank, ocean blue eyes staring at you in sheer disbelief. Suddenly everything else around you goes silent. The demon, the screams from afar. All he’s able to see is you with those tears glistening in your orbs.

Giyu’s heart skips a beat when he begins to realize.

You really mean it. Every word you just said is true.

“But I do feel the same way about you”, he finally replies while cupping your hands with his.

“I just never thought someone like you would fall for someone like me.”

“I would always choose you”, you clarify in an instant.

And then your eyes roll back into your skull, your lifeless body threatens to hit the cold ground.

-later-

“Giyu? Where’s Giyu?”, you croak out before you even open your eyes, your heart hurting so bad that you feel like puking.

What happened? All you’re able to remember is Giyu’s hands intertwined with yours before everything turned black. Or was it just a dream?

“Finally, I was so worried about you, (y/n).”

But no. At this very moment, he still holds onto your hand tightly while looking down at you with his brows furrowed.

“What happened?”

“You were poisoned by a demon and lost consciousness. I carried you to the butterfly estate”, he explains as briefly as ever.

“You…carried me?”

“Of course I did. You were unconscious, like I said.”

“Did we hold hands?”, you blurt out so suddenly that you even scare yourself.

You can feel Giyu sliding back and forth on his chair, eyes avoiding yours at any cost. Oh no, did you make him feel uncomfortable? What if he’s annoyed because of your foolish mistake? You should have never asked him-

“(y/n), do you remember the conversation we’ve had on the battlefield?”, he questions with unspoken hope glimmering inside his orbs.

“I…I don’t remember anything…”, you finally admit.

What did you talk about? Did you insult him? And what about that demon? That thing definitely wasn’t a lower ranked demon.

“You told me you love me.”

Your heart leaves your body and soul behind, glossy eyes staring at him in sheer disbelief. Fuck, did you hear that correctly? You told him you love him?

“I…I said that?”, you stutter.

“I mean…M-maybe I h-hit my head a l-little too h-“

“And I love you too.”

Oh.

This is even more ridiculous.

“You love me?”, you shriek in reply.

“I never thought about the possibility that you might actually like me back. But when that demon poisoned you, when you told me that you love me…I can’t keep this lie up any longer. I love you, (y/n).”

Gently, he wraps his comforting arms around your aching body, allows you to take in his calming scent.

“It embarrasses me that it took a demon to finally say this out loud.”

“But…would you mind telling me what I said?”, you mumble against his neck.

He lifts up your head enough for you to catch a glimpse of his breath-taking smile.

“I’d rather keep these words for myself.

Bonus: Genya Shinazugawa

“Where’s (y/n)!?”, Mitsuri cries out in sheer panic while darting around the estate in a haste.

“(y/n)? I’ve seen her on her way to the hot springs just a few moments ago”, Tanjiro replies in utter confusion.

“Is there somebody else, Tanjiro-kun?”, Mitsuri continues while grabbing Tanjiro’s shoulders roughly.

“Hello, Genya”, you purr.

“(y-y/n)!? What the hell are you doing here, I’m taking a bath!”, Genya cries out with his cheeks already bright red.

But instead of getting lost like he told you to, you let your towel fall to the floor.

And stand in front of him.

Completely naked.

“What are you doing!?”, he shrieks.

In the matter of seconds, he turns himself away from you, his face burning like a thousand fires. Fuck, he’s already flustered when you’re around him in your uniform. But you, butt-naked, in the same hot spring? He’ll definitely die here.

“I needed to see you. There’s actually something I wanted to tell you in a long time, Genya.”

When the water around him starts to move due to you entering the hot spring, he feels like dying out of excitement and fright. You shouldn’t be here together, not when you’re completely naked, not alone. He never prepared himself for something like this to happen, didn’t even allow his mind to wander such places. Fuck, what is he supposed to do?

Suddenly, he finds himself whirled around in your arms, your chest pressed against his.

Your very naked chest.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

“What are you doing!?”

“Come on, I saw the looks you were giving me when you thought I wasn’t watching”, you purr while drawing small circles onto his chest.

“I…no…I didn’t mean it…that way…I just think that…that you are awesome. And cute…”, Genya mumbles.

“(Y/N)!”

Another splash, another butt-naked woman that now grabs your shoulders and pulls you out of the water with impressive strength.

“I’m so sorry, Genya! I fear (y/n) mistook the love portion I made for juice!”, Mitsuri bubbles while trying to tame you down.

“CAN THE TWO OF YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE NOW!?”

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