#couldn’t you cut off their ability to feel pain?

[thebibliomancer]

I’m mad that Quicksilver made the joke that I wanted to make

[girllblogging777]

𝐻𝐸𝐴𝑅𝑇𝑆 𝑅𝐸𝐶𝐿𝐴𝐼𝑀𝐸𝐷

↳ mattheo riddle x fem!reader drabble (fluff, angst)

↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : 1,02k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : mattheo’s jealousy causes an argument, but both find yourself comforting eachother

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

"i told you i don’t care about that ravenclaw guy, he was just asking me about a potions assignment," you snapped, the frustration of your argument with mattheo finally reaching its peak. your boyfriend had found you talking to another boy in the great hall this morning, and he hadn’t let it go since, making you the main target of his pent up anger.

"well, i care! i care that my girlfriend was being all giggly with some guy in front of everyone, and i care even more that you’re brushing it off like it’s nothing!" he shouted back, running his hand through his brunette curls in frustration. you knew mattheo’s short temper well, how his mental health and past trauma affected his ability to express emotions, but he rarely lashed out at you like this. today had been different, and you’d sensed it the moment you saw that flicker of harshness in his usual soft brown eyes.

you sighed, trying to explain yourself calmly and hoping to ease his anger before things escalated, silently aware that it wouldn’t change anything. "look, i understand how you must be feeling right now, but—" he cut you off, his voice sharp and unyielding.

“no, you don’t ! stop playing therapist all the time. you don’t get it, and you’re never fucking going to." his words were harsh, and you tried not to let it get to your head, knowing he wasn’t thinking clearly. you braced yourself for what might come next, knowing he was too far gone to appreciate your gentleness. "maybe if you weren’t always trying to fix me, it would be easier. not my fault you’re oversensitive and can’t take anything !"

that was the breaking point. he’d crossed a line, and he didn’t even seem to care. mattheo knew how much you hated being yelled at, how it made you feel small and vulnerable, and yet, today he hadn’t held back. deep down, you knew the reason : he hated how much power you had over him, how easily you could mess with his heart. in this entire school, you were the only one who dared to stand up to mattheo riddle, to tell him the truth even when it hurt. it was why your relationship worked, but also why you ended up having those arguments so often.

something shifted in your gaze, and he noticed it : the tiny spark of pain mixed with the tears welling up in your eyes. you whispered pleadingly, "don’t yell at me like that, i can’t do this." your voice was small, but the impact was immediate. the anger faded away from his eyes, when he remembered you telling him the reason why you couldn’t stand shouting. he realised he’d just reenacted the past trauma you had told him about and his lips curved into a barely-there frown. you saw the regret settling in his expression.

"i know… i took it too far. i shouldn’t have." his voice was softer now, the anger draining from his features. you didn’t move or say anything, still reeling from the sting of his words. mattheo took a hesitant step towards you, his eyes searching yours, filled with a mixture of guilt and desperation. he hesitated, he saw the hurt he’d caused, the way your body tensed as if waiting for more. he hated himself for letting his temper get the better of him, for hurting the one person who had always stood by him.

“baby, please…” he said softly, his voice trembling slightly as he took another step towards you. he reached out, but you instinctively flinched, and he froze, the guilt getting to him. you turned away, swallowing the lump in your throat, trying to keep the tears from spilling over. “mattheo, you know i care about you more than anything, but i can’t keep doing this. you can’t keep lashing out at me every time you’re upset. it’s not fair.”

“i know,” he whispered, his voice thick with regret. “i just… i don’t know how to deal with it sometimes. i get so scared of losing you that i get jealous and push you away. it’s messed up, i know that.” you finally looked at him, seeing the pain in his eyes, the vulnerability he so rarely showed. it was the side of mattheo that made you fall for him, the boy beneath the act who just wanted to be loved and understood. but that didn’t make the hurt disappear.

“i’m not going anywhere,” you said, your voice steady but soft as you tried to comfort him. “but i need you to be with me in this, mattheo. i can’t be the only one trying to fix it.” he nodded, a tear slipping down his cheek, though he quickly wiped it away. “i promise, i’ll do better. i don’t want to lose you. you’re the only good thing i have.”

the sincerity in his voice made your heart ache. you took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment, and then slowly closed the distance between you, wrapping your arms around him. his arms enveloped you immediately, holding you tight as if you might slip away. you had never seen him cry before but that single tear on his cheek was enough to make you forget what had just happened

“i’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair, his voice muffled but heartfelt. “i’ll work on it, i swear.” you nodded against his chest, feeling his heartbeat slow as he calmed down. “i know you will. just… talk to me next time, okay? before it gets to this point.”

“i will,” he promised, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “i love you, and i’m not going to let my stupid temper ruin what we have.” you pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a small, forgiving smile. “i love you too, mattheo. just… no more yelling, okay?” he nodded frantically, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “no more yelling. i’ll keep that in check.”

you both stood there for a moment, just holding each other, letting the tension melt away. the storm had passed, and in its place was a new sense of understanding and commitment. mattheo might not be perfect, but neither were you, and that was okay. as long as you faced your flaws together, there was nothing you couldn’t overcome.

“but you have to promise me not to let anyone get too close to you” he finally said, his voice lighter, almost playful. “and besides, you’re only supposed to laugh at my jokes.”

you smiled, chuckling. “he didn’t stand a single chance.” whatever challenges lay ahead, you knew you’d face them together, and that was all that mattered.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a/n : thank you @reys-letters for your request !!! please like/comment/reblog and leave requests if you think of something <3

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[slowbison]

Feral! Miguel O'Hara x Top! Male Reader

Summary: Miguel returns to his personal break room after a fight to heal, but forgets to replenish his spider DNA serum, turning him feral. since you’re a spiderman similar to him, he needs to be fucked to be stabilized.

words: 3k

warnings: breeding, wrestling, anal sex, biting, smut

A tired Miguel emerged into his personal break room as a portal from an alternate reality closed behind him. He had spent the last few hours fighting and capturing another anomaly in the wrong multiverse. Body aching from being thrown into buildings, throat parched from yelling orders along with being mentally drained from an old lady that repeatedly hit him as he tried to direct her to safety. Slumping tiredly onto his couch, groaning as he continued to sink into the comfort. He remained still, quietly waiting for his supernatural abilities to kick in and do the healing for him then realized that it was progressing much slower than usual. Soon everything began to heat up around him, pupils dilating and contracting and the suit felt more tightening.

He attempted to stand on his feet before a wave of intense pain and pleasure washed over him causing him to fall, landing on the hard floor. Claws protruding unwillingly from his fingers, muscles tense as his breathing picked up from the sudden wave of heat, fangs feeling much heavier in his mouth. Miguel felt helpless laying on the ground, gasping as it continued to ripple throughout his body after realizing too late that he forgot to intake the serum after returning.

“F-fucking shit, this c-can’t be hap-happening! Not now!” Miguel spat out through gritted teeth as he attempted to resist the sensation sweeping over him, dick growing increasingly aroused. Moaning as he began dryly humping the ground for any form of friction to ease his growing needs. He didn’t even hear any approaching footsteps until an all-too-familiar voice spoke through a door, cursing under his breath. That was the last word he said before fully succumbing to his desires, a low growl rumbling in his throat.

“What couldn’t be happening?” You asked through the door. You were with Miguel earlier, along with the other spider people, captured an anomaly stuck in the wrong dimension. The man in question had asked to see you after imprisoning the anomaly in a trap box to report on the current status of the last reality. When you came up to his office which was seemingly empty, you scanned around the room until your senses began tingling; warning that a strange presence radiated from a rather hidden door in the back. Tracking it down, you honed your hearing to any noises present coming from the door. Only to then discern it was Miguel, making questionable noises that were having an odd affect on you. A flicker of a small flame, lit within you.

“Miguel? Are you alright? I’m getting strange vibes in there. Talk to me.”

You could hear incomprehensible speech and hissing as a loud thunk crashed onto the ground, followed by a low moan. Your face slowly heats up at the possible thoughts of what may be occurring, but this wasn’t the time for your silent desires held for the man to emerge.

Hand on the knob you twisted it before speaking out, “I’m going to open the door if you don’t stop me right now!” You could hear scattering as the door opened, revealing what appears to be a softly dimmed room. Carefully stepping in, you looked around and noticed claw marks on the floor and walls, along with a table flipped over. After completing a full circle around the room, you placed your hands on your hips confused when your senses could not pick up a presence.

"What is this, hide and seek? Thought you said it was childish when I did it to you-" You were cut off as you were tackled to the ground, a strong grip on your shoulders pinning you down. Pain surged as the claws teared into your skin. Peering up at your attacker was Miguel, who looked more feral than usual as he towered over your face, angrily bearing his fangs. His head turned to the side of your neck, grazing over your veins before sinking his fangs - lapping at the blood spilling. You let out a groan, feeling your dick stirring at the action. The flame within you grew brighter, enough to light up a small campfire.

“Hey now, if you wanted to initiate something with me. This wasn’t really what I had in mind, yanno?” You quipped, attempting to push him off with your legs. Though it seemingly felt useless as he’s much stronger than you in terms of strength. Detecting resistance, he growled pushing you deeper into the ground until his body shuddered and let out a soft whine, losing power over you. Taking the opportunity, you quickly switched your positions around before exerting force to his wrists above his head, locking his legs around yours at the same time.

“It’s over Miguel, I have the high ground. So let’s start talking, yeah?” You said, taking the time to fully analyze his current state as he thrashed around, attempting to break free.

His hair was disheveled from its usual swept back appearance, brown eyes tinted with red, and lips lightly stained with blood from what would be assumed of yours. What mainly held your attention was the hard dick pressed up against your own, albeit not as hard… yet. More logs, added to the flame. Paying even more attention, Miguel had long since begun rutting on you, releasing soft whines that progressively got louder. Face flushed, his cries got louder until moved your hand down to his hips, forcing them to still.

Upset by your actions, he began squirming once again in your grasp trying to gain any friction on his straining dick. Entertained by this you let out a chuckle at his actions, “I didn’t take you for a bitch in heat Miguel. I don’t mind fucking you senseless if that’s what you want.”

For the first time, your words seemed to have been processed in his mind. Perhaps at the words “bitch” and “fucking you senseless” was all he took away. And from what you could interpret, Miguel seemed to be more compliant as he waited, staring into your eyes for your next move.

You trailed your hand from his hip across his torso, feeling the toned firm abs on your palm. Closing your eyes, you heightened your sense of what his soft skin must feel like underneath. It wasn’t your first time running your hands along his abs, as you had decided to join his customary workout session. More like you invited yourself claiming that steel-ton trucks weren’t going to be handled by just anyone. He begrudgingly sighed refusing to argue although he didn’t put up much of a fight and the next morning you stood in front of the gym, duffel bag slung across your shoulders with Miguel at your side.

The gym had been far greater than your own personal gym’s dimension, but what really made the place shine was watching a slightly sweaty Miguel performing curl ups beneath you as you held down his legs. He didn’t ask you to but rolled his eyes while hearing you proclaim that proper positioning of the feet were important to ensure a safe workout. His face was lightly scrunched as he focused on completing his sets, your eyes lingered on his chest that were more profound and round each time he came up and traveled to his torso, abs showing due to sweat clinging onto the shirt. You didn’t even realize Miguel had finished his sets and begun looking up at your face as he laid on the ground, chest heaving, trying to maintain his normal breathing.

The tension was palpable between you two, as it had been whenever you were both left alone in a room. Moving your hands from his legs, tracing at his abs but before you could slip your hands under his shirt to feel more, a stranger rudely interrupted your rather boner-inducing moment by asking to use the area if you both were done. Miguel let out an annoyed click before standing, clearing his stuff out and proceeded to the pull up bars. You stared daggers into the strangers back, gritting your teeth, before returning to completing the rest of your workout, huffing as you went along and closed your eyes embedding the view into your head; opening them at the sight of Miguel’s thrashing beneath you as your mind had carried you elsewhere away from him. Heat swarmed within your body, as much bigger logs fueled the flames.

You let out a chuckle and gripped at his suit before tearing the fabric apart on his thighs. Asking that he’d forgive you later, Miguel hissing at you before quivering, at the cold hands felt on his skin. Palming his dick on your hands, not willing to give him just what he wants so soon. Miguel let out a drawled moan as he pushed hips up, applying more pressure on his leaking dick, aching for more.

No longer able to resist your own throbbing prick, you removed your hand from his cock and went to release your own from its imprisonment, making the mistake as your grip on his wrists loosen. Miguel seized the opportunity and broke free, wrestling your own arms for control. Snarling as he pushed you back slightly which was short lived as your hand returned — after managing to pull your pants down — grabbing at his arms and flipping him around, laying flat on his stomach. You pressed the side of his head into the floor, hissing at his ear.

“Stay down like the bitch you are and take it.” you snapped shoving three of your fingers into his mouth, lining your cock at his cheeks, fucking those fat globes hidden underneath his tight suit. Tearing at the fabric, giving you more leverage to his ass. Miguel moans around your fingers, sucking and coating them in his spit as you increase the pace. “Gonna fill you up so good,” you huffed into his neck, marking the sensitive skin, “Won’t stop till you’re full of my seed, carrying my kids.” Miguel whimpered, cock twitching at the thought of being bred so thoroughly in order to carry your children inside of him.

You purred into his ear, loving the way he began losing himself more to the pleasure. “You like that? Breed you full of my kids inside your cunt, huh?” Miguel whines got louder, desperately moving his hips further against your own in response. You slipped your fingers out his mouth, rimming around his entrance before slipping inside. At first, you toyed with him, simply thrusting it in and swirling it around, but hearing his broken whimpers you curled the finger relishing at the sounds.

Miguel’s face altered between pain and pleasure as you slipped the second finger in. Stretching the ring in scissoring motions as he jerked weakly back into your fingers, cock straining against his torso, swollen tip leaking onto the floor desperately wishing for more.

You tutted at his actions, shoving his hips down on the ground — digging your nails into his side. “Last warning love, I’ll have to web you down on this floor. Is that what you want?” Miguel turned to his side, face flushed and glaring into your eyes, a low growl emitting from his throat that was cut off with a yelp as you inserted a third finger. You pump your fingers in and out of his entrance, watching as he slightly arched his back and let out small mewls of pleasure. You could feel him forcibly relaxing as you readied him for your cock.

After a few more of these ministrations, you removed your fingers from and spat at your hand, coating your erection, aligning at his puckering hole. The thought of thrusting in with the lack of decent preparation crossed your mind as it would be pleasurable, but the second Miguel was sane he’d tear you to half, refusing to allow you anywhere near him. For a while at least. Flames had turned into a roaring bonfire, slowly dissipating your desire to hold back.

Taking it slow, you eased your way in, groaning as the tight crevice swallowed you deeper. Miguel gasped at the intrusion, squirming away as you plunged deeper into his, settling fully inside him. Your senses melting at the seams as intense flames of pleasure surged throughout your body, letting out a keen growl into his ear. The unknown wave of heat continued to boil within you, huffing steams of hot air from your nostrils. Your eyes slightly tinted red peering back at his own.

“Fuck, you feel so good baby, so fucking tight for me” you growled into his ear, nuzzling your face into his neck. “So fucking tight for me, gonna make you my personal cum dump.”

Miguel whimpered, closing his eyes and buried his head into the floor while the pain of the stretch died and anticipation of getting fucked full arose. He wiggled his hips back, hoping to entice your animalistic urge that you’ve been holding back to give him adequate time to adjust. You cooed at his submission to you and rewarded him with continuous hard thrusts, shoving your cock as deep as you could, flames consuming your entire body.

Miguel’s eyes rolled back, tongue lolling out, letting out broken cries, clamping down around your cock. There was a mix of pain at the brutal thrusts as he didn’t have the best preparation, but that didn’t matter as he continued to beg, throwing his ass back to meet your pace. Garbling nonsensical strings of ‘words’ that were stuck in his throat, cries of pleasure coming up instead.

You keened as you put more pressure into the grip on his hip, releasing your hold on his wrists and rammed your cock in, molding his ass so it would remember only you and your shape. The thought reeling you deeper into the unconscious, leaving only your carnal desires to devour you whole along with dumping all your cum into the man below, belly round - full of your cum. Miguel clawed at the ground bracing himself as you continued your onslaught, drool pooling at the edge of his mouth. He could barely think straight, the only thing he can remember is sitting at his chair before a scalding heat washed over him and now he’s being fucked into oblivion until his desire to be thoroughly bred satiated.

Miguel pressed his hips back and rocked against yours, not wanting to waste any drop of cum that could fertilize his children carrying within him. Seeing Miguel so pliant to be fucked full of your cum drove you to the edge, biting his neck which left a dark mark. Though it wasn’t enough to break skin, it will warn others that the bitch was claimed and to stay away. Either way, the reaction that got out of the submissive man was a choked sob, body trembling before spurts of cum sprayed on his chest, dripping onto the floor. He collapsed underneath you, but still weakly tightened his hole around your cock, determined to milk it for all it’s worth.

Your thrusts became erratic as you neared closer and closer to eruption. Panting heavy into his ear you snarled, “Fu- fucking shit, here it comes baby. Don’t spill any of it bitch, got it?” Miguel whimpered, but obeyed as he mustered up all his remaining strength to clench his hole. Pushing your chest against his back, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as you soon let out a groan, hips jerking before stilling altogether. Strings of curses leaving your mouth, swearing that for a small moment your soul ascended towards a warm comforting light.

Miguel was in a similar disheveled state as you, though slightly worse off. His face laying in a pool of his own drool, red eyes dimmed as his brown eyes returned, claws retracting into his fingers and ass quivering to hold in your cum, slowly reaching its end.

You rolled to the side, cock still lodged in Miguel and ran your hand along his side, stopping to caress his stomach, feeling a slight bump that was undoubtedly your cum. Which was almost concerning as you had never come this much before, much less been this aggressive during sex with anyone, but you shrugged it off assuming that it was just different with Miguel, curling your arms around him. Speaking of the man, he let out a groan as he shakily turned his body to face you. Eyes piercing into your soul, face contorted in slight anger. You chuckled and ran your hand in his hair, caressing the side of his face, whipping off the drool gently.

“Welcome back my charming beast. Did your dashing prince break the curse?” You smiled, watching as Miguel huffed and rolled his eyes at you.

“It wasn’t a curse, I just lacked the necessary genes of a spider and lost control a little. It’s a side effect of sorts.”

“A little?” You eyed, glancing at the room covered in claw marks that matched the scratches on your shoulders and arms.

Miguel turned to the side, mouth creased.

“I’m sorry, this was a first for me too… I’ve never attacked someone before,” he quietly muttered under his breath. Seeing this, you huddled him close into your arms and kissed the top of his temple.

“Hey now, it’s alright. Nothing I can’t handle anyway, you forgetting that I’m Spider-Man?“ You chided, pressing your forehead against his. A small smile gracing his face as you both quietly waited to regain your strength. Falling in a trance of listening to one another's breathing, body’s conjoined as one.

“Say, when you were working on that DNA thing, was there a little bit of wolf involved?”

“No there wasn’t, stop talking. You’re ruining the moment.”

“So it’s just a cute little kink of yours to be bred by me?”

“We are NOT having this conversation.”

“My dick is literally still in you.”

Miguel grumbled and made a weak effort of pushing away from you, but you laughed it off, pulling him closer.

a/n: hey y’all, it’s a little bit late but here it is, in all it’s smutty glory. i would also like to say that my eyes have been opened to a much softer side of Miguel as a soccer mom, but because of a bastard on my tiktok fyp, there is an angst ending in my mind that could be separated from the main, if one wishes to remain in la-la-land. i might write up a lil on that world to see how it'd work, not sure when it'd drop. but because of this smut, my brain kept making different branches of miguel getting fucked and it won’t stop plaguing my mind so those are in the works, one of them including jealousy towards lego spider-man… hope y'all enjoyed this.

that being said, leon’s fic is up next to be dropped though i might be a smidge late on that. apologies. if you are interested in that, you the reader purchase an experimental drug that heals wounds made by the merchant. you give it to a wounded leon who later on notices changes in his body, specifically his chest as stains show up on his shirt... around his nipples...

[j4desblurbs]

R U MINE?

logan howlett x fem! reader

it’s about time we wrote more than smut for this man!!

summary: logan accidentally hurts you.

warnings: angst, mentions of blood and injury

word count: 642

when you fell asleep in logan’s bed, you hadn’t expected to be woken up like this.

a sharp, fiery pain lances across your arm, snapping you out of your slumber. you glance down, just as logan’s adamantium claws retract.

he’s having another nightmare.

of course, you knew he had them frequently. often times half the mansion would be woken up by his screaming. but you didn’t really think they’d be like this.

logan hasn’t started screaming yet, but he’s shifting, murmuring under his breath about william stryker. suddenly he’s shooting up in bed in a cold sweat, looking around frantically before he sees you and relaxes.

his eyes spot the line of red that mars your skin, and in an instant he’s moving, gently lifting your forearm to look closer.

“did i..” he cuts himself off, unable to continue. he had hurt you.

“logan, it’s okay…” you start, but you don’t get very far into your sentence before he cuts you off.

“okay? bub, i hurt you. that’s not okay.” the distraught look in logan’s eyes makes your heart ache. didn’t he realize it wasn’t his fault?

you slide closer to him, but he moves back, tense. trying again, you slowly reach out, resting a hand on his shoulder, waiting for him to react. when he doesn’t, you pull yourself close to him, wrapping your arms around his muscular frame and resting your head on his shoulder. reluctantly, his body relaxes and he rests his chin on the top of your head.

“logan.” you say, voice soft. “it’s just a scratch, okay? i’m alright. promise.”

“lucky it’s just a scratch.” he responds, gruff voice slightly muffled by your hair. then his strong hands are on your shoulders, pulling you up from his body and forcing you to look at him.

“what would you have done if i’d stabbed you, huh? what then?” logan’s voice is strained, full of pain.

“but you didn’t.” you urge, cupping his cheek with one hand. “you didn’t, logan. and i know you won’t.”

he looks up at you, his eyes full of confusion. you were so trusting, so patient. he couldn’t even begin to understand it. his claws had touched you, and the way you shrugged it off, said it was okay? it drove him crazy.

some part of him wanted you to push him away. to get out of his room and never come back. he was used to that, would know how to deal with that.

he didn’t know how to deal with this.

“you don’t know that. hell, even i don’t know that.” he mutters that last part to himself. you can feel the self hatred that emanates off his frame, making your heart sink. did he really think so little of himself and his ability?

“i know that you’re the most caring person i’ve ever known” you start, softly running your fingers down his forearm. “i know that you’d do whatever you could to protect the people you love.” with every passing second, logan becomes less tense. “i know that you hate those claws a lot of the time. but i love them.”

“you love them?” he repeats, confused on how you could find beauty in such an ugly twisted thing. you hum in response. “i love them because they’re a part of you, and i love you. they’re not all bad, logan.”

with that, he relents, allowing himself to sink into your touch, arms gingerly wrapping themselves around you, tucking your head under his chin.

“i love you.” he murmurs, lips pressing against your hair.

“i love you too.” you whisper into his neck, pressing a gentle kiss on his pulse point. you melt into him, silently urging him to lay back onto the mattress.

when logan falls asleep with you in his arms. his dreams are filled with nothing but peace.

[lcvemiyuki]

“crossed lines” | tsukishima, hq

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋🎧ྀི - "the walls" by chase atlantic

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓊝 ࿐𓂃𓂃𓂃

content: he thought he knew the answers to everything and made sure to map out his every action. yet, none could rationalize the way you made his insides churn with a burn of conflicting emotions

warnings: suggestive (no smut!), enemies-to-lovers (they dislike each other), college student!tsukishima, swearing, fem!reader, lots of tension, pov switching

character(s): tsukishima

word count: 1518

a/n: heavily inspired by that riff part in 'the walls' by chase atlantic (had to listen to it a million times to perfectly describe it as in my head lolol)...this is my 1st time writing something so intense AHHH, i hope you like it!

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

“Tsukki, wait!” Yamaguchi’s voice echoed into the rain-soaked street, the downpour muffling his words to a mere whisper against the relentless pattering of raindrops on the cobblestone pavement. 

“She’s such an idiot,” Tsukishima muttered under his breath, his annoyance palpable in the tightness of his voice as he followed your retreating figure, a lone silhouette against the cold, relentless rain. Yamaguchi had just relayed the latest news about your on-again, off-again boyfriend. The twitch in Tsukishima’s right eye, a clear sign of his irritation, was hidden by his black-rimmed glasses, but the tension in his body language was unmistakable.

He couldn’t believe you were storming out from the dorms into the darkness yet again. 

An invisible force pulled him in your direction, but instead of a gentle tug, it was more like a high-speed collision. The more Yamaguchi detailed the fiasco with your so-called “Mr. Perfect,” the tighter Tsukishima’s fists clenched until his knuckles turned a ghostly white. When he finally released his grip, deep red nail marks were etched into his pale skin. He didn’t hear his friend’s confused questions; all he could hear was the ringing in his ears and the pounding of his own heart in his chest, like a desperate drum seeking his attention as he followed after you.

When he finally caught up to you, he reached out, his hand hovering just above your shoulder before he firmly turned you around to face him. 

Your eyes were red and puffy from crying, a testament to the pain you were feeling, and your hand instantly rejected his touch, aggressively shrugging off his hold. 

“Are you seriously thinking about taking him back?” His voice cut through the thundering rain, raised just enough to be heard over the downpour. You scoffed in disbelief, tightening your grip on the baby pink umbrella, trying to recompose yourself.

“And what’s it to you, huh?” you snapped, your voice wavering with emotion as you lifted your chin defiantly. 

If this day could get any worse, it had to involve seeing his annoyingly, fault-finding face. He always acted with judgment and you knew he looked down on your every mistake. And what made it worse was that his opinion always spoke some cut-throat truth you couldn't swallow.

Now here he was, sticking his nose into your business and voicing his input.

“You just don’t get it, do you?” His eyes narrowed, his voice dripping with disdain. “It’s pitiful.”

His t-shirt clung to his body, soaked through, but the heat of the moment kept the shivers at bay. You were infuriating, and he knew the feeling was mutual.

So why did he feel compelled to chase after you?

He should be sneering at your stupidity. Yet, here you were, crowding his thoughts, his vision, everything.

His insults only fueled your anger, the words cutting deeper than you wanted to admit. Yet, beneath the rage, a sliver of fear crept in—fear that he might be right. It was the unspoken truth that gnawed at you, the one everyone else probably thought but never dared to voice. But Tsukishima, with his sharp tongue and piercing gaze, had no such reservations.

If Tsukishima excelled at one thing, it was his uncanny ability to read you like an open book. He knew you too well, his eyes always catching the smallest, most insignificant details that he would mercilessly call out. Every comment was a well-aimed dart, hitting precisely where you were most vulnerable. It was infuriating how effortlessly he could unravel you, laying bare your insecurities with a few well-chosen words.

You clenched your fists, feeling the sting of his remarks, the heat of your anger battling the cold edge of your fingertips. His words echoed in your mind, a relentless reminder of the truths you tried to bury. Despite the fury blazing in your chest, you couldn't shake the nagging thought that he saw you more clearly than anyone else ever could. And that realization, more than his biting words, left a pit in your stomach.

The truth made you want to scream out into the looming darkness.

“Pitiful?” you questioned as your feet stepped down the curb, “if I’m so pathetic, then leave me be. Go project your judgment onto someone else other than rubbing it in my fucking face” you spat out harshly.

You didn’t want to deal with him tonight, not when you felt the weight of his words slowly sinking into your pores. You turned around to flee, but Tsukishima’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Wait.”

You paused but didn’t turn back. His voice, though steady, carried an intensity that made your heart race—a quiet before the storm that left you both anxious and drawn in.

“Why do you care so much?” you mustered, your voice cracking slightly as you tried to stand your ground. When there was no response to be heard, you hesitantly turned around once more.

And the sight was maddening.

His blonde locks, usually slightly short, now stretched longer down his forehead, the rain streaming down his face. Although his whole body was soaked from head to toe, his expression remained unchanged. He looked on toward you, eyes darkened and burning holes in your body. His head tilted slightly as if he was trying to piece together what you were thinking—or maybe, reanalyzing his own.

“Tsukishima, why do you care?” you demanded once more.

Maybe it was the curiosity that urged you to repeat yourself; maybe it was the way you’ve never seen the six-foot-two man in front of you look so—disheveled.

He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, he took a step closer, almost unconsciously, as if he didn’t even know what he was doing. Those golden-brown eyes burned with a mix of frustration and something else you couldn’t quite place. Your heart raced as your breath escaped in a long, slow huff through your nose. Your glazed eyes locked onto his, watching tiny droplets slide down his glasses and cling to his long lashes. The heat between you was palpable; the rain felt like gasoline, fueling the raging fire.

“Why do I care?” he whispered, his voice barely audible as his gaze fixated on your lips. It was as if he was echoing your words, distracted by the movement of your mouth as his eyebrows furrowed.

‘Because I burn with emotions that you sear into my whole being’

“Because you’re aggravating,” he seethed through gritted teeth, his frustration evident in the sharp edge of his voice. Yet, despite his irritation, his gaze remained fixated on your lips. 

You felt the intensity of his gaze, a magnetic pull that seemed to draw every fiber of your being towards him. 

But just as quickly as the moment had built, Tsukishima pulled back, his expression hardening once more. His jaw clenched tensely, taking a step back while his gaze shifted, trying to focus on something else. The uncertainty still lingered in the narrow space between you. 

“Just forget it,” he spoke under his breath. Turning on his heel, he walked away, leaving you standing there, frozen and stranded for answers. 

You watched him retreat, the distance between you growing with each step. Your heart pounded in your chest, a tumult of emotions circulating inside you. You thought he was leaving for good as the breath you exhaled was shaky.

But then, he stopped—standing there for several aching seconds. 

His gaze shifted among the surrounding objects as if building a barrier to contain his internal uncertainty. He swallowed the growing lump in his throat, the weight of his conflicting emotions settling heavily in his stomach. Each thought rushed through his mind like a relentless torrent, creating a storm of confusion and frustration.

He couldn't pinpoint exactly why he felt this way, why he cared so much. 

The analytical part of his mind tried to dissect every possible reason, but the emotions swirling inside him defied logical explanation. 

He shouldn't have followed you out here.

He wanted to escape the turmoil, to drown out the noise in his mind.

 “—Fuck it,” he muttered. 

And something inside him snapped. 

He turned back and closed the distance between you in a few long strides; his cold hands cupping your face.

Before you could muster a word, his lips came crashing onto yours.

The kiss was fierce, filled with all the pent-up frustration and anger. His lips moved against yours with a desperate urgency, as if trying to convey all the things he couldn’t put into words. You responded in kind, caught up in the whirlwind of emotions. Your hands instinctively found their way to his soaked shirt. You gripped the fabric tightly as if trying to anchor yourself in the storm that was Tsukishima.

At that moment, the precarious line of his loathing finally broke. 

The intense curiosity that had simmered beneath his animosity surged to the forefront. He was engrossed by a burning desire to understand the root of it all. 

Why did you consume him entirely? 

The need for answers outweighed his self-imposed boundaries, and he crossed the line he had sworn never to.

𓇼𓆉𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆉𓇼

want more?

⤷ masterlist.

[everyonewooeverywhere]

MDNI 18+ BLOG -> ageless blogs and minors WILL BE BLOCKED

pairing ✭ dom!yunho x afab!reader

synopsis ✭ yunho's adrenaline when he comes off stage is through the roof. sure, he there are many ways to get it out of his system, but he'd rather take it out on you.

content/genre ✭ smut 18+ MDNI (warnings below the cut)

word count ✭ 1k

warnings ✭ smut, unprotected sex, he's mean, name calling (whore, pathetic, filthy), mc has hair long enough for him to grab, overstimulation, fingering, sweaty sex 🙂 (please lmk if i forgot anything)

notes ✭ i fucking never write anything in one sitting so this is truly an incredible accomplishment honestly. anyway, enjoy~

honestly, i just wanted to write sweaty yunho sex 👍

reblogs/feedback is very very appreciated ❤️

Normally excessive heat would be a negative factor for your mood. The sweat covering your back and soaking your shirt would usually make you aggressively uncomfortable, and you, on most occasions, would despise the way the fabric sticks to your skin. It was something about yourself that you were beyond convinced would never change.

But fuck you were so unprepared for how your boyfriend looked when he was sweaty. Every single time he stepped off a stage after a long show he knew you would be in his dressing room for him. Out of breath and rushed by adrenaline he’d throw the door open to find you waiting so prettily for him. With his hair stuck to his forehead and his breathing ragged, there was little you could do to stop the throbbing between your legs.

The adrenaline coursing through him always made him so much rougher. He grabbed you out of the chair you were waiting for him by the base of your hair. You whined at the pain but moved where he directs you.

He was so quick to press you up against the wall. Your hands pinned above your head as he grinds himself into your ass, grunting in your ear with every movement of his hips. His chest is glued to your back and you can feel his sweat soaking into your shirt.

With his face in your neck, he inhales deeply and groans as he rolls his hips again. His wet hair sticks to you face and neck as he bites and kisses the skin.

“Yu…” you whimper. You feel so trapped in his embrace. With no ability to move your arms or even so much as wiggle out of his hold. Every part of your body is trapped between his filthy body and the wall. And that’s exactly where you need to be. For the sake of his sanity and for the sake of getting yourself off.

He flips up your skirt with his free hand without removing his face from your neck. You feel him fumble around with his belt, and you wiggle your hips in anticipation.  

Which is not the right response because Yunho pushes you further into the wall with his body.

“Stop fucking moving,” he whispers lowly in your ear. His hot breath making you fall deeper into insanity.

He pulls your panties to the side and runs two fingers between your folds. He scoffs, “God you’re so fucking filthy.” He pushes those two fingers inside of you as deep as they can go, “I’ve barely even played with you, and you’re already this wet? It’s so pathetic.” His pace with his fingers is ruthless, but he knows you can take it. 

“Oh fu- oh my god!” you squirm in his hold, He lets you of your hands to tangle his fingers back in your hair, yanking your head back.

“Are you close?” He asked condescendingly. You nod dumbly, mouth dropping open in a silent moan. Yunho couldn’t help himself. Staring at your parted lips made him twitch in his partially unbuttoned pants. He leaned over your face and spit into your open mouth. He couldn’t help but bite his bottom lip at how mindlessly you closed your mouth and swallowed it. “Fuck..” he groaned lowly.

He was so hard now that it was painful. The way you obeyed him and let him play with you so mindlessly was too much. You were on the verge of an orgasm when he pulled his fingers out, but he’d pushed his cock inside you before you could even start complaining.

The thrusts of his hips were even more sporadic than his fingers. He was so pent up and frustrated that he couldn’t think of anything else but fucking you relentlessly. His grip on your hair only tightened as he lost control. 

At this point you were covered in his sweat. From your neck and face to your back and thighs, no part of you was safe. Somehow it was the pure filth that made everything feel so much more erotic. 

Just thinking about it brought you closer, “Yunho fuck! ‘m gonna come…”

He snapped his hips into you, “Don’t you fucking dare.” 

“Please! I can’t!” You were running out of breath.

“Do you really think you deserve to come? After how filthy and disgusting you’ve been?” He scoffed, “You’re so pathetic.” 

You were overwhelmed to the point of tears. The pleasure you felt was beyond comprehension, but it also hurt so bad. You couldn’t hold it back anymore. You wanted to be good for him, but his pace made it impossible. He felt you tighten around him. It was suffocating. Your legs and voice shook as you came.

He didn’t stop his pace though, “Are you fucking serious?” he glowered “Did you just come?” He pressed your face into the cold wall, “Who the fuck told you that you could do that?”

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed with your cheek squished into the wall by his hand.

“I don’t think you are sorry,” he rubbed vicious circles on your incredibly sensitive and swollen clit. Your tears fell harder from the stimulation, “I give you so much, and you take it for granted. It’s like you're begging to be treated like a greedy whore.”

You whimpered when he thrust into one last time before filling you up completely. He pulls your panties back over your pussy and presses his fingers over the cloth, “My pretty pretty cum dump.” He hums.

When you try to push yourself off the wall he stops you, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What? I-“

“On your knees,” he says. You obey. “You wanted to act like a greedy whore. So I’m gonna treat you like one.”

[starryjiung]

of pleasure and pain

day 16 of piwontober

shower sex / fingering with yoon keeho

NSFW - 18+ MDNI

wc: 1.6k

tags: superhero au, villain!keeho, hero!reader, scars, blood, wounds, weapons, mentions of murder/killing people, fingering, shower sex, pet names, praise, degradation, reader uses she/her pronouns and has a clitoris and vagina, keeho refers to reader as girl

a/n: omg my smut debut look at me go! here is my little thanks to section, because I have to mention @enbyjjunie who has been helping motivate me, brainstorm with me, and beta read!! of course a huge thank you to @sxfterhearts and @kisseobie for managing this whole event, and bringing all of us together. and to all the other amazing writers who are part of the project, I am so excited to be publishing my fic alongside yours ♡

Blood stained the white shower tiles, mixing with the soap bubbles to create intricate shapes as it swirled down the drain. The water rinsed everything off, every bit of blood, sweat, and grime that could be found on your bodies. If anything stuck in the corners, it wasn’t your problem, since this was Keeho’s bathroom. His white tiles, his cleaning headache. Not that you paid it much mind in the moment, with your back up against the cool glass of his shower doors, Keeho’s hands and mouth all over you.

“Fuck, careful where you place your hands,” he mumbled in your ear, shrugging your hand off his shoulder. You glanced over to see a fairly new bruise blossoming right where you had grabbed him, and couldn’t help the smirk that overtook your features.

“Got you good today, didn’t I?” you asked, the amusement short lived as you immediately felt a sharp stabbing pain on your hip in retaliation.

Keeho had pressed down on a fresh slashing wound from your fight earlier, making you yelp and instantly grab onto his arms for support, as your legs wobbled under you. Even though you had ended the night on a high, Keeho having to retreat from the city beaten and bruised, it was not like you had made it out completely unscathed. Keeho was an expert at wielding his signature twin poignard daggers, the many cuts on your body being evidence of this.

“I like it better when you shut up.”

“Someone’s a sore loser,” you mumbled, slowly trailing off as he leaned back into your space, caging you in between his arms against the now steamy glass door. He looked down at you with sharp eyes, and you noticed another bruise forming on his left cheekbone, no doubt the result of you hitting him with the blunt end of your glaive.

You and Keeho were the perfect match, two sides of the same coin in every way possible. The first time you had gone head to head, both of you had been left in awe of the other’s abilities. Not that any of you would ever admit it. Keeho’s teleportation powers and your super speed balanced each other out so well, one was never more than half a step ahead of the other. This resulted in fights purely being decided on combat skills and luck, as you wounded each other at a speed too high for the onlookers to perceive.

You turned your head slightly, pressing your lips firmly to his pretty bruise, making sure he both felt the warmth of the kiss, and was reminded of the earlier impact with your weapon. Your kisses softened as you trailed down the side of his face, your hands leaving his toned upper arms to explore the expanse of his naked upper body.

“I could have killed you today, you really should be nicer to me,” you said in between open mouthed kisses at his jawline.

“Oh yes, imagine those headlines. “Darling hero of Metro City commits murder on open street!” You can never kill me sweetheart, there would be an outrage,” he replied, eyes closed as you worked down his neck. “And your heart is too soft to do it.”

You decided to ignore his statement, not wanting to agree with him, and instead grabbed his hips to push up against. As soon as your front came in contact with his hard cock, Keeho let out a low groan, one you could feel vibrating in his throat as you had your face buried right in the crook of his neck. Not a second later, Keeho’s arms were back around you, holding you close in order to maintain the friction between your bodies.

As you were grinding against each other, you felt a shiver down your spine, the water on your body slowly drying and giving way to the cold air coming in from below. Before you even had time to adjust, Keeho was already pulling you back under the hot stream coming from the showerhead.

Standing even closer together now, in order for both of you to enjoy the warm water, Keeho rested his forehead against your temple, his face only a breath away as his hands travelled down the sides of your body. His hair was dripping down onto his collarbones, where you saw a paper-thin scar, long healed, but no doubt your doing. Most of the scars littering your body were left by him as well, reminders of every fight, every battle, every night spent together afterwards.

“How come you have never killed me?” you thought out loud.

You felt Keeho’s hands stop, just for half a second, before continuing to glide over your skin, his right pointer finger tracing a newly healed gash along your outer thigh, the skin raised and still pink. His doing.

“I mean, you’ve had the chance several times,” you continued, not satisfied with his silence.

For a few seconds, the sound of water hitting skin and tile was the only thing you could hear in the bathroom. Then you felt Keeho smile against your cheek.

“Yeah well, keeping you alive is way more fun, means I get to do this.”

His hand quickly moved from your leg to in between your bodies, his finger finding your clit and beginning to rub small circles without a moment’s hesitation. You immediately grabbed onto his shoulders for stability, all thoughts of the forming bruise there gone for now. A choked moan got stuck in your throat, which made Keeho giggle.

“Look at you, already struggling to stand and I have barely touched you,” he said, lips right next to your ear as his hand kept moving at the pace he knew you liked. “Wonder what the good people of Metro City would think of their precious hero, if they knew she was whimpering like a slut in my shower.”

“Oh fuck you,” you managed to gasp out, throwing your head back to rest against the wet tile behind you. This got a proper laugh out of Keeho, who now had a much better view of your upper body, taking full advantage of your new position.

“Later, maybe. For now I want you to beg for my fingers, can you do that, angel?” he asked.

You did not want to give him the satisfaction of begging, but the way he was rubbing circles on your clit also felt too good to object. Just then, his fingertips went further down, teasing at your entrance and making you inhale sharply.

You were dripping wet, more than one could expect you to be after such a short amount of time with Keeho’s hands on you. But just as he was to blame for most of the scars on your body, Keeho had also become responsible for the vast majority of your orgasms. He knew exactly what to do to have you moaning and begging for him, and in that moment you felt every ounce of pride and composure leave your body. You knew the pleasure he would reward you with was worth so much more.

“Please-” you started your sentence, cutting yourself off with a high pitched whine as Keeho’s fingers moved back up to your clit.

“Sorry could you repeat that sweetheart? I can’t hear you over all that pathetic whimpering,” he said, tilting his head slightly with an amused smile, as he watched you lose yourself to the feeling of his hands on you.

“Please! Please please I want you fingers inside me so bad Keeho, fuck, please,” you cried out, the grip you had on his shoulders becoming so tight, it would surely leave marks for the day after. None of you paid it any mind, however, used to much more permanent reminders of each other.

“That’s my good girl.”

Keeho slipped a single finger inside your wetness, quickly realising that you were turned on enough for him to add a second one immediately. The feeling of him inside of you, slowly stretching your walls, was enough to have you moaning uncontrollably. When he started curling his fingers up towards himself, you could feel how close you were already.

“You’re taking my fingers so well, being so obedient for me. Everyone else sees you fight, but only I know how good you are at giving in to me,” he said, eyes focused on where his fingers were pumping in and out of you.

You could do little more than nod, your breaths coming out as a mix of whines and sharp exhales. Both of you knew you were not going to last much longer.

“I want to feel you cum around my fingers, angel. Cum for me.”

He had barely finished the sentence, before you cried out, your orgasm hitting you as soon as he gave permission. Keeho could feel you clenching around him, coming undone as he continued to curl his fingers inside you. He had seen your face in complete ecstacy like this more times than he could count, and yet he craved it like a drug. The knowledge that he could have this effect on you too, the cuts on your body telling a story so different from the pleasure painting your features in that moment.

As you came down from the high, Keeho slowly removed his fingers again, letting the water rinse away your wetness, just as it had cleaned you off your blood.

Pulling yourself closer to him again, you leaned your face on his shoulder as your breathing returned to normal. Small crescent shaped indentations were left in the reddening bruise, and you found yourself leaving small pecks on each one, as Keeho brought his arms around you under the water.

How were you ever supposed to kill each other, when being alive together felt so good.

[bimrwolf]

Healing Hands by the Fire

geralt of rivia x afab!reader words: 3,684 warnings: smut !! 18+ (minors dni) ; squint and you may see a casual plot summary: Geralt visits Reader, a healer, with severe injuries. a/n: very out of my comfort zone. however, i promised my friend to write this as her christmas present because writing fanfics are my love language. good thing i know basic things about the witcher heheehe.

How did she always end up here? Months without a word or seeing him. She had accepted the peace. Only occasionally did she perk up when there was a knock on her door, secretly hoping it was him. But only one could be so lucky. Instead, it was travelers from all over the Continent who heard word of her abilities.

She couldn’t complain. Healing others in exchange for seeds, food, and sometimes money. Not that it was required for her service but she couldn’t complain about the gratuity.

In fact, she enjoyed helping others. However, it was nearing winter and there were less travelers. They were most likely home to prepare for the violent winter storms that damned the Continent. 

It was one of the first snow falls of the season. She had finished feeding the chickens and her horse Atticus. That was always her nighttime routine. Feed the animals, make some tea, study until all the tea is drunk, and finally get ready for bed. 

Some might think the routine would get tiring, but there was never any guarantee. It was the one consistent thing in her life at the moment. She was content. 

However, some nights, she heard the enchanted chimes outside that let her know someone was approaching. But before she made it to the door, it swung open, snow flurries drifted inside. The cold was sharp and pricked her nose, making her sniffle. 

In most cases she would be alarmed. There was no telling what creatures or people were harmless and which ones weren’t. She clutched the nearest thing to her— a broom that always gave her splinters when she used it. 

His snow white hair peeked from under his hood and she recognized the distinct low grumble that could be mistaken as a quake. He slowly closed the door, ensuring it was locked this time. “You startled me.” She said, releasing her grip from the broom, checking her hand for any loose wood. 

“You should keep the door locked. What if I was a dangerous man breaking in?” She played it off as a joke, not seeing the concerned look on his face. 

“Some might say you are dangerous.” She smirked. She never expected him to react to her jokes, but she could feel the warmth blanket around her when his shoulders relaxed. “Are you going to stand there all night?” 

He limped further into the cabin. She could see the snow melting on his cloak, dripping on her floor. “You made a mess,” she huffed. 

His head lifted and cat-like eyes met hers. It was known his abilities and job forced him to lack showing how he felt. But, she noticed right away how his eyes drooped that he was in pain. 

She ran towards him, immediately untying his cloak so that it dropped to the floor. She gasped at the large claw marks scratched into his chest. He could withstand most injuries but the cuts had broken past the many layers of skin. 

“Fuck, Geralt. What happened?” Her finger ghosted over the wound on his shoulder. Almost immediately he grabbed her wrist. But she didn’t pull away. 

“I’m starving.” He took a moment to look her up and down before letting go of her wrist and walking past her. 

Unbelievable. She scoffed and followed him into her den. “Are you serious? Geralt, you’re hurt and need to be healed before you get an infection.” 

“I smell meat pie. Do you have any to spare?” He left no time for her to answer. He grabbed the plate on a table and began to shove them in his mouth. He groaned in satisfaction. 

She wanted to be annoyed, but she had never seen him act this way. So instead she watched as he stuffed his face. He sat down slowly in a wooden chair. His large body mass made it creak, rocking it with the sound of the crackling fire. His spastic breathing mellowed out into a deep sigh.

He was definitely hurting from his wound but there was something else. She could sense that something was bothering him. Yet, she didn’t pry for an explanation. Instead, she let him watch the fire as she gathered her supplies of elixirs and jars. Then she picked up the pot full of water hanging above the fire and poured it into a bowl. The steam warmed her face that was still cold from earlier. 

“Are you still hungry? I think I only have bread.” She sat her things on the table next to him, but not looking in his direction. However, she could feel his piercing eyes watching her every single move. “If you’re not feeling like bread I can stay up and make you soup.” 

His hand flew to her wrist. She jumped, nearly knocking over a bottle with green shiny liquid. She turned her head slightly, sighing deeply. “It hurts,” Geralt mumbled. 

His wound was red, inflamed, and looked worse in the light. And if Geralt says it hurts then it was worse than she had imagined. “Take your tunic off while I prepare.” Although it was her giving the instruction, she couldn’t help the heat on her cheeks arise. Especially when he did what he was told. She had only seen his bare chest a handful of times, but each time made her stomach knot up. 

He took a heavy breath as he settled back into the chair, wincing when she placed a hot cloth on his open wound. His nails dug into the chair. His teeth clenched as he threw his head back. She couldn’t help but giggle. In return, he snapped his head to look at her, visibly annoyed. “What?” 

She swatted him for the rash reaction. “No need to be hot headed, Geralt. I was only laughing because I’ve never seen you act so dramatic.” 

“I’m not being dramatic,” he argued. He winced again when the cloth touched his skin once more. He rolled his eyes when he noticed the smirk she tried to hide from him, her hair covered her face. Not thinking, he took his finger and pushed it out of the way so he could see her more clearly. 

She tried to ignore the knot in her stomach or how her chest was breathing differently. She even tried to look away subtly but the only thing she could look at without being suspicious was his bare chest. “How’s Yennefer?” 

The change of subject was almost as if she had poured salt into his fresh wounds. He yanked his hand away and turned his head to face the fire, jaw ticked. She should’ve felt guilty for bringing up his on and off lover. Instead, she felt relieved his attention was no longer on her and probably wouldn’t be the rest of the night. 

That’s how it always went. He would get too close and right before she fell under his spell she would mention the other woman. She had only met the sorceress once. They neither liked or disliked one another. Yet, she could tell there would not be any attempts to go frollicking in a field like they were the best of friends. 

In some ways, she had been jealous of Yennefer– she was interesting and traveled the Continent and had fought in many wars. She was beautiful and cunning. Of course Geralt would pick her as a lover. 

“Ow.” Geralt grimaced, shifting in the chair. Her fingers were touching the wounds, and spreading them apart. “Are you about done? I’m tired.” 

She continued to inspect his wounds closely, having to push between his legs to get a closer look. “I have to ensure there are no severe damages so I know what to make.” His huff made her roll her eyes. She wanted to swat him for still acting like a child. “Whatever got you, got you good, eh?” 

He looked away then back at her, swallowing. “Yes, I suppose.” 

There was a beat of silence. Only the fire was popping. 

“I thought I was goin’ to die.” He said out loud in a low whisper. Almost like he didn’t want her to hear him.

She stopped briefly to look up at him. He was serious. “Well, fortunately whatever it was missed your heart by a hair.” She pointed to where his heart was and traced a line to the start of one of the scratches only millimeters away. She got up, leaving him with a witty smile as she started to pour the many different potions into a different bowl. 

“Me and Yennefer haven’t spoken in months,” he admitted. 

It was hard not to react, but she had never seen him willingly talk about the woman before. “Oh.” 

“We wanted different things I suppose,” he continued. “If it weren’t for Ciri’s letters, then I wouldn’t even know if she was still alive.” 

“You miss her?” It was meant to sound like a question, but it came across as a statement. 

He looked down at his hands, ashamed. “I’m not sure if I’m allowed to miss someone.” 

“Are you not allowed or are you unsure you know what it’s supposed to feel like?” 

He didn’t answer. 

She walked back and found her place again between his legs. “Missing someone feels like always looking at the door when there’s a knock, and your heart skips a beat, hoping it’s them.” She dipped her finger in the cream she had made and started to apply it to the open wound. 

“I don’t live in a cottage with a door.” His hands creeped to his thighs so they brushed her as she moved. 

She finished with the first cut and moved onto the second, which was much deeper and longer. “Well, missing someone can also feel like wanting to cry even when you’re happy.” 

“You do know I have emotions?” He quizzed her. 

She smirked. “Of course I do. I was only trying to help you figure out if you miss Yennefer.” 

He hummed, running a finger over the first wound she had treated which was starting to already heal. His skin attaching itself together again. “I miss her, but not in the way you think I do.” 

“Then in what way?” She raised her brow, clearly confused as to what he meant. 

He didn’t answer her right away. “Not in the way I miss you.” 

The bowl in her hand nearly clattered to the floor. She froze, replaying the words over and over as if she hadn’t heard him. Did Geralt really admit to missing her? No, he doesn’t actually mean it. He was messing with her. “That’s not funny.” Her breath was shaky. In fact, her hands were shaky too as she tried to continue healing him. 

“Did I make a joke?” His tone was unwavering. He placed his hand on her warm cheek, brushing his thumb over her soft flesh. He had never touched her so intimately like he was now. 

She shook her head, using her free hand to brush him away, focusing on the rest of his injuries. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. You’re delusional.” 

“I thought your potions helped with that?” 

Her eyes flickered up to meet his, briefly, before averting them back to the bowl. She swooped the last of the cream on her finger and spread it slowly over the last scratch. The others had closed up but one could make out the red scar. “Those will go away in due time,” she mumbled. 

As she tried to get up he caught her arm, standing up with her, and in doing so their chests were against one another. He could feel her heavy breathing. And she could feel the warmth from his body electrifying hers. 

“I should go make your bed. You need to rest.” She tried to walk away but his grip never left her arm. “Geralt.” 

He took the bowl from her hands and placed it back on the table. “How much longer will you deny it?” 

She swallowed the gasp that had almost escaped her, shaking her head. “What do you mean?” Finally, she had pulled away but made no efforts to leave the room, only stepping back to make space between them. And of course he could probably read her like an open book while she only had his stoic expressions to decipher. He opened his mouth, but closed it, sighing loudly. “Thank you, Y/n.” 

Her face softened. 

“I don’t… I don’t know what I would’ve done if it weren’t for you. In fact, I don’t know what I would do without you.” His jaw slacked, watching her intensely. 

She could feel the pull, like a magnet, all too familiar when it came to Geralt. Normally, she had to ignore it. But at that moment, it felt like a boiling pot of water, steaming and bubbling, unable to contain itself. And as she looked into his piercing eyes, the knot in her stomach told her it was time to say something. “Geralt.” Her voice was above a whisper. “I have something to tell you.”

“Yes?” His expression never faltered. 

She shifted her feet, uncomfortable. “I… I um… I’m making oat porridge in the morning.” She had decided it was best to hold back what she really wanted to say. “I’ll go prepare your room.” 

His yellow eyes narrowed, searching for hers. She knew he was watching the emotions swirl through her mind. She knew that he knew that wasn’t what she really wanted to say to him. “No.” He was assertive and the growled vibrations dragged along her back like a dagger, giving her chills. 

Ignoring the goosebumps along her arms, she ran her hand over her face. “What do you want me to say?” She felt like a twig that had snapped. “Why are you being mean? You stand there forcing a confession out of me. A confession you will never get because there’s nothing to say.” Her tears burned in the corner of her eyes. She hated how foolish she looked in front of him. Crying and blubbering because he decided to dig deeper. 

They had a routine. He would knock on the door and she would heal his wounds. Their deep conversations were rare, and sometimes he wouldn’t speak at all. Sometimes he would leave in the morning without a word. So why must this time be any different than the others? 

“You’re angry.” 

She scoffed. “Yes, I’m angry.” Unable to face him, she turned to look at the fireplace, shaking her head. “That’s the most frustrating part of all of this. I’m angry that you’re here. I’m angry that I don’t see you for months with no word if you’re even alive. I’m angry that you show up when I’m missing you the most.” Her eyes caught his, her nostrils flared. She had had enough of it, storming up to him and putting a finger against his bare chest. “I’m angry that you sit there and touch me and talk to me like we’re lovers. I’m angry that you won’t go to someone else for help. Because I can’t do it anymore, Geralt. I can’t do it.” 

And there it was. Years worth of bubbling water, spilling over the pot and all over the floor. She had made a mess that she wasn’t sure if she would be able to clean up. 

Geralt’s jaw ticked, his eyes scanning her face. “You wish to not see me anymore? Would that be easier?” 

Her finger fell slowly from his chest. Her voice trembled. “It’s easier than caring about you.” 

Geralt brought his hand up slowly to her cheek, brushing his knuckle against a tear. “I am angry at you too,” he whispered. Her brows furrowed, unsure what he meant. “I told you I have feelings too. Yet, you assume I don’t. You assume I don’t care about you either.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Do you?” 

“Why do you think I keep coming back?” His jaw slacked. 

The tension between them was thick and palpable. She wasn’t sure what else there was to say. Her heart was torn. Even with the confession, there was no guarantee. He was a Witcher with responsibilities that were not suitable for the life she wanted. She pushed it away, cracking a smile. “Are you saying that you got injured on purpose? So you could see me?” 

“Perhaps.” The corner of his mouth flickered, leaning his head down towards her. 

“You could’ve died.” She stepped closer to him, tracing her finger of his scars, looking at his lips.

“But I didn’t.” He said against her mouth, finally closing the gap between them. 

He wrapped his arms around her, strong and sure, deepening the kiss. It was gentle but fierce, full of longing and tension that had been built up along the years. It tasted like all the warm tea she had made for him over time. 

When she moaned, Geralt took the opportunity to slip his tongue in her mouth, gliding it tenderly and carefully against hers, groaning in satisfaction. He somehow managed to pull her closer as if their bodies weren’t already meshed together.

It was her who broke away first, both of them gasping for air, chests heaving from the heavy kiss. Geralt’s eyes had turned black, his senses heightened, craving more. 

Without a word, she unbuttoned her blouse, freeing her chest as she dropped it to the floor. She kissed Geralt again on the mouth, his neck, and then his chest. She whispered in his ear, “I think I should go prepare your room now.” 

He nodded, allowing her to take his hand to lead him to her room, rather than the room up in the attic that her guests normally stayed in. It was full of knick knacks and books scattered. Her bed was unmade, but neither one of them cared. 

She pushed him on the bed, straddling his lap, peppering kisses all over his chest. If she was smart, she would savor all of it– every kiss and touch. But fuck all of it. She had waited too long to savor it.  She grinded herself against his hardness, smiling against his ear when she felt him jump through his trousers. Something had told her it was too long for him too. 

The rest of their clothes had found a new place on the floor of her bedroom. She was now laying down, Geralt hovered over her, his chain dangled over her face, and his hands roamed over her bare body as she whimpered under his touch. His lips attacked her neck, trailing down her body, relishing every inch. 

“Geralt,” she mewled. 

She felt the vibrations of his chuckle, revitalizing her, the warmth between her legs now ached. “Yes?” He came back towards her mouth, placing a life-wrecking kiss on it. 

She nibbled his bottom lip. “You know.” 

“Mm, I don’t think I do,” he teased. His hand was between her legs, fingers gliding, taunting her. 

She thrusted her hips upwards, forcing friction against her swollen clit, gasping when he slid a finger in her. “I need you.”

The pitiful look in her eyes convinced him enough to give her what she wanted. And because any longer, he felt like he would combust. Geralt pushed her legs apart and then guided his girthy length to her entrance, sliding it in slowly. 

She gasped as he sunk deeper inside her, finally able to marvel all of her. It was sweet like the honey she snuck in his tea. Rich like the pastries she packed in his knapsack whenever he left in the mornings, without saying goodbye because he was afraid he would never leave if he saw her golden smile in the mornings. Yet, he wasn’t strong enough to never come back. 

At first, his thrusts were slow and tender, slipping so deep that his tip reached as far as it could. She gripped his shoulders, nails forming crescents, back arching as he picked up the pace. She wanted to hug him with her thighs, but his hands were sure to keep them open and spread for him. 

The sounds of their sticky skin crashing together blended with their moans and grunts, forming a delectable melody. She pulled him into an open-mouth sloppy kiss, humming. The bed rattled beneath them, his pace was dangerously close to cracking the frame. 

In a swift move, he pulled her up, so that she was straddling him. Their bare chests flushed together, her face in the crook of his neck, whimpering as she bounced on his cock. “I’m… fuck,” she breathed, unable to make the words as it hit her sweet spot. 

“Me too.” He slightly pushed her shoulders back, wanting to see her. His palm cradled her face, swallowing the thickness stuck in his throat. He knew he looked destroyed. He didn’t show how he felt often, but the pent up tension over the year had finally arisen. 

“G…Geralt!” She shouted as her walls closed around him, releasing her orgasm around him, resting her forehead on his chest as he continued to move her up and down. She clutched onto him as if she was about to float away. 

He threw his head back as his cock twitched, finishing, He thrusted through his climax, panting as he slowed to a halt. His senses were still high and could hear the fire still crackling in the den. He could feel her breathing still rugged and hot, sticking to his chest. 

She couldn’t see it but Geralt let a small smile briefly appear as he stroked her bare back. He placed a kiss on the top of her head. She looked up at him, running her fingers through his snow-white hair. “Will you stay one more night?” 

He tilted his head, brows knitted together. “Are you still angry with me?” 

A mischievous glimmer crossed her eyes. “If I am, does that mean you’ll stay?” 

He snickered, placing a peck on her lips, lingering, scared if he were to break away she’d disappear. 

Angry or not, he was going to stay one more night.

[anadiasmount]

what could’ve been - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: based on this request! brother bsf! after a heavy international loss, jude can only cope and receive comfort from his bsf little sister in her arms despite someone walking in on them…

wc: 1.7k | masterlist | jude’s masterlist

psa🗣️: WAS SO EXCITED WHEN I RECEIVED THIS!! ik it’s not the longest but still filled with heavy and forbidden touches with jude 😵‍💫🤭 like always hope you enjoy! 🤍

you felt torn apart. feeling limb by limp being swept away as you try to cope with the realization they were kicked out to their deserved semi-finals. you couldn’t hear the commotion around you, feeling drips of water fall on you from some fans angry or happily celebrating, only blinking rapid to see if what happened was real or not.

you sunk into the seat, hands covering your face as you felt the need to be pushed into a dark corner and never come out. you felt pity, remorse and overwhelmed with the sight of your brother and his teammates crouched on the floor or wiping their tears away.

you felt for them. it wasn’t a easy match, one of the heaviest tournaments and going against the winner of the last world cup didn’t help. they had a strong team, they had it in the bag before all hell broke loose. one minute you cheered, then next you were trying to hold the choked sobs your body begged to be let out.

you could only stare around with tearful eyes and a heavy pain in your chest as you looked around the stadium before your eyes finally landed on them. your brother consoling jude who tried to control his tears, hugging each other tight almost afraid to let go.

you stayed in your spot, waiting for your brother to appear and come up to the stands. “i genuinely don’t know what to say,” your mom says quietly. you nod agreeing with you, feeling as she hugged your side and brought her to you. “maybe it’s best we leave him, he’ll come to us like he always does when he’s ready to talk,” you reply, bitting your lip to hold back your tears.

you saw your brother send the three of you a quick wake and kiss, shaking his head in dissatisfaction he didn’t want to speak and wanted to be left alone. jude trailed behind him, locking eyes with yours, feeling a familiarity in your tummy as he gave you a sad smile and wave. you reciprocated the action, seeing him whisper a “thank you for being here.”

you felt the first tear and then the one roll down your cheek onto your england jersey, being pushed away into the tunnel back into a reality you dreaded. you felt pissed and angry at the opposing teams fans who cheered loudly as they walked into the shuttles. earning some laughters or side remarks when all you wanted was to go in a tuck into your sheets.

your brother hadn’t checked in yet, so you’d decided to stay up a bit longer knowing he tended to go on walks after rough loss to clear his head. plus you could also imagine the squad comforting each other, and wanting to be there for everyone. you were grateful for that and their ability of having a brotherhood when it most mattered.

while you could also feel for your brother, you randomly began thinking of jude as well. the defeated and obvious sad look on his face as he processed the match. one of englands most youngest talented players at their first world cup and their luck being this.

you and him had a small history. he often came over a lot when they had time off. during those times when left alone a small friendship was built. either to talk about life, seeking advice, music you commonly shared, or when the group decided to leave both of you out.

you felt the need to distance yourself from him after the unexpected makeout session you had in your bedroom. he was your first kiss and it left a forever mark inside you. you knew it was wrong and the last thing you wanted was your brother cutting a long-standing friendship because of it. jude was hurt, eyes always roaming you when he came over and always trying to speak to you.

from jude:

please let me in.

your eyes immediately went wide when you saw him text you to open the door. frantically looking around when you heard the door knock, you quickly looked in the mirror and took deep breaths. this was the last thing you expected to happen especially tonight. your sweaty hand opened the door revealing a teared eyes jude with his nike tech set on.

you let him in, lips pursed not knowing what to say or even debating to say anything. you shifted your weight from one foot to another, you met his eyes, drowning in the rapidly as they never detached from yours. he let out a deep breath or sigh, eyes fluttering as his voice croaked.

he sat on the edge of the bed taking a deep gulp before speaking. “i didn’t know where else to go…” he looked around the room and his body language was refusing to deny what happened. "jude," you whispered quietly taking a small step. you saw his eyes watery looking at you, "can y-y-you just hold me?"

you immediately rushed to him, his head coming to your stomach as his hands wrapped around you. you let him hold you, hearing his loud sobs muffled as you tried to be strong for him. your hands rubbed the top of his shoulders, the other scratching the nape of his neck to comfort him.

you kneeled to his level, holding his face in your hands as you stroked away his tears, jude refusing to let you go as he controlled his breathing. "we can talk about it if you want? but if a quiet setting is what you need i understand too..." you say, thumb tracing his cheeks.

"can we cuddle on the bed? i think i'm ready to talk about it," jude replies, grabbing your hands and placing kisses all over them. you did as you asked, jude laying on top of you as we spoke for almost an hour about how he felt and how things could've gone differently.

you listened, continuing to hold him stroking his back and scratching to soothe his cries or stutters. you didn't interrupt once, wanting him to have the floor to relieve his pain and let his feelings known. you could hear the frustration, tiredness, anger, and disappointment but overall the sadness in his voice.

after a quick share of words and laughter before jude fell asleep, his arms tightly around you as he slept peacefully. you pushed away any feelings, wanting to be there for him when he most needed it. it didn't matter what happened in the past or how you felt for him, he needed consolation and you were grateful he was here with you.

"what the hell is this?!?!" you struggled to open your eyes, feeling the heavy weight on top of you still. you saw your brother standing, before throwing away the sheets that covered both of you. "y/n i swear to god. you two cant be serious right now!"

"please relax its not what it looks like," you said trying to explain the situation, as you stood up and jude as well. " 'it's not what it looks like' my ass! hes my best friend y/n! and here you guys are together and cuddled it up," your brother winced at the end, pacing back and forth with his fists clenched.

"i came here looking to talk with someone! nothing happened i swear! we ended up falling asleep," jude defended, earning an angry look from your brother. "yeah you on top of here like some sort of couple, explain that."

"you're overreacting! nothing happened, period. he was looking for comfort and wanted to talk about what just happened, we talked just that," you say frustrated, becoming pissed at your brother for making up assumptions. jude looked at you with sorry eyes, for getting you into this mess.

"y/n, you don't understand, he's my best friend-"

"you think i don't know that? i know he is, and you're my brother, you weren't the only one who lost tonight. we gave you the space you asked for, and jude is practically like family, so i will be here for him when he asks," you say, watching your brother scoff and give you a look of denial.

"jude you could've gone anywhere else! why her? my sister?" your brother ignored you, coming close face to face with jude. it stung you, hearing him sound almost disgusted of you. "everyone else has families, and they're with them. i had no one besides you and her," jude tried to reason again.

"and you chose her? were best friends jude-"

"i needed her! there i said it! i don't care what you or other people say, i needed y/n tonight. you weren't even here, you took those walks to clear your head and the last i wanted was to stress you out after tonight. i love your sister so much," jude confessed making you gasp and step in front of the two of them.

"i think we should-" you try to intervene as the scene becomes loud in the room, afraid it would wake up others and them going to complain.

"what?" your brother deadpans at jude.

"i said i love her. i have and for so long. and tonight the only person i wanted to see and needed was her. so i'm sorry if that upsets you and for saying it now, but i can't hold my feelings inside any longer," jude says. you're afraid to speak, feeling like a kid all over again about to get scolded for doing the wrong thing.

"i can't believe this," your brother sneers, shaking his head in disappointment and walking away. you call out for him crying trying to resonate but met with the door shutting close. "he hates me. he hates me," you say to yourself, hand coming to your heart as it beats loudly and fast.

"he doesn't hate you, he hates me for falling in love with you. this isn't anyone's fault, we can't control our emotions or feelings let alone let other people control ours, y/n. i said what i said because it's true, im so madly in love with you, baby." jude brushed your tears away, kissing your forehead in a comforting manner.

"jude-" you speak but jude asks you a question that leaves you hesitant about whether to confess how you feel for him or protect your heart to make your brother and everyone happy.

"are you in love with me?"

[awkward-walking-potato]

I love your work so much!! Can I request a Gambit x reader where reader has a hidden injury after a mission? Any mutant ability is fine!

Beneath the Surface

The mission had been intense, but you’d done your part, fought hard alongside the rest of the X-Men, and came out victorious. Or so you thought.

Back at the mansion, everyone seemed to be unwinding after the battle. You smiled and joked along with the others, pushing through the nagging pain you’d felt during the fight. You’d taken a hit—a sharp blast of energy that had grazed your side—but you hadn’t thought much of it. The adrenaline masked the worst of it, and the last thing you wanted was to slow the team down.

Now, as you sat in the living room with the others, chatting and laughing, the pain was starting to creep back in, sharper, deeper. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, trying to hide the wince that crossed your face. No one seemed to notice. Good.

But, of course, he noticed.

Remy LeBeau had been watching you ever since you returned from the mission. He leaned casually against the doorway, arms crossed, eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion. You could feel his gaze on you, but you didn’t look up. You knew if you met those sharp red eyes, he’d see right through you.

“Y’okay there, cher?” Remy’s smooth voice broke through the conversation, cutting off whatever lighthearted joke had been thrown around the room.

You forced a smile and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

Remy’s eyes didn’t leave you, and you could feel the weight of his concern. His gaze lingered for a moment before he pushed off the doorway and walked toward you. “Tired, huh? Don’t look like that t’me.”

You shifted in your seat again, the pain in your side now unbearable, but you weren’t about to show it. “I’m fine, really.”

“Hmm…” Remy didn’t look convinced. He leaned down, his voice dropping so only you could hear. “How ‘bout we take a little walk, non?”

You glanced up at him, seeing the knowing look in his eyes. You could feel the eyes of the others on you too, but you didn’t want to make a scene. So, reluctantly, you nodded and stood up, biting down a groan as a sharp pain shot through your side. Remy’s hand was instantly on your back, guiding you gently out of the room and into the hallway.

Once you were out of earshot of the others, he stopped, turning to face you. His expression had shifted from playful to serious, concern etched into his features.

“Alright, chérie. What’s goin’ on?” His voice was soft, but his eyes were searching, and you knew you couldn’t hide it any longer.

You sighed, leaning against the wall and finally pressing a hand to your side. “It’s nothing… just a small injury from the mission.”

Remy frowned, his eyes narrowing. “Small, huh? Lemme see.”

You hesitated, but the pain was too much to keep pretending. Slowly, you lifted the edge of your shirt, revealing the deep gash along your side, still bleeding and clearly more than “just a scratch.”

Remy’s jaw clenched, and his eyes darkened as he took in the sight. “Mon dieu, *why* didn’t y’say somethin’?”

“I didn’t want to worry anyone,” you muttered, wincing as you pulled your shirt back down.

“Didn’t want t’worry—” Remy cut himself off, taking a deep breath as he tried to calm down. “Y’could’ve bled out, chérie. This ain’t nothin’.”

“I’m fine, Remy,” you insisted, though your voice lacked conviction now that you could see the look of frustration and concern on his face.

He shook his head, stepping closer. “Non. Y’ain’t fine, and y’ain’t foolin’ me. C’mon, we’re goin’ t’fix this up.” Without waiting for you to protest, he gently wrapped an arm around your waist, careful not to aggravate your injury, and began leading you toward the medbay.

As you walked, you could feel the tension in his grip, the way his fingers pressed into your skin, just enough to remind you that he was there, that he wasn’t going to let anything else happen to you. It was comforting, despite the pain.

“Y’know y’ain’t gotta be strong all the time,” Remy said quietly, his voice softer now. “We all got each other’s backs, *including* y’own.”

You sighed, feeling a bit of the guilt settle in. “I didn’t want to slow anyone down…”

“Chérie, y’never slow anyone down,” he murmured, shaking his head. “But y’can’t go hidin’ stuff like this. I ain’t losin’ you ‘cause y’too stubborn t’ask for help.”

You looked up at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Remy’s expression softened, and he gave you a small smile. “S’alright. Long as y’let me patch y’up, I’ll forgive y’.”

He kept his arm around you until you reached the medbay, where he carefully helped you sit down on the exam table. Grabbing the first aid kit, Remy took his time cleaning and bandaging the wound, his touch surprisingly gentle despite his rough exterior. The entire time, he muttered under his breath about how reckless you were, though there was no real anger behind his words—just worry.

When he was done, he leaned back, looking you over with a satisfied nod. “There. Now y’can stop pretendin’ y’ain’t hurt.”

You smiled at him, feeling a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the injury. “Thanks, Remy.”

He flashed you that signature grin, but there was something softer in his gaze as he leaned down, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Ain’t no need t’thank me, chère. Just don’t go scarin’ me like that again, y’hear?”

You chuckled, wincing slightly but feeling a lot lighter than before. “I’ll try not to.”

He smirked, his eyes glinting with affection. “Good. ‘Cause next time, I’m carryin’ y’outta there whether y’like it or not.”

You laughed softly, and for the first time all day, you felt at ease. Remy had that effect on you—always knowing how to make you feel safe, even when you didn’t want to admit you needed it.

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

Co-Stars pt.3

Callum Turner X Actress! Reader

Summary: The moment Callum and Y/n got together, and the interviews that followed...

Warning: Kissing/ allusion to sex/ use of Y/n/

Word count: 1.1k

Before they admitted their feelings, they flirted a lot. Especially on set, but today, they were filming a sad scene. It was Bucky finding Y/n character letters letter after she got captured. She didn’t tell anyone except the makeup artist, but she wrote real love letters, only changing the name. She confessed her feeling for Callum and decided to make him read these love letters as his character. But the letter that Bucky was reading was already recorded by Y/n. Tom Hanks asked her to write a love letter so he could react to one. But today, Callum was getting make up on, by the only person on set that knew… ‘’Callum, you should know that the love letter that your about to read, Y/n wrote it for you, confessing her real feelings for you’’ she whispered. The makeup artist wanted to help the two of them getting together, so that’s why she broke her silence vow. ‘’How do you know that?’’ he asked. ‘’She told me’’ she winked. Callum didn’t know how to act, but he sure was going to read every line of this letter.

‘’Action!’’ the director yelled. Callum came in the room, showing the emotion that needed to be shown. He grabbed the letter and opened it. He was nervous to read it, but he had to act.

Dear Bucky,

When we met, I couldn’t have predicted the place that you were going to have in my heart. You’ve been there for me since the beginning. I am truly thankful for you. You’re my best friend, my partner, my other half. I never told you how much I love you, more than a friend. I don’t really believe in the soulmate stuff, but you and I, I think we’re soulmate in every universe. I love you so much, it pains me to just be your friend. The sleepless night I’ve spent, thinking about you and I. You have the special ability to make me feel like the most important person on earth when I’m with you. My body aches when you’re not in a room with me, my heart hopes that you feel the same way. Because I’ve suffered enough, I want to be with you. I want you to be my tomorrow. I want to wake up next to you, and smile because my dreams are finally reality. When we’re in the same room, I feel like a 12-year-old again, waiting for my crush to look at me. You belong with me Callum Bucky. I loved you yesterday, I love you today, and I will love you tomorrow.

Forever yours

Rose

He couldn’t believe what he just read. When the director said cut, he stayed seated, that letter was filled with true emotions. He had to find her, to tell her that he was feeling the same way. He got up and walked towards her trailer. Y/n heard a knock at her door, when it opened, it was Callum, with her letter in his hand. She looked at the piece of paper, then her gaze went to his eyes. ‘’Callum I, uh, someone told you? Right?’’ she whispered. He nodded. ‘’Listen I – ‘’ Callum cut her off by walking up to her. Their face was so close, Y/n tried to hold eye contact, but she was panicking. She took deep breaths, waiting for him to say anything. ‘’Y/n, you have no idea how long I’ve waited for you. I was afraid to ruin our friendship. I love you too, I love you so much’’ he said, smiling. Y/n blushed and put her hand of Callum’s cheek, caressing his skin with her thumb. ‘’Please, can I kiss you?’’ she asked. Callum nodded and they pressed their lips together. It was gentle, but filled with passion, a tear of joy rolled down Y/n cheek. She was finally with the men of her dreams. ‘’I wanna be yours, Callum’’ she whispered. ‘’You’re already mine, Y/n, and I’m yours’’ Callum replied, between kisses.

-

‘’It’s time to address the rumors about you two!’’ Jimmy Fallon said, taking out pictures. The first pictures were one of Y/n and Callum passionately kissing/ making out against a telephone pole. The crowd screamed, and the couple wasn’t official yet, so it was awkward. ‘’You two are clearly kissing.’’ Jimmy said, laughing. ‘’Uh, we wanted to give the paparazzi something. I mean, they followed us all night, so we wanted to give them good content’’ Y/n blurted out. It was the first thing that came to her mind. ‘’Okay, I’m not convinced, what about this one?’’ he said, switching this picture. It was Callum carrying Y/n that was in a koala position on him. ‘’She twisted her ankle, and I offered to carry her’’ Callum said. They both looked at each other, blushing and trying their best not to giggle because they knew what happened after these photos. They went back home and had sex. ‘’But your hand is on her butt’’ Jimmy argued. Callum giggled and Y/n, too. ‘’You don’t but your hand on your friend’s butt?’’ Y/n laughed. ‘’I, no I-I-I don’t’’ Jimmy stuttered. Even if the internet wasn’t convinced, at least they tried to avoid more damage.

-

They with Drew Barrymore, after the date thing, they tried to act normal. ‘’What’s your favorite Rom-Com?’’ Drew asked. ‘’The Weeding Singer’’ Callum said. ‘’10 things I hate about you’’ Y/n replied. ‘’Wait, you love The Wedding Singer’’ Drew said, with tears in her eyes. ‘’Yes, the gestures are amazing and yeah, it’s really great’’ Callum says. ‘’Yes, chasing her on the plane. Y/n what’s your favorite love gesture a man as ever done to you’’ she asked. She thought about it. ‘’Uh, I think it was when I was 17, I was feeling really sad, and this guy drove 2 hours to come and give me a hug. Or when I was 24, I really wanted a ring, it was so pretty, not as an engagement ring, just to have jewelry, and the guy bought me the ring. I still wear it today.’’ She was talking about Callum. She showed the ring to Austin and Callum, to not be suspicious and when Drew saw it, she gasped. ‘’That’s so sweet! If a man gives me a ring one day, I think I’ll cry’’ she said. ‘’I did cry’’ Y/n laughed. Callum remembered that day like it was yesterday. She drunkenly said to him that she wanted to have a ring to fidget with, when the passed in front of a jewelry store, she pointed at a ring. The next day, he went to buy the ring and gave it to her when he got home. Saying it was a promise ring of friendship. Y/n bawled her eyes out and fell more in love with Callum that day.

[joels6string]

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RE4R Leon Kennedy x f!reader

Leon's home from Spain and the only thing he needs is a familiar face.

18+ only MDNI

content: a little hurt/comfort, established relationship, unprotected p in v, oral f!receiving, creampie word count: 3k

There were fewer things in life more pleasant than the feeling of a warm mug clutched against your palm, a thick, fuzzy blanket in your lap, and a book resting on your thighs. Your fingers are flicking at the corner of the page as you took in the words written so elegant yet simple on the page, transporting you to world’s beyond. It’s raining, and the brisk autumn air begins to nip when the sun sinks below the horizon, but you’ve been nestled totally content in your home since well before the light had begun to dwindle. Dinner was forgotten after a quick shower to scrub the day off your skin, the world so colorfully illustrated in black and white sucking you in too far for you even to feel the passage of time. 

Heroes and heroines, love stories and daring rescues, it isn’t your usual genre, but after enough recommendations you’d decided to give it a try, swallowing your pride to admit the praise was well earned to your friends when they asked. 

Knock knock

The sound of a fist slamming brutally against your door has your heart skipping as you squeak in shock, your eyes shooting to your clock to find it was nearing 1 AM, a time well beyond acceptable visiting hours. Another two bangs, and your spine goes rigid with fear.

“Are you home?” Even through the door, the sound of that slurred voice has your terror ebbing and annoyance flowing in its place. “Can you open the door? Please?”

Though you already know who it is, you peek through the small round glass, a mess of dirty blonde hair hunched against the doorframe greeting you. Muttering under your breath, you undo the chain, wrenching the door open hard enough to have none other than Leon S. Kennedy toppling over face-first at your feet.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you spit, your tone laced with so much venom even you feel its poison.

“Just needed to see you,” he practically whines, groaning against your cheap wooden floors.

“We’re not doing this, Leon. I told you, I’m done.”

“Please, Bug.”

“Don’t call me that.”

It’s almost embarrassing watching him try to stand, the thick arms that usually sweep you off your feet with ease barely able to push himself up, his face falling into your stomach as his foot gives way beneath him seconds after getting himself onto one knee. Instinct has you catching him from falling, and he wraps himself around you like a life raft, breathing in deeply as if he’s been trapped beneath the rolling tides and just found the surface. The desperation of it plucks at your pity chord, and your fingers thread into his hair and scrape against his scalp in the way you know he likes, soothing hushes falling from your lips as you cradle him close.

Your past with Leon is tumultuous, he is a man torn in two by the duties he’d sworn to uphold and the one thing that could convince him to give it all up and walk away. You’d met by accident, crossing paths with him at an event and leaving when his eyes as blue as a summer sky had consumed you completely. He was as sweet and playful as he was dark and deadly, and he’s careful to keep that latter side as far away from you as he could. And that quest had begun keeping him away for longer stretches, his ability to lock away the pain and anguish that plagued him beginning to fail. 

Spain had been his last location, he’d told you before he left he’d be overseas for an undetermined amount of time. It had been months. After weeks of checking reports and news articles to see if Officer Leon Kennedy had been killed daily, you’d given up. The thought that maybe he’d lied had passed through your mind, maybe it was his way of finally cutting whatever co-dependent cord that attached you to each other. Someone had to be brave and strong enough to do it, and you were certain that couldn’t be you. But here he is, drunk off his ass and clinging to you with every ounce of strength he has, and whatever his alcohol-induced plan is, you hate to admit it’s working.

You knew he was back, it had been all over the news, “President’s Daughter Saved by Hero!” That happened two weeks ago. Seeing him applauded had made your chest swell in pride until you recalled telling him this drawn-out sham of a relationship was over when he’d brought you the news of his latest assignment. You couldn’t take it anymore, the distance and the secrets, the months away and the lack of contact. It was practically debilitating, but it hadn’t mattered that he wasn’t your concern anymore in those months he was gone. It felt worse than waiting for an email he’d sneak in or a spotty phone call where you could barely make out the words but the sound of his voice still washed over you like a soothing balm. 

It’s why you couldn’t truly be angry now.

“Let’s go,” you finally urge, your tone gentler now, “Bed.”

It takes every bit of your strength to pull him into your bed, whiskey heavy on his breath when he collapses on top of you while mustering enough decency to kick his boots off as he sighs in what must be relief. Your lights are still on, and you’re certain the door is unlocked, but there’s no moving now, he’s too heavy and warm and familiar. You can’t be mad, because then you’d have to admit that you didn’t want this, that you hadn’t thought about the way your mattress just feels more comfortable with his weight dipping it down to the perfect point. It would be a lie. 

“Leon?” you whisper into his hair–it smells like a bar, stale, musty cigarettes and sweat–but he’s already out cold, too comfortable and content in your embrace now to stay awake.

He sees more horrors in a week than most do in their lifetime, and he finds safety here. It’s something you take for granted, especially in the long stretches of his absence filled with solo dinners and lonely nights, but it’s impossible to forget as he’s curled into you as much as his large frame allows, his breathing slow and easy. The familiarity of it drags you under, your eyes drifting closed as your fingers scratch soothingly up and down his spine. 

******

Butter crackles and pops over the hum of your podcast coming through the small speaker beside the sink. Early morning light filters in through the paper shades still drawn in the kitchen, the tiles cool on your bare feet while you chop fruit and various toppings for the omelet you’ve been thinking about making since last night. 

Leon was still in bed, getting out from beneath his heavy body without waking him could be considered your morning workout. He hadn’t moved an inch all night from where he’d fallen asleep pressed to your chest. When your rumbling stomach had become too much to bear you’d had to pull away, despite how little you found yourself wanting to. 

“That smells good,” a sheepish voice calls from the doorway, your head turning to find Leon slumped against the frame scratching the back of his head, his eyes avoiding yours, “I’ll go. I’m sorry for showing up like this. Thanks…for not kicking me out onto the street.”

“You can stay. Just take a shower. I can smell you from here.”

He laughs, his face lighting up enough to wash away the harrowing look he’d been wearing, “You didn’t throw my clothes out onto the curb?”

“I didn’t, actually. I like your shirts.”

“Well, they look better on you anyway.”

Ten minutes later as you plate fruit and omelets and pull two slices of bread from the bag on the counter, you hear him approaching, and you don’t even try to suppress the happy little smile settling on your lips. Flicking the toaster on as you spin, you soak in the sight of him turning into the room that always looks smaller when he’s in it. His hair is still damp and hanging loosely in his face, the shirt that was too tight months ago now on the verge of tearing at the seams when he reaches up to comb his locks out of his eyes. He looks better, the color returning to his face and the glow to the sea glass eyes you’d swam in so many times before. Your throat seizes for a moment when he flashes you a content smirk.

“What the hell happened?” you ask, your breath hitching when his arms cage you against the counter, his lips centimeters from yours. 

“I forgot how pretty you look in the morning,” he whispers, his thumb and pointer tipping your chin up softly. 

He gives you no time to comment on the blatant deflection, his pouty lips pressing to yours as he cups the back of your head, groaning when you reciprocate eagerly. Immediately, your hands find the warm, solid stretch of his chest, your hand falling instinctually to the steady beat of his heart. You’d learned early on that every symphony it beat into your ear as you laid on his chest could be the last, so the gentle taps against your palm are a welcome reminder that he’s still here. The dangers he faced had yet to lay claim.

“Missed you, Bug,” he murmurs against your lips, his nose nuzzling yours.

“Missed you, too,” you finally confirm, his relieved huff of laughter hot on your skin as he sighs in relief, kissing your forehead.

“Still mad at me?”

“Not til the next time you leave.”

“Gonna let me in the house when I get back?”

“If you’re lucky.”

It’s easy to tell he’s trying to control himself, the hardened bulge pressing against your inner thigh giving him away. His lips can’t stop pressing against yours, taking advantage of every pause in the conversation to peck at your still-speaking mouth, your arms finally wrapping around his neck warmly, his head burying into the crook of your neck. You lean your head against him, cradling him in the way you know he loves, his deep, content breaths heating the thin skin of your throat.

“I’m never lucky,” he sighs, and your heart aches for him.

This time is different, and you don’t know why. He always comes back battered and bruised both mentally and physically, but this time seems to have affected him even more than all the others. You don’t ask for details, he won’t tell you anyway, but you know he can work through it here, however slowly.

“You have a key, Leon,” you remind him with a chuckle, threading your fingers into his hair, “You can get in whenever you want.”

“You have to want me here,” he mumbles, “I have my own bed to sleep alone in.”

“I want you here.”

With those words, you pull his head up to stare into his tired eyes. You do want him here, and though your last outburst certainly had given him reason to think you didn’t, you hope he believes you now in the warm, soft realm of your embrace. 

“I want you here,” you repeat, “I want you here. Not there. Do you know what it’s like when you’re away?! I make myself sick, obsessing over the news and…and obituaries…”

You pull away to read the guilt falling over his features. It had come out harsher than you intended to, but the point was made. 

“I love you,” you whisper and then watch as he shatters.

“Saying things like that might make me consider retirement,” he chokes out, closing the space you’d made and leaning his forehead against yours.

“Oh yeah?” you respond, a sultry lilt to your tone as your hand drifts to the waistband of his sweatpants. “And what might convince you then?”

Before he can answer, your hand grips his already stiffened length, the way his breath trembles as you tug slowly sending a surge to your core. It takes him a moment to recalibrate as you drag your hand over him, and when he does, the ease at which he hoists you onto the counter makes you yelp, your arms wrapping around his neck as he wrestles your shorts off your hips. 

As soon as you’re free, you spread your legs wide, ready for his body to notch between them in a perfect fit, but instead, he sinks to the floor. Teeth graze over your inner thighs, just the thought of how close his mouth is makes your cunt clench around nothing but anticipation. Rough hands loop around your legs, pulling you closer to the edge before pressing his lips to your clit and suckling just enough to make you buck up against his face. His hair is soft when you knot your fingers through it and lean back against the cabinet behind you, his tongue probing into your fluttering hole greedily as he seeks to reacquaint with what he’d missed. 

Muffled groans are vibrating against you as he weaves through your slit, lapping at your juices leaking free before petitioning for more at your swollen bundle of nerves. You can see your arousal shining on his face when he pauses to take a lungful of air through a slackened jaw, his eyes as lidded as they were last night under the effect of alcohol. It’s shameless and unhindered the way he takes his fill, not that he was ever very timid before, but this time it feels like he wants and needs more, or maybe like he’d been afraid he’d never get to do this again.

You can already tell he won’t relent until you come on his mouth, so as the coil in your belly winds ever tighter you tug him by the blonde knots in your fist where you need him, enjoying the way he whined against your slick skin appreciatively. Two fingers slip inside you as his lips lock around your nub, curving and pressing the soft patch on your inner wall that has your vision flashing white. Every nerve is standing on edge as you lose control, your toes curling and fingers tugging on his hair hard enough it has to hurt, but he doesn’t stop or protest.

“Leon!” you cry out as you finally release his head to brace yourself on the countertop’s edge, “Lee-hmmm…”

His name is the last coherent word you get out before it’s only feral moans of bliss. You’re so close it’s like a fire burning in your limbs, every muscle tensing as you try to withhold it a little longer to prolong this moment where all you cared about was him and the way he could send you into the stars. When the tip of his tongue pinpoints and stiffens to flick teasingly before he latches once again, that’s all it takes to have the elastic snaps, sending a shockwave from your core all the way to the tips of your fingers, your scream echoing off the counters and windows. He’s satisfied with himself, smiling as he stands and lets your legs fall limply from his grasp, his hands catching your boneless body from slinking down onto the floor.

“M’gonna fuck you now,” he warns, gripping his cock that’s flushed purple and notching at your entrance, your response is nothing more than blind, sloppy kisses as you clean the taste of yourself off of his lips.

Your body welcomes him eagerly, sucking him in on his first thrust to the root. He sighs, gripping your waist to keep you still during the onslaught he’s set to release after you rip his shirt up over his head. Broad shoulders and thick pecs keep your fingers busy as you rememorize every dip and curve of his body, the slapping of skin on skin drowning out the pathetic whines falling from both of you as the sticky arousal leaking from your pussy soaks the patch of blonde hair at his base and drips down his thighs to pool on the waist of his pants he’s pulled down just enough. He’s not gentle, taking everything he needs with every hard piston of his hips, your legs quivering around him as you take every thick inch of him with no resistance. 

Leon wants to slow down, to savor the friction of your silky walls over his dick that’s craved anything but his own calloused hand for months, but he can’t. Not when you’re so wet it takes all his concentration to not slip right out of your gaping hole that’s pulling him in with a vicelike grip. He wants to flip you around and bend you over the counter, take you from behind where he can arch your back by tugging your hair, your ass rippling from the force of his thrusts, but you’re still kissing him so sweetly as he fucks you this hard, his throat currently being lavished by your affection instead of strangled by a monster. And it’s that reminder that sets him over the edge.

Thick, hot ropes of cum fill your cunt as his head falls to your shoulder, his thumb flicking over your clit as he steadies his breath and his cock softens. It doesn’t take long for you to find release once again, gentler this time, quieter than the wildfire of the first and you let it ember as the mix of your releases leaks free, drenching you both and dripping onto the floor. 

When he lifts his head to smile at you, his cheeks are flushed rosy pink, his eyes sparkling like gemstones before he cups the back of your head and kisses you in a silent thanks.

“I, uh, think we burnt the toast,” he chuckles, kissing you again before you can utter an unnecessary apology as the smell of charred bread finally registers, “Good thing I already had breakfast.”

Masterlist

[ariseur]

✧˖° - 5 CENTIMETERS PER SECOND.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ - featuring ; satoru gojo x gn!reader

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ - synopsis ; some bandaids and a movie is all you need with satoru.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ - word count ; 1.7k words, -7k characters

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ - cw ; sfw, gn!reader, friends to lovers ( eventually, for now it’s more so borderline ), mentions of blood and cuts, small cameo / mentions of haibara, suguru, and shoko, satoru teasing you when it’s all truth in actuality, intended lowercase

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ - notes - working on an angsty fic rn and decided to hold you guys over with a small satoru fic 🫶 hope you guys enjoy for now

“shut your mouth.”

“i didn’t even say anything—!”

you turn your head back at satoru, tensing your arms as you cross one over the other. “i could tell you were gonna say something stupid,” you grit your teeth, “you always do.”

as per usual, he lets out a dramatic gasp as his hands fly up to clutch at the left side of his button up, right where his heart is at. you scoff, shaking your head before turning back to rummage through the drawers, in search for gauze and a couple of bandaids. he sighs, “such low standards you hold me to.”

your fingers grasp a small box of tan colored bandaids as you huff at the saleswoman on the front, a painful looking smile on her face.

you bump the wooden drawer with your hip, walking back over to satoru who sits on the edge of your bed with his legs spread comfortably. you roll your eyes immediately once you catch sight of his face, a boyish grin plastered on his lips enough that his cheeks almost look a little rosy. satoru always got a kick out of pissing you off.

your lips press together into a small pout, even subconsciously, your face couldn’t help but give yourself away — only giving gojo all the more reason to tease you about it.

“shouldn’t you be with shoko? i’m sure she’d be doing a much better job than i would,” you murmur as you grab his face, cheeks squishing beneath the rough pads of your fingers ( because no matter how many skincare products you’d use, you can’t hide the calloused feeling of your battles even from your body ) as you turn his face from side to side, trying to ignore the creeping prickles of embarrassment behind your ears under his gaze.

“you’re fun-ner to hang around—“

“not a word.”

“— and this gives you an opportunity to get close to me, such an honor, right?” his eyes narrow at you with his smile, now close lipped with his head tilted up at you. you suppress the urge to let out another, ‘tch’, and instead lightly smack his cheek, which surprisingly isn’t met with a wall of his ability and is instead responded with a half-hearted, “ow.”

“give me your hand,” you don’t look up at him when you say it, making a pout of his own begin to form on those pretty pink lips, a habit he’d always do when things wouldn’t go his way— which you were reminded, wasn’t often. your own hand extends as it awaits his own and you don’t even need to look at him to feel his obnoxious smile. “y’sure this isn’t just an excuse?”

“i’m sure, asshole.”

“ouch, i would’ve preferred ‘handsome’ but you know, whatever floats your boat,” he says. you know he’s just teasing but a flush can’t help but make its way to your ears. refusing to let it get to you though, you grab his hand yourself as you start to dab cotton on some of the open wounds left behind from his mission ( which you were still not given a clear answer on why he didn’t go to shoko for his stitches and instead bee-lined for your dorm, in need of you ).

“maybe just keep your mouth shut for this part, yeah?”

“part?” satoru inquires, before his mouth twists into a sneer at the sight of you grabbing the hydrogen peroxide, putting the ball of cotton underneath the opening as you tip the bottle upside down for a split second before turning back to him with a smile.

you hum in agreement before grabbing his fingers, spreading his two middle digits as you examine the skin for the laceration you had spotted earlier. despite what he knew was coming, satoru didn’t make a move to escape. he simply closes his eyes, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist — thin fingers coming to where your pulse point rests. you can’t exactly say why you did it, but you let him hang onto you. maybe suguru was right. maybe he was growing on you, after all.

you grit your own teeth as if you were the one getting disinfectant on your own wounds. holding it there for a quick second, your ears prick up at gojo’s hiss as you pull away. “blow on it,” you affirm, causing him to peek a cerulean eye open at you, taking in the way you hold onto his fingers for a bit before looking away and making your way over to the trash can.

truth be told, you could’ve totally shoot your shot and threw the cotton ball in the trash from that distance, but you couldn’t let satoru have front row tickets to your sympathy ( even though you had a feeling he probably exaggerated his reaction for your attention ).

you hear a, “do it for me?” from behind you and turn only to see his puppy dog eyes and his glossy lips, holding his hand out for you to grab again.

you scoff, “let it burn then.”

he instead, blows cool air on it, like you asked.

walking back over to him, you hand him a small roll of finger tape for him to use and decide not to help him this time. an oxymoron lies within him, a man who can be so dumb yet so smart at the same time — he really can do anything, you think.

“you missed out this mission, y’know,” he laughs as you cross your arms, making sure he applies it right, and of course, knowing you see through his façade, he does. “me and suguru kicked curse ass. well, that’s nothing new but you know—“

“stupid,” you flick his forehead, not even letting a chuckle slip past your composed demeanor at his entertaining grumbles of, ‘ow..’ you put your hand on your hip as you cocked your head at him quizzically. “if you kicked so much ass, how come you can’t take care of yourself for once?”

“because i have my darling, amazing, and super caring friend to take care of me?”

“i’m not sure you’d describe shoko like that.”

“talking about you, you know,” he drags out the last vowel in his keen, rolling his eyes as a playful smile makes its way onto his face.

you laugh at that, “i’m not sure you’d describe me like that. did this curse scramble your brain or what?”

gojo tries not to reveal the feeling of triumph that arises in him when he makes you laugh, although his posture perks up a little too obviously at the sound. he taps a finger to his chin in thought. “when have i ever not been nice to you?”

“you ate the cake that suguru got me for my birthday, you tripped me the other day, you—“

“yeah, but i do all those things because i love you,” he responds proudly — neither you nor him focus on the heavy weight it settles on both your chests. “yeah right,” you roll your eyes.

he sighs, moving back to make himself comfortable against the plush pillows of your bed as his head sinks into them. “so,” he grins at you, “wha’dya wanna watch?”

“bold of you to assume you’re spending the night here,” you huffed as you watch gojo’s arms fold behind his head, snowy strands of hair splaying out against his skin. “you wouldn’t kick your favorite friend out, would you?”

“so manipulative,” you mumble as he lifts his hips up so you can search for the remote under the covers, because despite all of your comments, satoru gojo is never denied.

once you find it, he reaches over you to try and grab it before you use your leg to keep him away. “uh-uh, my dorm, my rules.”

“actually, it’s the school’s dorm — if you wanna get technical,” he says, pushing up his glasses as his voice raises in pitch. you glare at him, he stops.

you surf through the multitude of movies that are available for free with your subscription, listening to satoru’s mindless chatter as he points out a few new movies that are coming to theaters soon, how he wants to see them with you ( and suguru, who he’ll hopefully use a decoy before he coincidentally ‘has plans’ and has to cancel, leaving you and satoru alone ).

“oh, that one—!” he points to the screen, propping up on his elbow as you click on the thumbnail. ‘5 centimeters per second’, you read as your eyes squint to read the synopsis.

“you really wanna watch a romance movie?”

“hey, it’s a good movie — haibara cried,” he retorts.

you scoff, “are you sure you didn’t cry?”

“whatever, let’s just watch it, yeah?” he grabs the remote from your hands ( making sure to graze your fingers with his own ) as he clicks the movie to play — the familiar tune of a piano quietly filling the room as you turn off your lamp.

you watch the opening, resting the back of your head against your hand as satoru gets comfortable. you try to drown his mindless chatter out as you close your eyes and focus on the low audio, the dialogue not even being enough to draw out his low voice next to you. the small nudges against your arm don’t exactly help either.

“you asked me to watch this movie yet you keep interrupting it,” you finally say, your speech cutting short at the last syllable once you realize his intense gaze focused on you. no smile, no teasing quirk of his brow, just an uncharacteristic glint of curiosity swirling around in his eyes.

you laugh to get the tension off before he smiles too, giving you an amused huff before turning his head back to the movie; once again ignoring the growing weight that sat on both of your shoulders, satoru’s heart palpitating ever so slightly as you tapped your foot against his.

cerulean eyes find their way back to you, finding your own pair fixated on the distant screen as takaki comes on screen. his grin widens further. he taps his foot against yours.

𐙚 join my taglist ; @sad-darksoul @kasumitenbaz @seternic @kalulakunundrum @2ukika

𐙚 requests are open — july twenty-seventh, 2024 ( 12:50 am )

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hey! Hope you’re having a nice day/night!

Can I request Bi-Han, Kuai Liang and Tomas with a healer!reader? Reader is like a witch/ sorceress  who specializes in healing magic while have a soft and gentle personality.

Thanks!

Tomas Vrbada

‘There we go little buddy, your paw is all better now. Just promise me that you’ll be a little more careful next time okay?’ You whispered as you finished up healing the injured paw of a tabby cat you came across when making a trip up to visit Tomas at the Shirai Ryu. You couldn’t bring yourself to just walk past and ignore the pained cries of the cat, so you immediately dropped everything to aid the poor thing back to full health as best as you could.

The orange tabby cat mewls it’s thanks as it then pushed it’s head into your hand as you were scratching it’s chin, closing it’s eyes and purring deeply in content and bringing a warm smile to your face, before boating off down the way you were heading, brushing past Tomas’ pant leg in the process. Your smile widened upon seeing the him as you quickly hauled yourself off the ground, dusting yourself down of dust and dirt before addressing the man who was smiling at you fondly.

‘How long have you been watching me?’ You asked softly.

‘Long enough to see you contemplating in bringing home a stray cat.’ Tomas teased upon seeing your flustered face.

If there was one thing Tomas adored most about you was your kindness and your willingness to help others in need. It was actually one of the many things that had drew him to you, along with how soft and gentle you were when tending to his wounds upon your first meeting. Needless to say from that day onwards you were constantly on Tomas’ mind.

‘I wasn’t going to…’ you murmured under your breath, distracting yourself from staring at his handsome face by fiddling with your fingers. ‘I came here to visit you but if I’m going to get teased like this then I’ll just leave.’ You huffed but Tomas was quick to step into view with a wide smile on his face as his hand reached for one of your own to hold, before beginning to pull you along with him towards the direction of the Shirai Ryu. ‘No need to make rash decisions now sweetheart.’ Tomas said, feeling beyond ecstatic in getting the opportunity to spend the rest of his day with you after a less then desired morning.

Your presence made him feel as though everything was alright and Tomas knew that he would be an utter fool to not take advantage of getting to coo at the inherent cuteness of a pair of blue jays cuddling up to one another, whilst doing exactly the same thing. Being within your company healed Tomas’ soul and he couldn’t help but be thankful for you entering his life, for it was a gift he wasn’t going to throw away anytime soon.

Kuai Liang

‘It’s only a scratch my beloved, nothing you should waste your efforts on.’ Kuai Liang tried to reason with you as you healed the last of his wounds from his previous mission. Thankfully it wasn’t anything too serious, just a couple of gashes and several small cuts and bruises littering his face, however that didn’t change the fact that you never liked when Kuai Liang came home with any form of injury. You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. ‘Well there not your decision to make Kuai Liang. You were hurt and I just so happen to have the ability to heal you of your hurt, so let me use my magic for it’s intended purpose.’ You rebutted.

‘I understand that sweetheart.’ Kuai Liang utters as he holds your hands within his own, thumbs stroking the inside of your wrists. ‘And I’m not trying to change that in anyway, it’s just that I don’t want you wasting energy on low scale injuries.’ Kuai Liang’s tender smile then became a frown as he continued to speak. ‘Whilst it’s admirable that you want to treat every possible injury. I just fear that there will be the day where you’re forced to make a harsh decision that you aren’t ready to make just yet.’

You smiled at Kuai Liang’s concern as you rest your forehead against his. ‘I’m aware of the fact that I can’t heal everyone, at least not yet.’ Your face sobered up upon a particular memory. ‘I have faced moments in my life where I’ve had my hand forced to making the hard call on who could and couldn’t be saved because of my limitations. It breaks my heart knowing I can’t heal everyone, I’ve heard it all before from everyone about how my dream is unrealistic.’

Kuai Liang tightened his grip on your hands reassuringly. ‘How do you power through all that grief and scrutiny my heart?’ He asked, genuinely wanted to know how such a sweet and gentle soul like yours could remain that way despite everything you’ve witnessed. You only smiled before shrugging. ‘I strive to become the impossible and learn from my shortcomings. I will try to heal everyone and if that fails then I’ll heal those to make up for the ones that I couldn’t.’

Kuai Liang couldn’t help but find your reasonings admirable and felt pride at the fact that despite everything you’ve seen and done, you were still blessed with your harmonious soul, your golden heart and healing hands. It truly was a testament to your strength, love and durability and Kuai Liang knew that you were destined to becoming the impossible, and so he’ll help in anyway he knows how because if there was anyone who could do it. It was you and Kuai Liang firmly believed that.

Bi-Han

‘Bi-Han, you’re hurt.’ We’re the first words the left your mouth upon seeing him outside your door, clutching at his side that was obviously the biggest cause of his discomfort. ‘Why aren’t you getting examined by the medics,’ you began to question. ‘Why come here when you’re obviously in great pain?’ Your eyes followed after him as he only offered a grunt in response before bypassing you and entering the room, heading towards the bed where he struggled to find a more comfortable way to sit down that didn’t agitate the wound.

‘Enough with the questions.’ Bi-Han growled through gritted teeth, his eyes clenched shut as he tried to block out the pain.

‘At least tell me why you didn’t go for a proper medical examination?’ You pleaded as you made your way to his side, immediately starting to examine the severity of his wound, but from what you can determine so far was that the wound wasn’t that deep; however it was still enough of an problem to cause issues with performing basic level tasks. ‘You have possibly the best of the medics within their field down there and yet you come here instead and force me to watch you writhe in pain?’

‘Does it even matter if I happen to put more trust in you to heal me then those medics you happen to speak so highly of.’ Bi-Han stated, taking you off guard with his sudden appraisal.

‘You trust me?’ You asked, meekly gesturing to yourself.

‘Yes, why do you think that every time i get injured I always happen to come here.’ Bi-Han said, staring at you as you recalled the moments where Bi-Han would come to your room with a new injury for almost every mission he went on. It was so obvious to recognised the pattern now compared to back then, but none of that mattered as you reminded yourself of the fact that Bi-Han was very much lying on your bed in pain.

You put on a professional front as you helped put Bi-Han into a more comfortable position. ‘Alright, now let’s see what we’re working with here.’ You said to yourself, fuelled by your need to meet to prove to Bi-Han that he was right to place his truth within you. Meanwhile Bi-Han in question could only watch you work your magic -no pun intended- with a neutral expression but within his dark eyes, besides flickers of pain, was a sense of pride. Bi-Han knew he was right to have trusted you long ago with nursing his wounds and even though he wouldn’t verbally admit it, he felt safer within your care and knew that if he showed an ounce of emotion unbecoming of a Grandmaster; you would never view him any differently nor speak of it to anyone outside of this room, which was probably the main reason why he entrusted you to heal him.

Trust was something Bi-Han didn’t give out willingly and neither did he just to just anyone. So to be blessed with the knowledge that Bi-Han trusted you to help him in his most vulnerable state, there was no need for any further clarification for Bi-Han often spoke his loudest through his actions. So when you finally finished healing him, all he did was give you a silent look of recognition of your efforts, before reaching out for your hands to then press two separate kisses to the palms of your hands of where your magic lies within to show his appreciation for your gift.

‘It was nothing.’ You’d then say, still not use to having so much of his undivided attention.

‘It’s more than nothing.’ Bi-Han said, ‘you deserve every ounce of recognition for what you do. It’s a gift, don’t waste it.’ He concluded before leaving your room.

[yaut-jaknowit]

Wazzuh homie. Got another idea, what about a fic with AP (upgrade pred/assassin pred) with a male reader who lowkey just can’t feel pain and ends up constantly getting hurt because of it- cue a broken nose in a spar and not even noticing it.

Thought it might be fun to write and as always have a nice day and I shall repay you with more edits if you want:D

Take A Hit

Pairings: AP (Assassin Pred) x AMAB!Reader

Word Count: 2220

Summary: On a mothership, surrounded by other hunters, you spar against a young blood. His skill is evenly matched to yours. A spar to level yourself up on the charts. With CIPA, you can’t feel pain or temperature difference. You break an arm, you keep fighting. You get cut, you keep fighting. The Yautjas are amazed at your ability that allows you to push through. An ability some are even jealous of. But pain allows for them to toughen up.

Author Note: It feels like forever since I've written for AP. Man needs some love. Took me a moment to warm up to him but the sizeeeee.... delicious!

Masterlist

Ao3

There’s a tournament going on currently. Each group is carefully picked out for their skills and strength. All of them Yautjas. Then, here was you. A ooman amongst their ranks, wiggling your way through the ranks and heading towards the top. No one believed in. Besides Assassin.

No one messed with Assassin. Except you. Similar with their ranks, you’ve wormed your way passed his hard, nearly impenetrable exterior, and into his heart. That’s why he stands in the sideline, others giving the giant space. He silently cheers for you win, for you to come out on top despite everything else against you. A human.

Before the latest match starts, you are standing in front of Assassin. Both of his massive hands cup your shoulders and kept you pressed to the fronts of his thighs. Not that he didn’t trust your ability, he whole heartily did. He didn’t trust others. There was a large dispute about your presence on the mothership. He quickly shot every argument down… with his fists. No one stood in his way again after that display.

Your head tilts back to find his bright, yellow eyes on you. “It’s going to be a tough one, Assassin. They’ve got me against, Diqrt. He’s got a score of eight to two,” you spoke directly to him and ignored everyone around you.

A grunt left him. His gaze flickers over to your opponent on the other side of the mat, waiting for his turn. Assassin couldn’t wait for when you wiped the floor with his face. He doesn’t like count the wins before they happen, but he knows you will win. The opponent may not know it yet, by the way he keeps smirking as if he already won. But, soon, he’ll meet his loss.

Finally, he looked back down at your alien face and patted your shoulder. “You know what to do,” he rumbled. There was one special trick you had that gave you a massive advantage against your opponents each time.

The inability to feel pain.

Some Yautjas would kill for an ability such as that. Others have seen it as a curse. But you, you use it to take down your enemies.

You reached up and placed your hand over his. Yours barely covered the back of his hand. “Kick ass and take names. I know, I know,” you groaned and shook your head. With the match soon to start, you pulled your shirt off of your body and handed it to Assassin. Another lesson he taught you. Less clothing? Less to grab.

A bell rang. “It’s my turn now.” You swiftly double checked over your weapons before slipping out from underneath his hands. “May Paya guide my hand.” Assassin let you leave to enter the ring and dipped his head, silently returning the words to you. He crossed his arm, a stern expression falling over his features. No one dared to step an inch closer to the mutant. Or else they’ll met with Cetanu shortly enough.

Diqrt was a head taller than you but around the same age as you. His strength surpassed yours but your skills made up for it, including CIPA.

A referee entered the square mat as well. A well aged warrior who has seen her fair share of battles throughout her life. The scars that decorated her form spoke more words than she could tell you. You didn’t miss the way she sneered in your general direction. Instantly, you knew if Diqrt pulled any games or tricks, she wouldn’t call him out for it. A game you needed to play carefully.

It’s a sight you were used to. But, you built your path up this far by yourself. They had no reason to act as if you cheated. Assassin has helped along the way, but teaching you how to fight, to defend. Never to build your path for you. He’s the only one who truly believes you can complete these matches. Everyone else only sees you as a weak, meek human. You couldn’t wait to show them how wrong they were.

The referee points to the respected spots the two of you needed to be at. You stepped up to the plate. Your opponent doing the same thing. The two of you eyed each other up before placing a hand on each other’s shoulder and giving a firm shake. Respect. Then, you both took the two steps away and got into position.

Not everyone’s eyes would be on you. But, you knew a lot would be watching. The human that has defeated the odds. Why not give them a show?

“Go!” the ref showed suddenly. Your coiled muscles rolled forward and easily dodge a swipe of claws meant to mar your chest. Able to feel pain or not, bleeding out is still on the table.

A dagger was unsheathed from its holder that framed your chest. It spun gracefully in your grasp as the two of you danced around each other. But you weren’t one for a dance competition. You flicked the dagger in your hands. It soared through the air. Swiftly, you pulled out another one and dashed forward. The blade was knocked to the side, as planned.

The distraction working to plan. You were able to thrust the blade into a weak spot along his armor. Armor that slightly restricted his movement but allowed for protection along his belly. Until, a thin blade finds the perfect slit to pierce his hide.

You ripped the blade out and rolled away, barely missing the heel of his foot. A grin plastered its way onto your face. Diqrt snarled and lunged forward at you half knelt body. He catches you. His weight doubled of yours and crushed the air out of your lungs. A wheeze left your lungs. But, you are rolling with him and fought your way to the top.

Claws rake across your face. Blood sprouting to the spilt surface and dripping down your face. You’re forced to scramble away from him and glared at him through the blood dripping down your skin. It blurs your vision. His dark blue scales blending in with the dark room itself. You growled and tightened your grip on the handle.

The dark form was hard to see but you were able to narrowly dodge a fist heading for your head. The air above your head taking the hit. You shot out your leg and hit him directly in a weak point on his ankle. He snarled his pain and collapsed down on the opposite knee. You go for a punch to his face in hopes to knock him out but your fist is caught. The limb is forced down until it reaches an unnatural angle before the bone gives. You feel the bone snap at the joint. You grunt with annoyance, knowing you couldn’t use the limb anymore. The blade falls out of your limb hand and bounces off of the mat at your feet.

Now, you were forced to use your non dominant hand to defend yourself. You pulled out another blade and backed away when he got back to his feet. There was a smirk on his stupid face. “What? A ooman can’t handle the big dogs?” he snarked and marched towards you. You rolled your eyes and ducked when he attempted to snatch your neck.

You make a move to get behind him and kicked him in the back of his knee. He grunted and fell back down but rolled forward and spun around. Diqrt lunged forward, fist slamming straight into your face. Your head whipped back with the force.

It was impossible to breath out of your nose, forcing you to pant through your mouth. Your lips curled up in smirk. He thought all of this, these injuries would drag you down. Never. Blood ran down from my nose and dripped down onto the mat, joining the neon blood of Diqrt. You swiped out your tongue and tasted it yourself.

When he darted back into your space again, you leaned out of the way then drove your blade into his wrist. Payback is a bitch.

The Yautja howled, head reared back. If this was a fight to the death, this would’ve been the perfect opportunity to drive a blade into his neck too. But, it was a shame it wasn’t. Maybe when they open up to the deathmatches again. You would love to teach them how much of a danger you are. Little but mighty.

The blade twisted, ruining the tendons in his hand. Diqrt yanked himself away from you and cradle his destroyed wrist close to his chest. You stood in the same spot and gazed at the injured Yautja with a smirk. Despite the injuries that would’ve downed any normal person, you straightened your stance. Blood continued to drip down your face, forever staining the mat.

Diqrt bowed his head. “I yield,” he muttered under his breath. You pumped your uninjured hand in the air with a roar that echoed around you.

A female referee reentered the arena. Your name falls from her mandibles. “The winner of the fourth tournament,” she announces and uses an arm to point towards your smiling, proud form. Then, the match ended. You calmly walked over to your thrown blade to pick it up before strutting off the mat towards Assassin. The male was expressional but his eyes shined with pride.

When you got close enough, he place a hand on your chest, above your heart. “Wonderful match, little one,” he cooed. You beamed brightly then reseated your blade. In the safety of your quarters, you would clean each blade carefully. Each wound properly taken care of. For now, your limp wrist hung at your side. This break would need to be seen by a healer.

You stepped back enough to card your digits between his and hold onto his hand. “I couldn’t have done without you, Assassin. I appreciate all that you’ve done for me,” you spoke softly, words only meant for him. No one deserved these words besides the Yautja in front of you.

Assassin grunted then pulled at your arm. The giant parted the crowd as the two of you left. Normally, you would’ve stayed to watch the rest of the matches but they wounds needed to be cared for.

Through the halls of the ship he knew like the back of his hand, he took you a floor up. It wasn’t long before the two of you arrived at the healers section. Many of them prepared for a night like this. It was usual a blood bath on tournament nights. Today was no different.

At the sight of Assassin, the two of you were ushered to the front of other waiting young bloods. You didn’t care if you had to wait, the pain… well it didn’t bother you at all. You smiled to yourself at the thought. The others, they were probably aching, anger at your treatment. You felt their gaze on you but your head was held high, holding the hand of a dangerous Yautja at your side.

Over the course of probably three minutes, they had set your wrist and used a cast to keep it in place. It wasn’t as bad as you originally thought. Their advance technology easily took care of it.

As for the cuts, Assassin insisted he could take care of those himself. Then, the two of you were back in the safety of your shared quarters. Before you had a chance to slip off the weapon harness around your chest, Assassin was unclipping the buckles. You raised a brow at his eagerness. Not that you weren’t thankful for his help. The brace that kept your hand steady made it a little difficult to move your fingers. Plus, if the man wants to help, why not?

His hands drifted down to the knot that kept your shorts around your waist. The grin on your face widened. “I don’t think I was injured down there, Assassin,” you teased but did nothing to stop him. The two of you have been toeing with each other for some time. You were waiting for a moment like this.

Assassin didn’t stop. One of his hands snatched your throat in a tight grasp and pulled you close to his face. The tips of toes barely touching the ground. “I know. I’m on a different mission. I’m done waiting,” he snarled. His voice giving away to the emotions swirling inside of him. You laughed and let him pull off the clothing from your hips. Now, you were only adorned in a pair of boxers.

“Finally,” you snorted and worked on his own belt. It was more complicated than your simple knot. But he tightened his hold, cutting off both air and blood to your head.

“No, I control. You listen.” You raised a brow at his action then shook your head in disbelief.

“What makes you think I’ll just submit to you willy-nilly?” you snarked and rolled your eyes. There’s more of a chance for him to snap your neck, but he wouldn’t.

Something flashed in his eyes. His free hand cupped your growing bulge in your boxers. A gasp tore from your throat at the sudden pleasure. “That’s why.” Fuck yourself. You were in it for the night.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

This is kinda angst/fluff idk, kinda fic.

So Eri!Reader x Strawhat crew but Overhall just appeared same like Eri later on but was at an diffrent Island. The strawhats went to the Island because adventure , meets Overhaul, Eri!Reader saying that this is the man Overhaul, the rest is yours to do and change.

Thank you. I hope your doing well ❤️

-He didn’t know what to make of this strange new world he suddenly found himself in, he had been studying the strange energy that had appeared when you vanished all those years ago, trying to find you- he wanted you back- there was still too much work to be done.

-Seeing the unusual abilities and beings of this new world, Overhaul knew he had to be careful, as there were many powerful people around, ones that could easily bounce his ass like a basketball.

-He couldn’t believe his luck when he came across a bounty poster- your bounty poster, seeing that you were heavily wanted in this world, which made him concerned that there were people in this world who knew about your ability- the one he wanted for himself again.

-He learned you were a part of a pirate crew, which was a bit shocking, not gonna lie, as he hadn’t been expecting that, but know that he knew the name of your crew, he could work on tracking you down.

-Overhaul managed to take a small ship, sailing out to find out, being quite naïve on how dangerous the ocean was, and was shipwrecked on a deserted island, much to his annoyance.

-His luck turned around when he heard shouting and he carefully peeked through the trees, seeing that the Sunny was anchored just off the island, as your crew wanted to explore, looking for creatures to hunt for meat.

-You stepped onto the beach first, feeling the warm sand before Overhaul stepped out, “Y/N?” your blood immediately froze as you turned and everyone saw the young man there, holding a bird mask in his free hand, looking a bit haggard as you took a step back, unable to find your words, tears quickly pooling out of your eyes.

-Luffy glared hard, stepping in front of you, “Oi you bastard- why did you make Y/N cry?!” Overhaul was so relieved to see you, and to see such a large ship ready to be taken so he could take out and continue his research, everything was working out perfectly.

-Robin had kneeled, taking you into her arms as you managed to speak only one word, “Overhaul…” everything seemed to stand still, eyes wide as they all looked at this man, realizing that this was the man who hurt you.

-Overhaul froze, seeing your crew- no… your family, all glaring at him darkly, pain and death were the only emotions they were showing, they wanted to kill Overhaul for what he did to you. He felt his heart stutter, feeling their power, feeling their anger.

-Robin stood with you in her arms and his gaze shifted to her, or rather to you, as you looked terrified, blanched face, eyes wide and full of tears, shaking and unable to even utter a single sound.

-Robin looked at Brook who instantly held out his boney hands to you, taking you in his arms and he turned, quickly rushing back to the ship, running on water with you as Overhaul shouted, “Y/N is mine! Give her-” a massive punch cut him off as Luffy punched him with everything he had, sending Overhaul flying, trees and rocks breaking from the force behind.

-Your family made sure to take out all their anger out on Overhaul, making him feel so much pain, but making sure not to kill him- they wanted him to suffer, they wanted him to beg for death- they wanted him to feel the pain and suffering he had put you through.

-When they arrived back on the ship, after finishing the job once and for all, they found you and Brook down in the aquarium room in a blanket fort, as he had done his best to help you feel safe and secure, all while creating something fun for you.

-When you heard the footsteps you peeked out after Brook said it was okay and you saw your family, but no Overhaul. You bit your bottom lip as more tears well, feeling relief that he was finally gone and you scrambled out, rushing towards Luffy who kneeled and hugged you so tightly it almost hurt.

-They were all okay and Overhaul was gone- he would never hurt you again.