#he's just spinning so fast in my head and then explodes

[jetii]

By Your Name

Pairing: Wrecker x fem!Reader / Wrecker x Jedi!Reader

Words: 11,228/18,183

Tags/Warnings: angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, forbidden romance, unrequited feelings, love confessions, some kissing and heavy petting, smut in part 2

Summary: Ever since you were assigned to the squad, Wrecker has delighted in calling you pet names in Mando'a — an'edee, cyar'ika, mesh'la, the list goes on. Little does he know, you understand every single one of them, and it's starting to become a problem.

A/N: I wrote this months ago and got around to editing it recently and whoa, was not prepared for the sad. Sorry about that! This is mostly self-contained to part one, with part two being purely a smut add-on for my own amusement. I'll post that next week.

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You hit the ground hard, skidding to a stop face down in the dirt, your whole body aching. The ringing in your ears slowly subsides, and the sounds of battle come back in bits and pieces. The roar of blasterfire, the clatter of droids and metal feet, and crunch of tanks rolling over rubble. You groan and turn yourself over onto your back, coughing and trying to get the taste of dirt out of your mouth, just in time to see a droid bearing down on you, cannon aimed.

You try to move, but you’re completely winded. Your lightsaber was thrown from your grasp when you were sent flying, and it lay several feet away, taunting you with the idea of your own survival. You close your eyes and prepare for the worst, waiting for the searing pain of a laser bolt tearing through you

There’s the sound of metal tearing as a large hand grips the droid’s head and rips it clean off its neck, and your eyes fly open as the metal body falls to the ground in a clatter of lifeless metal, its head still in the hands of your savior.

You look up and meet Wrecker’s eyes, and he pushes his helmet up with the back of his hand to offer you a toothy grin, the droid head held aloft in the other. The relief at seeing him alive and well washes over you like a tide, and you can only manage a weak smile back, your ribs smarting from the impact of your fall.

"That was a close one!" he says, tossing the head away like a child throwing a ball for a dog. It pings off the chest of a droid advancing on the pair of you, sending the metal soldier careening backwards.

"A little too close for my liking," you wheeze, and you take his offered hand. Wrecker pulls you to your feet with ease, the motion tugging you close to his chest, and his arm wraps around you to steady you.

“You okay, cyar’ika?” he shouts over the sound of another tank exploding, a cloud of debris flying up and raining down around you in a shower of dust and smoke. You nod, the movement stiff and stilted, and you pray he doesn’t notice the flush on your cheeks at the use of that Mando'a word.

And that's the problem, isn't it? Cyar’ika, sarad, mesh’la, all the words he said to you in his native tongue, thinking you wouldn't know the difference. It made your heart race and your head spin, and the fact that you understood exactly what they meant only made it worse. It was like a secret between you two, one you weren't supposed to know.

The words made your heart do cartwheels, but the tone he said them in?

That was what was really going to kill you.

The soft way he said the words, the gentle, affectionate way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention, the way his hand seemed to linger on your shoulder after pulling you back up from a fall, the way his smile made your knees weak... It all came together to paint a picture of how Wrecker felt. It was a picture that made your face feel warm and your throat dry, and it was one that was starting to drive you crazy.

It also drove you to distraction, so much so that you hadn't even noticed the AAT firing at you until you were flying through the air.

And now you're here, in Wrecker's arms, your heart beating fast for more than one reason. You take a moment to gather yourself before stepping back, Wrecker's arm falling reluctantly from around your shoulders, and you give him a grin that's a little stronger this time.

"I'm alright, thank you!" you shout back. "We need to stop that tank!"

Wrecker nods, and the two of you turn to face the massive tank, which was slowly making its way through the city, demolishing everything in its path. The cannons swivel back and forth, destroying a building to your right, then to the left, then forward.

You call your lightsaber back into your hand, and it flies past Wrecker's head into your awaiting palm. You ignite the blade and glance at him, and he grins and cracks his knuckles before slamming his helmet back onto his head.

"Ready, cyare?"

Your breath catches in your throat. It wasn't the word you thought he'd use, but the endearment has the same effect. He doesn't seem to realize what he's said, and you decide not to bring it up.

You can think about it later. For now, you had a droid army to stop.

"Ready," you murmur.

Wrecker holds his hand out to the side, bowing his head in a courtly gesture. "After you."

You roll your eyes and step past him, and you feel the heat of his gaze on the back of your neck.

"Keep up, then."

It doesn’t get any easier.

You try your best not to let it affect your performance. You focus on the missions, on keeping your men safe, but Wrecker is always there, with a compliment or a gentle touch, and the feelings grow until they threaten to burst from your chest.

He does everything in his power to make you laugh, and every time he does, your stomach feels like it's doing backflips. He calls you pet names and winks at you, and your knees get weak. He smiles at you, and the world seems to get brighter.

He does everything he can to protect you, and you find yourself falling for him, hard.

And you can't let it show.

So you ignore the feeling, try to bury it deep inside, but you can feel it growing, day by day.

You have never wanted to tell someone how you feel so much, and yet you are absolutely terrified to do it. It's almost funny, really. You’ve stared down the barrel of a blaster a hundred times, fought dozens of battles, and yet this one man is the only one who can make your heart race.

But there's a difference. With the other things, you could always fight back, try to fix the situation. But how can you fight against feelings? How can you stop yourself from falling in love with the most wonderful person you've ever met?

You can't, and you know it.

Every night, you think about telling him, but every morning, the fear stops you. In the light of day, the idea of a Jedi and a clone being together is ridiculous. It's impossible, and you can't risk your career and his life for something so foolish. So, each time, you say nothing, and the words go unsaid, lingering between the two of you, a heavy weight that seems to follow wherever you go.

You try your hardest not to think about it, but it's like a constant buzzing, an annoying insect that's always in your ear, always nipping at your thoughts, always reminding you of something you don't want to deal with. It's dangerous, and distracting, and it makes you worry that someday, someone will find out.

And that's the most terrifying thing of all.

If the Council ever discovered what was going on between you, they would have no choice but to separate the two of you. The thought of never seeing him again fills you with a deep dread, and the knowledge that it could happen at any time drives you crazy.

Every time the thought comes to the forefront of your mind, you try to push it away, and the effort has become a daily struggle. The others have noticed your preoccupation, and have done their best to cheer you up, but even their good-natured attempts have become frustrating, the reminders of what you were trying not to think about grating on your nerves.

The only person who doesn't seem to notice is Wrecker.

It's ironic, really. It's Wrecker who causes all the trouble, and it's him who's oblivious to it. He doesn't know the effect his words have on you, and if he does, he doesn't acknowledge it.  Instead, he seems to be more affectionate, more playful, more himself than ever, and the more you try to push away your feelings, the harder they come crashing back.

It's like being caught in a riptide, unable to stop yourself from being pulled farther and farther out, no matter how much you struggle. You wish he would stop, wish he would just back off and let you think, but a part of you doesn't want him to. A part of you wants this, wants him, and it's slowly consuming the rest of you.

The only thing that keeps you sane is the knowledge that you will have to return to Coruscant soon, and that when you do, you can go back to the Order, and put the distance between you that you sorely need.

You can't hide anything from the Council. The Force is your ally and enemy, and it shows you exactly how they would react if they ever found out about you and Wrecker.

Dismissal. Disapproval. Disdain.

All things you're not ready to face, and the sooner you're separated, the better. That thought, the idea that you won't have to see Wrecker every day, helps to soothe your anxiety, and, despite the guilt and sadness it brings, you look forward to the mission ending.

The sooner you can distance yourself from him, the easier it will be.

At least, that's what you tell yourself.

You have no idea how wrong you are.

The tunnel network on Akiva is a mess, a winding labyrinth of tunnels and dead ends. The six of you have been trying to navigate them for hours now, and it's starting to take its toll. You've lost the trail of the tactical droid you're hunting multiple times, only to pick it up again an hour later. Your patience is wearing thin, and the squad is getting restless. You're all tired and hungry, and the dim, flickering lights of the tunnels are giving you a headache.

"How many turns have we made?" Crosshair asks, his voice echoing in the narrow tunnel. He's leading the pack with Hunter, whose trying his best to keep up with the trail, though it's growing colder by the minute.

"I...have lost count," Tech admits bitterly, squinting at the holographic map of the tunnels displayed on his datapad. "Perhaps we should have split up, that would have made the task—"

"Not happening," Wrecker cuts in, his voice firm.

"I wasn't finished," Tech snaps.

"Yeah, but you were gonna suggest splitting up," Wrecker says, "and that ain't gonna happen. We're all staying together."

"Tech, if we split up, we might lose each other," Hunter adds, his voice strained as he concentrates. "This trail is difficult enough to follow as it is. I don't need the distraction of trying to find a missing man on top of it."

Tech opens his mouth to reply, but stops when he catches your eye, and you give him a subtle shake of your head. He sighs and nods, looking back down at his datapad. "As always, the logical course of action is the least popular," he mutters.

Hunter snorts, but says nothing, and you and the rest of the group continue down the tunnel. You trail behind the group, trying to keep your frustration in check, when you suddenly feel a presence behind you, and you glance back to see Wrecker fall into step next to you, a small smile on his face.

"Hey," he says softly, and you can't help but return the expression. You realize what you're doing and try to school your features, but the damage is already done, and Wrecker's smile widens.

"Hi," you murmur.

"You holding up okay?" he asks.

You nod, the movement stiff. "I'm fine."

"You sure? Cause you look like you're ready to kill someone."

You grimace and glance ahead, where the others were slowly disappearing from view, and you lower your voice. "I'm sorry. It's been a long day."

"Ain't that the truth," Wrecker mutters.

"This is a mess," you sigh, glancing around the cramped, dimly lit tunnel. "We're not gonna find anything at this rate."

He shrugs, and his elbow nudges yours gently. "It'll be alright, cyar'ika. We'll find him."

The affectionate word is like a bucket of cold water thrown over your head, and your heart skips a beat. You swallow hard, and nod, hoping he can't see the flush on your cheeks.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Cause we're the best there is," Wrecker says. His arm brushes yours as the pair of you walk, and his fingers bump yours. He pulls his hand back quickly, but not before his fingertips brush against the back of your hand, and you can't suppress the shiver that runs through you. "And we have the best General in the galaxy."

"Stop," you groan, the tips of your ears burning. "I'm not the best. I've gotten us lost three times today, Wrecker. Three. If I was a better General, I would have found this stupid droid by now."

"Hey," he murmurs. "It's not your fault."

You keep your eyes on the ground, but his hand comes up and his fingers brush the back of yours. Your hand twitches, but you don't move, and his thumb runs gently over the back of your hand. You're too distracted by his touch to notice that the group had stopped walking, and it's only when Hunter speaks that you snap back to reality.

"Guys, we've got a problem."

You and Wrecker stop short, and you pull your hand from his quickly, ignoring the way his face falls. You glance up and see the other clones gathered around the entrance to a large cavern, their backs turned to you.

"What's wrong?"

Crosshair steps aside to allow you to join the group, and his eyebrow arches as his eyes flicker between you and Wrecker, a smirk crossing his face. You pointedly ignore him, and he shakes his head before returning his attention to the task at hand.

"Dead end," Hunter says.

"I don't understand," Tech murmurs. He steps forward to scan the walls and floor of the cavern with his datapad, and Echo peers over his shoulder. "According to the map, this tunnel should continue on, not stop at a room."

"Well, clearly it does," Crosshair snarks as he moves past you into the cavern. "Or are we supposed to climb the wall?"

"The structural integrity of these walls is poor," Tech replies. "Climbing would only serve to bring the ceiling down upon us."

"Then how are we supposed to get through?" Echo asks, and you bite your lip, the wheels turning in your mind.

Crosshair's flashlight pans over the walls and floor, illuminating the room, and it's then that you see the marks in the dirt. Footprints, dozens of them, some large, some small. Hunter crouches down and brushes the prints, and he frowns and pulls his glove off, running his fingers along the floor.

"These are fresh," he murmurs.

"So are these," Echo says. He and Crosshair are crouched by the far wall, examining a patch of disturbed dirt. You move to take a step forward when a chill runs up your spine, and you freeze, the hairs on the back of your neck rising.

Something is wrong.

You feel it, the air becoming thick with danger. Your muscles tense, your hands clenching at your sides, and the others must sense it, too. They rise to their feet and turn to you, their weapons ready, and the only sound is the distant dripping of water and the soft whirring of Tech's datapad.

"What is it?" Hunter whispers, his voice barely audible, but you can't answer. Your eyes dart around the cavern, searching for the threat. There's no cover in the room, nowhere to hide, and it's making your skin crawl.

"I don't know," you whisper back.

Suddenly, the ground beneath your feet starts to sha, and the men shout in alarm as the shaking gets worse. Dust falls from the ceiling, and you scramble backwards, trying not to fall as the walls start to crumble.

"Go! Go!" Hunter shouts, and the group bolts for the tunnel. You trip on a stone, and the ground cracks and splits open, swallowing the rocks whole. Wrecker grabs you and pulls you to your feet, and the pair of you race after the others, the cavern falling apart around you.

"This isn't natural!" Tech shouts, and he ducks as a rock flies towards him, missing him by inches. "The droid must have set charges!"

"Doesn't matter! Just keep moving!" Hunter yells.

There's a loud roar, and the ceiling comes crashing down. You barely have time to throw up your hands before the weight of the cave-in hits you, and your arms tremble with the effort of holding it up. Ahead of you, the others shout, but the dust and rocks muffle the sound. Your knees buckle, and the rubble starts to push down on you, your back bowing.

No, no, no, no...

The rocks shift, and your hands slip, and the ceiling starts to come down again, and all you can think is that you're not ready, not ready, not ready—

There's a flash of black, and suddenly Wrecker is diving towards you, his arms wrapping around your waist, and the two of you are thrown to the side, out of the way of the falling rocks. He wraps himself around you, his broad shoulders protecting your head, and the pair of you hit the ground hard as the rest of the cavern collapses.

The impact knocks the wind from your lungs, and you're left gasping for breath, unable to move as the cave-in rages around you, the sounds of the others muffled by the rocks. After what feels like an eternity, the noise and movement ceases, and silence settles in, save for the soft tumble of stones.

Your eyes fly open, and you're greeted with darkness. It takes a moment for them to adjust, and you blink away the grit, a shudder running through you. Your limbs feel heavy, and it's only then that you notice the crushing weight on top of you. You can feel the hard edge of plastoid digging into your chest, something softer cradling your head, and Wrecker's heavy breathing fills your ears.

"Wrecker?" you rasp.

His body moves against yours, and his helmet buried in the crook of your neck, his chest rising and falling as he pants for air.

"Yeah?"

"Are...are you okay?"

He laughs, a soft, wheezy sound, and his grip around you loosens, his arms pulling back, allowing the air to return to your lungs.

"Am I okay? I should be askin' you that!"

You laugh, the sound coming out as a half-sob, and you feel his hand cup the back of your head, his fingers threading gently through your hair. "What...what happened?"

"You almost got crushed," he replies, his voice hoarse. "Had to get you outta there."

You blink rapidly, trying to get the dust out of your eyes, and the dim light illuminates his form. He's curled around you, his body protecting yours, and his arms are still holding you tight, one wrapped around your waist, the other cupping the back of your head, his fingers gently stroking your hair.

"Oh," is all you can manage.

"Yeah," Wrecker chuckles, and his grip tightens. "'Oh' is right."

"How did you...?"

"I dunno," he mutters, and his chest rumbles with his words. "I just knew I had to get to you, no matter what."

"Well, thanks."

You swallow hard, trying to ignore the fluttering in your stomach. His hand is large enough to cradle your entire head, and his thumb gently strokes the skin of your neck. You're suddenly hyper-aware of the feeling of him pressed against you, the weight of him, the warmth, the smell of metal and dirt and sweat, and you can't help the way your face heats up.

Your hand pushes at his chest plate, and his grip on you loosens. "Uh, we should—"

"Right!" Wrecker exclaims as his arms unwrap from around you. "Sorry!"

"No, no, it's okay!"

"I shoulda let go sooner," he babbles, and you can hear the flush in his voice. "I didn't mean to..."

"It's fine," you assure him, and you sit up, wincing at the aches and pains in your body. You can hear him move beside you, his armor scraping the floor as he stands, and a moment later, a gloved hand appears in front of your face.

"Need a hand?"

"Thanks," you say, and Wrecker helps you up. The pair of you stand for a moment, listening to the silence around you. The room is dark, the only illumination coming from the narrow gaps in the stones above you, and the occasional shift sends dust falling from the ceiling.

“—al…Wrecker! Are you alright?" Hunter's voice crackles through the comms, the sound distorted by static.

"I'm okay," Wrecker replies, stepping back a little as he activates his comm. He pauses and glances down at you, and his head tilts slightly, like he's looking you over.

"What is it?" you ask, and Wrecker hesitates, his fingers brushing yours.

"You sure you're alright, cyar'ika?"

The endearment is like a slap to the face, and you blink rapidly, taken aback.

"I'm fine, thank you," you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

Wrecker doesn't seem convinced, and his fingers curl around yours. "You don't sound fine."

"I am."

"Really?"

"Yes, Wrecker," you snap. "I'm fine."

"Wrecker, report!" Hunter's voice demands, and Wrecker pulls his hand from yours and activates his comm again.

"We're okay," he says. "Me and the General."

"Thank the Maker," Hunter replies. "What happened?"

You let Wrecker answer while you try to calm yourself, your heart pounding against your ribs. It's just a word, you tell yourself, and yet the knowledge that he was willing to put himself in harm's way, risk being crushed by the rocks just to get to you...

You're not sure how much more of this you can take.

"Is anyone injured?" you ask, cutting off Wrecker mid-sentence.

"No," Hunter replies. "A few bumps and bruises, nothing serious."

"Good," you say. You walk toward the wall of rubble, reaching out with the Force and testing it, searching for a way out. There are gaps here and there, large enough for a person to fit through, but the amount of debris is daunting, and you know that without tools, the task would take hours.

"Well, this is a karking mess," Crosshair grumbles, speaking your thoughts aloud.

“You can say that again,” you say. “We’ll try to dig our way out, but it might take a while."

“Negative,” Tech’s voice cuts in immediately. “This tunnel system is too unstable. Any further attempts to excavate the debris could result in further cave-ins, which could cause catastrophic structural damage.”

You sigh, leaning your head against the rocks. "So we're stuck?"

"It would appear so," Tech replies, and you can practically hear him grimace.

“What are your orders, General?” Echo asks. You can tell by the sound of his voice that he knows what you’re about to say, but the question still makes your stomach twist. You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, but the feeling of the walls closing in is growing, and the anxiety is starting to become overwhelming.

"You're going to have to leave us," you say softly.

The words are met with a chorus of protests, and you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to block out the noise. Behind you, Wrecker has fallen silent, and his eyes are burning into the back of your skull, his presence looming, waiting.

"You'll be walking blind," Hunter argues. "Without Tech, you could get lost."

"Or crushed," Crosshair snarks.

"It's dangerous," Echo adds.

"It is," you reply. "But we can't stay here. We need to find the tactical droid, and the longer we wait, the colder the trail gets. So get moving. That's an order."

There's a moment of silence, then: "Copy that."

“May the Force be with you,” you reply, and you turn off your comm and close your eyes.

The silence seems deafening after the sound of the voices, and you stand there for a moment, collecting yourself. You can still feel Wrecker behind you, and his presence is as comforting as it is suffocating. You take a deep breath and steel yourself before turning to face him, and you offer him a small smile.

"Ready to get outta here?"

He doesn't reply, and his gaze is so intense that it makes your skin crawl. You clear your throat and glance away, and when you look back, he's still staring.

"Wrecker?"

"You really think they're gonna leave us here?"

"They don't have a choice," you say gently. "And neither do we."

He grunts, but says nothing, and he turns away to scan the rubble, the flashlight on his helmet casting eerie shadows on the walls. You watch him as he walks the perimeter of the cave, and it's not until he's made his third trip around the space that he speaks again.

"There's a gap over here," he calls, and you cross the cavern to join him.

He's right; the rocks have formed a tunnel, large enough for you to crawl through, and when you peek through the other side, the tunnel stretches on for several meters, the walls and floor clear of debris.

"Well, at least we have somewhere to start," you murmur.

"I'll go first," Wrecker offer, and he drops to his knees and crawls into the opening, his wide shoulders brushing the stone. You follow close behind, crawling over the jagged rocks, and when you reach the other side, Wrecker grabs your arm and helps you stand.

"Thanks," you murmur, and the pair of you turn and shine your lights down the tunnel. It stretches on ahead of you, twisting and turning, the path vanishing around a corner.

"When I get my hands on that droid..." Wrecker growls.

"If I don't get to it first," you mutter, and the two of you set off down the tunnel.

It's slow-going, with the two of you constantly checking for traps or pitfalls, and the longer you walk, the more nervous you become. It's too quiet, and the tension between you and Wrecker is thick, like an unspoken word lingering in the air.

You've been trying to think of something to say, but every time you open your mouth, your throat dries up, and the words die on your tongue. Every time, you convince yourself to tell him how you feel, and how you can't deal with his attention, his affection, but each time, your nerves get the better of you, and you lose the courage.

After a while, you turn and glance back at him, and his gaze is locked on you, his head tilted.

"What?" you ask, and the word is sharper than you intended, but the tension is starting to make your skin itch.

"Nothin'," he says. You can hear the smile in his voice, and you sigh and look ahead again, trying not to think about his eyes on you.

"Stop looking at me like that," you grumble.

"Like what?" he asks, his voice low.

"I don't know," you say, your frustration getting the better of you. "Just...just stop."

He falls silent, and you bite the inside of your cheek, the guilt starting to eat at you. It's not his fault, you remind yourself. You're the one who has the problem. He's doing what he always does, and it's driving you insane, and he has no idea, and it's not his fault, it's yours.

"I'm sorry," you murmur.

"No, no, it's okay," he replies. "I'll...I'll try not to stare."

You can hear the disappointment in his voice, and you swallow the lump in your throat. It's not his fault, it's yours.

"Thank you," is all you manage to say.

Silence settles in again, and the two of you continue on, your footsteps echoing off the walls. Wrecker keeps his promise and doesn't look at you, and it only makes the tension worse, the distance between you yawning wider.

It's hard to see anything in the dark, and the tunnel seems endless. The walls are crumbling, and the ceiling is low, and every time the stone shifts, you're afraid the tunnel will collapse on you, and that'll be the end of the Jedi and her trooper, crushed in the tunnels on Akiva. It's not the way you expected to go out, but you suppose it could be worse.

It's not a very Jedi-like thought, and you shake your head, trying to clear your mind. The exhaustion is starting to creep up on you, the long day finally catching up, and you're not sure how much longer you can stay focused.

"You okay, mesh'la?"

Wrecker's voice, soft and low, catches you by surprise, and you glance up to see him watching you, his head cocked. You're not sure what's worse, the fact that he can see right through you, or the fact that he's still calling you those names.

"Fine," you lie, turning away so he can't see your face. "Just tired." 

"We can stop if you want," he offers. "Rest for a bit."

"No," you say, forcing a laugh. "I'll be fine. We need to keep going." 

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay," he replies. "But tell me if you need to stop."

You nod and walk a little faster, leaving him behind. The sound of his footsteps behind you makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and it takes all your self-control not to turn around.

You need the distance.

The longer the two of you are together, the closer you feel to him, and the closer you feel to him, the harder it will be to say goodbye. And if the way he looks at you, the softness in his voice when he speaks, the gentle brush of his hand against yours is anything to go by, Wrecker isn't planning on leaving your side anytime soon.

The thought makes your heart swell, but you push it down, ignoring the longing it brings. You can't get attached. You can't let him get attached. It's not fair to either of you.

Wrecker's hand finds your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. His grip is firm, but not painful, and his fingers gently squeeze, pulling you back a step.

"Cyar'ika, slow down," he murmurs. "Don't go runnin' off."

"Sorry," you mutter, and his thumb runs over your shoulder.

"S'okay. Just be careful."

He doesn't release you, and his grip stays on your shoulder, his thumb running gently over the fabric of your robes. You should pull away, should shrug his hand off, but his touch is comforting, and you can't help but lean into it.

"I will."

You don't move, and his fingers stroke your shoulder, the motion slow and rhythmic.

"What's wrong?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper.

"Nothing."

"Don't give me that," he says. "There's something bothering you. I can tell."

"It's nothing, Wrecker," you say, and this time, your words are firm. His grip on your shoulder tightens, not painfully, just enough to make his presence known. "Everything's fine."

"You can talk to me, y'know," he says, and the gentleness in his voice makes your throat close up. "Whatever it is, I'm here for you."

You stare at him, torn between wanting to scream and wanting to cry. Instead, you take a deep breath and let it out slowly. You can't do this right now. You can't handle his concern, his kindness, his affection.

"I said I'm fine," you say, your voice tight. "Just drop it, Wrecker." 

He stares at you for a moment, then his hand slips from your shoulder and falls to his side. 

"Okay," he says flatly. "I'm sorry."

You want to reach out and grab him, pull him back and apologize, but you can't. You can't even bring yourself to say anything, to explain yourself. You just watch him as he walks away, and the distance between you feels like a chasm. He's only a few steps away, but it might as well be miles.

You stand there, frozen, for what feels like an eternity, before finally you turn and start walking again. The silence is unbearable, but there's nothing you can do. You're trapped, with nowhere to go, and the man you care about most is walking away from you. It's a helpless, hopeless feeling, and you can't shake it. But you have to keep moving, so you do.

At some point, Hunter checks in and lets you know they're close to finding the T-1, but the knowledge does little to ease the pain in your chest. You keep walking, pushing yourself as fast as you can, but it doesn't seem to make a difference. The darkness, the silence, and the weight of your emotions seem to swallow you whole.

Wrecker doesn't seem to be faring much better. He keeps casting glances your way, and his posture is tense, his steps heavy. You know he wants to talk to you, but the words won't come. So you both suffer in silence, each step feeling like a betrayal, and the air is thick with things left unsaid.

When the two of you finally reach the end of the tunnel, the sun has started to set, casting the world outside in shades of orange and gold. The entrance opens into a field, the long grass swaying in the wind, and the sky is a vibrant shade of purple. It's a welcome relief from the stifling confines of the tunnel, and the sight of the sky is enough to make your heart ache.

I never want to be underground again, you think, and you take a deep breath, relishing the taste of the air. Beside you, Wrecker does the same, ripping off his helmet and sucking in a deep lungful of air.

"Fresh air," he groans. "I love fresh air."

"Me too," you murmur.

His head turns, and he smiles. "Glad we're outta there, cyar'ika?"

The affectionate word is enough to ruin the mood, and you glance away. "Yes. Glad."

"Good," he replies. His voice is soft, and when you look up, he's staring at you, his eyes searching your face. You want to look away, to avoid his gaze, but his eyes are like a magnet, drawing you in.

"Wrecker—"

"There you are!"

The sound of Hunter's voice startles you, and you tear your gaze away from Wrecker's to find the rest of the squad running towards you. Tech has his datapad in his hand, and his eyes are bright with triumph.

"I have good news," he says. "The tactical droid is—"

"Dead," Crosshair interrupts, and he tosses something at you. You reach up and catch the object, and the metal is still warm from Crosshair's grip. It's the head of a tactical droid, its expression fixed in a permanent nonplussed grimace, the red light behind its eyes extinguished.

"How...?"

"Hunter ripped it apart," Echo explains.

"I didn't like the way it was talking," Hunter mutters, and his shoulders shift uncomfortably.

"So, that's it, then?" Wrecker asks.

"Yep," Echo says. "Mission's done."

"Then let's go home," you sigh.

The men cheer, and the squad gathers around, jostling each other playfully. You smile at the display, and the weight on your chest starts to lift. You're free, the mission's over, and everything is going to go back to normal. It's a relief, and yet...

Your gaze wanders, and your eyes find Wrecker, and your chest aches. His expression is bright, a grin splitting his face, but his eyes are dark, and his smile doesn't reach them. Your hand tightens around the droid's head, and the guilt is almost unbearable.

It's better this way. You remind yourself. Safer. For both of us.

You can't risk the Council discovering what's been going on. If they ever found out, the repercussions would be disastrous. The thought of the men being punished for something that's your fault makes your stomach turn, and the idea of losing them, of never seeing Wrecker again...it's too much.

So you put on a smile and try not to think about the future, try not to think about what's waiting for you, the distance that will grow between you, the way you'll feel when the time comes to say goodbye.

The six of you pile into the ship, and Tech takes the controls, lifting the ship off the ground and flying into the evening sky. The takeoff is bumpy, and the ship groans under the strain, but eventually, you're in the air.

All you want to do is hide in your bunk, but there's a debrief to be done. Hunter is giving his report, and you're trying to pay attention, but all you can think about is the look on Wrecker's face.

You can't get it out of your head, and it's starting to drive you crazy. He was so happy when you got out of the tunnel, and now he looks like he's in pain, and you're the cause. You hate yourself for it, but the fear is still there, lingering, a constant reminder of the dangers that await you, and it's enough to make you stay away.

"We made it out with a few scrapes, but nothing too bad," Hunter finishes. He turns his head, looking between you and Wrecker. "What about the two of you?"

You open your mouth to answer, but the words die on your tongue, and the silence grows. All eyes are on you, and the longer you wait, the more concerned the men become. You look at Wrecker, hoping he'll say something, but he doesn't. He's staring at the floor, his shoulders tense.

"Uh, we're fine," you reply, and the words feel like glass. "No injuries. We're...we're good."

Wrecker scoffs and pushes himself out of his seat, stalking out of the cockpit. You watch him leave, a knot forming in your throat.

"That's odd," Tech murmurs, his eyes following Wrecker.

"Yeah," Hunter mutters. He shakes his head and sighs, then follows Wrecker, leaving you alone with the others

Crosshair raises an eyebrow and turns to look at you, his sharp eyes scanning your face. "Well?"

"What?"

"You really expect us to believe that?" he asks, his tone mocking. "You're a terrible liar, General."

You glance between him and Echo, and both of them are staring at you, their expressions unreadable. You swallow hard and force a laugh, shaking your head.

"There's nothing to tell."

"If there was nothing to tell, Wrecker wouldn't be sulking," Echo points out.

"And you wouldn't be sitting here looking like you're about to throw up," Crosshair adds.

"I am not," you argue.

"Oh, please," Crosshair snorts. "It's written all over your face."

"It's pretty obvious," Echo says, his voice gentler than Crosshair's. "What's wrong?"

You shake your head and rise to your feet. "Nothing."

"We're not gonna leave this alone," Crosshair calls after you.

"We're worried about you," Echo adds.

"Fine," you say, trying not to sound as defeated as you feel. "Worry. It doesn't matter. We'll be on Coruscant soon, and then I won't be your problem anymore."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Echo asks, his voice sharp, but you ignore him and keep walking. You can hear them arguing, their voices rising, and the words they're throwing at each other make your stomach churn. You keep your head down and keep walking, but before you can reach the bunks, you see Hunter and Wrecker. They're standing in the middle of the hallway, their backs to you, and Hunter's hand is on Wrecker's shoulder.

"—just give her some space," Hunter is saying.

"But she's—"

"She's fine," Hunter cuts in. "She just needs some time to herself. You've been a little clingy, and she needs a break."

Wrecker's shoulders stiffen, and the hurt in his voice is palpable. "Is that what she told you?"

"Well, no," Hunter says slowly. "But—"

"Then how do you know?" Wrecker demands, pulling away. "How do you know that's what she wants? How do you know she doesn't..." He trails off, his voice thick, and he turns, and his eyes land on you. The two of you stare at each other, the space between you charged with emotion, and when he speaks again, his words are quiet, and heartbreaking. "...want me?"

"She's a Jedi," Hunter says softly. "They don't...feel those kinds of things."

Wrecker stares at you, his expression open, the longing on his face so plain, so obvious, that your knees feel weak. You can't take it anymore. You turn away, ducking into the refresher and locking the door behind you

The room is silent, the air still. There's no sound but the pounding of your heart, the blood roaring in your ears. You lean against the door and slide to the floor, wrapping your arms around your knees.

You know what you have to do, but the idea is terrifying, the thought of saying goodbye to Wrecker too painful to bear. But he's hurting, and it's because of you. You can't put him through that, not any longer. He deserves better. He deserves someone who can be with him, can give him the affection he deserves, not a cowardly Jedi who can't handle the consequences of her actions.

The realization hurts more than you thought it would, but there's nothing you can do. You've known all along that this would have to end someday, and that someday has come.

The only thing you can do is let him go.

The next day passes in a blur, and the tension is thick in the air. Wrecker doesn't say a word, doesn't look at you, doesn't acknowledge your presence, and you're grateful for it. You can't bring yourself to look at him, and the others are quick to pick up on the change. They cast furtive glances at each other, their concern growing, and their efforts to cheer you up only make the situation worse. You'd much rather they focus their attentions on Wrecker, so you avoid all of them as best you can. 

It's easier this way. Safer. Less painful. 

And maybe, if you keep telling yourself that, you'll start to believe it.

Once you land on Kashyyyk to refuel, the five of them disappear into the village, leaving you alone to meditate. It's the one thing that can help you clear your mind, and you welcome the chance to relax.

The ship is silent, the hum of the engine the only noise, and the quiet helps soothe the ache in your chest. You close your eyes and settle onto the floor, clearing your mind and reaching out with the Force.

When you were a youngling, you were told that the Force was your ally, and you believed it. Now, you know better. The Force doesn't take sides. It simply is. It exists in everything, every living thing, and sometimes, when you meditate, you can feel it. It's a gentle brush against your senses, like a soft caress, and you let yourself sink into the feeling, allowing it to envelop you, and for a moment, everything seems to fade away.

That's why, when you hear the sound of someone approaching, you're startled, and your eyes fly open. You frown, remembering Hunter saying he'd comm you when the others were headed back. It's more than likely Tech sneaking away from the group to tinker with the ship, and so you stand, turning towards the sound.

What you see instead, however, makes your blood run cold. 

Wrecker is standing at the top of the ramp, his form silhouetted by the light outside, his eyes burning into you. You're frozen in place, unable to move, unable to think. All you can do is stare at him, trying to make sense of the expression on his face, but all you can see is anger, and your heart sinks.

"What's going on?" he asks. His voice is low, but there's an edge to it, and his shoulders are stiff.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm talking about the way you've been acting," he says, stepping further into the ship. "Ever since we left Akiva, you've been avoiding me. Why?"

"I haven't been avoiding you," you lie, turning away from him.

"Like kriff, you haven't!" he exclaims, and you flinch, the anger in his voice catching you off guard. "I've tried to talk to you, and you walk away! You won't even look at me!"

"That's not true," you argue. "I'm always—"

"Yeah, it is," he snaps. "You think I don't notice, but I do. You're always running away, avoiding me. Why? Just tell me why. Talk to me. Please."

"Wrecker..."

"Don't say my name like that," he pleads, his voice cracking. "Don't push me away. Please, cyar'ika, I need to know what's going on."

The endearment sends a jolt through your system, and you squeeze your eyes shut, trying not to cry. You've spent the past twenty-four hours doing nothing but thinking about this, trying to steel yourself for what's to come, and yet here he is, begging for answers, and you're not ready. You can't bring yourself to say the words, can't bring yourself to push him away, but if you don't, it will only get harder.

"Please," he whispers. "What did I do? How did I hurt you?"

You can't look at him, but you can't ignore him, either. The last thing you want is for him to think any of this is his fault, and so you force yourself to turn, your eyes meeting his, and your resolve breaks.

"You didn't," you murmur. "It's not your fault, I promise."

"Then tell me what's wrong," he pleads, and his voice is soft, and the desperation in it is enough to break your heart. "Tell me what I can do to fix this."

Wrecker reaches out and takes a step towards you, his hand outstretched, but the gesture is hesitant, almost as if he's afraid to touch you. When you don't move away, he steps closer, his fingers brushing the hem of your sleeve. His gaze is intense, his eyes searching yours, and the ache in his voice is enough to make you want to scream.

"I'm not good at this," he admits. "This...talking stuff. I never know what to say, and I'm sorry. If I made you uncomfortable, or did somethin' wrong, I'm sorry."

"Wrecker..."

"I just want to make things right," he whispers, and his fingers curl around your sleeve. "Just tell me how, and I'll do it. I'll fix it."

He's so earnest, so sincere, and the guilt is crushing. You can't lie to him, not anymore. Not when he's looking at you like this.

"It's not that simple," you say, and the words feel like lead in your mouth.

"Why not?" he asks, his voice raw.

"Because," you say, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. "Because I can't do this anymore, Wrecker. I can't..." You trail off, the words dying on your tongue. You can't bring yourself to say them, can't bring yourself to end things like this. But it's too late. He knows.

He drops his hand, and the look of pain on his face is almost enough to break your heart.

"Do what?" he asks, his voice shaking.

"This," you say, gesturing between the two of you. "Whatever this is. I can't keep pretending that I don't know what you mean when you call me those names. I can't keep acting like it's nothing, because it's not." 

Wrecker stumbles back a step, eyes wide.

"You knew?" he asks, and his voice is barely audible. "This whole time...?"

"Of course I knew," you say, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice. "You think I could have missed it?" You try to laugh, but it comes out as a choked sob. "You're not exactly subtle, Wrecker."

"Oh," he says, and the single word holds a world of hurt. He turns away from you, his hands curling into fists at his sides, and the tension in the air is palpable. A heavy silence settles in, and when he speaks again, his voice is a hoarse whisper.

"Why didn't you say something?" he asks. "Why didn't you tell me to stop?"

"I couldn't," you say, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I...I liked it too much."

"What?" Wrecker turns, his head snapping around to face you, and his expression is torn between hope and horror.

"You heard me," you say, fighting to keep your voice steady. You turn away, but his hand finds your chin, gently tilting your face back to his. The heat of his palm burns into your skin, his touch so gentle, and your heart leaps into your throat.

"Then why are you doing this?" he asks, and the words are barely audible. "If you like it, why are you trying to push me away?"

You close your eyes, trying to gather your thoughts. It's a good question, and one you're not sure you can answer.

"Because," you start, and then trail off. When you open your eyes, his face is inches from yours, and the pain in his eyes is overwhelming. "Because I'm not meant for this. For us." You motion between the two of you. "I have a duty. A responsibility. I can't...I can't give you what you want. What you deserve."

"But I don't want anyone else,” Wrecker says softly, his thumb brushing your cheek. "I just want you."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you close your eyes, trying not to cry. You can feel the warmth of his body, the weight of his hand, the scent of him surrounding you. You want to pull away, to run and hide, but the way his hands cradle your face, the gentleness in his touch, makes it impossible.

"You don't mean that," you whisper, the words like poison. "You can't. I'm a Jedi. You know what that means. You know what my life is. I can't give you anything, Wrecker. I can't even be there for you. I can't..."

"Stop," he whispers. 

His hands drop, moving to your shoulders, and he turns you, pulling you closer. You let him, and his arms wrap around you, his forehead resting against yours. The touch is warm and gentle, and his eyes are soft, full of pain and love. 

He's never been anything but gentle with you, even when he didn't have to be. Even when the mission demanded he take risks, put his life on the line, he was always careful with you. Always protective. Always gentle. And now, here, when the mission is over, the danger gone, he's still treating you like something precious, something to be treasured.

It's too much.

"Don't say that," he murmurs, his voice low and rough. "You don't get to tell me how I feel. You can't decide for me, cyar'ika. I'm not gonna change my mind. I'm not gonna stop caring about you. So just...just stop. Okay?"

Your hands find his, curling around his wrists. His pulse is pounding under your fingertips, and his chest is rising and falling with each breath, the beat of his heart matching the rhythm of yours. It would be so easy, so tempting, to let yourself give in. To give him the answer he wants. To give him the one thing you've wanted to give him for so long.

But you can't. You can't let him sacrifice his future, his happiness, for you. It's too much. Too selfish.

"Wrecker, please," you say, squeezing his wrists. "Don't make this harder than it has to be."

"Then don't do this," he whispers. "Don't walk away from me. Please." His voice breaks, and his fingers dig into your shoulders. "Just...just give me a chance."

You want to scream. You want to cry. You want to hit him, to shove him away, but you can't. All you can do is stare up at him, his face inches from yours, his eyes begging. It would be so easy, and yet, impossibly difficult. If you do this, if you give in, it's not just your life on the line, but his. If you give him what he wants, if you allow him to care for you, it will only lead to more heartbreak. More pain.

And yet...

You can't bring yourself to pull away, can't bring yourself to deny him. And, if you're honest with yourself, you don't want to. You've wanted this for so long, wanted him, and now that the moment has finally come, the opportunity has presented itself, you can't let it go.

"I can't," you whisper, your voice shaking.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm scared," you confess. You reach out and cup his cheek, running your thumb over the scarred tissue beneath his eye, and his expression softens. "I'm not supposed to feel like this. I'm not supposed to...to love you." The words come out choked, and the tears in your eyes blur your vision. "It's wrong. It's forbidden. It's...it's..."

"It's what?" he asks, his voice rough with emotion. "It's amazing? It's the best feeling in the galaxy?"

"Yes," you whisper, and the tears spill over. "But I can't do this. I can't...I can't let you sacrifice yourself for me."

"You think that's what I'm doing?" Wrecker asks. His hand slips from your shoulder, his fingers stroking your cheek, catching a tear as it falls. "Cyar'ika, I'd sacrifice myself for you a hundred times over. You think I care about what they'd say? They can go kriff themselves. I'd fight every single member of the Council for you, if I had to. But I don't need to. 'Cause they can't tell me what to do, and neither can you."

"You say that now," you mutter. "But—"

"I'll say it every day," he cuts in. "Every single day until you believe me. I don't care about them. I don't care about the rules. I just want you."

"Wrecker, stop," you whisper, but he shakes his head, his hands cupping your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks.

"I know you're scared. I know you're worried about what's going to happen. But we don't have to think about that. We can just be together. Just us. Nobody has to know. We can figure this out. Together. But you gotta let me in."

You stare at him, stunned by the strength and certainty in his words. He's right. You are scared. You're terrified. And not just of what the Council will do, or what the consequences might be. 

You're afraid of him, of the power he holds over you, the way you feel about him. But standing here, with his hands on your face, his eyes searching yours, it's enough to make you reconsider. Enough to make you question everything. And so you swallow your fears, and you say the words.

"I love you, Wrecker."

His lips part, and his eyes widen, and the sound that comes out of his mouth is halfway between a laugh and a sob.

"You mean that?" he asks, his voice tight with emotion.

"Yes," you say, and the word is like a weight lifting off your shoulders. "I do. I love you."

His arms slip around your waist, and he pulls you into him, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm on your face. He doesn't say anything, just stares down at you, his gaze burning, and the silence stretches on, charged with anticipation. And then, finally, he speaks.

"I love you too, cyar'ika," he says, his voice trembling. "More than you know."

Your heart feels like it's going to burst. You pull him close, burying your face in his chest, and his arms wrap around you, holding you tight. It's an overwhelming feeling, this affection, this love, but you can't deny it. Not anymore. And as you stand there, his body wrapped around yours, his hands running through your hair, you know that he's right.

"Don't let go," you whisper, your voice muffled by his armor. "Please, don't ever let me go."

"I won't," he says, his voice a rumble in his chest. "I got you, an'edee. Always."

The words send a jolt of warmth through your body, and you melt into him, allowing yourself to be swept away by the feeling. It's like coming home, the warmth and comfort washing over you, and the tension melts away, leaving only relief in its wake. 

You're not sure how long you stay there, wrapped up in each other, but when he finally pulls away, you're stunned by the look in his eyes. No one has ever looked at you like that. No one has ever seen you like he does.

"Better?" he asks, his voice gentle.

"Yes," you say, smiling up at him. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me," he says. "You don't gotta thank me. Just keep lookin' at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you love me," he murmurs.

"Oh," you reply, blushing. "Well, then, I suppose I should do my best. It wouldn't do for me to fail in that regard."

He chuckles, his hands sliding up your sides. "No, it wouldn't."

You shiver at his touch, the heat of his hands sinking into your skin. His palms are rough and calloused, and his fingers are gentle, tracing the curve of your waist. Your eyes meet, and his smile is so wide, so warm, that you can't help but return it.

"So," he says, his hands drifting lower. "Where does this leave us?"

"Us?"

"Yeah. You know, our relationship," he says. "Are we...together? Or do I still gotta keep pretendin' that you're just a friend?"

You sigh, a smile tugging at your lips. "Together, Wrecker. We're together."

"Good," he grins, his eyes bright. "'Cause I wasn't sure how much longer I could take it. Having you around, knowing how I felt, not being able to do anything about it."

"That's why I was avoiding you," you admit. "I knew if I had to spend much more time with you, I was going to break. I was already having trouble controlling my feelings. If we'd had another mission, I don't think I would have made it. I was so close to telling you how I felt."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Kriff, cyar'ika," he groans, his grip on your waist tightening. "I wish you would've said something sooner. Woulda made things a lot easier."

"I'm sorry," you murmur.

"Don't apologize," he says, his voice husky. "You're worth the wait."

Your breath catches in your throat, and his eyes flick to yours, and his grin turns mischievous.

"What is it, mesh'la?" he asks, his fingers digging into your hips. "Tell me."

"I, um..." You clear your throat, trying to ignore the way his voice makes your insides turn to mush. "It's just that...when you call me those names, it, uh, does things to me."

"Good things?" he asks, leaning in.

"Yes."

"You want me to keep saying them, then?"

"Yes."

"Well, I can do that," he murmurs. His breath is warm on your skin, his voice low and teasing. "And I can do a lot more, too. If you want me to."

You stare up at him, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, trying not to let your desire show on your face. You've never done anything like this, never even considered doing something like this. And yet, the idea of him touching you, kissing you, fills you with anticipation.

"I'd like that," you manage, your voice hoarse.

"You sure?"

"Yes."

He nods, and he leans down, his lips ghosting over yours. His eyes search your face, and he waits, and when you nod, he presses his lips to yours.

It's a slow, soft kiss, the barest brush of skin on skin. But the contact sends a thrill through your body, and you can't help but press closer, wanting more. Your hands move to the back of his neck, pushing yourself onto the tips of your toes, and he obliges, pulling you in.

His lips are warm, his tongue slick and hot as it traces the seam of your mouth. You open for him, letting him deepen the kiss, and his palm slides up your back, cradling your head. His thumb strokes your cheek, and the gentleness of the gesture sends a rush of warmth through your veins.

When the two of you finally break apart, your lungs are aching, and his breath is ragged. He leans his forehead against yours, his fingers tracing lazy circles on the back of your neck.

"Kriff, cyar'ika," he whispers, and the name sends a thrill through you. You can hear the longing, the need, in his voice, and it's enough to make your knees weak. "Do you have any idea how long I've waited for this?"

"Tell me," you say, your voice shaking.

"Too long," he murmurs. "Far too long."

You lean back, looking up at him. The adoration in his eyes takes your breath away, and you pull him down, kissing him again. This time, the kiss is deeper, more intense, and you can't hold back a moan as his tongue slips past your lips.

The noise seems to ignite something in him, because the next thing you know, his arms are around you, lifting you up with ease. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in, and his hands roam over your back, sliding down to cup your ass. He breaks the kiss, his lips moving to your neck, and the heat of his mouth, the scrape of his teeth, makes you gasp.

Wrecker sets you down on the edge of your bunk, and the height difference is suddenly very apparent. You're not used to being on eye level with him, but now, with your legs spread, his body between them, it's impossible not to notice. His gaze rakes over you, taking in every detail, and the hunger in his eyes sends a jolt of excitement through your body.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw. He sounds awed, like he can't believe his luck, and the compliment makes your heart flutter. "So kriffing beautiful, cyar'ika." 

You lean into his touch, and his fingers brush against your lips, the callouses of his hands rough against your skin. You kiss his fingertips, and the heat in his gaze makes you blush.

"Not as beautiful as you," you murmur. He shakes his head with a wide grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"No one's as beautiful as you," Wrecker says, his hand finding yours. His fingers lace with yours, and he raises your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of your knuckles. His touch is gentle, and the tenderness of the gesture makes your heart clench. "I could look at you forever. Never get tired of it."

The heat on your cheeks is unbearable, and you're not sure how to respond. Words can't capture the emotions coursing through you, and so you lean in, your lips meeting his in a searing kiss. He groans against your mouth, his hand finding the small of your back and pulling you flush against him.

You wrap your legs around him, the need to be closer, to feel his body pressed against yours, overwhelming. He seems to understand, his fingers tangling in your hair, his teeth nipping at your lip.

"I'm gonna take such good care of you, cyar'ika," he promises, his voice rough with emotion. "Promise."

"You already have," you whisper. "Just having you here is more than I deserve."

"Don't talk like that," he mutters. His hand slides up, cupping the back of your head, and he kisses the corner of your mouth. He tilts your face up to meet his, and the intensity of his gaze is almost overwhelming. "I've never wanted anyone the way I want you. I'm not gonna give that up. You're mine, and I'm not lettin' go."

The words are a jolt to your system, the possessiveness of his tone making you tremble. He's always been protective of you, but this is different. This is more than just a desire to keep you safe. This is something else entirely. You can't find the words to respond, and so you nod, swallowing the lump in your throat and praying the tears in your eyes don't spill over.

"Wrecker," you whisper. "I..."

"I love you," he murmurs, his nose brushing against yours. "So much."

The words are a balm on your aching heart, and the tears finally fall. Wrecker leans in and kisses them away, his lips soft and gentle against your cheeks. The tenderness, the closeness, it's too much to bear, and the emotions welling up inside you are overwhelming. You wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his chest, and he holds you tight, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

"I got you," he whispers. "It's okay. You're okay."

"I'm sorry," you murmur. "I don't know why I'm crying."

"I do," he replies. He cups your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. His eyes are soft, and his lips curl into a gentle smile. "You've been through a lot, and you're tired. You're allowed to cry."

You nod, wiping the tears from your face. He's right. The past few days have been exhausting, emotionally and physically. Between the mission, the tension between the two of you, the anxiety and uncertainty, it's a miracle you're not falling apart.

"Hey," he murmurs. "Stop thinking so hard. It's okay."

"I'm not supposed to let my emotions get the best of me," you murmur.

"That's some banthashit, an'edee," he says, and his voice is teasing, but there's a hint of steel in it. "You're human. You're allowed to have emotions."

"I suppose," you reply, unable to keep the smile off your face.

"Good," he says, and his thumb strokes your cheek. "We'll make this work. We'll find a way."

"Wrecker," you sigh.

"Shh," he cuts in. "None of that. We're together, right?"

"Right."

"Then trust me. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you," he promises. "I'll keep you safe."

"I know," you whisper, closing your eyes.

"We'll figure it out," Wrecker says. "It might be hard, but we'll find a way. We always do."

He leans in and kisses you again, his lips soft and warm. You kiss him back, allowing yourself to give in, to let go of the fear and worry, to let yourself be swept away by the feeling. He's right. It will be difficult, but it's worth it.

This is where you belong, in his arms, and no matter what the future holds, no matter what the Order says, no matter the consequences, you know you'll always have him. And that's more than you could have ever hoped for.

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @qvnthesia

@spicy-clones @kindalonleystars @cw80831 @totallyunidentified @heidnspeak

@lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @chocolatewastelandtriumph @etod @puppetscenario

@umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano

@burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @lolwey @hobbititties @mere-bear

@thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @mali-777

@schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @dreamie411 @sukithebean

@bimboshaggy @anything-forourmoony @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus

@ghostymarni @gottalovehistory @burningnerdchild @yoitsjay @callsign-denmark

@julli-bee @sonicrainbooms @captn-trex @feral-ferrule @webslinger-holland

@marchingviolist @deerspringdreams @chaicilatte @somewhere-on-kamino @silly-starfish

@floofyroro @veralii @chubbyhedgehog @meshlajetii @heaven1207

@808tsuika @aanncummings @lugiastark @maniacalbooper @sensitive_shark

@kashasenpai @kkdrawsdecently @isaidonyourknees

[jaz--hands]

oh percival fredrickstein von musel klossowski de rolo III the man that you are

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ THE CUTEST COUPLE ON THE INTERNET! ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: what happens when you flirt with one of his many rivals?

contents: fem!reader. playful jealousy, it's nothin' serious. toji flirts with you <3 chat continues to make fun of satoru + fortnite slander. pretty short but uh... anyways.

author's note: live laugh love streamer!gojo

"c'mon, satoru," suguru drawls, smiling at your boyfriend through the screen. "how'd you get eliminated so fast? you must've set a world record," he teases, poking fun at the way satoru completely bombed the last round.

you snicker from your spot on satoru's bed, and he turns and sticks his tongue out at you. satoru had convinced you to come over just a couple minutes ago, and any hope you had of doing your homework in peace flew out the window the moment he went live. 

"shut up," satoru huffs, turning back to his monitor and scrunching up his nose at suguru. the two are close enough for them to banter and insult each other without any fear of resentment. suguru laughs in response, velvety voice resulting in a burst of heart emojis from the comments.

"well, i gotta go," suguru sighs, leaning back in his dark, plush chair. he smiles and waves with a reminder of when his next stream will be before signing off. 

satoru spins around in his chair a couple times and scrunches up his face at the screen. "why are you guys still here?" he asks, ruffling his hair and raising an eyebrow. "y'wanna see my girlfriend again or something?"

the chat explodes with a flurry of yes's, so satoru swivels his chair around and looks straight at you. he looks at you expectantly, opening his arms and beckoning you. "c'mere, sweetheart," he says, voice singsongy and light.

"you're so annoying," you mumble, rolling over and hopping off his bed.

"and i'm all yours," satoru replies immediately, shooting you a cheeky smile. 

whenever you call him annoying or stupid or a clueless idiot, satoru responds the same way every time. and both of you know that you certainly can't do much better than your sweetheart of a boyfriend, even if he is the brattiest boy you know.

you run your fingers through your hair and walk over to him, resting your chin on his shoulder and waving at his camera. "hey guys," you say with a smile. satoru turns to his head to kiss your cheek affectionately, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you closer.

as you lean into satoru's embrace, you scan the comments. most of them are either hi's and hello's, but a select few make you laugh.

yuuji-itadori: they make me feel so single :( 

inumaki: brb im about to violently throw up

toji-fushiguro: she can do so much better tbh

satoru scoffs at the last two comments, jutting his chin out and glaring at the screen. "why are you two still here?" he huffs, pointing at the camera and narrowing his eyes. the hand on your waist tightens as satoru pulls you into his lap. "inumaki, don't you have a fortnite round to lose? and you, toji, i'm this close to blocking you from my streams!" he grumbles. 

the chat explodes with various expressions of laughter, and you can't help but giggle at the responses satoru's jibes get.

inumaki: kys

inumaki: whats wrong with playing fortnite??? most fire game ever fym

toji-fushiguro: im not here for u loser

satoru mimicks inumaki with a high-pitched voice and goes on a minute-long tangent of why fortnite is the one of the shittiest games ever, and eventually inuaki chooses to retreat with a last snarky comment before he disappears. then, your riled-up boyfriend turns on toji.

"if you're not here for me, who could you possibly be here for?" satoru snorts, resting his chin on the top of your head. his hands intertwine as he wraps his arms around you snugly, securing you on his lap.

the next message from toji catches you and satoru off-guard, but your reactions are entirely different. you laugh and smile bashfully, while satoru nearly knocks you off of him when he yells "what?!"

toji-fushiguro: i'm here for your pretty gf duh

before satoru can fire a thousand insults toji's way, you reach up and clasp your hand over his mouth. your boyfriend's eyes widen in the reflection of his monitor, and you have to suppress the urge to ruffle his hair and kiss him stupid. sure, you'll probably make out with him after the stream, but you think that it'd be even more fun to mess with him first.

"aw, you think i'm pretty?" you ask playfully, directing your words at toji. "i've seen you around," you muse, twirling a strand of hair around your finger with the hand not covering satoru's mouth. you smile coyly at the screen before continuing, "you're not so bad yourself, honestly."

satoru whines incredulously against your hand, and you can't suppress the laugh that slips past your lips. he bounces his foot on the floor impatiently, and eventually he reaches around you and quickly presses a couple buttons to end the stream. "baby, i love you but sometimes you drive me crazy," he grumbles, hoisting you over his shoulder as he stands up. 

"let me go!"

"okay!" he replies, dropping you on his bed with a cheeky smile. satoru's eyes narrow as he watches you scramble to sit up, and you puff up your cheeks indignantly. satoru plops down next to you and pulls you into his chest, face barely an inch away from yours.

"what was that?!" satoru whines, glaring at you sullenly. he tugs at the bottom of your shirt and juts out his bottom lip in an exaggerated pout.  

"satoru, are you jealous?" you snicker, leaning in and kissing his nose. he scrunches his face up and frowns, but the corners of his mouth seem to tilt upwards. satoru pulls you into a kiss and holds you there for a second, smiling against your lips. 

"no," satoru huffs, rolling his eyes. "i'm hotter than him, and i'm not a total asshole." he wraps his arms around your waist and nudges your cheek with his nose, clear blue eyes focused on your lips. 

"true," you agree, wrapping your arms around his neck and melting into his embrace. satoru really is the best boyfriend you could ask for—everything about the two of you just works.

satoru pinches you gently and kisses your nose. "say that you love me."

you smile and close your eyes, suddenly more relaxed than you've been in the last couple days. "of course i love you, dummy."

"love you more, cheate— ow, i'm kidding, i'm kidding!"

[sushiyuzu]

anxiety attack

warning: fluff + comfort — soft!sylus being there for you when you need him during your anxiety attack 🤍

a/n: because my fav person can’t even give me their time to comfort me when i was having anxiety attack just now, it inspired me to write this fic. so, moral of the story is, find someone like sylus <3

+ and big special shout out to those who experience the same issue. my heart goes out to all of you — you are so so loved and your feelings are valid 💕

you’re home alone, just sitting in your room when suddenly everything feels wrong. your heart starts racing, faster and faster, and it’s hard to catch your breath. it pounds so hard in your chest it feels like it’s about to explode. it’s as if there’s this heavy weight pressing down on your chest, making it feel like you’re trapped.

the quiet room around you feels too big and too small all at once, and the thoughts in your mind are spinning, moving too fast, making you feel even more trapped.

you try to calm yourself, try to take a deep breath like you’ve heard people say, but it’s hard. every breath feels shallow, too short, like no air is enough. your hands start to tremble, and soon you’re hugging yourself, hoping it’ll somehow make you feel better, make you feel safe.

only one name comes to you in that whirlwind of fear and noise inside your head—sylus. he’s the only person who can make you feel better, who can make you feel safe when everything seems dark and scary.

sylus had been busy with his work, handling important matters that required his attention. before leaving, he had carefully told you to stay at home and wait for him to return. he didn’t like leaving you alone, he never did, but this task needed his focus, and he wanted you safe. he knew you would be okay if you stayed inside and relaxed until he got back.

“i’ll be back before you know it. just stay safe for me.” was his last words before giving you one last reassuring look after a quick kiss, and left, confident that you would be there when he returned. he had planned everything carefully, making sure you would be comfortable and safe at home while he dealt with his responsibilities.

you reach out for your bag, fumbling for your phone, fingers shaky as you pull up his number. you don’t know if he’s busy; you don’t even care. all you know is that you need him.

desperately need him.

when he finally picks up, his voice is calm, strong. “yes, my love?”

“sylus...” your voice sounds so small, weak, but you try to speak through it. “i... i need you. please.”

there’s a pause on his end, and you wonder if he’ll tell you he’s too busy, that he can’t come. but then you hear him say, “what’s wrong?” his voice is full of concern now, a softer tone you know he only uses only when he’s with you.

“i can’t breathe,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “it’s too much... i need you here.”

you can hear sounds in the background—people talking, maybe even some loud voices, the noise of the city—but you barely notice them. all that matters is the warmth in sylus’s voice as he says, “i’m coming, sweetheart. hold on for me, alright? just breathe. i’ll be there soon.”

beep.

the call ends, and you’re left in the silence, but it’s not as scary as before. he’s coming. he’s on his way. you hold onto that thought, clutching it tightly in your mind as if it’s a lifeline. he’s coming for you.

you sit there, alone, every minute feeling like an hour. you try to stay calm, to keep breathing slowly, but it’s so hard. the panic comes in waves, crashing over you again and again, and all you can do is wait, wait for him to come.

finally, you hear the sound of the front door opening, footsteps moving quickly towards you. your heart leaps, and you look up to see sylus standing there, his eyes locked onto you with a fierce, focused look. in that moment, you don’t need words. he crosses the room in just a few steps, pulling you into his arms.

he holds you close, his embrace strong and steady, like he’s your anchor, keeping you from drifting away in the storm of your panic. his arms are warm around you, and his hand moves in gentle, slow circles on your back, as if he’s trying to soothe the fear out of you.

“i’m here, sweetie,” he whispers, his voice low and calming. “i’m not going anywhere.”

you clutch onto him tightly, your fingers gripping his shirt as if letting go would make everything fall apart. he doesn’t rush you or say anything more. he just holds you, breathing slowly and steadily, his warmth grounding you, bringing you back to reality. every so often, he murmurs soft words of comfort, his tone like a warm blanket, wrapping around you.

“it’s alright,” he says softly. “you’re safe now. i’m right here with you.”

he keeps one hand on your back, the other brushing through your hair, soothing and steady. he doesn’t let go, doesn’t pull away even for a moment. then, he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips warm and soft against your skin. that kiss says everything he doesn’t need to put into words—you’re his priority, his treasure, his heart.

you look up at him, still shaken but feeling a little bit calmer. “why did you come s-so fast?” you manage to ask, your voice still a little weak, a little unsure.

he looks down at you, his red eyes full of warmth and something soft, something that makes your heart ache in the best way. “because you’re more important to me than anything else,” he says, his voice gentle but certain. “you are my priority. always.”

his words wrap around you like a warm blanket, a comfort that settles deep in your heart, calming the storm still swirling inside you. he cups your face, his thumb gently brushing along your cheek, wiping away any tears you didn’t realize you’d shed. “when you need me, nothing else matters,” he says, his voice filled with so much affection that it’s almost overwhelming. “you are my most prized possession. my everything.”

his gaze softens, and he leans down, pressing his forehead against yours. he stays like that, close to you, holding you like you’re the most important thing in the world, like he’d never let anything hurt you.

in that moment, you feel safe. you feel grounded. the fear and panic that had taken over you begin to melt away, replaced by a warm, steady feeling. you lean into him, resting your head against his chest, listening to the steady, calming beat of his heart.

“i love you,” you whisper, barely audible, feeling the words slip out before you can even think about them. they’re true, simple, and everything you feel in that moment.

his lips curve into a small smile, and he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. it’s gentle, warm, and filled with a love that wraps around you like a protective shield. “and i love you,” he murmurs against your lips. “more than you’ll ever know.”

his arms tighten around you, pulling you closer, and for the first time since the anxiety started, you feel truly safe, wrapped up completelyin his warmth. he leans down, giving you a gentle sniff on your head, indulging your sweet scent that he loves, then plants a soft, sweet kiss there, as if he’s making sure you know he’s right there with you, fully and completely.

you close your eyes, breathing in his words, his touch, and the feeling of being in his arms. in that moment, nothing else matters. all the fear, the panic, the weight pressing down on you—it all fades away, replaced by the warmth of his embrace.

with him here, you know you’ll be okay. you’ll always be okay, as long as he’s by your side.

sylus keeps holding you close, his strong arms wrapped around you like a safe cocoon, giving you the comfort you need. his silver hair brushes against your cheek as he pulls you even closer, like he can somehow shield you from every worry, every fear. his eyes are softer now, looking down at you with so much love that it warms you from the inside out.

“come on,” he whispers gently, rubbing your back. “let’s get you comfortable.”

he helps you to your feet, holding your hand, guiding you through every step, his touch gentle but steady. he knows you’re still feeling vulnerable, still shaky from the anxiety attack, so he doesn’t let go of your hand for even a second. his grip is warm, reassuring, like he’s silently telling you, i’m here, i’m not going anywhere.

he leads you over to the couch, wrapping a cozy blanket around your shoulders and settling beside you. his hand never leaves yours, his thumb brushing soothing circles on your skin. the weight of the blanket, his presence, and the warmth of his touch help to calm the lingering tension in your body.

“you did so well, sweetheart,” he whispers, his voice filled with pride. “you’re so strong, and i’m proud of you.”

you feel a small smile tug at your lips, a warmth blooming in your chest at his words. “thank you,” you manage to say, your voice a bit steadier now.

but sylus doesn’t stop there. he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, leaning in close, his face inches from yours. “can i get you some water?” he asks softly. “or maybe something warm to drink?”

you nod, feeling a little more at ease just from his gentle, caring presence. “water would be good.”

he gets up, still holding your hand for as long as possible until he has to let go. you watch him walk to the kitchen, every movement calm and steady, like he’s trying to bring peace to every corner of the room. he returns with a glass of water, handing it to you with a soft smile, and you take a few sips, feeling the coolness help settle you even more.

as you set the glass down, he reaches over and pulls you back into his arms, tucking you against his hard chest. he’s careful, moving slowly, making sure not to overwhelm you, and you relax into his embrace, resting your head on his broad shoulder. he gently rubs your shoulder, his fingers working in soothing patterns, easing the last bits of tension from your body.

“you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to,” he murmurs softly, his voice low and comforting. “i’m here to listen, or just to be with you. whatever you need.”

you close your eyes, feeling the weight of the day start to fade, replaced by the warmth and safety of his touch. “just… stay with me,” you whisper, feeling vulnerable but safe.

he presses a soft kiss to your temple, his lips lingering there, as if he’s silently promising he’ll never leave. “i’m not going anywhere,” he replies gently. “i’m right here.”

he holds you for a while, just like that, letting you breathe, letting you feel safe. so safe. every so often, he whispers soft words of comfort, reminding you how much he loves you, how he’ll always be there for you. his hand keeps moving in slow, gentle strokes along your back, his warmth wrapping around you like a soft, protective shield.

and then, as if he’s making sure you know how loved you are, he leans down and presses gentle kisses along your forehead, your cheeks, and the tip of your nose, each one soft and full of affection. when he finally looks at you again, there’s a small, loving smile on his face, his crimson red eyes filled with so much care it takes your breath away.

“you’re my everything,” he whispers, his voice filled with a deep, quiet intensity. “never forget that.”

you feel yourself melting into him, the last of the fear slipping away as you take in his warmth, his strength, his love. you wrap your arms around him, holding him close, feeling safe, loved, and understood.

sylus just keeps holding you, never letting go, and in his arms, you know you’re home.

your forever home.

[38riku]

𝐁𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐕𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🎂 ꒱ ˎˊ˗

scenarios based on their birthday voice line. includes trey clover, cater diamond, leona kingscholar, and idia shroud.

/ suggestive if you squint. some of their voice lines are so flirty it's not my fault. gender neutral. /

𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐘 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 ☀︎ 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒

"ha-ha, way to put me on the spot. well, thanks. you know, according to the Queen of Hearts' laws, we're allowed to ask for anything we want on our birthdays ... h-hey, chill. I was joking."

it was slightly amusing to see the usually composed and cool headed trey clover flustered. his cheeks flushed pink in embarrassment. 'why did I say that?' he questioned over and over silently until his head started to spin.

"well, I'd hate to break one the Queen's laws." golden eyes widened in bewilderment at your statement. you were having the time of your life teasing him, weren't you? giggling like the menace he knows you to be.

your hands toyed with his tie, slowly and gently tugging at the fabric. if riddle saw him he'd surely hear an earful about proper dress, but, who cares? not him. not when you were flirting with him so blatantly in his room.

"what will it be clover?"

"what're you willing to give darling?"

the look in your eyes answered for him. everything. anything. no matter how ludicrous the request or object it would be his.

"you know you have my consent, yes?" your question was met with a nod, and a very deep gulp. he was great at keeping up the calm, cool and collected facade but, upon closer inspection — thundering heartbeat, cheeks now turning a deep red color, sweaty palms — he was, in fact, far from that.

trey didn't realize he had leaned in until he felt your breath fan his cheek. the faint smell of his birthday tart from the party reminded him that anyone could walk in. even so, there was no need to rush this moment.

it's his birthday after all. he deserves to be a bit selfish.

especially when it tastes like cherries.

𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃 ☀︎ 𝐀 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐘

"you remembered my birthday? thanks! you're so nice, taking the time to celebrate with me. okay, bring it in for a pic! gotta commemorate this on Magicam."

"today was fun! i can't believe you planned all this just for me." although he kept his usual happy go lucky cadence, there was an underlying tone of disbelief. he had asked you to pinch him many times during your outing yet it still didn't feel real.

each part of the day was calculated. no matter how many times you deny it, he was in the forefront of your mind.

there was no cake or sweet treat. instead, a plate of spicy curry with happy birthday written in sauce. it was a bit sloppy but made his heart warm and brain fuzzy.

he half expected the two of you to go shopping, however, you surprised him again with a trip to the bookstore. cater knew you enjoyed manga. it was a popular topic amongst you and the underclassmen.

"branching out is an important part of growing up!" you had lectured him. he found it amusing but allowed you to coerce him into getting a few volumes of your favorites.

not that it took much. you could ask for the moon and cater would find a way to make it happen.

lastly, was his dislike for crowds. thus, the two of you were on the quiet beach, watching the sunset as the sky exploded in various hues of warmth. it had been a cinematic ending to his birthday. and, for once, he didn't want it to end.

the celebrations typically left a bad taste in his mouth. literally.

if anyone were to make today the least bit tolerable it would be you. the two of you were friends, not super close but far from distant, and today – like many other days – time went by too fast, and wish you'd stay beside him a but longer.

"let's take a picture!" cater smiled, not waiting for your answer as he pulled you close. hopefully you didn't notice how nervous he was to hold you like this, so close, so warm.

with a silly face for the camera he snapped the photo, only to feel a burst of warmth on his cheek.

"happy birthday cater!" you were so genuine, smiling softly and asking "same time next year?"

cater couldn't bring himself to answer. but, if his toothy smile was anything to go by then it was a resounding yes.

for once he looked forward to next year. more importantly, spending it with you.

𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑 ☀︎ 𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆

ain't nothin' great about birthdays. it's just the day I was born. but if you really wanna celebrate it, I won't stop you. I always welcome presents.

"you know it's rude not to greet the birthday boy." it wasn't unusual to hear snide remarks from leona. in fact, he was ninety percent sure you expected this from your reaction. or the lack of one.

he didn't know why you gave him a birthday gift. but, since you did, it irritated him that you didn't deliver it yourself.

"you don't like it?" tease. even when you're cornered by a predator like himself you find time to dig under his skin. it was entertaining most of the time. right now, it simply pissed him off.

"if you're gonna be so bold as to give me a gift, at least deliver it yourself." huffing, he stood straight, content with getting his point across.

as hard as you tried to remain unbothered by his presence, you failed. your eyes watched him warily, anticipating something but not knowing what.

"leona, I don't know what you're planning but–"

"just thought i'd take the rest of my gift to go."

and, just like that, you were over his shoulder. as far as he's concerned the rest of your schedule is cleared to entertain the birthday boy.

what were you thinking? giving someone like him "coupons" as if he didn't already have someone to do his tedious work. as stupidly endearing your gift is, he intends to use each and every one.

naturally you end up in his room. unnaturally, he placed you down on your feet gently. he snorted at your surprise and handed you a small stack of clothes.

"your ... gym uniform?"

"put it on. you smell like your friends, and cat, I won't be able to sleep peacefully like that."

you scoffed at his reasoning but it was very very believable. leona felt a tinge of guilt for lying but, in his defense, if he was going to use you as a pillow you could at least smell like him.

the shirt was too big and you replaced his pants with your own clean pair of sweats. it seemed to have sufficed, because a moment later the two of you were, what he calls 'platonically cuddling'.

in his eyes, there was nothing platonic.

not the way you gently scratched his hair while scrolling on your phone.

not the way his tail curled around your waist protectively.

not the way he felt so at ease it he's barely conscious long enough to question the feeling before drifting to sleep.

𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐃 ☀︎ 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐄

what's up? I'm kinda busy collecting birthday voice clips from my game faves. after all, the only people who celebrate for me IRL are, like, my relatives. huh? you came to throw a birthday party? f-for me?! hrk... c-couldn't you give me a ready check or something before springing a raid on me?! i'm totally ungeared, and I haven't even watched a tutorial video yet!

the party wasn't as bad as he expected. just as you predicted, there are people who enjoy the same things he does — he and lilia play the same type of games, ace is a manga nerd — in short, his pop culture skillset was a sufficient substitute for his lack of social exp.

"look at you, increasing buddy levels with npc's. is now a bad time to say i told you so?"

"yes. you can't make fun of me on my b-birthday."

you laughter caused his hair to flare underneath his hood. although the party wasn't as overwhelming as he expected, you were still ... well, you, and you never failed to reduce his HP to zero with a smile.

imagine the damage he took when you suddenly took his hand, dragging him off to who knows where?

it was a critical hit.

"one more surprise." you giggled, opening one of the many doors in your recently renovated dorm. this specific room was decorated with the purpose of gaming.

the pc was decent, dual monitors, a soundbar, and a handful of game systems that cost more than a few thaumarks.

"now you can teach a mere noob like me all about gaming in the magic world."

all of this, to play games with him? it was unbelievable. he didn't deserve it. you were friends with plenty of maxed out characters and there were various love interest routes for you to take, yet, you chose him.

"i am pretty g-good. tutorial videos wouldn't help someone as h-hopeless as you."

it was the first time he spent his birthday with someone that wasn't related to him. teaching the main character (in his eyes) how to play video games. your shoulders were touching, faces inches apart whenever you'd turn to him, listening to him explain this and that.

idia had muted the party. buddy levels with npc's didn't matter when he was filling the romance bar.

© 2024 — 38riku. Do not copy or repost or plagiarize my work. All Rights Reserved.

[miniwheat77]

Alibi. (141 x Reader HC’s.)

You guys see those edits floating around tik tok with that Alibi song? (you know what I’m talking about.) so here’s a fic inspired by it. !nsfw, violence, mental health issues, death, blood, mentions of suicide, NO MINORS!

Can you remember when the last time was you felt safe in the dark?

All of the ways reader is valuable to 141, more than just as a soldier.

When I’m out of breath, she’s my vitals.

His heart is thudding in his chest. He can’t seem to calm down. Blood rushes from the knife wound in his side and he’s stressed. He knows he shouldn't have taken it out. He knew better and still did it. He doesn't know what he was thinking. He’s taking deep breaths, trying to calm down. He’s alone, his radio is broken and he can’t call for help. He can’t walk because he can’t stop his racing heart.

Just when he thinks he’s going to die alone, you come running. “I got you.” You breathe. Skidding to a stop, lowering yourself onto your knees in front of him. He’s sitting up against a building. You shove his shirt up, grasping his hand and forcing him to hold it over his wound. “Look at me, you’re bleeding too much because you’re too stressed.” You cup his face, forcing him to look at you. “You’re gonna be alright Gaz, look at me. Breathe with me okay?” You take in a deep breath, your imitation tactics will work on him. He stares back.

He takes in a deep breath, the feeling of your hands on him. Knowing that if he dies right now, he won’t die alone. It already calms him.

After a few deep breaths, he’s calming down. His heart has settled a bit more in his chest. You move his hand, seeing that he’s still bleeding but not nearly as bad. “Keep breathing like that Gaz, I’m gonna patch you up the best I can.” He nods his head, keeping the steady intake of oxygen. Medivac was on their way.

You look up at him. Smiling. "It's not happening today. Not like this." He laughs. Wincing slightly. "How are y-you always there ah?" He laughs. You look at him confused. "Anytime anyone is hurt you always know and you always come running." He laughs.

"I just do. You're my brothers. I'll always come running. I got you.” You breathe. “Keep breathing for me. Medivac is coming. I’ll be by your side no matter what alright?”

When I need to rev, she’s my ride or die.

Your teeth are gritted as you watch the scene unfold in front of you. The new recruit doesn't know you're there and she's been a total bitch to him since she started, but would only do it when no one else was around. When he brought it up, she called him a liar. She didn't know you were here and neither did he. "You know you're the weakest link of this entire task force? I mean really? I don't even know why they keep you around." She snorts. You let her dig her own grave but you can see him and he's fuming. Getting more and more angry as she keeps going. You're worried he might actually explode. You need the perfect moment to show yourself.

"You know I could say you hit me and they would kick you off of this base so fast because no one would believe you."

That was your last straw. You start walking into the room, your footsteps can be heard. The moment she sees you, she's got that same look on her face. The crocodile tears start. "Y/N thank god. He was just threatening me." She cries. Making her way toward you. "Is that true?" You look at him. He says nothing. Expecting you to take her side. You've always been ride or die for everyone and he doesn't know what so suddenly changed when she came around. He is clearly pissed.

"Look. Maybe we can talk this out. In private. Let's go outside and talk." You mumble. He rolls his eyes but knows he has no choice. The both of them follow you outside and the moment the door is closed, you grasp her shoulder and spin her around. Before she has time to react you’re punching her in the gut as hard as you can. His eyes widen. "Jesus!" He mumbles. You clamp a hand over her mouth before she can yell out. Backing her into the wall. "Not a word or I'll put a bullet in your fucking head and than there will only be one side to this story." You growl. He's standing off to the side. Surprised at how quickly this had escalated. "Everyone on this task force. Even him. They are my brothers and if you fuck with them, you fuck with me." You have her pinned. Right in the blind spot where cameras don't see it, which now he realizes was your plan all along.

You take another swing at her, busting her nose. Blood rushes from it. "Go to your room and clean up and if you say a fucking word I'll have your head. Understand?" You seethe. She nods her head.

She rushes away from you.

"You knew?" He asks. You snort. "Of course I knew Johnny." You laugh. Shaking the pain from your fist. "I always know."

"Thank god." He sighs. "Not just my word against hers anymore." He sighs. "Nah, we'll talk to Price and get her out of here. Let's go get a drink, calm you down." You rest your hand on his lower back, seeing the weight has clearly been lifted off his shoulders.

When I’m out of faith, she’s my idol.

It's times like this he wishes he hadn't taken on the responsibility of being a Captain in the military. He has to be someone these people look up to. But he doesn't feel worthy. He feels like he means nothing, sometimes he feels he leads them in the wrong directions. Sometimes going as far as getting them injured or killed. He doesn't know how to combat these feelings.

Some days he wants to give up. Wants to call it quits and leave this all behind. But he knows he has people relying on him. Even if he thinks they'd be better off without him. He sighs. Taking a drink of the flask he had in his hand. He's got the gun in his waistband. He shouldn't be having these thoughts. For some reason, his mind keeps travelling to you. Your smiling face despite being in the worst situations known to man. How you always seem to be so happy and keeping a good attitude. He wishes he could be that positive all of the time. He wishes he could be like you in a lot of ways but doesn't understand it.

He hears footsteps and quickly tries to hide the flask until he sees it's Gaz. "Garrick." He nods. "Cap. Something going on?"

"Ah. Same old. Wish I could change things I can't." He snorts. "Feel you there. Y/N asked if I could come find you, says she needs to ask you something." He nods his head. He wonders what you could possibly want this late. He stands up. "That girl. Swear. No matter what she's always so happy." He laughs. "Yeah you got me. I don't know how she does it all of the time." Captain Price laughs. "Wish I could be like her in a lot of ways."

"That's funny. She says the same things about you." He laughs. "Really?" He asks. He nods. "Yeah. When you're not around she tells stories. Talks about how you're basically her hero. Tells everyone all kinds of cool stuff you've done. Swears up and down that you're the best superior she's ever worked for in the military. Says she doesn't know what she'd do if something happened to you." Captain Price laughs. Shocked at hearing that you've said such kind things about him. "Such a sweet girl." He shakes his head. "Thanks Gaz. I'll see you tomorrow morning." He nods. He's going to go find you.

Right after he returns this gun to his nightstand.

I just killed a man, she’s my alibi.

Ghost sits in his house. His hands shake violently. He fucked up. He fucked up bad this time. He doesn't know how he'll talk his way out of this one. The man had gotten slick with him at the bar after what he’d done. He shouldn't have went in the first place. He should've stayed home. He doesn't know who to call, but you're the closest person to him. He's got no other choice.

You come running at the tone in his voice. He's clearly scared about something. When you arrive, you walk right into his house. "Simon?" You ask. He looks up. "What's going on?" He asks.

You had an idea of what it was. You'd seen the news this morning.

"A man was found dead in the back alley of a bar this morning, footage showed a man wearing a skull mask."

"I.. I don't know what got into me. He..." he trails off. "He corned this girl back there and I didn't know what to do. I just hit him. I couldn't stop."

You press your hand to your lips. Silencing him. "Listen to me-" A knock at the door is what startles you. "Go answer it and don't say a word about where you were until I'm down there okay?" You force him to look at you. You grasp the mask on his face and pull it off of him. He nods. Listening. He makes his way to the front door.

You look around the room, you know what you're looking for. You look across his boots and other shoes that he might've been wearing but they're all clean. Everything is all clean until you spot the gloves in his bathroom. You quickly shove them in your pockets and make your way to him. He's let the officer in. "I really was just wondering where you were last night?" He's got a little note pad in his hand and a pencil in the other. "Is something wrong?" You ask. Stepping into the room. "Oh uh.. just routine questions. Nothing serious ma'am." He smiles. "Oh.. we just got back from a black ops mission a few hours ago, did something happen?" You ask. "Uh.. well we're just investigating a death at a bar last night. Folks say they saw a man wearing a skull mask and we heard from around that you sometimes wear them." He looks at Ghost.

"Oh.. uh. I usually only wear those when I'm on missions to hide my identity. Don't want people knowing who I am and retaliating against my family." Simon explains. The officer explains. "Do you guys have a superior I can follow this up with? Just to double check?" He asks. You nod your head. "Yeah of course. I have his phone number right here." You nod. Drawing your phone out of your pocket. You relay the number and Ghost only hopes Captain Price will cover for the both of you. "You mind if I take a peek around?" He asks. "No. Course not." You answer, seeing the fear rise in Simon's eyes.

The officer disappears for a few minutes before coming back. "It doesn't look like I'll have to follow up after all. Someone made report that he had attacked a female and the person acted in defense for her. However we would like them to come forward anyways. So if you happen to hear about any of this, please give me a call." He passes a card to you and you take it. "Thanks officer." You smile. When he leaves, you lock the door behind him. Tugging the gloves out of your pocket. How fast you had acted.

How fast you were willing to cover for a murderer? What other lengths would you go to. To defend the task force?

"You owe me, Riley."

[svndaysaweek]

Niche — {Feat. Hanni}

4.5k words

A/N: Guess who’s back! I’ve returned, from 5 months of hiatus, with a long-waited Hanni fic. This was written when @kaedespicelatte was a total Hanni stan, but idk if he still is doing that… Anyways, please enjoy this spin-off of my Academia series. This time is about a bit about philosophy and love itself. Eternal gratitude to @usedpidemo for editing and polishing this one!

******

"Three, two, one!"

With a cute pout, Hanni, sitting across the table opposite to you, blows the gentle fire off all nine birthday candles. She looks so happy as you can read under the dimly lit dark orange dining room. A proud smile stretches wide across your face.

"Can't believe you're already this big, Hanni. This is for you."

You hand Hanni a small wine-red box, and with a surprised smile she brings it in front of her.

"What's this, oppa?"

"Open it,"

With a silent click the box opens, presenting a thin golden necklace with the letter 'H' in cursive hanging. Touched by your gift, Hanni lets out a long, surprised gasp before she looks up again at you, looking adorable.

"Do you like it?"

"I love it! What does this 'H' mean, oppa?"

"It could mean anything, Hanni. Happiness, hope, heart, and of course your name, Hanni."

Hanni stares at the letter on the necklace for a while with deep deliberation in her eyes. You watch her with a twinkle in your own eyes. She then looks back at you with a certain decision already made up.

"I'll just put all of them in this necklace, oppa. Hope, heart, happiness, and my name… They all are priceless when you say them."

You want to squeeze her in your embrace, only to be denied by the table separating you two. Happiness, hope, heart—and her name, Hanni. They all mean the same to you. She has been your happiness since the day you were adopted to her family. Your opaque, cloudy, uncertain future was given hope by her presence in your life. And heart–

"Heart, oppa. Do you know what the ancient Greeks thought of the heart?"

You shake your head.

"No."

Hearing your response, Hanni softly intertwines your hands together with hers. The cold necklace is handed into your palm.

"Can you put this on my neck?"

You rise from your chair and walk around the table to her, doing what she asked. Hanni rises from her seat too, facing your collarbones due to her height. She lets her hands softly rest on your shoulders, which you freely allow.

"They thought the heart of human beings contained their own souls within it."

You finish clasping her necklace around her neck. Looking down at her, she seems very shy and nervous. One of Hanni's hands trails down to the middle of your chest, where your heart is set alight, beating with an increasing rate because of her sudden but sensitive touch.

"I think your heart does. I can feel it."

For a moment, you lose grip on your consciousness and fall into her, but no.

"What are you doing, Hanni?"

You ask her as calmly and kindly as possible, not wanting to offend her even by the least. You feel so warm and so loved, but still, you are embarrassed and a little shy by the sudden touch on your body from Hanni. Nevertheless, she doesn't back up from where you are right now, as if she completely expected this to happen.

"You know, oppa, when somebody loves someone, the person can feel the soul of someone he or she is in love with."

You feel your heart beating faster and faster, as if responding to every word she says—as if her lips contain the spark that makes your heart burn brighter and hotter with each passing second.

Hanni's other hand finds one of yours and brings it to your chest, drumming fast to the point you’re certain your heart will explode. Your face is no different at all, furiously burning in front of her and throbbing to your crazy heartbeat.

"Which means, I love you."

Oh.

By now, you already knew it was coming, but when you hear it spoken from her divine lips you're struck silent—not that you haven't been speechless so far, and that's because you are not ready for it. Your heart is now merely seconds away from bursting out of your chest, beating wildly against Hanni's palm.

"H-Hanni…"

Not listening to your stuttering, she places your hand on her chest and slightly pushes it into her chest.

"Can you feel it too, oppa? My heart—it has been beating for you since the day I met you. My soul has always been yours, oppa."

You look up from your hand on Hanni's chest to her twinkling eyes; hers have never left contact with yours almost all night long.

"I-I can feel it, Hanni… But this is–"

When you say 'but,' Hanni's eyebrows curl into a frown, and it crushes your heart into pieces. She didn't confess her love sincerely only to hear rejection from you.

This setting—where you are in love with your step sister—might sound a little bit wrong, but now, in front of Hanni, even questioning if it's right or wrong is the most wrong thing possible.

Well, even the strict Nietzsche was in love with his sister.

"Hanni."

You, with your warmest tone, call her name with a solid decision in your voice.

"Yes…?"

Hanni, however, murmurs back, tone disappointed, assuming you are trying to reconfirm your rejection. You have to, given the circumstances, but this time, you break the rules set throughout history—from Epicure to Sartre, reason has to precede instinct. But love—it gives the human mind amazing power and growth. And at this moment you wholeheartedly believe that with love fueling your heart, any rules against it can be buried beside all those “reasonable” thinkers, and that you are the one with the spade. It is okay even if it’s just a blind mistake.

Because it sure will be the most beautiful mistake of the human mind.

"I love you too, Hanni."

Your words land directly through her ears, and they travel straight down to her heart, even before her brain processes them. Love—it's the only language in which the souls can communicate. Straight from your heart and into hers, and they both react wildly, unable to ignore their deepest desires.

Surprised, Hanni swiftly looks up at you, eyes gleaming with tears. Her lips part, but not a syllable comes out, before–

"Oppa–"

You don't have to say a word, Hanni.

Your love has already done more than enough.

And right now, you speak to her soul with your lips.

You kiss her parted lips, sealing the gap perfectly. Your hand remains on her chest, you feel her heart beating even faster as if shaking you off. The same is true on your side.

A few seconds of liplock is enough for your soul to express love to hers, but as soon as you pull back from them, Hanni cups your face with her warm hands to fulfill the paused act of pure love. Your hands slowly climb up to her shoulders, to her soft, pulsing neck, and finally to her blushed, warm cheeks.

Who said following the essence of instincts is not humanly? 

Who thought the instant impulses would never create long lasting happiness?

Your love for Hanni and hers toward you defies that right in the face, as you detach from the kiss and peck her palm on your cheek, never losing eye contact with her.

Happiness is reached when one overcomes resistance. Nietzsche was right about it, and he himself did overcome the obstacles and fell in love with his sister to prove that.

Forget about everything tonight. Let the love lead you. It can't hurt deeper than where your love is springing from.

Hanni pulls your hand to her chest again, but this time you feel something different. Her fingers delicately slide down on your shirt, from your chest to where your belly is. Hanni pushes your hand on her chest deeper to make you feel the softness of her breasts, and her other hand on you stops.

"I want you to feel more than my heart tonight, oppa. And I want to feel more than your soul too."

It's a question and a permission at the same time—a question asking for deeper, thicker love, and a permission to develop the love between to the next level, which you can't—and won’t—say no to.

At this point, you feel like you could happily stop loving her if she tells you to, if that makes her happy. But what stops now is your reason and rationality, which have been vulnerable throughout the night.

"Aah–mmmph,"

You softly squeeze her petite breast, inhaling her cute but deep moan right from her mouth, sealing its exit not to let a single strand escape.

Love makes a person grow.

But the only thing growing because of love is the bulge behind your clothes, aching to be unleashed. Hanni sneaks a hand under your shirt to touch your bare abs, chest, and back. Sensing the physical form of love flowing from her warm fingers through your skin, you briefly leave her lips and quickly get rid of your shirt. You see Hanni's glistening lips needily follow your head pulling back and grin at how adorable your little girl is.

Hanni then tries to get out of her own clothes, but you stop her arms from reaching the hem of her sweater and place her arms around your neck. Looking at your eyes with a piercing glare, Hanni crushes her lips on yours again, and you lift her by her legs and head to the bedroom.

Gently setting Hanni down on the mattress, you undress her. Shirt first, then the pants follow. Afterward, you give yourself a few seconds to admire the beautiful sculpture lying in front of you, showing off her bare, fair skin. Brushing your thumb on her midriff, you dive into her neck, then descend to her collarbone, shoulders and upper chest, to let Hanni relax and react to your sexual actions.

Not letting a second go to waste, she responds, arching her back at your most sensitive and stimulating touches before unclasping her own bra. At the sight of her exposed breasts you can’t waste a moment to dive in and softly peck her creamy skin, making her moan lightly. To prepare Hanni for what you’re about to do tonight, you ramp up the stimuli by touching and sucking on her nipples.

"I-I love it, oppa. Do you–haa, love them too…?"

Hanni's arms reach around your back and smoothly wander across your skin. Having showered enough love and lust on her breasts, you pull back from them.

"I do, Hanni."

You fucking love them, but profanities are the least things you want to say to your–

"Fuck…!"

Your fingers are barely touching her soaked panties, yet she lets out a thin moan. Not having seen someone this sensitive, you worry for her, whether she feels uncomfortable or not.

"Are you okay, Hanni?"

You look at Hanni with utmost concern, but she's blushing, covering her own mouth with a loose fist. Instead of answering your question, she confesses to you for the second time tonight.

"Oppa… Th-this is my first time having sex, so go easy on me please,”

“Oh, of course, baby. Just relax, it won’t hurt.”

In contrast to your comforting words, her body remains tense as your tongue makes its way down from her breasts, belly, to her hot crotch. Every squirm she makes indicates the level of her anticipation for how good you will feel between her legs. Her hands softly land on your busy head, relaxing when you pause for a second, your head resting right above her wet spot.

"Hanni, you're wet."

Your teasing words do work. Hanni above your view blushes and bites her bottom lip.

"Oppa, I-I need you to–hnng…!"

You can tell she's loosening up little by little, so you carefully touch her drenched core past the soaked fabric. Slowly going soft and smooth at her most sensitive point, you look up at her face to check if she's fine, only to be met by the newfound pleasure on her disfigured features: the bitten bottom lip, tightly shut eyes, burning cheeks, and mouth covered by the back of her hand.

All of them saying—I'm enjoying this, oppa. I'm loving it. Please–

"Please. Go on."

You give her an assuring smile and dive right in, tongue first. You peck on her wet underwear, immediately sending Hanni's body into overdrive. She squirms, whether intended or not, pushing her crotch into your diligent mouth.

Hanni's mouth, too, is diligent, letting indistinguishable moans free continuously, even at your slightest touches. Your both hands gently massage her slender thighs, while spreading them apart at the same time. Gradually your hands travel closer to the waistband of her underwear, before tugging your fingers under it and sliding it down her smooth legs.

You toss it on the floor, keeping your eyes fixated on her bare crotch and soaked pussy.

You hate it. You never wanted to use such a filthy word on Hanni. But when you actually say it, it's far from dirty—it's beautiful, it's lovely, it's perfect.

Without saying another word you dive in, pouring all your senses on your tongue. You look up again to see how Hanni reacts, and her shaking eyes firmly close when the first divine contact is made.

“Ahh…!"

She yelps—not too loud, but just enough for you to know that she feels so good. Up and down, left to right and then quickly circling around her sweet spot that has been left untouched, virgin–

"I-It's amazing, oppa. You don't know how many times I touched myself imagining this–oh my-oh my god!"

You interrupt her with your middle finger entering her leaking and contracting hole, because you don't want to hear that. Hanni to you has been a pure little girl, the one to be protected from such a sin—not the one moaning words about it, even when you’re committing such a grave act.

Hanni tightly grabs your other hand on her thigh, bringing it on the mattress next to her shaking body which makes Hanni look like she's humping on your mouth and finger. 

Every slight curl of your finger and flick of your tongue confines you deeper inside Hanni's warmth—her hand desperately strengthens its hold, her thighs trap your head in between her legs, and the vulnerable tightness of her pussy firmly hugs your finger.

You can feel your dick furiously bulging behind your pants and boxers, aching to have a piece of her too, but that's not the top priority. In front of you is a squirming, moaning, helpless little girl whose entire body is depending on you.

Suddenly Hanni brings your hand to her perky breast, softly pushing it against her mound. Surprised, you look up and your eyes are met with hers, which, a few moments ago, were filled with love. Now you see the evolved form of love in her eyes—lust. But it's only for a short moment, because her approaching orgasm spreads all over her body, preparing for the inevitable explosion.

It was certainly a short moment, but Hanni's gleaming eyes were more than enough to tell you what she wants—what she needs. You squeeze her breast, upping the ante on your tongue and finger. Noticing your effort, Hanni changes her grip on your hand to intertwine your fingers with hers together.

Every part of her body contracts and quivers, completely engulfed by pleasure; relentless leakage of her juice, shallow breaths, and ecstatic scream seeping out of her bitten lip successfully substitute for "I'm going to cum." Fueled by her lewd sound, you double the pace and soon enough, she comes undone.

"Fuck, oppa!"

You keep your tongue and finger working deep through her orgasm, devouring her pure high with such a dirty slurping sound.

Love can be viewed as just a survival mechanism for human beings to reproduce, but when you feel the essence of it, share the true taste of it, it will be the only way to define each other. Hanni is your love, and you are Hanni's love.

Right now is the complete extent of love between you two, in its purest physical form—the most basic form, and the very destination of it at the same time.

Hanni slowly winds down from her orgasm, still breathing heavily, with the happiest smile etched on her lips. She sits up, then gently caresses your bare shoulder and chest. Her delicate touches squeeze your heart, and your dick is the furthest from easing down.

Grabbing her hand pressed on your chest, you kiss its palm and the back of it imbued with love. Putting that hand behind your neck, Hanni forces your body atop hers, closing whatever distance left that keeps you apart. Her eyes gaze at your lips, and so do you at hers, which smoothly leads to a deep kiss. With one arm supporting your body above her you try to undo your pants. Hanni's both hands slide down your bare upper body to help you dispose of those annoying pants. Right after then she succeeds in helping you pull them down, to make yourself finally naked.

Hearing the sound of your clothes being tossed on the floor, Hanni detaches from the kiss, to take a look at your newly exposed dick. 

"That's… That's bigger than I thought."

Her face blushes even brighter, which you thought was impossible. An unhidden smile curls her lips, concealed by her digging teeth.

How can a person look so innocent and sly at the same time? The cute, shy version of Hanni is long gone, taken away by the sexual tension and the first orgasm done by someone else. On top of that, your exposed body is making it more profound, resulting in Hanni unconsciously taking her hand to your cock.

"I-It's hard and… and warm, oppa."

You can only moan at her sensitive touch on your cock, wildly throbbing and leaking.

"H-Hanni… It's–"

Hanni again interrupts you, but this time with unholy intent.

"Is it because of me, oppa? Is it for me?"

Stop it.

No, don't you stop. You are enjoying this as confused as you are. 

Hanni, once underneath you, flips you onto the bed next to her and prepares to ride you out. There's no sign of innocence on her face now. She stares you down with an anticipatory, excited grin with those piercing eyes shooting straight into yours.

"Hanni, are you sure about this? We can slow down or–"

"I am, oppa. You've done enough for me tonight. For my whole life, too. Why don't you let me show you how big I've grown up?"

This is it. This is what she has been wanting to show you—to show you that she's not just a little girl anymore, that she has grown big enough to love you.

That you don't have to feel guilty at all for loving her back.

Again, love makes people grow.

Now you see the difference. She is independent, confident, lady-like and mature. Every attribute you're obsessed with is on full display. 

She’s blossoming right before your eyes.

"Hanni–"

You try to sit up and kiss her, but the Hanni atop you is no longer passive and shy about receiving kisses from you. She can express how she feels, and she can lead the way herself.

"I love you, oppa."

Hanni pushes you back down on the mattress, then crushes her lips on yours. You can’t help but reciprocate with your tongue, while your arms hastily wander on the silky skin of her back and descend to the bottom.

"Why don't you put it in? I'm soaking wet for you.”

Those words don't sound sinfully wrong anymore, but still they send novel sensations down your spine.

You rub your hard dick on her wetness to prepare for the penetration. As if emphasizing that this is her first, Hanni, just at the briefest touch on her sensitive entrance, moans vulnerably and hugs your neck tightly.

"You've grown up, Hanni. That's true."

Still dangling from the edge, Hanni manages to reply, but it's merely an orgasmic shout.

"Yes, opp–Ahh, nnngh!"

As you push the head of your cock in, Hanni screams loudly as if she wants the whole universe to know how much she loves it, but the flooding pleasure of the first sex proves to be so overwhelming, so her nails dig into your back skin, and her teeth also make their mark on your shoulder, as if to inject her suppressed erotic moans into your pulsing veins.

"But you're still my little girl, baby."

Hanni quickly nods at your declaration, pleading for more. You don't want to hurt her, so you keep it slow, trying your best to make the experience comfortable for Hanni.

Yes, she has already proven herself right, and you can accept that, but you just can't go wild on such a weak girl. So weak and soft that if you make even a slightly deep, hard thrust, she'd break.

Slowly, slowly. You're halfway inside Hanni and she seems to have adjusted a bit. It's agonizing for you that you only have to explore her inside like this.

Just then, without warning Hanni sinks down swiftly, forcing sharp gasps from your lungs out of unexpected sensation.

"F-Fuck, Hanni that's…!"

"Nnngh…!"

You are now fully inside her, completely hugged tightly by her violently contracting walls. Hanni's entire body also is wildly reacting to her pussy being filled up to the hilt.

"Are you okay, Hanni?"

"Haa, haa, th-that's deep, oppa…"

You tilt your head a little and whisper in her ear.

"I'm going to move, okay? Tell me when it hurts, baby. I'll stop."

"I'm-I'm okay, oppa. I love it."

Her words hit your shoulder with her hot breaths and are shattered at the edge.

You carefully pull back from her pussy, leaving only half of your cock inside. With your both hands firm on her cheeks below, you gently slip back in and press contact with her sensitive cervix again.

"I-I can't wait, oppa, just fuck me. I'm alright, so don't worry about me and make love to me."

Hearing that, you flip your bodies over and put your hands at each side next to her head. Hanni never lets go of her embrace, looking at you nervously and excitedly. You swipe her glistening lips with your thumb before meeting them with yours, tongue first.

As soon as your lips make holy contact, you start pistoning in her cunt, forcing moans out of her mouth and straight into yours. With one hand supporting your body, your other hand trails down her body. You stay at her taut nipple and perfect mound for a while, playing with it before continuing your journey downward.

To her side, her belly, tummy, and lastly arriving at her hot crotch. Your thumb again draws a loud moan out of her when it touches her clit. Pleasure from her clit triples the pleasure of your consistent thrusts in and out of her pussy.

"I-I think I'm close, oppa."

It only means that you have to ramp up the pace, so you do. Sensing the increased tempo, Hanni bites your lower lip, desperate to find an outlet for the tension from the unbearable pleasure coursing through her body.

"You're going to make me cum, oppa. Please make me cum, make me cum hard on you, please…!"

Still biting on your lip she begs, and with passionate love you make your thrusts even harder to fulfill her desire. Hanni's walls convulse, and every deep thrust makes her back rise bit by bit, until her belly meets yours.

"Mmmph! Oppa–Ahh…!"

When Hanni peaks you don't stop, fucking her through her orgasm. With every thrust you make sure Hanni's cumming hard. You make sure she's feeling good and loving every single second.

"I l-love it, oppa! Just like that…!"

There's no slowing down, when your own high is right ahead of you, a stone’s throw away. There's never coming down for Hanni when your fucking only gets harder.

"Hanni, baby, I'm close."

With an orgasmic frown on her brows contradicting her satisfied smile on her lips, she says, "Oppa, it's your turn to feel good. Let me make you cum, so don't you dare slow down."

"Where do you want me to finish, Hanni?"

"I-Inside, oppa. I'm on pills. Give me all your love."

You can't believe this is her first time, but you can certainly believe in love, turning your thrusts that are after your orgasm into motions of love. Hanni looks at you, while you’re struggling to keep your eyes open. Still, you manage to meet her halfway, even at the very moment when you are–

"I'm cumming…!"

Looking right into her eyes, you let the pleasure overpower you. Stuck deep inside her pussy, you release your cum. Your neck gives in, and your foreheads kiss.

"Yes, inside me… I've been wanting this so much…"

This is one of the highest highs you've ever felt, and it never lets you go soon. You really want to say 'I love you’ to Hanni, but the aftershock of sex leaves you devoid of strength, you can't do anything but breathe heavily on her face.

"I loved it, oppa. Thank you for being my first. I love you."

You give her a peck.

"I love you so much, Hanni. I'm so happy that you're here for me. I'm so happy that you're the one that loves me."

Strength regained, you reply. Then you give her another quick peck.

With lust washed away, there's only love left in her eyes. Hanni’s smile never leaves her face, even when you pull out and lie beside her.

"Hanni," Out of curiosity you ask her. "How are you on pills…? Oh, is that–"

Hanni giggles.

"Yes, oppa. I've been planning this for weeks. Thank god you liked it!"

"I loved it, Hanni."

You put your lazy hand on her midriff, and her hand rests atop your hand on her glistening belly.

"You're sweaty, baby. Let's wash ourselves."

You carry her to the bathroom, and Hanni lets out a cute, excited yelp as you lift her up.

******

After the shower, you two are lying on the bed, facing each other and looking at each other, without any words.

"Oppa."

"Mhmm?"

You raise your brows.

"I really really love you."

You giggle at how adorable your little girl is, like always. But the adorableness you sense now resonates even deeper in your heart, and the reason is for all the universe to know—with the big difference you two have made tonight, you won’t view Hanni Pham in a way like never before. But that’s nothing to lament on, of course, rather a perfect example of happiness and love.

"Love you too."

Whether straight through a shortcut or some other way around, Hanni, once your step sister, and now, your lover, has found the perfect place to be. Where she belongs.

Hanni has found herself the niche.

She comes into your arms, buries her face on your chest.

Yes. In your arms, she's perfect here, inside your warm, loving embrace.

"Good night, oppa."

She muffles her words on your shirt. You kiss her head and muffle back sweetly.

"Happy birthday, Hanni."

[charliemwrites]

Fields of Elation

Part 1

Rating: E Warnings: Dubcon if you squint

The garden has become a riot of color in the last week.

Native blooms in every vibrant color you could find, praying for pollinators to watch from the reading nook. The first butterfly fluttered in yesterday morning while you sipped tea. You could have squealed with excitement, aching to tell someone and denying the twinge in your chest when you realized who “someone” was.

You’re not thinking of him now. No. Absolutely not. Gardens are not for blood-soaked, violent men that smell like gunpowder and smoke – and neither are your thoughts. Your thoughts are to be as sun-soaked as the flowers, bleached out by warmth and light. Depthless, shadowless.

There’s soil dusting your fingers. You kneel in the flossy grass to plant wooden dowels, support for drooping stems growing too tall, too fast. You’re endeared by them, that they’re exploding with so much life that they need a helping hand. Perhaps you’re anthropomorphizing them a bit too much. This little recess you’ve carved out of the world is beautiful but lonely.

You hum a soft tune as you bow twine, some happy new pop song about summer. Heard it on the radio in the grocery store and haven’t gotten it out of your head since. The back of your neck prickles.

“Missed your voice, bonnie.”

You yelp as big, rough hands scoop you from the ground. Strong fingers grip your thigh, a wide palm supports your ribs, tugging you close to a thick, muscular body. The rough fabric of tac gear sands against the exposed skin of your stomach. You flail until your arms loop around broad shoulders, a chuckle rumbling into the hollow of your throat.

“Missed that noise specifically.”

You gasp air for another shout, but get jostled up into a fireman’s carry, wind knocked out of you. There will be no screaming for your distant neighbors this time.

“Put me down,” you wheeze instead.

“In a mo’, love.”

You grunt indignantly as the ground blurs beneath you, tools left behind as powerful legs tread the path back to your little house. Spend the disconcertingly short journey thinking of new things to call him, since you’ve been running out.

There’s a heavy wooden thump.

“Don’t kick my door!” you screech.

“I’ll fix the damn door,” he growls back.

Your head spins as you’re dropped to your bare feet on the wood floors, just inside the back door. Steady yourself on corded forearms to catch your bearings, then open your mouth to give him a dressing down he hasn’t had since recruit days.

But a hot, wet tongue slides against yours, curling expertly into your mouth. Dry, warm lips pressing hard. That same arm curls around your chest to gather you close; the breadth of him steals your coherence as much his kiss. Your venomous words are superseded by a soft noise, one that you’ll deny is the admission of pleasure he takes it as.

When he pulls away, you find your fingers curled in the muted green of his shirt, knuckles pressed against his beating heart. Its pace matches yours.

You flutter your eyes open, find summer blue gazing back. Softer than the grass you just knelt in, warmer than the sun in your hair. You swallow back surrender, blink away admissions.

“I was in the middle of something, you bastard,” you snap.

John MacTavish grins back, crooked and arrogant, the scar beneath his eye pulling. “It’ll keep.”

“Then so will dinner.”

His eyes light up. You curse as you realize your mistake.

“You gonnae cook f’me, love?”

“No.” You back away, but it’s like trying to outrun the wind. He manages to make your deliberate retreat feel like a choice he’s making, hedging you deeper into the house. Back, back, unerringly corralling you towards the bedroom. You know it, but you’re helpless to stop it.

“S’alright, you’ve been cookin’ enough, I reckon,” he drawls. “Don’t mind makin’ somethin’ fer you.”

If by “cooking” he means cobbled together snacks that level out to something like nutritional balance, then yeah. You’ve been cooking for yourself.

“Not enough ingredients for two,” you snark, eyes sliding away in a show of dismissal. “You’ll have to starve.”

He smirks, balancing you with hands on your waist when you bump the bedroom door ajar. Your stomach clenches up like you’re on a rollercoaster. Know what’s coming next but dig your heels in anyway.

“Nah, just gonnae eat now.”

Your mouth drops open just as he pounces, squealing as your back hits the mattress. The ceiling is decorated in fairy lights you forgot to turn off this morning. They twinkle brightly as John wrestles your dirty cotton “work” shorts off your thighs, leaves them hanging off one calf.

“Goddamit!” you shout as he tears through yet another pair of underwear. Nothing special, mind, but it’s the principle of the thing. They’re not his to rip.

“Gotcha more ‘fore I came home.”

That doesn’t make it better, you try to tell him. What comes out is a warbling moan as he buries his tongue in your pussy. Licks from your shamefully leaking hole to your already-throbbing clit. He grunts in reply, deep and rough in his wide chest. Drops himself onto the floor for better access, pulling your thighs over his shoulders.

Eats you out like this really is his first and last meal. Sloppy and wet and loud, audible over the sounds you try to stifle behind your forearm because your hands are still dirty. Get away with it for all of a minute (being generous) before he’s pulling back just enough to speak – even if it’s right into your cunt.

“No, no, no, we have a deal,” he growls. You whimper as his hands clamp down on your squirming hips. “I’m home now, you’re mine. This pussy, those noises, they’re all mine again.”

Your hands fly to his hair as he dives in again, tangling in dark, course strands as he laps at you like a dog. If you could rally the brain power to speak more than unintelligible sounds, you’d mock him with that imagery. But knowing him, he’d revel in the comparison. Would bark just to prove a point.

You can’t stand that you know him.

“That’s it,” he rasps. “My goddess.”

You arch as he sucks your clit, flicking the tip of his tongue over the bundle of the nerves. Thumbs massaging into the plush of you. Stubble prickling a bit; you’ll have to remember to tell him off for that later.

“Missed me too,” he continues, flat of his tongue licking a long stripe up your slit. Strings of your slick web between his mouth and your pussy. “Dripping like you missed me, anyway.”

“D-didn’t,” you whine.

He chuckles, the absolute devil, humming as he curls his tongue inside you. Doesn’t believe you, doesn’t even deign to challenge it. Just keeps fucking you on his mouth, groaning when your twitchy fingers tug at his hair. Doubles his efforts, any semblance of restraint crumbling as the time and distance overwhelm his usually infallible patience. Overwhelm you too.

It’s been so long – since the night before he last left. You’re oversensitive and touch-starved and John is a feast for your body and soul. Lose everything to the tides of lust, the current of ecstasy. Washed out to a sea of bliss, floating on awful need. Tilt your hips into the next swipe of his tongue, back arching, thighs tightening as you shudder.

“John,” you keen, “John, Johnny.”

He makes a gutted noise. One hand jerking from your hip to slide two thick fingers into you. Tears gather and rebel down your cheeks as he zeroes in on that sweet, achy spot inside of you. He is a man for whom mercy is scarce and he has none to spare for you, stroking and tapping relentlessly. Your peak rushes up frighteningly fast, voice lost in the shock of it as you clamp down.

He works you through it, savoring your orgasm like the first inhale of smoke in his lungs. Keeps licking and rubbing until your sobbing with overstimulation, trying to scramble away.

“No, John,” you warble, “t-too much, please!”

The sound when he pulls away is utterly obscene. If you had any room in your empty brain for embarrassment, you’d wish for the mattress to swallow you whole. You flutter your eyes open and stare blankly at the fairy lights as you struggle to breathe.

John’s kissing your trembling thighs like he didn’t just ruin everything all over again, whispering devotion into your beard burn.

When you manage to sit up a bit on shaking arms, you find him kneeling there. A supplicant to the alter of your pleasure. Ruthlessly handsome, war-torn. His chin glistens with your slick. You reach to wipe it away, but he catches your wrist in a deceptively gentle hand. Keeps his blown-out eyes on yours as he presses a slow kiss into the center of your palm.

Words bubble in your chest, too honest, even for you.

“My hands are dirty,” you whisper.

“Never.”

You curl your fingers around his jaw. Tell yourself it’s not a caress, no matter how he leans into it. “When did you get back?”

“Eighteen hours.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. Gather your scattered wits. “You wore your damn boots in the house.”

He huffs with amusement, leans his forehead into your stomach. “I’ll mop.”

“You’ll shower first. You smell like travel.”

“You’re coming with me.”

“I have to finish in the garden.”

He scowls even with his eyes closed. You tap-tap-tap absently at his shoulder, where your hand has naturally come to rest.

“I’ll come out with you,” he grumbles.

“You’ll scare the birds.”

“Fuck the birds.”

You tsk, but there’s no force on earth that will keep him inside. “Mean bastard.”

He grins against your stomach. “Darling wife.”

Next

Masterlist

[wutheringcaterpillar]

Take Your Medicine Sweetheart.

Summary: Going behind Tommy's back you decide to terminate your pregnancy as you did not want to raise a child around him or around the company he keeps. When Tommy finds out he ensures that you will be pregnant, and you will carry to term, on his terms.

Warnings: Noncon, very Dark!Tommy, blood play, gun play, p in v, anal sex, physical abuse, Tommy is very OOC, misogyny, abortion, breeding, forced pregnancy, forced marriage.

GIF credit: thesoldiersminute

This is a very dark fic, please don't read if any of the warnings are triggers for you.

“Darling, are you alright? You look rather pale?” Your surroundings began to spin, and it looked as if there were three of Tommy. Something wasn’t right.

“I-I- think someone put something in my- my-“

The last thing you remembered before your eyes closed was Tommy’s hand on your thigh while he looked at you in satisfaction with a sadistic smile.

When you awoke Tommy was standing before you shirtless at the end of the bed, cigarette hanging from his plush lips.

“Good morning sunshine, how you feeling?” Your head was pounding as fear entered your body at the sight of your intimidating husband Tommy paced the room, letting you gather yourself.

“All you had to do was follow my orders, eh? But you couldn’t do that. Instead you thought it would be a grand idea to go behind my back and dispose of our child.” A lump began to form in your throat.

How did he know?

Who told him?

“I have eyes and ears everywhere I know your every move Y/N. The perks of my reputation in Birmingham, people crawl on their hands and needs to please me, you know that more than anyone. Whether you like to or not is not of my concern. You’re my wife. Nonetheless Y/N.” He aimed his cigarette at you.

“Nonetheless. You have duties that you will learn to bare.” His eyebrows etched together, yet he hasn’t broken eye contact with you once.

Placing his cigarette down in an ashtray on the dresser, he settled his hands on the soft, delicate mattress. He leaned in so he was directly in front of our face.

Pressing your lips together firmly, trying to hold back tears, you attempted to look in a different direction, anywhere but him.

“You are going to bare my fucking child. If you even think to attempt this little stunt again. I will put you in chains to this god damn bed until you give birth.” In a quick fight or flight moment you jumped up off the bed and ran for your life to get out of this house.

Tommy chuckled darkly to himself, he always loves a challenge, and you hadn’t known of the little side medication he put in your tea this morning. Once you reached the stairs, your head started to feel like it was going to explode from how fast and hard it was pounding.

All energy in you seemed to evaporate, making you almost drop to your knees at the top of the stairs.

The floors creaked behind you, he took his time approaching you as if you were his prey and he wanted to see how far you could get. The sight of you so weak and fragile, sent Tommy into overdrive.

You were his little play toy that he could use however he please. Leaning down behind you, you felt his jaw rest right in the crook of your neck. His frigid skin against yours almost felt soothing to how much you were sweating and out of breath.

“If you want to play games my love, I can play games.” All of a sudden you felt his foot kick into your back, sending you dwindling down the hardwood steps, taking the breath out of you.

Once at the bottom, you managed to turn yourself around so that you were facing the steps but your foot felt like every bone was shattered within.

Tommy stood at the top of the staircase, the moonlight peeling in through the windows behind him, creating a menacing, dark silhouette. “You’re only making things harder for yourself my love.” He paced down the stairs slowly toward you. “If you had just complied with what I wanted we wouldn’t be here now would we?”

In a fast motion, his hand was gripping your delicate hair, causing you to yelp out in pain. As you kicked and screamed, he slammed your head into the ground. All movement in you froze when the sound of a gun cocking echoed throughout the house, as though it seemed to your ears.

“Tommy- please-please don’t do this.”

“Do I have your attention now sweetheart?” You stayed silent.

His free hand slid up your dress, revealing your bloodied underwear. The feeling of guilt and shame washing over you like a hurricane. The sight of it made Tommy’s anger rise.

With a swift movement of his hand the fabric of your underwear and your delicate folds underneath Thomas grabbed between his fingers, twisting them and pinching them while you screamed. “You feel that, eh! This is fucking mine. Your body and what you do with it. My decision.” His grip tightened, sending a burning sensation running through your stomach, he tugged at it over and over.

“Do we fucking understand that, you little fucking whore!”

“Yes! Yes! I understand! All yours Tommy.” He released his grip, and tugged down your panties. The blood was still oozing out of you, slowly starting to create a puddle on the floor. He tossed the gun to the side. The sound of his belt unbuckling came from behind you. You couldn’t stop the tears as they were still continuously falling.

“I’m gonna fucking breed you over and over again, until I’m satisfied and think you’ve learnt your lesson.” You were too weak to fight. Tommy was too strong compared to you, you didn’t stand a chance. Without any warning he plunged his length into, taking your breath away.

The thickness, and length of Thomas was too overwhelming, it often hurt but would start to feel pleasurable and it made you sick to give him the idea that this is what you want.

Vigorously he slammed his lengthy, thick member into you over and over again, while his nails dug into your hips.

You could feel his balls, slapping against your pussy while his length stretched out your tight walls.

Involuntarily your soaked insides were clenching around his dick, making him grin behind you. “You like this you little fucking whore. Like when I fuck your cunt.”

He flipped you over onto your back. He was towering over you, biting his bottom lip. Your pussy was throbbing, as he continued his pace. He filled your sexual needs in ways you’d never felt before, his length, his experience. He knew just all the right places to hit and you hated it.

Grabbing your chin, he forced you to look at all the blood, and more importantly he wanted you to see how much you cum for him, how much he satisfies that tight little hole of yours. It was a reminder you weren’t going to get this anywhere else.

Your stomach began to twist and you were having an internal warfare in your mind.

How could someone that you find so disgusting, so frightened of, make you feel so good.

How can he do this to you every time.

He knew you hated him, knew you did not want to have sex with him, and he’d put you in these positions to where you’d be moaning for him, moaning his name against your own will.

Lapping his fingers under your dripping hole, he took his bloody fingers and shoved them in your mouth. “Suck.”

A wave of nausea washed through you that you could not hold back, turning your head your stomach dispensed of any remains it contained onto the floor.

Without a moment to think you felt two fingers enter your ass, the same ones he had just put in your mouth.

You writhed in pain on the floor, screaming in agony, cheeks red and tear stained.

Thomas stopped all movement aside from pumping his fingers in and out of your tight ass. Your inner walls we’re screaming at you to stop this. Your ass was stinging, and felt like it was on fire.

“Ride me.” Blinking at him, you were trying to process what he just said, you felt like you were on the verge of passing out.

Gasping from the pain of his fingers working your ass relentlessly, you did as you were told to the best of your ability while you lay still on the ground.

You began to move your hips, doing all the work yourself. Taking his length thrust after thrust. Your walls were starting to clench around him, your pussy throbbing from the girth of him.

A wave of pleasure rode through you, your inner muscles starting to spasm just as the tip of his dick found that sweet spot.

You couldn’t help but close your flushed eyelids, while your breathing began to pick up, along with the movements of your hips.

“Atta girl.”

Tommy stared down, watching you take all of him begrudgingly, licking his lips in amusement as he could tell by your facial expressions your body was betraying you.

“Hate me so much look at you fucking me like there’s no tomorrow.”

Disgusted and ashamed was how you felt. Your own body was working against you, and you couldn't help it.

“Fuck you! You fucking piece of shit!” A stinging pain rushed through your cheek as he sent a powerful slap the side of your face.

“Tell me how you really feel Y/N, with my cock buried in you.” He wrapped his hand around your throat to quiet you as he continued to drill into you deeply and roughly. Causing your breasts to bounce intensely.

“Gonna cum in you and make you nice and full again.” You shook your head back and forth in disgust.

His movements sped up more than you thought possible. Involuntarily, you felt your pussy getting more wet with every time he rammed into your sweetness. You tightened around his rather large member, and you could tell he was close as well by the way he was moaning and the way his thighs twitched against your, bruised skin.

“Let me go Tommy, just- just pull out and we can talk about it!”

Your voice was shaky and hoarse, you did not want to bring a child up in this environment, nor did you think Tommy would be a suitable father just by the way he treated you.

Ignoring your pleas, pleasure rose through his body, his stomach tightening up as the mixture of how wet you are and how much you were tightening around him took over every thought in his body.

Pinning your wrists down, he thrusted into you three more times before you felt his warm liquid ooze into you while his moans became more heavy.

You made it through, you did your job and got him off, now you wanted him off of you and to be left alone.

“I’m not finished with you yet. Now it’s time for your punishment my sweet Y/N.” Tommy placed his hands on your hips and flipped you over onto your stomach, forcing your ass up in the air.

He was kind enough to spit onto his hand, but what came after that you weren’t ready for.

Placing the tip of his dick in front of your hole, he popped the tip into you, making every part of your body tense and clenching up.

Releasing a muffled whine from the sudden intrusion, you had never felt more frozen than you did now. Panic set in, and you tried to wiggle your way out.

“Where do you think you are going to go?” To ensure that you’d stay put, without any hesitation or warning, he pushed the rest of his length into your uncomplying, inexperienced hole.

Your screams filled the house as your ass was being stretched in a way that you wasn't imaginable, it felt like he was tearing your skin a part little by little. “Stop! Stop! Pl-please just stop!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that until I think you’ve learnt your lesson.” Nails scratching at the wooden floors, you seized for this to be over. Tommy placed his hands on both your ass cheeks as they bounced up and down and watched as he forced all of his length in your small hole. Stretching it beyond belief.

Your blood painted his dick and balls a dark cherry red and now he was going to paint your insides that color. “Fuck, such a filthy little whore, taking my dick in your ass.”

Tommy ignored your sobs and continued to drive into you, the girth of his dick feeling like it was obliterating you inside and out.

It felt like the sensitive walls in your ass were being sliced open as Tommy continued to slam his dick into your tight used ass over and over again, until eventually you felt him release himself one more time, covering your insides with his warm seed.

He collapsed onto you, still buried deep within you. Combing back his hair, he was trying to catch his breath. You were a broken woman, the pain swayed within every part of you.

Giving you a light smack on your cheek, he stood up, picking his pants up off the floor, looking down at your fucked out, used body that he claimed as his own. “Let this serve as a reminder. You’re my property Y/N. That’s never gonna change my love.”

The last thing your dreary eyes saw was the wooden clock on the wall, time passing ever so slowly as the pain began to be too much. Your eyes drifted off as you went unconscious on the bloodied floor.

When you awoke, Thomas was at your bedside with the doctor. He informed her that you had, had a miscarriage and wanted to try again, but maybe it was too much too soon for you. “Mrs Shelby, I’m going to be your doctor and this is your nurse. Mr. Shelby has informed me of what’s been going on. The good news is, at this stage even with the miscarriage, if you two have started trying, you are still very fertile from the time that Mr. Shelby told me you had the miscarriage. I-“

“Thomas. Please call me Thomas.” The doctor nodded and smiled, You could tell she was blushing.

Nausea fulfilled you, and your eyes felt heavy.

“It also appears that your ankle, is sprained, Thomas informed me you took a stumble down the stairs. That may have been what have brought on the miscarriage, so we also prescribed you with pain relief medication, and wrapped it up for you.”

You had no one, Thomas charmed his way into every woman, and every man was too much of a coward and frightened of him to do anything to help you. You were certain he did not tell them about anything other than that you had a supposed miscarriage and sprained ankle.

“Now, Mrs Shelby? We’re going to send you home with estrogen pills, that should help with conceiving. Just maybe next time, take it easy, take it slow, and don’t overwork yourself. If you follow all that you should be okay.” You thanked her sarcastically as she exited the room.

Without your consent Thomas helped you change for you to go home. The weather was cold, as the wind blew the autumn leaves around the dying grass.

Thomas was by your side, arm wrapped around your waist walking you out. He didn’t want you to fall, as he knew you were very well still in recovery from the following night.

He was very precautious with you once you were “home”, and you had no energy to fight him anymore.

He drew a hot bath for you and placed a set of towels on the sink while Frances in the kitchen made you a small snack with tea and crackers to help you relax Tommy had assisted you in washing your hair, and cleaning your body, every part of it.

His touch sent shivers down your spine, but you knew it had to be this way. There was no escaping Thomas Shelby.

He tucked you into bed and told Frances to make sure you stay hydrated and eat while he works during the day and to inform him, if you want to go out, see a friend, even come downstairs.

Sliding into the bed next to you, he turned off the bedside lamp and pulled your aching body close to his side.

Regardless of what he did to you, the feeling of being held in warm, strong arms helped you fall asleep as comfortably as you possibly could.

The following morning Frances had made you a full course breakfast and tea, and had your pills placed in a cup next to a glass of juice. “Good morning my love.” Thomas walked into the room dressed in his black and white suit, and his shiny shoes with a smile plastered on his face that money couldn’t buy.

His hair was still wet from the shower he must’ve taken. He sat down in the seat next to you, placing a kiss to your soft lips.

Glancing down at the cup of medication there was a pill that wasn't one your doctor had prescribed. Your eyes began to water, and your hands started shaking.

You eyed the mysterious pill, wondering if that was the sedative he had put in your tea yesterday morning. You glanced up at Tommy, who was watching you intently with his empty, bright blue eyes.

“Do as the doctor instructed.” Tommy unfolded the newspaper taking a sip of his coffee before glancing over at you still staring at the cup. His jaw clenched as he eyed the cup, looking at you without any sign of remorse from last night.

“I need you to be relaxed for later when I breed you more. Take your medicine sweetheart.”

[lv2mt]

the smirk

this includes smut of art x reader.

You was sat on the bed, the crispy hotel sheets hitting your legs and the soft pillows that your head just melts in, you felt amazing. In the room next to you it was art, the amazing strong tall blond that no woman could resist.

Art had multiple gorgeous features but there is one thing he does and it keeps you up all night. His smirk just by thinking of it makes your breath go shaky.

You shouldn’t think to sexual of Art, i mean your this coach that would be so wrong. the silence was loud you was tired but something was keeping you up, every time you’d close your eyes you would think of the hot blond fucking you.

You shot your eyes open “stop thinking that!” you say out of frustration “cmon y/n just go to sleep” you whisper to yourself, sounding like a crazy person. You turn on your back just looking at the sealing knowing what your body wants.

You close your eyes letting your imagination take control. Your hand glides down your silky nightgown and into your thong, your hand now rubbing your cunt the thought of Art fucking you with that smirk on his face made you insane.

Your fingers going faster by each fast thrust he was giving you, “oh fu- fuck” moaning sounds his name repeating out your mouth.

You was at your close thinking of Art thrusting in and out while gripping on your throat just made your legs shake. “Art oh fuck.” legs shaking, one hand griping on the sheets while the other giving you satisfaction.

All of a sudden stopping you from your alone time a knock at the door was interrupted. Jumping out the bed acting as if you weren’t fucking yourself. Before opening the door you quickly wipe your hand on something near luckily it was a towel on the floor.

Another knock echoing the room “yes i’m coming” you say annoyed that you got rudely interrupted. Unlocking the door you see a shirtless blond man. “Art” you say out of shock.

“Do you mind if i come in?” he asks with that cold look in your eyes that just made your stomach spin. “er sure” you didn’t know how to act i mean does he somehow know what you was doing or is he just coming over for a chat.

He sat at the end of the bed just looking at me “you know the walls are thin right” his tone of voice sounded tired but it made me shiver of how sexy it sounded completely not taking notice of what he said.

“What?” i questioned kinda zooming back into the world and out my head. “you was moaning y/n, you was moaning my name” i stood still not knowing what to say, “no i wasn’t” avoiding eye contact i felt embarrassed but Art stood up walking closer and closer to me.

My back hits the wall he is now towering over me, both our breaths become shaky “be a good girl and tell the truth” i was shocked not expecting them words to come out his mouth.

“I was” i admitted Art smirked, the same smirk that makes you wet. he grabbed you throat lightly putting presher on his grip, a slight moan slips out your lips. He takes the lead and kisses you it started out slow and romantic to forceful and horny like he wanted to take you there and then.

"Get on the bed" the demanding tone in his voice made you weak, he follows you behind just watching you obey him like a dog. "take your gown off" you do as he's told and take it off in a flash.

He looks at your body mesmerized about you "your so gorgouse" he says then towering over you and pulling you in for a kiss. you couldn't believe what was happing it felt like a wet dream.

His hand sliping under your thong enjoying the feeling of your wetness "so wet for me baby" he says then kissing down your neck while rubbing your heat, you could feel his dick getting hard on your inner thigh.

His fingers now inside you going faster and harder each time, his tip leaking everywhere in his boxers it's like he didn't need to be inside you to even finish. Moans and grunts filling the room, our eyes meeting and never looking away, it was somehow romantic.

"Art oh fuck- don't stop please" close to exploding all on him "you like that hm? does that feel good?" you try to nod but a sudden shock hits you making you arch your back and your head going up. You had let out everything you could on arts fingers, he's still going but somehow even faster and harder.

Your legs shaking around his waist, you look back him to see him biting his lip and doing a slight smirk once again. His grip on the sheets next to you tightens his grunts also getting louder. "shit shit y/n" he moans, his fingers getting a lot more sloppy and his boxers feeling more wet, he was so close.

A couple more thrusts of his fingers and i feel his warm liquid leak through his boxers, he takes his fingers out and licks every bit of you on them, making sure he can taste every bit of you. "you taste so good" you do a breathless laugh, he lowers down does one last make out with you. He gets up off the bed and you quickly put your gown back on.

From behind you can feel his eyes watching you, you loved it. "suppose i should get back to bed" he says "i suppose so" you say back white a sweet smile that he can't resist. you walk him to the door with the disbealf of what literality just happened.

"I’ll see you tomorrow..coach" he leaves while saying and leaving with a little wink which you can't help but do a little laugh. you stand behind the door with you back towards it just trying to keep all your thoughts together.

You walked back towards your bed getting under the quilt and resting your head on the pillows letting your head sink in knowing you was gonna have his intimidating smirk in your head forever.

[miniimight]

first off, I just wanna say how I love how you write izuku like??? my sweet boy doesn't get much appreciation and I'm just obsessed with the scenarios you've made with him 🤭💜 second, would it be okay to request a scenario in which the bnha boys (Deku, Bakugo, any other if you want!) who's been dating the reader for a while but it's a secret relationship- which suddenly gets revealed?

thank you! can't wait for more of your writing! 💜

SECRET RELATIONSHIP GETS REVEALED ! the secret relationship between you and your pro-hero boyfriend gets revealed to the public

with deku, bakugo ( pro heroes )

notes ahaha izuku is definitely one of my favs and ur so right when u say he doesn't get enough appreciation :( but i'm here to change that lol ! thanks for requesting ! idk if this is what you had in mind but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless <3

your boyfriend didn't want his relationship with you to go live because one, he's legitimately one of the most hated heroes by villains and two, the media won't ever leave you alone. he found it better this way, for both of your sakes.

it worked for a while, and though the both of you had to make little sacrifices here and there, the arrangement was more than perfect. that was until someone tipped the media off with one (1) very rare photo of you and boyfie out and about in disguise (a terrible one, at that).

photos of the pro-hero's new companion dominated the internet and everyone was wondering who the mystery person was.

it happened so fast that you and your boyfriend were out of the loop. in fact, you and your boyfriend were out on a secret date when the news exploded.

IZUKU

izuku zipped his crossbody bag up and fitted a black baseball cap tightly on his head. his green curls were hard to miss regardless of any disguise he thought up. he flashed you a determined smile. "ready for our day out, love?"

"born ready," you mimicked his way-too-serious tone. "but won't you relax a bit?"

at your comment, his shoulders stiffened. "why, do i not look relaxed?"

he was standing like his friend, iida—almost robotically, like a sentry who was on high alert. you could see the tired circles under his eyes though the shadow of the cap made them almost invisible. his casual outfit covered one of the essential pieces of hero gear; his gloves. it was almost as if he was expecting something bad to happen.

you drifted to his side, an amused smile on your face. "we've done this before, izu. nobody will notice!"

"at least i have a better chance," he raised an eyebrow at you, spinning you around in his arms. "your disguise is non-existent."

"hey, i'm not the super-famous pro-hero that everyone adores." you stuck your tongue at him, making him smile reflexively.

"it's not my fault i'm so charming."

"oh my god."

a little more bickering and a car ride later, you both arrived at the museum you had planned to tour. the guide handed you pamphlets after welcoming you to the grounds, informing you that she'd take you around the exhibits in a short moment.

"oooh..." you flipped through the brochure, excitement bubbling through you. "there's a lot of things in here."

izuku rested his chin on your shoulder, trying to read as fast as you were flipping pages. his hand enveloped yours in an effort to stop you from turning the pages at a lightning pace— "honey, can you go slower?"

you giggled and thumbed the whole pamphlet, making a little buzzz sound as you did so. "weren't you at the top of your class, izu?" you shrugged nonchalantly. "just read faster."

his hands snaked to clasp around your stomach from where they rested on your waist. an uncontrollable laugh threatened to bubble out of you. "really, 'just read faster'? a little cheeky today, aren't you, love—?"

"uhm... couple at the back, please refrain from pda as there are children around." the tour guide cleared her throat. a crowd had gathered for the next tour around the museum and it appeared as though they were ready to start.

you and izuku jumped away from each other as if you were caught by a teacher in high school, your cheeks heating up from embarrassment.

"sorry, miss." izuku mumbled in a low voice, head hanging. he gave you an amused smile that you returned with a huge grin, accepting the hand he held out for you.

halfway into the tour, the group grew so bored they retreated to the comfort of their phones. hanging around the back, you thought it unusual that so many people began to glance backwards at you and your boyfriend, whispering among themselves.

you caught glimpses of their phone screens, questioning why the hell your face was on them.

you nudged izuku's side to tell him just as the teens in front of you spun around, screaming "it's deku and his s/o!"

you and izuku froze like deers in headlights as the commotion spread through the group.

wait, how do you know? the news just made a story about it today. there's a picture of them here! and besides, he's wearing the same disguise.

you gave izuku a pointed look and he smiled sheepishly at you. "what the heck should we do?!"

"deny it??" he said, though he didn't seem sure of his answer. "that photo?" he talked to the crowd again. "not her."

"yeah, i get it all the time," you chuckle nervously, playing along. you shrunk into his side. the attention was sending shockwaves through your body.

the kids weren't buying it. "well, you're obviously deku." one deadpanned.

"me?" a boxy grin spread on his face as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "no, i'm just... not him..."

seriously, didn't they have specific media training classes at UA for this kinda thing? you rolled your eyes at his response.

"who else has green hair?!" another crossed their arms. "you're so deku."

you both held up your hands, as if caught red-handed by the police. you squeaked, "we're just two random, normal strangers having a date in a museum, promise—"

a kid waddled up to deku's side and pulled his signature gloves out of his pants' pockets, holding them up triumphantly. yours and deku's head slowly turned to watch it unfold before looking at each other almost comically. a long pause followed.

"it's deku and his s/o!" the kid yelled, pointing a chubby finger at the two of you. the whole vicinity was alerted to the famous hero's presence.

you clung to izuku's arms and the swarm encroached on your space, clamoring for autographs, information, pictures—anything they could get their hands on.

to your surprise, deku wasn't the only center of attention. you were asked your name, age, and occupation, where you grew up, if you knew 'their' deku in high school—

izuku's upper arm came under your bum as he leapt back from the crowd at lightning speed, yelling a very apologetic sorry! as he zoomed the both of you away to safety. you screamed as you hung over his shoulder.

he parkoured his way up the museum building, crouching on the roof. it wasn't the first time izuku used his super speed with you in his arms, but holding you like a sack of potatoes wasn't the best position—not if you liked your neck.

he set you down and smoothed your clothes, his hands flying everywhere accompanied by a thousand apologies.

your hands caught his wrist and you gave him a pointed look. "how did they find out? we were super careful."

his concerned expression quickly turned unimpressed. "sweetheart, you have no disguise."

"they believed i was just some random person after we denied it. they already knew you were deku!" you retorted, flicking his cap upwards and allowing the tufts of green to spring out.

he opened his mouth to respond before he snapped it shut. "it's not my fault i'm hard to miss..." he muttered.

you softened and moved closer, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning into his chest. "i'm sorry, jus' a little on edge."

his hands rubbed your back soothingly before he hugged you back. "it'll be okay." he felt something cold against him and he looked down to see you pull out your phone, pressing it against his body as you got to the bottom of this. "hey—"

"it's all over the news, along with katsuki and his s/o." you hummed, scrolling through article after article.

"hey." he repeated firmly. he gently tugged the phone from your hands, slipping it in his pocket. "it'll be okay. i'll make sure you're protected, not that you aren't already, and we'll get you a new apartment, closer to mine."

you sighed. "i'm not really worried about that."

he gave you a concerned look, wondering if he needed to look into your lack of self-preservation. "...you're not worried about someone potentially attacking you?"

you rolled your eyes, lightly swatting his chest. "well, duh, but i know no one can really get past you and your brigade of hero friends." you waved off his concern. "i'm worried about the paparazzi and gossip channels—what if everyone decides i'm not good enough and they pressure you to leave me? what if—"

"i'm going to have to stop you right there," he gave one of those self-proclaimed (but also, he wasn't wrong) 'charming' smiles as he cut into your rambling. "being with you is my conviction. no one's gonna pressure me to do anything except marry you one day."

you blinked, a huge grin spreading on your face. all your worries were gone when you let his words sink in.

izuku realized what he really said. "or... something like that, you know?" he muttered under his breath, color rising to his cheeks as he looked away.

a moment passed as he held you on the museum rooftop, the date turning out much different than expected. he gasped out of nowhere, jostling you out of your thoughts. his little giggle made you suspicious.

"kacchan just texted me something really interesting; he got stuck in traffic and is trying to hide out in his car—oh."

"what?"

he turned his phone to you. it was a post titled 'NEW!" and underneath was a very blurry photo of you and izuku on the rooftop at that very moment.

you scrunched up your face. "your fans are weird."

he laughed openly. you stared at him with such adoration that you hoped the press got a picture of his blissful face so you could fawn over it later. "have you even read the things they're saying about you?" he kissed your forehead. "i have a feeling they're gonna grow to obsess over you more than me."

BAKUGO

you heard the impatient jangle of keys as bakugo called after you. "we're gonna be late for our res, baby, get your beautiful ass in the car."

you giggled as you stuffed the last of the stuff you needed in your bag. you exaggerated a gasp and wagged a finger at him. "take me on a date first, mister."

he rolled his eyes. "i am literally trying to do that right now, but someone ain't listenin."

"fine, damn, i'll go on a date with you." you huffed, keeping up with the bit as you walked past him, tossing him a playful look over your shoulder. he smiled softly, following closely.

you got in the car and watched him with starry eyes. he was focused on starting the car and setting the music, but all you could think of was how good he looked in a turtleneck. he had so much faith in that face mask, though, as you'd told him multiple times that it was a really bad disguise.

"you're starin'." he glanced out his window before pulling out the parking spot.

heat rose to your cheeks. he held his hand out and you laced your fingers in them. he squeezed your hand.

the ride was smooth and calm, the hum of the engine complimenting the mellow yet catchy songs playing. you were jamming out until you realized you hadn't moved in a while.

you ducked closer to the windshield. the light was red, and the traffic was piling up. you pursed your lips, glimpsing at the irritated drivers around you.

"looks like we might not make our res, huh?" you mused. bakugo hummed.

"it's whatever, betcha they'll still take us anyway." he grinned mischievously.

you squeezed his hand, chastising him. "kats, you can't use your 'i'm a famous hero' card on date nights."

"m'just teasing, baby." he chuckled softly, leaning back in his seat. his head rested on his shoulder as he gave you a look. "better get comfortable."

you laughed and let go of his hand, turning fully in your seat to face him. "kats! keep your eyes on the road!"

"why? i wanna look at you." he smirked.

snap!

a bright flash made both of you freeze, though bakugo reacted quicker. he sat up in his seat, leaning over the wheel as he peered out your window at the car beside you. the two girls in the front row were fawning over the picture they just took.

he glared. "a couple of fans, i guess?"

you breathed out a sigh of relief. "thank god i was facing away from—"

snap!

you squeaked in surprise and reflexively covered your face. you leaned back in the seat to see a couple other teens laughing triumphantly over their rare photo.

bakugo observed your shock and panic silently before he laughed, thoroughly amused.

you groaned, slumping below the windows. "i was talking when they took that picture, i'll look distorted." you whined, voice muffled behind your hands.

he tsked. "i'm sure they got your good side, babe." he was trying to act calm but really his mind was racing at a million thoughts per minute. he had tinted windows. he made sure to make an appearance this morning so people would think he was out hero-ing for the whole day. was this a freak occurance, or...?

you opened your phone and were flooded with articles upon articles of you and bakugo on your dates. in hindsight, yes, those disguises were really bad. those pictures were low-quality but anyone who was anyone would be able to recognize bakugo's spiky blond hair.

everyone was speculating who the mystery person was and how their relationship would be, etc etc. you groaned again as you held up your phone to bakugo.

"what?" he whispered, breaking out of his thoughts.

"come down here," you motioned for him to join you below the window.

he scrunched up his face. "... i'm not doing—"

"come down here." you hissed, pulling him by his shoulder to crouch below the window's line of sight. he blinked, not entirely surprised or against the action. "look!"

he scrolled through, some news pages looking familiar. he sighed. "my agency was starting to talk about these rumors."

"why didn't you tell me?!"

"i thought they'd handle it!"

you pouted and he softened, kissing your cheek. "no one's gonna get a hold of any bad pictures of you, promise. i'll make sure of it."

you smiled. "really?"

he grinned, lovesick. "yeah." so what if the whole world would know you're his? he could deal with the details later.

muddled banging made you jump.

"dynamight, is that your s/o?!" the girls from the car over squashed their faces to the window, cupping their hands around their eyes.

you screamed and dynamight gave them a what the hell look.

he blast through the car roof, holding you by the waist as he soared upwards with loud pops behind him. landing on a nearby roof, he checked to make sure you were okay. all he was concerned about was the frown on your face.

"what, you not comfortable with everyone knowin' bout us?" he asked, voice soft.

you perked up, shaking your head. "no! obviously not. i'm just..." you curled your knees to your chest. "you're a hotshot and you have so many people after you. dunno if i meet expectations."

"who cares?" he scoffed indignantly. "you exceed mine. that's all that matters."

you giggled, your sad disposition quickly morphing into a smile. "yeah?"

"yeah." he assured you, pushing your knees down and swinging them to the side. the momentum made your whole body twist so that you were parallel to him. he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you leaned into his embrace.

"now i gotta call that nerd so he can move our car. we're causin' more traffic."

bonus:

"kacchan!" izuku chirped, his s/o on his back as he floated in the air. bakugo's face twisted up as if the green-haired boy wasn't one of his best friends.

"hey." bakugo jerked a thumb at his very broken car. "can you take care of that for me?"

"yeah, i got it." with his gloves on, izuku initiated blackwhip. the tendrils snaked around the car and hoisted it into the air, freeing up that lane once again. "did you suddenly get exposed out of nowhere, too?"

bakugo snorted. "yeah, ain't that a coincidence?"

izuku chuckled softly as he nodded. "yeah, super weird."

who could've gotten the jump on two of the most famous heroes' love lives, anyway?

© miniimight ! thanks for reading <3

[roseyreveries]

Hunted

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Part Two <- click!

Summary: Hydra infiltrates SHIELD and takes control of Bucky again, setting the Winter Soldier on course to take out his target: you.

CW: Guns, Violence, Blood, Angst, not very movie accurate, the Avengers being weaker than usual for plot

Directory

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ .

The bass from the radio thrummed in time with my heartbeat as I belted out the lyrics to the song blaring from the speakers. My sister, Maggie, laughed beside me, swaying in her seat, her off-key voice matching mine perfectly. We’d done this a hundred times before—road trips, late-night drives, blasting karaoke-worthy tunes that never failed to lift our spirits. Today was no different; it was just us, the open road, and the kind of freedom that only a highway can bring.

I glanced over at Maggie, her face scrunched up in exaggerated concentration as she hit the high note, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re killing it!” I shouted over the music.

“Please, you’re the one auditioning for a Grammy!” she shot back, winking at me.

The world outside was a blur of cars, the sun dipping low in the sky, painting the horizon in streaks of orange and pink. I felt alive, invincible. But then, out of nowhere, everything changed.

It happened so fast. One moment we were carefree, and the next, I was slamming on the brakes. A figure stepped onto the road, right in front of our car—a man with long dark hair, clad in black, his presence commanding the space like he owned it. But it wasn’t just anyone. It was Bucky Barnes.

My heart seized in my chest. His eyes locked onto mine through the windshield, cold and unyielding. I barely had time to register the large gun in his hands before he aimed it directly at us. My breath caught in my throat, the world around me slowing to a terrifying crawl.

“Holy shit!” Maggie screamed, her hands flying to the dashboard as if she could somehow shield herself from what was about to happen.

The next second, a loud bang echoed, piercing through the chaos of the traffic. I watched, helpless, as a disk shot from the barrel of Bucky’s gun, hurtling straight at us. It slammed into the underside of the car with a deafening thud, and before I could even process what was happening, the world exploded.

The blast sent a shockwave through the car, and we were airborne. The car flipped violently, the screech of metal against asphalt and the shattering of glass filling my ears. My body lurched against the seatbelt, the force knocking the wind out of me as the car tumbled. Up became down, and down became up—everything spinning in a disorienting blur of sound and pain.

My vision flickered, the interior of the car now a shattered mess of broken glass, smoke, and twisted metal. I tried to scream, to reach for Maggie, but my voice was lost in the cacophony. The car finally came to a bone-jarring stop, landing upside down on the road.

For a moment, all I could hear was the ringing in my ears. I blinked, the sharp taste of blood in my mouth, my mind struggling to catch up. Everything hurt—my head, my arms, my chest. My vision was blurred, but I turned to my right, my heart hammering wildly.

“Maggie!” I croaked, the word barely a whisper. She was hanging upside down in her seat, her eyes closed, a small trickle of blood running down her forehead. I reached out, my fingers brushing against her arm, desperately trying to shake her awake.

My hands trembled as I reached out to check Maggie for injuries. I forced myself to focus, pushing through the blinding panic. I ran my hands along her arms, her legs, feeling for breaks or dislocations. Her pulse was strong, steady under my fingertips— a small comfort in the midst of the wreckage. I checked her pupils, watched her chest rise and fall with each shallow breath, all the while praying she would open her eyes and tell me this was all a bad dream.

I knew what to look for— what signs meant danger and what was just superficial. Years of training kicked in, the muscle memory of countless missions and drills guiding me through every step. I wasn’t just a regular sister panicking in the aftermath of a crash. I was more than that, had been for a long time now.

Maggie didn’t know the truth. No one did. To everyone else, I was just me— the sister who sang too loudly, who drove too fast, who lived a life that was seemingly normal. But behind closed doors, under the cover of night and secrecy, I was something else entirely.

I was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. Not just any agent, either. I’d climbed the ranks quicker than anyone expected, my skills and determination earning me a seat at the table alongside the Avengers themselves. I’d worked operations so classified, most people wouldn’t even believe they existed. I’d been trained by the best, learned to fight, to strategize, to survive. And now, all of that training, all of those missions, came flooding back in a rush.

Maggie’s injuries were minor—cuts, bruises, a gash on her forehead that looked worse than it was. She’d be okay, at least physically. The relief was so overwhelming, I almost cried. But there was no time for that. I needed to get us out of here before Bucky— or whoever the hell he was working for— made another move.

I glanced outside, taking in the chaos around us. Bucky was still there, his expression as unreadable as ever, but he wasn’t alone anymore. Other figures moved in the shadows, closing in on the wreckage. I cursed under my breath. This wasn’t just a rogue attack; it was a full-blown ambush. And we were smack in the middle of it.

I reached for the hidden compartment in the console, the one Maggie didn’t know about. My fingers brushed the cold metal of my concealed weapon— a sleek, high-tech piece courtesy of Tony Stark himself. I’d been armed and ready, as always, just in case. I hadn’t expected to need it on a karaoke drive with my sister, but that was the life I led— the life no one knew about.

I checked the safety, my eyes flicking to Maggie once more. She was still unconscious, but she’d be okay. I had to believe that. I had to keep her safe, no matter what.

I eased myself out of the wreckage, gun in hand, and moved with purpose. The agents in the shadows were getting closer, and I recognized the insignia on their uniforms. Hydra. Of course. Bucky was working with Hydra— or maybe he was brainwashed again. I didn’t have time to figure it out; all I knew was that we were in serious danger.

Bucky’s eyes met mine, and for a split second, something flickered there. Recognition? Regret? I couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter. Right now, he was my enemy, and I had a job to do.

“Stay back!” I shouted, aiming my gun at the nearest Hydra agent. They hesitated, their eyes flicking to Bucky for guidance. My heart pounded, adrenaline surging through my veins. I was outnumbered, outgunned, but I’d been in worse situations. I knew how to handle myself. I knew how to fight.

And I was going to fight like hell to get Maggie out of this alive.

“Bucky,” I called out, my voice steady despite the chaos around me. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but they’re not in charge of you anymore. You’re safe, Buck.”

He hesitated, his grip tightening on his gun. The seconds stretched on, an unbearable tension hanging in the air. I didn’t know if he’d listen, if he even could. But I had to try. For Maggie. For all the people who’d counted on me to keep them safe.

For the person I used to believe Bucky was.

His gaze shifted, something softening in his expression. I held my breath, praying for a miracle. But just as quickly as it came, it vanished, replaced by the cold, unfeeling mask he wore so well.

“Move,” he ordered the Hydra agents, his voice flat, emotionless. The moment was gone. He wasn’t Bucky Barnes, the hero. He was the Winter Soldier. And there was no reasoning with him.

I steeled myself, my grip on the gun firm. If Bucky was going to make me fight, then I would. There was no turning back now.

I stepped forward, adrenaline surging through my veins, and fired the first shot. The Hydra agents scattered, their movements synchronized like a well-oiled machine. They fanned out, ducking behind cars and debris, their weapons raised. I squeezed the trigger again, aiming for the nearest target. The bullet hit its mark, sending the agent sprawling to the ground. But there were too many of them, and I was just one person.

The highway erupted into chaos— bullets whizzed past, shattering the remnants of glass around me. I ducked low, using the twisted metal of our car as cover, my mind racing to formulate a plan. There was no backup coming; it was just me against a small army. But I’d faced worse odds, and I wasn’t about to go down without a fight.

I darted out from behind the car, my movements fluid and precise. I fired off two more shots, dropping another agent before spinning to take cover behind a cement barrier. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat a reminder that I was still alive, still fighting.

They kept coming, relentless and determined. I counted at least six, maybe more, their dark uniforms blending into the shadows of the wreckage. I fired again, hitting another in the shoulder, but the rest were closing in, tightening the circle around me. I moved quickly, pivoting and shooting, each motion a calculated effort to keep them at bay.

A bullet grazed my arm, the sharp sting slicing through the adrenaline. I hissed through clenched teeth, ignoring the pain. I had no time to bleed, no time to think. I fired again, but my gun clicked— empty. I ducked behind a nearby car door, my fingers fumbling for another clip, but I came up empty. I was out of ammo.

Shit.

I crouched behind the door, my breath coming in short, ragged bursts. My mind raced, calculating my next move. I could hear the Hydra agents regrouping, their footsteps growing louder, the sound of their weapons being loaded. I glanced down at my gun, flipping it open to confirm what I already knew— no bullets, no way out. My eyes darted around, searching for anything I could use, but the highway was a wasteland of broken cars and debris.

I was trapped.

Then, with a deafening crack, the door was ripped away, torn from its hinges like it was made of paper. I stumbled back, my eyes widening as Bucky stepped forward, his silhouette framed by the chaos beyond. He moved with a lethal grace, his metal arm still raised, the door now discarded at his feet.

I scrambled backward, my hands searching for anything to defend myself, but all I found were shards of glass and twisted metal. Bucky’s gaze was locked onto me, his expression unreadable, his footsteps deliberate and unhurried. He advanced, and I kept retreating, my back hitting the wreckage of another car.

Just as he reached for me, something red streaked through the air, smashing into Bucky with the force of a freight train. The impact sent him flying, his body hurtling across the highway before crashing into the side barrier with a bone-rattling thud. I blinked, stunned, my brain struggling to process what just happened.

I turned my head, and there he was— Iron Man, standing with his fist raised, his helmet gleaming under the dying light of the sun. The red metal glove that had just knocked Bucky out of the way hovered mid-air for a split second before it shot back to his arm, snapping into place with a hiss.

“Thought you only worked at night,” Tony quipped, his voice crackling through the suit’s speakers, though the concern was evident beneath the sarcasm. He didn’t waste a second, his repulsors flaring as he took off to engage the Hydra agents swarming the scene.

I barely had time to register Tony’s arrival before two more figures emerged from the chaos. Black Widow and Hawkeye moved like shadows, their motions fluid and deadly. Natasha’s guns blazed as she took down the agents closest to me, each shot precise and unerring. Clint loosed arrows at an impossible speed, his sharp eyes targeting every Hydra soldier who dared to step forward.

“Go!” Natasha shouted, nodding her head towards the car where Maggie still lay, her voice sharp and commanding. “We’ve got this!”

I snapped back into action, scrambling to my feet and sprinting towards Maggie. She was still unconscious, the faint rise and fall of her chest the only reassurance I needed to know she was still hanging on. I fumbled with her seatbelt, my hands slick with sweat, and pulled her free, cradling her limp form as gently as I could.

I scanned the road, spotting a bystander— a man in his thirties who looked more terrified than I felt. “Help her!” I yelled, thrusting Maggie into his arms. “Take her to the nearest hospital!” He nodded, wide-eyed but willing, and hurried away, cradling my sister as he dashed toward the edge of the highway where it was safer.

With Maggie safely out of immediate harm, I turned back, just in time to see Natasha sprinting towards me. She tossed something in my direction, and I caught it instinctively— two matte black handheld firearms, their sleek, familiar weight grounding me instantly. My usual weapons. The ones that had seen me through countless missions, each nick and scratch a testament to the fights I’d survived.

“Thanks, Nat,” I breathed, loading the guns with a practiced ease. “I owe you one.”

“Just another Tuesday,” she quipped, her eyes scanning the area for threats as we ducked behind a nearby car, taking cover from the barrage of bullets raining down from the Hydra agents still standing. Tony and Clint were keeping most of them busy, but there were still plenty to go around.

I fired off a few rounds, picking off agents as they attempted to advance. The familiar rhythm of combat settled over me, a strange comfort in the midst of the chaos. I turned to Natasha, my voice low but urgent. “What the hell happened? Why is Bucky like this again?”

Natasha grimaced, reloading her guns. “There was a breach at the tower. Hydra got in, and they took Bucky. Managed to wipe everything— reset him completely. He’s back to being the Winter Soldier.”

My stomach dropped, a cold pit forming as her words sank in. “And now he’s trying to kill me?”

“That’s the part we don’t get,” Natasha said, her tone edged with frustration. “The intel we managed to pull says you’re his primary target, but we don’t know why. Whatever programming they shoved into him, it’s all centered on you.”

My mind raced, trying to piece together a motive, a reason— anything that would explain why Hydra would send the Winter Soldier after me, of all people. I thought of every mission, every time I’d crossed paths with them, but nothing added up. I was high up in S.H.I.E.L.D., sure, but I was far from their most dangerous enemy. At least, I thought so.

“We’ll figure it out,” Natasha promised, her eyes meeting mine, fierce and determined. “But first, we get through this. And we stop Bucky before he does something we can’t undo.”

I nodded, steeling myself. I couldn’t afford to think about what might happen if we failed. I had to focus, had to keep fighting, because there was no other option. Not when Bucky was still out there, lost and controlled, a weapon aimed directly at me.

Natasha and I exchanged a glance, and then we moved as one—emerging from cover, weapons blazing. The air was thick with smoke and gunfire, the acrid smell of burning rubber stinging my nose. But I pushed forward, each step driven by the need to protect the people I cared about, to find a way to bring Bucky back from whatever hell he was trapped in.

The battle raged on around us, a whirlwind of gunfire, explosions, and shouting. Tony blasted through Hydra agents, his repulsors sending shockwaves that tore through their ranks. Clint’s arrows flew with pinpoint accuracy, each one taking down an enemy as he moved with effortless grace. Natasha was relentless, her strikes precise and lethal as she fought her way through the chaos.

But Bucky was the eye of the storm, moving with deadly efficiency. He tore through Hydra and Avengers alike, his metal arm swinging with brutal force. Every hit landed with bone-shattering precision, every movement calculated to maim or kill. The Winter Soldier wasn’t just in the fight—he was dominating it.

Tony launched a barrage of energy blasts at Bucky, but Bucky dodged with inhuman reflexes, closing the distance in a matter of seconds. He tackled Tony mid-air, dragging him down to the pavement with a force that cracked the asphalt. Tony hit the ground hard, the impact jarring, but he was up in an instant, firing another repulsor blast that sent Bucky stumbling back.

“Stay down, Tin Man!” Tony growled, taking to the air again, trying to put some distance between them. But Bucky was relentless. He lunged, his metal fist smashing into Tony’s side with a clang that echoed through the highway. Tony’s suit sparked, systems flickering, but he kept fighting, blasting at Bucky with everything he had.

Bucky ducked under Tony’s next attack, moving in close. His metal arm swung up, catching Tony square in the chest. Fingers of steel closed around the arc reactor, the very heart of Tony’s suit. With a vicious twist, Bucky ripped it out, crushing it in his grip. Sparks flew as Tony’s suit shut down, his systems failing with a flicker of dying lights. Tony fell, gasping as the suit collapsed around him, powerless and struggling to breathe.

Natasha rushed in, her movements a blur as she aimed for Bucky’s legs, trying to trip him up. She landed a hit, her boot connecting with the side of his knee, but Bucky barely staggered. He swung his arm, catching her mid-strike, and sent her flying into the wreckage of a nearby car. She hit hard, the impact knocking the wind out of her. Natasha tried to rise, her expression set in determination, but Bucky was already on her. He grabbed her by the throat, lifting her effortlessly before slamming her back down. Natasha gasped, struggling, her hands clawing at his arm, but she couldn’t break free.

Clint loosed an arrow, the projectile striking Bucky’s shoulder with a solid thud. Bucky snarled, releasing Natasha, who crumpled to the ground, clutching her side. Clint fired again, but Bucky deflected it with his metal arm, the arrow splintering against the steel. Bucky moved in, his fist a blur as he knocked Clint’s bow from his hands. Clint ducked under a punch, rolling to the side and grabbing another arrow, but Bucky was faster. His metal arm swung like a sledgehammer, catching Clint across the ribs and sending him crashing into the guardrail. Clint grunted in pain, struggling to get back up, but Bucky was already turning away, his focus shifting.

And then his eyes locked onto me.

A chill ran through me as Bucky turned, his gaze zeroing in like a predator who’d just spotted its prey. I was out of ammo, my guns discarded on the ground, my body aching from the earlier hits. My heart pounded in my chest, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I scrambled backward, my hands searching for anything I could use as a weapon. But all I found were shards of glass and twisted metal, nothing that could stop him.

Bucky advanced, his footsteps slow and deliberate, each one echoing like a drumbeat in my ears. I swung a metal pipe, but he caught it effortlessly, wrenching it from my hands and tossing it aside as if it weighed nothing. I stumbled back, my back hitting the wreckage of a car, nowhere left to run.

“Bucky, please,” I tried, my voice cracking.

He didn’t respond. He was right in front of me now, his expression blank, his eyes cold and empty. There was no sign of the man I knew— only the Winter Soldier, a weapon with one purpose: to eliminate his target.

I swung again, this time with a jagged piece of glass, but he deflected it easily, sending the shards clattering to the ground. His fist slammed into my side, pain exploding in my ribs. I gasped, falling to my knees as the world spun around me. I was exhausted, every part of me screaming to give up, to lie down and let it end.

But I couldn’t. Not with Tony down, Clint barely standing, and Natasha struggling to breathe. I couldn’t let this be the end. Not like this.

I pushed myself up, using the car behind me for support, and faced him. “I know damn well you’re in there somewhere. This is not you, Buck. You need to wake up. Please.”

For a second, Bucky’s arm hesitated, his gaze flickering. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the cold, unyielding stare of the Winter Soldier. He raised his metal arm, poised to strike, ready to finish what he started.

In that moment, everything seemed to slow. I could hear the faint sound of Tony struggling to get his suit back online, Clint’s pained breathing, Natasha’s quiet groan as she tried to push herself up. And Bucky, standing over me, ready to deliver the final blow.

Bucky’s metal arm was raised, ready to deliver the final blow. My heart pounded so violently I thought it might burst from my chest, every instinct screaming at me to survive, but I was cornered, and there was nowhere left to run. I stared up at him, my breath hitching in terror as I crumbled against the wreckage, tears streaming down my face. The Bucky I knew isn’t there anymore. This is it.

“Please, Bucky,” I sobbed, my voice breaking under the weight of my fear. “Please don’t do this. Please! I don’t want to die.”

My words were a desperate, frantic plea, spilling out in a torrent of terror as I shook uncontrollably. His expression was blank, his eyes cold and unfeeling as he loomed over me. I pressed myself further back against the twisted metal, trying to make myself as small as possible, but there was no escaping him. I could barely breathe through the sobs racking my chest, each breath coming in panicked gasps.

“Bucky, I’m begging you!” I cried, my voice cracking. “You don’t have to do this. Please… please, let me live!” The words were tumbling out of me, broken and raw, and I was shaking so hard I could barely get them out. “I’m not your enemy! Bucky, please!”

His arm didn’t falter, his face a mask of cold determination. I squeezed my eyes shut, my entire body wracked with sobs as I screamed, “Please, Bucky!” The second I saw his arm swing down, I looked the other way and screamed, “I love you! I love you!”

The words ripped out of me, raw and desperate, cutting through the chaos. I opened my eyes to see what had happened. Why wasn’t I hit? His arm was stopped, freezing mid-swing. His eyes widened, confusion flickering across his features as if he were suddenly woken from a trance. The soldier’s unyielding stare gave way to something else—something conflicted, like he was struggling to understand.

Bucky stumbled back, his hand flying to his head as if he were trying to claw the commands out of his mind. He groaned, a guttural sound of pain that echoed in my ears. I watched, tears still streaming down my face, as he fought with himself, his body convulsing with the effort to regain control. His breaths were ragged, each one a struggle against the chains of Hydra’s programming.

He let out a tortured scream, the sound filled with agony as he staggered back, his fingers digging into his scalp. His metal arm jerked erratically, twitching as if caught between following orders and breaking free. It was like watching someone try to tear themselves apart from the inside out. My heart ached at the sight, every second a painful reminder of how deeply he was trapped.

“Bucky…” I whispered, my voice trembling as I reached out a hand, but he didn’t hear me. He was lost in the battle within his mind, his body shaking violently as he continued to scream, his face contorted in a mask of pain and fury.

His feet shuffled back further, his back hitting a crumpled car as he slumped down, his hands clutching his head. He pounded his fist against the ground, each hit sending cracks through the pavement, each hit an attempt to silence the war inside his own head. I wanted to reach out, to help him, but I couldn’t move, my own body weakened from the fight and the fear.

As Bucky struggled, I heard the distant sound of heavy footsteps— the unmistakable thud of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents rushing in. My vision blurred, the adrenaline finally wearing off and leaving a dull, throbbing pain in its place. The world around me began to fade, the sounds of Bucky’s anguished cries and the agents shouting orders blending into a muffled haze.

I tried to keep my eyes open, to hold on just a little longer, but my strength was gone. My body slumped, the last of my energy spent as darkness crept in at the edges of my vision. The last thing I saw was Bucky, still fighting against the storm in his mind, and then everything went black.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ .

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[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

HIII can u do the prompt number 5 for floyd pls :D (romantic)

Also i saw that you eanted ppl to put 2 backup characters and prompts so my backup characters are lilia and leona and my backup prompts are the fairytale scene and the taste of salt :D (also romantic)

Take ur time and ty ! 😍

Tandem Bike; Floyd Leech

Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader, established relationship

Content Warning; Swearing(?), semi-serious mortal peril /hj

Word Count; 650+

Author's Note; I hope you know how to ride a bike, cuz Floyd is no help in the matter! Hope you enjoy!

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

“I don’t think this is a good idea, Floyd,” you gulped, looking down the hill.

Floyd laughed behind you on the tandem bicycle, and you could feel the bike reverberate from it. “Ehhh, are ya scared?~” 

You dug your heels into the ground, making sure that the both of you wouldn’t end up going down the hill without knowing where you were going. The last thing you needed was to hit a pothole or a big enough rock and end up getting hurt. “Not scared,” you huffed, “just thinking.”

Floyd rolled his eyes, “We’ll just be up here all day then! Come on, Shrimpy.” He nudged your feet, but you dug your feet in further, cementing the bike into place. Floyd sighed and slumped his head on your shoulder. “You were the one that wanted to ride this thingy, but now you’re gettin’ cold feet about it?”

You took in a deep breath. Yes, it was your idea to take the cute tandem bike you found in the shed out for a spin, but your cycling partner had never ridden a bike before, and you also didn’t want to crash. “Just give me a minute, okay.” You clenched your hands on and off the brakes.

Floyd just looked at you curiously, before a wild smile took over his face. And when you eased up on the brakes again, he pushed you both forward. “Minute’s up!~”

And down the hill you went. Being angry could wait for later, as your main concern was making sure you were both staying upright and avoiding the aforementioned potholes and rocks. Floyd was cackling behind you, helping you steer a bit, but mainly just enjoying the wind wiping up his hair and watering up his eyes. And eventually, you started slowing down, coming to a more manageable pace that didn’t leave your hands clenching for dear life on the handlebars. But once you came to a complete stop you exploded in laughter; a mix of relief that you hadn’t died, of pure joy, and the infectious cackle that was coming from behind you.

“See, Shrimpy! That was fun,” Floyd poked you in the back. 

You got off the bike, legs a bit shaky from the adrenaline. “Yeah, it was a little bit fun.” Wait, I'm supposed to be mad at him! You could never stay mad at him for very long though.

Well, gravity is a thing, a thing that Floyd was not accounting for, and he wasn’t supporting the bike up, so he and the bike tumbled to the ground. And instead of sulking, he just laughed and got right back up.

“Wanna go again?~ This time I’ll steer!” He laughed, and hugged you, squeezing you gently.

You let out a long sigh, decompressing. “No, absolutely not,” you pushed against him slightly so you could put your hands on his shoulders.

Floyd pouted, “You’re no fun ya know.” There was no bite, he was just being pouty since he was planning on making you shriek as you both had no idea where you were going, but downhill, and downhill fast.

You hummed, kissing his cheek to bring him out of the dour mood. “And you’re no fun if you can’t go on little adventures with me. Can’t do that if we crash on that cursed thing,” you pointed your chin at the bike.

Floyd looked briefly at the bike before turning his attention back to you. “Okay, okay, okay, I got the memo, Shrimpy…” He placed a quick kiss and bite on your lips before pulling back with a wink, taking a look at his handy work. 

You could feel the slight sting. His bite wasn’t sharp enough to draw blood, but it was enough to make them puffy. “Are you proud of your handiwork?” 

“Mhm!~” Floyd pressed another kiss to your lips, but this time it was gentle, soothing the stinging sensation.

And you bit his lip back, deciding that you deserved some sweet vengeance.

Floyd pulled back, and the shocked look on his face turned into pure glee and he was doubled over laughing again. “Damn, Shrimpy! I should do that more often!~”

Wait, what?

~~~~~~~

Tags: @azulashengrottospiano, @eynnwwyjth, @hydra-sea, @identity-theft-101, @krenenbaker, @officialdaydreamer00, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii

[heehoonies]

Imagine hoon being rough with you. You're on your tummy while he's blowing your back out and he grabs your neck and bring your head up towards his mouth and he gives you a forehead kiss like UGH welcome to my ted talk 😽

this is very scrummy thank you.. (this isn't that rough LOL but i feel like being a little rough and a little soft today hehe)

"ugh– hnng!–" the echoes of skin against skin sound throughout the bedroom as sunghoon grips the skin of your waist harshly, bruise already blooming beneath his palms. "h-hoon!–"

he presses your back into a further arch, yanking your hips closer with each pointed thrust into your whimpering hole. sunghoon pounds into you, each slide of is cock sending your mind further into the abyss, core tightening impossibly as you're on the verge of snapping.

"taking me so fucking well," sunghoon groans between gritted teeth, breathless as he fucks you hard and fast, knocking the wind out of you with ease.

one of his hands slides from your hip down to the back of you head. his slender fingers wrap around the back of your neck affectionately, tugging you up with one movement, pressing your back flush against his chest. his cock is hitting deeper at the new angle, and you cry out in response to the heightened pleasure. sunghoon turns you to face him, capturing your lips in a deep kiss. everything about him is too deep; his cock, his tongue, his love for you.

sunghoon pulls away, a lovesick smile sitting on his lips as he searches your eyes, hips never ceasing. his smile fades into a cocky smirk as he watches your face change in real time, pushing further into your pussy, cock curving in just the right way to pierce your g-spot. you scream as sunghoon chuckles lowly, pressing a kiss to your forehead before the hand on your neck travels down to your breasts.

"these were made perfect for me, weren't they?" he whispers, palming one of your tits roughly. sunghoon places a kiss on your cheek as he squeezes tighter on the plump flesh, pace quickening as he feels himself nearing his release. one of your hands snakes backwards to push against his lower back, urging him to stay close. "oh, my baby can't get enough, can she?" he teases, though his voice is strained as sunghoon feels his head start to spin.

"fill me up–" you beg, turning your head to face him and kissing him. you're high on the euphoria he brings you and you can only feel half of sunghoon's lips against yours, but you don't care as one of his hands rubs expertly against your clit, assaulting your sensitive bud in the way that only sunghoon knows how.

sunghoon groans against your ear as he feels you clenching against him, "gonna cum with me, my dirty girl?" he feels you squeeze him harder at the words, "want me to cum inside? i'll fill you up then watch the cum spill out of you... my favorite sight in the whole fucking world is your body, angel." he's rambling now, oh so close to cumming, but he wants to feel you tightening around him first.

your legs begin to shake as his fingers quicken, and your hand slides to feel sunghoon's tip through the skin of your stomach. the feeling of him being so impossibly deep has you crying out, lights and colors exploding behind your eyes as you feel weightless. you feel your hole fill with liquid, and the sensation brings you back down to earth after your euphoria.

your limbs feel too heavy as sunghoon holds you up, thrusts continuing even after he's spent. you whimper at the overstimulation of his softening cock inside you.

sunghoon begins pressing kisses all over your face, smiling softly. "i love you, you did so well for me, baby."

[sgt-tombstone]

If Graves hadn’t betrayed the 141, he and Simon “I love Kentucky” Riley would get along really well

And now I want a roadtrip fic where Soap, Ghost, and Graves go on a month-long quest to find the best Bourbon in America

Graves drives, because it’s his classic rust red Ford Bronco and because both Soap and Ghost refuse to drive on the right side of the road

Ghost gets passenger seat and tortures them all with the aux, playing nothing but country and rock music. He plays Sweet Home Alabama so many times that even Graves threatens to run over his phone

Soap has a blast in the backseat, complaining about the lack of quality Scotch, perfecting the fine art of road rage, and sticking his head out the window like a dog

The two UK boys pick up Graves’ opinions on most things they encounter, including the best barbecue, his thoughts on drivers from other states, and what artists are considered “real” country

For maximum fun and shenanigans, throw Alex in the car and watch it explode. I originally headcanoned Alex being from upstate New York like his voice actor, but then I found out that his VA spent a lot of time in Hollywood and now I can’t get the idea of Californian Alex Keller out of my head. Graves’ VA is from San Antonio and while he spent most of his childhood in Washington DC, Graves is a Texan through and through and no one can convince me otherwise. I love the idea of both of them trapped in the same car, opining about all things America, and disagreeing about absolutely everything because there’s nothing a Californian hates more than a Texan and nothing a Texan hates more than a Californian

Meanwhile, Price, Gaz, and Farah spend the month at a fishing cabin, having father/daughter/son bonding time and attempting not to think about what the boys are getting up to. Price watches the news every night just in case. He doesn’t care if the boys make the local news wherever they are, but as soon as he catches a single glimpse of them on national news, he’s going to slap with a disciplinary write-up so fast it’ll make their heads spin

[cinnamon-galaxies]

𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧

Pairings: Alastor x gn!reader Summary: In which Alastor tries to get rid of you by giving you a dangerous task and explores your room once you have left. What he discovers are things he wishes he could unsee... Warnings/Tags: explicit and suggestive content but no smut, 18+, MDNI, gn reader, Emberlynn-coded reader, unrequited love, reader is obsessed with Alastor and he can barely handle it, second-hand embarrassment, cringe, like, lots of it, exaggerated descriptions, comedy, mentions of violence, murder and death, very brief mention of suicide (Alastor barely keeps his sanity), fandom slander and random references (you either get it or you don’t), Alastor needs his own warning, humiliation, a whole bunch of passive aggressiveness and sarcastic remarks, trash-fic Wordcount: 6.5k A/N: This is a spin-off to my other Emberlynn-coded reader story ‘The Simp’. It can be read as a standalone, though I suggest reading the original first for a better understanding of the reader’s messed up personality and their complicated relationship with Alastor. This one escalated a bit more than I planned. It was originally meant to be much shorter, but I ended up having way too much fun writing it. Comments, Likes and Reblogs are always appreciated!

Masterlist

   It was a morning like any other in the hotel. The air was still and tranquil, the residents just beginning to stir as they readied themselves for the day ahead. Alastor strode through the dimly lit halls, his mind set on a singular destination: your room.

   A familiar weight settled in his stomach, a feeling that had lingered since the day he claimed your soul. Your insufferable presence had become a constant in his existence, haunting him with a mix of irritation and curiosity. He braced himself for yet another day filled with your exhausting demeanor, yet he knew he had an important task to assign to you.

   As he approached your door, he could already hear the faint sounds of movement within – your usual morning routine, perhaps accompanied by some melodramatic humming. The thought made his insides twist, but he reminded himself of the necessity of the task at hand.

   In front of your door, Alastor closed his eyes and took a deep breath to prepare himself for yet another one of your annoying tirades, then knocked. Once, twice – the door opened when he moved to knock a third time and he almost punched the air. Immediately, his crimson eyes darted down, and there you stood, already dressed despite the early hour, with an eager grin plastered on your face, your expression brightening like an unexpected sunrise breaking through the clouds.

   “Good morning, Alastor!” your squeaky voice disrupted the early quiet of the hotel and Alastor cringed inwardly, his ears twitching at the painful frequency. He opened his mouth to retort with a dry greeting, but before he could utter a single tone you already interrupted him, the words spilling from your mouth like an accelerated record, “Is something wrong? Do you need my help? It’s still so early in the morning and you knocked on my door – I mean you never knock on my door, so there must be something wrong. Is there anything wrong? Do you need my help? Please let me help you, Alastor!”

   Instant regret grew inside of him as he tried to keep up with the neverending flood of your words that were uttered so fast he barely managed to understand what you said. He just stood there, staring at you with his mouth slightly agape, overwhelmed and the wheels turning in his head as he tried hard to piece together the fragments of what he caught from your extensive monologue.

   “Uhm…” He blinked, staring at your worried but also anticipatory expression, the adrenaline heating up your face like a tomato, making it appear as if it was about to burst. He imagined your head exploding and withheld a chuckle, the mere thought of all your blood and viscera spilled around your room a delightful image in his head.

   “Well, my dear, I do in fact have a task for you,” he eventually said, his voice much calmer than he felt. He always relished the stillness of his sleepless nights, when you finally left him alone, allowing him to unwind from the stress you constantly stirred within him. If he weren’t already dead, he’d probably be at risk of a heart attack from your relentless annoyance. Seriously, how could someone as utterly miserable as you be so exhausting? Maybe he should consider seeing a therapist before he completely snapped. It wouldn’t be long before he lost all the control he’d worked so hard to maintain. He could feel it, deep in his bones – the silent scream of agony echoing within him.

   You immediately straightened your back at his words, crossing your hands behind your back in anticipation. “Oooh, a task! Tell me! I’ll do it as soon as possible!”

Here's the missing part filled in:

   “I sure hope so…” Alastor muttered beneath his breath before he tilted his head to the side and responded much louder, “Well, it is something of high importance…” he drawled out, the radio static in his voice crackling, and he could swear he saw your eyes gleam.  

   “What is it, Alastor-kun?” you interrupted him, and Alastor’s eye twitched, though he did not further elaborate, choosing instead to let the moment linger with a teasing smile.

   “Well, you see… I need you to fetch something from Cannibal Town. There’s a butcher on Carcass Lane who sells the most delectable venison in the entire Pride Ring. I need you to grab some for lunch. Here’s the address and the list of items I need.” He handed you a crumpled piece of paper, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes, and you snatched it from his hands, pressing the note almost against your face while you read it.

   Alastor raised his eyebrows as he watched you literally absorb the information, then you looked up and nodded exaggeratedly.

   “I'm on my way!” you declared and scurried past him, the wind of your fast movement causing Alastor's hair to flutter. He turned around with a narrowed eye and crooked smile, a look of irritation on his face, but you had already disappeared behind the corner before his eyes could follow. He stared in the direction you just disappeared for a few more seconds before his smile widened into a predatory grin, flashing his sharp and pointy canines with a sudden, exhilarating thrill that sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine. This was an easy success. You really were so desperate to serve him that you were stupid enough to run to Cannibal Town alone. You, a small little creature, pathetic and completely helpless, were nothing more than prey for the people in this part of the city. Maybe, if he was lucky enough, you'd get eaten before you even reached the butcher shop, and thus a problem would've been solved without much effort on his side. Genius.

   Still standing in the doorway, he turned back around. Alastor had never dared to knock on your door before – because of obvious reasons which have just been confirmed to be true. But now that you were gone and hopefully not returning, he got curious. Without further thought he entered your room and closed the door behind him, turning on his heels to take a look around. His eyes widened with every detail that caught his eyes. Bright pink and violet walls clashed with white polished furniture that could've been sourced from a doctor's office. The cabinets and shelves appeared almost sterile compared to the atrocious clutter in and around. Dozens – no, hundreds – of plushies and figurines were crammed into the tiniest of spaces. It was a chaotic explosion of color and fluff, a seemingly random assortment that defied all attempts at organization. The shelf was filled with books and boxes that were somehow puzzled into the space like some kind of a real life Tetris game. The walls – dear Satan, the walls – were suffocatingly plastered with posters in colorful palettes that showed a wide range of grotesquely exaggerated, wide-eyed monstrosities. The eyes of the characters – if they could even be called that – were so enormous that they seemed ready to fall out of their skulls, while their breasts rivaled their heads in size. It was as if the artist had taken every ridiculously hyper-sexualized fantasy and spilled them out on paper to create those unnatural horrors of eyesore that depicted an unhealthy and disrespectful portrayal of the female body. How were their waists so small? Did they even have organs in there? Alastor raised his eyebrow as he eyed the pictures. Some of those creatures bore animalistic features with cat ears, bunny tails and other appendages like they were common in hell, yet seeing the mere addition of those features on such grotesque figures was more than unsettling to him. The others were probably supposed to be human but their proportions were so out of control they looked like misbuilt mannequins from the fashion store of mistrust.

   Alastor's eyes drifted further across the wall until they landed on the image of a pale man with sharp pointy ears and curly white hair who was mid-bite on a woman's neck, the blood pouring from the wound and running over the woman's chest in a subtle yet intendedly suggestive way. The text read ‘Baldur's Gate’.

   What in Hell's name was a ‘Baldur's Gate’?!

   Before his mind could even attempt to comprehend this madness, his gaze landed on another poster with the same writing and same world – but this one featured a woman swooning in the arms of what could be an octopus-man hybrid.

   Alastor blinked, horrified. Yes, that was indeed an octopus with glowing eyes and squirming, slimy tentacles wrapping themselves around the poor woman as though she were just another victim of this abhorrent nightmare. Wait – were those tentacles caressing her?!

   He gagged, the taste of bile appearing on his tongue. “This is disgusting,” he hissed, a shiver running down his spine. He could barely process what he was seeing. ‘Baldur's Gate’? Hell, maybe you belonged there. Maybe he'd be doing you a favor by sending you straight into that absurd world where vampires, octopus-men, and God knows what else ran free, far away from him, where you could fulfill your worst fantasies of–. He neglected the thought before he could finish it, his stomach churning and the threat of another gag rising in his throat.

   But then, his eyes caught something worse. Yes, worse. Somehow the room found a way to outdo itself. Layered posters plastered the other wall – yes, layered – leaving almost no surface of the actual wall visible underneath. And the images – Satan help him –  the images were so obscene, he couldn't withhold himself from widening his eyes in shock. Muscular men – half naked and grotesquely exaggerated – posed with claws, fangs, and the most ridiculous expressions of primal desire imaginable. Texts like “Alpha” and “Bite me, baby” screamed from these posters. But the final blow came from a particular poster showing a dripping wet, absurdly muscular mafioso leaning into a shower, a caption in giant, sultry text reading, “Are you lost, babygirl?”

   Alastor's jaw practically unhinged as his eyes widened in horror.

   What. The. Fuck.

   He averted his gaze, barely suppressing another gag, and found himself standing in front of a shelf, hoping for some brief moment of sanity. But no – his hopes were shattered. The shelf was packed with small figurines or more cat-girls and octopus men, between them some green-haired man holding two Katana in his hands and one between his teeth. How the hell could he even fight like this? This didn't make any sense at all. And – was that the sculpture of spaghetti with a face?! He stared at it with one eye widened and the other narrowed, his lids twitching under the pressure and his smile was shaped into a confused grimace. Why the Hell did you have spaghetti on your shelf?! But of course that wasn't all. Between those figurines were even smaller creatures that looked like they'd crawled from the very bowels of an overactive, perverted imagination. With a roll of his eyes and a deepening sense of disgust, he glanced at the books. Big mistake.

   How – just how could every single corner of your room be even worse than the last?! He was barely able to keep himself from laughing as he read the titles of the books that were stuffed into the tightest of spaces. Each one was worse than the one before: “Bound by Blood and Lust”, “Slave to the Beast”, “Taken by the Overlord”, “Marked by the Alpha”, “The Alpha's Virgin Omega”... and even more dreadful titles. “My Immortal” was the most normal of them all. But even a harmless title could hide one of the worst stories in all of history. If Alastor knew one thing, then it was that one should never judge a book by its cover – or in this case: title.

   He took a deep breath, stepping back from the shelf, his gaze still locked on the chaos around him. He found himself standing before your desk, turning with a low hum, eyes scanning the mess of paper stacks and notebooks with a bizarre mix of morbid curiosity and utter disgust. Your room was like a car crash – something no one wanted to witness, yet impossible to look away from. In a nutshell: It was absolutely atrocious.

   With narrowed eyes he took one of the paper stacks in his hands and shuffled through the pages. Most of them were notes and doodles, some better than others, but the majority looked like the deformed mannequin creatures from your posters – only more disturbing. Their eyes, grotesquely oversized and much rounder and bigger than the ones from the posters, were filled with far too many reflections, giving the eerie illusion of tears, yet each character wore an unsettling grin, twisted and unnerving, disturbingly similar to his own at its worst. He continued his expedition through your mess, not surprised to find some drawings of himself but shocked by the sheer quality and painstaking detail you had put into them. Then, his breath caught in his lungs. His eyes widened, pupils constricting in disbelief as he stumbled upon yet another drawing of him – this time, barely dressed, with a lewd speech bubble in the corner. ‘Oh, don’t be shy, little one. I promise, this is one signal that’s sure to reach every part of you…’

   He instantly flung the papers aside, recoiling with a loud, distorted radio screech. You truly were a creature of Hell. Did your parents even love you? They must’ve been really bad people if they managed to spawn such a fucked up creature like you… Maybe it was a good idea to just leave the room without exploring your personal belongings any further. Not even getting mauled to death by bloodthirsty dogs was as traumatizing as the deep, dark abyss of your mind. But before he could turn away, something caught his eye. A pink notebook that was adorned with glitter stickers and handwritten quotes lay right in the middle of your desk, a few pens strewn around it as if you were just using it. He knew he shouldn’t. Every single look was worse than the one before. He knew this flashy notebook would most probably hide even more stuff he would regret to ever have seen. However, there was a quiet little voice that tried to lure him into doing something he knew he would regret.

   With caution he approached the desk again and reached out his hand, his finger tips grazing the surprisingly soft material of the cover. He held his breath as he took it into his hands and opened it. The first page was adorned with hearts and tiny flower doodles, the image of a cathedral radio in the corner. In the middle of the page stood written in flourished cursive: “Static Lust – A Dark Romance Fanfiction”. Underneath, your name.

   He frowned. What was a fanfiction…? With a bad feeling in his guts he turned the page and began to read your surprisingly neat handwriting. His eyes flew over the words, taking in every sentence and he cringed inwardly at the badly written plot. The story was ridiculously self-indulgent, starring you as a tragic figure that was kidnapped and brought to Hell by none other than… him.

   Alastor blinked when he read his name, wrinkling his nose and inhaling a deep breath. Of course. He should’ve known. Fan-fiction. Knowing how hard you were in love with him should’ve prepared him for what he was about to discover.

   As uncomfortable as he felt, he continued this little venture into the literal intonation of your deepest thoughts. Somehow, it amused him. It was as if he was reading your diary, just more messed up. And most definitely pushing his boundaries. 

   You portrayed him with a personality that couldn’t be farther off from reality: a lovesick obsessive who wanted nothing but to corrupt you, possess your soul and your whole being. He couldn’t believe what he was reading. The sheer absurdity of it all – the dramatized seduction, the over-the-top description of his passion for you were unbearable to read. Yet, he couldn't stop himself from continuing the story. His eyes continuously trailed over every sentence, soaking in the words as if his life depended on it while his heart sank deeper into his guts. His expression was completely motionless and his already pale face drained of even the last bits of color. The worst was: it didn’t stop here. As the story progressed, so did your so-called ‘romance’.

   His fingers trailed along my jaw, claws grazing my delicate skin as he kept his gaze locked with mine, crimson eyes boring themselves into my very core as if he was reading my soul. I felt completely naked under his gaze, caught between desire and a flicker of fear at his imposing form.    “Be mine,” he growled with a deep sultry voice, the radio static gone and his hot breath grazing against my cheeks. Sharp teeth glinted from behind his smile, a silent threat yet so intriguing. The danger, his power, his possession were palpable. Everything left me completely breathless and a shiver ran down my spine, causing the butterflies in my stomach to flutter wildly around. It was a tingling feeling, one that jolted electricity through my veins and into the depth of my core.

   He swallowed hard at the description, nausea taking over his stomach, replacing the appetite he just had for a tasty bite of rotting venison. He would never say something like that to you. He would never do something like that to you. And most importantly, he could never love you. He wasn’t even able to love. But even if he were, he'd be more likely to fall for Lucifer than he would ever waste a single thought on you.

   ‘Be mine.’

   He let out a huff. You were already his. Certainly not in the way you wanted it to be, but he owned your soul. Which meant he could do to you however he pleased. But nothing similar to this bullshit from your writing, obviously.

   Alastor’s eyes narrowed as he continued to read and the story development was truly as bad as his characterization and anything else. The more he continued, the more his eyes widened in horror. It didn’t take long for the writing to turn explicit – vulgar and smutty. Each sentence was dripping with suggestive language, painting a picture of you and him in intimate situations.

   I couldn't resist him any longer, the way he dominated the room, the power in his every movement. My heart raced as he leaned in closer, his voice a seductive purr that caused my hairs to stand up. “You were a naughty little thing,” Alastor whispered, his lips brushing my ear and his voice dropped to a baritone that vibrated in his throat, “and you deserve to be punished.”    I shuddered, feeling my entire body tremble in anticipation. “Alastor…”    “Uh, uh, uh,” he brushed me off, his nose grazing the skin on my neck while his hot breath sent shivers down my spine and right into my core.     “Say it. Say, ‘Punish me, Sir,” he commanded, and I–

   Alastor slammed the book shut for a moment, closing his eyes as if to cleanse himself from what he had just read. He let out a sharp exhale, then opened the notebook again with a resigned sigh, morbidly fascinated by the sheer audacity of your words. His smile became brittle, twitching as he forced himself to read on.

   Alastor pressed me firmly against the wall, his finger tracing a line down my neck, the touch gentle but brimming with control. I felt his sharp claws graze my skin, leaving faint red marks that would serve as a silent testament to his claim over me. I remained still, terrified that the wrong move could turn his claws from teasing to lethal.    “So naughty…” he growled in my ear, his voice sending a shiver down my spine before he stepped back, creating a cold distance between us. The sudden loss of his warmth sent a chill through me, goosebumps prickling across my skin as I resisted the urge to reach for him, knowing he wouldn't tolerate such disobedience.    Alastor’s intense gaze swept over my body, lingering on every inch, and I could feel the heat pooling between my legs, the wetness trailing down my thighs. “Strip,” he ordered, his voice leaving no room for hesitation. I obeyed without a second thought.

   This was absurd. This was disgusting. This was absolutely disturbing. This was how you viewed him? A domineering, smoldering lover? The mere idea was enough to make his skin crawl.

   He gagged once more, the mere thought of touching you making him recoil in pure revulsion. This went beyond simple disgust. It was something far deeper. What was any of this supposed to be? Did you actually believe he could ever reciprocate your twisted feelings? Were you truly so desperate that you wrote an entire book about him doing such indecent things to you? He couldn’t comprehend it, and it only worsened his already low opinion of you. He knew he shouldn’t have read it, but did you honestly think he wouldn’t find out eventually?

   Part of him just wanted to die again. To disappear and never return, to tear out his eyes and brain and offer them to his equals in Cannibal Town. Was there anyone in Pentagram City who still performed lobotomies? He definitely needed one after this monstrosity of an insult to all literature ever created.

   He flipped through pages in haste, no longer bothering to read the entire story, just skimming over a few lines here and there. With every word, it became more unbearable. The grotesque images your writing forced into his mind were intolerable, destined to haunt him for the far future where they would resurface in his rare moments of sleep and flash before his eyes every time he looked at you. It was obscene, nonsensical, and revolting. Violating not only his sense of decency but also his personal boundaries.

   What started off as a toxic fast-paced back and forth between the two characters turned out to be nothing more than a pure over-sexualized scandal. You and Alastor would do it everywhere. In the bed, in the shower, in the hotel's parlor, on the counter of Husk's bar – even on the balcony while you glared up at one of Vox’s drones, knowing damn well the television freak would watch. He even found a chapter in which he took you into his radio station and broadcasted your moans all over Hell, so everyone knew that you belonged to him. 

   “Ah, Alastor-kun!” I moaned in both pain and pleasure.

   “Punish me, Mister Radio Demon, Sir!”

   “Ah, harder, deer-daddy!”

   “YAMETE KUDASAI!!!”

   He slammed the book shut again and dared not to open it again. What. The. Actual. Fuck. Was wrong with you?!

   His face was white as chalk, his eyes twitched and for the first time in decades, his smile had disappeared and instead, his face was adorned by a completely and utterly traumatized grimace. This was… this was an affront to his dignity, to his entire being.

   His thoughts raced like a whirlwind as he imagined every possible way to make you regret this. To punish you – not in the way you do desperately wanted – but actually punish you in the most gruesome and painful ways he could imagine. Over the decades, Alastor got creative with his murders. Maybe he would even discover new ways to torture a soul before tearing it apart, shredding it into pieces to ensure not only your death but to erase your existence from history entirely. Perhaps he’d even find a way to prevent you from ever being born at all.

   Fuck.

   But until then, he would keep his rage silently hidden inside of him, deep behind the walls he had constructed to maintain his control.

   Alastor let out a laugh, though it was more out of frustration than amusement, the sound hollow and laced with irritation. Of all the souls he could have ended up owning, it had to be yours – lovesick simp with a disturbing penchant for writing self-indulgent filth. Oh yes, you were destined to be his punishment. The punishment Alastor most probably deserved in his afterlife. But before he could continue his train of thoughts, he got interrupted.

   “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!” your frantic voice shattered the silence of your room as you burst through the door, nearly knocking it off its hinges. Alastor flinched, startled by the sudden commotion. His head turned a full 180 degrees to face you, accompanied by the snapping of bones and sharp crackle of radio static, and you froze mid-step, locking eyes with him.

   You blinked once, then twice. “Oh, Alastor! I'm so sorry!” you cried, your eyes glistening with tears. “I’m so, so sorry! I screwed up!”

   He stood there, holding your notebook, his expression frozen like a deer caught in the headlights. His heart raced in his chest as you hurried toward him, trembling slightly.

   “I went to the butcher, but I forgot my purse at the hotel! I had to come back for it!” you rambled, breathless, and Alastor’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I’m so sorry I won’t have your supplies in time! Please forgive me, Alastor! Or punish me! I’d love to be punished! I–I mean – I deserve to be punished! I can also punish myself if you prefer! Just forgive me for being so stupid!” you pleaded, completely oblivious to the fact that Alastor stood in front of you with your most mortifying secret in his hands. 

   Tears streamed down your face, but Alastor just stared, mouth slightly agape, yellow teeth peeking through as he stood there, overwhelmed. He held your notebook in his hands, the disturbing contents trapped between its thick covers, while you rambled on about a forgotten purse and your desire for punishment. All the while, you remained utterly unaware of the true embarrassment in front of you.

   “Uh…” Alastor exhaled at a loss of words.

   You gazed up at him with teary, wide eyes, then your eyes slowly drifted down to his hands. Realization hit you like a train. Your eyes widened and grew so big in size that they rivaled with the creatures on your posters, the color from your face draining, turning your skin from pale to snow-white in an instant.

   “No...” you breathed, your voice weak and barely above a whisper. You shook your head slowly, stepping back, repeating the word in disbelief, as if doing so could undo the reality before you.

   Alastor's initial shock dissolved into a wicked grin. His pupils constricted, and the glow in his crimson eyes intensified with a dangerous gleam. Watching your horror unfold, filled him with a surge of dark satisfaction and the thought of simply torturing you felt far too mild now. No, this reaction was much more satisfying, much more delicious. His eyes gleamed with cruel amusement as an idea took root. This wasn't just good. It was perfect. The situation was playing right into his hands.

   “Well, my dear, it appears that you've stumbled into quite the predicament, huh?” his static-filled voice broke the uncomfortable silence and he turned around fully, tilting his head in a derogatory manner. “Care to explain?” He asked, his fingers tapping against the book one after another, the sound of his claws clapping against its surface a haunting melody. His voice was much too light and way too cheerful for what he felt on the inside, but it was the perfect way to confront you with the danger you just put yourself into. It made him hard to read. It put him in charge.

   “Well… uh… uhm…” you stumbled, momentarily speechless. Alastor could see the wheels turning in your head and he noticed your pale cheeks turn a red color that was almost as vibrant as his coat.

   He took a step closer and tilted his head further, almost holding it at a 90 degrees angle. “Well…?”

   “I– it's not what–” you started but Alastor interrupted you.

   “Save this nonsense. This is exactly what it looks like, dear. Now, tell me, what is this thing you're so ashamed of, huh?”

   You began to fumble with your shirts, fingers fidgeting with the fabric as your breaths grew more ragged. “I–I–It's… a diary!” you shouted that last word. “A diary! Yes, yes! Nothing more! Just a few thoughts about my life at the hotel!” you tried to save yourself from this situation, crafting a lie that was so obvious that even the most stupid person would've seen right through it. And, after all, it's not that Alastor didn't just read page after page with an abhorred expression. But you didn't need to know. Not yet. He'd let you squirm a little before dropping the bombshell. So, he just raised an eyebrow and turned the notebook in his hands, eyeing it from all sides with faux curiosity. “Is that so?” he drawled and you seemed to shrink under his looming presence and intense gaze.

   You nodded hastily, your whole body vibrating with the simple movement. “Yes! Yes…”

   “Well…” Alastor paused for a moment, glancing down at the supposed ‘diary’ and then darting his eyes at you from under his lashes, a quick flicker of mischief dancing across his features but no less intense.

   You swallowed. And Alastor could see your throat jolt up and down.

   “Well,” he repeated, “if it's just about the hotel, then I guess you wouldn't mind if I take a look.” He moved his hand to open the notebook but your panicked voice interrupted him.

   “No!”

   He stopped his movement, thumb and index just touching the upper rim of the front over. He raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “Oh? And why's that?”

   “Because… because… it's not good. It's just… bullet points and quick notes. Nothing special, really! Just ugly smearing and shitty drawings!” You explained in a rush, nervously shifting your weight from one foot to the other while you bit the corners of your cheeks and your hands kept fumbling with your shirt.

   Wait. Drawings? Alastor blinked. There were illustrations in there too?! He swallowed. Hard. Though his expression did not reveal any of the discomfort that crept through his veins like a venomous snake on the hunt for something to eat.

   “Oh come on, they can't be so bad!” Alastor assured while he made sure his fingers lingered at the very same spot, a silent threat that he could – and would – open the book any second.

   Tears welled up in your eyes again as you stared up at him with pursed lips, a pleading expression on your incredibly blushed face as you silently, yet loud enough for everyone to hear, begged he would put it aside and dismiss your personal belongings. 

   You folded your hands in front of you as if praying to some God, your voice barely above a whisper, “I mean it, Alastor. Please don't open the book. Please…"

   Oh, this was delicious. This was so much better than any torturing method he had imagined just mere minutes ago. Your pleading expression, the fear in your eyes, the way you so desperately tried to keep him from opening the book while you were completely unaware of the fact that he had already read its contents. That he knew about your deepest, dirtiest desires, your pathetic longing for him that must’ve affected you so strongly you spend hours and hours of your free time to create something this atrocious… He could see your body tremble. He noticed every inch of your skin on fire, every single hair standing on edge. He smelled the panic that surged through your veins and heard the blood rushing through your arteries, powered by the frantic beating of your pounding heart in your chest.

   The silence between you stretched on and Alastor enjoyed every second of it, reveled in this moment of utter uncertainty. He heard your ragged breaths, how you tried to force yourself to keep your breathing as steady as possible, fighting against the tears that glistened in your eyes. Alastor realized you resembled the drawings he’d discovered in that chaotic stack of paper, and his grin grew even more sinister, exposing his sharp fangs in all their menacing glory.

   It was at this moment he knew time had come to drop the bombshell. To reveal the truth to you and humiliate you with the product of your own creativity.

   “‘Deer-daddy’, huh?” he casually quoted one of the lines from your story and he saw you twitch, his sadistic satisfaction growing even stronger.

   “What?” you whimpered in shock but before you could say more, Alastor opened the notebook and flipped to the very page where he read it, turning the book around for you to face your own writing and pointing with his clawed finger at the line.

   “Here it is, ‘deer-daddy’,” he repeats again, tapping against the page twice. Then he inhaled deeply, raised one eyebrow and looked at you like a disappointed parent. “First off, I am not your father,” he clarified, his tone still casual, a subtle hint at the hidden danger underneath his facade. “And secondly… Wouldn’t that make the whole plot of your story a little… incestuous…?”

   The trembling of your body intensified and your breaths got quicker, impossible to control as you found yourself at the brink of hyperventilation.

   “Oh, come now, dear. Why so nervous…?” he drawled and your lips began to tremble.

   “You…” you started but your breath caught in your throat, your voice trembling as much as your body. “You… read… it…?”

   Alastor fell silent for a moment, his burning red eyes taking in your pitiful state. Then his smile widened, casual yet unnervingly so, before he cheerfully exclaimed, “Of course I did! How could I resist this flashy little booklet you so obviously displayed in the middle of your desk? I simply had to read it!” He closed the book and thrust the cover into your face, an exaggerated gesture meant to highlight its eye-catching design. The stickers you had playfully plastered on now seemed to mock you for forgetting to hide it away.

   Holding the book closer to himself again, he shifted his gaze between it and you. “But let’s be honest, dear. Your storytelling could use some work.” He opened the book again and flipped through the pages. “You started off strong with your self-insert and their dramatic backstory – it caught my interest at first. But come on. Kidnapped into Hell? By the Radio Demon, due to a ridiculous Halloween bet gone wrong?” He raised an eyebrow at the sheer absurdity of the plot before he continued, “First off, summoning me to Earth requires much more than a little pentagram, some candles, and a radio. I deserve better sacrifices than that. And do you honestly think I’d find a pathetic little human being, especially one like you, interesting? What could you possibly offer in return for my favor besides your fragile soul? I’m not the kind to wait years or decades for a death so a bargain can be fulfilled. It’s simply… inconvenient.”

   You stared at him, dumbfounded, as he critiqued your writing like an editor at a publishing house.

   “And kidnapping someone just because of their ‘tempting nature’ and without further motive? That’s quite foolish. What if the Sins found out? Or other powerful beings in charge?” He stepped closer, glaring down at you with a still raised eyebrow, his casual demeanor betraying a hint of enjoyment in your discomfort. “Don’t you think they’d come after you if they learned that a human managed to survive a descent to Hell? Honestly, you’re missing quite a thrilling plot here.”

   Alastor’s eyes flicked over the pages, taking in fleeting words without truly reading. He didn’t need to reread to recall the errors and striking details; they were burned into his mind – probably for the rest of eternity. As he took a deep breath, he stumbled upon a lewd drawing of you and him tangled together on a desk – something he must’ve overlooked before and wished he could forget now. So, there were illustrations in this book. You didn't lie.

   Blinking, he turned the page, pushing aside this humiliation for a moment to continue his critique, “While your writing style is surprisingly enticing, the rest of the story lacks character development, thrill, and depth. It could have been executed much better – if we ignore the fact that it centers around me being your beau and engaging in... inappropriate activities while indulging in exaggerated displays of carnal desires. You’re a filthy little thing, aren’t you?” He chirped, glancing at you with anticipation, waiting for you to form a response. But you were speechless. Not a single word managed to leave your lips as you just stared at him, dumbfounded, your mouth agape and eyes widened in horror and confusion.

   Alastor sighed. “Oh come now, dear. If you can be so bold to bring such an imagination to paper you can surely just answer my question.”

   “I–,” you stuttered, pausing to gather your strength to do as he commanded. But instead, the words tumbled out as an apology. “I–I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude–”

   “Uh, uh, uh, dear!” Alastor interrupted, waving his index finger in front of your face. Your eyes squinted, tracking its movement. “We both know you’re not ashamed of intruding on anything related to me. Considering you’ve been following me around with those doting eyes of yours ever since the day you begged me to take your soul. You’re a bold little creature, utterly devoid of dignity, feeling the need to humiliate me in the process.”

   He closed the book and handed it back to you. Your trembling hand snatched it from his grip, and you hugged it protectively against your chest, closing your eyes and taking deep breaths to steady yourself. Meanwhile, Alastor continued his scolding, stepping closer until there was barely a foot of distance between you. He tilted his head, looming over you like a predator, eyes narrowed and teeth flashing.

   His voice dropped, growing darker with each word, the static crackling around him making the air feel charged as he hissed, “I suggest you cease this violation of my privacy before I make sure you regret every little thought you’ve ever dared to indulge in regarding such frivolities.”

   For a fleeting moment, his eyes turned an abyssal black before returning to their fiery hue. It was a subtle threat, yet clear as day. He lingered, staring down at you, savoring your pathetic state, before shadows engulfed him, pulling him into darkness until he vanished completely, leaving you alone in your room with just your thoughts and the memory of the consequences of your inappropriate behavior.

   Yes, he definitely needed that therapist.