#its not that deep but its that deep to me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nymphoheretic · 2 days ago

Text

Synopsis: You infiltrated the Farspace Fleet only to be captured by the Colonel. He looks vaguely familiar...It couldn't be! Could it be...Caleb!

Warnings: Hatefucking, psuedo-cest, CNC (Caleb uses reader's conflicting feelings against her),OOC Caleb(probably cause he's a little mean), gun kink, glove kink, misuse of Caleb's evol, fingering, electrostimulation via his bionic arm, squirting, light degrading, teasing, edging, choking, oral sex (m!receiving and f!recieiving) impact play (clit slaps, spanking, light face slapping), praise, manipulation, breeding, orgasm control, overstim, use of "gege", use of "mei mei" (lemme know if I missed anything!)

Pairing: Caleb x F!Reader/MC

Word Count: 8.5k

A/N: Caleb has been rotting a brain ever since his trailer dropped and he was all yandere-ish vibes and mean and evil and....I swear I'm a Zayne girlie

AO3

Network: @eveningatthemoviesnetwork

You were visibly shaking with anger as you glare at the man walking around in front of you. How could he dare show his face to you again after being declared dead for a year?! How did he survive the explosion? How did he escape? And the more important question that burns in the back of your mind: if he did make it out, where was Granny Jospehine? Did he just leave her to die?

Your eyes follow him as he steps slowly around the room, an apple in his grip as he stares at it thoughtfully. There was a neutral look on his face as the methodical soft creaks of his boots echoing out as he circles you. You clench your fists tightly as your teeth bites down on the plush of your lip as you raise your chin he finally sits down, his purplish eyes easily locking with yours.

“Gege…”

The pitterpatter of the storm outside strikes against the widow as Caleb regards you with a cool look as he squeezes the apple lightly in his fist. He sits directly in front of you, his knees brushing against yours from the movement. A small, short scoff leaves his lips as he looks down at the apple in his grip. “Have you ever taken a moment to consider…” His eyes shift back towards yours as his lips quirk up into a sinister smile. “…that I was never your brother?” Caleb lifts the apple to his lips slowly and takes a bite, the sound of his teeth breaking the bright red flesh echoing through your ears.

Before you could stop yourself, you rose to your feet, hand held high and smacked it across his cheek. The apple flying from his hand and smashing against the window before sliding down and smearing the glass with its juices. Your chest heaves as you glare at him through narrowed eyes as the force of your slap causes his head to turn to the side, his cheek visibly red. “Bastard.” you growl, voice filled with hatred, yet it still trembles with conflict as the memories of the sweet Caleb you grew up with surfaces.

Caleb slices his eye back over to you, subtly flicking his index finger up and watching as the gravity around you grows dense from his manipulation as you drop to your knees. Lightning flashes, making his eyes glow sinisterly as he rises back to his feet. His hand stretches out and pets your hair as his smile turns back soft. “You’re acting like you don’t remember me, Little one.”

That nickname. It stirs something within you and the image of Caleb - your Caleb - overlaps the man in front of you. His eyes turn playful and it makes your heart beat faster in your chest. “No!” You yell out and when his hand moves to caress your cheek, you lash out and bite him. Your teeth sink in deep as you clamp your jaws down on to the fleshy part between his wrist and pinky.

He lets out a grunt as he grabs your jaw in his other hand and squeezes your cheeks until you release his hand. His tongue pokes out and licks at the indents your teeth left behind on his hand. “Do you remember when we were little and you brought home an injured cat?” He reaches out and grabs your wrist, placing a thin black device around the width as he releases his control over the intense gravity around you. “I put a collar with a bell on it so it couldn’t escape without being noisy.” His hand trails down your leg as he increases the gravity around it to hold you in place on the couch.

You gasp and open your mouth to say something, probably to curse him again when the cold gloved finger of his other hand presses against your lips, silencing you. His eyes harden once more as he rises back to his feet. “Do as you’re told and don’t cause any trouble. You won’t get hurt then.” When your jaw snaps shut his facial expression softens as he reaches for your hand and places it on his cheek, curling your fingers to make you cup his face. “It’s me. I’m back.”

Those words make your heart quiver as you nearly give into his sweet voice. Everything about him screamed your gege - your Caleb, but there was something darker about him that was holding you back. A bit of darkness in his eyes that you could easily spot. You grit your teeth as you could still feel the effects of his evol holding you down. “Gege…If you’re back, then let me go!”

Caleb’s eyes darken when you call him that and he moves his face away from you. His fists clenched tightly, his gloved hand making a creasing sound as his eyes squeezed shut. When he opens them again, he looks into yours. The hatred that burns in them was shallow. He could easily break you if he chose to. “Princess…you didn't pass.” His voice was cool as he reached out his hand.

You gasp as pressure constricts around your throat as the gravity around it moves inward, pressing down on those precious arteries and veins that deliver oxygen rich blood to your brain. Your eyes widen as you claw at the air around your neck to no avail. You try to squirm around, but the pressure on your leg holds you down. Tears begin to form in your eyes as you look at Caleb pleadingly. “Please…ge…Caleb…” you manage to breathe out.

Finally.

The pressure around your throat stops and your hands immediately fly to cup your tender neck as your chest heaves, your breath coming out in pants as blood seeps back into your brain. Your shoulder gives a short flinch when Caleb wraps his long fingers around your delicate wrist and pulls you into his chest. His sweet voice surrounds you as it rumbles from his chest. Your hand curls up on his pectorals as your face heats up, coloring down to your chest. “Caleb?”

“You can't convince yourself to hate me with every fiber of your being.” His finger slips under the small opening at your waist, slowly tracing the skin there in a slow caress that makes shivers roll down your spine. “Wouldn't you agree, Little one?” He practically purrs that name in your ear as his gloved hand presses you deeper into his embrace, a coldness seeping into your flesh through the materials of your clothing.

You meet his lilac gaze and could see the way they soften for you - because of you. It made your heart squeeze painfully in your chest. He was right. You couldn’t bring yourself to hate him completely but that did not stop the rage that was boiling within you. You try to remove yourself from his hold but still that heavy pressure on your legs keeps you close to him. You open your mouth once more to curse at him, when he slips his fingers into your mouth and presses down on your tongue.

“Ah ah ah…You still haven’t passed your test, princess.” He kicks your feet apart, his manipulation over the gravity that holds you down releasing its grip but now he has one on your jaw as saliva pools on the center of your tongue until it leaks down the corners of your lips. Caleb’s lips turn upwards into a smile, his face morphing into the one of your sweet gege. You blink once, twice, three times to try to clean your mind. This Caleb was not your gege. This was the Farspace Fleet’s Colonel Caleb. And you? You were his prisoner.

Caleb stares into your eyes, lilac orbs darkening with something akin to desire and need. All those pent up feelings he’s had for you are flooding back so intensely. His fingers slide deeper into your mouth, saliva spilling down the corners of your mouth before he pulls them out completely. He spreads his digits and watches how the translucent strings of spittle slides down them. His knee slots between your thighs as his hands quickly cup your cheeks, “Bite me again and I’ll crush your throat,” he warns before his tongue slips into your warm mouth.

A surprised squeak vibrates in your chest as you try to beat down that feeling of greedy want and desire that you had once held for Caleb before he was lost to you. You had to remind yourself that he was now the enemy, but…why were his lips so soft, tongue so gentle as it strokes over yours, trying to coax a reaction out of yours. Your first instinct was to bite down until his threat replays in your head. You could feel a sheer difference in the temps of his palms as he cups your face under your jaw.

His tongue licks over every part of your mouth, leaving nothing untouched. He strokes over your teeth, the roof of your mouth before finally coming in contact with your own. He swirls it with his pink muscle, teasing and coaxing it out to play with his. He grips your jaw a little tighter with his left hand, cold, hard fingers digging into your skin as a growl vibrates in his chest. He pulls away briefly, tongue flicking out over your lips. “C’mon. You’ve kissed me before, little one. Don’t tell me you actually hate me?”

Your eyes narrow once more as you try to pull your jaw out his grip, wincing a bit when he squeezes it tightly. A hiss vibrates on your tongue before you draw in a slow breath at his taunting words. Heartbeat racing as blood whooshes in your ears as you remember all the sweet shared kisses with Caleb. How his gentle tongue tastes on yours, how his soft lips felt against yours. Before you could stop yourself, your eyes soften as they flicker down to his mouth, his lips looking very inviting.

Slowly you lean in, breath mingling with his as you near his lips with yours. Lips clash in a soft kiss as a moan dares to slip past when his tongue reaches out to play with yours. Feelings that you tried so desperately to keep hidden away, to keep them locked away resurfaces before you could snuff them out. Your arms come up to lock behind his head, fingers digging into his soft dark hair and pulling him in closer. The sweet, familiar taste of apples explodes over your taste buds as you curl your tongue around his in a slow, seductive way. Your eyelids tip close as you begin to lose yourself.

A voice in the back of your head screams at you loudly, shocking you and making you break away as his hands begin to slide down your back. “No!” You say as you push him away, your breath coming out in hot pants as a string of saliva cools as it snaps back against your neck. Gasping when he suddenly slides his knee further between your thighs, pressing it up against the seat of your pants as his hand tips your face back up to meet his purple eyes. “Caleb…what are you…”

He says nothing as he digs his knee in deeper against your core, eliciting another gasp from you. “You don't really hate me. I'm back. I'm your Caleb, remember?” He takes your hand and presses it against the left side of his chest over his beating heart. “See? I'm alive.” His cool, even tone also sounds sad to your ears and you have to look away from his eyes. He was trying to pull you back under his spell. You couldn’t let him. Hold on to the fact that he lied! That he… Caleb trails your hand down lower until it rests on his belt. “Do you still hate this, princess? I’m aching for you.”

“C-Caleb!” You squeak as you try to pull your hand back, but his grip holds tight as he slides your hand lower until you cup his hardening cock. You could feel it rising to full attention, tenting the black slacks he had on and straining against the zipper. “Y-you…” Glaring up at him, faux disgust written all over your face, but your body was betraying you as your thighs hug together around his knee. You could feel yourself growing damp as your fingers curl around his length. “N-no…” You whimper out. Caleb takes your face in his hand gently, squeezing your cheeks until your lips part. Slipping his tongue out, he lets a long, hot dollop of saliva drip down to pool in your mouth. With a subtle flick of his finger, gravity shifts around your throat and before you could even think spit slides down your throat as he easily reverses your positions. The manipulation of the gravity around your leg strengthens and forces you to kneel in front of him, you place your hands on his thighs to prevent your face from being smushed in his lap.

A smile tilts at his lips as his finger comes up to tip your chin back up to look into his darkening gaze. “You remember what to do, right.” He coos softly as his other hand tugs down the zipper to his pants, popping the button open. Caleb shucks them down over his hips until his long, thick cock pops out, the tip leaking pre down the pale shaft, the tip flushed a bright pink. “Come on, little one.” His voice is still that same soft tone from before - the one that makes your heart quiver as you look up into his soft, puppy eyes.

Your tongue peeks out to wet your bottom lip as you are slow to realize what he wants from you. It wasn’t until his cock springs out and nearly smacks your cheek did your eyes widen. “I…No. I won’t do it.” You flinch when his hand raises, but peek one open when his fingers simply brush over your hair as he gives you another soft smile.

“Oh, pretty, I wasn’t asking.” His eyes darken as he lifts his chin, the gravity around you shifting and forcing your lips on his cock. Caleb lets out a groan as your warm cavern engulfs his length, his head falling backward to rest against the back of the couch. His hands ball into fists as he decreases and increases the pressure of the gravity to make you bob your head up and down. He could feel the familiar way your tongue curls around his dick. His lips curl into a smirk, “That’s it. Such a good girl. Keep sucking, just like that. Your mouth feels as good as I remember.”

His praise sent shivers rolling down your spine as a tingle started to throb between your legs. You squeeze your thighs together as you feel slick beginning to pool into the seat of your panties. How and why were you enjoying this? Caleb was the enemy now! He was no longer your sweet gege - no longer your sweet Caleb. This was…Your thought process was interrupted as Caleb shifts, thrusting his hips upward and the thick tip of him brushes against the back of your throat and making you let out a choked moan. You should hate this, but his familiar taste on your tongue made it almost impossible as the hatred in your eyes softened as you tried to glare up at him.

Caleb slowly eases up on his manipulation of the gravity around you until you were sucking him off willingly. He reaches down and presses his hand against the back of your head as your saliva drips down to wet his balls, your soft tongue caressing the large vein running on the underside of his cock. “Such a nasty little cockhungry slut. Wish you could see how you look, sucking my cock like it's your favorite treat.” His voice trails off in another low growl as his hips buck up, heavy balls slapping against your chin as they begin to draw up as his cock twitches on your tongue. “You want me to cum down that greedy throat of yours? Paint your mouth in my color, yeah.”

You didn’t realize that his hold over the gravity around you had stopped as you continued to work your mouth and tongue over his thickness. A moan vibrates in the muscles of your throat and chest as you bob your head deeper down on his cock, nose brushing against the light dusting of brown hair at the base of his pelvis. Thick strings of spittle clings and runs down his shaft as your tongue curls around his tip, tasting the precum that was oozing out the slit. He tastes just like you remembered, sweet with an underlying hint of salty. His degrading words reach your ears and your face burns with embarrassment as you try to remind yourself that he was using his evol to make you do this.

Before you could look back up at him with faux anger, his cock twitches on your tongue, swelling in your mouth as the movements of his hips grow sporadic. You let out a surprised squeak when his hands cup your face as he thrusts deeply, his tip hitting the back of your throat as his seed suddenly spills over. It fills your mouth at such a rate that you have no choice but to swallow or choke on it.

Caleb’s hips thrusts in sporadic jerks as his balls empty his cum down your sinfully tight throat. Oh how he could stay in this perfect little mouth forever. But he was dying for a taste of you. He missed you and your touch so much over the past year, he was gone. “You enjoyed tasting me, yeah? Got you wet between your thighs, little one?” His eyes watch the way your chest heaves as he slips his cock out your mouth and sees the way your thighs pressed together. He tsk’ed when you shake your head “no”. Still denying the fact that you didn’t hate him. That you didn’t hate what he was doing. That you didn’t hate that he was reclaiming what was his long ago.

A ‘scwhick’ sounded in the silence followed by the ripping of leather as a blade slices through the material of his glove. Your eyes widened at the sight of his bionic hand as a knife shoots out of the wrist. Caleb balls the hand into a fist and raises the blade down to your eye level, a grin spreading over his lips as he waves the blade in your face. “You’re wearing too many clothes, baby girl.” With those words, he slides the tip of the sharp knife down your neck, being mindful to not pierce your flesh until he makes it to your hunter’s uniform. He easily slices through the white collar of your top before dragging the blade down towards the red corset top.

You gasp as your breasts bounce free when your top was cut down the center and with Caleb’s manipulation over the gravity around you made it impossible for you to raise your hands to cover them. Your mouth parts in a whimper as the cool touch of the blade crawls over the soft, warm skin of your breasts as you feel Caleb’s eyes locking in on them as he traces his knife over them. “Cale-” Your words are cut off as he snaps his gaze back towards yours and you feel the shift in the gravity pulling you back up to your feet.

Caleb said nothing as he shifted his manipulation to make you rise back up, his bionic hand making quick work of the black pants you wore. His eyes zero in on the red lace of the panties you were wearing and a grin spreads over his lips. “Were you expecting this? You’re such a naughty mei mei of mine.” He says the term like it was a curse, like it was venom on his tongue before his eyes land on the dark, wet spot forming in the seat of your panties. “What’s this? Lying to me about not liking having me down your slutty throat.”

“I…I didn’t! I…I don’t want you, Caleb!” Your words sounded false even to you. You advert your eyes away from his and lift your chin in defiance to his question. “It’s a natural reaction! That doesn’t mean anything, gege.” You’ve learned that he hates being called that now and when you peek down at him out of the corner of your eye, you could see the dark cloud that covered his face. You let out a squeal when his fingers suddenly dig into your hips, hooking into your panties and pulling them down. You watch in mild shock at the long string of slick that connects your labia to the wet cotton patch before it breaks.

Caleb arches his brow up at you, a smirk curling at his lips. “A natural reaction for getting this soaked for me. Your “brother”? He leans in and presses his lips against your mound, nosing at it and listening to your soft gasps as your hands fly to his hair. “You’re a terrible liar, princess. Just admit it.”

You could feel yourself getting weak in the knees as Caleb trails kisses down the innermost corners of your thighs, inches away from your dripping heat. You feel a moan threatening to escape and you quickly bite your lip. Hard. To try to prevent it from slipping out. “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about, gege.” Your mouth parts in a scream when a shock courses through your body coming from between your thighs. You yank Caleb’s head back to see his bionic arm’s finger pressing against your clit, a stream of light violet energy surging through it.

“Caleb.” He growls, another surge of electricity running from the tip of his mechanical finger to your precious little pearl. Your voice calls out to him as his tongue reaches out to soothe the sting and his chin is immediately drenched with your juices. His metal fingers slide from your clit to prod at your opening as his other hand wraps around your thigh to pull it to drape over his shoulder. The pointed tip of his tongue circles your nub before his lips close over it and he suckles it into his mouth.

Your legs buckle as your slick bubbles and pops at your hole as his fingers slowly push inside. Fuck. Your heart was pounding beneath your rib cage as your fingers curled into his dark hair and you didn’t know if you wanted to push him away or pull him closer to your needy cunt. His name was on the tip of your tongue but you swallow it back down. You couldn’t give him the satisfaction that he’s broken you down. Made you submit to him and his…Fuck. Your head falls to your chest as his tongue does wicked things to you, slipping between your folds and curling in deep as his nose nudges and bumps against your clit.

Fingers dive deeper into his hair as you could no longer hold in your voice as Caleb pushes his metal fingers in deeper and lets a wave of electricity course through your walls in a pleasurable tingle. “Oh fuck!” The screams of your ecstasy reach his ears, sounding like the gods and goddess were singing to him. His tongue became relentless as his lips suck and slurp at your sensitive little clit, drinking down every drop your slick hole produces.

If it wasn’t for his hold on your legs and the strength of the gravity holding you up, you’d have fallen as your knees buckle when he slurps at your juices as they run down his chin, trickling down his neck as he shakes his head like a ravenous beast. You were close, you could feel your heartbeat throbbing in tune with the pulses of your clit as his fingers dug you out, juices gushed out with every thrust that his greedy tongue eagerly laps up. “Ge-Cal-”

Then suddenly it all stops as Caleb pulls away, ruining your orgasm. Lilac eyes flash mischievously as he peers up at you, his bionic arms dripping with your juices as he brings the fingers to his lips and licks them clean. “Did you want to cum? Come on, little one. Admit it. Admit that you want me. Admit that you never saw me as your brother. Admit that you can’t hate me.” His hand closes around your thigh as he turns his head and presses his damp lips against the plush flesh. “Admit it and I’ll make you cum so hard you see stars.”

Caleb watches you with his lips quirked up into a smile as you whine and try to undulate your hips; seeking his tongue and fingers back into your aching and dripping snatch. But his hand wraps around your waist and holds you down as the gravity around your body places opposite pressures, causing you to stand still. His eyes narrow when you still try to struggle against his hold over his evol and a “tsk” leaves his throat. “I said. Admit. It. Little. One. Stop. Being. Stubborn.” He enunciated each word with a sharp slap to your clit with the flat of his fingers.

You let out a pained whine as each strike was also followed by a small zap of electricity that thumbs over your engorged button as blood makes it swell even more. You bite your lips to stop the plea that almost spills over. Your eyes are burning with tears as you shake your head. You would not admit that you were enjoying the painful pleasurable torture he was putting your body through. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t. You- “Ca-Caleb…” Your bottom lip quivers as tears threaten to spill down your cheeks. “Please…I admit it. Can I please cum now?”

Your subconscious was screaming at you as your lips betray you and uttered those words, but before you could even think to take them back, to redact your statement, a cool smile spreads over Caleb’s lips as his fingers slide over your soaked slit, smearing your juices over you labia. You bend at the waist, hands flying back into his hair as his control over his evol weakens a bit and a moan escapes your lips. “I…I didn’t…mmph…” Your words are stolen as Caleb shoves his fingers into your mouth, your taste still clinging to the leather of the glove he still wore as he attacks your slit again with ravenous licks.

Caleb feasts on you like a starving man, juices trickling down the side of his face and neck as he ate your pretty cunt so messily. Lewd slurping sounds echoed throughout his room as he drank down every bit of your slick pussy juices that he could. The pointed tip of his tongue flicks and lashes out at your sensitive nub as his lips suck on your labia. As his gloved fingers still thrust into your mouth, the fingers of his bionic hand find their way back inside your slick cavern twisting and turning as he digs for that sweet spot that will have you cumming on his tongue.

You could feel the way your walls were clenching tightly around his fingers as he pressed deeper and deeper, searching for that gooey spot deep within your body. It all felt so foreign to you. This wasn’t the sweet Caleb that you had shared tender kisses with. Wasn’t the sweet boy you gave your virginity to years ago before his “death”, Nor was this your sweet gege that always vowed to protect you. Your voice is muffled by his fingers as you feel your pussy squeeze around his metal fingers as you feel your clit twitch and your juices flood out of you, hot and runny and drenching down his wrist. “Gege!”

The second your juices flow down his tongue, filling his mouth as he greedily drinks and slurps it all down. But the moment that name leaves your lips, he stops; pulling away from your addictive little pussy, a line of slick clinging to his bottom lip as he cuts his lilac eyes up to meet your dazed gaze, his voice was hard and even. “What did you call me?” He watches as your mouth parts in a gasp as he rises to his feet, cock bobbing as he stands, but he ignores the pre that dribbles from the tip to splatter on the floor. Lifting his chin, he snaps his head towards the couch and his evol sends you flying down into the cushion; face down ass up and your back arched so pretty for him. “Would your precious “gege” do this?”

He pulls out his gun from the holster, his legs coming to lock yours between his feet as he leans over you. The cold muzzles of the pistol caresses the hot skin of your spine, starting at the base of your skull and trailing down to the center of your back and over the curve of your ass. His other hand came crashing down on the globe of flesh until the skin was heated and a faint print of his hand was left behind as the skin wiggled. “I shouldn’t have let you cum. If I had known you’d be such a brat.” But despite his words, he was happy to taste you on his tongue, to taste your sweet juices.

You turn your head to look back at Caleb, feeling the cold tip of the gun tracing down the length of your back. You cry out when his hand smacks the flesh of your ass over and over again until the skin was heated and you were damn near in tears. You bite your lip as you feel him nudging the gun against your right ass cheek to stop the whimpers from coming out. Your pussy clenches in anticipation of what he was going to do, body betraying you as it grows slicker with every passing second. Despite your mind telling, yelling, that you should hate this, hate what he was doing to do, your body craved it. Craved more of his mean touches. More of his harsh treatment.

Caleb’s hand fists his cock as he slides the gun down, the cold tip gliding down the line of your ass. “Hmm? Should I punish you for being a brat. Delaying your orgasms again and again as I fuck you? Or maybe this slutty pussy is greedy for something else? You want my cock, little one or…?” He traces the muzzle down the line until it brushes against your glistening slit. His eyes watch as you jolt from the contact and try to pull away as his hand glides faster over his length, squeezing the swollen tip with every upward drag. “Answer quickly before I make the decision myself, princess.”

You try to pull away from the gun, but your hips rock back against it, your labia spreading to encompass the tip briefly. How could he try to make you choose? You…didn’t want either, right? Your pussy clenches at the thought of him fucking you with his gun, but was drooling over the chance to finally have his cock nudging up against your most sacred parts. Just as you were about to open your lips to tell him your answer, the cold steel of the gun sinks into your gooey walls, slick bubbling and popping around the black metal.

“Ca-Caleb?” Your voice was a mixture of shock and pleasure as he worked the gun a little deeper as you slowly rocked your hips backwards to help him. As his knuckle nudges at your clit, you let out a mewl and throw your head back. “F-fuck!” The curse leaves your throat before you could even think to swallow it down. You push back further, walls stretching to accommodate the thickness of the gun’s muzzle. You were so depraved for enjoying this, but you would never tell him. You still hated him. Right? Right?

“Shhh….” his hand wraps in your hair gently, pulling it back until your neck is exposed as he sinks his gun in deeper, the wet gushy sounds of your sloppy pussy making his dick grow impossibly harder. As your juices gush out, drenching his gloved fingers and sliding down the handle of the gun, his eyes watch as your naughty hips couldn’t stop moving backwards to fuck yourself deeper on the barrel. “Lemme listen to these slutty sounds she’s making for me.” Without warning, he pulls his gun out, the sticky sounds of your pussy trying to desperately suck it back echoing around the room as nasty strings of your cum drips down the length. “Just look at how you’ve dirtied my gun?”

He pulls on your hair, arching your back so far back your spine pops almost uncomfortably as he waves his slick covered gun in your face. “I should have you clean it, no?” He presses the gun against your cheek, smearing the creamy cum down your skin for a moment as his bionic hand lets go of your hair, still coated in your juices from earlier and wraps carefully around his cock and smears your slick down the length of it. His eyes zero in on your quivering little hole as you tremble under him and his self-control was beginning to waiver. He wanted to keep teasing and edging you until you were screaming his name and only thinking of him and his cock.

Moving the gun away from your face and bringing it to his lips as he notches the bulbous tip of his cock against your drooling hole. He shifts his bionic hand from his cock to grip your hip tightly, his mechanical fingers digging into the plush flesh tightly. As his tongue slips out to lick up the length of his gun, he pushes past those first tight rings of muscles, your pussy immediately stretching to accommodate his girth. Your taste explodes over his taste buds and he moans softly as he was greedy for more, but the wet velvety feeling of your silken walls engulfing his cockhead was starting to make him dizzy with how fast the blood was leaving his head to his engorged cock.

Your head drops to your chest as your arms threaten to give out from under you as Caleb sinks deeper into your warm, gooey walls, the delicious stretch of him filling you was damn near maddening. His name was on the tip of your tongue as you clench down tightly around him, sucking his cock in until the thick mushroomed tip was pressing snuggly against your cervix. A low moan vibrates in your chest as you pant and your hips rock back against his, the slow sticky clasp of skin meeting skin ringing out in the room.

Caleb’s eyes were trained on the sight of your tight little hole as it swallowed up his length. You were perfect for him. Your walls hug him just right, the right amount of pressure that makes him never want to leave your depths. “Fuck.” The curse leaves him in a growl as he places his gun down on the edge of the couch, both hands coming to wrap around your waist to pull you back deeper and faster on his cock. His leg hikes up, foot planting into the soft cushion of the couch as he thrust fast and hard into your tender cunt, pounding into you at such a pace that it was near demonic.

You bite your lip to stop the scream that was building up in your throat, chest burning from holding in your voice as your pussy squelches with every brutal and harsh thrust. The lewd sound of his pelvis meeting your ass vibrates and echoes in the room. His fingers grip your waist tightly, the cold fingers of his bionic arms branding your skin with his marks as his grunts fill the room as well. Sweat forms on your brow as you pant for air, rolling down the side of your face. “Ca-” You quickly snap your jaw just as you stop yourself from calling out his name.

Another low “tsk” leaves his throat as his eyes narrow. His left hand moves to grip the back of your neck and pushes your face down into the cushions as his foot slides up higher, caging your much smaller body under his. “Come on…let me hear you.” He urged as he made sure that with every thrust, he pressed his pelvis against the curve of your ass, grinding a bit to make sure you felt every inch of him. “Say my name. You know you want to scream it for the whole Fleet to hear, hmm?” He punctured each of the next words with a sharp snap of his hips. “Fucking. Scream. My. Name. Brat.”

The dam within you broke and your pent up emotions came flowing like the river of slick that gushes out of you as you cum hard against him, the force of it pushing his cock out as you finally grace his ears with the melodic sounds of your salacious screaming. “Ca-Caleb!”

Finally.

Finally after he’s edged your body to the best orgasm of your fucking life, did you say his name in the most prettiest of cries. He sits back on the couch, hands grabbing you around your waist, using his evol to shift the gravity of your body to make you weightless as he straddles you over his lap. “Such a dirty girl. Cumming so violently like that. I’m not through with you yet.” He flicks his finger down after his right hand notches the bulbous tip against your leaking hole and the gravity shifts downward, forcing your pussy onto his length.

Another lewd scream leaves your tender throat as Caleb makes you ride his cock, bouncing you up and down on his thickness. You had just come and your body was still trembling from the aftershocks of the one he just gave you. Your arms come up to wrap around his neck as his hands grip your thighs as he thrusts up into your cunt. “Caleb! Please! Slow down!” Tears sparkle on your lashes as drool begins to leak down the corner of your mouth.

He grabs the back of your neck and pulls your lips to his, tongue sliding out to delve into your mouth and curls over yours. Caleb then sucks your pink muscle between his teeth. You moan and he swallows the sound down as his hand shifts to grab at the meat of your ass to bounce you up and down on his cock, the tip kissing your cervix with each upward snap of his hips. Caleb felt the way your walls were fluttering, gripping his thickness tightly and he knew that you were going to cum again soon.

Breaking away, a thin string of saliva still connecting your tongue until it broke away to lay coolly against your chin, his lilac eyes capture your fucked out gaze. “Gonna cum again, little one?” His breath came out in harsh pants as your pussy squelches loudly as your juices gush out and wet up the material of his pants still hanging around his hips. “Ffuucckk, you’re squeezing me so tightly.” His head falls to rest against yours as he pecks at your lips sweetly, a vast difference in his powerful thrusts.

Your body was trembling as you rock your hips into his, not caring if his evol was making you bounce on him or not anymore as the pleasure consumes you. The only thing that matters in that moment was the approaching climax he was about to give you. Your nails dig into the material of his black uniform, damn near ripping into it as you claw at his back. “Fuck! Caleb! ‘M’gunna cum!” Once. Twice. Three ti- “Wh-what?” Your voice was a warbled cry when his hands grip your hips, stilling you over his cock.

His lips curl up into a soft, yet sadistic smile as he holds you in place, his evol working against you and keeping you pinned down. “Did I give you permission to cum yet, little one?” He plants his feet down firmly on the floor before utilizing his strength to stand up, his hands wrapping around your thighs and locking your legs around his thick, muscular waist. He moves his left hand away from your body and hooks his finger between your teeth. “Bite only my glove, pretty girl.”

You do as he says, biting down on the tip of his glove and watch with hazy eyes as he pulls his hand free. And finally. Finally. His skin meets with yours as he glides his fingertips down the valley of your breasts to your belly, his eyes widen when he feels the smallest protrusion and his lips crack into a smile. “Look at that. I’m so big and you're so small compared to me, I’m bulging out. Such a tiny, tight pussy you have mei mei.” He teases as he lays his palm flat over the small bulge and presses down on it to hear you squeal out his name as he uses his bionic arm to slam you up and down on his cock.

His knees bend slightly to stabalize himself as his hips move in tune with yours as he fucks you fast and hard. Caleb grips your ass hard, hard enough to leave the imprint of his fingers behind as he bucks up into you, jostling you on his dick as your arms come to wrap around his neck as your fingers dig into his scalp, grazing it with your nails. His eyes shift towards the large bed in the center of the room and his lips curl into another smile as he turns. His cock never leaves your soft, warm, wet walls as he walks over to where the bed was; your salacious moans making him impossibly harder as he grits his teeth.

“Fuck…just listen to her talking to me.” His hands grip your ass tighter as he lifts you up, your cuntsquealching and gushing around his girth as he pushes you back down on him. Caleb stops at the edge of the bed, your slick juices dripping down his shaft and creating a creamy ring at the base of his dick as he lays you down on the plush mattress. You immediately sink down into the softness as he pushes your legs to your chest, ankles damnnear by your ears as he folds you up.

Your breath is stolen from you as your thighs are compressed against your chest as he pistons his dick in and out of your clenching pussy. You grab at his shirt, twisting the material until the buttons pop open. Your eyes widen when the familiar silver dog tag with a small apple charm dangles in front of your eyes. The chain sways to and fro before you and your heart pounds beneath your rib cage as you feel a rush of slick gushing out of your snatch. The necklace you had given him. He kept it. You hook your finger into the chain and pull.

A surprised grunt leaves him when you tug down on his dog tag, making him lean down to meet your lips in a hungry kiss as his hips pause in their brutal snapping. He moans softly when your tongue seeks out his, curling and tasting his mouth. Caleb pulls away, his eyes shining with adoration, desire, and affection for you. “Naughty girl…look what you did to my shirt?” His left hand trails down your body, caressing your soft skin and relishing in the feel of you under his rough fingertips. “Punishment by pleasure. You’re not allowed to cum until I say so.”

His feverish words are whispered hotly against your lips as he pulls his hips back, thick shaft rubbing against your walls as his cockhead bumps against your over sensitive clit. It twitches under his touch as he saws his length through your soaked lips until you damn near were in tears. “Beg. Beg for it. Beg for my cock like the slutty girl you are for me, princess.” He coos softly.

Your teeth worry your bottom lip as tears fill your eyes at his teasing. Your body was beyond sensitive and stuck on the edge between pleasure and pain as the need to cum grows more and more intense. A part of you still wanted to deny him, to not give into his demands, but the bigger, louder part wants to submit to the pleasure. “Pul-please…Caleb…I need you…”

“Hmm?” He leans down, teasing your clit with featherlight touches as he nudges the tip of his dick at your slick hole, sinking the tip in and thrusting shallowly before pulling out. “Need me to what? C’mon. Use those big girl words.”

“Caleb!” You whine out as you try to grab at his necklace again, but he’s quicker than you and takes both your wrists in his bionic hand and pins them to the bed. “I need you to fuck me! Please make me cum again! I need it!”

A feral smirk spreads over his lips as his left hand moves to spread your labia apart, translucent strings of your slick slipping over your drooling hole as he lines up the bulbous tip of his dick. “Since you asked so nicely.” With those words, he slowly sinks back in, making sure you felt every single thick inch of him. Feeling his balls tingling, he set a slow, steady pace, hips smacking into yours with every deep thrust that makes your breast bounce. Your hands twist and nails dig into the meat of your palm as you buck your hips upward and wrap your legs around his middle, your heels fitting perfectly in the dips of his back.

He keeps up that same slow, sensual pace, his hips swirling in slow undulated thrusts as he takes his time. His pubic bone grinds into your clit with every stroke as he slips his fingers inbetween the two of you. Caleb swirls his ring and middle fingers over your clit slowly, pressing into the swollen flesh as he watches your face scrunch up and you writhe with pleasure under him. “Y’like that. Like it as I slowly make you mad with pleasure. Is that something your precious “gege” would do? No, sweetheart, I was never your brother and you knew that. The kisses we shared, the times I held you closer during thunderstorms. The many times have we done this?” Caleb’s thrusting picks up in speed as his emotions hit a new high.

You shake your head as you desperately try to cling onto what little semblance of sanity you had left. But the steady wet smacks of his pelvis against your as his dick makes your pussy gush around him makes that almost impossible. “Caleb. Caleb. Caleb.” His name leaves your lips like a mantra as tears of pleasure fall from your eyes and down the side of your face into your hairline. “You were never my brother, Caleb! You’re my lover!”

Caleb’s hips stutter as his balls tingle and he cums a little at your words. You said it. The one thing he’s been dying to hear. The one thing he was determined to make you say. “That’s fucking right. You never really hated me. You just needed me to fuck the brat out of you, huh?” His hips pick up in speed until he is thrusting in and out of you at such a speed that it makes drool bubble up in your mouth and your tears to fall faster. He captures one of your bouncing breasts between his teeth and sucks the hardened nipple into his mouth, lathing it with his tongue and circling the areola as he works the fingers of his left hand over your pretty little clit.

His balls smack against the curve of your ass as he feels the telltale signs of his release nearing. He quickly moves your legs from around his waist, placing them on his shoulders as he cages you with his body, his thrusting becomes sporadic. Caleb’s hand returns to rest above your mound and spreads, thumb still resting on that tender button as he presses down on the protrusion of his cock in your lower belly. You let out a squeal as the pressure stimulates you from the inside and your legs lock around his neck. The thick tip of his was constantly knocking against your cervix and the fine dark hairs of his pubes rub so tantalizing against your clit as his thumb rubs fast circles.

“Cum. Cum for me, baby girl. Cum so hard for me.” As if by his command, your juices squirt out of your pussy, drenching his pelvis and dripping down his shaft and balls. “Good girl. You want me to cum? Deep inside you and fill you up so full?” His fingers still work over your sensitive clit until you were screaming and begging for reprieve. “Yeah, you do.” He snaps his hips heavily. Once. Twice. Three more times before stilling, his cock twitches within your depths before his seed floods out the tip.

His cum is hot and sticky as it fills your womb, his hips resuming their slow, gentle thrusts to fuck it deeper and deeper still even as the sheer amount overflows your pussy and gushes out with every slow, deep thrust. His forehead drops against yours, the cooling sweat that beads there making your skin sticky as he pecks at your lips in sweet kisses. Caleb slowly lets your legs down from around his shoulders, his left hand massaging your hips in case there was any lingering soreness.

“You okay, little one? I shouldn’t have been so rough…” His eyes widen when your hand slips from his grip and cups his face. Your eyes were soft as you gave him a smile.

“It was perfect, Caleb. I needed this. I missed you.” Your fingers rub his cheek gently as you lean up and press your lips to his forehead softly. You wiggle your hips, feeling his cum slosh around inside you and blinking in confusion. “Uh…Caleb…”

“Hmm?” He hums as he drops his head to the junction of your neck and shoulder, skimming his lips over the soft skin. “Yes, princess?”

You fidget under him, whimpering a bit when he slowly drags his hips out, cock still hard inside you. “How are you still..”

Lilac eyes peer down into yours as a boyish smile spreads over his lips and a chuckle vibrates in his chest. “You didn’t actually think I was done with you, yet? Nope, we have all night. Round Two? Start.”

2022-25 nymphoheretic - I do not give permission to copy, edit, alter, or distribute my work. Do not adverse on tiktok. Do not repost on any other platform.

Taglist: @linpunny @bleach-your-panties @dark-mnjiro @comatosebunny09 @m00nchildwrites @blackfire2013 @yandere-kou @keitthen @i-messed-up-big-time @crowsandapples @hanaluxx, @melonmelo99, @princessbunnys-things @babyloniangarden, @adumbasain, @roschea-arts, @ceristi, @bellusisisi, @missanxiety01,@nanaaine, @pichuberry, @heartslabyrinth, @bobadinosaur, @sleepysweetprincess, @lovesiriusly, @everafterworld, @yaeluvie, @roseygoesnya, @jeanshorsed1ck @its-tea-time-babies, @msfely, @vainnss, @qiz770, @mik-bxrnes, @cockonoi, @bibbykins, @Labrynthine, @frostbith3art, @rameisa, @little-nighttime-chan, @here2bawl, @perfect4taehyung, @cookiesandcreammoolkshake, @mushystrawberries, @kwonyulie19 @babyloniangarden, @adumbasain, @roschea-arts, @ceristi, @bellusisisi, @missanxiety01, @nanaaine, @pichuberry, @heartslabyrinth, @bobadinosaur, @sleepysweetprincess, @lovesiriusly, @everafterworld, @yaeluvie, @roseygoesnya, @jeanshorsed1ck @zucadia @milkisgod @izelia143 @twilightsmissingfur @baaakaneko @sassybitcj @ploylulla @gojosho3 @hanaluxx @afluvvr @peachiieru @illyannaaaa @crucified-t-rex @shaydenie @theeternalgalaxy @sundaysslut @tiny-tragedyy @winxfairy @insidious-innocence

@metanoiadreamer @bonisu @prxxlific @veequil @cheryt @elisadarkstar @fatiguedcow @starry-jinnie @idk0why @basslakelass @somek1deating @twinkytoes @idontnoseher @younjunie @blkanimequeen21 @mjakeh @felinows @yikessssssitsbreee @rottenfox @yuuuumiiin @king-sized-moofus @i-love-my-exhoes @uchijan @bee-doodles

@kazumawrites @rosesfornoelle @akiiikari @sunflower1experiment @idioticstar @akihikosataou-only-wife

1K notes · View notes

buckysfaveplum · 3 days ago

Text

her weakness

summary: you’re an enhanced individual with strong abilities and one moral code- you only fight with them when your opponent is also enhanced. during the fight with john walker, that code gets broken when bucky is hurt

pairing: bucky barnes x female reader

word count: 3.5k

warnings: violence, blood, fighting, it’s a fight seen so yea expect things relating to that

a/n: i rewatched tfatws and this fight always makes me so worried for my bbs so yea this was born. I typed it up helllllla quick so I'm sorry if its trash, I'm not too proud of this one idk.

masterlist | send requests

Your feet followed closely behind Bucky as you approached the warehouse. Your limbs were stiff and your skin clammy. Your hand stayed firmly in Bucky’s grasp as you approached John Walker. Sam had tracked him to a storage warehouse near the square you had just witnessed brutality in.

He murdered him, in cold blood, with Steve’s shield. You couldn’t get the screams of the public out of your head, the sound of the vibranium as it slashed into the flagsmasher’s body. You would’ve thrown up if Bucky hadn’t pushed you behind him. You had seen much worse, much more gruesome violence in your line of work. But something about this was sickening, rotting away in your stomach as you tried to grapple with the truth that the shield your friend once carried with honor and pride was just used by an unhinged soldier who found joy in the worst parts of the job.

Bucky stayed ahead of you, following Sam as they entered the building. Your hand trembled in his vibranium grasp. His thumb gently brushed across the veins and bones of your hand, trying to bring you comfort before the scene he knew was about to play out.

As you walked into the large space, you saw him. He was too composed and stoic for what had just taken place. His tall and slender figure loomed as he casually walked up to you all, barely acknowledging Sam as he tried to get him to listen.

“Walker,” Sam started. The soldier brushed Sam’s stern tone off, hopefully delaying what he knew was coming.

“You guys should see a medic, you don’t look so good,” He said, walking past you.

“Stop, Walker,” Sam took a few steps closer, trying again to get him to focus.

Your jaw tightened as you watched the man pace erratically in front of you. He was muttering quietly before responding as if trying to convince himself what he was saying had any truth.

“What?” He asked, coming closer. “You saw what happened. You know what I had to do.”

Your grip on Bucky tightened, sensing Walker’s anger began to boil over. You knew a fight was coming, it always was.

“I killed him because I had to! He killed Lemar!” Walker shouted, his arms waving now and revealing how off the deep end he had gone.

You knew the moment you saw him in that fight. He stole the serum and took it for himself. This behavior just confirmed it. But the serum only enhanced what was already bubbling under the surface. The same John you meet on the highway. The same John who waltzed into the police station as if he had the authority or right to control Bucky and call him an ‘asset’. It was always there.

“He didn’t kill Lemar, John.”

Bucky’s smooth and deep voice cut through the tension in the room. You felt his grip on your hand squeeze for a moment, making sure you were okay. He could always sense your anxiety in the field. Your powers made keeping your calm difficult. You would never use them in battle unless your opponent was enhanced as well. You were a skilled fighter and agent, you didn’t need them. And it didn’t always seem ethical. But keeping them at bay, in check, could prove difficult- especially in heightened situations such as this.

Walker scoffed at Bucky’s words, dismissing the truth like it was nothing.

“Don’t go down that road. Believe me, it doesn’t end well,” Bucky said.

“I’m not like you!” Walker’s voice was full of disgust and resentment. From the moment you met him, you could sense his quiet disdain for your best friend. Looking down his nose at him like he was some scum left over from Steve's life, something he’d always have to deal with. Yet at the same time, resentment. Jealousy over his power, control, and abilities in his enhanced body. As if that’s what made him an excellent fighter. Or a good person.

Your spare hand moved between Bucky’s shoulder blades, giving him a subtle and quiet support as you prepared.

“Listen, it was the heat of the battle, okay?” Sam said, taking a step closer to Walker. That shield danced in your vision, taunting you as he paced back and forth. “If you explain what happened, they may consider your record.”

Walker’s distress spread across his face, his brows furrowing and eyes scrunching as he tussled with Sam’s words.

“We don’t want anyone else to get hurt,” Sam said.

The warehouse went silent as Walker stared at the ground before him. Bucky gave you a soft, tight-lipped smile before begrudgingly dropping your hand. He slowly took a step towards the man, joining Sam.

“John…” Bucky said, calmly.

“You gotta give me the shield, man,” Sam said.

That did it. You could feel the room shift that second.

A disturbing serene aura washed over Walker at that moment. Slowly, he lifted his gaze to you all. His eyes were dark, lacking a certain warmth and compassion you had grown so used to seeing through that blue cowl. A certain warmth that left when he hung up the shield.

“Oh…. so that’s what this is,” Walker said. “You almost got me.”

You could see his grip on the shield tighten, the leather straps twisting between his fingers.

“You made a mistake,” Sam said.

You slowly took a step forward, your hands flexing as you prepared for what was to come. Walker finally turned his gaze to you. His eyes roamed you up and down. You could’ve sworn you saw Bucky’s jaw clench, that familiar muscle tightening in distress. Walker smirked at you before glancing at Bucky. He could read the protectiveness radiating off of your supersoldier.

“You don’t wanna do this,” Walker said to him.

Bucky didn’t meet his gaze. His fists balled at his side, practically shaking with anger. He never took pleasure in a fight, every punch or kick felt like a necessity rather than enjoyment. But he couldn’t deny how much he desired to rip that shield from his grimy hands.

“Yeah we do,” Bucky said.

Sam lurched forward first, Bucky soon following suit. Your feet moved quickly, moving behind Walker as your friends attacked from the front. The man moved with a speed you had yet to see from him, a brute force you could only get from the serum.

With a harsh kick, Walker sent Sam flying away, leaving you and Bucky alone. You tried to knock Walker down from the back as Bucky grappled with the shield. As you sent a harsh kick into the back of Walker’s knees, he spun quickly and sent a jab into Bucky’s gut sending him backward in pain and knocking him off balance. Before you could back him up, Walker slammed a harsh punch into Bucky’s jaw. Your heart raced and your hands shook as you watched him drop to the ground. You sprung into action, pulling the shield back in your hands and keeping Walker from smashing it into Bucky’s face. Sam leaped in, kicking the shield up and drawing attention to him.

You slammed a kick into Walker’s back, sending him stumbling forward as Sam slashed at him with his wings. Bucky leaped up, his arm aiming to come down on the faux Captain America’s back hard but was ultimately blocked by the shield.

You were growing frustrated. Walker never packed this much of a punch. The serum raged through his veins, lacing each kick and swing of the shield with force and hate. As you and Sam continued to trade blocks at Walker, Bucky attempted to pull him down but was quickly met with the shield swinging into the side of his face. Your legs shook. The longer this dragged out the more difficult you find keeping your emotions in check. The longer you watched your favorite person in the world become decorated with blood and bruises, the more your ethical code began to look like a suggestion. Walker deserved a swift blast to the face and more. But you held off.

Walker slammed the shield into Sam’s back, sending him down. As your two friends recovered briefly, it was just you and him. You surged forward at the man, dodging as he swung at you. Being smaller than the two Avengers alongside you made it much easier to evade Walker’s sloppy attacks. You sent a firm kick into his chest followed by an uppercut into his chin. As he spun and tumbled, Bucky was back on his feet and meeting Walker with punches. Bucky’s attacks quickly led the pair into a tight spot, backing Walker up into a heavy piece of machinery. The pair spun in circles over the shield, yanking the vibranium disc back and forth and trading beatings in between. Sam quickly followed you over, diving in for aid, but quickly was sent flying back by Walker’s attacks. His body slammed to the ground with a grunt.

While Bucky worked, you glanced at Sam. He pushed himself to his feet slowly, preparing to dive back into the fight. In your moment of distraction, the fear and care for your dear friend overriding your common sense to keep fighting, you heard Walker’s voice pull you back. Bucky was trapped between the shield and a machine. You rushed over to help but it was far too late.

“Why are you making me do this?!” Before you could register what Walker was saying, you watched as Bucky went flying.

Walker’s forceful swing of the shield sent him hurtling across the warehouse. Your body froze as if someone had filled your veins with cement. The dramatic scene Walker had created came to an end with Bucky’s body smashing into an electrified pole and crashing to the ground. The might of his impact snapped the pole in the middle, sparks cascaded from the steel and flooded onto the floors; leading your eyes to Bucky.

“Bucky!” You screamed.

His body lay limp and splayed out on the cold dirty floors. His face was smushed into the cement. His limbs didn’t dare to move. Except for his vibranium arm, which twitched and spasmed under his body; blue and white sparks burst out from the plates adding to the horror.

Your breaths were heavy and shaky, your hands trembled at your sides as the vibrating blue of your powers began to spark at your fingertips; mirroring the sight of your best friend’s arm. The room was spinning, at least that’s what made sense to you. Your balance was unstable, your knees threatening to buckle at any moment. You turned to spare a look at Sam, begging him for permission. But he was already back on his feet and rushing towards Walker.

“Go!” He shouted.

You had never been faster. Your abilities never gave you the gift of flight but in that moment they very well could have. Your legs became weak and your steps messy as you neared Bucky. You crashed to your knees beside him, pain radiated up your thighs from the impact but you couldn’t care. It couldn’t be worse than the expanding tight pain in your chest as you struggled to breathe.

Your hands quivered as they hovered over his body. With him lying so still you could finally take in the damage Walker had done to his face. Blood was splattered all over, deep purple and blue hues bloomed across his cheekbones, and a nasty split had opened on his lip. Worst of all, his nose was broken.

The sparks continued to burst from the plates of his arm, his hand jerking and spasming with an unsettling sound of grinding metal. Quickly, you placed your hands firmly on the vibranium. A deep blue beamed from under your palms, cascading the metallic golds and blacks of his arm in your glow. The excess electricity from the crash moved in waves through the arm up into your hands. You focused as all the veins in your body became electrified, an aqua glow shone through your skin as the energy you. Your once y/e/c eyes were quickly overtaken, the cool energy overriding your iris’ and leaving an intense indigo shine. With a sharp gasp and breath, you let go. His arm had stopped moving, now lying as still and motionless as he did.

“Bucky,” you said, giving his damaged body a soft shake. “Bucky, wake up.”

He didn’t move, his face slack and limps heavy as you struggled to turn him to his back and off of his arm. Your hands rushed to his face, cupping his cheeks and holding him close as if you could shield him from more of John Walker’s savagery. If someone had the power to take your abilities and trade them for the ability to heal, you’d offer them anything they wished just for the potential to spare Bucky from his pain even for a moment.

“Buck… come on wake up,” the fresh blood from his injuries spilled into your fingertips, the crimson caked into your cuticles and threatened not to leave.

“Plum, please,” His body twitched; your lungs finally filled with air.

His breaths were labored but there, his chest rattled as he sucked in much-needed air. Your fingers moved to his neck, their shuddering finally stilling as you felt his pulse return to a firm and strong pattern.

The sounds of Sam’s grunts and Walker’s cries swiftly pulled your attention back to your friend. He was up in the air, a long metal cord pulling on the shield and attempting to free it from Walker’s venomous grasp. To no avail, as soon Sam was flung back to the floor and across the room. The shield clattered to the ground, equally laid between the two men. The smug and determined look on Walker’s face enraged you, the blue glow returning to your eyes. Sam glanced over at you before rushing for the shield. He needed you.

You turned back to Bucky, still unresponsive to your touches and voice. He was breathing, his pulse steady. Taking in the broken state of his body, his face battered and bloodied, you couldn’t hold back your rage any longer.

It was as if something had possessed you. Gently, you laid Bucky back to the ground, pressing a trembling kiss to his forehead.

“I’ll be right back,” you said, your voice monotone yet determined. The expressions of concern, fear, and horror that had played upon your face just moments ago were now gone. You were cold and still, as you rose to your feet and walked over to the two men fighting behind you.

Before Walker could grab the shield, a harsh blast of blue energy sent him flying back in the opposite direction. The man was studded, confused by how he could have been knocked down. He looked up to see you rushing towards him. You were steady in your movement, not running but with each step winding up for the next blow. Your hands were baked in a fierce glow of aqua as you channeled more energy through your fingertips.

Walker scrambled to his feet, preparing for the offense. Before he could even take a step he was back on the ground with another blast from you. A loud cry fell from your lips as you slammed him down with force from your power. As you ran up to Walker, he quickly sent a firm hit to your jaw. You stumbled back, regaining your vision to see him coming at you. You jumped up, knees to your chest and feet pressing on his as you blasted him once again.

He was on the ground with you towering over him. His face was coated in shades of black and blue, mirroring the face you were trembling over just seconds ago. Good, he deserved that and more.

You blasted him again as he struggled to crawl away. You followed him, hot on his trail as energy overflowed from your hands. The shield was long forgotten by you, only driven by your need for revenge. Bucky couldn’t even answer you, couldn’t move. He needed to pay.

Walker’s body slammed back into machinery as you surged more energy at him. He was done, hands shaking above him as he prepared for your next blow.

“We’re better than this right? Captain America doesn’t do this,” Walker said through his split lip and shaking jaw.

You scoffed; if only he had thought that way an hour ago. You wouldn’t be here. Bucky would be okay.

“Good thing I’m not Captain America,” you said. Walker shielded his face as you wound up your aim. Energy radiated from your fist up your forearm as you pulled it back to deliver one last shot.

“Y/n, stop!” Sam shouted.

Your blast was halted by a firm hand on your upper arm. You recognized the stillness and coolness that held onto your body. Turning you saw Bucky behind you. He was shaking as he stood, breaths labored and heavy, but there he was. Sam ran up behind the two of you, shield in hand as he looked at you. But all you could focus on was Bucky.

Bucky stepped forward, shaking his head softly as he lowered your arm.

“This isn’t you, you don’t do this,” he said. Your nostrils flared as you breathed heavily, struggling to reel your rage back in. You glanced back at Walker who lay on the ground, glaring at you smugly. Your eyes shone brighter, your fists clenching as the glow intensified.

“Hey,” Bucky said, taking your face and turning you to look back at him. “You’re not him.”

The energy overtaking your body began to fade as you relaxed under his firm touch. The uncontrollable blue glow began to fade back into your body, leaving you panting as you tried to calm your emotions. Bucky stood before you, vibranium hand stroking your own.

“You’re okay,” you said.

“I’m okay. Hey, hey, I’m okay. It’s over,” he said, pulling you away from the scene you had created. He walked you slowly back towards Sam, you shook in his grasp. Walker struggled to stand as he watched the three of you leave. The shield taunted him as it hung off of Sam’s arm, finally back with its true owner. The Captain America.

“I’m sorry,” you said, looking at Sam. “I just….” you glanced at Bucky, once again seeing the battering of his beautiful face. Your throat swelled as you lost your words, choking on your fear.

“We got it back,” Sam said, giving your shoulder a firm squeeze before heading out of the building. His limp as he walked didn’t escape you.

Bucky gripped your hand tightly, pulling you with him as he walked. He didn’t make it far before his knees began to buckle, his body slipping as he fell. You were at his side in a heartbeat, arm hauling him back up beside you; refusing to let his body crash to the filthy ground again.

“Hey, hold onto me,” you said. You wrapped his arm around your shoulder and his other gripped at your waist as you began to pull him from the warehouse, his feet limping and tripping as he struggled to walk. Walker’s body began to fade in the distance as you left.

“Why did you do that, doll?” Bucky asked as you walked, his voice slurred and low. Each wince and suck of breath stabbed at your side like a pecking bird, refusing to let your wound heal.

“I don’t know, I’ve never done that. I….” you paused, stopping your feet as you gave him a moment to catch his breath. “When I saw you hit that pole, I lost it.”

“I’m okay, Y/n,” he said, yet his words seemed to hold no weight as he struggled to stay upright at your side.

“Your arm was sparking, Bucky. You weren’t moving. I-I thought that you…” You couldn’t finish, gripping him tighter as your voice shook. As if letting him go would give the world a chance to tear him from you once again. Your fingertips dug into his tact suit, determined to embed yourself in him.

“Hey, babydoll,” he said, hoisting himself up just enough to take your face in his hands. He swayed on his feet as he stood, intent on holding you close as he spoke. Your hands held him steady at his side.

“I’m here, I’ll always be here. But no matter what happens to me, I don’t want you to lose yourself,” he said, stroking your cheek. “I can’t have that.”

“I don’t wanna lose you,” you said.

“You won’t. I’m right here, I’m always coming back to you.”

You nodded softly as you rested your head on his chest. His hands moved to your hair as he held you close. Your hands wound around his center, keeping him safe in your arms. As long as you were around, no one would take him.

“You’re so good, you’re so special, Y/n. You need to be strong, even if I get hurt. You can’t drop your morals for me. They mean too much to you,” he said.

“I think you may be my weakness,” you said, your voice muffled in his chest. He tucked himself closer into you at your words, his head resting upon yours. His lips pressed a soft kiss to the side of your head.

“You’ve always been mine,” he said softly.

---

taglist:

(comment to join <3)

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #fanfic #tfatws #marvel #fanfiction

737 notes · View notes

eowynstwin · 2 days ago

Text

peristalsis - ii.

selkie!soap x reader. depression. suicidal ideation. strangers to "lovers." . Running away from life to the Scottish Hebrides, you meet a man who won't leave you alone. . Masterlist. Ao3.

You sleep long enough that, when you wake up, you have enough energy to cry.

It’s a big one. The kind of cry that threatens to turn your throat out, with how hard you sob. Alone in the cottage, far away from anything resembling civilization, you wail like wounded animal, choking on your own tears and mucus, losing track of your body buried underneath the covers—

But it happens at a remove. You watch yourself implode from someplace deep inside, not entirely sure why it’s happening at all—but long past trying to figure it out.

This is how it’s been for a while. There’s nothing special about it anymore. Nothing urgent. Most of the time, you are a blank space of a person, a vacuum where joy or rage or fear should be, but occasionally some maelstrom or another kicks up to fill it in, and your only course of action is to ride it out until it ends.

You’ve stopped trying to fix it. And you’ve stopped hoping anyone else can, either.

So you cry, until at last, you’re empty again. Or you’re too tired to continue. The difference is negligible, but functionally irrelevant. Once it’s done, you get out of bed.

The pressure in the shower is as weak as Johnny reported, but the water is indeed warm when you turn it on; you stand naked under the flow, arms hanging at your sides.

The day stretches itself out before you with nothing to occupying it, just as you’d planned. Nothing to work towards; no effort to put forward. Nothing, thanks to your choice of locale, to feel guilty about not seeking out.

A day of peace and utter quiet.

Suddenly—violent banging, somewhere in the cottage. It startles you; you jump so sharply at the noise that you smack your wrist on the soap caddy attached to the shower wall. The banging comes again—annoyed, you realize with no little bemusement that someone is at the front door.

You wrap yourself in a towel and hobble out of the bathroom to answer it, a piece of your mind on your tongue, dart-shaped and ready to fly—

Of course it’s Johnny.

Johnny, big and burly in a sweater, kilt, and pelt once again, two paper cups balanced in one large hand and a grocery bag hanging from the other. Whose dark brows shoot up his forehead as his eyes travel with surprise, and blatant appreciation, down the dripping length your body.

“Well, good mornin’, bonnie,” he purrs.

“What,” you grunt. A cold breath of wind chooses that moment to force its way through the door, gasping across the shower water still running in rivulets from your hair to the rolled edge of your towel. Goosebumps erupt from your bare skin in millions of simultaneous pinpricks—you flinch bodily at the chill.

“Ah, hell’s bells, don’t just stand there,” Johnny says, following the wind. “It’s freezin,’ go on, let me get in, hurry.”

You let him step inside, for some reason, and he shuts the door behind him with the heel of his boot. He wastes no time after that, heading to the kitchen to set down his things.

“Brought breakfast!” he says cheerfully. “There’s this bakery on Barra I thought you’d like, fresh doughnuts and coffee. Dunno how you take yours, but there’s sugar in the pantry and cream in the fridge.”

“I don’t want breakfast,” you say.

“What? ‘Course you do. I’m no’ takin’ you seal-watchin’ on an empty stomach.”

He starts unpacking the grocery bag and setting things on the counter while your jaw hangs open. Several things occur to you to say—I never agreed to that and what the hell is wrong with you, for starters—but your stomach growls at him before you can. The aroma of fresh-baked pastry wafts through the kitchen when he opens one box, and he turns to grin at you, cheeks dimpling.

“Do you get dressed, bonnie,” he says. “It’ll still be here when y’get back.”

It is less polite than he perhaps intends it to be, given that his gaze travels appreciatively across your bare shoulders. You cross your arms fruitlessly over your chest and, nothing else for it, retreat to the bedroom, feeling his eyes on you the whole way.

You return to the kitchen after having pulled on wool leggings and the same fleecy sweater from the day before. Johnny, one hip set against the counter, has a cup of steaming coffee in one hand and a half-eaten cruller in the other, crumbs at the corner of his mouth.

“Got anythin’ heavier?” he asks around a chewed-up mouthful. “Gets cold out there.”

You look down at his bare calves, broad and taut and covered in a down of dark hair. “You seem alright.”

“I’m used to it,” he says, shrugging—the muscles flexing under your gaze.

You purse your lips. “I don’t have anything.” You hadn’t intended to leave the cottage overmuch.

You approach the counter. Johnny does not move a centimeter, forcing you to stand close as you pick through the two boxes of doughnuts and feel the body heat radiating off of him, displacing the scent of fried dough with his musk.

“That’s all right,” he says. You’re close enough to hear the way his voice hums deep in his chest. “I can keep you warm.”

You snatch a plain glazed from the box and take two very large steps away from him. The hair on the back of your neck lifts as you press against the sink behind you. If he notices your reaction, it doesn’t seem to bother him in the slightest—he lifts the cup to his lips and drinks, eyes sliding closed with simple, obvious pleasure, dark lashes curling against his cheek.

You take the brief respite from his gaze to stare at him. In the morning light, on a full night of sleep, you can almost believe that whatever you’d seen in him yesterday had been nothing more than a misfire of exhausted synapses. An overlay of a dream; a circadian prompt to rectify nearly seventeen hours of sleeplessness. You’d been cold, and tired, and hungry. That was all.

You bite down on your doughnut, not really tasting it. The nerves along your spine twitch and contract around the memory of his flashing gaze.

His eyes open again, and he smiles at you. “Good?” He flicks a look at the single bite you’ve taken, looks at your mouth, and then waits for your reply.

“It’s fine,” you grumble. Then, “How did you get here? I didn’t hear the truck drive up. Do you live close by?”

“Sometimes,” he says. He looks pleased that you’ve asked, that you’re interested at all, and you immediately regret inquiring. “Live on a boat, me. Moored in the cove right now.”

“A…boat,” you say.

“Aye.” A wisp of dark hair, something he must have missed when he gelled his mohawk this morning, flutters as he nods. “Nice and cozy. Not as grand as all this, mind.” He gestures around with coffee and doughnut at the less than five hundred square feet of the cottage. “But it’s still a sight nicer than some other places I’ve slept.”

He’s likely hinting at his military service. “Okay,” is all you say, unwilling to entertain it.

He smirk—undeterred. “We’ll take her out once you’re ready.”

“I never said I was going.”

Dark brows lift. “Got somethin’ else planned for today?” he asks, incredulous, as if he never imagined you wouldn’t want to hang out with him.

“No, I—”

You wrack your brain. You have no intention of explaining to this complete stranger that the last thing you’d wanted to do, when you booked this trip, was really anything at all—and in fact, you hadn’t even considered that that might be something anyone else would care much about.

Much less proactively address.

“No,” you repeat, sulking.

Johnny considers you, chewing. His eyes do not stray, this time, to places they don’t belong; but there’s an insight to them. A sharp awareness. A perception in his gaze that is just as undressing, as if whatever is going on with you is visible to the naked eye.

“I figure,” he says, slowly, as if to coax, “you put your wee shoes on, an’ I’ll pack this back up, and we take it along.”

“You don’t have to do this,” you grouse. “I don’t need you to, like—be my tour guide.”

“Aye, but that doesnae mean I don’t wanna,” he retorts, smiling.

He shoves the last bite of cruller in his mouth and gazes patiently at you as he works it with his jaw, the muscles flexing along his temples as he chews.

Exhaustion, your constant companion, stares you down alongside him. It would take so much more energy to fight him than to go along with whatever he has planned. Energy you just don’t have anymore. And going along doesn’t mean you have to pretend to enjoy yourself—it’s not like you care enough about Johnny’s self-esteem to conjure up a happy face to show him.

You can go, and be a bitch about it, and once you do maybe he’ll realize you’re not at all worth the effort he’s making, and then finally leave you alone.

“Fine,” you say, which is how you end up on a fishing trawler headed south toward, ostensibly, a colony of breeding seals.

It’s an old vessel—that much is obvious. Its edges and corners are dull with the passage of time and constant maintenance, scuffed by innumerable passes-over with cleaner and cloth. Mildew competes with the aroma of fresh varnish as Johnny leads you onto the bridge, which is mercifully closed in from the ocean wind.

The interior is mostly wood of a warm, orangish variety—you can’t tell if that’s a decision made with aesthetics or function in mind. The space comprises a kitchen, surprisingly well-appointed with a stove, sink, countertop, and fridge, and a small sitting area with both couch and booth seating. Surrounding windows allow in the grey light of the morning.

“Bought it off an old bloke on Lewis,” Johnny says, taking his place at the wheel, which is in a little alcove off the kitchen.

If you’d thought steering a boat would have curtailed his chatting, you’d have been wrong—he seems to have no trouble with that and talking, incessantly, at the same time, as he pulls the vessel away from the cove and into the open water.

“All his family moved to the mainland, he told me, an’ this is after generations fishin’ these islands, even makin’ it through the Clearances! No money in it anymore, he said, not like you could make in some office somewhere countin’ someone else’s money.” He checks something on the dashboard in front of him, but it doesn’t distract him for long. “Held on for a while, but people just kept leavin,’ an’ he was gettin’ too old to go out on his own. Got such a good price on it, I think he was just happy someone else was gonna take up the tradition.”

“Did he sell you the cottage too?” you ask, and then dig your nails into your wrist for encouraging him.

“Yup,” he says. “No one else wanted it, but me? I saw somethin’ special about it.”

He turns to smile at you—no doubt pleased you made the connection. You avert your gaze.

“Imagine someday I’ll have my own family here,” he continues. “Good place for it. Nice and slow, not like city living. Can hear yourself think out here. Perfect place to have a few wee ones.”

“If people stop leaving,” you mutter.

He turns to you again. “I’m no’ worried about that,” he replies. He’s still smiling. “You came here, after all.”

You have nothing to say to that.

The trip is a short one—Johnny brings the trawler alongside an island he informs you is called Mingulay, a square mile smaller than Vatersay’s tiny dot in the North Atlantic. Unlike the latter, he says, this island has not been inhabited since 1912, and has been completely reclaimed by the ocean and its wildlife.

After he drops anchor offshore, Johnny disappears down a steep flight of stairs below deck, which he had not offered a tour of, and emerges a short time later with a large, bulky coat.

“Didn’t I tell you?” he says proudly, holding it out by the shoulders. “Here, turn ‘round.”

You pause in the middle of reaching for it. You don’t know exactly why you comply—it occurs to you that if you grabbed for the jacket, he could simply not let go of it, and you would end up exactly where he wants you anyway. So you lower your arm and, resigned, give him your back.

He steps up behind you. Warmth pours off of him, more than you think any human body should be able to generate.

You hear him inhale, deeply, as he brings the jacket to your back. As you slide your arms into the sleeves, you feel his exhale on the nape of your neck, teasing through individual follicles of hair.

“There w’go,” he murmurs, much closer than you expected.

You can hear the low hum of his voice in his chest; his hands linger on your shoulders far longer than they need to, heavy, big enough that his index fingers brush along your collarbones.

When his hands make to slide down your back you step away from him and fumble to zip the jacket up; he chuckles lightly behind you. When you turn to face him, his lips are curled—smug.

“Alright then,” he says. “Let’s get out there.”

He rows the two of you to shore in a small kayak, two pairs of binoculars in your lap as you huddle away from the wind. You’ll be walking to the haul-out, he says—getting too close to the breeding grounds, which he calls a rookery, would spook them, possibly causing a stampede.

“It’s grey seals we’re gonna see,” he explains as the two of you pick your way across the rocky landscape. “Not the biggest haul-out you could see, some colonies get into the thousands, but we’ll have it all to ourselves.”

He insists on taking your elbow every time the two of you cross particularly uneven terrain, even though you don’t need it. You think he takes your attempts to shake him off as proof of your lack of balance, because he grasps you all the tighter every time.

“I’m not a child, Johnny, I can walk on my own,” you finally snap at him.

“Just bein’ a gentleman, bonnie,” he replies nonchalantly. He does not let you go.

As you get closer, you hear the seals before you see them, and when their voices reach you across the open island, you stop dead.

Groaning, grunting, hissing in a cacophonous chorus. Some part of your hindbrain double-takes, reshuffles itself—some ancestral instinct always on the lookout for predation. If you’d been given a chance to guess what a colony of mating seals might have sounded like, you’re not sure you could have guessed what they sounded like.

Certainly not like what you hear now—

Like people.

Johnny grins at you when he notices. “Aye, it’s a right ruckus, innit?”

He leads you up a small rise, where he has the two of you settle belly-down over the machair to overlook the wedge of rocky coast that the colony has claimed for its own.

And when you finally see it—it’s underwhelming.

Perhaps two hundred long, fat bodies, in varying shades of brown and grey, lay indolently along the rocks, in groups of three or four, some heavily galumphing from one place to another while others roll occasionally from side to side. The shifting winds catch their scent and blow it uncaringly into your face; you nearly gag at the admixture of dead fish and ammonia.

It doesn’t escape you that this is a rare thing to witness; you are not wholly immune to the fact that you are only a hundred meters away from something most people only encounter on a screen. It’s just that without a swell of awed music in the backdrop, or a narrator’s breathless wonder at the miracle of pinniped life, what’s left for you to observe is a population of wet, stinking animals, shitting where they lay, vocalizing without cease while they laze about doing basically nothing.

Johnny does not seem to notice your disillusionment; he hands you one pair of binoculars, and directs your attention to activity along the shoreline. You follow to where he’s pointing; one larger seal is hassling a smaller one, which snarls at the aggressor as it thrashes around with its substantial bulk.

“Little one there—” Johnny says, “that’s a female, probably obvious. Big one knows she’s ready to mate, can smell it on her.”

The female bares her teeth and lunges at the bigger male, which flinches back but holds his ground.

“Doesn’t look like she agrees,” you mutter.

“She’s just givin’ him a hard time. She’s all in heat, see? Just makes her cranky,” Johnny says. You feel his eyes on you, and lower your binoculars to look at him. “She’s got to fight to feel all in control.”

You flush. “Right.”

“You don’t think so?”

“No,” you say. “He’s—he’s just bothering her.”

He gazes at you for a moment, contemplative. Corners of his mouth quirking upward. He does not reply for a long moment, long enough that you have to avert your gaze from his.

“Nah,” he finally says, and you don’t think you’re imagining the low, sultry note in his voice. “She wants it bad as he does.”

You scowl, uncomfortably perceived, and return your binoculars—the pair is still facing off, gurgling and growling at each other. The female is slim, almost sleek, unlike most of the other seals populating the rookery.

“Is she sick?” you ask.

“Hm? Oh, no, she’s alright. The mums lose a lot of weight when they nurse. Takes three weeks, and they don’t eat in the meantime.”

“Jesus.”

“Be nice if the dads ever brought ‘em a bite, aye?” Johnny agrees. “Deadbeats, the lot of them.”

The two of you survey the colony in silence for a moment. As the morning wears on, the cloud covering thins overhead, allowing cool sunlight to filter through. The temperature doesn’t rise in response; begrudgingly, you tug Johnny’s jacket a little tighter around you.

Then, suddenly, his hand lands on your back, between your shoulder blades.

“Got some pups over there,” he says. “Look, by the kelp.”

You find them; smaller bodies, white dinged with wet sand and dirt, lounge near their mothers or wriggle with aimless difficulty. They’re fluffy and round as plush toys, with shining black eyes and noses, and once Johnny’s pointed them out you can differentiate the higher, sweeter pitch of their cries from the overall cacophony.

“Sometimes,” Johnny murmurs, “search and rescue’ll get called out because someone thought they heard a baby crying. Some kid stranded or lost, right? Turns out to be a baby seal.”

“That’s kind of scary,” you say.

“Aye,” says Johnny. “Always makes me think that’s where the old legends come from, about seal people or mermaids.”

A small ways away, some of the mothers lay with their pups far into the surf, letting the waves break over them. You watch as one mother thunks her large head overtop of her pup’s as the water rushes toward them; the pup wriggles, and then, as the wave engulfs them, it begins to thrash, whipping up a panicked froth.

“Time for swimming lessons already?” Johnny muses. “Seems early.”

You’re horrified. “She’s going to drown it!”

The hand still on your back pats you consolingly. “Just watch,” says Johnny.

The wave reaches as far up the shore as gravity allows, and then begins to recede. The pup’s thrashing calms as the air meets its face once again; the cow allows the pup to lift its head, and after a few sputters, the pup seems no worse for wear.

“They’re hardier than they look, bonnie,” Johnny says.

His hand, heavy and warm even over his borrowed jacket, slides down from your shoulders to your lower back, and then he rubs, slowly, side to side, as if to comfort you—but the knobs of your spine contract at his touch.

“Last of the births this season, looks like,” he says. “Mum’s getting ready to leave—probably not the only one.”

Something hard drops into your stomach.

“They leave their babies?” you ask.

“Aye. Once they’re done nursing, they mate, and then they go.”

You look back at the other cows with their pups. One baby has its muzzle to its mother’s belly, quivering and suckling, while she lays with her head on a patch of grass. She looks uninterested—more, she looks disinterested. As if how voraciously her pup is nursing has nothing much to do with her, and she’s bored of even having to think about it.

Bored—and already looking forward to the next part of her life without a baby in it.

“That’s horrible,” you say.

“They’re solitary animals, bonnie,” Johnny says, not ungently. “The only time they’re really all together is for this.”

A line tightens between your stomach and throat, and you feel it start to build between your ribs. A tremor—foreshocks. The wind picks up, bringing a sharp chill off the ocean and up the rise that cuts into your stinging eyes, abrades the naked skin of your hands and the exposed part of your neck.

When you look through your binoculars again, you wonder how many of the pups you see have already been abandoned.

“Aw, bonnie,” Johnny says. There’s a kind of pity in his voice that has your hackles raising.

“I want to leave,” you say, yanking away from his touch and shuffling down the incline. “Take me back to the cottage.”

“Bonnie, it’s okay!” Johnny protests, rolling to his back to look at you as you stand. “The pups make it, they figure out how to fend for themselves.”

You glare at him, vision blurring. “All of them?”

Some part of you knows you’re being irrational—knows that nature is a cruel home, and that many children face worse fates than the seal pups. Abandoning the young, the needy, is no aberration; it is, in fact, far more the standard than the human practice, which lingers for decades—

Most of the time.

Johnny has no response. He holds your angry gaze, brows drawn low, mouth pressed into a thin line. It’s the first time that cocky aura, which seems to rest in every fine line on his face and every angle at which he holds his body, is completely absent.

He isn’t reflecting your anger back at you, though—he’s internalizing it. Letting it hit him, you think, and trying to use it to figure you out.

You do not want to be figured out.

You scoff again. “Take me back,” you repeat, and then you start walking in the direction you came, without waiting for him to follow.

Johnny drops you off in the cove, and thankfully does not linger this time before he departs—he bids you farewell after rowing you to shore, contemplation on his face, and then leaves you to yourself.

You retreat, seeking the cottage’s empty quiet.

As you perch on the couch you listen to the radiator hum—the wind blow over the reeds in the thatch roof—your own heart beating a drum in the arteries of your neck.

Percussive. Quick and hard. Like heavy knockers on a door. Pounding as if to burst through.

You realize you’re still wearing Johnny’s jacket, and you throw it off, disgusted with yourself. You get up and pace, and try to ignore it lying in a heap on the floor.

You do something you swore you wouldn’t do the moment you set foot on the island—you turn your phone back on.

True to Johnny’s word, there’s no signal. You picked this island, this part of the world, for a reason; for the past several years, a slow exodus from the British isles has vacated the need for dedicated cell towers or satellite or internet access, especially given that the only ones who remain are too old now to want it or need it or know how to use it.

It’s isolated. Cut off. Left behind by anyone with better options, and only clung to by those trying to preserve the only way of life they know.

Some kinder part of you belongs with that demographic; the part that was telling your mother the truth, before getting on the plane.

The rest of you holds your phone up and starts walking around.

In the furthest corner in the bedroom, you find a single bar of signal. A tiny chip of connectivity—a thin, frayed thread. Something you lied to yourself about cutting.

It’s a weak connection. Unstable. It could take a while—you stand there, waiting.

The screen dims. You tap it again.

Blank.

You unlock it, look through your apps. Wonder if maybe your notifications are bugged by your new SIM card.

Nothing—

No one.

You whip around and, with a cry, pitch the thing at the far wall—it hits the stone with a crunch, falling to the floor in pieces.

You’re out of the cottage then in a mad dash, door slamming behind you, driving yourself back into the wind. Far away—you want to be far away, far from everything, so far that nothing could possibly reach you. You trudge down the path toward the beach, banding your arms across your chest, shivering in the cold, and yet you hardly feel it.

Not worth it. No point. Waste of your time. Energy. All of it. Stop trying. Stop wanting. Nothing. Nothing. You want nothing.

You’re halfway down to the shore, not really knowing what you’re going to do when you get there, when you catch sight of a body on the sand.

You gasp, a sharp breath down your larynx, and freeze in a dead halt.

The body is completely still.

A swimmer? A diver? It’s dark, like it just pulled itself out of the ocean—or washed up—

Then, it moves. A twitch, a ripple across its bulk, and your chest rapidly decompresses.

A seal. It’s a large seal, lounging alone on the beach.

You stand motionless. You’re very close—much closer than you and Johnny had been at the rookery. You hadn’t contended with the sheer size of the animals, tucked safely up and away from them, but there is no illusion of distance now.

It’s the biggest one you’ve seen today, you’re sure of it. Bigger, you think, than most adult men. Its pelt is a riot of every shade of grey, splashy, like liquid paint thrown across a canvas. Black speckles scatter overtop of marbled white and cool slate, and down the center of its back is a broad, dark line, soft at the edges, which reaches all the way up to the top of the seal’s head.

The bull—it must be male—turns over. It lifts its head, and opens its eyes—

Fear suddenly zips up your spine as it looks right at you.

You stumble backward and trip on your own feet, landing hard on your ass. Johnny’s care with keeping enough distance from the colony rushes back to you, along with the warring couple’s bared teeth.

They can’t move that fast on land, right? They aren’t interested in people, right?

You scramble backward. It’s so much bigger than you ever would have imagined. If it got to you—threw itself over you—it could crush you with its weight alone—

The bull watches you placidly. Unperturbed.

You pause.

Its small eyes are dark and glossy—watchful and focused. The whiskers on its muzzle twitch a little as it takes you in. It breathes, deeply and evenly, huge body expanding and contracting at a slow, calm tempo. Its—his—nostrils flex, widening and narrowing, as he blinks docilely.

Unafraid.

If anything—curious.

Then he snorts, and wriggles in place. It startles a laugh out of you, more reaction than humor. Still watching you, the bull lowers his head back down, resting it again on the sand.

Your heartbeat abates. He doesn’t move again—nor does his attention leave you. Slowly, you sit up.

Wary. No sudden movements.

He doesn’t react; only continues to watch you.

You draw your knees up. Wrap your arms around your shins, and dust a bit of sand from your leggings. Rest your chin in the crevice between your knees.

There’s an intelligence in the bull’s eyes that is fathoms deep. There is a massive gulf between his experience of the world and yours, millennia of evolution separating your species from his—and yet…as you hold his gaze, you recognize the look in it.

Him, seeing you. And seeing you see him. The pendulum swinging between awareness of each other, and recognition of that shared awareness.

An empty space in the cloud cover passes overhead; sunlight touches the earth, warms it briefly before disappearing again. You wonder a little why this bull isn’t with the other seals.

Johnny would probably know.

“I didn’t come for you, you know,” you grumble at him.

The seal blinks. Awareness notwithstanding, you don’t share any language.

You sigh. “I guess you didn’t come to see me either,” you say.

But you don’t move away.

And you stay like that for a long while, you and he—regarding each other as the wind breathes out across the shore.

next chapter early access

a/n: follow for more seal facts™

Also huge thanks to Lev for trawler listings/info. Didn't explore it much this chapter but Soap's boat will show up more soon :)

#soap x reader #soap x you #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish x you #john soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x you #soap mactavish x reader #soap mctavish #john soap mactavish #mwritessoap #madi writes #am i happy with the photos i used? no #am i going to make an effort to change them? also no #does that image of a whirlpool look terribly erotic? oh yes #selkie soap #peristalsis

645 notes · View notes

tzyunaes · 3 days ago

Text

DESPERATE ⋄ 이희승

wherein — you share a heated moment with your roommate.

희승 ˖ 𝑓em!r g. roommates to potential lovers fluff suggestive ──── EPHEMER𝒾S ( 613 ) cw. skinship making out kissing.

jennifer says .. heavily suggestive cause i went a bit overbroad w this my apologies !! TT

11:38 pm. the clock ticked in its conventional rhythm. you sighed, getting tired of tossing and turning in your bed. you were supposed to get a full night's sleep tonight after the exhausting week of finals but here you were, your head messy with crazy thoughts. finally deciding to get out of your bedroom, you get up from the bed, the silence curls through the room along with the dim tranquil darkness, your footsteps soft on the cold tiles of the floor.

as you walked past the hallway and stood in front of the refrigerator in the kitchen, opening the door as you looked for a drink. the limp sound of someone breathing behind you in the eerie silence caught your mind, you could feel your heart skipping a beat.

you were definitely quick to look behind, just to find your annoying and forever ridiculously irresistible roommate that you were supposed to hate for being the exact opposite nature of you in various ways in front of you, your eyes rolled back into your head on its own but you sighed in relief anyway, “are you insane? why the hell are you standing behind me like a ghost!?” your voice loud till the signature smirk was back on his face, “why? did my pretty princess get scared?” he whispered, taking another step close to you, you stepped back, “what scared. i just meant why can you not act like a civilized person and c—"

your words hung in the crisp air when he stepped closer, causing you to stumble a bit but his muscular built hovered over you, he leaned down to your ear, “should i try a ghostface mask next time?” his husky voice barely a whisper, you stuttered, a rosy hue lightened your cheeks.

mixed scent of whiskey and strawberries drove you frenzy, he smirked, almost caging you against the fridge. your breath hitched when his hand sneaked past your shirt and found your waist, heeseung dipped his head, his face inches away from yours as his other hand reached out to brush a few strands of your hair off your face, “may i?” he murmured under his breath, his eyes deep into you as his hand rubbed circles on your bare skin.

you couldn't respond, you weren't supposed to be doing this here with the lee heeseung of everyone, you thought to yourself. but the heat seem to be going on your head, “i will take the silence as a yes, doll,” he mumbled in your ears before engulfing your lips with his, his mouth hot in yours when you kissed him back.

his hands tracing your skin intoxicated you completely, going lower when you didn't stop him and responded instead. every graze of his fingers sent sparks of electricity through your body, awakening your senses. he chuckled into the kiss when a soft moan against his lips left from your mouth, his body almost mushed yours.

he sucked your lips like it was the last day of his life, his tongue savoring yours. his touch growing more desperate and illicit but you didn't stop him cause you craved it instead. he pulled himself off, just to let you see the sweaty face of him which did nothing but made him more attractive right at the moment. his smirk grew more sinister, the faint dim light against your intertwined bodies.

“hee…” you murmured, your breath shaking. he leaned in again as his voice hitched, “yes, darling? be a good girl for me tonight, hm?” was the last thing you heard before you let him claim you as his deliberately.

569 notes · View notes

annievrse · 3 days ago

Text

rumour has it!

trafalgar law x fem!reader —ᡣ𐭩 fic

summary: rumour has it that the surgeon of death is your boyfriend... w/c: 5.3k c/w: suggestive, secret relationship, reader wears a dress, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns.

The sun is just moments off dipping behind the horizon, the pink and orange hues meshing into subtle indigo. Since leaving the previous island, the air has been humid and sticky, but the slight breeze drifting through the Grand Line is refreshing.

The inside of the girls' quarters smells of vanilla, salt, and Robin's rosewater incense. The waves crash against the side of the ship, seaspray making its way through the ajar porthole, and you're sure Nami will scold you for leaving it open, but you're far from caring now.

The cotton sheets of your bed, a present from Robin for your birthday, are soft on your legs as you turn over for the nth time in ten minutes. You wouldn't call your current state one of grief, since he is still alive, but the rawness of your throat and the deep ache in your chest makes it seem so.

Skipping dinners and chores was enough for Nami and Robin to know there was something wrong, but you've been holed up in the room since departing the last island, and now they're positive this is more than just feeling sick.

The door slams against the wall when Nami kicks it open, a scowl on her features as she stomps over to you and rips the sheets off. You whine at the loss of cover, your body curling further in on itself as you shove your face into your pillow.

"Leave me alone."

Nami scoffs. "You're kidding, right?"

"Nami—“

"We're worried about you," Robin's soft voice comes from the doorway. "You've never skipped out on your chores for this long before."

Shaking your head, you squeeze your eyes shut. No words leave your lips, and Nami and Robin share a concerned glance.

"Come on, dinner's ready. The crew's been waiting for you to join."

You sniffle and swallow thickly, remaining unresponsive to their words. If you were to tell them it feels as though your heart is going to explode and your limbs are lethargic because of a man, you fear they'd laugh at you.

"Has that window been open this whole time?—"

Robin says your name softly, abruptly cutting Nami off. "Please?"

You've always thought of the archaeologist as an older sister of sorts, so when she gives you an encouraging smile and a hand to take, you give in. Robin's always been more understanding than Nami, but you wouldn't trade either of them for the world.

"If this is about that rumour..."

You ignore her, your skin ablaze with apprehension at Nami's implication. The fresh air of the deck hits you in the face, and joyful screams and laughter from the galley have your stomach churning with anxiety.

"We understand if you don't want to talk about it, we know that rumours can get out of hand sometimes."

Your eyes remain on the floor while your cheeks burn with embarrassment. You're feet away from the kitchen door, and you resist the urge to run in the opposite direction.

"Seriously," Nami says, an easy laugh falling from her lips. "You can tell us anything, you know that."

Guilt bubbles under your skin, and you feel disgusted with yourself for feeling like you couldn't confide in them. You open your mouth to reply when a sharp gasp cuts you off.

"You're here!" Luffy exclaims, his contagious giggles making your lips turn upwards for the first time in a week. "I missed you!"

Suddenly, limbs are wrapped around you, and Luffy's grin presses against your cheek.

"I missed you, too," You smile and lean your head on his shoulder.

"Are you hungry?" Luffy asks, unwrapping himself from your torso. "Sanji cooked up a feast!"

And he isn't exaggerating. The cook stands before you, his eyes wide with concern as he takes your hand. "I made your favourites, mon amour."

You nod as you take in the platters and towers of food splayed on the long dining table. Brook, Franky, Jimbe, and Chopper sit on one side, and Usopp and Zoro sit on the other, all giving you reassuring smiles as you greet them.

"Thank you, Sanji."

"Anything for you, my angel!"

You take a seat beside Zoro and Luffy slides in next to you. "Let's eat!"

Dinner is as chaotic as usual, and in the week you've been hiding in your room, you've come to miss the disordered affair. Mountains of different dishes are piled onto your plate, thanks to Luffy, as Zoro pours sake into your mug. You won't be drinking tonight, but the thought that Zoro wants to share his beloved drink with you has your heart growing with warmth.

You pick up your fork and stab a piece of grilled broccoli. The flavour melts on your tongue as you chew, your gaze scanning your crewmates as they continue with their normal dinner conversations.

"So is it true?"

The room goes silent, and the only sound is the clink of Chopper's hoof on Brook's humourous. You stare into the voids of his eye sockets and swallow quickly to avoid choking on the vegetable.

"Wrong thing to say?"

Nami is the first to growl as she stands. "Yes, idiot!"

The rest of the crew groans and throws their assaults at the skeleton before he cries out.

"Okay! Okay, I'm sorry," Brook winces, his hands up in defence. "If I had a heart it would be full of remorse right now."

His usual gag makes you exhale a short laugh and the crew visibly relaxes.

"I'm fine, guys," You sigh. "I'm not going to break."

"So, Traffy, huh?" Zoro is amused, and when you look at him, he raises an eyebrow. "What? It's what we're all thinking."

"He's not wrong," Franky pipes up. "Rumour has it you're together."

"Who knew you two were such gossip?" Robin quips, a mug of tea held up to her lips. "Where'd you hear this so-called rumour?"

"Around," Usopp says, evading answering with a proper response.

"It's not true though, right?" Franky asks.

You shake your head immediately, stomach souring. "How would it be? I haven't seen that guy in forever, let alone be in a relationship with him."

"That's what I said!" Nami exclaims, slamming her hands on the wooden table. "I think I would know if my best friend had a boyfriend, especially if it were Traffy."

As the crew start discussing who they think started the rumour, you sit quietly. There's no telling who or how the rumour started, and you'd rather not think about it.

The article in the newspaper had been published a month ago, and to say it had caused waves was an understatement. With you and Law on two separate, infamous pirate crews, it was bound to affect civilians and pirates alike. The thought of the Heart Pirates and the Strawhats allying again had the world on edge, and if it was because of something as fragile as love, then it would be problematic for both sides.

You pick at your plate with no appetite. There are eyes on you from across the table, but you ignore Robin and continue moving food around with your fork. She can think all she likes, and so can the remainder of the crew, but you're not giving up your most vulnerable secret that easy; especially when the rest of the world thinks the same.

—

You have to tread lightly. Above you, a monthly meeting between the Kid Pirates, the Strawhats, and the Heart Pirates is taking place.

Nami rushes around the girls' quarters for a map she forgot before she stops and sees you at your desk. Various pens and papers are sprawled on the surface, and Nami wonders what you're writing. However, she doesn't press and scolds you instead.

"You're meant to be upstairs."

You groan and spin in the chair. "I'm busy."

Nami rolls her eyes. "Come on. This is important."

"Can't you just relay it to me when it's done?"

The newspaper and the rumour have been long forgotten. It's been two months since the dinner and a month and a half since the crew dropped the gossip, and you've been back to your old self. Nami's grateful that you're no longer affected by it, but there's something about the way your wrist flicks the pen on the page that has her suspicions surfacing again.

You mumble something she can't hear and stand. Nami furrows her eyebrows when she sees the state of you—you wear one of your nicer dresses and your eyelashes seem fuller, longer. She doesn't question it, but her mind circles back to the months-old rumour.

The walk upstairs and onto the deck is a tense one, and you feel the excitement of seeing Law swirl in your stomach. It's been a while since you've seen him, and him you, so, when the sun warms your skin and the heads of all three captains turn to the creaking door, you smile.

"Hi, everyone!" You say. "Sorry, I'm late."

Luffy brushes off your apology and grins while he tells you to sit with the crew. There are multiple sets of eyes on you, but only one makes your nerves dance.

You find a spot beside Chopper and face the other crews. The silence of your arrival slowly dissipates as the pirates start chattering again. You sigh deeply and scan the crowd. A familiar polar bear catches your attention, and you wave when Bepo meets your gaze.

The mink greets you with a warm smile, one that never fails to lighten your mood, as he nudges Penguin beside him. The pirate rubs his bicep before he realises what Bepo is saying, and then he grins, promptly whacking Shachi while doing so. It's a chain reaction, and soon, all of the Heart Pirates are waving at you from across the deck.

The more you think about it, the more the reason why the rumour was started becomes clear; you're not subtle.

Ikkaku almost squeals when she sees you, and soon she's crossing the grass to squeeze between you and Chopper.

"I've missed you," She whispers, throwing her arm over your shoulders. Chopper looks at her curiously, his head tilting as the cogs in his mind turn.

Sure, you've always been friendly with the Heart Pirates, but that's because you hailed from the same island as Law, Penguin, Bepo, and Shachi before you landed yourself in the East Blue. Simple. Definitely not because you're in love with their captain and have been for the past ten years of your life...

You refuse to think about the fact that you haven't told your crew yet, though, you're confused as to how they couldn't know. Sabaody, Punk Hazard, Dressrosa, Zou, Wano... on all islands, you were attached at the hip despite trying your best to remain indifferent toward each other.

Maybe your downfall was hoping that they could figure it out themselves.

"Strawhat." His timbre is low, one you've heard countless times yet it never fails to give you goosebumps, even on the hottest of days.

"Traffy." Your captain laughs.

"May I talk to your seamstress for a minute?"

The crews fall quiet once more, and the air is thick with anticipation. A legion of owlish eyes set their sights on you, and you shift with discomfort.

Luffy nods and waves his hand in your direction. "Go ahead."

Ikkaku pats your knee before she stands and you watch her skip back to her spot beside Shachi. Law gives you an expectant look and nods his chin toward the Polar Tang.

A low whistle behind you makes you freeze and you glance at Zoro. He shrugs at your raised eyebrows, and smirks. He may not seem to be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but you know he's onto you, and from the looks the rest of your crew throw you, you know they are too.

You brush them off with a flick of your wrist and follow Law to the edge of the Sunny. He's quick to shamble you onto the Tang and lead you inside.

Once the air-tight door is shut, you release your breath.

"You okay?"

Nodding, you take a step toward him. Law watches you intently, his own shoulders relaxing.

"Come 'ere," Law mumbles, tugging you against him. You smile into his chest, your hands splayed across his back. "Missed you."

You look up at him, a smile on your lips. "Missed you more."

Law snorts and leans down, his nose brushing yours. The silence is comforting, especially when you're in it with him, a quiet kind of peace that speaks volumes without saying a word. There’s no need for conversation, no pressure to fill the air with sound. The moment stretches between you like a soft, invisible thread, binding you together without effort.

"Did you see the newspaper a few months back?" Law's voice carries an undercurrent of caution, and from the way he hesitates, you can tell he’s debating whether to bring it up. You hum, your eyes flickering briefly between his.

"The crew asked a lot of questions, but I never let it slip," You say, but there’s a tension in your words.

The need to be careful has grown more important as time passes, as the world becomes more dangerous, like a delicate dance you’ve learned to navigate without drawing too much attention. Still, the questions, the rumours, the assumptions—they're starting to take their toll.

“It shouldn't be like this,” Law murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes close briefly, as though he’s trying to block out a reality he can’t change. "But is there any other choice?"

You can hear the desperation in his words, the quiet plea for an answer that seems impossible to answer. This hidden side of you that's tucked away from prying eyes and curious minds has become both a refuge and a cage, something you never wanted it to be.

"No," You answer softly, your voice steady even as your heart tightens in your chest. "There’s no other choice."

You don't need to say more—he knows. Both of you know.

"But I’m going to tell my crew," Your voice cracks the silence, and the statement hangs in the air between you. "They're onto me."

Law exhales, and you can see the conflict in his eyes. The fear of consequences and the possibility of everything unravelling if the wrong person knows eats away at you, and from the way Law's eyes plead, you know it hurts him too.

"Of course you can," He mumbles, his voice low. "I would never tell you what you can and can't do."

His words are firm, but they don’t bring the comfort you're hoping for. You both know that telling is easy, but it’s living with the consequences of that decision that’s the hard part. It’s about what you risk losing if it all falls apart.

You lean back to look at him from a different angle, your heart beating a little faster than it should.

"But you’re scared, aren’t you?" You say quietly, knowing the answer before he even opens his mouth. You know him, you don’t need him to say it aloud.

"Yeah," He admits softly. "I am. Because I can’t lose you. But I know you don’t want to lie to them either."

There's a raw honesty to his voice that he usually keeps under lock and key when there are other people around. But when it's just you, Law is as vulnerable as he allows himself to be, which is much more than he's ever shown to anybody else.

"It’s not about them," You whisper. "Whatever happens, we need to decide what we can live with. Because if the four seas know we're each other's weakness, there goes our cover of ambiguity, and you've always been mysterious."

There’s a flicker in his eyes, a brief spark of something, and for a second, you think maybe he’s going to speak, probably some remark to dismiss the tension or shift the conversation. But instead, Law chokes out a laugh—quick and unexpected.

It is short, but it carries relief, like an exhale after holding in too much. The tension between you lifts, just slightly, in the aftermath of it. You can’t help but smile, even though the gravity of everything is still hanging just beneath the surface. The humour is a welcome distraction, a brief flicker of light in a room that’s been dark for too long.

And you suppose it has. You haven't seen Law in a few months, and every time you do, it's like the floodgates of your heart open all at once—suddenly, there’s no holding back the torrent of everything you’ve kept buried, everything you've tried to push aside. Nights crying yourself to sleep, endless days stuck in bed replaying the memories, dealing with the longing, and suffering through the unsaid words that have accumulated in the silence between your last meeting and this one.

Law moves one hand to rub the back of his neck, his usual aloofness returning, but softened with your attempt at making him laugh.

“I suppose that would make me less... mysterious,” He murmurs, regarding you with that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "No one’s going to take me seriously as a captain if they know this side of me."

Rolling your eyes, you press onto your toes and press your lips against his. You giggle against his mouth when he immediately kisses back, his response urgent, as if he’s been itching for this moment, for permission to bridge the gap between the two of you.

There’s no hesitation in him now, just the raw need that’s been held back, tightly reined in for months on end. His hands find their way to the back of your neck, his fingers threading into your hair, pulling you closer like he never wants to let go.

"They're probably waiting for us," You gasp as Law trails his mouth down your jaw. "Wondering what the hell we're doing."

Law's chuckle is dark as he continues his attack on your neck. "If they can't guess then they're dumber than they look."

Your giggle dies on your lips as Law gently pushes you against the metal wall of the Tang, his leg slipping effortlessly between yours.

"That’s a low bar," You manage through gasps. "Have you seen those guys? They think jumping in the ocean is the epitome of cleanliness."

He laughs against your skin, the sound vibrating through you. "Yeah, okay. But, if your crew don’t know by now, they’re either blind or still trying to figure out if the looks I give you are innocent."

You pull back slightly, glancing at him with mock seriousness. "Innocent? You just bit me on the neck, Law."

He grins, clearly enjoying himself. He ignores your comment, reality creeping back into his mind. "If they don't already know, you tell them, alright? I want you to be happy."

He looks at you like you hung the stars, and there's no other way you would wish him to look at you. You nod and kiss his cheek. "We're not that subtle, though, are we?"

Law furrows his eyebrows and recalls a time from your past, the memory making him smile prematurely. "Like the time you tried to sneak past Bepo and Penguin and knocked over an entire shelf of medical supplies?"

You wince and then laugh. "Well, they didn’t hear that, did they?"

Law tilts his head, his lips curling into that devilish grin. “I think they'd be more concerned if we weren’t doing this. I mean, what else would explain us sneaking away like this?”

You snort, trying to hold back the laugh threatening to escape. "Probably think we're plotting to steal the Sunny's meat stash. Honestly, I'd be more worried about that."

“Hey," Law's voice drops to a mockingly serious tone. "Strawhat would argue that meat is the only thing worth risking a mutiny for."

You burst into laughter, shaking your head. "Guess they really are dumber than they look if they don’t figure out what we’re up to."

"Exactly," Law says with a wink, pulling you back into him, his lips finding your neck again. "Now, stop talking, and let’s just enjoy the mystery.”

—

When you emerge from the Polar Tang, the noise hits you first—the unmistakable sounds of raucous laughter and clinking sake cups over the familiar lull of the ocean. The air is thick with the smell of grilled fish and meat, and the warm, comforting aroma of rice wine.

The moment you step onto the deck, you're greeted by the sight of Franky and Zoro having a challenge to see who can drink the most sake without passing out. Usopp’s telling a wild, drunken story that no one can fully believe (and everyone’s too tipsy to really care if it's true or not, it's funny as hell). Nami’s chatting animatedly with Robin, Ikkaku, and a few women from the Kid Pirates, all of them clearly amused by the antics happening around them. Sanji’s serving food, and from the looks of it, he’s already had a few cups of sake himself—he’s not even trying to hide the gleam in his eyes when he sees you.

Law is as calm as ever, his cold demeanour never faltering as you step into the crowded area, though you catch a flicker of amusement in his gaze. It’s as if the two of you are invisible in plain sight. You exchange a glance—silent communication, the kind that only the two of you can manage—and it’s clear: they don't seem to suspect the rumour to be true.

Zoro waves a half-empty bottle of sake at you as you step towards the group of girls, his grin slightly lopsided. "Hey, hey, you're back! What’s the deal? You two off somewhere plotting how to take the all the sake?"

Nami looks over, catching the tail end of Zoro's question, and you can practically feel the shift in the air as her eyes flicker between you and Law. Her eyebrow arches, the wheels in her head turning. She throws you an exaggerated eye roll, but there's something different in the way she does it now—a knowing, almost playful glint in her eyes.

"Ugh, you guys are too much," She says with a knowing smile playing at the corner of her lips. "That rumour doesn't seem so far-fetched now, does it?"

Seems your crew is a lot sharper than you wished they were.

“Wait, what?” Zoro squints at the two of you as though trying to piece it together. “Are you saying these two really have something goin' on? Thought it was just a dumb rumour..."

Nami’s grin only widens, her arms crossing as she watches you squirm under the weight of her gaze. “Oh, Zoro, you really haven’t figured it out yet? Please, it’s obvious. All the sneaking off when we meet with the Heart Pirates, the looks they give each other when they think no one’s paying attention, her constant sulking when we part from them—come on, you’re not that dense.”

You freeze as Nami starts listing off what seems to be a mental list. Had you really been that naive to think she wouldn't know? Your eyebrows triangulate as you try to catch her gaze, your eyes full of regret. Nami smiles softly when she sees the look and waves her hand. You know she'd never use this against you, but you can see the flicker of hurt in her amber eyes.

Maybe you underestimated your crew's observation skills, or maybe you deemed yourself unworthy of being the centre of attention. Whatever it is, it's making you uneasy.

On the other side of the deck, the volume of chatter softens. The Kid Pirates may not have been paying much attention to the earlier drama, but now they’re looking at you, and every single one of them has just become aware of the situation. Especially Kid, who raises an eyebrow in your direction, leaning forward slightly.

Your heart skips a beat when you realise they have also figured it out, and then the whole keeping it between your two crews turns into the Kid Pirates knowing too. Panic rises in your chest when you register the severity of the situation—if they know, then how easy is it for strangers to do the same?

"Wait, you two...?” Kid starts, his voice rough and a little too loud. His gaze flickers between you and Law, then back at his crew, who are clearly picking up on the vibe. "Huh. That’s not a surprise, but I guess it explains the newspaper thing."

Killer’s grin widens, a knowing glint in his eyes. "So the rumour was true?"

But Law, ever the picture of composure, only tilts his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"It’s really not that interesting," He says dryly, arms folding across his chest.

Kid is unimpressed with Law's deflection, his eyes flicking back to the rest of the crews, who are now too interested in the drama to look anywhere else. "Guess that rumour was right, after all. Kinda figured you two had something going on, especially after that time you both disappeared on Sabaody while the fight was going on."

You stare at Kid, trying not to let your face betray how uncomfortable the situation has become. "That had nothing to do with this."

The laughter, the teasing, the questions—everything starts to blur together, an overwhelming rush of voices and jabs that twist around in your head, all at once. Your heart hammers in your chest as you struggle to keep up with the rapid-fire chatter.

"That long?" A shocked cry comes from the other side of the deck. Sanji's dramatic approach is unmistakable, his wide eyes filled with genuine concern as he rushes over, his steps quick but careful, like he's about to witness something catastrophic. “You two... really?”

You inhale sharply, trying to steady yourself, but your breath feels shallow, trapped in your throat. The reality of the situation hits you all at once. The entire crew—your family—along with your second family, and the Kid Pirates are staring at you, waiting for some reaction, some explanation.

"Enough."

Law’s voice cuts through the haze, louder than anything you’ve heard in the past few minutes, sharp and commanding enough to grab your attention. It’s like the snap of a whip, but it doesn’t feel threatening—just firm, steady, the sound of someone who’s done with the chaos and isn’t going to let it continue.

The silence is immediate.

"We were going to tell you soon," You say, voice quiet. “But I just don't want to whole world to know, you know, considering the positions of everyone here.”

"Wait," Usopp says, finally grasping the situation. "Are you telling me the rumour has been true this whole time? You’re… you’re really together? And we didn’t notice?!"

“What?” Luffy blurts out, voice high and incredulous. "You two? Together?" He tilts his head, processing the words at lightning speed, then grins ear-to-ear as if he’s just solved the greatest mystery in pirate history. “That’s awesome! I knew it! I knew you two were up to something! You’ve been acting all sneaky, like when I steal food and nobody sees me! I can tell, you know?!”

Nami opens her mouth to scold Luffy but is cut off by Robin.

"Interesting," She says, but there's no judgment in her tone—just an almost quiet understanding. “I must admit, I’m curious as to how long this has been going on. You both hide it so well.”

Her gaze lingers on you and then shifts to Law. The curiosity in her voice is gentle, like a conversation you might have over a quiet cup of tea. She’s not pressing for answers; she’s just acknowledging the truth without making a big deal out of it. There’s no teasing, no grand statement, just that calm acceptance that feels like an anchor in the middle of the storm that’s just hit the Sunny.

“Few years,” Comes your vague answer, but it satisfies Robin nonetheless.

“I’m glad you both are happy," the archaeologist says simply, and there’s a softness in her eyes that makes you feel like she truly means it. Your honorary big sister approves of your relationship, and it makes tears prick the corners of your eyes. “Don’t worry about the others too much. They’ll adjust. Just take your time.”

“Adjust, my ass,” Zoro quips, crossing his arms with a sigh, his voice dripping with sarcastic amusement. “So you two were just playing it cool while the rest of us looked like idiots? And you still managed to dodge all my questions? Impressive—"

A loud, exaggerated "yohohoho!" from the back of the crowd echoes across the grass, interrupting Zoro. You glance at Brook, who had been standing somewhat aloof in the corner, a wide grin plastered across his skeletal face. His arms are thrown dramatically into the air like he’s just witnessed the most epic romance of the century.

“Well, well, well, it seems that true love has bloomed!” He says, his voice full of glee and a touch of theatrical flair. “I can see it now!” Brook continues, hands raised to the sky. “'The Pirate King’s Crew: A Hidden Love Unveiled!' A ballad of passion! A symphony of suspense!” He pauses dramatically, looking back at you and Law with a gleam in his eye. “You two should definitely star in it... or, perhaps, just provide the inspiration. Yohohoho!"

“I’m glad someone’s enjoying this,” You say with an uninhibited giggle.

Law shakes his head, though he’s clearly amused by the skeleton’s antics. "If he writes a song about us, I'm throwing him off the ship."

“Oh, don’t worry, captain!” Brook says brightly. “I’ll make sure the song is perfectly respectful! There will be no disrespectful verses in this one! It’ll be a tale of true love!”

Nami facepalms and ignores the musician. “I told you guys they were too subtle. You seriously think you can get away with anything with me around?” Her eyes flick to Law. "But I’m guessing you didn’t exactly want to make this public right now. And with Kid's crew around, I can see why."

“Hey!—”

“It wasn’t about hiding it forever,” Law cuts in, his voice steady and calm. “We just didn’t want to deal with the... complications. Not with everyone constantly looking over our shoulders.”

“So I assume Law’s crew has known for a lot longer than we have?” Robin says. “Considering you’ve known them since childhood?”

"I'm sorry." Your nod is sheepish, though there’s no anger, only mild surprise from your crew.

“We didn’t mean to keep it from you guys…” Bepo calls from his spot on the bow with Shachi and Penguin. “It was just... well, her and Law’s business, you know?”

“We’d rather keep this under wraps,” Law announces, his glare pointed at Kid. “So don’t go running your mouth, got it?”

Kid throws his arms up in defence, a smug chuckle leaving his lips. “Don’t care that much anyway, Trafalgar. No need to get your panties in a twist.”

“Got it!” Luffy laughs, shoving a hunk of meat into his mouth. You trust your captain with your life, so his easy answer is enough for you.

Law tuts and turns to you. He looks slightly pale at the realisation that people know, but the relief in his posture is evident.

There’s an air of collective understanding in the air as the chatter starts up again. Usopp is back telling his stories to the women, and Zoro throws another empty sake bottle at Franky’s feet before the cyborg can finish his drink.

You wish to explain your side to Nami, but she looks content sipping on her cocktail and conversing with the Kid Pirates. You'd tell her all about it when this meeting is over and you have a clearer head.

“Well, now that that’s settled,” You say, turning to Law with a smirk. “How about we finally get some rest?”

“And give them more ammunition?” Law asks, the corners of his lips curling into a smile.

You sigh, glancing back at your crew. “Not like we’ll escape it ever again…”

And as you look around at your family, both the Straw Hats and the Heart Pirates, as well as the Kid Pirates, who are revelling in the gossip, you can’t help but feel a warm sense of relief. It’s out there now. No more secrets, no more hiding.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#— ann writes!#trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #law x reader #law one piece #one piece #one piece x reader

497 notes · View notes

aesthetically-dying101 · 2 days ago

Text

Smooch

A/N: TO THE ANON: IM SO SORRY, i accidently deleted the ask that asked: "how would the jjk men react to you randomely kissing them?" FUCK ME IM SORRY FOR DELETING IT, ANYWAYS POOKIE HERE IT IS

warning: some established relationships, some non established, kissing, gojo being a lil shit, nanami being so DAMN adorabe its making me vomit. creepy rando man. mostly fluff tho (not for geto, sorry pookies), i'm being nice. Mostly crack

Characters: Nanami, Toji, Gojo, Geto, Sukuna, Choso, Shiu, Higuruma. (in that order)

The air still thrummed with the tension of battle, smoke and cursed energy clinging to the ruined streets like stubborn memories. You stood on trembling legs, the adrenaline making everything sharper: the glint of blood on the edge of Nanami's blade, the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the way his tie flapped rebelliously despite the chaos being over.

You’d seen him fight before, but this? This was something else. The man was a force. Watching him wade through curses, calm and unyielding, to protect his students—protect Yuji—had set your heart on fire.

Literally. Your chest ached. He was just so… Hot.

Inspiring.

Selfless.

Outrageously overworked, but hot.

Your crush on Nanami was no secret to yourself, though you’d buried it deep under professionalism and a healthy dose of "I'm-a-grown-adult-who-totally-has-it-together" denial.

“Kento,” you croaked, your throat dry from shouting during the fight. Not that he heard. He was still wiping blood from his weapon, his focus entirely on making sure Yuji wasn’t missing any limbs.

Yuji, for his part, looked like a kicked puppy. “I’m fine, Nanami. Really! A couple of scratches—”

“Scratches become infections. Infections become—” Nanami began, his voice low and even, and you wanted to scream because how dare he sound that composed after nearly dying. Maybe it was your brain short-circuiting from the sheer Nanami-ness of him.

The sheer whiplash of your emotions—from panic to relief to sheer I cannot believe this man exists—burst out of you like a firework. Before you could second-guess yourself, your feet moved. You grabbed the front of his stupid, perfectly pressed shirt, pulled him down, and kissed him.

Kissed him.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t planned.

It was pure, unfiltered relief, and affection, and admiration, and the overwhelming sense that Kento Nanami was too goddamn precious for this world. His lips were warm and dry, just like you imagined.

For one glorious moment, he froze—caught off guard in a way you’d never seen before. Then his hand twitched like he might touch you, and that’s when reality smacked you upside the head.

“Oh my God,” you blurted, shoving him away so hard he actually stumbled back a step. “Oh my God, I’m sorry—Nanami, I—Mr. Nanami—I mean, Kento—I—what did I just do?” Your hands flew to your face, muffling your panicked stream of consciousness.

Nanami stood there, stunned, his weapon slack in one hand.

“I don’t—uh—wow,” you stammered, pacing in tight circles. “That was so inappropriate. I mean, we’re at work—well, technically a post-apocalyptic battlefield, but that’s basically work. I just—oh my God, you’re bleeding. Are you bleeding? You are! Let me—no, no, I can’t touch you—”

“Do you like me?” His calm voice cut through your spiral like a knife through butter.

You stopped mid-pace, blinking at him.

“Do I…” You pointed to yourself, dumbfounded. “Do I like you?”

Nanami’s brow furrowed like he was trying to solve a riddle.

“You kissed me. That suggests…” He trailed off, his ears red. Red. Nanami Kento, the unshakable man himself, was blushing.

“OF COURSE I LIKE YOU!” you blurted, because what else was there to say? “Are you kidding me? You’re smart, and kind, and self-sacrificing to a fault, and the way you fight—” You gestured vaguely toward his weapon, heat flooding your face. “I mean, it’s really impressive, and your voice is, like, weirdly soothing? And—God, have you seen your hands? They’re insane. Like, how dare you have hands like that?”

Yuji, bless his sweet little heart, was standing a few feet away, looking utterly bewildered but also kind of...proud? Like he was rooting for you? You couldn’t decide if that made it better or worse.

Yuji made a small sound somewhere behind you.

“Yay?”

“Yuji, not now!” you snapped, your eyes still locked on Nanami, who looked like you’d just handed him a quadratic equation written in crayon.

The silence stretched. You wanted to melt into the cracked pavement and die there. And then—slowly, impossibly—his lips twitched.

“‘How dare I have hands like that?’” he repeated, his tone dry but warm.

“Don’t mock me! I’m having a crisis!”

He stepped closer, close enough that you could see the faint laugh lines around his eyes. “I’m not mocking you.” His voice softened. “I’m trying to process.”

“Process what? That I kissed you? That I have terrible taste in men—not that you’re terrible, you’re amazing—oh my God, I’m still talking—”

“I like you too.”

You froze. “What?”

“I said I like you too,” he repeated, his expression calm but his eyes gentle. “And I’m glad you kissed me, even if it was…unexpected.”

“Unexpected?!” Yuji exclaimed. “Dude, we all saw it coming!”

You and Nanami both turned to glare at him, and Yuji threw up his hands in surrender. “I mean—yay! Go, you guys! Woo!”

Nanami sighed, his hand reaching up to adjust his tie, and you caught it before he could. His gaze flicked to yours, surprised.

“Just…take care of yourself, okay?” you murmured. “You can’t keep putting everyone else first all the time.”

His hand closed around yours, firm and reassuring. “If I promise, will you stop worrying?”

You bit your lip. “Maybe. If you promise and let me take you to dinner.”

He raised a brow. “Is that an order?”

“Yes.”

“Understood,” he said, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you saw him smile.

You stumble into the apartment you share with Toji, at what must be the devil’s hour, the taste of dried blood and exhaustion heavy on your tongue. Your body feels like it’s made of bricks, each step a reminder of tonight’s shitshow. The job was a disaster, but hey, you're alive.

Barely.

Your shoulder’s throbbing, probably dislocated (you know you're gonna ask Toji to snap it back into place); there’s a slice on your thigh that’s gonna leave a nasty scar, and you’re fairly certain you’ve got a mild concussion. But the mission? Technically complete. Success, if you squint.

The apartment is dark, save for the faint glow of a streetlamp slicing through the blinds. The air is thick with the familiar scent of gun oil and that stupid cologne Toji always wears. You peel off your boots by the door, wincing as your sock squelches. Blood. Great.

Toji’s a lump on the bed, sprawled out like a dead man. His arm dangles off the side, his breathing slow and deep. Must be nice to sleep like that.

Must be nice to sleep at all.

You limp over, each step making you rethink your life choices, and shake his shoulder. Gently, at first. He doesn’t budge. Typical. You give him another shove.

“Oi, wake up, Toji.”

Still nothing. Unbelievable.

You’re mid-eye roll when he moves like a damn cobra, faster than your sluggish brain can process. In one smooth motion, he’s got you flat on your back with the cold barrel of his pistol pressed firmly against your throat.

Your first thought? Oh, for fuck’s sake.

His eyes are half-lidded, unfocused, but there’s enough menace in them to make anyone else wet their pants.

“Wife?” he grunts, voice rough from sleep.

Neanderthal, you think, staring up at him, unimpressed. You’ve just dragged yourself home from a near-death experience, and this is the reception you get? He smells like sweat and sleep (is that a thing?), his hair sticking up at angles only a demon could love. And he has the audacity to press a gun to your throat? Really?

“Put the gun down, idiot,” you mutter, too tired to care that he could accidentally end you right now.

Toji blinks, his foggy brain clearly struggling to connect the dots. But he lowers the weapon anyway, tossing it to the side with a grunt.

“You good?” he asks, rubbing a hand over his face.

Instead of answering, you grab his face. Both hands, firm, like he’s some unruly beast you’re taming. Toji freezes, wide-eyed, and before he can start grumbling or say something infuriating, you kiss him.

Not a peck. Not a lazy, tired smooch.

A kiss.

Like the kind that says, I almost died tonight but didn’t, and for some reason, I wanted to see your dumbass face when I got back.

He doesn’t react at first, probably still half-asleep and trying to figure out if this is some kind of weird dream. But then his hands come up, one settling on your hip, the other cradling the back of your head like you’re made of glass. He kisses you back, slow at first, then with a kind of feral intensity that makes you forget you’re bleeding all over the damn bed.

When you finally pull back, panting and lightheaded, he stares at you like you’ve grown a second head. “What the hell was that for?”

You flop onto the mattress next to him, groaning as every injury makes itself known. “Almost died. Needed a kiss. Shut up.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then mutters, “You’re bleeding.”

“No shit, my shoulder's been dislocated too,” you snap, already regretting the kiss because now you’re reminded that everything hurts. “You gonna fix it, or just stare at me all night?”

Toji huffs, dragging himself out of bed.

“You’re lucky I like you, woman,” he grumbles, rummaging for the first aid kit.

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumble, letting your eyes drift closed. The bed dips as he sits back down, and you feel the sting of antiseptic on your shoulder.

“Don’t fall asleep,” he says, voice softer now. “Gotta patch you up first.”

“Whatever you say, caveman.”

You think you hear him chuckle, low and rough, but you’re already half-gone. And despite the pain, despite the chaos of the night, you feel... safe. Stupidly safe, with Toji grumbling insults under his breath and his hands working carefully to keep you in one piece.

Home. Or something like it.

Gojo Satoru walked into the apartment, exhausted but relieved to finally be home. He'd been on mission after mission for what felt like forever, leaving little time for himself, let alone his girlfriend. The past few days had been a blur of paperwork, cursed spirits, and long hours of absence that left an ache in his chest, a longing to be with the one person who always made him feel like himself.

As the door clicked shut behind him, a familiar shift in the air settled over him — his Infinity. It wasn't just the buzz of the usual limitless power that made him feel protected and invincible, no, this was different. This was the subtle, barely perceptible moment when he knew his Infinity was off because she was here. It always did that when she was around, and he knew she’d be nearby.

But before he could even finish the word “I’m home—”

BAM.

You crashed into him, practically knocking the wind out of his lungs. Your lips slammed against his with all the pent-up affection that had built in your heart over the past few days. You kissed him like he was air, your hands grasping at the front of his shirt as if you'd missed him more than anything. The kiss was messy, needy — but most importantly, it was real.

Gojo froze for a split second, a low laugh escaping his lips as he felt the sheer intensity of your sudden onslaught. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as though he could disappear again if you didn’t hold him tightly enough.

“Oh, I see how it is,” he mumbled against your lips, feigning surprise, though the dramatic shift in his voice betrayed how deeply he was enjoying it. “Is this how you welcome me home, huh?”

“You’ve been gone for days, Satoru,” you muttered in between kisses, your voice muffled but full of emotion. “I missed you.”

You couldn’t help but slip your hands lower, brushing against the firm muscles of his chest, feeling the warmth that only he had. It wasn’t just about the absence- it was the aching distance, the unsaid words, the nights you'd spent curled in bed, staring at the empty space beside you, wishing he was there.

Gojo felt his heart skip a beat- you had that effect on him, always. Your warmth, your softness, and the way you seemed to understand him better than anyone else. The tension in his shoulders melted away as he melted into you, hands sliding down to hold you by the waist, to anchor you against him.

And then, with a dramatic gasp that could only be Gojo, he pulled back, his hands coming up to cradle your face (kinda squishing your cheeks), eyes wide as if he’d been struck by lightning.

“Princess—” he whined, the very term of endearment a mockery of how absurdly dramatic he could get. “I’ve been gone for days, and this is how you treat me? After everything I’ve sacrificed for you? For us?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. You adored his theatrics, even if they were so Gojo Satoru.

“Yes, this is how I treat you,” you teased, glancing up at him with a playful sparkle in your eyes. “Now, kiss me like you mean it.”

And as if on cue, his lips descended, only to be met with—spray.

Hsssssssssss!

The sharp, cold spray of her plant vaporizer hit him right in the face.

His mouth immediately fell open in shock, the spray misting his face, and Gojo recoiled in mock horror. “WHAT—?!”

“You were gone too long,” you said, still holding the sprayer with an air of nonchalance, though you could barely keep your own smile from breaking through. “You don’t get to come back after disappearing and act like everything’s fine. You’re gonna have to earn your kiss.”

His hand flew to his face, rubbing the wetness away in exaggerated frustration.

“You vaporized me?!” he asked, turning his eyes toward you, his dramatic pout making him look like a child who’d been wronged. “After all I’ve done for you?! All my sacrifices? I’ve been risking my life, getting cursed every time, and THIS is how you treat me? This?!”

You giggled, looking at him like he was a giant kid. “You did disappear for days, 'Toru. And you were busy being all heroic, saving the day. Not like you left me with any choice.”

He wiped his face again, but as he did, he kept his eyes on you, his usual smugness replaced by a touch of genuine longing.

“I didn’t want to be gone,” he muttered, the act slipping for a moment as he looked at you with an almost vulnerable expression. “But you know how it is... sometimes I’m not really in control of it. I just... miss you, too. I just...”

Before he could finish, you stepped forward again, slower this time, your hands gently cupping his cheeks. This time, your kiss was softer, more tender, a quiet apology for the harsh spray. Your lips were warm against his, and the familiarity of your scent- the sweetness of your presence- seemed to fill every space around him. Your kiss spoke of longing, of missing him in ways that words couldn’t explain.

Gojo’s hands slid up your back, pulling you closer. For a moment, there was nothing but the shared warmth, the closeness of your connection.

“I missed you,” you whispered, breaking the kiss just long enough to say it. “I missed you so much, Satoru. You don’t even know.”

He exhaled a soft laugh, brushing a strand of your hair from your face, his thumb gently tracing the curve of your cheek.

“I know,” he said quietly, his voice steady but full of affection. “I missed you, too. You’re all I ever think about when I’m out there.”

A silence fell between you, comfortable, soft. You rested your forehead against his, and he closed his eyes, just enjoying the moment.

Home.

“I’m never leaving you that long again,” he promised, his hands still resting on your hips, pulling you into him.

“Good,” you said with a playful grin. “If you do, I'll vaporize you again.”

He shot her a teasing look. “NooOOo- t's gonna mess up my hair-”

With a dramatic sigh, he kissed you again, and this time, there was no interruption, just two people who couldn’t bear to be apart any longer.

The sun was setting, casting golden rays across the horizon, as though the universe itself mourned for the moment. You sat beside Suguru, his body battered and bruised, the life draining from him far too quickly. Blood pooled around him, a cruel mockery of the warmth he used to exude. His breaths were shallow, his strength ebbing away like water through a sieve.

He was still so beautiful.

Your hands trembled as you reached out to him, brushing strands of dark hair from his face.

That face.

It still bore the faintest traces of the boy you once knew—sharp, confident, full of purpose. Now, his features were gaunt, his skin pallid, but his eyes... his eyes still held a spark of the man you had loved. The man you still loved.

"Suguru..." your voice cracked, a whisper more than a word.

He managed a weak smile, the corner of his mouth quirking up, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

"You're here," he rasped, his voice barely audible, strained.

Tears blurred your vision.

You nodded, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood, as if the pain could anchor you in the reality of the moment.

"Of course, I’m here," you said, your voice breaking. "Where else would I be?"

A bitter chuckle escaped him, though it sounded more like a cough. "By his side," he murmured, the weight of Gojo’s name heavy in the space between you.

You shook your head fiercely. "Don’t," you pleaded. "Don’t do that. Don’t push me away—not now."

His gaze softened, but there was a flicker of sadness in his expression. "Old habits, I guess."

Silence settled between you for a moment, save for the distant cries of the injured and the hum of the world continuing without care. You hated it. How could everything go on like this while he was slipping away?

"I should’ve done more," you blurted out, the confession tearing from your chest like a wound ripped open. "I should’ve stopped you... back then. I should’ve fought harder for you."

Suguru’s brows furrowed slightly, a mix of surprise and regret crossing his face. "You couldn’t have stopped me," he said softly. "I made my choice."

"But I should have tried!" you cried, your voice cracking under the weight of your guilt. "I knew you were hurting. I saw it, and I—" Your words faltered, choked by a sob. "I thought if I gave you space, you’d come back. That you’d find your way back to me. To us."

His hand, weak but steady, reached out to yours. His touch was colder than you remembered, but it grounded you all the same. "Don’t blame yourself," he murmured. "You... you were the one good thing I had left, and I couldn’t taint that. You were my light, even when I didn’t deserve it."

You leaned closer, tears spilling freely down your cheeks. "You’ve always deserved it," you whispered, your voice trembling. "I never stopped loving you, Suguru. Not for a second. Not even when you—"

Your voice caught, and you lowered your head, pressing your forehead against his. He smelled faintly of blood and something earthy, something that reminded you of home.

"I’m so sorry," you whispered. "I’m so, so sorry."

Suguru’s breath hitched, and for a moment, you thought you saw his composure crack. His eyes glistened, his lips parting as though to say something, but he hesitated. "I... I don’t deserve your love," he finally said, his voice barely more than a breath. "Not after everything I’ve done. The people I’ve hurt."

You pulled back slightly, cupping his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. "You deserve every ounce of love, Suguru," you said fiercely, your voice steadier than you thought possible. "Even when you were lost, even when I didn’t know how to reach you—I loved you."

And then, before either of you could second-guess, you leaned in and kissed him.

It was soft, tentative, a brush of lips that felt both foreign and achingly familiar. Suguru stiffened beneath you, his breath hitching, but he didn’t pull away. His eyes fluttered shut, and for a brief, fragile moment, it was as though the weight of the world had lifted. There was only you, only him.

When you pulled back, his gaze searched yours, wide with surprise and something else—something raw and unguarded. "Why...?" he asked, his voice cracking, his brows furrowing as though the question itself pained him. "Why would you...?"

You smiled through your tears, shaking your head. "Because I never stopped," you said simply. "And because you deserved to know before—" Your voice broke again, and you choked back a sob. "Before it’s too late."

A tear slipped down his cheek, and his lips curved into the faintest smile.

"You’re cruel," he whispered, though there was no malice in his tone. "Giving me a taste of something I can’t hold onto."

"You’ve always held it," you said, your voice trembling. "Even when you didn’t know it."

You kissed him again, deeper this time, as if you could pour all the love, all the regret, all the words left unsaid into that single moment. When you pulled back, Suguru’s eyes were glassy, his breaths shallower than before. God no- please, he needs more time.

"I wish..." he began, but his voice faltered.

You nodded, understanding the words he couldn’t say. "Me too," you whispered, your thumb brushing against his cheek. "I wish we had more time."

The light in his eyes began to fade, and panic surged through you, but you forced yourself to stay steady. This was his moment, not yours. You wouldn’t let your fear steal it from him.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "For... for everything."

Your heart shattered, the pieces lodging in your throat, but you managed a smile, even as tears blurred your vision. "Always," you whispered. "Always, Suguru."

His eyes lingered on yours for a heartbeat longer before they slipped shut, his breath hitching once, then stilling. You clung to him, pressing your forehead to his, your tears mixing with the blood and sweat on his skin.

And then, there was nothing.

The grand hall buzzed with life, the air thick with wine, roasted meats, and the chatter of those brave—or foolish—enough to attend a banquet in Ryomen Sukuna's domain. You, one of the longest-standing servants in his service, moved amidst the chaos, your well-practiced steps carrying trays, refilling goblets, and blending into the shadows. You had no illusions about your position here. To serve the King of Curses was to balance on a knife's edge, but the years had hardened you. You were still alive, and in a place like this, that was an achievement in itself.

Perhaps you were even favored.

The whispers among the other servants suggested so. Sukuna, for all his wrath and godlike power, hadn’t crushed you beneath his four arms or silenced you for eternity. It wasn’t kindness, you knew that much. But the fact that you were still here, breathing, meant something. And that meant you tread carefully—at least most of the time.

But tonight? Tonight, you drank (a terrible decision, really).

The banquet was in full swing, and even servants were afforded some respite during such grand affairs. You’d accepted a goblet of sake, relishing the brief warmth it offered your tired limbs, and maybe—just maybe—you indulged in one too many. Which is why you didn’t immediately notice the attention of a particular male servant lingering too long, his touch brushing your arm as he whispered something that made your stomach twist unpleasantly.

“Don’t.” Your voice was firm, but the man didn’t relent, his smirk a sickening thing.

The room suddenly felt too small, the flickering torchlight casting shadows that felt sharper, darker. You turned, stumbling slightly in your attempt to move away, only to collide with something solid, something unyielding.

Four arms caught you in an iron grip, steadying your swaying form.

And then you looked up.

Sukuna, in all his terrifying glory, loomed over you.

His dual faces stared down, one expression unreadable, the other bearing a smirk that could freeze blood. His crimson eyes glowed faintly, and the room seemed to hold its breath. The noise, the revelry—it all faded into nothingness as your brain registered who you’d just stumbled into.

“Oh—my Lord, I—” Words failed you, and before you could think better of it, you leaned up on unsteady toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

As if that'd make any situation better.

It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t even logical. You’d kissed him out of pure instinct, as though the ridiculous gesture could smooth over your mistake. The taste of sake lingered on your lips, and you felt his skin—warm, impossibly warm—beneath them.

The world stopped.

Sukuna didn’t move, didn’t speak. He merely stared at you, the faintest arch of his brow the only indication of his surprise. One of his mouths twitched, as though he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or bare his teeth.

But the other servant? He slinked away without another word, the weight of Sukuna’s gaze enough to cow even the boldest.

You, however, weren’t thinking about that. You were thinking about how dead you were.

“My apologies, my Lord,” you mumbled, stepping back quickly, your legs trembling as you bowed low. “It was a mistake. I—I’ll leave—”

You fled without hesitation, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest.

*-*

The morning came too soon, and with it, a summons to Sukuna’s quarters.

You stood outside the heavy wooden doors, your palms sweating despite the cold. Servants whispered as they passed, their pitying gazes confirming your worst fears.

You’d kissed the King of Curses- on the cheek- but still.

You’d crossed a line so absurd it was almost laughable—almost.

The doors creaked open, and you stepped inside, the air thick with the scent of incense and something darker, something uniquely him. Sukuna lounged on a throne-like chair, his four arms resting lazily, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made your knees threaten to give out.

“You summoned me, my Lord.” Your voice was steady—barely.

He leaned forward slightly, a smile curling one of his mouths. “Do you make it a habit to kiss your superiors, little one? Or am I special?”

Your breath hitched, panic clawing at your chest.

“No, my Lord. It was— It wasn’t intentional. I—”

“Explain.” His tone was almost amused, but the weight of his command was unmistakable.

You swallowed hard, words tumbling out before you could stop them. “There was a servant. He—he wouldn’t leave me alone. I was trying to get away, and I—” You broke off, heat flooding your face as you realized how ridiculous it all sounded. “I thought… If I kissed you, he’d stop.”

Silence.

And then Sukuna laughed.

It wasn’t the cruel, mocking laugh you’d feared. It was low, rumbling, and almost—almost—genuine. “You used me as a shield? Bold. Stupid, but bold.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you—”

“Offend me?” He rose, his massive form towering over you as he descended the steps toward where you stood trembling. One clawed hand tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You’re lucky I find this amusing. If it were anyone else…”

His words hung in the air, unfinished, and you didn’t need him to elaborate.

“But…” His voice softened, though it was no less dangerous. “The thought of another human touching what’s mine—” His grip tightened ever so slightly, his crimson eyes darkening. “—that doesn’t sit well with me.”

You blinked, confusion warring with fear. “Yours?”

“Yes, mine.” The declaration was calm, almost matter-of-fact. “You’ve served me longer than any other. You’re still alive. Do you think that’s a coincidence?”

Your heart stuttered, his words wrapping around you like a noose. “I—”

“Don’t make me repeat myself, little one.” He released you, turning back toward his throne. “You’ll stay by my side from now on. I don’t want anyone else getting ideas.”

The dismissal was clear, but your legs refused to move, your mind reeling. Sukuna glanced back, his smirk widening at your stunned expression. “What are you waiting for? Go. And don’t make me summon you for something so trivial again.”

You bowed quickly, fleeing the room before he could change his mind.

As you stumbled into the corridor, your heart still racing, one thought burned in your mind.

What just happened?

Choso hadn’t expected to see you here.

The fight had been messy—blood everywhere, clinging to his skin, his clothes, the ground. Some of it wasn’t his own, but that didn’t make it better. The curse had been stubborn, and Choso’s cursed technique demanded sacrifice, drawing from the very essence of his being to fuel his strength.

Now, the aftermath was a field of carnage, and he stood in the middle of it, panting. His hair clung to his damp forehead, stray strands falling from the tie that barely kept it in place. Crimson stained his hands, dripping from his fingertips like a grim metronome. He was still catching his breath when your voice broke through the haze.

“Choso!”

You ran toward him, your expression shifting from relief to concern as you closed the distance. He froze, wide-eyed, as you reached him, ignoring the gore and grime that painted him from head to toe.

“Hey—what are you doing here?” His voice came out rough, almost scolding, but the undercurrent of worry was impossible to miss. “This isn’t a safe place—”

“Are you okay?” you interrupted, not stopping until you were right in front of him. You looked him over, your hands hovering near his arm before pulling back. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s not mine,” he said quickly, though his voice faltered when he saw the doubt flash in your eyes. “...Most of it isn’t mine.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat as you stepped even closer. He could feel your warmth now, the way your presence melted into his, grounding him in a way nothing else could.

“You shouldn’t—”

Before he could finish, you cupped his face in your hands, ignoring the sticky residue of blood that smeared against your palms. His lips parted in a silent protest that died the second your lips met his.

The kiss was soft, lingering—nothing hurried, nothing frantic. Just your warmth, your assurance, pouring into him like sunlight piercing through a storm. His mind blanked. For a moment, the weight of the fight, the exhaustion, the blood, it all evaporated.

When you pulled back, you didn’t move far, your faces still close enough for him to see the tiny flecks of color in your eyes.

“I’m covered in blood,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

“So what?” You smiled, brushing a strand of hair from his face with a thumb. “I still love you.”

The words hit him harder than any blow he’d taken during the fight. He stared at you, his breath catching, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might give out.

“You shouldn’t—” he began, but you cut him off again, this time with a finger pressed gently to his lips.

“Don’t you dare tell me what I should or shouldn’t feel.” Your voice was soft but firm, leaving no room for argument. “I love you, Choso. Blood, scars, all of it.”

He swallowed hard, searching your face for any sign of hesitation, any trace of fear. But all he found was sincerity, shining as brightly as the sun.

“I—” His voice cracked, and he cursed himself for it, looking away. “I don’t deserve that.”

“Yes, you do,” you said without missing a beat. You tilted his chin back toward you, forcing him to meet your gaze. “And I’m going to keep telling you that until you believe it.”

For a moment, he could only stare at you, his mind a whirlwind of emotions too tangled to unravel. Then, slowly, hesitantly, he reached for you, his blood-streaked hands trembling as they came to rest on your waist.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice thick with something unspoken, something fragile.

“You don’t have to thank me for loving you,” you said with a gentle laugh, leaning in to rest your forehead against his.

He closed his eyes, letting the sound of your laughter fill the hollow spaces inside him. For the first time in what felt like forever, the blood on his hands didn’t feel like a weight he had to carry alone.

“I’ll get better at this,” he promised, his voice a quiet vow.

“You don’t have to,” you replied softly. “You’re enough just like this.”

And in that moment, with your arms around him and your love anchoring him, he almost believed it.

Shiu Kong was done.

Done with Toji’s crap, done with his own responsibilities, done with the persistent ache in his shoulders from hunching over paperwork all damn day.

His tie was loosened, but it felt more like a noose. A neat pile of ash gathered in the tray beside him, his third cigarette of the last hour smoldering between his fingers. Even the quiet hum of his office was suffocating. He just wanted— needed—a moment of silence, of nothingness, where the world would stop demanding every ounce of his energy.

So when the door creaked open, a surge of frustration welled up in his chest.

“Not now,” Shiu barked, spinning his chair around, ready to tell whoever it was to get the hell out. But the words died on his tongue the second he saw you.

You.

His wife, standing there with that soft, knowing smile. The one that threatened to disarm him every single time. And before he could say anything—an apology, a question, anything—you closed the distance, your hands cradling his jaw like he was something fragile.

Then, you kissed him.

It wasn’t hurried or fleeting. It wasn’t the type of kiss meant to start anything more. No, this was one of those grounding, soul-deep kisses—the kind that said everything words couldn’t.

Shiu froze. For a heartbeat, his mind couldn’t quite catch up. But then, his eyes slipped shut, and he melted into you.

God, he melted.

The cigarette tumbled from his fingers into the ashtray as his hands came up to hold your waist, pulling you closer like he needed you to keep him tethered to the earth.

When you finally pulled back, his forehead pressed lightly against yours. His eyes opened, and there you were, looking at him like he was something worth saving.

“...I was working,” he muttered, though his voice lacked its usual edge.

“I know,” you replied softly, brushing a thumb along the dark circles under his eyes. “But you looked like you needed a reminder of why you bother.”

He huffed, a sound caught between a laugh and a sigh. His head tilted, and you felt his lips graze your temple. A quiet, almost whispered, “You’re too good to me.”

“Someone has to be.”

The words came out lighter than you intended, but there was no mistaking the sincerity beneath them. You stepped back slightly, fingers still brushing against his tie as you loosened it further.

“You’ve been at this for hours. You’re going to work yourself into an early grave,” you chided, though your tone was gentle.

“Could be worse. Could be Toji burying me,” Shiu muttered darkly, his lips twitching in that way they always did when he tried to hide his amusement.

You rolled your eyes. “If Toji doesn’t kill you, the stress will.” Your hands slid up his chest and rested over his racing heart. “Take a break. Five minutes, even.”

He looked at you like you’d asked him to dismantle the entire operation single-handedly. “I can’t just—”

“You can,” you interrupted. “And you will. Because if you don’t, I’m going to drag you out of this chair myself.”

The silence stretched, but there was no tension in it. Just the steady thrum of your shared breath. Finally, he sighed, shoulders sagging like the fight had gone out of him.

“Fine,” he relented, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “But only because you asked so nicely.”

“Oh, so you can be charmed,” you teased, grinning as he shot you a mock glare.

“You think you’re funny, huh?”

“I know I am.”

Another quiet laugh escaped him—this one real, unguarded. He reached for you again, his hand finding yours, thumb brushing along your knuckles. For the first time that day, the weight on his chest felt just a little lighter.

“You’re impossible,” he murmured. But his tone betrayed him, softer than silk, full of gratitude he didn’t have the words for.

“And you love me anyway,” you replied, leaning in to press one last kiss to his forehead.

Shiu said nothing, but he didn’t need to. The way he pulled you into his lap, burying his face in the crook of your neck, spoke volumes. The smell of smoke and the faintest hint of cologne lingered between you as he breathed you in, as if you were the antidote to all the poison in his veins.

And for the first time in hours, Shiu didn’t think about Toji. Or work. Or the chaos waiting for him tomorrow.

For now, there was just you.

The room was cloaked in the kind of silence that only exhaustion could birth, heavy and thick like a shroud.

Papers were strewn across the table—witness statements, diagrams, hastily scrawled notes that didn’t quite connect. The overhead light buzzed faintly, and Hiromi could feel the weight of hours pressing down on his shoulders, the ache of his back bent too long over evidence that refused to yield.

You were pacing.

Barefoot now, shoes abandoned hours ago, socks sliding against the tiles as you moved like a restless pendulum, muttering bits of the puzzle under your breath. He watched you in the moments he dared to lift his gaze from the documents—watched how the fatigue softened your edges but sharpened your focus, a juxtaposition that shouldn’t have made sense but did.

Then, it happened.

You froze mid-step, eyes going wide, lips parting as if you’d just swallowed lightning.

“Wait,” you whispered, more to yourself than him. “Wait, wait, wait—oh my God.”

Hiromi sat up straighter, the air shifting with your energy as you spun on your heel, face alight with something triumphant, manic, and devastatingly beautiful. “We’ve got it.”

“What?” His voice was hoarse, unused for hours, but you didn’t answer. You only crossed the room in three steps, grabbed his face in your hands like he was some divine revelation in human form, and kissed him.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t even fully conscious—an act born purely of adrenaline and sleeplessness and the electric hum of victory. Your lips pressed to his, fleeting but fierce, a lightning strike that left him stunned in its wake.

Before he could even process it—before he could react—you pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed, as if you didn’t even realize what you’d done.

“We’ve got it,” you repeated, a grin breaking across your face. “I have to tell them—this’ll break the whole case open—”

And then you were gone, feet pounding against the floor, the door swinging shut behind you with a gust of air that smelled faintly of you.

Hiromi blinked. Once. Twice.

The world slowly resumed its shape around him, but everything felt wrong now, tilted. You’d kissed him.

You’d kissed him.

And then you’d left like it was nothing, like it hadn’t sent a shockwave through every nerve in his body.

For a moment, he just sat there, fingers brushing absently against his lips, stunned into an unfamiliar stillness. Then—

“Wait.”

He shot to his feet, chair scraping harshly against the floor, legs moving before his brain caught up.

“Wait!” His voice echoed in the hallway as he stumbled after you, his usual composure unraveling like thread. “Hey—wait—come back!”

You were already halfway to the supervisor’s office, still riding the high of discovery, when his hand caught your wrist. The sudden pull made you spin, chest colliding with his as you blinked up at him, wide-eyed and confused. “Hiromi, what—”

“You kissed me,” he said, breathless and disbelieving, like the words had been dragged out of him by some unseen force.

“What?”

“You kissed me,” he repeated, voice cracking just slightly, and he was looking at you now like you’d hung the stars but forgotten to tell him they were his. “You—back there—you kissed me.”

For a second, you just stared at him. Then, like a slow dawn, realization crept over your face, turning your expression into something equal parts horror and wonder.

“Oh,” you whispered.

“Yeah.”

“I—oh.”

“You already said that,” he pointed out, but his voice was softer now, almost teasing, and you couldn’t help the way your lips quirked despite the mortification blooming in your chest.

“I—” You were cut off by his lips on yours, warmer and surer than before, a second chance taken with both hands.

This time, you kissed him back.

And when you broke apart, both of you laughing, breathless, and slightly unsteady on your feet, it felt like the exhaustion had been replaced with something brighter, lighter.

“Case first,” you murmured against his lips, though your hands didn’t quite loosen their grip on his jacket.

“Fine,” he said, smirking. “But I’m not letting you run off this time.”

And you didn’t.

A/N: ikikikik that hiromi's and nanami's are similar but LET MEEEE BEEEEEEEE. i tried okay, an attempt was made or whatever.Again, i'm so sorry to the anon that requested this and i stupidly deleted the ask. at first i wrote the gojo one in "her" pov, but i didn't like that and went back to "you".

Masterlist

562 notes · View notes

captain-huggy-bear · 2 days ago

Text

Priorities

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Illness/comfort

Summary: When Quinn gets a text from you 2 hours before his game, he shows where his priorities lie when he drops it all for you.

Series: Teacher Reader series

Notes: I am not very well atm and I had to drive home dizzy from work the other day, the idea of Quinn being there to help has been stuck in my head so have some self indulgence from me.

A kind of sequel to In Sickness and in Health but you don't need to read that to read this.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

He's already at the rink getting ready for the game in the locker room when his phone goes off. You don't actually ring him, clearly doing that thing you always do where you're trying to not bother him on a game day, instead you send a quick text message. He expects the usual:

'Good luck on the game today, baby!'

Instead, the text he gets has him picking his phone up and calling you back in an instant, worry clouding his judgement and making his hands shake slightly.

'Hey, so guess who's being sent home because she's dizzy and can't breathe? I had my head between my legs for 20 minutes, definitely can't stand and teach. Have a good game x'.

You drop the good luck at the end like he's not supposed to be worried, like you've just casually told him about the weather and not that you we're struggling to breathe.

It doesn't really matter that Tocc is giving him the look, the one he reserves for when he's annoyed at the boys, or that half the locker room have stopped their own pre-game, pre-warm up routines to watch their captain frantically call you. He's pacing back and forth, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waits for you to pick up the phone.

"Quinn?" You sound so incredibly breathless its like listening to an asthmatic 80 year old who's smoked for half their life. Except you don't smoke and you're not asthmatic or 80 which makes the whole situation about 10 times worse because you shouldn't be struggling to breathe. You should be doing better today.

You've been ill, he knows this, a chest infection he forced you to get meds for on the weekend. Meds which should have started working by now, a heavy dose of antibiotics and steroids which were supposed to have helped. You'd felt well enough this morning to go in and give work another go, but he regrets letting you do that now. Clearly trying to stand up in front of teenagers and talk was not something you should have been doing, not when the school day had only started half an hour ago and you were already being sent home.

"Baby, are okay?" You're sitting on the front steps of the school with all your things when you answer the phone to Quinn's worried voice. You keep telling yourself you just need a minute, just a minute and then you won't feel so dizzy, won't feel so breathless. Just a minute and the tingles in your fingers will go and your hands will stop shaking so much. Just a minute and then you can drive home and get into bed.

"Y-yeah, I'm...I'm just breathless. I'll be okay...they're...they're covering my...my lessons and..." You stop for a minute, taking big deep breathes, you sound so laboured on the phone that Quinn can't help but clench his phone tighter in his hand, "and I'm going home now." Your breaths are wheezy, just like Saturday, in fact he's certain you sound worse.

"How are you getting home?" He knows the answer before you say it and he hates it before he even hears it. You're dizzy and breathless and there is no way you should be driving home at all, but he knows you. Self-reliant to a fault, a martyr, always pushing yourself past the point of no return because you think you're fine, because you convince yourself you're fine. Because you don't want to inconvenience anyone or cause more problems. You ask to little of people around you, expecting barely anything despite all you give.

"I'm...I'm going to...to drive."

"No. You're not. I'm going to come get you." You want to protest a lot more than you do if you're being honest. But, you're so tired and it's so hard to breathe and students wandering in late to school are staring at you like you're having a break down. So your protests are relatively lacklustre by your usual standard. That actually worries him more.

"It's...there's like 2 hours before the game...you've...you've got warm ups soon." You hate the idea of him missing warm ups or god forbid the game, all because you were too stupid to realise you shouldn't have gone into work in the first place.

"So, I'll get you, take you home and come back to the rink and play. I'll walk to the school tomorrow and collect your car so you don't have to worry about it. But, you aren't driving, baby. If you even try to get in that car I will being fucking pissed. I love you, you do not get in that car." You know he's serious in that moment, not just because he's very rarely angry at you or anyone but himself, outside of the rink, but because he's got that clipped tone he only uses when he's serious. This isn't a request, it's a direct order and you have no intention of disobeying it, not when you know he's right...not when it makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside that he's so insistent about your wellbeing.

"But, what...what if you miss warm ups?" He loves how much you support him and his hockey, he always will, but he hates that your first thought is that hockey should come first. His girlfriend can barely breathe right now and he quite honestly doesn't give a flying fuck if he misses warm ups. The team had to pull themselves together at some point and you came first. Always. If they couldn't manage warm ups without him then what was the point of paying them so much money?

"Warm ups aren't my priority, baby. You are. Do not get in the car. Do not drive. Do not move. I'm leaving right now, okay? Just sit on the steps of the school and take deep breaths." He's already grabbing his keys, not even bothering to change out of his gear other than putting some proper shoes on so that he can actually drive. He knows it'll spark some speculation and rumours, Captain of the Canucks storming out of the arena 2 hours before puck drop in full gear except his skates, but he doesn't fucking care about that right now.

"...Okay...thank you, Quinny. I love you." You say it because in that moment you have never felt so loved, to have someone drop everything, something so important, to come get you...Maybe its the meds, maybe its the breathlessness, the infection, but you feel like crying a little because of how sweet he is even when he's bossing you about.

"I'll see you soon, baby. I love you too."

He doesn't waste time once he hangs up, just turns straight to Tocc and tells him, "I'll be back."

The look he gets is a mixture of disbelief, frustration and confusion and he really can't blame Tocc for it. Not when Quinn is the captain, the player that seems to make a massive difference on the ice, and he's about to run out the doors 2 hours before the game? Yeah, he knows Tocc doesn't want to hear it.

"Quinn, where you going? We have a game in 2 hours?!" He knows he's going to be cutting it fine with Vancouver traffic and getting to your school, the apartment and back to the arena, but he's not letting you drive. He could live with missing a game, losing a game, but he couldn't live with himself if he let you drive home and something happened. His job was to look after you, if he failed at that? What was the fucking point?

"Tocc, I'll be back. I promise. But, right now my girlfriend is unable to breathe and dizzy and I'm not letting her drive home, okay? Sooner I leave, sooner I come back."

Maybe it's the insistence on Quinn's face, the reality that if he was forced to stay he wouldn't play well anyway. Maybe it's that you and Tocc get along and he can see a hint of concern in the other man's eyes or maybe Tocc just trusts him that much. But, he actually agrees to let him go. Not that Quinn could really be forced to stay. They'd have to tie him to the bench.

"Okay, I'm trusting you."

"Thanks."

Quinn ignores every single person he storms past, every employee, every fan outside, every person with a camera that starts asking him where he's going as he starts his car with one destination in mind. Maybe he seems rude, maybe he seems standoffish, but he doesn't really care because right now you are sat on the steps of a school struggling to breathe and he just wants to see you and get you home and into bed.

He doesn't even care that he knows Tocc is going to be questioned about his absence or that he can already hear his phone pinging with notifications from social media, most likely people asking where he was going and speculating.

'Just saw Quinn Hughes storm out of Rogers Arena in full gear, finally got fed up of his team?'

'Um, is anyone else panicking that Hughes just left the arena like 2 hours before puck drop?'

'Captain Lexapro has officially lost it with this team, just stormed out of the arena!!'

He tries his best not to break any traffic laws getting to you, despite the fact he has a lead foot that wants to press harder on the accelerator. But, he knows you'd hate it and you'd worry more about him getting a ticket, so he just grips the steering wheel tighter until he's turning into the school car park.

He doesn't try to park in a proper space, just pulls up as close to you as possible before hopping out. Your head is between your legs, shoulders rising and falling in laboured breaths and he feels like he's been punched in the stomach at how bad you sound.

"Oh, baby..." He's kneeling on the dirty ground within seconds and you try, through broken gasps to tell him he'll get his hockey socks dirty, but he doesn't listen to you, just reaches to pull you into a hug.

"Let's get you home, okay? Tomorrow we're going back to the doctors, okay?" You're leaning your head into his shoulder so heavily that he's worried you might actually pass out. It's like the moment his arms wrap around you, you just give up on holding yourself up. In truth, that's kind of what happens. You just want to lean into him, soak up the comfort of your boyfriend lighting petting your hair and whispering into your ear.

"Don't y-you have...practice?"

"I think I can fit the doctors in around practice, baby..." He doesn't tell you, but he'd forgo practice for you. He doesn't care about anything but how you're doing and you're not okay. Quinn can see that better than anyone.

"Alright, up you get..." He stands first, hands reaching for yours to help pull you to your feet. You sway before him like you're on a 16th century galleon in a thunderstorm, forehead plonking on his chest heavily, "Atta, girl. There we go." He just strokes your hair and back while you wait for the dizziness to pass, he knows each second will make him later to the arena but he's not going to rush you when you're struggling just to stand without fainting.

"Alright, let me get your stuff and then we'll take it one step at a time, baby, okay?"

"O..okay...one step...at a time." He tries his best not to let go of you completely as he bundles your work bag onto his shoulder. Quinn is as quick as he can be with it, before pulling you under his arm and helping you inch step by step towards the car.

It's slow going, every few steps you get a little dizzy and he waits for you to nod before he pushes you forward again. You're drained, dark circles under your eyes and skin losing some of its usual colour by the time you reach the car.

Quinn had purposefully pulled up the car with the passenger side facing you and you're thankful not to have to walk around the car as you brace yourself against the door for a moment. Quinn helps ease you into the seat, reaching over to put your seatbelt on for you and adjust the headrest so you can lean back. It eases some of the weight in your chest.

"Nearly home, okay, baby?"

You just nod, exhausted as his hands cup your cheeks tenderly, spreading a soft sort of affection through your already aching chest. He's so gentle as he looks down at you, fingers rubbing circles in your cheeks, but he looks so worried and you feel so guilty because he shouldn't have to be that worried.

"You've been so brave, baby, you're so brave...soon you'll be in bed and you can watch the game and sleep, okay?" He knows you'll want to watch the game if you're sat at home, mostly because you watch every game he plays even if its on catch up, but also because he knows it'll reassure you that he made it back in time.

You nod again, blinking up at him so tired that he can't help but frown.

"Atta, girl. My brave girl." The kiss Quinn presses to your forehead is short and sweet, not lingering but filling you with warmth and lightness even as he closes the door on you and gets into the driver's side.

You miss his comforting touch and as if he knows this, his hand reaches for your thigh at any given opportunity when it isn't in use to drive. The stability of it, the comfort of just having him there is so welcome and helps you to relax back into the seat as he drives.

It's just as hard work getting you into the apartment, thankful as ever that the elevator actually works, but once you're in, Quinn feels ten times lighter.

"Right, lets get you comfy, baby...you want one of my jerseys or a hoodie?"

"Jersey...the....the black one, please."

"Okay, sit down, there ya go, good girl.." He watches you the entire time from the corner of his eye, scared you'll lean too far forward from how you're hunched over on the edge of the bed. He tries to make the entire thing quick, reaching for his black jersey, the extra big one that he bought home because you liked how it dwarfed you and even dwarfed him.

"Arms up, baby..." He helps you out of your work blouse and your bra, slipping the jersey over the top quickly to avoid the shivers you start shaking with.

The worst part is getting you to your feet to get your bottoms off. Quinn helps you rise to your feet before kneeling in front of you, dragging your hands to his shoulders for support as he helps you inch out of the remainder of your work clothes. Your fingers grip his shoulders so tight that he's certain you might leave bruises but he doesn't really care, just happy to get you comfy and help you into bed.

You're bundled under as many blankets as he can find, plus the heated blanket you got at Christmas. A big jug of water beside the bed, snacks piled high because he is not having you try to go all the way to kitchen without supervision right now.

"You want the game set to go on?"

"Y...yes, please...wanna watch you play." He turns the television on, setting it to the NHL game set to go live in less than an hour now and he knows he's going to miss warm ups at this point. Tocc's probably blowing up his phone and he knows he's cutting it fine...but you look so small bundled up in bed and he actually hates the idea of leaving you alone. He hates not having his family near all the time as a general rule, but in that moment he hates it so much more. If his mum or dad had been near he could have asked Ellen or Jim to check in on you, instead you were going to be all alone and he hated it.

"I'll score for you, yeah? You can watch me score and maybe we'll win and then I'll come and make us dinner. That sound good, baby?"

"Perfect..." Quinn smooths your hair back from your face, tucking a strand behind your ear even as he uses it as an excuse to feel your temperature. Not unreasonably warm which reassures him a little that you're at least not feverish.

He just keeps sitting there next to you, stroking your hair and caressing your cheek to the point that as much as you're loathe to get him to stop and to leave, you have to remind him he can't stay here. He has a game he's already running late to.

"You...you have to go, Quinn...I'll be okay..."

"If you're not, you'll phone 911, right?" He smooths your hair back again, in truth he really doesn't want to leave you there like that. Even as you seem to be breathing a little better now you're lying down. He considers just not going, if they lose they lose...but he knows he can't. He's captain, he promised he'd be back...and you'd be unhappy with him. He might be your boyfriend but the Canucks were your team and you'd likely make him sleep on the couch for a week.

"I promise...just go win for me?"

"Okay, sweet girl." He presses a last lingering kiss to your forehead, before getting up to leave. But, he still lingers in the doorway for a moment until you push him to go.

Once he's out of the apartment he's rushing. Barely any time and honestly when he finally gets back to the arena and gets his skates on he's surprised he's just in time to go out on the ice for the anthem...cold, not warmed up in the slightest, not ready at all to play a game, but willing to.

Tocc stops him as he's passing the bench to get to the ice, "Cutting it fine, Hughes!" despite the gruff tone, Quinn can tell that Tocc is just relieved that Quinn's back in time. As are the guys who all look at him with varying shades of relief as if they'd been freaking out the entire time. Which they probably had.

"Told you I'd be back." Quinn says it with such confidence, even though inside he knows he nearly missed the entire game. To be honest if you hadn't forced him out the apartment then he'd probably have been late at best.

"How is she?" Tocc's voice is soft, concerned and Quinn appreciates it. He appreciates that as a coach Tocc doesn't just care about how much they cost or how well they play, he cares about them and their families too...and you're included in that, ring or not.

"Not good...but safe at home."

"You need practice off tomorrow?"

"Please, I need to get her to the doctors..."

"Done. Now go help us win the game." Tocc gives him a clap on the shoulder before pushing him out onto the ice and just like that Quinn slips into captain mode.

Locked in like he always is even if his legs don't feel as loose and his stick feels a little less familiar in his hands. Knowing you're home safe helps, he can put the thought of you to the back of his mind, knowing you're safe in the apartment, comfortable and surrounded by everything you need.

You find it hard to focus on the game, but force yourself to, determined to watch Quinn play and to see the goal he intends to score for you. Maybe it's silly, there's no guarantee he'll actually score, but you can tell from the moment he's on the ice that it's one of the few things on his mind. Shot after shot after shot, a determined series of attempts that remind you how important you are to him even as you lie wheezing in bed, eating as much chocolate as Quinn put out for you.

It's part way through the first period with one goal already to Vancouver thanks to Petey that the issue of Quinn's disappearance pre-game is raised.

"Quinn Hughes was nearly late to the game today, the captain missed warm ups but that's certainly not stopping him now!" Shortie's voice rings through the room, a familiar cadence that makes you feel comforted.

"No, it's not, Shortie, do we know why Hughes was late?" Dave responds and for a moment you can't quite comprehend that you've managed to cause this much of a ruckus.

"It hasn't been confirmed and you know I'm not much of a gossip..." You have a little giggle a Shortie even as you are the topic of conversation because it's not really much in the way of gossip and it's so silly.

"But?"

"Apparently he had a family emergency, his girlfriend is very unwell and he dropped everything to go get her."

"Well, that's just.."

"Romantic? Sweet?"

"I was going to say so unlike the Quinn Hughes we used to know, the one who only thought about hockey." You think back to Quinn when you first met, how everything had been hockey, hockey, hockey. You hadn't minded, your own love of the sport meant that you could handle it. But, it's true...Quinn had been rethinking his priorities ever since you started dating, where he might have prioritised hockey once, he'd started to prioritise you. You're not entirely sure at what point you became that important in his life, but it made you feel warm and fuzzy all over.

"I think it's a good thing, that's a sign of growth, just like Hughes' shot!" Shortie cuts himself off as you watch the camera pan to Quinn, following his agile movements across the ice as he skips past the other team's players as if it's as easy as breathing, "He's in past the defence, he lines up the shot and an unassisted goal for Quinn Hughes! Vancouver goal!"

You smile wide as you watch Quinn grin, celebrating with his team in a series of hugs before he finds a camera. There's a moment where you know he's grinning at you, for you, a cheeky little wink sent through the screen as if to say 'told you I'd score for you'.

"I suspect that one was for the girlfriend, Shortie."

You watch the entire game, trying not to nod off to sleep between periods. While you can't cheer and you certainly don't have the energy to celebrate too hard, every Canuck goal makes you feel lighter and brings a smile to your face.

The end result of a 5-2 win to the Canucks makes it easy for you to drift off as the game ends and the waiting for Quinn begins.

He's running off a high when the game ends, even more so when Boeser offers to take over press duties so Quinn can get back to you quickly.

The apartment is quiet when he comes in, "Baby?" not a sound comes back in response and he's careful to move quietly through the apartment to the bedroom doorway.

You're fast asleep, breathing heavy but nowhere near as bad as earlier in the day, you're surrounded by chocolate wrappers and he's quiet as he picks them all up and puts them in a bin, replacing them with the puck he scored with on your bedside table.

He tiptoes back to the kitchen quietly pottering around to make some dinner for you while you're still asleep, nothing fancy but protein, carbs and veg. The sort of thing that's definitely boring but also definitely what your body needs right now.

"Baby, time to wake up...I've made you dinner." He's gentle when he wakes you, soft fingers down your cheek as you stir awake, blinking up at him bleary eyed. Quinn helps you sit upright, the tray of food settling neatly in your lap.

"Where's...where's yours?"

"On the table, you want me to eat in here with you, sweetheart?"

He's moving before you finish nodding, grabbing another tray and his plate before joining you on the bed. He spends most of his dinner watching you eat, making sure you're not leaving large amounts and that you're okay.

He's happy about the win, happy about the score, but he's mostly just happy to be back with you and knowing that you're eating and you're okay, if not well.

Quinn's quick to tidy up your trays and even quicker to get back to you and get into a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, sliding under the covers with you and pulling you into his arms.

Your cheek rests against his chest, the steady thump of his heart a soothing sound that helps some of the anxiety about being off work ease off. Quinn's fingers caress circles and weird shapes across your arm and shoulder as he tucks you tight against him, legs twined together. Every so often he presses a kiss to your forehead, your cheek, the top of your hair, as if reassuring himself that you're okay and he's got you.

"You scored..." You mumble into his t-shirt, a small smile working it's way to your lips as his hand moves up to run through your hair, stopping at your scalp every now and then to scratch lightly until you feel like purring even if that purr is more of a wheezy rumble.

"Mmm, for you, baby." Quinn smiles down at you, another kiss pressed to your cheek.

"T...the wink?" His smile weakens slightly at your still stumbling breathlessness and the wheeze and crackle that accompany it.

"Just for you, sweet girl."

"I'm...I'm proud of you, y'know?" You smile up at him so sweetly that he can't help but feel certain in his choices today. Yeah, nearly missing a game was rough, and maybe the press are going to be dicks about it and maybe he would have felt guilty if he'd missed the game or they'd lost...but he knows he'd skip a million games if it meant you were being looked after, were safe.

"I know...and tomorrow you're going to show me how proud you are by letting me take you to the doctors again."

"Ugh..." You groan, hiding your face into his chest like that will stop him from dragging you to the doctors. Your stubbornness normally cute but in this moment less so.

Quinn cups the back of your head until your looking up at him, green eyes meeting yours with a pleading stare that makes your resolve tremble and shudder. "Please? I'm worried about you, baby...I was really scared when I got that text from you."

"Yeah?" You hate that you worried him...it's that worry that makes you concede that maybe you need to go back to the doctors and maybe as much as you hate it, you'll do it, for Quinn.

"Yeah. I can replace hockey, I can play another game if I miss one. But, I can't replace you. Let me take you to the doctors."

There's a beat of silence as he pleads with you, eyes soft, worried, gentle, thumb stroking soothingly across the base of your neck and you can't really deny him this. Not when you know you'd feel exactly the same if the roles were reversed, not when he nearly missed a game for you today and went in completely cold turkey to win it.

"Okay...as...as long as you keep cuddling me."

"I think I can do that, baby." You curl back into his arms like the spot was carved just for you and in that moment Quinn Hughes knows that you have fully hit the top of his priority list, no ands, ifs, buts or maybes. You could ask him to quit hockey tomorrow and he'd do it. He'd do anything for you and that should be terrifying, but it's not because he knows you'd never ask too much of him. If anything you ask too little.

#huggy bear writes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes/reader #quinn hughes #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #teacher reader x quinn

438 notes · View notes

xtianlust · 3 days ago

Text

To the glory of the BBC and my burning love for you, Jean-Emmanuel 💖🌈💖

Ah, the absolute splendor of the BBC, this sculpted perfection that dominates and consumes me. On my knees, in my delicate lingerie that hugs every curve of my body, I offer myself with total adoration. My mouth abandons itself to its heat, my tongue dances along its length, and my intimacy opens like a sacred sanctuary, eager for this divine penetration which makes me vibrate with ecstasy. Every drop of his seed is a warm blessing, a heavenly rain that illuminates my skin and fuels my deepest desires. And you, Jean-Emmanuel, my love, my king. When I think of you, my body languishes, my soul quivers, and I become your Vanina, your darling, your devoted lover. I like to feel like a woman under your gaze, so desirable, offered to your pleasure. You are my everything, the one who makes me vibrate with passion and desire. I dream of you, of your hands exploring my body, of your voice whispering words of love to me while you take me, strong, deep, in this burning union that surpasses everything. My Jean-Emmanuel, I love you with a sweet and devouring madness, a homosexual love, lustful, and so feminine that I get excited just by knowing you are mine. You and the BBC are my eternal delights, my infinite ecstasies. I am yours, body and soul, in lust and love💦⚘🔥💋👅🌈💖

follow my twitter

8K notes · View notes

fear-less · 2 days ago

Text

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 she ignored my letter!

pairing: james potter x f!reader

�� In which, James writes you a love letter and hides it into your luggage carrying your clothes, not knowing he put it in a pocket you never open.

Warnings: angst, fluff, james pov, this inspired by awae (aka the best show ever)

a/n: heyyy... i had sm fun writing this, can't wait to write the rest of this bc i literally LOVE anne with an e and this is inspired by it ofc!!!! anyways, im barely writing now..smh, its cause im reading manacled and its literally heart breaking... im also editing on ae and its so hard so im slowly learning😭 but i want to finish this mini series by next week!!

series masterlist ! - divider creds: i-mmaculatus & dollywons

James had liked you for a while now. He wasn’t quite sure when it started—maybe it was the way you laughed at his jokes, always the loudest in the room. Or perhaps it was when he’d catch you staring at him, your gaze lingering just a bit too long, thinking he was too distracted to notice.

With the Christmas holidays fast approaching, James knew he had to make a move. He had to let you know how he felt. If you didn’t feel the same, maybe the time apart over the holiday would make it less awkward. But he couldn’t let another term slip by in silence.

Knowing your love for all things old-fashioned, James decided there was no better way to confess his feelings than through a handwritten letter. It felt personal, genuine—something you’d appreciate. But writing it turned out to be harder than he imagined.

He’d written and discarded at least a dozen drafts, each one crumpled and tossed aside in frustration. Finally, after half an hour of agonizing over the perfect words, he settled on this version. It was short, straightforward, and sincere:

Dear, (Y/N)

I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a complete idiot. I’ve tried a hundred times, and every single attempt has been worse than the last. So here’s the truth—I’m hopelessly in love with you.

You’ve probably guessed I’m not great at being subtle. But what I’ve never been able to say outright is how much you mean to me. The way you laugh, the way your nose scrunches when you’re concentrating—Merlin, you make it impossible to focus on anything else. I want you to know that you’ve made me braver, happier, better. If you don’t feel the same, that’s okay—I just needed to get this off my chest.

Yours, James

He sighed deeply, folding the letter carefully before slipping it into an envelope. Your name was written on the front in his slightly shaky handwriting. Taking a steadying breath, he tucked it into the inside pocket of his robes. He’d leave it somewhere you’d find it tomorrow, just before you both left for the holidays.

As he lay awake that night, James tried to figure out the best way to deliver the letter. Should he hand it to you directly? No, that was too nerve-wracking—he’d probably end up babbling like an idiot. Maybe he could slip it into your bag and avoid the risk of witnessing your reaction.

The morning was crisp, the kind of cold that painted your cheeks red and sent little clouds of breath swirling in the air. On the platform, the train sat waiting, puffing out plumes of steam that mingled with the frosty air. It was alive with the sound of students saying goodbye and dragging their luggage over the cobblestones.

James walked beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He was doing his best to appear casual, though every step he took felt heavier with the weight of the letter in his robe.

“Let me take that for you,” he blurted suddenly, nodding toward your luggage.

You blinked, surprised by the offer, but your lips curved into a warm smile. “Oh, thanks, James. That’s really sweet of you.”

He shrugged, trying to play it cool, but his ears turned a telltale shade of pink at your words. “What kind of bloke would I be if I didn’t help you out?” he mumbled, his voice tinged with nervous humor.

The two of you chatted as you strolled toward the train. You told him about your plans for the holidays—how you were excited to see your family, how your mum always made far too much food, and how you couldn’t wait to decorate the tree. James listened intently, nodding and laughing at all the right moments, even as his mind raced ahead to the task at hand.

Then, his opportunity came.

You turned away for a brief moment, waving at one of your friends across the platform. James acted quickly, pulling the envelope from his pocket and slipping it into the outermost compartment of your bag. His fingers brushed the fabric for only a second, but it felt like an eternity.

His heart was hammering so loudly he was certain it could be heard over the clamor of the platform. He straightened up just as you turned back to him, completely oblivious to what had just transpired.

“Thanks again for carrying that,” you said with a smile, your eyes meeting his.

James gave a small, lopsided grin and shifted your bag on his shoulder. “Anytime,” he replied, his voice steady despite the storm of nerves swirling inside him.

As the train’s whistle blew, signaling it was time to board, James knew there was no turning back now. All he could do was wait—and hope that when you found the letter, you’d read it and understand the words that had taken him so long to say.

It had been days since you’d left for the holidays, and James still hadn’t heard from you. Each passing day only worsened the sinking feeling in his chest.

Did you not feel the same? Did you hate him for ruining the friendship? Or worse, were you so disgusted by his confession that you couldn’t even bear to send him a letter saying so?

By Christmas morning, the knot of worry in James’s stomach had become unbearable. He’d stopped pacing and pretending not to care. He spent the early hours staring at the window, waiting for an owl that seemed as though it would never come.

But then, just as the first rays of sunlight streamed through his frosted window, he saw it—a familiar owl perched outside, clutching a small envelope in its talons. His heart leapt with a desperate flicker of hope. Maybe you’d only just found the letter. Maybe you’d taken your time because you wanted to write something perfect.

James hurried to open the window, shivering as the cold air rushed in. The owl extended its leg, allowing him to untie the letter. “Thanks, mate,” James murmured, absently offering the owl a treat before it flew off into the winter sky.

His fingers trembled as he opened the envelope, eager to see your handwriting. But his heart sank the moment he read the first line.

“Happy Christmas, James!”

No mention of his letter. No response to his confession. Just a short, cheerful note wishing him a wonderful holiday and apologizing for not writing sooner. You explained that things had been hectic at home and promised to catch up with him soon.

James felt his chest tighten, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. The hope he’d been clinging to was slipping through his fingers.

You’d ignored his letter.

You’d chosen to act as though he’d never written it at all, as if he’d never poured his heart out on that piece of parchment.

James scoffed, his grip on the letter tightening. Fine, he thought bitterly. If you were going to pretend his confession didn’t exist, he could do the same.

He shoved the letter onto his desk, glaring at it as if it were the source of his frustration. Deep down, though, he knew the truth: he didn’t want to ignore you. He wanted to write back, to ask if you’d found the letter, to make sure you weren’t upset with him.

But pride was a stubborn thing, and James Potter wasn’t about to let his vulnerability show again—not now.

As the snow fell softly outside his window, James sat in silence, staring at the letter and wondering if he’d made a mistake by ever writing to you in the first place.

When it was time to return to Hogwarts, James made no effort to find you. Normally, he’d scan the platform, pretending it was a coincidence whenever his eyes landed on you. This time, he couldn’t bring himself to look.

He saw you anyway, just briefly—standing near your family, your face lit up with that familiar smile. His heart leaped in his chest, and his legs almost betrayed him, ready to stride over and say something, anything. But he stopped himself.

Instead, James turned sharply, mumbling a quick goodbye to his parents before heading onto the train. He didn’t want to see you—not now.

The walk through the train felt heavier than usual. He knew exactly where his friends would be—the same compartment they’d claimed since their first year—but it felt like an eternity to get there. When he finally slid open the door, the familiar faces of Sirius, Remus, and Peter greeted him.

“Oi, Prongs!” Sirius called cheerfully, but his grin faltered when James slumped onto the seat next to Peter with a loud huff.

James leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. He could feel Sirius’s gaze on him, curious and probing.

“What’s got your wand in a knot?” Sirius asked, unable to resist.

“Don’t.” James’s voice was sharp, firm. It was rare for him to be in a foul mood, let alone snappish.

Sirius raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I won’t say a word.”

The tension in the compartment was palpable. The train rattled on, and the usual chatter of the four friends was noticeably absent. Sirius kept stealing glances at James, who sat brooding, arms crossed. Peter fidgeted nervously, while Remus flipped through a book, clearly uncomfortable with the silence.

Finally, about an hour into the ride, James broke.

“She ignored my letter.” His voice was low, bitter, but it shattered the quiet like a hex.

The others exchanged looks before Peter spoke hesitantly. “She really ignored it?”

“Yes, Peter,” James snapped, his tone sharp enough to make Peter flinch. Realizing what he’d done, James sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” Peter mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

“Maybe she didn’t see it,” Remus offered, his tone calm and rational. “What if it got lost in her luggage? Or someone else found it and hid it? Maybe you gave her another piece of parchment? There’s always a chance—”

“Moony, no.” James cut him off, his voice strained. “I double-checked. It was the right letter, in the right spot. And who doesn’t check their trunk full of clothes over the holiday?”

“Maybe she doesn’t,” Sirius said with a shrug, trying to lighten the mood. “You know, women can be unpredictable. Maybe she’s got a secret stash for random letters in her trunk.”

“No, she checks,” James said with certainty. “I’ve slipped plenty of things into her luggage before, and she’s always found them. She just doesn’t fancy me back.” His voice cracked slightly at the end, but he forced a small, bitter smile. “And it’s fine. I’ll get over it. I always do, right?”

The compartment fell silent again, the weight of James’s words sinking in.

Sirius leaned forward, a flicker of frustration in his eyes. “It’s not fine, James. If she didn’t fancy you back, that’s one thing. But ignoring you? That’s—”

“Don’t,” James interrupted quietly, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Don’t make it worse, Padfoot.”

Sirius bit back a retort and leaned back in his seat, muttering under his breath.

The rest of the ride passed more comfortably, but the shadow of James’s disappointment lingered. His friends cracked jokes and told stories, trying to lift his spirits, but even when he laughed, it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Deep down, James wondered if he’d ever stop wishing that you’d read his letter and felt the same way.

Hours later, everyone had gathered in the Great Hall. The enchanted ceiling reflected the dusky evening sky, and the buzz of students catching up after the holiday filled the room. Normally, James would sit with Sirius to his left, you to his right, and Remus and Peter across from him. It was a familiar arrangement, one you’d fallen into without question.

But tonight, James broke the routine.

He subtly nudged Peter into the spot on his right before sitting down, leaving the space where you’d usually sit conspicuously empty.

You walked in a moment later, scanning the Gryffindor table until you spotted your usual group. But when you approached, your steps faltered. Peter sat where you always did, looking apologetic but saying nothing.

Your eyes darted to James, silently questioning him, but he avoided your gaze, his attention fixed stubbornly on his plate.

Confused, you looked to Remus for an explanation. Out of all the Marauders, he was the one you trusted most to give you a straight answer. But Remus only shrugged, his expression carefully neutral, though the twitch at the corner of his mouth hinted at discomfort.

You scoffed, your chest tightening. First, James ignored you all through the holiday, and now he didn’t even want to sit near you? Fine. If he wanted to sulk like a child, you weren’t going to beg for his attention.

Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked further down the table, sliding into a seat beside your other group of friends. You forced yourself to laugh at their jokes and join in their chatter, but your mind kept wandering back to James.

At the Gryffindor table, James’s eyes flicked toward you more often than he’d admit. Every time he saw you laughing with your friends, his stomach twisted.

“Why is she acting like I’m the one in the wrong?” James muttered under his breath, jabbing at a piece of roast potato with his fork.

“Maybe because you’re acting like a prat?” Sirius replied, his tone laced with amusement as he leaned closer.

James shot him a glare.

“Look, Prongs,” Sirius continued, dropping the teasing. “She doesn’t know what’s going on. You didn’t even give her a chance to explain, and now you’re sulking like a first-year who lost his chocolate frog cards.”

“Explain what? She ignored my letter, Padfoot. What’s there to explain?” James hissed, though his tone lacked its usual conviction.

Remus sighed, setting down his goblet. “Did it ever cross your mind that maybe she doesn’t even know what letter you’re talking about?”

James froze, his fork hovering mid-air.

“Just talk to her, mate,” Sirius said, giving James a nudge. “Or don’t. But if you keep this up, you’re only making it worse—for both of you.”

James huffed, slumping back in his seat. The truth was, he didn’t know if he had it in him to face you just yet.

From across the hall, you caught the way James’s shoulders sagged, and for a brief moment, you considered walking over. But pride held you in place. If James wanted to act like this, fine. Two could play that game.

You and James hadn’t spoken in what felt like weeks. The once effortless connection you shared had been replaced with an awkward silence that weighed heavily on you. It wasn’t just James—it felt like the whole group of Marauders had grown distant, their usual antics and inside jokes missing their spark when you were around.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d done something to upset him. But what? You racked your brain for answers, replaying every interaction from the past few months. James had always been one of your closest friends—why was he acting so strange?

Charms class was the hardest part of it all. You always sat beside James, sharing notes, exchanging whispers, and stifling laughs when Professor Flitwick wasn’t looking. Now, you sat in the same spot, the chair next to you glaringly empty.

You tried to focus on the professor’s instructions, but your thoughts were louder than his voice. Scribbling aimlessly in your notebook, you hardly noticed when someone approached your desk.

“Are you alright?”

Startled, you looked up to see a boy with a blue-and-bronze tie standing beside you. His face was vaguely familiar—you’d seen him around in class but had never spoken to him.

“Yeah—yes, I’m fine,” you stammered, blinking in confusion. Why was he talking to you?

He gave a polite, slightly amused smile. “Well, can you move your stuff? I’m sitting here now. We’re partners for the project.”

“Oh!” Heat rose to your cheeks as you hurriedly shoved your books to one side. “Sorry about that. I didn’t realize.”

“No worries,” he said, settling into the chair beside you. “I figured you weren’t paying attention—no offense. But I was, so I’ll explain what Professor Flitwick said.”

You managed a small smile, relieved by his casual tone. “Thanks. That’s… helpful.”

While he began outlining the project details, your focus wavered, glancing at James out of the corner of your eye. He was across the room, seated next to a loud and enthusiastic partner who seemed to be trying desperately to get his attention. But James wasn’t listening.

His gaze was fixed on you.

There was a flicker of something in his expression—jealousy, maybe? Regret? Whatever it was, it made your stomach twist.

You quickly turned your attention back to your new partner, nodding along to his explanation, even if you weren’t entirely listening. You felt James’s eyes on you the entire time, but you refused to look back.

Across the room, James’s jaw clenched. His partner waved a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his trance.

“Oi, Potter! Are you even listening?”

“Huh? Yeah, sure,” James muttered, though his eyes drifted back to you moments later.

He hated this—seeing someone else sitting beside you, making you smile when that used to be his seat, his job. But he didn’t know how to fix it. The letter. The silence. The way he’d avoided you. It all felt too big now, too messy to undo.

Still, James couldn’t stop watching you, his heart sinking further with every laugh you shared with your new partner.

enjoyed? check out my navigation

taglist!! @zowiiiisblog , @kxnnxy , @rainingleaves , @icollectrubberduckies , @elsie-bells

#harry potter #harry potter oneshots #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x you #marauders x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x reader #james potter angst #james potter smut #james potter #James

379 notes · View notes

astertimberwolf · 3 days ago

Text

I feel insane (in a good way) because I somehow managed to do this to myself: resolving all of my trauma, with very little to no guidance. Blindfolded. In the dark. With pitfalls sporting spiky bottoms surrounding me on all sides and while balancing myself on a thin thread.

I did fall and survive being impaled several times, where I thought I was done for, for good- each time thinking "this is it, this is how it ends" ...and yet, finding a way to climb back onto the darn thread over and over again. It only cost me like...

(Hold on im gae, tired and counting with limited brain cells and energy)

...16-17 years of my life to get there? Yeah. That's how long ago it's been, since depression hit me hard... All the way up until now.

That's a long-ass time. Over a decade and a half...

...Was it worth it?

Remains to be seen. Depends on how the next couple of years play out.

I hope a healed mind, heart and body will finally give me the chance to thrive- something I've been robbed of for all of my youth... No thanks to my shitty parents and other blood relatives that enabled neglect and abuse. No thanks to all the people who sexually assaulted or groomed me, r*pist included- and definitely no thanks at all to the shitty human beings that bullied me, used me, made fun of me, verbally, emotionally and psychologically tore me down, never gave me the benefit of the doubt, called me the worst names in any book ever written- and betrayed my trust, taking advantage of my ignorance, benevolence and naïvety. Y'all can go f*ck yourselves. I have forgiven very few of you- and only partially when it comes to some of the things you've done to me. Some (people and things), I will never forgive... Karma will return the favor tenfold, don't you f*cking worry.

*takes a deep breath*

Despite the justified rage boiling up inside of me for all the shit that I've had to endure... I know I've done damage as well, some of which permanent. If anything, I want those people to know that 98.5% of the times where that happened, it really wasn't intentional, planned or whatnot. Life is just chaotic- and at times I've snapped where I couldn't take the pain anymore. But I've become a lot stronger, wiser, kinder, better- and I won't show my anger / rage / ugly side if I can help it.

I'm far from perfect. Doubt I'll ever even come close to scraping- or even so much as seeing perfection.

I'm battered, but sharper than ever. Like steel being turned into a sword, hit after hit. I hope the blacksmith of life is happy with their work. They've created a weapon that will cut through anything in its wake- and will hopefully be used to defend rather than offend.

May blood never coat my blade again.

You will patch up all the holes in 2025.

(this isn’t a post about knitting)

6K notes · View notes

tricoloreddango · 13 hours ago

Text

☆ Struggling to take their size ☆

Jing Yuan, Dr Ratio, Wriothesley, Zhongli x fem reader. [Inspired by Mydei version]

cw: smut, soft dom, praise, size kink, Zhongli having draconic features, breeding kink for Zhongli, fear of pain during intimacy. [back to m.list]

Not suitable for minors!

—

Jing Yuan

Patient, gentle, warm. Jing Yuan has been always like this with you, and the current situation didn’t make him any different. Struggling under him on bed, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, he felt a sense of duty to help you deal with his size—especially when you were crying out for him like this.

“Jing Yuan… it won’t fit!” you whined sadly, your legs tightening around him, as you felt frustrated that he could have fitted only the tip of his fat cock into you so far.

Jing Yuan chuckled, the lightness of his laugh meant to tell you that the situation is not as bad if he’s here, gripping your hips gently. “Is this how little faith you have in me?” he teased with a warm smile, before he leaned down to press a kiss onto forehead. “I’ll take care of you, don’t worry, my dear.”

Holding an eye contact with you in this position, he attempted to get you to loosen up for him, by teasing and stirring your wet entrance and folds with his tip, while peppering your face in little presses of his lips. Gently moving his hips back and forth, Jing Yuan was keeping the tip caught in your hole, drawing out even more arousal from you. Just his tip made your tight hole feel parted away for him.

You were given a messy, sloppy kiss while he kept relaxing you with his cock like this, until he was finally able to push inside, letting you feel the fullness and stretch you desperately missed for the moment prior; even if now Jing Yuan’s cock felt as if it was splitting you apart. He wiped the kiss drool off of your now dazed face.

“See? You opened up so nicely for me… just leave the rest to me,” he reassured with a tighter grip on your hips. Jing Yuan started with a slower pace to let you get used to him even more, but kept the strokes nicely deep and strong for his beloved, cursing quietly at how much pleasure your tight heat was giving him already. He even lowered his heavy body on top of yours, to let his weight reassure you further, and for him to enjoy the warmth and softness of your own body.

Dr Ratio

“If you won’t stop squirming, it won’t really help your case, you realize that?” Veritas sighed. He was lying behind you on your side, on your shared bed, one of your legs bent forward to uncover your pussy for him, but you just wouldn’t let him do his job. Veritas knew you had a tendency to unnecessarily stress yourself out during intimacy, worried about his size even if he had proven you many times that there’s nothing to be stressed about. And while Veritas could be patient and methodical if needed to be, he required your cooperation too.

“What are you even so worried about, hm?” he asked more quietly with a gentle press of kiss onto your ear, the low timber sending a chill through you. His left arm was under your body, wrapped around your torso and letting its hand fondle your breast. The other hand, kept that leg forward steadily.

“What if it doesn’t fit this time? Maybe I’m—“ you said worryingly, but he didn’t let you finish the sentence. “I’ll make it fit, as I always do,” he hushed you sternly. He did not mean to be rough with you, but sometimes it was needed to bring you back.

His heavy cocked rubbed itself against your slit, right between your lips, making you stop your talk and moan instead. The glide was smooth, with the extensive foreplay Veritas has given you a moment ago… it was just your anxiety holding you back. But him playing with your breasts like that, his cock frying your nerves or your slit and rubbing against your clit too, you were giving into the pleasure instead.

“Veritas…” you moaned out, throwing your head back against his hard chest. “Yes, I’m here,” he said more softly. His hand on your breast slipped down between your legs instead, now circling on your clit with more pressure than just strokes of his cock. He kept his right hand on your thigh steady, its strength not letting it close under the sweet stimulation.

Soon, he was slipping his cock into you with ease as his arms held you caged, and your worries were now replaced with you spilling out whines for more. So full of Veritas, feeling a prickling warmth of having your walls stretched for him, needing to grab onto the bedsheets ahead of you… even breathing was getting difficult, entirely overwhelmed by the pressure of him inside your pussy.

“Now, no need to whine anymore… you’ve taken me so well after all,” he said with a pride at his results, and his hand lifted itself up from between your thighs to turn your head to the side, by your chin, and give you a heated kiss. It was then when his heavy thrusts began, and he pressed his body tighter to yours, tightening his jaw as you were provoking him to be too vocal for his own liking. Veritas buried his face in your neck, muting his low-toned moans, as he set on the challenge to have his balls slap your skin hard with his fast pace and strong force, forcing your folds to spread for his wide girth each move.

No stress was left in you, other than the one of you wanting to come.

Wriothesley

You were impaled on Wriothesley’s fatness of his cock already, resting on top of him with his hand on your hips and giving him such a perfect view of your lovely body, but… you were too scared to move. Wriothesley filled you up so nicely, you could feel him put a pressure on your cervix and still not be inside fully, base remaining unwrapped by you; but you didn’t have a mental fortitude to move when you were so full.

“No… Wriothesley, I can’t do it like that!” you cried out. “You’re too big!”

“I’m too big?” he said cockily, with a rub of his hand on your thigh, meant to be calming. “You say that almost every night, and yet here you are again, all nicely filled up by me?” he feigned confusion.

The hand on your thigh went up to your clit, circling it around, even more when you moaned. “Y-yes, but… it’s different in this position. I feel like a skewer,” you said shakily with a whimper at another roll.

“Should I help my beautiful girlfriend then?” he inquired lowly, his eyes once again going up and down over your bare and impaled figure on top of his body. Seeing you so full of him… he wished he could abandon any duties and fuck you for the rest of the weekend on this bed, in this room in the fortress.

When you nodded eagerly, he grabbed your hips again with his big and scarred hands. “Alright, anything my princess demands…” he teased with a laughter ending up breathy, because when he started to grind into you to help you ease, the squeeze of your pussy was bit too much for even him and he groaned. He rolled his hips back and forth, letting your walls be teased in pleasurable ways with his cock grinding inside of you, making you both crazy. Suddenly, it didn’t feel that scary. Not when you he was hitting against your g-spot with grinds like this.

It felt so good, you didn’t even notice when Wriothesley was lifting you up a little, and helping you with small thrusts. Your pussy swallowed his size eagerly, and you felt stretched on him to the maximum, but it was no longer unbearable.

“There we go, all ready for me…” Wriothesley praised, and lifted you off his cock by your hips even higher, before forcing you down on his cock more harshly. You let out a silent scream, but felt gladder than ever, and had to quickly grab onto muscular chest to hold onto, as he took you for a ride.

Zhongli

Your lover was more on a leaner side, so the first time you gave yourself to him, you didn’t expect his size to be… that. Dragon physics, almost disproportionally big to his size, were a problem for you even years later.

Your bottom hanging in the air, your face down onto the pillow—it was a position as if Zhongli was being meant to breed his mate. The spread of you like this was very enticing to him and his nature. Even when you squirmed and cried, telling him it will hurt.

“Will hurt?” Zhongli asked with a small amusement, his hands rubbing your sides as he was behind you on his knees, just the tip of his thick cock inside. “Hurt”… as if Zhongli would ever let this happen. As if he didn’t always make you desperate for more.

“My love, I always make myself fit into you in the end. You can relax by my side, I won’t let it hurt,” he said calmly, before he lowered his head to kiss between your shoulder blades. It made you feel more comfortable, but you still were anxious by how your hole kept trying to force his cock out with how tight your pussy felt on him.

“But it’s too big…” you complained with a sniffle. “It won’t enter!”

“Shhh…” Zhongli kept his tip out and in, moving his cock like that, and put his finger into your hole, right next to his tip to help you make space inside your sweet walls. You mewled at additional pressure, but his finger quickly rewarded you with a rub against your best spot. “Zhongli…” you whined, feeling fuller and better.

“You’re doing great…” he praised, leaning to kiss your nape. When your pleasure and wetness grew even more, Zhongli started to finally push his thickness into you, making you gasp. “Yes…!” you were so relieved, even if even more overwhelmed by your walls being forced to accommodate for Zhongli.

Your hips up in the air wriggled, your tears stained the pillow with your face below, and with a sight as erotic as this, Zhongli had no choice but to start fucking you roughly. He thought of how you, soon, will be full of his seed dripping out of you, and was fantasizing that one day, it’ll turn into something more—in any case, your belly will be left bloated in both scenarios.

His hands on your hips, he snapped your lower body against his abdomen back and forth, his balls slapping against your clit. “You took all of me. Now you’ll let me have you properly, won’t you?” he asked through teeth, hissing at how much your pussy squeezed on his cock.

You could have only nodded into the pillows in ecstasy.

#hsr smut #genshin smut #jing yuan x reader #dr ratio x reader #wriothesley x reader #zhongli x reader #tcdwrites #jing yuan x you #dr ratio x you #wriothesley x you #zhongli x you

215 notes · View notes

cutiecusp · 2 days ago

Text

Haze. Part 2.

TW. Talk of memory issues, a little PTSD (next part), fluffy smut (next part), AND A HEA! so MDNI.

"The hell do you mean? Who am i?" You ask, your gaze stubbornly holding his deep, blank stare.

You hold up a hand as Soap starts talking, your focus only on Simon.

"I am your wife, Simon." you state, barely disguising the hurt in your tone, your brow furrowed, fresh tears threatening to escape as all the man in front of you does is stare blankly.

"I'd certainly remember being married." He returns, a scowl forming over the part of the face you can see. His gaze flicks down to his hand, where the small matching tattoo you both wore was gone, a scar in its place.

"See? no ring or marking." His voice rings out loudly on your porch.

Price sees the devastation on your face, and quickly ushers everyone inside, leaving the two of you alone, knowing it could go one of two ways.

Your eyes flitter over him, cementing every memory to detail, the way his clothes are baggier, the new scar on his face, the shorn hair and the way he stares through you, like you are a total stranger.

"We've been married three years this Halloween, Simon." You say softly, your voice betraying your emotions as it wobbles.

Clearing your throat, you step into his space.

He hesitates for a moment, then steps forward, untrusting, like a dog that had been beaten too many times.

"What happened to you?" You ask, your hands reaching out for his, but his hands now remain in his pockets as he shrugged.

"Mission gone wrong." He bit off, clearly not ready to talk about it.

"Will you come in? See the rest of your team?" You ask, hoping something in your shared home will trigger an emotion, anything familiar.

"Is this my home too? is that why Price brought me here?" He asks, doubt dripping with his tone.

You straighten up, and hold out your hand.

"Our home, Si. Always been ours."

He looks down at your outstretched hand, and his eyes meet yours again, this time they hold a little something softer.

"I can trust you?" He rasps.

You hold his gaze, and you throw all the love, the promise, and the trust you can into your eyes. Simon once taught you that the eyes are the biggest giveaway when you lie, so you show him with all that you can that he can trust you.

"You can." you reply easily, although your heart is pounding through your chest, and your brain is internally screaming at Simon to remember you, you smile softly.

His hand perfectly reaches into yours. You hold your breath as the familiarity of his touch floods your body. Unable to keep the tears at bay any longer, you brush them away with the other hand.

Simon stands in front of you, a unreadable expression on his face.

"I may not remember you, yet." He pauses, thinking about his next words carefully.

"But something about you IS familiar. You feel like the first dip in the pool at summer, tea on a frosty morning... Something about you feels like home."

Your breath comes out like a shudder, as he pulls you by the hand into him, his eyes taking you in from your puffy face, to the mismatched socks on your feet.

"If you are my wife, im the luckiest bastard on the planet."

....................................................................................................................

the final part, part three will be here tomorrow.

@kaeyasfuturewife @xoxunhinged @muneca-lemon-steppa @gardenof-venus @misshugs @soraya-daydreams @frudoo @renpodz @yesornowaitidontknow @thevoiceinyourheadx @shadowdark00 @rynbeerose @lunamoonbby @incredible-walker @identity2212 @pukbadger @urbimom @corvid007 @wordsfromshona @shadows-empress @m00xy @canyonmooncreations @oniraki @evie-119 @havoc973 @kylies-lover-blog @ishipdabands @cmbghost @heckinspooks @midwesternwitchery @eggy-yoke @redzluvvesage @masterclassofescapism @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @lostintransist @skeletonsucker

#call of duty #call of duty mw2 #fanfiction #fanfic #simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare 2 #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost

255 notes · View notes

dirtyyoungthingg · 2 days ago

Text

its been a long day. between school and extracurriculars, i am exhausted and stressed. i need a release. bad.

what better way to relieve my stress than fucking myself silly?

i walk into my bedroom, already smiling thanks to the plan my sweet little brain came up with. my smile drops when i realize you're sitting on my bed.

next to my toys.

"d-dad...--"

"what the fuck are these, hm?" you gesture to the two toys on the bed. i immediately shrink into myself, embarrassed.

"...dunno...."

"dont play dumb with me." you stand and grab a fistful of my hair, bringing my gaze up to meet yours. you glance back over at the toys. "do you even know how to use those?" nervously, i nod.

"i-i'm a big girl."

you can't help but smile a little. "yeah?" you throw me down onto the bed. "show dad. let me see you be a big girl, and maybe i'll let you keep these." i scramble onto my back, my heart pounding in my ears as i try to wrap my brain around whats happening.

my dad wants to watch me fuck myself.... my thighs squeeze together as you settle onto the foot of the bed. you tut at me and place your hands on my knees.

"don't be shy now. its nothing i havent seen before." your mind flashes back to our special bathtimes. how you loved catching glimpses of my sweet little pussy underneath the bubbles. how you'd use your special soap on me, as long as i didnt tell anyone.

"but dad--"

you spread my legs open suddenly, my skirt raising to show off my printed pink panties. "shut the fuck up. take those off." my face is flushed as i comply, sliding out of my panties. you grab them from me and bring them to your nose. "god... you always smell so good." i shiver at the cold air hitting my wet cunt. you set the panties down and reach to rub your thumb lightly against my sweet little pussy lips. your other hand moves to grab the first toy, a small bullet vibrator. you smile at it for a moment. "where'd you get this guy, huh?"

"th-the mall... one of the stores sells stuff like that in the back..." you turn it on, and a small but consistent buzzing sound fills the air. you raise your eyebrows as you click it back off.

"not bad." you press it into my hands. "go on. show me how you use it."

i feel dizzy, nervous. this is wrong, you shouldnt be making me do this. and yet, i'm so wet, and i was planning on playing with myself anyway... maybe its not so bad that dad's here.... i bite my lower lip as i turn the small vibe back on and begin to run it over my little pussy lips. a breath catches in my throat when i brush over my swollen clit. you take another deep breath from my panties as you watch, palming yourself through your pants. i press the vibe to my clit as i watch. "g-god... dad...."

"thaaaaat's right baby. just like that." you unbuckle your belt and pull your cock out, wrapping the soft pink fabric of my panties around the length of it as you begin to pump your cock with your fist. the sight is making me lightheaded with lust. i squirm as the vibrator presses harder onto my clit, letting out a moan. "good girl..."

you glance over at the other toy, a sizable dildo. you grab it with your other hand and look down at my glistening cunt. so small and sweet... "...can you even fit this in that sweet little hole, baby?"

i sheepishly look away, shaking my head no. "so-sometimes if i try i can get it halfway in, but it really hurts..." you can't help but laugh a little.

"you just need daddy's help, baby." you grab the vibrator and click it off. i can't help but whimper a little and squirm at the lack of touch. you smile. "turn over, raise that cute little ass up for me." i comply, rolling over onto my stomach and putting my ass up in the air. my skirt from school is still on, and you have to slide it up so you can get to my bare ass. yet another reminder that i'm your daughter, your baby... you shouldn't be doing this... and yet you continue.

you use the head of the dildo and lazily drag it over my opening, humming softly as you see the wetness that collects on the toy. "you're so wet... i'm sure we could fit this in if we tried. you're a big girl, right? thats why you have these toys?" i nod, too flustered to really speak.

"i-i'm a big girl..."

"that's right baby. you're a big girl. and that's why you're gonna take all of this, deep inside your sweet little kiddo cunt." you press the toy into me, slowly, working it in and out of my pussy bit by bit. my eyes screw shut as i whine. i'm still just so tight, so small... you bite your lower lip in concentration as you press the dildo even further inside me suddenly. i gasp and try to squirm away. it's too much, too deep...! i am met with a swift slap on my ass that makes me yelp and causes tears to spring from my eyes.

"ah-ah. that's enough of that, young lady." your tone is gruff, and makes me shudder inwardly. you manhandle me back into the proper position. "you wanted to be a big girl. owning these toys, fucking yourself with them. acting like such a whore. you're lucky this is how i'm choosing to correct this behavior." you smack the other cheek to punctuate your point. "i could've just thrown you down, raped you right here." you begin to thrust the dildo in and out of my cunt quickly, ignoring my pleas for you to stop. "coulda just taken everything ive ever wanted. your mouth, your pussy, your ass..."

i'm sobbing at this point as you relentlessly fuck me with the toy. "coulda treated you like the whore you are. traipsing around with those little skirts, those tiny tops that leave nothing to your father's imagination, much less anyone elses." you've driven the toy all the way into me at this point. i'm crying, my brain overloaded from pain and pleasure.

"t-too m-much--! p-please, stop!"

"shut the fuck up." you use your free hand to press my face into the pillows. "god, do you ever stop talking?" the toys pace is too much. you notice how much i'm clenching around it. "and look at that. you're close. you can't be having that bad of a time if you're that close to cumming while your dad plays with you how he sees fit." my cries are muffled by the pillows as i beg you over and over to stop, please god stop, it's too much.

"no, baby. i'm not gonna stop. not until you cum all over your special big girl toy for daddy. c'mon, i know you want to. you know you want to. cum for me. cum for dad."

and just like that, the dizzying feeling reaches its peak. i cum with the toy deep inside me, my sweet cries ringing out as i throw my head back. you slow your movements down until you stop.

"that's my girl." you slide the dildo out of my cunt. "i knew you could do it. and look at that! you took the whole thing! such a big girl for daddy, such a good girl."

i'm too much of a dazed mess to fight you off as you slide your pants down and position yourself over me. you line your cock up with my twitching cunt, humming softly.

"now i get to show you that you don't need those silly toys. all a girl needs is her father."

#fauxc3st #fauxcest #1cky d@d #1cky daughter #cnc free use #cnc k!nk #dadcon #1cky princess #jess.txt #dad is on the brain bad today #neeeeed him tyvm universe ty ty ty #dad #dad x daughter #dadcest

334 notes · View notes

nuwildcat · 2 days ago

Text

Okay, so hopefully you don't mind this, but this drawing absolutely refused to leave me alone since I've seen it and the writing gods demanded a sacrifice in it's honor.

~~~~~~

Jayce has only a basic understanding of undercity politics; even then, he knows this is a bad idea.

He’s been coming down here for parts for over a year now. Which means he knows all the best places. Benzo’s is reliable. Good parts for a good price. [name]’s got interesting stuff, the issue is the quality is shit. It’s just as likely to break as it is to work. But there’s one place you only go if you’re really desperate. And Jayce is desperate.

The Machine Herald’s.

The name is odd, but from what Jayce has heard, if you need something unique, you’ll find it there. The issue is, what price will you pay for it? Because the owner is one of Silco’s.

Even with his limited knowledge, Jayce knows you don’t fuck with Silco’s people. But again, he’s desperate.

If he can get this last part, he’ll finally have something to share that even Heimerdinger can’t dismiss for Progress Day.

So he’s taking the risk — crossing the line you don’t cross as an outsider, and entering Zaun.

Ever since the weird and antagonistic truce between Vander and Silco was struck, there’s been a divide in the lanes. On one side, Vander’s people. The other, the self-proclaimed Zaunites led by Silco. There’s literally a fucking line in the middle of the square demarcating whose land is whose.

Jayce’s whole body tenses for an attack as soon as he’s stepped across it. Miraculously, his luck holds and nothing happens.

Peering at the little map Ekko has drawn for him, Jayce frowns and turns left down an alley.

Ekko had called him a crazy piltie with sludge for brains when he’d asked for directions to the Machine Herald’s, but Ekko is like twelve, so most of what he says is insults.

The building is pretty nondescript. Jayce almost walks past it, but a cog mounted over the door catches his eye. It’s been welded into its shape by combining many other smaller items, wrenches, pipes, and what looks like a set of keys.

Jayce stares up at it over the open door, trying to pick apart everything in the cog.

“You look lost pretty boy.”

Jayce jumps, too focused on the art, he missed that a man appeared in the doorway. The stranger leans nonchalantly on the door jamb, shooting Jayce an almost mocking look as the pipe dangling from his fingers slowly lets off swirls of pinkish smoke.

He’s startlingly pretty.

The combination of half-skirt, corset, and unbuttoned shirt is clearly meant to draw the eye, and draw it does. Jayce scans the man, struggling to put his finger on what it is about the man that’s so striking.

A quirked brow reminds Jayce he’s yet to say anything.

“I—uh. I’m looking for a—a part?”

The man smirks, his face only getting more attractive, which is doing nothing for Jayce’s ability to string a sentence together.

“I should hope so,” the man replies. “Otherwise you’d need to head elsewhere.” There’s a unique accent to the man’s soft voice, slightly raspy from the smoking.

Jayce chuckles, and steps closer to the shop. “I’m Jayce,” he says, holding out his hand.

The man stares at him, eyes flicking down to his outstretched hand and back up to his face, amusement growing stronger.

“Viktor,” he says, passing the pipe to his other hand before shaking Jayce’s hand. “How can I help you, Jayce?”

Jayce takes a deep breath and dives right into explaining what he’s looking for. As he talks, the other man gives him a bewildered look before a glint enters his eyes, and Jayce can tell he has Viktor’s full attention.

What follows is a three-hour discussion about mechanics that robs Jayce of half his monthly stipend, but sends him home with no less than four different parts he hasn’t been able to find anywhere else.

Viktor sees him off, once again leaning casually in the doorway with a smirk firmly in place. He’s likely overcharged Jayce for everything, but Jayce is so pleased he doesn’t even mind.

“Make sure to hurry back, pretty boy,” Viktor calls to him as Jayce walks away.

Looking back, Jayce shakes his head at the other man and shoots him a wink. He’s whistling as he makes his way back out of Zaun and the lanes. Today, was a very good day.

_______________

Jayce goes back.

It’s dumb. So very, very dumb, but he does it anyway. They’d talked for hours that first time, Viktor able to not only understand his designs but to make them better.

Not even Heimerdinger’s done that.

It doesn’t hurt that Viktor is one of the most beautiful people Jayce has ever seen. And he’s dated Mel Medarda. He knows beautiful.

There’s something special about Viktor. Fragility paired with a cocky confidence that makes warmth spark to life in Jayce’s belly when he sees the other man.

It’s all rather new for Jayce. He’s feeling out of his depth. Especially with the way that Viktor has draped himself over Jayce after shoving him unceremoniously on the couch. Legs tossed over Jayce’s, Viktor is sprawled back on the arm, ever-present pipe dangling from his fingers.

“What’s that for?” Jayce asks before he’s thought the question through.

Viktor pauses, holding in the hit he’s just taken before letting it spill from his lips, pink-tinted and smoky.

“It helps with the pain.”

Jayce eyes drift to the brace partially hidden by Viktor’s skirt. He’s only been able to catch glimpses and his curiosity is gnawing at him to see more.

Viktor stretches, knocking the skirt to the side and putting the brace and himself on display.

“See something you like, topsider?”

Jayce ignores the taunt, peering closer at the brace. “Did you make this?”

Viktor loses some of his bravado in the face of Jayce’s admiration.

“I did.”

It’s a gorgeous piece of engineering, and the forge master in Jayce wants a better look.

“May I?” He asks, fingers hovering over Viktor’s leg.

This time there’s no false bravado. Viktor nods and watches him like a hawk.

Gently, Jayce lifts the leg, turning it a bit to see how the various parts of the brace move. Viktor doesn’t fight him, relaxed and loose in his grasp. The brace is a seamless creation. Jayce is highly impressed, so he says so.

“It’s beautiful.”

Viktor lets out a noise that makes Jayce turn from the brace despite how much he wants to study it. A Cheshire grin has spread on the other man’s face, and there’s a glint in his eyes that speaks of danger.

“Jayce Talis. Are you flirting with me?”

Jayce freezes, not sure he could cobble together a response even if he could get his tongue working with Viktor looking at him like that.

One moment Viktor’s sprawled like a satisfied house cat, the next he’s straddling Jayce, arms draped over Jayce’s shoulders.

“You like?” he purrs.

Jayce’s brain has stopped working. He’s pretty sure for a second there be blacked out, because now his hands are holding Viktor’s waist, gripping the corset that must act as a second brace.

Oh fuck. Jayce stares, unable to get what he’s seeing to make sense. His hands—his hands almost span Viktor’s tiny waist.

For a moment, there’s just static in his brain and then something clicks. His brain lights up, and he squeezes.

“Oh fuck,” he murmurs. Still staring.

Viktor chuckles breathily, his finger threading through Jayce’s hair and then pulling, yanking Jayce’s head back. Jayce grunts, tingles racing down his spine as heat pools in his belly.

“Careful pretty boy,” Viktor whispers, leaning down so that Jayce’s eyes cross as he tries to watch Viktor’s lips. “You’re playing with fire.”

Jayce is pretty sure he’d like to be burned.

“You look like you don’t have a clue what to do,” Viktor murmurs, lashes dipping prettily.

“I mean, technically?” Jayce blurts out. Viktor pulls back, looking down at him confused. Jayce shrugs. “Inexperienced? No. This particular situation? Also no.”

Viktor cocks his head in confusion, eyeing Jayce like he’s a specimen Viktor means to study. Again that wicked smile spreads and Jayce’s heart thumps in excitement.

Leaning down so his breath ghosts over Jayce’s lips, Viktor says, “Whoever let you wander down here should have known better.”

Jayce’s mouth drops open, anticipation and want bubbling up inside him. Just a little closer.

“Piltover’s loss,” Viktor whispers. Then he kisses Jayce.

Zaun vik and Jayce

#arcane #jayvik #my fic #jayvik fanfic #jayvik fanart #arcane fanfic #arcane fanart #pretty art #this art made me go a little feral #nemi proceeded to tease me #and this is the result #zaunite viktor #jayce in way over his head #but don't worry he's having fun #ficlets #truly this art is stunning and it deserves a 40k fic to go along with it

17K notes · View notes

kdollikesthighs · 2 days ago

Text

One way ticket: part 1

Itzy Yeji x m reader This is the first part of a mini-series I'm trying out to get me back into writing by myself. This part is all fluff, no smut here yet. Later parts will have smut, so stick around for that? Word count: 2,344

The faint mumblings of the station’s announcement system were humming in the background. The air was cool and carried the metallic tang of distant rain. The kind of atmosphere that makes you think about the bittersweet moments in life. You tightened your grip on the handle of your suitcase, plastic handle digging into your palm as you checked the train schedule for the third time that evening. Despite what your anxiety was telling you, you weren't running late. In fact, you had arrived an hour earlier than you needed to—anxious, restless, and uncertain about the journey ahead. The train would be here any minute now.

The one-way ticket in your pocket felt heavier than its weight in paper should have allowed. The destination printed on it was one you had hoped never to return to: the town where everything had started—and where you had left everything behind. But here you were, standing on this station platform, waiting for the train that would take you back.

The overhead speakers crackled to life, announcing the imminent arrival of your train.You adjusted the strap of your backpack, your heart beating faster with every passing second. The platform wasn’t crowded, but there were enough people milling about to make you feel uneasy. Couples whispered to each other, families struggled with their luggage, and a few solo travelers stared blankly at their phones.

That’s when you saw her.

At first, it was just a fleeting sense of familiarity, a trick of the mind in a sea of strangers. This wasn’t your hometown, she wouldn’t be here. But then she turned her head, and your chest tightened as recognition hit you like a freight train. Yeji.

She was leaning against one of the station’s old iron pillars. Her hair was loose, flowing down her shoulders in soft waves, and she wore a grey sweater over a simple white shirt and black jeans. She looked… as pretty as when you left. Like a memory brought to life, sharper and more vivid than you could ever remember.

For a moment, you thought about turning away, pretending this couldn’t be real. But then her eyes met yours, and there was no escaping it anymore. Her expression froze, her lips parting slightly as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. You felt the same.

She recovered faster than you did, her posture straightening as she began walking toward you. Your feet, however, seemed rooted to the spot.

She only voices a single word, but it's the way she says your name that cuts through any illusions you had of avoiding your past. It was a sound you hadn’t heard in years, yet it struck a chord deep within you.

You cleared your throat, trying to mask the chaos inside. "Yeji. Hi."

Her pace slowed as she came to a stop a few feet away. Up close, you could see the subtle changes time had made to her face. She looked… more mature, more assured. The playful energy she used to radiate was still hiding in there, but it was controlled now, grounded in a way that made her seem even more beautiful.

"I can’t believe it’s you," she said, her tone equal parts surprise and apprehension.

You managed a forced smile. "Yeah. Me neither."

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with unspoken words and memories that neither of you seemed ready to confront. Yeji was the first to break the tension.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her head tilting slightly as she studied you. Her voice was softer now, almost hesitant.

You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. How much you had the right to reveal. "I… I’m heading back to town. For a while."

Her brows knitted together in a faint frown, shock ever present on her face. as if those were the last words she expected you to say. "Back to town? Why?"

"My aunt," you said, the words feeling heavy in your mouth. "She passed away. I’m handling the arrangements and everything."

Her expression softened, and she looked down briefly before meeting your gaze again. "I’m sorry. She was always so kind to me."

"Yeah," you said, your throat tightening. "She was."

Another silence stretched between you, and you couldn’t tell if it was more awkward or painful. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, glancing toward the train that had come to a stop behind you.

"Are you taking this one?" she asked, nodding toward the train.

"Yeah," you replied, confirming your destination. "Last one heading that way tonight."

"Same.”

You weren’t supposed to be surprised at this. For all you knew, she still lived where you left her. You couldn’t help but be shocked nonetheless. You were about to spend the next several hours on the same train. Together. Your stomach churned at the thought. This wasn’t how you’d imagined seeing her again, if you ever saw her again at all.

She glanced down at her ticket, then back at you. "Well… I guess we’d better get on."

You nodded, though your feet felt like they were moving on autopilot as you followed her toward the train.

The compartment you entered was relatively empty, its rows of seats illuminated by the harsh overhead lights. Yeji walked down the aisle and chose a seat by the window, setting her bag on the floor beside her. You hesitated, not sure if it was alright, before sitting down in the seat across from hers. It felt like the most natural thing to do, and yet, your heart was pounding as if you’d just committed a crime.

The train gave a low groan as it began to pull out of the station, the rhythm of the wheels on the tracks quickly settling into a steady cadence. It was the one thing keeping you calm. You stared out the window, your mind racing with a thousand thoughts you couldn’t untangle.

Yeji broke the silence again. "So… how have you been?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Uh… I’ve been okay. Busy, I guess. Work, life. You know how it is."

She raised an eyebrow. "Do I?"

Ouch. She had all the right to call you out. You winced at her response. "Right. Sorry. That was…"

"Generic?" she interrupted, her lips curving into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. It was performative. She wasn’t going to take any of your standoffish bullshit.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair halfheartedly. "Yeah. Generic."

She nodded, her gaze drifting toward the window, clearly disappointed. For a while, we sat in silence, the sound of the train’s wheels filling the void again. You couldn’t help but glance at her, noticing the way her fingers tapped lightly against her knee, a habit you remembered all too well. She was nervous, too. Uneasy, even.

"I… I didn’t expect to see you," you admitted, taking your responsibility to break the silence this time.

She turned back to you, her expression distant. Her guard was up. "Neither did I."

The weight of her gaze made it hard to breathe, and for a moment, you couldn’t help but think about all the things you wanted to say. But the words wouldn’t come. You wouldn’t allow them to come. You had no right. Instead, you looked away, focusing on the blur of the dark countryside outside the window.

She sat across from you, leaning slightly against the window, her chin resting on her hand as her gaze followed the passing darkness outside. The faint glow from the overhead light illuminated her features—the soft curve of her cheek, the sharp line of her jaw. She was both familiar and unfamiliar, a memory brought vividly back to life.

“So,” she continued, not letting another silence fill the void between you. “How long are you staying?”

You hesitated. You didn’t have the answer to that question. “I’m not sure. However long it takes to handle everything with my aunt’s estate.”

She nodded but didn’t look at you. Her fingers played idly with the strap of her bag, another one of her habits you remembered all too well. It struck you how surreal this was—sharing a train compartment with her after all these years. You were two people carrying the weight of a shared past, both of you struggling with how to unpack it.

“And after that?” she asked. “Are you planning to stay?”

You shook your head with uncertainty. “No. I… I don’t think so.”

Her eyes drifted downwards slowly as her tensed shoulders slumped ever so slightly. She turned to face you, her brows furrowing slightly. “So it’s temporary.”

“Yeah.”

Yeji studied you for a moment, her dark cat-like eyes sharp and assessing. It was unnerving how easily she could see through you, even now. She didn’t say anything, just nodded and went back to looking out the window. You could feel the distance between you two grow, as real and unyielding as the space separating your seats.

After a while she spoke up again. Her tone was casual, almost offhanded. “You’ve changed.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Have I?”

“Yeah. You’re quieter.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Maybe I’ve just run out of things to say.”

She gave you a look—half amused, half skeptical. “That’s hard to imagine. You used to talk my ear off.”

“Things are different now,” you said, shame undermining your volume.

Her expression shifted, and for a moment, she looked like she wanted to say something. But she stayed silent, staring out the window again. The train slowed down as we approached a station, and the sound of the brakes screeching filled the air.

You wanted to ask her about her life, about what she’d been doing all this time, but the questions felt intrusive, like prying open a door to a room you no longer had the right to enter. Still, the curiosity gnawed at you. She was here, sitting across from you, and you couldn’t ignore the pull she had on you.

“What about you?” You asked finally. “How have you been?”

She shrugged at your question, her fingers still toying with the strap of her bag. “I’ve been fine. Busy. Work keeps me on my toes.”

You nodded, unsure how to respond. The conversation felt stilted, like you were two strangers making polite small talk. But you weren’t strangers—never were. There was too much history between you.

“And what about…” you hesitated, unsure if you should even go there. “What about everything else? Family, friends?”

Yeji glanced at you, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Like a sense of reassurance that you still remembered everyone you left. “Everyone’s good. Life goes on, you know?”

“Yeah, it does,” you said, though the words felt hollow. Life did go on, but it had a way of leaving certain things behind—people, memories, opportunities.

The train picked up speed again, the lights outside streaking into a blur. The silence between you stretched out, not quite comfortable but not unbearable either anymore. You could feel her presence like a magnet, drawing you in despite the invisible wall she’d built around herself. You wanted to break through it, to reach her, but you didn’t know how.

“So, you’re back for your aunt,” she said, her voice cutting through your thoughts. “That must be hard.”

“It is,” you admitted. “She was… she was always there for me. One of the few people I could count on.”

Yeji’s expression softened, and she nodded. “She was a good woman. She always made me feel welcome, even when…” She trailed off, her gaze dropping to her hands. “Even when things weren’t so great between us.”

You swallowed hard, the guilt washing over you. Your aunt had adored Yeji, treated her like family. She was devastated when you left, upset you’d leave this life behind for stupid reasons, but she never stopped sending letters for birthdays. Trying to maintain contact.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice crumbling. “She had a way of making people feel that way. She cared, you know? A lot."

Yeji didn’t respond, but you could see the emotions playing across her face—nostalgia, sadness, maybe even a hint of anger. You wanted to say something to make it better, to bridge the gap between the two of you, but you didn’t know where to start.

The train entered another tunnel, and the lights in the compartment flickered slightly. In the brief darkness, you could feel the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on you. You wanted to reach out, but you held back. You didn’t think you had the right—not after everything you’d done.

When the lights stabilized again, Yeji was looking at you, her expression wavering. Her voice grew quiet, almost pleading. “Do you ever think about it?”

“About what?”

“About what could have been. If things had gone differently. If you hadn’t left.”

The elephant in the room. You never gave her any explanation before, and you struggled to find the right response now. Did you think about it? Every damn day. But saying that out loud felt too raw, too vulnerable.

“Yeah,” you said finally. Maybe it was time to be vulnerable. After removing yourself from her life without being able to forget her, that was the least you owed her. “I think about it.”

She nodded , her gaze dropping to her lap in understanding. “Me too.”

The confession hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. For a moment, it felt like the years of distance and silence had melted away, leaving only the two of you and the fragile connection you’d once shared. But the moment passed, and the wall between you was back. There was nothing you could say.

The train rumbled on, carrying you closer to a destination you weren't sure you were ready to face. But for the first time in years, you felt a flicker of hope—fragile and tentative, but real. And you knew that no matter what happened, you couldn’t let this chance slip away. Not again.

#kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #m reader #male reader #kpop smut #smut #yeji smut #itzy smut

347 notes · View notes