#oddly this feels comforting... i was going to feel Some Sort of Way at nothing coming close to rev but this kind of does without it being-

[dirtyoldmanhole]

I know it's not kosher to constantly say one game reminds me so much of another but holy hell linura reminds me so much of (yrmr)valla i'm flabbergasted. mentally jumping up and down at the constant WATER MOTIFS and the styles of ruins that feel like they're floating in the mists.

elden ring really was the absolute best game to larp as possessed!gunter lmao.

[madamechrissy]

Well, are you mine?

Pairings: Sukuna x fem reader

Summary- You're Yuuji Itadori's best friend since forever, and his older brother Sukuna is a grade A ass to you. After a nasty breakup with your ex, you text Yuuji who's out for the night, he gives you the go ahead to stay at his place. But it's only Sukuna there, and he is oddly comforting? You've had it bad for him forever, but little do you know, so has he, even if he doesn't show it, because Sukuna thinks Yuuji loves you (ahem, he's WAY wrong) Porn w/feelings, best friend's brother trope, Duo POVS

CW- Modern Sukuna, he's a gamer and tsundere af lol, this is SMUTTY asf, loss of virginity (don't mention much abt it aside from reader is one) Sukuna is ROUGH lol, oral sex (m and f recieving) overstimulation, dirty talk, Sukuna calls reader brat and slutty, lowkey breed kink, possessiveness, marathon sex lol. Sukuna is BAD AT FEELINGS lmaooo, but he whimpers? Reader- 20, Sukuna 25- 6.4k WC!

Comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoy this one!

You’re walking out in that pathetic excuse for a tank top and the most revealing shorts that morning when Sukuna sees you, peeking up from his monitor, proceeding to get sniped like some damn noob when he sees your nipples perk up through the material. He curses loudly, slamming off his headset then, you look at him in surprise, lips parted just so.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, he glares at you then, standing up as he takes you in, irritated you have such an effect.

“What are you doing here? Yuuji isn’t even home until tonight.” He says with a glare, ruby eyes glinting, you tense just a bit, Sukuna is tall and intimidating, and constantly an asshole.

“He said it was fine, here’s the text.” You swipe up on your phone, he snorts as he looks at it.

“You have a teddy bear case? Stupid.” Your eyes narrow in irritation when he picks up the phone, scoffing as he sees the texts. “God. What a simp you’re making him.”

“What now? Am not even! He’s my best friend, not that you’d understand, you don’t even have any. You’re such an ass.” You snatch your phone back from him, earning his scowl.

“You’re an annoying brat, y’know that? If Yuuji didn’t simp so badly I wouldn’t have to deal with you.”

“Whatever! Ugh.”

“Why’d you need to come here anyway? Boyfriend piss you off?” You sigh, crossing your arms, just pressing your breasts up more for his view.

“He cheated on me.” Sukuna pauses then, hearing the hurt in your voice, seeing it on your pretty face, annoyingly pretty face.

“Shit.” Is all he manages, and you sigh, looking at him then, emotions in the back of your throat.

“That was mean of me to say, that you have no friends. I know you do… I’m sorry I said it.” His mouth opens, then closes, his brows lowering.

“You’re always bitchy to me, it doesn’t surprise me.”

“And you’re always an ass to me.”

“Tch, I’m not gonna fawn over you like your little best friend does, if that’s what you mean.”

“No, every time I stay or hang out you tell me you can’t wait for me to leave, or are just mean as shit.” Sukuna rolls his eyes, looking up at the ceiling then, it’s true he is mean to you constantly.

Every time you stay, he’s picking on you or making snide remarks, to the point he’s made you cry sometimes, and then felt like shit. Nothing was worse than seeing you cry, but he didn’t know what else to do, because you’re haunting his every dream, even last night he was stroking his cock to a stupid Instagram picture of you.

The thing is, Sukuna wants you, and wants you badly, so much it makes him pathetic, his little brother’s best friend, who Sukuna knows has had some stupid crush on since forever. Sukuna’s only five years older than you, but twenty just seems too young, you seem too inexperienced, too innocent and sweet, the last thing you needed was him around you.

And he knew you had some little crush on him, most of knowing him, you used to literally make doe eyes at him, he found it sort of cute at first, but now you’re a whole woman, walking around in nothing half the time. He was happy you got a boyfriend, despite the odd clench in his chest from hearing it, only because he wouldn’t have to see you as much.

So, the best course of action?

Make you hate him, and he thinks it’s worked, you don’t make doe eyes, you’re not fawning over him, or pathetically trying to flirt. No, you’re just as mean to him as he is to you now, god and you scowling and flipping him off? That turns him on more than fucking anything, unfortunately.

“Fuck him.” Sukuna says, and you’re shocked for a moment, as you stare up at the guy you’ve had it bad for since you can remember, Yuuji’s older brother, you thought he was so cool, you were always coming over more and more to see him.

Yuuji was the best friend in the world, so it wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy hanging out with him, it’s just your mind kept wandering, Sukuna was always a grump, but something shifted in the past couple of years, especially this year. He was downright mean and nasty to you, making jokes, pinching on you, ruffling your hair, rolling his eyes whenever you were near.

If his goal was to make you hate him, you don't, you just really can't stand him. Can't stand seeing him shirtless seeing the tattoos around his biceps, down his strong chest, hate seeing his stupid abs that have abs!?! Why does he have to be such an attractive ass, you don't know, but your crush hasn't gone away.

It's worse.

Last night you'd seen Sukuna was here when you'd used the key Yuuji let you have, he was crashed out on the couch sprawled out, movie ended, you'd covered him with a blanket and given him a pillow. In his sleep he almost looked sweet, you thought, having slept in the guest room, he'd swirled in your mind, your boyfriend having cheated hurt, but thankfully you hadn't taken that step with him…

No, you stupidly still wanted Sukuna as your first.

As if that would happen, he hates you so much clearly, and you have seen the girls he brought over, older and more experienced, more confident and worldly. You weren't there yet, especially when the man you're wanting doesn't see you as anything but a little brat.

“Sukuna, are you comforting me?” Sukuna scoffs.

“Of course I'm not, but also… he's a fucking idiot. You don't deserve someone who does that shit.” You blink back tears then, stepping to him, hugging him.

Sukuna freezes, as he inhales that scent, something floral and irritatingly delicious, your soft breasts pressing against his chest, your nipples taut under the tank top. You're tiptoeing, holding him around his chest, he grimaces, wanting to pick you up and drag you to his room, but he shoves at you.

“Annoying brat, off me god.” You shake your head, snuggling closer, when he realizes you're crying. It annoys him how you wrench his heart when you look up, tears falling out of your stupidly pretty eyes.

Did you have to affect him this way?

“Thank you, Kuna.”

“Don't call me that, ugh.” He places his huge hands at your waist to shove you off, but you gasp at it, taking over your waist, burning your skin then. He falters, his breath coming faster as he holds you there, just a little off of him, eyes going to your lips, tempting him to no end. “Stupid nickname.” He grumbles.

“I… you used to not mind it. What happened to make you hate me so much?” You whisper, hands slipping up his chest, so much revealed in the soft white shirt he's wearing, you feel his heart thudding under your hand.

“Don't hate you, just you're annoying.”

“How?”

“Just being here.”

“So I annoy you just existing?”

“Yes.” He speaks through clenched teeth, when you lean back, and he views your body. “Why do you fucking dress like that!?”

“It's comfy. What do you care, Kuna?”

“Stop it with the stupid nickname. Your… your body annoys me.” He is whispering now, hands slipping down your hips, you let this little sound out from the back of your throat that destroys him then.

“My body, what not your type? Don't wanna see it?”

“You're so fucking stupid.”

“How can a body piss you off? Ah!” Sukuna had you picked up now right on the kitchen counter, your breaths come in pants at getting handled like this, his big hands on your thighs, his eyes boring into you.

“All I can think about is all the ways I wanna fucking ruin you for any stupid boy you'll ever meet.” Your heart thuds in your chest, blinking rapidly as if you're in a fucking dream.

“Wh-what?” He moans softly, rough pads of his fingers slipping up your thighs, watching the goosebumps rise everywhere.

“Thinking how good your little pussy tastes, how pretty your tits must be, how your face would look fucked out.” You're moaning out loud when he finds you then, lips hovering just an inch from yours, he moans when he finds your slick cunt dripping, he laughs then, softly. “That wet for me? Haven't even done shit.”

“Shut up and touch me, please, Sukuna.” The way that his name sounds from your lips? Your eyes dilating? Your wet cunt on his fingers? His cock starts throbbing from touching you, watching your face when he shoves a finger in your hole, you grip him like a vise.

“Anyone ever made you cum? Any of your dumb boys?” You grip his wrist when his fingers curl in your gummy walls, finding that spot instantly and pressing on it, making you gasp as you gush down his fingers. “Fuck you're wet, why are you so stupid tight, fuckin feel you…”

“Don't know… I… Kuna, m’a v-virgin, ngh!” He yanks away then, panic on his face. “Don't stop, please.”

“A virgin, how the fuck?” You whine out as he backs off, sucking you off his fingers, his cheeks moaning, those crimson eyes dilated, the hottest thing you have ever seen. “Why do you taste so good? God I can’t stand you.”

“Kuna, please… just…”

“No, I won’t do that, I sure the fuck won’t take that. How are you even…”

“I’ve been waiting.” You murmur, earning his brows raised, barring you on either side with his strong arms, leaning close.

“You what now?”

“For you, stupid.” Sukuna cups your face with one hand, hot as your overheated cheek, so close your breaths mingle.

“No way, I’m not doing that, it’s bad enough I even touched you, now you’ll be all I can think about, annoying little brat ruining me.” His words hit, your pussy throbbing around nothing then, you lean your head and kiss his palm, melting him as you do. “Don’t do shit like that.”

“Do you want me?” You ask, thighs on either side of him.

“What do you think?” He grabs your hips, and you feel him, huge and hard against you over the fabric of his pants and your shorts, he grabs you tight, you’re looking at those lips, usually in a smirk or a sarcastic grin, so pouty right now, begging for your kisses.

“Doesn’t have to be anything serious-”

“How can you say that? No, it would be.” You would end him the moment he got inside you, he already knows it, tasting your sweet arousal on his tongue, looking at the color your cheeks are tinged, imagining your face as his cock leaks precum against his boxers.

“I can be… casual…” You’re grinding on him, you’ve never felt this, the longing for him in this way, you’re jutting your chin up, trying to kiss him, but he pulls his face away, shaking his head. “Kiss me.”

“No way.” He won’t be able to stop, at least at this point he can rip himself off of you, taking several breaths, turning away from how delectable you look sitting with your thighs spread on his counter.

“I’ve seen all the women you bring over the years, why not me? You clearly are casual about it?” You hate the emotions in your throat. “Am I not…”

“If you say some dumb shit like you’re not attractive, I swear you’ll piss me off. Look at you.”

“You won’t look at me.”

“I can’t right now, I won’t just fuck you, especially your… first I… can’t. Just drop it, just forget it even happened.” You jump off the counter then, breathing fast, heart nearly pounding out of your chest.

“I’m sorry I asked.” He curses as you run off to the room, his head is spinning from your scent, your taste, the images now burned in his brain, your slick still on his fingertips.

He could never just take your virginity, what if he hurt you? What if he hurt you emotionally, he sure his entire life has never had a real girlfriend, he’s had hookups and booty calls, that’s it. And for the past year he’s pictured you half the time when he’s played with himself, when he’s slept with them, but he can’t do that, you deserved better than him surely.

You’re all dressed now, you stand there and look at him, he hates the tears that have streaked down your face, your bag on your shoulder. “You don’t have to leave, just leave me alone.” He says then, and you laugh without humor, shaking your head.

“I can’t face you after that, too embarrassing. Don’t even tell Yuuji I came over, please.” You go to leave and Sukuna stops you, a hand on the knob above you, his hard body towering behind you, you feel so small next to him, god who didn’t?

Sukuna runs his fingers down your spine, you shiver from the sensation, he leans close, his lips against your ear. “You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“No?” You look at him then, noses touching, so close.

“Everyone wants me, it’s fine brat.” He smirks, you glare then, smacking at his hand on the knob and pulling open the door.

“Fuck you, Sukuna.” You say, he grins at you like the asshole he is, but when you shut the door behind you, you don’t see him cursing himself, forehead resting on the door, his stomach sick.

Why’d he do that?

Why couldn’t he just give you what you wanted, what he wants so badly?

He’s terrified to disappoint you, but he already has.

*****

Two Weeks Later

“Please stay for dinner!? Please, please, please!” Yuuji begs you, literally on his hands and knees bowing, you giggle, shaking your head.

“No, I can’t… your brother-”

“He won’t bother you, he just yells at the game, it’s fine! Never used to bother you, and I miss you.” He looks up with sweet honey eyes, making you sigh then, nodding, he jumps up all excited. “Perfect, I need to show you the recipe my brother Cho showed me!”

“How is he? I miss him.” You say softly, Yuji’s other brother lived far away now, he was a sweetheart, much unlike Sukuna.

“He’s doing so well, his band is so popular now. I’ll tell him you said hi! You know he thought you were so pretty.”

“Cho did? No way.”

“Well who doesn’t, even Sukuna does.” You pause then, faltering as you look at the kitchen, where he’d had a long, thick finger inserted in your little hole. Where he’d tasted you.

“Um, I doubt all that. He hates me.” Yuuji shakes his head, checking his phone then. “Your girl?”

“We’re not dating yet, just talking, but we are going to a movie tonight. You know her, yeah?”

“Yes, she was so sweet in school.”

Sukuna walks in as Yuuji shows you their texts, his eyes darting to you, taking in your little pleated skirt and top with some dumb anime character you liked on it, you looked fucking adorable. So cute he hates it, so he scowls at you, earning your scowl right back, as Yuuji looks between you both.

“Woah, calm down. Sukuna, I have a date!” Sukuna’s heart drops, Yuuji surely would be good enough for you, he’s sweet (annoyingly sweet) and devoted. Choso and Yuuji were sweet, he’s not sure how he got all the asshole of the family, but he supposed it came from taking care of them both, being the oldest.

He should be a little relieved, you’d leave him alone now, right? You wouldn’t give him that look, he would finally know you’re untouchable, he clears his throat now, hating that his heart feels like it’s ripped in half. Just two weeks ago, the last time he saw you, he’d felt your heat, he’d had you begging for him, but he turned you down.

He did this.

“Finally, you two are going on a date, huh?” He says, trying to act casual, and Yuuji snorts, shaking his head, as your eyes go wide.

“Us, no! We’re too close, we’d never ruin our friendship. Though I sure asked her out a lot in school.”

“You tried.” You say with a little smile, as Sukuna stands there dumbfounded. “You’d never have liked dating me, I hate your zombie movies too much.”

“You have the worst taste, it’s true. Now, Sukuna, it's this girl…” Yuuji starts going on, and Sukuna can barely hold his composure, as he shows him a picture of her, as he’s rambling.

He was convinced his brother was in love with you, it’s a huge reason he has pushed you so far away, he’d never dishonor him like that, even if he knew you didn’t feel the same. He struggles to focus now, as you look down nervously, as if you could hear his thoughts, feel what he wants so badly.

“Thought you simped for the brat here.” He says, Yuuji laughs.

“No, she’s just a beautiful best friend.” He kisses your cheek and you smile warmly at him, it lights up your face, doing the annoying thing to his heart again. “If you’re not so mean, maybe she’ll stay for dinner.”

“Me, mean? Never.” You and Yuuji both roll your eyes at him.

“I don’t have to stay, Sukuna, I was just stopping by.” Your words break him down, remembering how mean he was, and he didn’t apologize, why should he though?

He should have said something.

You’re feeling his gaze on you, as he runs a hand through his pastel locks, the same shade as Yuuji but his are longer, messier, he has a little stubble on his cheeks you don’t remember seeing. As you further look, you see the dark circles under his eyes, how tense he is when he opens his mouth, just to close it, and re open it again, as if he doesn’t know what to say.

Sukuna is… on edge?

“You can stay, what do I care? Used to your ass around anyway.” He walks to his room then, and Yuuji excitedly talks to you, but your mind is in that room, with that asshole of a man.

The dinner is awkward as fuck, and when Yuuji leaves to get ready for his date, you hastily start washing your dish, you feel his gaze on you, he’s leaned back in the chair with his legs wide. You don’t dare say a word to him, you’re too mortified still, too confused, his one touch with no kiss has done more than anything you’ve experienced so far.

Awakened shit that was already there.

Made it worse.

“So you two never…” Sukuna trails off, leaving the question open, you look back at him as you dry your hand with a dish towel.

“Never what, dated? Of course not.”

“I thought the kid had it bad for you.” His voice is quiet, you clear your throat, shaking your head then.

“No, I tried to tell you, just friends. Yuuji is sweet and I love him, but I’ve never felt that way… like I…” Like with Sukuna. “Yeah, anyway, the girl is so sweet. I’ll head out when he does, don’t worry.”

Sukuna’s standing next to you before you can blink, he’s wearing this black dress shirt unbuttoned just so, revealing too much of his strong chest, pecs that are ridiculous, your eyes keep darting to it. To those collar bones, the black lines running along, making you wonder just where his tattoos stop, you physically back up, looking away then, unable to even look in his eyes.

“Running away, brat? Scared?” He raises a brow, you blink then, shaking your head. “Yeah you are.”

“Scared of what?”

“I’m ready guys! Oh… are you two gonna… hang out?” Yuuji asks with a little smile, you’re blushing then, shaking your head.

“Hang out with him? What, no.” Sukuna’s jaw clenches now, you smile as you feel how mad he is. “What?”

“What’s so wrong with me?”

“You’re an ass.”

“You’re a-”

“Okay, dumb question, don’t kill each other.” Yuuji does a little spin then, showing off his outfit, you giggle. “How do I look?”

“Amazing!” He kisses your cheek and hugs you then, just the sight of that alone has Sukuna infuriated, imagining kissing you.

What do your lips feel like?

Would they end him?

“She’s staying, she’s gonna… game with me.” Sukuna says then, you and Yuuji both look at him with shock. “Yeah, brat wants some lessons on Call of Duty.”

“Lessons? You game?” You want to burst out in laughter, the only video games you play involve very hot men on your phone.

Sukuna eyes you though, so intense it’s hard to breathe, you smile then, a little shy almost, realizing what he wants even though he’s not saying it. He wants to spend time with you, this shithead, this asshole of a man, he’s… he’s trying to express that he wants you to stay. And, to stay alone with him.

“I do wanna learn though, plus we should try to get along, hmm?” You look right at Sukuna, he’s not smirking or grinning, he’s vulnerable for a moment. His full lips parted just so in surprise.

“This makes me so happy. I love you both so much! If he pisses you off too bad, just text me.”

“What would you do, kid?” He demands.

“I’d… well I’d tell you to be nice.”

“I love you too.” You tell Yuuji then, and he runs off now to his date, leaving you alone in the kitchen again, with Sukuna. “Video games, huh?”

“Video games.” He answers, and before you know it, he’s right in front of you, gently holding you by your face, in a sweet manner you’d never think he could. “I want you, fuck I’ve wanted you for a long time now… but I thought you…” He’s trailing off, words escaping him.

“You thought Yuuji loved me, and you couldn’t do that.” You answer, everything starting to click now.

“That and you irritate the shit out of me. I don’t like what I feel.”

“What do you feel, Sukuna?” You step forward, arms wrapping around his thick waist then, he gulps visibly.

“Too much.” Is all he says, eyeing your lips hungrily.

“Maybe I feel too much. It’s scary, yeah?”

“I’m not scared of shit.” He’s leaning closer, you’re aching for him to just kiss you, licking your lower lip, tantalizing him as it turns glossy.

“If you’re not scared, then why are you so afraid to kiss me?” You whisper the words, his eyes flutter shut, a hand gripping your hair then at the nape of the neck, pulling it just so.

“Because I won’t stop there, I won’t stop till I’ve kissed every part of your body, till I’ve licked every part, until you’re cumming all over me.” Your little whimper from the back of your throat ruins him, he slams his lips down then, and it’s over.

Your kiss is messy, it’s desperate and sloppy, your tongues dripping saliva as he lifts you suddenly, you cling to him, thighs squeezing narrow hips, arms around his neck, your hand drifts through his undercut just so. He’s moaning as he kisses you so brutally, carrying you until you’re against a wall, pressing you there, you gasp for a breath while he starts licking down your throat.

“Kuna…” You’re arching against him, clinging tightly as he bites your throat, his big hands gripping your ass and squeezing.

“Hate that nickname. Hate how much I like it. Fuck you.”

You scowl, pulling away. “Fuck me for what?”

“Being so stupidly pretty. Driving me crazy forever. Fuck you for tasting so good, too.” You’re opening your mouth to protest, but he’s already carrying you to his bed, unceremoniously plopping you down on it, yanking off your top then, your breasts heave as your breaths come quickly, and he eyes you. “Fuck you for perfect tits.”

“Fuck you for being a dick.” You counter, but he’s gripping your breasts in his huge hands, squeezing them, sucking on your nipples, your hands enwrap in his pastel locks as he looks up at you, saliva strings dripping from your breasts. “Fuck that… feels s’good…”

“Fuck your sexy little moans, too.” You can’t be mad, not when he’s got your skirt off you, not when he’s ripping your panties to shreds, not when he eyes your pussy hungrily, shaking his head as he nips your inner thigh. “And fuck if you don’t have the most perfect pussy, what the…”

“Kuna, you’re c-crazy.” You whisper, he laughs then, breath tickling your cunt as he parts your plump lips, inhaling you like some psycho, burying his face. “Kuna!”

“Shut up, brat. Gonna ruin you for anyone.” He’s talking to your pussy it seems now, strong fingers pressing your thighs apart as he swipes a stripe up between your lips, licking you all the way from your hole to your clit, the sensation has your hips jerking, which he pins in place. “Ah- ah brat, stay still.”

“S’too much… I… oh my god.” Sukuna is devouring your pussy, there’s no other term for it, the way he laps at your pussy with his stupidly long tongue, his eyes bright red when they look at you, when he flicks it to your clit. You’re soaking him, hands pulling at his hair, earning his groan against you. “Wh-what… you’re… I…”

“Shut up, brat, I want to hear you cum, not run your mouth.” You should be offended, but you can’t be, not when he’s fucking your velvety walls with his tongue now, pinching your clit with two of his fingers, the stimulation far too much, you feel it, the pressure building in your core, spreading.

“Kuna!” You’re screaming that nickname, he doesn’t care in fact he loves hearing it, loves your pussy drooling around his tongue, he feels your walls tighten around his wet muscle then, looking up at your face, mouth open wide in an O, eyes rolled back, your hands yanking his hair out, and he knows you’re cumming for him.

He’s grinding his cock on the mattress, aching to be inside you, but he also wants to make you beg for it, wants to make you pathetic for him, only him. You’re cumming so blinding, stars bursting everywhere behind your eyelids, your body convulsing as you’re gushing all over his handsome face. You feel his grin against you when he pulls back his tongue, slipping two fingers inside.

“Hear how slutty she is, huh? So slutty thought you were a good girl.” He huffs, you’re reeling from cumming so hard when he quickly finds your g spot, as if he knew your body forever. “Can’t talk? Pathetic.”

“F-fuck… you I… it’s too much!” You whine, he’s scissoring those two fingers in and out of your now soppy little hole, you do hear it, the wetness so fucking loud, he’s licking your clit now, sucking it into his mouth, you’re pushing over the edge again. “Both!? I c-can’t!”

“Mmm, you can, cum again, pretty slut. Lemme drink it.” You’re trying to close your thighs, but he forces them open, smacking at one, shaking his head. “Again, y’can do it.”

“S’too much…” You’re whining over and over, it is so much pleasure you have trouble comprehending a thought, when he crooks his fingers in your gooey walls, and sucks your clit again, you’re shattering.

“Mmm, there you go, you can do it can’t ya?” He’s cooing to you, smirk on his features, that are coated in your slick.

“Please!” You’re yanking him up, he chuckles a bit, letting you, hovering over you with his strong arms, as he wipes your chin with one hand.

“You’re fucking drooling, god, fucked out already? Can you handle me?” He raises a brow, you want to retort, but you are fucked out, you came more than you ever have, now you’re opening your mouth and closing it. “Can’t talk, stupid brat?”

“F-fuck off… ass…” You manage, earning him more hard for you, kissing you deeply, you taste yourself then, but even more when he shoves his fingers in your pussy, scooping out more arousal, shoving them in your mouth.

“Suck them like a good girl, there ya fuckin go, pretty little slut.” You’re in tears from overstimulation as you suck him eagerly. “So ya can follow directions, ha… didn’t know that mouth could shut.”

“Shut it.” You whisper, pulling back with a pop, he falters at your seductive words, shaking his head.

“You sucked dick?”

“N-no.” You admit, he sighs then.

“Look, maybe not the first time.”

“Sukuna, are you being caring?” You tease, his brows lower, lips pressing in a firm line.

“No! Just… you need a lot of workup and… will you stop smiling like that!? Stop looking at me that way.”

“Like what?” You tease, hands unbuttoning him shakily, he pulls back then, taking a breath as he looks down at your pretty body, and you reveal more of his chiseled frame.

“Like… that. Like you’re…”

“In love with you?” His jaw tenses again.

“Shut it, now.”

“I am, stupid ass. Don’t know why.” You sit up when he stands, eagerly unbuttoning his pants, his heart races like he’s the virgin, brain short circuiting when you slip them down, his boxers following.

“I… you… shouldn’t…” He doesn’t remember what he was saying, you’re too sexy, too pretty, your words he’s never thought he’d hear. “You don’t love me. Don’t say it.”

“I do, and I will say it.”

“Then why did you ask for… casual!?”

You’re blushing when his cock is revealed, and it’s massive, thick and heavy, his reddened tip drooling precum. It’s so big you can’t understand how it would fit, your hand barely circles the girth, looking so tiny against him, he’s ridiculously big. You nervously look up, seeing his eyes dilated, his lashes lowered, Sukuna’s hands come to enwrap in your loose hair, gripping it.

“Answer me, brat. Now.”

“Because if that’s how you want to, I’ll do it. I want you, I have wanted you.” He exhales, jerking when you lick his tip.

“I don’t want to be casual with you, okay!?” You smile, he rolls his eyes. “Don’t you dare smile like that. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna be all mushy and dumb.”

“I don’t want to be casual either.” He cups your face with his other hand, groaning when your hot mouth starts sucking him in, there’s too much of him, you barely get the tip and an inch or two, swirling your tongue, tasting the salty precum, his musky scent filling your nostrils.

“F-fuck…” Sukuna’s stuttering, you swear you hear him whine, but you wonder if it’s a trick of your ears, his hand on your face shaky when he starts thrusting his cock in your mouth, eyes locked on yours. “Stupidly pretty brat.”

He might as well say ‘my love’ or ‘darling’ because your body reacts, already having had so much pleasure you’re wet again, when he yanks you more on his cock, shoving it deeper. You’re breathing through your nose as he fucks your throat, as he’s gasping and moaning out your name, you finally think you have a rhythm when he pulls you off.

“Was it okay?” You ask nervously, he shoves you on your back, between your thighs in an instant then, you gasp for breath.

“Okay? Sucked it like some pro. You lyin’ t’me?” You giggle, shaking your head and catching his gaze.

“Watch porn though.”

“Porn ain’t shit to what I’m gonna do.” You’re crying out as his tip leaks precum along your clit, biting your lip when he’s pressing into your tight ring of muscles, your nails dig into his back, feeling the taut skin. “If we do this, you’re never fucking anyone, never. Fuckin got me brat?”

You blink a bit, as his tip presses in, stretching your skin. “You love me too, don’t you Kuna?” You tease, he scoffs, but then nods just a bit, and kisses you, pressing past your barrier, you gasp at it, at the pain, being stretched by him. “Ow! Shit!”

“Shit… y-you’re too tight… loosen the fuck up, brat.” You glare up at him, throbbing from the pain now, he’s barely holding on.

“I can’t. Y-you’re an idiot!”

“Running your mouth?”

“You’re too big!”

“Fuck…” He eases back, leaning up on an elbow, hand slipping down and rolling on your clit. “Relax, annoying ass. Even your pussy is stubborn.”

“You’re… so… ah!” His circles are rough, calloused thumb pressing on your little engorged clit, when he sinks in again.

“Relax, now.” His husky voice gives you that order, you do so then, exhaling and looking into his eyes, that are so dark they look black, you nod weakly. “You… are you alright?”

“You care, aw.” You can’t help it, you’re grinning all fucked up.

He glares again, this time thrusting deep, you scream out at it, he moans, biting your neck again, big hand gripping your thigh and lifting it higher. “Fucking feel her, gripping me my god. She’s mine, huh?”

“Y-yours, Kuna.” Your little whimper destroys him, your cunt pulsing around him, stretching and getting wetter to accommodate, and he begins actually fucking you then, you’re so wet, hot and tight he can’t stand how good it feels, he’s already dreaming of breeding this little cunt as you convulse under him.

“F-fucking love it, slutty little pussy.” His words along with his tip dragging against that spot in your walls send you reeling, you hear it now the skin smacking, his balls slapping your ass, wetness squelching when he pulls back, gripping your hips with a wicked grin. “Look, fucking your guts up, huh?”

He forces your chin to look down at the ridiculous bulge in your tummy, you gasp at it, clinging to his sheets now, so full when he sinks more of his cock in you, so much you don’t think he’ll fit fully, he’s already slamming your cervix. His hands slip up your hips, yanking you down further, you scream out at how good it feels.

“Ruin you, no one… n-no one’s gonna do this, yeah?” He leans over just a bit, fucking you harder, thrusts so rough your tits jiggle, your body moves. “Use you as my little fuck toy, pretty toy, so fucked out and stupid.”

“Ngh!” You are stupid, your eyes are rolling back, you’re drooling, incapable of doing anything but pulsing on his cock now, of desperately clinging to him.

“S-say it, brat.” He’s shoved his cock so deep, your cunt is dripping down his veiny length, you’re whimpering desperately, nodding. “That’s it, cum f’me, lemme feel her clamp down. F-fuck, there she is…”

Now Sukuna is full of nonsense, you’re both mumbling as he does ruin you for anyone, as you ruin him for anyone, he’s kissing you sloppy, his tattooed hand wraps your throat. He squeezes just so, you’re fading as he rails your cunt, muttering filthy, nasty words, you were a virgin, but he sure the fuck wasn’t taking it easy.

Well, you didn’t think he was, Sukuna actually is taking it easy.

He’ll wait before he goes where he wants to, but you so eagerly open your mouth for his spit, desperately cumming all over his cock then. “Made f’me, pussy she’s m-mine, hmm?”

You’re getting choked, swallowing spit, and this asshole asks you a question? You manage a nod, as he slows finally, releasing your throat, hand slipping up your titty to pinch your nipple, hips rolling just so, jerking his cock against your bruised cervix. You’re a stupid mess under him, sputtering when he finally slows his rhythm, when he thickens impossibly in you.

“I’m never pulling out of you, on something?” He huffs, you blink in confusion as he grins. “Asked ya a question brat.”

“On… pill… mmm…” He moans now, exhaling.

“Good, hah-” He thrusts deep again, you’re fluttering around his length. “Wouldn’t pull out anyway. I’d knock you the fuck up, breed your slutty cunt.” You’re done for, when he starts spurting cum, crying out in your ear, taking over everything with his huge body on top of you, in you, around you. He’s cumming so much it’s ridiculous, coating your walls, filling your belly full. “Oh f-fuck… fuckin love you…”

You blink as you come to, as your cum and his are pushed out with each thrust, your thighs shaking, head buzzing from pleasure. He looks at you then, eyes desperate, biting his lower lip while you put it together. “You love me, Kuna?”

“Shut up.” You smile when he kisses you again, and well… you don’t just fuck once for your first time.

You’re fucking in the shower to ‘clean up’ and then he’s got you up on the counter, devouring your pussy again, seeing how many times you can cum, soon he’s got his game going, showing you the controls as you’re cockwarming him. You’re so sore no amount of ibuprofen will fix it, but you want more, you’re grinding on him as you wear his headset, getting shot hopelessly by the players.

That’s where Yuuji finds you all, your tits out, Sukuna half naked, big hands on your hips with his cock inside you, you gasp then, covering your tits with your hands, but Sukuna just laughs, kissing on your shoulders. Yuuji covers his face, turning away quickly in embarrassment.

“K-kuna… s-stop…” You whisper, but Yuuji waves at you all, covering his eyes with a smile.

“You’re getting along!”

“Um… yeah.” You manage, and Sukuna’s laughing so hard it’s annoying, he doesn’t pay attention to your glare.

“Cool… um… bye.” He hides in his room, you try to get up, but Sukuna has you pinned down, tilting your head and kissing you.

“You’re insane, Sukuna.”

“You love that shit.”

“Shush. Show me the… g-game…”

The teammates are very curious why Sukuna started sucking at Call of Duty that day, but he has his new very annoying girlfriend to blame, she’s just squeezing his cock too good.

A/N I really have been feeling some Sukuna latelyyy, I hope ya'll enjoyed the smut aha!! <3

Taglisttt: @yenayaps @schlokki @elliesndg @thelightknight21 @attackonnat @indiewritesxoxo @sylussss7 @ninikrumbs @zezedoesshit @iveiveim @spacefae-x @maomimii @moonchhu @jinxiewritings perma tags- @alt--er--love @seeing-stars-alt @nanasukii28 @labelt-san @makingtimemine @aldebrana

All my sukuna oneshots hereee

[sereia4skz]

Hi Yaya!! I hope you're not too busy with many requests and I hope you're okay! I wanted to ask for something with poly!skz where they all go to a festival of some sort and perhaps they end up walking too much and reader (who has some back problems), ends up being barely able to walk, and the guys are, worried but also help them out? I don't know how much sense this makes, if this is too detailed im sorry! Feel free to delete this, no worries!

drabble | we got you

pairing: poly!straykids x reader

genre: comfort

warnings: back problems magggi

word count: ~600

masterlist: A-Side (texts) | B-Side (written)

The festival had seemed like the perfect idea. Colorful lights, late spring air, music and laughter echoing between vendor booths. You were surrounded by the boys, arms bumping, hands held, too many snacks being passed around, Jeongin nearly choking on cotton candy after Hyunjin made him laugh too hard.

It was perfect. At first.

But you’d been walking for nearly four hours now. The cobblestone paths and uneven terrain of the fairground were doing no favors for your back. You’d tried to keep pace, tried to ignore the slowly tightening ache that always crept up your spine when you pushed too far.

Now, each step feels heavier. Your lower back burns. You're trying to stay in the conversation, to laugh at Changbin’s joke about Minho’s tragic attempts at the ring toss, but your smile falters as your body protests louder.

It’s Felix who notices first. You didn’t even realize you’d slowed until his hand gently brushes your arm. His brow furrows when he catches the way you’re favoring one leg, your weight shifting oddly.

“Hey, love,” he says softly, leaning closer so the others don’t hear just yet. “You hurting?”

You hesitate. But he sees right through it, because he knows. Because he’s been there too, wincing after too long in a chair, groaning about muscle tension that won’t quit. His voice lowers even more.

“Your back?”

You nod. It’s barely noticeable, but his expression softens immediately.

“Okay. I got you.” He turns around and gestures discreetly for the others. One by one, they slow down and fall into step near you and Felix.

“What’s going on?” Chan asks, and you can tell he already knows something’s wrong.

Felix answers for you. “Her back’s flaring up. It’s getting bad.”

You’re quick to shake your head. “I didn’t wanna ruin anything. We’re having fun, I just-”

“Sweetheart,” Minho says, and the word alone makes you pause, “you don’t have to push through pain to be with us. That’s not how this works.”

“I’m fine, really-”

“No, you're hurting,” Chan says, his voice gentle but firm. “That matters. You matter. Come here.”

Before you can argue again, Seungmin’s already pulling off his flannel to lay over Changbin’s arms, who’s crouched down in front of you.

“Hop on,” Changbin grins. “Piggyback time. We’ll switch off when I get tired.”

“Guys, no, it’s too much,”

“It’s really not,” Hyunjin chimes in, brushing hair from your face. “You’d do it for any of us.”

“Felix literally made us carry him halfway through Lotte World last year,” Jeongin says with a smirk. “We owe you.”

Felix gasps, clearly offended. “That was different, I had a flare-up and you dropped me!”

“You kissed my neck!” Jeongin defends himself, while Han just cackles behind him.

Laughter bubbles up from your chest despite the ache. You blink rapidly, eyes stinging for a reason that has nothing to do with pain.

“You guys are ridiculous,” you murmur.

“We’re yours,” Chan replies, and that silences the chaos for a heartbeat.

“You can let us take care of you,” Felix adds. “You’re not weak for needing help. You’re strong for letting us love all of you.”

And just like that, you melt.

Changbin carries you first. His arms are solid, his teasing gentle as he makes exaggerated sound effects with every step to get you to laugh. Hyunjin takes over next, spinning in slow circles when the line for food stalls gets too long. When it’s Chan's turn, he presses his cheek against your shoulder and whispers how proud he is of you for speaking up, even if you didn’t say a word.

Eventually, you end up nestled on a bench between Seungmin and Chan while the others grab snacks and warm drinks. Felix stays next to you, knees touching, his hand squeezing yours every so often.

Your back still aches. But it’s different now. Softer. More manageable.

taglist: @diekleinesuesse @tillaboo @felixsonlyrealwife @geni-627 @skz8riley @lezleeferguson-120 @pixie-felix @headfirstfortoro @alnex05 @baby-stay92 @encoredesires @androgynouscrownorbit @channiesluvrclub @my-neurodivergent-world @chims-dimple @bookswillfindyouaway @stellasays45 @angel-writes-skz-here @m-325 @0sunshinecryptid0 @beal-o @hug4helios @oksullen @rileylovescats @dreamyfelixx @yxna-bliss @turtledove824 @enhacolor @skzz0213 @hannahlue @purplelady85 @velvetmoonlght @inishij @bangchanspineapple @straykids4lifeee @peskybirdysya @gnabsss

taglist pt2: @zayn-210 @wolfhallows4 @katsukis1wife @sammhisphere

[lighting-and-shadow]

Ikigai, Part 10

Summary: You’re desperately in love with a man who already belongs to another.

Ikigai (n.) (Japanese): "A reason for being," the thing that gets you up in the morning.

Part 9

Part 11

Your power’s been strange since that day you heard the melody. You haven't had the joyous occasion of it coming back into your life and your ears, but your heart still yearns for it, calls for it. You try not to dwell on it. That want, that need, takes backstage for the oddities that have been popping up since it first whispered in your ear.

Like now. You know Miss Hunter’s in danger even before the alarm attached to the earrings you gave her go off. You feel the dread in your heart, feel it fill your empty and lonely soul. The sheer volume of that feeling jolts you awake.

Sylus slumbers beside you. He insisted, worry lacing his voice and his hand gently brushing your cheek when he asked you to stay. The look in his eyes is what pushed you to do so. They were inquiring about your relationship, about where you stand after all that's happened.

You should’ve put your foot down. You should’ve kept your distance. Your mind told you so. Your heart didn’t listen, once again.

So you two share a bed again, entangled in each other’s embrace. Sylus’ fast heartbeat syncs to yours. His every breath is the most comforting soundtrack you’ve ever experienced.

Or, it used to be. Nothing could compare to the sound of your beloved being fast asleep until your heard that piece. That song of the stars, that hymn of the universe, is the best thing that’s ever had graced your ears. You hunger to hear it again.

And maybe that selfish wish is why you rush out of bed. You long to hear it again. Because that time, enveloped in that beat, is probably the only time in your life you’ve ever been at true peace. The only time you’ve ever truly belonged.

Miss Hunter is the key to that, and you haven’t seen her in some time, making room for her to bond with Sylus. You’ve pushed both of them into each other’s arms (ironic given that you still let yourself sleep in Sylus’).

That’s what you’ve assumed, anyway. Neither of them have told you anything of the sort. Sylus just spends more time in Linkon and Miss Hunter talks about him in a better light when you two text.

Feels like a husband trying to hide a mistress from his wife with the way they sneak around. And said mistress is her friend.

The mere thought makes you want to vomit. To expel that thought and all others that could follow from both your mind and stomach.

Stop it, you tell yourself as you unceremoniously wiggle your way out of a sleeping Sylus’ embrace. There’s nothing between you two, and everything is right between them.

Your rush, oddly enough, isn’t what wakes your boss. He eyes only shoot open the moment your warmth completely leaves his.

“Where…?” His voice cracks a bit, and he constantly blinks his eyes in the struggle to keep them open.

You wonder, in this moment, what you would do if two really were together. If he really was your husband like so many assume. If he really was yours and not someone else’s.

Would he coax you back into his arms, kissing the back of your neck and mumbling nonsense? Would you two play a game of back and forth, to see who will get up or who will go back to sleep? Or would he simply just wrap his arms around your waist like at the gala a few weeks ago, kissing you everywhere in order to wake himself?

Just the idea flusters you. So flustered that your first attempt on putting on a shirt is one that’s inside out and backwards. You quickly remedy this, glancing back at Sylus as you put the shirt back on right.

He doesn’t even flinch at the brief sight of your bare back. Understandable. You’ve seen him practically naked (except for a towel he haphazardly put on). He’s seen almost every inch of you, bandaging and stitching you back together in more ways than one.

What I wouldn’t give for him to take me apart in the best way possible?

Everything is so very, very hot again.

“Go back to sleep, Morana,” you whisper to him, not going back near the bed in fear you’d do something stupid like kiss him. “Something came up. I’ll handle it, and you call you after I do.”

“Alright,” he yawns. “Come back to me soon.”

You almost cry at his words.

“Be sure to tell the boys. You know how they worry about you.”

You nod, sending a quick text to your group chat with Luke and Kieran (the two menaces named it “When Mom Needs to Shit Talk Dad”) before you head out to your motorcycle.

You don’t check your phone for her location. Something tells you Skyhaven is the place. And another thing tells you that your world is about turn upside down.

As you drive, you soon don’t even need instinct for the former of your ideas. Because Miss Hunter’s thread appears, like the red guiding light in some video game. You know it’s hers because the stories it weaves are hers. The explosion. Her entry into the N109 zone. And some childhood memories she’s told you about.

But this isn’t Sylus’ connection to her that’s leading you. It’s someone else. A boy who’s been by her side for ages. A boy whose death drove her into your life and Sylus’.

You don’t quite see who this boy—man—is. Or maybe you and even Miss Hunter’s very soul are blocking him out. His blurry image conjures confusion, anxiety, betrayal, and layers upon layers pain.

You drive faster.

—

It’s surprisingly easy to find Miss Hunter. Pulling a few (sometimes literal) strings with members of The Fleet, a nice smile here, and a bit of manipulation there, and you find her. She appears to be in a nurse’s uniform, something that gives you pause. What makes you unpause is the aggressive man whose hands are on her.

His appearance flickers, much like Sylus’ did on that fateful day you first met him. Except his doesn’t bounce between dragon and human. No. For this man, you sometimes see a black bandage cover his eyes, and gold running down his body. Said body also becomes engulfed in black machine parts, and you hear them turn even when you’re some distance away.

He looks so much like Alex did that day years ago. Gold instead of silver runs across his metallic body and he lacks the powerful weapon they clutched in their hand. But the same emptiness is there. That same blank slate that hums with a power you want nothing to do with is there.

The difference between this man and Alex though is that he is still alone. He’s still someone’s pawn, and is willing to stay that way for the sake of the woman he loves.

Alex would never be in this position. Their family situation may be complicated, but Kai will never stand for it to escalate. She never allows her spouse’s family to have their way.

The man with cold violet eyes doesn’t have that. He stands a bastion between Miss Hunter and a horrific fate you don’t even want to think about. He stands between her and an evil that you can see in his thread.

Ever.

You hoped to never hear that name again. To never remember the scientists that poked and prodded at you when no sign of a soulmate came in at the expected age. You wonder if they told him about you. You wonder if you’re going to get dragged back into the strange rooms with the strange devices again.

You wonder if your rescue mission is about to become a failed one.

You call out Miss Hunter’s first name. She turns to you, and the military man finally acknowledges your presence. She runs to you, and you shuttle her behind you.

Calm yourself.

You take deep breaths, watching his thread like a hawk, dissecting each little notch and every little twist to find something to exploit. You don’t want to be near this man that represents everything that makes your skin crawl any longer than you have to.

“Apologizes, ummm?” You trail off, laughing at yourself. “I’m sorry, what’s your name? My friend here didn’t mention you in her report.”

“Report?” Is all that comes out of his mouth. His words are devoid of anything. No inflection. No feelings. Nothing.

Your blood runs cold. Miss Hunter hands begin to grip the back of your shirt. She trembles.

“Yes, yes. Her report. The Hunter Association did send her to investigate some things, correct?” The man makes a notion for you continue. “When she submitted it, it was decided by her boss that I’d come and pick her up.”

“The Fleet wasn’t informed about any such development.”

You figured as much.

“I didn’t think the retrieval of one hunter needed to be told to them. The Fleet is busy enough as it is. Adding more paper work and things to sign for us to get one of our own seems foolish, does it not?”

You hate staring at those dead eyes of his. But it’s the only way to get his attention. The only way for him to believe your words and let the two of you go.

But you can hardly focus on getting your words out. There’s something wrong with this man, something mechanical. Something that’s burrowed so deep within him that it messes with him on a fundamental level.

It’s not enough to change his soul, thankfully. You can still see his worry, even if it’s not on his face. You can still see his love for Miss Hunter, even if he doesn’t show it.

So you keep your eyes on his, and hope to the universe that your abilities and your voice are enough to get away.

“Than may I ask why the Association needs her, given the state she’s in and the fact that you didn’t inform us she was to be sent back to Linkon so early?”

“I’m afraid a stranger isn’t privy to such information.”

“Colonel Caleb Xia,” he sticks his hand out for you to shake it.

You take it, and give him your name.

“Now that we’re not strangers, answer my question.”

His attitude is grinding your gears. His attitude, the fear he's giving Miss Hunter, and just the wrongness about him makes you snap inside.

“Well, Colonel,” you’re more harsh with your tone now. “I don’t see why I should. You did not inform the Association of her injuries. You did not inform us that she would be taken on a private airship, forced against her will for treatment, and then hunted down like an animal when she made the reasonable assumption you wouldn’t let her leave and try to escape. I don’t owe a brute like you jack-shit, let alone answers.”

You stick out an arm to further shield Miss Hunter. This seems to rattle the Colonel a bit. So you push further.

“The way you speak to me gives me the impression that you’re suspicious of me. Which is ironic coming from a man that’s meant to be dead.”

Miss Hunter flinches at your words. You use your other hand to soothe her, and even your powers brush against her very soul to calm her. You hate to shake her so much. But using these words, using his own guilt against him, is probably the best chance you have of leaving here.

“Some things came up. Things that you don’t need to know.”

He steps closer to you.

“Ah. So we both have our secrets, don’t we?” You get in his face. “Only mine doesn’t cause my friends great distress.”

His emotionless mask finally cracks a little. Just a smidge. But his thread tells you of mountains and mountains of guilt. Of how it hurts to see the woman he loves so scared of him.

You don’t give a shit. Sure, you almost pity him a bit. But Miss Hunter’s shaky hands on your back, and the reminder of the love you know she deserves from Sylus kills that pity in seconds.

If anything, his cruelty is just another reason you’ll make sure he never has her. It’s just another reason for you to drive her into Sylus’ arms and break your heart again.

“It’s just a misunderstanding.”

The cliche words make you want to strangle him.

“I’d hate to know what kind of misunderstandings you’ve had in the past, Colonel, to think that any of what you’ve done is acceptable.”

“And what exactly is it that you think I’ve done? You just got here, Miss,” the way he says your name makes you all the angrier.

“I have eyes, Colonel. I know a terrified woman trying to escape from a domineering man when I see one.”

You hope flat-out calling him an abuser will get Caleb to back down. Because you know he’s doing all this with good intentions. He doesn’t want to hurt Miss Hunter. He doesn’t want to scare her.

Too bad the pathway to hell is paved with good intentions. Too bad he’s one of those people who refuse to see and acknowledge when they’re wrong.

“How did you find us?” He ignores your comments altogether.

Fine. I’ll play your game.

“By asking around. People are surprisingly agreeable to what you want when you’re not demanding or controlling. Right, Colonel?”

His face scrunches at your implications.

“I wouldn’t know. My job is to command or listen to orders. I do not ask for permission.”

“You know, every word out of your mouth makes me wish you stayed dead.”

You regret the words as soon as they leave your lips. You don’t really mean them. Not truly. Any family or goodness for Miss Hunter is something you’ll celebrate.

Even if Caleb is something that somehow falls into those categories. Even if the man you'll never allow her to truly be with is one of those people.

He’s caused so much pain. So much anguish in her threads and turmoil in her mind. The normally confident and headstrong hunter is silent behind you. Her soul begs for her to run.

You want to turn around and hug her. Give her a shoulder to cry on. To ease her mind while you plot with Sylus how to fuck up the lives of anyone who’s ever hurt her. You want to save her, protect her.

And the more these emotions boil, the more you wonder. Is this the influence of that song? Or is this just what it means to be so beloved by the universe? That even someone like you is drawn into her orbit, ready to give up the man you love for her in a heartbeat?

Once again, your selfish heart wonders if she and all the love the world wants to give her, is the reason you have no love at all.

“Harsh words from someone who just met me,” the Colonel’s quip drags you out from the depths of your self-hatred.

“You’ve just made that bad of a first impression on me.”

“What did I do to do that?”

“You do not want me to answer that.”

The Colonel and you say nothing to each for some time, just staring the other down.

“We really must get going. We have things to attend to, as I’m sure you do as well.”

You turn to try and leave, guiding Miss Hunter to walk in front of you, but Caleb grabs your wrist.

“Unhand me this second, or so help me, Colonel I will make you wish you stayed dead and buried.”

He lets go. You and Miss Hunter return to your old stance of her behind you while you face her childhood friend.

“She’s injured.”

“I’m aware.”

“She can’t work like this.”

“I’m also aware of that. I’ll treat her once we’re back in Linkon and she’s in a comfortable space.”

“She needs rest.”

“And she’ll get it. Away from you. Believe or not, there are others that care for her as well and can do so without violating her autonomy.”

“Why do you need her specifically?”

His change of topic doesn't go unnoticed by any of you. Once again, you play along.

“As I said before, it’s none of your business, so I won’t go into the details. All I will tell you is that her resonance Evol is needed for some investigative work.”

You pause, staring deeper into those cold eyes and his frantic thread.

“And, she has a capable partner that will look after her during this process. She won’t even have to lift a finger.”

“You?”

You almost snort. While you may have cynically thought of joining the Hunter's Association out of spite, you'd never truly consider it. Too... perfect for someone as broken as you. Too bright, too kind, too messy, too secretive, too—

It's just too much. Too much for you and your bloodstained hands and soon-to-be broken heart.

“Oh heavens, no. Not me. I’m not the fighting type,” you can hear Sylus and the twins cackle in your mind as you say this.

You may not like fighting, but everyone in Onychinus knows you can be deadly in one if need be. And some of your opposition actually fears you more than Sylus because of that. Because Sylus’ power is tangible, you can see his energy Evol as it snuffs a life out.

But no one can see it when you pull a thread out of someone’s heart. Or twist their very soul into oblivion. Or choke the life out of them with their own connection to their soulmate.

Your mystery is your greatest weapon. And it’s another reason you tell yourself not to divulge your secret ever again.

“Than how can I trust this mysterious partner if they don’t have the decency to show up themselves?”

Shit.

You gather yourself quickly. You need to steer the conversation elsewhere.

“Your trust in my words are irrelevant. I don’t need your permission to take her anywhere, I’m just giving her childhood friend who’s worried about her well-being the curtesy of being told such information. I’m not leaving you in the dark.”

Caleb’s mask once again wavers, so you push more.

“I’m not leaving you frightened of the unknown and nor am I strong-arming you into doing what I want with my authority. I’m having a conversation with you in hopes you’ll see things from my point of view. And I’m not ignoring your clear discomfort nor your fears.”

“And what is it you think I’m afraid of?”

“That you’ll lose her again. Or they’ll get their hands on her.”

You know that’s the right thing to say when the Colonel’s hand begins to hover over his waist, where you assume his gun is. His eyes go dead again. Cold. Bottomless. All consuming.

Just where you want him.

“You think you two are the only ones they’re hunting? You think she’s the only one they’ve ever obsessed over?”

You hate yourself for this. For putting this information into his hands, their hands, again. Because you became a ghost once you entered the N109 zone. You disappeared from their grasp because the old man in charge of the Zion Hunt knows better than to blab about you.

It was your wish from him when you won his little competetion during your first year with Sylus. It was the wish and deal you made with him, his very soul the price should he ever break it. Whether it was you or Sylus that would come to collect, you hope to never know.

Because you were dead to Ever. And it was supposed to stay that way. But for her, and for Sylus, you’ll come back. You’ll put yourself back under their radar in hopes they’ll chase you and not her.

And while you’re at it, maybe you can save the Colonel as well. You may hate who he is right now, but you're curious about the boy he used to be. The boy Miss Hunter loves like family. The boy he was before Ever broke him like they broke you.

“You aren’t,” you continue. “In fact, I think the Professor loved me most of all before I left him.”

“Why?”

He’s still tense. Still ready to end your life and forcibly take Miss Hunter away. But you know where to strike. You know because his thread tells you he’s heard about you. About the strange little girl with no soulmate but with the power to see others, to touch others, to manipulate others.

Seems the Professor still remembers me.

You still remember him. You still remember how him and Josaphine and all the others treated you. You still remember the many tests, the files you read, and all the injections they gave you before your family sent you off to school that same day like nothing happened.

You still remember the adrenaline and joy that coursed through your veins the day you finally ran from it all. That same adrenaline pumps now at the thought of going back.

But you’d do it for her. For them. And hopefully, they’ll all forgive you for it.

“Because I turn everything we’ve ever known about humanity and love upside down.”

Bullseye.

Caleb lowers his hand to his side, no longer ready to shoot you. Because now he realizes you’re just like him, just like Miss Hunter. Another one of the Professor’s runaway “children”. Another one of his pawns that never wants to see him again.

“And do you know what my parents told me each time they took me to him?”

“What?” He asks the question breathily, shaken to his core despite how the chip in his head tries to stop him from feeling.

You pull at his literal heartstrings, at his soul, to bypass the machine. The power of universe itself is far more potent and compelling than some man-made computer.

“That it was for my own good,” that hits Caleb harder than any of your other words, and you scoff when you say it. “Selfish words by selfish people who refuse to admit when they’re wrong. When they refuse to see how they hurt the people they claim to love.”

Miss Hunter burrows deeper into your back. You twine your power into her threads to soothe her, since you can’t physically do it right now.

Her friend Caleb, on the other hand, seems to have been shattered. As if the weight of his actions has hit him. He doesn’t show it on his face or in his eyes, but in his thread. In the thread tied to the very woman who he scared so much.

“You love her, don’t you?”

No response.

“So why continue to hurt her as you do? Why continue to be like my parents and do something that she clearly doesn’t want and is only causing harm?”

“Because it’s a misunderstanding.”

“We already went over this, Colonel,” you’re gentle with your tone now, empathy bleeding into every fiber of your being.

I’ll get you out next, you tell yourself. I’ll get you and all the rest away from that man I should’ve killed years ago.

“But how about I put it another way? How do you expect me to believe you, who disappeared from her life once already and is now back and causing her pain, to be a better place for recovery than a place where everyone loves her and respects her ability to take care of herself?”

Once again, the Colonel doesn’t show how much of a gut punch your words are. You are a stranger, after all. And he’s been literally programmed to suppress how he feels.

So you tug at the string only you can. You tug on the connection on you can feel and twist and exploit. And he starts to feel it all. His guilt. His piles and piles of insecurity. And how maybe, just maybe, all you’ve been saying is right.

It’s a bit gross to you, to do this to a man who’s already been through so much. But he isn’t your priority. She is. The young woman who cowers behind you. The young woman who put her faith in you.

The young woman that will make the man you love feel whole again. She’s who you came for. She’s who you’ll help. Caleb will have to wait his turn.

“Think about what you’re asking me to do, Colonel, from my perspective. My friend, who I’ve seen be consumed by grief, finally has gets the green light to work again after losing the only parental figure she remembers and the only family she had as well as her home.”

You pause to look his in the eyes and play with his thread more before continuing.

“She goes on said mission, gets heavily injured, and I come to pick her up only to find her on the run from said family member who’s supposed to be dead, and she’s disguised as a nurse as she tries to free herself from him. Would you trust you in my shoes?”

He has no response again, so you deliver what you hope to be the killing blow, “She’s been through so much. Do you really want to make matters worse?”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are, Colonel,” you don’t know what compels you to do so, but you lay a hand on his mechanical arm; it takes him by surprise, but since he doesn’t immediately retreat from your touch (and instead leans into it) you count that as a win. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.”

“I thought you were here to pick her up for a mission. How does my presence impact that?”

Got you.

While your words may sound like a slip up, you meant it. You meant for him to catch the underlying meanings of your words and press. You meant to reveal this “truth”.

“Alright, you caught me. There’s no mission. She called me directly because she was scared.”

You can feel the panic from Miss Hunter. You squeeze her hand, both to reassure her and as a promise to tell her everything later. Poor girl’s been lied to her entire life. And you understand that confusion and pain from being deceived by so many better than anyone.

The last thing you want is to become another person in that long list for her.

You take a deep, dramatic, breath. “You see, you never quite know how safe you are in this job. Whether it be Wanderers or rival organizations, danger’s around the corner for us Hunters. The explosion at your house made that all the more obvious.”

You pause, squeezing Miss Hunter’s hand again, making sure Caleb saw the turmoil and pain in your eyes. “So I came up with this system for me and her. A way to call each other discreetly and to be sure we’ll get back up from a trusted friend. Regardless of where we were of whether we had our Hunter’s watches. A way for us to protect one another while still respecting each other’s space.”

You don’t quite know what it is this time that gets Caleb to see the light. But something flashes across his eyes, and he finally backs down. You almost let out a sigh of relief. But your professionalism makes you choke it back down.

Don’t waver. You’re not in the clear yet. Not until she’s home and safe.

“I see…” his voice carries the most emotion you’ve heard from him.

You sneakily curl a finger around his thread, tapping into that heart of his that you know still sleeps in his chest. No machine, no stupid little chip, will keep you from reaching it.

So you rub the thread between your fingers. You rub it and make him see the pain he’s causing, the suffering on the woman he loves’ face. You force him to see that feeling and come face to face with the realization that he caused it.

Something shifts in the Colonel. You words coupled with you literally touching his soul get to him in ways he didn’t think possible.

“I see…” he says again, this time, with pain in it.

You finally relax.

“I’ll escort you out.”

Your stomach drops at the mere idea. “No need. I happen to have quite the memory, and can get us out safely on my own.”

“I insist.”

Please don’t.

“Haven’t you done enough damage with your “insisting” already?”

A low blow. But nothing is too low for you to get him to back off. To get away from this man that makes your friend tremble and you uncomfortable.

You don’t know if it’s the machine in his head, the emotionless landscape of his past life, or the way that history of his reminds you of your missing friend Alex. Any one of those could be what ultimately makes you not want to be in his presence.

The Colonel opens his mouth, probably to push his point again, but another voice interrupts him before he can.

“Colonel Xia. What the fuck are you doing?”

The voice comes from behind you and Miss Hunter. It’s female, and a bit scratchy. From disuse or just a natural undertone to it, you don’t know. But something about it compels you to keep your gaze forward. For whatever reason, you can’t bring yourself to turn around.

Miss Hunter can’t either, judging by how she buries her face into your back.

The steps of your savior are anything but comforting. A pit forms in your stomach. A pit that’s familiar.

Death approaches.

Every part of you wants to fight. To fight against what your lizard brain sees as a foe but what your logical one sees as an ally. It’s a confusing storm of emotions. One that gets worse once you see the woman.

She flickers. Just like Alex and Caleb. Just like Kai. Exactly like Sylus, given how her changes are that of horns and a tail.

She’s a fiend.

It’s the first time you’ve seen similar past lives. You’ve seen Lemurians. You’ve seen cyborgs. You’ve seen beings made of flowers and sand. But never two of the same.

Another fiend isn’t something you thought you’d ever see. Another fiend shouldn’t be possible, given that you know Sylus was the only of his kind (a dragon that's too human, and a human that's too much of a monster). Another fiend like him shakes everything you thought you knew.

Who is she?

Caleb, as if hearing your thoughts, answers for you, “Undertaker Rafia. What are you doing here, ma’am?”

The amount of respect he gives this woman shocks you somewhat. The same man who tried to force his own soulmate into compliance, who frightens even you, is on edge by the appearance of one woman.

A woman of tall stature. A bulky, muscular woman. A woman with pitch black hair and the palest skin you’ve ever seen. A woman who was once a fiend.

That same woman stands between you and Caleb, her back still turned to you.

“Why I’m here is irrelevant. You have a ceremony to get to, and if you don’t get your ass in gear, it’ll be your funeral I’m planning next.”

“Ma’am, I—“

“Get to it, Caleb. Before you piss me off more.”

Caleb seems to weigh his options for a second. Before he salutes her and walks off. The tension in your body finally releases. You can breathe now. You can exist now without the weight of the Colonel’s eyes and voice on your shoulder.

“I’ll escort the two of you out. You shouldn’t have any more problems.”

Despite the primal fear her appearance first gave you, you’re grateful. She turns to you, and you open your mouth to tell her thank you, but something makes all words catch in your throat. And you stare.

You stare at Undertaker Rafia, even as Miss Hunter’s hold on you becomes a death grip on you. Not because you’re grateful. Not because you’re in shock.

No. You stare for a reason you never thought possible. You stare because the sight before you shouldn’t be real.

She has no soulmate.

Undertaker Rafia has no soulmate thread. Just. Like. You.

—

You’re 7 and in love with your best friend, the son of mother’s own best friend.

You sit on the couch in the game room of his house, picking at the fraying knitted blanket. Your crush sits next to you, eyes more focused on the pause screen of his video game than you. You don’t mind though. His dedication to his games is one of the reasons you like him.

He’s so excited about them, rambling to you about them with wild gestures while you just sit and listen. He could fill up an entire conversation for you two. You don’t need to say a word. You don’t need to force yourself into the awkwardness of trying to find the right words.

You could just be there with him.

”Sam says you like me.”

You nod.

”So… you do?”

You nod again, still unable to utter a word. Maybe because speaking will make this all too real? Maybe because speaking will make him laugh at you?

You chase that stupid thought away. He’d never laugh at you. He’s always kind with you, offering you his blanket when he’s clearly cold, opening doors for you, listening to your opinions on the rare occasion you can your mouth to form actual sentences.

Your friend treats you so preciously. And it makes you hope and pray you’ll be lucky enough to discover that he’s your soulmate.

”But I’m not your soulmate.”

Your friend tilts his head at you. Your heart falls with the motion. And you force your mouth to move and for words to come out.

You can’t lose him.

”You don’t know that,” you barely manage to mumble.

He takes your hand, toothy grin on his face. A grin that you love and makes you flush and makes you smile the biggest smile in your little life.

”I guess we’ll find out.”

You could cheer.

That all goes away in a few days. Your love? Tossed aside. Your happiness? Dashed. The friendship and the new relationship with a boy you thought like-liked you? Gone.

One day, you’re happy and the sun is shining and the birds are chirping. The next, he’s dumping you.

”I like someone else now,” he says kindly, as if that’ll make the blow hurt any less.

Your mind races. What did you do wrong? What have you done to make him like this, to make him no longer like-like you? Tears gather in your eyes as your chest aches.

You clutch at it. The pain is unbearable. You think your heart is literally breaking, shattering. Thump, thump, thump, it goes steadily. But, the pain, oh the pain, makes you believe otherwise. How else could you explain the piercing stabs in your chest?

You can’t look at your friend. Can’t look at him with his apologetic eyes and sweet voice that tries to calm you down. Can’t look at him with his soft hands that rub your back and familiar clothes that you think look cute on him.

All there is for you is pain. Pain in your chest as you sob and sob and sob. The one person, your person, is leaving you. Abandoning you. When you thought he’d be the only person to ever stay with you.

He’s the only one who sees you in your silence. Where your family teases you and tells you to take a joke, he gives you comforting reassurance of your feelings. Where others tell you to speak up, he gives you space to find your voice. Where the world tell you your heart is too tender and too soft, he tells you it’s a gift to care so much.

He is your rock in the storm. Your everything. The one pillar in your life that makes the house of you stand strong. And now, he’s knocking it down without a care.

And with that, your sorrow turns to rage. At his betrayal. At his abandonment. At anything and everything about him and the embarrassment he’s causing you on this stupid couch you confessed on.

When you look at him, at his chest he’s trying to suffocate you in because the stupid boy thinks that’ll comfort you and mend your heart, you see it. You see this odd red string that shimmers. You push him away. You blink. All sounds are quiet.

The string is still there. Still shimmering, still floating, still making waves from his heart. You're as enchanted by it as you are lost by it. Why is it here? How is it here? What is it?

You just stare. Your friend’s hands still rub your back in vain. Your chest is still on fire. Your eyes still produce tears despite how much it hurts to, despite how much they make you choke and spit and cough.

You cling to the string instead of him. You cling to this mystery. Because every mystery has a solution according to your teachers. Every puzzle has an answer, one that makes sense.

What sense is there to be found in your friend? What sense is there to be found in your own heart?

As if knowing what’s going through your mind, the string calls out to you louder. It compels you stronger. To listen. To touch it. To experience it. So, in your confused and broken heart, you do.

And you see her. An unassuming girl. A girl who didn’t know your friend like you did. A girl who would never give a nerd like him the time of day because all that matters is popularity and talking and peopling and all these other things that just isn’t your friend.

”Is it her? Is she your soulmate?”

The other question slips out before you can stop it. Her name follows shortly after. 

You don’t even need to look at your friend to know the answer. The string tells you. It’s taken his place as your place of comfort. You grasp it in your hands.

Will this leave me too? you wonder.

”What are you doing?” Your friend asks; you barely hear him because no words out of his mouth matter more than this moment.

But his stupid words do tell you something. They tell you he can’t see them.

Am I the only one who can?

Maybe the string is secret you’ve been entrusted with? Maybe it’s your apology from the universe for your broken heart? Maybe it can be your new friend?

Excitement and glee unlike any you've ever felt flood your chest. The strings are yours. They're something no joke, no call to speak up, and no adult can take from you.

It doesn’t vanish when you touch it. It doesn’t leave once you have it in your grasp like your friend is doing now. It sits with you. It speaks with you. And you speak what it tells you.

”You two share dreams, right?” You don’t give your friend time to answer. “Started yesterday, you fell asleep beneath our special tree. She wasn’t at school that day. Fever.”

Your friend has nothing to say, so you continue, “You should give her the blue Jolly Ranchers the next time you two share. She knows they’re your favorite, so she lies and says she doesn’t like them. She also hates the watermelon, you know. But your smile is worth choking them down.”

The more you learn, the more the tears fall from your eyes. Guilt begins to replace your hurt. Your chest still sings with a blaze you can’t put out.

”She actually loves chess and checkers. Guess you have someone new to play with.”

One sob you can’t hold back interrupts you. Image after image that illustrates how perfect she is for him and how perfect you aren't enter your mind. Each one stabs a new hole in your heart.

”She’s perfect for you. So, so perfect.”

You break. You scream. You throw pillows around and toss the blanket that the two of were sharing at a window.

”Why? Why, why, why, why, why?!”

Footsteps rush up the stairs. Their family dog is barking. Your throat hurts. Your voice is scratchy. When was the last time you raised it? Ever?

As your family comes to your side, asking what’s wrong, and your friend looks at you with horrified eyes, you finally whisper, “Why couldn’t it been me?”

The ride home is a blur. Your family’s attempts at comfort are a blur. Everything but your final words to your friend is a blur.

Why? Why couldn’t it been me?

That’s the only thought is your head until you finally fall asleep. As well as when you get to school and spot your friend and his soulmate feeding each other those stupid blue Jolly Ranchers to each other, laughing.

He doesn’t spare you glance. He doesn’t reach out. He doesn’t talk to you. And you, with your new friend in the strings, let him.

Your teacher, however, doesn’t. She pulls you aside after class.

”Did you and,” she says your friend’s name, “get into a fight?”

You nod your head, not looking her in the eyes. Eyes are scary to you. They should say too much according to the books you’ve read. But to you, they say too little.

Now, you have your strings. You have these things no one else can see, but everyone seems to possess. Even your teacher.

Worry makes waves in her sting. Worry and exhaustion. So you cut straight to the point, even as your body begs you to just shut down and wait it out like usual.

”Yes. He broke my heart because he found his soulmate.”

Surprise colors your teacher’s string. After all, you’re a quiet child. One who keeps her eyes glued to the floor and voice barely above a whisper. One who—in some case, quite literally—runs from conflict and the rest of the world.

You don't talk to adults. They never listen anyway, so you stopped a long time ago. So you understand why hearing your voice so clearly and so directly is strange to your teacher.

You await her response, hoping and praying for something good. While you may still hurt from your friend’s abandonment, you got the strings out of it. Maybe an adult will listen and help you for once because of them?

”Oh honey,” anticipation builds within you. “You should be happy for him! He found his one true love… you two were never going to last long anyways.”

The world collapses again. Tears build in your eyes again. But you don’t let yourself cry. You don’t let yourself beg or scream or wail because that didn’t help you the first time. Why would it be different now?

Why did I even hope?

So you turn to her string. You turn to her love because yours is so meaningless and empty and a waste and nothing—

”You get glimpses of your soulmate when you paint, right?”

You just start talking before you can think. Again.

”The color purple comes in pretty often. That, and dolphins. It’s because it’s Mrs. Smith, the math teacher. Did you know she does opera on the weekends because singing gives her glimpses of you?”

Your teacher’s jaw is on the ground. You shuffle away as she tries to recover from what you just said. You wait for your family to pick you up, more hopeless than ever.

The next day, news spreads that your teacher and Mrs. Smith are together. It gets around that a pair of soulmates found each other miraculously after years of unknowingly working together for years. Your teacher tells her, your, story. And the world finally begins to listen to you.

You begin to speak. With so many eyes turning to you, wondering about where you got your information, you tell. You tell them about the threads and what they whisper to you. What they say about others, about their soulmates, about their pasts, and about their loves.

One of your classmates gives you a look. A look you know all too well. A look that resonants in their own thread, which tells you they don’t believe you.

You aren’t even surprised anymore.

But another classmate approaches you after class. Asks about their thread and their other half. And you tell them. To go to a cafe with their parents on a specific day at a specific time. There, they will bump into their other half and be able to share their thoughts with them.

They do so. And another success falls into your lap.

After that, more and more people approach you. Some kids. Some adults. Some old people. Some from school. Some from apparently the other side of the world. All hearing stories and rumors from those you’ve helped.

You tell every time. Despite their clear caution. Despite the glances you now get in the hallway. Despite how the loneliness piles and piles on top of the grave of your old love.

But the final nail in your coffin comes from your friend again. Or rather, from his family. Yours and his are trying to make you two talk again. To make everyone friends again and “keep the peace” as the adults are saying.

You don’t budge. His useless apologies and meaningless sorries bounce right off your ears. Because all you can see is his thread and his memories with her. All you can see is your broken love and his blossoming new one.

So you turn to another thread. Not your family’s because you know them far too well. But his mother’s, the only one who seems to understand you. And you’re floored again.

”Your husband is not your soulmate.”

For the third time, your mind can’t stop your mouth.

”Your bonds are both similar, so you just assumed as much. When you sleep at night, you get your other half’s memories, right? Well, you each got the wrong sibling.”

Chaos ensues. You’re being screamed at by all: your friend, his family, your family, and even yourself. You just retreat into your mind, and into the threads. It’s the one place that can never hurt you.

You family doesn’t hear from your friend and his family for some time. Your own family has been distant from you. You no longer care. All you need are the threads. They’re the only truly loyal thing in your life.

When you do hear from your friend and his family again, you’re greeted by warmth. By joy. By tears of absolute happiness.

”Thank you,” they all say. “Thank you for making us all whole.”

You wonder why. According to everyone, you broke up a family. And according to what you know, that should be bad. So why are you being praised? Why are you being thanked?

Your friend begins to hang out with you again. He becomes your voice again. He gives you snacks and blankets and pillows again. He looks at you with happiness again.

Than it all falls into place when you see him with her. When you see your teachers together. When you see the two new couples that form your friend's family.

Who cares who or what a soulmate’s love hurts? Everything is nothing compared to it.

You think this as you watch your friend play video games with his other half, smiling while you watch with your own wavering grin, heart stitched together by your own resilience and refusal to hurt again.

Author's Note: Also, please go to the original blurb to ask to be added to the taglist (it's impossible for me to keep checking every part every time I update).

2nd Author's Note: This has honestly been the most emotional and personal Ikigai chapter for me to write, since I based part of Reader's past emotional trauma on my own (it's the easiest for me to write and works as therapy, so win-win). I mentioned early on there would be flashbacks, and I wanted to showcase some of her young life and where her mindset came from. I have one more planned—which is coming next chapter—but let me know if you'd like more!

3rd Author's Note: If I wrote and published an acutal novel, would anyone here read it? Because I had a fiction workshop class and I'm so invested with the story I cooked up there!

4th Author's Note: What's your ideal date? I need ideas for a future scene in this series, and would love some more input.

Taglist: @eolivy, @rafayelridesfisheatsfish, @animegamerfox, @jasperjokester, @schrodingerskimdokja, @just--crys, @snowdynasty, @shi-thats-kiera, @mansonofmadness, @dwuclvr, @ameilli, @katiedoesstuff101, @everythingistaken00, @napa-the-yappa, @hanaluxx, @lovesick-sylus, @tenaciouszombiewombat, @ladyparamount, @applepi405, @midnight-reverie, @69-gojos-wife-69, @bellagrayson-wayne, @phisen, @idkmanimjusthorny, @munchychuusy, @autumn2534, @poptrim, @sillyfreakfanparty, @zaynesfirefly, @flamedancer13, @thissmartdumbass, @mrsllawliet, @jeondyy, @ssetsuka, @dels-page, @that-lost-one, @johnnysactualgf, @mariquitas-en-verano, @toelady, @sinnamon-bunn, @yesbiaswrecked, @doggyteam2028, @little-rays-of-darkness, @albatrossblue, @vyntheria, @silverianni, @browneyedgirl22, @tiklestar, @beaconsxd, @pepperushia

[senseichaos]

hi hi! That one-shot you did with Alastor broadcasting his and reader's..."love-making" was rather delicious but I can't help but think of you know..aftercare. It was quite rough and I'd love to see Alastor being sweet and sorta guilty for going so roughly cause we both know...reader was bleeding after😭😭😭

Yess I love writing aftercare and when I saw this I was immediately wanting to write it ! Thank you

"Pathetic" But still a princess,

Summary: Alastor roughed you up quite badly in your last.. fornication session.. so as to make it a more happy evening he gives you some very much needed aftercare! (Part 2 to "Pathetic")

Genre: Fluff, romance, slight sexual undertones

Warnings: Swearing, blood, Alastor is kinda bipolar considering how much more soft he acts in this compared to the last part, love confessions, lmk if I missed any

NOT EDITED NOR PROOFREAD (YET)

______

Alastor carries you the entire way to his room, not wanting to rough up your brain by teleporting to his room. And oddly he sort of enjoyed the intimacy of it all. It's weird, Alastor is never really one to enjoy intimacy, but this odd time he feels nice giving you this comfort.

As he enters his room, he makes sure to lock the door behind him so no one comes in whilst he bathes you, and with a smile to you walks to his suite. The suite isn't the largest but it's big enough that when he places you on the side of the bath he can walk around you with ease.

"Alastor I think I'm bleeding," You say, looking at some scratches on your thigh as Alastor takes off his overcoat and folds it neatly. He gives you a soft look, placing his coat to the side.

"Well of course you are darling! My fawn had to learn her lesson somehow, hm?" Alastor says with a small chuckle, squatting down (his knees clicking as he does so) to turn on the water of the bath. You roll your eyes, fiddling with the fabric of your shirt as you contemplate taking it off.

"Take off your shirt, dear, it's nothing I haven't seen before," Alastor commands with a rather teasing tone, arranging the correct soap to put inside of your bath. You nod, pulling off your shirt and bra, discarding them onto the floor next to the bath. You almost cover yourself, but understand if you did Alastor would probably tell you off.

After the bath fills a bit Alastor taps the side of the bath, capturing your attention.

"You can get in now, fawn. It should be warm enough," He says, and you give him a small nod. Rather awkwardly with your pained thighs you manage to crawl yourself into the bath, Alastor does end up helping you a bit when you almost faceplant into the water, shifting you so you sit with a weirdly empathetic look for him.

"Now let's not fall on our face, shall we. I'd rather not have you more injured than you are already,"

You giggle, leaning up and squishing his cheek playfully.

"Awe you care about me, that's new," you say, and he takes your hand off of his face with a stern look.

"I wouldn't call it 'new', you just haven't seen it yet," He says, and you give him a confused look as he starts pouring some bubble soap into the bath.

"What haven't I seen?"

He laughs, shaking his head as he begins mixing in the soap with his hand.

"Me caring about you, silly doe," He chuckles, ruffling your hair with his wet hand. This causes you to shake the water off and give him an annoyed look.

"Give me an example,"

He looks up for a moment, thinking of an instance where he's shown care for you.

"Well, how about earlier today when I told you not to drink the tea because it was hot?" He asks, turning the water pressure on the hot water slightly higher. You roll your eyes, pulling your aching knees to your chest as the water around you rises.

"Oh so what, the bare minimum.. how caring of you Alastor,"

"Now don't get pissy with me, dear. I was only giving you an example of my caring for you," He chuckles, giving your nose a soft boop as he continues mixing the water. You notice his sleeve is dangerously close to the water, so you push his hand from the water slowly.

"Careful, you're gonna get your sleeves wet," You say, and Alastor smiles slightly wider.

"Don't worry about it, my dear. It's nothing I can't handle," He says, his green magic surrounding his sleeves and rolling them up to just above his elbows. "You shouldn't have to worry about something so small as my sleeves,"

Your eyes go glossy with tears at the odd affection in his voice. It's something you've never heard from him before. Sure there's the empty compliments, the empty pecks, but this is different. It's as if he loves you.

"Do you really care about me, Alastor?"

Alastor furrows his brows, turning off the hot water tap as the bath is full enough with water. He leans over, pushing his hand against your cheek as he leans there.

"Of course I do, my dear," he pauses, looking into the distance for a moment as if contemplating. "And I do apologize for being so rough with you today, you had to learn your lesson somehow,"

You giggle, pushing his hand away and leaning against the back of the bath.

"It's okay Alastor, I liked it more than I'd like to admit,"

Alastor rolls his eyes at this, grabbing a sponge from the corner of the bath.

"Charming, my fawn," He says, putting his sponge into the water and squeezing it so the soapy water fills it. He begins to scrub you with it, staring with your face as he pushes your hair from your face, holding you there by it.

"Fuck you, as if you didn't enjoy it either!"

He laughs, scrubbing your nose as you scrunch your eyes.

"Well of course I did dear, I wouldn't have initiated it if I hadn't, hm?" Alastor hums, moving to scrub your other cheek. You sputter on a cough, your eyes squinting at the way he scrubs you. He just chuckles, scrubbing your chin and jaw.

"Do you really have to clean the entirety of me?" You ask, biting your lower lip as he tilts your head back by your hair. Alastor continues to scrub your chin, moving to the other side of your jaw.

"Well of course I do, a clean fawn is a happy fawn." He says, pinching your cheek and cooing in a sort of cute fashion. Rolling your eyes you attempt to splash water at him, only for the water to be caught up in his green magic and placed back into the water.

"Now don't try anything silly, fawn,"

You moan in annoyance, hissing when his sponge begins to scrub the raw skin on your neck from the collar he had you in. The skin is bruised and even as a couple cuts from the force he used. You wonder what he thinks about when he looks at the damage. Does he find it funny? Does it feed a possessiveness in him? Does he feel guilty?

"What do you think about when you see the marks on me?" You ask out of the blue, against your better judgement.

Much to your surprise, Alastor just tilts his head in acknowledgement before speaking.

"Hm, well I feel a tad proud, and I feel a tad guilty. But, I also feel like I want to eat you up!" He answers, ending his sentence in a teasing manor. But you don't miss the slight hunger in his eyes at the thought. You narrow your eyes, speaking: "Please don't,"

"Oh I wouldn't, dear. It's just a tad fun to think about," He says with a humor in his voice, and you can't help but laugh. Alastor moves his hand from your hair, placing it on your neck as he pushes your head back with his thumb.

"Bet you'd get your rocks off to it," You chuckle, biting on your cheek uncomfortably as Alastor scrubs the back of your neck. His eyes darken slightly, tilting your head down to get better access to the back of your neck.

"Don't tempt me, fawn," He says softly, pressing the spong to your collarbone to clean the slightly bruised area. Hissing in pain you flinch away from Alastor as his sponge brushes onto a cut. He gives you a sort of stern yet understanding look, reaching out for your arm to pull you closer to him again as soft as possible.

"Sorry my dear, it's going to hurt," Alastor apologizes, setting his hand back onto your neck so he can scrub your shoulders. Once again you hiss when the sponge hits a sensitive area of raw skin, but this time you stay put.

"You know I don't think it's fair that you get to sit outside of the bath.. how are you gonna clean my legs!" You ask, Alastor just humors you with a chuckle.

"Like this,"

He spins you around gently so your legs are hanging off the edge of the bath, dripping water down to the tiled flooring below. He takes a hold of your left ankle and begins scrubbing your foot, causing you to begin giggling at the way he scrubs the ticklish area.

"Ah! That tickles..!" You laugh, clasping your damp hands over your mouth as he continues scrubbing your foot. Alastor doesn't acknowledge you, instead going to scrub down your calf.

"I still think this is unfair, what if I want to clean you!"

"I had a bath this morning, no point in bathing again," He says with an obvious tone. You roll your eyes, looking up at the roof as he continues to clean your left leg.

"Can I at least wash you another time?"

"Maybe If you continue to be steadfast in no longer entering my studio unprompted, fawn," He answers, leaning over you as he finishes your left leg, beginning to clean your stomach.

"I'm bored.." You groan, leaning your head back into the splashback of the bath. Alastor narrows his eyes, and suddenly a tentacle with another sponge appears behind you, pushing you before beginning to clean your back.

"What a needy thing you are,". He says, causing you to huff out in displeasure. To your surprise he leans over you even more, even slightly towering over you as he cleans your breasts. It makes you blush, really. Having him tower over you like this in almost a lascivious manor whilst doing the most domestic of things. He's just cleaning you, for Christ sake!

"Alastor,"

"Hm?"

You wonder. Does he love you? You want to ask it so badly. When he towers over you like this and cleans every crevice of your body does his heart clench? Does his body feel warm? Does he get those butterflies that you do? You wonder.

"Do you love me?"

He stops moving, both him and his tentacle which had started cleaning your lower back.

His eyes reflect a myriad of emotions, many of which you can't even begin to fathom. He seems almost on edge. As if your question had sent him into his brain completely.

"I.. I think I might in my own.." he pauses, placing his pointer finger against his chin in thought. "Immoral ways,"

"Immoral?"

He continues to wash you, along with the tentacle, seeming to have gotten his point across enough to continue what he was doing.

"I'm not a moral demon, dear. When I think of you I want to devour you, but, I also want to hold you,"

Devour you?

"Well, I love you Alastor.."

"I love you too, fawn. Now let's get to cleaning your hair, shall we?"

You groan, pouting in annoyance at the thought of spending another 30 minutes in this bath. Though Alastor just laughs to himself, squeezing your cheek.

"How cute you are when you're all mad at me, hm?"

You stick out your tongue at him.

Normal, well as normal as you can be, once again.

[sixosix]

Requesting another alien aether scenario, please please please! 🙏 🙏 🙏

hey so this may or may not be a sort of sequel to the first alien aether fic, so check it out before you read this for more context ,, BUT!! this is less of Strange aether and more of alien aether, so i hope u enjoy still!!!! >__<

special thanks to reiden for proof reading tysm <3

"Beidou already left?"

Ayaka's face crumples in sympathy. "Sorry! If I had just known you needed a ride, I would've told her to delay for an hour more!"

You slump to the ground, a resigned sigh dragging out just as the fight leaves your body. Ayaka sinks to her heels beside you, rubbing your shoulders for comfort. "Don't worry, that was my fault," you murmur in defeat. "I should've asked when they were planning to sail off."

Ayaka still looks unsure, her drooped shoulders resembling those of a kicked puppy. You offer her a reassuring smile, patting her hand.

"I'm not mad," you tell her. "It's just a minor inconvenience, promise."

"But… you mentioned you needed to get to Mondstadt for an important matter." And Ayaka takes important matters very seriously.

Actually, the important matter in question was really just you wanting to try out their wine; and apparently, their tastiest—and cheapest—is limited for this season. It is sold as a special, as leftovers from the Windblume Festival. And it is definitely not worth Ayaka's conscience.

You cup her cheeks, feeling incredibly guilty. "It's nothing super serious. I can reschedule. See? Easy—solved. Mondstadt isn't going anywhere any time soon, I think."

"Did we just hear you say Mondstadt?" a shrill voice pipes up a few feet away.

Of course, considering your luck, it's none other than Paimon and her trusty companion, the Traveler. Paimon's entire body wiggles as she waves at you both, while Aether's gaze is locked on you, lips quirked.

"Traveler!" Ayaka cries out, rising to her feet in an instant and all but rushing over to the pair. "You came at the perfect time!"

"Is something wrong?" Paimon asks, faltering.

"Yes," Ayaka replies swiftly before you could even cut in. "You see, Beidou has already sailed off to return to Liyue, but Y/N needed to get to Mondstadt and just missed her."

You don’t like where this is going. "Hold on—"

Paimon gasps. "Are you saying—?"

"I'm not saying anything—!"

Aether hums thoughtfully, grinning at you like he's won something. "Mondstadt? I'm sure we can afford to take a detour, can't we, Paimon?"

Paimon nods enthusiastically. "Yup! It's a good excuse to visit some familiar faces we've missed while we were off traveling!"

"Detour?" You eye him suspiciously. "From Inazuma to Mondstadt?"

Ayaka tugs you to her side, and you oddly feel like a scolded kid in the playground. "Thank you so much. I know out of anyone in Teyvat, the Traveler is someone I can trust. Please take care of my friend."

Aether grins at you. "You're in safe hands."

"We're so glad you could join us, Y/N!" Paimon says, clasping her hands in a single, delighted clap. "It's not every day we get to have another companion."

After what felt like Ayaka selling you off to the most dangerous individual on Teyvat, Aether rented out a boat built for five but crowded with two and a half. You watched helplessly as Aether tossed a heavy pouch of Mora to the dock master with the ease only a world-renowned hero could have.

"Sumeru first! We can't risk it on the ocean without Beidou's crew!" Paimon had chirped when you set sail.

You couldn't complain when they asked if that was alright, since it would be a golden opportunity to set foot on Sumeru, though the way Aether's gaze lingered on you, faintly smug—he probably knows what you're thinking.

It was unsettling for sure, but Aether kept his distance while on the boat. Paimon had dozed off, curled up on Aether's lap. You'd braced yourself for it—that sly grin and heated proximity, the way he did that day. But Aether stayed frustratingly polite. You don't know why you were almost wishing he would pay attention to you. To prove a point? How embarrassing.

The three of you reached a grassy stretch of Sumeru, a bit farther from civilization's reach, all rolling hills and rich with trees. You'd hesitated visibly back at the port, lingering by the city just a beat too long to take in everything. It had been so dangerously tempting to ask for them to stay. But Aether had been watching you, and there was a knowing look in his eyes that meant he could easily make up another excuse to keep you longer, and you knew yourself well enough to recognize your weakness. You wouldn't even hesitate.

"Thank you for having me," you respond politely, inclining your head. "I promise I won't be too much of a bother—you're already doing so much for me."

Paimon waves both hands in front of her face dismissively. "Nah. Don't you worry! It's always fun for everyone to travel in a group! Right, Aether?"

Finally, you both turn to acknowledge Aether's presence, who's off gazing at something else. His hair sways along with the wind. You find yourself entranced by how the sunlight traces over it for a moment. Must be an alien thing to have gold as hair.

Paimon flutters over to her companion worriedly. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Shh." Aether holds a finger against Paimon's mouth, his brows knitting together in concentration. "You hear that?"

The air seems to have fallen silent as well to listen; and there was only the sound of the fresh wind blowing past your ears, paired by the tickle of the grass against your ankles—then a whirring sound vibrates the ground so heavily you can feel it in your teeth, crawling closer and closer.

Paimon rears back in shock. "That sounds like—"

A dragon-like machine crests the hill and ascends overhead, gears creaking and grinding ominously. And due to its sheer size, its shadow swallows all three of your bodies.

"How is an Aeonblight Drake here?" Aether curses, his wrist flicking as a strange colored light pools in his palm.

Paimon shrieks, streaking past to hide behind you.

For one breathless moment, you are too paralyzed by awe to flee. The pressure sends grass whipping around into the air with each lash of its limb, producing a mock blizzard of green.

Then the drake's lenses lock onto Aether with a click, wings rattling in the air with its rusted hinges—and suddenly, you're mimicking Aether and materialize a handcrafted bow to your grasp. The bow feels frayed and light in your hands—meant to hunt weak animals, and not at all suitable for the size of a ruin machine that would make your arrows seem like a toothpick. But if you aim to buy seconds enough for Aether to strike it down, then—

Aether doesn't question your instantaneous instinct to kill, instead encouraging it with a grim nod. "Shoot at its core!" he yells over the deafening whir of the engine.

Aether's hand flares with elemental energy as the drake flies overhead. He hurls a concentrated vortex, causing it to stumble and flutter erratically. You take it as an opportunity to strike—the arrow hurtles as soon as its core dips into view.

It jerks back, releasing a shower of sparks. But it is not enough. It stabilizes too soon, and it locks onto you.

The realization hits just a bit too late.

You catch Aether's sharp inhale as energy crackles around the machine, its core pulsing gold and straining your eyes. It happens in a flash—before you even know it, a stream of energy hurls towards you. You could've dodged it, but you still feel Paimon clinging to your sleeves, terrified, and there wouldn't have been enough time for you to pull her aside without injuring her. No time at all. So you shove her to the side with your body and brace yourself for the blast that was left unavoidable.

It burns, brutal like a whip, however not bone-deep.

Paimon's cry cuts through the ringing in your ears as you push yourself up. You want to reassure her that it was nothing too serious—it might even heal in a day, saved by the thick leather hugging your forearms.

But you don't notice how Aether stills. Don't notice the way his eyes lock onto your battered form, sleeves singed, and knocked to the ground. You couldn't even catch it if you tried, when suddenly—

Light.

A furious burst of energy, howling and splitting through the air. You and Paimon clutch each other in surprise, unable to see past the blinding glare.

It's unlike anything you've seen before. It is nothing like the elements Teyvat had to offer. It feels as though the ground beneath you trembled, alarmed and unfamiliar by this display of power, just entirely beyond this world.

One blink and the next, and the machine jerks unsteadily, into shuddering spasms. Its gears stutter to a halt, hanging suspended mid-air for a breath of a moment, before crashing to the ground violently, parts scattering around.

The air is heavy with the silence and the smell of smoke coming from the defeated machine.

Aether stands amid the wreckage, heaving and glowing with the same shade of the blast that killed the Aeonblight Drake in a split second. It's like his entire body is thrumming with leftover energy, begging to be released and to burst out of his body, though Teyvat could not take it. It would kill this world in one fell swoop.

Your breath comes in ragged gasps, fingers trembling from the adrenaline—or perhaps shock from the display of sheer power. Paimon is fluttering around you, though her voice sounds muffled from the ringing in your ears, and your attention is solely on the man before you.

Aether whirls around, and your gaze locks.

He stumbles toward you through the settling dust, asking if there is any bleeding or if you were limp anywhere.

You think you're answering him. You must be. But you just can't tear your eyes away from his face. His pupils are blown wide, his chestplate glowing with a light that doesn't belong in this world. A color Teyvat might not even have a name for.

Oh.

So this is why they call him the Traveler.

all this for wine Like i would just rather die hello. Also ik its inaccurate bc aether loves his dull sword but like this is sexier methinks WHOSAIDTHAT

this turned out way more action packed than what i initially planned and its very scary cus my only idea was "aether sees u injured and suddenly boss dead" also i might? make another part since i already set up an opening for me next time so lmk if anyone's interest hehe

[moonstruckme]

Ooh ok, so here are some ideas for vampire!James in case you feel inspired to write any of them! Maybe something where he comes home after going out to feed thinking reader is asleep and he's feeling guilty and reader comforts and reassures him? Or another idea is just reader finding out that James is a vampire now, or maybe just her being there for him through the turning process. Sorry if none of these tickle your fancy!

Thank you for requesting lovely!!

cw: mention of blood, nausea

vampire!James x fem!reader ♡ 906 words

James walks through your door with heavy steps. He’s glad that he can do it—the first time he tried to come home after turning, you’d both wondered at how his feet wouldn’t cross the threshold until you figured it out and invited him in. It had been embarrassing. Now, James all but stumbles into the kitchen, hopefully not leaving any drippings of blood in his wake. 

He always feels drunk and sluggish after a feeding. Nauseous, too, though he’s not sure if that’s from the bilious too-full feeling or simply his own disgust with himself and what he’s done. Sirius theorizes that if James fed more often instead of waiting until he’s wasting away every time, he might not feel the effects so keenly, but James doesn’t like to talk about it. He still can’t find it in himself to talk about his condition the way his friends do, like it’s normal. 

The water coming out of the tap could be cold or boiling, James wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. All he can think about is getting it all over him, cleansing himself. He’d imagine it as washing away his sins, if such a thing were possible for creatures like him. Still, he wants to be clean to slip into bed beside you. You deserve at least that. 

It’s probably his distraction that keeps him from hearing you come down the hall. (James is not a very good vampire, he thinks. Shoddy predatory instincts.) But when you touch his shoulder, coming up beside him, he doesn’t startle. 

“Sweetheart.” James has the urge to cover his mouth from your view. These days he’s pretty good at feeding neatly, but tonight had been messier. There’s blood down to his chin. “What are you doing up?”

You give him a little smile, opening a drawer next to the sink for a cloth. “I could ask you the same thing.” 

“No, you couldn’t. I’m a creature of the night now, remember?”

Oddly, this has been one of the most difficult parts of the transition for James. There’s the whole living-off-blood thing, of course, and the new ability to hear a fly in the neighbor’s kitchen, but James was always an early-to-rise, early-to-bed sort of bloke. His old schedule was dictated by the sun. Now, all his instincts are in opposition to it. 

He stays still as you adjust the temperature of the tap, wetting the cloth and then lifting it to James’ face. You smell like toothpaste, and underneath that the garlicky pasta you had for dinner. (James isn’t actually deterred by garlic, though he can’t eat it just like he can’t eat any regular foods anymore. Maybe that’s where the folklore came from. Only something truly cursed would stop eating garlic.) He can feel the veins pulsing in your wrist like a substitute for the heartbeat he no longer has, but he’s full enough now not to worry about craving you. 

Of course, he craves you in various ways, all of the time. Just not in that specific way at the moment. 

“You should be in bed,” James murmurs. He touches his thumb to the shadow underneath your left eye. “I can clean myself up.” 

“I wish you’d just use the bathroom,” you reply just as softly, dragging the cloth over the line of his jaw. “But anyway, I don’t mind helping.” 

You don’t mind much of anything, James has found. You don’t mind watching your boyfriend turn into a vampire, don’t mind letting him feed on you, don’t mind cleaning an animal’s blood off his chin at two in the morning. You’ve adjusted to James’ new lifestyle better than he has. He’s beginning to think there’s nothing about him you won’t accept. You’re a sweetheart to your core, your center soft and sticky sweet like a cinnamon roll’s. (James should know, he’d practically tasted it himself.)

“I’m sorry I woke you,” he says. 

You wave a hand. “You didn’t. I was up, I just came when I heard the tap come on.” 

So you’d been waiting up for him. James’ heart at once warms with fondness and heavies with guilt. 

You give him a searching look. “Does it still make you feel sick, after?” 

“Yeah,” James admits. 

Your lips pull down. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about it, lovely.” 

“Mm, try and stop me,” you counter teasingly. “Do you think you could handle a sprite?” 

James isn’t sure. Solid foods only ever make him sick, but drinks have been hit-or-miss. 

“I could try,” he says, mostly for you. 

“Only if you want to.” You set the cloth down on the edge of the sink, kissing him softly on the lips. James doesn’t know how you can do it. To open your mouth to one that’s just done something horrid, and to do it so simply. 

“I love you,” you murmur. 

James’ unbeating heart gives a powerful squeeze. “I love you, too.” 

You press a kiss just below his lips, and another to his chin. If you’re trying to prove a point, it’s working. 

“Do you think you’ll be able to sleep if we go to bed?” you ask softly. 

“Mm, definitely. Like the dead.” 

A startled giggle spurts out of you. You smile up at him, your eyes sparkling in the dark. James thinks that maybe he could get used to the whole vampire thing, so long as he can keep you looking at him like this.

[darnell-la]

YOUR LIFE WITH ME

pairing: dom!bucky x mutant!reader x sub!bob

summary: Bucky isn’t the type to share, but the chemistry Bob and y/n have is oddly satisfying. It might have gave him more of a push to make his move, and make sure the two knew the line fr they could be living with him.

warnings: threesome, oral (male receiving), penetration, rough sex, making out, choking, slight embarrassment kink, slightly stalking mentioned, etc

note: this story was clearly rushed, but we still hope you enjoy it. PLEASE, we beg for ALL OF YOU to submit some type of Robert “Bob” Reynolds suggestions, as well as some Bucky Barnes suggestions. Thank you!

———

It had only been a month since the new Avengers had found you. It turned out, Mrs. Valentina had a secret deeper than her secrets. She hadn’t planned to come out with y/n yet, but after what happened, she needed extra members on the team.

When she introduced y/n, she had thought the team would be upset. Thankfully, most of them weren’t. They were actually happy that more people wanted to join and help them do good for the world.

The only one who didn’t want to go along with whatever Valentina had up her sleeve was Bucky. At first, he kept his mouth shut, but it wasn’t long until he started taking some anger out on y/n. Like today.

“There’s no reason for you to be here — Just leave and start a new life or something,” Bucky said right after y/n got comfortable in the living room. No one was around but him and her. That’s how he'd usually act a certain way towards her.

“Bucky — I get you’re not use to new people, and new groups, but please understand- Not all of us have places to go. I’ve got no one — You should know this,” y/n said as Bucky leaned back in his chair, upset that she couldn’t just up and leave.

This job is too dangerous for her, and Valentina doesn’t even know if her powers work. What if someone came to invade the old Stark tower, and y/n couldn’t do anything? That would be too much work and stress for Bucky’s hand.

“This job isn’t for you,” Bucky said in his cold, stern voice. “Who I decided to work with does not concern you, Bucky. You’re not my legal guardian or whoever you’re trying to be,”

It wasn’t hard to see that Bucky just wanted to keep y/n safe. People just didn’t know why? What was his deal with this young lady he’s never seen before or knew existed?

“I think she’s right, Mr. Bucky,” Bob said as he made his way into the room. Any time you/n would lay her eyes on him, she’d smile brightly. Bob was so sweet and too kind. How couldn’t she like the man?

“What is this? Some take down Bucky movement?” Bucky sighed as he leaned further back into the couch he was on. “N-No, nothing of that sort — I-I just think you’re taking it a little too hard on Mrs. Y/n here,” Bob said as he awkwardly smiled back at y/n.

“Now, what? Are you going to beat me up, then sweep y/n off into the wind? God, you guys are just so hard to deal with — So damn difficult,”

“I think you’re the only one being difficult, Bucky. Why can’t you just tell me your deal with me? Maybe we can fix it,” y/n said, making Bucky’s heart skip a beat.

For weeks, Bucky has been trying his best to ignore his questions and feelings towards y/n. He hadn’t felt anything like what he was feeling in years, so for them to come up out of nowhere, especially towards someone way out of his age range, triggers him.

“Ain’t no fixing it,” Bucky said, then got up from his seat to get out of the room. “She’s all yours,” Bucky said as he passed Bob. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Bob asked, but Bucky didn’t reply.

“It’s okay — He’ll survive,” y/n said, making sure Bob didn’t feel any time of way about Bucky being himself. Y/n would like to come down to some friendship with Bucky, but he wasn’t exactly a person you could get through to. Or so she thought…

“What are you talking about?” Y/n asked as she stood around the corner from the party Yelena’s dad decided to throw for the weekend. “I see the way you look at him and me — No need to hide, y/n,” Bucky said with a hint of alcohol breath.

“You’re drunk, Bucky,” y/n said, but that only made the man laugh. “Drunk, but not dumb,” Bucky leaned closer to y/n, scanning her face so hard, y/n became uncomfortable.

That wasn’t because he was close. It was because Bucky finds everything out, and no matter how hard y/n has tried staying professional, she couldn’t like the two people she finds unbelievably attractive.

“Look, Bucky- The party is getting hot, and I’d like to drink too, okay? Now, can we leave whatever you want to say for another time?” Y/n said right before she tried to leave. That worked, probably.

“Hey- Stop it, y/n. Weren’t you the one saying I should speak to you? Tell you what, my problem? So you can fix it,” Bucky said, seeming closer to y/n than before. She just knew he could hear and feel her heart pumping fast.

“Why do you want to fix it now? It’s late, and there’s a party,” y/n was trying her best to get this conversation to an end, but that only drove Bucky further. “If I wait for this liquor to wear off, you’ll never get a chance again,”

“Are you guys good?” Bob asked as he came around the corner to the sight of Bucky unbelievably close to y/n. “Yes, yes, everyone’s fine,” y/n quickly spoke as she slipped away from Bucky before anything got too tense.

“And, you’re telling me she’d be fine with something like this? I-I just can’t believe it,” Bob said as Bucky scrolled through y/n’s iPad that she keeps everything she wants no one to see, on.

“I mean, look at this. All of these are writings about us from fans,” Bucky said with a smirk, finally knowing that she liked him for sure. “Yeah, but maybe it just popped up on her uh- her for you page,” Bob said, trying his best to debunk everything Bucky was showing him.

“Well, they definitely did, and then she liked them — In her likes Robert,” Bucky said before placing her iPad back on her test next to her bed. “I don’t know, man. This is like, privacy things, you know? She could get mad, and I don’t like when she gets mad. It stresses her out,”

Bucky shook his head with a smile at how much Bob liked y/n. At first, Bucky wanted y/n for himself, but Bob didn’t seem too bad. He somehow liked the chemistry the two had, and he didn’t want to pull that part.

“Look, I’ll start. You can stand in the dark corner all you want until you feel like coming out, and trust me — You’ll want to come out,”

Throughout the night, Bob and Bucky stalked y/n’s every move like they always do, but harder. It’s like they rarely took their eyes off of her.

One thing Bob noticed that he didn’t notice before was the men flirting with her. Younger and older. For some reason, that didn’t sit well with Bob. He’s never wanted to get violent over something so small, yet he was ready to blow through these men talking to her.

“Relax — Don’t need that thing coming out before our mission,” Bucky said as he passed Bob to make his way towards y/n. Bob had no idea what Bucky was saying, but it had to be good enough to have y/n leave with him.

Bob hid as the two men called out of the party, towards the rooms where they slept.

“What is it now, Bucky? Aren’t you supposed to be the professional one-“ y/n spoke, but soon got cut off by Bucky’s lips softly smashing onto her. For a second, y/n slightly pushed at his shoulders in surprise, but soon pulled him in.

That’s when Bucky chuckled, and she moaned between their kiss. This whole situation felt like a dream, but she was going with it. She could only be thankful that this situation was happening.

“Jump,” y/n didn’t waste her time, and did what she was told. Seconds later, Bucky had them both in his bed, ripping at each other’s clothes. “Want you to keep some of it on just in case anyone unwanted walks in,”

Bucky knew Bob would take a while to come in, so he hoped no one else would come before him. One thing he was not doing was stopping.

Bob couldn’t believe any of this was happening. He could’ve sworn the two would be fighting in his room, so he placed his ear against the door. That was when he heard y/n’s soft moans.

“He actually did it,” Bob said, surprised as he played with his fingers nervously. Bob's heart rate began to increase, knowing Bucky was waiting for his entrance. He was sure Bucky wouldn’t pull this off, but now that it pulled through, Bob was left to fulfill his part.

“Wait, I don’t think we can do this. We work with each other, and- I-I don’t know if this is even meant to be,” y/n said, not overthinking every kiss he’s placed on her body. “Don’t switch on me now, sweets — I mean everything I do,” Bucky said as he began pulling y/n’s panties to the side.

“You wore this dress for me, huh? Short and tight — I love them just like that,” Bucky said, making y/n’s cheeks get hot. “I-I didn’t know,” y/n told the truth, but was glad she picked this out for the night.

“Of course, you didn’t, because you’re so damn clueless, huh?” Bucky asked as he heard the door behind him creak open. Y/n, on the other hand, heard absolutely nothing. She was too distracted by what was going on between her legs.

“I seriously didn’t know, I just- I just wanted to look good,” y/n said as Bucky groaned inches away from her ear. “Well, it worked because I can’t keep my hands off of you. I just need more,”

That’s when Bucky reached into his dress pants to pull himself out. They’ve been making out and touching each other for a while, but y/n still felt like everything was moving too fast.

“Wait- I — Are you sure about this? Y-You said you’re drunk, and-“ y/n tried finding everything to debunk this just like Bob, but Bucky continued to prove the two wrong. “I’m a grown man, baby — Liquor doesn’t make me act on things I wouldn’t do if I were sober. Maybe speak about my feelings, but that's about it,”

Y/n looked into the older man’s eyes, noticing how serious he was taking all of this. It’s almost like he wasn’t drunk. She wasn’t even sure if he was.

“Just let me do what you want me to do. I know you’ve been waiting,” Bucky said after he spat on his hand to rub himself in. “What are you talking about?” Y/n asked as her heart dropped. Be mind went straight to her likes on her reading apps.

“Oh, yeah, I know it all,” Bucky said as he slowly pushed at her entrance. Y/n whined as Bucky’s length instantly stretched her further than she’s ever been stretched before. He was long and big.

“Yeah — You feel good,” Bucky said as he continued to push deep into y/n, only allowing her to choke on her moans and arch her back. “Fuck, you’re big,” y/n blurted out as she tried to control her breathing.

“Yeah? Think you can take it for me? You take everything else when we train, so I’m sure you can take this,” Bucky said as his eyes pierced through y/n’s eyes with a slight smile on his face.

“I-I don’t know,” y/n pushed at Bucky’s lower stomach to keep him out just a little bit, but her lips kept swallowing Bucky back in. “Don’t think this is your only surprise, princess — I’ve got another one. Isn’t that right, Bob?”

Y/n’s eyes widened at that name, hoping he didn’t come in when she was too loud to notice, but he did. “O-Oh, I didn’t know you heard me come in. H-Hey,” Bob said as he emerged from the darkness, showing his bright, awkward, and shy facial expression.

“Oh my god- Wait, Bucky- Fuck!” Y/n cried out loud as Bucky pulled out just to slam himself all the way back into her with no warning. “Hey- I don’t think she can handle that,” Bob said, feeling a bit of sympathy for what y/n had to take from Bucky.

Bob wasn’t a sexual person, and still isn’t, so when he sees the way y/n cried from Bucky’s thrust, the only thing he can do is feel bad, not knowing y/n’s pleasure was higher than ever.

“She’s fine, Bob, don’t worry. Jesus,” Bucky said as he cupped y/n’s face. “Tell him, y/n. Tell him you’re fine, and I’ll make you feel the best you’ll ever feel,” Bucky leaned close to y/n’s face, watching as her eyes rolled back.

“I-I-I’m fine — I-I swear, Bob,” y/n said with a hint of embarrassment, but too much pleasure to tell Bob to shop Bucky. Why in the hell would she want Bucky to stop? She was close. Too close.

“You were that, Bob? Now you can stop being so tense and give yourself a hand, yeah? Help yourself. I’m sure she’s fine with it,” Bucky said as Bob stood right next to y/n’s shaky body.

“I-I don’t know if this is okay, Bucky, I mean- Look at her. She can barely take it,” Bob said, making Bucky chuckle. He loved that and wanted her to feel more. “Stick your dick in her mouth before I take her for myself,”

Bucky knew that would trigger something in Bob, and it indeed did. The way Bob’s eyes glowed at Bucky, made Bucky want to laugh at how much Bob wanted y/n. Bob would never let anyone get in the way of him and y/n. Ever.

It took some time, but Bob ended up reaching into his own dress pants to pull himself out. Y/n’s instantly panicked, knowing his cock would be to much for her mouth.

“I-I don’t know-“ y/n said too many times, but Bob cut her off by slipping into her mouth without thinking. Because the man’s cock is pretty soft while hard, he could squish himself deep enough in her throat to make her gag.

“Fuck-“ Bob cussed as his legs twitched. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Just wait until you get a chance to fill her up down here,” Bucky said as he picked up his pace, pounding her walls harder than she could imagine.

“Hey- Not too much,” Bob stuttered at Bucky, wanting him to slow down on giving her too much pleasure, or else her moans would vibrate too much onto his length. He swore he almost came when he watched Bucky pound into her for the first second he came in the room.

“Deal with it, Bob. It’s not like she’d hate you for it. She’d probably take it all, just for you,” Bob’s stomach began to positively rumble at the thought of her take him, all for him.

“Right, y/n? You gonna take all of Bob, whether he gives it to you now or later?” Bucky asked as his hands tightened on y/n’s waist to pull her in, and keep her still enough for his thrust.

The younger girl couldn’t say any words, but her moans were all the speaking Bob needed to hear before his body shuddered. “Oh my god-“ Bob whined before he began to spill heavily into y/n’s mouth.

“Oh my god, y/n, fuck,” moaned as he grabbed her face to pull her closer to him, making sure his cock stuck deep enough down her throat to force her to take all he had to give.

Her gags and whines only made him shake harder. He even thinks he came twice while being in her.

“You f-feel so good,” Bob stuttered, letting his orgasm take him over. “I know she does. Just wait until you’ve got full control of every part of her body. She wouldn’t be able to last,”

Y/n felt embarrassed by her moan to his comment about her. She just knew Bucky would ruin her. He’s too cocky not to. And, Bob? He was going to make sure Bob knew how much y/n would submit to both of them. Bucky is going to make y/n’s life the best she’ll ever have.

[liberalk1tsch]

Drabble where Peeta isn’t hijacked when Katniss is shot in Mockingjay, and we see his reaction to it and he takes care of her and everything?

well this is gonna hurt. and just cos i prefer it, here’s it on ao3 too bc i 🫶🏻 pain

The screen goes black, but the shot continues ringing in my ears long after the cameras shut off.

Shot.

She’s been shot.

I feel Haymitch’s hand on my shoulder, leading me away. I feel numb as he pulls me around a few corners, down a set of stairs, and pushes me into some sort of room full of warm, whirring machines. I quickly recognize the room as one where I’ve previously stumbled upon Katniss hiding out in when she gets overwhelmed with her duties as the Mockingjay.

“What’s happening?” I ask frantically. “Is she okay?”

“Shut up, boy,” scowls Haymitch. “I’m trying to hear what they’re saying.” He’s still got the radio headset on that he was using to communicate with her only moments ago. I’m not sure if he’s switched to a different channel and is trying to listen in on the medics’ coms now, or if he’s simply trying to make out what they’re saying through Katniss’ microphone, but either way, whatever he’s hearing has left him with a furrowed brow and ashen face.

A few minutes of baited breath later, we have an update: the bullet didn’t penetrate her suit, thanks to Cinna’s design. She’s being transported to District 2’s clinic under suspicion of a ruptured spleen and broken ribs.

“Why isn’t she in the hospital?” I ask.

“Just ‘cause 2 is better off than 12 doesn’t mean they’ve got everything. She’s lucky they have a clinic for the peacekeepers. She’ll probably need emergency surgery for that spleen.”

“I need to go, I need to be with her,” I say. It’s not a question.

“You can’t —”

“If this is about my safety —”

“It’s got nothing to do with you, kid, and everything to do with her. She’ll probably already be on a hovercraft being transferred back here by the time you get there,” says Haymitch.

“Then what am I supposed to do?” I say helplessly, burying my face in my hands.

Haymitch sounds genuinely sorry for me when he says, “I don't know.”

I pause for a moment. “Haymitch, what if she doesn’t make it?”

“She will. She’s a fighter.” He stops, as if contemplating his next words. “She’ll come back to you in this world.”

There's something devastating about the way he’s phrased it. As if he knows what it is to lose the love of his life in this world, as if he’s holding out hope to find them again in the next. But it’s that very devastation that’s oddly comforting in a way that Haymitch so rarely is. He and I don't see eye-to-eye on most things, but — funnily enough — he’s the only one who seems to understand how I feel about Katniss.

I wonder if love’s a big enough word for my feelings for her.

When my dad was around, he understood the crush I had on her, but Haymitch knows what it’s become. Maybe even more than I do — or at least am willing to admit — sometimes. I never thought of him as a romantic guy, but he continues to surprise me, even now.

We don’t sleep, my mentor and I. And while it’s not the first sleepless night I've spent thinking about Katniss, it’s by far the worst. Nothing else can compare.

Not when I awoke to her lying in a pool of her own blood, and spent the next 36 hours making sure she didn’t die in my arms. Not when we were separated in the Quell, and I hacked my way through the forest, through mutts, through Brutus, following her screaming my name.

Not even the countless nights I’d spent in the Capitol with only Annie’s sobs and Johanna’s screams for company, holding on to a memory of her in an attempt to hold on to the remnants of myself.

I’d gotten used to abuse from an early age. Growing up in my mother’s household will do that to you. I knew how to retreat to the corners of my mind, to block out the pain. To react just right — not too strongly where it would invite her to prey upon my weakness, but not stoically enough to invite a harder blow either. I’d despised my mother my whole life for the way she treated us, Dad included. I never thought she’d be the only reason I’d survive Snow’s torture.

Well, not the only reason.

When I’d withdraw from reality to hide in my head, it was Katniss’ arms that I’d flee to. I could never tell her, she’d probably freak out too much if I did, but she brings me a comfort like none I’ve ever known. Even when I was laying on the concrete floor of my cell, doubled over in pain with my nose bleeding, my body and bones bruised everywhere that wouldn’t show on camera. Broken toes. Burns lacing my arms. Welts on my back from caning (I’d almost smiled when they brought out a proper, old-fashioned cane — didn’t they know a wooden spoon could do just as much damage?). And through it all, I’d just go back to that place. To her. To our last good day, on the rooftop of the very place they held me prisoner. Where I’d spent the afternoon with her head in my lap, my fingers in her raven hair. She pretended not to stare up at me, and I pretended not to notice. I told her I wanted to freeze that moment and live in it forever.

So that’s what I did.

Maybe not forever, but I lived in it whenever I could. Whenever I needed. Which turned out to be a lot more than I ever thought it would be.

I hide there now, the sun warming my face, watching as her nimble fingers expertly fashion the flowers in her hands into a crown.

Desperately trying to ignore the pit in my stomach at the idea that I might never see her again.

She'll return to me in this world, I remind myself.

Haymitch jerks his head up suddenly, eyes bloodshot, but alert. “She’s here.”

I move to stand, but Haymitch grabs my arm to pull me back down.

“She’s not in good shape, kid,” he says gruffly.

“I don’t care,” I say, wrenching my arm from his grasp.

He sighs. “Didn’t think you did, I just had to make sure you knew.”

I make a beeline for the hospital, Haymitch on my heels. I quickly realize I have no idea which room she’s in, but it’s no matter because as soon as we near the entrance, the doors burst open, revealing Boggs and a few other unknown faces from 13 pushing along an empty gurney, flanked on either side by medics, one of which I immediately recognize as Prim.

“Where is she?” I ask her, eyeing the empty gurney anxiously.

Prim stops, letting the others continue on without her. “She’s stable, Peeta. She’s all right.”

“I have to see her,” I say.

Even though I’m four years her senior, I feel like a child as Prim takes my hand and leads me and Haymitch through a maze of hallways to Katniss’ room.

Katniss lays in her hospital bed, but in spite of a few scary-looking tubes sprouting from her arms and alarmingly large bandages banded across her torso, visible through her paper thin gown, she looks extraordinarily normal. Paler than I’ve ever seen her, but her nonetheless. Alive, and so so beautiful.

I take the first deep breath I’ve had in hours as I sidle up to her bedside. “Prim, what can I do?”

She’s in that haze she goes into whenever she’s healing someone. I know it well, it’s the same one I go into whenever I’m painting. I know her first instinct is to tell me to buzz off, but something about my presence has cracked the glazed look in her eyes, and I know she’s speaking to me as a sister — not a medic — when she places my hand in Katniss’ and says, “Stay with her. Please.”

“Always,” I mumble, my words barely audible as I take a seat in the chair beside her bed.

I’ve given this answer before. To Katniss, as she drifted off into the clutches of sleep syrup. I wonder if she remembers it. She probably doesn’t. There’s a lot she doesn’t remember. A lot she doesn’t know. Like how I had stayed until dawn, until Prim relieved me of my vigil.

Prim exchanges a look with Haymitch before giving my arm a friendly squeeze and leaving us alone with our girl.

I cup her face in my free hand, brushing my thumb over her cheek, causing her to stir lightly, her fingers twitching infinitesimally. “I’m right here, Katniss.”

Haymitch takes up the seat opposite mine, giving me a wary once-over. “You okay, kid?”

“I will be when she wakes up,” I say honestly. “I just . . .” I hate being vulnerable with Haymitch, and I’m sure he hates it just as much as I do, but it doesn’t do any good to lie to him about how I feel about Katniss; he has a way of cutting straight to the truth with me, and always has — ever since the first day we met. “I really do love her, Haymitch. I always will. In any way that she’ll have me. And this is terrifying.”

Haymitch gains a distant look in his eyes, as if he’s looking through me instead of at me. “You love her like all-fire, huh?”

All-fire? “Something like that,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck bashfully. All-fire. I hadn’t heard anyone use that word in years. The last time I’d heard it had probably been from Katniss’ dad. I’d never really understood what it meant either, but now that Haymitch has said it, it feels fitting.

Haymitch continues to stare through me for a moment before finally breaking away his stare. He pushes his chair into the corner and snags a hospital blanket from the foot of Katniss’ bed. I shoot him a look, but he just shrugs. “What? It’s not like she’s gonna notice.”

He turns out the harsh fluorescent lights before curling up in his chair, tucking the blanket up to his chin and closing his eyes, leaving only a single candle burning on her nightstand.

I’m getting pretty tired myself, but I can’t bring myself to sleep.

All-fire.

I hold Katniss’ hand in both of mine. Her hand’s still warm.

Still her.

Still here.

All-fire.

I think maybe it’s the kind that blooms brighter in the dark, when there’s no one left to watch us, to scrutinize our every move.

So I sit in the quiet glow, and I wait for her to come back to me.

[revelboo]

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t log on every day to check for updates to your Trine x Reader series (Skywarp you lil shit 💜) but I do hope you continue your writing with Thundercracker and his love of movies.

I definitely will, I enjoy writing them 😁 Shockwave and Optimus arrived, Skywarp and Thundercracker got delayed

True Romance Pt 12

Seeker Trine x Reader

• There’s something oddly comforting about feeling all three of them hold onto you. Not demanding anything more than this as you stare up at the sky. Like you just belong here with them and it lifts through you with an ache you don’t quite understand. Because Skywarp and Thundercracker are always reaching for you, but Starscream’s only just started to lose some of his frosty indifference. Watching you more, glancing at you while he’s working to check on where you are, who has you. Gruffly asking if you need anything, his wings fidgeting. You’d assumed he’d been annoyed at having to look after you, but maybe that’s just how he is. Wondering if maybe the aloof, distant act is just that- an act.

• Aware of his brothers around him, his trine together and at peace, the warmth of you against him, there’s the uncomfortable realization of how fragile this is. Finding you had been pure chance. You might not have survived the wreck. Might have run towards the Autobots instead of staggering his way. What he’s sure of? Skywarp and Thundercracker are happy and there’s nothing he won’t do to protect that. “I thought we could all watch a movie together when we go home,” you say, voice soft and hesitant. Asking. And that word, home, rings through him coiling warm about his spark. Because it’s right.

• “Not the sappy stuff,” Skywarp mutters, turning his face against your throat and venting. Because if Thundercracker picks, it’ll be a love story. It’s all he wants to watch lately. Since finding you. Feels your fingers brush a wing and he shivers slightly, leaning into the touch, wings flaring. Aware of Star shooting him a look to behave when it’s so hard when you don’t know what your soft touch does to him. Tempting him to bite the curve of your shoulder when you absently brush over his sensitive wings. Growling when Thundercracker reaches up to grab your wrist and pull your hand away.

• “Wings are sensitive,” Thundercracker says, gripping your hand to keep you from accidentally finding any other sensitive spots. Sees your face redden slightly as he rubs a servo against the back of your hand. “Like mesh.” Carefully tugging your hand so your fingertips brush his neck. Shivering despite himself and avoiding Star and Sky’s optics as they stare at him. Judging the little teaching lesson, recognizing that he’d just wanted to feel you touch him.

• And everything just sort of shifts even though you have no idea what just happened. Aware of a tension that hadn’t been there just a second ago as Thundercracker keeps your hand trapped in his, servos rubbing absently against you like you’d been touching Skywarp’s wings. “I don’t care if you touch my wings,” Skywarp grumbles, looping an arm around your neck, face so close to yours you can feel it when he vents, brushing his cheek to yours so your skin prickles with awareness. And then Star is gently pulling Thundercracker’s hand from yours.

• “Everyone keep their hands to themself.” Stiffening when you pull your other hand from his helm, Starscream has to resist the urge to pull it back to him after just saying that. Because he understands Skywarp’s grumpy muttering. You’re soft and warm. And absolutely off limits. Even if Skywarp is right and you are compatible that way, he’s not interested in the drama of his trine squabbling over you. Which means keeping the other two and himself in line to keep the peace. Resisting the temptation that you pose, something that had never occurred to him might be an issue. Realizing he likes the feel of you against him a bit more than he should.

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[coffee-at-daybreak]

late night reading | martin septim x reader

a/n: i may or may not have been recently engulfed by oblivion remastered and of course like the gooner i am, i fell for babygirl martin. he has no business being that precious. ik i'm going a lil off script seeing as i've only written skyrim pieces so far but i hope there's at least a few other ppl who can indulge in both <3 ty so very much for stopping by!!

You don't know what's making more noise - the forest outside, the raging thoughts in your head, or the obnoxious snoring of someone else in the Weynon house.

You turn for the tenth time in your temporary bed. It's a perfectly good bed, but like everything else right now, it just feels ... wrong. Too warm, too soft, you don't know. But you do know you cannot get comfortable enough to even think of sleeping.

As if it's not difficult enough with your mind still racing. It's been a few hours since you returned to Weynon Priory with Martin, only to walk right into disaster. A messy fight, a monk slain, the Amulet of Kings gone. Every bone in your body wanted to chase after those attackers, but Jauffre was right - it was foolish to pursue them through the woods at night.

So, you must wait. Dawn can't be too far off, but Gods, the hours are dragging by.

Your head hurts. You don't know whether it's the lack of sleep, the aftermath of the battle, the stress pulling your body tight like a bowstring - or a fun combination of everything.

Exasperated, you dart out of the bed and head downstairs. Maybe some fresh air will help.

You don't bother being silent with your footsteps, especially with that snoring upstairs. You hurry down the steps and start to cross the room towards the front door when a hushed call of your name comes from behind you.

You turn around, your body half prepared to draw a weapon. But instead of an enemy, you see Martin seated on a bench in the corner, bathed in the faint light of a lantern propped up next to him. His pale blue eyes, softened with concern, catch your own.

"Are you alright?" He asks. His voice is as hushed and gentle as ever. "What's happened?"

You hesitate, glancing between him and the door. "N-nothing. I was just..." You turn your full attention to him. "Wait, what are you doing down here?"

He offers a small, sheepish smile and lifts his hands briefly to reveal an open book in them. "I'm sure it's no surprise, but ... reading."

It's certainly not a surprise. Almost every stop and moment of respite you'd had on your way back from Kvatch involved him reading some tome or another. The familiarity of it is oddly relaxing, though. The erratic pace of your heart and breathing starts to come down.

"Sort of an odd time to be reading, isn't it?" You ask. You keep your tone light to show you're only teasing, but your voice shakes a little on the last word. And attentive as he is, Martin notices.

"Perhaps. But is it not an odd time to be heading outside?" His eyes dart from you to the window, where it's very obviously pitch black outside.

You purse your lips and shrug. "What are the odds we get attacked again?"

Martin just looks at you with deep concern. "Please, do not test those odds."

You smile. It wasn't the first time you said or did something to give him that little crease in his brow, or that worried frown tugging on his lips. Something about that look causes your heart to stir.

You heave a soft sigh and finally step away from the door, instead moving for the same corner as him. To your relief, he scoots over on the bench, leaving just enough space for you.

"I take it you can't sleep either?" You ask as you take a seat next to him. You're close enough to sense the subtle warmth of his body and to catch that faint smell of clean fabric and mint he always carries. You don't know whether to be comforted or thrilled by it.

"There was a feeble attempt made," he admits. "It seems my mind is not as exhausted as my body is."

You nod to that. You start to voice your agreement when you're interrupted by another loud snore from upstairs. "I suppose it comes easy to some people," you mutter.

Martin gives you a soft chuckle, a rare but delightful sound to your ears. "I am envious of them," he says.

A moment of quiet passes, then he is asking you again with that oh so gentle voice. "Are you alright?"

You stare at your boots, mulling over your response. "I don't know. I feel a little ... overwhelmed."

There's another pause as he gives you a chance to continue. That's when you realize who exactly you're talking to. You fight back a cringe and turn to look at him. "I'm sorry. I'm sure that's nothing compared to how you feel."

His face softens and he shakes his head. "This is no competition, my friend. Your feelings are valid." He casts a glance to the woods visible through the window. "There is a lot ahead of us, and it's natural to be uncertain."

You feel a small jab in your chest. You wonder if he's thinking of his approaching title as Emperor. To go from a simple priest to the next ruler of Cyrodiil... He sure has a lot on his plate.

"But I have faith it will all unfold as we go, and we are on the right path." His eyes flick back to meet yours. "I am glad we are on it together."

Warmth blooms from inside you. Some of it even reaches your skin, your cheeks tingling a little as you smile at him.

He suddenly looks away, averting his gaze. Maybe you're imagining it in the low glow of the lantern, but it actually looks like he might be the flushed one.

"I am sorry you are unable to sleep," he adds. "If there is anything in particular you would like to speak of, I am here to listen."

Your heart swells at the offer, and you do consider it for a second. "Thank you, but it's alright. I'd rather just keep my mind off of it." Your eyes jump to the book in his hands. "Can I ask what you're reading?"

He turns it to show you the cover. "'Incident at Necrom'. I believe it is a fictional work on illusion magic."

You hum curiously. "Sounds fascinating." You are about to ask him for a summary, but a better idea crosses your mind. "Would you be willing to read it to me?"

Martin is obviously caught off guard by that request, and you almost laugh at that surprised little stretch to his eyes. "Forgive me, but ... is that a jest?" He asks with just a hint of nervousness.

"Not at all. I'd love to hear it," you assure him.

He hesitates only a moment longer, but when he realizes you really aren't joking, he relaxes and opens the book. "Then I'd be glad to."

He flips the pages until he's back to the start of the book, and clears his throat quietly before beginning. "'The situation simply is this'..."

It's suddenly easy to ignore everything else - the forest outside, the raging thoughts in your head, the obnoxious snoring upstairs. Instead you are lost in the deep but soft cadence of his voice. It calms you, soothing away the tension both in your mind and body.

Without thinking much of it, you tip your head down until it's leaning ever so lightly on his shoulder. He stutters on the current word for only a second, but continues in spite of the speedy heart rate you just gave him.

[intheshadowsbehindyou]

hiiii! Can I request all mercs w/ somebody who doesn’t talk due to self consciousness, but to an extreme? Like smbody who only says a few words a month and talks rly quiet.

if you need to choose specific mercs, either medic, sniper, or Engi <3

/p

(Some) TF2 Mercs and a semi silent S/O

Warning: Medic. Just Medic in general honestly.

—————————-

Engineer:

- To be honest, he has no idea how to cope with this at first and he’s rather thrilled to meet somebody like this. Engineer talks people’s ears off when they’re willing to listen and you’re no exception. Your silence makes his flood gates of pointless information open up and one could easily mistake him for Scout in this moment.

- Uhhh… Why aren’t you responding to his theory on black holes? Eh, who cares. He stops talking after a while and you watch him scribble calculations on a small sticky note mindlessly. He doesn’t seem too offended by it. He’s more than happy to sit in somebody’s presence quietly all night.

- Engineer starts to notice after a while that you just.. RARELY talk at all. Not that it bugs him much, but he starts to suspect some sort of trauma disorder.. Or something along those lines. His mind is going crazy with possibilities as to why but ultimately never asks out of worry he’ll erode something you left behind in the past.

- Prolonged and completely dead silent eye contact is rather easy for you with him. Even if this doesn’t naturally come easily. You can’t make out any eyes behind those dark goggles of his. Oddly comforting.

- You swore you caught a smug smile creep up on his face a bit when you finally do say something. As if he was thinking ‘AHA! I knew my charisma would pay off eventually.’ This gotcha moment for him makes his ego massively inflate. This is Engineer. What do you expect? He knows he’s smart, and always plays his cards right. Manipulative bastard.

—————————————————————————

Sniper:

- Notices you’re starting to hang out with him more in a window he likes to camp at. He properly identified you as a fellow introvert from the start. Your mutism is noted, your presence is noted.. and rudely fucking ignored.

- Sniper doesn’t typically find anybody too interesting. Yes, even those who are quiet. He’s not a people person by any means, and only feels intrigue rarely. I guess you were that rare person evidently. He never even looks your way even ONCE as you sit there with him, but today was different. You saw his attention divert momentarily.

- “At least Y/N doesn’t fuckin’ talk my ears off like a bloody nonce trying to proclaim his innocence to a brick wall. You wanna know who drives me the LEAST insane in this bin? People like them. People who don’t talk their arses off and instead focus on a clean shot. Focus on the bloody job.”

- Next, you find an extra cup of coffee on the table in the nest that morning. It’s clearly not meant for him and you’re the only person who sits with him. He doesn’t even look at you as you pick it up.

- Begins to become slightly irritated when you break routine and don’t show up. Starts grumpily asking around for you and you notice this quite quickly. Dude has completely let his emotions clear to you and he’s oblivious to it. The reason you were absent that day is because you needed extra bed rest. (Existence is tiring.)

- You wake up to find him sitting at the edge of your bed reading a fucking newspaper. Yes, i’m not even joking. He’s so angry at you for not showing up that he decided to show up for you.

————————————————————————-

Medic:

- Medic doesn’t.. Process empathy/compassion like most people do. I’ve alluded to this before. He is very, very bad with emotions. For some reason your silence bugs him in a certain way. It worries him slightly, and he REALLY doesn’t like it. Especially since he can’t exactly ask the cause of it. He wouldn’t get a clear response back. Or just get shrugged off and assured it was nothing.

- You sit at the opposite side of his desk and hang out with him every night. Your sleep schedule had been recently fucked. Medic doesn’t even try to tell you to go to bed or school you on a night’s rest like he would everyone else. Instead when he’s not writing, he taps his pencil on the desk and stares at you… menacingly. Is he judging you?! He narrows his eyes. He’s definitely judging you. He has to be. Right?

- Indirect and awkward staring contest for a fucking hour. You begin to grow nervous because it’s like he’s trying to fucking beam thoughts directly into your head telepathically. It looks like he’s trying to use the fucking force to choke you. What the hell is going on through his head? Was he thinking about gutting you like he’s expressed for pretty much everyone else?!

- Stops staring to get up and use his coffee machine. Comes back and continues staring. WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON??!?!

[babzz6]

"It’s Violet." —Vi x reader

Tw: mentions of fighting, alcohol, drunken beatings, slight mention of insomnia.

The streets were barren tonight, oddly comforting but still very uneasing, the soft sounds of leaky pipes and a distant disco music filled the thin night air in your apartment. Tonight it was peculiarly cold, just for your luck as you found yourself in a fort of at least three flimsy blankets that did nothing to ease the shake in your bones.

Just a few weeks ago you had decided you've had enough of the cold nights, deciding to tinker a bit with some spare parts you found laying around on the streets, building yourself a makeshift heater, that had worked the previous week. You didn't check on it as it didn't make any weird noises or look like it was going to fall apart, now looking back on that moment you wish you did a more thorough inspection on it. Now you laid in your bed trying to soothe the chill that passed through your whole body and didn't seem to want to leave or at least die down. The blankets were paper thin and didn't help much in keeping you warm, so you decided to get up and make yourself a cup of tea to see if it could warm you up enough so you could catch a goodnight's sleep.

Your feet landed on the tile floor, that was nothing in comparison to the icy night air. You quickly wrapped your blankets around your shoulders and made a beeline towards the kitchen, it's small but not uncomfortably small, you had plenty of space to move around and big enough counters and cupboards to fill with your everyday stuff.

You reached into your sand colored cabinet, pulling out a vase filled to the brim with teas and medicinal herbs, you pulled out of the cup a chrysanthemum packet.

Its taste is light and tart feeling like a good choice right now.

You pulled out from another cupboard a small pot, filling it to the brim with water and then turning the stove on, opting to sit on the couch to wait for it to boil. A soft knock at your door soon enough pulled you out of your thoughts, 'Who could be here this late in the night?' you wondered as you walked towards the door, a sort of uneasiness gnawing at the back of your mind. You slowly opened the door, peeking through the crack, your eyes fly wide open and you open the door completely.

"Vi, what the fuck!" you whispered, she stood there, her dyed hair messy, frowning, out of breath and with bruises and cuts on her face and arms and a big gash on her stomach. "Hey cupcake," she mumbled "can I stay here for a bit, just a bit." she groaned and you nodded, wrapping her arm around your shoulder and helping her to your couch. She slumped against your worn out sofa, eyes lidded and face scrunging in pain.

"What happened?" you murmured kneeling before her, eyeing the wound on her stomach. "It's nothing sweets-" she groaned, shifting to get comfortable. "Right." you murmured, your face rigid, with soft undertones of worryness behind it. "It's nothing, really. The nurse wasn't there today, was looking for Loris to patch me up, before I got fucking jumped. I handled it but still they fucked me up a bit." she said wincing.

Your frown deppening as you left her side to turn off the boiling water on the stove and grab a bottle of alcohol, quickly going to fetch the first aid kit from the bathroom cupboard.

You settled next to her, gaze penetrating as she watched your every movement and suddenly you felt shy in her presence, the blankets long forgotten, the cold felt distant, mind blank. Now it only remained the heartfelt memories on your mind and the tension between you.

God knows how much you've longed for this woman, wanting more than anything for her to claim you as her own, call you hers and touch you the way nobody has. But you backed off the moment she stepped into the fighting pits. You carried so much weight from your past, violence and alcohol was natural, yet still it triggered something in you that you couldn't describe.

You saw at first hand what it did to your family.

How your father drunkenly beat your mother, until she was all bruised and swollen. Then he would beat you, despite your mother's pleas and your cries for mercy.

He did not care, not for one second.

He battered you up to the point where you felt like dying, your body not having the strength to fight anymore, just felt like giving up.

So when you sat first in line and saw how Violet knocked her opponent down to the ground, as he struggled to breathe and begged for leniency and she kept delivering punch after punch, making it look so easy, looking so... heartless.

It made you physically gag, thinking of curling into yourself and dissapear, because that could be you.

On the ground struggling to breathe,

by her hands.

No mercy.

That night:

You watched as a makeshift nurse there patched her small cuts and gave her a pass that she had no major wounds and could fight tomorrow. Staggering of the shabby mattress, Vi walked towards the door, stepping out onto the hallway with you.

She was awfully quiet, you guessed it was the alcohol she drank before the fight. But you didn't find it in you to care right now, your thoughts lingering in that moment you watched it all go down.

"Violet I don't want you to do this." your small voice broke through the silence, your eyes drifting not meeting her lidded powder blue ones. "What the fuck does that mean?" she said, voice slurred and her words leaving with a bit of more bite than she intended.

"I mean that don't want you to do this everyday, I can't- I can't watch you get hurt, I can't watch you hurt others, I just can't." your voice waivering, her eyes holding a fury you've never seen before.

"You're just unbelievable [Name],"

"I finally have something I'm good at and you want to rip it away from me?" she fumed.

"No, that's not what I-"

"No, you don't get a say anymore, " she stumbled towards you,

"Just because you're stuckup on the past doesn't mean I don't have to do it. Fuck! This is the most alive I've felt ever since I've been stuck with you."

Her words were like a stab to the heart, your knees buckling underneath you, threathening to drop right then and there. You tried to mask your sadness with anger but you couldn't, tears flowed heavily down your face before you could stop them, your vision blurry, her image distorted. Her anger dissapated in a moment, watching you like this sobered her right up.

"[Name] that's not what I meant-" she stuttered, her hand reaching for yours but you pulled away. "It's okay Vi," the name sending a pang through her chest, you've never called her that. "You can stay here, be happy, I don't want to see your face at my apartment, I'll drop all your stuff at Babette's." you said turning on your heel to leave.

"[Name]-"

"No Vi, I can't watch you get hurt or hurt others while being drunk out of your mind, I can't-" You choked on a sob as you turned your back to her,

"I just can't-" you said before walking away.

"[Name]?" pulled you back to the present, her fingers tracing your jaw delicately,

"You okay?" she asked as you pulled away from her touch clearing your throat, feeling very parched all of the sudden. "Yes, I'm okay." you stated, pulling out some gauze from the kit, "Let's patch you up." you said and she nodded, her eyes following your dainty movements as you pressed the gauze against the bottle of alcohol then against her stomach, to which she winced but her eyes never left yours. She watched as you touched her like she was made of porcelain, like she could break at any moment, she always loved that about you.

"There, you'll have to change it daily, but for now it'll hold." you mumbled, putting away everything and setting it on the coffee table. A soft hoarse chuckle left her lips. "Thanks cupcake." she said, "Stop calling me that." you retorted, "I don't want you to call me that." She frowned but nodded, she knew she had fucked up, she knew that very fucking well.

"When are you leaving?" you asked eyes meeting hers, memories pouring over you like cold water. "I'd like to think that soon [Name] but I swear, my body is fucking aching." she admitted, her eyes closing, a sigh leaving her body,

She looked absolutely wrecked.

"Have you been sleeping properly?" you asked and she did not answer to which you took as a no.

You stood up and made your way to the kitchen, sighing softly. "You can stay here while that wound heals, I don’t trust you to follow through changing the bandages so I’ll do it myself and make sure it doesn’t get infected. But we need some ground rules while you stay." she hummed in acknowledgement, probably exhausted, you thought.

"You don't drink without my knowledge,

you especially cannot go in my bedroom

and no fighting."

She hummed once again, this one sounded more like an agreement and you nodded, mostly to yourself as you poured the warm water into a cup.

This was going to be a long week.

[igotparasiticbrainwormscalled911]

ROTTMNT headcanons

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On the longer side of a read, spent an hour thinking of all these headcanons

Its now 6AM,

Goodnight!

Raph;

- Obviously Raph has some anger issues, but, he tries to do certain shit to make him „less angry,“ and more calm. A few examples would be him drinking tea or meditating, it works for him, sometimes.

- Raph's more than the smashy Smash Guy! After-Movie Raph constantly thinks about what happened in the Contents of the movie, and what he learns in said contents.

- Raph is able to put forth a lot of his anger when going on missions because of whst goes down on them. He was chilling with doing that all till the movie, afterwards feeling any sort angry or violent emotion made him disgusted, it always made him think about what he did under the Kraang's control.

Donnie;

- Donnie just straight up avoids ANY emotions Happening around him, strong feelings and he gets a strong feeling to flee the scene.

- Donnie's the one who lacks the most empathy out of all of the turtles which I can get more into later.

- Donnie's a germaphobe which is kind of silly to think about, Like, Yeah, the Turtle who grew up in the dirty sewers is a clean Freak? YES. Yes Bro.

- Donnie just has bountiful amount of peculiar phobias.

- Donnies autistic, duh

Leo;

- I'm not going to lie, I do Genuinely project on Leo so A handful of headcannons are just my personal projections.

- Leo bites the skin around his nails but oddly enough not the nails themselves.

- Leo has Generalized Anxiety Disorder but tries To Play off his anxiety and „Act Cool“.

- Leo's got some sort of Hero complex, but, he struggles to take situations Seriously, which causes him to Mess Up missions on a few occasions.

Mikey;

- I feel like Mikey's little orange spots just glow sometimes, or maybe just his body in general. I made this one mainly cause I thought its some silly Mikey shit he'd do.

- A quite common headcannon in the fandom that I just agree with is After-Movie Mikey having some sort of nerve damage in his hands.

- Mikey is emotionally intelligent, but just straight up aggressive with it. If you can't get in touch with your feeling around Dr. Delicate Touch then you're cooked.

- After-Movie Mikey also constantly thinks about the what-ifs, like „What if I wasn't able to make the portal,“ or „what if that didn't work,“ etc. He gets all sad thinking about, the possiblity of That Actually being the way Leo goes out, and solidifying in his 13 year old head the fact that they could die doing their missions, like, forreal.

Turtle Dynamics (?)

- Leo and Donnie BOTH are insomniacs theres no way they aren't.

- They all definitely have some sort of PTSD ESPECIALLY After the Movie bro

- Leo &Mikey have ADHD and I feel like either of them are capable of having AUDHD.

- Mikey sneaks out a LOT to go Graffiti, if the turtles know theyll either try to come with, stop him, or turn a blind eye. Raph would either try to come with or stop him from doing it, while Donnie would probably just turn a blind eye, and then Leo would either or honestly.

- Mikey's the easiest to open up to out of all of them, he's got the best advice and he's a great listener. Donnie's the worst to open up to, he gets awkward, quiet, and worst of all, sweaty. Leos mediocre at comforting people, and Raph tries his best to help.

- Raph's the Tank, Leo's the DPS, Mikey's the Support, and Donnie's the Tech Guy. (Donnie's a Tank for sure)

-They all smell like soap and cleanliness and nothing else.

Casey;

- Casey lives with the rest of the family Happily Ever After the Contents Of The Movie though he still misses his turtles. He still frequently thinks of what they would say or do in certain situations, like he still looks up to them for Guidance even though they're gone.

APRIL OOOOO'NEEILLL;;;!!!!

- APRIL O'NEIL IS APART OF THE FAMILY;!!!!

- The turtles treat her like a sister and a Equal. Splinter treats her like a niece, or a daughter. (Niece is fits better for their Dynamic IMO)

- April usually calls Donnie when she wants help with something, since hes more straight to the point than the others.

UNDER CONSTRUCTION ! ! !

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Hey so if you made it this far down, congratulations! Thank you for reading : )

This is a New Tumblr and I'm trying to get more posts out and get my account all sorted and whatnot.

I'd really appreciate any comments, dms, notes, etc. I'm probably going to add more to this post, whenever I think of whatever headcanons nd all

.

.

.

[happy74827]

Bring It In

[Sam Winchester x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: After a rough hunt, Sam seeks your comforting touch.

WC: 1747

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Sammy!! My adorable pookie. God, he was so precious in the early seasons that I just had to write about him.

『••✎••』

Waking up to a shadow in the middle of the night, especially when you were staying in a motel that was miles away from any civilization, was never a good thing. Especially when you could feel it even before opening your eyes, its presence heavy on the air. It made your senses scream and your heart race.

The feeling of being watched and studied was not something a normal person would like to wake up to, and as you lay there in bed with your eyes closed, that feeling struck you right into your core, making your muscles tense. Adding into the fact of the complete awareness of the supernatural world you were a part of, that was just the cherry on top of the cake.

But as you lay there, your brain going at 100 miles an hour, you realize this instance wasn’t one of those life-threatening situations you were so used to. It was an oddly comforting feeling as the flashlight you flew into the darkness was caught in the hands of someone you trusted with your life, the same hands that have touched every inch of your body in a way you could never forget.

He had been hunting all night, you could tell. Although it was dark, and only the soft glow from the motel sign illuminated the room, you knew his clothes were covered in dirt and leaves, and his hair was a mess. He didn't care, though, as he walked closer to you, his eyes becoming clear as he turned the flashlight on.

Sam had a tendency to get into these moods. A mood where he needed something to ground him and remind him that the life he was living was worth fighting for. You had always been that thing for him, his anchor, and as he approached the bed, his mind was racing with everything and nothing all at once.

As he sat down on the edge of the bed, his large hands reached out, touching you softly. It wasn’t sexual; he had no interest in that right now. He was looking for comfort. He just needed you.

You sighed, pulling yourself up from your position on the bed to get a better look at him. His eyes were tired and glistened over with some sort of sadness that he tried to keep hidden from you, but he knew he couldn’t. The tears reflected the moonlight that shined through the blinds and through the flashlight, and although the shadows under his eyes were more prominent than usual, he still looked at you with the most love you could imagine.

You didn't have to ask him why he was here, why he had been gone all night. You knew. He was a creature of habit, and Sam was very good at reading people. He knew when you were at your weakest when you needed him the most, and you did the same for him.

He needed reassurance. He needed to know he was doing the right thing, or else the guilt and shame would eat him alive. So when he saw the soft expression on your face, the gentle smile, and the look in your eyes, he nodded. It was soft, barely noticeable, but you saw it.

“You scared me.” You said, reaching forward to take his hand in yours. The flashlight was still clutched tightly in his other hand, the light shining up at the ceiling.

He sighed, squeezing your hand and looking away. It was silent for a moment before you felt him shift. The mattress moved slightly under his weight as he scooted closer, his eyes meeting yours once more.

Without a word, he reached forward, the hand that had been holding the flashlight coming up to rest on the side of your face. You leaned into his touch, the roughness of his hand feeling nice against your soft skin. He ran his thumb over your cheek before moving to cup the back of your head.

He was slow, almost hesitant, and you gave him a reassuring smile. You loved this man more than anything, and the gentle kisses he placed on your forehead and cheeks were the most tender of moments. You felt your heart swell as he finally kissed your lips, his hand moving from the back of your head to wrap around you, pulling you closer.

He let the flashlight fall to the floor, the loud thud it made against the carpet going unnoticed. You felt his lips tremble slightly, his emotions getting the best of him as he deepened the kiss. You wrapped your arms around him, tangling your fingers in his hair as you pulled him closer.

It wasn’t long before he pulled away, just slightly, his breath warm against your lips. Now you saw the blood, the bruises, and the cuts covering his face. He didn’t seem to care about them, but you did. It broke your heart, knowing that he had spent all night killing monsters and demons just to keep you safe. To keep everyone safe.

He let out a sigh, a long, hard breath as if he had been holding it in forever. Relief, the kind that came after a good cry or after a bad case of the flu was gone, washed over his face, and you could see the tension leave his shoulders. He leaned forward, resting his head on your shoulder, his arms tightening around you.

“I know,” He spoke, his voice cracking slightly. His tone was soft, his lips brushing against your ear. You shivered, rubbing your hands over his back. “I’m sorry, I just.. I needed- I needed to make sure that you were okay. That we were okay. It just... It gets overwhelming, and with what happened to Jess-”

You shushed him, turning to place a kiss on his temple. He sighed again, his breath tickling the side of your neck. His scent surrounded you, a mix of dirt and sweat and a hint of gunpowder. Dean’s presence was there, too, a bit of cologne and beer mixed into the air.

You didn't need to know where Dean was. You were pretty sure he had been on a hunt with Sam, and now he was at a bar, trying to get over his demons. The two brothers were so closely similar and yet so different, but in moments like this, where they were both torn down to their core, you could see the resemblance.

The two of them had a lot of things in common, but their biggest similarity was their stubbornness. They refused to ask for help, and they were afraid to show weakness, especially in front of each other.

Dean was off, drinking his worries away, while Sam came to you. A pattern the two had developed.

You had met the brothers in a motel very similar to the one you were in now. You were there for a simple vacation, a break from all the stresses of your life, but things changed when you were woken up to the sounds of gunshots and glass breaking.

Dean had burst into your room, dragging you out with him. He was a smart guy, and although he had no clue who you were, he knew you were in danger. He had gotten into a fight with a… well, it didn’t matter what it was; all that mattered was that the thing had a taste for human flesh.

You and Sam had bonded instantly, and Dean wasn't too far behind. It was the start of a beautiful friendship despite the poor circumstances. After a year of being around each other, helping each other out with whatever situation came, the three of you became closer than you ever thought possible. A little more with Sam, of course.

So, now, when Sam comes to you late at night, needing you, needing reassurance, you don’t hesitate. You give him all that he needs and more, and when he holds you close, his body trembling and his words shaky, you know it was the right decision.

His grip on you tightened, pulling you into him. You let him, holding him just as close, your hands gently running up and down his back. You could feel the fabric of his shirt under your fingertips, and the heat from his skin radiated through.

After a moment, he pulled back, his eyes searching yours. You could tell he was worried about Dean, about you, about the whole situation. He was afraid of what was coming, and although he didn’t know it, his fears were valid.

There was a lot to come, and it wasn’t going to be easy. The two of you had been through a lot, and although you didn't regret it, the thought of something happening to him was enough to drive you crazy.

You were about to say something, but the words never left your mouth. He was kissing you again, the force much stronger than the last, his hands gripping your arms tightly. It was an amazing kiss, filled with all the passion and love he had for you, and as he moved you, pushing you onto the bed, you felt his desperation.

It wasn’t a desperate need for sex, but a desperate need to be close to you. You knew this, and as you tangled your fingers into his hair, kissing him just as desperately, you knew he needed you more than anything. Who cared if you ended up losing more sleep than normal? Who cared if the sun came up and Dean returned to the room, finding the two of you still tangled up together in a mess of sheets? Who cared if the world was coming to an end and this was the last time the two of you would ever see each other?

He needed you, and as he whispered your name, his voice cracking with emotion, you knew he had no plans of letting you go. Not now, not ever. And when Dean did pop up a few hours later with messy hair and his shirt on backward, he would take a single glance and walk right back out the door, knowing he was going to be okay.

The three of you would be okay, and when the time comes and the world starts ending, you would fight till the very end. Because there is nothing worth fighting for more than your family, and you would do anything to protect the people you loved.

[veryace-ficrecs]

Momokarun Fic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

My Inner Demon (really wants me to kiss you) by chaotic_quibit - Rated T

Ken knew there would be some side effects from using Turbo Granny's power to fight yokai and aliens alike. Being a bit more nocturnal, quicker to anger, his eyes reflecting red in photographs. Those were all fine. Nobody said anything about the voice of his yokai form sitting in the back of his head, constantly urging him to 'kiss Momo-chan' though.

An Education in Daemons by patster223 - Rated T

As a little kid, Ken has always wished that his daemon could change into a cryptid. His Dark Materials AU.

racing sunrise by Anonymous - Rated T

So. She was maybe possibly a teeny tiny bit obsessed with Okarun’s wings. She couldn’t help it. She liked Okarun and she liked his wings, and she really wanted to see them stretched out, except Okarun always kept them folded away as some sort of psychological tease for her specifically.

Momo wants nothing more than to fly with her crush. Unfortunately, Okarun doesn't fly. Ever. Momo is determined to get to the bottom of this.

I Only Have Eyes For You by johnsoupe - Rated G

Taking a peek, he notices that Momo and Jiji are nowhere to be seen, his water bottle left all alone. With a sigh of relief, he turns back around, standing up to head over there before being slammed against the wall. With a yelp, Okarun winces, cracking one eye open to see... Momo. Momo. Who just slammed him against the wall. 

her smile by zileywrites - Not Rated

And even though he didn’t fully understand what he was feeling, one thing was certain: her smile had changed something inside him. momokarun first-time experiences: the first time someone’s smile made his heart skip a beat.

Woes of the Cuddler by imthepunchlord - Rated G

There's a real challenge in trying to cuddle a restless sleeper.

Sand and the Hourglass by ichoryte - Rated G

A quiet yearning the night before, and a longing heart the day after.

Carry Me Back? (Always) by foxxlightz - Not Rated

His head tilted, frost-white hair curling around his ears. A far off part of her wondered what it would feel like to comb her hands through it. The red of Okarun’s eyes burned hot as they traced her face, canines slipping out from behind his lips. He hummed in response, eyes flickering to the side. And oh.

It was easy to forget, looking at him like this, but this Okarun was still her Okarun. With his big round glasses that blew up his eyes like a bug, and his curly hair that was getting longer by the day. His nervous fingers tapping lightly on her side, corners of his lips curving up in sheepishness.

some kind of magic by teacosy - Rated G

Momo speaks then, her warm voice grounding him to reality. “Okarun, where does it hurt?” Okarun says it without thinking. “Right here,” he clutches his shirt, his fist above where his heart is. Momo leans down, her hand coming to rest on his own, still balled up tightly into his chest. Okarun looks at her, startled by the proximity. “Miss Ayase?” She shuts her eyes, sending her invisible hands to wrap around him. They were oddly warm, emitting some kind of soothing effect; like a balm to his anxiety. “I’m trying to send you good thoughts,” she looks up at him, her face too close.

— Momo & Okarun; on wounds, old and new, and the hands that tend to them.

An Empty Doorway by CatFiends - Rated T

“You don't have to go back home if you don't want to.” In between homework, murderous cryptids, and way too many goons after missing unmentionables, Ayase Momo tries to heal a heart.

comfort in weakness by zileywrites - Rated G

Ayase-san…” he whispered after a long pause. “Are you… okay?” Her arms tightened briefly in response, and she nodded against him. His cheeks burned; she could tell even without looking at him. His breathing hitched slightly, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, his grip on her grew just a little firmer, his hands pressing lightly against her back in an unspoken gesture of reassurance.

The Art of Apologies by animevoid (voidbirb) - Rated G

Set directly after episode 9, Okarun makes every attempt to apologize and explain to Momo and Momo makes every attempt to absolutely avoid letting him do such a thing