#so i know that once i do this i’ll be way more comfortable the other times i go

[riniwe]

BLADEROT

blade x gn reader

you leaned back on the wall, hand over the wound on your stomach, trying so hard to prevent more blood loss.

you groaned, sliding down. now sitting on the ground as your weakened state exposes you to death. so damn vulnerable— enemies of yours will surely come leeching off your body as soon as they see you in this state, handing you over to the IPC and claiming that five million merit that was placed on your head.

you hear footsteps and you hold onto the gun with your free hand. you expect for one of your money-hungry enemies to arrive, only for the infamous stellaron hunter to come to a halt right at your feet. your eyes widen and you lift your head, brows furrowed as your eyes fixated upon the figure. “…what’re you doin’ here?” you ask.

he simply glares down at you with his crimson eyes, his sword on his other hand. “are you contemplating whether to kill me or win that five million prize from the IPC?” you groaned, the pain starting to become unbearable.

“who did this to you?”

“what?” you let out, surprised by his words.

“who hurt you?” he kneeled down, a hand on your leg as he looked at you with an intensity you’ve never seen before.

“crap- does it matt—“

“will you tell me who hurt you? or do i have to find out the hard way?” he frowned and grabbed your hand. he stood up and forced you up as well, causing for you to let out a loud cry due to the inflicted pain, once again, on your already wounded stomach.

“be gentle wou— hmp?!” blade cut you off with a kiss, his lips moving against you with need. you couldn’t move, you were too bewildered to do so. then, he pulled away.

“the only one who can hurt you like this is me,”blade said, his deep voice somewhat comforting.

“i’m your only enemy.”

“ha…” you didn’t know what to make of that. why was he so… you didn’t want to think anymore. the pain was getting to you, and it was starting to become difficult trying to stay awake. so instead, you rested your head against his chest and closed your eyes.

“i’ll assume you still want me intact then…” you mumbled, blade’s hands wrapping around you before your body went limp as darkness soon engulfed you.

“looks like i’ll have to do it the hard way.”

[stargirlygirl]

their omega

જ⁀➴ chapter six: turmoil

alpha! bakugou, kirishima, denki, sero x omega!fem!reader⋆｡°✩ — angst, hurt/comfort, hanta marks you, deku appearance, smau + fic, 4.4k words

m.list

a/n: '🌽⭐️s' gc from denki's pov + texts to hanta from your pov + sorry for how choppy the different texts are, i wrote them at the same time

fic underneath smau

When you return to the house, pharmacy paper bag in hand with Hanta’s rut suppressants, you see that the front door is ajar. You push it open and gently close it behind you. After removing your shoes, you head to the entrance hall.

Your eyes are peeled for your alpha. His scent is overpowering. It fills your lungs with every inhale you take. You’re unable to tell where it’s coming from, where he might be. You call out his name and soon, you hear footsteps thudding on the wooden floors, drawing closer to you. You turn around.

Hanta skids to a halt. He’s panting and sweat is dripping down his brow. You notice that he’s in a loose pair of sweatpants, no shirt. You avert your eyes from his sweat-drenched muscles and hand him the pharmacy bag.

He snatches it from your grasp with a breathless “Thank you”. You watch as he tears the bag open and fumbles with the annoying white lid on the orange jar. Taking it off, he brings the jar to his lips and tilts his head back, pouring a few of the pearly pills into his mouth.

Instinctively, you reach out to him but stop short. You say, “Hanta, be careful! You could overdose.” He dry swallows the pills before roughly screwing the lid back on the bottle. He sighs and shuts his eyes, squeezing them tight. You take the bottle from him, your fingertips brushing his ever so slightly, which sends shivers up your spine.

You walk around him, towards his room as you say, “I’ll just put these in your draw, okay?” He follows you like a lost puppy and keeps a short distance between you.

Once you enter his room, his scent overwhelms you. You stop at the door, frozen on the spot. A whine escapes your throat. You look behind you to see Hanta standing close to you, his bare chest almost brushing your back. You gaze into his dark eyes, a pout on your lips.

He grunts, “I know.” He grabs the bottle from your hand and moves around you, heading into his room. You linger by the door, observing him. The sunlight filters through the window and catches on the rippling contours on his back.

The mere sight of him like this, the way his scent surrounds you, and even his voice threaten to do something to you. The omega in you makes you whine again as you see his muscles flex while opening the draw.

You shift uncomfortably under his stare as he comes back over to you. As soon as you’re within reach, he grabs you by the waist and pulls you into him. The force of his pull makes you gasp as you collide with his chest. Your hands press against his damp pecs as he holds you tight, face buried in the crook of your neck. You whine in his ear, making him growl. The chesty vibration turns your legs to jello, making you wrap your arms around his toned torso as you struggle to hold yourself up.

“Just stay with me, yea?” He murmurs into your ear. You nod as your hand finds the back of his neck and rubs the sweaty skin there.

For the next little while, Hanta holds you. He prays earnestly that soon, the rut suppressants will take effect. It requires every last bit of his strength to just hold you and not do anything more. Unfortunately, he can’t stop thinking of all the other things he would rather be doing with you right now. His self-control is teetering on the edge, about to snap any moment. He’s silently begging you to stay quiet as even a gasp from you could send him into oblivion.

He squeezes you even tighter, causing you to yelp into his ear. He groans, hands sliding down from your back to harshly grip your hips. He growls into your neck, “You should go.”

You shake your head and whisper into his ear, “I can’t leave you like this.”

He chuckles harshly as he says, “If you know what’s for your own good, you will.” You shake your head again and press your body closer to his, drawing out a low groan from his throat.

You know you’re playing with fire. Choosing to stay with him when you should be running might result in you getting hurt. But what you said was true. For some reason, you can’t leave him. You feel compelled to remain by his side.

You draw in a sharp breath as you feel his lips press against your neck; a soft kiss. You mewl out his name as one kiss turns to a shower of them raining down the length of your neck. At the feeling of his lips brushing your scent gland, you moan and tilt your head back. He kisses the sensitive skin, causing emotions — foreign — to course through your veins. You yelp out his name as his hot tongue darts out across your warm flesh. The cool air running over the spot sends shivers tingling down your spine.

He continues to lap at your scent gland like a depraved man. He takes a little nip at the tender skin, causing your head to snap back. Your nose-tip is against his hair and hot breath ghosts his moist forehead. You whine out his name as your hands squeeze his shoulders.

He keeps one arm wrapped tight around your hips, steadying you, as his other hand trails up your body. Over your stomach, between your breasts, and finally, it snakes up your neck. His grasp is gentle, with no pressure on your neck.

He tips your head back and keeps his hand there as he nips at your scent gland again. You moan at the sensation as both of your hands intertwine in his black locks. You hear him curse into your skin, his lips pressed flush against the spot. Momentarily, he remains still as he contemplates.

At this point, you’re panting. Your chest heaves up and down, and you can feel the erratic pace of your heartbeat. You lick your dry lips and close your eyes, doing your best to calm down in these few moments of reprieve.

You can tell it’s over when you feel Hanta’s fingertips press into the side of your neck. His hand manoeuvers your head even further back while his tongue drags across your skin from your collarbone to your jaw. The cool wetness left behind makes you moan.

And then, you scream out.

Hanta’s teeth sink deep into your scent gland. Red pools around the wound, a line forming around where his lips meet your skin. He sucks as he bites, tongue swirling and tasting that metallic taste of your blood.

Your hands are back on his shoulders, trying feebly to push him off you, only for him to tighten his grasp on you. The pressure of his hand on your neck increases and all you can feel is pain. Tears well in your eyes and fall onto your cheeks as you yelp and cry.

Suddenly, pleasure unlike any other floods your senses and transforms you into a moaning mess. You are floating. No longer grounded to this plane of existence, you drift along waves of peace and ecstasy. You can’t hear yourself anymore. You are high above it all. Fairy floss clouds tickle your toes as the sun’s heat permeates your untethered body.

Hanta pulls away, ripping you out of unexplored spaces in your mind. Your blood coats his tongue, staining it red as it stains his lips and dribbles down his neck. Your mind is foggy and your eyes are unfocused.

You can’t hear Hanta calling out to you, and you barely notice what’s happening around you as he carries you to his bed. He sets you down and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He then leans over you and calls your name again, hoping you’ll give him some sign of consciousness.

You shake your head to the side as your eyes close. As the fuzziness dwindles, you’re left with pain radiating from your scent gland. You groan as your brow creases. Hanta’s hand envelops your shoulders and gives you a little shake.

With your eyes still closed, you grumble, “What?” You hear him curse before you feel the press of his body against yours.

His lips brush your ear as he whispers, “You scared the fucking shit out of me, do you know that?” You nod weakly, and he continues, “I’m sorry, baby. I don’t know what came over me. You alright?” You hum in response as your hands gently rub his upper back.

You murmur, “Lay with me.” He hums in response and shifts to lay beside you. He wraps his arms around you, drawing you into his chest. Your head rests in the crook of his neck. You breathe his scent in and out, sighing in relaxation. His fingers push your hair back to leave your fresh mark untouched.

You two snuggle into each other, his warmth and soft murmurs sending you into a deep sleep.

…⊹₊⟡⋆…

You wake up to the sound of yelling. The angry shouts blare in your ears as you groan. You turn over as your eyes scrunch and then open. You notice that it’s dark out and you’re alone. You get up and leave Hanta’s room, following the loud noises to the living room.

You stop short, just lingering behind the ajar screen door. Peering inside, you notice Katsuki jabbing his finger into Hanta’s chest while Eijiro and Denki watch from the couch.

“DID YOU FUCKING THINK, TAPEFACE?! WHAT’RE WE GONNA DO KNOW, EH?” Katsuki shouts. Tch. The angry blond steps back as he glares daggers into Hanta. As much as you want to watch from your comfy spot, you know that they’ll realise you’re there soon. You push the door open and all eyes flicker to you. You close the door behind you and meet their gazes with a gulp.

Katsuki makes a beeline to you. He grabs your forearm and pulls you into his chest. As you crash into him, his hand is already on your jaw and he pushes your head back and to the side. His grip is firm but not painful. You can feel the anger rolling off of him in waves. Hearing his little grunt, you whine.

You don’t see it, but Eijiro comes up behind Katsuki to observe your mark. And soon, all of the boys are crowding around you. You whine again, this time louder. You don’t enjoy them staring, examining you like a rare artefact.

You mumble, “Is it bad?”

Katsuki grunts out, “No.” He lets go of your jaw and grabs your wrist.

He drags you out of the living room saying, “Have a look yourself.” He forces you into the bathroom and flicks the light on, making you squint. His hands grasp your shoulders as he positions you in front of the mirror.

You take in your dishevelled appearance from having just woken up. And then you notice the wound on your scent gland. For a better view, you lean forward and tilt your head to the side. Instinctively, your hands come up to touch it but you’re stopped by Katsuki grabbing your wrists in one of his hands.

You glance at him briefly before looking back at your reflection. There’s dry blood covering and dripping from the mark. Despite being bitten a few hours ago, it’s already scabbed.

You can see Katsuki’s crimson eyes burning into you. You gaze at him in the mirror, taking in his familiar frown.

You say quietly, “I need to wash it.” He drops your wrists and grabs a nearby towel. You shift back as he wets a patch with warm water. He then grumbles at you to stay still as he gently wipes the blood away.

You notice your other alphas lingering by the door, whispering to each other. Eijiro gives you a thumbs-up when he catches your gaze. You nod slightly and watch as he shifts back behind the screen and whispers something.

Katsuki pulls away and starts rinsing the towel in the sink. You look back at yourself in the mirror, seeing how the scabs pull taut and relax with your movements.

“Thanks, Katsuki,” you say. You place a hand on his bicep. It’s like your touch sends a jolt of electricity through him the way he flinches.

“S’fine,” he mumbles. He wrings out the towel and throws it over his shoulder. You pout as he steps back, your hand falling from his scarred skin.

You look up at him with doe eyes, saying, “Are you mad, Suki?” Tch. He looks away from you toward the door. You motion with your hand to Denki, who’s hovering by the door, to come in. Tanned fingers wrap around the door frame and push it back as Denki shifts in, revealing Eijiro and Hanta.

Hanta mouths to you as he points at his neck, “You okay?” You nod.

“So,” you start.

All is quiet for a few moments until Katsuki grumbles, “Do you like it?” You make a confused noise.

“Like it? The mark?” You question.

“’Course the fucking mark,” Katsuki says harshly as he rolls his eyes. You fold your arms beneath your chest as you turn to him. But he avoids your gaze and chooses to death stare at the sinktop instead.

You pout and say, “Don’t be a dick to me. Yes, I like the mark. It’s fine?” You shift as you speak, looking at the other boys. Hanta sighs and comes up to you.

He rests back on the sink as he says to you sheepishly, “It’s really okay?”

You nod enthusiastically. “It’s fine. What’s the big deal?”

Maybe the post-mark seriousness hasn’t hit you yet. This is a big deal. You, like all other omegas, have dreamed of the day you would find an alpha you loved and become their mate. Whether that’s a good thing… You’ve always looked forward to it.

Even if you haven’t wanted the traditional domestic life of an omega in the past, you’ve wished for your mate every single day. And now that it’s happening, you are unbothered by Hanta being your mate.

Hanta stares at you with wide eyes as you shrug and continue, “I mean, it’s not like I have a choice, right? You kind of own me.”

A groan from beside you catches your attention. Katsuki grunts out, “Mating has nothing to do with ownership.” He stalks closer to you and comes chest-to-chest with you as he continues, “Denki might have paid for you but that doesn’t make you my mate.” You whimper at his words, the harshness taking you off guard.

Quickly, Eijiro squeezes between you two. He faces you and clarifies, “What Bakubro means is that you don’t have to mate with us just because of your circumstances.”

You shake your head with furrowed eyebrows. You say confused, “But isn’t that the whole point of buying an omega? To mate and breed them?” Tch.

Eijiro shoots Denki a look before gazing back at you and saying, “Did Denki not explain?”

“Explain what?” You say, looking between the two. Denki’s blush doesn’t go unnoticed.

Eijiro sighs before saying, “Okay. Don’t be mad but Denki purchased you by accident.” Your mouth falls open from the sheer shock those words instil into you.

Denki chimes in, “I was drunk! That’s why Tsukauchi was here. I’m doing undercover work in Shibuya and I was at an omega auction and I got drunk and I bought you and that’s illegal obviously and—”

“So then what?” You cut him off. “You just… went along with it? All of you?” You stare at them in turn before walking up to Denki.

Your jaw is tense and glare killer as you yell at him, “So you lied to me? You didn’t feel any kind of sympathy for me?! You could have just told me the truth from the start! Taken me to the station or whatever. I could be home right now!” You can feel the tears well in your eyes as your voice quietens and becomes shaky.

“But I can’t now. I-I can’t. I’m s-tuck with-with all of you. I—” You choke back a sob. In that moment, Denki’s heart shatters in two as he stares into your eyes and sees you fall apart. He goes to wrap his arms around you but you shake your head and tell him no.

“Please,” he coos softly. You shake your head and dash out of the bathroom. You hear them call out for you but you don’t care. You rush to the front door, yank it open, and dart out, not bothering to take anything with you (not even your phone gasp). You slip out the gate and sprint down the street.

At this moment, you could care less where you go or what happens to you, you just have to get away. You run for what feels like forever (which in reality, is like five minutes).

By the time you stop, you’re doubled over, huffing and puffing heavily. The moment of cardiovascular rest has tears welling up in your eyes. You choke on your sobs as they overwhelm you. You’re lost in a foreign country, shocked and sad and winded. You swerve down the footpath, crying and looking for a place to pour out your heart.

Luckily, you spot a park up ahead. You stalk over to it and plant yourself down on an isolated bench. You rest your elbows on your knees, face in your hands, as you sit there and sob. Your pain is unlike any other. The pain of losing something you didn’t know you lost. That you haven’t really lost. A passing opportunity. A different decision. If only the truth had come to light sooner…

You cried over the ‘what ifs’. But the damage has been dealt. You’re bonded to that alpha now, to all of them sooner or later.

You had resigned yourself to enjoy this new life of yours, forced into complacency by the lie of ‘this is what you were bought for, this is what was expected of you’. To find out that a bunch of jerks were just fucking around and finding out was soul-crushing. Your purchase was a mistake.

So, you asked yourself, was all of this, therefore, a mistake?

Up until now, it all seemed genuine. All of the moments you spent together, the level of care the boys showed you, all of it had felt sincere. You refused to believe that it wasn’t. But Katsuki was right, mateship is different.

Being their mate is different to being owned by them. To be their mate is much more intimate. Is that something you want? You don’t know.

You continue to cry all alone, under the park lights as you contemplate everything you’ve learnt and everything that’s passed. It’s when the moon rises higher in the sky and the night air begins nipping at your skin that you become painfully aware of how much you don’t want to stay out tonight. But how can you return?

In another outburst of tears (this is the nth tonight), you don’t notice a tall, well-built man walking up to you.

“Um, Miss.” You look up and lock eyes with a green pair. They stare at you with concern. You sniffle and blink away your tears, hand wiping your nose and eyes.

He clears his throat and asks, “Is everything alright?” You nod frantically, noticing his green jumpsuit and refreshing scent.

He gazes at you with a small smile, saying, “Everything doesn’t look alright. Can I?” He points to the spot beside you on the bench. You hum in response, the sound weighed down by your sorrow. You take a deep breath in as he sits down next to you, desperately trying to calm yourself.

“Sorry for prying, Miss…”

“L/n,” you say, staring at him. He repeats your last name, feeling the foreign word in his mouth.

He continues, “It’s just, uh…” He smiles sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck, looking away for a moment before gazing back at you. You sniffle, waiting for him to keep speaking.

“You uh, smell like some heroes I know. And you’re marked. Is everything okay?” He asks. His tone is gentle and his voice fairly quiet — he’s afraid of making you cry again.

You shake your head before really looking at him. Curly green hair, vibrant green eyes, sweet freckles peppering his nose and cheeks, and pale. You feel a sense of deja vu.

Your voice is thick as you say, “D-do I k-know you? Wha-what’s your n-name?” He smiles softly and you get a brief glimpse at those pristine whites.

“My name is Midoriya, but you might know me by my hero name ‘Deku’.”

Deku…

“Oh!” You say. You point at him as you explain, “I know you. You-You’re on the r-rut calendar.” He laughs and it soothes your nerves.

“I am?” He asks with a raised brow. You nod, sniffling.

“Y-yea,” you mutter. “K-Katsuki talks about you-you sometimes.”

“Ah,” Midoriya says knowingly. He grins at you as he continues, “I’ve heard about you too. You’re his omega, right?”

You look away from him and swallow back a fresh set of tears. “Some-thing l-like that,” you whisper. Midoriya watches as you sniffle and try so hard to hold it all in. He knows it’s not his place to get involved, but he can’t help but feel curious about you, and sorry that you are so upset.

“Something happen between you too?” Broccoli boy asks. You shake your head, attempting to shake away the sadness that question sparks in you. He says carefully like he’s treading on eggshells, “Kacchan’s my friend. If he’s bothering you, then maybe I can help offer some perspective or advice.”

You whimper as you choke on your sob. You tilt your head downward as your tears flow uncontrollably. You cry for a little before coughing it up. You tell Midoriya everything and I mean EVERYTHING. From what happened to you during your kidnapping — that you haven’t told anyone — to when you were sold to Denki and everything that has occurred since. You didn’t intend to divulge so much of your personal life to him, but as soon as you started, you couldn’t stop.

You sniffle as you say, “S-sorry. I’m r-really so-sorry for talk-talking t-too mu-ch. I-I just need-need a f-friend.” Midoriya rubs gentle circles on your back as you sob, hunched over your knees.

He hums and says, “It’s okay, so don’t apologise. I’m sorry that all of this has happened to you. It’s okay to let it out. I’m here. And being Kacchan’s omega automatically makes you my friend, okay?” You laugh sadly as you cry even harder.

You two stay like that until you have no tears left. By now, the crisp night air has you chilled to the bone. You’re shivering as you calm down, your lips pressed together hard to stop your teeth from chattering. Midoriya notices the goosebumps cascading across your skin and your trembling.

He suggests, “Why don’t you come back to my place tonight?” You look at him with glassy eyes, and it takes everything within him to refrain from ‘awwing’ at how cute you look with that red-tipped nose.

“Rea-lly?” You say sombre.

He nods and says, “Yea. I’ll text Kacchan and let him know you’re with me once we get back.” You hum in response and let him help you stand up. He keeps a warm, muscular shoulder wrapped around your shoulders as he leads you out of the park and down the street. The lamplights illuminate the softness of his features as he gazes down at you every so often.

You’re not dumb. You know about stranger danger. But you’ve seen this man on a calendar and heard your alphas speak of him occasionally (mainly Katsuki, of course). You know that you can trust him to keep you safe. That’s his job, right?

Soon, you two reach his car and he drives you to his apartment complex. He guides you inside and up to his apartment. After fumbling with his keys, he unlocks the door and leads you inside. It’s cosy, you think. But his scent is so strong. You had an inkling he was an alpha from his pro-hero status, but coming into his home, you knew it for sure.

He chuckles nervously from behind you, “Sorry for the mess.” You shake your head and reassure him that it’s fine. You walk around the living room, admiring his furniture and the bookshelves before plopping down on the couch. He asks you if you’ve eaten and you tell him you haven’t.

Once he’s changed out of his hero costume into something more comfortable, he starts making dinner for both of you. You ask him if you can help, but he shakes his head at you and reassures you that he’ll take care of things. He makes you omurice, a dish you’ve never had before.

You smile happily as you take a bite, giggling and telling him how good it tastes. Your compliments cause pink to dust the apples of his cheeks. The sight makes you giggle even more and you tease him for how easy it is to make him blush. He laughs with you and lets you tease him; he likes seeing you smile.

That night, you sleep in his room while he sleeps on the couch. As you stare up at the ceiling, you can’t help but feel the stares of the bajillion All Mights surrounding you. They peer at you intensely, that grin stretched wide across his face.

Spending time with Midoriya was a breath of fresh air amid your emotional turmoil. You feel lighter and freer after speaking with him. To be away from the boys for a short while feels so good.

This small taste of separation is sparking ideas in you. Ideas about putting yourself out there. Sure, your daily walks are a nice break, but maybe you could start doing the grocery shopping or going to workout classes. You could even make some friends.

The boys just want you to be happy, you know that much. You don’t think they would be against the idea of you getting out there, as long as it’s safe.

Lots of things have been on your mind tonight. Lots of emotions were felt. You sigh and close your eyes, somehow falling into a deep sleep.

taglist - @qyuin @nervoussangel @xxdiaqiaoxx @misscaller06 @kksmush @cielito--lindo @kennygou @tnywabbit @ita606

[hannahbarberra162]

A Negative Outcome, Part 4

Infinite thank you to @gouraminnow who helped me so very very much with this chapter.

The other chapters | on Ao3

TW: angst and not much comfort here but there will be a lot in the next chapter.

Thatch POV

It had been a long time since Marco had been in trouble with Pops. Thatch remembered a time when he first joined the Whitebeard Pirates where Marco had killed someone they wanted for information and Pops had been mad about it. But that was decades ago and Thatch hadn’t seen a repeat performance since. Marco was always doing the right thing, making correct judgements, and trying his best to guide the crew under the supervision of Pops. Which is why nearly half the crew was on deck pretending to be working while listening in, himself included. You were resting in his room, exhausted after the long day and donating so much blood. Thatch had heard Marco’s statements that you shouldn’t be so tired but Thatch had been around long enough to know there was more to a person than just their body. 

“My son, it was the wrong choice,” Pops chided Marco lightly. Pops didn’t need to use a harsh tone or to yell, the effect on Marco was devastating. He looked like he was wilting under Pops’ softly spoken words even as he looked directly at their Captain. Thatch had been in Marco’s position before and it was undeniably worse when Pops was disappointed rather than angry . 

“She was harmed under our care, she needed time to recuperate,” Pops continued.

“But chemotherapy doesn’t work like that, I can’t just suddenly -” Marco tried to interrupt and throw his weight as the doctor on the crew. Whitebeard stopped him with a glance. 

“I’ve lived a long time, Marco. One day would not have mattered,” was all Whitebeard had to say in order for Marco to hang his head. The quiet across the deck was louder than any argument could ever be. Holding himself high once more, Marco looked his Captain in the eye.

“But I… - of course. I’ll…make amends,” Marco replied. Thatch wondered how he would do so given the tension that radiated from you any time Marco came near. Thatch had to spend the majority of his time in the infirmary that afternoon calming and soothing you after Marco had chased you down in the kitchens. Thatch had heard Marco apologize many times but he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard it after Marco had fucked up. Maybe it would be good for the doctor to be humbled slightly, maybe you’d get better treatment from Marco or at least be allowed to live a little more. Thatch finished clearing Pop’s dishes and left to bring them back to the galley. He wanted to be in the room when Marco sought you out to make sure the interaction went as smoothly as possible.

Marco POV

Marco shifted into his Phoenix form as he took his leave from Pops and launched himself into the air, soaring high above the ship. He wanted a few moments of privacy to gather himself before he went to go find you. He needed to center and control his emotions before he talked to you lest he make the relationship between you worse. Which…he wasn’t sure was possible right now. When you told him how you fucking hated him and your facial expression held more emotion during that declaration than he’d seen in weeks. 

Marco had tried to empathize with you as best he could but he never got very far. His devotion to Whitebeard was so strong, he’d do anything to make his Captain’s health improve. He already had by betraying his oath to do no harm and keeping you aboard the ship. Marco would gladly have traded six hours of his day for Whitebeard, it wasn’t like you were working hard. All you had to do was sit in a chair with your arm on an arm rest and relax. And yes, he knew that you missed your family and friends but it wasn’t like he had murdered you. You’d eventually make your way back to them - Marco knew that even with his assistance Whitebeard was mortal and would eventually pass away. It was a temporary adventure in your life, and frankly, most people would go gaga for the opportunity to sail with Whitebeard. You could be having the time of your life but you chose to spend it moping about the ship. 

What really ruffled Marco’s feathers was everyone was acting like he was the villain, like Marco was the one who was responsible for your torment and despair. Yes, it had been his plan, but everyone commented on how well Pops has been doing, how healthy he looked, how lively Pops was lately. It didn’t go unnoticed by the crew how vigorously Pops crushed Teach’s lifeless body once the traitor had finally been defeated. Everyone was pleased with the outcome but they didn’t want to get their own hands dirty by taking care of you.  It was easy to accuse Marco of being unsympathetic and cold but no one was helping you escape, were they? Everyone wanted you to remain and to use your blood but they didn’t want to have to feel bad about it. Marco shook his head trying to clear the negative thoughts. He needed to figure out some way to apologize for making you give blood without causing further deterioration to your relationship. He lazily tightened the circles he was flying in and flew down to land on the deck. He went below deck after shifting back into his human form, finally ready to speak to you. He had to remain sensitive, this was probably the first time you’d had a near death experience. Even before he ate his Devil Fruit, being a pirate came with a certain level of risk. Marco was used to the danger of the high seas but that would be foreign to you as a civilian. Keeping that in mind, Marco headed towards Thatch’s cabin where he assumed you were. You’d hardly left the Commander’s side since Teach had tried to murder you, likely in an attempt to make yourself feel more secure. Listening from outside the cabin, he heard Thatch speaking to you in his deep voice and you responding occasionally to his questions. 

Your POV

There was no other way to say it - you were hiding in Thatch’s room after your time in the infirmary. You felt completely depleted in mind, body, and spirit as you looked through the assorted books Thatch had in his room. Turned out he liked poetry and once upon a time you had too. But since you’d been brought on the ship your interest had dwindled. You ran your finger down the spine of a familiar book, a popular volume of romantic poems. At some point you thought all you ever wanted out of life was someone to care for you and love you like the people in the poems but it turned out you craved more important things -  like freedom and autonomy. Even so, you plucked the slim book off the shelf and turned it over in your hands, opening it to the bookmarked spot Thatch had left. 

A knock at the door had you whimpering in distress. You were never so jumpy before coming on the ship but now you startled at the tiniest noise. The door opened to reveal a concerned looking Thatch on the other side. Your cheeks heated as the chef came closer to check on you again. Thatch had been practically babysitting you since the events of the previous day and you felt awful for taking up so much of his precious time. You didn’t want to be a burden on the one person who seemed to care how you were feeling and maybe gave a shit about you.

“How ya doin’ Baby Pie?” Thatch asked, approaching you slowly. You tried to put on a cheery front so he didn’t come home to a dour loser every time he wanted to rest in his room.

“I’m good. I’m just, um, relaxing. I’m gonna go though, sorry. You can have your room back, I’m sure you want some alone time,” you said apologetically, closing the book and moving to replace it on the shelf near the couch before you left.

“I don’t want alone time, I came to see you. And you’re welcome to stay here as long as you’d like. You don’t have to go back to that other room,” Thatch said quietly. You hadn’t actually thought about where you’d go if Thatch wanted his room back. The thought of going back to the room where you nearly died wasn’t in the realm of possibility for you. Maybe you could find a room in the infirmary that was far from the phlebotomy room? But Marco wouldn’t go for that, you didn’t even have to ask. Beds were scarce and needed to injured crew, not frightened civilians.

“What’re you thinkin’ about Porkchop?” Thatch asked, plopping down on the small couch in his cabin. He held out his arms and spread his legs, a silent call for you to come sit on his lap. It felt childish to constantly seek out touch but you feet were propelling themselves towards the chef anyway. As you neared he scooped you up and placed you in his lap, wrapping his warm arms around you. You leaned into him, even the smell of oil imbued his chef’s coat not ruining your moment. 

“Porkchop?” you asked lightly, nuzzling into him. You felt  there was something building between the two of you but you didn’t want to address it right now. You were a little vulnerable and wanted some leeway in case your growing feelings weren’t reciprocated. You’d live in delusion land for just a bit longer before you brought yourself back to reality and talked to Thatch about your crush. 

“Mm. Guess that wasn’t one of my better ones, eh? You can go back to being Sugar,” Thatch teased, squishing you between his muscled arms. He gently took the book from your hands, turning it over so the cover was showing. “You like poetry?” he asked softly, the fingers of his other hand drawing circles on your thigh.

“Yeah, guess so,” you answered, eyes already closing. You hadn’t been able to truly rest without Thatch around, feeling too unsafe and anxious to fall asleep. Eventually you would have to get over it and be an adult again but the chef was too comforting for your own good. A knock at the door had you stiffening up immediately. Thatch’s arms tightened around you as he beckoned to whoever was behind the door. You bristled as you saw Marco pushing in the door, his face sour like he’d eaten a crate of lemons. If Thatch wasn’t there you would have tried to take your chances by running again but you knew there was no way that you’d be able to escape the two of them together. But maybe Marco wasn’t there to talk to you, maybe he needed more from you, more time in the phlebotomy room, more blood coming out of your arm -

“I did six hours! I promise! I can’t - please -” you went straight to begging, trying to push Thatch’s arms off of you.

“No no. It’s not that yoi. You did fine today. I came to apologize to you,” Marco stated plainly. You didn’t respond, unsure what Marco was playing at. He’d never apologized to you before, why was he starting now? Sure he made you give blood the day after you were almost murdered but that was practically par for the course. You knew he didn’t feel bad about kidnapping you or using you but you were curious what he would say.

“I’m going to give the two of you privacy but I won’t be far,” Thatch said, taking you off his lap and placing you on the small couch. You made a small sound of protest and looked up at him with doleful eyes. You didn’t want to be left alone with Marco, especially not after you told him off not too long prior. Marco didn’t seem to take anything you said too personally but you also hadn’t told him to fuck off before either. After Thatch left the room it became awkward and quiet as you waited for Marco to continue his thought. Marco came inside and shut the door, leaving just the sound of the waves against the sides of the ship.

“I came to apologize for making you donate -”

“Give,” you corrected Marco. You’d never been so bold before but maybe almost dying would do that to a person.

“Pardon?” Marco asked, now crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

“I don’t donate my blood. You take it,” you replied. You wished that your voice had held out for the whole sentence - you squeaked out the end. Marco bristled and you scooted backwards, putting more distance between the two of you. 

“Yes, I suppose that's true yoi,” Marco conceded as he set his jaw. You regretted saying anything - if Marco was in the mood to play nice you shouldn't have spoiled it. Marco closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath before he continued, crossing his arms and drumming his fingers along his bicep, as if this entire conversation was irritating him. 

“As I was saying, I am sorry for taking your blood today. I should have listened to you and let you rest. As a doctor, I know the importance of mental health as it affects the body and it was an oversight in my error to not let you recover yoi. You can have tomorrow off even though it does affect Whitebeard’s chemotherapy schedule,” Marco finished waving his hand in your direction. He paused as if he was waiting for something. 

“Thank you,” you gritted out through your teeth. Marco didn’t seem to notice your tone but did give you a curt nod as if he was expecting your thanks, like he was granting you a huge favor for not forcibly taking your blood for one single fucking day. You wanted to roll your eyes and kick him out but it wasn’t your room in the first place. 

“I hope you understand how much this affects everyone else yoi,” Marco said coldly. You wanted to retort back that being nearly murdered affected you badly when the door creaked open again.

“Marco, your apology sucks,” Thatch said, folding his arms across his chest. Marco bristled but didn’t say anything further. “No man, come on. Say something real,” Thatch prodded Marco as he blocked the door with his wide frame and tacitly prevented Marco from leaving. Marco looked at his brother, shifting his weight onto one foot. He exhaled and walked over, sitting down near you on the couch. You’d been near Marco many many times but never in a casual setting like this. You almost gave him your arm out of reflex but were able to stifle the impulse at the last moment. Marco considered you with his blue eyes, like he was really seeing you as a person for the first time. He put his hands on his knees and began speaking to you softly.

“I am sorry you were almost killed. I truly am. That shouldn’t have happened and you’re not used to anything remotely like that. I’m not going to say I understand because I don’t and I can’t imagine how terrified you must have been yoi. I know you didn’t choose to be here with us and that you’d rather be home. I know. So for what it’s worth, I am sorry that you almost died. It wasn’t your fault and I’m not sure how much my promise to keep you safe is worth anymore yoi.” Marco gazed at you intensely while he spoke. You didn’t know where to look so you kept your eyes trained on your lap. Marco continued in the same calm tone.

“That being said, no, I’m not sorry for what I did today. You’re not the most important person on the ship. I’m not the most important person on the ship - it has always been and will always be Whitebeard. So yes, you get tomorrow off to recover but after that you have to go back yoi. None of us have a choice. I wish things were different, that I could drop you off on the next island, but life isn’t that simple. There’s a lot hanging in the balance, a lot more than you know. There are so many people, islands, territories that need Whitebeard’s protection. Even though you don’t want to be here, you play an important role in the fate of the world and I can’t let you go. Not yet. Can you understand that? Or at least try?”

You blinked rapidly at Marco’s statements, this the most raw emotion you’d ever heard from Marco since you’d met him. He always kept his true feelings guarded, crafting each sentence carefully to construct a meaning that didn’t necessarily match his own opinions. You preferred this real Marco to the palatable version he presented to you - at least you knew where you stood now. You looked at him as he waited for you to respond, his half lidded eyes still studying you.

“O-okay. I understand,” you said quietly, turning over Marco’s words in your mind. Thatch stood up and moved in the room giving Marco space to leave. Marco nodded at you and left, shutting the door quietly behind him. You exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and looked over at a gently smiling Thatch.

“Seems like we have a day to plan,” he said, clapping his hands together. 

“Oh, uh, I didn’t think - you still have to work though, right? It’s just me, I wasn’t expecting -” Thatch crossed the room and sat back down right next to you on the couch. Reaching onto the bookshelf he pulled off a large thesaurus and opened it, revealing a bottle of rum hidden inside. Uncorking it, he took a swig and offered it to you as well. You must have looked surprised because Thatch furrowed his brow in mock confusion.

“What? It’s the least likely book for anyone to pick up. They’d have to first use the dictionary to find out what a thesaurus is. Anyway I got good crew under me, they can handle everything for a day. We’re celebrating starting tonight, take a sip,” he said, pushing the bottle into your hands. You hadn’t had alcohol since Marco had banned you after catching you drinking three beers. The hard liquor burned your throat as it went down, warming you all the way. 

“What’re we celebrating?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“You,” he said, laying a muscled arm across your back, his hand hooking around your upper arm. He pulled you into his own body, your head now leaning against his own shoulder. You snorted but didn’t object as you handed back the bottle to Thatch.

A few hours later you stumbled out of Thatch’s room. You really didn’t have all that much to drink but your tolerance was low from abstaining for so long. You wanted to catch a shower in the women’s bathroom before you went to bed - you hadn’t had a proper one since before the…event.  Walking down the now dark hallway towards the women’s quarters, you heard a conversation in progress. You thought you heard your name so you waited before turning the corner, curious to hear what the crew was saying about you.

“Tough break for that Bloodbag, eh?” you heard someone say around the corner. They called you -  Bloodbag…? Is that what everyone referred to you as when you weren’t around? You waited where you were, you wanted to eavesdrop on the rest of the conversation even though you were already on the verge of tears. 

“Yeah, I mean who knew Teach had it in him? Not the killing, killing her would be easy. I’m saying the betrayal part -”

“I know, to hurt your own crew -”

“Well, she’s not crew exactly, she’s more like -”

“Like Marco’s pet, or medicine for Pops or whatever. Still would suck to be murdered by Teach though. Nasty bastard had to be put down by Captain himself. But yeah, I get you, it’s like stabbing Pops yourself. Good thing she lived,” someone continued.

“Yeah, then we would have had to find another Bloodbag. It took so long to find that one in the first place, we’d have to start all over again…” the second man trailed off as their voices and footsteps receded while they walked down the hall towards the infirmary. 

Oh.

Your mind went blank as you processed what you heard, standing in the hallway unmoving for a few moments. Being tipsy didn’t help as you replayed their words in your mind over and over. You began to move robotically towards the bathrooms again, gripping your towel tightly in your hands. You didn’t really know how to feel at that moment - in some ways you were happy that the bandage had been ripped off your wound. You always suspected that the crew didn’t care about you and this had confirmed it. At least these two were being honest as opposed to Marco and Thatch and Whitebeard or anyone else who was kind of nice to you. 

You spaced out for some time while your body continued to move. Your brain was consumed with going over the overheard conversation and you later found yourself in the women’s bathrooms. You were sitting in the communal bath, staring at the tiled floor wringing a washcloth between your hands. Your fingers, toes and palms were wrinkly, clueing you to the fact that you’d been in there for a while and the soreness in your fingers meant you’d been wringing the cloth for a while. None of that really mattered though. Even though the water was now cool you remained in the bath, sinking down to your neck. A firm knock resounded on the door, breaking you from your trance and making the water slosh as you sat up quickly.

“Who - who is it?” you called out. Any of the nurses wouldn’t have knocked and you guessed a killer would have just come right in.  

“It’s Marco,” a familiar but muffled voice said through the thick wood. Drying yourself in a towel and covering your body in a fluffy robe, you padded towards the door. Cracking it open you saw it was indeed Marco and you pushed it open more widely.

“S-sorry, was I in here too long?” you asked, tucking your wet hair behind your ear.

“Yes, and now you’re cold but that’s not why I’m here yoi. I think we both overheard a conversation earlier that wasn’t ideal,” he said, his earlier casualness forgotten.

“You mean the bloodbag thing? I mean it wasn’t great but -” you started, minimizing your feelings. Maybe you’d journal or something later but now that you knew how things really were you didn’t feel like pouring your heart out to Marco again.

“It wasn’t appropriate and those involved are being punished -”

“Not appropriate? I - you're gonna try and deny it? Gonna try and tell me I'm anything else? I don’t care and I don’t have the energy for this. Thanks for the day off tomorrow, I’ll see you the day after," you said, shrugging your shoulders. You sidled past Marco, walking out of the bathroom. Marco extended his arm but retracted his hand, letting you pass without further incident.

You didn't know where to go now that you were tired and ready for bed - in your foolish heart you wanted to go back to Thatch’s room. But after that blood bag conversation you weren't sure if he actually enjoyed your presence or just spent time with you out of obligation to his captain. It would certainly make sense for Marco and Thatch to work together, you were much more compliant for Thatch than you were for Marco. Maybe they were playing you off one another to get you more amicable to the situation you were in. You passed the turn to Thatch's hall but kept going, avoiding the now familiar room.

You plodded on until you reached your old room, the one that - you pushed that memory out of your head as you opened the door and looked around. Someone had cleaned your walls and brought in new furniture to replace the broken furnishings. Taking a deep breath, you stepped into the room and shut the door. 

[nasa-parker]

omg first live show of the year tomorrow :0

[syluss-littlecrow]

size training with sylus

<slyus x fem!reader>

where you’re size training on Sylus’s dick. ❤️

genre/warnings: smut, pwp, big dick!sylus, size training, size kink, dear god sylus and his fat cock, breeding kink, unprotected sex, pet names, dacryphilia, it’s just sylus brain rot ❤️

w/c: 2K

a/n: I’m on Love & Deepspace fic tumblr! 😮 hope I’ll be welcomed nicely here haha. As a peace offering, this is my present to everyone (and especially the Sylus girlies)!

You shift your body slightly, trying to make yourself comfortable, on top of taking slow breaths, your heart fluttering at Sylus's soft voice coaxing you. 

"That's it. Take it slowly, kitten", his voice slow and deep in your ears. But you don't see the way he's shutting his eyes and biting his inner cheek every time you squeeze around him. He's trying to pace his breathing as well, but it feels so fucking good.

You whine softly against his bare chest, his heat radiating off you, his slender fingers stroking your hair slowly, and his other hand drawing soothing circles on your thighs. 

You don’t remember how it started, but your thoughts start to drift, recalling the times your mind would float whenever Sylus had his lips on yours with you straddling on his thick thighs. He would devour you, painfully slowly because he knows that’s what riles you up, and he definitely enjoys listening to your whimpers, your non-verbal pleas for him to do more to you. He’d make sure your lips are wet and messy once he’s done with you, his touches teasing and light against your skin. Sylus secretly wants you to beg for it, because he knows that he’d give in to you in a heartbeat. His fingers would cup yours that were on his chest, and the look he would give you reset all the butterflies in your stomach. You would feel his thick erection, hidden under the thin silk black bathrobe he’d always wear against your clothed pussy, and dear god, he’s so fucking big. But before you could ask, Sylus would trail his fingers to tease your wet clit and pussy, soaking in your adorable reactions he swears is enough to get him off, erasing the question of wanting him to fuck you off your brain when the pleasure from his fingers tingles through your body. 

Sylus doesn’t pride himself as a generous being, but he thinks he’s always generous enough for you. He realises he enjoys having his face in between your legs, making you squirm, listening to you sob when he overstimulates you with his tongue, making sure his tongue presses and grazes fully on your clit while he listens to you fall apart, his crimson eyes locked onto you while he holds you down to take whatever he’s giving you. 

He’s good at distracting you like that whenever you want to bring up the question of fucking. 

This time though? Through your wet lashes from the overstimulation and hazy thoughts, all you were craving for was just to be fucked stupid by Sylus. Your hand reached out and pushed against his head. Sylus pulled back slightly, confused for a moment. 

“What is it, sweetie?” He paused, his hands trailing up and down your thighs. 

Your mind slowly clears, but your pussy is still pulsing from him tongue fucking you.

“Need you to fuck me, Sylus. Please. I don’t think I can take it any longer.”

Sylus is momentarily taken aback by your demand, but he realises he can’t keep holding it off, mostly because there’s only so much longer he’s able to hold back, especially when you’re begging for him like that. 

“I don’t think-“

“I can take it”, you muttered stubbornly, yanking your partner towards you. You shift yourself above him, straddling his thighs, just shy of his appendage. 

As much as your determination is endearing, Sylus knows your comfort should come first. And he knows very well that his cock isn’t gonna fit into you in one go, so he decides to let you gauge it for yourself—putting your hands into the string of his robe, gesturing you to loosen it. 

And you do, your gaze flickering from his cool expression to his silk robe sliding off his body when you untie the string. 

You swallow hard when his cock comes into view—thick, long and heavy, the tip red with a wet sheen of precum. Yeah, that’s definitely not gonna fit in you in one go. You and him solely being just wet enough wasn’t going to cut it. 

Nonetheless, you’re still determined. Your eyes meet his gaze and an idea pops into his head. 

He intertwines his fingers with yours.

“Tell you what, sweetie. I’ll fit into you slowly. Doesn’t matter how much you can take, I just want to make sure you’re comfortable when you’re doing so.”

“But-“

He presses his lips on the back of your hand. 

“I’ll be fine. You trust me, right?”

You nod, watching the way his eyes soften before you. 

So there you are, lying on your side, facing Sylus, your cunt trying to adjust to his cock as he stretches you open. It’s been a couple of days since you’ve been size training with your partner. It started off with getting his cockhead in, and that was already making you hitch your breath. Then inch by inch he sinks into you from then. He’d let you cock warm him like that and it never failed to leave you so full one session after the next. 

It’d been seven days, and you barely pushed through three-quarters of his girth. Initially, Sylus still could tease you while you tried to take his cock, but as he sunk deeper into you after each session, it started getting harder for him to maintain his composure—every twitch, every squeeze—had him digging his fingers into his palm, clenching against his silk pillow and breathing a little harder. 

He huffs once more when he feels you clench around his cock. 

“If you’re gonna keep clenching around me like that, Kitten, I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it.”

You glance up, watching the way Sylus’s platinum hair becoming a tousled mess against the pillow. His crimson eyes cast to meet yours, his lips pulled into a slight frown. 

“I can’t help it”, you reply, suddenly feeling self-conscious. 

You hear Sylus hiss slightly once more when he twitches inside you. 

“Do you think you could fit another inch in?” It almost comes off as a beg. 

You inhale shakily, shifting yourself further downwards, taking another inch of his cock. The both of you gasp at the sensation. 

You freeze at the thickness. How far down are you already?

“You’re almost all the way in, Kitten”, Sylus whispers, almost as if he heard your thoughts. His breathing is growing heavier by the second, and he’s forcing himself to hold back from just thrusting the remainder of his cock in. It’s dangling over him like his favourite prey. 

His thumb strokes against yours, trying to distract you from the pressure on top of pressing your forehead with kisses, singing you soft praises.

Your mind is gradually turning more hazy with Sylus’s cock taking up the majority of your thoughts, on top of his body soap that’s been creeping into your olfactory senses. The more Sylus inches his cock into you, the more he’s pressing onto your g-spot, and the more it’s starting to make you see stars whenever you blink. You’re growing so sensitive that you’re feeling every throb Sylus’s cock is giving you. 

Your hand is on his arm, trying to ground yourself from the slight soreness. Another strained whimper when Sylus pushes him deeper into your pussy. Slick leaks from your pussy and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Sylus. 

Another kiss to your temple, another circle drawing session on your thigh.

“Do you want me to go all the way in?” 

Your toes curl.

“I can take it.”

So Sylus inches his cock right to the hilt, knocking the wind out of you. 

Tears are prickling at the corner of your eyes, but oh god you do feel so good. 

“How are you feeling, sweetie?”

You hiccup softly. “So full.”

He chuckles. “Such a good girl.” The vibrations of his light laughter only press his tip further onto your g-spot, and it’s making your thighs shake from the impending orgasm. 

“D-don’t move so much, Sylus. You’re gonna make me—“ you try to bury your head into his chest but he stops you with his fingers in your chin. 

“Make you what?” 

He intentionally shifts, and his cockhead hits your sensitive spots again, sending fireworks into your eyelids, and a strained moan. Sylus seems to enjoy your reactions, because then he flips you to your back, his large frame looming over you, forcing you to look up at him with your legs folded, and still with his cock in you. 

Oh no. 

Sylus looks down at you with the faintest glint of softness in his eyes before it completely disappears, now just hunger seeping through the red. 

“Sylus!-“ you gasp, his fullness penetrating into you again, this time easily, considering the wet and sopping mess you’ve made around his cock. 

He only hums in reply, then pulling out slightly before he pushes into you again. He’s found your sweet spots, and he’s not letting it go that easily. 

The knot in your stomach pulls tight, and it’s making you tear up in sheer pleasure. You’re barely able to meet Sylus’s eyes, not when he’s fucking into you and has your head thrown back while you’re fighting to keep your eyelids open. 

It builds and builds. Sylus probably realises it from how much you’re just pulsing on his cock. His thumb rests at the corner of your lips and you let him slip in, your glazed out eyes meeting his. It makes his heart flutter when you’re completely undone like this for him, but he’ll never admit it, at least, not yet. 

“Gonna cum. Fuck, it’s so much, Sylus-“ you whimper before your mind completely melts away. 

“Release all you want on me, sweetie. That’s my good girl.”

That’s enough to send you over the edge—your orgasm hitting you like waves, tingling through your body like electricity, the pleasure eating you up over and over again. Sylus watches affectionately while you fall apart on his cock—the way you’re writhing and squirming, the way his name leaves your lips after every moan, the way your pussy creams so much on his cock. He thinks he’s doomed because he never gonna get enough. 

“Looks like a little kitten made a mess”, Sylus teases. He watches the way cream pools at the base of his cock when he pulls out slightly, only to thrust back into you again. His eyes flutter shut at the tight warmth eating him up, groans replacing his words. 

“Now, can I make a mess in you?” 

Your watery eyes meet his, and he’s equally about to lose all composure. You cup his cheeks, taking him by surprise, before giving him a quick peck on the corner of his lips, and then you nod. Said corner of his lips lift in satisfaction at your approval.

He’s just ready to ruin you. 

His strokes become more heavy, the overstimulation shutting your brain off. Nothing but pleasure is surging through your nerves now. You’re even holding up your legs so Sylus can fuck you deeper. 

“Now be a good girl and take all of it”, he mutters huskily, burying his face against the crook of your neck, his eyes snapped shut and his eyebrows furrowed. 

Despite the fact that you don’t get to see the way Sylus’s face contorts in pleasure when his orgasm hits him, his groans right in your ears serve you satisfied for now while thick white spurts into your abused pussy, filling you up all the way, some seeping past your plugged hole. 

You don’t realise how much you’ve clawed down Sylus’s back while he was emptying himself into you. 

Well, he doesn’t need to know anyway. 

Sylus stays above you for a moment, the both of you catching your breaths. He still has the energy to plant more bites on your neck while you stroke his hair. 

He pulls back to look at your face properly, and all you can think of is how fucking good he looks post-fuck—messy, sweaty, and so fucking delicious-looking. His fingers brush away your strands of hair, and his thumb caresses your bottom lip. 

“You’re truly gonna be the death of me, sweetie.”

[sttoru]

plsplsplspl soft intimate sex with satoru:(

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. gojo satoru x female reader. smut, pwp. unprotected. praise kink. spooning position. crēampie. cōckwarming. reader gets called ‘baby, pretty, sweetheart, princess’

“it’s okay, baby, i know,” satoru whispers words of comfort in your ear from behind. one of his arms is wrapped around your waist to keep your body close, the other circles your thigh, holding up your leg so his cock could slide in and out smoothly.

you’ve both just woken up from an afternoon nap, needy for each other’s touch. your lover’s raspy voice paired with his bedhead has been an irresistible combination.

satoru wasted no time in pulling your shorts down and freeing his erection from its confines. he went from rolling his hips against the fat of your ass and fondling your tits under your shirt, to burying his fat dick all the way up your cunt.

he’s so soft—so caring. his butterfly kisses make you drowsy again, the tingly sensations running from your face to your nape, and back down to your shoulders and upper arms. “let it out, yeah—good girl. don’t be shy,” satoru chuckles softly as he grinds his cock upwards, tip prodding at that sweet spot that makes your toes curl.

your eyes are half-lidded and blurry. you’re feeling so good and loved, so pleased and happy to have a partner like him. “right there, ‘toru,” you whimper quietly once you feel the head of his dick rub back and forth on the deepest parts of your velvety insides. satoru happily obliges, hugging your body even tighter to his chest before burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“here, baby?” the white-haired man asks, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine as it ghosts over your skin. he keeps his dick balls deep inside you and switches to slow and shallow strokes, “y’re so pretty. you always know jus’ how to take it. so, so, so good.”

your hands are scrambling to hold onto the white sheets. you can’t physically take the amount of pleasure you’re getting, that inevitable peak gets closer and closer. your hips involuntarily jolt back against satoru, reciprocating his gentle thrusts. a big hand reaches out to yours that’s tugging at the covers, slender fingers intertwining with your own.

“m’sgood,” you mumble incoherently through a soft whimper. your back is positioned in a nasty arch that makes satoru’s dick tingle. he sighs against your nape before allowing his tongue to wet the skin, sucking on the same spot soon after. he does the same to your sensitive ears and neck—covering you with his love while also filling your body with the same.

satoru holds your hand tightly, squeezing it every now and then to reassure you. “i love you so much, y’know that, right?” he says in a gentle tone. he’s confessed his love to you so many times before, though he always makes it sound like it’s his first time doing so.

“i’m never letting you go, ever,” your partner promises before leaning over your shoulder to catch your lips in a kiss. satoru’s tongue sweeps over your bottom lip before rolling around in your warm mouth. his hips don’t stop, cock repeatedly appearing and disappearing inside of your pussy. the pace never escalates to make the moment last longer.

“mhmm— wanna b-be with you forever,” you mutter against his glossy lips, feeling safe and protected in satoru’s embrace like this. all you’re feeling, hearing and smelling is him. that’s what peace is for you. as long as you got him, you’re going to be just fine.

satoru smiles at your words. you feel so perfect around him, your cunt molded to fit his cock whenever he pleases, remembering its shape and allowing it to ruin your insides. “of course, sweets. i’ll treat you so well, ‘kay? you can count on me,” he comforts you with a forehead kiss.

“pretty girl. you’re perfect,” satoru continues to praise you like no other. his free hand runs over the small of your back and back to your thigh, keeping a gap between them so his cock can move a bit more freely. “let me hear your cute moans, c’mon. fuck, y’ turn me on so much,” he sighs, not knowing what he’d do without you.

satoru is obsessed with all of you. the combination of your personality and looks is heavenly. his lips never stop distracting you, his tender kisses covering your entire upper body. the lovey dovey atmosphere in the room never dulls even once.

“ah, ‘toruu, hnghh—can’t last f’ any longer,” you moan, your eyes nearly rolling back. your lover is all the evidence needed to let you know that sex doesn’t have to be rough to be good. he can make you cum for an infinite amount of times by simply grinding his hips against you—changing his techniques every now and then.

rolling his hips in small circles or simply pressing his cock all the way inside your cunt and then prodding at your sweet spots, is all what’s needed to make you feel like you’re on cloud nine.

“aww, my poor baby. can’t hold it in f’me?” satoru pouts before kissing your temples lovingly. he caresses your hip, other hand still not letting go of your hand. there’s such a deep connection between you two—no one can ever sever it. that strong bond feels more intimate when you’re merged into one like this.

“nooo, can’t,” you shake your head and whine about how close you are. satoru nods at your needy words and dips a hand down to rub your clit. his middle and ring finger move around the small bundle of nerves in circles. “khehe, that’s okay. let’s cum together,” he whispers as kisses find their way down your jawline.

you hum in agreement, little moans filling satoru’s ears as you get closer to your climax. your body trembles and heats up, your tummy tingles and tenses up. satoru’s in the same situation as you, his low moans turning into hisses and even quiet whines against the skin of your shoulder.

he holds you close, preparing both of you to reach your long awaited releases. “sh—shit, ‘m g’nna pull out, baby—give me a second,” you hear him whimper under his breath as his hand tightens its grip around yours. he’s nearly crushing your bones.

you don’t give him time to even think of pulling his cock out. you want to relive the sensation of having his seed spread inside of your cunt, overflowing until it’s dirtying the sheets. “no- ‘toru. inside, please,” you beg quietly as your pussy locks around his cock. your walls cling onto his dick, yearning to milk his heavy balls dry of every drop.

satoru gasps and hisses, trying to speak up, but getting overpowered by his own noises of desperation. “fuck, all right, princess. as you wish,” his voice is husky and deep as he pushes his cock in to the base before dumping his load inside you.

ropes of hot cum come out quickly, one after the other, filling you with a hot creamy liquid. you can feel every drop being drained inside your spasming cunt. your own cum mixes with his, creating a lewd mess between your thighs.

“th-thank you,” you whisper tiredly. your body relaxes in satoru’s embrace. you’re trembling due to the intense aftershocks and your lover wastes no time into kissing it better. your forehead is peppered with small pecks, the rest of your face following.

satoru giggles at your fucked out state. he gives you a head pat and nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. you can feel him grinning uncontrollably against your skin—the joy emitting from him is contagious.

“any time,” he sighs. you can feel his cock softening after that release, still nestled deep inside of you. he has no intention of pulling out, especially since it’s so comfortable. you let him cum inside you and thus he’ll do everything to keep that hot load buried deep inside your cunt.

you can nearly fall asleep like this with satoru. you have zero complains and simply need to relax after what just happened. perhaps take another nap or two.

the white-haired man kisses your shoulder and rubs your lower tummy, enjoying the softness, “i’m gonna prepare us a warm, relaxing bath in a second. let’s just cuddle some more, baby.”

[chuluoyi]

𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄

- sylus x reader

more than friends with benefits, definitely lovers. your relationship is one filled with banters, steamy nights, and secret strings attached... but when someone shows an interest in you, sylus won't hesitate to stake his claim for everyone to see

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—jealousy, crack, fluff, smut, a dash of comfort, assassin!reader (not l&ds mc)

note: loosely a sequel to strictly (un)professional. how this snowballed into 3.8k... i don't really know :')

“Missus, please spare us!”

You shot an unamused look at the twins before you, who clasped their hands together, pleading for you to let them go.

“Why is it so difficult for both of you to say?” you hissed, crossing your arms together. “I’m not asking for much—just a recount of what happened!”

“Boss will have our tongues for this!” Kieran looked up at you, quivering. “No way, I want to live!”

“He’s terrifying…” Luke shuddered in fear, hugging himself. “You don’t know how frightening he is!”

You were holding both Luke and Kieran hostage, the tender preys, all because Sylus refused to reveal what you had been wanting to know these past few weeks.

“So you’re afraid of Sylus…” You fixed them with a steely glare. “But have you ever thought that if you don’t spill it now, I will be the one taking both your tongues?”

“—?! Missus, please!”

“Why are you bullying the twins?” A deep voice cut through the twins’ pitiful laments, and you let out an exasperated huff as your chance slipped away once more.

Speak of the devil, and Sylus shall appear. He looked at the scene before him as if you were all a bunch of kindergarteners.

Luke and Kieran immediately flocked to him. “Boss! Save us! She’s scary!”

And now you were suddenly the scary one. You rolled your eyes. "Your henchmen are useless."

Sylus glanced at you with a half smile, knowing what information you were squeezing the twins for. "Sweetie, just give it up. You'll find peace faster that way."

Was it wrong to be curious about what Sylus had been up to during the three weeks you were unconscious after the attack that literally took your life? Why was he being so secretive about it anyway?

“I know, you were so worried sick you didn’t even eat or sleep,” you taunted your lover with a wicked smile. “That’s why you won’t tell me about it.”

Sylus laughed outright. “Pftt. You’ve got quite the imagination. Good to know.”

Nothing much changed after that night of his confession—if you could call it that—to you. You were indeed no longer strictly his bedwarmer, but your banters stayed the same, if not even more sarcastic now.

“Chop chop, we have an auction to go to, sweetie.” Sylus placed his big hand on your head, amused. “Stop being a hissy kitten towards the poor twins and get ready, hmm?”

“I’ll definitely uncover it,” you shot him a resentful glare. “Just you wait and see.”

Such were your days with your true kindred-spirits lover. He would tease you during the day and turn you into a hot mess at night, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

In tonight's auction, you had one target: the broker for a new rising star firearms dealer. Sylus had been eyeing him, deducing his goods could be a nice addition to his armory.

And so, you went up to him. However...

“...Are you single, miss?”

Here we go again.

You forced a tight smile. “Sir, I’d appreciate it if we can stick to subject at hand.”

The man blinked, then quickly plastered on a wide grin to mask his surprise. “Oh yes! Yes, I-I’m sorry, I got distracted— well, I’d say this is a pretty solid MoU... but I’ll need to contact my boss first.”

This weirdo... you thought with boredom, is so transparent.

This wasn’t the first time you’d dealt with a situation like this. Granted, you were pretty and you knew it, but usually, more distinguished men would be a bit more subtle about it.

“Take all the time you need,” you encouraged smoothly, your eyes crinkling in an attempt to look friendly. “As you can see, Mr. Sylus has proposed the perfect bargain for this kind of dealings.”

“I wouldn’t argue with that. I assure you we’ll certainly try to accommodate his request.” The man nodded and gave you a meaningful look, before coughing awkwardly. “Uh, sorry, what was your name again, miss?”

Your faux smile remained perfectly still as you replied, “Mephisto.”

The man’s eyes roved over you, and he grinned roguishly. “Right. Still, I never expected Mr. Sylus’ secretary to be as beautiful as you, Miss Mephisto...”

This was tedious. Your patience was tested with every leering look he gave you. Sylus must know this already, and he's somewhere laughing at the sight of you dealing with this creep.

“You flatter me too much, I’m average.”

“No, no! I mean it!”

He knows... yet he wouldn't do anything about it. Not that you would expect Sylus to barge in like a man blinded by envy, but still, he was insufferable for not coming to you just like he had for Miss Hunter back then.

The man kept droning on and on about himself and everything else that had nothing to do with the business deal, and you were this close to dropping him and using your Evol to shut him up when—

He then turned to you expectantly. “Oh, there is a dance! Miss, would you mind if I have your first dance?”

“Oh...”

And it occurred to you... why not spice things up a little?

Sylus’ dark crimson eyes narrowed silently as he watched both of you from the island table while savoring his glass of wine, before he let out a loud snort.

That vermin doesn’t have a clue he is playing with fire.

For most of your interaction, the firearms dealer’s broker kept giving you suggestive looks, and occasionally brushing his hand against yours on purpose. He wasn't even trying to hide it, and it was amusing to see how aggravated you looked the entire time.

Adorable. Sylus found you incredibly endearing these days, from your pouts to your glazed eyes whenever he thrusted into you—

You were oh so delectable… at least until he saw you holding that lesser man's arm, as he led you to the dance floor.

A deep frown immediately formed in his forehead.

“What are you scheming now?” Sylus scowled, half exasperated and half in disbelief. “You naughty cat.”

He was even more irked when he saw how casually you wrapped your arms around that vermin, twirling and pressing yourself against him in a waltz. Seeing him trying to hit on you was one thing, but for you to reciprocate was just plain unacceptable.

—and to his ire, your audacity continued throughout the night.

. . .

“Miss Mephisto, do you play pool?”

“I do.”

“Then, will you play with me?”

Sylus was now burning with tendrils of anger, watching you from a closer corner. He had seen the broker put his hands on you so many times that he had lost count—during the dance, mingling with other guests, and while sharing hearty laughs. All in all, you were acting as if you had forgotten he was even here.

You were threading on a very thin ice and whether you realized it or not... you didn't seem to care.

"Ah, I think your stance is a bit off..." And to make it worse, the broker was definitely seizing every chance he could, as there was nothing wrong with your form—you often accompanied Sylus playing pool, so you were a pro—and yet he still got behind you, trying to drape his arms around your body.

That was the last straw. Enough is enough.

Before Sylus realized what he was doing, he stormed over to where you were, yanked your arm forcefully, and effectively separated you from him. He didn’t give a damn about the horrified shout from the broker or the judging looks from other partygoers as he dragged you by the hand out of the ballroom.

“Sylus!” you nearly shrieked when he kicked open a door to a meeting room and locked it with his black-red mist. He pinned you against the wall, and crashed his lips against yours in a searing kiss.

“Mmph!” You tried pushing him back, but he was stronger and held you in place, his tongue forcing your lips open as he pressed the back of your head toward him. His other hand slipped inside your dress—between your legs— two fingers in—

“—!” you couldn't even squeal as he devoured your mouth and the shock set in, feeling yourself getting aroused by the minute when his fingers did that scissoring thing and edged you further.

After he was done with your mouth, his hot lips trailed down to your neck and shoulder blades, sucking hard on several spots, making you gasp and moan.

"Hah... this... is the price to pay for testing me, sweetie," your lover growled his nickname for you with satisfaction as he noticed you trembling body, nibbling on your shoulder. "You want to get punished so badly, huh?"

"Ahh..." you threw your head back, clinging to him, grinding yourself against his fingers.

"Is it funny to you? Watching me see him touch you?" Sylus' unforgiving ruby eyes stared down at you like a lion eyeing its prey. "What an insolent little kitten you are..."

His fingers kept moving and thrusting inside you in an alarming speed, mercilessly hitting that one spot that could make you cry. He was seriously teaching you a lesson by forcing you to come undone right then and there.

"I-I...!" you tried to refute, but then you felt the knot inside you burst, and in the next second, you could feel yourself coming all over his fingers, shuddering, your breaths coming in pants.

Feeling faint, relief washed you when he pulled out his fingers. You leaned and clung onto him, pulling him closer, and Sylus finally saw what a mess he had turned you into.

Your glassy eyes focused solely on him, seemingly pleading—and those swollen lips, as well as the sizzling heat creeping up your cheeks—

“Ha,” he let out a low chuckle, a wicked grin curling his lips. “If I can still make you look like this, then I suppose I can forgive you.”

“You’re a meanie,” you mumbled breathlessly.

“You’re the mean one,” Sylus tutted with narrowed eyes, starting to pull away from you.

But then you pulled him close again and pressed your lips to his, this time with a gentleness that surprised him.

There was no malice or burning desire in your kiss. Strangely, it felt far more intimate. You pulled away, the heart-stopping swirls of his red eyes captivating you as you pressed your foreheads together.

“Needy, aren’t you, sweetie?” Sylus whispered, holding your gaze, his breath hot against your skin.

But right now, all of a sudden, you looked so vulnerable to him, as if any wrong word from his lips would shatter you. It made him almost feel guilty for manhandling you so roughly.

You didn’t respond, just wanting this closeness with him. Behind your snarky words and little schemes, this was what you wanted more than the release you just got. Sometimes, you still worried—did he want this too?

“What is it?” Sylus asked with a frown, seemingly concerned. “Talk. Tell me.”

“Nothing…” you replied in a small voice.

“Do you feel sick? Want to go back?”

You shook your head.

You weren’t usually this quiet. Sylus couldn’t help being restless at your sudden change. It felt awkward for him to do what he was about to do next, but instinctively, he figured it would comfort you a bit.

You felt a pang in your heart when he pulled away, but in the next instant, a wave of warmth enveloped you as he pressed you to him, burying your head against his sturdy chest.

For someone who deals with blood and gore, your body felt too soft and fragile, yet still fit perfectly in his arms. Though he had held you and made love to you many times before, it was only now that he truly noticed how small you were.

“You’re warm…” you murmured, your voice carrying a hint of a whine.

So needy and pliant… for him.

“My woman is such an enduring mystery.” Sylus mused, sounding almost as if he were lamenting. “Sometimes she’s a brazen kitten without a shred of shame, but then she pulls stunts like this.”

Your heart picked up the pace. You are... his. That was right. You were his woman in every sense of the word now, and he wasn't shying away from it.

But to cover your embarrassment, you could only come up with, “Can you not refer to me as cat...?”

He shot you an irked glance. “No.”

“He calls me by your bird’s name.”

“...”

“Sylus, you can’t murder him. Your deal will go down the drain.”

“Tch.” Sylus blew out an annoyed sigh, glaring at you. “By the time I get back here, you’re going back with me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, yes.”

Honestly you were exhausted, and you wanted to nothing more than a good sleep. But you couldn't just leave the broker without preamble because this deal depended on him, and Sylus too had some loose ends he had to tie before the two of you left.

Strangely, all eyes were on you when you returned to the ballroom. You wondered why as you navigated the crowd until you met the broker you had fooled in so many ways.

“Oh, Miss Mephisto, you’re back!” he was visibly and utterly drunk, and you cringed at the strong smell of alcohol on his breath. But then you noticed his eyes seemed to be fixated on your—

Neck. You realized in horror.

“Oh... hic, t-that... I-I see,” he blabbered, coughing awkwardly as he stared at the marks on your neck. “Miss... so that man is... y-your lover...?”

“Uh...” It was a wonder he didn’t recognize Sylus at first glance. Perhaps it was because he was so infamous, but it astounded you how this person couldn’t even tell that it was him.

"I-I thought... w-we..." he hiccupped again heartbrokenly, before snatching a glass on the table. "Oh, I need more drink!"

You observed him, half cringing. "Sir, I just want to remind you that once the documents are signed—"

"Yeah, yeah! It will be done by the end of the week!" he yelled at you. "Miss, how about you have a drink too!?"

Suddenly, a glass of gin was shoved into your hand, and you let out an irritated sigh. Yeah, he might be right. A glass of alcohol would help you sleep better tonight, you figured, so you chugged it down.

"Huh...?" And it didn’t take you long to realize something was amiss. The dizzying sensation set in far too quickly, you felt so hot, and you had to lean on the table next to you to keep from falling.

“Are you okay...?” a waitress asked you with concern, but the only sound you could hear was your own violent heartbeat. Before you knew it, the glass in your hand slipped from your grasp and crashed into the floor.

"Oh, miss! Are you okay?!" the broker suddenly got a hold over your body. "Oh! It seems you aren't feeling well! Let me escort you to you room!"

Room? You barely discerned what happened when he led you out of the crowd. Your head spun terribly, and then suddenly throbbed, making you clutch it and cry out in pain, "Ah!"

It didn't make sense, no matter how you saw it. You had a pretty good tolerance, so for you to get hungover from a gin was just—

“Oh, does it hurt much?” he suddenly asked in your ear, making you shiver. “Don’t worry... it'll be bearable soon enough... I’ll make sure you will feel good…”

It's him! You realized. He spiked your drink!

His arms were now locking yours, steering you to go into the elevator. You took a deep breath before directing your speech manipulation evol on him— "Let go!"

He was immediately jerked away from you, but as a result, you almost crumpled, your vision swimming and your head pounding intensely. The pain made you feel close to passing out, and yet you managed to trek forward, leaning on the wall for support.

You had to get away from him before he could catch up to you. Panic set in, and when strong arms caught you, you convulsed, thinking he had grabbed you—

“Stop thrashing!”

“S-Sylus...?” You looked up, trying to focus on his face, but everything was so blurry.

“I’m here.” His voice was ragged, and you’d recognize it anywhere. “What happened to you? Are you hurt?”

“M-my head...” Your voice came out as a broken whimper, clutching at your throbbing head. “Hurts...”

You were feverish, trembling against his hold, and you reeked of alcohol. Sylus instantly realized something was seriously wrong and pressed your head into his chest to provide comfort. “Just a little bit longer—” his deep voice carried a subtle hint of alarm as he hoisted you up to his arms. “Hang on, alright?”

But just as he was about to bring you back, he caught the sight of a fleeing silhouette in the corner, and realizing who it was, his right eye blazed, black and red mist swirled in the air and restrained the broker, engulfing his screams.

“S-spare me! P-please!” the man pleaded tearfully, pinned on the ground, and Sylus approached him silently, looking down at him with so much spite in his eyes.

“A roach that doesn’t seem to know his place…” The corners of his lips twisted into a sadistic smile. “Whether you survive or not depends on you. Best hope you’ll last.”

Despite his pleas, he paid it no mind as he walked away with you in his arms.

When you awakened, your head was no longer pounding.

It took you a moment to realize there was a cool compress on your forehead, you were now in a clean oversized sweater, and someone was holding your hand.

Sylus. You looked up to find him asleep, sitting with his back against the headboard beside you. It was rare to catch him sleeping. In this moment, he looked defenseless, yet a faint frown lingered on his handsome face.

Has he been waiting for you like this, holding your hand all night...?

You tried to get a better look at him, but the rustle seemed to wake him up instead, as his eyes cracked open.

“You awake?” he asked, voice so sultry it woke all your senses up. “I was just shutting my eyes.”

“Aren’t you uncomfortable sleeping like that?” you asked.

Sylus turned toward you, his eyes still hazy from sleep. “What about you? Feeling better?”

“Mm-hmm.”

He placed a hand on your head, ruffling your hair gently.

“Really, you...” His stare was so withering it made question marks appear in your head. “I took my eyes off you for one minute, and you ended up with alcohol poisoning?”

“—? I didn’t know! But wait, what happened to that bozo?”

Sylus gave you a deadpan look, and you gasped. “You… didn’t kill him and have his body secretly disposed of, did you?”

“Just who do you think I am?”

“…a kingpin of an illegal syndicate?”

Your lover’s scowl deepened further at your response. “Nah, he got lucky. I only returned him with a broken jaw, broken hips, and two missing teeth.”

“Sylus!”

If he looked sleepy before, now he definitely looked wide awake. Sylus always sleeps at dawn, and you wanted him to rest more than anything, but now you were itching to ask him...

“Say... were you waiting for me while sitting like this too when I wasn’t conscious for three weeks?” You avoided his gaze, the question burning on your lips. Sylus had never given you a straight answer whenever you asked him about this.

This time too, he grumbled, “Why do you keep asking that?”

“Because I can’t ask Luke and Kieran, they look as if you’d set them on fire.”

Sylus went silent, not giving you any affirmation at all, and you huffed and unclasped his hand, pursing your lips together. “I see. You don’t care about me at all. Noted.”

You heard him sigh, before his red eyes squarely landed on you.

“When I was shot, you worried about me even when you know I’m going to be alright,” he suddenly posed the question on you. “Didn’t you?”

You nodded, and he tousled your hair again—the action alone somehow made you feel warm.

“Whatever you felt that day, that’s the same to what I went through during those three weeks. Multiply it by ten.”

“Huh!?” you rose up from the sheets in surprise, facing him.

Sylus then turned away from you, crossing his arms and shutting his eyes. “That’s it, sweetie. I’m going back to sleep now.”

“Wait!”

You scrambled into his lap, clinging to his shoulder. Sylus begrudgingly opened his eyes again, a look of irritation on his face. “What?”

Multiply it by ten…? Heh. At this moment, you felt light and giddy, knowing that the two of you were now true lovers in every way that mattered even when you were faced with his sourness.

“Don't scowl too much!” you giggled merrily. You placed your fingers on the corners of his lips, gently lifting them to force a smile. “Honesty suits you much better, Sylus. It’s recommended.”

This cheeky woman... Sylus never thought the day would come for him to experience these myriad of emotions, much less for them to be incited by you.

He pulled you close, one arm around your hips and the other around the back of your head. Your lips met his in a passionate kiss that left no room for further conversation, only parting when you both needed to catch your breath.

“If you want me to, then don’t make me relive those nights,” he said with a sly smile, his crimson eyes glinting in the light and his voice like silk against your ears. “Can you?”

His tone softened your gaze, a warm sensation spreading through your chest. You responded with a playful snort, wrapping your arms around his neck and giving him another peck on the lips.

After your innocent make-out session, you nestled closer to him with a contented sigh, savoring the reassuring warmth of his embrace as you both drifted off again into the morning.

Epilogue

"Do you hear anything?"

"No, nothing..."

Luke and Kieran whispered amongst themselves as they tried to hear anything of importance beyond Sylus' bedroom. After their boss went back home with you passed out in his arms last night, they had totally expected the worst.

“Seems like she’s alright then…” Kieran concluded, stepping away from the door. “We should just go. If Boss catches us, we’re dead.”

The twins backed away from the door and went back to the living room, sighing in relief.

"But honestly, Boss has changed lately, hasn't he? He looks kinder, somehow."

"Are you sure, Luke? Maybe it's just when he looks at the missus. With us, meh."

“I still get chills thinking about when he destroyed the Protofield to dust after he found her following the explosion,” Luke gazed off in wonder. “It was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen, but it was also heartbreaking—especially when he tried to wake her and realized she was beyond help because the steel had pierced her heart…”

Luke and Kieran went quiet at the memory.

“Anyhow!” Kieran suddenly exclaimed. “All’s well that ends well! To be honest, I totally saw it coming that they'd end up together!”

“Ooh, you're right! They did a bad job of hiding it too, no less! I mean, one time, the missus came out of his room while—”

As the twins gossiped about their master and mistress, they were unaware that Mephisto the crow, perched nearby, was dutifully recording their conversation and would report it all to his master later.

[cloudwisp]

𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬 · 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧

contents: fluff. established relationship. you always sleep better when you're with him. 600 wc.

It’s been long since darkness cloaked the firmament and Sylus is absorbed in the tranquil silence of his studies overlooking documents and official records. A common routine given his atypical profession in dealing with illegal weaponry and other business practices that caught his interest. His fingers idly tapping against the armrest come to a halt when faint footsteps reach his ears. The sound draws nearer and closer with each pace and the corner of his mouth tugs upward into a smirk while he waits in anticipation.

“Kitten, shouldn’t you be in bed where I had left you?” Sylus meets your heavy-lidded gaze and registers your appearance as a cashmere blanket wraps around your shoulders and your hair tousled from what seems to be troubled sleep. Despite his question, he beckons you with a gesture and you settle across his lap, your body turning in towards him to nuzzle your face into his neck with your arms coiling around him. He gently shifts your weight closer to him for a more secure hold and lays a sweet kiss on your head once your movement stills.

“You’re more comfy… way more comfy. I prefer this much more.” You hum and return his kiss by brushing your lips against his skin. He can feel you ease into him as he studies your adorable sleepy face and his heart swells with so much love and tenderness for you. He loves it when you seek him out even when you've spent the entire day together and still can't get enough of him.

“Is that so? I suppose I’m more comfortable than a bed, huh?” He strokes your hair, lulling you deeper into your drowsiness and you can only muster a noise of contentment. He wonders if he can emulate the same sense of comfort you provide him when he’s resting his head on your lap. The sweet and intimate sensation of your fingers caressing through his silver locks with the lingering scent of your perfume makes everything seem right in the world even if just brieftly. “You know I can’t work when you’re in my lap like this. I have too many distractions that way. You and the cute way you snore.”

You grunt softly. “I do not snore… do you really want me to leave?” You slowly unravel yourself from him with a small pout on your lower lip, and he softens with the realization that maybe he shouldn’t have teased you when you’re laced with sleep. You feel something warm against your forehead through your bleary eyes, and he can’t have his darling feeling unloved and unwanted by mistake and he intends to remedy that. His hand reaches up and moves your head back where it was moments ago and you are pliant under his touch.

“Now, I didn’t say you had to go anywhere. Stay here with me. I promise you won’t get in the way.” Sylus cooes you gently, his hand smooths along your back and he rests his cheek against your hair as he savors the feeling of having you in his arms. “I love you, sweet kitten. Sleep now. I’ll hold you until you do.” You murmur you love him back and for a few minutes, there’s nothing but silence and the steady rhythm of your breathing as your consciousness begins to drift.

Sylus gazes down at you with a fond and affectionate expression, whispering quiet reassurances that he hopes will reach you in your dreams. He resumes skimming through the paperwork he was doing before, his actions slower and deliberate so as not to wake you. Although his focus has shifted, he enjoys having you here with him like this and he could certainly get used to it.

[thebarneschronicles]

Closer to Home

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Synopsis: As you settle into your new role as the team’s “girl in the chair,” helping Sam and Bucky with their missions, you find yourself increasingly drawn to Bucky's intense presence. His brooding silence is matched only by his watchful eyes, and despite his gruff exterior, your kindness begins to chip away at his walls. When Bucky insists on walking you home one night, clyou chalk it up to his old-fashioned sense of duty and think nothing of it. But as the night unfolds, you realize there’s far more behind his actions than just good manners, and your growing feelings for him may not be as hidden as you think.

A/N: This was supposed to be something else ENTIRELY. But it just unravelled and here we are! Please, feel free to let me know your thoughts about it! B xx

Click here for part II | Click here for part III

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Your relationship with Bucky hadn’t started with fireworks or dramatic confessions—it began like any other normal relationship: after drinks and a movie.

It was a quiet evening, the kind that felt heavier after long hours at your desk. You were finally wrapping up for the night, shrugging on your coat and slinging your purse over a shoulder. The clock had just ticked past 10 p.m., though it hardly felt late to you. Still, your shoulders sagged under the tension of the day—hours spent poring over intel, trying to uncover scraps of information that might help Sam and Bucky on their next mission.

“You shouldn’t be walking home alone.”

You looked up to find Bucky leaning casually against the doorway, arms crossed. His voice was gruff but not unkind, his blue eyes shadowed but steady.

“It’s just a few blocks,” you replied, already bracing for the argument.

His jaw tightened—a subtle shift, but one you’d come to recognize as the start of his infamous stubborn streak. “Doesn’t matter. My ma would haunt me if I let you.”

That earned him a laugh. “Your 'ma' sounds like quite the character.”

“She was,” he said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It disappeared as quickly as it came. “C’mon, grab your stuff. I’ll walk you.”

You didn’t argue further, mostly because you were too tired to win, and partly because there was something oddly comforting about his protectiveness, even if it came wrapped in brooding silences and sharp glances.

Being around Bucky had taken some getting used to. You knew about him, of course—who didn’t? But nothing had prepared you for the sheer intensity of James Buchanan Barnes up close. His unrelenting stares, his quiet presence that somehow filled a room, and the way he seemed to carry the weight of entire worlds on his shoulders.

When you’d first joined their team as the “girl in the chair” (a term Sam insisted on despite your repeated protests that you were, in fact, a woman), you hadn’t known what to expect. Your days as a research journalist had been left behind in favor of a role that felt more like a sidekick to two superheroes. Never the hero, always the support.

“It’s not nothing, though,” Sam had told you once, catching you mid-eye-roll during a particularly grueling debrief. “You’re saving lives too, y’know. Every name, every address you dig up? That’s someone else’s tomorrow you’re protecting.”

Still, the job came with its own toll: exhaustion, migraines, and a constant ache in your wrists from hours of typing. But it also came with a quiet sense of purpose—and Bucky’s occasional company.

At first, his silences had been intimidating, his brooding presence almost oppressive. But you met him with unwavering kindness—bringing him coffee when he looked like he needed it, or letting him retreat into your office to escape Sam’s chatter. Slowly, the silences grew shorter, and the stares softened into something more watchful.

Now, walking beside him under the soft glow of streetlights, the quiet felt less like distance and more like understanding.

“So,” you said, breaking the silence, “is this a one-time chivalry thing, or do I get an official escort service from now on?”

Bucky snorted. “You’re assuming I’m doing this for you.”

“Oh, really?” you teased, grinning. “Who else is benefitting from my safe arrival home?”

He glanced at you, a spark of humor flickering in his eyes. “Sam’ll never let me hear the end of it if something happens to you. Man loves his lectures.”

“Ah,” you said, mock-serious. “So I’m saving you from Sam’s wrath. Got it.”

He didn’t answer right away, but his pace slowed slightly, his hand brushing the base of your spine as you turned a corner, like he was directing towards home. “Maybe I just like making sure you’re okay,” he muttered.

Your heart stuttered at his words, a quiet ache blooming in your chest, but you didn’t dare press him further. Hope was a dangerous thing, a fragile spark that had burned you one too many times before. It was safer to tuck it away, to pretend his words meant nothing more than what he’d said—a simple gesture of kindness, nothing deeper.

You were friends, after all... right? Or at least, friendly. He was kind to you, yes, but Bucky Barnes was kind in a way that felt carefully measured, like a soldier fulfilling his duty. He was a gentleman through and through, the kind who’d been raised to believe it was his responsibility to make sure no lady faced the dangers of the night alone.

“His mah would’ve expected nothing less,” you thought wryly, your lips tugging into a faint smile.

He was a man out of time, after all. Decades removed from the era he was born into, yet somehow still anchored there, even now. You wouldn’t have been surprised if the rules he followed were the same ones ingrained into him all those years ago. And maybe, just maybe, it was easier to believe that than to let yourself hope he cared for any reason beyond habit or honor.

“Almost there,” he said, his voice breaking through your thoughts. His hand hovered near your elbow, steady and sure, as if ready to catch you should you stumble.

The steps to your door loomed far too quickly for your aching heart, bringing an abrupt end to your time with the brooding soldier. Each step felt heavier than the last, as if your body was reluctant to leave his quiet, steady presence.

You paused on the final step, its height almost eliminating the difference between you and Bucky. It gave you just enough courage to look up at him, your fingers nervously twisting around the strap of your purse.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He dipped his head in a single nod, his icy blue eyes flickering down to meet yours. His expression, as always, was unreadable, cast in shadows under the dim streetlamp. “Anytime.”

The simplicity of his reply made your chest tighten. You nodded in return, swallowing hard as your heart hammered in your throat. Turning away from him, you fixed your gaze on your front door, willing yourself to move forward, to end the moment before it unraveled you completely.

Friends. That’s all this was. It had to be.

So why did it feel so wrong to turn your back on him? Why did it feel like you were forcing yourself to betray something deeper, something unspoken, simply by walking away?

Your hand was on the doorknob before you realized you’d stopped moving, the quiet war between your heart and your mind reaching a fever pitch. You squeezed your eyes shut, battling the urge that rose in you like a wave.

Don’t do it. Just go inside. Let him leave.

But the battle was already lost. Before you could stop yourself—before logic could wrestle control away from the reckless beating of your heart—you turned. Your feet moved without permission, carrying you back down the steps toward him.

It wasn’t a decision so much as a pull, steady and undeniable, the words slipping from your lips as if carried on a tide of longing you couldn’t resist.

“Would you like to come up for a drink?”

The words tumbled out unbidden, your voice trembling just enough to betray how desperately you wanted him to say yes.

His reaction couldn’t have been more Bucky if he tried. His eyes shifted, and you swore you could see every emotion flash through them—surprise, hesitation, something a lot like longing—before they settled back into the stoic mask he always wore. Quiet. Unimpressed. Broody. And yet…

“I wouldn’t mind a beer.”

A laugh bubbled up in your chest, shaky with relief, and you motioned toward your door. “Well, come on then. I’ve got a six-pack that’s been waiting for some company.”

His presence filled the small apartment in a way that made your breath catch, the air somehow heavier, more electric. How many times had your silly, stubborn heart conjured up this exact scenario? Late at night, Bucky standing just inside your door, peeling off his worn leather jacket and tugging off the gloves that shielded both metal and flesh. Then, as if he’d done it a thousand times, he’d settle into a corner of your couch, legs spread, shoulders sinking back into the soft fabric like he belonged there.

“There's Heineken, Bud, and Corona,” you said, your voice only slightly betraying your nerves as you toed off your shoes and dropped your keys and purse by the door. “I think I might even have some whiskey stashed away somewhere. What’s your poison?”

He hesitated for a moment, his gaze trailing lazily around the room before settling back on you. “I’ll have what you’re having.”

Your stomach flipped, and you nodded, biting back the grin threatening to stretch across your face. “Sure thing,” you said casually, though you were certain the flush creeping up your neck gave you away.

You turned toward the kitchen, your heart doing an embarrassing little leap as you busied yourself rummaging through the fridge and cabinets. The clink of bottles felt absurdly loud in the quiet apartment, every moment stretching with the weight of his presence just beyond your line of sight.

“Nice place,” he called from the living room, his tone casual but laced with something warmer.

“Thanks,” you replied, grabbing two beers and popping the caps off with practiced ease. “I’d say make yourself at home, but it looks like you’ve already got that covered.”

When you re-entered the room, there he was—exactly as you’d imagined so many times before. His jacket was draped over the back of the couch, his gloves neatly set beside it, and Bucky himself sprawled out comfortably. His metal hand rested casually on his knee, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips as his eyes met yours.

“Here you go, Mr. Barnes,” you said, forcing a steady smile as you handed him the green bottle.

“To your first visit,” you began, raising your own bottle in a toast. You couldn’t help the way your gaze lingered, taking in the sight of his broad frame on your couch, the casual way he sat, the sheer presence of him filling the space. Warmth pooled low in your belly, and before you could stop yourself, you added, “May it be the first of many.”

His smirk deepened at that, a flicker of amusement flashing across his features. He raised his bottle silently, going for a sip—but you stopped him, your hand darting out to rest on his.

“Wait!” you blurted, your palm lightly pressing against his larger one.

His frown was slight, his gaze shifting between your hands before settling on your face. “Why?”

“You have to look at me when we cheers,” you explained, your voice a little breathless, a little unsure of what you were doing but too far in to back out now.

His brow arched. “And why’s that?”

“Bad luck if you don’t. Years of it.” You shrugged, suddenly feeling the ridiculousness of your own words but refusing to back down. “I mean, I can’t even count how many years... Probably best not to risk it.”

For a second, you thought he might argue. But then he chuckled, a soft sound that sent a flutter straight to your chest. “God knows I’ve had enough of that already, haven’t I?”

You giggled, your laughter bubbling out, light and carefree. The fact that he played along felt like a victory, a small but monumental crack in his stoic armor.

With a glint of something softer in his eyes, he tilted his head toward you, his gaze locking with yours. “Alright, doll,” he said, his voice quieter now, warmer. “Let’s do it properly.”

Eyes steady on yours, he clinked his bottle against yours, the sound sharp and satisfying in the quiet room. And then, he didn’t look away—not for a second—as he took a slow sip.

You followed suit, the contact between your eyes and his making your heart race so fast you thought it might burst. The heat in his gaze was steady, grounding, and yet it sent a thrilling, electric charge through you that made your knees nearly buckle.

“Better?” he asked, his voice low, the faintest curve to his lips as he lowered his bottle.

“Much,” you replied, somehow managing to keep your voice steady, even as your pulse thundered in your ears.

The air between you seemed to shift then, heavier but no less comforting—a new tension that simmered beneath the surface. If Bucky noticed the way your gaze lingered on him, the way your breath hitched every time his hand grazed your knee as he reached for another beer, he never said a thing.

He was the perfect gentleman, as always. Even when you slid closer on the couch, settling beside him on the plush cushions - even though there were a whole three other seats available to you. Even when you turned toward him, resting your head on your palm, your eyes tracing the strong lines of his face while you rambled about the mission reports piling up on your desk. He didn’t even glance at your neckline when you leaned over him to grab the remote, though you couldn’t help but steal a quiet inhale of his scent—clean, warm, unmistakably him.

“Alright,” you said, breaking the quiet. “I feel like I’m torturing you by making you listen to all this. Do you feel like watching something?” Your tone was cheery, light, but your heart raced at the thought of sharing something as simple and intimate as watching a film together.

With your eyes fixed on the TV, you missed the brief hesitation in his expression—the flicker of doubt that crossed his face and quickly vanished. Yet, neither the guilt, the fear, nor the pain that lingered in his soul seemed strong enough to stop him from embracing what you offered so openly: a chance to simply be. For the first time in what felt like forever, Bucky seemed just a little less burdened by the shadows of his past, a ghost of his old self and a lot of his new one urging him to give in.

“What’s on Netflix?” he asked, his voice low and casual.

Your head whipped around so quickly you nearly gave yourself whiplash. “How do you know what Netflix is?”

His lips quirked into a rare, genuinely amused smile, the kind that made your stomach flip. “I’m old, but I’m not that old, doll.”

“You’re 106,” you shot back, arching a brow.

“And yet, I still know what streaming is,” he countered, the smile growing. “I’m not living under a rock.”

“Well, I am impressed, Mr. Barnes,” you teased, settling back into the cushions. “What else do you know about modern technology? Please tell me you’ve at least heard of TikTok.”

His expression shifted into something closer to a scowl, but the playful glint in his eye betrayed him. “I know about TikTok,” he said, sounding almost offended. “And dating apps. God, the horrors,” he added, shaking his head dramatically as he glanced at his phone like it was some sort of ancient relic.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound warm and genuine, filling the cozy space between you. But beneath the humor, your stomach twisted with an unexpected knot. Dating apps?

“What about dating apps?” you asked, trying to sound casual, but the curiosity in your voice was hard to hide.

Bucky groaned, slouching deeper into the couch as though the thought of them physically pained him. “I don’t know, doll. They just seem... unnatural. All these profiles and swiping left or right, like you’re picking a product instead of a person. Not my thing.” His voice held a certain distaste, and the casual way he said it made you wonder if he was speaking from experience—or just his own strong sense of principle.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the questions bubbling up inside you. Had he ever used them? Was he speaking from personal experience, or just from watching the chaos unfold around him? Your thoughts shifted uncomfortably, and you tried to steer the conversation back to safer waters.

“I get it,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant. “It’s... kind of weird, honestly. It’s like shopping for a date, but with less... quality control.” You shot him a teasing grin, but the tightness in your chest was hard to ignore.

Bucky chuckled, the sound a low rumble that was soothing, even though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Exactly. I mean, if I’m gonna meet someone, I’d rather it be... I don’t know, real? Not behind a screen.”

For some reason, his comment made your heart stumble, a traitorous beat skipping out of rhythm. You quickly dropped your gaze to your beer, hoping the reaction wasn’t written all over your face. Was he hinting that he preferred real, in-person connections? That he’d rather... meet someone like that?

You cleared your throat, feigning casual interest to mask the swarm of uncertainty rising inside. “So, how would you go about it? Finding a date, I mean. Is Sam your wingman?”

Bucky nearly choked on his beer, shaking his head vehemently. “God, no! Can you imagine? He’s too busy being Captain America to care about my love life... except when he’s accusing me of flirting with his sister.”

The corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk, and your chest tightened with something sharp and unwelcome. Jealousy. You bit down on your bottom lip, trying to chase it away. “I didn’t know you liked Sarah,” you said, and to your horror, the disappointment in your voice was impossible to hide.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, clearly catching the shift in your tone. “She’s great,” he said with a thoughtful nod. Then his lips curved knowingly. “But not like that.”

The heat crawling up your neck to your cheeks was impossible to ignore, and Bucky’s sly grin told you he’d noticed. Your relief collided with your curiosity, the two tangling into a dangerous need to know more. “Oh,” you started hesitantly. “So... if not her, then who?”

He took another sip of his beer, the pause deliberate. “Had one date with the waitress from that Asian place we always order from. It… didn’t go well.”

Your brows furrowed. “And you haven’t tried again since then?”

“Not really.” He shrugged, leaning back in his chair, the movement deceptively casual. “You know how it is these days—apps, algorithms, everyone judging you by a couple of photos and a bio. And who’s lining up to date a former assassin, huh? People know too much, too soon. Real connections don’t happen that way.”

The self-deprecating edge in his voice made your heart ache. You tilted your head, studying the way his vibranium fingers tapped lightly against the beer bottle. “Maybe,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the nervous thrum beneath your skin, “you’re looking in the wrong places.”

His gaze snapped to yours, sharp and searching. “Oh yeah?” he asked, voice low, almost daring. “And where do you think I should look?”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his question, his attention. “Maybe a little closer to home,” you murmured, eyes resolutely fixed on the beer bottle in your own hands.

The silence that followed was electric, charged with unspoken possibilities that hung in the air like static. His gaze lingered on you, steady and intense, and you could feel it even without looking up. It made your pulse race in a way you didn’t dare acknowledge.

The truth was, you weren’t sure if you were just caught up in the moment—or if there was something more lingering in his words, in the way he was looking at you now.

You wanted to ask. The question burned on the tip of your tongue, begging to be spoken. But a part of you hesitated, afraid of the answer. What if this was nothing more than friendly banter? What if pushing further shattered the comfortable connection you’d built?

“Closer to home, huh?” Bucky’s voice was a low rumble, breaking the silence but not the tension. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, and for a moment, it felt like he was closing the space between you. “And what does that mean, exactly? You got someone in mind for me, doll?”

There it was—that nickname. The one you pretended to hate but secretly adored. It sent a shiver down your spine, and you could feel the corner of your mouth twitch, betraying the smile you tried to suppress. His voice was so close it warmed you from head to toe. “I’m just saying,” you replied, forcing your tone to stay neutral, “maybe you’re overthinking it. Sometimes the best things are right in front of you.”

His lips quirked, his expression softening as if he’d caught onto something unsaid. “You think so?” Bucky asked, his voice quieter now, almost thoughtful.

You dared to turn your head and glance at him, and the way his blue eyes locked onto yours stole whatever breath you had left. “Yeah,” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I know so.”

The moment stretched between you, fragile and heavy with unspoken words. You swore he was leaning closer, his gaze flickering briefly to your lips before returning to your eyes. And suddenly, the question burning in your chest felt inevitable.

“Bucky…” you began, voice trembling slightly, unsure of what you were about to say—or what he might say back.

“Yeah, doll?” Bucky’s voice was gentle, a thread of warmth in the charged air between you.

You hesitated, but the weight of your emotions was too much to carry any longer. “Is this a date?” you finally blurted, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess yourself.

For a moment, his expression didn’t change, and then he shook his head slowly. “It’s not,” he said, his voice steady but quiet.

Your chest tightened, and the disappointment hit hard, like a blow you hadn’t braced for. You tried to mask it, but your face betrayed you, your shoulders sagging under the weight of the rejection. The ache in your heart grew with every second of silence that followed, the room feeling colder with each passing beat.

What you missed was the storm raging behind his steel-blue eyes—the internal battle he fought against his demons, the ones that screamed he wasn’t good enough for you. Wasn’t good enough for anyone. He’d carried those ghosts for too long to ignore them now. But he wasn’t blind.

He’d noticed the way your smile softened when it was meant for him, brighter and warmer than it ever was for anyone else. He’d seen how you fretted over him after missions, your hands fluttering with concern even at the smallest scratch on his skin. And he’d felt the hope radiating from you tonight when you’d invited him over, your words laced with a vulnerability you rarely showed.

Bucky knew. He’d known for a while. And that knowledge both terrified and thrilled him. Love, in any form, was fragile—he’d learned that the hard way. But tonight, sitting here with you, he realized he couldn’t keep running from the possibility of it.

He wanted you. Your laughter, your kindness, your stubbornness, your touch. He craved all of it. And maybe he didn’t deserve it, but for once in his long life, he wanted to try.

Bucky set his beer down, his movements deliberate, and leaned closer. His flesh hand brushed against the back of your arm and the touch sent a shiver up your arm. 

“It’s not a date,” he repeated, voice low but filled with a quiet resolve that made your breath catch, hurt twisting at your heart.

Your brow furrowed, the downturn of your lips impossible to hide. “Heard you the first time…”

“This isn’t a date,” he pressed on. Then, with a small, almost shy smile, he added, “But it could be.”

Your heart skipped, his words hanging in the air like a lifeline. “Bucky…”

Cutting through your hesitation, his gaze locked onto yours, unflinching, steady. “If you want this… if you want me, I’m yours. I want to try.”

The vulnerability in his voice left you breathless, stealing any coherent thought you might have had. For the first time in what felt like forever, hope blossomed in your chest, warm and radiant. You didn’t hesitate this time, your lips curving into a soft, trembling smile.

“Is this because you’re afraid of the apps?” you teased, the quip breaking the intensity just enough for you to breathe. But your voice wavered slightly, and your eyes glistened with the tears threatening to spill. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll steal your virtue?”

Bucky chuckled, low and genuine, the sound sending warmth curling in your chest. “I’m not a damsel in distress, doll,” he said, his tone playful as his fingers brushed a strand of hair away from your face. The simple touch sent shivers down your spine, and you leaned into it instinctively.

“And you’re also not the big bad wolf you think you are,” you countered softly, your voice tinged with both affection and defiance.

“Well, technically…” His lips quirked into a lopsided grin. “I am the White Wolf.”

You rolled your eyes, the tension breaking into something lighter, something safe. “He jokes,” you said, shaking your head. “He could be kissing instead…”

His grin softened, and for a beat, he just looked at you, his hand still lingering near your face. Then, as if your words had given him permission, he leaned in, closing the space between you in a way that felt both inevitable and extraordinary.

“Guess I’ll take your advice for once, doll,” he murmured, his breath brushing against your lips.

The moment his lips touched yours, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you. His kiss was gentle at first, a question rather than an assumption, as though he wanted to be sure this was what you truly wanted. His warm hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your cheekbone, while his vibranium hand rested lightly on your knee, grounding him in the moment.

You sighed into the kiss, your hand instinctively reaching up to thread through the short hair at the nape of his neck. The movement drew him closer, and he obliged, deepening the kiss with a soft groan that sent a shiver down your spine. His lips were soft yet firm, moving against yours in a way that spoke of patience and restrained hunger, like he was savoring every second of this moment.

His vibranium hand finally moved, finding your waist with surprising tenderness. The cool metal was a stark contrast to the heat of his other hand through the fabric of your shirt, but it pulled you to the reality of him—both the man he was and the one he’d fought so hard to become.

When you parted briefly for air, his forehead rested against yours, his breaths mingling with yours in the small space between you. His eyes fluttered open, heavy-lidded and brimming with emotions he didn’t have to say out loud.

“Doll…” he whispered, his voice rough and full of awe, like he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

But you weren’t done. You weren’t ready to let the moment slip away. Sliding your hand from his neck to his jaw, you tilted his face back toward yours, brushing your lips against his again, slower this time, savoring the taste of him. He responded immediately, his grip on your waist tightening as his mouth moved against yours with more certainty, more passion.

The kiss deepened, growing warmer, more insistent. Your bodies angled closer together, his presence consuming your senses. You could feel his heartbeat against yours, steady and strong, and the faint rasp of his stubble as it brushed against your skin only made the experience more intoxicating.

You weren’t sure how it happened—one moment you were pressed against the back of your couch, his hands and lips demanding your full attention, and the next, you were straddling his thighs. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck as your harsh breaths mingled, the taste of his tongue intoxicating and impossible to resist.

For all his claims of being a man out of his time, Bucky Barnes knew exactly how to touch a woman. His hands were a perfect dichotomy: one warm and strong, the other cool and unyielding, but both equally firm and commanding. His touch left no room for doubt or hesitation, responding to every unspoken plea you hadn’t yet found the words for.

And his kiss? God, his kiss. You could write sonnets about the way his lips moved against yours, the way his tongue teased and claimed you, coaxing a need from you that you hadn’t known you were capable of. None of your wildest fantasies could compare to the reality of him, his body pressed against yours, solid and capable. The things it could do—what it was doing, what it promised to do—set your whole body alight with yearning.

You kissed him harder, deeper, needier, your hips moving instinctively against his. His groan rumbled low in his chest, a sound that only made you crave him more. But just as your movements grew more desperate, his vibranium hand clamped firmly on your hips, halting your rhythm. His flesh hand cupped your jaw, gentle but insistent, forcing you to break the kiss.

“Doll…” His voice was rough, laced with a warning that sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

You blinked at him, still dazed, heat crawling under your skin as you realized what you’d done. “Yes, I’m sorry, I know—I’m sorry,” you stammered, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

His breaths came heavy, his chest rising and falling against yours as his steel-blue eyes bore into yours. The hunger there mirrored your own, and the restraint in his grip only made you want him more.

Your lips quirked into a small, teasing smile, your own need warring with the desire to break the tension. “Seems like I really am trying to steal your virtue, huh?” you joked, your voice light but shaky as you turned your head to press a soft kiss to his palm.

His lips twitched, the faintest hint of amusement breaking through the hunger. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered, his hand slipping from your jaw to trail gently along your cheek, his thumb brushing over your kiss-swollen lips.

Your free hand wrapped around his vibranium one, your thumb tracing the grooves of the metal. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” you murmured, your voice soft but laced with promise as you leaned in, resting your forehead against his.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the charged silence stretching as his hands anchored you, holding you steady but never pushing. His restraint was palpable, and you knew without a doubt—if you wanted more, he would give it to you willingly. But only if you asked.

You wouldn’t, though. Not tonight.

Instead, you leaned in, brushing soft, sweet kisses against his lips, your movements unhurried and tender. Each kiss felt like a promise, an unspoken assurance that there was no rush, no need for anything more than this moment. It took superhuman strength—the kind he had—not to let it escalate.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your lips tingling and your cheeks warm. His eyes searched yours, and the way he looked at you—like you were the most precious thing in the world—made your heart swell. His thumb grazed your cheek, his smile soft and genuine.

“How about that movie?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, though his eyes betrayed a depth of emotion that made your breath catch.

You laughed, the sound breaking the last remnants of tension and filling the cozy space around you. “Alright, fine. Let’s find something to watch, then. Any preferences?”

“Anything but those baking shows Sam keeps trying to get me into,” he muttered, his lips quirking in faint exasperation.

A giggle bubbled out of you at the mental image of Sam dragging Bucky into a world of frosting, sprinkles, and delicate pastries. The idea was so absurd yet so perfectly Sam that you couldn’t help yourself. Leaning in, you pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, your lips lingering just long enough to feel the faint rasp of stubble. “Deal. No baking shows.”

As the two of you settled back onto the couch, scrolling through movie options, the tension between you shifted again—this time, it was softer, lighter, wrapped in a warmth that felt safe and steady.

Bucky stretched his arm along the back of the couch, his fingers absently brushing against your shoulder as you leaned into him, your body naturally seeking his. And for the first time in a long time, you noticed something different about him. The shadows that usually haunted his expression seemed to have lifted, replaced by something quieter, something calmer.

Here, with you, Bucky wasn’t the broken soldier or the ex-assassin haunted by his past. He was just… himself. And in that moment, you realized that’s all you’d ever wanted him to be.

[teamred]

any other way

✩‌ logan howlett/wolverine x reader | fluff | 1.8k

SUMMARY | in which your good friend, wade, ditches your planned movie night, but his roommate offers to watch one with you instead. however, logan ends up falling asleep on your shoulder.

WARNINGS | drinking, kissing, swearing, gets a little steamy/handsy

RATING | teen+

NOTES | it's funny... i've been a big x-men fan for a while, but i never really fell for logan until d&w. if this pops off, maybe i'll write more for him!!!

///

“Wade, hurry up and let me in! A girl can only hold freshly popped popcorn for so—oh.” 

Instead of your dear, annoying friend, it’s his gorgeous, rugged roommate who answers the apartment door instead. Your eyes sweep over him, taking a liking to how his brown plaid button-up drapes over his white tank top. His clothing choices compliment his sturdy frame and strong pecs. His facial hair is perfectly groomed and—  

And it doesn’t help that you have just the teeniest, tiniest crush on him. 

“Logan, hey!” you exclaim, a little too enthusiastically. “I didn’t know you were going to be here for movie night too.” 

“Wade’s not here, bub,” Logan says, leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms and a sympathetic half-smile.

“What?! That little shit said he’d be free tonight…”  You sigh, shaking your head. “Well, it’s all good. I’ll just—” 

“Did you want to watch a movie with me instead?” Logan offers. You think you hear a hint of hopefulness in his voice. “Since you came out all this way?” 

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to bother you. I’m sure you’re—”

“Darlin’,” he interrupts with a soft chuckle. Your heart stumbles at the sound. “I have never been more free on a Saturday night. You’re welcome to join me, but only if you’re comfortable with it.” 

Now your heart is melting over his kindness. You smile warmly. “I always feel comfortable around you, Logan.” 

He returns the smile and gestures for you to come in, offering to take the popcorn and if you want anything as you remove your shoes.

“I got it, but thank you. A beer would be good,” you reply, settling in on one end of the couch in the living room. You glance around curiously. “Is Blind Al not home either?” 

“Yeah,” Logan calls from the nearby kitchen, bending towards the open fridge to grab the drinks. “She’s getting, in her own words, ‘turned up’ at the casino tonight.”

You snicker as you browse through streaming services to pick a movie for tonight. Logan returns with a beer in each hand and you’re surprised when he takes the middle seat next to you. You catch a whiff of his scent and it is intoxicating–a blend of woody notes, perhaps leather and pine. 

“So what’s the movie for tonight?” Logan asks, taking a sip from his bottle. 

“Well, be honest with me here: Wade promised that we could watch this new movie that just released a few days ago, but it’s a romantic movie, so—” 

“Of course,” he cuts in with a roll of his eyes, tossing a kernel into his mouth. “That’s his favourite genre.” 

You deflate a little. “Okay, with that tone, I’m assuming I will have to change the movie choice.” 

“No! Don’t change it because of me,” Logan quickly interjects. “We can watch whatever you want. I’m genuinely content to just sit here and do something other than watching reruns I’ve seen a million times before.” 

You study him for a moment, trying to gauge his sincerity. “Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure,” he reassures you, nodding and flashing another smile. You will yourself to calm your racing heart and focus on finding the movie. Once you select it, you press play and relax into the couch cushions. 

Out of nowhere, Logan places his arm around you, his hand slightly hovering above your shoulders. You stiffen at the unexpected move, unsure why he’s doing it. But then he quickly pulls back, shuffling a bit away from you.

“Shit, sorry,” he mutters, clearly embarrassed. “It’s out of habit when I watch stuff.”

“You can leave your arm there,” you blurt out. You don’t even register the words coming out of your mouth. Where was this boldness coming from? 

He quirks an eyebrow, amused. “Yeah?” 

“Mm-hmm,” you nod fervently, rushing to grab your beer to steady your nerves. Taking a long sip, you try to force your body to relax again. 

The first few minutes of the movie starts quite slow, but your eyes are glued to the screen to ensure you don’t miss the exposition. Just as you reach for the popcorn, so does Logan, and the back of your hands brush against each other. 

“Sorry,” you both mumble, glancing at each other in awkwardness and something hanging in the air. He juts his chin out with a subtle smirk, gesturing you to go first. You grab a handful, and as he follows suit, his fingers graze against yours, causing you to shiver. 

The air in the room is electric, and you wonder if the tension is just in your head or if Logan feels it too. The movie continues, but your thoughts are consumed by the warmth of his body so close to yours and the possibility of what might happen next. 

Later into the movie, you freeze as you feel Logan leaning in closer. You turn your head, ready for what might happen–

But then, he goes completely lax, slouching into your shoulder and resting his head in a comfortable position. 

“I should’ve chosen a different movie…” you think, shaking your head. 

It’s hard to focus on the movie with this gorgeous being asleep on your shoulder (and the movie doesn’t seem to be that great anyway). Towards the end of the movie, your attention drifts completely and you indulge in how Logan sleeps. His soft snoring. The gentle squeezes he gives your shoulder as he dreams. The steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes in and out. 

Suddenly, Logan stirs and lifts his head, almost snorting up air cutely. He blinks groggily. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry, gorgeous. Did I sleep through the movie?” 

You hesitate, hung up on the fact that he called you gorgeous. Your cheeks prickle as you search for the right words to say.

“Yeah, you did,” you whisper with a small smile. “But it’s fine. It wasn’t that great anyway.” 

“Mm, figures,” he mumbles. “Did you wanna watch another movie or—” 

As he straightens up, you instinctively lean towards him, closing the gap between you two. Your noses practically touch.

“Or did you wanna do…” Logan’s voice is low and gravelly. You hold your breath and hold his gaze. “...something else?” 

You barely nod, and he drags you into a searing kiss. His hands cup your cheek and neck with urgency. Soon enough, his tongue dips into your mouth, sending a jolt to your core. 

Logan cradles your body and carefully positions you lower onto the couch. The weight of his body pressed up against you sends you into overdrive. His hands dive underneath your shirt, exploring your soft skin. The pressure of his body against yours leaves you breathless. Not only the pressure of his body, but also his—

“Winner winner, chicken dinner!” 

Wade’s booming voice cuts through the front door like a tornado, forcing both of you to scramble away faster than opposing magnets. However, it’s too late; Wade has witnessed everything. 

“Oh, my God, Blind Al, my plan worked! It fucking worked!” Wade squeals, jumping up and down. 

“Oh, no. Are they butt-ass naked on the couch? Times like these, I’m grateful to be blind.” 

“No, they’re thankfully fully clothed. But they were just dry humping the shit out of each other though.” 

“You ditched movie night on purpose, you asshole!” you screech. 

“Hey, you should be thanking me,” Wade retorts with a wink. “You and Wolvie always have had palpable sexual tension every time you were in a room together. Hell, even Laura agreed it’d be a good idea to set you two up.” 

Logan and you exchange a sheepish smile, acknowledging the truth in Wade's words. 

“Blind Al and I will just be basking in our casino winnings with a few drinks and then we’ll be out of your hair in a few. And then you two can carry on and fuck each other freely on the couch.” 

“But keep it down, please,” Blind Al adds with a hint of desperation.

“I probably should get going now,” you chime in, eager to avoid the awkwardness. Logan quickly follows behind, walking you to the front door. 

“I’m sorry about all this,” he says in sincerity.

You wave him off. “You never have to apologize for them. They’re like family; I’m used to them.” 

“I didn’t know where the night was heading, but—” He turns around to check over his shoulder, lowering his voice and leaning in slightly. “—I’m glad Wade set us up.” 

“Heard that!” Wade calls out from inside the apartment. 

“Damn it,” Logan mutters, making you giggle. “Anyways, would you let me take you out on a proper date tomorrow night?” 

You beam as you reply, “I’d love that.” 

“Great, I’ll call you later.” 

Logan steps outside of the apartment and closes the door behind him, pulling you in by your waist for another kiss. Innocent at first, but then he presses you up against the wall and his hands grips at your waist, extracting a few moans from you.

“Either get back inside or just go home with her rather than wall-fucking her outside of the apartment!” Wade’s muffled voice echoes through the thin walls. 

Logan retreats slightly, his breath warm against your cheek. He keeps his voice low. “And not trying to put pressure on our date tomorrow, but if—”

“If things get heated, let’s go back to my place,” you finish his thought with a soft promise. 

His eyes light up with a relieved smile. “You read my mind. Thank you.” 

You smile into one last kiss, the world fading away as you savor the sensation of Logan’s mouth on yours.

Until Wade pops his head out through the door like a whack-a-mole you’re dying to hit. “Okay, seriously. I will offer you my bedroom, if you’re really that horny, you guys.” He calls out your name. “Also, did you know he can smell how horny you are?” 

“I—what?” you stammer, blinking in confusion.

“Wade, shut the fuck up,” Logan snaps with gritted teeth. He faces you again with a gentle smile. “Have a good night, gorgeous. I’ll call you as soon as you get back home.” 

Logan’s a man of his word, almost calling immediately as you stepped foot in your apartment (with Wade providing unnecessary commentary in the background, as always). 

Later, as you get ready for bed, you can’t help but admit how grateful you were for Wade’s set-up. If it wasn’t for him, neither of you would’ve made a move; it would’ve progressed at a glacial pace. 

Lying in bed and looking up at your bedroom ceiling, you think to yourself how tonight truly was perfect, and you wouldn’t have had it any other way. Smiling, you drift off to sleep, dreaming of what tomorrow’s date might bring. 

ENDING NOTES | thank you so much for reading and giving some love! part two can be read here!

[preqwells]

imagining simon with a reader that's extremely awkward since it's their first serious relationship.

simon was practically yearning for your touch, ready to burst at the seams and teeter over while you hesitantly refrained. you two had been dating for at least eight months and had known each other for longer around this point, so he was well-adjusted and within his comfort zone with you; he trusts you. you’ve had flings here and there, all of which lasted more than a month if you were lucky— not your fault these assholes did a complete 180 once you officially put a title on things. for a long time, you convinced yourself that it was your fault since the only common factor in all of those relationships was you until simon was practically desperate to prove you wrong— although his poker face and lack of flowery words would ever allow him to do so.

every time simon would try to get closer to you at night? you didn’t know what to do. cheek kisses? you’d just press your lips into a tight-lipped smile, managing a small “thanks” and averted your gaze. if simon tried to hold your hand? it was almost like you’d find a way to wiggle out of it. it was almost like you weren’t used to affection— how could you of all people not be used to affection, he wondered.

he started to eventually get discouraged at one point. he wasn’t one for affection often, but you didn’t seem to want to get closer to him— why didn’t you want to get closer to him? he’d try to brush it off, but he wasn’t good with words and touch was all he had left.

it was abruptly brought up when you two were seated on the couch, his eyes mindlessly mapping out how your hair framed the side of your face, assuming it began to tickle you from the way you raised your hand and began to gently scratch the softness of your cheek. “why do you move away from me when i try to touch you?” he suddenly asked, his voice vibrating in his chest. he caught onto the way your jaw undulated at the question which only fueled his curiosity. were you aware you had been doing this to him? were you dangling your affection above his head? what a cruel game if you were, honestly. “um…” you began, a silence ensuing between you two. you didn’t know what to say— what could you say? your reasoning felt silly the more you thought about it— you didn’t want to push simon away of all people.

“i don’t know what to do or where to put my hands… and im afraid i’ll get clingy. its not that i dont like it… i do…. i just…” you mumbled, your eyes flickering between his and the tv.

…that was it?

you didn’t know where to put your hands and you thought you’d be clingy just after giving him a small hug? small kiss? he stifled a laugh which you caught onto, prompting a small pout to form on your plush lips. “why’re you laughing? i’m being serious!” you groaned, slightly frustrated at the feeling of simon not taking this seriously. simon took your frustration in stride, the roughness of his hands grazing across your cheeks as he gingerly cupped the sides of your face. “s’nothin— nothin a’ all…” he mumbled, secretly on cloud nine as he silenced you with a kiss, feeling you tense up to which he elicited a throaty chuckle. “it’s not— s’not funny!” you attempted to reprimand him which failed, seeing as how you were holding back your laugh at simon’s smile and at how ridiculous the situation was now that you thought about it.

“you’re right. i’m afraid you’ll be like a leech if you get used to me.” he mumbled against your lips. he was pleasantly surprised at the feeling of your hands returning the gesture and cupping his face, your thumbs grazing the stubble which pricked and prodded needles into the soft pads of your fingers. “shut up.” you mumbled back, pulling him down onto the couch with you as he landed on your chest. he tried to ignore the rapid beating of your heart and how it hammered in your chest, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think it was cute.

if you weren’t used to affection, he’d have to change that.

[ladysharmaa]

My miracle

Anthony Bridgerton x reader

summary: Anthony’s wife is in labor and it’s not looking good

warnings: mentions of death

“Where is she?” the loud voice of Anthony was heard in the entire mansion. The door he opened slammed into the wall but he couldn’t care less as he saw some servants running his way to take off his coat. “Tell me where my wife is!”

“My apologies, my Lord.” the poor man trembled under the Lord’s menacingly glare, that were just a cover for the worry and fear that was running though his veins. “The Viscountess is in your chambers. The midwife and your mother are already present with her. Shall I inform your brothers to come and wait with you until the child is born?”

Anthony didn’t bother to respond. He quickly climbed the stairs, two steps at once, seeing with wide eyes as the maids ran to his room with towels in their hands. He doesn't even settle for knocking, immediatly opening the bedroom door. None of his mother's stories could have prepared him for the sight that lay ahead.

His darling wife was drenched in sweat, dressed in her nightdown. One hand was on her round belly protectively while the other was in his mother’s hands, who was whispering words of comfort. Her jaw was clenched in pain and it was only then that he noticed the midwife between the Viscountess legs. 

“You!” Y/n screamed accusingly, managing to point a finger at Anthony with hatred. “You did this to me! You will never ever put your hands on me again!”

“I-” Anthony was at loss of words. He knew that his wife was in pain, and looking like she was ready to kill, so he just nodded his head in agreement. He took slow hesitant steps towards the bed, hoping to comfort her without dying. “I’ll never touch you again, my love. How are you feeling?”

“How do you think I’m feeling? I’m pushing your child that inherited your big head out of my lady parts! So tell me, my dear husband, how am I feeling?”

“Like you are giving birth?”

“Anthony...” his mother whispered while shaking her head in dispair. “You should leave the room. Your brothers must be coming to keep you company. We shall call you when the child is born.” 

“I’m not leaving my wife.” was the only thing he said with firmity, holding Y/n’s hand and kissing her soft skin gently.

She turned to him, a change in her demeanor, eyes full of tears of terror. “I’m scared, Anthony. It hurts.”

“I know it hurts. It’s okay, love. You will be alright and then we will have our child with us.” he whispered. A feeling of guilt washed through him. How could he have made his wife suffer through childbirth? “You are the bravest person I know. So so much braver than me and everyone else. I’m so proud of you.”

"I can't do this. It hurts too much. Make it stop, Anthony, please." Y/n cried.

It was only then that Anthony saw the look in his mother. She was worried, exchanging looks with the midwife. And as much as the Viscount would like to also show his anguish, his first priority was to comfort Y/n. "It's going to be okay, my love. Just a little longer, you're being so strong."

But she no longer had the strength to respond. It was getting harder and harder to keep her eyes open and she just wanted to sleep to escape the pain. Between her legs, an increasingly larger pool of blood was forming. Anthony's eyes were wide and there was enormous pressure in his chest. It felt like I was running out of oxygen, and it only got worse when Y/n finally gave in to unconsciousness.

"What's happening?" he whispered, looking in alarm first at Violet. Afterwards, he turned to the midwife furiously. "What's wrong with her? Help her! Do something!"

"Anthony, you need to leave." Violet advised, trying to remain calm for everyone's sake. Anthony was becoming more and more desperate, tears falling from his eyes as he grabbed his wife's hand tighter and brought it to his lips.

"I'm not going anywhere!"

"Viscount Bridgerton, the baby is in pain. You won't want to see what I'm going to do. I promise I'll try to save both of them." the midwife said, taking a small knife and flying it over Y/n's stomach.

"If you need to choose, save my wife's life." Anthony begged, now more desperate as his mother called his brothers to take him out of the room.

"Anthony..."

"No, mother, you save my wife's life!" Benedict and Collin grabbed the man by the arms and began to carry him outside, despite Anthony's struggle. "You hear me! My wife is going to survive! Let me go! Mother, save Y/n!" he shouted before the door closed in his face. 

The last thing he saw was the woman making the cut on Y/n's stomach, who woke up with a jolt. She then let out a scream that would torment Anthony for the rest of his life.

With a cry of anger mixed with sadness, Anthony broke free from his brothers' grip and put his hands to his face. He didn't want to think about the possibility of losing the love of his life. He simply couldn't take it.

"Wow, Anthony, calm down." Collin whispered when Anthony, in a rage, threw a punch against the wall. "The Viscountess is a fighter. If anyone is capable of overcoming this, it's her."

"You don't tell me to calm down, Collin. Not when my wife is in that room fighting for her life over something I did." he cried, jaw shaking and eyes red that only showed the immense pain he was in. He sat on the floor, leaning his head back and looking at the ceiling. "I need her to live."

"And she will live, brother. I will bring a drink, and we will wait together for news." Benedict said, rushing to bring the alcohol when Y/n's screams became louder.

On one hand, each scream was like a stab in the heart of Anthony, who was increasingly pale and looked like he was going to vomit at any moment. On the other, it was the only way to know she was alive.

Moments passed. The Viscount didn't know if it had been seconds, minutes or hours. Things seemed to be getting mixed up in his mind. Nothing made sense, not when the love of his life was in the next room in pain and he was away from her. He had to protect her, it was his obligation as a husband. And he failed.

And then came the moment when Anthony's heart stopped. A baby's cry was heard, and he allowed himself to smile a little. He had a son or daughter. A mini version of his wife. And then he burst into tears when Y/n stopped screaming and everything became too silent.

It was uncontrollable. He cried without being able to stop, making it even difficult to breathe in. Anthony refused to believe that he would have to raise this child without Y/n. Without her affection, her kindness, her love. He didn't want to open his eyes and realize that all this wasn't a nightmare, but reality.

Benedict and Collin didn't know what to do. But one thing was certain, they would be there to help Anthony with whatever he needed and never let that child forget the wonderful mother he had. Then, Violet left the room holding a pile of blankets that held the baby.

"You have a daughter, Anthony."

He just cried more. His body was shaking and he couldn't even look at his mother and the baby. "Y/n... Is she...?" He took Violet's silence as a yes. "Oh god..."

"Enter the room, Anthony. She is waiting for you."

Anthony had never stood up so quickly in his life. He quickly opened the door, stopping momentarily when he saw the amount of blood on the sheets, but the most important thing was Y/n's half-open eyes. She was alive and looking around the room in confusion.

"Anthony? Where is my baby?" her voice was hoarse and extremely weak.

The man fell to his knees at the edge of her bed, and lowered his head to rest on her chest. A feeling of relief spread throughout his body when he felt the rising and falling movement of her chest, indicating that she was breathing and that it wasn't just his imagination.

"I love you so much." he cried, feeling her hands start stroking his hair. "I'm sorry. You were so brave and strong. I'm so proud of you, my love."

"Where is my baby?" Y/n didn't want to seem like she didn't appreciate Anthony's words because that was a lie. He was the most important person in her life. But at that moment, Y/n just wanted to know where her baby was.

"She's right here, dear." Violet reassured with a smile, announcing her presence.

Very carefully, she passed the child into the arms of her son's wife, her smile widening as the little family was finally together again. The new parents had a gentle smile as they looked at their creation, a new love emerging for this fragile human being.

Anthony kissed Y/n's temple. "We have a daughter."

"She is beautiful."

"She takes after her mother." Anthony quickly said, never feeling so much love as he did in that moment. 

He was extremely proud of Y/n admiring her strength and courage. Now, he was going to protect his two girls until the end of his life. Nothing was more important than his family.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

I LOVEEEEE YOU FICS OMG OMG

If you could be so kind to write a DomgojoxBratreader where he is her academic rival and they are always arguing but they start falling for each other. She is sassy and he matches her energy 🙏🏽🙏🏽

I pushed her back to the wall and said “You done?”

Tags: dom!Satoru x fem!Reader, brat!Reader, brat taming, academic rivals, rivals to lovers, slight angst, maybe hurt/comfort, hea, cursing, smut, mdni, spanking, slight impact play, cunninglingus, unprotected sex, this shit gonna be nasty i fear.

An: This all takes place when they're in a like Jujutsu Tech College... bare with me lmao. It's basically the events from their highschool years, but I made it to where they happened while they were in college, so all the characters are of age here. I looooove the academic rivals trope after I wrote my Hiromi fic 😩 you can read that here if you’re interested! Also, so sorry but this is a long one... 7.3k words...

Thwak!

Your body jolts forward a bit as you’re slung unceremoniously over Satoru’s shoulder. His large palm wooshes to connect with your bottom once more.

Thwak!

“Why is it always the small ones who I can throw around so effortlessly that talk the most shit?” His face is occupied with that shit eating grin as he gives your ass another spank just for the hell of it. There’s nothing you can do about it anyways. He may as well have his fun.

“Put me down, Satoru!!” You whine, trying to jostle your way out of his grip, but he’s having none of it. Your fists pound at his muscular back, but he continues to laugh. Without your cursed technique, you’re really are just a weakling to him.

“Where are your manners, princess? That’s no way to speak to your upperclassmen.” He taunts as he continues to carry you around with ease. “Maybe if you call me senpai, I’ll put you down.”

“Fuck no! I’m not doing that, weirdo!” You huff as your body continues to wriggle in his grasp. Geto watches with an amused look on his face. He makes no effort to stop Satoru’s shenanigans since you really were asking for this by provoking him all day today.

Your cursed technique is the only one that comes close to countering Satoru’s, so you’re the only person he’ll bother training with. However, he’s a complete asshole to train with.

When you’re losing, he gets all cocky and mouthy, talking about how weak and pathetic you are. When you’re putting up a good fight, Satoru somehow gets even more energetic. His cursed energy output increases exponentially, and he gets touchier too because he can’t cope with the euphoric feeling of actually having a challenge.

Principal Yaga was the unfortunate soul who had to tell Satoru that it was inappropriate to bear hug you for so long after a good sparring session. One time, you were trapped in his arms, completely unable to move for almost an hour as he rambled about how much he enjoyed getting that energy out. His face was also coincidentally(?) shoved in your chest. He, of course, claims it was nothing sexual, but you were completely pressed against him. You felt him grow hard against your thigh.

Either way, you always felt like you had a chip on your shoulder. You didn’t just want to he known as the one who could “almost counter Satoru”. You wanted to be known as the one who could beat the strongest sorcerer of today.

Unfortunately, you weren’t strong enough to beat him in combat yet, so you usually provoked him with words. All day, Geto has had to listen to you and Satoru bickering back and forth with each other.

“Well, at least my eyes aren’t off putting to look at.”

“My eyes are beautiful, princess. You’re just mad that you can’t get a date meanwhile I have girls falling all over me.” Satoru of course childishly stuck his tongue out at you.

“Bold of you to assume I can’t get a date.” You fire back with a small huff, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Oh? Does the princess have a date? Make sure to let me know how that goes.” Satoru laughs, and his hand ruffles your hair uncaringly.

“You can ask your dad tomorrow morning how it went.” You’re use to Satoru’s sass by now, and you know how to perfectly match his freak as some would say.

Satoru shoots you a small glare, which only elicits a giggle from you. You decide to push it further. “Yeah, I’m thinking about giving you a sibling. What do you think about that, hm? Maybe we’ll make another six-eyed freak with the limitless technique, so you aren’t that special.”

Satoru’s nose twitched in disdain. Not only did he not like the thought of not being special anymore; he despised the thought of you sleeping with his dad.

And that’s how you ended up thrown over his shoulder as he carried you towards the training matts. “Quite the mouth on you, princess. If only you could fight as good as you yap.” He smirked as he gave your ass a light spank. Once he realized the amount of control he had over you in that moment, it was game over for you.

“Let me go, Satoru!” You shrieked as Gojo continued to manhandle you over his shoulder. After a good twenty minutes of him holding you up, Suguru finally spoke out.

“You two are starting to sound like an old married couple. Put her down, Satoru.” Geto’s calming voice finally laid down the law to which Satoru reluctantly abided by, allowing for your feet to touch the floor.

You caught your breath as you were put down. It had been taxing to wrestle in his arms and scream for him to stop it. He knew you couldn’t activate your cursed technique while had full control over your body. Plus, if you were to activate your technique, you would’ve likely hurt Geto in the process. Satoru knew you wouldn’t even entertain the risk.

While Satoru was Suguru’s one and only friend, you were more like a little sister at Suguru’s side. He was the only one who didn’t view you as “Satoru’s counter”. To Suguru, you were just “y/n”. He saw you as an underclassman with an unprecedented level of potential.

He also often helped you with your studies. While Satoru was technically the brighter one of the two, Suguru was a true teacher. He explained even the most complicated topics to you, much to Satoru’s displeasure.

You didn’t miss the scowl on Satoru’s face each time you came up to both of them to request for Geto’s help. You didn’t miss the way he’d stare at both of you with a slight pout and how he’d try to tell you the answer before Geto could explain it.

You figured that it was just Satoru being spoiled. He didn’t like not being the center of attention when it came to you and Geto.

Satoru turned towards you, and he opened his mouth to continue on his little beratement of you when the door to the training area was abruptly opened. Principal Yaga stepped through the doors and called Gojo and Geto to his office.

The principal ended up sending the two young men out on a mission, and that was when everything changed between you three.

*** *** ***

Things between you three went dry for a while. You knew the details of what happened, but you didn’t dare talk directly to Satoru or Suguru about it.

Both of the men went their own separate directions, leaving you behind in the dust as if you were a child of divorce. Satoru took on an ungodly amount of training, barely ever at the dorms to do anything. Suguru occupied himself with a massive amount of missions.

Suguru was getting skinnier too. His long black hair was becoming thinner by the day, and he always looked so painfully tired. You felt like you would be a burden on him if you asked for any help from him.

Satoru was training so much, putting on more muscle in every place of his body. He didn’t ever invite you to spar with him anymore. He never taunted you in the hallways or even made direct eye contact with you.

They were both so preoccupied in their own grief that they seemingly forgot about you.

Things didn’t stop there either.

Haibara’s death shook Jujutsu Tech to its core. Nanami dropped out of the program. Suguru dropped out and was now a wanted criminal. Shoko wasn’t on the teaching path anymore, moving to learn more RCT to prevent something like this from happening again.

It was just you and Satoru on the teaching path. “Class” if you can even call it that - was so depressing that you barely bothered to show up for lectures anymore. Satoru was taking on every single mission, filling in for Suguru, Nanami, and Haibara’s absence. He wouldn’t even speak to you about Suguru or anything else for that matter.

Feeling so incredibly alone, you were curled up in your dorm late one night. Your face was sticky from tears, and your breath was so uneven. You just needed to talk to someone.

You didn’t think he’d answer, but Suguru sounded happy when he picked up the phone.

“Y/n, how are you?” His voice was like a double edged sword. It was so comforting to hear his voice, but you also remembered the lives he took.

You two spoke for over two hours. You vented out every single grief and complaint to him while he calmly tried to convince you that Jujutsu Tech was a waste of your time.

He was so good at buttering you up, making you feel like his way of thinking even made sense. You were so desperate for a friend; you couldn’t care less that you were essentially signing yourself up for a cult.

“Come to me, y/n. We could do great things together. It’d be like old times. I need you here with me.” A cult leader preying on someone when they’re at their lowest.

You agreed, hanging up the phone to start packing your bags. You couldn’t take living here anymore anyways, not after everything. Satoru probably wouldn’t even notice that you’re gone.

Quietly creeping down through the dorms, duffle bag in hand, you flinch when a sudden hand grips your shoulder from behind. You let out a sharp gasp followed by a small cry before you turn around quickly.

Satoru was standing behind you, no humor in his face at all. He was shirtless. His abs and muscular arms were on full display as he was only wearing a pair of grey sweatpants, and his hair was slightly damp from a shower.

“Where are you going?” He asked in a tone you’d never heard him use. He was being stern with you as if you were a child.

You shift uncomfortably underneath his gaze before you brush his hand off your shoulder. “I’m going to go stay with a friend.” You give him a half-lie, not able to tell him to his face that you were leaving.

“Pretty large duffle bag for going to stay with a friend, don’t you think?” His hand effortlessly takes the duffle bag off your shoulder, and he pulls it away from you before opening it, taking notes of the contents inside. “I don’t know why you bother lying to me. My six eyes know when you’re not telling the truth.”

You try to take the duffle bag back from him, but he dodges and bats away all of your attempts. “I wasn’t lying!” You shout, getting frustrated and impatient with him. “It’s not like you even care. Give me my shit back.”

Bright blue eyes look up at you, and his pupils dilate, the size of small pinholes. “I don’t care?” He asks before letting out a humorless laugh. It’s eerie seeing him like this, like a stick that just about to snap if anyone applied anymore pressure to him.

“You don’t. You don’t even talk to me anymore, even when I try talking to you! You and Geto completely blew me off.” Hot tears burn in your eyes as you’re forced to face how you feel right in front of him. “At least Geto wants to talk to me now.” You murmured quietly, shifting your gaze to the ground.

“You talked to Suguru?” Satoru asks, eyes wide and full of anger. His palm comes up and grips your hair pulling it back so you’ll look him in the eyes.

You let out a sharp hiss as his fingers are digging into your scalp. “Let go of me!” You shout, trying to free his hand from your hair.

Things finally start to click in Satoru’s head. You were leaving him, leaving him to go stay with Suguru. His stomach coiled in white hot rage and jealousy. Could you not see all he had done for you? Yet, you still choose Suguru, who had done nothing for you.

Your body feels weak and unstable as you’re suddenly teleported to the training mats in the gym. “Satoru, what?” You ask as you look around as best as you can. He finally frees your scalp.

“You want to go be with him?” He asks before throwing your duffle bag against the door. He then leans over and starts to stretch his legs. “You’ll have to beat me. Prove to me that you’re strong enough, and I’ll let you go. I won’t keep chasing you.”

"Satoru, you're talking crazy..." You reply as you glance over to your duffle bag that was slumped against the door. You had no want or intention of fighting Satoru. "I'm allowed to drop out if I want."

"So what? You just quit? You're just going to let me win like that? Bullshit, yn. I know you better than that." Satoru's eyes bore holes into the very depths of your soul. He does know you better than that — knows that you're not one to back down from a challenge.

Your jaw tightens as you watch him, anger coiling in your stomach. He can never just let you have what you want. Everything was a fight to him. He always gets what he wants because he's the fucking starboy of Jujutsu, and you're just "close enough" to his counter.

You rip your sweatshirt away from your body, tossing it off the matt. Your torso was clad in a thin tank top that you didn't necessarily plan on letting anyone see. You roll your neck. If he wanted to fight, you'd give him one last one.

"Atta girl." He whistles with a smug grin. His body is still in a fighting stance, waiting for you to take yours.

You don't even bother to respond to his praise. You know he's only acting like this to get under your skin more. "Make it count, Satoru. This will be the last time I ever fight you."

"Oh, I make it count each and every time."

It's not long before you two are completely at each other's throats. The amount of cursed energy emitting from the training area was absolutely devastating for the school. Building foundations literally shook. The lights flickered constantly, and a few even blew.

You two were lucky it was in the dead of night. If anyone was awake to witness this, they would've already put a stop to it, but most citizens must've chocked the movements up to small earthquakes in their sleepy haze.

Your body was tired and bruised, but you weren't going to give up. You wouldn't tap — no matter how many times Gojo put you in different submission positions. You always managed to break free and hit him with your elusive technique — something his infinity couldn't recognize.

He had grown so much stronger since your last sparing session. All of the training and missions had done him well. His chiseled body felt heavier against you. His grip was tighter. He was faster, stronger, and smarter.

Strangely enough, Satoru was mostly silent during this fight. He didn't taunt you or call you pathetic like he normally did. Besides his quiet grunts and growls from blows or primal rage, he was deadly silent.

This was serious to him. This wasn't like a fight with a meaningless curse. This wasn't like a cute little sparring session with you back in the day. This was you, and your role in his life. He would be damned before he let you fucking quit and leave him.

"Come here." His voice was deeper, rougher — predatory almost as he went in for another submission. His eyes were trained on you, and he had one objective in his mind: to keep you.

You slipped up, misjudging Satoru's distance from you. Before you could evade him, Satoru's large calloused palms gripped the underside of your thighs, and he lifted your body up with ease, shoving your back against the wall.

"You done?" He growled lowly against your ear, his breath fanning against your skin. His chest was rising and falling harshly. He was also bruised, but he'd fight you for the rest of eternity if it meant you wouldn't leave him.

Your breath was faster than his — literally panting as you took the moment of reprieve and rested against the wall. It had been so long since you too had sparred, you almost forgot how handsy he could be with you in the middle of fights.

His slender waist was between your thighs, still only covered by his grey sweat pants. His abs were glistening in sweat, and his hips created a perfect V dipping into his waistband. You instinctively had your legs wrapped around him — making him support your weight.

"I'm not going to let you win." Your voice is low and shaky from the fight. Your nerves were wound up after the night you had.

"Then, stay. Keep fighting me." His body pressed closer to yours. If anyone walked in on you two, it would definitely appear as if you two were doing things other than fighting.

"He needs me, Satoru..." You murmur, turning your head away from his. Suguru said it himself. He needed you. Satoru just wanted you to keep playing catch up with him.

Satoru's jaw clenched, and he pushed your back against the wall harder. He supported your weight with one of his hands and his waist as his other hand roughly grabbed your jaw. His fingers digging into the soft skin of your cheeks, forcing you to look at him.

"If he needed you so fucking badly, why did he leave you here with me?"

You look at him with lost eyes as the reality of the situation finally starts to sink in. Your big brother, Suguru, had changed into someone you could hardly recognize. You tense — immediately trying to push those thoughts out of your head.

He can recognize that you're still trying to deny it. He jolts your body a bit, making your eyes snap open to look at him again.

"I need you, yn." His voice is raw. He's almost pleading with you. He sounds so convincing, but you can't help but doubt him.

"No, you don't..." You whisper as tears sting your eyes. Suguru didn't need you. He hadn't even bothered to call or text you. If he needed you so much, why didn't he reach out?

"Oh really?" Satoru lets out a humorless laugh. "So, I'm just fighting you at three in the morning for fun? I'm just fighting to keep you here with me for the thrill of it." His hand is unwavering on your jaw, forcing you to look him in the eyes as he speaks.

His eyes look so tired and drained. If you left, how would he have any moments rest. He's barely sleeping now as it is, and if you leave, he'll have to take on your missions on top of everything else.

But something tells you it's not even about that. This fight is the closest thing he's felt to human connection in months.

The rawness of his tone and emotion tugs at your heart strings, but it still feels like you’re giving up to him.

“Fighting at three in the morning sounds typical for you. You just don’t want to lose your favorite punching bag.” You spit back at him.

His hand — so pale and veiny — trails down from your jaw to your neck, and he squeezes just hard enough to make you feel all tingly inside. “Is that what you think? Do I need to fuck some sense into you?”

Your face warms from his crude words, and your hands squeeze his shoulders. His lips curl into a smirk as he witnesses your inner struggle, but he knows the truth. His six eyes know your tell: the way your thighs squeeze around him as if you’re trying to subdue your arousal.

He knows good and well that your pretty cunt is weeping for him, but he’s not going to give into yours or his own desires yet.

“I didn’t fight Nanami when he left.” His voice is back to a steady state, speaking the words carefully to ensure you understand what he’s trying to convey. “I even had the opportunity to fight Suguru to come back. I didn’t.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest, making it feel like your stomach flipped upside down. You want to open your mouth to speak — to demand to know why he didn’t fight them to stay, but his hand was still firmly wrapped around your slender throat, holding you back from talking.

“How dense can you be, princess? It’s always been you. No one else.” A heady whisper against your ear. His hand subtly relaxes on your throat.

Then, you remember all the looks he gave you when you’d ask Suguru for help. You remember the times he would fight or outright just butt into your conversations, demanding to be the center of your attention.

“I knew you wouldn’t win, but even if you did, I lied. I’d still chase you. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I just let you slip past me.”

“Asshole.” You finally managed to speak, earning a dark chuckle from him.

Thwak!

His hand that had been supporting you slapped against your bottom. The familiar sting causing you to let out a breathy gasp.

“You really don’t know when to quit, do you princess?” His hand unabashedly caresses your bottom, soothing the pain.

“I don't think you'd like me as much if I did." You respond gripping onto his shoulders as your body is under his control.

Thwak!

"Probably right about that." He murmurs before he leans into you. His pale blue eyes were half-lidded as he took you in. He's grown tired of denying himself. He's devoted his life to Jujutsu. Now, he just wants to finally do the things he wants to do, and you just so happen to be at the top of his list. "Are you going to play nice, or do I need to keep reminding you who's in control here?"

“I’m letting you have control.” You hiss. Probably not the wisest decision, since Gojo merely lets out a dark laugh. His hand tightens back around your throat, and your back hits the wall with a small thud.

“You’re going to eat your words, sweets.” He mumbles lowly, towering over you as he has full control over your body. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this? Do you even know what you do to me?”

His hardened length presses right against your core as if on cue, and he lets out a small groan from the contact. You bite back a noise that would let on your arousal because fuck… you’re wetter than you should be right now.

Too bad Satoru already knows the truth behind your flushed face and heaving chest. His six eyes really give him the advantage.

“I’m going to have fun with you, princess.” He quietly laughs as he drags his hips up and down, giving you the smallest bit of friction and pleasure. Both of you let out respective pants and noises — both of you were such a mess for each other.

Just when you were finally getting use to his rhythm, Satoru pulled back harshly, letting your feet touch the floor once more. Your legs subtly tremble as you stand on your own. You were still so exhausted from the fight, and now, you were feeling needy on top of it. It was like a perfect mixture for disaster.

You clench your jaw, not wanting to just give into him just because he said some really thoughtful words and looks so devilishly handsome. Sure, you were probably going to fuck him if he kept going, but you were not about to sit there and beg him to fuck you. There’s a perfectly good vibrator stashed in your duffle bag for this exact reason.

You start to walk towards the doors. Though, you weren’t planning on going to Suguru. You’d just… go stew in your dorm about how infuriating Gojo is, and then you’d get your frustrations out in a different manner.

“Oh no you don’t.” He says with a playful nature as he roughly grabs you right back up in his arms. “Gonna make me really work for it, aren’t you princess?” He carries you, despite your honestly pitiful attempts at getting away from him, and he bends you over one of the bleachers in the training area.

“Sato-“

“Shut up.” He lowly growled before grabbing something out of his pocket. His black blindfold crumpled in his hand before he reached over your back. One of his large hands grabbed your jaw, forcing your mouth open, and his other hand shoved his blindfold into your mouth.

“If you spit that out, I’m replacing it with my cock.” He warns lowly before letting out a small laugh at your panicked expression. Your face is so red from pure embarrassment of the situation. It doesn't help when Satoru's large gruff hands grab ahold of your shorts and yank them down to your ankles. Anyone could walk in here right now. Sure, it was late at night, but Yaga was notoriously a light sleeper.

Before you could even think about spitting out his blindfold and cussing him out, a harsh slap clapped against your bottom. Your teeth clamped down on the blindfold, masking a husky moan. Satoru definitely had a bit of an obsession with spanking you.

His eyes devoured you as your ass rippled. His hand gently rubbed your poor abused flesh before he spanked your other cheek. Your body jolted forward. A small muffled whine came from your lips, but Satoru knew you loved this.

You were practically dripping all over the bleachers for crying out loud. "Messy girl~" He taunted with a small laugh. "I think she's cryin' for it, sweets. She wants a spanking too."

You quickly start to shake your head, your body tensing at the thought. His fingertips gently smacked your drooling cunt, causing for an obscene wet noise to infiltrate your ears. You can't even stop the moan that's muffled from his blindfold. Your vision goes a bit blurry from tears of stimulation and slight pain, but fuck, it makes you clench around nothing. You were practically aching to be filled.

"Mmm~ you liked that didn't you, princess?" His hand rubs over your ass, groping you so shamelessly. "One day you might actually learn that I know your body better than you do..."

His finger trailed between your soaking wet folds, spreading your wetness around your clit, drawing out a shaky moan from you. Your legs started to lightly jitter, and it felt like your knees would give in any moment now.

"Poor, poor thing. You look like a newborn deer trying to learn how to walk." He taunted as his fingers circled around your entrance.

You were half tempted to spit the damn blindfold out, but you knew Satoru wouldn't hesitate to keep you gagging around his cock for hours if you kept being disobedient.

Another small slap to the button of nerves sent you forward. Your eyes fell shut as you savored the sensations tingling straight from your core. Your knees went inwards, and you had to support your body with your arms on the bleachers.

"That's it... Who's a good girl?" Satoru breathily purred from behind you. You were such a fucking beauty like this, finally caving in to your desires. You wanted this as much as he did. There was no point in denying it. His fingers went back to rubbing tight circles around your clit to soothe the little painful shocks.

You couldn't even formulate the words to tell him just where he could shove his dick. His ministrations felt like pure heaven, and your stomach tightened slightly. If he didn't slow down, you were sure god was going to come down and pluck you from the Earth.

Seeing the accumulation of energy with his six eyes, Satoru knew exactly what was going on. He smirked as he continued rubbing the swollen numb between his fingers. Your poor wet pussy making the wettest clacking noises he's ever heard. His mouth was practically watering for a taste.

Dropping to his knees behind you, Satoru wasted no time burying his face directly into your cunt. He immediately went to work, using his fat tongue to lap up all of your delicious juices. He gave you tender kisses of encouragement.

"See how you're treated when you're being good?" He taunted lowly right against your cunt. The vibration from his words had you clawing at the bleachers for mercy.

You whined and slightly thrashed, trying to fight the orgasm that was threatening to take over. It was too much- You couldn't cum all over Satoru's face right where you two had spent the most time at each other's throats!!

His tongue prodded at your entrance, and he moaned as he felt your wet velvet heat. You were made to house his cock in there -- he knew it. He'd always been god's favorite, so it made sense that god would bestow such a wonderful woman with the most delicious pussy to him.

His thumb rubbed tight circled around your clit as his tongue flicked in and out. It wasn't a minute later before you were basically gushing into his mouth. A muffled squeal left your throat, and you tried to claw away. Your cunt clenched and clenched, and Satoru nearly pitied your slutty pussy. It really just needed to be filled with dick. His dick.

His hands braced your thighs as he gave you a few more sweet kisses straight to your core before he stood up. He slid himself between you and the bleachers so he could hold you up. Your body collapsed against his chest, and you panted heavily. Not even your best vibrator and favorite smutty book could get that sort of orgasm out of you.

"Don't bite me." He warned with a ragged laugh before his fingers delved between your lips and pulled the blindfold out of your mouth. You didn't have the energy or resolve to even say anything to him. Instead, you opted to bury your face in his bare chest.

"My poor princess. Did I wear you out?" His voice was still teasing, even though he literally knew that he just made you see stars.

"Shut up, 'toru." You mutter into his chest, causing for his heart to swell. He loved that nickname, and he loved how you were like a cat pretending like you didn't like being pet by him.

His fingers pressed beneath your chin, and he pulled you up to look at him. Now, his dick was swelling from how precious your face since you were so fucked out already. Wordlessly, he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours.

Your heart slammed against your ribcage. Getting your pussy ate from the back by him was one thing, but now, he was being all sweet and kissing you?? You can remember all of his sweet words and how he looked when he said them. He was being genuine. He really had feelings for you this entire time.

You wanted to stomp your foot on his toe for taking so long to finally tell you, but his kiss was so sweet and intoxicating. You took a deep breath before intertwining your lips with his.

The sound of lips smacking together filled the training area. You felt the air shift around you. Your passion started to burn hot within the kiss. Both of you chased each others' lips like it was a goddamn need — not a want. Your head actually started to spin as he gripped your jaw and started to nip at your bottom lips with his teeth.

You pulled back - nervous as to why you didn't feel good. Your eyes widened as you took in the change of environment. You were in Satoru's dorm, sat upon his bed. His room was surprisingly clean and warmly lit by a Himalayan salt rock lamp right next to his bed.

"Sorry sweets, I felt like taking this somewhere more private." Satoru merely laughed as his body towered over yours. "I wanted to be able to take my time with you." His voice dropped down an octave, whispering into your ear before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you watched him hook his thumbs into the waistband of his grey sweatpants. They did absolutely fuck all to hide how his dick was straining directly against the fabric. He had a huge tent right in his pants, and his cock had created a small dark stain right on his crotch area from leaking copious amounts of pre-cum.

Once his pants were down, your eyes marveled at just how pretty his cock looked in the warm glow of the lamp. His dick was long, and he had such pretty veins decorating the underside and side of his cock. His tip was flushed a pretty cherry red, and he had a pearl of pre-cum leaking from his slit.

"Aw you flatter me, sweets~" Satoru laughed as he petted the top of your head, affectionately ruffling your hair. You scowled up at him, only making him laugh more. There was nothing like seeing you all defiant and pissy with him... except for seeing you all fucked out and pliant under him.

"C'mon~ give it a kiss." He demanded as his long fingers tightened around your hair, guiding your plush lips straight to his dick. You would rather die than give into him like this. Your legs kicked out from you, kicking him straight in the shin.

He hissed quietly from the pain before giving you a dark grin. "You know, I wanted our first time to be sweet and passionate, but you make it real fucking hard to be nice to you, princess." He let go of your head before shoving you back onto the bed.

"Maybe because you make it real fucking hard to want to be nice to you." You retorted as your eyes narrowed. He settled between your legs with a small grunt. Even while you were arguing with him, your cunt was still soaked.

He was almost tempted to take the words out of your mouth by giving you more of his tongue, but his cock had been neglected long enough. "You didn't seem to have a problem after I gave you your best orgasm." He commented with a lopsided grin.

You stayed still against his bed swallowing harshly. Were you two really about to...? Just hours ago, it felt like you two were trying to kill each other. Hell, two days ago, it felt like he had forgotten you even existed.

"This doesn't make up for anything, Satoru." You warned as you kept your gaze hardened. Your body was to receptive to him to deny that you wanted... needed him, so you weren't even going to deny yourself the pleasure that he could give anymore. But this didn't make up for the fact that he had seemingly left you behind for months...

even if he only did that so you didn't have to bare the weight of his mistakes with the star plasma vessel..

even if he only worked himself to death so you could try to focus on your studies instead of being thrusted into being overworked with missions after Suguru and Nanami dropped out...

No, this didn't make up for any of that.

His touch softened as he cupped your cheek in his hand. His thumb stroked your smooth skin, gazing down at you like he was holding the world in his hands. It made you want to squirm and hide.

"So, this is meaningless for you?" He whispered quietly into your ear as his cock slipped between your sopping folds, grinding the underside of his length against you.

Your words got caught in your throat as you gasped for air. You felt your face immediately warm. Shit, you hated feeling this vulnerable... especially in front of your sworn rival.

"Am I only as useful as that cute little vibrator you stowed in your get-away back?" Satoru continued. His hips rocked back and forth, and you found yourself getting squirmy with each time his tip bumped against your entrance.

He was just too damn big to slip inside. It'd take work and lots of perseverance. Luckily, Satoru seemed to be surprisingly patient in that regard.

He groaned as he felt your slick coating his cock. Your body was fucking made for him: made to be his counter and made to take his cock.

You hid your face in his muscular shoulder, stifling a small whine. Damn his six eyes. That vibrator was a godsend some nights when you were stuck being alone.

"Answer me, princess." He drawled as one of his hands reached back to hold your head gently as if he were embracing you. His hips kept a steady rhythm, driving you mad.

"N-no..." You stuttered out, cursing your voice for betraying your arousal.

"Aw, sweets." He cooed in your ear, moving his hips with a bit more conviction now — testing the waters of pressing his giant cockhead against your entrance before going back to dry humping you.

You let out of noise of frustration, hating how easily it was for him to tease you like this. You knew it was going to hurt, but fuck, you were going to cry if you didn't get some relief soon.

"Shh, shh, I'm gonna give you what you need, sweets." He whispered into your ear, pressing a tender kiss to your cheekbone. "You gotta be a good girl for me though."

His arms cradled you as he peppered your neck in kisses. Your hips were rolling to meet his with each thrust. The slickest noises between you two filled the room as his long cock continued to rub against you.

"I'll b-be good, please." You finally choked out, giving up on arguing with him. You were too desperate now. There was no point in trying to hide it.

Satoru doesn't even attempt to hide his smug reaction to you being all submissive and needy underneath him. He drags his hips all the way back until he pushed himself forward — splitting you wiiide open for him.

"Fuck!" He groaned as your tight wet heat enveloped him, practically sucking you straight inside your sloppy pussy. One of his hands reached up and gripped the headboard for support. His back muscles flexed from the new positioning.

"Sh-shit-! Wait, T-toru... ah~! It's not g'nna fit!" You cried out, nails digging into his flesh as you tried to cope with the intrusion of his thick cock.

"Should've thought about that before you fucking begged for it, princess. Now, you're gonna shut the fuck up and take this dick like a good girl, yeah?" His voice was rough with need — no longer teasing. No, this was just primal domination now.

His cock continued to painstakingly shove it's way between your spongy walls, making room for himself right inside you until he was buried to the hilt. His hand had a vice grip against the headboard, and it took all of his mental fortitude to not bust immediately.

He made the mistake of looking down at you. Goddammit you're too pretty like this while taking his dick so well. Your lips were parted as just a small dribble of drool seeped out of the corner of your mouth. Your eyes were glassed over, and he could've swore he saw hearts in your pupils as you looked up at him.

All your attention was finally on him.

His hips set an unforgiving pace, fucking yours directly down into the mattress as he used his headboard as leverage. At least no one was in the dorms anymore besides you and him. There was no one to bother with how obscenely loud you were whining and moaning for him.

Though, Satoru would've still faced his peers with a shit eating grin the next morning if they still lived here. He was so damn proud to finally have you underneath him.

"T-toruToru~! Toru, oh fuck me~"

"At least that smart mouth of yours is good for something." He growled as his cock continued to rudely bully its way directly to your womb. Your legs were barely able to stay wrapped around him as he pounded his hips against yours.

His white hair stuck to his forehead as sweat started to build up for both of you. He usually hated the feeling, but nothing could tear him away from your sweet, sweet pussy right now.

He huffed as he shoved your legs up onto his shoulders, forcing you into the meanest mating press you could imagine. Your eyes rolled back as you practically kissed your last coherent thought goodbye.

Satoru fucking Gojo was going to had already fucked you stupid.

His cock was ruthless, pressing drabbles of precum directly against your cervix. His hips were practically drilling into you out of sheer muscle memory at this point. He just wanted to rut into until the day he died.

"Yeaaah~ look at you now, princess. Ngh.. can't talk back to me now, can ya? Did Toru fuck that.... mmm- poor little brain of yours stupid?" His hand let go from the headboard, gripping your cheeks with his pointer finger and thumb to make you look up at him. Your mouth parted for him as you gazed up at him.

He gathered a small bit of saliva in his mouth before he directly spit into yours, earning a wanton moan from your lips.

The bed continued to squeak and rattle from the repeated abuse. The headboard was now knocking against the wall without his hand to stop it.

"T-toru.." You cried, trying to warn him of how your tummy was tightening. It felt like every cell of your body was working for this orgasm. Your back arched as you felt yourself tighten around him.

He was already ten steps ahead of you, literally seeing your orgasm before it came. "Cum on my cock, princess. Go ahead. 's okay. I got you." He murmured into your ear right before he felt your gushy walls constricting around him, practically trying to milk his cock.

Goddamn, was it working.

A groan ripped through the air as his dick pulsed inside you. He had been holding on for all this time. He couldn't stop the groans and whimpers that fell from his lips as he finally let go and filled your cute cunt to the brim with his warm cum,

You two stayed still, catching your breaths, and neither of you dared to talk and ruin the moment. It was a silent agreement. Neither of you could fight the attraction between you two any longer.

"I missed you." You finally spoke up quietly. Satoru was vulnerable earlier after the fight. It was your turn now.

"I know." He responded quietly. He regretted taking so many missions and hiding from you. It was his way of trying to make the best out of a shitty situation, but all it did was make both of you unhappy. His nose nudged your cheek gently. "I missed you too."

His lips pressed soft kisses along your jaw. He would take more time later today to fully explain the breadth of his feelings for you, but for now, he was happy to pamper you in affections and aftercare until you fell asleep from overexertion.

Also... he would definitely have to make up some sort of story to tell Yaga and explain why your duffle bag was still in the training area... and why it had a pink vibrator inside.

FUCK FINALLY THE END.

[bright-n-daisy]

I just love you

Pairing: Logan ‘Wolverine’ Holwett x afab!reader

Summary: You are exhausted after a day of work, after a subtle gesture of love, Logan has ideas other than sleep.

Warnings: MNDI 18+, fluff, established relationship, pet names (baby, bub, darling), SMUT, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, cockwarming, tiniest bit of somnophilia (reader is fully conscious but very tired), only body descriptions include being smaller than Logan and afab reader, small nod to reader being an empath. A bad word. Let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: K I had this idea pop up while I was trying to take a nap lol. I haven’t written for tumblr in years and don’t expect this as a comeback. Enjoy!

It wasn’t unusual for you to feel a lull in energy around midday. Sometimes caffeine would suffice, but you could already tell that was not the remedy your body needed today.

Your last class had just finished up. It had been a rough day with students not behaving. Yes, there was a certain prestige that came with your students at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, but at the end of the day, they were still teenagers.

As you stand in your office packing up your bag, awaiting the comforting bed you know is just upstairs and across the building, you hear a familiar pair of boots thud down the hallway. With the tall figure now standing in the doorway, you feel the tension of the day ease, but the weary feeling remains.

“I know that look.” Logan says. “C’mon bub. Let’s get you upstairs.”

He waits there until you make your way over to him. Once you meet him you place a hand on his cheek and a small peck to his lips. No matter how long you two will be together, a gesture that small, that domestic, makes a faint blush appear across Logan’s cheeks. With a flick of his neck, silently guiding you out the doorway, he keeps a hand at the small of your back as he closes the door behind you.

In the confines of your shared room, you can finally feel totally relaxed. Logan waits for you on the bed as you change out of your work clothes. You opt for your favorite choice as of late; one of Logan’s t-shirts that is oversized on your frame.

You crawl your way on the bed and place yourself on Logan’s bare chest. He knows when you take a nap, it’s for you. He is here for you, at your pleasure, not that much has changed from how he normally treats you. He lays on his back as you cuddle up to his side, laying your head on his chest. You are lulled off into a sleepy haze as you run your hand across Logan’s chest and he gently plays with your hair.

Before you lose any more energy and fade off completely, you turn your head slightly and place a tender kiss to Logan’s abs.

“What was that for?” Logan asks through a soft chuckle.

“Just love you.” You all but mumble.

“Just love you too.” He whispers as he slowly pulls away from you.

A soft whimper escapes your lips from the loss of warmth, only to be replaced with his body over yours. Laying flat on your back now Logan kisses from your cheek down your neck, placing sloppy open mouthed kisses just below your jaw.

“Lo, too tired.” You utter, unable to believe those words just left your mouth.

“That’s fine baby. I’ll do all the work, okay?”

“Okay.” You confirm.

That’s all he needs to continue his work. Still sucking on your neck he takes a hold of one of your breasts slowly massaging it to get you worked up. Once he feels satisfied, he trails his mouth down your body to your core, exactly where he wants to be.

He pulls the shirt up slightly to reveal your cunt. With a small groan leaving his lips, he runs a finger between your folds. Just enough of a touch, it has you instinctively lifting your hips off the bed.

“So wet for me. So pretty.” Logan hums, keeping his eyes locked to your pussy.

“Please baby.” You sigh, waiting for more.

With a hunger needing to be satiated, Logan dives into his favorite meal. Lazily licking and sucking in all the places you need most. This isn’t how Logan would normally do this. Usually there is a fervor to his actions, he can’t wait to hear your sweet moans and will do whatever it takes to make you reach your peak. Today he chooses to simply enjoy the moment, enjoy every minute he spends between your legs, memorizing you.

There is a certain simplicity in sex that he has never been able to enjoy before. Only ever having one night stands, or quick fucks to get him off. He’s never necessarily cared for the other person. Not until he met you. Coming to the mansion changed his life in so many ways, and you were the best of all of them, it feels so easy with you.

Logan is brought back to reality by your soft moans and a passive hand coming down to grip his hair.

“Uh, close baby.” You whine.

“I know, baby. I’m here. I got ya.”

The timbre of his voice against your clit was enough to send you over the edge. You thought you’d want nothing more than some shut eye, but god were you wrong.

Logan makes his way back up towards you, still trying to catch your breath from the euphoria he caused you.

Having turned you on your side with your back tucked into his chest, he turns and whispers in your ear -

“Ready for round two?”

You simply nod your head in response.

“Words baby.” Logan commands, lightly grazing his fingers over your swollen bud.

“Yes.” You flop your head back against his shoulder.

You’re not sure when Logan lost his pants, but somehow along the way he stripped down bare. You hike your leg over to the side as he lines himself up with your entrance, giving him more room.

With a single thrust Logan is inside of you, filling you completely.

“Ugh, so tight, like you were made for me.” Logan groans into your ear before pulling out so he can thrust back into you.

“Uhh, Lo.” You moan quietly, still feeling the weight of sleepiness taking over you, however current activities are taking precedence in your mind and body.

You reach a hand up to grasp your clothed breast, squeezing to pleasure yourself further. You feel Logan’s much bigger hand land on top of yours, encouraging you while also being able to feel the love and adoration emit from him.

The two of you stay like that for a while. Logan thrusts in and out into you reaching new heights of bliss with each kiss of his tip against your cervix. Slowly you feel the tension in your lower belly start to grow, an all too familiar feeling returning. You free your hand between your breast and Logan’s hand to reach back and grab his buttock.

“Right there.” You praise Logan, wanting this feeling to last forever.

“Darlin’, you don’t know what you do to me.” He breathes out. You can feel he’s close from the way he’s twitching inside you.

“Keep going baby. Almost there.” You say. He reaches down and places a gentle hand on your clit, rubbing circles to bring you to your own orgasm.

You can feel his hot seed shoot inside of you as your legs begin to shudder from your own high. He places sloppy kisses to your neck as you reach a hand up to his hair and tug the slightest bit.

You stay like that while you both catch your breath. You tip your head back just enough to reach his lips and pull them against yours. You relish the closeness. As much as you saved Logan, you need him more than the air you breathe. Having felt like you were going through the motions before you met him.

You feel him start to pull out of you when you reach back and place your hand back on his behind.

“Wait. Can we stay like this? I wanna feel you while I sleep.” You tell him.

He grabs your hand off of his back side, wrapping his fingers with your own as he wraps his arm around your side, successfully spooning you.

“Anything for you darlin’.”

[nappingmoon]

more domestic nanami kento because I love and adore him, but this time you’re in an argument and try to sleep on the couch (spoiler: nuh uh)

wc: idk i’m on my phone it’s not that long

you get into an argument w nanami and think he wants space so after dinner, when he heads into the room to go to bed, you stay out under the pretense of finishing some paper work and watching the news. you pull a blanket out and splay onto your couch, which, despite being a little small, is soft and comfortable— a testament to its use and the friends you've had over to break it in. the thought of those good times warms your heart a smidge, though it remains heavy with the current tension between you and your fiancé. you leave the tv on, let the night shift television shows fill the space and keep you company while you sleep, an alarm set so that tomorrow you can make breakfast and talk it out.

in the bedroom, nanami lays on his back, the small clock to his left almost mocking him with the way the red numbers change minute after minute with no sign of you coming to bed. the room is cold without your presence, dark in a way that has nothing to do with lamps or moonlight. he fidgets and turns but without your familiar dip in the bed, sleep is impossible. he never sleeps well without you; the lack of your steady breaths and soft snores means he starts to spiral with thoughts about your wellbeing. he knows you’re in an argument, but you always come to bed, right?

he sits on it for a moment more, eyeing the door to see if you’ll slip in and put his worries to rest like you always do. when the numbers blip again, he gets up, feet sliding into the silly slippers you got him for christmas (you have a matching pair) and finds his way to the living room.

when he finds you there curled up with your arm hung over the edge of the sofa and a little bit of drool spilling onto the cushion, his heart twists. the lights of the television flash over your face, certainly disrupting your sleep, though he doubts your reaching anywhere near a restful slumber. he walks over to you, slowly crouching in order to avoid scaring you awake. his right hand grabbing yours, and it’s freezing— left without the protection of your measly blanket. he warms it with one hand while the other comes up to graze your face, easing you awake.

“kento?” you ask, bleary eyed. “you’re even handsome in my dreams.” you smile and pat his face before letting your arm drop and closing your eyes once more.

a small chuckle escapes him, both in surprise and adoration at his soon to be wife. unwilling to try and wake you a second time, he quickly turns the tv off, then slides an arm around your back and another under your knees before rising. he elbows the light switch to the living room off and slowly makes his way back to your shared bedroom, carefully avoiding hitting you at any point. your head is safe regardless, tucked into his chest contentedly despite not being awake. he supposes your body recognizes him asleep or awake— a testament to the years you’ve spent side by side; once as teammates and now as lovers.

he slides you into bed on your side, fixing up the covers before making his way around to his side. he slips off his slippers and gets himself under the covers, body gravitating to you. as he brings you closer to him, you finally seem to shake off your sleep. you look at him sadly, and it’s enough to resolve him against letting any future arguments happen (an impossible sentiment, he knows, but the look on your face is makes him dead set on trying).

“never try to sleep on the couch again.” he whispers, quiet but stern. “I hate sleeping without you. I worry too much.” the honesty is almost suffocating and tears build at your waterline.

“m’ sorry kento. thought you were mad at me n’ I wanted to give you some space away from me.” you reply, the words thick with sleep and emotion.

“i’ll never need space from you baby,” he insists, “I know we were in an argument but you mean everything to me. I’ll always want you by my side. I’ll always need you by my side. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you were the reason I was upset.” he finishes off with a kiss to your forehead, his hand coming up to wipe the tears that have begun to drip down your cheeks.

he kisses down the bridge of your nose before leaving a peck at your lips. it’s the last thing you feel before giving in to the exhaustion once more.

in the morning, you’ll discuss the tensions of yesterday, but before that, you’ll wake in the arms of your lover, held tight against the rhythmic thumping of his heart.

it beats for you, anyway.

[criminalamnesia]

GOD I LOVE traitor and how strong you've made the reader. It's amazing! And I eagerly await any future parts, whether it's big proper story or drabbles. BUT, you come first and your life does so you do what you gotta and go be amazing! We can wait. Proud of you X

im so late to responding, but thank you! <3

here’s part six :) also not really proofread so I apologize for any errors! I’ll fix them later!

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

you don’t know how long you’ve been sitting on the floor, cross-legged amongst broken glass, brittle flowers, and discarded clothes, when someone knocks on the door.

you don’t move, don’t say anything. the noise seems distant— too far off to be real.

besides, if someone is really knocking on your door, they know you’re in here.

and if they know you’re in here, it could be one of five people. your former squad mates, or the doctor.

the knock sounds again. it shakes you from your stupor, yet you still make no move to answer it. let them come in; let them see what they’ve made of you. of who you were. of who you could’ve been.

the person on the other side of the door is speaking now. you register the muffled baritone as it fights to be heard from the hall.

you clench your fists, then unclench them— stretching out your fingers as far as they go. clench them again. unclench. stretch. repeat.

it’s a tick— a calming habit. you don’t think it’s working at the present moment.

the doorknob turns. you still don’t move.

the door is being pushed in, light from the hallway aggressively slicing through the darkness you’d left yourself in. you fought the urge to curl in on yourself.

you’d been so consumed by your anger— are consumed by it— but coming into this room and seeing that damn note was earth-shaking. it was terrifying, and it was a tangible reminder of the team’s unapologetic tactics. simon’s unapologetic tactics.

the voice is speaking once more, clearer now that the door is out of the way— but you can’t make out the words over the ringing in your ears.

a hand gingerly lands on your shoulder, and that’s when you snap.

you whirl around, throwing yourself into the intruder like a cobra striking its prey. clearly caught off guard, the person lets loose a ‘oomph’ and falls backwards as you take out their legs.

everything is fuzzy. the ringing in your ears crescendos, and it brings pain with it. you’re striking your target with reckless abandon, still not registering who is flailing underneath you.

punches land and land and land. nails scrape and scratch and draw blood. all you see is red— all you hear is the sharpening of a knife or the whirring of a saw.

and then there are hands on you, yanking you away from your victim. the red slowly starts to recede, the ringing in your ears subsiding.

it’s only then do you release you’re screaming.

its only then do you see the swollen and bloodied face of your doctor, lying a foot away from you. she sputters a cough, blood leaving her lips and splattering onto the man leaning over her.

“you need to calm down,” a voice speaks into your ear.

“calm down, or they’ll sedate you,” it says, and you finally stop screaming. you take a breath.

clench your fists. unclench. stretch. repeat.

it takes you another minute to calm down enough to realize the person holding you is simon.

the doctor is being carried away now, and you notice it’s johnny and kyle carrying her. you notice john is standing to your left, eyes full of sympathy and guilt as he looks at you.

“get,” you huff, reaching down to slap at the arms circling your middle. “off me.”

simon releases you instantly. you don’t hesitate to put distance between the two of you. a few feet, at least. he just stands there, eyes watching with an expression you can’t place.

“what happened, love?” john’s voice is a soft rumble as he speaks. he moves a hand toward you, but decides against touching you— even if he only wanted to comfort you.

“I—” you start, glancing down at your hands. they’re bloody again.

“I thought it was—” you try again, but stop yourself.

you thought it was what? thought it was who?

you had heard man’s voice speaking to you. your mind had twisted things— had given you something you wanted to hear, deep down— because it gave you the chance to strike.

it gave you the opportunity to tear apart whichever man from the 141 had been there to check on you.

and you know you had wished it was simon.

john takes a cautious step forward at your silence. “let’s get you somewhere private, yeah? somewhere to cool down.”

the fire licking at your veins has subsided in favor of the chill of shame. of terror at what you’ve done— what you’ve done to the one person you had on your side. the person who was truly on your side.

you don’t fight this time. you give a nod, then solemnly follow him down the corridor. simon falls in behind you.

john takes you to his office, opening the door and ushering you inside. you move without protest, stepping into the dark room.

the two men enter behind you, john flicking on the light while simon pulls the door shut. you would’ve laughed at the scenario if you were in your right mind.

but you weren’t.

you weren’t okay. you knew that you weren’t, at least physically, but what you just did…

there was no way you were going to be transferred now. you doubted you would’ve even before you attacked the doctor.

you’re going to be discharged. you understand why.

but it hurts. this is your job, your life. years and years on the battlefield don’t prepare you for life off of it.

“love?”

john’s voice brings you back to the present. you realize you’ve been standing in the center of the room, unmoving and unblinking.

you feel simon’s hard gaze on your back. you want to cry.

how did things ever get this fucked up?

“im fine.” you say, not bothering to turn around. you didn’t trust yourself to keep it together if you faced them.

“you’re not,” john states, and you roll your eyes.

“im not talking about this with you,” you bite out, circling your arms around yourself. “either of you.”

“you should at least talk to someone, love— this isn’t healthy.”

“please, stop.” you tell him, but john was never good at taking orders. he gave them, not followed them.

“you hated the therapist, and you haven’t spoken to anyone else since… everything.” he continues.

“stop, john,” you try again.

“you need to let it out, love. we’re here—”

you spin around then, fists dropping to your sides. “for the love of god, john, shut the fuck up.”

that stuns him into silence, eyes slightly widened and mouth agape as he looks at you. simon doesn’t move from his position near the door.

“you are the last people i would ever fucking talk to! I don’t even want to be talking to you right now, but you won’t stop trying. trying to talk to me, trying to make it up, trying to wriggle your way back into my good graces.”

you pause, sucking in a breath. “johnny must’ve relayed the message, and that’s why you’ve back off a little— but one wrong fucking move and you’re swooping again! you aren’t my dad, you aren’t my lover, you aren’t my friend, and you’re sure as hell not my fucking captain anymore.”

“so please, john, leave me be. the four of you have done enough.”

the room is silent for a beat, then two. then three. and then simon takes a step forward, removes his balaclava, and looks you square in the face.

he doesn’t open his mouth to speak, so you take the chance to.

“don’t start with me, simon. just don’t.”

“the note,” he says. “you read it.”

you just look at him, a disbelieving scoff leaving your mouth as you give a nod. “yes, I read your fucking note. and I saw the stupid flowers, too, after seeing everything else you wrecked. tell me, how long did you wait after you tied me up to tear it all apart?”

he just watches you. you want to scream.

the note flashes back into your mind.

‘hope you can understand.’

“does it make you feel better, thinking what you did was right?” you ask him.

“I wouldn’t have done it differently.” simon tells you.

you clench your fists. unclench. stretch.

breathe in, breathe out.

“and if the roles were reversed,” you said, watching him. “if you were in my position, would you have expected me to do what you did?”

“yes.” he says, without hesitation.

“you’re unbelievable,” you huff. “is that how little I meant to you? all that time, wasted?”

“that’s not what I said.” he tells you, and you shake your head.

“no, but it’s what you meant.” anger is bubbling up again. you feel overwhelmed; shame and fury battling inside you. the ringing building up in your ears again, emerging from the background.

you can’t do this.

“what i meant is what i said.” he takes another step forward. “you’re just too damn stubborn to listen, always have been.”

“just go, simon.” you tell him. “both of you. go.”

“I wouldn’t change what I did,” he says again. “to protect my team, my family, I would do whatever it takes.”

you bite your tongue. you don’t want to keep arguing with him. he was an unmovable object— there was no way to reason with him.

“im not sorry it happened.” he speaks. “i did what i thought i had to do. what i had to do to make sure my team was safe.”

“and you should understand that, considering this team is all you have, too.”

you don’t respond— and even if you were going to, a knock on the door breaks the tense silence in the room.

johnny pops his head in, his eyes full of concern. “doc’s alrigh’.” he says, his gaze catching yours. “jus’ some bumps and bruises. she’ll be jus’ fine.”

“and she uh— said she’s not pressin’ charges or anythin’. says she still expects to see ya in a few days for your check-up.”

that’s what breaks you.

a tear slips from your eye, falling onto your cheek. another follows, then another, and you’re sobbing as you fall to the floor of price’s office.

the three men are staring, but no one makes any move to comfort you.

probably wise, considering what you did to the last person who tried.

you faintly register the click of the door as it shuts again. you don’t look up— your head in your hands as you cry.

cry about what you’ve done, what you’ve lost. mourn your career and your family and your love for the man who doesn’t regret what he did.

unbeknownst to you, simon is the only one still left in the room. his steps are silent as he approaches you— leaving only a foot of space between your bodies now.

he watches you as he sinks to the ground across from you, his long legs folded over each other, the fingers of his left hand twitching as he finds himself wanting to reach for you.

he still cares for you. his feelings for you were what made him do what he did in the first place.

the love he felt for you, twisting into betrayal and hurt and agony. fueling his actions, his desire to hear you admit your wrongdoings.

passion made people dangerous. passion in love, passion in rage. it was a fine line, and simon had crossed it.

he understood what this meant for you. recalls the conversation he had with price earlier— how laswell was planning for your discharge instead of your transfer.

this was the end of your time with them, and in the military. the hands of the 141, damaging one of their own beyond repair.

he finds himself mourning alongside you, then. mourning what was and what could’ve been.

what should have been.

“im sorry for what we did to you,” he says, but it comes out as a whisper that you don’t hear.

“im sorry.”

thank you all again for your patience! I plan on tying this little series up soon :)

as a reminder, I no longer do taglists. if you want to be notified when I post, follow @troiastitans and turn on notifications. I only reblog my works there.

I hope you all enjoyed :)