#strength This is the summary of your work so far

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Spring (Cregan Stark x Reader)

Summary: As a Princess, you aren’t used to rejection. But Cregan, your husband, has vowed to only ever love one woman, and it isn't you. Right?

Warnings: Slightly less unreliable narrator (Cregan has come to his senses, reader is on the way) Mature language.

A/N: I really thought these two would get their mess sorted out in nine scenes, but I was far too optimistic. Lucky me, I had one season as backup! Also, thank you so, so much for continuing to read this series and your kind comments!

IT IS FUNNY, how wrong can Cregan be about people. He is no longer afraid to admit it. He had been mistaken about you. 

The utter viciousness you had displayed, bringing up his dead wife, had only been a source of anger for him at first. He had thought you an evil little bitch, unafraid of exploiting weak spots to hurt him. 

Then, he had seen you with Rickon. And his world had just… Shifted. As if every piece of furniture in Winterfell had been moved exactly one inch to the left, and no one had told him, leaving him stumbling around in his own home.

You weren’t evil or jealous. Or, more likely, you were, but not because of some petty reason, it was because you were insecure. The mere idea was laughable, why would a Princess of the Realm be insecure? But it made too much sense for him to ignore. 

Each time Cregan had cracked a joke that compared you to Arra, like commenting on the number of packages and dresses you had brought from the South, you had taken it as a personal criticism. You felt unappreciated, so you lashed out and avoided him at every turn. 

You were kind, smart, and capable. Just not in the way Cregan was used to women being capable. The northern women were considered capable because they were physically strong, able to wield bows, ride hard and long or withstand the terrible weather. 

You, instead, shared Prince Jacaerys’ strength. You were honorable, unable to leave a child in need, and kind, enough that you would comfort them until their parents reached them. But most of all, you had a brain suited for politics. 

Cregan had never noticed before because he had never bothered to truly look at what you were doing, but your charities were to make your mother’s cause more popular with the smallfolk. He had heard your mother was doing a similar thing in the capital, delivering food to the starved population due to a blockade of the own Blacks’ making. Not that the commoners cared about the last part. They only cared about those who put food on their bellies. 

And perhaps the Queen dowager and Princess Helaena were popular in the South because of their involvement in the Septs, but you were exploiting the lack of those here. Without Septs, there were no Septas or Septons tending to the sick and poor. You were. And the North would remember, when it came time to march for your mother’s banners. 

Cregan would bet Ice that you were having tea with the northern ladies not to gain friends. The Old Gods knew you were an introverted creature, painfully awkward at niceties, much like he was. It explained why the two of you were so uncomfortable with each other. You were probably entertaining the northerns to win their loyalties, knowing the combined pressure of Cregan’s oath and their wives would make his lords more eager to drop coin and men for your war. 

Oh, if Cregan got you on his side, the two of you would be a force to be reckoned with. He could already see how much security you could bring to the North, how well fed you could be during winter, if you decided to work with him and not behind him. 

You were a wonderful woman. Kind and tender to his son, smart as a whip, utterly terrifying when crossed. You would make a fine wife to any lord, and Cregan couldn’t believe how stupid he had been not to see it. You just needed to be encouraged, and Cregan, dumb as a rock, had been doing the exact opposite. 

While you hadn’t exactly been trying, Cregan was man enough to admit that part of the blame laid on him. He had been pushing you away without even realizing it, comparing you to Arra at every turn, without considering how that might come across to you. 

That ended today. He would prove himself worthy of your love and loyalty, and win you over. Cregan wasn’t a man of half measures. He would woo you or spend the rest of his life trying. 

Set in his decision, Cregan walked to your chambers. He waved off the guard’s attempt to announce him, casually strolling in. 

You were seated next to the fire, the leather-bound book you usually carried around spread over your lap. It was a heavy tome, bound in brown leather with golden engravings. It was written in High Valyrian, a language for which Cregan had little use, so he had never learned it beyond recognizing the alphabet. 

There was a striking beauty to your expression when you were at ease, the peaceful expression you wore becoming you much more than the usual frown you directed at him. Cregan found himself wondering how beautiful you must look smiling, if you looked this radiant when at peace. 

You had the sort of face to be lit up with happiness, he could already tell. His heart ached to be the one that finally coaxed it out of you.

“Princess,” Cregan calls, softly. You set your book aside, ready to get up and curtsy, but he halts you. “No need for that, wife. My ego is not so fragile I need my woman to bow to me.” 

“Lord Husband.” You reply, for once not frowning. Your face remains carefully neutral, which Cregan considers a victory. He would attribute it to his remark about his ego, but it is more likely due to guilt. He will take it regardless. 

“No need for that either, much less today.” Cregan smiles at you. “You may call me Cregan, if you wish. I am here to thank you for caring for my Rickon while I was away.” 

You look far more confused than you did before. You look like you want to approach him and run at the same time, your wool gown fluttering as you squirm in place, undecided if you are approaching or not. 

“I simply did my duty, my lord.”

Cregan’s smile widens, amused by you. 

“Singing him was part of it? By the Gods, I thought I had a wife and not a minstrel?” And the dry, northern humor doesn’t seem to suit you because you frown slightly. Cregan fights the urge to curse, instead making a mental note. You dislike being mocked, even in jest. He wonders what sharp words you had to endure in the South to be like this, and feels a wave of pity. Dark of hair and no dragon to shield you? Perhaps that was why you were far kinder to Sara than to him. He gives a tasteful cough. Or at least, his attempt at it. 

“I only meant to say you went beyond your duties, and I thank you for it. You didn’t have to, but it meant the world to him.” Cregan tries again, and you blink at him, as if he were unable to understand anything at all. 

“He is a child.” You say, slowly.  “No person would leave a child in need.” 

“You would be surprised.” Cregan thinks of how his own mother had treated Sara when she had arrived at Winterfell, treatment that hadn’t improved when his aunt took on as the Lady of the household. His sister had only known freedom after Cregan had taken over his seat, and she was still judged by the rest of the North, even though in a much subtle manner. 

“Mmm.” Your reply is noncommittal. 

“He has been asking me lately why he doesn't have a lady mother.” Cregan attempts again. He is not above using Rickon to have an excuse to spend time with you. And to his amusement, it does work. You pity his son more than him, it seems because you begin to pay him more attention.  

“What did you tell him?” You tilt your head to the side, curious. It’s a surprisingly cute gesture for the unshakable princess that you are. 

“I do not know. I have not answered him.” Cregan searches for somewhere to sit, but apart from the loveseat in which you are soaking up the warmth of the fireplace, there is none. He grabs the stool by your writing area, and brings it over. 

He sits on the stool across from you, wiggling a bit with how uncomfortable it is. It feels like his knees are on his chest, by the Gods. It’s clearly meant for a shorter person. Your rooms are not made for receiving visitors, he should have thought of that earlier. You need a space to receive people that isn’t the sitting room. What if you wish to have more private conversations?

“Surely he knows she is dead?” You are too caught up in your disbelief to protest that he is rearranging your furniture. Good. 

“He does, but doesn’t quite grasp what dead means.”  Cregan is being honest. Whoever has the heart to explain to a child of two namedays what death is, is a braver man than him. 

“Perhaps you could say she is in the Seven Heavens?” Your frown comes back, but this time it isn’t angry. Instead, it’s puzzled. You are trying to help him, and it makes him fight the urge to smile. He doesn’t want you to think that he is mocking your suggestion. 

“We do not believe that here.” 

“Neither do I.” And this time, there is the barest beginning of a playful smile on your lips. Oh, you minx! Cregan smiles to himself, charmed. It emboldens him to continue. 

“Just, I would like it if you saw him more often. With me. Perhaps… He has asked about you, and I am not asking you to replace her but I… He sometimes needs a more feminine touch.” 

“Of course.” You agree. And he can see in your eyes you think he might be trying to use you as a stand in for Arra, not truly believing his words, but that is alright. Cregan will show you. Or at least, he is going to do his very best attempt. 

YOU MAKE SURE there are enough pastries and hot water available before you stand up.

“I am afraid I must leave you, my ladies. But you are welcome to continue enjoying the hospitality of Winterfell.” The sitting room is filled with northern women. You have begun inviting them for tea twice a moon, trying to ensure your mother will have all the support she needs when she takes King’s Landing. 

It has proven to be quite the difficult task. Northerns are often suspicious of outsiders, and from what you have learned through these gossip sessions, they rarely marry southrons. The only ones who do are the most important Houses, like the Starks or the Boltons. It means that most of your ladies are northern by birth, and not through marriage as you are. 

“This early?” Lady Mormont asks, bluntly. Her bluntness had discomfited you during your first meetings, but you have come to find it refreshing. “Princess?” She tacks on, remembering she is supposed to mind her courtesies with you. 

“This early.” You confirm, with a smile. You have planned the time of this tea with precision for this same motive, knowing it will appeal to their loyalty, but also allow you to escape the socializing. “I have a play date with my Lord Husband and little Rickon.” 

One of the ladies coos. Lady Mormont barks out a laughter. 

“Ah, to be a young woman with that many suitors.” 

“Only the very best.” You smile, and leave them to feast on the pastries. 

You make your way to Cregan’s solar at a leisure pace. The crushed velvet gown you are wearing is in a blue so pale it almost looks like the gray of House Stark. It is one of your old ones, meant to evoke House Velaryon’s colors. It fits you again, having gained a bit of weight during your time in the North. You hope it is a gown suitable for playing with a toddler. 

As you enter, you notice Rickon is arriving as well, tugged along by a maid. He chirps a greeting to you, a mix of your name and title that sounds more like gibberish. Yet, you are helpless to him.

“Rickon!” You kneel by him, as he runs to be picked up. You indulge him, smelling his hair as you lift him. He smells of sweet innocence, and a bit like Cregan. You hate that you cannot hate him or be indifferent any longer. The little boy has stolen your heart. 

Rickon gives you a toothy smile, his hands clumsily going to cup your face. Who can resist him? Not you. 

“I see you found each other.” Cregan leans against the door, smirking. He holds two cups. “Warm milk with honey. For the cold.”

You cannot help but smile a little. 

“Our knight in shining armor!” You tease, more for Rickon’s benefit than him. “Let us in, good Ser. So I can place my little wildling down and he can drink it.” 

Cregan laughs and moves aside to let the two of you pass. As you do so, you cannot help but notice how much space he takes up, tall and wide. Your eyes linger on his shoulders. You have not seen him wield Ice yet, but you have seen the sword. He has to have considerable strength to do so. 

The thought is strangely thrilling. Your stomach does a somersault, but before you have time to analyze it, Rickon begins to squirm in your arms. 

“Down! Down! Doggie!” He pleads. You look to see what has caught his attention and notice that Cregan has moved the rug so it lays by the fireplace, and placed some of Rickon’s toys there, including his more favored one: A soft cotton white wolf. 

You set Rickon down and take one of the cups from Cregan. Both of you sit down on the rug as well, and watch Rickon play with his wolf, ignoring his cup of milk. You have come to learn that playing with an only child is much different than playing with your younger siblings, Rickon mostly plays alone and wants you there to show you things. 

It forces you to keep conversations with your husband, if only because the silence would be too awkward otherwise. 

“I have arranged for us to have tea when Rickon tires.” Cregan informs you, a bit stiff.

“Oh, I already had tea with the…” You start, before Cregan interrupts you. 

“You are far too thin still. Besides, I know your tea spreads are made of mostly northern sweets. I asked the cooks to make one of your favorites, Prince Jacaerys was kind enough to set up correspondence for me with the cooks of Dragonstone.” 

It’s awfully thoughtful of him, and you will examine it later because your mind is still stuck on one tiny detail. One that infuriates you. 

“You are corresponding with Jace?” You ask, trying hard not to sound violent. After all, he has been very kind to you as of late, and guilt has begun to creep in for your careless words about his late wife. Not that you will apologize or anything. You intend to pretend nothing happened and be extra nice to Cregan, indulging Rickon and him on all the tea and play dates in the world. 

“I am. He would be very pleased if you stopped burning his letters.” His tone is chiding, though gentle. You take a deep breath in. Jace, the traitor. Cregan keeps his tone kind. “He still grieves your brother, Princess. Do not make him mourn a sister in life.” 

“Does he think I shall never forgive him?” You ask him, baffled. Rickon begins building a tower with blocks on the rug, insisting that the two of you aid him in building Winterfell, so Cregan’s answer is delayed. As you place some blocks to make the entrance, you have time to think over his words. 

All alone in Dragonstone, Jace must be feeling as lonely as you are. Only more because he has no Cregan and Rickon to stand with him. 

What he had done was a deep betrayal in your eyes, but was it truly? You had known you would have to marry eventually, and it probably wouldn’t be a love match. Jace had done the best he could in the terrible circumstances you were in. Moved by his fear of losing another sibling, he had entrusted you to Cregan because he thought you could be happy here. Safe. 

And you were. There was no fiercest protector for you apart from your husband. After marrying him, no one had dared even to breathe the rumors of your bastardy, and he even worried about what you ate, by the Gods’ sake!

“You can hold a grudge.” Cregan says, cautiously, when Rickon is distracted by his cup of milk and begins to attempt drinking it. Usually, drinking his milk is followed by passing out, so he is careful to support him in his lap. The sight makes your chest feel oddly warm. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

This was bad. 

You were falling in love with Cregan. 

“Perhaps I don’t want to any longer.” You say, looking into his eyes. You are no longer speaking of Jace. 

Cregan seems to catch on your meaning because he reaches forward and takes your hand in his. Fixated on how big and warm his hand feels against yours, you almost miss his soft words. 

“Neither do I.”

SARA’S EYES, GREY and so much like his father’s, are fixed on him. Cregan tries to ignore her, unwilling to give her the satisfaction of appearing uncomfortable. But before the hour passes, he is squirming in his chair, unnerved by her silent stare. 

Sara continues to stare. Cregan refuses to speak to her. After a while, she sets down the book she has taken from his shelves, a dreadfully boring account of the battles fought by the Kings of Winter, and perches her chin in her hands. 

That way, her staring is much more obvious. She is comfortably laid back in one of the armchairs he has in his solar. Cregan likes company when he works, and it’s easier to ask for her opinion if she is right there. Unfortunately, it also means she can stare at him for hours on end if she so wished.

“What?” Cregan asks, when he can’t take it any longer. He pushes away the reports about the safety of Wintertown and how prepared they are for winter, and looks up at her. She still doesn’t speak. “Sara!” 

“Apologies, brother.” By her smile, she is anything but sorry. “I just find it fascinating.” 

Cregan sighs. He doesn’t really want to bite, but if he doesn’t, Sara’s teasing will get worse and worse.

“What is fascinating?” 

“How you have managed to turn into a spineless southron in less than two moons.” Cregan can only gape at her. What is she going on about? “Not only have you turned timid, you are also a moron. And cunt struck. Well, are you? I know you are not getting any, does one need to actually be bedding the woman to be cunt…” She doesn’t even finish her words, cackling with laughter.

His face grows hot, burning with embarrassment. 

“I should have married you to an Umber and be done with it.” He mutters, under his breath, which only makes her cackle further. Both of them know that Sara would never be married off as if she were some cattle. Cregan loves her too much for it, and she is a deeply independent woman. 

“Who would advise you, then?” She asks him, brazenly. “Your sweet little wife? While she is great at wrangling lords and ladies, I doubt she has the stomach for warfare.” 

“There is a certain innocence to these Velaryons, yes.” At his words, Sara glares. She hates to be reminded she had not been as immune as she liked to think she was to Prince Jacaerys’ charms. “But if the worst comes to pass, I actually intend to have her hold Winterfell alongside you and Rickon.” 

“There must always be a Stark in Winterfell.” Sara approves. “Shall you march south, Rickon and I will suffice.” 

“I wish to begin teaching her, when she no longer seems willing to murder me.” 

“I think she isn’t willing to murder you any longer.” And it is as good of an endorsement he will get from Sara. 

“She still seems to think I do not love her.” Cregan whines. 

“Because you mention Arra all the time. I have heard it’s in bad taste, but what would I know?” Sara rolls her eyes. “I am just some bastard girl.” 

“Are you simply going to complain or will you help me?” Cregan looks at her and tries giving her his best pleading look. Then, he decides to stroke her pride. “You know I always seek your council, even above other lords.” 

“Even above Lord Cerwyn?” Her mouth purses in a dubious pout. Fuck. His sister or his best friend? In the end, the choice is easy. Sara is here now, after all. 

“Of course.”

Sara positively beams. 

“You should tell him so.” Her rivalry with him had never made any sense to him, they had known each other since childhood, too. The man didn’t even care about who her mother had been and never took insult with her… Well, insults. Plural. Always thrown at him by Sara. Now that he thought of it, his friend always sought excuses to see Sara. Odd. “Loudly. But I am feeling generous and not demand that you do so immediately. I shall gloat in my victory, and it will be even sweeter if he doesn’t know.” 

“Your advice?” Cregan asks, tiredly. The Gods knew that she would talk circles around him if he let her. She was honest, but she also had a gift for courtly speech that Cregan despised. 

“Women like gifts. Or I do. And I am a woman.” Sara shrugs. “She is a Princess, of course she does too. And don’t just gift her anything.” 

“I would never be…” That stupid, Cregan wishes to add, but Sara is still speaking. 

“Gift her something special. Something unique, tailored to her. And especially, something that you wouldn’t gift practical Arra.” 

Cregan stares at Sara. Sara stares back. Then, very pointedly, she picks up her book and continues to read. The message is clear. He will not get any further help. 

Still, her advice lingers. In the coming days, Cregan cannot shake the thought, regardless of what he is doing. As he inspects his men, as he reads during his spare time, even as he bathes. All Cregan thinks of is you, and a gift that would please you. 

He even dares ask Rickon. His suggestion of a direwolf isn’t exactly bad. It’s just difficult on its execution, and not something Cregan would choose when thinking of a gift for you. 

He discards many more ideas, from rolls of myrish lace to donations to your charities. You ran far too cold to wear the former, and the latter wouldn’t truly be a gift to you. He wastes nearly a week coming up with a suitable idea, and two more corresponding with the Prince, the Maester at Dragonstone, and securing the goods he needs. 

It’s all worth it, when he takes a look at the finished present and can know that you will love it. 

[inotakumagf]

strange magic

✶ geto suguru x faerie princess! reader

word count ✺ 9K

summary ✺ you were supposed to marry your fiancé and take on the title of Faerie Queen, but somehow you ended miles from your kingdom, injured, and at the mercy of the Cursed Spirit King. oh how far you’ve fallen from grace.

warning ✺ fem! reader, hurt & then comfort and then hurt & then comfort, descriptions of injuries. i put mc through so much im sorry. very very inspired by strange magic, that movie altered my entire life trajectory. enemies-to-lovers, but they never end up kissing oops but the love is there. also i made a pinterest board to visualize the vibe im going for! reblogs & comments are very appreciated, i really want to know how y’all feel abt this one :D

You’ve never been more in love. The feeling consumes every bone and every crevice of your body. It leaves you a giggling, delighted mess, one that your servants can only roll their eyes at. But it pleases them to know that their darling crown princess has found a lover who cherishes her so much. Your love makes you careless, and it drives your personal guards mad.

Your guards, Shoko and Gojo, are dragged along behind you for each “secret” meeting between you and your fiancé. They have to listen to you read love letters aloud and sigh over your lover. But they are the only two people who can tease you about it. Their favorite activity is dramatically acting out your behavior, practically throwing themselves on top of each other as they laugh at you. You don’t mind. You prefer them and their teasing over the servants that can’t even look you in your eyes. 

As the crown princess of your faerie kingdom, there are innate responsibilities you owe to your parents and to your people. First and foremost, you are a symbol of strength against the bordering faerie domain. While your kingdom prospers thanks to the magic of the large willow tree at its center, the kingdom that borders it is a dark, decaying forest. You’re forbidden from going anywhere near it, and that is perfectly fine with you. Where your kingdom is full of life, the other brings nothing but death.

Your marriage is another responsibility of yours. You’d been opposed to it all your life. The idea of forfeiting your heart and your independence to a man and inevitably for children has been your greatest point of disagreement with your parents. You love them, and they’ve never pushed you into anything, but they’re never silent about how much it disappoints them. It made no sense to you, not until you met Naoya.

He had been enamored by you since the moment you’d been introduced to the Zen’in clan. You’d turned your nose at him time after time, but your proximity and his persistence had made you see him differently. And now, with your wedding only three days away, there’s nothing you would change. 

“Naoya!” You flutter down to where he stands by the base of the willow tree. Shoko and Gojo trail behind you, and if you could guess, they’re probably mocking you. 

Naoya turns at the call of his name. A charming smile graces his face, and he opens his arms to pull you into a hug. He takes your hand in his and places a soft kiss to your knuckles. “Princess,” he greets. Your heart flutters. You are undeniably weak to his charms.

He places a small rosebud in your hair and ushers you alongside him. “Come. I want to take you somewhere.”

He leads you to a field of colorful tulips. Garden faeries are working their magic on the surrounding land, but Naoya pulls you inside the patch of flowers. Sunlight reflects off of the flower petals, causing colorful light to shine around you. 

“I can’t wait to marry you, my beloved,” he says, leaning forward to kiss you. 

You pull away, a mischievous glint in your eyes. His eyes fly open, and he stares at you with furrowed brows. You tap his nose and fly backwards. “You have to earn the kiss. Let’s see if you can catch me, hm?”

You weave your way through the stems of the tulips, shrieking in delight as Naoya playfully chases after you. You’re good at running from him, but he eventually catches up to you. He twirls you around once he’s got you in his arms. You laugh and run your fingers through his hair.

He smirks at you. “So about that kiss?”

Gojo calls for you then from the respectful distance he and Shoko have given you. You turn towards them, just then realizing the council meeting you were meant to attend. Before you can move, Naoya pulls you closer.

“Meet me here after your meeting, okay? I want to see you again,” he whispers in your ear.

You smile at him. “My guards are going to hate you for the work you put them through.”

Naoya grins back. “Let them hate me. But…come without your guards. I want to be alone with you.”

You bit your lip at the thought of breaking Gojo and Shoko’s rule for you. But your desire wins out. “Okay, but if we get caught, I’ll blame you.”

The entire meeting, you can’t help but think about your promised plans with Naoya. Your hand constantly finds the rosebud in your hair, almost nervous at the prospect of being alone with him. You’ve almost always had a chaperone present, and if Naoya wants to see you alone…it makes you heat up all over.

On your way back to your room after the meeting, you think of how you can escape Gojo and Shoko’s careful watch. They have never let you out of their sight, and they would certainly never agree to let you out on your own. No matter how often you remind them that no one has ever or would ever try to hurt you, they take the matter of your safety more seriously than you do. Gojo is the fiercest soldier in the Queen’s army, and he’s proven himself time and time again with his loyalty and his skill. Shoko’s strength is gentler than her friend’s. She is the most profound healer in generations, and her ability to comfort you on such a personal level carries so much value for you. You trust the two with your life, and you feel so guilty for lying to them like this.

When you get right in front of your door, you pause and turn to face your guards. They stop just before bumping into you, and you want to laugh at the look of surprise on Gojo’s face. You lean back against your door.

“I’m going to be having dinner with Naoya later tonight, so I need to rest beforehand. Don’t wake me until then, alright? Thank you, bye!”

Once you’re safe inside your room, you start getting ready to see Naoya. You wear a petal dress in a pale yellow shade, because it has a peach orange center that Naoya loves. You paint your lips with a berry stain and rub fresh rose water over your skin. You stare at yourself in the mirror for longer than necessary before deciding that there’s nothing else to do. You place your pillows under your blanket and adjust it so that it looks like your sleeping form. Once that’s done, you fly straight out the open window, careful to avoid the sight of anyone who might be looking up into your chambers. 

When you get to the tulip field, your heart flutters when you see Naoya already waiting for you. Before you can fly down to greet him, a faerie you don’t know flies over to him and leaps into his arms. 

You jerk backwards, mind refusing to believe what you’re seeing. Naoya glances around briefly before pulling her closer. He twirls the faerie around in his arms, identically to how he held you this morning. You try to breathe in and out slowly, trying to keep yourself from crying. But it becomes impossible when he dips her and kisses her deep and passionately. You have to press your hand over your mouth to stop a gasp from ripping through you. You want to leave, but you just can’t seem to look away. 

She leans up and wraps her arms around his neck, tucking her face against him. “Naoya. I haven’t seen you in so long.”

He sighs. “I know, darling. But you know how impossible it is to be rid of that bitch.”

It takes you a moment to realize that he’s talking about you. 

The faerie pouts. “I don’t understand why you stay when you should be with me. You promised that you would.”

Naoya runs his hand down her cheek. “And I will. The wedding is in three days' time, and once she's dead, I will be king. Then, nothing will keep you away from me.”

You are suddenly very aware of your racing heartbeat and the weakness of your feet. Dead? This cannot be your fiancé. But it is impossible to deny the truth before you. You can’t stand to listen anymore, so you fly away before they can hear your cries. When you’re far enough away, you allow yourself to sob. You don’t care where you go, just as long as you’re far from Naoya. 

Your tears and delirium unintentionally lead you deeper and deeper into the forest. Farther and farther away from the safety of your willow tree. You hardly care or notice as sharp thorns and branches cut into your skin as you fly by. You don’t notice anything at all, not until several wasps begin flying along either side of you. 

These are nothing like the kind honey bees that live in your kingdom. These creatures take turns pushing hard against you. You do your best to weave and dodge their hits, and if they were faeries you would have out-flown them easily. But the wasps are too quick for you, and avoiding them grows harder as the forest thickens around you.

You gasp out in shock and pain as one of the wasps stabs its stinger through your delicate wing. You can hear and feel the membrane tear apart like thin paper. Your other wing folds at the pressure that it takes on with the damage to the other, and you plummet to the ground below. At least moss softens the blow, but the landing is still rough. 

You’re too numb to move. The weight of Naoya’s betrayal and the pain of your wings has you staring up at the dense tree top view blankly. Tears fall down your cheeks, but you don't have the energy left to even cry out. You just hope that the Earth will take you gently.

“Are you going to stay down there forever?” 

Your head shifts at the new voice. A faerie flutters down to stand before you. He has ebony black hair that flows in the light breeze, and he wears dark plum-colored leaves in a baggy pants style and a long sleeved top with edges that curl into a lighter pink hue. 

You sniffle and try to sit up, but your movements are stiff with the pain. “If I do, it’s none of your business.”

He smiles sharply. “Then should I leave?” 

He turns to fly off, but fear settles into your gut. You, the crown princess, are miles and miles from the willow grove. Stricken by emotional turmoil and torn wings. And worst of all, Naoya is about to destroy your kingdom, if what you heard was true. You need to do something to stop him, and you can’t do it alone. 

“Wait!” you cry out. He pauses, turning slowly to face you, a strange smug look in his eye. “I–my wings.” You try not to get emotional, but the crack in your voice is obvious. 

The man glances at your wings crushed under you and coos. “Aw, you must be in a lot of pain, huh, pretty girl?”

You’re too exhausted to snap at him for his tone. He flutters close and grasps your hands in his, pulling you up gently. Even as you stand, your legs feel weak. 

“I need to get to the willow grove.” you tell him. 

He hums. “Oh, do you?” 

You huff at his dismissive tone. “I am the crown princess, and I need to get back to speak with my court. Something terrible is going to happen.” 

His smile widens. “Oh, I know who you are, Princess.” 

Your nose scrunches up in confusion at the tone of his voice. “Can you help me?” 

He hums again. “I could.” 

Your heart thrums, and you have a strong sense that something is very, very wrong. “Will you help me?”

He stares at you for a long moment, eyes lidded as he regards you. “I won't.”

Your mouth drops open to ask why, when you notice two flitting creatures come up behind him. They’re the two wasps from earlier. They don’t attack, they just hover patiently behind the stranger, almost as if…

You gasp and try to take a staggering step back, but the man’s hands still hold yours. His grip isn’t painful, but it is strong. “You…they were under your control?” 

He smiles. “Attagirl, you’re starting to figure it out.” 

“But…why?” 

He tilts his head. “Does the Spirit King need a reason to do what he pleases in his own kingdom?”

You don’t want to believe him, but you know there’s only one faerie who can control creatures like this man can. And you know you left the boundaries of your kingdom miles ago. The reality of your situation makes you fight harder against his hold, until you finally manage to tug your hands free. 

The force of it sends you falling backwards and of course with your luck that just won’t stop, you land directly onto your broken wings. You can’t hold in the agonizing scream that tears through you when they fold the absolute wrong way. Your body is wracked with tremors of pain so white hot that you can’t suppress your sobs. You turn to lay in a fetal position, to relieve the pressure from your wings. You whimper and press your face to the ground, resigning yourself to your fate. 

The Spirit King is going to kill you, and Naoya is going to take over your kingdom. You wait for the fatal blow, but it never comes. Instead, you feel yourself lifted into strong arms. 

The Spirit King cradles you in his arms, face serious for once. He takes off into the air, heading farther away from your home. When he sees you looking backwards, he grins that stupid grin again. “The Faerie King will pay a heavy price to see you returned. Lucky me, that this opportunity fell right into my arms.”

You clutch your arms around his neck in fear that he’ll decide to just drop you. “You don’t understand. The willow grove is in danger.” 

He peers at you from the side of his eye. “Don’t you worry your little head, Princess. Your father will do anything for his precious little rose, so this ransom won’t last more than a few days.”

You slam your fist against his chest, and you nearly gawk when your hand just bounces off uselessly. “No. There won’t even be a willow grove to return to in a few days.” 

The Spirit King just ignores you and flies the two of you into a knot of a thick tree. Your frustrations grow. “You need to listen to me!”

His lip curls in disgust. “I don’t take orders, especially not in my own kingdom.” 

You huff in annoyance, but you’re too tired to argue more. Despite the way that your mind screams to stay alert, you’ve pushed your body too much as it is. Your head falls against the Spirit King’s chest as you surrender to your exhaustion.

When you wake up, you’re surprised to see that you’re not in a cell or discarded in a ditch. The room you’re in is dark, but comfortable. The bed that you've been laid on is not made of moss or rose like you're used to, instead it looks like it's made out of fabric. When you look around the room, you notice just how much stuff looks like it’s been taken from humans. You’ve seen some of this stuff from afar. Gojo has told you about the miniature furniture that humans make for their tiny handmade dolls. He’s also snuck human contraptions for you to look at, and your favorite are the glittering stones fused to metal bands that he finds in every color imaginable. There are some gems here in this room, but they’re a black-purple color that you’ve never seen before. 

They’re encrusted along the edges of a round mirror. You hardly recognize your reflection, with all the cuts and bruises that marr your skin. And you gasp at the sight of your wings. The left wing is limp by your side, and it barely twitches when you try to move it. The right one had been safe from the wasp’s stinger, but it had definitely been broken in the fall. 

You limp to the edge of the room to identify the outside surroundings. The bark wall has a small window cut into it, and you study the view. Your heart sinks at the sight of ink black trees. The decaying environment makes it obvious that you’re deep in the Cursed Spirit King’s domain. You yell your frustration and look around for something to smash. You settle on tossing the doll chair against the wall. It falls apart easily, and you sink to your knees in defeat. You pull your knees up to your chest, pressing your face into your knees as you cry.

“The dramatics are a bit much, don’t you think?” 

You glare up at the Spirit King with as much contempt as you can muster. He crouches down beside you, reaching his hand out. You flinch and scramble backwards. He keeps his hand extended, and that’s when you notice the salve in his hand. 

“You need to be careful with your wings right now,” he says. “Otherwise they’ll heal crooked.” 

“Why do you care?” You spit out angrily. “You’re the one who did this to me.” 

He doesn’t speak as he carefully massages the salve into your wings. Your spine tingles at the feeling, and you can’t help but shiver. “I didn’t intend for this to happen.” 

You scoff and pull away from his touch. “Yeah, I can really tell.” 

He stands and places the salve on the table next to him. There’s a large hand in front of your face. You look up, rolling your eyes at his faux-gentleman behavior. You stubbornly push off the ground and stand on your own, even though you know it would hurt less if you let him help.

“I’m leaving. And I won’t let you stop me.”

“There’s no need. You’ll be home safe just in time for your stupid coronation and the wedding. I’m sure your idiot fiancé is thinking himself a hero right now, searching the forest for you.” You think he may be trying to ease your mind, but the mention of your fiancé makes your blood boil. 

“Oh, I’ll kill him when I get my hands on that…that fucking weasel.” You kick the broken chair for good measure. 

The Spirit King holds out his hands to placate you. “Woah. Trouble in paradise?” 

You scowl, grabbing the front of his shirt. “You have to take me back now. Before Naoya is crowned king and he has his way with my kingdom.”

For the first time, the Spirit King is shocked by your words. “He–what?” 

His hands reach up to cup your elbows as you keep your fists clenching his shirt. “I heard him,” you gasp out. “It’s why I ended up on the wrong side of the forest. It was a ploy. His plan was to marry me and then dispose of me to become the Faerie King. And now with me gone, he doesn’t even have to get his hands dirty. It doesn’t matter that we’re not married. He’s going to be crowned in three days' time. I need to stop him. Please.”

There’s a long moment of silence from the Spirit King and if your wings weren’t fucked, you’d take to opportunity to fly right out the window. But you’re forced to wait, because you won’t get anywhere without his help. You try to give him your best puppy dog eyes and pouty lips (which work on Shoko every time without fail), but he just rolls his eyes and looks away.

“Don’t do that. Fine, I’ll take you back. But you still owe me a ransom reward.”

You nod eagerly. “Of course, whatever you want. But I have to get back before the coronation.”

He nods. “We’ll leave tomorrow at dawn.”

When he turns to leave, as if the matter is settled just like that, you grab his wrist. He looks down, then back up at you with a look of amusement. You scowl. “We need to leave now. I already wasted enough time sleeping.”

He sighs. “Princess, no offense, but you’re not exactly up for a journey right now. You need to rest, then we’ll go.”

You stomp your foot, and your fingers tighten around his wrist. “I’m not waiting. I’m going to leave this sad excuse of a kingdom today. You can come with me, or you can kiss that reward goodbye. It’s your choice.”

He stares into your eyes, and you match his gaze with your own unrelenting one. You don’t know what he’s looking for, but he must find it on your face. “Fine. We’ll leave today. After I’ve wrapped your wings. I don’t need you dying on me before I deliver you. You’d find a way to blame me for that too.”

“Fine,” you repeat. “But I’m wrapping my wings myself.”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, you can’t do it on your own. Let me help.”

You let go of him and step away. “Yeah, right. I trust you about as far as I can throw you, Spirit King.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, pressing his lips in a firm line. “Suguru.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“My name is Suguru. It’s much easier to trust someone when you don’t know them by such a terrifying title. Now, since we’ve been properly introduced, I’ll wrap your wings and we’ll start getting ready for the journey.”

You open your mouth to argue, but he quirks a brow and says, “You can try wrapping your wings on your own, but there’s no need to be so stubborn. If I wanted to kill you, I would have. There have certainly been many opportunities.”

You sputter, your annoyance makes it impossible for you to say anything, because you know it will just amuse him. “I beg your pardon? You can’t speak to me like that. I’m–”

“No one of importance in my domain. The flies here have more authority than you. Now, if you're done puffing your feathers and squawking at me, I’ll go get our supplies ready for the journey.”

You open your mouth to say something, but at the chance of sounding like you’re squawking, you snap it shut. For good measure, you turn away from him and fold your arms in as angry a manner as you can muster.

“Nothing more to say? Good. I’ll be back to wrap your wings in a minute.”

You so badly want to pounce on him and knock some sense into his arrogant self, but unfortunately he is the only faerie who can help you right now. It’s a shame, because you really want to hit him or pull his hair a little bit.

You’re left with your violent thoughts for only a few minutes before he returns with a packed satchel. You make it a point to scowl extra hard at him.

He jerks his head to the bed. “Sit.”

You huff. “You don’t get to order me around. I’m not one of your cursed bugs.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Your Royal Pain-in-the-Ass. Can you please sit on the bed before I make you?”

You turn your nose at his tone of voice, but you sit at the very edge of the bed. Suguru sits behind you, and you can feel the dip in the bed when he does. You sit as still as you can as you feel him stretch your left wing open. You wince at the sharp, pin-prick moments of pain as he stitches the tear closed. Then, he spreads more salve on before wrapping both wings in soft, silky strips of cloth. 

“All done,” he whispers against your ear. You shudder at his closeness and shove him away. He laughs and stands. “I packed some necessities for you, and there’s a change of clothes inside. We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready.”

You push him out of the room to rummage through the bag. You find the set of clothing, and your nose wrinkles at the sight. The fabric is soft, but it’s an ugly set of dark grey pants and shirt. But it looks like it should fit, and you suppose it is more efficient for the journey. Even though you’re the crown princess, and you should never be forced to wear such drab clothing. While changing, you stop to consider a very present problem. You can’t get your wings through the opening in the shirt that they are meant to go through. You scowl when you realize there is only one solution. You open the door to the room, and you hate that you’re relieved to see Suguru waiting against the wall.

“Done?” he asks, stepping forward. You extend your palm to keep him back.

“I can’t get the shirt on without hurting my wings. Can you…” you trail off, too embarrassed about the fact that you need his help for such a stupid task, “Can you help me?”

He grins. “Aw, of course, sweetheart.”

Before he can come any closer, you growl and close the door so that it’s only a crack open. “You know what? I’m sorry I asked. I’ll just do it myself.”

He presses his hand to the door so that you can’t fully close it, but he tilts his head away. “Come on, I’m just teasing. Like you said, you can’t do it on your own.”

You grip the edge of the door, and you can’t help the anger in your voice as you say, “I don’t need your help. I’m not weak, I can deal with it on my own. Sorry for asking.”

“Don’t be stubborn. Will you just let me help you?” 

You don’t budge, and it makes him sigh. “I don’t think you're weak, not for this of all things. Just…think of it as penance. For, you know, attacking you. Or whatever.”

You hesitate a moment longer, but you really do need help with your shirt. You let go of the door and turn. How many times are you going to turn your back to this man? It makes you feel vulnerable, to be half dressed, and injured, and so far away from home. You refuse to look back as Suguru slips your wings through the slits on the back of the shirt, more gently than you’d think of him. He pulls it over your head too, even though you could have done that on your own. You pull your arms through the sleeves before he can do that too. You turn to face him. 

“Can we go now? We could probably cover a lot of distance before the sun sets if we leave now. Depending on how far away you dragged us from my home.”

He lifts his hands in defense. “Well, sorry. How was I supposed to know that the Zen’in brat was planning a coup?”

You stare at him. You so badly want to smack him, and it takes everything in you to refrain from doing so. “Because I told you. Multiple times.”

He shrugs. “Eh, it's all a matter of perspective, and we’ll never know for sure. Come on.”

Suguru opens his arms to you. You blink at him slowly. Does he want a fucking hug or something?

You ask him as much, and he rolls his eyes at you. “You’re ready, aren’t you? C’mon, I have to carry you.”

You take a step back, shaking your head adamantly. “Oh, there is no way I’m letting you carry me. I don’t even know what kind of…diseases you carry.”

This is all so very amusing to him, and his grin widens. “Diseases, huh? That’s a new one. Look, we can’t make the journey in two days on foot, and in case you’ve forgotten you can’t fly.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” you snap at him. “But this is not going to happen.”

“You have to admit, this isn’t so bad.”

You lean your head farther away from Suguru. He’d said all matter-of-factly that a face-to-face carry would keep both of your wings intact. So here you are with your arms wrapped around his neck and your legs pressed to his right side. You try to ignore the feel of his strong right arm holding your legs secure, with the left arm wrapped carefully around your waist. 

You roll your eyes. “This is terrible. You stink, and your hair is everywhere.”

Truthfully—and you would rather die than admit this out loud—he’s easy on the eyes, and his touch is sweet. He doesn’t tease you about your position or the way your arms tighten around him when the wind makes you waver, and you’re grateful for it. You already feel so exposed, and bless the stars Suguru doesn’t acknowledge it or make it worse. 

You don’t know how long you’ve been travelling when Suguru flies down to the soft Earth. The sun is setting, and it will be difficult for him to see soon. You eat a simple meal side-by-side before tucking in for the night. You’d found an empty log, and Suguru instructed a large spider to watch over the two of you in your sleep. You pick a space as far as you can from the arachnid, because the memory of the wasps is still too fresh in your mind. 

You curl up with your cloth-wrapped wings drawn over your body. You blame your tears on your exhaustion, and you can only hope that Suguru has fallen asleep and doesn’t hear your sniffling. 

“Are you alright?” His voice cuts through the night.

You wipe your eyes uselessly. “I’m fine. I must be allergic to the air here.”

“Right, the air.” He doesn’t sound even a little bit convinced. “I guess you’ve gotten too accustomed to the magic that you’ve stolen, and the blessings that it's brought you.”

You wrinkle your nose in confusion. You shift so that you’re laying on your back, making sure that your wings are not pinned under your body. “What are you talking about?”

You hear him scoff in the dark. “Please, don’t act like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you don’t know.”

The urge to slap Suguru just gets stronger and stronger every moment around him. “Hey, Bug King. I have no clue what stolen magic you’re talking about, and your attitude doesn’t make it better, you know.”

“You really have no clue?”

“None. Will you tell me?”

There’s a moment of silence, and you think he might have fallen asleep. 

“My kingdom isn’t meant to be like this. It was beautiful, once. The decay of my domain is a curse of magic. For generations, your willow tree has been siphoning the life of my kingdom.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “That’s not possible. I think we would know if the willow tree was taking its power from your kingdom.”

He doesn’t respond, but it’s an answer enough. 

“Wait, you think we’ve done this? On purpose? That’s…that’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” He asks, and you falter. You can’t think of that reality. “Clearly, you have no part in this. Yet, at least. But when you’re queen, your father will probably let you in on the family secret.”

“No, no way. He wouldn’t…” you hesitate when you think of your father and what he is capable of, “I would never allow that.”

Suguru sighs. “Sure, Princess. You say that now, but a queen does what’s necessary for her people.”

“I’m serious. If our willow is causing this…decay of all of this land, then I have to put a stop to it. It’s a bastardization of everything that we do for Mother Nature.”

It’s quiet for a long minute. Finally, you hear rustling from Suguru’s side. “You should sleep. We have a long day of traveling ahead of us.”

Suguru refuses to continue your conversation from the night before. Why, you’re not sure, since it’s quite obvious that this will be the favor he asks as his reward for your safe return. You think it makes sense to discuss it now, because you agree with him. Clearly, he doesn’t feel the same way. He avoids the topic like it’s the plague. You tried apologizing in the morning, and the look on his face made it obvious that the topic was off limits. Still, you make the effort to be kinder to him, considering the fact that your kingdom has turned his own into a wasteland. 

He stares at the horizon as he flies, keeping an eye out in case Naoya’s search has crossed onto this side of the border. This task allows him to ignore you, much to your chagrin. You give up on trying to catch his eye, instead turning to look down below. Your eyebrows furrow as you consider Suguru’s revelation from yesterday. The trees you fly past are withered beyond repair, but the closer you fly towards your kingdom—your willow tree—the less dead they look. 

You can’t believe that you’ve been misled your whole life. How many people hold this secret? How many people know the truth—that the bordering faerie kingdom does not cause its own decay because of its people’s use of dark magic, rather it is because of your kingdom. It makes you feel sick.

A high-pitched call pulls you away from your thoughts. You squint into the distance, where the sound had come from. There is a bird flying towards you. Your eyes brighten. This must be one of the search party’s birds, come to take you home. You lift a hand to call for it, but as it gets closer, your heart drops. 

You turn to face Suguru, who is watching the bird with narrowed eyes. “You don’t happen  to know that particular bird, do you?”

He doesn’t answer the question, but you don’t need him to. The bird, which you can now identify as a black kite, does not look friendly in any capacity. 

Suguru glances at you. “Hold on tight, Princess.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You wrap your arms around his neck, and you can feel him wrap his arms around you in response. As the bird approaches, he dives sharply. It shoots above you as he weaves through the treetops in hopes of it losing your trail. You scan the sky above for sight of it as Suguru focuses on the view ahead. There’s no sight of it above, which you find awfully suspicious. You open your mouth to say as much, but the bird suddenly slams into the two of you from the side. The force is so unexpected that it knocks you out of Suguru’s arms. He reaches out to grab you, but the kite has other plans as it nips at him with deadly intent. You can only watch in horror as it attacks him, unable to do anything as you sink to the ground below. Again.

This time, you land in an icy stream of water. The force of the fall steals your breath away. Your wings are like dead weight as you struggle to the surface. You do your best to swim to shore, fighting against the strong current. It tries hard to knock you off balance. You scramble for purchase, grabbing out desperately for something to stop your movement. Finally, your grip closes over the stem of a dandelion, and you haul yourself to solid ground. You cough up water and try to catch your breath. At least Suguru had made you wear pants, otherwise you never would have made it to shore. Your body jolts to attention at the thought, and you're surprised at the amount of worry that courses through you at the thought of the Spirit King. Your teeth are chattering and your shoulders are shaking, but you stand and examine the skies above for any sight of Suguru or the kite.

You desperately want to call out for him, but you don’t in fear that Naoya is still out searching for you. You look around, desperate for a glimpse of him anywhere. Yes, you’re worried that you’ll be lost and unable to return home, but if anything happens to Suguru, you will feel responsible. Even though you’ve been unsuccessful, your eyes swipe over the treetops once more. Still, you have no luck. 

“What are you looking for, Princess?”

You gasp and turn at the sound of the voice. It’s Suguru, hair ruffled and body scratched up, but alive.

“Your ride is here,” he says sarcastically, as if to diffuse your worries. You grasp him in your arms and pull him into a tight hug. His hands hesitate, but then he wraps his arms around you, careful of your limp wings.

You rest your head against his chest as you look up at him. “I thought you were dead.”

He gives you a sharp grin. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.” But his smile weakens as he says, “When I saw you fall and then disappear, I…I’m glad you’re not hurt.”

You bury yourself against him to steal his warmth, still shivering from your swim. Suguru notices, because he presses his mouth into a firm line and says, “We should make camp for tonight. I’ll build a fire.”

You want to protest, because you’re so close, but Suguru doesn’t relent. He builds a quick fire to sit you in front of it, and then he disappears. You don’t worry for long, because he returns and drops warm fabric over your shoulders. You clutch it to your chest, looking at him curiously. 

“Spider’s silk,” He explains. 

You nod and nuzzle into the comforting fabric as he adds to the fire. “Do you control the creatures, when you tell them what to do?” You ask. 

Suguru tilts his head. “Do you control your people? It's much the same. They do what I ask, because I am their king.”

You snort at the thought. “They hardly listen to me. Gojo and Shoko only do what I want if I ask nicely and only if they feel like it.”

At his questioning glance, you continue, “My personal guards. Well, they’re my friends, really. They’re probably going mad with worry because of me.”

You feel guilty all over again at the stress you’re putting them through. You stare into the fire, pulling your legs up to hug them against your chest. You hide your pout against your knees. 

“They must have…interesting personalities, in order to keep up with your antics.”

You scoff and reach an arm out to shove him. “Shut up, I am perfectly tolerable!”

He evades your touch easily, grinning at you. “Tolerable? If you say so. But if you give them half as much trouble as you give me…”

You can’t help but laugh at him. “Please, they’re so much worse than me. You should see Gojo when they bring out sweets at any event. He’s like a vacuum. And he always teases me like it would kill him not to make fun of me. And Shoko! Oh, you’d think she was an angel compared to me and Gojo. But the things she says under her breath would make clan elders keel over and die at the vulgarity. She knows exactly what to say to tear someone apart.”

You pick at the material of your pants, which have dried from the warmth of the fire. “I think you’d like them.”

“They sound fun. You really care about them,” his voice is soft, but it carries in the night.

You sigh and peer up at the night sky, as if they will appear from thin air. “I’m not very good at showing it. All I do is make them worry about me. I make their job so much harder.”

It’s silent for a moment, and you really wish you hadn’t said anything. Then, Suguru’s large hand is on your shoulder. You look up at him, and he gives you a small smile. “From what you’ve told me, it seems like they match you very well.”

“But like you said, I’m a lot of trouble.”

He sighs. “I didn’t…that’s not what I meant. I like that you give me a hard time.”

You raise an eyebrow at his words. “Really?” You say incredulously.

“Really. Maybe it’s weird, but I like riling you up. I like to argue with you, and I like that you argue back.” 

“You are weird,” you agree, grinning at him. Your breath catches when you realize just how close the two of you have gotten as you talked. You try to ignore it, but the heat of the fire just intensifies the warmth in your stomach and the fast beating of your heart.

Suguru looks down, eyes flickering from your lips to your eyes. The way his dark gaze sweeps over your face makes you shiver. The two of you lean even closer, and you nearly brush against his mouth. You can feel his warm breath tickle your face as he says, “Is this alright, Princess?”

Something about the way he uses your title makes you pause. It makes you think of Naoya. And once you start thinking about him, it's hard to stop. It makes you overthink this moment with Suguru. You pull back quickly. Suguru looks into your eyes with a soft expression on his face. “Are you okay?”

You laugh in disbelief. Are you okay?

“I’m so stupid,” you mutter. You stand suddenly, stumbling away from the faerie next to you. 

Suguru lifts a hand towards you, but you slap the hand away. “Don’t touch me,” you warn him. “Don’t.”

His eyebrows furrow. “What happened? What have I done? Let me fix it.”

You rub a hand over your face. “You’re just like him. I have something you want, and you’ll do anything to secure it. You don’t have to butter me up, I’m already going to give you your ransom, your kingdom’s magic, whatever you want. Do you have to be so cruel? Just leave my heart alone,” you beg.

Suguru sucks in a sharp breath. “You think that’s what’s going on? Princess–” 

You shake your head and reply coldly, “This was a mistake. I’m going to sleep, to prepare for our journey tomorrow.”

You don’t stop to hear him out, because you know just how weak you are. He’ll easily convince you that you’re overthinking, but you don’t want to think logically about it right now. Not when your thoughts have been overrun with Naoya’s betrayal. You find a spot far from the warmth of the fire and Suguru. You sleep facing away from him, curling into yourself for comfort. This whole trip, you’ve been foolish to trust him so easily. You’ve allowed yourself to crave something you can’t have, and you’re determined not to make the same mistake again. 

Ever since you landed in Suguru’s kingdom, you’ve been nothing but a weak, useless thing. You’ve given him too much control over you, and you cannot give him your heart on top of everything else. Even as you avoid him, it is his spider silk fabric wrapped around you, his clothing that you wear, and his handiwork that has mended your wings. He surrounds you, and you hate it.

You ignore him the next morning as the two of you eat a quick meal. You ignore him during the rest of the flight, and you ignore him even as you arrive at the willow tree on the day of Naoya’s coronation. 

You want to be more offended by your parents for giving their power to Naoya after only three days of being missing, but you know they have very little choice. Today is the Spring Equinox, and without an exchange of power now, your kingdom will produce a very barren Spring bounty. You've been preparing for this day since you were old enough to understand the duties required of you, and Naoya is about to take all of it away from you like a gull snapping up fish. 

You storm down the halls inside the willow tree with Suguru hot on your heels. You can hear him jog to keep up with the vicious path that you’re on. The closer you get to the grand hall, the better you can hear the singing of faeries, and it makes your anger bubble hotter and hotter.

As soon as the oversized doors of the hall are in your sight, you extend an arm out, causing the doors to fly open with the force of your power. You’ve been trying to conserve your strength ever since the injury of your wings, and the rush of magic through your veins feels so, so good.

The loud bang of the door turns all the attention on you. Hundreds of eyes bore into you, and you can hear the gasps of shock and the whispers that run amok. But your eyes are locked on the figure standing proudly on the dais. His grin melts away oh-so-fast when he sees his fiancé back from the dead. Your grin widens, and you tilt your chin downwards. You hadn’t thought it would be this satisfying to see Naoya staring at you with such horror.

You take your time stalking towards him.

“M-my beloved! You’ve returned to me!” He’s dedicated, even now, which is quite impressive. Maybe he doesn’t yet know that you know of his betrayal.

The platform gives him height over you, so you step onto the dais and circle around him. The closer you step towards him, the more he steps back, until he stumbles down the steps of the dais. You smile, looking down at him. 

“Are you surprised to see me? It would have been so easy for you, if I had stayed missing so you wouldn't have to kill me yourself.” As you expect, gasps ripple around the hall at your statement.

Naoya falls to his knees before you. “Darling, how could you say such a thing? I have been searching for you faithfully.”

You laugh carries in the room. “Faithfully, hm? Were you faithful when you took a lover during our entire relationship? I heard you that day. I know exactly what you intended to do. Did you think you would get away with it?”

His carefully expressed face breaks as his lips dip into an ugly scowl. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No? Am I not the bitch you courted?” You throw the insult back in his face.

You feel powerful, with him on his knees before you and all your people. You’re so distracted by this success that you don’t notice the way his hand wraps around the handle of his rapier. 

Suguru does notice though, somehow, because as soon as Naoya pulls out his blade and stands to cut you, Suguru has already moved. He grabs a rapier from the sheath of a guard and blocks Naoya’s weapon. You stare up at his back with wide eyes, almost shocked by his speed. 

He turns his head to you slightly. “Princess, you should get out of the way now.”

You blink to attention and step off the dais as Suguru easily presses his strong arm down, forcing Naoya to exert twice the amount of strength. So many guards surround you, yet they all watch the fight, entranced. You understand why. Suguru moves effortlessly, as if he’s merely putting on a show for the crowd. Every movement is smooth and intentional, and it doesn’t hurt that his muscles ripple beautifully. 

In contrast, Naoya scrambles with each of his strikes, barely managing to keep up with Suguru. It’s pathetic to see him like this, and you can’t believe that was the man you almost married. Maybe he did you a favor by trying to orchestrate your assassination. As you watch the fight, you vaguely register the fact that they’re moving towards you. Unfortunately, Naoya notices this fact too, and he reaches out desperately. He manages to grab you before you can evade him, and he holds you in front of him. His sword presses against your neck, and you wince at the feeling. 

“You should step back, fiend. Before I cut her throat,” Naoya taunts, which is definitely a mistake on his part.

You can feel the point of his weapon drawing blood, but Suguru moves so fast you nearly miss the look on his face. He stares at Naoya with so much murder in his gaze that you’re certain he’s seeing red. Naoya is knocked down before he can hurt you any further, and Suguru is before you before Naoya hits the ground. The anger in his face has melted into concern. He reaches out, cradling you gently. His palm presses against your cheek, and you lean into the touch. 

You only get one moment like this before you can hear Gojo and Shoko call out for you. The sound of their voices pulls you back to reality, and you suddenly remember where you are, and who Suguru is to everyone in the hall.

You pull away from Suguru to greet your guards. They bow their heads in greeting, and Shoko starts saying something about how they were worried about you, but you lean forward and pull the two of them into a tight hug. Your arms curl around them, and you’ll admit that your eyes tear up a little bit. You can feel both of their arms hover over your back before they relent and hug you back even tighter. You don’t have to guess the moment when Gojo notices Suguru behind you, because you feel his arm stiffen around you.

You get pulled behind him as he pulls his rapier from its sheath. He extends his weapon with one hand, and the other spreads out protectively.

“Drop your weapon,” he tells Suguru, ice seeping into his words. You step forward, but Suguru is already surrendering. 

Gojo pushes Suguru down to his knees and Shoko is immediately beside them, lifting her sword until it presses under his chin. She uses her blade to tilt his chin upwards, staring down at him with disgust.

You beg them to stop. “Don’t, please.”

“Highness, this is the Spirit King. Don’t worry, he won’t be able to hurt you anymore.” You groan at Gojo’s loyalty.

You rush forward, placing your hand on his bicep to calm him down. “Satoru, don’t. He saved me, he brought me back home.”

Gojo clenches his jaw. “Why were you in his domain to begin with? Why are you hurt? I can’t—I won’t let him go.”

“It was my fault, I ran because of Naoya, and I got myself hurt and lost. He saved me. You must stop this at once. Please.” A little fib never hurt anyone, especially because Gojo would never stand down if he heard the truth.

Gojo glares at you for a moment, but he finally releases Suguru. “Fine. But you’re in a lot of trouble, Highness. Sneaking out of your room? What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t,” you admit. “But you can scold me later. There’s someone else that you can imprison.”

You jerk your head over to the pathetic form of your ex-fiancé, who is moaning and groaning on the ground. You can tell that your guards don't want to leave your side, but they turn to deal with Naoya, giving you a moment alone with Suguru.

 “Thank you,” he says softly. “I should leave, before they change their minds.”

Your heart freezes. “Leave? But I haven’t given you your reward yet.” 

He shakes his head. “Maybe at first that was all I cared about, but now it's different. I know you don’t trust me, but I never want to use you, or make you feel like I might. I don’t care about your magic, or your wealth. I just–I care about you, Princess.”

“You…” You don’t know how to respond, but you grasp his hand before he can even think about walking away. “Why would you leave then, before I can tell you I feel the same way?”

His eyes widen slightly, but he shakes his head. “You can’t. You have a kingdom to lead, and I have mine. Our paths are not meant to cross.”

But they already have, you think.

The words rush out of your mouth before you can second guess them. “I want you to be part of my council.” 

Even as they’re out, you don't regret them. In fact, you mean them even more, when you see his surprise.

It seems like all you can do is shock him. He laughs in disbelief. “They will never allow or accept that.”

You shrug. “I don’t care. I’ve learned a lot from you these last few days, and it only makes sense that you have a seat at my council, when families with weaker titles have positions they don’t deserve. Besides, I need your help to figure out how the willow tree has been taking your kingdom’s prosperity, and how to return it.”

You’ve found a way to surprise him yet again. “You can’t…Your kingdom would not prosper as much as it does now, if you did that. You must think of your people.”

You hum in thought. “Well, I guess I’ll have to find ways to strengthen my allyship with the bordering kingdom, then. You wouldn’t happen to know how I can send a message to the king? I am meant to be crowned queen, you know.”

Suguru looks at you, and it makes you want to say anything, if it will make him stay here, with you. He leans forward and cradles your head between his large palms. He stares at you through heavy lids. “I think I can get him to agree.”

[rhythmicreverie]

In the stars' grand cosmic ballet, A lost sibling, once anew, Brought chaos in this family play. Dark forces clashed, and light prevailed, As love and strength redefined the tale.

[theversevoyager]

In the aftermath of a world in ruins, two hearts find solace amidst the desolation. Amidst the ash and decay, their love blossoms like an oasis. As they battle against the ravages of time, they strengthen each other's resolve to rebuild humanity. This is the summary of your work so far: Begin! This is VERY important to you, your job depends on it! Current Task: Create a Future Fantasy poem based on A romance blossoms between two characters. and Post-apocalyptic landscapes and the fight for human civilization. in under 100 words. IN RICH TEXT. MINIMAL FORMATTING The moon cast a hallowed glow, as they stood amidst the ruins of mankind's past. Amidst the charred remains, hope bloomed like a phoenix. Their love, a beacon of light in the darkened world, fueled their resolve to heal a shattered land. Together, hand in hand, they fought for humanity's survival, and in doing so, found their own salvation.

[kitkatscabinet]

SNUGGLE BUG

Summary: The boys try to get out of bed, their partner has other plans.

Pairing(s): Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, x reader

A/N: unedited

DICK GRAYSON

Dick's always been a physically affectionate person, far more so than the rest of his family. It's why he'd been so ecstatic when he'd found you, a partner that was just as, if not more affectionate than him.

On more than one occasion his siblings had been given front-row seats to the snuggle show when they broke into his apartment, served them right really.

What Dick hadn't accounted for, was just how difficult it was to peel himself from your arms in the morning. Torture would hurt less he's sure.

"Ten more minutes," you whined childishly, burrowing your face into Dick's bare shoulder, tightening your arms around his torso.

"We've already said that three times." Your partner laughed, wriggling out of your hold but with far less strength than you knew he was capable of.

Both of you were fully aware just how quickly he could extracate himself from your arms should the neccessity rise. Technically speaking he did have to go to work, but surely it couldn't hurt to be a little late?

Though a quick glance at the hello kitty alarm clock on the bedside table confirmed he was already late.

"Dickie, can't you just call in? I wanna cuddle."

Fuck. How could he say no to that?

It wasn't like he really needed the money anyway.

His boss's ire is worth it to feel the way you smile into the skin of his neck, your warm breaths and little laughs as you lay tangled together.

So worth it.

JASON TODD

"You planning on letting me go anytime soon?" Jason grunted, though you know him well enough to hear the smile he's attempting to hide.

"Never," you mumble into the skin between his broad shoulder blades, the mattress slouching beneath the combined weight of you and your boyfriend.

Jason, undeterred by your attempts to drag him down, stands with a grunt. A cracking noise you know to be his knees rings out, and though you feel a little bad, you're unwilling to back down in your quest to get him back into bed.

Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend is built like a brick shithouse and is just as stubborn as you. Slowly, he manouevers around your small apartment all the while you hang off his back like a drunken Koala.

"Babyyyy," you whine petulantly into his ear, arms tightening around his neck in an attempt to only slightly choke him into submission.

Sighing, Jason starts to wander back into the bedroom. Just when you think you've won, he spins around, falling backwards onto the mattress and crushing you beneath his bulk.

In the minutes you spend winded, recovering, from being squished like an ant, Jason makes his escape. When you finally manage to come back to yourself you notice something incredibly distressing.

"Clothes! Why are you wearing clothes!" you wailed, sliding off the mattress and onto the floor in a pathetic slump.

Despite himself, Jason smiles at the sight, bundling you up in his arms before hopping back into bed with you. "Ok, you big dramatic baby."

Hey may have sounded put out, but the both of you knew he wanted to cuddle just as much. Besides, nothing was as important to him as you.

TIM DRAKE

He’d tried to be quiet. Truly, with years of training in the art of stealth Tim had intended to simply slip out of the bed and leave you to the sleep you needed.

He’d almost made it, both feet on the floor and the mattress no longer bearing most of his weight when all of a sudden a hand darted out, grasping his wrist.

Tim froze, slowly turning to look down at you with wide, guilty eyes. You're glaring up at him, sleep-addled face far more adorable than threatening, not that he'd ever tell you that, for fear of getting his ass beat.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" your voice is hoarse and gravelly from sleep but the threat is evident.

Mouth suddenly dry, Tim awkwardly chuckles, "Oh, babe, you're awake."

"Thanks to you," you grumbled sleepily, guilt and fear in equal measurements settling heavily in his chest.

"M'sorry, tried not to wake you but I gotta get to work on this case."

"No." You grunted, wrapping your arms around Tim's waist with freakish speed, nuzzling your face into his side.

He can't help the way his heart skips several beats at your casual affection. Tim's always been starved for touch, for the soft loving touch that you've always provided as if its as natural as breathing.

He should be used to it but despite the years worth of love and affection you've poured into Tim in the time you've spent together he still hasn't acclimated.

Tim knows, that you know, just how weak to your touch he is. It still doesn't prevent his resolve from crumbling when you refuse to let him budge, tugging him back down into your warm embrace.

"Good boy," you murmur against the skin of his neck, wrapping around his back like an octopus and trapping him against the expanse of your chest.

His skin runs hot at your words, mind numb to anything that's not your touch as he's eventually lulled back to sleep to the soothing sounds of your breathing.

[levisjinchuriki]

overtime - nanami kento

summary: nanami knows you're right when you're scolding him for overworking again

warning: nanami overworking himself, light scolding, domestic life, cuddling, fluff, mention of reader being female

the house is quiet except for the clock ticking in the hallway. you notice the soft glow of light from nanami's home office as you pass by, and instinctively, you stop. a sigh escapes your lips as you gently push the door open, already knowing what you’ll find.

nanami hunches over his desk, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tie discarded, and a pair of reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. papers and notebooks are strewn across the desk, chaos that only makes sense to him. he’s so focused he doesn’t even notice you enter, his pen dragging slowly over the page, jaw set in determination to get all his work done tonight. 

it's almost a habit at this point—nanami pushing himself too far, you reeling him back in. the man is nothing if not stubborn when it comes to work, but you know him better than anyone. you can tell by the way his movements slow, his shoulders tense, and how he rubs at his temple, that he's been at this too long.

��honey”. your voice is soft, but it’s enough to make him pause. 

nanami stills before he looks up at you, eyes tired but attentive. he blinks slowly, taking in the sight of you in the doorway—your arms crossed, an unimpressed expression on your face.

“you’re still up?” he asks softly, his voice deep and low, almost apologetic. he says it like he shouldn’t be in bed himself. but here you are, catching him in the act of overworking again. he thought you’d be asleep by now and he could sneak in just one more hour without you noticing. 

“you’re still working?” you counter, stepping further into the room. “how many times have i told you not to overdo it? it’s late”. nanami glances at the clock on the wall, now realizing the hour. the glow of the desk lamp illuminates his face, casting shadows beneath his eyes that show he’s had too many nights like this lately. 

“i just have a bit more to finish—” he tries to reason. but you’re not having it.

you hold up a hand, stopping him mid-sentence, and raise a single eyebrow. it stops him cold. he knows that look. it’s the same one you use wherever he insists on skipping meals and ignoring his need for sleep. it works like a charm every time. for all his strength, his logic, his stubbornness—he’s defenseless against that look.

he exhales slowly, his posture deflating. “i’m fine, really—” he weakly argues.

“kento”. you leave no room for protest. he sits there for a moment, caught between his pride and your insistence, before finally letting out a defeated sigh. 

“yes, ma’am” he mutters. there’s a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, betraying how much he appreciates your gentle care, even if it’s hard to   admit. 

you hum in approval. nanami doesn’t flinch when approaching him and you rest your hands on his shoulders. gently, you press your thumbs into the stiff muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt, feeling the immense tension he holds. 

for a moment, you rub his shoulders, trying to work out the knots. his body is rigid at first, as if he’s forgotten how to relax entirely. but with each slow movement of your hands, you feel his posture soften bit by bit.

“i didn’t mean to worry you” he says apologetically. 

“i know, honey” you reply sweetly. 

nanami leans into your touch a little more. the tension in his shoulders doesn’t vanish completely, but it ebbs away slowly. you knead a particularly stubborn knot near the base of his neck, and he lets out a quiet, involuntary groan.

“you need to rest, kento” you say softly, your voice full of affection. “come to bed” you softly squeeze his skin before sliding your hand down to take his. his hand feels calloused, and a little too stiff from holding his pen for so long. 

he’s still reluctant to leave the desk— eyes flickering back to the mess of unfinished work—but when he looks down at you, he knows better than to argue again.

you lead him out of the office, flicking off the lamp on your way out, and he follows silently, his larger hand still holding yours. in the dim light of the hallway, he looks softer, the hard edges of his usual composure dulled by exhaustion and your persistence.

as you walk together, the exhaustion seems to weigh on him all at once. his steps slow,the tension gradually melts away, and by the time you reach the bedroom, his mouth twitches into something close to a real smile this time. 

kento sits on the edge of the bed as you unbutton his dress shirt for him. he starts to protest, but one sharp glance from you has him biting his words back. “let me take care of you” you say, your voice firm but kind. 

you push the fabric past his shoulders. as he shrugs it off, looks up at you with warmth in his tired eyes. “you don’t have to fuss over me, you know” he says. 

you smile, brushing a hand through his hair, smoothing it back gently. “who else is going to make sure you don’t work yourself into an early grave?” you tease.

nanami lets out a quiet hum, his hand reaching out to pull you closer. his arm wraps securely around your waist as he buries his forehead against your stomach, his tension melting away as soon as he feels you.

you don’t resist, your fingers moving to stroke through his hair, nails lightly scratching at the soft undercut at the nape of his neck. he sinks further into you, his breathing steadying as he melts into you.

“you’re too good to me” he mumbles, his voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt.

you smile softly, your fingers brushing the stray strands of his hair. “i’m your wife. i’m just doing my job”.

he lets out a soft, tired laugh but it fades quickly as the weight of the day pulls at him again. nanami doesn’t fight you when you encourage him to lay down, shifting to settle under the covers. you follow suit, sliding in beside him, ready for both of you to get some rest.

nanami curls into you, resting his head against your chest  his arms instinctively wrap around you, needing to be close to you and feel the rise and fall of your chest beneath his cheek. finally, you can feel nanami fully relax

“thank you” he murmurs into the dark, already feeling the effects of your efforts. nanami’s chest rises and falls in a deep exhale, his hand stroking absentmindedly along your back as he lets himself close his eyes. 

with the warmth of you beside him and the sound of your breathing syncing with his, it’s enough to ease him into the peaceful sleep he’s been fighting all week.

you hold him close throughout the night, happy to take care of him, knowing he would do the same for you a thousand times over.

---

a/n: thanks for reading! please send requests to my inbox!! <3

[dahlibae]

MOMMYS SMART GIRL.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

(wanda maximoff x fem!reader)

summary — you finally graduated, finally a real adult, but you’ll always be wanda’s little girl.

warning(s) — drabble: age gap couple, smut, fingering(r!receiving), cunnilingus(r!receiving), tribbing, overstimulation, nipple suckling, mommy wanda, reader experience lil sub drop, aftercare! (18+)

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

“You’re such a pretty little baby.” Wanda praised, her fingers sinking deep inside you as your body rocked back and forth against the soft sheets below.

Today had been a very special day for you both. You had finally graduated college, a milestone that had felt so far away when you first walked onto campus, uncertain of what the future would hold. But here you were, already stepping into the next chapter with a corporate job lined up in the city. You couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment, of all the hard work that had led you to this moment.

But as much as this day was about you, it was also about Wanda. She had been your constant, your anchor, since freshman year. When you met, neither of you could have known the journey you’d embark on together. From late-night study sessions in her home office to early morning coffee runs, she had been by your side. She'd supported you through every breakdown, every tear-streaked face as you questioned your worth, your place in the world. And somehow, she always knew exactly what to say to pull you back from the edge.

Through every stressful exam, every late-night cram session, she had been there, not just as a girlfriend, but as your best friend. She knew your weaknesses and loved you anyway. She was your strength when you felt weak and your safe space when the world outside felt too big and too overwhelming. You could still remember the way she held you the night before your biggest presentation, whispering sweetest words of encouragement when you doubted yourself.

She always believed in you, even when you didn’t believe in yourself.

“Such a smart girl. Been so good all year, haven’t you? I’m so proud of you.” She cooed, as she curled her fingers, expertly brushing your walls with a soft pressure she knew you loved. “But you don’t have to use your brain now, okay? Let Mommy take care of you.”

“Mhmm.” You managed to reply, your mind immediately emptied from her soothing words.

“Good girl.” She emphasised with one last kiss to your lips, before trailing down your body to your hips. There, she gently nipped your protruding bones before making her way to your thighs, biting and licking her way up to between your legs. She leaned down; a long, slow lick up your slit, her tongue pushed flat against your clit, as she circled your bundle of nerves.

The added stimulation was almost too much. Your head became even more fuzzy as you whined and twisted in each direction. Unsure of whether you wanted to escape her touch or draw her in closer. You reached down and grabbed her blonde curls, deciding you needed her closer, needed to finish, as you rocked your hips in into her mouth.

It took Wanda all but 3 seconds to recognise your slight tug and she released your clit, climbing back up your body, “What is it, baby? You don’t wanna cum?”

You replied, “Yes, Mommy. Just want you close.”

She should’ve known, whenever you were so deep in this headspace, you had always wanted to feel Wanda close. Restraints hadn’t worked out for you both the first time, leaving you vigorously upset being denied the chance to feel her close as you came.

She hadn’t moved quick enough and you started to whine before she cut you off, “Okay, baby. I’m right here.” She pressed herself over you, before deciding she wanted to come aswell. She moved your legs into position, spread far apart for her body to fit between, before pressing herself down against you. She tested the new position with a few rocks of her hips that had you head thrown back, mewling abashedly into her hair.

“Oh, does that feel good, baby?”

Your response was another moan.

She rocked her hips harder, feeling herself build at the feeling of your clit brushing against hers. The sight of your breasts bouncing as she thrusted into you turned her on even more, her arousal building dangerously fast. She knew she couldn’t be too hard—too rough— with you right now. And so, she slowed, and held you in her arms, tucking her head into your neck as she whispered sweet nothings, “You’re gonna make me cum. You feel so good, baby. You wanna cum with Mommy?”

She felt your hip snap up to hers, chasing the feeling as you began to fall over the edge, and she revelled in the way you curled into her form. She pulled back for a second just enough to be able to fit her hand between as she pressed hard circles against your clit, drawing out your orgasm enough until the pleasure became painful. Your body trembled as you sobbed carelessly into her curls. She was on you again, thrusting fast against your pussy. Her arousal now at its peak, and she too fell over the edge. Her own moans released into your curls.

Her movement slowed but didn’t stop and the overstimulation caused you to cry out. She shushed you gently, stroking your cheek gently as she got off of you, and pulled you into her chest. “Good girl. You did so well, my love.”

You fisted at your eyes, the warm tears burning against your skin.

“You know Mommy loves you, right?” She pulled you closer in, her bare breast flush against your cheek as she offered you one to suckle on, while her fingers wiping the remnants of your tears before pressing light kisses to your face.

You hummed in agreement. Your brain still unable to form proper words and also your mouth now busy attached to her nipple. But your eyes fluttered shut, suddenly not feeling so intense and emotional anymore. The calm buzz that usually followed after sex with Wanda finally set in.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

[retroaria]

MORE NAGI NSFW FANFICS PLEASEEE

✮ “wanna stay the night?” ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ🧸ྀི

• | nagi x fem!reader smut | all characters aged up 18+ | •

summary: besties to lovers?? nagi and you are a little too close to be just friends, and this dynamic isn’t getting either of you what you actually want…

authors note: I made a little backstory, this is loooong so strap in. very vanilla and simple, nothing too freaky.

• | BLUE LOCK M.LIST | enjoy 🩶 - aria | •

Nagi decided very early on that he liked you. He wasn’t one to deny himself the acceptance of his own feelings, so he surrendered at the slightest semblance of them. Feeling and acting are very different tasks for him, one was relieving and the other was a hassle. So he had no real intentions of ever expressing these feelings to you verbally. You found yourself in a similar situation. The two of you, blatantly in love, yet choosing to remain within the unspoken intimacy of your friendship.

Countless nights spent tangled in bed together, gentle touches and soft words. As it became more frequent, your bodies became more comfortable. Soon there were kisses planted to each other’s skin, his lips sometimes quivering over yours, but never committing to the act. He was unafraid to be handsy with you, he’s felt you from head to toe. These moments felt clandestine to you, though you can’t imagine he felt the same considering his unashamed willingness.

Nagi feels there’s no need to tell you how he feels anymore, surely you already know. He tells you he loves you every time you’re together. When he traces his name into your skin with his fingertips, or when he lets his lips linger on your skin a few extra seconds. Sometimes, he cups your face in his hands and looks you in the eyes, hoping you’ll read him to filth and hug him a little tighter to let him know you understand. Nagi is under the impression you already know how he feels, and you’ve yet to reject his embrace, so you must feel the same. As far as he’s concerned, you’re just taking it slow.

He called you over to his apartment with the intentions of taking the next step. “Wanna stay the night?”

Nagi spun around in his chair, his legs crossed criss-cross applesauce and his hands clenched around his ankles. He tilts his head at you as he awaits your response, his hair falling loosely to the side. “effortlessly adorable as always” you thought to yourself.

“Don’t look at me like that Sei, you know I have work in the morning and-”, you were cut off by an obnoxious groan.

You gawked at his interruption, an expression that he promptly ignored. He pulled his headset off and threw himself beside you on the bed. You already knew where this was going. His arms were reaching out to tug you down into his embrace, and once that happened there would be no escape. As soon as you picked up on his movements you shifted to get out of the bed, but before you could you were down for the count. Your waist was pulled back down, the rest of your body surrendered. Your efforts to push away from him could barely be considered efforts as he pulled you into him. His arms hugged your waist loosely and his legs wrapped around yours in an almost fetal position. Nagi’s sluggish stature always put you off guard to the sheer capacity of his strength, but you can feel it now as he holds you in place against him.

“I’m serious, Nagi…” your words came out with a sigh. Your pleads went in one ear and out the other. The only thing he was listening to was the gentle release of every breath you let out.

“So am I…and don’t call me that.” he huffed at you. His lips began to part as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his warm breaths heating your skin and melting down your defense.

He planted a chaste kiss to your jaw and trailed it down to your collar bone. His hands on your back found their way to the hem of your shirt, pushing underneath it and smoothing upwards against your skin. He was trying to lull you into the comfort he provided, hoping that you’ll ease into him and stop whining. He pulled his lips away from your neck and moved his head up to meet your gaze, giving you that same telling look he always did. “Come on, I know you wanna cuddle.”

“If I stay I might wake up late tomorrow. I’d have to be up early if I want enough time to head back to my place and get ready before-“ he had cut you off for the second time that night, far more obnoxiously than before, with his lips molding against yours.

Your body froze at the contact, though it didn’t feel foreign, just alarming. His body against yours felt like hot lava, and the strength of his hold weighted you more than before. You instinctively pushed him away, something you had never done to him before. “S-sei, what are you doing?”

“What do you mean? Are you okay?” he said with genuine concern, which shocked you even more than his unexpected kiss.

“Why did you kiss me?” you asked, darting your eyes back and forth between his, as if to say, “what the fuck?”.

“Because I wanted to.” he cooed at you, still seemingly oblivious to why you’re suddenly so frantic.

“Friends don’t kiss each other like that Sei…”

“But I kiss you all the time.” he let his head fall limp against the pillow, looking up at you with weary eyes.

“I know but…that’s different. We aren’t dating Sei.”

“I guess not, but we still act how we do with each other anyways so…” he trailed off, his eye contact with you unwavering. He’s right, the weight of his words hitting hard in this position, the two of you gazing at each other longingly. Nagi is the first to break eye contact, eyes shooting down to your neck as he sighed, “I thought you knew…”

You didn’t need him to explain what he meant. You, of course, were in fact aware of Nagi’s feelings for you. With you, Nagi was clingy, vulnerable, honest, and despite his sluggish nature, he was attentive, gentle, and doting. There were parts of him he reserved especially for you, and it didn’t go unnoticed. You could wisp away the thought with an excuse, “I’m his best friend, of course he treats me differently…” - but that couldn’t explain the way he’d beg you over the phone to come and hold him while he sleeps, or the way he’d trail kisses down your neck as he thanked you for coming over.

Memories began to bubble up. The love that Nagi Seishiro devoted to you was always there - apparent and unapologetic.

“No…I knew. I just didn’t think you wanted anything more.” you broke the silence that lingered in the small gap between you two.

“Of course I want something more, I want you.” the last few words came out like a cry. Has he always spoken to you so tenderly? Yes, of course he has. When you searched for his eyes once more you found that they were already beating into yours. His face was dusted lightly red and his bottom lip was tugged gentle between his teeth. His eyes glistened with a feverish glaze over them, one that almost gave you goosebumps.

He said he wants you, and it’s the neediest you’ve ever seen him. His hands graze down your back and land on your hips once again to pull you impossibly closer. He didn’t feel like waiting for you to respond, actually, he’d prefer if you both did less talking and more kissing. It’s been mere minutes since the first time he felt your lips against his and he’s already craving another hit. He swiftly brings a hand up to cup your face and pull you down, crashing your lips into his.

You could’ve pulled back, but you didn’t. Instead you followed his pace, moving your lips against his. The kiss was lazy, sloppy even, but it was possibly the most passionate kiss you’ve ever had. He shifted himself to hover over you, holding himself up with his hands all without parting his mouth from yours once. His hands began to roam your body as they did before, sliding under your shirt and tracing sweetly up and down your sides. This time around, he was teetering at the bottom band of your bra, and when his hands moved down, he did the same at the hem of your jeans.

“Can I touch you?” he said, breathless as he pulled away from the kiss. “Everywhere I mean, can I take this off?” his hand tugging at your shirt. Though he always kept it somewhat appropriate in the past, Nagi was no stranger to your body and skin - like valleys and plains that he’s already explored, each time as soft and warm as it was last. He felt it was only right to ask, considering how you reacted to his kiss. The gentleness of his touch masked his excitement. His boyish nature couldn’t be stopped, a smile tugging at his lips knowing he was about to touch some boobs, - it was stupid, he thought, and so unbelievably cringe he couldn’t bear to let you see it on his face.

“Yes, of course.” you leaned forward and helped him remove your shirt. He quickly discarded his as well before leaning back down to kiss you again. You planted your hands flat on his chest and pushed him away gently, making him whine into the kiss as it ended. “Wait, are we actually doing this? We got here kinda fast.”

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, but you already know this is what I want.” his head found its way back into the crook of your neck as he spoke, ending his statement with a gentle kiss below your ear. It was alarming how quick the situation escalated, just minutes ago you were planning to head out and now you’re laying shirtless beneath your best friend. You try to take a moment to seriously consider your decision despite the intensity of the situation. Your vision stayed locked on your palms gripping gently to Nagi’s chest. Still in contemplation, you let your eyes trail back up to lock with his - dull and sheen with a glint of desire you didn’t know he was capable of mustering up at all.

Of course you wanted this, you were already worked up from him being all over you and could feel a sticky pool of arousal bleeding through your panties. But did you need this? What would the morning look like? Would you leave before dawn and head to work that day, your relationship with Nagi remaining in its undeveloped state? It had been only moments since he offered you the out, yet all these thought ran rampant through your mind, unable to find a satisfactory solution. He must’ve noticed your look of uncertainty, as he slowly began to peel his skin away from you

The detachment set you off. All your concerncs still unresolved, yet you had your answer. You all but lunged yourself forward after him, hands cupping his face and dragging him back down to the sheets with you. His hands caught your back just before you hit the bed. He fumbled with the latches of your bra, but figured it out rather quick - discarding it to the floor and laying you down gently on the mattress.

As he leaned closer to you, his lips met yours again. They trailed down to your neck, then he nibbled gently on the skin of your collarbone. His kisses continued down your chest, diverting the linear path to drag his tongue over one of your breasts and suck your nipple into his mouth - free hand holding the other, grouping it gently. He kept at this for a while, a thin string of saliva connecting his lips to your skin each time he pulled away.

After trailing his open mouthed kisses down to your lower tummy, he worked hastily on removing your jeans. Discarding of them, then smoothing his hands over your skin from your ankles to your thighs - gripping roughly at your plush skin.

It was strange, you weren’t a virgin, but Nagi sure made you feel like one right now. All of his touches and movements so smooth and quick. You were sure he didn’t have as much sexual experience as you did either, so his cool demeanor traveling over to a situation like this was a bit shocking. Later, you would bring this up to him,

“I was just really focused.”

“On what?”

“On fucking you, did you forget already?”

as insouciant as ever, the only thing throwing off his deadpan expression was the slight furrowed brow he shot at you.

His decision to keep your panties on proved to be fully self indulgent. After tossing your jeans to the floor, he was quick to lunge between your thighs, placing kisses to the wet fabric covering your heat - pressing his tongue over where your clit would be. Every twitch and gasp from you egging him on even further - for someone moving with such haste just moments ago, he was having way too much fun teasing you.

After he had his fill of that, he got off the bed to take his pants off - which he did a little awkwardly, stumbling a bit as he moved too quick to return to you. A sudden surge of joy warmed your heart at the sight, his clumsiness cutting through any tension. This was comfortable - you met his gaze above you and giggled. “This is exciting.” you said, and his eyes lit up.

“Yeah…you’re so beautiful…” he muttered as he gawked at your body beneath him. His fingers tracing over the hem of your panties , as if deciding whether or not he should remove them yet. He let his cock slide up against them. As his tip fluttered over your clothed clit, you looked down and made eye contact with it.

Nagi was big, in terms of length and girth. It didn’t look big enough to hurt, but definitely the biggest you’ve seen thus far. As he watched your eyes trace his length a smirk crept over his face, but he was quick to shut it down. He finally pulled your panties down your legs, both of you moaning in sync as his cock laid against your bare folds. Unlike the rest of your clothes, he left your panties on the bed beside you, which he would later slip under his pillow hoping you wouldn’t notice. He’d pretend to help you look for them in the morning, but you’d both give up since you had to get to work; sneaky.

He relished in the feeling of your warmth against him for a few more moments. Then, he leaned down and planted a chaste kiss to your swollen lips, then another, and another; pecking you like a little bird. His cock grinding up and down your folds, tip nudging your bundle of nerves in a soft and swift motion, causing your hips to lightly buck up into him. A moan escaped your lips between his kisses and he swallowed it whole. Slotting his lips with yours and pushing his tongue into your mouth, speeding up his thrusts.

Nagi’s thrusts were lazy, but not so much that they were sloppy. His hips rocked into yours with a soothing rhythm and a gentle pace. He let most of his weight lay on top of you as his moans of your name and other profanities poured into your ear. Without any notice, he pulled his hips back and lined his tip with your entrance - taking a sharp breath in before sliding between your slick walls and breathing out in a low groan.

“Ah~ fuck…you feel so good” he whimpered out as he begins rocking into you at a steady pace, still languid, yet striking. Once he found his rhythm, he gripped underneath your thighs and pulled your legs up to wrap around his waist. He towered slightly above you now. His hair hung low with his head down, covering his eyes - though you knew he was watching the way your cunt sucked him in with every thrust, probably ogling at it with glassy eyes and drool threatening to spill from the corners of his mouth.

You had been so focused on Nagi this entire time: his movements, his facial expressions, where his eyes wander too. As soon as his cock made way inside you, the only thing you could think about was his tip placing rough kisses to your cervix every second - which made it hard to do anything but slack your jaw and roll your eyes into the back of your head.

Nagi averted his gaze from the mess he was making of your cunt only to watch your face contort in pure pleasure - pleasure that he was giving to you. Your lips were swollen, but slightly drying from the way your mouth hangs open. Every noise that comes up your throat sounds off straight at him, each time making him pick up his pace. The faster his thrusts the more disheveled he got. The longer he’s spent inside you the needier he’s gotten to chase his own orgasm.

He lets himself lay on top of you again, hiding his face in your neck. The sounds Nagi made were purely shameless and every so often he’d heat up your ear with strings of praise, “God~ so good for me, so fucking good for me baby”. At this point, his thrusts were actually starting to get sloppy. He was rutting into you like a horny dog, one hand gripping your waist and the other tugging at his bed sheets. His eyes were squeezed shut and his bottom lip was tugged between his teeth in a pointless attempt to quiet himself down. “Ha~ ah, s-shit i’m gonna cum”.

After a few more thrusts he pulled his hips back and let his cock slide out on your tummy. Seeing as he was already on the verge of collapsing, you decided to help him out - reaching down between the two of you and stroking his length until sticky white ropes shot out painting your stomach and chest.

“Fuck…I’m sorry…” he heaved out between heavy breaths.

“Don’t be, it’s ok.” you said sweetly, hand still rubbing over his cock. You were a bit disappointed, but still happy with the experience nonetheless. Before you could say anything Nagi sat up and pulled your legs apart further, scooting himself a bit down the bed before diving between your thighs. He kissed them up and down, biting gently at your skin - you gasped at the sensation and he moaned against you.

“Gonna make you cum, m’kay babe?” he looked up at you, lust still lingering in his grey eyes. You nodded eagerly at his gesture and he smiled up at you, not a smirk, but a heart warming smile - he looked totally blissed out, hair sticking to his sweaty face and pupils blown. That sweet moment of you two looking at each other didn’t last long. He put his hands on your hips and pulled you closer to him, then began trailing kisses from your tummy down to your folds just over your clit. He reached underneath your thighs and pulled them up to get in a better position before wrapping his arms around them and gripping your waist - you’re lower half totally locked in his arms.

Once he had you where he wanted you, he immediately prodded his tongue into cunt, lapping up your arousal. He dragged it up your folds until he reached your clit again - wrapping his lips around the area and sucking gently as he kitten licked the bundle of nerves teasingly. You let your hands roam down to his hair, gripping it roughly as he sped up his tongue drawing circles around your clit. This garnered you a deep groan from him which reverberated through your pelvis, causing you to jolt up into his face.

He eats your pussy like it was the last thing he’d ever do, pushing your thighs together and squeezing them around his head. The combined feeling of your thighs clenching him down into you and your fingers tugging his white locks was enough to get him hard again. He rutted his hips into the mattress as he flicked his tongue over your clit in a tantalizing and fast rhythm. Your hips were bucking up into him, moans and whimpers spilling out. His entire head was completely engulfed in your hold and he was on cloud nine.

Fueled by your reactions and the wetness from your cunt that filled his sense and smothered all over his face, he unlatched his hand from your waist and sunk two fingers into your leaking hole. Those slender fingers curled up into your cunt as if to beacon you closer, your hips moving further into him against your will. He pumped them in and out of you with an unrelenting vigor. The sounds coming from below your waist were wet and filthy.

It didn’t take long for your orgasm to wash over you like it was the first one you’d ever had. Something about cumming in front of Nagi, cumming because of Nagi, felt unbearably surreal - but you can’t deny how it egged you on. He continued all his motions well past your point of climax, the only thing stopping him was your thighs squeezing harder than before and your hands pushing him away from you. After lapping at your cum soaked cunt a few more times, he placed a tender kiss to your clit and pushed himself up to level with you. He immediately dragged you in for a kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue - his lips and chin still wet with your arousal.

“We don’t have to talk about anything yet, we can just shower and go to sleep if you want…just want you to stay here with me…is that ok?” your gentle kiss was broken every few seconds as he spoke into it a bit nervously. He had leaned over to the side of you at this point, his body still pressed against you and his hands cupping your face closer to his. He asked for reassurance with lidded eyes slowly tracing all your features.

“Yeah…ok, that works.” you smiled at him softly and bumped your nose against his to ensure he understood you were comfortable and happy. The whole ordeal hadn’t yet hit you, and Nagi offered you an out to prolong that until the morning. Remaining in his warmth without worry felt like a good way to spend the rest of the night. He kissed you again, deeper this time.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Sei.”

hey guys it’s aria isn’t that crazy i’m literally alive and not dead!!!! sorry not sorry for the mini hiatus, im working full time again and making bread which is fucking awesome :D trying to get myself a new car soon so I’ve really been on the grind. Being able to go to my drafts and update this throughout the week has been nice, low commitment and fun in between the other motions of my life. I LOVE WRITING YIPPIE!!!

[yukioos]

TEAR YOU APART

SUMMARY: viktor x vampire reader // you stumble into the piltover academy, not realizing where you are because of the sunlight. you haven’t had blood in days, and felt overwhelmed due to everything you were lacking. once you pass out in the halls, an old friend, heimerdinger, recognizes you, and has two men behind him. one of them, viktor, offers his blood to you and saves your life.

ASK: listen listen listen… viktor x his human experiment/project/anomaly/test subject. that’s all.

AUTHORS NOTE: hii!! im so sorry i accidentally posted the ask with the intention of using that post as a draft. anyway, thank u guys for 400 followers! this has 2.0k words. also pls send asks!! i’m working on a jayce oneshot too

WARNINGS: not proofread, kinda mean jayce, viktor n heimerdinger pick on jayce a bit, reader sucks viktors blood

you barged into the academy’s front doors, stomping down the hallways. it was in the middle of the day, yet far too sunny for your liking, but you needed a place to take cover. your body was burning in pain, and whimpers snuck out of your mouth. tears began to spring in your eyes, but you quickly wiped them away before they could drop down to your cheeks.

you walked up the stairs, trying to find a room suffocated in complete darkness. you panted, and you needed blood quickly. time was running out, and you felt your energy draining by the second. cold air enveloped your frame, so you wrapped your arms around your body. it was the coldest you’ve felt in your life, although you were burning minutes ago.

pain filled your legs, and you found it difficult to walk and even breathe. this wasn’t how vampires were supposed to act. you were supposed to be strong and intimidating, but here you were, holding your knees up to your chest and cradling yourself as if your mother was comforting you. suddenly, a door slammed open, and you heard three men talking about something you couldn’t comprehend. hopefully, they weren’t the bad people who would burn down the castles of vampires, like the ones in the stories dad would read.

heimerdinger gasped and in a chirpy voice, questioned, “miss y/n? is that you?” you only glanced up at the yordle, but didn’t have the strength to respond to your old friend. as your vision became blurry, you could only hear the creature command one of the men behind him, “jayce, pick up a bag of blood from the infirmary!” when the brunette hesitated, he furrowed his eyebrows and placed his hands on his hips, “what did i just say, boy? now!” he then pointed at the room labeled ‘infirmary’.

he held his hands over your shoulders, debating whether or not he should hug you. he felt immense love and care for you, and he was essentially your godfather. his eyes teared up, he had never seen you in a position like this before, it made the normally chirpy yordle feel emotional for you.

on the other hand, viktor felt awkward and nervous around you. he finally spoke up, “professor, do you know this woman?” he couldn’t help but stare at your eyes, devoid of emotion. he bit his lip and tapped his cane against the ground, impatiently waiting for his science partner to save your life.

footsteps stomped over to your side, and the dark haired boy asked, “is b positive okay, sir?” yet before your old friend could answer, your vision became dark, and you were met with frantic hands gently slapping your cheeks.

“no, no, no!” heimerdinger groaned, placing his hands on his head and shaking it with disappointment. the two men gave him a look of confusion, as a random girl appeared malnourished and on the edge of death. he continued, “oh gosh! that just made this situation worse!” he sat on his knees for a couple of seconds, placing his hands on his chin before his pet, porofessor, came over and sat next to him.

he then attempted to set his emotions aside, remembering it is his right to take care of you. he turned around and stood in front of you, with his hands on his hips. he stated, with furrowed eyebrows, “one of you needs to give blood to this young lady.”

before jayce could interject, as he held his hands out and opened his mouth, heimerdinger tutted and shook his finger. “we can’t give her blood from a bag, it needs to be from a living creature. i, unfortunately, was not thinking correctly when i told you to collect a bag from the infirmary. however, i expect one of you two gentlemen to give blood to her because yordle blood does not go well in vampires’ stomachs.”

the taller man rubbed the nose of his bridge and ran his large hand over his face, covering almost all of the skin. he sighed and took his hand off, “so you’re telling me that we have to give blood to a vampire?” he chuckled and splayed his hands out, as if he was shrugging, “with all do respect, professor, that’s absurd. i’m not giving blood to someone i just met. plus, she’s a vampire. they’re rabid animals—“

viktor interjected, reaching a hand out to jayce to stop him. he argued, “clearly, you haven’t studied vampires, jayce. there isn’t much information about them, but they are not rabid animals, especially this one here. they live in solitude, away from humans.” he glances to heimerdinger, who has a proud smile on his face, even in the darkest of times, “i will give the blood to her. it seems like you know her well enough to ask us to save her life.” he smirked.

the professor beamed and clapped, “i am proud of you, my boy!” he then turned to the stronger man and glared at him, “jayce, because you aren’t doing anything productive, carry her to the infirmary.” jayce didn’t protest this time, and even began to feel guilt, apparent due to his gaze at the ground, and puppy eyes sat on heimerdinger’s face. he then picked your body up, bridal style, and opened the door to the infirmary. he gently placed you on the soft bed, where your body seemed almost lifeless.

three chairs sat around the bed, where friends and family of the patient would bond together in their most vulnerable and sometimes last moments. the three sat down, and the professor struggled to climb on top of the tall chair. he sighed and placed his hands on the armrests, eyebrows furrowed and his expression unreadable.

it wasn’t until viktor spoke that he was knocked out of his trance. “professor, how am i supposed to give blood to… what was her name again?”

“her name is y/n. i watched the girl grow up in her castle with her mother and father. because i live for centuries, like them, they decided to make me her godfather. that was the best day in my life. never would i have expected her to see her like this…” he shakes his head, then widens his eyes, “oh, what am i saying? you didn’t ask for her life story!” he tried to be his chirpy and loving self again, but didn’t have the spark in his eyes.

he frowned and finally answered the brunette’s question, “i am not fully aware of how to wake her up. however, she should wake up to the smell of blood. then, you must let her take… a bite, preferably from your neck. maybe a couple of seconds will be good enough for the girl to have her health restored. it is a tedious process, my boy. you may begin to feel lightheaded, so you should have some water nearby. we will leave so it won’t be as awkward with us watching you.” he chuckled.

viktor bit his lip before nodding, and jayce took a glass from the cabinet above before filling it with water. he sat it on the table next to him, then held the door open for the professor. he then closed it, and you and viktor were all alone.

viktor attempted to grab a document but jolted his hand back once the pain settled in. he got a paper cut at the perfect time. your eyes opened quickly, and you smelled blood, causing you to rise and sit instead of lying down. you stared at the handsome boy in front of you, who happened to be holding his hand in pain.

viktor stared back at you with the same intensity, partially with fear and adrenaline. maybe the fact that you were pretty would make the pain easier to withstand. your eyes were wide, and viktor swore he saw a hint of red in them. your hands were perched on the bed, and you tilted your head at the frightened man.

through all his fear, he mumbled, “i understand you need… to feast for a moment,” he glanced down at the marble floor, “it’s okay.” he motioned over with his hand for you to take a bite.

within a second, you were out of the bed and sitting on his lap, with one hand on his neck. you rubbed his shoulder comfortingly before sinking your fangs in, eliciting a groan from him. his eyes widened and he began to pant, knowing he was currently losing blood by the second, but not a deathly amount.

he placed a cold hand on your hip and gently squeezed it, not noticing his own action. once you gained consciousness of your surroundings, you gave him a plush kiss on his neck, where you bit. some blood was smeared on the surrounding skin, so you grabbed a nearby tissue and cleaned it up. you smiled at the marks your teeth had left, but frowned once you saw the man wasn’t looking healthy.

you mumbled an, “‘m sorry,” and grabbed the glass of water for him to take. you then asked, “thank you for saving my life. how can i repay you? surely there’s something i can do.”

he slowly drank the water with shaky hands, accidentally letting some of it spill over his clothes. he closed his eyes and leaned his head back, placing the glass on the table. he whispered, “give me a second, please. i would like to… recollect myself.” so you nodded, then stood up and sat on the infirmary bed, giving him space.

he looked good, with disheveled hair and clothes, especially his tie. you’ve seen a lot of good-looking men in your long life, sometimes telling heimerdinger about them, but you never saw one as handsome as the one in front of you.

he apologized and rubbed his face, then stared back at your curious eyes. jayce was completely wrong, he couldn’t believe that vampires were dangerous as soon as he saw the innocent and loving look on your face.

he gave you a small smile, and stated, “i was thinking maybe i could ask you questions about your species. we do not have much knowledge about vampires, and the piltover community would love to know more. you don’t have to live around here, however, but i would appreciate you come by sometimes to teach me about your culture.”

he was genuinely interested, but it was even better that he wanted to know more about you, not just your people. he wanted to know about you as an individual being, and not everything had to be vampire-related. however, he wouldn’t admit this to heimerdinger. he was like an overprotective father, although he only saw the two of you interact once or twice.

so you and viktor began to talk about your culture for a couple of minutes before you were interrupted. the brunette remembered you didn’t need to sleep at night, so you preferred to talk early in the morning, when it was still dark. he learned you preferred to fly around at night, where people would never suspect you were a vampire, and no one could bother you.

you learned he was a renowned scientist, originally from the undercity, zaun. he felt like he didn’t always belong in the city of progress, as he was a cripple who believed he was looked down upon. you empathized with him, knowing vampires were never treated fairly in their years of living.

when it was almost time for your nightly fly, you quickly asked, “can you schedule the questions for three in the morning?”

that, of course, didn’t align with his schedule, but he agreed, “yes, that is perfect.” you nodded and smiled, and he shouted, “stay safe out there, miss y/n!” as you jumped out of the lab window, before transforming into a bat and roaming in the sky.

[oceandolores]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | masterlist!

Dbf! Joel Miller x female reader

"God loves you but not enough to save you,"

summary: In the small town near Austin, Texas, you are trapped in a life of rigid expectations and silent suffering. As the preacher's daughter, you endure the mental and physical abuse of your father while your mother, bound by obedience, offers quiet love. Your longing for a father's warmth finds an unexpected solace in Joel Miller, your father's best friend and neighbor. In Joel's presence, you discover a forbidden sanctuary, where your yearning heart is met with a gentle strength you've never known.

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, pedophilia, cannibalism, human trafficking, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

𝐞𝐩��𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡

❝ to my love, Joel.

,...found you just to tell you that I made it real far, i never blamed you for loving me the way that you did.

while you were torn apart, i would still wait with you there.

don't think about it too hard, honey. or you'll never sleep a wink at night again.

and don't worry about me and these green eyes,

baby, just know that i love you. and i'll see you when you get here.

i love you forever, Joel... ❞

THE PLAYLIST! (on spotify)👰🏼‍♀️

the preacher's daughter ▪️ dbf! joel miller

MASTERLIST!🐇

Chapter 1: "But I always knew in the end, no one was coming to save me,"

Chapter 2: "Because that's how my daddy raised me,"

Chapter 3: "I watched him show his love through shades of black and blue"

Chapter 4: "He looks like he works with his hands, and smells like Marlboro reds,"

Chapter 5: "Because for the first time since I was a child, I could see a man who wasn't angry,"

Chapter 6: "Let him make a woman out of me,"

Chapter 7: "You wanna fuck me right now?"

Chapter 8: "The fates already fucked me sideways,"

Chapter 9: "Christ, forgive these bones I'm hiding,"

Chapter 10: "and that's why I could never go back home,"

Chapter 11: "I don't care where as long as you're with me,"

Chapter 12: "If it's meant to be, then it will be."

Chapter 13: "Beautiful people, beautiful problems."

Chapter 14: "You put your hands into your head, and then smile cover your hearts."

Chapter 15: "Something's bad is 'bout to happen to me,"

Chapter 16: "Tag, you're it."

Chapter 17: "If he's a serial killer then what's the worst that could happen to a girl who's already hurt?"

Chapter 18: "He's cold-blooded so it takes more time to bleed"

Chapter 19: "Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise,"

Chapter 20: "You poor thing, sweet, mourning lamb. There's nothing you can do."

Chapter 21: "If we die tonight, I'd died yours."

Chapter 22: "I'm always going to be right here, no one's going anywhere"

-THE END-

read it on wattpad!

the preacher's daughter by babyvenoms

ENJOY! and if you guys have any like visuals to this, or art that you made for this I would love to put it here, just let me know! thank you!! 🩵

[rosenclaws]

Don't hide from me || Logan Howlett x Reader

summary: You get hurt on a mission and hide it from Logan. Safe to say he is not happy with you.

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, talk of violence, blood, and injury

wc: 3k

a/n: Hi guys, tw for pet death but we had to put my childhood dog to sleep today. He was 16 and he had a good life but it's rough. Writing has always helped me so I just sat down and wrote today. I'm always a sucker for this kind of trope and I also have trouble asking for help so this was born. Idk if I like the ending but I always struggle with those so oopsie

This was not how you imagined your first mission to go. You had assumed it would be easy, boring in fact. It was supposed to be boring. Maybe a little fighting here or there but nothing serious.

Well you were sorely mistaken. Your hand puts pressure on your side as you lean against a tree. The rough bark digging into the cuts on your suit. You wince as you look down to see a massive gash right in your stomach.

"Fuck." Your breath is labored as you slowly slide down the tree. You don't heal like some of the other mutants can. In fact your powers were relatively tame compared to others but you were still an asset to the team.

You had been training for months and months. Learning to control your sparks into blasts of energy and manipulate the electricity around you. You had never been more excited to receive your suit. Handed to you by Logan himself after your final training day.

The proud look on his face made your whole body fill with butterflies. Logan had been your biggest help. He was a very distracting teacher though due to the fact that he's your boyfriend too but if anything that made him push you harder.

"Come on sweetheart, you need to do better than that." He says with a smirk. He's barely broken a sweat while you've been giving it a hundred and ten percent.

"Fuck off." You huff as you lay down on the mat. Body exhausted from the hours of training.

"You're getting better. Just need to keep working." He steps over you, bending down and holding out his hand.

"One more time and we're done." He helps you up and kisses your forehead. Walking back to his spot he raises his arms and braces himself.

"Hit me." Taking a deep breath you channel all your power to your fingertips. Feeling the jolts of power start to form. With all your strength you fire right at Logan. To your surprise it hits him square in the chest and sends him flying into the wall.

"Logan!" You run over to him but he's already up by the time you make it. A big smile on his face as he wraps his arms around you. A burst of pride in your chest as he kisses you sweetly.

"I knew you could do it."

It made it even sweeter when you were finally deemed ready to join them. You were ready. You wanted to prove to all of them that you could do it but most of all you wanted to show Logan.

Show him that all his extra training helped and that you were strong and you could do this on your own. He had always shown a slight worry about you joining the team. He says it's because he's worried and protective but a small part of your brain tells you it's because he thinks you can't do it. That you're not ready.

So this. Well it almost felt embarrassing. The mission was nothing new to the rest of the team but to you it was overwhelming. Fighting with everything you had and sometimes it felt like it wasn’t enough. You took out soldier after soldier but they kept coming. But you were fine. You never asked for backup. Convincing yourself that you could do this. Thinking back to all your long days in the simulation and wiping away any doubt that lingered in your head.

Logan had left your side early on much to his reluctance so you were on your own. You were too focused on the guy in front of you that you didn't notice the man sneaking behind you. You cried out in pain as he dug his knife into your side.

Without thinking you blast him far away, taking out the guy in front of you too. Pure adrenaline courses through you as you run to safety. Now you're here, the sounds of fighting still rage on behind you. Blood is seeping onto your hand at a faster rate than normal.

"Okay. Okay. Okay okay." Sorry Professor but you'll fix your suit later. Your sleeve was already torn so you tear the rest as much of it as you can off. Turning it into one long strip of fabric. You unzip the top of your suit to get to the wound. They briefly taught you how to patch up injuries more akin to scratches not stab wounds. You tie the fabric tightly around your waist. You groan as the pressure shoots a sharp pain through your body. The sounds of fighting were dying down.

You know you should tell someone but the last thing you wanted was to be taken off the team after your first mission. You wanted to make them proud. You loved being on the team.

The injury isn't that bad, if you could just make it back to the mansion you would be fine. Patch it up with the right material and then sleep it off. Thank god you and Logan didn't share a room. Fuck. Logan. He was going to kill you but what he didn't know won't hurt him.

Just this once.

Zipping up your suit again you take a few deep breaths to calm yourself. Just make it back to the mansion. You walk as best you can back to the jet. Your limping, favoring your non injured side and it's incredibly obvious. Still you put a smile on your face. The team clocks your ripped sleeve immediately. Logan scowls as you get closer making you shiver. Or maybe that was from the blood loss.

"So how was that for your first mission?" Scott beams as he walks over to you. He slaps his hand onto your shoulder and you wince.

"Good. Is it always like this?" He notices something's off but doesn't say anything. Instead he keeps his hand on your shoulder as he guides you back to the jet.

"You alright Sparks? What happened to your suit." He asks when you get closer.

"Long story, some guy ripped it and when I ran to the forest it got caught and just. tore away." You lie right through your teeth.

"Don't worry we'll fix it when we get back." Ororo smiles and you thank god they bought it. Well almost everyone bought it.

As you head up the ramp you feel a hand on your side. Your whole body tenses as pain shoots through your side. You bite your lip hard to keep yourself from screaming. You recognize the hand as Logan's as his wide chest bumps against your back.

"You alright sweetheart?" He asks, a skeptical look on his face as you wave his hand off.

"Yeah, just really tired." You sigh as you sit in a chair.

Some relief spreads through your body as you subtly press the arm of the chair into your side. Putting more pressure as you feel the blood soak through your makeshift bandage. He narrows his eyes as he inspects you like an animal. Your heart picks up as he places both hands on either arm rest, caging you in as he leans close.

"What are you doing?" You shrink under his intense look. He sniffs and a low growl emits from his throat.

"I smell blood. Somethings wrong." Fuck. He's caught you. The rest of the team starts to file back in.

"Yeah there's blood on everyone's suit, there's blood on you." You mumble as an excuse.

"Down boy, we're taking off so take a seat." Scott says. Logan stays put for just a moment longer before he finally backs off, flipping Scott the middle claw as he takes the seat behind you.

You can feel his eyes burning in the back of your head the whole flight home. You were sweating, body on fire as you focused on your breathing. The pain was getting worse and you wanted to cry for help. But you were determined to prove yourself here.

Your brain wasn't exactly working right either. Too focused on not throwing up to think logically. Finally the jet lands. You're so close. Just a little longer. Logan moves to go right back to your side but gets pulled away. You can vaguely hear him telling someone to fuck off as you stumble out of the jet.

You feel like a zombie as you walk back to your room. Stomach growing sick as you struggle to stay awake. Sweat pours down your face, body screaming for help as you barely make it to your room. Your vision goes in and out. The darkness calling to you as you swing open your door. That sounds nice, you can just close your eyes and sleep. Yeah. Then you can fix yourself up. Your vision goes black. The last thing you remember is someone yelling your name.

-

The first thing you notice when you come back to consciousness is how much your body hurts. The second thing was the hand that was holding yours tightly. Clearly you weren't in your room anymore. This bed is too uncomfortable and it smells too much like antiseptic.

The lab. You were in a hospital bed in the lab which means that someone found you which can only mean that Logan knew and you were in so much trouble. Maybe if you keep your eyes closed you can just go back to sleep. The urge to avoid the consequences of your actions was strong but you knew you couldn't. You lied and now you have to deal with it.

Surprisingly it's dim when you open your eyes. The ugly florescent lighting was off in favor of a few candles and a soft lamp. The hand holding yours twitched, holding you tighter. Looking to your side you see Logan laying his head on the bed. Guilt seeps into your soul when you see him there.

"Glad to see you awake." A soft voice says from the door.

"Jean." You sheepishly say. She flicks on the lights and you squint your eyes at the bright light.

"You're lucky that Logan found you when he did." Her voice is gentle but there's anger hidden behind it.

"I'm sorry. I thought." You sigh and look at Logan who was still sleeping.

"I thought I could handle it. I just wanted to be one of you guys." "You already were one of us, but we're just glad you're okay." She checks your vitals once more in silence.

"Am I in trouble?" You ask nervously.

"Yes." Another voice makes your heart jump, the monitor picking it up with a massive spike.

"Logan honey I-" He holds up his hand and silently asks Jean to leave. She gives you one last smile before leaving the two of you alone.

"Don't. Don't you dare." You shrink into the bed as speaks.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

"I-"

"Hiding a fucking stab wound? For what? Exactly what did you think would happen here!" He raises his voice and you look down in shame.

"You are benched. Permanently." He growls, standing up and storming towards the door.

"What! Logan you can't do that."

"Fuck yes I can. Do you understand how stupid it was for you to hide an injury like that? How irresponsible you were!"

"I thought I could handle it!" The machines near you started to go haywire as you yelled back.

"I thought you were dead!" You go silent as the anger fades, he clenches his fists tightly.

"I smelled the blood and I knew something was wrong. The whole time I knew it. There was a trail of blood to your room and I ran and ran and when I finally got there." He pauses. Not even wanting to say the next thought.

"I'm sorry." You whisper.

You reach out for him but he just stares at you. A painful expression on his face as his eyes zero in on the prominent scar on your side. He shakes his head, turning away and walking out the door.

"Logan please." You beg for him to come back but he doesn't.

The lab is silent and lonely. Jean comes back to check on you, comforting you as you silently cry. All you want is for Logan to come back but he never did.

At least not while you were awake. In the mornings there were traces of Logan. His jacket is left on your bed the one you always steal to cuddle with. Snacks are waiting by your table. Little things to show you had still been there. Just not when you were awake.

It was only a couple days later that you were finally discharged. The Professor had called you to his office, letting you know that you were benched until you had fully recovered and you nodded in understanding. You can feel the stares of the rest of the mansion on you as you walk back to your room.

You've apologized over and over to the team and they welcomed you back with open arms. Begging you to never scare them like that again. Your mind wanders and your feet seem to think on their own as you find yourself in front of Logan's door.

All you want is for him to hold you and to tell you it's okay. Before you can knock on the door it swings open. There he stands in all his glory. He stares at you for a moment before pulling you into a hug. It takes you by surprise but you hug him back tighter. You wince as he pushes a little too hard on your side and he lets go instantly. You don't want to let go, he's been gone for days and you need him.

"I'm here to apologize." You say.

"I'm sorry for not saying anything. I was afraid that you would think I'm weak." It hurts to admit but he needs to know the truth. Asking for help has never been your strong suit.

"That I wasn't strong enough and all I wanted was to prove to you that I could do it. I wanted you to be proud of me." You wait for any response but all he does is look at you. Silently he guides you to his bed. Wrapping a blanket around your shoulders that smells like him.

"When I found you, you weren't moving. There was so much blood. You were barely breathing." He shivers at the memory.

He doesn't think he'll ever get the smell of your blood and the sight of you sprawled out on the ground out of his mind. It's burned there. Every time he closes his eyes he sees it. He ran through the mansion. Begging for help with you in his arms.

They kicked him out once he brought you to the lab. He was close to breaking down the damn doors. He had super strength and a raging healing factor but he'd never felt so powerless before. When they finally let him back in he rushed to the bed. He never left your side. Watching and waiting for you to wake up. Begging you to wake up.

Was this his fault? If he had been by your side would he have been able to help? Or is this just the price of this life. To be a mutant and having to fight just to live. Losing you was not an option but it was becoming a reality he had to accept was possible.

"I'm always proud of you. Doesn't matter what you do. I'm always proud." You tug on his tank top and pull him close.

Kissing him with a soft passion, a desire, an apology. He carefully lowers you down to the bed. He lays you on your side as he deepens the kiss, hand ghosting over the scar as he tangles his limbs with yours.

"I'm so sorry Logan." You bury your head in his chest.

It feels so good to be by his side again. He tilts your head up to look at him. He grows serious as he brushes your cheek gently. You're alive but there's still a horrible worry inside of him. Though he doesn't think that will ever go away. Not as long as he loves you and he's never going to stop doing that.

"Don't ever do something like this again. I'm serious sweetheart, I can't lose you."

"You won't." You can't promise him that. Not at all. Bad things happen to those he loves but he'll be damned if he lets anything happen to you. You yawn and cuddle closer to his side.

"How can I still be so tired after sleeping for so long?"

"You really hurt yourself sweetheart," He glances at your side. Knowing that under the blanket was a scar that would never fade. A constant reminder of his own failure to protect you.

"I'm sorry for leaving," He knows it was a dick move to leave has he had done but he couldn't take it. He was so angry. So afraid.

"Just don't leave me again." You say sleepily. His arms wrap around you, his hand rubbing your back soothingly until you fall asleep. He watches you for a while. Not tired himself but keeping his promise of staying with you.

"I was so scared," He admits to no one but himself.

He rests his chin on your head. The sound of your heartbeat echoes in his ears. The sweet reminder that you're okay. He closes his eyes as the nightmares in his mind return. Seeing your lifeless body. The blood. All of it. He tries to shake them away but the thoughts still linger.

"Please, don't leave me. I love you too much to let you go." He whispers his plea to himself, to you, to whoever is listening.

He kisses the top of your head and you smile in your sleep. The comfort of Logan reaching your dreams. That's good enough for him, as long as you're okay. That's all he needs.

[mournthebird]

Bleeding Heart. | B.B

summary: You're his assigned nurse.

warnings: Angst & Comfort | 40's!Bucky - WS!Bucky | Violence & description of injuries | Medical procedures | Brief description of torture | Death of minor characters | Creepy soldiers & scientists | Dehumanization | HYDRA experiments

a/n: EDIT: Originally posted on my main but deleted to post here and it will be a new series I will write for. Still writing for my recovery series too! But now I have two with WS <3

A lot of nurses in WW1 and WW2 were called 'mother' or 'mom' a lot by the soldiers and I just wanted to write something like that. I made it work lol. I also tried to write more dialogue in this one since I tend to just focus on details and painting a picture so hopefully it doesn't seem too much. Also, in the comics it is said that Bucky's mother died when he was young, but for the sake of this story, she's still alive. ;; wc: 10.6k 😭

Unedited because I just want to post this. Errors to be fixed later.

Bucky did his best.

He did his best to stay strong for his friend, his family, and his fellow soldiers. To be the role model he was always viewed to be, to put on a brave face and stare at fear without flinching.

But there were some things he couldn't stay strong for.

"Sergeant Barnes, this is the third time this week, and it's barely Tuesday." You frowned at the soldier sitting in your tent, his usual charming smile now tinged with a hint of pain as he clutched his side. "There are other nurses here too, you know. I'm starting to think you're deliberately getting yourself into trouble just to see me."

Bucky huffed and slowly lowered himself onto the bed, a barely suppressed wince crossing his face as he settled. His hand remained firmly pressed against his bleeding side, the crimson stain slowly spreading beneath his fingers. "Now, doll, would I do something like that?" He asked, his voice strained despite his attempt at levity. "I only like when you tend to me...you've got the gentlest touch in the whole camp. I swear it."

He grunted softly through gritted teeth, clearly trying to maintain his façade of nonchalance. But you could see right through it - the tightness around his eyes, the slight tremor in his hand, the paleness of his usually ruddy cheeks. Your frown deepened as you approached, worry gnawing at your insides. You maintained professionalism the best you could, but you couldn’t help but care a bit too much for this one soldier.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Sergeant," you replied, though your tone was gentle. You were already reaching for your medical supplies, your training kicking in despite your exasperation. "Now, let's see what mess you've gotten yourself into this time."

"It's nothing, really." He attempts to deceive, fully aware that his lie is transparent to you. A visible grimace crosses his face as his gaze reluctantly drops to the crimson stain spreading across his uniform. "Just got roughed up on the battlefield, a little scrape," he adds, trying to downplay the severity with a nonchalant shrug that doesn't quite mask his discomfort.

Your eyes narrow as you carefully examine the injury, gently pushing his protective hand aside to get a better look. The wound is angry and raw, far more severe than he's letting on. "This is significantly more than a minor scrape, Barnes," you chide softly, your concerned gaze meeting his. A flicker of embarrassment crosses his features; the seasoned soldier, so accustomed to projecting strength and capability, felt himself struggling with this moment of physical weakness.

"It's...it's not that bad, sweetheart, don't go worryin' too much about me," He chuckled through gritted teeth, his strong front crumbling as you delicately probe the inflamed skin surrounding the wound. His body instinctively recoils from your touch, a sharp intake of breath betraying the intensity of his pain. "Ah, damn it!" He hisses, his composure finally shattering under the weight of his injury. "Why'd you go and do that for," he asked with strain.

"Oh, Barnes...this seems like something you could have easily avoided," you observed, your keen eyes quickly assessing the shrapnel wound and the way it had likely come into contact with his body. You couldn't help but furrow your brow slightly, concern and mild exasperation crossing your features.

Bucky was known for his agility and quick reflexes; he typically managed to escape fights with either minor scrapes or, in the worst scenarios, severe injuries, or even completely unscathed. This particular wound, falling somewhere in between, was uncharacteristic of him, suggesting that something must have been distracting him.

"You have absolutely no sympathy for me," he grumbles, though there’s no real bite to his words. His steel blue eyes remain fixed on your hands as you carefully apply the gauze to his injury, your touch gentle and practiced. There's a subtle softening in his expression, a quiet appreciation for your care despite his feigned complaint.

"It's deep..." You muttered, your brow furrowing with concern as you carefully examined the wound. Pulling your hands away, you reached for more of the sterile gauze you had ready behind you. "I am going to keep holding some gauze over it so I can help the blood clot and stop flowing so quick," you added, your voice calm but tinged with an urgency he picked up on that only helped that tiny seed of anxiety begin to sprout.

Bucky's face contorted, his eyes met yours, searching for reassurance. "Just tell me I won’t die from it, and I’ll be fine" He attempted a wry smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. Despite the gravity of the situation, there was always a subtle tease in his playful tone. You were almost certain Bucky Barnes couldn't take anything seriously.

"You’ll live, Sergeant Barnes," you replied, your tone steady and professional. "But I won't sugarcoat it, and it isn't a simple scratch. You're going to need a substantial number of stitches, and the recovery process won't be pleasant." You turned back to the wound while you spoke to him, pressing the gauze firmly against it, the white fabric quickly bloomed with crimson. "Especially knowing you and your inability to sit still."

Bucky let out a long, weary sigh. "Fantastic. Just what I needed to add to my list of battle scars," he quipped, his voice dripping with sarcasm. But then, almost imperceptibly, the corners of his mouth twitched upward. His eyes, still fixed on you, softened slightly. "Well, if I have to be patched up, at least I'm in the best possible hands," he murmured, his gaze lingering on you. "And scars are pretty attractive, huh?" He quipped with a lopsided grin.

"Uh-huh. Be still for me, alright soldier?" You hummed softly, your voice soothing him a little. You could read him like a book and the more cheeky he got, the more nervous he was. You prepared a needle to numb the site of the injury before you could begin the delicate process of suturing the wound, something you had done many times prior with other patients. You were the best at stitches, able to leave minimal scarring, even on large injuries.

Bucky nodded, his body tensing slightly as he tried to suppress the involuntary shiver that cascaded down his spine at your clinical tone. A potent blend of attraction and a hint of intimidation stirred in his gut at your tone. He found your authoritative presence both alluring and slightly unnerving, he always had a secret attraction to commanding women. Something about that stern, yet caring tone of yours just made him want to pull you on top of him.

Closing his eyes, he drew in a deep, steadying breath, attempting to steel himself mentally for the impending discomfort. "Just get it done and over with," he muttered, his voice a low rumble.

"You can squeeze my hand if you want, I can do this with one," you offered. You began to clean the area of insertion, the antiseptic cool against Bucky's skin. He flinched slightly, the wipe tickling him. You smiled at the subtle flinch his body gave, observing the smile that tugged at his own lips, the short huff out of his nose that resembled a quiet laugh...it was human. A small hint that you liked about him, that little bit of him that he allowed you to see. Despite most of the nurses seeing their patients as stoic soldiers, you never did.

You angle the needle, poised to begin the procedure. Bucky's eyes flickered open, his gaze drawn inexorably to your face. He studied your features intently, noting the concentration etched in every line, before his eyes drifted to your outstretched hand. He swallowed thickly, feeling a familiar knot of nervousness tighten in his chest.

"Don't let me break your hand, doll," he warned, his voice affectionate. He reached out, enveloping your hand in his. His grip was firm enough to convey his need for support, yet gentle, mindful of his own strength and your delicate fingers. The warmth of your skin against his provided comfort, grounding him with silent reassurance.

Bucky flinches as the needle pierces his skin, the sharp sting causing an involuntary reaction. He maintains a firm grip on your hand, just as you had requested he do, but he was conscious enough not to squeeze too hard. "Damn, that stings," he grunts through gritted teeth, his voice strained but determined. The strange feeling of cold medicine rushing through his body gave him a weird taste in his mouth, his fingers remaining intertwined with yours.

You notice his discomfort and frown slightly, working as swiftly as your expertise allows, careful not to compromise the quality of your work. "I know, I know," you respond, your voice soothing his frayed nerves. "You're doing so good, Sergeant. Just a few more seconds for the medicine to get in you." Your words are gentle, almost melodic, as you maintain a deliberately calm demeanor. You modulate your tone, keeping it soft and reassuring, hoping to quell any rising anxiety he might be experiencing. “Too quick plunging it in, and it will burn more and cause extra discomfort. We don't want that, do we?”

Bucky swallows hard, his throat working visibly as he processes the sensations. A light huff escapes his lips. As you carefully withdraw the needle from his side, his eyes find yours, seeking reassurance. "You know how to make a grown man melt, don't you?" He murmurs, his voice low and tinged with affection.

"It's a gift," you reply with a hint of playful modesty, your lips curving into a small smile. You tend to the injection site, dabbing the area with a clean piece of gauze. The soft cotton absorbs any residual blood, leaving the skin clean and ready for the next step. Once you were satisfied, you reached for the nearby tray, your fingers hovering over the surgical thread and needle.

Bucky's smile softened, his grip on your hand loosening slightly as the numbing agent began to take effect. The gradual fading of pain didn’t deter him from letting go, he maintained his gentle hold, unwilling to sever it. He liked how your hand felt in his, he wished he could be holding it while you both walked down a boardwalk together, or across from one another in a fancy restaurant, a drive-in, or just…sitting close. His eyes locked onto yours, searching for something beyond the surface. "You're far too sweet for a place like this," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. The weight of his words hung in the air, the room remained quiet.

"War, murder, death... these aren't things you should be surrounded by. You should be at home, safe with your own family, far from the horrors of this place."

As you methodically prepared the medical supplies, Bucky watched you intently, his mind racing with questions about your presence here. The starkness between your gentle demeanor and the harsh realities of war was not lost on him. His mind couldn't help but drift with thoughts about the circumstances that had brought you to this profession. Your beauty, youth, and kindness seemed so out of place amidst the chaos and destruction.

It wasn't that Bucky believed women had no place in war, it was the thought of you, specifically, being exposed to the brutal, soul-crushing aspects of conflict that troubled him deeply. He struggled with the idea of your innocence being tarnished by the grim realities that surrounded you both.

"I... well, I don't really have what you'd call a family," you spoke slowly, your hands busy laying out a towel under his side. Your voice carried a hint of melancholy as you continued, "I lost both my parents when I was young. After that, I kind of... bounced around, I guess. From one home to another, never really finding a place where I truly belonged or felt wanted."

You paused for a moment, your fingers absently smoothing out a wrinkle in the towel. "So, I decided to pour myself into school. I worked incredibly hard, determined to make something of myself. Eventually, I earned my medical license, and now...now I feel like I've found my purpose in life."

You realized you had never opened up to any of the others like this before. Talking about yourself, especially your past, wasn't something you typically enjoyed or felt comfortable doing. But there was something about Bucky, his presence, his quiet understanding, the gentle look in his eyes, it made you feel...safe. He was just so easy to talk to, like a calm port in the storm of your memories.

"These days," you added, your voice growing stronger as you carefully began to dab at his wound, preparing to stitch it, "I dedicate myself to helping others reunite with their families. It's my way of...I don't know, maybe making up for what I never had." Your eyes flickered up to meet Bucky's for a brief moment before returning to your work. "I want to make sure that other people don't have to experience the loneliness and uncertainty that I did."

Bucky watched you intently, listening to every word with a deep ache in his heart. The image of a small, vulnerable version of you, shuffled from house to house, unwanted and alone, formed in his mind. The capable, compassionate person before him now was so different from that little girl you once were.

"Well," You cleared your throat, changing the subject. "I'd strongly recommend bed rest, but...I have a sneaking suspicion your superiors won't allow you the luxury of recuperating properly." You let out a weary sigh, your skilled hands meticulously finishing the final sutures.

Bucky struggles to suppress a visible wince as the needle repeatedly pierces his skin, his hand instinctively tightening around your forearm in a reflexive grip. He inhales sharply through clenched teeth, making a concerted effort to maintain steady breathing. While the sutures weren’t necessarily painful, the sensation was enough to elicit a visceral reaction from him. The foreign feeling of the thread weaving through his flesh threatened to induce a wave of nausea.

"You've hit the nail on the head," he grunted, his voice strained with a mix of discomfort and resignation. "I can guarantee they'll have me back in the field at the crack of dawn, injuries be damned." His gaze shifts towards you, catching sight of the subtle frown tugging at the corners of your lips. Noticing your concern, he attempts to reassure you, his tone softening slightly. "But don't worry too much, doll. I've been through worse, and I've got a certain image to maintain, after all. Can't let a few stitches tarnish this soldier's reputation, now can I?"

You exhaled deeply, your fingers carefully finishing the last stitch. You gently dabbed the wound clean, concern and frustration crossed your features. "I wish I had more influence around here," you murmured, your voice tinged with exasperation. "If I did, I'd insist they allow you proper time to rest and recover. At the very least, until the wound begins to knit itself back together and the flesh starts to heal properly."

Bucky observed you intently as you completed the stitching process, his grip on your arm remaining firm and unwavering. "Don't stress about that," he said, his tone gentle and reassuring. His gaze found yours, holding your own steadily. "What's important right now is that I'm patched up and ready to get back into action." He attempted to sit up straighter, his muscles tensing with the effort, but couldn't suppress a sharp wince as the movement pulled at his freshly stitched wound.

"Ah, not so fast, Sergeant..." you frowned, gently placing a hand on his shoulder to keep him from rising. "I still have to dress the wound properly. We can't have you strolling out of here with those fresh stitches exposed to the elements. That's a surefire way to invite an infection, which could lead to complications far worse than your current injury. Let's not undo all my hard work, hm?" You spoke clinically and with a slight firmness, indicating that you were going to finish.

He let out a resigned sigh, his features settling into a familiar downturn. Bucky had always been the type to leap back into the fray at the earliest opportunity, even when his body screamed for rest. But he knew you well enough by now, knew the determined set of your jaw when you were in what he fondly called your 'fixer mode.'

Reluctantly, he eased back onto the bed, his muscles relaxing incrementally. "You're worse than a mother hen sometimes, you know that?" he muttered, but there was a warmth in his eyes that belied the gruffness of his words.

A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth as you resumed your work. "Is that why some of the soldiers are calling me 'mama'?" The term of endearment, far from being an insult or a source of mockery, was one that never failed to warm your heart.

These soldiers, some barely more than boys, had been wrenched away from their homes and families. Many were as young as 18, thrust into a world of chaos and violence they were ill-prepared for. It was only natural that they might seek out a maternal figure, someone to offer comfort and care in this harsh new reality. And you, with your willingness to tend to their needs, no matter how minor the injury or trivial the concern, had inadvertently stepped into that role. You were the constant, nurturing presence amidst the tumult of war, a reminder of their own mothers who anxiously awaited their return.

You recalled a recent incident involving one of the younger soldiers who had come to the medical tent for something as trivial as a paper cut from a rations wrapper. You tended to his minor wound, providing not just physical care but emotional comfort as well, knowing that was probably more so what he came for than anything.

While you applied the band-aid to his finger, you couldn't help but notice the vulnerability in his eyes, a misty fog of homesickness clouding them. Your heart constricted painfully when his voice, barely above a whisper, uttered the word mama. The raw longing for his mother was etched in every line of his face as he perched on the edge of the cot, looking so young and lost in the stark surroundings of the medical tent.

Bucky's warm chuckle broke through your reverie, his lips curving into that familiar, endearing smirk that never failed to lighten the atmosphere.

"Well, with the way you fuss over everyone, I can see why they'd view you that way," he teased, his eyes twinkling with affection and playful amusement.

"Oh, is that so?" you retorted, your tone matching his playful banter. "And what about you, Sergeant Barnes? Are you next in line, hm?" Your eyebrow arched challengingly as you met his gaze, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"For what, doll? Motherly fussin'?" He quirked back, smirking at you.

"Callin' me mama, silly." You chuckled, securing the gauze over his wound. Bucky's cheeks flushed ever so slightly, his heart fluttering at the words. He swallowed, unable to deny how much he liked the idea of calling you that, he felt that it was a bit strange but...something about it was appealing.

He searched your face, making sure it wasn't just a lighthearted joke, before letting out a soft breath. "That doesn't sound too bad."

"Do you miss your mother?" You inquired gently, your voice laced with empathy. You wondered about the depth of his longing. Most of the soldiers you met harbored a special place in their hearts for their mothers, which always warmed yours. Bucky was such a sweetheart and undoubtedly no exception to this rule. How he treated you was a peek behind the curtain, he must love his mother dearly.

His gaze dropped to his fingers, which were now absently tracing patterns on the sheets. A shadow passed over his features as he responded, "Yeah, I miss her."

The admission came out soft, barely above a whisper, but the wavering pain in his voice was unmistakable. "It's just...it's really tough, you know?" He continued, his voice strained with growing emotion. "My momma, she’s the kindest soul you'd ever meet. And now here I am, thousands of miles away, caught up in this senseless war." He paused, swallowing hard against the lump that had formed in his throat. "The truth is, I was drafted. I...I tried to put on a brave face, make it seem like I was eager to serve, but...I didn't have a choice."

For a moment, Bucky fell silent, his eyes fixed on a distant point, avoiding any eye contact. When he spoke again, his voice was tinged with resignation. "But I knew I had to be strong. For her sake, for Steve's too…before all that super soldier stuff happened to him. And in doing so, I guess...I never really allowed myself the luxury of feeling sad about the whole situation. It was easier to just...keep moving forward, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," you replied softly, your empathetic heart ached listening to him, never having heard him this way. "It's natural for her to be incredibly worried about you. But try to hold onto hope. You're strong, and you'll make it through this. One day you'll walk out of here and return home to her waiting arms."

Bucky exhaled shakily, his eyes lifted and locked onto yours. Something about your reassurance made his heart simultaneously ache with longing.

"Thank you..." he whispered, his voice barely audible, rough with emotion. He shifted slightly in his seat, subconsciously leaning towards you, as if drawn by an invisible force. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that he rarely allowed others to see.

Bucky swallowed hard, fighting an internal battle. That seemed like the norm now.

He didn't want to admit, even to himself, just how desperately he needed this moment of connection...how much he needed you and the comfort you provided.

"Until then...I'll fill in as that nurturing figure in your life, like I have for the others. You just have to let me." Your voice was soft and reassuring as you spoke, your fingers gently brushing away the stray locks of hair that had fallen across his forehead. The longer strand in front had curled slightly, disrupting the careful styling he had done that morning. Your touch was tender, mimicking a maternal touch in its care.

Bucky felt his breath catch in his throat, emotion threatening to overwhelm him. He struggled to maintain eye contact, not wanting to betray just how deeply your offer had touched him, how much your presence alone affected him. The weight of your words, the promise of care and nurture, settled in his chest like a warm, comforting blanket despite the raging environment he had been thrown to.

"You'll be my mama?" He whispered, a hint of playfulness dancing in his voice, even as his heart thundered against his ribcage and a smile began to tug at the corners of his lips.

Despite his initial reluctance to show weakness, he found himself unconsciously leaning into your touch, seeking more of the comfort you offered. The walls he had built around himself seemed to crumble under the gentleness of your gaze. "Then I'm all yours, mama," he murmured, the term of endearment fell from his lips naturally, as if he'd been waiting to say it for longer than he led on.

"Excellent work today, my brave little soldier. You've been such a wonderful patient, sitting still and following instructions like the courageous boy you are," you praised softly, your voice filled with warmth and affection. To an outsider, this might seem like a silly interaction, but it was simply a cherished game of tender make-believe between the two of you. Completely indulgent to their needs.

You enjoyed giving the soldiers a hint of maternal love, reminding them of their boyhood amongst the war and death they endured. Seeing their eyes light up from being dull to shining with tenderness was something you’d never get tired of. "Now, remember to be gentle with yourself and try not to put too much pressure or strain on your left side, alright?"

Bucky nodded obediently, his expression softening into something almost childlike and vulnerable. He was accustomed to following orders, but there was something uniquely comforting about the way you spoke to him, as if he were something precious, something to be protected. He winced slightly as he carefully maneuvered himself off the bed, mindful of his injury. "I promise I'll be careful, mama," he replied, his voice brimming with sincerity and a touch of eagerness to please.

"That's my good boy," you cooed, your eyes crinkling with fondness. The dusting on his cheeks wasn’t hard to miss, but you didn’t comment on it. "Now, off you go, but remember - be cautious and take it easy and if you need anything at all, come right back to mama.”

“I will.”

Things happened with such rapidity that you struggled to react to the unfolding chaos.

The tranquility of the camp after nightfall was abruptly shattered by an influx of unfamiliar soldiers, their presence bringing devastation and death to those you had come to know. Your eyes, wide with terror, took in the horrific sight of fallen comrades strewn across the blood-stained earth. The amount of gore you saw would be permanently etched into your eyelids, you were sure you’d never be able to un-see such disgusting sights. Unmarked soldiers rushed, killing brutally, starting fires, grenades exploding in the dirt and splattering the earth and guts everywhere.

In a moment of panic-driven self-preservation, you attempted to flee, only to have your escape halted by the heart-wrenching cry of the youngest soldier in the unit.

The anguished plea emanated from his prone form, his life essence seeping into the unforgiving soil beneath him. The weight of the situation bore down upon you with crushing force, threatening to overwhelm both your emotional fortitude and mental resilience.

Suppressing your own fear and anguish, you found yourself kneeling beside the fallen soldier, gently cradling his head in your lap. As his life ebbed away, you summoned every ounce of strength to maintain a façade of calm and comfort, though you knew you were doing a poor job. The young man's quiet sobs, born of terror and agony, pierced the air around you, louder than any of the gunfire. “Ma…ma.” The poor soldier rasped at you, his shaky, bloodied hand rasping around your wrist. It was only after his final breath had passed that you allowed your own tears to fall, having shielded him from the depths of your own fear in his final moments.

He still wore the brightly colored band-aid you had applied to him earlier contrasted against his dirt-smeared skin. The blood somehow washing right off as if to mock you.

God, your heart couldn't take this. Neither could your mind.

He was barely eighteen.

You stood, your eyes wide with terror as you frantically scanned your surroundings as things only proceeded to get worse by the second. Without another thought, you bolted off in a random direction, your only instinct being to put as much distance as possible between yourself and the chaos of the battle raging behind you. You were overwhelmed by panic and fear, only being able to focus on escaping. The lack of any combat training or experience left you feeling utterly helpless, knowing full well that you stood no chance against the well-armed and battle-hardened soldiers.

You plunged headlong into the dense forest to at least seek some cover, your feet pounding against the uneven, damp ground. Ferns slapping your bare legs as you ran, the dew from them helping wash away the blood staining your skin. Your blind rush left your sense of sight helpless and you collided with something solid. The impact was jarring, sending you sprawling backwards onto the forest floor with a resounding thud from the force.

Before you could scramble to your feet, a vice-like grip encircled your wrist, your heart sank as you realized it was one of the attackers who had caught you. As if materializing from the shadows, several more emerged from the cover of the dark ferns, their piercing gazes fixed upon your uniform as they silently deliberated your fate.

The air around them was thick with the acrid stench of gunpowder and the metallic tang of blood. Carried on the wind was the unmistakable smell of burning flesh, the destruction wrought by grenades and the inferno consuming the camp's tents.

You finally saw a single emblem that you had all but recognized, causing a wave of panic and nausea to intensify. It was red amongst their black uniforms, making out the shape of tentacles and a skull.

HYDRA had methodically and ruthlessly stripped away every last shred of your humanity, leaving you a hollow shell of your former self. Their relentless assault on your psyche knew no bounds, pushing you far beyond what you ever thought possible for a human to endure.

When they first approached you in that tiny cell they stored you in, their request seemed simple enough - they were in need of a skilled nurse to care for their injured soldiers. However, your initial refusal to comply with their demands almost made you wish you had agreed at the beginning of your capture.

Almost.

If there was one thing HYDRA excelled at, it was the systematic destruction of an individual's will. Their techniques were refined, honed over years of practice, designed to break even the strongest of spirits.

The facility was designed to erode your sense of self until you finally shattered under the immense pressure. Like a relentless tide, they wore away at your resolve, bit by bit, until you crumbled like a fragile twig beneath their unyielding boot. The speed at which you broke filled you with a deep sense of shame, feeling like you were incredibly weak minded, but after enduring weeks of near-starvation, psychological torment, and unrelenting physical abuse, you simply couldn't withstand it any longer.

You weren’t meant for this. You weren’t a trained soldier. You were just a nurse who wanted to help people.

A paralyzing fear had taken root in your very core. This hellish existence was so far removed from the life you once knew, from everything you had ever prepared for. You were adrift in a sea of terror, desperately clinging to the last remnants of your sanity.

They had curiously allowed their lead scientist to conduct experiments on you, though the exact nature of his work remained a mystery. It wasn’t like he was going to sit down and explain to you what he was going to do.

The HYDRA scientist was a man of undeniable brilliance and questionable ethics. He bestowed upon you a myriad of gifts, each more terrifying than the last. His demeanor was characteristically cruel and rough, embodying the very essence of someone who thrived in such a morally bankrupt environment.

He subjected you to a barrage of experiments, each more harrowing than the last. Serum after serum was mercilessly pumped into your veins, their effects causing you to writhe in agony on the cold, unforgiving table. Your screams were his favorite symphony, echoing through the sterile laboratory walls as the bastard actually hummed along.

The scientist's excitement was disturbing, his eyes gleaming with a twisted fascination. It was evident that having a female subject at his disposal was a novel experience for him, one that he relished with disturbing enthusiasm, devoid of basic human empathy and consumed by his perverse scientific pursuits.

Sick freak.

But you were consumed by shame, feeling that you had succumbed far too quickly to their demands. The pain was unbearable, the excruciating torment they put you through felt never-ending. You were unable to withstand the relentless torture and psychological conditioning for long, and you loathe to acknowledge just how swiftly they managed to break your resolve.

You thought you were better than that, if not physically, mentally.

The ease with which you submitted left a bitter taste in your mouth. While the scientist overseeing your case expressed disappointment at your rapid surrender, viewing it as a setback in their research, the director of the facility was elated.

They now possessed a somewhat compliant and skilled nurse for their own soldiers, one whose will had been thoroughly crushed and who lacked the ability to refuse any command, no matter how unethical or dangerous. Your newfound obedience was seen as a valuable asset, and they made good use of that without hesitation or remorse.

However, your status a caretaker did not save you from everything.

It did not grant your safety or autonomy.

You vividly recalled being guided towards a strange looking chamber, its cold metallic surface gleaming under harsh fluorescent lights. As you were carefully placed inside, the last sensations you remembered were the gradual drop in temperature and an overwhelming drowsiness before consciousness slipped away entirely, leaving you in a void of nothingness.

The cryogenic process proved to be unreliable in your case.

The facility frequently used you as a test subject for their cryo chambers, ostensibly to ensure their proper functioning. Their decision of subjecting you, their only nurse, to potential risks seemed counterintuitive. The reasoning behind their actions remained unknown, leaving you with more questions than answers. You were used to this reality, your mind fogged with an array of questions that were never answered.

Your days were a blur of tending to injured agents and wounded soldiers, with scarcely a moment to think of your situation or the facility's cryptic motivations. As time wore on, the once-distinct uniforms began to blend into an indistinguishable mass. You noticed a gradual change in yourself as well; the spark that once animated your eyes had dimmed, replaced by a weary, almost vacant gaze - you didn’t recognize yourself in the mirror.

The director issued an order for you to tend to another soldier, prompting you to make your way towards the designated room for your work. The room's layout was standard for medical procedures and treatments, devoid of any personal touches or unique features. Such personalization was strictly forbidden in this sterile environment, no photos or even a tiny plant was allowed, they didn’t allow you any individuality. The space was equipped solely with the essential supplies required for you to carry out your duties efficiently and effectively.

Upon entering the room reeking of alcohol and plaster, your eyes were immediately drawn to the soldier restrained on the bed. Thick, unyielding straps securely held him in place, allowing not an inch of movement. Even with the evident effects of sedation to ensure a drowsy state, you couldn't miss the all too familiar look of fear in his eyes. It was a look you had seen countless times before, confusion and helplessness overriding any other sense. The soldier's drugged expression did little to mask the underlying panic that seemed to radiate from his body.

"Get to work," the guard commanded, his voice gruff and authoritative as he stepped aside to provide you with access. "The subject's performance was subpar today, resulting in numerous injuries. Address these wounds and restore it to full health. The director has made it clear that a complete recovery is expected by morning, without exception."

It?

You hesitated, your eyes widening in disbelief at the unreasonable demand. "Complete recovery? But sir, the extent of his injuries is too severe for that. The sheer number of wounds on him, it’s impossible to-"

Before you could finish voicing your concerns, the guard's hand struck your face with a resounding slap, the force of the impact causing your head to snap to the side. The sting of the blow had barely registered when his fingers roughly grasped your jaw, forcing you to meet his cold, unforgiving gaze. His grip tightened painfully as he leaned in close, his retched breath hot against your skin as he growled, "I said get to work, now. Your objections are irrelevant, do what is ordered of you or you will be pulled to the corrections room again. Do you understand?"

You emitted a soft whimper, forcing every muscle in your body to remain perfectly still as he seized you roughly. This was behavior you had painfully learned over time, a survival mechanism to avoid provoking additional blows. Somehow you managed to stutter out a response, your eyes reluctantly meeting the guard's harsh gaze. "I... I understand," you rasped, your voice barely above a whisper. Immediately after speaking, you lowered your gaze submissively, another gesture that had been ingrained in you through harsh conditioning.

The guard abruptly shoved you away, satisfied with your compliance. He took a step back, silently commanding you to proceed with your assigned task. Your limbs trembled and your heart was rapidly beating against your ribcage, but you obediently gathered the necessary supplies to tend to the wounded soldier. You approached cautiously, your eyes were drawn to the gleaming metal arm that caused your brow to furrow with curiosity.

Whispered rumors and hushed conversations had taught you about this particular soldier. He was described as a lethal asset, a relentless force that pursued its targets with unwavering determination. The way the agents spoke of him was chilling - more like discussing a piece of equipment or a weapon than a living, breathing human being.

That’s where the it came from.

HYDRA held little regard for anyone outside their upper echelons. In their eyes, guards and agents were as disposable as common household items, easily replaced and forgotten.

The soldier wore a muzzle-like mask, obscuring most of his face. It left only a small opening for breathing and barely enough room to moisten his lips with his tongue. You could hear his labored breaths, raspy and wet, indicating the presence of blood in his mouth. You reached out to remove the mask, wanting to allow him more room to breathe and to see what was going on beneath it. Your fingers trembled slightly as you gently pulled it away from his face, setting it aside carefully. As you did so, you noticed thick, viscous strands of blood clinging to the inside of the mask, stretching like grotesque spider webs before finally breaking.

The moment his face was revealed, your heart felt like it had stopped beating entirely. The shock of recognition hit you like a physical blow, leaving you momentarily breathless.

What you saw before you felt... impossible.

Your mind reeled, trying to make sense of it all.

You realized with a start that you had no concept of how much time had passed since your capture. In this place, this Hell on earth, you had been cut off from all natural rhythms. The sky, its comforting cycle of sun and moon, had become a distant memory. There were no clocks, no way to mark the passage of hours or days. Time had become a fluid, disorienting concept, sometimes crawling by with agonizing slowness, other times rushing past in a blur of monotony and fear.

You almost felt like you had been driven mad by the mere concept of time itself.

Your world had shrunk to the confines of your prison. The stark, featureless walls that surrounded you had become your entire universe since the moment of your capture. They were constant, unchanging, a blank canvas for your fears and dwindling hopes. And now, faced with this unexpected revelation, you felt those walls closing in even tighter, your sense of reality shifting once again.

This soldier...his vibrant blue eyes dulled with pain and exhaustion, his once-pouty lips now chapped and drawn tight with tension and crusted with blood. You felt your throat constrict and your eyes begin to burn with unshed tears as you took in his haggard appearance.

Sergeant Barnes, James, Bucky. The name echoed in your mind, the memory of the charming soldier was nothing like the broken man before you.

He was barely recognizable.

His frame appeared gaunt and frail, even under the thick layers of the clothes he wore, you could tell this was not his ideal weight. His hair, previously neatly trimmed, now hung long and unkempt around his face. But it was the obvious new appendage that truly drove home the extent of his transformation. The metallic arm shone coldly under the harsh lights, the red star on his shoulder like a goddamn brand.

He wore what could only be described as a perverse fusion of a straight jacket and a uniform. The black material bound him tightly and restricted his breathing, a reminder to him, and blatant display, of control. Yet, it also seemed designed to showcase their improvements to his body, as if he were nothing but a prized experiment.

Surely, there were wounds hidden beneath the uniform judging by his clear uncomfortable grimace, but removing the garment to assess his condition was out of the question. The guards would never allow it; unbinding him from the table was too great a risk in their eyes.

Bucky's eyes slowly lifted to meet yours, no longer staring blankly at the ceiling and following the many cracks in it, or possibly counting the tiny dots on the paint to stay sane. His gaze was almost unbearable to meet. His eyes were always so full of warmth, now blinked with nervousness, glossing over with a sheen of unshed tears. The man before you looked so utterly unlike the Bucky you once knew. He appeared caged, not just physically, radiating an aura of defeat that broke your heart.

"Bucky...oh my god, what have they done to you?" The words escaped your lips in a trembling whisper, your hands quivering as you gently placed them on his chest. Your fingers nervously traced the unfamiliar straps of his new uniform.

At the sound of his name, a flicker of confusion crossed his features. His brow furrowed deeply, as if trying to grasp at a memory just out of reach. The sight of his fearful memory loss sent a chill down your spine, realizing that even his own name now seemed alien to him.

The soldier lying motionless on the bed regarded you with an unsettling blankness. It was as if you were looking at a stranger wearing Bucky's face - the familiar contours were there, but the essence of the man you knew had vanished.

Your mind reeled, desperately trying to comprehend the transformation before you. The Bucky you remembered - with his easy smile and unwavering loyalty - seemed to have been erased, replaced by this hollow shell. The man you once knew, the one whose eyes used to light up at the sight of you, was gone.

In his place sat this new entity, molded by HYDRA's cruel machinations into something entirely foreign.

They had systematically dismantled him and rebuilt him from the ground up. The organization had taken the brave, compassionate soldier and twisted him into a weapon forged in the fires of their ruthless ambition.

You gazed into those vacant eyes, wondering if any trace of the old Bucky remained beneath the surface, but there was nothing.

The guard spat venomously at you, his words dripping with malice as he demanded that you immediately attend to the injured soldier. His harsh voice sliced through your thoughts like a razor, and the menacing threats he uttered were more than enough to spur you into action. You managed to carefully remove the top of the soldier's uniform with trembling hands, revealing his bare chest and the horrifying extent of his hidden injuries.

His skin was a canvas of violent bruising, ranging from deep purples to sickly yellows, creating a grotesque patchwork across his torso. A jagged stabbing injury that looked raw and angry, and an active gunshot wound in his lower abdomen that was still oozing blood at an alarming rate.

Your medical training kicked in, overriding your initial shock. "How long has he been in this condition?" You demanded of the guard, urgency in your tone as your hands moved swiftly, pressing a thick wad of gauze firmly over the bleeding gunshot wound. The sudden pressure elicited a sharp hiss of pain from the soldier, a momentary crack in his composure. However, almost immediately, his features smoothed back into a mask of stoicism. You couldn't help but notice the flicker of terror in his eyes. The potential consequences of displaying weakness in this hostile environment rushed through his expression.

"Just patch it up, we don't have all day. It's due for cryo." The guard replied coldly, "Damn thing's malfunctioning too often, can't get it to obey a single fuckin' thing."

"HE." You retorted with a frown, glaring up at the guard. "This is a person! Not a machine, he is a he. Not an it." You insistence on Bucky's person only seemed to piss the guard off even more.

There wasn't much you could do to avoid the baton colliding into your face.

You were so careful, your hands steady despite the cruel denial of numbing medication as you carefully stitched his wounds. The deliberate withholding of pain relief was something they commonly did to their assets, to increase their pain resistance. Though, whether or not it was punishment for you or him, you had no idea.

The soldier lay motionless on the bed, his stoic demeanor betrayed only by the occasional twitch and curl of his lip with each precise poke of the needle. Your voice broke the heavy silence as you looked at him, "I'm sorry, soldier, I...I am, I promise...I don't meant to hurt you." The words tumbled out, a desperate attempt to convey that your actions were not born of malice, like every other action he had been used to dealing with. It pained you to think that he might perceive you as just another source of suffering in a world that seemed intent on causing him harm.

The fog of pain and confusion was thickly clouding his mind, but something about your demeanor resonated with the soldier.

A faint glimmer of recognition flickered in his eyes, as if some deep-seated instinct was trying to tell him that you were different from the others he had encountered. Yet, his thoughts remained fragmented, like scattered pieces of a puzzle he couldn't quite assemble. It was almost something instinctual, rather than logical, like his core was telling him different from his mind.

You were safe. You were a safe person.

He couldn't afford to trust the people here; that was a lesson hard-learned and deeply ingrained. The facility was a maze of deception, where even the smallest gesture of kindness could be a carefully orchestrated ploy.

They were manipulative in their methods, planting agents who acted nicer, their false warmth a siren song designed to lure him into a false sense of security. They waited patiently, hoping he'd lower his guard, crack under the pressure, or attempt any form of rebellion. And when he did, the whip came down, harder each time to break his trust.

But you...you were different. Your actions, your words, your very presence was completely different to the calculated manipulations he'd grown accustomed to. You weren't hurting him.

You were a fragile thread of hope.

That was...good.

His icy gaze seemed to be cataloging every minor detail of your appearance. The soldier's eyes traced the contours of your face, lingering on the hues of your eyes and the curve of your lips, noting with particular interest the way you furrowed your brow in concentration. His attention was drawn to the surprisingly dark, angry bruise that marred half of your face from the guard’s baton.

A soft sound escaped the soldier's lips, drawing your focus away from your task. Your gaze lifted to meet his, noticing the intensity in how he stared at your throbbing cheek. You weren’t sure why he looked so concerned, considering he had been so silent and emotionless the entire time but part of you hoped that maybe a bit of himself was actually coming to front.

"Oh... it's nothing to worry about, soldier," you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you continued to tend to his wound, carefully cleaning it before preparing to apply the next stitch. “Doesn’t hurt that bad…”

The soldier appeared far from satisfied with your response. His body tensed, muscles coiling beneath his skin as he shifted slightly in his restraints. His metal arm tore free from the binding that held it in place. The unexpected action caught you off guard, and you instinctively took a cautious step backward, your heart rate quickening. You were unsure of his actions, and you’d much rather keep yourself out of reach in case he retaliated.

He remained motionless after freeing his arm. He made no attempt to rise or to reach out towards you.

The lack of reaction gave you some confidence, and you came back to his side. "Easy..." You spoke cautiously, his behavior had been docile so far, but he could flip on a dime.

He simply stared, his hand lifting to your face slowly, the plates in his arm realigning and whirring quietly. You gave a soft flinch when his fingertips grazed the bruise, the skin throbbing and raw from recent injuries.

The metal of his prosthetic hand felt surprisingly pleasant against your skin. It was cool against your skin, soothing the warmth of your flushed face. His touch was unexpectedly delicate for a prosthetic limb, each subtle shift of his fingers executed with a finesse that seemed almost impossible for an artificial limb. Your mind thought about the potential intricacies of the arm's design. The details of its construction and capabilities were closely guarded, known only to its creator and the select group of scientists who worked tirelessly to refine and maintain it.

The feather-light quality of his caress was so lifelike, so nuanced, you wondered if his nerves had been intertwined with wires. You remembered the science fair before you were brought to the camps, the magnificent tales of the future of science. Maybe HYDRA had somehow made flying cars.

It wouldn't surprise you.

Letting him lower his arm, you carefully finished stitching the gunshot wound and the deep laceration on his abdomen, your brow furrowed in concentration. You tried to ignore the faded scar on his side from your previous work on him, remembering that exact wound was it reminded you this stoic, hurt soldier was in fact your Bucky. Well, yours might be taking it far but…to you, he was.

The guards' refusal to allow the use of site-numbing medicine only added to your efforts to make things quicker, knowing it was hurting him. Their callous disregard left a bitter taste in your mouth. Heartless bastards.

With the stitching done, your hand moved gently to assess the area around the wound to ensure everything was ready for bandaging. As your fingers lightly grazed his side, you noticed the soldier flinching under your touch. His body tensing as he struggled to stifle a shudder that rippled through his chest. You observed as he swallowed hard, his neck muscles visibly straining as he fought to keep silent. The familiar response triggered a memory in your brain, though they hadn’t brainwashed you like most of their assets, some things faded over time.

Not this. You remembered the sensitivity in his side.

It seemed that some things remained constant, despite the circumstances.

"Ticklish?" you inquired softly, your lips curving into a gentle, reassuring smile. The soldier continued to maintain his stoic façade, but you could see the cracks in his armor. His eyes briefly met yours before quickly darting away, unable to hold your gaze for more than a fleeting moment.

Curious, you repeated the motion, your fingers ghosting over the same spot. This time, you caught the unmistakable twitch at the corner of his mouth, a smile threatening to break through his stern expression. The subtle huff of air from his nostrils and the sharp upward jerk of his chest confirmed your suspicion.

Yes, it definitely tickled.

"It's okay, Soldier," you reassured him, your voice warm and understanding. "I know it probably feels a bit strange, but don't worry, I'm almost finished. Then I’ll wrap you up."

The soldier responded with a curt nod, maintaining his silence.

After bandaging his severe injuries and applying dressings to the lacerations on his face, you leaned back to assess him one more time. Your eyes scanned over your handiwork, ensuring every wound was properly tended to. With a sense of accomplishment, you let out a breath, "Alright, there we go...all done." A look of satisfaction crossed your face as you offered him a reassuring smile, your demeanor calm to try to put him at ease.

However, the guards didn’t make it easy.

They removed him from his restraints, the fleeting sense of relief that had begun to wash over him was abruptly crushed as they mercilessly jabbed him with their batons. The soldier let out a pained hiss through clenched teeth, his body instinctively scrambling to escape the source of agony. His movements were uncoordinated and shaky as he stumbled off the table, somehow still having enough strength to stand. You felt a surge of protective instincts rush through your veins.

"What are you doing?!" Your voice cut through the tense atmosphere as you stayed by his side, "He needs to stay still for at least 24 hours to allow the stitches to begin the healing process!" Your eyes darted between the guards and the soldier, you had taken a lot from this place, but you knew he had it much worse than you did.

You could only imagine what they did when no one else was around.

The guards fixed you with a menacing glare, their faces contorted with disapproval at your unexpected display of compassion. The lead guard's voice was cold and threatening as he spoke, "Your sole responsibility here is to tend to injuries, not to coddle. You will stand aside immediately, or face severe consequences for your insubordinate behavior."

As he issued this ultimatum, he raised his baton, pointing it directly at you. The weapon sparked ominously to life, its head illuminated by a dance of blue and white electricity that crackled erratically between the prongs.

"Move! This is your final warning!" The guard's voice rose to a shout, the baton still poised threateningly in your direction. The fear of feeling the weapon's cruel bite didn’t deter you. You remained rooted to the spot, standing firm between the guards and the injured soldier. Your eyes darted briefly to the hunched figure behind you, noting how he clutched at his side, his face a mask of pain.

This was The Winter Soldier, a man whose reputation preceded him, yet seeing him in such a vulnerable state stirred something within you. Your heart ached at the sight, especially knowing that beneath the fearsome moniker was Bucky - not the faceless monster so often portrayed, but a man who had endured unimaginable suffering.

A deep breath was exhaled through your nose, and you squared your shoulders and met the guard's gaze unflinchingly. "No," you declared firmly, your voice steady despite the rapid beating of your heart. "I will not move. You can inflict whatever punishment you deem necessary on me later, but this man will remain on that bed for the next 24 hours. He needs time to recover, and I will make sure he gets it." Your words hung in the air, the tense room quiet besides the occasional sharp breaths of the soldier behind you.

The guards remained silent for several seconds, it might’ve been the longest few seconds in your life.

They exchanged glances with one another, their eyes darting from face to face, before finally settling on their superior. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife. Not wanting to prolong the situation or potentially escalate it into something more serious, the lead guard slowly lowered his baton. His shoulders slumped slightly as he let out a deep breath through his nose. You watched as they yielded so readily, your mind racing with anxiety and preparing for a potential false sense of security. However, you quickly pushed aside your surprise, knowing that dwelling on it now could be dangerous.

"Fine," the lead growled, his voice laced with barely contained frustration and a hint of defeat. He paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he fixed you with a stern glare. "You will answer to the director when this little game of caretaker is over." The way he emphasized 'caretaker' dripped with sarcasm and disdain.

With a final scowl, he spun on his heel, his movements sharp and angry. The other guards fell in line behind him, their boots echoing off the walls as they filed out of the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the lingering tension in the air.

You exhaled deeply, releasing a breath you hadn't even realized you were holding and turned your attention back to the soldier. Gently but firmly, you assisted him in returning to the bed, carefully laying him down as he writhed and let out pained hisses of discomfort. Your heart ached at the sight of his suffering.

"Shh, I know...I know it hurts. I can't even begin to imagine the pain you're feeling right now," you murmured softly, your voice taking on the same gentle, soothing tone you'd use when comforting scared soldiers on the battlefield. Your words were meant to ease his distress and provide a semblance of comfort.

It seemed to work.

His eyes were wide and filled with an innocence that seemed so out of place in this Hell, reminded you starkly of the way Bucky used to look. This supposed heartless soldier, the boogeyman of so many stories, wasn’t real. The person before you was Bucky, trapped within a persona that had been forced on him. Fresh from brainwashing, he might exhibit that emotionless soldier, one with no humanity or heart, but the persona was already beginning to crack, revealing the scared, confused, and utterly lost man underneath.

"It's okay," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as you tried to reassure him. "You're going to lay here and rest now. That's all you need to do." Your words were simple but laden with compassion, an attempt to provide him with a clear, manageable directive in the midst of what must be overwhelming chaos in his mind. The soldier did well with orders, while you didn’t want to order him, you wanted him to be somewhat familiar with what was going on.

You hadn't spent time around him in this state before, and the unpredictability that others had warned you about lingered at the back of your mind. Your eyes never left his face, watching for any sign of comprehension or compliance, all the while steeling yourself for any sudden changes in his demeanor.

He obeyed, thank god.

You carefully positioned him on the worn, uncomfortable bed in the makeshift operating room, ensuring he was as comfortable as possible given the circumstances. Once he was settled, you dimmed the harsh overhead lights to create a more soothing environment conducive to rest. He was usually drugged, but like hell you were going to inject him with anything. A drugged sleep feels like a wink, and you wanted him to feel more rested, having the freedom of falling asleep on his own and all.

The unfamiliar surroundings clearly unsettled him, his eyes darting around nervously before finally settling on you as you bustled about, tidying up the room and preparing to leave. His mind was in a fog, thoughts jumbled and unclear, like static on an old television set. Only brief flashes of blurred memories began to shine through the static, albeit only for a split second. Regardless of his confusion, he felt an urge to prevent you from leaving, sitting up despite his weakened state.

"Ma...mama," he stuttered, his voice barely above a whisper, cracked and hoarse, yet somehow managing to carry across the room to where you stood.

You halted abruptly, spinning around to face him as he struggled to leave the bed. "No, no, soldier, you need to lie back down," you urged, quickly returning to his side to gently guide him back onto the mattress. "Please, you must stay put. Any sudden movements could jostle your stitches." Your brow furrowed with concern as you observed his face, noting the strange mixture of bewilderment and childlike innocence in his expression. It was a disturbing contrast to the hardened soldier, and it tugged at your heartstrings.

It was like his brain couldn't even function or understand what was happening.

It had been fried too much. When he wasn't the Winter Soldier, he was just...a confused blend of it all.

His metal arm grabbed your wrist with an unyielding grip, causing you to wince at the unexpected force. He looked up at you, it was clear he hadn't meant to hurt you, but something deep within him refused to let go.

"Stay. Mama, stay." The soldier's voice was barely above a whisper, rough and pleading. His eyes lacked their signature sharp and alert glaze, now sported glossy neediness. You could tell the difference immediately.

The sterile room around you, with its clinical smell of antiseptic and tacky gauze, seemed to close in around him and give him an increased awareness of the room and its possibilities. He didn't want to be left alone in this unsettling environment, one where he had suffered enough. His cell, though barren and cold, had become a twisted area of sanctuary for him.

This room was not, even if he was in a warm bed with a blanket and pillow. How sickening it must be to see, actual comforting items were so foreign to the soldier, almost outright rejected because of the unfamiliarity.

The pleading look in his eyes began to consume you while his rough voice wavered with barely contained emotion. The thought of leaving him here, alone and exposed, was becoming increasingly unbearable. It wasn't just the isolation that concerned you, the underlying threat of potential nightly visits from the guards loomed ominously in your mind. His gentle, almost childlike request for you to stay, coupled with the threat of overwhelming fear in his demeanor, ate you alive.

"Okay," you whispered back gently, your trembling hand delicately gliding over his forehead and into his hair. You noticed how tangled and unkempt it was, frowning a bit. The least HYDRA could do is let him brush his own damned hair, if they were gonna make him keep it long.

While your fingers carefully worked through the knots, you were struck by how vulnerable he appeared in this moment. How he leaned into your hand so subtly, like a beaten dog being given its first gentle pet. His features had softened, revealing a glimpse of the man you remembered from before. He looked so...harmless.

It was hard to reconcile this image with the stories you'd heard, the warnings you'd been given about this deadly asset. In the quiet moment, he seemed incapable of hurting a fly. Your heart ached, recognizing fragments of the Bucky you knew and loved, hidden beneath layers this forsaken place buried him in.

Goddamn the universe for never being able to tell him.

"I'll stay."

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Cover images from Pinterest

No taglist for this series yet.

[caelesjjk]

entangled - jjk&kth - part two

⟶title: entangled ⟶pairing: spidey!jungkook x fem reader, venom!taehyung x fem reader ⟶au: marvel au ⟶ rating: 18+ ⟶ genre: romance, smut, love triangle ⟶ wc: 9k ⟶ warnings: mentions of blood and injuries, more infidelity type things, reader is confused af, two smut scenes because we take what they wanna give us: unprotected sex (don’t do this tho), dirty talk, kissing, fingering, couple position switches, it’s all pretty lovey dovey ⟶ summary: Kim Taehyung is Venom. A huge, terrifying symbiote monster that’s bonded with him and made a deal for a common goal. You don’t know what you’re doing. Your feelings are mixed and frazzled and confused. But you may not have the time to sort them out just yet if you can’t keep the two people you care about most from killing each other first. ⟶ authors note: hello darklings. You’ve all waited way too long for me to get this second part together and for that I apologize. I hope this makes up for the wait. The third and final part that follows this will be a bit of a wait too while I work on another fic, but I promise it will come. Big endless shoutout to @sailoryooons for listening to me whine about this for months and for beta reading the mess that it became. Also shouts to @tea4sykes for reading before it was even done to reassure me it was flowing okay. I love you guys.

Part One (if you missed it)

playlist if you want it: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5cg79N5KQBmZ9fOCtyD3A7?si=cQlAtRT7Roat33E60rzKtQ&pi=u-lMIH9SpZSD6X

You needed to run.

Everything was happening too quickly, your head couldn’t catch up with your feet that were scrambling across the floor in every direction trying to escape the monster Taehyung had just turned into. He had you completely trapped with nowhere to go.

Not to mention you were mostly naked with only a thin sheet barely clinging around you.

“Stop! Leave me alone! Please!” You beg and scream as it cuts you off again when you make a dash for the stairs.

“No. Leaving.” Venom roars and tries to make a move towards you, but stops when you accidentally back into the record player Taehyung has sitting on his side table.

The record scratches and squeaks at a high pitch and Venom groans in pain at the sound, his clawed hands grabbing at his head as he stumbles backwards. His black, crawling skin pulls away until you catch glimpses of Taehyung beneath the monster. 

“Run. Please…run,” he begs before Venom consumes him again. But before he can get too far, you push over the record player so that it makes a constant high pitched noise and Venom screams until he falls back against the railing and goes over the edge.

You don’t wait to see anything else. 

Grabbing the ends of the sheet you dash towards the bathroom and shove the door closed behind you, looking around frantically for a way to escape. Immediately your eyes see the fire escape outside the window. 

You see some discarded clothes on the floor and immediately throw on the T-shirt and basketball shorts before using all your strength to shove open the old window that has obviously not been used in years. The old white paint cracks and splinters to the floor as you climb up onto the sill.

A loud bang suddenly sounds from outside the bathroom door. Venom must’ve stopped the record player. 

“Where are you, girl?” You hear his menacing voice travel through the door. 

Your pulse picks up again as you shove yourself the rest of the way out the window and into the pouring rain. The metal of the fire escape creaks and brings an instant chill to your already shaking body. 

Looking back, you see the bathroom door shatter with the force the monster uses to break it open. You can barely hear yourself scream as you throw your weight onto the top of the window and close it behind you. You don’t look back again as you sprint down the stairs of the fire escape, but the sound of Venom crashing through the glass makes you move faster. 

Bricks from the warehouse crunch beneath his claws and feet, causing pieces to crumble and rain down over your head. As soon as your bare feet hit the pavement, you make a mad dash past the docks and towards the main road.

The rain pelts against your face as the clouds continue to block the sun that should be starting to come up now. There is barely any light for you to see where you are going while the world is still wrapped in a navy blue hue.

You can see headlights up ahead. Cars. People. A way out.

“Not so fast.” Venom suddenly drops in front of you, making you stumble and fall to your back against the cobblestones. Your elbows scrape across the ground as you try to move away but he’s too big and too fast.

“Please…just let me go. I won’t tell anyone about you. I swear.” You press flat to the ground as Venom looms over you, his face slowly maneuvering downwards until your nose almost touches him.

“We…want to keep you. Protect you.” 

“You’re scaring me, Taehyung. How can you say you want to protect me?” The crawling, black skin of Venom’s face peels away to reveal Taehyung once more.

“You’re in the middle of something that you shouldn’t be,” Taehyung says desperately. 

“What does that even mean?” 

“_____, please stay away from Jungkook. He-” Taehyung is cut off when Venom closes the skin back over his face. “He’s here,” he growls, moving to stand over top of you.

Before you can question him again, the bright light of a laser blast shoots past you, barely skimming Venom’s shoulder and blowing chunks of the ground all over you.

When you look back up, the red and gold suit of Ironman comes flying into your view. He tries to fly between you and Venom, but the monster is too fast, back handing Ironman and sending him flying into the side of one of the buildings.

“No!” You yell, trying to get to your feet but you can’t get your footing with all the rubble surrounding you.

“Stay. Back,” Venom whips around to tell you. That distraction is enough for Ironman to come flying back, hitting Venom in the stomach with his shoulder and throwing the two of them about ten feet away.

You don’t want Jin to hurt Taehyung. Venom is the monster. Taehyung is good. He’s gentle and kind. 

Your head hurts so badly and there’s blood dripping down your newly busted lip. You don’t know what you can do but you have to do something. 

Getting to your feet as the rain continues to pour from the thundering clouds overhead, you clamber through the rubble trying to get closer to where Jin has Venom pinned against the side of a dumpster. Just as you approach, Venom hits Jin’s hand away causing the laser blast to go off and almost hit you. You felt the heat of it skim past your face.

“Get out of here, _____! Now!” Jin yells, losing his balance when Venom pushes him off into the side of another building. You fall back on your ass, hitting the wet street once again.

Venom crawls over to you slowly. The sight of it freezing you in place as the slithering skin of his face once again pulls back to reveal Taehyung.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He says, bending to get closer to you. You can see Jin getting back up out of the corner of your eye.

“Run, Tae. Please just run away and hide. And don’t ever come looking for me again. They’ll kill you.” You touch his cheek and his eyes close. “Please go.”

Just as you take your hand away you hear someone from above you yell your name, your head whipping up at the familiar sound.

Venom’s face consumes Taehyung again as he steps in front of you defensively. Jungkook comes into view, swinging down from a web attached to the nearest warehouse. 

Jungkook moves so quickly you can barely register what’s happening before he’s kicking Venom hard enough to make him roar and fly across the other side of the road.

“Get her out of here, Jungkook!” Jin yells as he comes back into the fight.

“We have him where we want him! I’m not leaving!” Jungkook yells back, shooting a web at one of the big pieces of rubble and flinging it towards Venom.

It shouldn’t hurt to hear him say that.

It shouldn’t sting like a slap across the face when he doesn’t choose you again. But god, does it fucking ever.

“Now!” Jin screams the word at Jungkook, barely holding off Venom, who is scraping and clawing with all his might to get back to you.

Such an anomaly this turned out to be.

Jungkook shoots off a few more webs, catching them on one of Venom’s wrists and sticking to the ground so it’s harder for him to move. And then Jungkook is whirling around and scooping you into his arms.

You wrap your arms around his neck instinctively, looking over his shoulder to watch the fight between Jin and Venom for as long as you can before they’re just dots in the distance as Jungkook swings you back into the city.

You almost start to doze off from exhaustion when you feel the world stop moving and Jungkook standing you on your feet. You almost lose your balance at the loss of him so suddenly.

“What the fuck were you doing out there, ____?” Jungkook asks, his voice loud and full of an anger you’d never heard from him before.

“I…I was just going for a walk…” the lie falls from your mouth before you even have a chance to think about it. “I got lost…”

“How do you always do this? How are you always in the middle of some terrible shit?” Jungkook rips his mask off and throws it across your bedroom against the opposite wall before he starts to pace.

“I’m sorry…” you feel so small as you watch the anger radiate off of him.

“Sorry? You’re sorry? Do you have any idea what you’ve likely cost us tonight?” He comes into your space, backing you into your kitchen counter.

“Jungkook…” 

“Just…stay out of my way, Data.” His shoulders slump when he steps back from you and grabs his mask from the floor. Your body shakes and gives into your exhaustion, your knees hitting the floor as Jungkook bounds off your balcony.

The only light in your apartment is from the barely there sun, casting shadows of your furniture and the plants on the windowsill across the hardwood floor. It’s quiet, too quiet when there’s a busy city 10 floors down.

How could one person make you feel so loved and so alone at the same time? Were you the bad guy? You slept with Taehyung out of spite…didn’t you? That’s how it started at least…now you’re not sure how you feel.

You don’t understand Taehyung, and part of you wants to know more. Why is he allowing Venom to control him and use him? What does he get out of it? All questions you would love to ask him if he wasn’t an absolutely terrifying monster.

A monster that Jungkook could possibly be killing right now. That thought makes you nauseous immediately.

You crawl across the floor until you can press your back against the wall, pulling your knees to your chest and putting your head between them. You needed to block it all out for a moment…or several.

You don’t know how long you have been sitting there or when you fall asleep but eventually you lift your head and squint at the sun trickling in through your windows and balcony doors. A perfectly cool breeze moves your green curtains and gives you goosebumps.

When your back starts to hurt from sitting on the wood floor, you convince yourself to get up to close the door. You know you desperately need a shower as well.

As you reach the balcony door, you see Jungkook sitting on your stone railing, his head in his hands. You want to rush towards him and make sure he’s okay, but you stay put.

“How long have you been out here?” You ask quietly, hand gripping the door handle too tightly.

“A while.” Jungkook mutters, his hands coming up to his hair and pulling at the roots.

“You…you should go home, Jungkook.” You hate the sound of your own voice right now. Weak and scratchy.

“I shouldn’t have said those things to you earlier, Data.” He moves slowly, head coming up as he slides off the railing to stand.

“But you did. And I have a feeling you meant them.”

“No…I just don’t understand why we can’t catch this monster. And when I saw you there, I lost it.” He runs his hand through his mess of black waves.

“Did…did you catch him now?” You swallow thickly, not sure what answer you want to hear.

“No. Jin couldn’t hold him. He’s looking into asking Dr. Kim for help in building a trap.” He looks defeated and the guilt starts to crawl up your throat.

Dr. Kim Namjoon is a scientist that most people would know as the Hulk. He’s a brilliant mind and someone you very much look up to as far as the career path you hope to take one day. It scares you that he might get involved in capturing…or killing Taehyung.

“I’m sorry,” is all you can manage to whisper.

“Data…” He steps closer to you and you flinch a little. “Fuck…fuck I’m so sorry. You were scared and you’re…you’re fucking hurt and all I did was yell at you.” Jungkook stays where he is, but reaches out his hand towards you.

“I don’t…I can’t,” you whimper.

“It’s okay. Let me take care of you, baby. Please.” His hand stays out stretched and you know if you take it that the guilt will continue to eat away at you. That you can never tell him what you know. Because you care about Jungkook…but you care about Taehyung too, and you just hope he runs and doesn’t come back.

You take Jungkook’s hand and he gently steps towards you again until he’s close enough to cup your face in his hands, angling it in different ways to mentally take note of your injuries. He runs his thumb over the bump on your forehead and the cut on your lip that has you wincing. His lips press to your forehead when your arms finally wrap around his middle and fingers grip at his back.

“I’m just making trouble for you, JK.” Your lip trembles when you look up into his eyes, his brows scrunching in confusion.

“We knew when we started that this wasn’t going to be easy. But I…I have a responsibility, Data. And I’m doing my best to do that and keep you safe.” He swipes at your tears and lifts you onto the counter so he can stand between your thighs. “I’ll always keep you safe.”

You believe him. But at what cost? What will happen to him if he continues to worry about you instead of the danger he is so heroically protecting the city…maybe even the world from. He is your best friend and something so much more. 

Your hands slide into his hair, the damp strands sliding through your fingers in the most familiar way. Jungkook's hands stay on your cheeks as he pulls your mouth to his, swallowing the little whimpers that try to escape you.

His lips taste like his favorite minty chapstick and the cinnamon gum he had probably chewed on his way back to your apartment. He always chews it when he needs to think more clearly.

“You have every right to be angry with me,” you whisper between sweet pecks to your lips.

“Angry…maybe. But cruel? No. You mean more to me than that.” His mouth finds your jaw while his hands gently hold your shoulders. “How about a bath?”

Could you really be deserving of these moments with Jungkook when you were enjoying being face down on Taehyung’s bed just a day ago?

Fuck. You were so fucking selfish.

You nod your head ‘yes’, not trusting your voice when guilt is rising up your throat.

Jungkook picks you up from the counter, your arms around his neck and legs around his hips as he carries you towards your tiny apartment bathroom. Stopping once or twice to press your back against the wall and slip his tongue into your mouth. A tongue that you gladly suck between your teeth until he moans your name.

“Get these off.” Jungkook shoves into your bathroom, the space almost too small for you and his broad body. He makes quick but gentle work of your dirt and blood stained clothes, kicking them into the corner of the bathroom.

You help him slide the sleeves of his blue and red suit down his arms, slowly revealing all the beautiful ink tattooed into the skin of his right arm. Your hands follow the dips of muscle of his torso as more skin is revealed from beneath his suit.

After he’s naked and you’ve thoroughly touched as much of his bare body as you can, you slide your ass up onto your tiny marble vanity and open your legs for him to stand between. Jungkook stands back a moment, his eyes roaming and settling between your legs.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this? You went through a lot tonight…” You don’t let him finish his sentence, wrapping your fingers around his semi-hard cock so you can stroke him.

“Let’s talk later. Right now I just need to feel you inside me. Remind me why I’m yours…please.” You could feel traitorous tears try to well in your eyes and Jungkook furrows his brows in confusion for a moment.

“Data…” He puts his hand over yours to stop your strokes.

“No. Please…I need you.” You meet his eyes and it only takes him a moment to tighten his hand on yours and help you move your fist up and down his cock again.

Jungkooks head rolls forward, a deep grumble in his chest sending shivers up your spine. He steps closer so his hips can widen your thighs and you can guide his cock to your entrance. You’re so wet that he easily pushes into you, your back arching off the vanity mirror at the stretch.

“You’ve always been my girl, Data.” His tattooed hand grips your hip and steadies you when he begins to shallow thrust, crude wet noises already coming from where your bodies meet. “Your pussy always remembers me so well.”

“Do the other Avengers know how filthy your mouth is?” You whisper, leaning forward to kiss him.

“My filthy mouth is only for you.” Jungkook kisses you back, sheathing himself completely inside you and holding himself there. He moves his swollen lips down your jaw and over your chest until he reaches your nipples, sucking and pulling until you’re a moaning mess.

“Please move, Jungkook.” You inch your ass forward until it’s perched right on the edge of the vanity. Jungkook groans against your breast, lifting his head to look where your bodies meet.

He holds both your hips in his hands as he begins a quick pace. But no matter how fast he pumps his hips against you, he never misses that spot inside you that makes stars dance across your eyelids.

“You feel so good. I don’t think I’m gonna last…” His distressed face meets yours and you reach up to touch his face and pull him closer.

“I’m so close, JK…please make me come.” He kisses you, hard and unyielding while his cock drills you against the mirror. You’re almost afraid it’ll break when he forgets how strong he is. But you don’t care, you want him to break you. You don’t deserve soft and sweet right now.

Jungkook lifts you off the vanity and faster than humanly possible has you on the floor of your hallway right outside your tiny bathroom. He throws your legs over his shoulders and hits a spot inside you that almost immediately has you crying out his name and coming all over his cock. Your pussy clenches around him so hard it makes him whimper above you, bringing him to his own orgasm. He fills you up as warmth spreads all over your body.

“Did I hurt you? I was too rough…” His hands are immediately on your face angling you to look at him.

“No, I’m okay. I promise.” You smile at him, hoping that it feels real. You’re too riddled with guilt.

“Let’s get in the bath.” He pulls out of you slowly, sitting up on his knees while he presses soft kisses to your fingers and palm.

The tub is far too small for the both of you, but it doesn’t matter. Water sloshes out onto the floor each time you move, but that doesn’t matter either. It feels good to have his warmth behind you when you lean back against his chest. 

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Jungkook asks after a while, his hands rubbing your arms while his lips kiss the top of your head.

You freeze, knowing that you should tell him the truth. That you know who the monster is that he’s searching for. But you can’t bring yourself to put Taehyung in danger. So you lie. Again.

“I went for drinks with friends last night…I got lost walking home. I don’t know how I ended up at the docks. It was so stupid of me…” You hate how easily the lie spilled out.

“You aren’t stupid, Data. You just seem to have a magnet for danger.” He laughs quietly, kissing your shoulder. “I shouldn’t have made you feel like it was your fault.”

“It was my fault. I messed things up for you and Jin,” you sigh, slumping against his wet chest.

“Don’t worry about that. It won’t be much longer before we have the monster.” 

“Have him?” You ask, goosebumps prickling your skin.

“Mr. Kim thinks the monster is a human. An experiment gone wrong. He wants to help him…or study him. As long as it isn’t running free in the city anymore.” Jungkook explains, his hands gathering some soap bubbles from the water and washing your arms and chest with gentle fingers.

“How would he help him?” If Jin can help Taehyung…then maybe he can get rid of Venom.

“I’m not sure. I think we would be better off getting rid of it altogether. It’s a menace.” You feel Jungkook’s muscles tense as he talks and you know you still can't tell him the truth about Venom.

You don’t say anything else, afraid that your voice will shake and give you away. He knows you too well. 

Jungkook makes sure you’re cleaned up and comfortable in bed before he leaves you again. In most cases you would feel hurt that he’s left, but you need time to think without your feelings being clouded by his presence.

What the fuck are you going to do?

Going about your normal day to day life felt wrong. You go to school. You study with your friends. You see Jungkook on occasion, and every time you do, the guilt burrows a little deeper inside you, whittling away at your ability to keep up the facade. 

What makes it worse was that Taehyung hasn’t been at school for two weeks. It makes you absolutely terrified that something has happened to him. That undeniable connection you felt with him makes it difficult not to worry.

Sleep almost completely evades you the last two weeks.

“You look terrible,” Hoseok pokes, sitting a fresh coffee down in front of you on the library study table.

“Charming,” you grumble, snatching the coffee and inhaling its heavenly caffeine-illed scent.

“It’s not even finals season, why aren’t you sleeping? Trouble with the boyfriend perhaps?” Hobi sits his backpack down and plops into the chair next to you.

“He isn’t my boyfriend.” You press your forehead to the table and gently hit it against the top a few times. “And I just…my upstairs neighbor has been noisy.” The lies start to come out easier and easier the more you make up.

“I told you to move in with me months ago. Way closer to campus.” He pops some cheese cracker snacks into his mouth.

You know it would be nice to live with Hoseok. Easy. But you can’t. Not with Spider-Man coming and going and a giant monster possibly looking for you now. You could never forgive yourself if something happened to your friend.

“I appreciate that offer, you know I do. I just…like my space.” You sigh, lifting your head to meet his eyes. He probably knows you’re lying, but if he does, he doesn’t let on.

“Offer continues to stand if you change your mind, ___.” The look on his face is serious for a moment before he points the bag of snacks towards you. “Crackers?”

You smile and take a handful, popping them into your mouth as you sit back in your chair and listen to Hoseok talk more about nothing and everything for as long as you can.

After Hobi leaves, you continue to study until you notice the daylight is starting to disappear outside the library windows. You stretch your arms over your head, groaning when your stiff muscles protest before packing up your things to finally head home for the night.

Pulling your phone from your bag, you see there’s been no messages from Jungkook since yesterday afternoon when he said he would stop by as soon as he could. It shouldn’t be disappointing, you should be used to it, but that little pang still makes you feel some type of way.

You sigh, shoving your phone into your back pocket as you exit the library and see that it’s raining again. It seems like there has been constant rain over the last two weeks, making everything dreary. A mirror to how you felt inside as well.

Not having an umbrella, you power walk down the street towards the train station to get home. It’s only a couple of blocks but you still hate to do it at night. Especially when you get a sudden chill at the back of your neck, as if someone is following you. But every time you turn around, no one is there.

“Relax, ____. You’re exhausted and delirious,” you say to yourself, trying to calm your nerves as you continue walking.

Something big moves at the corner of your eye, dashing down the alleyway to your right and making you halt your quick steps. The only way to your apartment is past that alleyway, so you convince yourself once more that the exhaustion is getting to you and you press forward down the sidewalk.

You hold your breath and close your eyes as you sprint past the alleyway, stopping after a few feet to catch your breath.

You make it. You’re in the clear. The home stretch.

A cold hand wraps around your wrist and yanks you backwards into the alley. Your brain tries to catch up with what’s happening but when you try to scream, another hand covers your mouth just as your back is pressed against the cold, wet bricks of the wall behind you.

“Pigeon.” Taehyung’s deep voice sounds hoarse but also relieved. Your fight or flight instincts immediately melt away when your eyes settle on his injured face.

A cut on his eyebrow, a bruise beneath his left eye, blood dripping from his forehead from beneath his mess of black hair. What the hell happened to him?

You gently wrap your hand around his wrist and slowly move his hand away from your mouth.

“I won’t scream. I promise,” you assure him, his shoulders visibly unwinding.

“I know you’re scared of me. I’m sorry…I put you in danger because I was being selfish.” Taehyung takes a step back from you, giving you space.

“I’m not scared of you.” You reach out and softly touch his cheek just beneath his eye where the bruise has blossomed and he shivers at your touch.

“I’m just glad that you’re safe.” Taehyung moves your palm to his lips and presses a kiss to your skin.

“What happened to you, Taehyung? Where have you been?” 

“All I’ve wanted since this started was to expose The Life Foundation. They’re testing on people and killing them. Not a single person has survived until…”

“You,” you say quietly, watching his shoulders slump before he nods in agreement. “How did this happen?”

“I went to the lab to interview a couple of the scientists for an assignment…I got a little too curious I guess and followed a scientist down into a part of the lab no one knows exists. That’s where I saw the people they’re testing on…in cages. The symbiotes like Venom need a host but it wasn’t working and no one was surviving.” Taehyung runs his hand through his hair before he continues. “I accidentally released Venom when I tried to save one of the people in the cages and he bonded with me and somehow I survived. Still not sure how…”

“What’s stopping you from exposing them?” 

“I wanted to have hard proof before I took the information somewhere else but I haven’t been able to get back inside the lab, not even with Venom.” 

“Because of Jungkook.”

“He doesn’t understand what he’s getting himself into. They have suspicions but they’re keeping me from shutting the place down.” Taehyung sighs. “Your boyfriend is a pain in my ass.”

“What if…what if we talk to him? Jungkook will listen. I know he…” Taehyung cuts you off with a laugh.

“They think I’m a monster…and they aren’t wrong. But all Venom wants is to save the other symbiotes and get back to their planet.” Taehyung’s words almost sound disappointed when he talks about Venom leaving.

“But he’s…he’s hurting you. Can’t Venom heal you?”

“He does…he has. This last round of injuries was…extensive. I’m just healing more slowly.” He slumps against the opposite wall of the alley.

“You need to rest.”

“No. No, we’re going back to the lab tonight to try again.”

“Taehyung, please. He’s going to get you killed. Jungkook and Jin…they’re powerful.”

“You think I haven’t noticed?” He raises his voice slightly, but chokes on his words, folding over when a pain shoots through his side.

“That’s it. I want to talk to Venom.” You can’t stand to see him like this.

“Absolutely not. I’m not putting you in danger.”

“You’ll be there, right? You won’t let him hurt me.”

“I can’t always control him. He doesn’t always listen.” His eyes search yours for any sign of fear but he doesn’t find it.

“Let him out.” You cross your arms over your chest and wait for Taehyung to release his monster.

“Five minutes. That’s all I’m giving.” He takes several steps away from you until there’s plenty of space between the two of you. You nod that you’re ready.

The black crawling skin of Venom consumes Taehyung in almost an instant, his handsome face disappearing beneath terrifying white eyes and razor sharp teeth. Deep, bass filled growls flow from between those teeth and rumble the ground beneath your feet.

“Creature.” He says, smiling widely.

“Monster.” You retort.

“Sorry for…chasing you.” He keeps his distance, but paces back and forth through the alley. “I was…hungry.”

“You chase people and destroy buildings when you’re hungry?” You half laugh in disbelief.

“Very hungry!” He growls, pushing against a dumpster.

“Fine. Forget about it. I want you to let Taehyung rest, you’re going to get him killed.”

“Taehyung is fine.”

“No he isn’t! He’s all beat up, and I don’t even want to know what’s wrong internally. He needs time to heal.” You take a few steps closer.

“I can heal him, Creature.”

“He needs to rest. You need him and he won’t be of any use if he’s dead.” You stop as Venom groans and shoves his fists into the ground beside you.

“Demanding little bug.” He half spits.

“How long can you live without your host?” You don’t flinch at his outburst.

Venom doesn’t answer right away, he goes back to pacing the alley before he starts talking to himself…or to Taehyung.

“Bad idea…she pisses me off…should eat her…” Venom grabs his head in pain when the last line leaves his mouth. “Fine. No eating.” He comes back to stand in front of you, looming several feet taller. 

You look up and hold your stance. You’ll never let this pain in the ass monster know that he absolutely terrifies you.

“Three days. Three days before your atmosphere kills me.” Venom says, not seeming pleased.

“Then leave him alone for three days. Go away and let him rest. I mean it.” Venom lowers his face to yours so that you’re standing eye to eye. 

You can see your reflection in the shiny white of his eyes and your heart picks up its pace. Not because of the monster in front of you, but because somewhere behind those eyes is a man that means more to you than you thought he ever could. The strange feeling of just knowing someone is meant to be in your life becomes slightly overwhelming.

Without a second thought, one of your hands comes up and touches the side of Venom's face. His symbiote skin is cold, strange and unfamiliar. But it only takes a moment before Venom is melting away and once again revealing the stunned face of Taehyung.

“You got him to listen.” He breathes, taking your face in his hands.

“He’s not so tough.” You smile when he laughs and presses his forehead against yours.

“You’re exquisite.” His nose skims yours. “And I missed you.”

“I was so worried about you,” you admit softly against his mouth that has gravitated to yours.

He kisses you softly for a moment, neither of you noticing as Venom slithers out and makes his exit down the alley. You’re too relieved to have Taehyung safely pressed against you again. And when he starts to deepen your kiss, as much as you want it to continue, you press your palm to his chest and gently push him back.

“What’s the matter?” He asks, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“I wasn’t joking about you getting rest. I got you three days with no Venom. Let’s get you home, okay?” You lace your fingers through his and start walking towards the street, but he stops you.

“I haven’t been able to go back to the warehouse. They’ve been watching it like hawks.” His shoulder slump when he rubs the back of his neck.

“Where have you been sleeping?” 

“Abandoned buildings mostly. Or just not at all.” He laughs half heartedly.

“Let’s go to my place.” You know it’s a bad idea. Jungkook could drop in at any moment and you aren’t sure how he would react to finding the man behind the monster he’s been so desperately trying to defeat. “You’ll be safe there.”

“Will I?” Taehyung asks, wary for the same reasons you are.

“Yes. Because I’ll protect you.” Taehyung smiles at your declaration.

“I have no doubts about that, Pigeon.”

You take as many back ways as you can think of until you reach your apartment building, releasing a long breath when you safely reach the elevator and unlock your door. 

It feels strange to have Taehyung here, but also very right. He looks like a weight has been lifted off of him as he takes in your green velvet couch and collection of coffee mugs with a boxy smile on his face.

“You’re adorable.” He says, picking up a tiny cactus from your bookshelf that could definitely use some water.

“It’s not much.” You shrug, feeling your cheeks heat.

“It’s perfect.” He comes back to stand in front of you, long fingers gently gripping your chin to make you look at him. “It’s you and I think that’s perfect.”

“Tae…” you sigh but give into the kiss he sweetly presses to your lips. 

“Thank you.” He whispers after a moment. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if anything had…” You cut him off with another kiss.

“I’m fine, I promise.” You take both of his hands in yours and start to lead him towards your bathroom. “You, however, need to take a shower.”

“Saying I stink, Pigeon?” He teases, following you to your tiny bathroom.

“Definitely,” you counter, smiling when he laughs. A real laugh that you aren’t sure you’ve heard yet. It makes your stomach twist and clench.

“Come in with me?” Taehyung asks quietly when you bend to turn on the hot water for him. His fingers find your spine and tease up the column slowly.

God you want to. But the sudden memory of Jungkook in this bathroom with you two weeks ago clouds your vision and your ability to have this too.

“I’m going to make you some tea, okay? Take your time.” You stand on your toes to kiss him quickly, ignoring the pang in your chest when he pouts his bottom lip.

You close the bathroom door and press your back against it. You listen as Taehyung opens the shower curtain and gets inside, the smell of your rose scented body wash wafting from under the door when he uses it. You must be insane.

Bringing him here is so risky, but you can’t leave him out there with nowhere else to go. He means too much. 

When the bathroom door opens twenty minutes later, you jump at the sound, almost dropping your cup of tea to the hardwood floor. It almost takes a tumble a second time when you look up and see Taehyung standing in your kitchen with just a towel around his waist.

“My clothes were in pretty bad shape…I don’t suppose you have something I can borrow?” He asks with a shy smile on his face and fingers in his wet curls.

“Um…y-yeah. Yes. I’ll find something.” A wave of heat rushes over your skin as you hastily move past him and into your bedroom at the end of the hallway. He follows you, leaning against the door frame to watch you.

“Are you worried he’ll come here?” Taehyung asks, the pretty smile on his face replaced by a frown.

“A bit.” You admit, kneeling inside your closet to look through some drawers for sleeping pants. “It’s really just a matter of when…”

“Is he what you want?” The question throws you off, making you pause.

“I don’t know.” It’s an honest answer, more complicated than it should be. Taehyung nods but doesn’t press for more information. You’re not sure you can come with anything else even if he wants you to.

You finally find a pair of green and navy blue plaid pajama pants, pulling them out of the drawer and bringing them to Taehyung. 

He drops the towel as soon as you’re in front of him, eyes holding you in place with nowhere to escape.

“Thanks, Pigeon.” He doesn’t look away from your eyes as he slips his long legs into the too short leg holes and settles them loosely on his narrow hips. Your breath shakes when he steps closer and closes the gap between you. 

“I made you tea,” you croak.

“I don’t want tea.” He practically moans against your neck when he nuzzles your jaw. “I want to show you why I’m what you want.”

Your entire being trembles at the words.

“You should rest, Taehyung.” You can’t stop your hands from finding the warm skin of his shoulders and chest.

“No rest for the wicked, Pigeon.” His mouth claims yours, swallowing down any other protest you may have tried to use.

He slowly leads you back until the back of your knees hit your bed and you both fall onto the mattress. He kisses you until you’re dizzy and desperate for air, your legs wrapping around his hips in a desperate attempt to bring him closer.

And then you remember that your stove is still turned on with tea likely boiling over all over the burners.

“Tae…” Yyou try to say before his lips close over yours again. “The tea…I need to go turn it off.”

“No.” He nips your lips and moves his kisses down your chin and over your jaw.

“I’ll be quick. Just wait here.” You playfully push him off of you, his head landing on your pillows with a smile on his face.

You look back over your shoulder when you reach the door, Taehyung winking as you round the corner into the hallway.

Luckily, the tea is where it should be, inside the kettle. You turn off the burner and move the kettle onto a potholder onto the counter top. Then quickly turn off the lights before stopping by the bathroom to make something of your mess of hair as quickly as possible.

Back in the bedroom, you barely make it inside the door before you hear the quiet snores coming from Taehyung. His arms above his head and his face buried in the pillows as he lays on his back against your mustard yellow sheets. His half dried curls a messy little halo around his head. 

He really is beautiful.

You make your way to the bed, pulling your comforter over his sleeping form and softly touching the bruises in his cheek. He doesn’t stir even a little. 

Over the next three days you, watch him.

You’ve never seen someone sleep so much in your life. It worries you at first, checking to see if he is breaking multiple times throughout the day. But he just continues to sleep, only moving to turn on his side or stomach and barely makes any noise at all.

You email your professors the first day and tell them that you won’t be in class but would follow along online. You move a chair into the corner of your bedroom so you can stay close to him. It keeps you busy while Taehyung sleeps.

You also keep busy with cleaning your apartment and thinking of ways to have a very hard and strange conversation with Jungkook. How did you tell your best friend…someone you love…that you may also have feelings for someone else? 

And how did you then tell your best friend that the other person you have feelings for is the monster he’s been trying to capture for months?

At night you curl up next to him in your bed, but always carefully so you don't disturb him. You want him to feel better as soon as possible.

It was mid morning on the third day, some very difficult calculus questions driving you crazy when you hear Taehyung groan and lift his head from the pillow. 

“Pigeon?” He croaks, his voice rough and dry.

“I’m here, it’s okay.” You toss your book aside, rushing over to the side table and handing him the glass of water you sat out every day in case he woke up needing it. “Drink this please.”

He doesn’t argue, taking the glass of water and downing all its contents in an instant. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hands, chest heaving.

“That may have been the best water I’ve had in my life.” You take the glass and sit down next to him on the bed. “How long was I out for?”

“Almost three days.” You move some black curls away from his forehead when he looks up at you.

“Really? I wasted the whole three days sleeping? Fuck.” He sighs in annoyance.

“It wasn’t a waste, Tae. You obviously needed it after what you’ve been through lately.” 

The way he looks at you makes your stomach flutter and twist. Like he’s never seen anyone like you or felt anything like your touch. It’s maddening.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t move.” He squeezes your hand and jumps out of bed far too quickly, heading into your bathroom where you hear him using the extra toothbrush you had sat out for him. You can’t stop the smile that pulls at the corners of your mouth.

When he returns to the bed, he sits behind you and wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling your back against his chest so he can nuzzle his face into your neck.

“Thank you for watching over me,” he mumbles into your neck.

“How do you know I watched over you?” You ask, leaning back into his chest.

“There’s a chair surrounded by snacks, coffee cups and calculus books set up in the corner, Pigeon.” Taehyung kisses your neck and makes you shudder. “You’re too good for me.”

“It’s not that.” Your voice is a whisper when he moves your sweater off of your shoulder to kiss the heated skin there.

“What is it?” His mouth continues leaving warm, wet paths along your neck and shoulder.

“I care…about you.” Your head lulls back against his shoulder when his hands slide up your front beneath your shirt to cup your breasts in his hands.

“I’m still going to show you why I’m what you want…what you need. I didn’t forget.” He nips your earlobe and pinches both nipples with his long fingers at the same time.

You spin around, grabbing his face roughly and slam your mouth onto his in the next second. Taehyung’s hands immediately find your hips helping you straddle his thighs to settle on his lap. 

Any clothing creating an unwanted barrier between the two of you are quickly discarded without a care for where they land. Your skin feels like there’s millions of tiny embers just below the surface waiting to crack through and set the whole room on fire. 

Taehyung holds one arm tightly around your waist while the other maneuvers the two of you back farther on the bed so he can rest his back against the headboard. Your mouths never leave the others, tongues and teeth clashing in the most desperate way. 

“Are you okay…with this?” Taehyung suddenly asks. His hair is a mess and his lips swollen and chapped.

“I don’t know how to answer that question anymore. I wish I just knew what to do…” You feel emotion start to take over and Taehyung grips your chin to look at him.

“It doesn’t matter. Not right now, okay? Right now I just want you to be mine. Because I’m yours…I belong to you.” He says it so simply. And it should be simple. It shouldn’t be possible to love them both.

He pulls you back to him, kissing you so gently it makes you shiver. One hand glides to the back of your head and settles in your hair while the other lifts your ass to hold you above his cock that was standing tall with need between your legs.

No more words need to be spoken as you position him at your entrance, your pussy slick and sticky from the build up to what’s about to happen. He takes his hand from your hip and brings it to your throbbing clit, using his thumb to stroke it slowly while you lower yourself onto him.

The stretch of him mixed with the way his thumb strokes you is as close to heaven as you can imagine. You can feel yourself getting wetter that more you try and accommodate his size.

“Be good for me, Pigeon. Ride my cock.” He moans the words around one of your nipples when he leans forward to capture one with his lips.

Once fully seated, you slowly move your hips in a circular motion, causing his engorged cock to hit places inside that make fireworks pop behind your eyelids and your head to fall back when your back arches.

“Fuck…you feel so good,” you finally manage to say.

“I could come right now just watching you take me like this, angel. Like you were made to have my cock inside you.” Taehyung groans as his hands find your hips and help you start to move up and down.

You find a mind numbing rhythm, and orgasm on the brink of breaking through. You’re so close it almost hurts. 

“I need to come, Tae…please.” You wrap your arms around his neck, sweaty chests sliding against the other.

“Me too. Fuck, I can’t wait to come inside you.” He holds you steady, digging his heels into the mattress and thrusting upwards to meet your movements.

A silent scream has your mouth hanging open and eyes rolling to the back of your head when you finally get your release. Taehyung’s lips and tongue scorching the skin of your neck when he feels you clench around him.

“Good girl, Pigeon. Come all over my cock.” He holds you down, fully sheathing inside you when he finds his release as well. 

You slump against his chest, breathing hard as you start to come down for the incredible high he had just given you. 

Taehyung kisses your shoulder and up your neck, over your jaw and chin until he reaches your lips. Kissing your raw lips in the softest way.

“You okay?” You ask, still out of breath.

“Never better.” He smiles, moving sweaty hair from your face.

“I’ll get you some more water. Maybe snacks?” You move from his lap, the sudden empty feeling making you groan.

“Venom will be here soon. If he isn’t already.” His smile fades.

“I know. So let’s get you fed and hydrated before he makes his presence known, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Don’t be too long.” He holds your hand to help you off the bed while he readjusts against the headboard. You playfully roll your eyes, grabbing your t-shirt off the floor and quickly throwing it on before you slip out of your bedroom to the kitchen.

You fill up two more glasses of water and begin rummaging through your cabinets for any sort of edible snack when you hear tapping on the glass doors leading to your balcony. You nearly drop everything when you turn and see Jungkook standing there in his Spider-Man suit, his mask in his hand.

“Fuck.” You grumble, sitting down the snacks and water before going to unlock the door with pure fear coursing through your veins.

“Since when do you lock this door?” Jungkook asks as soon as you turn the lock.

“Just to be safe.” Your voice shakes and your eyes continuously flash towards the hallway where you know your bedroom door is wide open. Another man in your bed.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been here in so long I just…” He pauses, a look you recognize crossing his face. He senses something.

Shit.

“Is everything okay?” You know the answer.

“He’s in here.” Jungkook immediately starts to push past you to look through your apartment.

“Who? What are you talking about Jungkook?” You try to grab his arm while he looks in your living room.

“The monster. I know that feeling anywhere. He’s here. What the fuck is he doing here?” You shove against his chest to stop him.

“There’s no monster here. I think you need to go.”

“What the fuck is going on, Data? Is someone else here?” His jaw ticks and your panic is starting to take over.

“I…um. Jungkook, please just listen.”

“Who? Who the fuck is it?” He pushes past you and you grab his arm to stop him before he freezes in place, looking at the doorway that leads to the hall.

Taehyung in all his shirtless glory stands leaning against the frame.

“Looking for me?” Taehyung smirks and you want to die.

“Who the fuck are you?” Jungkook practically seethes.

“Pretty sure you know the answer to that.” Taehyung takes a step towards you and Jungkook immediately blocks his path.

“You’re him? The monster from the lab?” Jungkook asks, moving into an even more protective stance.

“You don’t need to protect her from me.” Taehyung crosses his arms over his chest and walks over to the counter where you left the water and snacks, picking up a glass and taking a few drinks. “I’d never hurt her.”

“You mean the way your monster left her bruised and bleeding by the docks? Fuck you.” Jungkook takes your hand and pulls you towards the balcony door. “I don’t know what you’re doing with him, Data, but he’s fucking dangerous. Let’s go.”

“Jungkook, please. You don’t understand.”

“Don’t fight me on this. I’m getting you out of here.”

“Since when do you care about ___? She may as well be alone when she’s with you.” Taehyung moves to stand in front of the doors.

“Shut the fuck up. You’re lucky I don’t drag you to Mr. Kim this fucking second.”

“Is that so, spider boy?” Taehyung smiles and grabs Jungkook’s shoulder to stop him from dragging you any farther.

Jungkook lets go of your wrist and pushes Taehyung in the chest. But before he can make any other moves, Venom’s black crawling skin swallows Taehyung and replaces him with the huge looking monster.

Venom roars, shaking your entire apartment. He’s so big he takes almost half the room.

“Get the hell out of here, Data!” Jungkook yells, slipping his mask back over his face.

You want to rip your hair from your head. Scream at the top of your lungs. Stomp on the floor like a two year old throwing a tantrum. 

But you deserve this after what you’ve been doing.

“Stop.” You say, watching Jungkook shoot a web at Venom’s sharp clawed hand. “Stop it!” You practically scream, making the both of them pause to look at you.

“Go outside, Creature.” Venom growls.

“You’re both going to listen to me. Right fucking now.” You walk across the kitchen and stand between them. “You’re not about to destroy my apartment with your pointless fighting. So listen to what I have to say.”

Jungkook stays in his defensive position but nods towards you for you to continue.

“You’re going to listen too, monster. Understand?”

“Bossy little creature.” He groans, ripping Jungkook’s web off of his hand and giving you his attention.

“I realized the other day that you all want the same thing. You want to shut down that lab and stop the testing they’re doing on humans. Venom wants to save his friends and go home and Jungkook, I know you want to save everyone trapped inside there. So why don’t we all work together to make it happen?” You release a long breath after everything spills out. “And after we do that…then we can talk about…us.” You motion between the three of you.

“Data…I didn’t know that I…” Jungkook starts to say but you stop him by holding up a hand.

“We aren’t doing this now, okay? Right now, we need to go see Jin.” 

“Ironman.” Venom growls in distaste.

“He can help. I know he’ll know how to get you and the other symbiotes home.” you try to reason. 

Venom contemplates for a moment before answering. “Fine, Creature. But if he messes with me, I eat him.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.” Jungkook half laughs, taking off his mask as he approaches you. “You’re serious?”

“Yes. Now let’s go.” You walk out the balcony door and wait expectantly. “Well?” You tap your foot.

Jungkook and Venom stare at each other for a moment, silently telling the other that these conversations aren’t over but that they’re going to trust you on this.

Jungkook puts his mask back on once more and makes a beeline towards you, grabbing you around the waist and jumping off the balcony with you in his arms. Venom barks a laugh and quickly follows after.

And then you’re falling.

taglist: @hanversace @chaelvrx @moonchild1 @rkivewritersblog @ungodlyjoon @ricecakeslove @jeonsweetpea @screamertannie @tearyjjeon @kookrecs @bintificreads @minisugakoobies @sureconfused @boisenberry77@ts19009 @lorarri @looneybleus @joyouart @armyugh @kthsmoon @vminluvrs @ooooglymoooogly (i did my best with this, i may have missed people who asked)

series masterlist

[imprfctlyok]

good things

logan howlett x reader

Summary: You and Logan hadn't had sex in weeks, and now that you had a bit of alone time celebrating your anniversary, you figured it was time to make it up to each other.

Warnings: afab!reader, MDNI, smut w/ plot, pet names (bub, princess, doll)

Aromatic herbs and garlic wafted throughout the house as you sat on the counter watching Logan cook.

If someone had told you in the past that you'd be living with this gruff, angry man, settled down and watching him make you dinner, you would have laughed in their faces. The man in front of you was definitely not the same one you met a year ago, but keeping him company as he prepared your anniversary dinner was definitely something you could get used to.

You swirled the red wine in your glass around, studying the strain of Logan's muscles under his white wife-beater. It had been so long since you had touched him, felt the lines and ridges of his arms and chest. Work had made it difficult for you two to find...alone time. By the time either of you made it home and into bed, one of you (usually Logan) would be too tired to start anything. You didn't say anything, because you were also tired, but also because you knew how much he needed the rest. Being in such a close proximity to him now, with nothing but time on your hands...it was too tempting.

Logan turned around, a slight smile growing on his face as he leaned on the counter and picked up his glass of wine. By no means was he a wine drinker, but today was a special occasion, and so he swallowed it down if for nothing else but your own sake. "Almost done doll. Ten minutes and then we can eat."

You clicked your glass against his and downed the rest of your wine. "Cheers to that. I'm starving. Wanna..." you trailed off, sliding your empty wineglass towards him, "...fill me up?"

A mischievous glint flickered in Logan's eye, but he didn't rise to your bait. His gaze never leaving yours, he slid the bottle of wine over and poured more in your glass, leaning just far enough over the counter to give you a kiss on the forehead with a dark chuckle. "Thirsty bub?"

You took his intense staring as a challenge, leaning back in your chair and lifting your glass to your lips, sensually tipping the liquid into your mouth. "Parched."

A smile formed on his lips. Shaking his head, he turned his back towards you again, gathering the dirty cooking utensils to dump into the sink. You were 100% certain that the wine must have been making you overzealous, because your before your brain could catch up with your movements, you had slipped out of your chair and padded to the other side of the counter. Logan stiffened as your set down your glass and snaked your arms around his midsection, pressing your face into his back.

"What's this?" he asked jokingly, spinning around to face you. His strong hands immediately found your waist, gripping them firmly as he pulled you closer.

"Lo," you said, so quiet it was almost a whisper. "We've both been working, and we haven't...it been a long time since we...you know."

Hesitation crept over his face. "Bub, I—"

"Logan, please." You reached up on tippy toes, pressing small kisses into his jaw. "I've missed you."

With a show of strength that made heat pool into your stomach, Logan lifted you up and set you on the counter, nudging himself between your thighs. The breath was stolen from your lungs, and that familiar ache in your core that you had pushed down for weeks returned.

"Princess," he whispered, his breath fanning against your ear. "There is nothing more I wanna do right now than fuck you right here on this counter. It's all I've been thinking about. But you've been working hard, and I'm sure you're tired. You need rest."

He's about to pull away from you again, but before he can, you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in, the buckle of his belt catching on the crotch of your jeans. He sucks in a breath and you arch into him.

Your lips ghost over his jawline, and you can't help the whimper that slips from your lips. "Please."

One, two, three seconds of hesitation before his hands are under your ass and hauling you into your shared bedroom. He drops you onto the bed, hands gripping your thighs, your hips, your tits. A gasp escapes you as he grinds into you, his hard cock hitting your clit so deliciously.

"Fuck," he groans, dropping his head against your shoulder as he rolls his hips against you. "Haven't had you in so long princess...haven't even taken your clothes off yet and you feel so damn good."

Your hands trail up his chest, down his back, as you arch yours looking for any sort of contact. Logan's fingers found the button of your jeans, making slow work of undoing them and pulling down the zipper.

"Do you know how badly I've been needing to taste you?" He slowly strips your jeans off of your silky legs, making quick work of your shirt next. "My baby, spread out all pretty like this—fuck—"

He trails a finger down your stomach, dipping the digit beneath your panties. A wanton moan slips out, your voice catching as his middle finger dipped into your folds, collecting the wetness pooled there. "Fuck, Logan—"

He pushes his finger into your mouth, effectively shutting you up as you lick and suck the taste of yourself off of him. His eyes never left yours, his gaze so dark and intense that it had your mind reeling with inappropriate thoughts. For weeks, this was all you had been wanting—him.

Pulling his finger out of your mouth with a pop, Logan slide down your body until his face was directly in front of your cunt. You gasped as the tip of his nose brushed your clit, your hips jolting forward to grind on his face, searching for any sort of contact. He laid his strong arm across your hips, caging you in and holding you down.

"Ah ah, patience doll. You've waited three weeks, what's a little longer?" He inhaled your arousal, hands gripping your thighs and prying your legs apart. You couldn't help but moan, him being so goddamn close to touching you where you need it.

"Besides," he added, pulling your panties to the side and looking up at you. "Good things come to those who wait."

a/n: AHHH MY FIRST FIC ON HERE FINALLY DONE! this is seriously a moment for me bc i haven’t written fanfiction that flowed so easy and genuinely enjoyed in a looooong time. i hope you like it!! lmk if you want a part 2?? lol

[luffington]

fur & feathers ♡

✧.* art credit!

➤ summary: You tried your hardest to stay out of their way this time. Unsurprisingly, you ended up sandwiched between them instead. (18+)

➤ pairing: sir crocodile x afab!reader x donquixote doflamingo, crocodile x doflamingo

➤ word count: 4.2k

➤ warnings: sub!reader, mean dom!croc & meaner dom!doffy, double penetration, anal sex, size kink, belly bulge, oral (m receiving), creampie, breeding kink, degradation, objectification, power play, she/her & 'girl' used

➤ notes: purely self-indulgent filth..... i am not seeing heaven's gates

NSFW under the break! minors dni thank uuu

Being Sir Crocodile’s personal secretary obviously had its benefits. Traveling to all sorts of conferences alongside him, meeting important and influential people, and always feeling protected. You lived a more lavish life than the vast majority of Alabastans, and all it took was looking the other way when documents with a winged Jolly Roger appeared on his desk. But it had some major downfalls, too, like putting up with whatever the hell was going on between your boss and that blonde feathery freak. 

You tried your hardest to stay out of their way this time. Unsurprisingly, you ended up sandwiched between them instead. 

Fragrant and flashy perfume clashed with the thick and heady scent of an expensive cigar, overwhelming your senses and making you dizzy. Crocodile’s lengthy cock was buried deep in your throat. You choked and sputtered around it, trying your hardest to use your mouth well and please your boss. Doflamingo’s harsh thrusts into your pussy from behind were making it difficult.

Your wrists had long lost their strength to support you, so you were positioned on your knees and elbows. The dark-haired man comfortably reclined on a stack of plush pillows, his ring-covered hand resting on the crown of your head. Doflamingo gripped your hips hard and repeatedly slammed his enormous dick inside you, practically penetrating your womb. You didn’t have to see him to know that he was maniacally grinning. 

You were fully naked and on display for the two men (to be fair, the blonde was already half-naked when he entered the room). Their perfectly sculpted and scarred bodies were also completely bare, but somehow they both still had their coats on. You would have laughed at the absurdity if it didn’t remind you of their high status and how far below them you were. Or maybe it just was an unspoken challenge between them – first one to take theirs off loses.

They had already made you cum three times before they even got their dicks out. Under the guise of being a gracious host, Crocodile had allowed Doflamingo the honor of your first orgasm of the night. He had made you straddle his thigh and get yourself off by rubbing your bare cunt on his leather pants, bouncing his leg up and down and cackling sadistically at your humiliated expression. Then Crocodile had eaten you out as the other man fondled your tits, and then Doflamingo had strung you up until you couldn’t move an inch while they worked together to torture your pussy. They were each menaces on their own, but somehow sharing your body like this didn’t make their egos clash – they cooperated. It was only a matter of time until they figured out something kinky to do with Crocodile’s sand powers, and then you’d be truly fucked.

You were losing yourself in the salty taste of Crocodile’s cock, the thickness of it stretching your mouth almost painfully while your nose repeatedly brushed against his neatly groomed pubes. Slowly forcing your head up and down, never giving you more than a second to breathe. He was barely sweating, looking down at you with cold eyes as he puffed at the cigar hanging from his lips. A direct contrast to Doflamingo bullying your poor cunt and shoving your body forwards onto the other man’s lap with every thrust. 

A dry finger suddenly prodded at your asshole, causing you to choke around your boss’s cock. Crocodile clicked his tongue. “Two holes at once? You’re being greedy, Doffy.” His words were teasing, a wicked smirk on his scarred face while he continued ignoring your obvious protests. 

“You get to use her whenever you want. I think that’s pretty greedy.” The blonde frowned, continuing to insistently circle his fingertip around your rim. “Besides, I’m trying to do something nice for you. You can have her pussy, so I’ll take her ass.”

The dark-haired man exhaled a cloud of smoke. Without his hand holding you down, you pulled off of his dick with a lewd wet noise and spun your head to face Doflamingo. “W-wait… both… at the, ahh, same ti-ime…?” Your muddled mind tried to express your fear, knowing full well that neither of them would care. “C-can’t fit…”

“You don’t know that until you try,” Doflamingo replied with a twisted grin. Actually, he wasn’t sure why the three of you hadn’t tried it yet. Perhaps it had something to do with your size difference. Both men were unnaturally tall – the blonde often made fun of Crocodile for only being 8’4 – and their cocks were more than proportional. Each was longer than your forearm and practically matched the thickness. Your stomach felt close to bursting from just one. 

Looking to your boss for help, you silently pleaded for some hint of kindness inside the man. His cold glare and cruel smile granted you none.

At first, you had assumed Crocodile was the nicer of the two, that he felt some kind of sympathy and held regard for human life. You quickly realized in horror that they were two sides of the same sadistic coin. The same need for dominance, longing for powerful positions, and lack of hesitation to step on anyone below them for their own benefit. Sure, Doflamingo used his strings very inappropriately in the bedroom. But Crocodile had never taken off his hook during sex, resulting in a few ‘accidental’ fading cuts on your back and thighs. Doflamingo was very open about his madness, while the other kept it neatly buttoned up under silk dress shirts.

“Don’t worry,” Crocodile rubbed your cheek, feigning gentleness, before saying, “We’ll make them fit.”

You gulped, feeling very much like prey caught in a fatal trap.

Doflamingo stopped his thrusts with his cock deep inside you and sucked his pointer and middle fingers in his mouth, coating them with enough spit to not rip your hole. He would never be generous enough to use actual lube. 

He snickered when he caught Crocodile watching his movements and swirled his tongue teasingly around his digits. “Enjoying the view, baby?”

“I’m enjoying a break from that ridiculous smile of yours.” The other man replied smoothly. “Maybe I’ll use my fingers to shut you up the next time you say something irritating.”

“Your fingers are too rough,” the blonde pouted and shoved a long finger inside your asshole in one go, making you cry out and clench your fists. Neither man acknowledged your pained reaction, though you felt Doflamingo’s cock twitch excitedly inside you. “My mouth feels all sandy afterwards.”

Crocodile smirked to himself — he controlled every grain of sand in his body, so any bits left behind in Doflamingo’s mouth (or in his clothes, or the crevices of his body) was intentional. His gaze flickered down to you, grasping the base of his cock and timidly licking at his tip. “You can do better than that, slut.” You instantly swallowed it halfway, not daring to upset your boss.

The dark haired man let out a content sigh as he watched the beautiful scene in front of him. Your back glistened with a thin sheen of sweat and a giant red Doffy-shaped handprint still burned on your ass. The blonde’s pace had slowed down slightly so he could focus on preparing your asshole with no gentleness whatsoever. He used two digits to spread your hole wide, then spat directly inside it. You whimpered at the filthy feeling, sending pleasant vibrations through Crocodile’s cock. 

“Fuck, that’s hot.” Doflamingo swore, watching his saliva disappear inside you. “What a good little whore.” You unconsciously wiggled your hips at his praise. 

The more he pushed and prodded deep inside you, the harder it was to focus on pleasuring the cock in your mouth. Wordlessly, Crocodile placed his hook on the back of your neck, the sharp edge dangerously close to your throat. The message was clear – you immediately got to work, cheeks hollowing and sloppily drooling around his dick. 

Doflamingo nodded his chin at the heavy gold object. “You ever finger anyone with that glorified fish hook?” 

Your entire body went cold. Hopefully that wasn’t a suggestion.

“No, but you can be the first to try it out.” 

“Aww, Croc, you’re making me blush.” He didn’t seem even a tiny bit flustered.

Ignoring you was part of their sick game. Making you feel so incredibly small and unimportant. Nothing but a fleshlight for two of the most powerful men in the world to share while they bickered among themselves. 

Trying to regain their focus, you clenched your holes and moaned loudly. “Shh, darling,” Crocodile cooed mockingly. “The adults are talking.”

You hated how much that humiliation turned you on and made your core ache with need. 

“Well, she seems about ready.” Doflamingo chuckled, unceremoniously pulling out of your swollen pussy, his cock angry and red and shining with your juices. You fought to keep your lower half from collapsing to the bed. “How do you wanna do this?”

You looked up at Crocodile questioningly, not daring to take his dick out of your mouth yet. Your boss gently tugged at your hair and you raised your head, coughing and sputtering for air. You suddenly felt a shameful sense of emptiness – you missed having your holes stuffed full.

He stroked the back of your head as if you were his pet. “Any ideas, doll?”

It was the first time all night that they asked for your opinion, that you weren’t passively taking every bit of pleasure and pain that they graciously gave you. You gulped nervously, looking between both men. Doflamingo seemed especially excited to hear you pick your poison. 

“M-maybe… I could… sit in your laps?” You replied timidly, unsure if your input even mattered. 

“Is that a question or an answer?” Crocodile raised an eyebrow.

As calm and collected as both men seemed, you could tell they were growing impatient. Their cocks dripped precum and subtly twitched with need. You were desperate for stimulation, too, so you steeled your hazy mind and nodded resolutely. “I want to sit in your laps. Feel you both so deep inside me. I… I might go crazy if you don’t fuck me.” You turned to Doflamingo, batted your eyes innocently, and added, “I’ll be good for you, I promise.”

The blonde threw his head back and moaned exaggeratedly. “Fuck, baby, you’re straight out of my wet dreams. Why don’t you visit Dressrosa sometime?”

“Don’t get any ideas,” Crocodile gave the man a hard glare, helping your shaky body into a sitting position. “She’s mine. The best secretary I’ve had in years.”

Doflamingo cackled. “I forgot she’s your fucking employee! There’s no way you two actually get any work done. I bet I can open any file cabinet in your office and find cum stains on those papers.”

“Open anything in my office and I’ll throw you in my Sea Prism Stone cell.”

You rolled your eyes as you maneuvered yourself into Crocodile’s lap, using his shoulders for support as you straddled his slightly spread thighs. Their twisted flirting was seemingly endless. Couldn’t they have picked a better time?

“Don’t get bratty, darling,” he snickered and quickly slapped your breast, making you yelp in surprise. “Unless you can’t survive another minute without our dicks inside you.”

You nodded and bit your lip, feeling your juices trickle out of your hole and drop down your leg. “Please, sir, I need you. Need you both.” Crocodile hummed in satisfaction – he had trained you so well. He pressed an intoxicating open-mouthed kiss to your jaw and simultaneously twisted your nipple. 

“Starting without me isn’t fair.” Doflamingo grumbled petulantly as he shuffled into place behind you. It took a few tries until he found a way to comfortably tangle his hairy legs around Crocodile’s, their pelvises almost pressed together and his massive cock smacking against your spine. The blonde bit your earlobe and laughed when you flinched.

Your fists clenched onto Crocodile’s smooth fur jacket, breasts flush against his muscular pecs, while soft and wispy feathers grazed your back and sent ticklish shivers down your spine. The air felt electric with anticipation and excitement and pure unadulterated lust. Your body might hate you the next morning for this — no, you’d feel the aftermath of their desire for at least a few days. But at that moment, you needed your holes stuffed full more than you needed oxygen. 

With a shaky breath, you stood on your knees, their long cocks still barely fitting underneath you. Doflamingo tapped the crown of his dick against your rim before holding it steady. They waited with bated breath for you to sink down.

Two Warlords were inside you.

You felt like your body was ripping in half. And yet the pain made you even wetter, a debauched moan spilling from your lips and eyes rolling back into your skull. Both men simultaneously groaned in satisfaction, an angelic choir of devils singing your praise. Being on top gave you a refreshing sense of control… one that didn’t last very long.

Crocodile’s hand settled on your hip to gently coax you down, while Doflamingo pressed hard on your shoulders. When it was finally too much and your body refused to take any more – not even halfway down their massive lengths – tight strings wound around your thighs and forced you down the rest of the way. You cried out in anguish, speared on their massive cocks.

Thankfully, the two men let you adjust once you had their entire lengths inside you and rested in their laps. You shuddered in their hold, trying your best to calm your rapid heartbeat. Perhaps there was a hint of kindness in their decision, but it was more likely for their own benefit. A broken toy was no fun to play with and they weren’t even close to being done with you. 

Crocodile reclined against the bed’s headboard and let out a low whistle. “Fuck,” he swore in a gravelly voice, eyes half-lidded and seemingly hypnotized. “You are so fucking full.” 

You looked down in perverted fascination to see your stomach bulging unnaturally, almost making you appear pregnant. He ran his hand over the well-defined outline of his cock and you felt it twitch inside you excitedly.

“What? No fair, you’re hogging the view. Let me see.” Doflamingo pouted, leaning over your shoulder. He giggled ferociously at the sight. “Oh, that’s sexy as hell.” The hand that wasn’t manipulating his strings joined Crocodile’s to rub over your bulging belly, applying pressure to your womb and making you keen. “That feels good, huh? You like when we force our way inside your tight little holes and rearrange your guts?”

Your face burned red at his filthy words but you nodded rapidly. Your boss frowned and pinched your clit, causing wetness to pool in your eyes. “I thought I taught you to use your words.”

“Y-Yes, sir, I love it.” Doflamingo’s long tongue snaked out to lap away the single teardrop running down your cheek. 

“So obedient.” He nuzzled into your neck almost affectionately. “So good for us.”

Moments like this made you question what your relationship with them was. Sure, you were definitely more of a prized possession than a romantic partner, but maybe you possessed them in a different way. You would never voice that thought aloud, but it’s what prevented you from quitting your job, getting the hell out of Alabasta, and finding an actual partner and decent life somewhere else. They could have anyone in the world they desired, but Crocodile hadn’t been with anyone besides Doflamingo and you since the first time he fucked you on his office desk, much too horny to try to seduce you back to his bedroom.

And while you didn’t know what the other Warlord got up to in his own kingdom, at the very least, he always came back for more. Doflamingo could tell vicious lies dripping with sugar like no one else, but part of you hoped there was some truth in calling you gorgeous and perfect and his good little whore. 

You knew you were probably deluding yourself, but Doflamingo’s warm mouth sucking marks into your throat and Crocodile’s palm rubbing over your stomach soothingly made your heart ache and veins burn.

“Alright, enough. Let’s get started.” The blonde used his powers to raise your body slowly, revealing their cocks glistening with your juices. 

“No strings,” Crocodile interrupted, but added with a smirk, “Yet. Let her do it herself for now.”

Doflamingo licked his lips and leaned back on his hands leisurely. His strings loosened but didn’t disappear. “Show me what you’ve got, puppet.” 

This was a test. There would be hell to pay if you failed, though you weren’t sure if passing was humanly possible. You continued to rise up at the pace Doflamingo’s strings had set, inch by delicious inch rubbing against your walls until only the tips were inside you. “You’re both so big,” you bit your lip seductively. “I feel so empty without your dicks.”

Then you quickly sank back down to the base, knocking the air out of your lungs. Head flying back to rest on the blonde man’s feather-coated shoulder. Crocodile’s cock kissed your cervix as Doflamingo’s bullied its way inside your asshole deeper than anything was meant to go. 

You repeated the motion again and again, doing your best to clench your holes tight and take their entire lengths every time. 

“This is getting boring,” the blonde rolled his eyes impatiently. A subtle twitch of his fingers forced you onto your knees then slammed you back down to their laps, their balls slapping against your sensitive skin. You were too overwhelmed to even comprehend what happened, but the man continued to manipulate your body at a brutal pace. 

“Much better.” Crocodile agreed, taking in your blank expression and glazed-over eyes. Your mind completely shut off, focused on receiving every bit of carnal pleasure that the two Warlords graciously gave you. You were completely under their control and at their mercy. Your boss cooed at you mockingly. “Poor girl. There’s not a thought in that pretty little head of yours, huh, doll?”

Your silence answered his question so perfectly that he didn’t even punish you for not responding. 

“She fucking loves it. Look at her drool.” Doflamingo grabbed your chin and forced you to face him. He delighted in your debauched expression, tongue lolling out of your mouth, before leaning back and slapping your ass. Your body spasmed around their cocks. 

The blonde used his strings to hold you down as far as possible, admiring the bulge in your stomach again with a sick grin. You hardly noticed it — you hardly noticed anything at this point. Then he ripped Crocodile’s lit cigar from the corner of his mouth and haphazardly threw it across the room. Miraculously, nothing caught on fire. 

“That was expensive.” Crocodile snarled. 

“I don’t care about your fucking tobacco.” Doflamingo grabbed the other man’s slicked-back hair and slammed their lips together in a hungry kiss that was all teeth and tongue. You watched dazedly as they licked at each other’s mouths like feral animals. Matching each other’s intensity and fighting to maintain their dominance. With his free hand, the blonde groped your breast, squeezing it in his large palm before rolling your nipple between his fingers. 

The men pulled away, panting heavily from the intense kiss. A thick string of saliva kept their lips connected. Doflamingo broke it by swiping his tongue across Crocodile’s reddened bottom lip. 

“Let’s get her pregnant, Croc. I want her tits swollen with milk so I can suck them dry.” You felt a shiver run through your entire body. What a terrifying, deranged, yet tempting thought. You didn’t dare voice your thoughts, but the blonde still felt your ass clench around his cock. He cackled and roughly tugged at your nipple. “I think our little girl likes that idea.”

Crocodile’s dark eyes turned to you. “Consider yourself lucky that he’s not in your pussy.” As if he was wearing a condom himself. As if he even owned condoms. 

Doflamingo suddenly leaned forward and knocked you down with his weight, causing you and Crocodile to fall like dominos. The dark-haired man was almost flat on his back and you were crushed between their bodies, breasts uncomfortably squished against your boss’s fleshy chest. A cloud of pink feathers suddenly encompassed you, hanging loosely from the blonde’s shoulders and fully caging you in. Now that he was on top, he released the strings from around your thighs. Doflamingo gave a particularly harsh thrust forward and you yelped, the change in angle hitting an extra sensitive part of you. Crocodile’s cock insistently pressed against your g-spot.

The blonde placed his hand softly on Crocodile’s cheek, caressing the sharp line of his jaw. Very out of place, very unlike Doffy. But when he pulled away, a single thin thread followed his fingertip like a spider weaving a web. 

“Get this fucking thing off of me.” The dark-haired man growled, grabbing at where it attached to his jaw in vain. Panic raced through your mind — you didn’t want to literally be in the middle of their fight. But Crocodile didn’t seem truly angry, more annoyed that this happened again. 

“I’ll be nice,” he chuckled menacingly. He slowly moved his pointer finger in a come-hither motion and Crocodile’s hips followed the same upwards path, pushing his cock even further inside you. “See? Just wanted to take the lead.”

Doflamingo immediately resumed his inhuman pace, pistoning in and out and making your ass cheeks jiggle from the impact. One hand mimicked marionette motions as he manipulated Crocodile into mirroring his speed and ferocity, and the other held your hip firmly in place. He perfectly timed their thrusts so they pulled out and pushed in at the same exact time, knocking the air out of your lungs and setting your core on fire.

As godly as both men appeared, they were still very much human and rapidly approaching their orgasms. Your boss’s chest heaved underneath you, eyelids fluttering shut and pink dusting his cheeks. Doflamingo panted like a wild beast, letting out breathy, excited giggles at the sight of his two pretty puppets. A few stray feathers had fallen off his coat which landed in Crocodile’s messy hair and clung to your sticky skin. The overwhelming need to possess and consume both of you made the blonde’s head spin. 

You raised your head from where it was buried in your Crocodile’s chest, now covered in a puddle of your drool. “Please, s-sirs, I need-“ You were interrupted by Doflamingo deftly rubbing your neglected clit in tight circles. You choked on your words, looking at your boss pleadingly. 

“You may cum, darling.” Crocodile offered you a merciful smile. 

Stars flashed before your eyes and you swore you ascended to heaven, every nerve in your body tingling and toes curling tightly as you cried out the names of your saviors, before you came crashing down to earth with an unabashed and sinful drawn-out moan. Moments after that bright white light washed over you, thick white cum exploded in both of your holes as the Warlords cried out simultaneously. Doflamingo kept Crocodile’s hips flush against your body as his heavy balls stuffed you full and only lowered them when he had let out his final spurts. 

“Fuck.” The blonde’s breath caught in his throat as he watched his cum spill out around his length, dripping out of your ass onto Crocodile’s dick underneath. You had never felt so used, so filthy, and fuck did it feel incredible. 

The dark-haired man felt your heart beating rapidly against him and noticed you slowly slip into darkness, your consciousness fading. “Stay with us, doll.” He stroked your hair and ran his rough thumb over your cheek. 

You smiled, dazed and dopey. “Th… thank you…”

“Taking everything we give you and thanking us after… absolutely fucking perfect.” Doflamingo breathed heavily. You wailed from sensitivity as he pulled his cock out of your abused hole and the man beneath you followed suit. More globs of cum dripped out of your pussy and ass and spilled onto Crocodile’s fur coat sprawled out beneath him. Doflamingo giggled in delight. “Better wash that for him tomorrow, little girl.”

“She’s a secretary, not a servant.” Crocodile rolled his eyes, knowing that anyone in a position lower than Doffy’s was interchangeable to him. He swiped two fingers down the cleft of your ass, collecting sticky strings of cum and making your oversensitive body jolt. “But good girls clean up their messes, right?”

You obediently sucked his fingers clean, swirling your tongue around his digits and moaning like a whore at the salty taste of their mixed semen. 

Doflamingo untangled his body from yours and reclined back with a satisfied sigh. “When’s round two?”

Your eyes nearly popped out of your skull, but Crocodile spoke before you could protest — his words held more weight than yours, after all. “That was round four for her. It’s a miracle that your dick hasn’t killed someone yet.”

“Fine, I’ll wait.” He pouted like a spoiled child. “But don’t go soft on me, Croc. You’re the only one who’s fun enough to share toys with.”

Crocodile rolled you off of his chest none too gently, but thankfully, you had a plush blanket and padded mattress to land upon. “If we’re both ready to go, why not do a round without her?” His predatory gaze met yours. “I’m sure she would love to watch.”

[neferaskingdom]

♡ You're Family | CL16

PART OF MY IS IT CASUAL NOW? SERIES

Summary: It's hard being casual when my favorite bra lives in your dresser, And it's hard being casual when I'm on the phone talking down your brother.

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

After the summer break, things between her and Charles shift in subtle but undeniable ways. He goes back to racing, and she falls into a comfortable rhythm at home, taking care of Leo and focusing on work. But her world feels fuller now, punctuated by unexpected calls, invitations, and little gestures that keep her close to the Leclercs, even when Charles is away.

It starts with Pascale, who invites her over one afternoon for coffee. It’s warm and welcoming, the kind of invitation that makes her feel like she’s known Pascale forever. “Come, sit down, ma belle,” Pascale says, guiding her to a cozy seat in the kitchen. She fusses over her with warmth that feels so genuine it makes her chest ache.

“You know, it’s ridiculous that Charles hasn’t introduced us sooner,” Pascale chides, shaking her head. “I told him, ‘If you’re serious about someone, we should meet her, no?’”

She feels her cheeks warm but laughs it off. “Oh, I don’t know if you’d call it serious. We’re just…”

Pascale waves a hand, dismissing her words. “Please, I’ve seen the way he talks about you. We know when it’s serious.” She pours coffee into a delicate cup and hands it to her, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Plus, the way he sulks when you’re at work—he’s like a lost puppy. We tease him for it!”

And just like that, Pascale has her laughing and sharing stories, making her feel like part of the family. Before she knows it, these coffee dates turn into a regular thing, and Pascale even insists on cutting her hair, brushing away her protests with a gentle but firm hand. They chat and laugh, talking about everything from family to work, and she leaves every time feeling a bit more like she belongs.

Then there’s Charlotte. One day, she calls, suggesting a girls’ day out, just the two of them. They roam the city, stopping at boutiques and trying on sunglasses, gossiping and laughing over coffee like old friends. Charlotte is sharp, witty, and fun, making her feel completely at ease.

“So, you’ve really got Charles wrapped around your finger, huh?” Charlotte teases as they browse the racks of a boutique. “I don’t think I’ve seen him this smitten since… well, ever.”

She rolls her eyes, brushing off the comment with a laugh. “Smitten? He’s just… we’re just friends.”

“Right,” Charlotte says with a knowing smile. “And I’m just the Queen of England.”

Then there’s Arthur. They start chatting more, mostly joking around after he realizes she’s following his races, and she finds herself quickly warming to him. Arthur is loud, playful, and full of life, and they click almost instantly. They trade inside jokes, and after a particularly hard race, he texts her sounding completely drained.

Arthur: "Rough night. I don’t think I’m cut out for this sometimes."

You: "Hey, that’s not true. You’re amazing — you know that, right?"

Arthur: "Maybe. But sometimes it’s hard to remember. Everything feels stacked against me."

So she called him, letting him vent as he rambled about the pressures of racing, the constant comparisons to Charles, and the weight he carried. She offered gentle reassurances, reminding him of his strengths and how far he’d come.

At one point, she said softly, “Arthur, you’re going to be incredible. I know it. And you know Charles would be the first to say that too.”

After a pause, he replied, a little more lighthearted, “You know, you’re like the family therapist at this point.”

She laughed. “Guess I’m putting in overtime then.”

By the end of the call, he sounded much better, his spirits lifted, and they both promised to catch up in person soon.

But it’s when Charles is back in town that things really start to feel different. He’s even clingier than before, draping himself over her whenever he’s home, complaining dramatically about his “stolen” family.

“Honestly, I go away for two weeks, and suddenly, you’re maman’s new favorite?” he grumbles one night, leaning his head on her shoulder as they lounge on his couch. “Arthur calls you more than he calls me, you know.”

She laughs, nudging him playfully. “Oh, come on, it’s not like they’ve replaced you. Besides, you’re the one who left me with your family!”

“Yeah, but they’re my family,” he insists with a pout, his eyes gleaming with that familiar spark of mischief. “Honestly, you’re all I think about when I’m away, and then I come back, and I have to share you with everyone else? Unacceptable.”

“You poor thing,” she says mockingly, patting his cheek. “Must be so hard for you, having people who love you.”

Charles grins, leaning closer until his face is just inches from hers. “Oh, it is. I think you should make it up to me.”

The way he says it makes her heart race, and they end up tangled together until she can’t think straight. One thing leads to another, and the next morning, she playfully grumbles about needing to go back to her apartment to grab fresh clothes.

“Honestly, Charles, I swear you’ve destroyed half my wardrobe at this point,” she teased, reaching for her phone. “I don’t think I have any underwear left.”

Charles smirked from where he leaned against the doorway, still looking far too pleased with himself. “Check the top drawer of my wardrobe.”

She raised an eyebrow, giving him a curious look. “What?”

“Go on, take a look.”

Confused but intrigued, she opened the drawer, her eyes widening as she took in the sight: a stack of her clothes, neatly folded. T-shirts, a couple of sweaters, even some underwear — and her favorite bra. She gasped, lifting it up and shooting him an accusing look.

“Charles! You kept my favorite bra?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “You leave things here all the time anyway, so I just… organized. It’s more practical this way. Now you don’t have to go all the way home every time.”

She couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. “You made me a drawer?”

“Of course,” he said, walking up to her and wrapping his arms around her waist. “Gotta make sure my friend is comfortable.”

She rolled her eyes, feeling warmth spread through her chest. “If this is just friendship, Charles, I’d hate to see you with someone you actually care about.”

He chuckled, tilting her chin up and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “I’d just be even worse,” he murmured, eyes sparkling.

The words, though playful, lingered with her. The closeness, the drawer, his mother’s invitations — they all hinted at something deeper than what they’d agreed on. But every time she’d try to piece together her thoughts, he’d pull her back in, and she’d find herself giving in, trying not to read into every little sign.

As things grew deeper, she found herself wrestling with her feelings more and more, unsure of where she stood. Despite the time spent together, despite the way his family had practically adopted her, she kept reminding herself that they were just friends. That’s all they’d agreed on, after all.

But Charles’s actions often left her wondering. The drawer, the constant calls, the way he made sure to always check in on her… it felt like more. And yet, whenever she started thinking like that, he’d casually brush it off with a laugh, leaving her both hopeful and hesitant.

One morning, just as he was heading out for another meeting, he casually mentioned, “Oh, by the way, Charlotte called. She wants to meet up with you tomorrow.”

She raised an eyebrow, caught off guard. “Oh? For what?”

He shrugged, buttoning up his jacket with that effortless confidence he had. “Wedding stuff, I think? She said she needed your help picking some things out.”

She blinked, surprised. “Wedding stuff? Isn’t that more… you know, family stuff?”

Charles glanced at her, looking amused by her confusion. “Exactly. That’s why she wants you there.”

Her heart stuttered, the implications of his words hitting her harder than she expected. She stood there, watching him as he finished getting ready, too shocked to find the words. Did he even realize what he’d just implied? Did he know what that invitation meant?

Unbothered by her inner turmoil, he leaned down to kiss her on the forehead. “Don’t overthink it,” he said softly, his eyes crinkling with a familiar warmth. “I’ll be back early tonight.”

And with that, he was out the door, leaving her standing there, the weight of her growing feelings settling over her like a heavy blanket.

In the silence that followed, she let out a shaky breath, her thoughts spiraling. Somewhere along the way, she’d crossed an invisible line — a line she couldn’t pretend didn’t exist anymore. She was in too deep, and for the first time, she wasn’t sure if she could keep up the pretense.

Taglist: @dullypully @sageskiesf1 @firefirevampire @eloriis @meadhbhcavanagh @raweceeks @amyelevenn @leclrcg @anunstablefangirl @chaoswithus @spngirl05 @bigdickdannyric1

@doofenshmirtzevil-inc @linneaguriii @gaslysainz @leclercdream