#the tenderness. how he waits for her touch and follows her every movement. THE EYE CONTACT!!!!!!!!!!!!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

[bladeofthewest]

Sometimes I felt like we were dancing our way towards something deeper.

[theorist-fox]

Johnny's invited to dinner

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader x John 'Soap' MacTavish

Word Count: 900

18+

CW: smut!!! this is literally smut. blowjob, handjob, various jobs that don't involve a salary. smug johnny. assertive dom simon but soft with you and you only.

Masterlist 🦊

“Agreed to have ya ‘ere to look, not to talk, MacTavish.” 

Simon’s voice is a growl that unfolds like an earthquake, reverberating in your skull. It cracks at the edges when your lips, wrapped around his cock, slide a little further down.

Johnny stands less than a foot from where you kneel, fully dressed but with his dick in hand, stroking idly and passing his thumb over the slit every now and then. 

“Ach—but she seems to like it.” Johnny’s lips quirk in an impish smile, and his hand travels the space between you and him to tangle his fingers in your hair. “Don’t you, bonnie?” 

Simon pierces Johnny with a look. It’s smothered by the way you moan appreciatively around his cock.

Johnny chuckles hoarsely. “Aye, she does.” 

And then he pushes your head forward—slowly but ever so demanding. You comply, following Johnny’s lead, until your nose is buried in Simon’s curls and your eyes are shining. 

You gag around him. Simon smacks a fist on the bed. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” 

He’s quick to recollect his bearings and uses his thumb to wipe a tear down your cheek. Your eyes crinkle at the corners, and he takes that attempt at a smile as eager consent. One he makes sure to have, once again, by cocking his head inquisitively—you nod, or try to, and he sighs. Gently, Simon smooths the hair away from your forehead in silent thankfulness. 

“Fuckin’ hell, alrigh’.” Johnny grunts, too focused on the sight of Simon’s cock disappearing in your mouth to notice the silent communication happening. He speeds the movement of his hand, tugging at the foreskin right above his glans. “How's she feel, L.T.? Gimme the details.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Nuh-uh,” Johnny tuts. “Ye gotta tell me—been selfish with her for too long. I get why, but don’t keep me in the dark now, uh? Feel like we're past that."

You start bobbing your head, gently guided by Johnny’s hand, while holding onto Simon’s thighs. He feels completely corded, like a rope ready to snap.

This is not what he thought would happen when you offered to have Johnny over for dinner.

But fuck it if he's going to complain.

Your head is cradled everywhere around it like it’s something precious and fragile—Johnny’s hand at the back, Simon’s palms now both at your cheeks.

“She’s warm.” He replies flatly, burying grunts and growls deep in his chest.

“Aye—coulda guessed that.” Johnny huffs. “Elaborate, will ye?” 

It’s then that you shift your head from side to side to accustom your jaw to his girth. Simon’s tip touches somewhere deep down your throat, and you choke around it. Your nostrils flare, and your eyes drown in tears Simon catches with his thumbs. 

“Fuck—” He grunts, rolling his eyes. “She—she’s fuckin’ melting me, Johnny. Tha’ enough?” 

“Yeah?” Johnny croaks. “Takin’ you deep—aye, sir?” 

“’Firmative.” 

“Can see ye bulgin’ down her throat,” he says, and Simon feels the sick need to go and check with his thumb. God help him, Johnny’s right. 

“She’s tight.” Simon pants. 

“Bet she is,” Johnny croaks. “Can’t wait to feel her myself. Right, hen?”

Simon watches you struggle to find a way to reply. You can’t speak because your mouth is busy elsewhere; you can’t nod, or you’ll choke. You opt for your hands, wrapping one around Johnny’s thigh and squeeze, digging your fingernails into the denim of his jeans. He stumbles forward, just a tad closer.

Johnny rewards you by massaging your scalp with his pads, a hoarse hum of approval passing through his lips. 

“Trained her right, L.T.” He chuckles.

Simon gives him a look that would normally freeze him on the spot, but it only prompts Johnny to stiffen and bite back a moan. 

“Didn’t train her, you twat.” Simon huffs gruffly, giving a tender brush of his thumb on your cheek as you work your mouth down his shaft. “She ain’t a dog.”

Johnny’s smirk falters, but Simon’s sure it’s not because he’s being reprimanded by his lieutenant but because he’s on the verge of finishing. Judging by the heavy furrow of his brow, he clearly doesn’t want to���not yet.

“Aye she ain’t.” He agrees, voice cracked and breathy. “But she’s a learner. Look at how she takes ye—that ain’t talent, can’t be.”

Johnny winks at you when he catches you struggling to look up. 

You huff from your nose, rolling your eyes fondly. His lips quirk, and he softens you up by grazing his nails down your scalp until your skin rises in goosebumps.

You push your head back against Johnny’s hand, and he takes that as a sign to go on. 

“That’s fuckin' hard work, right there.” He growls, and then guides your head down Simon’s cock once again. His thighs tighten under your fingertips, spine straight and knotted when you swallow him all the way down.

“Careful, Johnny.” Simon warns through gritted teeth. Even though he’s on the verge of toppling over, his voice still sounds delightfully rich—stern and commanding.

Then, he directs his eyes to you.

Yours soften, probably because his cheeks are awfully pink, and the crinkles of his eyes stretch in that way he reserves for you only. “Alrigh’?

You hum in reply, blinking up at him with clumped lashes and happy, bloodshot eyes.

“Three taps on my thigh when you need, yeah?” He says. “Go on.” 

You tap Simon’s thigh three times. He brushes his thumb down your cheek before placing his hand over Johnny’s wrist at the back of your head.

He squeezes it until his knuckles turn white, and then he nods his way. Johnny swallows a rock lodged in his throat when he meets Simon's hooded gaze.

“Go on, Johnny.” His hand on your cheek remains soft and soothing, but his eyes, locked on Johnny’s flushed face, hold a darkness you’re not allowed to see.

“Make me cum."

Hey!!! We officially reached 1k people so I thought I'd scare you away with some filthy smut.

I love you all. Truly. Thank you for being here and making my days 10 times better.

-theo 🦊

[elryuse]

ISLAND Pt. 3 Yuna ft Ryujin & Chaeryeong

ITZY X MALE READER

Tags : Foursome?, Lots of Kissing, Seduction, Creampie,Multiple Orgasm, Edging, Creampie

The hotel suite was bathed in soft, golden light from the setting sun, casting long shadows across the plush carpet. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, sex, and the faint sweetness of body wash from earlier. Y/n lay sprawled on the massive bed, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. To his left, Ryujin nestled into his side, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his skin. Chaeryeong curled up on his right, her head resting on his shoulder, her breathing slow and steady. The trio had spent the better part of the day exploring each other’s bodies, their passion leaving them drained but satisfied.

But rest was short-lived.

The sound of the door creaking open broke the silence. Yuna stepped inside, her eyes widening as she took in the scene before her. “Oh my god!” she squeaked, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson. She clutched her towel tighter around her body, clearly having just come from the shower. Her hair dripped water onto the floor, and she froze like a deer caught in headlights. “I-I didn’t mean to—”

Ryujin smirked, propping herself up on one elbow. “Relax, Yuna. You’re not interrupting anything… yet.” Her voice was teasing, laced with mischief that made Yuna’s face burn even hotter. Chaeryeong giggled softly, her fingers twirling Y/n’s hair absentmindedly as she glanced at Yuna with an amused expression.

Y/n sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “Yuna, it’s fine. We’re just… relaxing,” he said, though the way his hand lingered on Chaeryeong’s thigh suggested otherwise. His tone was calm, reassuring, but there was a flicker of something darker in his eyes—something that made Yuna’s stomach twist in a way she couldn’t quite understand.

Yuna bit her lip, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of their gazes. “I-I should go…” she stammered, turning toward the door.

“Wait,” Ryujin called out, her voice firm but playful. She stood up, letting the sheet fall away from her body as she padded over to Yuna. The younger girl’s eyes dropped instinctively, taking in Ryujin’s naked form before quickly looking away. Ryujin chuckled, reaching out to gently grip Yuna’s wrist. “You don’t have to be shy, you know. It’s just us.”

Yuna swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. “I-I don’t think I can—”

“Trust me,” Ryujin interrupted, her voice soft but insistent. She leaned in closer, her breath warm against Yuna’s ear. “It feels amazing. And Y/n… well, he knows how to make it feel even better.”

Yuna’s legs felt like jelly as Ryujin guided her toward the bed. She glanced at Y/n, who gave her a small, encouraging smile. Something about the way he looked at her—gentle yet predatory—made her pulse quicken. Chaeryeong shifted to make room, patting the space beside her. “Come on, Yuna. Don’t be scared,” she said, her voice sweet and coaxing.

Yuna hesitated for a moment longer before finally climbing onto the bed, her movements stiff and uncertain. Ryujin followed suit, positioning herself behind Yuna and placing her hands on the younger girl’s shoulders. “Just relax,” she murmured, her lips brushing against Yuna’s neck. “Let us take care of you.”

Y/n watched with growing anticipation as Ryujin began to undress Yuna, peeling away the towel to reveal her smooth, delicate skin. He reached out, his fingers grazing Yuna’s cheek before tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice low and husky. He leaned in, capturing her lips in a tender kiss that quickly deepened as Yuna responded hesitantly at first, then with increasing urgency.

Chaeryeong watched with a sly smile, crawling over to Yuna’s side. She ran her fingers through the younger girl’s damp hair, her touch soothing yet electrifying. “Don’t worry, Yuna,” she cooed, her lips brushing against Yuna’s ear. “We’ll make sure you enjoy every second.”

Ryujin’s hands slid down Yuna’s sides, her touch feather-light as she explored every curve. She pressed kisses along Yuna’s shoulder, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin just enough to elicit a shiver. “Tell us if it feels good,” Ryujin murmured, her voice dripping with honeyed promise.

Yuna gasped as Y/n’s hands joined the fray, his fingers dancing across her thighs before dipping between her legs. She was already wet, her body betraying her nervousness with a slick heat that made her moan softly. “Ah… W-what are you doing?” she whimpered, her voice trembling.

“Making you feel good,” Y/n replied simply, his voice rough with desire. He kissed her again, swallowing her moans as his fingers worked her with practiced precision. Chaeryeong’s hands wandered lower, cupping Yuna’s breasts and rolling her nipples between her fingers. The sensation was overwhelming, and Yuna’s head fell back against Ryujin’s shoulder as pleasure surged through her.

Ryujin grinned, her hands slipping down to grip Yuna’s hips. “Ready?” she asked, her tone playful but expectant. When Yuna nodded weakly, Ryujin positioned herself behind her, guiding Yuna’s hips to align with Y/n’s waiting cock. “Just breathe,” Ryujin instructed, her voice softening. “It’ll feel amazing, I promise.”

Yuna tensed as Y/n pushed into her, the stretch sending a wave of both pain and pleasure coursing through her. She clung to him, her nails digging into his shoulders as she adjusted to the unfamiliar sensation. “O-oh…” she moaned, her voice shaky but filled with wonder. “It’s… so big…”

Y/n groaned, his grip tightening on her hips as he began to move. Each thrust sent sparks through Yuna’s body, and soon she was writhing beneath him, her moans growing louder and more desperate. Ryujin watched with hungry eyes, her own need growing unbearable. She pressed against Y/n’s back, her lips trailing hot kisses across his shoulders as her hands roamed his chest.

Chaeryeong, not wanting to be left out, moved to kneel beside Yuna, her fingers finding the younger girl’s clit. She rubbed in tight circles, adding another layer of stimulation that made Yuna cry out. “F-fuck… oh god…” Yuna gasped, her hips bucking wildly as pleasure overwhelmed her senses.

Ryujin smirked, her hands sliding down to grip Y/n’s ass, urging him to go faster, deeper. “Make her scream,” she growled in his ear, her breath hot and demanding. Y/n obeyed, his thrusts becoming sharper, more forceful. Yuna’s moans turned into screams as she teetered on the edge of orgasm, her body trembling with the effort to hold on.

And then she shattered.

Her walls clenched around Y/n, pulling him over the edge with her. He groaned, his hips stuttering as he spilled himself inside her, filling her with his warmth. Yuna collapsed against him, her body going limp as waves of pleasure washed over her. Ryujin and Chaeryeong exchanged satisfied smiles, their own desires still burning bright.

As Yuna struggled to catch her breath, Ryujin leaned in, her lips brushing against the younger girl’s ear. “Told you it would feel amazing,” she purred, her voice dripping with satisfaction.

Yuna could only nod weakly, her mind still hazy with pleasure. But as she glanced up at Y/n, a spark of curiosity ignited in her eyes. “Can we… do it again?”

The room was quiet for a moment, save for the soft sound of Yuna’s breathing as she clung to Y/n, her cheeks flushed and her eyes still glazed over with pleasure. Ryujin and Chaeryeong exchanged knowing glances, their lips curling into playful smirks. They could see the hunger in Yuna’s eyes, the way she trembled against Y/n’s body, desperate for more.

Ryujin leaned back against the bed, running a hand through her tousled hair. ”You really liked it, huh?” she teased, her voice low and sultry. Yuna didn’t answer right away, her fingers lightly tracing patterns on Y/n’s chest as if trying to memorize the feel of him. Her heart was pounding, her mind racing with thoughts of what had just happened—and what she wanted to happen next.

Finally, she looked up at Ryujin, her voice barely above a whisper. “Can you… leave us alone for a bit? I want to try it… just the two of us.”

Ryujin raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening. She glanced at Chaeryeong, who was already standing up, stretching her arms lazily. “Fine by me,” Chaeryeong said, her tone light but her eyes gleaming with mischief. “I could use a shower anyway.”

Ryujin stood up as well, brushing herself off before giving Yuna a playful wink. “Don’t wear him out too much, okay? Save some for us later.” She turned to Y/n, her gaze lingering just long enough to make his pulse quicken. Then, with a flick of her hair, she followed Chaeryeong out of the room, leaving Y/n and Yuna alone.

The door clicked shut, and suddenly the air felt heavier, more charged. Yuna shifted nervously, her small hands still resting on Y/n’s chest. She couldn’t quite bring herself to meet his eyes, her shyness getting the better of her now that they were alone.

“Y/n…” she began softly, her voice trembling slightly. “I… I want to do it again. But this time… just us.”

Y/n reached up, gently cupping her cheek and tilting her face so she would look at him. His touch was warm, reassuring, and it made something inside her flutter. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice husky but gentle. “We don’t have to rush anything. You can take your time.”

But Yuna shook her head, her determination outweighing her hesitation. “No… I want this. I want you.” Her words were bold, and they sent a jolt of heat straight through him. He could feel the way her body pressed against his, how her breath hitched when his thumb brushed over her lower lip.

He didn’t need any more convincing. With a slow, deliberate motion, he leaned in, capturing her lips in a deep, searing kiss. Yuna gasped softly into his mouth, her hands sliding up to tangle in his hair as she kissed him back eagerly. Her inexperience was evident in the way she moved, but there was a raw intensity to her actions that drove him wild.

His hands roamed over her body, exploring every curve, every inch of her soft skin. She shivered under his touch, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps as he trailed kisses down her neck, nipping lightly at her sensitive flesh. When his fingers grazed the waistband of her shorts, she tensed slightly, but then she nodded, her eyes locked on his with a mixture of trust and desire.

Y/n took his time undressing her, savoring the way her body trembled with anticipation. He worshipped her with his hands and his mouth, making her squirm and whimper as he discovered just how responsive she was. By the time he finally slipped her panties down her legs, she was already wet, her arousal unmistakable.

“Y/n…” she moaned, her hips lifting instinctively toward him. “Please… I need you.”

He groaned softly, his own desire threatening to overwhelm him. He positioned himself between her legs, his cock throbbing as he pressed against her entrance. “Tell me if it’s too much, okay?” he murmured, his voice rough with restraint.

Yuna nodded, her nails digging into his shoulders as he pushed inside her slowly, giving her time to adjust. The sensation was overwhelming—the tight heat of her around him, the way her walls fluttered as she tried to accommodate his size. He paused when he was fully sheathed inside her, giving her a moment to catch her breath.

“How does it feel?” he asked, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

Yuna blinked up at him, her lips parted as she panted. “It’s… it’s amazing,” she whispered, her voice filled with awe. “You’re so big… I can feel all of you…”

Her words sent a surge of heat through him, and he couldn’t wait any longer. He began to move, rocking his hips in slow, deliberate thrusts that had her gasping and arching beneath him. Her hands clutched at his back, pulling him closer as she lost herself in the rhythm of their bodies moving together.

Y/n wasn’t sure how long they lasted, but every second felt like heaven. The way Yuna tightened around him, the way her soft moans filled the room—it was intoxicating. He found himself kissing her again, deeper this time, their tongues tangling as their movements grew more frenzied.

“Y/n… I-I think I’m going to…” Yuna managed to gasp out, her voice breaking mid-sentence as a wave of pleasure crashed over her. Her body clenched around him, drawing a groan from his lips as he felt her climax ripple through her.

He followed soon after, his hips stuttering as he spilled himself inside her, filling her with his warmth. Yuna whimpered, her body trembling as the aftershocks of her orgasm left her boneless and breathless.

They stayed like that for a while, tangled together in the afterglow. Yuna’s fingers traced lazy patterns on his back, her head resting against his chest as she listened to the steady beat of his heart. “That was…” she began, but then she trailed off, unable to find the words to describe how she felt.

Y/n chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Yeah. It was.”

But even as they lay there, Yuna’s curiosity began to stir again. She tilted her head back, her eyes meeting his with a pleading look. “Can we… do it again?”

Yuna’s question hung in the air, her voice soft but laced with a newfound confidence. Y/n couldn’t help but smile at her eagerness, his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from her flushed face. “Again?” he teased, his voice low and playful. “You sure you can handle it?”

She pouted, her lips forming into a small, adorable frown that only made her more irresistible. “I’m not a kid anymore,” she protested, her hands pressing against his chest as she shifted to sit up slightly. The movement caused her thighs to brush against his still-sensitive skin, sending a shiver through both of them. “I want to try something… different this time.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her boldness. “Different how?” he asked, his voice dropping lower as his hands slid down to rest on her hips, his touch firm but gentle.

Yuna bit her lip, her cheeks flushing even deeper as she hesitated for a moment. Then, with a breathless laugh, she pushed herself up fully, straddling him in one fluid motion. Her hands pressed against his chest for balance as she looked down at him, her eyes sparkling with a mix of nervousness and determination. “I want to be on top this time.”

The words sent a jolt of heat straight to Y/n’s core. He hadn’t expected her to take charge so soon, but the way she looked right now—her hair slightly disheveled, her lips swollen from their kisses, and her body glowing with a thin sheen of sweat—was enough to make him forget any hesitation. “Okay,” he said simply, his voice rough with desire. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Yuna giggled nervously, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest as she adjusted her position. She bit her lip again, glancing down between them where his hardness pressed against her thigh. “I might need… some help,” she admitted shyly.

Y/n smirked, his hands moving to grip her hips firmly. “Like this?” he asked, guiding her gently until she was positioned just right. His tip brushed against her entrance, and they both let out shaky breaths at the contact. “Now,” he murmured, his voice thick with anticipation, “just take your time.”

Yuna nodded, her hands gripping his shoulders tightly as she slowly lowered herself onto him. The sensation was overwhelming—both for her and for Y/n. She gasped softly, her nails digging into his skin, while he groaned, his hands tightening on her hips to steady her. “Fuck, Yuna…” he breathed, his head falling back against the pillow as she sank down inch by agonizing inch.

When she finally took him all the way, they both paused, letting the intensity of the moment wash over them. Yuna’s eyes were wide, her lips parted as she tried to catch her breath. “Oh my god,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “It feels so… deep like this.”

Y/n chuckled darkly, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles on her hips. “You’re doing amazing,” he assured her, his voice strained. “Now move, baby. Go at your own pace.”

Yuna nodded again, her hands sliding down to rest on his chest as she tentatively began to rock her hips. The slow, deliberate movements made her whimper, her eyelids fluttering as pleasure built within her. “It’s… it’s better than I thought,” she admitted breathlessly, her rhythm gradually becoming more confident.

Y/n watched her with rapt attention, his hands roaming over her body as she moved above him. “You look so beautiful like this,” he murmured, his fingers tracing the curve of her waist before sliding up to cup her breasts. She gasped, arching into his touch as her movements became more erratic.

Soon, Yuna found herself losing control, her hips grinding down harder and faster as the tension coiled tighter inside her. “Y/n, I—I think I’m going to—” she started, but her words dissolved into a moan as her orgasm hit her suddenly and intensely. Her body trembled, her walls clenching around him as waves of pleasure washed over her.

Y/n groaned, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he thrust up into her, unable to hold back any longer. “Fuck, Yuna, I’m close too,” he rasped, his movements becoming frantic as he chased his own release.

She whimpered, her hands clutching at his chest as she felt him pulse inside her, filling her once again with his warmth. The sensation sent another shockwave through her body, prolonging her climax until she collapsed forward, her forehead resting against his chest as they both struggled to catch their breath.

For a few moments, the only sounds in the room were their ragged breathing and the faint creak of the bed beneath them. Then, Yuna lifted her head, her lips curling into a satisfied smile. “That was…” she began, but trailed off, shaking her head slightly. “Amazing. Just… amazing.”

Y/n chuckled, his hands stroking her back gently. “You’re a natural,” he teased, pressing a kiss to her forehead. But before he could say anything else, Yuna sat up again, her expression growing mischievous.

“Let’s do it again,” she said, her voice dripping with excitement. “But… slower this time. I want to feel everything.”

Y/n grinned, his hands trailing down to grip her thighs. “Your wish is my command,” he replied, pulling her down for a searing kiss as they prepared to lose themselves in each other once more.

[heytheredelulu]

Unbreakable - The After Years

Follow up to Unbreakable, my Bucky Barnes x Reader fic.

ALL OF MY WORK IS 18+

C/W: Language, sexual references

You don’t get pregnant after that first time. You hadn’t been in your fertile window but were still disappointed with your negative test despite knowing it wouldn’t have been positive when you took it.

When your period came, Bucky brought you your favorite snacks, bought you a new fluffy blanket and a pack of ovulation tests that he gave to you with a tender kiss on the forehead.

The first time you got the smiley face on your ovulation test you nearly tackled him when he came through the door that evening, brandishing the test stick at him and peppering kisses on every bare inch of skin you could find.

He made love to you constantly, regardless of where you were in your cycle, just craving the intimacy of being raw inside you, of the feeling of his warm, thick cum spilling within you. He’d rut himself deep into you, kissing your cervix with the tip of his cock, desperate to be as far in you as he could physically be.

You knew you were pregnant before you even took the test. You’d been cooking dinner and Alpine had hopped onto the counter, craving a good ole head scratch and the idea of cat fur where you were plating your food sent you into a violent gagging fit.

You called Sarah, Sam’s sister and your best friend and she squealed so loud you nearly dropped your phone. She stayed on FaceTime with you while you anxiously took the test, not even needing to wait the full three minutes for the results because you had a blazing positive the moment your urine passed through the window. You made her promise not to speak a word of it to Sam before you had the chance to tell Bucky.

He could sense something was up the moment he got home. His enhanced senses followed your strange new scent into the living room and when his eyes met yours, he knew- he knew you were carrying his child. Tears brimmed his lower lids the second you stood up and he pulled you into a tight embrace, kissing you fiercely as he cried tears of joy.

Bucky was attentive and overly protective of you l you anyways and once you were pregnant he became over the top to say the least. He doted on you constantly, always asking, “Are you feeling okay, Angel?” “Have you eaten today?” “What can I get you?” Sam and Sarah always teased him, saying he would treat you as if you were made of glass.

He accompanied you to every appointment, his foot tapping anxiously before every ultrasound, his eyes wet with tears every time he had the opportunity to see the small little movements on the screen, every time he heard the fast paced thump thump thump of his baby’s heartbeat inside your womb.

The first time he felt her kick- his daughter- his flesh hand was resting affectionately against the swell of your abdomen, where it lay almost any chance he had. You’d been watching a movie, lounged on the couch together with Alpine curled in his lap. The tiny flutter against his palm drew a sharp gasp from his chest, his eyes wide as he whispered in a voice of disbelief, “Angel, I felt her. She’s kicking. She’s kicking, isn’t she?”

Bucky was the first to buy things for his baby girl. He constantly came home with outfits, bows and blankets, excitedly showing you what he’d picked out. Anytime a package arrive in the mail you knew it was something else he’d bought for your daughter, spending entirely too much time online shopping once he’d figured out how to navigate Amazon.

You’d painted the nursery together, laughing and teasing him once you’d finished and he began attempting to put together the crib. The instructions ended up crumpled in a ball as he wiped sweat off his forehead, motherfucking the pieces laid out on the floor in front of him. Once he’d finally conquered ‘the damn thing’ you kissed him deeply as you admired the nursery, the kiss quickly becoming gentle touches and heavy breathing until you made love on the soft carpeted floor. He took his time exploring every inch of your body, his thrusts careful, slow and sensual as if you were the most precious thing he’d ever touched.

Your water broke late in the evening, while he was drawing you a bath to soak your sore back and swollen ankles. Bucky raced around the house in a panic, passing the hospital bag several times while looking for it as you watched with an amused smirk. “Baby, take a breath.” You told him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “It’s gonna be fine.”

Your labor was long and hours blurred together amidst the pain and anxiety but Bucky never left your side. He held your hand, pushed your hair off your forehead and whispered words of praise and encouragement against your ear as he kissed your temple. At one point he climbed into the bed with you, settling his powerful frame behind you as he drew you to his broad chest, holding you against him as you labored until it was time to push. Fortunately you didn’t have to push for long before the tiny cry echoed through the room, choked sobs of joy and relief bubbling up from your chest as you slumped back against your weeping husband.

Once you were comfortable, your small, perfect daughter resting against your chest, Bucky headed out into the waiting room with wet cheeks and a proud grin. “Winnifred. Winnifred Natasha Barnes.” He told Sam and Sarah as they stood up excitedly to hug him after having waited for hours for her arrival.

Winnie was a daddy’s girl and she had Bucky wrapped around her finger from the first moment he held her. She looked like you, with his blue eyes and his dark hair and you frequently argued playfully over whose nose she had. Named affectionately after his mother and your fallen friend and teammate, as she grew into her toddler years she definitely gave you both a run for your money as she perfectly emulated Natasha’s fiery personality.

Bucky couldn’t have been more wrong in his fear of being a father. He was the most attentive and loving dad you’d ever seen and you often found yourself lingering in the doorway at night, your heart swelling with love at the sight of the two of them curled up in the rocking chair after having fallen asleep mid bedtime story.

Bucky loved being a father so much that shortly after Winnie’s third birthday you were pregnant a second time. A boy, much to Bucky’s excitement. He would daydream about playing catch with him, teaching him how to fix up the motorcycle- all while he braided Winnie’s hair and chased her around the yard.

It wasn’t more than a year after Steven Samuel Barnes was born that you became pregnant for a third and final time. Your second son, Anthony ‘Tony’ James Barnes being the final and beautiful piece to complete the family you’d only ever dreamed of.

Winnie was the first to find out about who her dad used to be. She was 14 and had come home from school in tears over the cruel things a particular little shit of a classmate had told her. Before you sat her down to tell her everything, you had pulled Bucky into your bedroom, cupping his face with your hands. “Unbreakable.” You reminded him softly, until he nodded, eyes closed with a shaky breath.

It was easier to show Winnie who her dad really was. You took her to the Smithsonian, walking alongside her through the Captain America exhibit, until she stopped wide-eyed in front of the large picture of her father. The panel detailed his service in the 107th, his capture in Azzano and the heroic actions that took place during his time alongside Steve Rogers and the Howling Commandos before the tragic fall in 1945 from the train in the Alps. Once she’d had the chance to absorb her dad’s incredible feats, he took her for a long walk along the shore where he told her his story, in his own words- beginning with his time under HYDRA. He told her fond memories of his years in Wakanda, mentioning how incredibly badass the Dora Milaje are and that she would love Ayo, Okye and Shuri and perhaps one day she could meet them. He explained the blip, how he’d fought alongside so many heroes in order to save the Earth from the Mad Titan Thanos and fondly recalled Steve and Tony- her smile widening into a grin as she made the connection to her younger brothers’ names. He ended his story with you- how you met, how he fell in love with you and how you saved him. He told her how you made him a better man, helped him overcome his darkness and how she, his beautiful, resilient, first born child reminds him everyday that everything he had been through was worth it when he saw her smile.

Winnie got detention the next day for foul language. The principal called home to report that when she’d been arguing with a classmate she’d said- and I quote- “My dad saved the fucking planet, Jessica. Your dad’s screwing his secretary.”

Taglist (Taglist is open):

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[vanteguccir]

let’s get horny?! don’t mind if i do 🥰🤭

i need chris to come and ruin me while he calls me his pretty girl

── ୨୧ !　a small blurb of Chris ruining you while calling you his pretty girl

　　　　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, her heart racing as she looked up at Chris. His eyes were dark with desire, a smirk playing on his lips as he took in the sight of her so surrendered.

Without a word, he reached out, pulling her up roughly by her chin and crashing his lips onto hers. The kiss was urgent and hungry, and she could feel the raw need in every movement. His hands roamed her body, sliding beneath the thin fabric of her - his - shirt to caress her skin. She moaned into his mouth, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pressed closer.

Chris broke the kiss, his breath hot against her ear as he whispered.

"Lie back."

She complied, her body trembling with anticipation as she lay back on the bed. Chris followed, his weight pressing down on her in a way that made her feel both vulnerable and safe. His lips trailed down her neck, his teeth grazing her skin in a way that sent shivers down her spine.

He reached the neckline of her shirt, his fingers hooking beneath it to yank it down, exposing her boobs to his hungry gaze. His mouth descended on one nipple, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud before he sucked hard, drawing a gasp from her lips. His hand moved to the other breast, kneading it roughly as his mouth continued its assault.

"You're so beautiful." He muttered against her skin, his voice rough with need. "So pretty. My pretty girl, yeah?"

Y/N arched into him, her hands clutching at his shoulders as he lavished attention on her breasts.

"Chris, please." She whimpered, her voice trembling with desire.

He lifted his head, his eyes burning with intensity.

"Please, what?" He demanded, his hand sliding down her body to the waistband of her panties.

"Please, I need you." She pleaded, her hips lifting to meet his touch.

Chris's smirk deepened as he ripped her lace panties off, tossing them aside. He pressed a finger against her slick folds, groaning at how wet she was for him.

"You need me here?" He asked, his voice a low growl as he teased her entrance.

"Yes." She breathed, her body arching off the bed in desperation. "Please, Chris."

He didn't make her wait. He thrust two fingers inside her, his touch rough and demanding. Y/N cried out, her body writhing beneath him as he pumped his fingers in and out, hitting all the right spots. His thumb found her clit, rubbing hard circles that had her seeing stars.

"You're so wet for me." He growled, his breath hot against her ear. "Do you know how much I love making you feel this way? Huh, pretty?"

She could only moan in response, her body trembling with the intensity of his touch. Chris's fingers worked her relentlessly, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. She clutched at the sheets, her body on fire as he drove her towards release.

"Chris, I'm going to-" She gasped, her voice breaking as the wave of pleasure crashed over her. She cried out his name, her body convulsing with the force of her orgasm.

Chris didn't stop. He continued to finger her, his thumb pressing hard against her clit as he extended her orgasm. Y/N's mind went blank, her body consumed by the waves of ecstasy that seemed to go on forever.

When she finally came down from her high, Chris withdrew his fingers, his touch gentle as he caressed her trembling body. He kissed her hard, his lips a demanding contrast to the tenderness of his touch.

"Are you ready for more?" He asked, his voice a seductive whisper as he positioned himself between her legs.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat, her body already responding to the promise in his eyes.

"Yes." She breathed, her voice barely audible. "Please."

Chris's smirk was predatory as he positioned himself at her entrance, his gaze locked on hers.

"You're mine." He growled as he thrust into her just at the right pace, filling her completely. "Only mine, pretty girl."

Y/N cried out, her hands clutching at his shoulders as he began to move, his thrusts hard and relentless. He filled her completely, each movement sending waves of pleasure through her body. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing her heels against his ass, pulling him deeper, needing more of him.

Chris's pace quickened, his thrusts becoming harder and more demanding.

"You're so fucking tight." He groaned, his voice thick with desire. "Y' feel so good."

She could only moan in response, her body writhing beneath him as he took her higher and higher. His hand moved between them, his fingers finding her clit and rubbing it in time with his thrusts.

"Chris, I can't-" She gasped, her body trembling on the edge of another release.

"Yes, you can." He growled, his voice a low, seductive command. "Come for me, pretty girl."

His words were her undoing. With a loud and almost pornographic moan, she came again, her body convulsing around him as the waves of pleasure washed over her. Chris's thrusts became erratic, his own orgasm following hers as he buried himself deep inside her, his groan of pleasure echoing in the room.

They collapsed together, their bodies entwined, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. Chris held her close, his hand gently stroking her hair as they basked in the afterglow of their intense lovemaking.

"You're amazing." He murmured, his voice full of love and admiration. "My pretty girl."

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with love for the man who had just made her feel more alive than ever.

"My pretty boy."

I wrote this with a shitty migraine, so I'm sorry if it's not that good :(

[anamina0]

Echoes

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V , Part VI, Part VII , Part VIII

warnings/themes : lots of angst, unresolved emotions, anger, sadness, fluff

word count : 4.8k

Vi’s hand wrapped firmly around yours as she pulled you into the bedroom, her grip protective but not harsh. You stumbled slightly, barely able to catch your breath after what had just happened. The second the door closed behind you, she stopped, her hand falling to her side as silence filled the air. You didn’t look at her. Couldn’t. Instead, your gaze stayed fixed on the floor, the storm inside your chest growing stronger with every passing second.

“Hey,” she whispered, stepping closer. Her voice was soft, familiar, and achingly patient. Her fingers tilted your chin upward gently, forcing you to meet her gaze. “How are you holding up?”

Your throat tightened, her concerned blue eyes cutting straight through your walls. You tried to answer, but words felt heavy, impossible to form.

“I… we can’t catch a break, can we?” you said finally, forcing a laugh that sounded as awkward as it felt. Vi huffed a soft chuckle, but her focus never wavered. Her thumb brushed your skin lightly, and her touch grounded you, tethered you in a way you didn’t feel worthy of.

“You know,” she started, her voice steady but impossibly kind, “no matter what happens, I’m with you. Right here. Always.”

Her words were like a balm on the chaos inside you. You didn’t deserve her—her tenderness, her faith, her love—but gods, you wanted her.

“I know,” you murmured, your lips curving into a small, shaky smile. The sight of your smile made hers bloom, a quiet warmth spreading across her features. But then her expression grew serious again, her brows knitting slightly.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” she began carefully, hesitating for only a moment, “but you have to talk to her.”

The words felt like a punch to the gut.

“Vi, I can’t—”

“You have to,” she interrupted, her voice gentle but firm. “You need to find out what happened to your brother. You deserve to know, more than anyone.”

Her words lingered like a poison in your mind. You deserve to know. No, you didn’t. You didn’t deserve anything—not this kindness, not her warmth , not her. She had this, beautiful heart, and all you’d done was fill it with your secrets and lies. She didn’t deserve someone like you; she deserved someone better.

“Vi…” you whispered, your voice trembling under the weight of the truth you wanted so desperately to tell her. She didn’t know the full story, didn’t know the lies you’d built to protect yourself. But you had to tell her. You had to. Her touch pulled you from your downward spiral. She stepped closer, cupping your face with both hands as her thumb brushed lightly across your cheek. “Hey,” she said softly, anchoring you with her calm presence. “I’ll be in my apartment . When you’re done talking to her, come to me, and we’ll figure out what to do. Together.”

“I don’t even know if I want to find him,” you admitted, voice cracking. “He left me, Vi. Left me all alone.”

“Then we won’t go after him,” she said simply, her gaze never leaving yours. “No matter what you decide, I’ll stand by you.”

Her promise shattered something inside you, and you reached for her, your arms wrapping tightly around her as if holding on for dear life.

“You have no idea how lucky I am to have you,” you whispered into her shoulder, your voice barely steady.

She pulled you closer, her embrace warm and sure. “Actually,” she murmured, “I think I do.”

By the time you stepped out into the living room, Vi’s warmth still lingering on your skin, the air was sharp with tension. Ellie was waiting, leaning against the arm of the couch with her arms crossed, her eyes trained on you the second you appeared. Her gaze flickered to Vi briefly, and something dark flared there—jealousy. Ellie’s eyes followed Vi’s every movement as she stood by your side, her hand slipping into yours instinctively. The connection was simple, natural, but you didn’t miss how Ellie’s jaw clenched, her lip curling slightly like she was biting back something bitter.

“Fifteen minutes,” you said coldly, your voice steadier than you felt inside. “I’m giving you fifteen minutes.”

Vi gave your hand a small, reassuring squeeze before stepping away. She didn’t spare Ellie a glance, her focus entirely on you as she nodded once and slipped through the door, leaving you with the silence and Ellie’s piercing stare.

Ellie raised an eyebrow, an almost bitter smirk tugging at her lips.

“She’s really got you wrapped around her finger, huh?” she said, her tone cutting. “Bet she loves playing the hero.”

Her words stung more than they should have, but you refused to let it show. Instead, you locked eyes with her, glaring in defiance.

“Say what you came here to say, Ellie,” you said, your voice sharp and strained. “The clock’s ticking.”

She rolled her eyes like she always did when she was trying to cover up her nerves, but her movements weren’t as confident as you remembered. With a slight sigh, she sank onto the sofa like the weight of her own words had dragged her down.

“To be honest, I don’t know much either,” she started, her tone quieter now, uncertain. Her eyes flickered to yours and lingered a moment too long. “All I know is that one day, Faye shows up at my door. She tells me that she met this guy… said he’s supposed to be your brother.”

Your heart raced every time Ellie mentioned your brother. Each word felt like peeling back a wound you’d buried deep. It had been years since you’d last seen him—since the day he left, throwing a rushed “See you sooner than you think” over his shoulder as if it would make everything okay. it didn’t. You hadn’t wanted him to leave. But you also didn’t want to hold him back. He needed to find a new path for himself, one far away from all the mess you were trapped in. And yet, knowing that didn’t make it hurt any less. His absence tore at you in a way you never expected. For a while, you told yourself it was fine, that he’d come back like he promised. But as the weeks turned to months, and the months into years, doubt crept in and built a home inside you.Two options haunted you, weighing on your chest like lead. Option one: he wasn’t alive anymore. Option two: he was alive, but didn’t want you in his new life. You didn’t know which one hurt worse. One option meant you’d failed to protect the only family you had left. The other meant he’d abandoned you on purpose, like you hadn’t mattered enough to keep. Either way, you couldn’t win, and it killed you every time your mind wandered back to him. As you sat there now, listening to Ellie talk, your head spun. This was the first time someone had said your brother’s name in what felt like forever, and it was too much. Too sudden.

And then there was Ellie—sitting there so casually, like she wasn’t tearing apart the fragile life you’d managed to piece together after everything fell apart. She had her own ghosts, sure. You could see them in the way her hands trembled when she gestured, in the way her voice faltered when she told you about Faye and whatever shady business your brother might be wrapped up in now. But that didn’t make this easier. Ellie showing up, out of nowhere, with a handful of riddles and a hint that your brother might still be out there—it wasn’t fair. Not after everything you’d been through. Not after losing your sister, your mother, and everything else you once called home. The past didn’t feel like some distant thing you’d left behind. It felt like a ghost, like a weight pulling you down, and now, Ellie had just ripped the scab clean off.

“How does she even know what my brother looks like?” you asked, the words stumbling out.

You sat down next to her before you realized it, pulled down by the weight of old memories. You were too lost in thought to notice how close you were. It wasn’t until she shifted, her shoulder barely brushing yours, that it hit you.

“She wouldn’t say,” Ellie admitted, her brows furrowed like even she was doubting everything Faye had told her. “But the way she found me—she showed up out of nowhere. And then she begged me to go to Zaun, to find you. Said your brother’s alive and part of some group running really sketchy business in the city.”

You turned to her then, unable to stop the disbelief from crossing your face.

“That’s insane,” you muttered. “She just—she magically stumbles onto him after all this time? Tracks you down, of all people? Ellie, this is ridiculous.”

“I know it sounds crazy,” she said softly, the bite from earlier replaced with something fragile. “But… I believe her. I think she’s telling the truth.”

The anger flared in you first, burning hot and unchecked.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you snapped. You leaned forward, clutching your head in your hands. “She finds him, just like that? Then she gets you—you of all people—to be the one to tell me? Like it’s some kind of normal day, like you didn’t—”

Your voice cracked.

“It’s not fair,” you said, quieter now, but the venom was still there. You let out a shuddering breath, dropping your face fully into your hands. “None of this is fair.”

There was a pause. A silence so loud it felt like it could crush you both. You felt her shift beside you, hesitating before her fingers lightly brushed against your back.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. Her voice was so quiet it might’ve been a ghost of her guilt.

But the contact sent a shock through you—not of comfort, but of rage. You straightened immediately, jerking away from her hand as if it burned. Your eyes met hers again, now filled with a mix of anger and old hurt.

“You don’t get to be sorry,” you snapped, pulling away and spinning to face her. Your voice rose as you glared at her, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes despite your best efforts. “Do you think this is okay? Do you think this makes it better? What, you think you’re some kind of hero now? Coming out of nowhere to ‘rescue’ me, telling me my brother might still be alive, like you didn’t—like you didn’t destroy me—”

Her expression shattered like glass. And yet, she didn’t pull away.

“I—”

“Don’t. Don’t say you’re sorry again,” you spat, cutting her off before she could try. The words were sharp enough to carve through steel.

But she still tried anyway.

“I am. I really am.”

You barked out a humorless laugh, leaning back and shaking your head. “Well, I don’t believe you. And I never will.”

The tension hung thick and heavy in the room, suffocating you both. But she didn’t leave. She stayed, the same way her presence had always lingered like a ghost in the corners of your life.

The silence in the room stretched painfully, punctuated only by the uneven rhythm of your breathing. You tried to focus on something—anything—other than the person in front of you, but the weight of her presence made that impossible. Finally, you broke.

“Where is he now?” The words felt foreign leaving your mouth, as if they belonged to someone else. Ellie hesitated. Her lips parted to speak, but no sound came at first. When she finally did answer, her voice was small. “He’s still with that group, as far as I know.”

Your gaze drifted from her face to her hands. She was fidgeting with her fingers again, twisting them in that anxious way she always did. She hated being vulnerable, and yet here she was, cracking in front of you. “So is Faye,” she added quietly, almost like an afterthought, but it was anything but.

“What?” The word came out sharp, cutting through the stale air. Disbelief clouded your voice, thick and angry. “What’s her plan? What is she even doing?”

The anger bloomed fast, fiery and all-consuming. You weren’t even sure who you were angrier at—Faye, for sending Ellie to deliver news this heavy, or Ellie, for actually coming. Faye had known that Ellie was the last person you wanted to see. The sight of her now was dredging up too much—too many feelings you’d buried under layers of resentment and pain. And as much as you hated it, a small, biting voice in the back of your mind whispered, Vi should be here. This wasn’t just your burden to carry. Not when it involved her supposedly dead sister.

Ellie stood suddenly, her movements jerky and defensive. “Listen,” she began, voice taut and trembling, “you know how Faye is. She just… she appeared out of nowhere. She told me your brother is alive, and that he’s with her group now. She said I had to find you. She said she couldn’t come back to Zaun herself.” She shook her head as if trying to clear the memory from her mind. “That’s all I know.”

Your nails bit into your palms as your hands curled into fists. Every part of you was screaming for release, but instead of unleashing the storm brewing inside, you forced out a question. “Would you have still come?”

“What?” Ellie blinked, caught off guard.

“If Faye hadn’t told you she couldn’t come here, would you still have come to tell me?” The boldness of your question hung in the air, your voice daring her to answer. Ellie froze, visibly struggling to find her words. When she spoke, her voice was quiet, but it carried a weight that made your chest tighten. “The only thing I know is that you deserved to know,” she said, her hands falling limp at her sides. “After everything you’ve been through…” She swallowed hard, her voice cracking as she went on. “I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t tell you. I had to. For you.”

Her words should have meant something. They should have mattered. But instead, they felt like salt in a wound that refused to heal. Your thoughts were a hurricane—anger, grief, confusion, all swirling together in a chaotic mess you couldn’t untangle.

“Say something,” Ellie pleaded, taking a step closer. Her foot brushed against yours lightly, like she thought the small contact might help break through the barrier you’d built around yourself.

Your eyes snapped to hers, your voice colder than ice. “What do you want me to say?”

She faltered for a moment before the desperation poured out of her. “I don’t know. Yell at me. Curse at me. Tell me I’m the worst person you’ve ever met. Hit me, even. Just don’t…”

“Don’t what?” you interrupted, your voice rising. The anger you’d been trying to suppress spilled out in waves. “You don’t deserve my anger, Ellie. You don’t even deserve this conversation.”

The words came faster now, sharper, harder to stop. “You couldn’t live keeping a secret about my brother, but you could live with walking away from me? Like I was nothing to you?” Your laugh was bitter, hollow, and it sounded alien even to your own ears. “You’re so full of shit, Ellie.”

You stood, towering over her now, your heart pounding so loud you wondered if she could hear it. Her eyes searched yours, and for the first time, you thought you saw cracks forming in her composure.

“I left because I couldn’t—because you deserved better than someone as broken as me.” Her voice broke as she said the words, but it wasn’t enough.

“You don’t get to decide what I deserved,” you shot back, the words heavy with years of buried resentment. “You walked away from me when I needed you most, Ellie. And now you think you can show up out of the blue with this… this bombshell and act like you care? Like you ever cared?”

Ellie flinched as though you’d struck her, and for a fleeting moment, you thought she might fight back. But instead, her shoulders sagged, and something in her seemed to crumble. “I never stopped caring about you,” she whispered. “Not for a second. But you… you’re right. I left. And that’s on me. But I couldn’t stay. Not the way I was.”

The storm in your mind refused to quiet, her words only adding fuel to the fire. You wanted to scream, to curse, to demand answers to questions you weren’t even sure how to ask. But instead, you just stood there, letting the silence fill the space between you. The air between you and Ellie felt thick, oppressive, and heavy with all the unsaid words that had built up over time. You stared at her, searching her face for any sign of the girl you had once loved so fiercely. It felt surreal to even be having this conversation after everything.

“I wish I believed you, Ellie,” you finally said, your voice steady but brittle, like glass that could crack at any moment. You paused for just a moment before continuing. “But I don’t.”

Ellie flinched, your words landing like a slap. She bit her lip, the nervous gesture so familiar it sent a pang through you. “I understand,” she mumbled, barely meeting your eyes. “I deserve that.”

Her response fueled the anger simmering inside you, and you couldn’t hold it back anymore. “You did the worst thing anyone can do to someone,” you said sharply. “You left without answers.” You paused, trying to gather your thoughts, because you weren’t sure if you’d ever get this chance again. “I loved you more than anyone. You were the only person who made me feel like I wasn’t completely broken. After everything that happened to me, everything finally felt clear once I met you. I was excited to wake up again, Ellie. I was finally happy. For the first time in years, I had a future, and you were the biggest part of it. I would’ve sworn on my life that you felt the same.” Ellie looked down, guilt etched across her face, but you pressed on, unwilling to stop now. “I never doubted it—not for a second. And then one day, you just… packed your things and left. No warning, no explanation, no goodbye.” Your voice cracked slightly, but you didn’t care. “Do you even understand what that did to me? Do you have any idea what it’s like to spend every single day wondering what went wrong? What the hell I did to make you leave me?” Ellie tried to step closer to you, but you backed away, keeping the distance between you. “It was a living hell,” you spat. “I hated myself because I thought I wasn’t enough for you. Because you were everything to me, Ellie. Everything. I would’ve done anything for you. I would’ve stayed, no matter what. But clearly, I wasn’t enough for you to stay.”

“That’s not—” Ellie started, her voice a whisper, raw and broken. She stopped herself, swallowing hard before trying again. “That’s not true.”

“It is,” you snapped, anger flashing through you again. “Don’t lie to me now.”

Ellie inhaled sharply, visibly steadying herself. When she spoke again, her voice was soft but trembling with emotion. “You were more than enough for me,” she said. “That was the problem.” Her words stopped you in your tracks, the sheer vulnerability in her tone making your heart falter for a moment. She hesitated, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, before continuing. “You were the most important person in my life,” she said, her voice growing quieter. “I loved you so much it terrified me. I’ve never met anyone like you—someone so funny, smart, beautiful…” She hesitated, her voice shaking. “Sexy. You were everything I’d ever wanted, but I was scared. I was scared I couldn’t give you what you deserved.” She looked down at herself, almost disgusted, and motioned to her chest. “Because this is all I am,” she said, her voice bitter. “And you deserved more than that.” You stayed silent, watching her unravel in front of you. “That’s why I left,” she admitted, finally looking at you again. Tears shimmered in her eyes, but she blinked them away. “Because I was a coward. I was so scared of failing you, of disappointing you, that I did the only thing I knew how to do. I ran. And I hate myself every single day for it. Because leaving you was the stupidest, cruelest thing I’ve ever done. And know it was stupid. I walked away from the only woman I’ve ever loved… the only woman I will ever love. And I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

Ellie’s voice faded into silence, her words hanging heavily in the room like an echo that refused to dissipate. She finished speaking, her eyes locked on yours, raw and unguarded. The sight of her like this—open, vulnerable, confessing every emotion she’d buried—was shocking. You had never seen her so honest, so exposed.

And yet, it didn’t make the pain go away. Her words didn’t undo the nights you spent crying, questioning, or the endless pit of loneliness she left behind. They didn’t erase the broken pieces of yourself you had to pick up alone. Even now, standing before her, hearing her say the things you’d once longed to hear, it still hurt. For a moment, you felt torn. Deep inside, something stirred—something that almost made you forget all the pain she had caused. Seeing Ellie like this reminded you of who she used to be to you, the way she used to make you feel… warm, safe, loved. But that flicker of feeling was snuffed out as quickly as it came. Because no matter what she said now, it didn’t change what she had done. You stared at her, speechless, your emotions tangled in a way that made it impossible to find the right words. Ellie, too, seemed unsure, the silence stretching until she cautiously stepped closer. Her hand lifted hesitantly, trembling slightly, as she reached for you. Her fingers brushed your face lightly, tentatively, as though afraid you’d pull away. The warmth of her touch was familiar, so gentle it was almost like muscle memory. For a moment—a brief, fleeting moment—you almost let yourself lean into it. But the bitterness inside you clawed its way back, and you hardened once more.

“It’s too late now,” you said quietly, taking her hand and pushing it away.

Her face fell, the hope in her eyes dimming as you took a step back, putting more distance between you.

“I need to talk to Vi,” you said, your voice firmer now. “You’ve been traveling a long time, so you can spend the night here. There’s food in the fridge, and you can grab fresh clothes from my closet.”

You scratched your head, your gaze drifting away from hers. The weight of the conversation was suffocating. “I’ll be on the floor below. If anything comes up, you know where to find me.”

You glanced at her one last time. Her face was etched with sadness, nerves, and an overwhelming amount of regret. She looked so small, so defeated. And for a moment—just one brief, maddening moment—you felt bad for her. You thought about staying, about sitting with her and saying something kind. But then you remembered how she had left you all alone, abandoned and broken. And whatever guilt you felt melted away under the anger that burned within you. She didn’t deserve your pity—not after what she had done.

“Okay,” she mumbled, her voice barely audible.

You turned to leave, your hand gripping the door handle. But then her voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Do you love her?”

The question hit you like a thunderclap. You froze, your heart racing, your mind scrambling for a response. It was so unexpected, so out of the blue, you didn’t know what to say. Not to Ellie. Not even to yourself. Because deep down, you knew the answer. It lived in the quiet corners of your heart, a truth you were too scared to face.

You took a deep breath, keeping your back to her. “Get some rest, Ellie,” you said softly, your voice carefully void of emotion.

And then you stepped out, closing the door behind you before she could say anything else. The weight of everything crashed down on you all at once. Seeing Ellie, hearing the news about your brother, and feeling that old wound tear open again—it was unbearable. You didn’t realize you were crying until hot tears began streaming down your face. It was too much. Everything was too much, and you needed something to make it stop. Without thinking, your feet carried you to Vi’s door. Before you knew it, your fist was rapping against the wood, your body trembling. Seconds later, you heard hurried footsteps, and the door swung open.

“Hey,” Vi’s voice came, soft but concerned. Her eyes scanned your tear-streaked face, immediately registering the situation. “Hey, hey.”

In a heartbeat, she pulled you inside, shutting the door behind you, and wrapped her arms around you. The moment she held you, it was as though the dam inside you burst. All the pain, fear, and frustration you’d been holding back erupted, and sobs wracked your body as she lowered you both onto the floor. Vi didn’t let go for a second. Her grip only tightened, holding you as if to shield you from the storm raging inside your mind. “I’m here,” she whispered, her voice steady and grounding. “I always will be.”

Her words broke something even deeper in you. You buried your face in her neck, clinging to her like she was your anchor in the chaos. Her warmth surrounded you, and her fingers traced soothing patterns on your shoulders, each touch grounding you. For a fleeting moment, you let yourself melt into her embrace, but seeing Ellie today had unearthed the reason you were so afraid to let yourself have this. Vi. She was everything you never dared to hope for. With her, it felt right—it felt real—but that only made it terrifying. You couldn’t lose her. You wouldn’t survive being left again. The fear clawed at your chest, fighting against the undeniable comfort her presence brought. The urge to pull away warred with the desperate need to hold on to her forever. Suddenly, Vi leaned back slightly, her hands finding your face. She tilted your chin gently, forcing you to meet her eyes. Her smile was small but reassuring, and when she leaned forward, her lips brushed over your tear-streaked cheeks. She kissed you so softly, so reverently, it was as though she was trying to take some of your pain into herself.

She didn’t speak, but she didn’t have to. In those fleeting touches, she told you everything: I’m here. I’m with you. You’re not alone. And it worked. The unbearable ache dulled ever so slightly, her warmth filling the spaces where the pain used to be. Being with her—it just made sense. You couldn’t imagine losing this. Losing her. When she pulled back, her thumbs brushed the tears from your face, her smirk breaking through her otherwise tender expression. “So… want me to kick someone’s ass?” she teased lightly, raising an eyebrow.

A small laugh bubbled up through your tears, and it startled even you. “Maybe,” you replied, trying to smile despite the mess of emotions still overwhelming you.

Vi grinned wider. “That’s better,” she said, pressing her forehead lightly against yours. “Talk to me. What happened?”

You shook your head, letting out a shaky breath. “It’s just been an awful day,” you admitted, your voice cracking. “I’m a mess, Vi. Everything’s… I don’t know.”

“You’re not a mess,” she said, her voice firm but warm. Her hand moved to your back, tracing circles that made you feel like you weren’t coming apart at the seams. “But we can talk about it, yeah? Whatever you need.”

You hesitated, chewing on your lip. “Actually… I do need to talk. About a lot of stuff.”

She smiled, leaning back slightly to look at you fully. “I’m all yours, stranger,” she said softly, her attempt at humor landing with the kind of warmth that only Vi could provide.

Her words made your chest tighten, and suddenly, the weight of what you were about to do felt like too much to bear. You knew this moment mattered more than anything—it was now or never. Your heart pounded as your mind raced through the decision you had to make. Either you told Vi the truth about her sister—that she was alive—and risked everything, or you kept secret and carried the guilt alone. Betray your best friend and reveal the truth… or stay silent and live knowing you had hidden something that could change Vi’s life. Either way, there would be no going back.

It was now or never.

Author's note: Ahhh I'm so sorry for taking it so long! I was busy plus writing this chapter was extremely hard, I want to show every emotion , everything clearly. It was challenging . Sorry that Vi isn't present in this chapter much, but I had to dedicate one chapter to Ellie and reader. Please let me know what you think, it means a lot to me!

p.s. we're unfortunately close to the finale. Next chapter/two chapters probably will be the last. I'm truly not ready for it. I don't want their story to end.

[demoniofleur10]

Dom!Giyuu x fem!reader

Giyuu had been away for several days, tasked with a perilous mission that demanded every ounce of his strength and skill. Despite the constant danger, the one thing that never left his mind was his wife, waiting anxiously for him at home. She was his guiding light, his anchor in a world fraught with violence. Every time he faced an enemy or found himself on the brink of exhaustion, it was thoughts of her that pulled him through. In those moments when death seemed certain, the image of her left behind, waiting, gave him the strength to continue fighting. He couldn't allow himself to perish, not when she was counting on his return.

When the mission was finally over, and Giyuu returned to the safety of the Demon Slayer Corps, Oyakata-sama granted him a week's leave—a chance to rest and recover both physically and mentally. The time off was a rare luxury, and Giyuu planned to savor every moment of it with his beloved wife, Y/n. She had always known how to ease his mind, her presence alone being a source of peace. Sensing the strain he had been under, Y/n suggested they spend the day at a bathhouse, where he could relax and leave the burdens of the world behind for a little while. She envisioned a serene afternoon together, followed by a quiet walk home under the stars once night had fallen.

Though Giyuu agreed with her idea, there was a sense of unease that lingered. Despite the promise of a restful day, his instincts as a Hashira never wavered. "I’ll bring my katana," he said, his voice firm but gentle, as if to reassure her. Y/n understood. While he longed for peace, the world they lived in was unpredictable, and Giyuu had seen too much to let his guard down entirely. They would enjoy their time together, but always with the knowledge that danger could strike at any moment, especially under the cover of night.

The thought of spending the day with her, however, filled Giyuu with a quiet joy. He cherished these rare moments of normalcy, where they could simply be husband and wife, away from the battlefield.

—•☆■☆•—

They arrived at the bathhouse late in the morning, the air still crisp with the fading remnants of dawn. Giyuu had made the thoughtful decision to reserve a private bathing area for just the two of them. The idea of sharing such an intimate space with others, with his wife exposed and vulnerable, unsettled him more than he liked to admit. He wanted this time to be just for them, undisturbed by wandering eyes or strangers infringing on their peace.

To his dismay, the bathhouse was bustling with activity, the noise of conversations and footsteps echoing through the halls. Yet, a sense of relief washed over him knowing that he had planned ahead. The privacy he had secured now felt more precious than ever, a sanctuary away from the chaos where he and Y/n could enjoy each other’s company without interruption.

As they stepped into their secluded bath area, Giyuu was the first to sink into the steaming water. The warmth was soothing, easing the tension that had been knotted in his muscles from days of fighting. His mind, however, was far from at ease. His thoughts were a swirl of anticipation as he waited for Y/n to join him. When she finally did, the effect on him was immediate and profound.

The sight of her moving gracefully toward the bath stole the breath from his lungs. It had been so long since he’d been able to enjoy these simple, intimate moments with her. The mission had kept him away not only from her presence but from her soft, tender touch—something he craved more than he realized until now. As she stepped into the water, her movements were fluid, her hips swaying with a natural grace that made his heart race.

She settled beside him with a smile, her expression so serene and innocent, as if none of this affected her the way it did him. Giyuu, on the other hand, was struggling to maintain his composure. His throat felt dry, and his body tensed in a way that had nothing to do with battle fatigue. His fingers twitched, aching to reach out and pull her into his arms, to feel the softness of her skin against his once more. The thought of claiming her, of leaving a mark so she would never have to be alone again, stirred something deep inside him.

"Should I help you relieve some of that stress?" Y/n’s soft voice cut through the quiet, drawing Giyuu’s attention from the thoughts swirling in his mind. He had been lost in his own head, the heat of the bath doing little to ease the tension that clung to him. But the sound of her voice was enough to pull him back to the present, and the question she posed sent a fresh wave of desire coursing through his veins.

He turned his head slightly, meeting her curious gaze. The innocent tilt of her head, the way her eyes sparkled with concern, only deepened the fire simmering inside him. "How would you do that?" he asked, his voice low and thick with unspoken need. He knew well enough what she meant—likely offering a gentle massage to soothe his aching muscles—but that wasn’t what he wanted. He craved something more, something only she could give him, something to remind him of how alive he felt in her presence.

Y/n, unaware of the storm brewing within him, smiled softly. "I could massage your shoulders," she started, her voice sweet and soothing as she leaned a little closer. But before she could finish, her words were silenced by the sudden press of his lips against hers.

The kiss was unexpected, fierce, and full of the pent-up longing that had been building inside Giyuu since the moment they entered the bath together. His lips moved against hers with an urgency that left her breathless, his tongue brushing across her lips, demanding entry. Y/n let out a quiet hum of surprise, her body responding instinctively as her eyes fluttered shut. Her hands moved of their own accord, slipping around his neck and pulling him closer, as if she couldn’t bear the thought of being even an inch away from him.

His hands found her waist, the warmth of her bare skin sending a jolt of heat through him. He pulled her against him, his fingers tightening around her as if afraid she might disappear. The sensation of her soft curves pressed against him only fueled the fire inside, and he deepened the kiss, pouring all of the desire, relief, and love he felt into it.

Y/n’s heart raced in her chest, her body melting into his embrace. The intensity of his kiss, the way his hands gripped her as if she were his lifeline, stirred something deep inside her. She hadn’t realized how much he had missed her, how much he needed her, until now. The passion in his touch, the heat in his kiss—it spoke of a longing that went beyond mere words. And she responded in kind, her fingers threading through his hair as she gave herself over to the moment, to him.

Giyuu pulled away the moment he felt a gentle push against his shoulder, granting Y/n the space to gasp for air. Her cheeks were flushed a soft pink, a clear sign of the passion that had ignited between them. She lowered her gaze, her breath still uneven as she tried to compose herself. Giyuu waited, his intense gaze on her, watching as she slowly caught her breath. When she finally looked up at him from beneath her lashes, there was a spark in her eyes—one that mirrored his own desire.

With a shy determination, she rose onto her toes, leaning in to kiss him again. But before she could close the distance, Giyuu took control. He bent down, capturing her lips with a renewed hunger, his tongue slipping past her lips in a deep, possessive kiss. Her muffled moans filled the air as she melted into him, her fingers digging into his shoulders as his tongue explored her mouth. The kiss was fierce, primal, and it made her body tremble with need.

Y/n’s mind swirled with desire, her body burning with an intense longing to feel him—every inch of him, against her and within her. She needed his touch, his rough, calloused hands on her skin, grounding her in the reality of the moment. His kiss consumed her, overwhelming her senses until tears brimmed at the corners of her eyes, not from sadness, but from the sheer intensity of what she felt. Every time his lips moved against hers, it felt like she was in heaven.

This was a side of Giyuu she had never seen before—a side he had always kept hidden. Normally, he was so careful with her, always gentle, as though he feared hurting her. His touch was soft, restrained, and though she loved him for it, she had always yearned for more. She had wanted him to let go, to lose himself in her, to break the invisible boundaries he had set between them. And today, he finally had. His touch was no longer careful—it was possessive, each caress sending shivers down her spine, awakening sensations she had only dreamed of.

Her breath hitched as his hand moved to cup her breast, his fingers kneading the soft flesh with a possessive grip. Her hardened peak was teased, pulled gently, eliciting soft whimpers from her lips as he kissed her with unrelenting passion. The contrast between his rough hands and her soft skin only heightened the experience, making her body burn with need.

She arched into him, her chest pressing against his as if seeking more of his touch, her entire body responding to him in a way that left her head spinning. His touch was electrifying, each movement of his hands making her ache for more. Every kiss, every caress was like fire against her skin, igniting something primal deep within her.

Her hands slid up his chest, fingers brushing over the hard planes of his body as she sought to close the gap between them. She wanted to feel all of him, to lose herself completely in his embrace. Every moment felt like it stretched into eternity, the world outside fading away until nothing remained but the two of them, bound together by the overwhelming desire coursing through their veins.

He pulled away once more, his hands gripping her waist with a firm but gentle hold, lifting her effortlessly from the water and setting her on the platform above. A startled squeak escaped her lips as her wet skin met the cool surface.

"Let me savor you, my love," he murmured, his voice husky and filled with a raw intensity she hadn’t heard before. The sound sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. Was this really her Giyuu? His demeanor was different, more primal, as though something inside him had awakened after the mission. Her pulse quickened as her thighs instinctively clenched, only for him to spread them apart with a firm but tender grip, his fingers digging into the softness of her skin.

"N-no, wait!" she stammered, her hand flying to her mouth in a feeble attempt to silence the small gasps and whimpers that threatened to escape. But Giyuu was undeterred. He parted her slick folds with his fingers, spreading her wide before him. "So wet," he growled softly, his dark eyes gleaming with hunger as his tongue darted out to wet his lips in anticipation.

Her breath hitched as he leaned down, planting feather-light kisses down the curve of her stomach, each one igniting sparks of pleasure that made her toes curl. When he reached her most sensitive spot, he paused, teasingly brushing his lips against her swollen clit, a fleeting touch that sent waves of desire surging through her body.

"Giyuu… not here, p-please," she whimpered, her voice barely a whisper as he ignored her plea, his mouth sealing over her folds, dragging his tongue along her slick heat in a languid, torturous rhythm. The sensation was overwhelming, the slow, deliberate movements making her thighs tremble.

Her hand flew to her mouth once more, muffling the moans that bubbled up uncontrollably. He was relentless, alternating between soft, teasing licks and firmer strokes, his grip on her thighs tightening as he pressed closer. The world around her faded, her senses consumed by him—his touch, his taste, the way his tongue danced against her, coaxing her closer to the edge with every skillful flick and caress.

She felt the coil in her stomach tightening with each expert stroke of his tongue, his mouth and lips working in perfect harmony as he devoured her with an insatiable hunger. He licked and sucked as though he had been starved for ages, ravenous for the taste of her. Her slickness coated his mouth and chin, a messy blend of her arousal and his saliva glistening in the dim light. His sharp nose brushed against her swollen clit with every movement, sending electric jolts of pleasure through her already trembling body.

Each drag of his tongue, each flick against her sensitive folds made her toes curl. Her thoughts became muddled, overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations coursing through her. She could no longer suppress the moans that slipped freely from her lips, the sound raw and needy as her body surrendered to him. Her back arched off the platform, fingers digging into the surface beneath her as she struggled to ground herself in the overwhelming pleasure.

When he slid two of his thick fingers inside her, curling them just right, it was the final push. Her body convulsed, the knot deep within her snapping with a sudden intensity that took her breath away. A wave of ecstasy crashed over her, her walls pulsing and clenching around his fingers as she came hard, her release coating his fingers and his mouth. The orgasm ripped through her, leaving her breathless, her thighs trembling uncontrollably.

But Giyuu wasn’t finished. Even as she rode out the aftershocks of her climax, he continued his slow, deliberate pace, licking up every drop of her essence as if he couldn’t get enough. His tongue swept over her folds, gathering the remnants of her release, savoring every last bit. His fingers remained inside her, moving in time with his mouth, coaxing out the final tremors of pleasure from her overstimulated body.

Her body jerked from the sensitivity, but he didn’t stop. He lapped at her with long, sensual strokes, pressing soft kisses to her soaked, swollen flesh. Only when he was satisfied did he finally pull away, his lips glistening as he wiped the back of his hand across his chin, a satisfied, almost feral glint in his dark eyes.

“always so sweet,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, his fingers trailing up her thigh as her chest rose and fell rapidly, trying to catch her breath.

“Now help me relieve my stress,” he murmured, his voice low and husky as he pumped his length a few times, the motion deliberate and slow. With a firm grip, he grabbed her by the waist, pulling her back into the water with ease, her startled gasp filling the steamy air.

"The bath will get dirty, Giyuu!" she whisper-shouted, her voice shaky as she felt the heat of his body pressing against hers. But her words faltered as soon as his thick length dragged along her folds, teasing her entrance. His grip tightened around her waist, arching her back just enough so that he could align himself perfectly. He was in no rush, his movements calculated, driving her closer to him as if wanting to feel every inch of her.

“I don’t care about anyone else,” he growled, his voice taking on a rough, primal edge as his teasing grew more intense. The tip of his cock slid along her slick folds with agonizing precision, sending jolts of pleasure through her body. Each pass was perfect, hitting the most sensitive spots just right, pulling sweet, desperate moans from her lips.

“You shouldn’t care either,” he added, his hand drifting down to rest possessively on her stomach, while his other hand gripped her hip with a firm, commanding hold. The possessiveness in his touch sent shivers cascading down her spine, igniting a fire deep within her. His fingers dug into her skin, and the roughness of his hold made her feel completely at his mercy.

He leaned in closer, his chest pressing against her back, his breath warm against her ear. He arched himself, positioning her so that he could wrap his arms around her fully, pulling her impossibly close. He didn’t just want to be inside her—he wanted to feel every part of her, to make her body and soul one with his. He needed her, so deeply that it was as if nothing else in the world mattered.

"Let me give you what you need," he hummed softly, his lips brushing her ear as he spoke. "And I’ll take what I need." His voice, usually quiet during such moments, was now laced with a feral hunger that sent waves of excitement crashing through her. Giyuu had never been so talkative, so bold, during intimacy. It was as if the mission had awoken something deep inside him, and now he was consumed by a need for her that went beyond words.

“Giyuu… you feel so different, love,” she gasped between breaths, her voice trembling as she felt the thick head of his cock align with her entrance. He nudged his way inside slowly, pushing past her folds with relentless pressure. The stretch of him made her eyes flutter closed, her lips parting in a breathless moan.

“What if someone... comes here?” she gasped, her mind clouded by the sensation of him inching deeper, filling her completely. Her question barely left her lips before he pushed all the way in, leaving her no space to think, let alone speak.

“I’ll kill them,” he growled, the possessiveness in his tone making her body tremble. The very idea of anyone else seeing her like this—so exposed, so intimately his—was enough to make his blood boil. His grip on her hip tightened, his fingers digging deeper into her skin as if claiming her entirely. She was his, and the thought of anyone else laying eyes on her drove him into a darker, more primal place.

With that, Giyuu began to move, thrusting deep and slow at first, savoring every inch of her tight heat. The bathwater rippled around them as his pace grew faster, more forceful, his hips snapping against hers with a growing urgency. His body pressed against hers, their skin slick with water, and she could feel every ridge of his muscles as he moved, his cock hitting deeper with each thrust.

His hand slid from her stomach to her breast, cupping it roughly, his thumb teasing her nipple as he continued to drive into her. Each touch, each movement sent her higher and higher, her body arching further into him. The water splashed around them, the air filled with the sound of their wet skin meeting and the breathy moans that fell freely from her lips.

Giyuu buried his face in the crook of her neck, his breath ragged, his lips brushing against her skin as he grunted her name with every thrust. He was relentless, his need for her consuming him, his hands gripping her tighter, pulling her closer as if he couldn’t get enough. He wanted every part of her, and she gave it all to him, surrendering completely to the intensity of his touch, his words, his claim.

“G-Giyuu!” she moaned, her voice trembling as her body tensed, on the brink of another overwhelming wave of pleasure. The way he held her, the way his hips snapped against hers with a fierce rhythm, it was all too much—yet she craved it, her body responding to him with every thrust. His large frame engulfed her, covering her completely as if he wanted to shield her from the rest of the world, to claim her as his in every possible way. She couldn’t stop the torrent of moans spilling from her lips, each one louder than the last, her mind barely able to process the intensity of what she was feeling.

As if sensing how close she was, Giyuu slowed his pace, his thrusts becoming deeper, more deliberate. His cock pressed firmly into her, reaching places that made her toes curl, his length dragging deliciously against her walls. He wanted to make her come first, to feel her shatter around him before he allowed himself to chase his own release. The thought of it—the way her tight, sensitive cunt would grip him as she came—made him almost feral with need. He wanted to use her body in the way she needed, in the way they both wanted. He wanted every man who had ever looked at her to know exactly who she belonged to.

As Giyuu continued to move inside her, his focus was entirely on the sensation of her body wrapped around him, her tight warmth driving him to the edge of madness. But then, he felt something unexpected—her tiny hands gripping his, fingers clutching desperately at his own as if trying to ground herself in the midst of the overwhelming pleasure. Her nails scraped lightly against his skin, leaving faint marks that only spurred him on. Each scratch, each squeeze, sent a new surge of possessiveness through him, reminding him that she was entirely his in this moment.

Her hands trembled as they tried to hold onto him, the strength of her grip faltering with each wave of pleasure that washed over her. Giyuu could feel her fingers clenching tightly around his own, her need for him reflected not only in her moans but in the way she grasped onto him, as if she feared letting go. The sensation of her hands—so small compared to his—grabbing at him, seeking his comfort and his strength, made his heart pound. It wasn’t just the physical connection that drove him wild, but the emotional intimacy of it all.

He shifted his hold, his larger hand wrapping around hers, squeezing back in reassurance. Her touch was frantic, and it only fueled his desire to give her more. Each time her fingers dug into his skin, he thrusted harder, his movements becoming more purposeful. The feeling of her tiny hands holding onto him, so trusting, so vulnerable, made him want to claim her in every way possible.

His hand moved higher, fingers slipping under her chin to cup her jaw, turning her head so she could meet his eyes. The moment her gaze locked with his, he claimed her lips in a searing kiss, his tongue plunging into her mouth and tangling with hers. The kiss was hungry, possessive, and it broke what little control she had left. Her body quivered, the knot inside her stomach tightening to an unbearable degree as his slow, deliberate thrusts pushed her closer and closer to the edge. Each movement of his cock was deeper than before, hitting her just right, driving her to the brink of madness.

Giyuu’s other hand slid from her hip, wrapping around her waist until his palm rested flat against her stomach, pressing her tightly against him. He wanted to feel her, to feel his own cock inside her, the way her body squeezed him with every thrust. His hand held her there firmly, almost possessively, as he filled her again and again, leaving his mark with each movement. A low groan escaped his throat, muffled against her lips as he kissed her harder, his control slipping.

She could feel the tension building inside her, her breaths coming in short, desperate gasps as the pressure became too much. Her moans were now muffled by his kiss, but her body told the story—her trembling thighs, the way her walls clenched around him, the tears of pleasure that began to slip down her cheeks. His hand cupping her jaw felt those tears, and he pulled back just enough to watch them fall, his dark eyes filled with something dangerous, something possessive.

He loved seeing her like this, so lost in the pleasure he gave her that she had no control left. It fueled him, drove him wild, the power he held over her body making him lose whatever restraint he had left. His once slow, deliberate pace turned frenzied as he snapped his hips against hers again, harder and faster, chasing his own release now. The sound of their skin slapping together filled the air, mingling with the wet, sinful sounds of his cock plunging into her again and again.

“Let go for me,” he growled against her lips, his voice rough and commanding. “I want to feel you come all over my cock.”

With a few more hard thrusts, her body gave in, the tight knot inside her snapping as she screamed his name, her walls clenching violently around him. She came hard, her entire body shaking as waves of ecstasy crashed over her, her slickness coating him, making every thrust that followed impossibly smooth.

Giyuu groaned low in his throat, the sensation of her orgasm pushing him over the edge. He slammed into her one last time, burying himself deep as his own climax tore through him, filling her with his release. His grip on her tightened, holding her flush against him as they both rode out the aftershocks of their intense pleasure, their breaths ragged and bodies trembling.

“I love you so much, my love,” he murmured, placing a tender kiss on her temple. His gaze softened as he took in her tired yet blissful expression, her cheeks flushed a deep crimson from their earlier intimacy.

“I love you too,” she whispered back, her voice barely above a breath as her hand found its way back to his. She rested it on his larger one, which remained possessively wrapped around her waist, grounding her amidst the aftershocks of their passion.

—•☆°♡°☆•—

“I hope you all had a good day!” the waitress chirped, her cheerful demeanor clashing with the heat radiating from her cheeks. She could feel her own face burn with embarrassment as she caught sight of Y/n, who was clutching Giyuu’s haori tightly from behind, her expression a mixture of humiliation and flustered joy.

[itsnesss]

Please fluff Sensei wolf/Feng Xiao x girlfriend shy!reader where reader is American ? Like they always and always have sex since he took her virginity. Sensei wolf/Feng Xiao wants to have a kid with shy!reader so he won’t stop until shy!reader gets pregnant but then again they’re always going at it, wolf always enjoying lifting shy!reader up against a (any) wall of the mansion or Sitting up cowgirl on a couch or the bedroom with their huge bed. Sensei wolf being very hard lovey dovey towards shy!reader

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞| sensei wolf × fem!reader

summary | you fall deeply for sensei wolf—dominant yet tender. he promises a future, and after days of passionate love, you find out you're pregnant

warnings | shy!reader, smut, explicit content, breeding kink, mild possessiveness, romantic obsession, soft aftercare, emotional vulnerability, pregnancy mention

word count | 2.1 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

Living in his mansion felt like being inside a different world. Every corner of the place carried the elegant, sober, and powerful touch that described him: Feng Xiao. Your partner, your refuge… and the man who hadn’t been able to keep his hands off you since the first time he made you his.

It had all started innocently. A conversation, a touch, a gaze charged with tension that built up day after day. You, the shy American girl who could barely hold his gaze, ended up falling into his arms without even realizing it. And he welcomed you as if he had been waiting for you all along.

That first night, when you gave yourself to him completely, was the beginning of something that never stopped. He didn’t want to stop. Ever since then, every time he touched you, something ignited in him. Something possessive, tender, and brutally romantic. You were always his. You always would be.

That night, you walked barefoot through one of the west wing hallways of the mansion, wrapped in a thin robe that barely covered your thighs. You knew he was looking for you; you could feel his gaze even before you saw him. And as if you had summoned him, his silhouette appeared at the end of the hall—powerful, confident. His hair slightly tousled and a shadow of desire in his eyes.

"Y/N," he said your name in a low whisper, as if tasting it on his lips was the only thing that mattered in that moment. "Why are you running away from me?"

You stopped, wide-eyed and blushing, clutching the fabric of your robe. But he already had you. In two strides, he was in front of you, one hand braced against the wall, the other caressing your waist.

"Do you know how crazy you make me when you walk around the house like this?" he whispered, leaning in to kiss your neck. "So shy, so innocent… and so mine."

His arms lifted you effortlessly, as if your body weighed nothing. With your back against the wall, your legs instinctively wrapped around his hips, and he held you like he was made to. Your heart pounded as his mouth slid over your collarbone, his hands gripping you firmly in the air.

"I'm going to give you a baby," he whispered directly into your ear. "I won’t stop until you’re pregnant."

You blushed even deeper, but your arms clung to his neck. It wasn’t the first time he had said it. Lately, that desire had been consuming him more and more. And you… you wanted it too, though your shyness kept you from admitting it aloud.

"F-Feng…"

"Shh, don’t say anything. Just feel."

And you did. You felt him—every kiss, every caress, every intense movement against your body, right there against the wall where he had already made you his more than once. He loved taking you like that. With the world silent, your body trembling from pleasure, and his name slipping from your lips in broken whispers.

When he carried you to the main living room sofa, he sat you down on him with tenderness. He took off his shirt, and you couldn’t help but lower your gaze, shy before the perfection of his torso. Even after all the times you’d been together, you were still timid. And he adored that about you.

"Look at me, Y/N," his fingers gently lifted your chin, making you meet his gaze. "I want to see you when you’re on top of me. I want to remember this image every time I close my eyes."

Your hands trembled as you rested them on his shoulders, but he guided you with patience. Your hips began to move as his hands held you tightly, his lips murmuring how much he loved you, how much he longed for life to begin within you in that very moment.

"Feng..." you moaned his name as you sat forcefully on him, seeking the utmost pleasure, the utmost contact. His hands sank into your skin, as if he wanted to carve his name into you forever.

"Damn," he groaned, with his eyes closed, his face tense from the effort of controlling himself. "Like that, like that, darling. That's how I like it".

You smiled, a mix of joy and pleasure overwhelmed you.Knowing that you gave him so much pleasure, that your body was capable of making a man like him crumble in that way, made you feel powerful. And yet, the shyness was still there, but you no longer held back like before.

"I love you," you whispered, kissing her neck, her chin, until you found her lips. That kiss was the same as always: passionate, intense, as if it were the first time every time.

"I love you too," he replied, his voice hoarse with desire. And I will show you every day. Every night. Every minute.

"More... more" you moaned, as your hips quickened the pace, seeking that climax that only he knew how to give you

"Yes, darling" he smiled at you, a smile that made you tremble in anticipation. "Let yourself go. Let yourself be carried away by me. I am always here for you".

And so you did. With a cry choked by emotion, you let yourself go, and he was the only support in that world that seemed to spin around you.He hugged you tightly, pressing you against his chest as if he never wanted to let you go.And in that moment, you knew he never would.

"Do you think it will work?" you asked later, with your head resting on his chest, listening to the beats of his heart slowly returning to normal.

"It will work," he replied, gently stroking your hair. Sooner or later, I'm going to get you pregnant.And when that happens... I will be the happiest man in the world. Because you will be even more mine than now. Our son... would be everything I've ever wanted.

You smiled at his words, knowing it was the truth.

"Why don't we make sure and do it again?" he asked, picking you up in his arms without letting go of you and guiding you to the room you shared.

"Maybe you're right," you smiled, allowing yourself to be carried away.

When they arrived in the room, Feng looked at you with that glint in his eyes that made you shiver.

"Get ready, darling," he whispered. Today I'm not going to let you sleep.I'm going to keep you in my bed all day.

"Do you think that after everything today, I'll be able to walk tomorrow?" you laughed, but the anticipation had already made you wet again.

"That's the goal. I want you to think of me in every move you make. With every step you take. I want you to feel my mark on your body and know that you are mine. Only mine".

I let you fall onto the bed gently. His hands roamed your body, as if it were the first time he saw you.He kissed every inch of your skin, whispered words of love and desire in your ear.

He thrust back into you with a stab, causing a scream to escape your lips as he gently bit your shoulder.

"Look at me," he ordered, with a hoarse and deep voice. I want to see your eyes when I make you mine again.

Your gaze met his, and you knew that in that moment there was nothing and no one else in the world. Just you and him. Only his body and yours. Just that love and desire that seemed to grow more and more.

"I'm yours" you whispered, as her hips moved with a steady rhythm, taking you higher and higher. "I will always be yours".

"And I am yours" he replied, with an intense and passionate kiss. "Now and always. For the rest of our lives."

"Take me, please" you asked, needing to feel him closer, needing your body to become one with his.

"Always," he whispered, moving closer to you, taking your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours.

His thrusts became stronger, unexpected, but you loved them, you loved the sound of his hips colliding with yours, you loved the dirty things he whispered in your ear and the way he looked at you.

"That's how I like it, that's how I like it," he said, his voice tense with pleasure. This is how I love to see you.

And in that moment, you felt complete. You felt loved, desired, needed. And you knew that was the only thing that mattered at that moment.

"Don't stop," you moaned, your hands gripping his shoulders. Please, don't stop.

"Never" he replied, kissing you passionately.

"Feng, Feng…" you repeated his name like a prayer, as pleasure took you to a place where only you and he existed.

"Say it again," he asked you, his gaze fixed on yours. "Tell me I'm the only one. Tell me that you love me as much as I love you".

"You are the only one "you whispered, your voice trembling with pleasure. "I love you as much as you love me. Even more".

"That's what I wanted to hear," he smiled, with a smile full of love and desire.

And in that moment, your legs trembling, reaching the highest point, Feng moaning and thrusting into you until he reached climax with you.

"Do you like how I make you feel?" he asked, while his hands gently and tenderly roamed your body, after you both had reached climax.

"I love it," you replied, smiling and snuggling against his chest.I love how you make me feel.

"Good," Feng whispered, stroking your hair.Because I have no plans to stop doing it.

You let yourself be carried away by his caresses, allowing his love to envelop you completely.

It was always the same. Intense love. Sweet possessiveness. Promises whispered between kisses and moans. He didn’t just want your body. He wanted to build something with you.

That night, after he carried you to the bedroom and made love to you in the huge bed you shared, you curled up against his chest, your eyes heavy and your skin still sensitive from everything you had just experienced.

"I love you," you whispered softly, not daring to look up.

"And I love you, more than I can ever explain," he replied, gently caressing your back. "There’s nothing I want more than to see you carrying my child. To take care of you, protect both of you."

His hand rested over your flat stomach with a tenderness that made you smile. He was so strong, so dominant, but with you, he became soft. Loving. And in every gesture, you felt it—yes, you wanted that future with him.

Days went by, and just as he promised, he didn’t stop. He seemed more devoted than ever. Every morning, he woke you with kisses all over your body, and at night, he took you to the edge of heaven, again and again. In the kitchen, in the library, in the back garden under the stars… every corner of the mansion was an excuse to love you. To try again.

"I won’t stop until you’re pregnant," he repeated with a mischievous smile, holding your waist on the couch, helping you keep the rhythm. "You have no idea how beautiful you’ll look."

And you blushed every time, unable to help it.

Until one afternoon, while you were resting in bed with the sheets barely covering you, you felt something different. A small wave of dizziness, a soft cramp. You got up slowly and walked to the bathroom, your heart pounding.

The test came back positive. Very positive.

You sat at the edge of the bathtub, your hand trembling as you held the test. Silent tears fell down your cheeks—a mix of nerves, emotion, and a joy so pure you didn’t know how to contain it.

He arrived minutes later, searching for your warmth as always. When he found you there, holding the test in your hand, his face lit up like never before.

"Is that...?" he asked softly.

You just nodded, unable to speak.

He dropped to his knees in front of you, taking your face in his hands, kissing your tears, your forehead, your stomach.

"Thank you... thank you, my love. You gave us a gift. My love, my everything..." he whispered, hugging you tightly.

That night there was no wild passion. Only tenderness. He made love to you with a sweetness that left you crying in silence, overwhelmed with emotion. He treated you like you were made of glass, as if he could already feel that new life growing inside you.

And when you woke up in the morning, with his arm around you and his calm breathing against your neck, you knew that nothing would ever be the same.

Not because your body was changing.

But because you were already a family.

And Feng Xiao, Sensei Wolf, the strongest and most dominant man you had ever known, was also the most loving. The most yours.

And you, the shy American girl who once blushed just from hearing his voice… were now the woman he had given his heart to.

You fall deeply for Sensei Wolf—dominant yet tender. He promises a future, and after days of passionate love, you find out you're pregnant. His joy is overwhelming, and in that moment, you realize you're no longer just lovers. You're a family.

[sbaren]

Femcop!reader x Satoru Gojo

Age gap! reader in her 30s and Satoru at university. N

You don’t even know how you ended up like this; an imposing hand gripping your jaw, forcing your gaze toward the mirror, a mix of control and subtle tenderness burning through his touch. His other hand rests firmly on your lower stomach, applying a pressure so deliberate it blurs the line between pleasure and pain.

“Giving me fucking speeding tickets just for having a little fun…harsh don’t you think?”

Satoru glanced at your messed-up face in the mirror, his usual smirk still in place. He couldn’t help but wonder how he ended up with such a tempting cop in his university dorm room. One thing was for sure though: he wasn’t letting you go until he’d satisfied you completely.

He pulled back slightly, taking a moment to appreciate just how deep his thrusts were, each one raw and passionate. With every thrust, he paused, feeling as if he were a virgin again the moment he penetrated the barrier of your sweet walls . Satoru’s hand shot out, catching your wrist effortlessly. His fingers wrapped around it with a deliberate, almost lazy motion, sending a shiver down your spine. His presence was unmistakable, overwhelming. Leaning in closer, his voice, low and teasing, grazed your ear as his lips brushed against the lobe, a playful bite following, making your breath catch in your throat.

"Did you forget I was right here, ma’am? Don’t even think about moving…i’m about to savor every moment of your sweet body, just as it is"

Moments after uttering those words, the hand that had been firmly holding your face in place so you couldn’t look away from your reflection, began to slide down your chest. His touch was light, almost teasing, as his fingers grazed over your skin, pinching your sensitive nipple just enough to make you gasp. Each movement sent waves of sensation through your body, stirring a growing heat that you couldn’t push away. The more he touched you, the deeper the ache became, and you found yourself losing more control with every passing second.

You had one job: just give him that ticket for speeding, nothing more.

Few hours ago.

You were approaching the black Ford when Satoru slowly stepped out of the car, his hand casually resting in the air as he moved toward you, confident and deliberate. As he got closer, you lifted your head to meet his gaze, and his clear eyes seemed to pierce through yours, even behind his sunglasses, making it impossible to ignore the pull. But you were on duty. Being a corrupt cop wasn’t exactly on your to-do list for the year. You mostly knew Satoru because of his need for speed, so most of the time you found yourself handing him tickets for speeding.

“Satoru?! That’s the third time this week!”

“Yeah, and honestly, I thought you’d be more worried about me, like memorizing my license plate so you could stalk me around the city and—”

“Cut the bullshit,” you said, pulling out your ticket book and scribbling down the information. A small sigh slipped out before you handed him the paper slowly.

A quiet moment hung between you, the only sound the distant hum of traffic. Then, Satoru broke the silence, his hand sliding around your waist as he looked down at you, his 6’3” frame looming over you. In that moment, all he could think about was seeing you beneath him, wanting to prove he could satisfy you in ways no one else could—better than any man who had ever been close to your most private, treasured parts… Satoru might be a little delusional, but he was convinced he was the one you truly needed.

“I told you I’d pay double for all of them, but only if you let me… eat you out—wait, I mean, take you out, ma’am !”

“You wanna know what I need from you, Satoru?” you asked, placing your finger gently on his chest.

He nodded eagerly.

“It’s you realizing that my responsibility as a police officer will always come first, no matter wh—“

-

Well… being a corrupt cop and doing whatever you want for just one night won’t hurt anyone, right?

“Fuckk…let me breed you,ma’am…huh— feeling you so fucking deep—hm, imma fill you up so good, you won’t ever think about another man again.”

There was something intoxicating about seeing just how desperately Satoru needed you. He wasn’t just wanting; he was pleading, like a man on the edge of unraveling, his need for you consumed him entirely, and the way he clung to you made your pulse pound in response. Your gaze caught his in the fogged-up mirror, the steam swirling from the heat of your bodies. His reflection was a mess, lips parted, his breath ragged, and his eyes desperately trying to stay locked on you.

The moment your hands slid over his, intertwining your fingers, Satoru lost all control. A strained, guttural moan escaped him, his breath hitching as he whispered your name, pulling you impossibly close. The tension snapped like a taut string, and his release shook through him, his fingers gripping yours as if they were the only thing anchoring him to reality. He was completely lost in the moment, consumed by the intensity of the moment.

“Satoru—ngh..im 'bout to-“

Satoru doesn’t let you finish, pulling you into a kiss filled with raw desire. His thrusts, once precise and controlled, lose their rhythm, becoming more frantic as he seeks to savor every last drop of you.

The room was a complete mess, your cop uniform tossed carelessly across the floor, gadgets strewn about in every direction. As your eyes scanned the chaos, they landed on your walkie-talkie resting on the edge of the desk. The static buzzed for a moment before your colleague’s voice pierced through, pulling you back into the reality of the situation.

"Y/n, where’d you go? I thought you were just doing some quick surveillance…is everything alright?”

[faorism]

[lev:red 3.04 spoilers, very suggestive in the most mundane of ways?] while there are many closer by their house or hq, when they have the time eliot walks thirty minutes off route to go to a small family-owned pharmacy because he knows they offer hand packing of pills. probably why they're still in business; rare thing these days, and eliot may not have allergies, but he knows the resistances and sensitivites he's developed over the years, and he knows they can pack his shit right.

their home supply just ran out of simple antibacterial cream, and so eliot makes his way over. he notices parker, of course, a few minutes in, but he doesn't call her out and she hangs back. trailing him. watching him.

when he's picks just a tube of the cream, he hands it off to his side and (as expected) finds parker there with a basket. he peeks in and sees tampons, one of every kind of floss they have in stock, and a small bottle of the multivitamins hardison prefers, as well as (like a troubling promise of what their night might be like) lube, two boxes of sesame street band-aids, and glucose monitoring lancets.

eliot sighs, picks up the lube, and says silicone? really gonna need that? we still got some at—at her devious smile, eliot tosses the tube back in. right.

before he can drop his hand, parker snaps forward and steals it. she holds it up, examining the knuckle of the index finger. it bears the mark of where her canine tore into the flesh just a few days before. the area around it has now reddened, although it's thankfully not swollen or hot to the touch. yet.

it's still bothering you? you would think your body would have gotten used to my—parker chomps her teeth—by now.

agitated it fending off the goon squad, i reckon. eliot flexes his fingers. close enough to the bone im keeping an eye on it.

parker pouts thoughtfully, pressing a thumb into where he's most tender. should i pick up condoms?

made sure to not break their skin, so we should be good on exposure. there was once when he wouldn't have dared over a paper cut, but eliot has calmed down, putting more trust into PrEP and his ability to subdue without bloodshed. if you need them for your plans, wouldn’t hurt?

parker glances down, calculates, and then skips off. eliot follows as she snatches a box of latex gloves instead of condoms, hot & cold strips, and... yup, alright. she has definitely plans, judging by her pausing over the incontinence bed pads.

eliot shakes his head. deciding between comfort or absorption?

parker nods. given the greater utility, he reaches for the latter but perhaps his movement prompted her, because she snatches forward for one outside his usual dimensions for the widest.

no sharps in my ass, parker.

parker glares at him. i know that! she then... huh, shoves the basket at him and storms off. she lets him see her bump into a display to steal a chocolate bar on her way out.

her outburst surprises eliot. makes him pause. review their conversation tor any other obvious signs of distress, and finding no more agitation than her new usual since hardison left.

but she has been off.

eliot dutifully checks out (making sure they ring up the chocolate as well) and he doesn't have to go far to find parker. she sits on the old coin operated dolphin outside the shop.

gonna tell me what that was about?

when parker doesn't answer right away, he pats his pockets and puts the two quarters in, making parker rock back and forth morosely.

i take good care of you, parker finally says.

course you do, darling. it was a bad joke on my part. you're a good dom—

its not about that. ill do anything for my family.

eliot squeezes her shoulder. i know that too.

parker finishes off the chocolate and waits until the dolphin stops before she continues, voice small and eyes avoiding contact: was i too... she waves up and down her body. ...me this time?

how you figure?

bre got hurt. i scared the nana haters and they took too long and bre had to make a distraction, so. my fault.

oh, park...

she jumps up at her name and starts walking home. eliot matches her pace. he stops her, pulls her into the shadow of a building. parker is at a height with eliot, but sometimes it cna be so obvious how much more lean she is than him but how small she looks when she's feeling pathetic. eliot covers her jaw with his hand not busy with the bag of newly purchased items; he can see where she bit him against her skin.

i know they're, like, trafficking victims. but im still so angry at them.

we get heated during cases. harry had his own moment. you and soph conspired to get bre up there in just that case, right? parker shrugs, noncommittal.

im supposed to be better than that. im me.

that aint how this works.

it should be.

eliot kisses her lips softly, which she tolerates, especially as he puts their foreheads together. they stand close.

i had your back. you had mine, when i had to fight, figuring out how to get into the room fastest. sophie and me, maybe we overlooked how much anyone targeting a nana would make you invested and protective. oversight from sophie as our mastermind and, eliot swallows with a wobble, me as your partner. especially...

especially?

with hardison gone.

parker tenses up. oh.

i miss him too. i always miss him when he's gone away. miss you when—

in a breath, parker slips out of eliots grasp and starts speeding away, to the point eliot has to jog to catch up.

okay. i understand now. im done with those emotions right now.

alright darling, eliot says softly, seeing parkers walla go up rather than get emotional in public.

wanna go home. gonna poke and fuck you so hard.

eliot is excited to have sex with parker, whatever wild and potentially messy it will be. but as he scrolls aside parker, he knows he loves this too: walking by her side, supporting her, with hardisons name on his tongue.

[marvelskies1969]

Infinity

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader / Loki x Fem!Reader

Premise: Y/N Rogers was sent away as a child, her powers deemed dangerous. After years of brief summers with Steve and Bucky, she returns for good when their mother dies—just as war begins.

As her abilities awaken, she draws the attention of Loki, the trickster god, and faces growing fear from those around her. Caught between destiny, war, and forbidden ties, Y/N must decide who she truly is—and who she’s willing to fight for.

Warnings/content: slight angst, brief mention of death/dying, jealousy, sexual assault, fluff, swearing, unstable parental relationships, follows the plot of the MCU timeline, with small changes.

[Masterlist]

[Part 2]

Chapter 47

Echoes of Time

The sound of her steps was familiar now — no longer jarring or unwelcome, but expected. Not that Loki waited for them, of course. He simply noted their arrival with... interest. And perhaps a flicker of anticipation he would deny to his dying breath.

He remained seated on the floor this time, legs loosely crossed, back resting against the wall. When she appeared around the corner — arms full again, though more sensibly this time — he didn’t move. He simply watched.

“Round two,” Y/N said, breathless but bright, setting down her stack of books and folders in a more orderly fashion. “Hope you're ready for a history lesson.”

“Another library?” Loki asked, voice dry. “You Midgardians really are fond of burying your tragedies under paper.”

“This time,” she said, sitting across from him and beginning to sort through her materials, “it’s not for you. Well, not just for you. It’s for me, too.”

He tilted his head slightly, watching as she pulled out old photographs, folded newspapers, and grainy reels of film frozen in frames.

“I missed everything,” she said, quieter now. “The war ended, and I never saw peace. The world rebuilt itself. Cultures shifted. Governments fell. Movements rose. Music changed, fashion changed, people changed—and I…” She paused, lifting a photo of a moon landing. “I slept through all of it.”

The silence between them settled deep. Not awkward — simply true. And Loki felt it like a strange weight in his chest. Not pity. Something more ancient. Recognition.

She continued softly, eyes on a faded newspaper. “It’s weird. I feel like a ghost sometimes. Not quite belonging to the world I woke up in. Everyone else has lived whole lives in the years I was gone. I’m still catching up. Still trying to figure out who I’m supposed to be in a world that no longer knows me.”

Loki didn’t speak. He only watched her, absorbing this piece of her story like he had no right to it, and yet… could not look away.

“You adapt,” she said finally, with a half-hearted smile. “Or you fall apart.”

He heard the words beneath her voice. And some days, you do both.

Slowly, deliberately, he leaned forward. “There’s a tradition on Alfheim,” he began, “where they plant their grief. Literally. In the spring, they bury something they’ve carried—a name, an object, even a single memory. When it grows, they believe it returns to them transformed.”

She looked up, momentarily caught off guard by the tenderness of his offering. The idea of grief taking root and growing into something new — it settled in her chest like a breath held too long.

One thought came immediately to the surface.

Bucky.

His name echoed through her like an old song, haunting and familiar. For the first time in a long while — maybe since she joined the Avengers — she thought of the dog tags still hanging from the corner of her bedside lamp. A quiet relic. A weightless thing, yet impossibly heavy.

Her grief wasn’t forgotten. No, she carried it every day, stitched into the lining of her life. But what startled her was how distant it had started to feel — not erased, but dulled, like a scar she no longer winced to touch. The whirlwind of the waking world had swept her forward — new missions, new faces, new battles to survive.

And now, sitting across from the trickster god with his guarded eyes and reluctant honesty, she wondered — had he had something to do with that?

She didn’t say it aloud. But she held his gaze a moment longer than she meant to, the question lingering there like smoke between them.

“I never liked the ceremony,” he added. “Too sentimental. Too soft. But now… I think I understand it more than I did.”

Y/N smiled, warm and quiet, as though she knew how much it cost him to say that.

He found he didn’t mind the cost.

She reached for another folder and opened it between them. “This is everything from the 1960s I’ve missed. Civil rights, Cold War, space race… Want to learn with me?”

He gave a small nod. “Why not? Misery does enjoy company.”

Her smile deepened. “And curiosity loves it.”

They pored over articles, flipping through the decades. At first, Loki listened in silence, occasionally scoffing at the absurdity of Midgardian decisions — the self-destruction, the pettiness, the brilliance tangled with recklessness. But then he began asking questions. Real ones.

Why had they feared change so much? Why had they clung so tightly to power? Why did they make such beautiful things in the midst of ruin?

At one point, she laughed at something — a ridiculous political slogan — and Loki found himself watching the shape of her mouth more than the headline. She didn’t notice, absorbed in her words, tracing the timeline of her lost years with gentle fingers.

And he… he felt at peace. Not the false stillness of isolation. True peace. Like he wasn’t performing or deflecting. Just being.

She turned back to a photo of a protest, voice dipping into reverence as she spoke about bravery, about loss, about standing for something when the world tells you to stay silent.

And Loki, in some trance of listening — of feeling too much and too deeply — heard the words slip from his mouth without thinking, without walls, without armor:

“Why are you being so kind to me?”

He hadn’t meant to say it. Hadn’t even known the question was there until it was out in the open, trembling in the air like a held breath.

Y/N’s head snapped up. Her eyes locked with his — wide, startled, something flickering just beneath the surface.

“I…” she began, faltered, then said softly, “Because I know what it’s like.”

He said nothing, too afraid to move.

“I know what it’s like to be feared,” she said, her voice calm but sure. “To be misunderstood. To carry more guilt than you know what to do with. And to wake up one day and realize the loneliness hasn’t gone away, even when the world moves on.”

The silence that followed was heavier than any prison Loki had ever sat in.

But somehow, it didn’t crush him.

Somehow, it felt like a beginning.

[kathlare]

fireworks at midnight

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: As the New Year's Eve party rages on in Cozumel, Amelie and Lando find themselves drawn away from the celebration, seeking a quieter, more intimate moment together.

Wordcount: 1.2 k

Warnings: smut

full masterlist // request over here!

December 31st, 2020 - Cozumel, Mexico

The New Year's Eve party was in full swing, the air thick with laughter, music, and the clinking of champagne glasses. Amelie, however, found herself increasingly distracted, her gaze drifting towards Lando every few minutes. He was laughing with her cousins, his smile bright, but she could see the flicker of something else in his eyes, something that mirrored the restlessness in her own.

The house, a sprawling Airbnb nestled along the Cozumel coastline, was buzzing with her family’s energy. But Amelie felt a pull, a magnetic force drawing her away from the noise and towards the quiet sanctuary of her room. She caught Lando's eye, a silent question passing between them. He gave her a subtle nod, a shared understanding.

—I’m going to grab another drink,— she announced to her sister, Stella, her voice barely audible above the music. —Be right back.—

She slipped away, her footsteps light on the tiled floor, and made her way towards the back staircase. Lando was waiting for her at the bottom, his expression a mix of anticipation and something akin to nerves.

—Ready to ditch this party?— she whispered, her lips twitching into a smile.

—Always,— he replied, his voice low. He took her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers, and they ascended the stairs, their movements silent and swift.

Once inside her room, Amelie closed the door, the sound of the party fading into a distant hum. The air was still and warm, filled with the faint scent of her perfume. Lando turned to her, his eyes dark and intense.

—I’ve been wanting to do this all night,— he murmured, his voice husky.

He stepped closer, his hands framing her face, and kissed her. It wasn’t a gentle kiss, but a hungry one, filled with a desperate longing that mirrored her own. Amelie’s hands found their way to his hair, tugging him closer, her body pressed flush against his.

The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more demanding. Lando’s hands moved down to her waist, pulling her closer, his touch sending shivers down her spine. Amelie’s fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, her breath catching as she felt the warm skin beneath her fingertips.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers. —Are you sure?— he whispered, his voice laced with a hint of uncertainty.

Amelie nodded, her eyes filled with a mix of desire and affection. —More than anything,— she breathed, her voice barely audible.

Lando’s gaze softened, his expression filled with a tenderness that made her heart ache. He leaned in again, his lips brushing against hers. —I’m… I’m a bit nervous,— he admitted, his voice barely a whisper.

Amelie smiled, her thumb tracing the line of his jaw. —It’s okay,— she whispered back. —So am I.—

She knew he was a virgin, and she respected him immensely for trusting her with this moment. She also knew how much this meant to him.

He kissed her again, this time with a slow, deliberate tenderness that made her breath catch in her throat. He guided her towards the bed, their movements slow and deliberate.

They sat on the edge of the bed, facing each other, their hands still intertwined. Lando’s eyes were filled with a mix of desire and vulnerability, and Amelie’s heart ached with a tenderness she hadn’t known she was capable of.

—I… I don’t really know what I’m doing,— he admitted, his voice laced with a nervous chuckle.

Amelie smiled, reaching out to cup his face in her hands. —Just follow my lead,— she whispered, her voice soft.

She leaned in, kissing him again, her lips moving against his with a gentle rhythm. Lando’s hands found their way to the hem of her dress, slowly lifting it, his touch sending shivers down her spine.

He paused, his eyes searching hers again. —Is this okay?— he asked, his voice laced with concern.

Amelie nodded, her eyes filled with a mix of desire and reassurance. —Yes,— she whispered. —It’s perfect.—

He continued, his touch becoming more confident, more assured. Amelie’s breath hitched as his fingers traced the curve of her hip, then moved higher, his touch sending waves of heat through her body.

She guided his hands, showing him what she liked, her own hands exploring his body with a newfound sense of intimacy. Lando’s touch was reverent, almost worshipful, as if he couldn’t quite believe she was letting him do this.

He leaned down, his lips trailing down her neck, his breath warm against her skin. Amelie arched her back, her fingers digging into his shoulders, her body trembling with anticipation.

He moved lower, his lips finding the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through her. Amelie’s breath hitched, her body tensing with a mix of pleasure and anticipation.

He paused, his eyes searching hers again. —Are you sure?— he whispered, his voice laced with concern.

Amelie nodded, her eyes filled with a mix of desire and reassurance. —Yes,— she whispered. —Please.—

He leaned in, his lips finding the most sensitive part of her, his touch sending a wave of pleasure through her body. Amelie’s breath hitched, her body tensing with a mix of pleasure and anticipation.

He moved his lips and tongue with a slow, deliberate rhythm, his touch sending waves of pleasure through her body. Amelie’s hands gripped the sheets, her body trembling with each touch.

The sounds of the party faded into a distant hum, replaced by the sound of her own breath, ragged and uneven. Lando’s touch was driving her wild, his lips and tongue working their magic, sending waves of pleasure through her body.

She was so close, so close to the edge. Her body was trembling, her breath coming in quick gasps. She could feel the tension building, the pressure mounting.

And then, it happened. Just as the clock struck midnight, the fireworks exploding outside, Amelie’s body convulsed, a wave of pure pleasure washing over her. She cried out, her voice a mix of a moan and a scream, her body arching off the bed.

—Lando!— she gasped, her fingers digging into his hair, pulling him closer.

He didn't stop, he kept going, his tongue swirling, his lips sucking, driving her further and further into the depths of pleasure. Amelie’s cries grew louder, her body trembling with the force of her orgasm.

The fireworks outside seemed to echo the explosions happening inside her, the bursts of light and sound mirroring the waves of pleasure washing over her. She clung to Lando, her body still trembling, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

He pulled back, his eyes dark and intense, his expression a mix of awe and satisfaction. —Fuck, Amelie,— he breathed, his voice hoarse. —You’re incredible.—

Amelie’s cheeks flushed, her eyes still glazed with pleasure. —So are you,— she whispered back, her voice barely audible.

He leaned in, kissing her again, this time with a soft, tender touch. They laid there for a moment, their bodies still intertwined, the sound of the fireworks fading into a gentle hum.

—Happy New Year,— Lando whispered, his voice laced with affection.

Amelie smiled, her eyes filled with a mix of love and gratitude. —Happy New Year, Lan,— she replied, her voice soft.

They stayed like that for a while, their bodies still warm, their hearts beating in sync. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of them, wrapped in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

[belit0]

The Shadow Between US

Chapter 17 AO3 The end.

The night air was thick with tension when Izuna stepped into their private part of the compound, his body beaten and bloodied, the aftermath of fists thrown in a storm of unspoken grief and fury.

The soft padding of feet reached his ears just before he saw her—(Y/N), rushing toward him with widened eyes and a strangled gasp leaving her lips.

Her hands flew up, hesitating just inches from his chest, unsure of where to touch without hurting him more.

-Izuna…- she breathed, horror coating every syllable.

But he could barely look at her.

He was too tired, too hollow, too full of everything he didn’t know how to say.

Before he could even open his mouth, another presence loomed behind them.

Heavy steps.

Familiar chakra.

Madara.

Equally bruised and broken.

Her eyes shifted, flicking between the two brothers, realizing—without a word exchanged—what had transpired.

Madara stopped a few paces away, waiting.

Watching.

But she didn’t move toward him.

She stepped closer to Izuna instead, reaching for his arm with gentle resolve, guiding it around her shoulder.

He didn’t resist.

His breath caught for just a moment, a hitched, silent surrender, and together they turned, walking past Madara and into Izuna’s home without a single glance back.

Madara didn’t follow.

//

Inside, the air was quieter.

Still.

Heavy with the weight of what remained unspoken.

She sat him down with care, fetched water and clean cloths, and began tending to the bruises, the cuts, the cracked knuckles.

Her touch was soft, reverent, as if each mark on his skin hurt her just as deeply.

Izuna stared at nothing for a while.

Until the silence broke—not with sound, but with the soft fall of tears down his cheeks.

No sobs. No trembling.

Just the quiet trail of pain slipping down his face.

She didn’t ask.

She only wiped them away with her fingers, holding his face with both hands, her forehead pressing gently to his, supporting him in a storm he wasn’t ready to name.

And in that stillness, the world outside could burn and break apart—but here, in this fragile, quiet moment, they simply breathed.

She worked in silence, focused and unwavering, her fingers gliding with gentle precision as she tended to the final wound along his shoulder.

The room held its breath with them, the hush between them not empty, but full—of everything unspoken, everything endured.

Izuna remained still, the weight of the night pressing heavy across his spine. He didn’t speak, and she didn’t ask him to.

Some silences weren’t meant to be broken.

When her hands finally stilled, she rose without a word, slipping into the adjacent room.

There, the quiet continued, broken only by the soft rustle of fabric and the steady crackle of fire warming the bathwater. She added herbs one by one, their scent blooming in the heat—lavender, pine, a hint of cedar—chosen not just to soothe his body, but to cradle something deeper, more fragile.

He came when she summoned him with nothing more than a glance.

No words needed.

His footsteps were slow, almost reverent, as he stepped into the water like a man crossing into sanctuary. She watched for a moment, the steam rising around him like a veil, then moved on.

In the kitchen, her movements were quick but thoughtful—muscle memory guiding her through the task of preparing something simple, something warm. Broth, rice, small pickled things—comfort in a bowl.

She arranged the tray with quiet care, setting it beside his futon like an offering.

Then she returned to the bath, her arms already outstretched, reaching for the towel before he even asked.

He didn’t resist her touch as she helped him stand, didn’t flinch as she pressed cloth to his skin, drawing the water away with tender strokes. She wrapped his hair in linen, draped clean robes over his bruised frame.

Her hands lingered—not out of hesitation, but memory. There was something holy in the softness, something deeper than comfort.

A tenderness carved from grief and closeness, loss and longing.

She led him back without needing to speak, guiding him down onto the futon as though settling him into sleep.

The tray waited by his side, but he didn’t reach for it.

He only watched her as she adjusted the blanket, her touch smoothing over the creases like she could make the world gentler just by being in it.

And when she leaned in—just once—she pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, soft and slow.

Not a goodbye.

A promise.

He closed his eyes like that kiss could keep him tethered, keep him from cracking.

She rose then, her departure as quiet as her arrival.

She didn’t look back as she stepped into the dark, though something inside her ached to.

The night swallowed her silhouette, her heart a weight in her chest she carried alone.

//

The path to her home felt unfamiliar now, like walking through a life that no longer fit her skin.

(Y/N) opened the door to find Madara waiting.

He didn’t sit, didn’t move.

His eyes were on her the moment she entered—dark, unreadable, but knowing.

He knew.

She felt it in the weight of his silence, in the way his posture held tension beneath the bruises.

The air between them pulsed with everything left unsaid, and now it was time to speak.

She stood across from him, spine straight, eyes steady—waiting.

Madara’s voice was the first to break the silence.

Sharp. Cold.

-So that’s it,- he spat, not bothering to mask the bitterness in his tone. -You chose him.-

(Y/N)’s heart thudded, not from guilt, but fury.

-I chose the one who was here,- she snapped, taking a step closer. -The one who didn’t vanish when the world turned to ash.-

Madara’s jaw tightened, his hands balled into fists at his sides. -You think this is about who stayed? I left to protect—

She laughed, bitter and humorless, cutting through him like a blade. -You keep saying that, don't you? ‘To protect.’ You say it like it’s some divine shield to excuse your abandonment. But you didn’t protect us, Madara. You left us vulnerable. You left me vulnerable.-

-You don’t understand—

-No, you don’t understand!- she shouted, voice trembling with rage. -I cried for you for months. I begged for your attention, begged for your voice, your eyes, your arms. I needed you and you were never there. I tried everything, everything, to reach you and you gave me silence.-

He stepped forward, the Sharingan flickering faintly in his eyes, pain and pride lacing every breath. -I did it for the clan. For you. So they wouldn’t use us—

-Izuna never stopped showing up!- she interrupted, voice breaking. -He never once turned his back on this clan, on me. And he didn’t do it by whispering lies about protection. He just was there. When you left, when they attacked, when I almost— her voice faltered for a breath, —when I could have died, it was him who saved me. Not you.-

Madara’s silence was like stone, heavy and unmoving.

-You say you were trying to protect us,- she continued, stepping even closer, -but you didn’t ask. You decided. You left. And now you want me to stand here and feel ashamed? You want to throw guilt in my face?- Her breath caught, eyes fierce and shining. -You broke something inside me, Madara. And not just with your absence—but with your silence. With every moment you chose pride over love.-

He flinched.

A rare, almost imperceptible movement.

She stared at him, breathing hard. -Don’t come at me like I’m the traitor here. You don’t get to do that. Not after everything.-

Madara’s lips parted, the urge to argue on the tip of his tongue—but there was nothing.

No excuse that could stand.

No defense that didn’t ring hollow in the face of her words.

He had no battlefield to conquer here.

Only the wreckage he had left behind.

//

The sun had yet to rise when (Y/N) slipped out of the house, the silence of the compound as still and cold as the space between her and Madara.

She walked without hesitation, robes wrapped tightly around her frame, the chill of dawn brushing her skin. Her steps led her to the only place that felt steady now—Izuna’s home.

Inside, everything was still, the dim light of the first hour creeping through the paper walls.

She moved quietly, careful not to wake him.

Izuna lay there, fast asleep, his face softened by rest in a way she hadn’t seen in days. There were still bruises along his cheekbone, a faint split on his lip, and cuts that hadn’t completely faded, but there was peace, too—fragile and rare.

She sat beside him, not touching, just watching.

The steady rise and fall of his chest. The way his hands were open, fingers slack, no longer curled in fists.

She folded the clothes that had been tossed aside last night, straightened the items around the room, gave order to the small space like a quiet offering.

She didn’t expect him to wake just yet.

But he did.

His eyes blinked open, heavy at first, unfocused—until they found her.

There was confusion in them at first, then a flicker of something unnameable. Tension rose in his shoulders, but it wasn’t rejection—it was fear.

Of what this meant. Of what it could break.

She met his gaze with calm.

-I didn’t think you’d come,- he murmured, voice low and rough from sleep.

-I know.

He sat up slowly, wincing at the pull in his ribs. -Why are you here?-His eyes searched hers, guarded, tired, but undeniably full of emotion. -Madara is at home.-

She took a moment before answering, sitting down across from him with her hands resting in her lap. -That doesn’t change where I want to be.-

He stared at her, disbelief flickering behind his lashes. -You don’t owe me anything, (Y/N). What happened… it wasn’t supposed to happen.-

Her gaze didn’t waver. -Maybe not. But it did. And I don’t regret it.-

His face was etched with disbelief, a reaction so raw and unfiltered it reminded her exactly why she was making this choice.

-I’m not here out of guilt,- she continued. -I’m not hiding. Madara… he has his path. But you— Her voice faltered for only a moment before she steadied it again. -You saved me. And not just that night. You’ve been saving me for months, Izuna. With your presence, your kindness, your patience.-

His lips parted slightly, like he wanted to protest, but the words didn’t come.

-I needed compassion, help, support,- she said, quieter now. -And you offered all of it, expecting nothing in return.-

Silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t heavy—it was full.

She could see how he tried to process her words, how disbelief warred with hope, how fear tangled with longing.

He looked at her like she was something inviolable, and it hurt to be seen so clearly.

-I don’t know what this is,- she admitted. -Or what it’ll become. But I know I’m not ready to walk away from it.-

Izuna lowered his gaze, blinking rapidly, and for a moment, she thought he wouldn’t answer.

Then his hand reached out, resting softly on the fabric near her knee, not touching, but near enough.

-You being here,- he said, voice thick, -is the only peace I’ve had in days.-

Neither of them said anything more after that.

//

The walls of the Uchiha compound grew colder with each passing day, not from winter’s breath, but from the suffocating weight of Madara’s presence.

He no longer walked among them as a leader, but as a shadow cast over every corridor.

The fire of his grief had turned to ash, and from that ash he rebuilt himself into something unrecognizable—commanding, ruthless, silent.

He spoke in decrees now, his tone sharp, calculated, his eyes hollow with the ghosts of everything lost.

He avoided them. Both of them.

If he passed them on the training grounds, he looked through. If he entered the room where they stood, he left without a word.

Not even his silence carried the same weight anymore—it was colder, edged with something unreadable.

He no longer returned home at night.

The bed they once shared remained untouched.

And still, amidst chaos and change, (Y/N) found moments of warmth—fleeting but real.

Like now.

Izuna’s head rested on her lap, hair fanned over her thighs as her fingers moved gently through the strands.

The sunlight filtered through the shoji doors, casting long shadows over the floor.

He breathed slow and deep, eyes closed, tension eased from his jaw under her touch.

She didn’t speak at first. Let the silence linger, let the peace stretch.

But eventually, her voice broke through.

Soft, like a wind stirring fallen leaves. -Let’s leave.-

Izuna’s eyes opened slowly, lids heavy with sleep and surprise.

He tilted his head up slightly to meet her gaze, the question already written in his expression.

-Not just the house,- she continued, her fingers pausing in his hair. -The compound. The clan. Everything.-

A beat.

Two.

-Izuna,- her voice trembled, just enough to betray how long she had been holding the thought inside. -This place is dying. What it once was… who we once were… it's all rotting under the weight of grief and anger. And Madara... he's not the man we followed anymore. He’s unraveling.-

He sat up then, properly, but not far—still within reach, his hand finding hers instinctively.

-And you think we can run from that?- he asked, but there was no mockery in his voice.

Only pain.

-I think we can choose not to be swallowed by it,- she said. -I think we can choose something else. A new place. A new life. I know it won’t be easy. I know it might hurt. But I’d rather hurt with you… than waste away in silence beside a man who can no longer see me.-

Izuna didn’t answer immediately. His thumb brushed over the back of her hand, lost in thought, in doubt, in longing.

But he didn’t pull away. And he didn’t say no.

//

The door to the council chamber slid open with a sharp thud, reverberating off the wooden walls like a warning. Madara stood with his back to the entrance, arms crossed, cloaked in shadow like a statue carved from fury.

Izuna didn’t wait to be acknowledged.

His feet carried him forward with purpose, but his heart—his heart trembled with something he hadn’t felt since they were boys.

Fear, maybe.

Not of the man, but of what he might say.

What he might not say.

-You’re not the same,- Izuna said, his voice quiet but firm, meant for Madara’s ears alone. -This clan doesn’t need a tyrant. It needs its leader back.-

Madara turned slowly, face unreadable, jaw locked in stone.

His eyes were colder than Izuna had ever seen them.

-And you think you know what this clan needs?- Madara's tone cut sharp, each word dipped in disdain. -You, who allowed yourself to be distracted when you should’ve been guarding its future?-

The words landed hard.

-You left under your own conviction of rebellion... I commanded under mine.- Izuna’s voice cracked, raw from the wound that hadn’t stopped bleeding. -You left us—you left her—and you expect obedience from ghosts...-

-I expect loyalty,- Madara spat back. -And if I can’t have that, then I will take fear.-

Izuna withdrew.

That wasn’t his Aniki.

That wasn’t the man who taught him to fight, who pulled him from the edge of despair when they were young.

That wasn’t the brother who would die before letting harm come to him or his people.

-This… this is what you’ve become?- Izuna stepped closer, desperate. -You talk about loyalty like it’s something you command, not something you earn. You rule with silence, with punishment, with absence, and then act like we’re the ones who betrayed you?-

-I sacrificed everything for this clan.- Madara’s voice trembled now, though it wasn’t weakness—it was rage, barely contained. -My choices were mine to make. I carried the burden so you wouldn’t have to.-

-You didn’t carry it. You ran from it.- Izuna’s voice lowered, and with it came the weight of every sleepless night, every funeral, every word left unspoken. -You disappeared when we needed you. And now you stand here, expecting what? That we fall back in line and pretend we didn’t bleed while you were gone?-

Madara’s expression barely shifted.

But Izuna saw it—the flicker of something behind his eyes.

Pain. Guilt.

But it was buried too deep now, armored in pride and power.

-If this is who you are now,- Izuna continued, breath shallow, -then I don’t know you.-

Silence stretched thick between them, broken only by Madara’s final words, spoken like a closing door:

-Then leave.

There was nothing left to say.

Nothing left to salvage.

His Aniki, the brother he loved… he wasn’t in that room.

So Izuna left.

//

At dawn, cloaked not in shadows, but in resolve, Izuna’s voice echoed through the center of the compound as he stood tall before his people—his family.

Men and women he’d bled beside, children he’d watched grow.

His eyes, bruised but unbowed, swept across their faces as he spoke.

-I owe you this,- he began, breath steady despite the knot in his chest. -To leave without saying anything would be a betrayal I couldn't live with.-

The crowd murmured, already sensing what he was about to say.

-I will always love this clan. Every child, every elder, every fighter who gave their life to protect our name. But I cannot—will not—stand beside someone I no longer recognize as my brother, or my leader.

Tears broke quietly around him.

Some people begged, others stood in stunned silence, but no one could change the fire behind his words.

-I'm not abandoning you,- he continued, eyes flickering over to where (y/n) stood, quiet, dignified, ready. -But I must walk a different path now. For myself. For peace. For what I believe still matters.-

The murmurs swelled into grief, and for a moment, Izuna almost faltered.

But then the silence shattered.

Madara arrived like a storm—armor sharp, voice sharper.

Soldiers flanked him, encircling the crowd, weapons unsheathed.

He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to.

-Disperse,- he ordered, eyes not leaving Izuna’s. -This is no longer sanctioned.-

Chaos threatened to break out, but Madara’s gaze alone kept the clan in check.

And as the Uchiha soldiers began to force the circle open, Izuna only nodded once, calmly.

That was the last time the brothers laid eyes on one another.

No more words.

No goodbyes.

Just a long look, the kind that carried decades, and ended a lifetime.

Izuna reached for (y/n)’s hand.

She took it without hesitation, and together they crossed the gates, silence singing behind them.

//

They walked for hours, past rivers, through thickets of trees and memories, until the compound was no longer a dot behind them, and only the sound of birds and wind remained.

Then Izuna stopped.

He turned to her without a word, his chest heaving not from exhaustion, but from everything that had burned behind his ribs for too long.

And he kissed her.

Pressed her back against a tree, palms on either side of her face like he might fall apart if he didn’t touch her this way.

His mouth crashed against hers with all the passion of a man who had just broken free from a life he never wanted to abandon.

There was no logic, no hesitation, only breath and want, only the taste of something new, something real.

When they parted, the world around them felt different—like they had stepped into something beyond rebellion.

Into something that, finally, belonged to them.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

THE END!!! You guys decided what was going to happen with that one poll I posted, and even tho this is not the ending I would have chosen myself, I rather give what the public wants <3

[secret-smut-sideblog]

Nightcall

Gale x F! Tav (named)

PG-13 implied trauma, miscommunication, tenderness, loneliness, love triangle dynamics, touch starved, wandering hands, feelings developing

Gale had been spellbound by her, one of the many in that predicament. He was resigned to his one-sided longing until she sought him out after seeing another...

Masterlist

-

"I'll see you at the party, right?" She smiled, settling down next to him. Wiping her armor.

His heart constricted. Staring at her brilliance.

"Yes." He breathed.

She was a vision, truly. Like her whole body had been dipped in golden light. Long waves of yellow hair, tinged with orange. Olive skin, freckles smattering across her nose. The endless gold hues only broken in her eyes, a hauntingly pale blue, nearly grey.

And of course, the tattoo.

It was naturally what people first saw. Curling geometric patterns from the crest of her hairline to the dip of her neck. As if someone had laid gold foil over her in the most lovingly intricate patterns.

It had stunned him to silence when she had pulled him from that stone, eyes getting lost.

She had waited patiently for his mind to restart, arms crossed, standing feet apart.

Catching, he introduced himself as he had intended. Harnessing enough tact to keep his burning curiosity to himself.

Something he became glad for. As they traveled near every person they met had endless questions. Sometimes full-on strangers walking up and pushing invasive inquiries.

Her answers changed like the wind, though she did have a favorite handful of responses.

"An old sacred elf rite of passage."

"Ah, I spent time on a secluded island. Things get wild."

"All wood elves have tattoos, most of them are in places you can't see."

It was honestly impressive how many quips she had on hand. But she probably had ample practice, given the fade of the tattoo.

Only once did she falter.

When they had met Halsin for the first time, he had done the same hypnotized gaze as Gale had at first. And like for him, she had waited.

The druids eyes seemed to light in recognition.

"A morninglord?"

Her body tensed.

"Pardon?" Her tone was casual, smooth. Betraying the tight muscles in her shoulders.

"A child of Lathander, yes? Or am I mistaken?"

"You are."

The silence that held the air was sharp. She offered no more clarification and continued on to ask about Moonrise.

It had been left at that, though their party exchanged glances.

"Well, now I have more questions." Astarion intoned, side eyeing her as they wandered away to search chests.

"I don't know, Fangs. It's clearly a sore subject, I'd say let it drop." Karlach hushed.

"But don't you want to know?" He retorted, exasperated.

"We all want to know. Whether it's any of our business is an entirely different story." Gale sniped, suddenly feeling protective.

"Oh, boo. Why did I get saddled with the goody two shoes..." He scoffed, walking away exuding haughtiness.

As soon as Astarion was out of earshot Karlach turned to him, fervor in her eyes.

"I really really want to know."

Gale smiled. "Of course you do. There must be a good story there."

The tattoo only aided her pull, a silver tongue and a propensity for persuasion. Everything about her had a magnetic pull. A practiced fluid grace in the way she moved, flowing through the world.

He was genuinely shocked when she said she was a bard.

"Really? I would've pegged you for a cleric, maybe a monk. Bards are usually so..."

"Theatrical?" She smiled, leaning her chin on hand.

"That's a word for it."

It wasn't until he heard her play that he understood.

The way that she leaned into her violin, eyes closed. The pull of her bow a deliberate reverent movement.

Though she would often oblige the frequent more upbeat song requests, whenever he found her playing alone it was always the slower songs. The call of her violin a mournful wail, soaring over him.

People naturally leaned towards her, willing to follow her to the ends of the earth.

He was no different, but he did try to be an asset. Filling in gaps with his talents as he could find them. Figured if he could make himself at least slightly indispensable, he wouldn't get left behind.

Now, the revelery of the tiefling party in full swing he caught sight of her. Heading towards Astarion, that beckoning look in his eyes. Gale's heart sank, but he couldn't blame her. He was... well, Astarion. All sensuality and enthralling beauty.

When she turned from him as they finished talking, he trailed his eyes along her, smirking.

She headed over to him then, smiling warmly. He tried to hide the strain in his face.

"Hello, Gale." Her low melodic voice played his name like a harp.

"Ah, hello. Busy tonight, I wager?" He immediately winced, his words coming out far more clipped than he intended.

"Possibly, I'm not certain yet. There is someone I would enjoy spending some time with tonight."

"Well, Astarion is a solid pick. A little bitey for my tastes, but don't let me deter you from having fun."

Her head tilted slightly, peering into him.

Feeling like a bug under a magnifying glass, he cleared his throat.

It was unfair how beautiful she was, all dignified sloping lines. A heart shaped face further accentuated by a sharp jaw. Slanted fox eyes. Pouty flushed lips. Nose slightly hooked.

He could see a statue being made in her likeness.

Honestly it made sense for her to be with Astarion, they were both breathtaking.

Such an arresting creature giving someone like him the time of day was frankly silly.

"I could be persuaded otherwise..." She stepped a little closer to him.

Heat rising to his neck, he laughed. Surely he was reading this wrong.

"Oh I'll be here for less intense activities. The orb, you know. Don't let me spoil your fun. Go on, indulge."

She seemed uncertain for a moment but eventually left. Giving him one last look over her shoulder.

A stab of longing struck through him, impaling through his stomach.

Ah, loneliness. That familiar companion.

A book propped on his knee he tried to bury his head in literature, Weaving a light inside the cave of his tent.

It was late, he should get some rest. But yearning was eating his stomach.

How embarrassing, he was far too old to have a crush.

He sighed and shut the book decisively.

"Are you still awake?"

He jumped at her soft voice.

"Aurum? I thought you'd be... uh, indisposed."

The edge of his tent flap lifted and her glacial eyes asked for entry.

"Please, come in." He tried to smother the eagerness in his throat.

She closed the flap and tied it down.

His mouth got dry at that. Further more when he realized she was just draped in a robe.

"I have a strange request, if you'll indulge me."

She sat gracefully on knees across from him. Her long hair loose over her shoulders, falling curtain in front of her as she lowered. The two puncture marks in her neck making his stomach tighten.

Anything. You can ask for anything.

"If I could be of service, I'm more than willing to help."

She seemed to hesitate for a moment, possibly reconsidering.

Thoughtlessly he leaned forward, taking her hand. Holding it gently between both of his. Hoping his earnestness reached her.

She seemed to relax then, smiling at him in that serene way that made him feel dizzy.

"Can you hold me for the night?"

He blinked. Shock tore through him.

"Yes! I mean, of course."

She smiled wider at him, hand between his turning, rubbing the thin skin of his wrist with her thumb.

Just that small sensation was sending jolts of pleasure across his body.

"Our vampire friend not one for cuddling I assume?"

He felt like he was already pushing it. But she just laughed.

Gods, it strummed a buzzing joy in his chest whenever he could get her to laugh. The sound like wind chimes.

"No. Certainly not. Honestly, I'm not even sure he likes me at all." She pulled close to him on knees, settling onto his bedroll.

He felt like he was holding his breath, not entirely sure this wasn't a dream.

"Well, he's a damned fool if he couldn't see what he had tonight."

She looked up at him then, eyes wide and vulnerable.

His heart was surely pounding loud enough to hear.

She pulled him down with her. Laying him back, she rested her head on his chest, long legs curling up around his. Slender fingers resting over where the orb lay. A contented sigh left her, and he thought he would melt.

Curling his arm around her back, he took the hand over his heart into his, threading their fingers.

"I knew I picked the right person. You're very good at this." He could hear the smile in her voice.

Now she had a front row seat to his thumping heart. But she only nuzzled down further.

"It's a shock to us both. I am not, ahem, practiced in this."

That was a great understatement.

"I have faith that one day you'll let me give you a compliment." Her voice was hushed, drifting.

He chuckled, pulling her hair away from her face. Fingers brushing over her scalp for a moment.

"Mmm, that's nice." She sighed.

He repeated the motion, encouraged. Carding his fingers gently through her silken hair.

Her breath became slow, evening out.

With a heady shot of accomplishment, he realized she was asleep.

Letting his eyes close he submerged himself in this feeling, in this moment.

Truly, he couldn't have imagined the serenity, the puddling he would've felt here. Her body the perfect weight on his, warming him through like the morning sun. Bliss in its entirety.

She pulled further into him, her leg curling up more. The robe falling back, revealing her bare hip.

He almost reached to pull it back over but was hypnotized again.

The line of her plush thighs flowed into hip, leading up in a mesmerizing arch. Creasing along the joint of her curled leg. A teasing dip inside the arch that would perfectly fit his hand. Like it was designed for that exact purpose.

He was absolutely pushing it, but he was nothing if not ambitious.

He slid the hand holding her back downward. Watching her body closely for any discomfort.

When his hand slid over the exposed skin, he had to bite back a moan. Velvet soft. His fingers couldn't help but splay, spreading to get as much contact as he could fit in his reach.

The sight of his wide hand spread over the curves of her sent him reeling.

Just as he had suspected, he slid his hand into that divot perfectly. Utterly entranced by the sight.

That some part of him could fit into her was inconceivable.

She reached across his chest and wrapped around his ribs. Head pushing up to fold into the curve of his neck. Letting out a sweet little whine. Soft breathing washing over his skin like the tide.

The smell of her hair oils wrapped around his head in a slow haze. Lavender and orange blossom.

Head turning into hers, he started to drift. Before he knew it had fallen into a deep sleep.

Bird song lilting through the air, something roused him. Looking bleary-eyed around his tent. Feeling an absence.

Alone.

Another song hung in the air. A clear bell of a voice rising high above.

Like a siren song, it pulled him from his tent.

It was very early, the sun just peeking over the mountains, world still bathed blue. The rest of the camp snoring.

Following the voice, he came upon Aurum sitting in the grass. Knees together, hands resting on her lap. Something near prayer.

Her head was leaned back, calling out only in high haunting tones. A wordless questioning cry.

It stole his breath away. Spellbound.

Her singing would stop in phrases, as if waiting for a response. Starting the wordless hymn over again.

After a third time, she fell quiet. Head falling forward.

The air felt heavy with loss, her hands opening in her lap.

He stepped back quietly, hand to his chest. A hollow sweeping pain pulling through it.

Returning to camp he started a low fire, putting the kettle over it. Finding his best tea that he had stashed away.

Setting up two cups.

He would have to get used to waking up early.

~

Part 2

[lesmisletters-daily]

Fantine Happy

Les Mis Letters reading club explores one chapter of Les Misérables every day. Join us on Discord, Substack - or share your thoughts right here on tumblr - today's tag is #lm 1.8.2

She made no movement of either surprise or of joy; she was joy itself. That simple question, “And Cosette?” was put with so profound a faith, with so much certainty, with such a complete absence of disquiet and of doubt, that he found not a word of reply. She continued:—

“I knew that you were there. I was asleep, but I saw you. I have seen you for a long, long time. I have been following you with my eyes all night long. You were in a glory, and you had around you all sorts of celestial forms.”

He raised his glance to the crucifix.

“But,” she resumed, “tell me where Cosette is. Why did not you place her on my bed against the moment of my waking?”

He made some mechanical reply which he was never afterwards able to recall.

Fortunately, the doctor had been warned, and he now made his appearance. He came to the aid of M. Madeleine.

“Calm yourself, my child,” said the doctor; “your child is here.”

Fantine’s eyes beamed and filled her whole face with light. She clasped her hands with an expression which contained all that is possible to prayer in the way of violence and tenderness.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, “bring her to me!”

Touching illusion of a mother! Cosette was, for her, still the little child who is carried.

“Not yet,” said the doctor, “not just now. You still have some fever. The sight of your child would agitate you and do you harm. You must be cured first.”

She interrupted him impetuously:—

“But I am cured! Oh, I tell you that I am cured! What an ass that doctor is! The idea! I want to see my child!”

“You see,” said the doctor, “how excited you become. So long as you are in this state I shall oppose your having your child. It is not enough to see her; it is necessary that you should live for her. When you are reasonable, I will bring her to you myself.”

The poor mother bowed her head.

“I beg your pardon, doctor, I really beg your pardon. Formerly I should never have spoken as I have just done; so many misfortunes have happened to me, that I sometimes do not know what I am saying. I understand you; you fear the emotion. I will wait as long as you like, but I swear to you that it would not have harmed me to see my daughter. I have been seeing her; I have not taken my eyes from her since yesterday evening. Do you know? If she were brought to me now, I should talk to her very gently. That is all. Is it not quite natural that I should desire to see my daughter, who has been brought to me expressly from Montfermeil? I am not angry. I know well that I am about to be happy. All night long I have seen white things, and persons who smiled at me. When Monsieur le Docteur pleases, he shall bring me Cosette. I have no longer any fever; I am well. I am perfectly conscious that there is nothing the matter with me any more; but I am going to behave as though I were ill, and not stir, to please these ladies here. When it is seen that I am very calm, they will say, ‘She must have her child.’”

M. Madeleine was sitting on a chair beside the bed. She turned towards him; she was making a visible effort to be calm and “very good,” as she expressed it in the feebleness of illness which resembles infancy, in order that, seeing her so peaceable, they might make no difficulty about bringing Cosette to her. But while she controlled herself she could not refrain from questioning M. Madeleine.

“Did you have a pleasant trip, Monsieur le Maire? Oh! how good you were to go and get her for me! Only tell me how she is. Did she stand the journey well? Alas! she will not recognize me. She must have forgotten me by this time, poor darling! Children have no memories. They are like birds. A child sees one thing to-day and another thing to-morrow, and thinks of nothing any longer. And did she have white linen? Did those Thénardiers keep her clean? How have they fed her? Oh! if you only knew how I have suffered, putting such questions as that to myself during all the time of my wretchedness. Now, it is all past. I am happy. Oh, how I should like to see her! Do you think her pretty, Monsieur le Maire? Is not my daughter beautiful? You must have been very cold in that diligence! Could she not be brought for just one little instant? She might be taken away directly afterwards. Tell me; you are the master; it could be so if you chose!”

He took her hand. “Cosette is beautiful,” he said, “Cosette is well. You shall see her soon; but calm yourself; you are talking with too much vivacity, and you are throwing your arms out from under the clothes, and that makes you cough.”

In fact, fits of coughing interrupted Fantine at nearly every word.

Fantine did not murmur; she feared that she had injured by her too passionate lamentations the confidence which she was desirous of inspiring, and she began to talk of indifferent things.

“Montfermeil is quite pretty, is it not? People go there on pleasure parties in summer. Are the Thénardiers prosperous? There are not many travellers in their parts. That inn of theirs is a sort of a cook-shop.”

M. Madeleine was still holding her hand, and gazing at her with anxiety; it was evident that he had come to tell her things before which his mind now hesitated. The doctor, having finished his visit, retired. Sister Simplice remained alone with them.

But in the midst of this pause Fantine exclaimed:—

“I hear her! mon Dieu, I hear her!”

She stretched out her arm to enjoin silence about her, held her breath, and began to listen with rapture.

There was a child playing in the yard—the child of the portress or of some work-woman. It was one of those accidents which are always occurring, and which seem to form a part of the mysterious stage-setting of mournful scenes. The child—a little girl—was going and coming, running to warm herself, laughing, singing at the top of her voice. Alas! in what are the plays of children not intermingled. It was this little girl whom Fantine heard singing.

“Oh!” she resumed, “it is my Cosette! I recognize her voice.”

The child retreated as it had come; the voice died away. Fantine listened for a while longer, then her face clouded over, and M. Madeleine heard her say, in a low voice: “How wicked that doctor is not to allow me to see my daughter! That man has an evil countenance, that he has.”

But the smiling background of her thoughts came to the front again. She continued to talk to herself, with her head resting on the pillow: “How happy we are going to be! We shall have a little garden the very first thing; M. Madeleine has promised it to me. My daughter will play in the garden. She must know her letters by this time. I will make her spell. She will run over the grass after butterflies. I will watch her. Then she will take her first communion. Ah! when will she take her first communion?”

She began to reckon on her fingers.

“One, two, three, four—she is seven years old. In five years she will have a white veil, and openwork stockings; she will look like a little woman. O my good sister, you do not know how foolish I become when I think of my daughter’s first communion!”

She began to laugh.

He had released Fantine’s hand. He listened to her words as one listens to the sighing of the breeze, with his eyes on the ground, his mind absorbed in reflection which had no bottom. All at once she ceased speaking, and this caused him to raise his head mechanically. Fantine had become terrible.

She no longer spoke, she no longer breathed; she had raised herself to a sitting posture, her thin shoulder emerged from her chemise; her face, which had been radiant but a moment before, was ghastly, and she seemed to have fixed her eyes, rendered large with terror, on something alarming at the other extremity of the room.

“Good God!” he exclaimed; “what ails you, Fantine?”

She made no reply; she did not remove her eyes from the object which she seemed to see. She removed one hand from his arm, and with the other made him a sign to look behind him.

He turned, and beheld Javert.

[wiltf]

🔞🔞🔞.

nails curl into scorched brick, where the ash stains her palm as priscilla tries to brace herself. romantic, to think that maybe she was following the lines of the marks, finding safety amongst them. but instead, there was something in the way the wing smeared, hand slipping, as lucanis’ hips moved to meet hers.

cheek to cheek. out the corner of her eye, where everything seems to drip, and it’s a momentary distraction in trying to keep the shape of wings that had been burned into this wall. another time, one where she is not folded over him, his back against the brick. knees pressed against her back, and there’s hardly room for any movement, just priscilla tucked into lucanis, tracing a line from where she had reached as far as she could, to smear ash on his shoulder, now. arms hooked around him, drawing thin lines against his skin that were right at home with every other scar.

priscilla didn’t want to move. she wanted to keep pulling those wings back in, she wanted to kiss him once more (and she does, more than once). her fingers find the hairs at the nape of his neck, and lucanis tilts his head back — allowing her access to his cheeks, his jaw, his throat. priscilla knew what this meant for him. so her tongue laves his skin, following sweat that pooled at his collarbone.

each twist of her body was enough to perhaps give that little bit of friction between them, dragging a sigh from lucanis. eyes-that-never-closed were seared shut, pink flush high on his cheeks, lips parted. his name on her tongue as she followed the lines of his shoulders, where those wings had once grown from before. if lucanis so much as breathed, it was shallow. if lucanis so much as looked, it was between lashes almost drawn shut. incredible, she whispers, to protests.

finally, they had parted enough for her to lean back, bracing her back against his knees. hands either side of his head, fingers splayed over mortar, following the lines. folded inwards, back that did not appreciate the burn but eyes meeting his, as he truly never stopped watching.

priscilla’s knees groaned at the angle of her movements, but if she spared a thought to them, she would miss lucanis. his hands that cradled her cheeks, that followed down her own sweat-damp skin to neck, shoulders, elbows. wrists. kiss against the inside, where her skin bore lines of grey from the wall.

small of her back, encouraging her.

caging her just as much as she kept him there, against the now slightly smudged brick. if lucanis wished to, he could still watch the door, just in case. always, just in case. but if he was focusing on the door (shut, locked, tightly sealed), it was between quick blinks. tears or sweat, both were salty as priscilla pressed open-mouthed kisses to his skin, catching them before they had a chance to roll past the curve of his cheek.

not so much faster as more desperate, now. trying to find friction against friction, rising up enough to slide her leg back, so that her thighs no longer seared. lucanis’ fingers were quick, measured, calloused. everything was so precise that it might have made her laugh, any other time, were she to spare a thought at how he was a quick study on touching her. tender fingers that were pleasantly rough. priscilla could feel her right leg begin to twitch as lucanis changed the angle of his hand, palm flat while his thumb worked furiously.

she tells him to wait, please, maker, that’s not fair. two could play at that game, were she capable of not focusing on trying to still her leg. left side of his chest, circling his nipple with her nail, while she all but pawed at his sides. sensitivity that came with spending a lifetime expecting death. priscilla had relished discovering how a featherlight touch could draw all kinds of reactions from lucanis, from a respectful cough to the downright—

lewd. that is how her name falls from him. scattered in between puffs of antivan and the way he pulls her against him. lucanis continues to move, continues to hold them so close that were the fade to fracture, then and there, they may mould into one. she clutches him, scratches him, kisses him, the wall no longer a part of this cage, just the way her arms keep lucanis against her. priscilla is weightless, to the stutter of his hips and the blessings and curses that are murmured against her.

priscilla does not go quietly. tomorrow, she may consider the ramifications of such an embrace so close to where they all break bread. but in the wee hours as it may have been, when it was her own fingers trying desperately to tip her over, does the sweat on her own skin cool. no lamplight, no wall. no marks that peppered her dreams for nigh on weeks now. priscilla lay alone on the chaise, candles long since extinguished, and her hand freed from the front of her smalls.

and with mighty effort, does she smack and kick the back of the chaise, until all she can is whisper a small, “shit.”