#you can not force air into lungs that cant take the air in

[blep-23]

I think Ussop has attachment issues.

[kaitoru]

۫ ꣑ৎ . make it tap out ── jjk men dumbfucking you.

ft. gojo. toji. sukuna. nanami. geto. ── smacking. hair pulling. teasing to degration. overstimulation. rough sex.

g. satoru ۫ ꣑ৎ .

“nghh- oh fuck- looook at youu-” he groans voice slurring with pleasure, his hips snapping hard, each thrust making your tits bounce, your moans loud and desperate.

“takin’ this big dick so- mmph- so goddamn well, baby.” his hands grip your thighs spreading you wide, and he leans down, lips brushing your ear, breath hot and teasing.

“cant think straight right now, huh? just a drooling mess for this fuckin' cock.”

“satoru- ngh-” you gasp voice breaking as he hits deep, your pussy clenching around him, slick dripping onto the sheets.

you’re trying to keep up, to match his energy, but hes relentless fucking you so hard your brains turning to mush, his words hitting as hard as his thrusts.

“too- fuck- too much-” you whimper hands clawing at his shoulders, but he laughs, all bright and unhinged, like hes loving every second of your meltdown.

“too much? bullshit- you love it.” he teases voice dripping with that cocky edge that drives you insane.

“this greedy little pussy’s suckin’ me in, beggin’ for more.” he thrusts harder, the bedframe rattling, and you cry out, overwhelmed, your nails digging into his back.

“cmon, baby- fuck- tell me how good it is” he demands, his tone playful, his dick dragging against your walls in a way thats pure torture.

“good- so good-” you moan barely coherent, and his grin widens, his thrusts growing sloppy as he chases his own high.

“thats it- nghh- scream it, let the city hear-” he groans, and you’re done for, your orgasm crashing through you, a sharp wave that has you screaming his name, pussy clamping down hard.

he follows, spilling deep inside, his voice a broken, “fuck- baby- so perfect...” as he rides it out.

k. nanami ۫ ꣑ৎ .

“so perfect for me my love..” he groans, his hips snap against yours, relentless, the bed creaking under his weight, his cock fills you completely, stretching you, the wet slap of skin echoing as he drives deeper.

“taking me so well, love, you were made for this.”

“kento- fuck- its-” you gasp voice trembling, hands gripping his shoulders, feeling the muscle flex under your fingers.

you’re a mess, thighs shaking, pussy clenching tight, but his words keep you grounded, even as they push you closer to the edge.

“too- ngh- too deep-” you whimper and he leans down, lips brushing your jaw, his breath hot and steady.

“too deep?” he murmurs, voice soft but edged with that quiet dominance that makes you melt.

“you can take it, love- fuck- you’re doing so well.” he thrusts harder, his hand sliding to your clit rubbing firm circles that make you moan, loud and broken.

“tell me- tell me how it feels,” he says his tone a command wrapped in care, his eyes locked on yours, drinking in every twitch of your face.

“feels- so good- kento-” you choke out and he groans, low and raw, his rhythm faltering as your pussy flutters around him.

“please- dont stop-” you beg, and his voice cracks, a rare slip in his control.

“not planning to.” he growl and hes fucking you harder, the intensity building until you come, a shuddering wave that has you crying his name, pussy squeezing him tight. .

t. fushiguro ۫ ꣑ৎ .

his hands are everywhere, gripping your ass, pulling your hair, claiming every fucking inch of you.

“fuck- look at this ass-” he grunts, his hips pounding against you, each thrust so deep it knocks the air from your lungs, his dick is thick, stretching you wide, the wet slap against your clit making you shudder.

“takin’ my cock so fuckin’ good.” he says smacking your ass hard, the sting making you moan, loud and needy.

“toji- shit- too much-” you gasp voice breaking, hands braced on the table, wood creaking under the force of his thrusts.

you’re soaked pussy clenching tight, but hes relentless, fucking you so hard your brain’s gone fuzzy, his words hitting like sparks.

“slow- ngh- slow down-” you whimper but he laughs, low and mean, his grip tightening on your hips.

“slow down? nah- you can handle it.” he growls pulling you back onto his cock, harder and deeper like hes testing your limits.

“this pussy is beggin’ for it, so fuckin’ wet.” he thrusts again, brutal, and you cry out, overwhelmed, your nails scraping the table.

“cmon, doll- tell me you love this dick.” he demands voice rough, his hand yanking your hair to make you look back at him, his smirk all smug and hungry.

“love it- fuck- love your dick-” you moan barely coherent, and his laugh is triumphant, his thrusts growing sloppier, needier.

“thats it- scream it, let ‘em hear-” he grunts and you come, a sharp, shuddering wave that has you gasping, pussy clamping down as he fucks you through it, coming with a loud, “fuck-” spilling deep inside.

g. suguru ۫ ꣑ৎ .

“so beautiful- fuck- look at you..” he murmurs, his hips rolling slow, each thrust dragging against your walls, making you feel every inch of his dick.

his hands trace your body reverent but possessive, and he leans down, lips brushing your ear.

“you’re- so perfect like this, all mine, aren’t you?”

you gasp, hands gripping his shoulders, feeling the lean muscle under his robes.

you’re a mess, pussy dripping, thighs shaking, but his words are your undoing, soft and commanding, making you want to please him.

“too- fuck- too good-” you whimper, and he smiles, all warm and predatory, thrusting deeper, his cock hitting that spot that makes you see stars.

“too good? oh- you can take more.” he coos voice dripping with that manipulative charm, his hand sliding to your clit, rubbing slow circles that make you moan, loud and broken.

“tell me- tell me you’re mine.” he says his tone sweet but demanding, his eyes locked on yours, dark and consuming.

“yours- suguru- im yours-” you choke out and he groans, his thrusts picking up, still controlled but hungrier.

“thats it- nghh- my perfect girl, giving yourself to me.” he murmurs and you come, a shuddering wave that has you crying his name, pussy squeezing him tight.

s. ryomen ۫ ꣑ৎ .

“pathetic little thing- fuck- look at you.” he snarls, slamming into you, his dick so big its almost painful, stretching you beyond your limits.

his nails dig into your hip and he chuckles, low and cruel, as you moan, loud and desperate.

“cryin’ on my cock- and you’re still so fuckin’ wet.”

“sukuna- fuck-” you gasp voice breaking, hands scrabbling at his shoulders, feeling the hard muscle under his skin.

you’re soaked, pussy clenching tight, but hes merciless, fucking you so hard your brain’s shutting down, his words a blade cutting through your haze.

“please- ngh- slower-” you whimper but he scoffs, thrusting harder, the wet slap against your ass echoing in the chamber.

“slower? hah- fuck- dont even beg,” he growls voice dripping with sadistic glee, his hand yanking your hair to make you look at him, his eyes burning.

“this pussy is mine to ruin, and you’ll take it.” he thrusts deeper and you scream, overwhelmed, your nails clawing at him.

© written by kaizer | do not copy plagiarize or translate any.

[rafes-slut]

He had been going on for hours and you cant take it anymore

Summary: since you steped in his room he had been pounding and using you in every way to the point you cant take it anymore

Warnings: Extremely rough sex, overstimulation, non-stop pounding, slight coercion, size kink, manhandling, dominance, mild degradation, possessiveness, slight aftercare, and explicit smut. (18+ ONLY)

---

The moment you stepped foot into Rafe’s bedroom, you should’ve known you wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon. You were already spent, body trembling, chest heaving as you clawed at the sheets beneath you, but Rafe wasn’t done. Not even close.

“Rafe—” your voice came out broken, a pathetic whimper that only seemed to spur him on. He didn’t let up, his hips slamming into yours with brutal force, stretching you open again and again.

You had lost track of how many times he had made you come. Three? Four? Maybe more? Your body was past the point of exhaustion, pleasure turning into something overwhelming, something too much to handle. Your legs had given up long ago, shaking and useless, but Rafe didn’t need you to hold yourself up. He had you exactly where he wanted—trapped beneath him, at his complete mercy.

“You can take it,” Rafe growled into your ear, his voice dark, possessive. “You wanted this, didn’t you? Coming over here looking all sweet, knowing damn well what I’d do to you.”

You barely managed to shake your head, a weak, breathless sob slipping past your lips. “Can’t—Rafe, I can’t—”

His large hand wrapped around your throat, tilting your head back so you had no choice but to meet his eyes. His pupils were blown wide, his face twisted into something animalistic, something desperate. He was lost in you, addicted to you, and he wasn’t stopping until he was completely satisfied.

“Too bad,” he murmured, his grip tightening just enough to make your head spin. “You’re not done until I say you’re done.”

He shifted then, pulling your legs apart wider, tilting your hips just right so he could push even deeper, filling you in a way that had you choking on your own breath. The stretch, the fullness, the way his cock dragged against your walls with every ruthless thrust—it was all too much. You didn’t even realize you were crying until Rafe smirked, leaning down to lick the salty tears from your cheek.

“Poor baby,” he cooed mockingly, nipping at your jaw before his lips trailed down your throat, his teeth scraping over your pulse point. “Crying for me, and I’ve barely even started.”

You let out a broken sob as another wave of pleasure crashed through you, your body convulsing underneath him. You didn’t even have the strength to fight it anymore, your body giving in to whatever he wanted to take from you.

Rafe groaned, his pace faltering for just a moment before he grabbed you roughly, flipping you onto your stomach. You barely had a second to catch your breath before he yanked your hips up, forcing you onto your knees. Your arms buckled instantly, your cheek pressed against the mattress as he lined himself up again and slammed back inside.

A scream ripped through your throat, pleasure and pain mixing into something dizzying. Rafe only chuckled darkly, his hands gripping your waist bruisingly hard as he pounded into you with renewed force, each thrust knocking the air from your lungs.

He gritted out, his fingers digging into your skin. “You get that? No one else gets to fuck you like this. No one else gets to hear you beg like this.”

You were too far gone to respond, your mind blank, body wrecked. He had completely unraveled you, broken you down until all you could do was take it.

And he wasn’t stopping. Not until he was done.

[shouyuus]

─── B L U E L O C K INSATIABLE

rin, nagi, sae, oliver; 2,217 words; smut and fluff, pwp, oral (r!receiving & giving), semi somonophilia, overstim, multiple orgasms, thigh-fucking, spooning-sex, mating press, dumbification, nicknames ("kitty/kitten"), internal creampies, pseudo-breeding kink, mentions of aftercare

haikyuu!! ver.

─── 凛 RIN

it should be alarming, really, how he can eat you out like a man starved while almost never taking his eyes off you, watching you with steady, steely eyes, even as his tongue drags along the seam of your ruined cunt, so slick with wetness that you curl your fingers into the sheets — and it’s never enough, no never, not for him — even after his lips are smeared, his chin damn near dripping — he’ll pillow his cheek on your thigh, lick his lips, cock his eyebrows at the way you twitch when a puff of hot air hits your over-sensitive clit.

“tired?” he asks, voice not even hoarse (though yours definitely is).

you tip your head back into the pillow, unclench your fingers, feel the liquid rush of warmth as it works through your body in the aftershocks of yet another orgasm.

“y-yeah — i — ‘m fine — i think —”

rin scoffs, leaning down to drop another kiss to the hood of your clit, slating you another glance as your whole body jerks, a whine twisting out of your throat as your hand shoots out to tangle in your fingers in his hair, tugging him up.

“you can gimme another one,” he says, and it’s not posed as a question; just as well, it was never meant to be one.

you hiss out a breath, forcing the air from your lungs as you brace yourself. rin gives you a silent count of four or five before he leans down to bury himself between your thighs again, his thumb rubbing circles into the winged hollow of your hipbones, the only sign that he feels anything even close to sympathy for your plight.

“count for me,” he says, the words muffled along the puffy folds of your pussy as he pushes his tongue into you once more.

“f-fuck — rin — ! f-f-four — mngh —”

“what was our record?” he asks, pulling back ever so slightly. you keen out at the loss of his lips, the heat having already coiled tight in your gut.

“like… seven or s-something —” you say, blinking up at the ceiling while not really seeing it at all.

rin makes a noncommittal noise before bending back down to mouth at your cunt.

“yeah. we can beat that tonight.”

─── 誠士郎 SEISHIROU

for a person who takes sleep so seriously, you think, tugged from the soft, hazy halls of sleep by the feeling of his hard cock rutting against the curve of your ass, he seemingly has no compunction about interrupting yours.

“— shirou?”

“mm, y’feel good…” his voice is gravely, thick with sleep, and you wonder vaguely if he’s still half-dreaming. it wouldn’t be the first time.

“yeah?” you ask, twisting around slightly to catch sight of his disheveled hair, his spit-slickened lips, his big gray eyes almost black in the witching-hour dark.

“mm…” he burrows into the nape of your neck, your feel his hot breath collecting there like steam against a car window till he leans in to sink his teeth into the skin of your shoulder, his hips rocking into yours.

heat radiates from him (but then again, he’s always run hot), and it takes less than a minute for him to inch his fingers into your sleep shorts and pull them down for him to fuck his cock into the warmth and tightness between your thighs. a contented sigh escapes him as he continues to rock against you, the slide of him along your pussy lips making you whimper slightly, bright pops of color flickering along the backs of your eyelids as you squeeze them shut, bracing against the building pleasure.

“so good… so warm…” he murmurs, his arms tightening around your waist to pull you closer, his hips now canting into you, the bedsheets shuffling with his rhythmic movements. it could almost seem lazy, the way he’s fucking your thighs from behind, not bothering with your clothes, or even the lights for that matter. but you know him — know him better than most ever will.

you know that it’s just the beginning, and sure enough, a few seconds later, you’re being rolled onto your back, the light-kissed shape of him hovering over you, his lips brushing yours in a soft kiss as he works your shorts and panties completely off your legs, tossing them off the bed into the nether beyond.

“wanna fuck you — can i?”

you nod, hissing as he leans down to suck a hickey into your shoulder, nudging your knees further apart to allow him access to your now very wet cunt.

“d-don’t you have morning practice tomorrow?” you ask.

nagi only grunts, letting out a long breath as he pushes into you, slow, the stretch making you whimper.

“today,” he says, after a few seconds of adjustment on both your ends.

“hm?” you ask, blinking up at him, your thoughts skipping like an old tape in a busted cassette, run over too many times with the rewind button.

“got practice today… but it doesn’t matter — i’ll nap at practice.”

you let out a groan though it chokes off into a pitched whine as nagi starts to fuck into you proper, his hips snapping into you with the sort of languid grace only a seasoned athlete can muster.

“y-you shouldn’t nap at pr-practices!” you chide, chewing on your bottom lip as he leans down to kiss you, sucking your tongue into his mouth.

“i’ll only do it if it gets too boring.”

you keen as he hoists one of your legs over his shoulder, thinking to yourself that well — there are worse ways to spend the time and… you’re already awake now anyways.

─── 冴 SAE

there’s something feral in the light of his eyes whenever he’s got you down on your knees for him, your lips wrapped around his pulsing cock, a hand cupping your cheek, thumb pushing against the bulge there to feel the way his tip twitches at the contact. and its unfair, really, how steady his breathing is, even when he rocks his hips to bully his cock deeper and deeper into your throat, careless of the way your fingers dig into his muscular thighs (”don’t worry, you won’t hurt me.” “still… i don’t want to leave marks… your teammates will see…” “i don’t care. leave them. let them see.”).

he barely makes noise when you swallow around him, gag at the tip of his cock as it nudges your tonsils, the way he only grunts and lets out a long, thready breath when you lave your tongue along the thick, pulsing vein running the underside of his cock, tease at the place it connects to the hood, eyes flickering up to catch his — you’ve never seen his eyes blown so dark before, dark enough for you to forget the piercing seaglass of his normal gaze.

you hum against him, redoubling your efforts if only to make him moan, the sound ripped from him like pulling teeth — ragged and torn, his head tipping back as his knuckles whiten in the sheets. your jaw’s starting to hurt, but you don’t care; you’re nothing if not determined, and it’s the challenge sizzling in the air between you that sets your stomach aflame.

“— fuck.”

you take a deep breath and take him as deep as you can, pressing your nose into the dark, coarse hairs at the base of his cock, your throat seizing around the size of him as you fight to keep your breath held still.

you feel his fist in your hair, the way it stings along your scalp as he pulls, then forces you down further till your nails are scrabbling at his thighs, leaving angry red streaks in their wake.

when he finally deigns to let you back up, it’s a whole eternity later, and you try to blink away the dark squiggles collecting at the edge of your vision before he traces a thumb along your cheek and tuts.

“mm… feels good,” he rasps, and it’s all the encouragement you need to suck in another long breath and deepthroat him again, bobbing up and down till he’s gasping, a reckless, desperate need collecting in your belly as you swirl your tongue around him.

and then — a tiny, pitched whine, squeezing from him as he hisses out a long breath. you glance up to find his eyes cast skyward, towards the ceiling of your shared bedroom, the thread of his pulse ticking in up against his jugular as his chest heaves. a thin line of sweat trickles down the side of his neck.

“shit.”

you content yourself with licking up his length one more time before lowering your eyes and setting to work till you feel him jerk into your mouth, the hot, salty-bitter rush of cum hitting the back of your throat, nearly setting off your gag reflex as you hurriedly swallow around him. when you pull back and lick at your lips, it’s to find him watching you with that sharp, halfway light in his eyes, the irises still blown huge and dark. there’s color painted high on his cheeks and an unfocused haze to his gaze that makes you smirk.

you wipe daintily at the corner of your mouth, cocking your head.

“already done? or… can you go another few rounds?”

all you get in return is a light scoff and sae jerking his chin towards the bed next to him.

“get on your back. and, take those panties off.”

─── オリヴァ OLIVER

it should be illegal, you think, as the backs of your legs start to get sore, how much stamina a professional athlete has to have.

“fuck, fuck, fuck — o-oliver!”

“ahh — c’mon, kitten, i know you can do it — mmph — fuck that sweet little pussy’s gettin’ so tight…”

he’s grinning — the bastard — grinning down at you as he rams his cock into your so hard you swear you can feel it at the back of your throat. there’s a hand wrapped around your neck, gentle pressure on either side of your windpipe. your head is spinning, spinning, spinning like a top in a dream where gravity is no longer of human consequence.

“gonna fuck you dumb like this, kitty — wouldn’t you like that? hm? yeah… bet you would…”

you can feel his voice close to your ear, feel the heat of it against your skin, but the words are faraway, and it’s all you can to do nod, to moan, because it feels good, it feels too good, and he’s always known your body almost better than you know it yourself.

“p-lease —” you whine, clenching down around him as he loosens his grip and air floods your lungs again, the pressure of his cock against your cervix making your eyes roll back.

“g-good girl… such a good kitten f’me — fuck —”

you feel the slick wetness dripping down the curve of your ass as he continues to pound into you, your one orgasm toppling into the next, and the next — till you’re keening at the feeling of him tugging you back towards him, your body squirming away from the overstimulation.

“no running away now, kitten — not till i’m d-done with you, yeah?”

he locks your knees till they’re pushed nearly to your ears, an arm banded over the backs of them to keep you still as he fucks you so hard coherent thought leaves you completely, nothing in your head except for the sinful drag of his cock in your spasming cunt, or the way you can feel him reaching his peak as he starts to pulse inside you.

vaguely, you hear yourself begging for it, for his cum, for him to fill you up. just as vaguely, you hear him chuckle, a hand coming up to cup your cheek as he fucks his cum deeper and deeper into you with long, languid strokes.

“fuuuuck…. mmngh — that’s g-good — that’s a good kitten…” he groans, his head dipping into the pillow next to you, his skin tacky with sweat, the scruff on his chin tickling your shoulder as he drops a quick kiss there before pushing back up to inspect the damage. he grins at the sight — you splayed out beneath him, thoroughly fucked out, your eyes barely open, mouth agape, your hole still clenching around his cock as if determined to milk him for all he’s worth. just the thought of it makes his hips jerk, makes the heat in him burn as kindling to an encouraging sweep of wind.

you mumble something about feeling full, but oliver tuts, reaching down to pat your cheek with a palm, gingerly shifting back till his softening cock slips out of you. he can’t help the cocky smirk that twists his lips as he watches you clench around nothing, whining around the sudden loss.

“mm… but you love it when i stuff you full like this, don’t you? yeah? now be a good girl and keep it all inside while i clean us up, ‘kay?”

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[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡Get a Grip｡⋆.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x hybrid!reader

Simon finds your calm down button when fucking you

Warnings: smut, tail pulling, degradation (reader called a dog), as always reader is plus size, hybrid!reader WC: 540 Minors DNI

Library: @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

“Stop fecking moving.” A whine sounded from beneath Simon’s bulk, muffled by the pillow that you had buried your face in. Despite the biting order, your hips continued to thrash around, your legs kicking back as you desperately tried to escape the stretch of his cock inside of you.

“Can’t.” You pressed your body to the flimsy mattress as if it could lessen the blow of each thrust. Just above the sloppy sounds of his skin plapping against yours and the wetness that steadily leaks from your pussy, there’s the sound of tearing fabric that immediately makes Simon growl. A firm hand is wrapped around the back of your neck, his fingers pinching your airway as he yanks you backwards, forcing your long canines from his singular pillow, leaving behind a perfect imprint of your teeth on the ancient fluff.

“Damn dog.” He snarls into your sensitive ear. “Can’t ever keep your feckin teeth to yourself can you?” Your response was more of a whimper than any sort of words, spurring him on even more. He shoved your face back into the ruined pillow with a harsh punch to your cervix, knocking any remaining air from your lungs. “Keep that damn mouth shut.”

You give a rumbling growl back, your hips canting to the right as you gave one more feeble kick, a pathetic attempt to shake the fuzz of insurmountable pleasure from your brain, causing your tail, now matted with sweat and your wetness, to thwack against his abs. That was Simon’s last straw.

“Fucking brat.” With the same hand that had previously coiled around your neck, he grabbed the base of your tail and pulled you back into his hips, forcing you to take all of his cock. Your body went completely limp, finally succumbing to his rule. He raised an eyebrow, testing this newfound discovery with a cruel thrust downwards into your g-spot that would’ve normally had you howling but now, you only gave a delicate moan, your nose rubbing his pillow like a kitten.

You were docile and Simon was fucked if he didn’t absolutely abuse this off switch he found. 

“That’s all you feckin needed? Someone to grab this tail to make you all quite like you should be? Should’ve feckin known, you’re always throwing it in my face, waggin it like a puppy.” You clenched around him, another thick drop of your combined messes dripping onto his hairy thighs. Moans spilled from your lips just the same, adding to the perverted soundtrack of his bunk.

“Si-“ Your voice crackled like you had forgotten how to speak. Behind your head, Simon grinned and squeezed your tail even tighter, stealing those last words from you.

“Ah ah ah. Dogs don’t talk. They just do what they’re told.” You trembled beneath him, your soft body shaking as he shoved you closer and closer to breaking. “And you’re finally being my good girl aren’t you pup? Takin what I give you like you’re supposed to.” He pulled you back against him as he thrust forwards, your ass jiggling violently with the force.

“And good pups get to cum.” The rough calluses of his fingers against your clit make you sing and Simon grin wickedly. “Be my good pup.”

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[tteotlma]

Panic and Proximity

-- Trapped with Logan in a safe room, your biggest weakness reveals itself.

(Wolverine/Reader) 1.7kw

a/n: it's been like six years since i posted a fic.. smth short and sweet

TW: anxiety, panic attack, mentions of vomit, close spaces, forced proximity(?), CLAUSTROPHOBIA, tight spaces

"Bobby!" you yell over the deafening roar. You dig your heels into the dirt, pivoting to run towards your friend. A Sentinel has Bobby pinned, ice against ice. Suddenly, the ground opens beneath him, swallowing him whole. Your heart leaps into your throat, but in the next instant, the sky above the massive monster splits open. Bobby drops out, ready to swing full throttle.

You glance back to see Kitty sprinting towards you, Logan not far behind.

"No, run!" she screams, grabbing your arm as you both dash into the building.

"But Bobby—" you start, turning to look back at your friend. He seems to be holding his own, but for how long?

"It's okay, he's coming," Kitty pants as she phases you through industrial shelving.

Logan's gruff voice surprises you. "How do you know?"

"Because I'm gonna get him," Kitty replies, pulling you deeper into the building. "I just need to make sure you guys are safe first."

"And how are you gonna do that?" you ask, breathless. Your feet pound the floor in rhythm with theirs, legs aching. Only the adrenaline coursing through your veins keeps you going. 

"This way," Kitty hisses, yanking you towards a narrow corridor. The building's layout becomes a maze of twisting hallways and locked doors. Alarms blare, red emergency lights casting eerie shadows.

Logan sniffs the air. "We've got company. Multiple hostiles, closing in fast."

"There's a safe room," Kitty says, her voice strained. "It's small, but it'll have to do."

Your stomach tightens at the word 'small'. "How small are we talking?"

She doesn't answer, instead phasing through another wall, pulling you along. You emerge into a dim, cluttered storage area. At the far end, a heavy metal door stands ajar.

"In there. Now!" Logan growls, glancing behind you.

The thundering footsteps of your pursuers grow louder. Your heart races as you approach the door, catching a glimpse of the cramped space beyond. It's barely larger than a closet.

Kitty pushes you forward. "You don't have a choice. Get in!"

You hesitate, your breath catching in your throat. The walls seem to close in already, even from outside. But the sound of gunfire erupting behind you slowly convinces you to enter, but not fast enough. Kitty grabs both you and Logan and before you can protest, she phases you through the thick steel door. 

“Don’t go anywhere.” Kitty demands before she walks through the other side of the closet just as quickly as she put you in here. 

A small “no” escapes your lips as you reach out to touch the walls. You try to find any crevice to show your not completely shut off from everything but its no use, it’s too dark and from what your fingers can feel there’s nothing. The steel is stainless, and smooth. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, suddenly becoming too aware of your heart beating in your chest, and you suddenly feel lightheaded. You try and catch your breath but you can’t, you try and breathe but your lungs cant open enough as it hits you, your world shrinks to the size of a coffin. You try to take a deep breath, but you keep coming short.

"You okay?" Kitty whispers, her voice too close in the blackness.

You want to answer, to say you're fine, but the words stick in your throat. The walls are too close, the air too thin. You're trapped, and panic begins to claw its way up from your chest.

You try to soothe yourself, eyes squeezed shut, desperately imagining a vast field. Hoping to enhance the illusion, you peel your hands from the walls. Suddenly, a loud boom shakes the room, steel groaning around you. Logan tenses beside you, a stark reminder that danger still lurks beyond your confined space.

Your breathing becomes more erratic. Sweat beads on your forehead as the small space seems to shrink even further. Your fingers tingle, and a wave of nausea hits you.

"It's okay, it's okay," you mutter, but the words sound hollow even to your own ears. You take a step back, trying to escape the wall, only to collide with Logan's chest. He finally notices your distress.

"Hey, you alright?" He shifts, touching you lightly. You flinch away instinctively.

"Sorry," you pant. "Would now be a bad time to tell you I'm claustrophobic?" You attempt a chuckle, hands fumbling to steady yourself. Eyes clenched shut, you feel saliva pooling in your mouth. "I think I'm gonna barf," you whisper.

"Hey, hey!" Logan turns you around to face him. "Look at me." You briefly open your eyes, making out only his shadowy form, hunched over. You quickly shut them again.

"Are you hunching over because the ceiling's too short?" you ask, still dizzy. Your fingertips find his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his solid torso. He shifts, followed by a soft thud.

"No," he says.

"You're lying." You clench your hand, pressing your fist against his stomach. The rhythm of his breathing slowly anchors you, pulling you back to reality.

"Maybe, but that's not important," he says, his voice closer than before. You feel him shift, moving nearer.

Your fist sinks deeper into the muscle of his stomach as his heavy hands rest on your shoulders, grounding you.

"Why are you just saying something now?" he asks, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

"I-it never seemed to matter," your voice shakes, your other hand wrapping around his forearm for support. "Until now." You feel tears forming in your eyes. "I-I'm sorry."

"Oh," you hear him breathe out softly. "Oh, Y/N." He sighs, a mix of concern and understanding in his tone.

Suddenly, his arms envelop you, cradling your head against his chest. The gesture, though meant to comfort, unfortunately intensifies your panic. Your breath hitches as the feeling of being trapped increases, despite the warmth of his embrace. You try to pull away but his arms don’t budge. 

Your breathing becomes more rapid against Logan's chest. The warmth of his embrace, meant to comfort, instead fuels your panic. "I can't—" you gasp, your fingers clawing at his shirt. "It's too tight, too close."

He cuts you off, shushing you. 

“Yes, you can.” He reassures you, his hand stroking your head.

"Listen to me," Logan says firmly, his gruff voice softening with an unexpected gentleness. "We're gonna try something. Focus on my voice and breathe with me. Can you do that?"

You manage a small nod against his chest, your forehead pressed against the rough fabric of his shirt. Logan must feel the slight movement because he shifts, adjusting his stance to better support you.

"Good," he murmurs, the word rumbling through his chest. "Now, feel my breathing. Try to match it."

Logan takes a deep, deliberate breath. You feel his chest expand against you, the steady rise and fall a stark contrast to your own erratic gasps. He holds you close, one hand splayed across your back, the other cradling the nape of your neck. His calloused fingers are surprisingly gentle, grounding you in the moment.

"In through your nose," he instructs, his voice low and measured. You struggle to comply, your breath hitching. "That's it," he encourages. "Now hold it for a moment."

You feel the pause in his chest's movement, a moment of stillness in the chaotic swirl of your thoughts. 

"Now out through your mouth," Logan continues, his own exhale warm against the top of your head. "Slow and steady."

As you attempt to follow his lead, you become acutely aware of other sensations: the faint scent of cigar smoke clinging to Logan's shirt, the steady thud of his heartbeat against your ear, the warmth of his body contrasting with the cool metal walls surrounding you.

"Again," Logan says softly. "In... hold... and out. You're doing great, kid."

Gradually, your breathing begins to sync with his. The vice-like grip of panic on your chest starts to loosen, ever so slightly. In this small, dark space, Logan's presence becomes an anchor, a point of focus beyond the suffocating walls.

"That's it," he murmurs, a note of approval in his voice. "Just keep breathing with me. We'll get through this together."

You nod, one hundred percent sure that if you were to talk right now, it wouldn't be heard. Closing your eyes, you lean more of your weight against Logan. You take in his scent—a mix of cigar smoke, leather, and something uniquely him—his warmth seeping into you, his solid presence anchoring you in the moment. You melt into him, relishing the feel of his muscular body against yours.

In this intimate moment, your mind drifts to all the times you've admired Logan from afar. He's always been the ruggedly handsome mentor, the forbidden fruit that made your heart race during training sessions. You've caught his lingering glances, felt the electricity when his hand corrected your stance, noticed how his eyes seemed to soften when they landed on you.

There's always been something there, simmering beneath the surface. An unspoken connection, a tension that neither of you dared to acknowledge. You've told yourself it was just a silly crush, that Logan saw you as nothing more than a student. But the gentleness in his touch now, the care in his voice—it speaks of something deeper.

This moment, trapped in this tiny space, feels like a test of your limits. The boundaries between mentor and student, between longing and reality, seem to blur. Your racing heart isn't just from claustrophobia anymore, and you're certain Logan can feel it.

But now isn't the time for these thoughts. The danger lurking outside this safe room, the mission at hand—it all comes rushing back. You know you should pull away, regain your composure, focus on the task at hand. Yet, for just a few more seconds, you allow yourself to stay in Logan's embrace, drawing strength from him in more ways than one.

As your breathing finally steadies, you reluctantly begin to pull back, ready to face whatever comes next. But not before you catch a glimpse of something in Logan's eyes—concern, certainly, but also a flicker of something else. Something that makes your breath catch for an entirely different reason, you realize you're still pressed against Logan's chest. You step back slightly, looking up at him in the dim light.

"I... Thank you, Logan. I don't know what I would've done if..."

He cuts you off with a gentle squeeze of your shoulder. "We all have our demons, kid. The trick is not letting them win." His voice drops lower, almost a whisper. "You did good."

The moment is interrupted by another distant explosion, reminding you both of the pressing danger.

[aventurineswife]

I was wondering if you still take requests if you do here’s mine

Can you do a Dan Hang x reader, a AE!Sunday and a Aventurine x reader on how during a battle they get badly injured while protecting them(they were fighting together) and they (reader) looses there memory

Idk if u have something like this it’s fine if u cant do it it’s my first request so I hope this is ok

- Starry Anon ✨🩵

Remembrance of Shadows

Tags: Dan Heng x Reader, AE!Sunday x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Angst, Memory Loss, Protective Characters, Found Family Dynamics, Slow Burn Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Action, Heroic Sacrifice.

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Injuries and Blood, Themes of Amnesia, Emotional Hurt/Angst, Near-Death Experiences.

The battle raged on with relentless intensity. Your spear clashed with the enemy's weapons, every strike filled with determination to protect the Astral Express crew. Beside you, Dan Heng fought with his usual precision, Cloud-Piercer dancing through the air with deadly grace. His quiet presence, though reassuring, carried an unusual tension tonight—a subtle edge of protectiveness that hadn’t escaped your notice.

The enemy launched a sudden ambush, aiming for your blind spot. You barely had time to react before Dan Heng was there, intercepting the blow with his spear. The impact threw him off balance, but he recovered swiftly, his expression unreadable as always.

“Stay close,” he murmured, his voice calm despite the chaos.

The next attack came too quickly. A towering adversary hurled a devastating strike, and you knew instinctively you wouldn’t be able to dodge it in time. Before you could even think to cry out, Dan Heng stepped in front of you, taking the full brunt of the blow. The force sent him sprawling to the ground, blood staining his clothes.

“Dan Heng!” you screamed, rushing to his side. His usually stoic face twisted with pain, but his hand reached out to steady you.

“You need to stay... safe.” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

Your vision blurred with tears as you tried to fend off the enemies closing in. But the world around you tilted violently, a blow to your head sending you into darkness.

When you woke, the room was quiet. The antiseptic scent of a medical bay filled your senses. You blinked slowly, your head pounding as you tried to piece together what had happened. A figure sat nearby, his teal eyes watching you with an intensity that made your heart ache.

“Who… are you?” you asked hesitantly.

Dan Heng stiffened, his calm demeanor faltering for the briefest moment. “It’s me,” he said, his voice soft but insistent. “Dan Heng. Don’t you remember?”

Your confusion deepened. His name felt familiar, yet distant, like a memory slipping through your fingers. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, guilt lacing your voice. “I… I don’t.”

Dan Heng looked away, his jaw tightening. He stood, his movements careful as if concealing the pain of his injuries. “It’s all right,” he said quietly, though his voice carried an undertone of anguish. “You’re safe now. That’s what matters.”

And yet, as he turned to leave, you couldn’t shake the feeling that losing your memories of him might have hurt him more than any wound from the battle.

The battlefield was a nightmare of chaos and destruction. Sunday stood by your side, his halo glowing faintly amidst the smoke. His tailcoat fluttered as he deflected an enemy strike, his eyes sharp with determination. Despite his usual serene demeanor, he fought with an intensity you’d never seen before.

“Stay behind me,” he urged, his voice calm yet firm. “I won’t let them harm you.”

But the enemy was relentless. In a desperate move, one of them lunged toward you, their weapon aimed directly at your heart. Time seemed to slow as Sunday stepped between you and the blow. The attack hit him squarely, and he crumpled to the ground, his blood staining the earth.

“No!” you cried, catching him as he fell. His eyes met yours, still filled with a quiet resolve.

“I couldn’t let them take you,” he whispered, his voice trembling with pain. “You’re too important.”

Before you could respond, an enemy struck you from behind, and darkness engulfed you.

You awoke to the soft hum of the Astral Express. The bed beneath you was unfamiliar, and your head throbbed with a dull ache. A man sat nearby, his hair framing a face etched with concern.

“You’re awake,” he said, relief evident in his voice.

“Who are you?” you asked, your voice weak. His eyes widened slightly, and his serene expression wavered.

“I’m Sunday,” he said gently. “We’re… friends.”

The hesitation in his voice made you doubt his words, but his presence felt oddly comforting. “I don’t remember,” you admitted, your voice trembling.

Sunday’s gaze softened, though a shadow of pain lingered in his eyes. “It’s all right,” he said softly. “I’ll remind you, one step at a time.”

Even as he smiled, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of something unspoken—a bond lost to the void of your memories.

The enemy forces pressed closer, their numbers overwhelming. Aventurine’s laughter rang out, sharp and defiant as he dodged another attack. “Is that all you’ve got?” he taunted, his eyes gleaming with calculated mischief.

You fought back-to-back with him, your movements synchronized. Despite the danger, Aventurine seemed in his element, his every move precise and deliberate. But when a stray attack targeted you, he acted without hesitation.

“No cheating now!” he said with a grin, stepping in front of you. The enemy’s blade cut deep into his side, and he stumbled, blood dripping from the wound.

“Aventurine!” you cried, catching him as he fell. His ever-present smile faltered, replaced by a pained grimace.

“Don’t… worry about me,” he said through gritted teeth. “Just focus on winning.”

But you never got the chance. A sharp blow to your head sent you spiraling into unconsciousness.

When you woke, you were met with the sight of a man leaning against the wall, his hair tousled and his smile as enigmatic as ever.

“Morning, sunshine,” he said, his tone light despite the bandages wrapped around his torso.

“Who are you?” you asked, your voice laced with confusion.

For a moment, his smile faltered, and something akin to sorrow flashed in his eyes. “Just someone who’s really glad you’re awake,” he said, his voice unusually soft.

You wanted to ask more, but the warmth in his gaze stopped you. Though you couldn’t remember him, something about his presence felt safe—as if he’d gambled everything to keep you alive.

[rhiannonsknife]

cant stop thinking about r catching melissa and shauna in shauna’s hut after they kissed for the first time. maybe reader has been suspicious for a while and then catches melissa sneaking out one night. naturally they follow her after she doesn’t come back inside, walking in on the two….and maybe instead of getting kicked out r joins them…? IDK I NEED THEM BOTH !!

could i be 🕯️ anon?

my first shaunahat request, i know that’s right!! 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ nsfw content below the cut so mdni!!

you‘ve noticed it for a while now: the way shauna and melissa always seem to disappear at the same time. how they exchange glances across the fire, how melissa has started looking at shauna with something different in her eyes, something you’re sure wasn’t there before.

you’ve told yourself you’re imagining things, and that it doesn’t have to mean anything, and it’s just the paranoia of being trapped out here for so long. but then, late one night, you catch melissa slipping out of your shared hut.

it must be long past midnight when you hear her move beside you. there’s the sound of her shifting against the rough blanket, then the faint creak of her rising to sit up.

melissa pauses, making sure no one has stirred. you keep your eyes shut as you feel her leaning toward you, hovering for a second. she whispers your name, then waits for a reaction. you keep your breathing steady and even, faking sleep until she steps over you.

only when her back is turned to you, do you open your eyes just enough to see her slipping through the door out into the night.

minutes pass and melissa doesn’t return. she has done this before, too: disappearing in the middle of the night, always under the guise of needing air, but lately, the absence of her has started to feel too intentional.

finally, you push yourself up, slipping from your hut as quietly as melissa had, keeping to the trees as you trail after her through the dark.

the path to shauna’s hut is one you’ve seen her take before, always carefully casting quick glances over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching. when you reach it, you position yourself at just the right angle to remain unseen. like this, you can peer inside without giving yourself away. with the moon almost full up in the sky, the light casts long slivers into the hut, illuminating the interior.

you hear it before you spot them: the quiet gasp, a rustle of movement, and melissa’s voice: “oh, shauna-” her words spill out, then morph into an incoherent sound that makes your stomach curl up in knots. she's moaning.

in the dark, you can make out the silhouette of shauna, who has melissa pressed against the rough wooden wall. their lips are pressed together and she clutches at shauna’s shirt, fingers grabbing so tightly she might tear through the fabric.

their breathy gasps fill the small space, their mouths hardly doing anything to swallow the obscene noise.

it takes a moment for the full picture to come together: they’re not just kissing, though their lips keep crashing together hungrily. as your gaze dips lower, you realize shauna’s hand is shoved down the front of melissa’s pants, moving back and forth erratically. she’s drawing more strangled gasps from melissa to the rhythm of her thrusts.

the sight should make you feel sick. it should make you angry. but instead of pure jealousy, there’s something else taking hold: it isn’t just wanting melissa, or just wanting shauna. it’s both. it’s the way melissa melts against shauna’s touch, the way shauna grips her waist like she owns her. you don’t know who you’d rather be.

— nsfw below, minors go away!!

shauna, who is the first to notice you.

the second she hears your quiet gasp, she lunges, yanking her hand free from melissa to reach for the knife at her side. her response immediate as she forces you to stumble inside so she can cage you in between her and the hut's makeshift walls. there’s no time to react, just the sudden sensation of wood scraping against your shoulder blades. “shauna-“

“you tell anyone,” she snarls, her pupils blown wide “and i swear to fucking god-“ the blade speaks for itself, pressing against your throat, shauna’s knuckles white around the handle.

melissa is slower to react, still catching her breath and pulling her pants back into place behind shauna, though she stops her from going too far.

she doesn’t look as surprised to see you as she should. if anything, there’s something almost sympathetic in the way she watches you now, like she’s been exactly where you are, pressed up against shauna's knife.

“shauna,” she murmurs, placing a hand over shauna’s trembling one. to your absolute shock, shauna listens. she doesn’t let go yet, but she eases up, her grip loosening. you don’t know how melissa does that, how she actually gets through to her in a way no one else has.

“how much did you see?” shauna demands. when you don’t answer right away, she grabs you by the cheeks, making you look at her. “how much?”

melissa, you notice, is the opposite: where shauna’s touch is rough, hers is gentle, so contrary to the blade against your skin. “we don’t have to fight,” she says persuasively.

shauna who’s not as easily convinced...

…not yet, anyway. she watches you, eyes scanning your face for signs of fear. she doesn’t find any. what she does find is the ragged pace of your breath, and the shiver running down your spine. her head tilts and you can see the exact moment understanding clicks into place. “you liked it, didn’t you?” your lips part but, once again, your voice fails you. it is as much confirmation as a verbal response would've been, because either way you don’t deny it fast enough. she glances sideways at melissa then, something passing between them. unlike shauna, melissa doesn’t need to threaten you to see: she felt your body tense when she touched your hand, the way you flinched, not out of fear or revulsion, but desire. knowing that makes her smile. “it’s okay,” she murmurs as she steps in closer. “you don’t have to lie, we don’t have to make a big deal out of it,” melissa looks from you to shauna. “right?”

it’s only then that you realize how close the three of you are, how melissa’s fingers have found yours and how shauna’s gaze has darkened, considering…

shauna who’s the first to touch you.

it starts with a rough grip on your jaw, so you're looking up at her again. at the same time, melissa’s fingers skim up your arm, throwing you off balance. shauna doesn’t waste another moment. she doesn’t hesitate, she just takes, guiding your mouth against hers.

she is so demanding that forces you to the tips of your toes just to keep up. after a short press of lips, she sinks her teeth into your bottom lip hard. you wince, a sharp gasp escaping, and she takes that too, prying your mouth open to slip her tongue inside. melissa makes a surprised sound, her hold around your biceps tightening as she stands and stares.

when shauna pulls away, it’s not because she’s done with you…

…but because she wants to watch, to see what you’ll do, and how you’ll react when she isn’t the one taking from you. she tilts your chin, turns your head, handing you off like you’re something to be shared.

melissa is different from the start.

she doesn’t grab at you or force her way in like shauna did. instead, she waits, lets the moment linger before closing the distance. her mouth moves more curious than demanding. shauna had kissed you like she was staking a claim, whereas melissa kisses feel like she’s studying your every move, testing the way you fit against her. from your left, shauna hums low in approval.

shauna tries to wait, she really does.

for all of a second, she allows melissa to take her time with you and ease you into this with coaxing kisses. but shauna isn’t exactly patient, she never was. and when melissa lingers, and her lips move against yours too gently, when her hands don’t grab but ask, she can’t stand to be nothing but a spectator. shauna huffs, and shoves her away before she can deepen the kiss.

she fists a hand in your shirt, yanking you back toward herself. her teeth nip at your lips, not letting you process the shift. melissa sighs against your skin, unfazed, her hands sliding lower to brace you as shauna pulls you further into her grasp. if she won't share, melissa will simply move on.

she leans down, letting her mouth find the curve of your jaw instead, trailing lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your throat, your pulse point, everywhere shauna's lips cannot reach as she is practically devouring your mouth.

melissa starts kissing down your body while shauna takes her place behind you.

your knees nearly give out when the blonde between your legs gives your pants a tug, exposing the wet patch on your underwear. “holy shit,” she mutters in awe, just as shauna’s fingers reach underneath the hem of your shirt, cupping your bare breasts. she’s not gentle with it, her thumb and forefinger squeezing your nipples harshly. your head falls back against her shoulder and she nips at the side of your neck. on the ground before you, melissa kneels, kissing your cloth-covered cunt teasingly, pressing her lips to where your clit is.

that’s how you find yourself sitting between shauna’s legs, with melissa’s head buried between your thighs for the first time.

melissa eats you out like she’s kissed you: careful and curious, watching out for your reactions. shauna, on the other hand, is still leaving bite marks and hickeys all over your neck and occasionally forces melissa back by the hair to look down at her face, your arousal smeared all over its lower half.

“she’s good at that, isn’t she?” she rasps into your ear, nibbling on the lobe.

“mhm,” you whine with both eyes closed, unsure where to put your hands now that you’ve got all of their attention on you, your pain and pleasure their only focus. “tell her, then!” shauna instructs, grabbing a fistful of melissa’s hair so she’s looking up at the two of you. “tell her she’s good”

and it doesn’t end with you cumming all over melissa’s mouth.

when you do, though, it’s loud and shameless: shauna has to clamp a hand over your mouth so you won’t wake the others as you rut yourself across melissa’s tongue. “shut up,” she hisses. “shut up, shut up, shut up!” the harshness of her tone is what sends you over the edge and makes your body go rigid, spread legs trembling around melissa’s head.

you hardly get any time to recover either. when melissa crawls up your body to lean in for a kiss, shauna is already repositioning you. after a brief taste of yourself on melissa’s tongue, she forces you around, ass up and head down in the other girl's lap.

“let’s see how much you can fucking take!” you hear shauna from behind, her fingers reaching around to push into your waiting mouth. melissa combs her own through your hair soothingly, murmuring: “you can take more, can’t you?” as if you're not nearly gagging on shauna.

when she pushes into you, she moans like she can actually feel your walls greedily sucking her fingers in deeper. your head presses down to stifle your own noises, but shauna is not having any of it: she jerks you back by the hair so you’re looking up at melissa as she fucks you with a sharp: ‘look at her’.

your eyes roll back and melissa cups your cheeks, holding your face. her thumbs trace your parted lips, so you close them around it instinctively, drawing a gasp from her as you start to suck.

it becomes a thing, after that. something none of you ever really acknowledge, but something that sticks all the same.

it starts with stolen moments. melissa lingers when she touches you, shauna watches you across camp when she thinks nobody is paying attention.

sometimes it’s just one of them, like melissa curling up against you in the dead of night, her hands searching under shared blankets, or shauna cornering you in the woods, pressing you up against a tree just because she can.

and sometimes, like that first time, it’s both of them: shauna’s hands keeping you still while melissa soothes the marks she leaves behind. melissa’s thighs on either side of your head as she moves back and forth on your face with shauna towering above her. shauna’s blade against your throat while she's the one riding your thigh and melissa kisses her neck from behind. (and what if i said riding melissa’s fingers after shauna ate you out, just for her to stand over you and watch, spitting in your mouth so you can have a taste.......?)

[ironwinters]

Winter's Mark

A gift everyone received at the age of sixteen, their soulmark. the writing of the person destined to be with them, the first sentence they ever would speak to one another etched into their skin for eternity. Everyone had one. Even the Winter Soldier.

tags: violence, dark!bucky, winter soldier!bucky, agent!reader, hurt, pain, mentions of death

Prologue: First Meeting

Your heart felt as if it were about to beat out of your chest as you took the stairs two at a time, gasping as you heard the steel door to the stairwell slam open, the sound of metal snapping as the door was broken from its hinges from the sheer force used. 

So this was it. This was the end.

You screamed as you felt a hand wrap around your ankle, yanking you down, your body rolling down the stairs until you landed with a heavy thud on the landing. Your head pounded as you tried to focus your vision, attempting to get up, just to receive a sharp kick to your side. You tried again, the air leaving your lungs as his foot made contact with your ribs, forcing you back down again, a sharp cry of pain escaping your lips. 

There he was, standing over you with his gun pressed to the center of your forehead, his eyes a nothing but a blank void. 

“Please, no, please…” you trail off, trying to plead for your life despite knowing there was no use. The reputation of the Winter Soldier precedes him, you knew who was after you the second you saw the arm, the shoulder length hair, the mask covering his nose and mouth. 

You watch as the soldier’s eyes widen in what appears to be shock after you spoke. In a flash, his hand not holding the gun reaches up, yanking the mask off the lower half of his face.

“что вы сказали?” he mutters, voice husky, eyebrows slightly creasing.

Russian, you knew. Those words…

No. Nonononono, It cant be. Can it? Your soulmate? Your killer? All wrapped up into one body. 

That would be your luck, though.

“What did you say?” You translate back to him, asking the same question. 

He looks at you cryptically for a moment. 

“Your mark. Show.” He demands, voice void of emotion. 

Your hand shakily reaches up from the floor to grasp the fabric of your shirt, pulling it up slightly to show the words etched onto your hip in need script. 

The words he had just spoken.

His eyes zero in on the words, running over them again and again. This lasts for what feels like a century. Then, the gun slowly leaves its position against your forehead. He puts the safety on, returning it to the holster on his hip, then offers you his hand. 

“What?” You ask softly, still on edge and confused. 

“Up. We must go, now” He demands, making the decision for you as he reaches down, grabbing your hand and yanking you upright. 

He wanted to take you back with him? Who knows what HYDRA would do with you, an agent known to work closely with the avengers. You didn’t want to find out. 

“No!” You cry, fighting against his strong, unrelenting hold. 

“Shhh, it’s okay,” His monotone voice attempts to soothe you. 

“I dont want to go to HYDRA, just kill me here and now,” You spit out, finally yanking away from his hold. 

“We must run, they’ll be here soon,” He explains, “Please, we must go.”

“What?” You stutter out, confused. 

He grumbles before grabbing you, scooping you up against his chest as he runs down the flight of stairs, out an emergency exit, and into the cover of nightfall. 

divider by the lovely @cafekitsune

[thasadismflower]

You wake up to some odd amounts of pressure on your body. The room is dark again and only a crack through the curtain reveals my face

The glaring eyes on my face stare deep into your soul, a low pant escapes my lips and a snarl grows upon my mouth. You're shocked, but this isnt the first time this has happened.

I am drooling, ferally groaning and panting as I leaned down into you, opening my mouth and biting down on your neck, the pressure at first is uncomfortable until I close up my jaw, putting all the force possible into the bite.

Before we both know it, you're covering your mouth and wailing, trying to escape from underneath me, yet stuck like a puppy with its scruff held. You cant get out from underneath me, even if you wanted to

I lean up and look down at you once more, standing up off the bed and pulling you by your legs, spinning you around and having your head hang off the bed.

My large hand presses down on your chest to hold you still until with some more growls and pants, my boxers are taken off and a needy, throbbing length is above your face. My scent filling your lungs as I angle myself, destined for your mouth and determined to enter your throat.

I grab your neck with my free hand and gently.. (at first) place my throbbing member in your mouth, your warmth is welcoming and makes me grunt a bit, following through I push a few more inches into your maw.

Slowly but surely, I'm 5 inches deep and beginning to feel the tension in your throat, I pull out fully.. slowly but surely feeling the walls of your mouth and throat.

I breathe for a moment before opening my mouth.

"Oh fuck it."

Suddenly all 6 inches of my self are placed balls deep in your throat, your eyes widened as you suddenly hilt my member, there wasn't a warning, you tensed up and gag for a short moment until you relax, knowing how badly I need this.

Thrusting in and out of your mouth a gentle but purposeful speed I hit the back of your throat repeatedly, glucks and gags can be the only noise heard in the room as I continue to rut and pound your pathetic fucking throat.

More and more groans fill the room, my eyes halflidding as I watch my cock bulge out your throat.

"Good fucking mutt. Finally found your use, Hmm?"

I continue to thrust into your tight, warm little throat, using it liberally and making sure you're knowledgable of my desire. The corners of your mouth now covered in frothy spit and drool, dripping on the floor, you hardly have any air.

For a short moment, I pin my dick deep in your throat, letting it tighten around me as you hold onto my thighs tightly, only for me to suddenly and quickly pull out, like unplugging a plug in a sink.

You're gagging and coughing, I take my hands away and let you squirm. You spit on the floor the slimey concoction of precum and spit before rolling back.

My length throbs in the cold air, as soon as you're back in position the needy feral rutting begins again. No consideration for you or your pleasure I use your throat like the fleshlight its meant to be

"Hmgnh! HRMNG!"

You hear my grunting get more and more intense as does my rutting, eventually I pull out one last time, grabbing my dick with my right hand and quickly finishing myself off on your face.

With a needy whine and whimper from myself, a few thick ropes of my divine fluids coat your face. The strength or the shots causing you to jolt.

I lay down next to you, my dick still out as I lay up on the bed and relax. With panted breath you hear me say.

"God... I feel bad for the people that dont have a mutt to use as a fleshlight every morning."

[ninyard]

I don't know if you've taken this into account for your trial posts, but if the prosecution requested Kevin's/the house's phone record that day they could found out he called Wymack before the police. And that could not look Good especially with his deadpan 911 call

i had thought about this and i don’t think i’m going to mention it but it’s SUCH a striking point i actually love it. i wasn’t going to bring it up purely because i’m not putting kevin on the stand, but it’s such a good reason as to why i could put him on the stand. like perfect kevin day trying to explain why he’d seen a dead body and called wymack before anything else? and how that phone call went as well? what if they played it?

-

“Take a breath and spit it out, kid.” Wymack’s voice is getting more and more strained with every second that passes and Kevin just can't get the words dislodged from his throat. How could he, when all he could smell was blood, and alcohol, when all he could hear was Andrew’s voice in his head saying tell me again how I'm too unbalanced to understand normal brotherly affection and love.

“Something happened.” Kevin tries not to watch as Nicky’s parents pass him, faces pale and hands shaking. He can’t hold himself together, when he opens his mouth to explain, all that falls out is a muted sob accompanied by, “Oh, fuck, Coach, it’s really fucking bad.”

Kevin winced as he heard Nicky start to sob somewhere upstairs, and David must have heard it too, because his voice was much more serious when he asked, "Who's hurt?"

It's the perfect question, almost, but that doesn't make it easier to answer.

"Andrew."

“How hurt are we talking?”

“I don’t know.” Kevin’s chest is getting tight. Not right now. Not now. He takes in a shaky deep breath, as much air as he can muster. He continues, “Somebody’s dead.”

“Fuck, Kevin, who’s fucking dead?” He sounds angry. No, he’s worried, he’s terrified. Which one of my foxes is it?

“I don’t know.” He repeats. He watches as Nicky’s parent fuss over something in the kitchen. “I don't know, I don’t know.”

“Dead, how?” David says, before he says something, presumably to Abby. Kevin's breath comes in and out of his lungs in painful, jagged intervals. This is too much, he can't do this, he can't do this. “Kevin, I need you to talk to me.”

“Aaron.” He cant say the words. “Somebody was- oh my god.” He feels his chest tighten, and tighten, and tighten. A twisting stomach accompanied by a pounding chest and fuck, the smell of blood, and alcohol, and-

“Breathe.” David says again, like it’s really that simple. “You have to tell me what’s going on so I can help you, kid.”

“Call Betsy.” It’s the only thing he can think to say. But when he thinks of Bee, he thinks of Andrew, he thinks of the body lying upstairs. He thinks of- “I don’t know what to do, David.”

There’s a moment of silence, and David is forced to listen to Kevin’s quiet hyperventilating. “Is Aaron dead?”

Kevin almost laughs. “No.”

Wymack's sigh is gentle, but louder than anything else, the sound weighing on Kevin's shoulders like the secret he felt like he was keeping, the secret he felt like he couldn't share. It's not exasperation, no, his annoyance is not directed at Kevin's panic or inability to find the words. It's worry, it's fear, it's being too used to those kinds of phone calls. It's too soon after Allison's Seth is dead, Coach, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do.

“Is Andrew? Is Neil?”

“No.” He says. The words are right there, he tries to swallow them down hard, but they keep getting stuck in his throat. Just say it. Just say it.

"Nicky?" He's getting impatient. But Kevin knows it's not directed at him. It can't be. "Work with me, Kev. Just say it."

"Andrew's been...r-" The tears that threaten to spill out swell in his eyes, the tightness at the back of his throat manifesting in a sigh, an exhale of breath that he had been holding for far too long. Kevin shut his eyes so he couldn't look at Nicky's parents, and following a deep breath that he hoped would fix everything, he says, "Andrew's been raped, and Aaron killed the guy that did it."

The silence that follows goes on for hours, for far too long. For long enough that Kevin has to check that David hasn't hung up on him, for long enough that he starts to think about it all, all over again.

"Jesus Christ, Kevin." is all that David can muster, in this voice Kevin has only heard once before, as he sat sobbing in his hotel room with no plan and no reason to live. He stumbles through a hundred different questions until he lands on, "Have you called the cops yet?"

"No." Kevin admits with a guttural sob. He hasn't even thought about it. Well, he did, in some way, but his fingers hadn't even hesitated over David's contact number. It hurts so badly, all of these feelings, the image of Andrew, the image of Andrew, the image of Andrew. His protector. The person who kept him safe. This was never supposed to happen to him. This can't have happened. Not to him.

"Jesus fucking Christ, kid, get off the fucking phone," David's yell snaps him out of it. "Get it together, take a real deep breath, and call 911. Then call me back afterwards. Fuck, Kevin."

"Okay, Coach." Kevin says, as seriously as he can manage. Call 911 - An order, something to follow. Something to do. Something to be good at, to pretend for, a reason to shove his panic behind a plastic mask for a couple of minutes.

"Okay." Coach agrees and lets out another deep, hurt sigh. Another second or two pass, but Kevin feels frozen in place. The phone is stuck to his ear, the electronic hum and buzz the only thing keeping him from going back to the reality of Nicky's parent's house.

"Are you okay?" Coach asks, and Kevin shuts his eyes to inhale, before exhaling out anything that hurts. He's switched off, untouchable, numb and unfeeling. Kevin isn't there, inside of himself anymore. He can come back later.

"No," Kevin says, but it doesn't feel like the truth anymore, his voice flat, the back of his free hand wiping away a tear that had found its way out of his eyes. "But I'll call you back."

"Okay," Coach says again. "You better."

The phone call ends with three consecutive beeps. Kevin pulls it away from his ear, and stares for too long at the 911 he's typed into the keypad.

Do what you have to do.

Be who they need you to be.

"Hello, 911, what's your emergency?"

[stqrglr1]

Quick drabble. . .

Genre: smut, established relationship

Warnings: smut smut smut, mdni, oral(male rec), gagging, ball fondling, precum slipping(it makes sense when you read), some pet names (good little girl… etc)

Sucking hoon off pls i would love to 🫶

You’re so horny. Youve been horny all day. You’ve been imagining sucking your boyfriend sunghoon off all day at work. It’s been so hard to focus on any work thinking of coming home to him man spread on the couch. You like to think he spreads his legs like that just for you. An invitation to come between them. For your pretty face to have a place to rest. For your lips to actively kiss and suck along his pretty thighs. You love his legs. You love to make out with and suck on the delicate skin between his shaft and thighs.

He twitches and groans when you suck on a sensitive nerve in the crease and my god you lose it every time he does. Letting out a gargling moan, legs squeezing, hands massaging his legs subconsciously harder and harder. You love placing your hands on his thighs for support as you lick his length slowly, rolling your tongue around to massage and flick the gorgeous veins pulsing along his beautiful cock. The weight of you using him for stability making him curse your name “fuckk y/n” his toes clench and he spreads a little wider for you.

You love when he spreads wider at the feeling as you bob up and down his shaft with your pretty mouth. Makes you feel so good like you’re being his good little girl, heat floods between your own legs. You feel the warmth of your wetness begin to soak your panties. The more you grip and suck him the more you drip down your legs. Youre going insane on his cock, saliva dripping down your chin excessively to the point theres a puddle of your saliva and wetness pooling on the floor under your knees. You slip a little and fall deeper into hoons cock. Causing a deep gag to fall from your lips. The slight fall causes you to grip so hard on his thighs that you tear a little skin. He gnaws his bottom lip at the pain, clenching forward a little causing his balls to tap your chin.

The chain reaction of the nerves being touched lightly making him squirm in his seat a bit. You take this as a chance to grip the weight of them in your palm. Switching hands to shaft and mouth to balls every so often just because you know he loves the wetness of your saliva on them. He whines so lovely every time. The intense pleasure getting to him his breathing gets a little shallower as he gasps for air to fill his lungs.

The pleasure coursing powerfully through his veins. You feel his skin grow hot and flushed. Almost burning to your touch. He’s close. But he cant form words all he can do is mumble and whine loudly. Hands flailing from griping his own chest to your hair, not forcing you on him because you’re doing so good, but to give you motivation to keep doing what you’re doing. It’s working so well. You’re actually doing so perfectly. He cant take more he thinks but oh my god it’s so perfect, he wants this to last forever. You feel him tense trying to hold back, but you gently rub his thighs letting him know it’s okay to let go. You feel his hips twitch and stun as he shoots a flood of cum into your mouth. You gargle on it with a hoarse moan. Making him curse and jut his remains into you. You pump him in your mouth slowly letting his cum drip onto your chin all over your breast. You love the mess of sucking his orgasm dry.

“Mm so yummy hoon.” You lick your lips. Lapping up the droplets on your chest and shove them in your mouth, you hear the shuddered gasp leave his mouth as he watches. “Wanna taste?” You say as you crawl up his body to his mouth giving him the bitter taste of himself on you.

[rs-hawk]

*cough cough*...i cant help but imagine the duchess making sure everyone gets out during a disaster, only for her to get trapped in the rubble. And the orc is the first to notice the duchess isnt anywhere in sight and goes to find her, getting her unconscious body out.

Orc Slave: Part Three

Dianthus woke you up, panic on his ethereal face. “Duchess! There’s a cave in coming!”

You try to blink away the sleepiness, your vision still hazy with sleep. “What?” You mutter, pushing yourself into a sitting position, rubbing your eyes.

The Fey quickly explains that he can feel the foundation under the manor shifting. The Dwarves from the nearby village obviously went too far west, compromising the the foundation, and with all those hollowed out tunnels underneath the manor, when it starts to fail, it will hit like an earthquake.

The blood drains from your face. Your fingers feel like they feel asleep whit the tingles in them. You try to take a breath, but your chest is tight. After a moment, you nod slowly. You can’t panic. If you do, no one will think clearly. Everyone looks to you.

“Okay,” you almost whisper the word, forcing air into your lungs. “We have to evacuate the servants first since they in the under stories, and there’s no way if the manor collapses they’ll survive. I’ll go tell my guests while you go tell the servants, okay?”

Dianthus hesitates. He’s so anxious his wings are flitting faster than you’ve ever seen them. It seems like it’s taking everything in him to not be fluttering to the ceiling. “But Duchess, I can’t just leave you,” he protests quietly.

“We don’t have time for this,” you say sternly. He hesitates for a moment longer before fluttering out of the room.

You smooth down your hair and get out of bed, pulling on your glove to cover the Orc bite and tusk marks on your arms from the attack you suffered as a child. For a moment, your mind flits to the Orc slave you recently acquired and worry pricks your brain, but you force it down. He should be in the servants quarters as well. He’ll be fine.

Then, the floor under you starts to shake. Your blood runs cold when you hear Dianthus scream. “Dia!” You shout, stumbling out of your room. He had been caught in a doorway, his wings pinned under a wooden beam.

“I’m okay, Duchess,” he lies, wincing as he turns to help you lift the beam off of his wings. He stands up on shaky feet.

You know that he’s not used to walking, so you make a quick decision. “Go get the Viscount and his wife. I’ll go get the servants.”

“You can’t! You need to get out now. The manor is already coming down,” Dianthus protests, wincing again as he tries to fold his wings against his back.

“That is a direct order, Dianthus. You get those two out and I’ll be right behind you, okay?” You feel the fear balling into a lump in your throat, but you can’t let everyone else die. The fear and panic makes your limbs feel numb. “Dianthus, did you hear me?”

“Yes ma’am,” he says quietly. He grabs your face, pressing his forehead against yours for a moment before running to the stairs. The gesture reminds you of when you were little. Tears prick your eyes, He’s always been there for you, always tried to take care of you. He’s the closest thing to family you have left.

After a moment you wipe your eyes and start hurrying down the stairs. No shoes, no outer clothes. Just your gloves and a night gown that is arguably scandalous. The servants have already begun trying to get everyone out, and most are horrified to see that you’ve come to check on them instead of getting out.

“Alright everyone, make sure you have your partner you decided on after the fire last year,” you call, trying to do a headcount, but you can’t remember everyone’s name or face.

“Mistress, you need to get outside,” the Housekeeper says worriedly. “This is everyone, and I’ll make sure they all get out.”

Your eyes flit this way and that, your shoulders relaxing slightly. The floor shifts, and there’s a few panicked cries, not no one seems to really get hurt. You nod for a moment, then do another quick scan.

“Where’s the Orc?” You ask, the lump in your throat returning.

The Housekeeper follows your gaze, shaking her head slowly. “I don’t… I don’t know, and there’s no way he could have gotten out without me seeing.”

“Get everyone out. I’m going to find him,” you say, lifting your nightgown to rush down the stairs, ignoring her shouting for you to wait.

Dust and derby are already settling this close to the cracking and crumbling foundation. You cough, pulling the collar of your dress up to cover your nose and mouth to try to be able to breathe. Now you’re kicking yourself, wishing that you had never taken this stupid position. Surely besides a title there is something else you could have gotten for saving the Prince. Now you have people’s lives in your hand, and every move you make affects them.

Outside, the Orc walks over to Dianthus. He had fallen asleep in the forge. “What is going on?” He asks gruffly, watching the other servants file out of the manor. Another quad rocks his feet, making him fall to one knee for a moment as he braces himself.

Dianthus explains the tunnels are collapsing, fussing over the Viscount and his wife, his injured wing tucked protectively against his back. The Orc huffs in acknowledgement. Then, after a moment, he asks, “And where’s the lady?”

“What?” Dianthus says, looking over at the Housekeeper and Butler, who are both doing a headcount. “She, she said that she was going to get the servants out…”

“I do not see her,” he mutters, scanning the crowd again.

The Housekeeper spots him and says something to the Butler before walking over to the Orc. “There you are! The Mistress was worried sick wondering where you went. Where did she find you?”

The Orc’s eyes dart to the entrance of the manor. “She didn’t.”

Before anyone else can process his words, he’s darting towards the manor. Easily he tosses the debris out of the way. Another quake makes the ground under his feet move, but he doesn’t stop. He’s cursing under his breath, covering his head as the upstairs start to cave in, narrowly missing collapsing on his head. He finds his way down to the servant quarters and starts shouting “Duchess!”. There’s no response.

He curses loudly again. “Why am I doing this for a stupid human? She probably realized I was not down here and got out already. Why am I risking himself for her?’

But despite his angry words, he makes his way down the stairs, having to squint his eyes to see through the dust. As he starts looking from room to room, he’s about to leave. He can’t see you anywhere. However, he hears a soft coughing from down the hall.

His loud footsteps sound like shotgun blasts as he runs down the hall, slamming his bare feet against the cobblestone. Under a small pile of stone and wood is your unconscious body.

“Y/N!” He shouts, forgetting formalities. He starts shoving it off of you, clawing at it like a wild animal. When he picks up your body, it’s with more care than he thought he was capable of. “You are alright. Everything is alright,” he murmurs agaisnt your hair, cradling you to his chest in one arm.

Using his free arm to shield your head, he manages to make his way to a servant’s entrance and get out the back of the manor. He can hear Dainthus now worriedly calling for you, and he can hear the flitting of wings, signalling the Fey is injuring himself further to look through the crowd.

“Over here!” the Orc shouts, getting you further from the manor before laying you down.

Your face is covered in soot and dust, and your clothes are torn. His eyes fall to your hands and arms- skin he’s never seen since you always keep them covered in those pristine white gloves that are now torn to shreds.

“Y/N, you fool,” Dianthus wails when he rushes over, a mix of a stumbling fall and a falling fly. He drops to your side, pressing his ear to your chest. His shoulders are rising and falling rapidly before he starts to calm down. He looks up at the Orc, tears now pouring down his angelic face, his ears twitching back. “She’s alive. She’ll be okay.”

The Orc is still staring at the obvious Orc bite and tusk marks on your arms. He blinks slowly, finally looking up at Dianthus. “Good… That is good.”

[the-monkeies-girl]

Jealous Noa does something to me. 😚

hi uh thanks satan now i cant stop thinking about it let's get FERAL

NSFW CONTENT BELOW ( 18+ ) PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK THANK YOUUUU.

Imagine Noa like... Denying you seeing your friend ( another male ape in the clan who you've gotten close with ). Noa brings it up of course, a bit bitter at the way you smelled that particular afternoon, maybe some added stressors like the Elders being on his ass about something.

Like, you have accidentally brought this Apes SCENT into the nest? How DARE? It's on your clothing, it's in your HAIR, soaked into your SKIN? That's how close in proximity you've been, you're defending yourself, Noa knows that and there's rational thought in there somewhere but he doesn't like it. "You're not allowed to see him again."

"You can't stop me from seeing my friends, Noa!"

"Do you... want to bet?" A phrase you had taught him comes back as he rounds near you, the intentions in his eyes flurrying to you as you swallowed and nodded. Yeah, you wanted to bet. You wanted to find out. "What are you gonna do to me, Eagle Boy?" Your voice is nothing more than a tease to him.

And well

Your clothes are nothing but a tangled mess on the ground, torn to PIECES because Noa doesn't feel like sparing them a second chance, the absolute carnage of his canines against your neck, him swiping your body so you're pressed against him, your back flushed to his chest and he starts trailing his bites along the back of your neck and RIGHT BETWEEN YOUR SHOULDER BLADES.

Right in the most tender spot that he can find and he's holding you against him as you're moaning, squirming and telling him that you're sorry, that you won't hang out with him again and he just. Let's you rub against him like that, letting your scent rub against him of course, but in return, you're getting absolutely blasted with his own and something deep inside of him knows that it's going to take a lot of washing for it to fade.

Plops you right on the nest, face down he doesn't know how to handle his emotions looking at your face, thinking that this other Ape had more intentions with you than you were really willing to realize.

No foreplay this time, he's mounting you. You're his and you know you are as your body is reacting to him, urging him to take you as you moaned his name.

No pleasure outside of the brief moment he shatters into you and your hands are hard to grasp the animal pelt below you, lungs rattling at the pure force and drive of his hips snapping into yours.

I have a feeling he'd be spiteful enough to make you wait to orgasm though, quick for himself to fill you to the brim, marking you even further as you squiggle against him and he can feel you tightening around him as he continues at a slower pace, content in his actions as he light licks the blood from your shoulder blades, lapping his tongue around and giving artistic swirls of red against your skin.

You're begging him, literally, to let you cum. To touch you, to do anything, legs shaking and forearms tense as you were struggling to keep yourself up. You think he's done? No, no. He is on his butt, grasping your legs and tearing you right against him, back once again flushed to his chest as he helps you right him, your legs being almost suspended in air as Noa uses the strength he had to practically man-handle you on his cock. Hard, he's relentless and mean almost, feeling the tug of bruising along the softer nature of your inner thighs but you don't want it to stop. He brushes his tongue along the side of your neck, cementing even more of himself on you as you toss your head back against his shoulder as you finally orgasm against him.

Afterwards is really nice and tender tho like. Noa making sure that he didn't hurt you, making sure that you were okay as he racks his hand through your hair ( Hey another sprinkling of his scent all over you, how sweet <3 ). You're face down in the nest and just laugh as he looks at the pretty nasty bite mark between your shoulder blades with a bit of guilt, thinking that he had actually hurt you. But, you turn your face and laugh softly at him and mutter, "So it took hang out with another Ape to get you to come out like that? I need to hang out with them more."

[ahqkas]

As someone who can’t swim and never took the time to learn to swim, I would line to request on how mattheo would react to gf!reader WHO HE KNOWS CANT SWIM, get pressured into swimming. Maybe even getting pushed into some party or public pool. Like literally there are yells and chaotic screaming and Mattheo runs there seeing his gf almost drowning. Like it’s absolutely traumatic and hectic as he saves her.

-🎆 anon (I gotta learn how to swim girlie😭)

THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS ; mattheo riddle

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

YOU FIND YOURSELF AT A PARTY, SITTING AT THE EDGE OF A SWIMMING POOL WITH YOUR FEET DANGLING IN THE WATER. The coolness of the water is refreshing, but there's an underlying tension as you carefully avoid moving too far forward. You nurse a red plastic cup filled with lemonade, savoring the sweetness while trying to keep your mind off the deep end of the pool. Beside you, your best friend, Daphne Greengrass is animatedly chatting about her latest adventures, her laughter light and carefree as she talked with her hands moving around.

Daphne’s presence is comforting, her easy demeanor a stark contrast to your own cautiousness. She dips her toes into the water, creating gentle ripples that spread outwards. You nod along to her stories, occasionally interjecting with a comment or a laugh, but your eyes keep darting to the pool's depths, the shimmering blue reminding you of a silent challenge.

As the sun begins to set, the pool area becomes even livelier. People splash and dive, their joyful shrieks filling the air, making your heart race with a mix of envy and apprehension. Daphne notices your distraction and nudges you gently, offering a reassuring smile. "You know, it's perfectly fine just to enjoy the view from here," she says, her voice kind. You smile back, grateful for her understanding. She was one of the few people who knew about your absence of the swimming skill.

Your boyfriend, Mattheo Riddle, is engaged in conversation with his own group of friends on the other side of the pool. His laughter carries over to where you sit, a sound that always manages to bring a smile to your face. As if sensing your gaze, he looks up and your eyes meet. You offer him a wave of your hand and a warm smile, which he returns with a knowing nod.

Mattheo is well aware of your inability to swim, and you can see the subtle way he glances over at you every few minutes, ensuring you're safe and comfortable. It's not just his watchful eye that comforts you but also the unspoken promise that if you needed him, he'd be by your side in an instant.

You take a sip of your lemonade, the tartness grounding you in the moment as Daphne continues her animated storytelling. The setting sun casts a golden hue over everything, reflecting off the water and making the scene almost magical. Despite your apprehensions about the pool, you feel a sense of belonging and security.

Suddenly, you feel a force against your back and, before you can react, you’re falling into the pool. The shock of cold water engulfs you, your red cup tumbling alongside you and spilling its contents into the blue depths. The weightlessness of being submerged disorients you, and panic grips your chest as you flail, desperately trying to find your footing but finding only empty water.

Daphne’s alarmed cry is the last thing you hear before the world is muffled by the pool’s embrace. Your instincts kick in, but without the knowledge of how to swim, your movements are frantic and uncoordinated. The sounds of splashing and shouting above the surface seem distant and distorted, amplifying your sense of helplessness.

In the chaos, you feel yourself sinking, the pool’s depths pulling you down. Your lungs burn as you fight the urge to inhale, struggling against the primal fear of drowning. Every second stretches into an eternity, the clarity of your thoughts fading with each passing moment.

Just as the darkness begins to creep into your vision, you feel strong arms wrap around you, pulling you upwards with urgent, powerful strokes. In a blur, you’re lifted out of the water and into the air, gasping for breath as you break the surface. The cacophony of concerned voices surrounds you, but one voice stands out, grounding you in the moment.

“Easy, I’ve got you,” Mattheo’s voice reaches your ears, calm yet firm, as he holds you close to him, guiding you to the edge of the pool. The warmth of his body against yours contrasts sharply with the cold water, and you cling to him, trembling and disoriented.

Daphne and a few others help pull you out, and you collapse onto the poolside, coughing and sputtering as you try to regain your breath. Mattheo is beside you in an instant, his hands gently brushing the wet hair from your face, his eyes full of concern and relief as he holds your face in the palms of his hands.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice shaking slightly despite his attempt to remain composed. You nod weakly, still shivering from the shock and cold. He wraps a towel around you, pulling you into a protective embrace. The terror of the past moments begins to fade, replaced by the overwhelming comfort of being in his arms, knowing he’s there to keep you safe.

Mattheo’s touch never leaves you as he guides you to sit on a nearby bench. “Let’s get you warmed up,” he says, concern visible in the tone of his voice. You sit down and he immediately starts drying you off with the towel. The gentle friction helps chase away the lingering chills and you lean into his touch.

“I’m so sorry, love,” he murmurs, his forehead resting lightly against yours. “I should’ve been closer.”

“It’s not your fault,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. “You saved me.”

The boy places a warm kiss to your forehead before he’s wrapping his arms around you, ready to accompany you. He’d always save you.

[cloggedarteri]

been thinking about dilf!reader and arthur again

and if you think about it

the very idea of waking up after crawling yourself up a mountain to die had gotta be fucking disorienting

because for all arthur knows he's achieved his goal. he'd shepherded whatever family he had left in that gang to safety, he'd given his little brother time to escape pursuit and reunite with his family, and then he was able to get a few good hits on micah (the bastard😒)

...

i cant breath

its a slow realization that grew insistent the longer he'd lain prone on the cold rock. it was if an incredible weight layed heavy and unmoving upon his chest, but despite the ever-growing pain

its burning, my lungs—my chest—its burning

his body would not respond. not his arms so they may brace his body forward to witness the carnage left behind. not his legs so they may carry him down this damned mountain. and not his hands so that they may embrace the brother he'd left behind...he's dying.

but he was not afraid

i'd done the best i could

...

the sun rose, its rays shining bright behind his eyelids

and arthur sees the buck again, pillowed in the morning haze haloed in light. the creature stood tall and still. its blackened eyes staring at him in quiet command to follow it, to let go.

so he follows

...

and then all at once he's ripped from that warm wave of light and rushed into a sea of darkness and pain.

pain?

a corpse cannot feel pain so, why does it rip through him so thoroughly? not moments before had he'd tried to claw at his chest to force a breath through his damaged lungs. and now he breaths, not without effort, but still he breaths.

it was a bone deep fatique that was all encomposing but he could still feel the drag of soft fabrics on his skin and if he focused he could smell the scent of alcohol and wood in the air...he's not on the mountain anymore

where am I?

"drink"

the voice is gruff but the command is said so softly.

drink what?

he doesnt need to open his eyes to know that whoever this is is looming over him in wait for his compliance. id be fooish to blindly trust the contents in a cup some mystery person wished to shove down his throat so, he resists. he turns his head away like a petulant child resisting taking their medicine and just as quickly he's reminded of his pain.

and something is touching him, caressing him in silent comfort and sympathy of his pain

"you're safe here."

safe?

''drink. it'll help...then you can rest"

so with little resistance he allows the cup to past through his lips, its contents warm and medicinal. and as the last beads of the concoction pour out, arthur relaxes.