#but this. what is this telling me. i thought i was onto something for a second but forgot about the wo & then it didnt make sense anymore

[ink-n-shadow]

i saw this post about types "talking you through your orgasms" and i had to discuss the types that the 141 men would be. i couldn't stop myself

[ TALKING YOU THROUGH IT ] 𝜗𝜚 the one about how the CoD men talk you through your orgasms

𝜗𝜚 characters: john price, kyle "gaz" garrick, john "soap" mactavish, simon "ghost" riley (reader is gender neutral) 𝜗𝜚 cw: smut (minors—DNI), praise kink, dirty talk, slightly mean!simon, unedited 𝜗𝜚 a/n: lmk how we feel about the slightly different format (i'm still making edits but)

john price is definitely cooing softly in your ear about just how pretty you look, just how sweet your hole looks stretched out on three of his thick fingers, just how beautiful you look with drool slicking down your chin and unshed tears clinging to your lashes. “fuck, jus’ look at ya, doll—so fuckin’ pretty all split open on my hand, yeah? no, don't close yer thighs when ya come—wanna see how pretty y'look when ya tighten up 'round my fingers." doesn’t stop praising you or blabbering on about how pretty you look even after his softening cock slips out from between your thighs, his spend tricking out of your used hole and your tearstained face hidden away in the crook of his neck.

kyle garrick is the giggling kind, nose buried deep in the hair at your temple and his lips curled up into a smarmy grin as the rough pads of his fingers glide across the slick, molten flesh of your arousal with practiced ease. "feels good, yeah? got your legs just right tremblin', 'nd I've barely even started, sweetheart. shhh, shhh—'m only teasin', baby. tell me how good it feels." and he's totally the type to make you keep talking as he bullies his fingers into your heat, stopping every single time your words jumble together and your whiny moans begin to overpower your coherence. "keep talkin'—y'don't want me to stop, do you? s'what i thought—go on, then. what were you saying about my fingers hitting something just right?"

johnny mactavish is the condescending kind, azure eyes focusing on the way your eyes slowly cross as another orgasm ravages your nerve-endings and makes a scoff fall from his lips. "again, birdie? dinnae think y'had it in ya—how many's tha'? three, right?" but he's not slowling the pace of his thick fingers as they continue practically carving out your insides, fingertips mashing against that one spot that had your brain melting out your ears and moans slipping off your tongue. even the kiss he leaves against your forehead seems condescending, a knowing grin on his face as he feels your gooey insides gripping onto his fingers tighter. "yeah, tha's right—gimme a fourth. y'can do it, birdie—then i'll fuck my cock into ya, i promise."

simon riley is the (sometimes, not all the time) degrading kind, honeyed eyes meeting yours in the mirror in front of your bed as he forces you to watch the way his fingers disappear between your slick thighs. "look at tha', pet—greedy fuckin' hole, innit? already got three fingers 'nd you're practically beggin' for more, huh?" you would've answered him if he hadn't have stuffed your underwear between your lips, your eyes fighting to stay opened as your toes begin curling in the impending crest of your high—only for simon to rip his fingers from your fluttering hole, instead shoving the lube-covered fingers into your mouth until his middle finger brushes the back of your throat and the underwear slips out amongst the gagging. "didn't say y'could cum, did i? no (shaking your head for you with his fingers still buried in the back of your throat), don't think i did. knew you were a greedy lil thing—c'mere, be a good pet and suck me off."

[gothgoblinbabe]

Belt Buckle

A/N: okay, so this. Uh. Hear me out - I can’t be the only one who’s thought about this. It’s exactly what you think it is. Also it’s not very long just cause I’m still working on requests but it’s been collecting dust in google docs

Warnings: NSFW 18+

Word count: 4K

divider credit

You couldn’t quite place where the fascination began.

Maybe it was because it sat right above the bulge in his jeans or because you were always yanking the stupid thing out of the way to get his pants down his thighs, but your eyes were always on the buckle of Logan’s belt lately. He had a couple different ones - all obnoxiously big - and of course you teased him, calling him a cowboy or a show off.

Lately, though, you’d been struggling to keep your mouth shut. Every time he’d stand in front of you now, you couldn’t tear your eyes from whatever chunky adornment was attached to the front of his belt.

“What are you lookin’ at, sweetheart?”

Your eyes flickered back up to his and you shrugged.

“Nothin’.”

He titled his head, “really?”

“Mhm.”

“Why’re you starin’ like that, then?”

Shit.

You swallowed hard, avoiding his gaze. You’d been together plenty of times, admitted almost everything to each other, but you still found yourself too embarrassed to admit what it was that had you staring so much.

You finally had to tell Logan while sitting on his lap in bed, his hands kneading your hips to pull you back and forth over his hard cock beneath his jeans. With his eyes closed, lost in the feeling of your tongue in his mouth, he dragged your hips forward a little farther than intended, inadvertently dragging your thinly clad pussy right over his belt buckle. Usually he’d pick up on the little things like that - how loud you whined when he pulled you forward - but you tried not to make the noise again, embarrassed.

He did, anyway.

He pulled your lips from his with his hold on your face, his thumb and fingers gripping your cheeks to the point that your lips were squished into a pout.

“You got somethin’ you wanna tell me, pretty girl?”

You knew you could tell him anything, but this felt far too humiliating - as if you were positive he’d scoff at the idea and tell you that you were gross for even thinking it.

You tried to shake your head, but he knew you far too well.

He grabbed you by your hips and lifted you off his lap.

“Spit it out, princess.”

You sharply inhaled, eyes dropping to his belt.

“I…um, I was thinking…” you tried to say something, anything to even hint at what you wanted, but it seemed stuck in your throat.

Logan clicked his tongue, “Baby. If you want somethin’ you gotta say it.”

You hated that he was right. You had to just get it out, say it all at once like ripping off a bandaid. 

“I wanna ride your belt buckle. It’s big, I think it’d feel good.”

Your words hung in the air, met with deafening silence. 

You watched his parted lips curl up into a smug grin, his eyebrows raised in mild disbelief.

“Jesus, that’s filthy. You really think about that?”

Your face burned. You opened your lips to speak but nothing came out. He was definitely going to call you weird, tell you that’s gross and get up from the bed.

Instead, he wordlessly leaned forward and hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties to pull them down your legs. He threw them to the floor and leaned back with his hands behind his head, leaving you sitting in front of him in only one of his t-shirts with nothing underneath. You looked at him curiously, eyes flickering between his face and his lap.

“C’mon, you want it or what?”

You hastily climbed back onto his lap, positioning yourself so that his erection was behind you and your bare pussy was against the cold metal of his belt buckle. You weren’t sure exactly what to do at first. He usually held your hips when you were in his lap, helping you grind down onto him. Now, though, they were locked behind his head as his eyes bore into yours.

“You asked for it so you gotta do the work, baby.”

You huffed, placing your hands on his chest so you could lean forward and roll your hips. You slid your swollen pussy across the ridges of the cool metal of the buckle, your slick already coating the front of it and the top of his jeans.

You looked up to see Logan’s stare glued to his lap, watching hungrily with his bottom lip caught between his teeth as you rocked yourself back and forth.

“Feels good?” He asked, already breathing heavily from the way your ass grazed the tip of his cock when you dragged your hips back.

You nodded, nearly slack jawed with your eyes closed.

“Use your words,” he demanded, eyebrows furrowing.

You groaned in annoyance at the familiar phrase, one he loved to use when you were too turned on to speak.

“Yeah, feels good - fuck,” you cursed when he lifted his hips a little, pushing against you as you continued to grind yourself down. 

“So you guessed right, then, huh?” 

A/N: short and sweet but ya idk I couldn't get it out of my head <3

[band--psycho]

Sylus x Reader - A Little Birdie Told Me

Please be kind, reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated!

Thank you all for the continued support! I hope you all enjoy this! 💛

Requests are open so if you have any ideas/requests, you're more than welcome to send them over.

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or translated onto this site or other platforms!

Thank you the anon who sent in this request, it was such fun to write this!

L&DS Masterlist / Sylus Masterlist / Join My Taglist

Warnings: Jealous Sylus, hints of mature themes towards the end

Sylus was fully expecting to get back home to feathers, metal and blood everywhere; what else was he meant to expect when leaving you and Mephisto together for a prolonged period of time. 

You two didn’t get along. 

Sylus knew this. 

But you owed him, since he looked after the dove you found, just before going away on a work trip. 

Much to his own surprise though, you didn’t argue with him when he asked you to check in on Mephisto; which naturally only made him more suspicious. 

You were planning something. 

He didn’t know what, but the mischievous glint that was showing in your eyes as he left, confirmed his suspicions. 

That’s why he was expecting at least part of his mansion to be somewhat trashed. 

But it wasn’t. 

There were no stray feathers. 

No shards of metal. 

No specks of blood from where Mephisto could have pecked you. 

There was nothing; everything was exactly how he left it. 

And instead of his home  being filled with the sound of yours and Mephistos petty squabbles, something that he’d gotten quite used to recently, his home was silent. 

‘Maybe Luke and Kieran were right,’ he thought to himself, hanging his leather jacket on the coat hook by his front door, thinking back to what the twins had told him a few days ago as he made his way down the hall. 

According to the twins, you and Mephisto were getting along fine; more than fine in fact, according to them you two were almost inseparable, like you were friends. 

But that was a ridiculous thought, you two didn’t get along, you’d both told him that, which is what made the picture he got sent even more puzzling. 

The picture was of you, reading, as you so often do, but this time Mephisto was perched on the arm of the chair next to and your free hand was on his head, petting him.

Was that part of the reason he came back a few days earlier than he’d intended to from his trip?

Yes. 

He needed answers. 

Though it was also because that picture made him realise just how much he hated being away from you and how much he hated that he wasn’t the one being given your attention. 

Granted you could be a pain in the ass at times, sassing him at any given opportunity as well as always pushing him to do the ‘right’ thing…but he’d grown to love those qualities about you. 

You changed him. 

He knew you’d had an affect on him long ago, however it wasn’t until recently whilst he was away from you that he realised two things, 1) How much of an affect you’d truly had on him and 2) How much he’d missed everything about you; your witty and sarcastic remarks, the way your infectious smile could light up a room, the way you hummed  along to whatever song was playing through your headphones as you danced in his kitchen, completely oblivious to his presence. 

Everything. 

And now that he was home, he just wanted to see you. 

Needed to see you. 

That was the whole reason why he asked you to look after Mephisto in the first place, not that he’d ever tell you that. 

He walked into the living room, a soft smile quickly forming on his lips as he saw you fast asleep on the sofa, your body wrapped in the blanket you’d claimed as yours after a few visits, your music blaring into your ears at the loudest possible volume. 

Though Sylus’ smile faltered as he took a few more steps closer to you, allowing him to see his mechanical bird nestled in the crook of your neck, little satisfied coos left his beak as the two of you continued to sleep peacefully. 

Of all the scenarios he thought he’d be walking into, this was the most unexpected; a complete juxtaposition to what he’d assumed he’d be walking into.

He should’ve felt relief in the fact that neither of you had killed the other, but relief was not the emotion he was feeling. 

Jealousy however was. 

The same feeling that he’d tried to push to the side when he saw the picture from the twins

That’s how maddening his feelings were for you, only you could ever make him jealous of Mephisto. 

What had happened whilst he was away?

Had he somehow ended up in an alternate reality where you and Mephisto were friends? 

He shook his head at the absurd thoughts racing around in his head; but what he was seeing was exactly that, absurd. 

He wanted to wake you so he could get some answers, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so, mainly because of how peaceful you looked. 

Mephisto though was different. 

Sylus had no issue in waking him up and thanks to the music you were listening to, you wouldn’t be disturbed by his annoyed caws once he was awoken. 

~~~~~~

Safe to say, Mephisto was very unhappy at being woken up. 

And his grouchiness was naturally directed towards the person who’d disturbed him. 

“All I’m asking is, what suddenly made you two so close?” Sylus asked, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to ignore the jealousy remarks the crow was making. 

One thing was immediately clear to Sylus, Mephisto had certainly adopted your sassy retorts to questions. 

“I’m not,” Sylus denied; only to be mocked by the bird in front of him. 

He was becoming as infuriating as you were. 

“Are you two arguing?” You asked, your words catching Sylus off guard; he’d been so busy interrogating Mephisto that he’d been completely oblivious to you waking up or finding them in the study that they were currently standing in. 

“No,” Sylus answered simply, turning around to look at you. 

You were leaning against the doorframe of his study, your eyes meeting his and holding his gaze; it was like you were trying to read his thoughts. 

Thankfully, mind reading was not a skill you possessed. 

Much to Sylus’ dismay though, he didn’t need to answer you, because Mephisto answered for him. 

“Mephisto says you’re lying,” you stated, biting back the triumphant smile that wanted nothing more than to spread across your lips. 

Sylus didn’t know what was more shocking, the fact that she understood the Crow now behind him, or the fact that said crow had betrayed him in such a way. 

“I’m aware of what he said, sweetie,” Sylus pointed out, his voice laced with frustration as he quickly shot a glare at Mephisto. 

He knew you were going to ask why he was lying and just like that, those very words fell from your lips. 

Once again, Mephisto answered before Sylus could even open his mouth to speak; before flying very, very quickly out of the study, leaving you and Sylus alone together. 

“You were jealous?” You asked, taking a few steps closer to Sylus. 

Sylus didn’t want to admit it, but you were annoyingly persistent when you wanted answers. 

So unless he wanted to be continuously asked about Mephistos comment (Which he didn’t) he had no other choice to answer your question honestly.

“Yes,” he admitted, his voice low as you continued walking towards him, only stopping once you were directly infront of him. 

“Why?” You pushed.

He hated to admit that he was jealous; let alone saying the reason why…revealing how much he really craved your attention.

“Because I-” his words trailed off as he began to notice a playful smirk tugging at your lips, the realisation dawning on him in that very moment. 

You already knew why. 

This had all been some elaborate plan to get him to admit his feelings for you. 

“Who told you?” Sylus questioned, watching as your smirk grew.

“Who told me what?” You teased coyly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re a terrible liar, sweetie,” he whispered, leaning down slightly so that his lips were brushing over the shell of your ear. 

His words alone were enough to send a shiver down your spine. 

“Who’s idea was this, yours or Mephistos?” He asked, placing a feather light kiss just under your ear. 

“Both,” you breathed out; reveling in the closeness between the two of you. 

“Thought you two didn’t get along?”  He asked quietly. 

Granted, you and Mephisto had your differences, and you didn’t always get along, but recently you’d grown quite accustomed to one another. 

Of course you squabbled, but the same way someone would with a sibling.

You knew Sylus was going to ask you to look after Mephisto, because the crow had told you so in secret.

That’s when the two of you came up with this plan. 

A plan to make Sylus jealous. 

You were never one hundred percent sure of his feelings towards you, you flirted often enough, but some people just had that type of connection, it didn’t mean he felt the same way about you, that you did him. 

“Things changed,” you answered back, your voice just as quiet as his.

“Is it true?” You asked, changing the topic of conversation as you turned your head slightly, so now your lips were inches apart. 

“Is what true?”

“What Mephisto told me about how you feel about me?”

Being this close to him was torture for the both of you; both of you waiting for the other to make the final move and close the little distance that was between you both.

He saw the anxiety creeping in your y/e/c orbs as you waited for him to answer your question. 

But he knew that he could do something better than telling you how he felt, he could show you. 

And with that thought in mind, he closed the distance between your lips. 

It took you a few seconds to actually process what was happening; but once you did you wasted no time in allowing your eyes to flutter shut and melt into the kiss. 

The kiss started off gentle, soft, the two of you clearly processing what was happening; but everything changed when you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, deepening the kiss.

His hands found a home on your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss intensified.

“Does that answer your question, kitten?” He murmured, pulling away from you slightly. 

“I don’t know, I think I could use some clarification,” you breathlessly chuckled before his lips met yours again, obliging to give you all the clarification you needed. 

Taglist:

@xacatalepsyx @the-slytherin-poet @deathkat657 @book-dragon03 @fangirlsfandomsss @evilldentists @hao-ming-8 @worm-in-a-bug @babygirl-panda19 @tasha-1994 @popcorn-mochi01 @cheesemachine44 @thegalaxysedge22 @inlovewithsylus

[moonstruckme]

Idk if you’re still taking requests for your bake sale (which is the cutest idea btw) but if you are… apple pie, prompt number 31 with Steve? (three people sat on a two-seater sofa)

I was! This probably wasn't what you had in mind but I thought it would be silly so here you go :)

cw: alcohol

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 693 words

“Stay still.” Steve’s voice is low, a smile teasing his lips. “I’ve almost got it.” 

You roll your eyes at him, but your own smile is just as poorly repressed. You still love it when he flirts with you. Even when you’re at one of his friend-of-a-friend’s parties where everyone wants to talk with him, Steve only has eyes for you. 

“I don’t know how you missed it the first three times.” 

“Does it seem like I’m fucking around? It’s tricky, babe.” 

“Seems like you might be fucking around a little bit…” you tease.

Steve swipes at something under your eye. “Got it. What’d I tell you?” 

You beam at him. “Okay, I take it back. My hero.” 

His grin widens, but he squints at your face. “Yeah, except now you’ve got makeup on your cheek. Sorry.” 

“Really.” You frown, wiping at where he’d touched with your finger. It must have smeared your mascara. “Can you get it off?” 

“Yeah, just a sec, you’ve gotta make a wish first.” Steve holds up his finger in front of you, your eyelash balanced on its tip. 

You roll your eyes again, but neither of you are buying that you’re anything other than totally besotted with him. You inhale, holding your wish in your head. 

You blow the lash harder than you mean to when you’re jostled from behind. 

Steve frowns over your shoulder. The guy behind you has found a new and innovative way to make out with his girlfriend, him leaning over the edge of the couch and her on the beanbag below. The two of them set up camp long after you and Steve had been sitting on this couch, and the limited space means he occasionally bumps you in his enthusiasm. 

“We should move,” Steve says, not for the first time. 

“No way,” you reply again. “We were here first.” 

“This couch wasn’t made for three people.” 

You huff, irritated. “Yeah, but all the other seating is taken.” 

“I’ll get us a nice patch of carpet,” he bargains. “We’ll treat it like a picnic.” 

You shake your head. You know you’re being stupid, but it’s the principle of the thing. You want the guy who’d squeezed onto your couch to have to share it with you. “It’s not fair that we have to be the ones to move,” you say. 

Steve sighs, but his expression is fond. “Fine. At least swap places with me.” 

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Your funeral,” you say, but you scoot into the spot he leaves vacant when he stands.

Steve presents a stronger front than you had, sitting up instead of leaning away from where the other guy is infringing upon his space. 

“Alright, c’mere,” he says, reaching for you. “Let me get your makeup.” 

You lean forward happily. Steve uses the condensation from his beer to wet his thumb, rubbing at your cheek concentratedly. It’s then that your couch companion chooses to sit up. Evidently, he really had forgotten he was sharing the couch with two other people, because he knocks right into Steve, causing your boyfriend to lurch forward and for a bit of his beer to spout over the lip of the bottle and into your laps. 

You press a hand over your mouth, laughing, while Steve expels an incredulous breath. 

The guy looks back as though surprised to find him there. “Sorry, man.” He claps a hand on Steve’s shoulder, wandering off. 

“Quick,” you urge, “scoot back!” 

When Steve doesn’t move fast enough, you get up and move behind him, taking up the other side of the couch and stretching out your legs so there’s no space for anyone else. 

“What an ass.” Steve still looks in shock. 

“At least we held down the fort,” you say gleefully. “We won in the end.” 

“We won?” He laughs. “You’ve got beer on your pants, baby.” 

You shrug, ignoring the cold on your legs. “A small price to pay for victory.” 

Steve huffs, but he’s grinning, crawling across the couch to meet you. “You are so—” he kisses you firmly “—stubborn.” 

“Mhm, yeah. Now get back in your place before somebody takes it.” 

[starboye]

starring: lando norris x male reader

request: Top!reader where lando norris has been a brat all day cause he's horny and wants reader to fuck him so hard he gets pregnant but readers busy looking over car blue prints (cause readers is chief technical engineer for mclaren) and basically sticks lando on his dick and tells him to fuck himself, he does so but readers to invested in his work to actually cum and by the time his finished with his work lando has cum several times already, reader then just goes on to fuck lando so hard he's pregnant a few weeks later.

warnings: smut, cockwarming, top!male reader, bottom!lando norris, cursing, brat!lando, pregnant!lando, breeding kink, pet names, use of daddy

lando was aching for you, wanting to be filled with you cum asap, so much so that he decided to wake up and be a brat the whole day, begging you to fuck him and pawing at your clothes when out in public just to turn around and ignore you when you ask him what he wants for lunch. but what could you do, just take him to the nearest room and fuck him till he was a whiny mess? no you had a job to do right now so you had to focus then you'd handle the brat that was lando.

but none the less he still persisted well into the afternoon when you were looking over some blueprints for the new mclaren car that was supposed to be made but the only thing on landos mind was the thought of you fucking him till he was completely filled with your kids and he was pregnant like the bitch he wanted to be, and who's to say he couldn't try to get you to help him with that "y/n... y/nnnnn" he pesters pulling at your shirt as you were locked in to the computer.

"yes darling" you say, your soft words trying to calm him down "please could we do something else i need you" lando whines stopping his feet "as much as i would love to do that lando, i can't there's a deadline coming up and i can't be behind on this" you say still not looking up to face him "b-but i promise i'll be really quick" lando tries to convince you and that was a lie, any time this man got you distracted enough from work to fuck him somehow day would turn to night in the blink of an eye and you wouldn't know how.

but you couldn't let his desperateness stop his work "y'know what how about this" you say bringing him in between your legs and slipping down your pants to bring out your dick, it was hard from all landos' vulgar words he's tried to get you with throughout the day and you slowly lower him onto your cock, sitting him nice and pretty on your lap "now everyone wins, you get me and i get to work" you smile kissing his cheek before going back to working and aha you were falling right into landos trap, first get him on your cock then he could do whatever.

he slowly ruts his ass against your lap, trying to get you distracted enough but your eyes never waver so he begins plopping up and down on your dick, drawing satisfied moans from him but little grunts from you so if lando couldn't distract you into fucking him he was at least gonna get something out of this so he begins just fucking himself on your cock,going up and down over and over till he came once but that wasn't gonna stop him from milking you till he was filled to the brim with your warm cum, now starting his movements again this time a little weaker than before, pulling your shirt up to run his through your torso, wanting more and more of you than he was getting, that little slut.

"please y/n... just a little touch" he begs tugging at your shirt to grab your attention "c'mon lando let me get my work done and i'll give you whatever you want" you reassure leaning down to give him a little kiss, he chased after your lips wanting to taste more of you but failed so instead he lazily took of your shirt with the help of you lifting your arms, bringing the piece of fabric to his nose to sniff the manly scent from you as he layed flush against your chest, you didn't bat an eye to what he was doing since you were so engulfed in your work and only wanting to kill two birds with one stone.

next thing lando knew he was cumming all over himself again with a whiny moan, his hand moving to grip your thigh for support, he looked up to you from his dazed vision "mmmm y/nnn" he whimpered "almost done baby, almost done" you kiss his head sweetly, lando wasn't gonna give up though he was gonna ride you till he drained you, but load after load lando spewed out weakly you didn't move a single muscle to his words or sexual actions and only giving him an occasional kiss and by the time lando came for the fifth time he was a mess, covered in his own arousal and weakly kissing your neck while whining your name.

by the time you finished working lando was still trying to fuck a load out of you, weakly rutting his ass against you "oh my baby" you playfully pout turning his face to kiss him, it was the face of defeat plastered across his "please y/n" he moans feeling you bring his legs up and pressing them against his chest, glancing at the mess he's made below the desk "such a naughty boy for daddy" you say kissing his forehead before fucking up into him roughly "ah ngh fuckkk" lando brokenly moaned out gripping the arms of the chair while your nails dug into his skin leaving marks to be seen in the later days.

"you want daddy to give you a baby, hm, make you nice and plump with our kid while i care for you" you hum kissing down his neck as he moans out a sloppy "yes daddy" so you give him what he wants, filling him up with all your cum and painting his walls white "good boy, can't wait for you to be all big" you coo rubbing his stomach while regaining your breath "th-thank you" lando shudder before falling asleep in your arms, you carry his cute sleeping figure back to your car and drive home, waking up the next morning to lando excitedly holding a positive pregnancy test with a huge smile on his face.

now what would be the harm in giving him triplets

taglist:@mailmango@spermeboy@ghostking4m@gayaristocrat@addictedtomalepits@staarb0y@crispysoup318@its-ares@gargoylesworld09@kadenvatsune@fuckshft

[simplygojo]

His Heart, Your Home

Author's Note: LOVE THIS REQUEST! And it is okay my friend...I too am deprived (LMAO), and this personally soothed me, so i hope it soothes you. THANK YOU SO MUCH for requesting something from me :) Each request I get just makes me so happy and gives me so much writing inspo, it means the world. I hope this was something along the lines of what you were hoping for <3

Request: "heyyy 🫶 can u plssss write something rlly cutesy about toji… it can be whatever u want just super cute 😭 (im so deprived wow)" - @getoisinnocent

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: NONE, just a fluffy fic for y'all <3

You stretched your arms over your head, feeling the tension from the long day finally releasing as you settled onto the couch. The soft glow of the living room lamp bathed the room in a warm light, casting shadows on the walls. 

Outside, the rain gently pattered against the window, the sound soothing but also a reminder that you were alone tonight.

Toji had been gone most of the day, dealing with whatever shady work he refused to tell you about.

You’d gotten used to the mystery, the way he always left with a smirk and came back bruised but never too worse for wear. 

But on nights like this, when the rain fell, and the house felt too quiet, you missed him more than usual.

You were sat on the couch in your small apartment, some reality show playing quietly in the background as you attempted to stay up, waiting for Toji.

Just as you began to doze off, the door creaked open, and you heard the familiar heavy footsteps. Your heart did a little leap as you turned your head to see Toji standing in the doorway, water dripping from his hair and his clothes slightly damp from the rain. His sharp eyes softened as soon as they landed on you.

"You should've locked the door," Toji grumbled, his voice low and teasing.

He kicked off his shoes, took off his soaked jacket, and made his way toward you, his presence commanding even when he was trying to be quiet.

"You’re back late," you murmured, a smile tugging at your lips as you shifted on the couch to give him room. "Rough night?"

"Just the usual," he replied with a grunt, sliding down next to you. His body sagged slightly, clearly exhausted, but his arm found its way around your shoulders, pulling you into his side without a second thought.

His warmth was comforting, and you nuzzled into his chest, breathing in the scent of rain and Toji’s familiar musk.

"You should take a shower," you said softly, your fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on his chest. "You’re soaked."

"Later," Toji muttered, resting his chin on the top of your head as his eyes mindlessly watched the TV. "I need this first." He said, giving you a soft squeeze as he pulled you to lie on top of him. 

Your heart fluttered at the rare moment of vulnerability. 

Toji wasn’t always the most expressive with words, but moments like these, where he sought you out for comfort after a long day, spoke volumes. You let out a soft hum, content to stay curled up against him for as long as he wanted.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, you tilted your head up to look at him. His dark hair was sticking to his forehead, droplets of water clinging to his lashes, but his gaze was focused on you. There was something in his eyes—something gentle, a stark contrast to his usual tough exterior.

"Missed you." He admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. The confession made your heart skip a beat, and you felt warmth bloom in your chest.

"You did?" You teased lightly, a smile tugging at your lips. "You don’t usually say that."

"Doesn’t mean I don’t feel it," he replied, his tone gruff, but the corners of his mouth lifted just slightly. Toji was always like this—gruff, rough around the edges, but when it was just the two of you, he let his walls down, even if just a little.

You pressed a gentle kiss to his jaw, feeling him relax further into the cushions of the couch. "I missed you too, you know. It gets lonely when you’re gone."

Toji’s arm tightened around you, pulling you even closer. "I’ll always come back, you’re too pretty to leave alone for too long." He said, his voice steady, as if it were a promise. 

And in his own way, it was. 

Toji wasn’t the type to sugarcoat things or make grand gestures, but when he said something, you knew he meant it.

You stayed like that for a while, curled up against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as the rain continued to fall outside. 

It was peaceful, and for a moment, it felt like the world outside didn’t matter. All that mattered was the warmth of Toji’s body next to yours, the way his hand gently stroked your back, and the soft, steady rhythm of his breathing.

Eventually, Toji shifted, and you felt him press a soft kiss to the top of your head. You looked up, and your eyes met his. His dark eyes were softened by a rare tenderness, and he leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, lingering kiss.

It was gentle, full of unspoken affection, and you melted into the kiss, feeling the softness of his lips against yours. When he finally pulled away, there was a warm, satisfied smile on his face.

"I don’t say it enough," he whispered, his breath warm against your lips. "But you’re everything to me."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you smiled, your fingers reaching up to brush against his cheek. "I know," you whispered back, your voice full of emotion. "I love you, Toji."

Toji’s eyes softened even further, and he pulled you back into a tender kiss. This time, it felt as if it was filled with all the emotions he rarely expressed—love, gratitude, and a deep connection that went beyond words. 

When he finally broke the kiss, he rested his forehead against yours, his large hand holding the back of your head firmly, before relaxing, letting your head rest on his chest as your pretty eyes fluttered shut. 

To everyone’s surprise, Toji loved moments like these with you. 

Toji loved the way your sweet scent lingered on his skin, especially when your hair was sprawled out across his chest.

Each time he held you close, the faint, delicate fragrance of you—soft notes of lavender and a hint of vanilla—seemed to wrap around him like a comforting blanket. It was a scent that made his heart swell with warmth and affection, grounding him in the quiet moments you shared together.

He cherished the subtle, almost unconscious ways you expressed your comfort and closeness. As you nestled against him, your fingers would occasionally trace gentle patterns into his skin, a soft, rhythmic touch that spoke volumes more than words ever could. 

It was as if your hands were mapping out a secret language of love, one that Toji could read with ease. The light, delicate touches were like a soothing melody, each stroke calming and reassuring him of your shared bond.

And when he held you close, he marvelled at how perfectly you fit in his arms. It was a feeling of completeness, as though you were made to be held by him. 

Your body seemed to mould seamlessly against his, and he found solace in the way you naturally nestled into his embrace. It was a perfect harmony, a silent understanding between you both, where every curve and every sigh felt like it belonged to him alone.

Toji loved you. It was a simple truth that resonated deeply within him, a love that was evident in every lingering glance and every tender touch. It was a love that enveloped him entirely, a profound connection that made every moment with you feel precious and irreplaceable.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Toji shifted and gently lifted you off the couch. "Come on," he said softly, his voice warm with affection. "Let’s get you to bed."

You allowed him to carry you to the bedroom, feeling the comforting strength of his arm around you.

When you reached the bed, Toji helped you settle in, pulling the covers up to your chin with a tenderness that was rare for him. He brushed a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

"Comfortable?" He asked, his eyes scanning your face with a mixture of care and curiosity.

"Perfect," you replied, giving him a reassuring smile. "Thank you."

Toji nodded, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "I’ll be right back."

With that, he left the room, and you could hear the sound of running water as he took a quick shower. You took this time to snuggle deeper into the blankets, feeling the warmth of the bed and the comfort of knowing Toji was just a few steps away. 

It took all of the strength in you not to surrender to the temptation of sleep, but you knew you had to wait for him. 

A few minutes later, the sound of the shower stopped, and Toji emerged, clean and refreshed.

A large, fluffy towel was wrapped around his waist, and his hair was still damp and tousled. The sight of him like this, relaxed and fresh, made your heart skip a beat.

He re-entered the bedroom with a small, lazy grin on his face, his eyes softening as they met yours. "You ready for some company, pretty girl?"

"Absolutely," you replied, a smile spreading across your face.

Toji tossed the towel aside and slid into bed next to you, not bothering to put on clothes as he got under the covers, his body naturally finding its place against yours. He pulled you close, wrapping his arm around your waist as he settled into the bed. 

You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest behind you, and his breath tickled the back of your neck.

He placed a soft kiss on the nape of your neck, and you shivered slightly at the sensation. His lips lingered for a moment, and then he rested his forehead against the back of your head, his warmth enveloping you.

You sighed contentedly, feeling his warmth and presence cocooning you in comfort. The rain continued to fall outside, the sound a soothing backdrop to the peacefulness of the moment. Toji’s muscular arm held you close, and you felt a profound sense of safety and love.

As you were drifting off, Toji leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your neck. It was a sweet, loving gesture, and you felt his warmth enveloping you.

"Sleep," he murmured, his voice already heavy with exhaustion. In response, you settled deeper into the embrace, feeling the slow and steady rhythm of Toji’s breath as it matched the gentle lull of the rain against the window.

His kiss lingered on the back of your neck, a tender reminder of his affection, and you felt a wave of contentment travel down your spine.

The room was filled with a soft, serene quiet, which was interrupted only by the distant rumble of thunder and the steady patter of raindrops. 

The darkness outside seemed to blend seamlessly with the comforting shadows within your bedroom, creating a cocoon of intimacy around you both.

Toji’s hand moved slowly up and down your arm, his touch gentle and soothing. You could feel the warmth of his body pressed against yours, a reassuring anchor in the calm of the night. 

Every now and then, his fingers would brush against your skin, sending a gentle wave of relaxation through you.

But before he drifted off, you heard him murmur one last thing—so quietly you almost didn’t catch it.

"God, I love you."

[lucimaaie]

we ✧.* tlou

pairings - santa barbara!ellie x reader

summary - ellie promised herself she wouldn’t get attached to anyone after santa barbara, look how that turned out.

warning - angsty, not proofread cause i wrote this pretty quick, short (as always),

After Santa Barbara, Ellie had no plan for the future. She’d left Dina and JJ and let Abby go. She knew would still have nightmares and the pain wouldn’t leave her. What else was there to do?

Maybe that was the reason she fought you as you tried to take care of her. “Leave me alone!” She said as you’d tried to help her up from the water, raising her arm around your neck. Thinking about it now, the memory of her weak attempt to tussle you made her laugh.

You fought as hard as she did despite being starved and traumatized yourself. She didn’t know your story, just that you were the only one who didn’t want to kill her as soon as you came out of that crowded cell. You knew that she was immune and that was it. Nothing else was important in the moment. Nothing she wanted to tell you anyway.

You took care of her so much she started to feel guilty for not returning the favor. Cleaning her wounds, taking first watch, giving her whatever food you two had left. Ellie questioned whether it was pity or too good to be true, that you’d try something the moment she relaxed. But as she got stronger, nothing bad happened. You cared for her all the same.

So she cared for you. She watched your back and let you sleep a bit longer since she knew her mind wouldn’t let her sleep. She held you the way you held her when she awoke screaming. Gave you light kisses everywhere to distract you (and her) from a haunting past she knew nothing of. Conversations weren’t your speciality. You didn’t know a lot about each other, but you knew each other.

Eventually, you got lucky and found an abandoned cabin far away from Santa Barbara and quickly settled in. It wasn’t big and there was one bed, but it was shelter. Ellie didn’t want to call it home just yet.

“We should move south.” Ellie blurted, shaking the snow off her boots onto the porch. She could already hear your lecture about letting the cold in, but that wasn’t her focus. Did she just say we? “I mean, nevermind. Here’s fine.” It wasn’t. It was cold as hell and she was tired of the cold she’d been in her whole life.

“No, why south?” You said as you adjusted the small sticks that provided at least a little warmth in the small space. Ellie came to sit down next to you, leaving no space between you. She looked at you, admiring how the orange light shone on your face.

“It’s hotter.” She held your gaze as you listened intently. “Probably make hunting easier.” Ellie knocked her shoulder into yours without much force.

“You ever been south?”

She shrugged before shaking her head. “Nope.” She looked at the fire. That might be a downside of south. No more needing to snuggle up to you to not freeze to death. South you probably have to give each other some space to cool off. “Was just a thought.” She scratched her ear. “What’d you do while I was out?”

“Counted our supply. put on the fire. cleaned our clothes. a bunch of nothing.”

“What about eating?”

“uh-no. forgot that part.”

“Course you did.” She sighed, rising to her feet and look around for the bag you two stuff all cans in. All your belongings in the cabin were generally pre-packed in case you had to run, but still the fact that you’d been able to accumulate these things together made her feel something she couldn’t describe. Annoyance was part of it. that she got so attached to you after she promised herself she wouldn’t. that it just complicated things. But that already happened the moment you’d kissed and let things go further.

“here.” She used her knife to open the can of beans and sat back next to you, handing them over.

“you do know we sleep in the same bed, right?” You hesitantly took the can and swished them around with the spoon.

“trust me i know, but i don’t need you losing body fat and clinging to me like a koala.”

“you’ve never even seen a koala.” You said, taking a bite of the beans. not bad but not good and most importantly not expired. You set the can down in the middle of you, signaling that you wanted to share. She shook her head and sighed as you pushed the can closer to her, your eyes saying ‘please.’ She took a small bite just to appease you and shoved it over to you. “just shut up and eat.” she swiped her thumb over the edge of your lip. “and stop eating like that. we’ll get you more food tomorrow.”

Hours later, ellie shot up in the middle of the night, her heart feeling like it would burst out of her chest at any moment. She choked on her own breaths as she buried her head into her knees. “it’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real—“ She mumbled the same words you did when you saw her like this.

“ellie?” You sat up as well, watching her with concerned eyes. She started to sob as she heard your voice, whether out of fear or relief you didn’t know but you didn’t give it much thought as you ran your fingers through her hair, letting her cry in your lap.

Eventually her tears stopped, leaving her with a pounding head and the comforting silence you provided. Her head rose from your lap and she pulled you into her, not willing to let go. Her head rested on your shoulder as her hands roamed under your shirt. There were no words for a while.

When there were words, they came quietly. “el?” you whispered. She didn’t respond for a while, still stuck in her swarming thoughts. “yeah?”

“where are you from?” It felt like a random question to ask, but there was no way you were gonna ask what she dreamed about.

She blinked for a few seconds, surprised. It was a simple question, yeah, but it could lead to other questions. she was scared to answer and ask back. “boston, i guess.”

“oh.”

“why’d you ask?” She let her head fall back on the pillow and tugged on your shoulder, silently asking you to turn around. And you did, facing her.

“i guess i just realized i never knew that stuff about you.” You said, fidgeting with her hands as you awaited her response. It felt like some dangerous territory, you weren’t supposed to cross. That was weird, you already crossed other, farther lines. “should i have not asked?” You whispered, tentatively.

“no, you..” She cleared her throat. “you can ask.” She finally looked at you, eyes soft with fear, pain. “i just..i don’t wanna talk about it all.”And go back there, she wanted to say.

“you don’t have to.” You scooted closer to her, laying your head on her shoulder.

Elie wrapped her arms around your back, her legs around yours, and looked at you. She let out a deep sigh as her heart beat for a different reason this time. “we don’t have to talk about it all. not right now.” we, there was a we. she wasn’t making it up. “okay,” She kissed your forehead.

thank you for reading!

[woso-dreamzzz]

Mignon & Pollito

Barcelona Femení x Teen!Reader

@wileys-russo's Pollito x Teen!Reader

Summary: You and your partner in crime

Whether it was the gods smiling down on you or just an extreme miscalculation on the staff's part, you and Pollito end up sharing a room.

This training camp was only a week long so it must be fairly expensive to move you all from Barcelona to here but, you're not the higher-ups at the club so you don't get much of a say.

"I'm bored," Pollito declares and you roll your eyes.

"Would you prefer sleeping on the bottom bunk?" You ask dryly," I heard that's more interesting."

Pollito's head appears above you, poking over the edge of the top bunk that she had wrestled you onto the ground to get to first.

"Don't be silly!" She says, a smug grin on her face," I'm doing you a service! I'm letting you stay away from the top bunk boredom."

"I'm sure I can deal with it."

"Yeah, but you Frenchies always change your minds."

"I'm trying not to be offended here."

Pollito's grin only widens and her fingers appear to jab you in the forehead.

"I'm still bored."

"I've got UNO."

"UNO's shit."

"Unless you're playing Jana. I made twenty euros off her in one round."

"Oh, shit, you're right. Let's go and find Jana."

"We're banned," You remind her," After that time that we rigged the game."

"Oh, yeah."

The bed above you creaks as Pollito throws her back against in annoyance.

"Is there really nothing we're allowed to do?"

"Irene said that we can get lunch. We just have to tell the others that we're doing that."

"But they'll make us eat healthy."

"Yeah."

Silence for a moment and then...

"I'm bored!"

You jab your feet up into the mattress on top of you and Pollito yelps.

"What do you want me to do about that? Play you to sleep?"

"You'd play me to sleep?" Pollito scoffs," What does that mean? Kicking a ball at my head?"

"I meant with my flute, dimwit."

There's silence again

"You can play the flute. Since when?"

"Since always? This isn't new information."

"It is to me!"

Pollito peaks back over your bed, a wide grin spreading over her face. "I think I have an idea."

It's Irene who hears it first.

It starts off quiet, barely audible over the phone call with her wife and son. But it's still audible and she frowns.

"Are you playing music?" She asks and her wife shakes her head.

"It must be coming from your end."

Irene pokes her head out of her hotel room, spotting a few of the others doing the same.

"Who's playing that music?!" Alexia complains, looking like she's been woken up from a very good nap if her messy hair is anything to go by.

"I thought it was Pina."

"Me?" Pina scoffs," I don't like classical music."

"It's hardly classical music," Keira says," It's the song from the Muppets. You know that one that goes 'do doo be-do-do, mahna mahna, do do-do do'-"

Everyone to turns to look at her, similar looks of judgement as Keira peters off, face crimson.

"Or, you know, I think that's what it is."

"Either way," Alexia brushes her off," Who is making that noise?"

What started off as soft flute music suddenly gets louder and louder until it's booming across the whole floor and Alexia's grip tightens on her door frame.

Her eyes dart to the room at the end of the corridor and she does a quick count in her head.

Everyone and their roommates are hanging out of their doors, heads poking out to see what all the noise is.

Everyone except two people.

Her teeth grind together.

"Who let Pollito and Mignon in the same room together? Who let them room together with no supervision?"

Usually, Alexia would be the one sorting out all of the rooms but she'd left it to the staff this time because she'd gotten distracted on the bus when Pollito had hidden you up in the luggage rack and you'd taken it upon yourself to drip water onto Mapi's head from your hiding spot.

"Er...They might still be in there?" Pina offers up but everyone else knows that it's a pipe dream to say something like that.

"Spread out," Alexia snaps," And find them." She massages her temples. "They take years off my life."

The longer they take, the louder the music gets until it rings in their ears with every step.

There's thumping at the door and you jolt, your flute music wavering as Pollito pops her head up to look through the window.

"It's Ingrid and Frido! Pretend we're not here!"

You both hide under the window where they can't see you.

The change in position makes your playing a bit unstable for a moment as you adjust, fingers cramping from the past forty-five minutes of nonstop repetition.

"I know you're in there!" Frido bangs on the door," This is the room with the sound system. Come out!"

"You'll never take us alive!" Pollito yells back and you want to hit her for being stupid.

"Shut up! You've blown our cover."

A hand reaches through the window and you instantly want to murder the idiot who thought windows should be able to be opened from the outside because Ingrid's hand immediately grabs onto your flute.

You yelp, finally stopping your playing as you try to wrestle it back.

"Hey! No! That's mine!"

"Give it over," Ingrid says," And we'll tell Alexia that you both cooperated."

You pop your head over the window. "Give us a moment to discuss."

"We can't just give in," Pollito says to you in a hushed whisper.

"Well when our other option is to run the laps Alexia will make us do if she finds out we fought them..."

"You make a good point but...No, you do make a good point." Pollito sigh," Fine. Let's give in."

You clap her on the shoulder. "Don't worry. We may have lost the battle but we haven't lost the war."

Frido sighs from the other side of the door, hitting her head repeatedly against the wall.

"You're both so dramatic."

[pastryfication]

hii please could you do another leclerc sister! reader imagine where arthur gets dropped by ferrari or dosent get a seat and he’s upset and reader and charles comfort him? x

the weight of the world

pairing: leclerc sister!reader x leclerc brothers note: thank you for requesting!! as an older sister, this was very easy to write.

the news hit like a harsh punch to the gut. arthur had been dropped by the ferrari driver academy, and without a seat for the next f2 season, it felt like everything he had worked so hard for was slipping through his fingers.

your childhood house was eerily quiet as you entered, the rooms filled with the heavy silence of disappointment. arthur had withdrawn from everyone, retreating to the living room where he sat, slumped against the couch, his head buried in his hands.

you hovered near the doorway, watching him from afar. his shoulders were stiff, his body rigid with the weight of what had happened. arthur had always been resilient—he fought hard for everything, just like all of you had, but today, he looked fragile, like the world had finally caught up to him, and the cracks were starting to show.

you walked in quietly, lowering yourself onto the couch beside him. “arthur?” you called softly, careful not to startle him.

he didn’t respond. his hands stayed tangled in his hair, and his eyes were focused on the floor. his breathing was shallow, and you could tell he was trying to hold everything in, but his walls were crumbling, slowly but surely.

“i’ve failed,” he muttered, his voice rough and barely audible. “i’ve let everyone down.”

your heart clenched at the sound of his voice, raw and laced with pain. you reached out gently, placing a hand on his back, rubbing slow circles. "arthur, you haven’t let anyone down. this is just a setback.”

he shook his head, his jaw tight. “but i have. look at everything charles has done. he’s won in f2 and now he’s winning races in f1. and me? i can’t even secure a seat for next year. i’m nothing compared to him.”

the self-doubt, the frustration—it was all spilling out now, years of pressure building up, finally breaking through. arthur had always been chasing something, always pushing himself to live up to the expectations placed on him, the ones he thought came from others, but really, they came from inside him. he had built his entire career trying to prove that he belonged, not just to himself but to everyone watching. and now, with ferrari dropping him, it felt like confirmation of his worst fears.

“you are not a failure,” you said, your voice firm but gentle. “you’re on your own journey, arthur. it doesn’t matter what charles is doing—this is your path, and one setback doesn’t change how talented you are.”

arthur glanced up at you then, his eyes rimmed red, glossy with unshed tears. the sight reminded you of the little boy who would come crying to you in the middle of the night because of a nightmare, and your heart clenched painfully. “but what if . . . what if i never make it?” his voice broke slightly, and it was like a punch to your chest, hearing him voice the fear that had clearly been gnawing at him for so long. “what if this is as far as i go?”

before you could respond, the door creaked open, and charles stepped into the room. you glanced at him briefly, noticing the concern etched across his face. he had rushed over the second he heard, but now, seeing arthur like this, he hesitated. charles wasn’t used to comforting people like this—he supported you in different ways, always the one who fought through his pain in silence, pushing forward no matter how bad things got.

he stepped forward cautiously, unsure of what to say, his usual confidence nowhere to be found. he looked at you, almost as if asking for guidance. this wasn’t a situation he could fix with strategy or motivation; this required something softer, something more emotional.

charles crouched in front of arthur, placing a hand on his knee. “arthur,” he began quietly, his voice tentative, “you haven’t let anyone down.” there was a small hesitation in his words, as though he was uncertain how to reach his brother in this moment. “i know it feels bad now, but this isn’t the end.”

arthur barely reacted. he didn’t lift his head, didn’t shift his position. it was as if the weight of the news had pinned him in place. charles was trying—he always did—but it was clear he wasn’t sure what to say, or how to truly reach your brother.

you moved closer to arthur, your heart breaking at how still and defeated he seemed. “arthur,” you whispered, your voice soft, coaxing him out of his shell. “come here.”

at first, he hesitated, but then the dam broke. he turned toward you slowly, collapsing into your arms as his body trembled with silent sobs. his grip was tight, desperate, like he was afraid you’d let go if he didn’t hold on hard enough. you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close, holding him as he cried. your hand rested on the back of his head, and you gently ran your fingers through his hair, whispering soft reassurances.

charles watched, his face full of concern and helplessness. he stayed where he was, not quite knowing what to do next. comfort didn’t come naturally to him in moments like this. he was used to being the one who kept everything together, but seeing arthur like this—seeing him so vulnerable—made him unsure of himself.

you met charles’ eyes over arthur’s shoulder, giving him a small, encouraging nod. arthur wasn’t ready for advice or tough love right now. he just needed to feel like he wasn’t alone, and you understood that.

charles heart warmed as he watched you. the way you instinctively knew how to ease arthur’s pain, how you could make him feel safe with just your presence—it was something he wasn’t sure he could ever do as easily as you. charles cared deeply for his siblings, but watching you now, he realized how much of a rock you were for your younger brother—how much of a rock you were for him too. your patience, your quiet strength—it was something he admired more than he could put into words.

arthur clung to you like a lifeline, his body shaking with the effort of holding everything in for so long. “i’ve let you all down,” he choked out between shaky breaths. “i’ve failed, especially you, charles. you’ve done so much for me, and now . . . now i’ve ruined it.”

charles shifted, his brow furrowed. “arthur, you’ve never let me down. not once,” he said, his voice softening as he found the right words. “you’re not in competition with me. you’ve already accomplished so much, more than you give yourself credit for. i’ve never compared you to me, and neither should you.”

arthur shook his head against your shoulder, still clinging to you. “but you’re always so strong. i don’t know if i’m like that. i don’t know if i can come back from this.”

you held him tighter, rubbing his back soothingly. “you are strong,” you murmured. “you’re stronger than you realize, arthur. just because your path is different from charles’ doesn’t mean it’s over. it’s okay to feel lost, but we’re here. we’ll figure it out together.”

charles nodded, stepping forward and gently placing a hand on arthur’s back. “you don’t have to figure everything out right now,” he said, his voice calmer now, less unsure. “we’ll take it one step at a time. i believe in you, arthur, and so does everyone else.”

arthur sniffled, his grip on you loosening slightly as he pulled back to look at both you and charles, his eyes still filled with doubt, but there was a flicker of hope. “i just . . . i don’t want to disappoint you guys.”

“you haven’t,” you whispered, brushing a tear from his cheek. “and you never will. we’re proud of you no matter what—charles, lorenzo, mum and i are always proud of you. always.”

charles leaned in closer, his hand still on arthur’s back. “you’ve got so much more to give, arthur. this is just a bump in the road. you’re going to come back stronger, and when you do, we’ll be right here with you.”

as charles looked between you and arthur, something stirred inside him. it struck him how lucky arthur was to have you, and how lucky he was too. not everyone had a sister who could hold everything together like you did, especially when things fell apart. there was a strength in you that charles knew he could never replicate, and it made him admire you even more. he made a mental note to tell you later—how grateful he was, how much he admired how you cared for arthur, how you seemed to know exactly what he needed, even when he didn’t.

arthur leaned into you again, this time not out of desperation but for the comfort you were offering, knowing that no matter how hard things seemed right now, he wasn’t alone.

and he would never be alone. not as long as he had you.

[pretty-sparkle-bomb]

Guys I'm gonna pass out. He spoke to me this morning. Rahhh😭

♥︎~

"I dunno, girls. This is Bakugo we're talking about, Mr. 'I don't have time for your feelings'. What if he laughs at me when I tell him? I'm gonna be the laughing stock of the school!" You whine, burying your head into Jirous shoulders as she hugs you tightly.

"Well he'd have to be an ass to want to spread your name like that." The girl concludes, patting your back softly.

Suddenly, Mina is behind Jirou, using dainty fingers to lift your face up. She fixes the loose strands and tucks them behind your ears and whips out a tube of lip gloss.

"Pucker up, buttercup." She whispers, and you pout as she applies a layer of shiny pink to your lips. "Fix your posture. Your man is coming up the steps." She giggles, and you immediately stiffen, smoothing out your skirt while shooting her a glare.

Cautiously, you turn around, and sure enough, Kirishima is chatting up a storm to an obviously annoyed Bakugo. Your face heats up, and a shy smile meets your lips as the rest of them giggle behind you.

"Y/n, tell him good morning!" Mina whisper-yelled to you, almost laughing loudly at the horrified expression you have on your face.

"Me?! Why can't you do it?" You cry silently.

"Because I'm not into him! You are!"

You stood there, heart hammering in your chest, frozen as Bakugo and Kirishima approached. Mina and Jirou had fallen suspiciously quiet behind you, their earlier teasing replaced with expectant silence. You desperately wished you could disappear, every second feeling like an eternity.

Kirishima, all smiles and sunshine as usual, waved enthusiastically. “Morning, ladies!” he greeted cheerfully, stopping just in front of your little group.

“Hi, Kiri,” Mina returned with a grin, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say a word. Instead, you kept your eyes locked on the ground, hoping maybe—just maybe—you could get through this without embarrassing yourself.

Bakugo stayed a step behind Kirishima, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. His usual scowl was fixed on his face, and the sight of him only made your nerves worse. He looked as irritable as ever, clearly annoyed to be dragged into this situation. You didn’t dare say anything, your throat tightening with every passing second.

Kirishima’s gaze shifted between you and Bakugo, catching onto the awkward tension. He gave Bakugo a not-so-subtle nudge with his elbow, grinning like he knew something the rest of you didn’t, which he did.

Bakugo clicked his tongue, shooting Kirishima a sharp glare before looking back at you. His crimson eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment, you thought he might just ignore the situation altogether.

But then, in a voice so low you almost missed it, he mumbled, “Morning.”

It wasn’t enthusiastic. It wasn’t friendly. But it was something. And coming from Bakugo, it felt like a monumental effort.

Your heart skipped a beat, the words catching in your throat as you struggled to respond, but all you could manage was a small, "Hi".

You wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole. Who in their right mind says 'hi' to their crush?

Behind you, Mina and Jirou exchanged glances, but they didn’t push you this time. They stayed quiet, sensing that you were too shy to say anything. The silence hung in the air for a moment before Kirishima laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Guess we’ll see you around! Class starts in a few.” he said, tugging Bakugo by the sleeve to move him along.

Bakugo huffed in annoyance but didn’t resist, glancing back at you for the briefest moment before following Kirishima down the hall and through the doors of 1A.

You stood there, still unable to speak, replaying that one word over and over in your head, with your cheeks rivalling Kirishima's hair.

He said "morning."

To you.

♥︎~

Pt 1

Taglist : @vant3hell @succulent-momma @minkyungseokie

[esggs]

[Sukuna x possessed!reader, demonic possession, religious undertones, d/s relationship, body control, smut, manipulation and gaslighting, dubcon ig, nipple play, kinda fucked up <3]

It’s all in your head. 

Dark bedroom. Moonlight outside. Smudged outlines of the nightlife out the window: distant club-goers, cars speeding down the street, flashy signs of 24/7 convenience stores.

You’re going insane, doll. 

Blankets are too heavy, too warm, a coffin-like pressure burying you alive deep underground– tear it off, tear it off you. Your pyjamas are drenched in cold sweat, your hair stuck dirty onto your red forehead, brushing into your teary eyes. Itchy, irritating, everywhere. Tear if off, get off, get off me. 

You strip off your clothes, your underwear, you try to scratch your skin-shell out. Get out, get away. It’s not working. He’s here. He’s in you. 

I’m always inside you. You’re mine. My darling doll. 

Ryomen Sukuna.

Yes, puppet? His voice echoes in your head, it mixes with your thoughts until you can’t separate you from him. 

You’ve been seeing him out of the corner of your eye for a while now. A glimpse of a moving shadow here in the corners of your room… and then nothing. A breath down the back of your neck… and then nothing. A weight over your chest as you slept… and then nothing when you woke up. Each time he gets closer and bolder. 

Don’t take my name in vain, doll. Come to me. 

You are wrenched to stumble to the floor-length mirror beside the bed. Do you walk, or are you being walked? You can’t tell anymore. You can’t feel anything other than the intense burn in your left arm as Sukuna’s markings manifest onto it. 

What do you say? 

“Thank you,” you reply, sweet plaything that you are. In the mirror, you can see yourself clearly: your naked skin scratched red with your nails, your hair messed, his markings stamped onto your left, eyes possessed. 

Sweat drips between the curve of your breasts. Your cries and gasps delight Sukuna as you lean over the mirror in pain again: the markings burn into your right arm now. 

A reward for your pretty words. Don’t you want more, sweetheart?

Who says your words? Whose lips move when you speak? Who are you? 

“I do, master. I want more.” 

Your sobs are loud. But Sukuna says that this is all inside your head. And inside your head there is just you and him. No one will hear you cry and beg. 

Sukuna’s markings hurt your pretty face as they appear. It’s a familiar pain now, one that claims a promise of something more. Lines across your cheeks, chin, nose and forehead. It’s as if he’s leaving kisses. 

Look into the mirror. Who do you see?

“You.”

Who do you belong to?

“You.”

He’s pleased. Kneel, doll. 

Down on your knees you await further burn. It trickles down your neck along with your tears, it caresses down your shoulders, it flows down your chest. Stings like hellish love.  

Goosebumps. Tight breaths. A blush over your marked face. Your fingers move to wet them inside your mouth and then pinch your pebbled nipples. “Ahhh~” Sukuna enjoys you. “Master, nghh, ah~”.  

Spread.

Your thigh split, your cunt exposed to the mirror. The final marks, around your thigh and right above your mons, sear into place. You have yet to recover from the pain when a hand leaves your breast and strokes through the patch of your womanly hair to spread your cunt open. Two pairs of hellfire eyes watch you. They watch you all the time. Everywhere. Inside and out.

He doesn’t let you touch, though. You simply kneel in that position, an open hole for display, your arousal dripping down your thighs and ass, every muscle pulled taut in your body, tits heaving as you puff and gulp, skin shining with moonlit sweat. Every inch of you is under his control. 

Perfect as porcelain, my doll. His monstrous laughs sound and resound in your head until nothing else but him remains. Ryomen Sukuna. No one else. No one else understands. No one else can see. It's just you and him. 

Your heart beats so desperately. You can taste him on your tongue. You can feel his many hands all over your stinging skin. You can’t think straight but– it must be– if you could but make sense of it–Sukuna–this must be love. 

And just like that, it’s over. The markings are gone. You collapse onto the floor of your bedroom. 

I’ll be back tomorrow night.

a/n: the italised and bold words are thoughts. which are of the possessed and which of the possessor?

[dollgxtz]

His Watchful Eye Pt. 6

Word Count: 15.k...(oops)

Tags: yandere!sylus, sylus x fem!reader, dubcon, vaginal sex, creampie, breeding, comfort sex, cunnilingus, overstimulation if you squint, mentions of murder, nightmares, manipulation, pet names like, kitten, sweetie, honey, tw for panic attacks, rape flashbacks, xavier appears

Taglist: @ngh-ch-choso-ahhhh, @eliasxchocolate, @nozomiaj, @xmiisuki, @sylus-kitten, @its-regretti , @m0onlustre , @ve1vet-cake, @letgobro, @starkeysslvt, @yarafic, @prince-nikko, @leiaglmela @connorsui, @iluvmewwwww75, @biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer, @mysssticc, @babygirl-panda19, @someone-somewheres-stuff, @zaynesjasmine1, @honnylemontea, @altariasu, @the-slytherin-poet, @sorryimakira, @pearlymel, @emidpsandia , @angel-jupiter, @hwangintakswifey,

AN: Hi everyone! This is also on A03! Please someone stop me, how the hell did I manage to squeeze in like 4k extra words than last time??? Anyways, enjoy the meal, I definitely have missed writing smut with yan!sylus and reader :3. Also a gentle reminder that reader has no specific skin tone! I just use images that I think represent the chapter well, you can imagine her however you’d like ^^

"I'll make it all disappear," Sylus murmured, his voice low and hypnotic, penetrating the darkest recesses of your fractured psyche. It was as if he possessed the power to reach inside your mind and vaporize the painful memories that clung to you like shackles. "You want to feel so good you won't think about him again?"

Read Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt. 5

The car roars down the empty road, its tires devouring the distance between freedom and your inevitable return to captivity. Luke sits at the wheel, his face completely hidden behind the bird shaped mask. You can’t see his eyes, can’t gauge anything from the way he’s holding himself—just the silent, unyielding presence of the man steering you back to your prison.

You wonder how he sees out of that thing.

Kieran sits beside him, his mask just the same, his fingers tapping a light, almost carefree rhythm on the dashboard as he finishes humming a cheery tune. His face, too, is entirely concealed, leaving you with nothing to hold onto—no eyes to search for clues, no expressions to read.

In the rearview mirror, you sense Kieran shift his head to look at you but can't entirely tell, his hidden gaze offers you nothing. The silence stretches on, broken only by the low hum of the engine and the steady, deliberate breaths of Sylus against your neck, the heat of his body keeping you trapped in more ways than one.

Sylus holds you tight, as if the moment he loosens his grip, you’ll dissolve into the darkness beyond the windows. His large hands are splayed possessively across your thighs, pinning you in place on his lap. Each minute that ticks by in this confined space feels like a countdown to something you can’t define, but the feeling of impending dread settles deep in your bones.

Your mind is a storm, thoughts swirling in an endless, chaotic loop. The gunshot that ended Reese’s life thunders in your head, over and over, refusing to let you go. You can still see it so clearly—the way his body slumped to the floor, lifeless, his eyes wide with the shock of it all.

It feels like it’s eating you alive.

This is your fault.

Yes, Reese was a monster. He’d kidnapped you, lied to you, dragged you into a nightmare you never deserved. But even now, that part of you—the part that still clung to honor, to a sense of right and wrong, the part of an honorable deep space hunter—hated what had happened. You hated yourself for it. He should have been locked away, brought to justice, not gunned down like that.

Your chest tightens. Why didn’t you stop it? You could have, couldn’t you? You didn’t have to let your anger take over, didn’t have to spit those words at him, didn't have to tell him to go to hell. If you hadn’t done that, Sylus wouldn’t have killed him right? The weight of it presses down on you, like you’re suffocating under the guilt.

You can feel it in your bones—the sharp sting of your failure, the way you let your emotions run wild. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You weren’t supposed to be the reason a person died, no matter how twisted or evil they were. You were supposed to be better than that.

But you weren’t.

And now Reese’s blood is on your hands.

The guilt coils tighter around your chest. You can almost taste the bitterness of it on your tongue, a relentless reminder of how you failed. Maybe if you had just kept your mouth shut. Maybe if you had found some way, any way, to de-escalate the situation, he’d still be alive. You wouldn't have to carry the weight of his death.

But you didn’t. And now it’s too late.

This is your fault.

You feel tears begin to prick at the corners of your eyes, but you quickly suck in a breath, forcing them back. You can’t let them fall—not here, not now. You can’t let Sylus see the storm raging inside you. If he sees you faltering, sees your weakness, he’ll think he’s won.

You sense his eyes on you, watching, studying, but thankfully, he says nothing. His grip around you tightens slightly, as if he’s aware of the cracks forming in your resolve, but for once, he stays silent, leaving you alone with the war you’re fighting within yourself.

Instead of crying, you shift, turning your head to focus on the window. The dark tint makes it difficult to see clearly, but not impossible. You can just make out the blurred outlines of buildings as they whip past, vague shadows in the distance.

How much longer would this take? How far had you come?

You think back to the agonizing walk that had led you to the convenience store—the endless hours of trudging through unfamiliar streets, hoping for an escape. Time had lost all meaning then, just like it had now.

Lost in your thoughts, you feel your body betraying you, your exhaustion creeping in. You start to drift off against your will, feeling the heaviness pulling at your eyelids as you sink further into Sylus’s lap. You fight it, not wanting to rest your head on his chest, fearing what you might wake up to. But it’s been days since you’ve had proper rest, and the pull of sleep is relentless.

Minutes stretch into eternity, and despite your best efforts, your body begins to give in. You’re teetering on the edge of unconsciousness when suddenly, Sylus’s gruff voice cuts through the silence, startling you awake.

“Luke, tell the chefs to have dinner ready in an hour. Kieran, cancel my meeting with the general.”

Luke and Kieran both nod silently, their masked faces giving nothing away, and just as you’re trying to make sense of the words, the car abruptly comes to a stop.

“Yes, boss!” the twins respond with a clipped tones, as if this exchange is routine.

Everything happens so quickly. The moment the car parks, Luke and Kieran scramble out of their seats with swift, practiced efficiency. The sound of the doors opening and shutting echoes in the quiet night. Sylus shifts beneath you, opening his door, and you awkwardly slide off his lap, trying to maintain some semblance of balance as he exits the vehicle. You watch through strained, weary eyes as he steps out, his figure towering over the open car door. Then, he stretches out his hand toward you.

You hesitate.

The gesture, though outwardly polite, is anything but friendly. It’s not an offer—it’s a command, an unspoken reminder of your captivity. The world seems to close in around you, the air growing thicker, and your heart begins to pound in your chest. Your mind races, but there’s nowhere to run.

“If you’re thinking about driving off,” Sylus says with a low chuckle, leaning down to peer into the car, “Luke’s already got the keys, kitten.”

You can’t help but shoot him a sharp glare. You’d thought about running, yes, but not now—not when escape was utterly impossible. The moment passes quickly, and you open your mouth, wanting to explain yourself, to insist you weren’t planning anything. But the words stick in your throat, useless.

Instead, you shut your mouth, swallowing your frustration, and glare at him in defiance. Wordlessly, you reach out and take his hand. His grip is firm, possessive, as he helps you out of the car. Carefully, you step onto the ground, your heart still racing, knowing you’re walking back into your cage.

You glance around as Sylus pulls you forward, your hand still trapped in his. The sight of the mansion looms ahead, its grand, imposing silhouette becoming clearer with each step. Tall iron gates and bird statues loom in front of you, a place that might have been beautiful if it weren’t for the dread curling deep in your chest.

The mansion is more than just a building; it’s a cage, one that now feels even more suffocating as Sylus forces you to walk beside him, hand in hand like you’re something precious. But you know better. This is control, a quiet but undeniable display of power.

With each step toward the front door, the walls of the world seem to close in tighter, and your heart races faster. The echoes of your own footsteps blend with the eerie silence of the night, the only sound that reminds you how very trapped you are in this place—never truly alone, but never free either.

As you walk toward the towering front doors, your eyes drift upward, almost unconsciously, to Sylus. His appearance has always been striking—red eyes that seem to glow with a mix of malice and amusement, and white hair with subtle gray undertones, catching the faint light of the mansion. His angular features, so sharp and perfectly controlled, show signs of wear now. You can see the tension in his brow, the tiredness in the slight creases around his eyes—things you hadn’t noticed before. It makes you wonder how much stress your escape had caused him. How much had he sacrificed in the time you were gone? Had he been frantic, furious?

As if sensing your gaze, Sylus turns his head slightly, catching you in the act of studying him. A smirk plays across his lips, and his crimson eyes flicker with amusement. "What’s the matter? Falling in love?" His voice is a low drawl, teasing, but there’s something predatory in it—like he’s already enjoying this little game.

Heat rises to your face, a mixture of irritation and something else you refuse to name. You look away quickly, forcing yourself to focus on anything but him. His taunts are the last thing you want to entertain, especially when your mind is still spinning with the weight of what lies ahead. Still, the words linger, taunting you as much as his smirk did.

Finally, the massive front doors loom before you, framed by the same wrought iron and heavy stone that always made the mansion feel more like a fortress. Sylus stops, standing tall beside you, his hand still gripping yours as if to remind you that escape, or even defiance, is out of the question.

He gestures toward a small panel embedded into the wall near the door. "Lean down," he orders, the edge of his voice soft yet commanding, "in front of the scanner."

Confused, you glance between him and the scanner, unsure of what he’s planning. You hesitate, but his unblinking red gaze locks onto you, expectant, leaving you little choice. Slowly, you lean forward, lowering yourself until your eyes are aligned with the scanner. A soft beep fills the air, followed by a click as the door unlocks.

You straighten, startled, staring at the door in disbelief. "Wait," you stammer, turning to Sylus. "Aren’t you trying to prevent me from escaping?"

A deep, rumbling laugh escapes him, and he shakes his head, the white strands of his hair shifting slightly as he leans in closer, his red eyes flashing with amusement. "Your eyes," he says with a grin, "can only get you into this place." He leans in further, his breath warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "Not out."

His words settle heavily in your chest, and a knot of dread tightens in your stomach. Your eyes—the very thing that could open doors here—were also the key to locking you in. Any hope you might have had, any fleeting thought of escape, is crushed in that moment. The world seems to warp, the walls of the mansion now looming around you like a trap. A cage disguised as opulence.

Why had he even bothered with something like that? The thought gnaws at you as you stand at the threshold of the mansion. Did he seriously think you would ever want to come back inside? The idea seems absurd. You were his captive, forced into this nightmare. There was no version of this where you willingly returned.

But as you glance back at him, his smirk still lingering on his face, you wonder if that’s exactly what he wants. He’s a man who thrives on control, on bending people to his will, and the thought that he might relish the idea of making you come back to this place, on your own terms, sends a shiver down your spine. Would he leave you out there in that desolate city, waiting, desperate, only to watch you break down and crawl back inside? The idea feels like a twisted game only he could design—where escape was impossible not just because of physical barriers, but because he'd burrowed deep into your mind.

You shake your head, trying to push the thought away, but the question lingers, settling like a weight in your chest. Did he think that, over time, you’d surrender? That this grand mansion, this cage, would eventually become a place you’d walk into willingly?

Sylus catches your hesitation, his red eyes glinting in the low light. “Strange, isn’t it?” he muses, his voice smooth and casual, as if he could read the questions racing through your mind. “A key that only lets you in. But maybe someday…you'll want to use it.”

His words hang in the air, and you can feel your pulse quicken, anger mixing with the uncertainty swirling inside you. He can’t seriously believe that, can he? That one day you’d walk back into this place of your own accord?

The very thought of it makes your stomach turn. You can’t imagine a future where you wouldn’t fight tooth and nail to stay away from here. Yet, there’s an unsettling confidence in the way he says it, a certainty that leaves you with more questions than answers.

“As if I would ever, prick,” you spat, your voice sharp and defiant.

Sylus laughs, his amusement rolling off him in deep waves, rich and unhurried. His red eyes gleam, locking onto yours with a look that holds something deeper than mere satisfaction. There’s affection there—twisted, yes, but genuine.

“Ah, there she is,” he murmurs, his grin widening. “I was starting to wonder if the N109 Zone had fully broken you.” His grip tightens, not painfully, but firm and reassuring, as he leads you into the grand mansion. To him, this was always meant to be your home, even if you couldn't see it yet.

You grimace at his words, irritation bubbling up inside you, making your heart race. This was still a game to him—a challenge, but not one born of cruelty. No, he found your defiance amusing, like a kitten batting at the hand that feeds it. He loved it, even.

You silently curse him under your breath as he leads you deeper into the grand house, your feet moving mechanically while your mind fights to keep up. The familiar sights come back into view, flooding your senses like a slow wave of nausea. The glossy black tile beneath your feet, the dark, lavish décor that loomed from every corner—it was all the same, just as cold and suffocating as you remembered.

Your eyes flick to the kitchen entryway, a place that had once offered a glimmer of hope, a chance to escape. You remember fleeing into it, heart racing, desperate to get away from all of this, only to be dragged back into Sylus’s grip. The memory gnaws at you, bringing a fresh wave of bitterness.

It makes you sick.

Every inch of this place, every dark aesthetic, seemed designed to remind you of your captivity. This was a cage, no matter how opulent or luxurious it appeared on the surface. And the worst part was the weight of his hand around yours—the possessiveness of his grip, the unspoken reminder that escape, no matter how hard you tried, was out of reach right now.

Sylus gently guides you toward the stairs, his grip still firm, giving you no room to hesitate. You feel your heart pounding in your chest as your feet start moving up the dark, winding staircase. Every step feels heavier than the last, your pulse thrumming in your ears as memories flood back—memories of when you had fled, heart racing, legs burning, desperate to escape this place. You’d made it down these very stairs once before, only to have freedom ripped away from you.

Now, you were being forced back up, step by agonizing step, into the room you had fought so hard to leave behind.

With every step upward, your resolve starts to crumble. The closer you get to that door, the more you feel the weight of your captivity settling in again, suffocating you. The darkened hallways, the oppressive silence—it all presses down on you, reminding you that no matter how much you fight, this is where you’ll always end up. Trapped.

You hesitate when you finally reach the door to the bedroom. The sight of it makes your stomach twist, your feet glued to the floor as a wave of dread washes over you. Everything in your body screams not to go inside, not to let yourself be locked in that room again. To run, to fight.

But Sylus is right behind you, close enough that you can feel his presence, his breath warm and steady, almost unnervingly calm. His grip on your hand softens, his thumb tracing a slow circle against your skin, as if to soothe your frayed nerves. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice gentle but laced with that unsettling authority. “Go on, sweetie.”

The way he says it is almost tender, but it only deepens the knot of anxiety in your chest. You can’t tell if it’s real kindness or just another layer of control. That soft, coaxing tone… it unnerves you more than his laughter, more than his taunts.

Despite every fiber of your being wanting to resist, you find yourself moving, stepping forward under the weight of his quiet insistence. You cross the threshold into the room, your body betraying you even as your mind screams to stop. The door clicks shut behind you with an almost imperceptible finality, and just like that, the familiar four dark walls of your prison close in around you once more.

You fight back the tears burning at the edges of your eyes as you step further into the room. The familiar surroundings feel like a punch to the gut—the large, imposing bed where Sylus had forced himself on you many many times, leaving behind scars you hadn’t realized had cut so deep. The leather couch in the center of the room, cold and impersonal, where you’d sat, waiting for the next wave of control to sweep over your life.

It’s too much.

For a moment, your knees threaten to buckle beneath you, the weight of it all pressing down with crushing force. The memories—dark, suffocating—swirl around you, making it hard to breathe. You almost crumble right there, unable to withstand the flood of emotions, of trauma that suddenly feels too close to the surface.

But before you can collapse, Sylus is there, his hand wrapping around your arm, guiding you away from the room and into the bathroom. His touch is firm but oddly gentle, a contrast that makes you even more uneasy. He’s pulling you toward the tiled space, and your mind races, trying to understand what’s happening as he begins to carefully, methodically, lift up your shirt to undress you.

“No,” you whisper, your voice trembling, barely audible over the sound of your own racing heartbeat. Your body goes stiff, your hands gripping the fabric of your shirt as if holding onto it could somehow protect you. “No,” you repeat, a little louder this time, your voice shaky and uneven. The tremors wrack your body, panic rising in your chest.

Sylus looks at you with something akin to worry, his touch slowing, but not stopping. He doesn’t force you, but his actions continue with a sense of inevitability, as though he believes this is just part of taking care of you, of ensuring you’re where you belong.

"I'm not going to do anything to you now, you just need a shower, sweetie."

But your mind is somewhere else entirely.

Flashes of memory assault you—dim lights, the scent of damp stone, and the overpowering fear of when you were in that basement. The man who had tried to force himself on you, who had pressed you against the bed with a hunger that still made your skin crawl. Your breath hitches as you remember his hands, his twisted smile. The terror, the helplessness—it's all too real, crashing down on you like a tidal wave.

You hadn’t realized just how deeply the trauma had sunk into you. Not until this moment, with Sylus standing in front of you, touching your clothes, his touch too familiar, too close to the horror you’d endured. You had been holding your emotions back but you couldn't now.

You flinch, your body recoiling instinctively as the memories close in around you. Your voice cracks, barely holding back the sob building in your throat. “Please…don’t.”

Sylus’s hands pause, and for the first time that entire day, you see it,—hesitation flickering across his sharp features. His red eyes, usually so calculating and cold, soften just enough for you to notice. His grip loosens, his fingers no longer working to take off your clothes but instead resting lightly on your shoulders, as if afraid of causing more harm.

“Be still,” he says again, his voice quiet and strangely tender. “I’m just trying to help you.”

But his words barely register. The panic has already set in, tightening around your chest like a vice. Your breathing grows shallow, quick—too quick. Your thoughts scatter, your heartbeat hammering so hard it feels like your ribcage might shatter under the pressure. The room spins around you, and suddenly you’re not here anymore. You’re back in the basement, cold stone beneath your feet, that man’s hands on your skin, forcing you against the wall. Forcing you on the bed.

You gasp for air, but each breath comes in ragged, uneven bursts. Your vision blurs, and your knees wobble beneath you. It’s happening all over again. The helplessness, the terror. It’s like your body has been pulled back into that moment, and no matter how much you try to claw your way out, you can’t.

Sylus moves swiftly, pulling you into his arms before you can collapse. His embrace is strong and grounding, his chest solid against your trembling form. “Breathe, sweetie” he whispers, his voice low, soothing, as if trying to coax you back from the edge of your panic. His hand rubs slow circles on your back, the gentle rhythm fighting against the chaos inside you. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

But you can’t. The air won’t come. Your breaths are sharp and shallow, your body on the verge of shutting down as you feel the world slipping away. You struggle, pushing weakly at him, but his arms only tighten around you, holding you firmly in place, anchoring you.

“Shhh, shhh…” His voice drops even lower, soft and almost tender. “I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe.”

The warmth of his body presses against yours, his presence somehow steadying the storm inside you. You eventually cling to him, not because you want to, but because it’s the only thing that keeps you from spiraling into complete panic. His hand continues to stroke your back in slow, measured motions, and though your heart still pounds in your chest, his touch starts to break through the suffocating fog.

“I’ll turn around, okay?” he says gently, as if sensing the root of your fear. “You can undress yourself. I won’t watch.”

There’s something in his tone—something that feels honest, reassuring, like he’s not just saying the words to control you but because he wants you to feel safe. You weakly nod, barely, but he catches it. He loosens his grip and takes a slow step back, raising his hands in surrender, his red eyes locked onto yours.

“I’ll give you some time. You don’t have to rush.”

With a careful turn, he faces away from you, his broad back filling the room but no longer imposing. His actions aren’t threatening; they’re deliberate, giving you the space he knows you need.

Your breathing slows and you blink back tears, but your body still trembles. You wipe the remaining tears from your eyes with a shaky hand, glancing around the bathroom as the panic begins to ebb. And then you notice it—something is different.

The bathtub is gone.

It had been there before, you remember. A large, ornate tub that had taken up the corner of the bathroom, a symbol of something luxurious in this prison of yours. But now, it’s nowhere to be seen. Your brows knit together in confusion as you stare at the empty space.

“Where’s the tub?” you ask, your voice hoarse, barely above a whisper.

Sylus doesn’t turn around, but his response is quick and calm, as if he expected the question. “I had it removed,” he says softly, his voice strangely careful, almost cautious. “I didn’t want you to drown yourself again.”

The words hit you like a slap, sharp and unexpected. You freeze, your heart skipping a beat as the weight of what he’s saying sinks in. He thought…no, he knew. He knew how deep the darkness inside you could go, how close you’d come to actually dying. He’d taken precautions—not just to keep you here, but to keep you alive.

You stand there, frozen, staring at the empty space where the bathtub used to be, and the reality sinks in—there’s truly no escape. Not from this place, not from Sylus, and not from the relentless grip of your own mind. He’s stripped you of every option, every avenue, until there’s nothing left but this.

Nothing left but him.

The exhaustion presses down on you, heavier than ever before. With slow, mechanical movements, you step into the shower, your limbs feeling distant, as if they don’t belong to you anymore. The warm water hits your skin, but it does nothing to ease the weight in your chest. You close your eyes, hoping that the steady stream of water can drown out the chaos inside your head—the panic, the hopelessness, the memories.

But they cling to you, stubborn and unyielding.

Images flash behind your closed eyelids—memories of that basement, the cold stone walls pressing in, the terror that gripped you when the man came too close, his hands reaching, his breath sour. You press your hands against the tiled wall, your body shaking as you fight the memories back, but they keep coming, like waves crashing over you, dragging you under.

And then there’s Reese.

You can’t stop seeing it—the moment his body hit the floor, the sound of the fatal gunshot echoing in your mind like a haunting refrain. His face, twisted in shock and pain. Your fault. The words circle in your mind like a dark mantra, mixing with the trauma of that basement. It’s all tangled together, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t make it stop.

"Go to hell, Reese."

The water cascades down your back, but it doesn’t wash away the guilt. It doesn’t drown out the horror. The images of blood and brain matter sliding down concrete walls.

You press your forehead against the cold tile, letting the water soak through your hair as you fight the rising tide of emotion threatening to overwhelm you. You want to believe that there’s a way out, some form of freedom—maybe not from this mansion, but at least from the grip of your own mind. But right now, standing under the relentless stream of water, you know that freedom is further away than ever.

No matter how much you fight it, you’re trapped. Inside this house. Inside yourself.

And the worst part? Sylus knows it.

You feel the tears begin to well up, hot and uncontainable, spilling over before you even realize you’ve let them go. They mix with the water, disappearing beneath the steady stream of the shower, unseen, unclaimed by anyone but you. For the first time in what feels like forever, no one is watching. Not even Sylus.

You let the sobs come quietly, your body trembling as the tears fall, merging with the warm cascade. It’s a strange relief, knowing that in this moment, he isn’t witnessing your breaking point. Sylus had made it clear—your pain, your misery, your tears, they all belonged to him.

But right now, this moment is yours.

As the tears fall silently, you press your forehead against the cool tile, letting yourself cry in a way you hadn’t allowed before. The sobs are shaky, barely audible over the sound of the water, but they are real, raw, and they are yours alone. The stream washes them away before they have the chance to leave a trace, like they never existed at all.

Even as your heart aches and the trauma still weighs you down, there’s a strange comfort in the tears that go unnoticed. For just these few minutes, you aren’t his broken thing to fix or keep. You’re just a person, trying to survive, trying to breathe.

And even though the water doesn’t drown out all the pain or the memories, it gives you enough space to let the emotions pour out—if only for a little while.

Xavier’s breath came in shallow bursts as he navigated the empty streets of Linkon City, the familiar hum of his hunter’s watch glowing faintly on his wrist. His blue eyes flicked between the road and the holographic screen hovering just above the watch face. The blue light illuminated his face, highlighting the sharp focus in his eyes. The signal from the phone booth was still there, blinking steadily. That was his main lead—the last place you’d been before everything went silent.

His mind replayed the sound of your voice from the call, every word etched into his memory. Kidnapped. You hadn’t said much, but the panic in your tone had been unmistakable. The moment the call cut, something in him snapped. There was no hesitation, no second thought—he had left almost immediately, speeding through the city, your trembling words echoing in his head.

"Yeah, his name is S—"

Your words echoed in Xavier's mind, over and over, like a haunting refrain. You hadn’t been able to finish your sentence before the call had abruptly cut out, leaving him with nothing but that single, meaningless syllable. S. It replayed in his head as the car sped forward, finally breaking free from the limits of Linkon City and onto the dark, winding road that would lead him toward the N109 Zone.

He had tried to call back the second the line went dead, his hands trembling as he frantically redialed the number, but it was no use. The call wouldn’t connect. Maybe you had run out of money for the payphone. Maybe something far worse had happened.

The not knowing gnawed at him.

Who was S? The question had burned in his mind from the moment you said it. A name. It had to be a name. But just that one letter wasn’t enough to figure out who this person was, let alone why they had taken you. He cursed under his breath, gripping the steering wheel tighter as the dark road stretched out before him.

Whoever S was, they were dangerous enough to bring you to the N109 Zone. That part made his blood run cold. This place wasn’t just desolate—it was the kind of area that most people in the city pretended didn’t even exist. It was lawless, forgotten. A place where the desperate went to disappear, where the city’s darkness festered beneath the surface and on top of it, darkness everywhere you turn.

But why there? What did this S want with you? And why take you so far from the city?

He replayed the phone call in his mind again, your voice shaky but steady as you’d tried to tell him what had happened. The fear had been there, simmering just beneath your words, but you had clearly fought to stay calm.

Xavier’s heart pounded harder with every mile. There was something else that bothered him, something gnawing at the edges of his mind. Why had you been targeted? You were strong, capable—smart. One of the best deep space hunters around. You wouldn’t have let yourself be taken easily. That meant whoever S was, he’d planned this, thought it through, and knew how to get to you. That thought made Xavier’s stomach twist. This wasn’t random. It was calculated.

The car hit a bump in the road, jolting him back to the present, but his mind still raced. He needed to find you, needed to get to you before this S—whoever he was—did something unforgivable. He couldn’t stand the thought of you being out there, scared and alone, waiting for help that felt too far away.

He glanced at the holographic display on his hunter’s watch again, watching as the faint signal pulsed from the N109 Zone. It wasn’t much of a lead, but it was the best lead he had. That phone booth, that single clue you’d left him before the call ended, was his only connection to you now.

Who are you, S? The question echoed in his mind as he pressed down harder on the gas pedal, the car roaring down the empty highway.

He didn’t know what awaited him in the N109 Zone, but he knew one thing for sure: he was prepared to fight like hell for you.

After what felt like an eternity, buildings whipping past him, Xavier finally pulled up to the phone booth, his heart hammering in his chest. The headlights illuminated the cracked pavement and the battered glass of the booth, standing alone at the edge of the desolate lot like a ghost from another time. But of course, you weren’t there. The booth was empty. You were nowhere to be found.

Xavier’s grip tightened on the steering wheel as he sat there for a moment, staring at the empty phone booth. His mind raced, thoughts tangled in frustration and fear. You had told him you would call back—you had said you were going to that strange man’s house, and then you’d come back to tell him what it looked like. But now, standing there in the middle of the N109 Zone, it felt like that plan had shattered into a thousand pieces.

He stepped out of the car, the cold air hitting him like a slap to the face as he approached the booth. His eyes scanned the area, up and down, looking for any sign of you. But there was nothing. Just silence. The eerie kind that made his stomach twist with unease.

The booth was run-down, even worse up close. He stared at it, his thoughts flickering between panic and regret. Should he wait for you to come back, as you said you would? Or had something already gone terribly wrong? Every second that passed felt like a ticking clock, time slipping away, leaving him more uncertain than ever.

He leaned against the booth, raking a hand through his hair, trying to decide. You had been so determined—so sure you could handle this. You’d said you were going to check out this strange man’s house, get some rest, and then return. But the thought of you going there alone, to that man—whoever he was—made him sick.

I should’ve told you not to go with him.

The regret hit him hard, twisting deep in his chest. He should’ve been more forceful, should’ve stopped you. The second you’d mentioned this man, this stranger who had somehow convinced you to follow him, alarm bells had gone off in his head. He had sensed something wasn’t right. Why hadn’t he told you to stay away? Why hadn’t he made sure you didn’t go?

But you were strong, capable—you had always been stubborn, determined to handle things on your own. And he had trusted you to do that. But now…now you were missing. And he was standing in an empty lot with no idea where you were or who had taken you.

Xavier clenched his fists, staring at the phone booth as if willing it to give him answers. The last place you had been. He thought about turning around, driving through the N109 Zone, checking every corner, every building. But the reality of how vast and dangerous this area was made him hesitate. He didn’t even know who to look for. S. The mysterious man whose name had been cut off by the phone’s disconnect. That wasn’t enough.

Xavier’s stomach growled, pulling him from the fog of his frantic thoughts. He hadn’t eaten properly in hours, and the adrenaline that had been fueling him was finally wearing thin. He gritted his teeth, the pang of hunger a sharp reminder of just how long it had been since he’d stopped moving. He didn’t want to waste time, but he knew he needed to eat, to think straight.

Reluctantly, he climbed back into the car and started driving, scanning the streets of the N109 Zone for anything that looked remotely functional. This part of the city was basically wasteland—most of the buildings were crumbling, their windows broken, and the streets were nearly empty. He almost decided to give up before spotting a flicker of neon in the distance.

It was a convenience store—small, dingy, and barely lit—but it was open. The cracked neon sign buzzed weakly, casting a dull glow over the entrance. It didn’t look promising, but it was all he had. He pulled up, the car’s tires crunching over the broken pavement as he parked.

Xavier stepped out, his eyes narrowing as he approached the entrance. The store looked as worn out as the rest of the area, its windows covered in grime and dust, but the lights inside told him it was still in business. He pushed the door open, the warmth of the store enveloping him.

The place reeked of stale air and something faintly metallic. Shelves lined the narrow aisles, most of them half-stocked but there was variety. Xavier grabbed a few snacks—whatever looked edible—and made his way to the counter, where a grimy man with disheveled hair and yellowed teeth sat behind the register, staring at him with a disinterested scowl.

“Do you take gold?” Xavier asked, pulling out a small pouch from his pocket. It wasn’t unusual for places outside Linkon City to not take gold, as a lot of places were still living in the past. Couldn't hurt to ask though.

The man behind the counter laughed, a rough, guttural sound that made Xavier’s skin crawl. “Gold, huh? Figures. You Linkcunt folks just keep coming in here actin’ like it’s worth more than it is.” He leaned forward, eyeing Xavier with something between amusement and suspicion.

"No, we don't take it."

Xavier pocketed the small pouch, unsurprised by the man's harsh words, “You said Linkon folks? Who else from the city has been here?” His tone was casual, but his heart skipped a beat. Maybe someone else had seen you?

"Linkcunt," the man corrected with a sneer. The man’s eyes flicked up, narrowing slightly. “Why, you looking for someone?” He eyed Xavier and leaned back in his chair, his voice taking on an edge of curiosity.

Xavier pressed, trying to keep his voice steady. “Maybe. Just wondering who else might’ve been through here recently.”

The man scratched his stubbled chin, considering. “Well, there was this disheveled-looking girl who came through a little while ago. Had a lot of attitude, that one. Demanding help. Swiped some snacks and shit when I wasn’t looking. Took off before I could do anything about it.” He shrugged, clearly not too bothered by the theft. “But that’s basically all I know.”

Xavier’s heart stopped. A disheveled girl… Could it have been you?

His pulse quickened, the pieces clicking together. You must have come through here before disappearing. The man didn’t seem to know much more, but this was a sign. You had been close—you had been right here.

“What’d she look like?” Xavier asked, trying not to sound too eager.

The man waved a hand lazily. “Didn't look that closely to be honest. Bitch looked like hell, though. Clothes all messed up, like she’d been through something. But she was quick—didn’t stick around long enough for me to really notice much else. Don’t know where she went after that. Just up and vanished with my stock”

Xavier nodded, feeling a surge of both hope and frustration. You’d been here, that much was clear. But now you were gone again, slipping through his fingers like a ghost.

"You really shouldn't talk about women like that".

He paid for the snacks with some dollar bills he kept in his car for out of city trips, and turned to leave, leaving the disgruntled cashier. His mind already racing to figure out where you could’ve gone from here.

Xavier’s heart pounded in his chest as he stepped back outside, the cold night air hitting him like a wall. You’d been here. Not long ago, from the sound of it. He could almost picture it—your disheveled form rushing through the aisles, grabbing whatever you could before vanishing into the shadows again. You were close, too close to give up now. But where had you gone?

He clenched his jaw, glancing around the empty streets. There were too many directions, too many places you could have disappeared to. The N109 Zone was vast, a labyrinth of forgotten corners and abandoned buildings, and there was no telling where you might have run off to next.

His mind raced, trying to make sense of the little he knew. You had come here to get food, maybe out of desperation—running on fear and adrenaline. And then, like the man said, you were gone. No tracks, no sign of where you’d been taken.

Xavier pulled a crumpled pamphlet out of his jacket pocket, his fingers brushing over the faded image of a sleek pair of boots. It was the same pamphlet the shoe store clerk had given him earlier, and now, it seemed like his only other lead. A shoe store… It might seem like a stretch, but he had learned to follow even the smallest clues. If he couldn’t figure out where you had gone, maybe he could figure out more about the man who had taken you. And starting with something as small as his shoes might just be the break he needed.

He studied the pamphlet again, his eyes narrowing as he recalled his brief conversation with the clerk. The shoes had been expensive, high-end—definitely not something most people in the N109 Zone would be wearing.

But S wasn’t like most people, was he?

Xavier’s mind spun as he hurriedly typed the address from the pamphlet into his hunter’s watch, the holographic screen glowing softly as it processed the information. The watch pinged, highlighting the location of the store in the city. It wasn’t far, but it was a place he wouldn’t have expected someone from the N109 Zone to frequent.

If S was wearing those shoes, it meant he had money—or at least access to it. That was something Xavier could work with. People like that left trails, even in places where they thought they could stay hidden.

He started the car again, his pulse quickening as the watch projected the route onto the windshield. The shoe store was his next stop, and if he was lucky, he could get more information about who S really was. Maybe someone there had seen him, or better yet, could point him in the direction of where he lived or did business.

As the car sped toward the heart of the city, Xavier’s determination sharpened. He was getting closer to answers—closer to finding you. If he could learn more about this mysterious man, this “S,” then maybe, just maybe, he could figure out where you were being held.

As Xavier sped through the dark, crumbling streets of the N109 Zone, the world outside his car blurred into a mix of shadows and faint streetlights. His mind was focused on finding you, piecing together the next step in his search. Then, out of nowhere, a piercing scream shattered the stillness.

His foot slammed on the brake, the car lurching to a stop as his heart raced. The sound of the scream echoed through the desolate streets, raw and desperate. He scanned the area frantically, searching for the source of the cry for help. Then he saw her—a woman stumbling into the dim light from a broken streetlamp, clutching her side, her face twisted in pain.

“Help! Please, help me!” she gasped, her voice cracking with panic as she looked directly at him, her body collapsing onto the cracked pavement.

Xavier’s hunter instincts kicked in immediately. He couldn’t just leave someone like that. He shoved the car door open and rushed toward her, his eyes darting around, looking for any potential danger. The streets of the N109 Zone were unpredictable, but he couldn't just ignore someone in need.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” he asked, his tone urgent but calm as he knelt down beside her.

The woman’s breathing was shallow, her face pale and contorted with pain. She clutched her ribs, wincing with every breath. “I don’t know,” she whimpered, “I was attacked. I need help… please…” Her eyes were wild with fear, darting between Xavier and the shadows beyond, as if expecting someone—or something—to come after her at any moment.

Xavier’s heart pounded, his mind racing. “I’ll get you some help,” he assured her, reaching for his phone. But as he fumbled for it, he felt a shift—something wasn’t right.

The woman’s eyes flicked over his shoulder, her panic momentarily replaced by something colder, more calculating. Before he could react, a blur of movement rushed behind him.

A sharp clink. The keys.

Xavier’s blood ran cold as he spun around, just in time to see a man slip past him, keys glinting in his hand. The stranger, quick and agile, darted toward Xavier’s car, jumping into the driver’s seat. How did I not see this coming? The realization hit him like a punch to the gut—this was a setup.

“Hey!” Xavier yelled, lunging forward, his heart hammering in his chest. But it was too late.

The woman, now standing tall with no trace of pain or injury, smirked at him, her expression smug and mocking. “Thanks for the ride, city boy,” she sneered, her voice dripping with satisfaction as she ran toward the passenger side of the car. She moved easily now, as if the earlier fear and desperation had been nothing but an act. It had been.

Xavier’s mind raced as he sprinted toward the car, but the engine roared to life before he could even get close. The man in the driver’s seat gunned the accelerator, the tires screeching against the pavement as the car sped away, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake.

His heart sank as he watched the taillights disappear into the darkness, the weight of the situation crashing down on him. His car. His keys. Everything—gone in an instant. And with it, any chance of quickly finding you.

He'd have to walk on foot.

The steam from the shower still clung to your skin as you stepped out, your mind swirling in a haze of exhaustion and hunger. Your stomach growled loudly, reminding you just how long it had been since you last ate. The hot water had done little to wash away the weight of everything pressing down on you—the memories, the fear—but it had, at least, cleaned the grime from your body. You were left feeling raw and exposed, unsure of what was coming next.

You opened the glass door of the shower and grabbed a towel laying on the counter, wrapping it around yourself quickly before exiting.

You saw Sylus had elected to lean against the doorframe when you stepped out, and he turned around to face you. His eyes, those sharp, red eyes, softened when they met yours. "The chef has prepared food for you," he said, his voice gentle. The tenderness in his tone felt unnerving, like everything else with him, but the thought of food was too tempting to resist.

But before you could respond, he gestured to a set of neatly prepared shopping bags laid on his bed outside the bathroom. “I want you to open these first. Consider them gifts I had planned for you… before you ran off.” The edge in his words lingered, but his expression remained neutral. You vaguely remembered him clipping your nails while you were in the bathtub, a pile of shopping bags at his feet.

Ah, you had forgotten all about those. You wrapped the towel around yourself tighter, a knot of discomfort forming in your stomach.

You hesitated for a moment, then slowly approached the bed, your hands trembling slightly as you began to take out the "gifts". The first bag contained delicate pieces of underwear—soft, lace, and undeniably expensive. You swallowed hard, feeling a wave of unease crawl up your spine.

“Gifts for me? Or for you to see on me?” you muttered, unable to hide the malice in your voice, the bitterness slipping out.

Sylus’s lips quirked into a small, amused smile, his red eyes flickering with that familiar, unsettling glint. "Why not both?," he replied softly, the weight of his gaze lingering on you as though he found your defiance amusing.

These weren’t just clothes; they were symbols of his control, of how he saw you. Like you were his little doll to dress up. Still, you nodded hesitantly, accepting the garments with quiet reluctance.

Beneath the underwear were more practical clothes—soft, comfortable tops, leggings, and dresses. Each piece was chosen carefully, and despite yourself, you appreciated the effort, if only because you were desperate for something to wear to avoid Sylus's lingering gaze on your damp body. You chose a simple, slightly loose white dress, letting it fall over your damp skin. Then slipped on one of the many underwear he had bought for you. Sylus watched you quietly, a small smile playing on his lips as he waited for you to finish.

“You might've lost a few pounds from stress, once you start eating more, it’ll fit better,” he said casually, his tone matter-of-fact as though he hadn’t just casually referenced your weakened state. The words hung in the air, a subtle reminder of how long you'll be trapped here. Then, with a surprising softness, he added, “You look beautiful nonetheless, honey.”

“Honey.” A new pet name.

Surprisingly, instead of making you grimace like his usual endearments, it sends an unwelcome heat crawling across your face. You bite the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself not to react, but the flush is unmistakable. Against your will, your gaze drops, and you look away from him, the sudden surge of embarrassment catching you off guard.

Sylus notices, of course. His smile deepens slightly, a quiet satisfaction flickering in his eyes as if he can sense the effect his words have on you. He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his gaze on you—steady, watchful—his presence filling the room in an unnerving way that makes it harder to breathe.

He extended his hand toward you, the gesture oddly tender and yet impossible to trust. You hesitated, unsure if taking it would solidify his power over you further or if refusing would draw out something worse. But you take it, residing to the fact that you didn't have much choice.

He moved toward the door, your hand held in his grip. “Come,” he said. “The food is waiting.”

Your stomach growled again, and despite the tension between you and him, you found yourself trailing after him, your body driven by the gnawing hunger you couldn’t ignore. As you stepped into the dining hall, the rich, mouth-watering aroma of freshly prepared food hit you like a wave.

The table was filled with an extravagant feast. Platters of roasted meats sat alongside bowls of vibrant vegetables, glistening under the kitchen lights. There were thick, tender cuts of lamb, still steaming from the oven, their edges crisp and golden. Roasted chicken, its skin perfectly browned and seasoned with herbs, sat atop a bed of caramelized onions and garlic. Beside them, a platter of seared duck breast, cooked to perfection, its fat rendered into a rich, savory glaze.

On another side of the table were bowls of creamy mashed potatoes, rich and buttery, their surface dusted with flecks of chives. A dish of roasted root vegetables—carrots, parsnips, and beets—was arranged in a beautiful display, their edges crisp and caramelized, drizzled with a balsamic glaze. There was a vibrant salad of mixed greens, tossed with fresh pomegranate seeds, crumbled goat cheese, and candied walnuts, the dressing a light, tangy vinaigrette that made your mouth water.

A basket of freshly baked bread sat in the center of the table, the rolls warm and soft, their golden crusts begging to be torn apart. Small bowls of whipped butter, infused with honey and herbs, accompanied them, the scent sweet and savory.

But it didn’t stop there. Desserts, too, were laid out, tempting you even further. A decadent chocolate tart with a glossy ganache topping, dusted with powdered sugar and fresh raspberries, sat next to a platter of delicate fruit tarts, their centers brimming with custard and topped with glistening berries. A tower of macarons in various pastel shades—lavender, pistachio, rose—completed the lavish display.

Sylus pulled out a chair for you, his smile widening as he watched your eyes dart from one dish to the next. "Well don't just stare, sit down".

The sight and smell overwhelmed you, and for a moment, you felt like a prisoner presented with a royal meal, knowing full well the chains still bound you. But hunger gnawed at your insides, and no matter how conflicted you were, your body screamed for sustenance as you sat.

"Eat," Sylus urged, taking a seat across from you. His eyes never left yours, watching, waiting for your reaction.

Your hand trembled slightly as you reached for a piece of bread, the warmth of it soothing in your palm. You tore it open, the soft dough yielding beneath your fingers, and dipped it into the whipped honey butter, taking a small bite. The flavors burst in your mouth, and despite everything, you couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh of relief.

The food was perfect—too perfect. And as you took another bite, you couldn’t help but wonder: was this all part of the game too? Or was it simply nourishment after the storm?

Sylus leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on you as you ate, his expression unreadable. He didn’t speak, just watched you in that unsettling, familiar way—like he was always studying you, always thinking, always planning. His silence, for once, was almost a relief, allowing you to focus on the food and ignore his presence as much as possible.

You couldn’t help it. The hunger gnawed at you, and the feast before you was impossible to resist. The flavors were rich, the textures comforting, and before you realized it, you had cleared almost four plates. Each bite had momentarily dulled the chaos in your mind, letting you push aside the fear, the memories, and the discomfort that still lingered in your chest.

Sylus didn’t comment as you reached for more, nor did he interrupt. He seemed content to let you eat in peace, his eyes never leaving you but his lips remaining closed. It wasn’t until you finally pushed the last plate away, feeling the fullness settle in your stomach, that the silence between you felt heavier.

The weight of exhaustion began to settle over you. The warmth from the food and the sheer relief of being full left you feeling heavy, your eyelids growing heavier by the minute. You hadn’t realized just how tired you were until that moment. Your body felt like it had finally reached its limit.

Sylus stood up, breaking the silence. His movements were smooth and deliberate as he pushed his chair back, his gaze never leaving you. “You must be tired,” he said softly, the same unnerving tenderness in his voice as before. “It’s time for bed.”

You tensed slightly at his words, but your body, worn down by hunger and stress, didn’t have the strength to protest. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, afraid of what might come out if you did. There was no point in resisting, not tonight.

Sylus moved toward you, his hand extending again as if offering comfort. You hesitated, looking at his outstretched hand, but you didn’t have the energy to reject him. You let him guide you, his touch gentle yet firm as he led you toward the bedroom you were dreading your return to.

You don’t remember when exactly you slipped into unconsciousness, but the world had faded into nothing after Sylus lifted you into the bed. His arms were unexpectedly gentle, cradling you with a kind of care that felt entirely out of place. You were vaguely aware of him pulling the blankets up around you, tucking you in, but then everything went dark. The exhaustion you had been fighting all day finally consumed you, and you sank into the deepest sleep you’d felt in what seemed like forever.

There was comfort in the darkness, the kind of peace that only comes with complete surrender to sleep. No fear, no panic, just the void. You floated there, cradled in warmth. But soon, the darkness gave way to a dream, vivid and consuming.

Xavier appeared first, stepping out of the shadows of your mind. His familiar figure brought an immediate sense of relief. His ashy blonde hair fell into his face, and his striking blue eyes bore into you with the same warmth and intensity that always made your heart flutter. There he was, just as you remembered—strong, dependable, and safe. He reached out, his hand extending toward you, and without hesitation, you moved toward him.

The moment your hand met his, your heart melted, the overwhelming sense of security flooding through you. For the first time in what felt like ages, you felt safe. You felt home.

But something changed.

Xavier’s gaze, once filled with affection and care, shifted. His eyes darkened, turning cold, distant. The warmth you’d found in his presence quickly evaporated, replaced by something harsh and unfamiliar. His lips curled downward, a shadow crossing his face, and his grip on your hand tightened. The shift was sudden, the dream warping around you like a twisted reflection of reality.

"Why did you want him dead?" His voice cut through the dream, sharp and cold, the softness you’d expected from him nowhere to be found.

You blinked, confusion gripping you as his words sank in. “Huh?” Your face faltered, your heart pounding in your chest. His cold stare drilled into you, and you could feel something inside you cracking under its weight. What was happening?

"You're the reason Reese is dead," Xavier said, his words landing like a punch to the gut. His voice, usually so steady, so comforting, was now filled with anger, with accusation. His grip on your hand turned painful, his fingers digging into your skin with an almost crushing force.

“No...” Your voice wavered, barely able to push the word out as your mind reeled. “That wasn’t my fault, it was Sy—” You tried to explain, to say anything to stop the blame from settling on your shoulders. But the words caught in your throat, and you couldn’t finish. You couldn’t get them out.

His face twisted, contorting with anger and something that looked like disappointment. His blue eyes, once a source of warmth, were now filled with icy judgment, the coldness sinking into your skin like knives. His grip tightened further, pain shooting through your hand, but no matter how hard you tried to pull away, you couldn’t escape.

The dream around you blurred, the edges of reality warping and distorting. The ground beneath you seemed to shift, unsteady, while Xavier's figure loomed larger, his presence suffocating. The weight of his blame pressed down on your chest like a stone, suffocating you, filling your lungs with an overwhelming sense of guilt.

You tried to explain again, your voice strangled by the intensity of the moment, but Xavier wasn’t listening. His hand was like a vice, his fingers digging into your skin as his gaze pinned you in place. His words repeated in your mind, echoing louder and louder—“You're the reason he’s dead.”

Xavier's face began to twist, distorting into something grotesque, something no longer human. His once gentle features morphed and stretched unnaturally, his blue eyes darkening into hollow, accusing pits. His grip on your hand became unbearable, crushing the bones in your fingers as his form continued to change, shifting from the man you loved into a nightmare. The warmth that had briefly comforted you was gone, replaced by a deep, bone-chilling cold.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to pull away, but the force holding you was relentless. You stared in horror as Xavier’s form became unrecognizable, his skin taking on a gray, cracked texture, his mouth elongating into a grimace filled with sharp teeth. His eyes, now nothing more than deep, empty voids, bore into you with a hatred that sent shivers down your spine.

“You’re a murderer,” the figure spat, its voice now a low, guttural growl that echoed in your ears, far louder than it should have been. “Murderer.” The word hit you like a physical blow, making your entire body tense as you tried to make sense of what was happening.

“No…” you whispered, your voice trembling as you desperately tried to defend yourself. “It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t—”

“You have blood on your hands!” the figure roared, its voice shaking the world around you. Xavier’s face continued to twist and contort, veins bulging from his neck, his body looming over you like a towering monster. “You told him to die!”

The words echoed again and again, crashing into you with the force of a tidal wave. The weight of guilt slammed into your chest, almost knocking the wind out of you as the grotesque version of Xavier leaned in closer. His voice became more vicious, more unforgiving. “You let him die, and now the blood is on your hands!”

You looked down, and your breath caught in your throat. Blood. It was everywhere—on your hands, dripping from your fingers, pooling at your feet. Panic surged through you, your heart racing as you tried to wipe it away, but no matter how hard you scrubbed, the blood only seemed to multiply, staining your skin, your clothes, everything around you.

“You’ll never wash it off!” the figure screamed, its voice shaking with rage. “Never!” It grabbed your shoulders, shaking you violently as it continued to scream. “You’re a murderer!

You struggled, trying to pull free, but the figure’s grip was unbreakable. The dream spiraled into chaos, the world around you collapsing into darkness as the screams filled the air, overwhelming your senses. The blood seemed to rise like a tide, crawling up your arms, soaking through your skin. You gasped for air, but it was suffocating, the guilt swallowing you whole.

“Murderer!” the figure roared again, louder this time, shaking you until your vision blurred. “Murderer! Murderer!"

Tears streamed down your face as you tried to shake your head, to deny it, but the accusations wouldn’t stop. The guilt, the blood, the rage—it was all around you, suffocating you, crushing you.

And then, just as quickly as it began, the figure stopped. It stood over you, silent now, but its eyes—those hollow, accusing voids—were locked onto you. “You can never escape what you’ve done,” it whispered, the venom in its voice chilling you to the core.

You shot up in bed, heart hammering in your chest, a scream tearing through your throat before you even knew what was happening. The sheets clung to your sweat-soaked skin as you gasped for breath, the nightmare still gripping you in its suffocating hold. Your hands shook violently, fingers instinctively rubbing at your palms, expecting to see the blood, the thick, crimson stain that had haunted you moments before.

But there was no blood.

The room was dark, dimly lit by a lamp settled on the nightstand. Sylus sat beside you, awake, casually reading a book. His red eyes glanced up from the pages, calm and steady, showing no sign of surprise at your sudden outburst.

“You’re okay,” Sylus said softly, his voice low but steady. He closed the book, setting it aside as he reached out, pulling you closer, into his arms with a gentle grip. The warmth of his body on yours was meant to be comforting, but the lingering terror from the dream made his touch feel heavier, suffocating.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, the echoes of the nightmare still gripping you. The blood, the screams, the weight of guilt—it all felt so real, too real to shake off. Your hands trembled in your lap, still trying to rub away the invisible stain that wouldn’t leave.

“Shhh,” Sylus soothed, his voice soft as he stroked your back with deliberate calmness. “It was just a nightmare, kitten.”

But his words barely penetrated the thick fog of panic swirling in your mind. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to steady your breathing, but the image of Xavier’s cold, accusing gaze still lingered in the corners of your thoughts, leaving an ache in your chest that refused to fade.

Sylus’s gaze never wavered from you. He was patient, his grip around you getting stronger as you fought to regain control, his expression a mixture of curiosity and concern, though it was impossible to tell how much of it was real. He watched you wordlessly, waiting patiently for your breathing to slow as he rubbed your back in soothing motions.

And you did, eventually. Slowly, your heartbeat began to slow, the cold sweat drying on your skin as the nightmare finally started to loosen its grip. You were still shaken, but reality was settling back in.

Sylus smiled, his eyes softening slightly. “Good girl,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "You feel better?"

"It's not my fault..." you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper as tears began streaming down your face, hot and unstoppable. The weight of the nightmare still pressed against your chest, the guilt wrapping itself around your heart. "Reese... I told him to die, kinda. But you killed him!"

Your words trembled in the air, and for a moment, the room felt suffocatingly silent. Sylus’s arm stilled on your back, his red eyes watching you closely. His face remained calm, unreadable, but something flickered behind his gaze—curiosity, perhaps, or even amusement. He began rubbing your back again.

He leaned in slightly, his voice low and steady as he spoke. “I killed him because he took what was mine,” he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “You didn’t pull the trigger, I did. Don’t fool yourself, sweetie.” His fingers gently wiped away the tears falling down your cheeks, lingering on your skin a second longer than necessary.

“His fate was sealed the moment he touched you. You’re not responsible for his death.”

Your heart ached, the confusion and guilt twisting inside you. The memory of Reese's lifeless body, the sound of the gunshot, played over and over in your mind. You knew that Sylus had been the one to end it, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that your words, your anger, had driven the final nail in the coffin.

"But I—" you started, your voice cracking, but Sylus shushed you gently, pressing a finger to your lips.

“Don’t burden yourself,” he whispered, his voice soothing but firm. “Reese was a pest, and pests are dealt with. It wasn’t your fault. You said what you needed to say in the moment” His eyes softened, his gaze almost affectionate. “And now, you’re here—with me. Safe.”

"Am I?" you sobbed, the weight of your emotions crashing down on you all at once. The tears came faster, and with them, the memory of that night—the night Sylus had taken everything into his own hands, literally. The sharp pain, the feeling of your skin being sliced open as he calmly removed your birth control implant, resurfaced in vivid detail. The raw fear that had gripped you then returned now, surging like a wave you couldn't hold back.

"At least Reese never hurt me," you choked out between sobs, your voice trembling, barely holding together. "You, on the other hand..."

Your hand instinctively went to your arm, tracing the faint scar left behind from when Sylus had decided, without a second thought, that he would control every part of you—inside and out. The scar was still there, but it wasn’t just on your skin. The memory of that violation ran deeper than any wound that could heal.

Sylus’s expression didn’t shift at your words. His calm gaze remained fixed on you, though there was a slight narrowing of his eyes. His hand paused in its comforting motions, hovering just inches from you, as if calculating how to respond.

“I did what was necessary,” he said, his voice calm, controlled, almost dismissive. "Everything I’ve done has been for you. For us. Why are you crying over a man that handed you and countless others over for crack?"

The flood of emotions broke through all at once at his words.

"Because-because he wasn't supposed to die. Hunters aren't the reason people die, we save people...he could've went to jail he wasn't supposed to-"

You crumpled, sobs wracking your body as the weight of everything—of all you had endured—became too much to bear. Memories you had tried to suppress, to bury deep within you, rose to the surface like dark waves crashing against fragile walls.

The man from the basement. His hands grabbing you, the smell of his breath, the sheer terror that had paralyzed you as he tried to force himself on you. You had fought, screamed, but the memory was still there, etched into your mind like a brand that would never fade. The nightmare you had just woken from had only served to rip open the scars you had so desperately tried to heal.

Your words came out in broken fragments, incoherent between sobs. "That other man…he tried… I couldn’t— I couldn’t stop him…" Your voice cracked, your chest heaving as you babbled through the memories, the trauma wrapping itself around you like a suffocating shroud. "He—he wouldn’t stop… I couldn’t breathe, I was so scared…"

You weren’t even sure Sylus was listening. You couldn’t look at him. Everything blurred together, your mind overwhelmed by the pain, the helplessness, the feeling of being trapped again in that moment. You curled in on yourself, trembling as the sobs became uncontrollable, the terror of that night suffocating you all over again.

Then you felt it—Sylus’s hand, soft and deliberate, gently cradling your cheek. He leaned in, his voice softening into something almost unbearably tender, a tone you never thought he was capable of.

"Poor thing, you're such a mess," he murmured.

His eyes lingered on you with a mix of pity and affection, as though you were something fragile, something cherished. It was as if watching you unravel before him caused his heart to ache.

“I can help you forget,” he whispered, his thumb brushing away your tears with slow, careful strokes. “Let me take the pain away, kitten. You don’t have to carry it anymore.”

His words were soothing, like a lullaby coaxing you away from the edge of your breakdown. His touch was uncharacteristically soft, his presence surrounding you like a cocoon, making it harder to pull yourself out of the depths of your despair. For a brief moment, the way he looked at you—like he truly cared—made you falter.

"I'll make it all disappear," Sylus murmured, his voice low and hypnotic, penetrating the darkest recesses of your fractured psyche. It was as if he possessed the power to reach inside your mind and vaporize the painful memories that clung to you like shackles. "You want to feel so good you won't think about him again?"

You hesitate at his words. The rational part of your mind urged you to turn away, not to respond. To pull yourself from his embrace and fight him. But the other part, muddled by trauma, drove you to stay. To seek comfort, any comfort, even in his arms.

From your captor of all people.

“Yes…” you whimpered, blinking away tears. You didn’t know why you answered that way—your mind screamed at you to stop—but you found yourself reaching out, your fingers clutching the collar of his shirt and pulling him closer.

Anything. Anything to make this pain stop.

His lips crashed against yours before you could even register what was happening, consuming you in a kiss so passionate it bordered on painful. All rational thought evaporated as his tongue plundered the recesses of your mouth, stroking along your palate and tangling with your own tongue in a sensual dance as old as time itself.

You were consumed, caught in the storm of his touch, unable to think beyond the overwhelming need to escape the agony of your memories—even if only for a moment.

Your hands flew to his face of their own accord, fingers threading through his hair as you clung to him like a drowning woman gasping for air. You kissed him back with a fervor born of desperation, pouring all your pent-up anguish and trauma into the hungry clash of lips and teeth. The two of you panted against each other, like animals ready to tear each other to shreds.

Some distant part of you screamed that this was mistake, that doing this with him willingly was certainly wrong. He had kidnapped you after all. Stolen you. But it was drowned out by the pounding of your heart, the ache of need pulsing between your thighs. His hands slid under your dress, calloused palms skimming over hypersensitive flesh, and you arched into his touch with a whimper.

"Sylus..." you whined, already feeling the desperate ache reach your core.

"I know, kitten. Patience, we just started" he said, amusement adorning his face.

His lips found yours again, hot and demanding, silencing any lingering protests. You melted into the kiss, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. The taste of him was intoxicating, a heady mix of desire and danger that left you craving more. His fingers find the hem of your underwear, wasting no time to remove the obstacle from your wet depths.

Your whole body trembled as Sylus's lips blazed a path down your body, trailing molten kisses along the column of your throat. Each brush of his mouth against your sensitive skin sent electricity singing through your veins, igniting another fiery ache between your thighs. When he nudged aside the fabric of your dress to nuzzle the slick flesh of your cunt, you let out a strangled moan, your fingers curling into the sheets beneath you.

The tip of his nose grazed your swollen bud, and your back arched off the bed, every nerve ending sparking with raw pleasure. "Nnnngh…" you whimpered, hips bucking instinctively toward his teasing touch.

Sylus's deep, resonant chuckle rumbled through you, vibrating against your core in a way that made your toes curl. "So responsive," he murmured, his warm breath ghosting over your dripping folds. "Tell me, kitten-were you this wet for him? Did he make you shiver and moan like this when he touched you?"

He grips your thighs almost possessively, waiting for your answer.

His words were like a bucket of ice water dumped over your head, plunging you back into reality. Shame crashed over you in nauseating waves, your arousal doused by the realization of how easily Sylus manipulated your body. Tears leaked from the corners of your eyes as you squeezed them shut, fists clenching in the bedding.

"No," you choked out, voice brittle. "Never. He never touched me like this…Sylus, please…" The plea was torn from your throat, part desperation, part disgust. You felt filthy, tainted by your own traitorous reactions to Sylus's sensual assault on your most intimate parts.

But despite the revulsion roiling in your gut, your body still yearned for more.

"Its hard to say no when you beg me like that," he said, seemingly satisfied with your answer, began trailing a hot, wet streak against your folds. A gasp punches through your throat, eyes fluttering as you try not to lose all control. The mere feeling of his tongue was sending your brain into frenzies. But it wasn't enough. Wasn't enough to block the pain.

"Sylus, ple-mmph!”

You grip the bedsheets even tighter when he tenderly cuts off your plea with a moan against your clit, his tongue beginning to spread the entrance of your lips apart feverishly. Your breathing gets rapid when you feel something hot breaking past the entrance, deeper and deeper into your walls. Sylus's tongue delved deeper, stroking along your inner walls with devastating skill.

"You don't have to hold the bedsheets." he says, withdrawing momentarily from your depths. He wordlessly guides your hands to the top of his head, and before you can say anything, he's back licking up and down your folds, eventually making his way back in completely. The immediate shockwaves of pleasure make you grip his hair basically against your will, and you tearfully hold his hair as you neared an orgasm.

The pleasure built to an unbearable crescendo as Sylus's tongue relentlessly stroked your inner walls, each slick thrust driving you higher toward the brink of climax. Broken moans spilled from your lips, intermingling with his hungry growls of appreciation. Tears streamed down your face as your hips rocked shamelessly against his mouth, silently begging for the oblivion that hovered just out of reach.

Sylus's strong hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he feasted upon your aching cunt. He seemed enraptured, almost worshipful in his attentions, lavishing your most intimate places with devoted licks and sucks. He ate you out like a starved man. Like he craved you.

Like he missed you.

Occasionally his nose would rub against your clit again and again, a delicious friction that made you sob with the intensity of it all.

When his lips finally closed around your swollen clit and sucked hard, you nearly vaulted off the bed, a strangled scream tearing from your throat.

"Mhgn! Sylus! Please, I can't…it's too much!"

But he didn't let up, his talented tongue circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with ruthless precision. Your vision whited out as you finally reached heaven, wave after wave of ecstasy crashing over you until you thought you might drown in it. Your walls clamped down on his invading tongue, pulsing with the force of your release, unwittingly calling out Sylus's name as you did so.

Finally, blessedly, Sylus withdrew. You melted in the sheets, finally letting go of his hair, boneless and shuddering in the aftermath. Tears streaked your face, but for once, they weren't because Sylus had hurt you. He had done quite the opposite actually.

Taking in the sight of you sprawled before him, flushed and panting, your body trembling. With a wicked smirk, he trailed a hand along your trembling thigh, drawing a shuddering moan from your throat. Evidence of your orgasm coated his mouth, and you watch as he licks the remaining from his lips.

"Tired already?" he teased, quite enjoying the way your body tensed under his touch. "For a hunter I expected you to have more stamina."

The haze of post-orgasmic bliss dissipated as quickly as it had descended, harsh reality crashing back in with brutal clarity. Tears pricked your eyes as the weight of your shame threatened to crush you. You had begged him for it, eagerly spread your legs for your kidnapper as if y'all were lovers. What was wrong with you?

"I..." you trail off, vision blurring with tears once more. What were you going to say? What could you say?

Sylus trailed lazy kisses along your jaw, seeming to sense your internal turmoil within your head. His lips rubbed against your sensitive skin, sending unwanted sparks of pleasure skittering through your nerves.

"If you're still able to think," he murmured against your throat, "then I clearly haven't kept my promise of helping you forget." His nimble fingers worked at his belt buckle.

The leather strap slid free of the loops with a hiss, dropping forgotten to the floor. Soon after, you felt the straps of your dress slip past your shoulders, past your waist, and eventually off your body completely. Sylus's gaze raked over you, lovingly and hungry, devouring the flush on your skin, the swell of your heaving breasts. You felt bare under his scrutiny, stripped of all defenses.

"And here I thought I was doing such a good job of distracting you," he purred, palming himself through his jeans. The rigid line of his erection strained against the faded denim, an obscene bulge that made your mouth go dry. You watched as he began taking his shirt off from over his head, his chiseled stomach and chest coming into view.

"Please..." you whimpered, the word torn from your throat as fresh tears spilled down your cheeks. Your body trembled, caught between the whirlwind of conflicting emotions roiling within you. Revulsion. Lust. Desperation. Self-loathing. You don't even know what you're asking for.

Sylus's expression softened as he gazed down at you, his thumb brushing away the moisture collecting on your lashes. It was uncharacteristic of you to beg for anything other than freedom. It was pulling at his heart and making him feel weak. "Shhh, it's alright sweetie," he soothed, his voice a low murmur. "I'm keeping my promise. Don't think, just focus on me."

Slowly, reverently, he lowered his mouth to yours in a kiss that stole your breath and shattered your reservations. His lips moved over yours with aching tenderness, sipping at your parted lips as if savoring the sweetest nectar. The press of his body against yours was solid, reassuring, anchoring you in the whirlwind of sensation.

His tongue slipped past your defenses to stroke the sensitive flesh within, each languid thrust a silent promise of the ecstasy to come. One large hand cradled your face, angling your head to deepen the kiss, while the other smoothed soothing circles on the small of your back.

When he pulls back, eyes staring down at you, it feels like he's staring into the depths of your soul. His eye begins to glow dangerously, and you begin to feel your mind start to spin and the room start to grow hazy. Voices begin pouring into your ears.

Devour him.

He's right there.

Grab him!

But just as quickly as they started, they stopped. You lay there shocked, unable to process what just happened.

"Your mind says a lot more than your mouth does, kitten" he chuckles, and you can only blink confusingly at him as he begins unzipping his pants. He stands up momentarily to remove his pants and you watch as his cock finally spring free. You feel a gush of arousal as you watch it throb, precum slightly leaking at the tip.

"W-what?" you ask, one half of your brain focusing on his raging erection and the other half wondering why the hell your mind felt like it was splitting in half just a second ago.

But you have no time to ponder such questions as Sylus begins to tower above you once more, grabbing your legs and spreading them apart. You squeal at the sudden touch and shiver when his tip rubs against the slit of your opening. His face is twisted with pleasure and his lips are parted, as if he's restraining every part of himself not to push everything into you at once.

"Slow...please" you beg, your hips involuntarily pushing down on the head of his tip when it greets your opening.

"You want me to go slow, yet your hips are lifting off the bed like you can't wait to have me buried inside you," Sylus teased, his voice a low, wicked murmur. He enjoys the way your face twists in annoyance.

 "So greedy, aren't you kitten?"

"I'm not trying t-mmph!"

You words lodge into your throat as you feel the head of his tip pierce your hole. You gasped, back arching as you stretched impossibly around him. A painful stretch causes you to groan and try to pull away, but Sylus puts a hand on your stomach, holding you down and ceasing all resistance.

"Be still, hah, it wont hurt for long". Sylus lips are parted as he lets out his own breathless groan, his senses being overwhelmed with you as he sinks deeper and deeper.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Sylus groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as he fought for control. He eased forward slowly, inch by excruciating inch, letting you adjust to his substantial size. Your velvety walls resisted initially, clamping down around him like a vice.

Sylus paused, buried to the hilt inside you, his pelvis flush against yours. "Breathe, kitten," he instructed, his voice strained with the effort of holding still. "Try to relax okay?."

You tried to relax, to focus on the pleasant pressure building deep in your core instead of the dull ache in your stretched flesh. Gradually, you yielded, your muscles unclenching as Sylus began to move.

"Good girl," he managed through clenched teeth, withdrawing until just the tip remained before sliding back in with agonizing deliberateness. Over and over, he set a torturously slow rhythm, savoring every drag of your fluttering walls along his rigid cock.

 Soon, the sting gave way to blossoming pleasure, radiating outward from where you were joined. You found yourself meeting his measured thrusts, your hips rocking up to take him deeper, chasing that euphoric friction. Sylus's pace quickened marginally, his self-control fraying at the edges. The slap of flesh against flesh echoed obscenely in the room, a filthy symphony that drowned out your labored breaths and muffled whimpers.

Each deliberate thrust carried you further from the pit of anguish threatening to swallow you whole. The exquisite drag of Sylus's thick cock along your sensitive walls obliterated every coherent thought, leaving only the raw, visceral pleasure of the moment. Higher and higher you climbed, chasing the blissful oblivion he promised, until the first warnings of an impending climax rippled through your trembling form.

Sylus shifted his angle slightly, and stars exploded behind your eyelids as he grazed a spot deep inside that made your toes curl. A strangled moan tore from your throat, lost in the slick slide of bodies and the heady musk of arousal perfuming the air.

"That's it, sweetie," Sylus coo'd, his voice low and rough with lust. "Let go. Think about the one making you feel good right now. Think about me. Only me."

His words shivered through you, igniting something primal and needy. Your hips bucked up to meet his thrusts, desperate for more, harder, faster. Your mind snapped and went blank. You were drowning in sensation, drowning in him, and you never wanted to surface. Never wanted to think about reality ever again.

"You're so cute like this," Sylus purred, punctuating each word with a savage grind of his pelvis against yours. "Brain empty and filled with too much cock to think. Should just keep you like this..."

His filthy praise melted your reservations, stoking the desperate frenzy consuming your body and mind. Nothing else mattered beyond the slick slide of flesh and the heady perfume of sex saturating the air. In this moment, Sylus owned you wholly, a willing slave to his lust. All you could do was surrender, drowning in the exquisite agony of your impending release.

The coil of tension in your core tightened with each passing second, your impending climax hovering just out of reach. Sylus sensed your mounting desperation, his rhythm faltering as he chased his own release.

"You're so close," he growled, his rhythm growing erratic as he chased his own completion. "I can feel you tightening up, greedy little thing."

"Go ahead, cum. Let me hear your pretty sounds."

The lewd demand shattered your composure, catapulting you into heaven and you practically screamed his name. Pleasure crashed through you like a tsunami, obliterating every coherent thought. All you knew was the pulsing ache in your core, the rhythmic throb of Sylus's cock buried deep, prolonging your climax until you couldn't take the sensations anymore and almost begged him to stop thrusting.

“Sylus…” you whimper weakly.

Your vision grew blurry as you teetered into overstimulation, your walls clamping down on Sylus's pistoning length like a vise. Thankfully, he was at his own end. You hear a guttural groan of your name in your ear, and then felt the hot splash of his seed painting your insides soon after. His thrusting completely stopped, and the both of you lay there, panting and unmoving.

It was only when you felt his warm seed spilling out onto the bed that you snapped back into reality.

"Did you-"

“Yes, I did it inside,” Sylus murmured, his voice calm, almost too calm. “Where else would it go?”

Before you could even process his words and sit up, he was on you, pinning your arms down to the bed with a swift, ruthless precision, as if anticipating your next move. The weight of him was suffocating, leaving you no room to escape. Panic surged through you, your body instinctively twisting and writhing beneath him, but it was useless. You were trapped.

“After your little escape," he continued, voice laced with playful amusement, "I’ve realized I need to put in more effort. Taming you isn’t as easy as I thought...a baby should be a nice, heavy, leash for you"

“Sylus… please,” you stammer, your heart pounding in your chest. Desperation claws at you as the gravity of his words sinks in. “We don’t need to do this. Not like this. Please, let’s solve this without a child?—I’ll do anything you want. I won’t try to run again, I swear.”

Tears blurred your vision as you begged, the words tumbling out in a frantic rush, your voice cracking with the weight of your fear. But Sylus just smiled, that soft, chilling smile that made your stomach drop. He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned closer, his hand disappearing beneath the bed.

“I know you won’t be running away again. In fact…”

Your breath hitched in your throat as you watched him, terror coiling tighter with every passing second. What was he doing? What was he reaching for? You searched your mind desperately, trying to think of anything, anything at all that might change his mind, but you knew better. Sylus was relentless. He hadn’t forgotten your attempts to resist, and now he was only more determined.

And then you felt it—the cold, unforgiving touch of metal snapping around your ankle.

Your eyes flew wide open, your pulse spiking as you looked down in horror. An ankle chain. You were shackled.

“No,” you whispered, your voice trembling. "No...is this..?"

“Anything I want, you say?” Sylus's voice oozed with satisfaction, a smile creeping across his lips as he leaned in closer. The warmth of his breath contrasted sharply with the cold metal now binding you in place.

“Then make us a baby, sweetie,” he purred, his fingers tracing lightly down your arm. “That’s what I want most right now.”

The weight of his words settled like ice in your chest. A shiver coursed through your body, your mind racing, searching for some way out, but the chain around your ankle clinked softly with every tiny movement, a reminder of how trapped you really were.

“It’s long enough to reach everything in here, including the toilet and shower,” Sylus said, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he leaned down to press a slow, deliberate kiss to your cheek.

You shuddered beneath him, your tears finally spilling over as the full weight of your situation crashed down on you. “Is this… my punishment for running?” you whispered, your voice fragile and trembling, as if the question itself might break you.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite place. “No, it’s not a punishment,” he said, his tone soft but resolute. “It’s a necessity, honey.”

His words hung heavy in the air, sealing your fate as surely as the chain around your ankle.

Tears broke free, pouring down your face in uncontrollable waves as the reality of it all crushed you. You sobbed openly, your body shaking under the weight of it, and yet there was nothing you could do. Sylus leaned down, his presence overwhelming, his hand softly brushing the side of your tear-streaked face. His voice was low, almost soothing, as if he believed he was offering comfort instead of twisting the knife deeper.

“The faster you accept this,” he whispered, stroking your hair gently, “the easier it’ll be for you. Accept your place by my side and have my baby.”

"I'll take care of both of you, I promise."

His words only made the knot in your throat tighten further. You hated him. You hated him with every fiber of your being, but worst of all, you hated yourself. Hated the fact that you had once given yourself to him willingly, that you had let the devil himself have your body in a moment of weakness, as if you hadn’t known exactly what he was capable of.

The shame of it burned through you, deeper than any chain ever could. How had you fallen so far? How had you ever let him touch you, let him inside your body, your mind—your soul? The answer twisted cruelly in your gut.

But even despite all the burning hatred you had for him in this moment, another unknown feeling sprouted. One that ached and felt almost unbearable to think about. A longing. Festering within the walls of your strained heart and mind. You refused to acknowledge it though, choosing to drown in the sorrow of your new situation.

Sylus shifted beside you, wrapping his arms around you as if you were lovers instead of captor and captive. His warmth pressed against your skin, a twisted parody of intimacy, and you lay there, eyes fixed blankly on the ceiling. You felt his breathing slow beside you, felt his presence still as he settled in comfortably at your side. But you were miles away, staring into the abyss above, where there was no escape, no solace.

Only the cold, bitter truth. You had let the devil in, and now, there was no way out.

[pinknatural]

cybersecurity

Cas has his hand aglow with grace, preparing to smite his phone, when suddenly a hand wraps around his wrist. The light fades and he looks up at Dean, who is reached across the kitchen table looking vaguely panicked. 

“Woah, buddy, hold your horses,” he says. “What’d your phone do this time?”

”It broke,” Cas says in disgust, showing Dean the screen. It is dark and frozen, with words across it proclaiming that it is “locked” for five minutes, due to “too many failed password attempts”. Infernal thing. Cas is pretty sure cellular phones are the work of demons, which would explain why it is difficult to use and also extremely addicting. Candy Crush, in particular, is certainly demonic work. Emojis were probably invented by a human, which would explain why they’re so delightful.

“Well,” Dean says. “Looks to me like you forgot your password, except that I know you don’t have a password. Did you set one on accident?”

“How would I have done that?” Cas demands. To be quite honest, he thought his phone simply didn’t come with a password. 

“Under ‘settings’ or ‘general’, or something,” Dean says. Cas shakes his head. The only apps he goes on are the texting one, and Candy Crush. And Pinterest. He spends far too much time on Pinterest. 

“Well, then, it’s a stumper,” Dean says. He takes another bite of his scrambled eggs. Cas glares at his phone. 

Sam comes into the kitchen, whistling cheerfully. He goes to the fridge and starts to pull out his kale and almond milk and whatever else he puts in his post-run kale smoothies. He’s dressed in flannel and jeans, and his hair is wet, so Cas supposes he must have showered already. 

“Sammy, do you know why Cas’ phone would lock him out? He doesn’t even have a password.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sam says, turning around to face the table and snapping his fingers. “I gave you one.”

“What?” Cas says. 

“It’s not very secure to not have one,” Sam says. “What if someone steals your phone? Or you leave it somewhere?”

Cas has forgotten his phone on a case approximately eleven times. Apparently Dean has never told this to Sam. Suddenly, leaving his phone behind so much seems less embarrassing and more of a wonderful secret that he and Dean share. He looks at Dean, but his face is steady and he’s still facing Sam. 

“And you just didn’t tell him you locked him out of his own phone?”

“I literally set it an hour ago,” Sam says, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t think he’d notice!”

It’s possible Sam doesn’t know about Dean and Cas’ routine of sitting together and eating breakfast, Dean scrolling his phone for cases and Cas scrolling through wedding inspiration on Pinterest, but that seems impossible, for this time is as holy as church. He squints at Sam. 

“So what is the password?” he asks. 

“I just made it 123456,” Sam says, raising his hands defensively. “But you should change it to something else.” 

Dean rounds on Cas, eyebrow raised. “And you didn’t guess that?”

“How would I know to guess that?” He had mainly guessed things like 888888 or 333333. 

“Ugh,” Dean says, dropping his fork onto his eggs. “Ok, Steve Jobs, put in your new password and I’ll help you get set up.”

Cas enters the password. Sam rattles around in the pantry. Dean leans across the table. Cas tilts his phone toward him. 

“Go to Settings,” Dean instructs, pointing at the gray gears in the top corner of Cas’ phone screen. Cas taps it and follows Dean’s directions into the “passcode” section. He has to enter Sam’s absurd password one more time to change it.

“What should I change it to?” he asks. 

“I dunno,” Dean says. “A lot of people use a date or something.”

“Is yours?” Cas knows Dean’s password, of course, but he thought it was a random string of numbers that had come with his phone. Why he thought his phone didn’t come with one while Dean’s did he doesn’t know, but it was easier without a password and so it never bothered him. 

“Yeah,” Dean says. Cas tilts his head. 

“Why October 22, ‘69?” he asks. Dean grins. Sam groans. To be honest, Cas had forgotten Sam was even in the room.

“Led Zeppelin II’s release date,” Dean says. “The day ‘Ramble On’ came into the world. Best day ever.”

Cas develops a new appreciation for October 22, if not just because Dean likes it. 

“Plus I wanted to put 69 in my password,” Dean says, winking outrageously. Sam pretends to vomit. “Sammy over there likes to rotate his password out,” Dean says. He rolls his eyes. “Always between sappy shit like my birthday and Dad’s birthday and Mom’s birthday.”

“Whatever,” Sam says. “Normal people use birthdays or anniversaries, Dean. You’re the freak here.”

“Sounds like something a little bitch would say,” Dean says, winking at Cas. Cas looks down at his phone, hiding a little smile. 

“Jerk,” Sam says, and then he turns on the blender. 

Cas should use a birthday, he supposes. But he does not have one of his own to use. He wants to make it Dean’s birthday. He glances up at Dean, who is jokingly exchanging nasty expressions with Sam. He imagines one of those expressions turned onto him, and looks back at his phone. Perhaps 012479 would be too revealing. He looks at Dean again, and then types in a number. 

Sam turns off the blender and Dean turns back to Cas. 

“So?” he says. “Think of something?”

”Yes,” Cas says. “091808.” He likes those numbers in his mouth. 

“What’s that?” Sam says. 

“Just a random number,” Cas says. For some reason, he doesn’t want Sam to know.

”I guess you met us in ‘08,” Sam muses. 

“I suppose,” Cas says. He looks at Dean. His beautiful face is kind of frozen, cheeks dusted with red. Their eyes meet. Dean’s flush deepens. Cas stares at him. 

Somewhere behind them, Sam bottles his smoothie and leaves the kitchen, muttering about research. Cas doesn’t look away from Dean. 

“Good numbers,” Dean croaks out eventually. “Cool…password. Uncrackable.” He stands, gabbing his plate and dropping it in the sink before running out of the room. Cas looks back down at his phone, smiling at the screen, and absurdly pleased that Dean recognized the numbers at all.  

[tinalbion]

'𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐄𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐞' ||

Part 2 of 'The Sweetest Sin'

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Logan Howlett/ The Wolverine x afab!Reader

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞! Minors, DO NOT interact! Smut with plot, afab!reader, mutant!reader, unprotected p in v, outdoor sex, cowgirl, doggy style against the Honda Odessey, creampies, some possessive Logan, canon typical language, angst, feelings, talks of death, Deadpool and Wolverine spoilers, Cassandra doing her little finger fun, domestic Logan and Wade, happy ending

𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: 9.1k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You, Logan, and Wade are taken to an unknown hideout in the borderlands, and you find some unlikely help to take down Cassandra. There's definitely tension between you and Logan now, but you know there's something in him that can't deny that shot of getting back. Will anyone be able to convince him, and if so, what does that mean for you?

A few readers on Ao3 requested a part 2 to this and I wanted to make a part 2 SO badly! So here it is! I hope you enjoy it!

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐃𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

You didn't recall falling asleep in the back of the piece of garbage that was the Honda Odyssey, you didn't even remember Deadpool showing up and snuggling between you two as he passed out, waiting for one of you to wake up. Surprisingly, he didn't bother to wake either of you, not when it was clear you two just fucked your brains out in this God-forsaken vehicle. What a shame he hadn't been invited, but Wade was proud of his little Peanut for stepping up and being the big man, in more ways than one. 

As Deadpool slipped in between you two, somehow managing to make himself as comfortable as possible, none of you felt the car move, or drive away from its parked state, nor did you feel it when someone obviously picked all three of you up and took you into this strange place. 

You awoke to a strange room, discarded on a random bed in the middle of a strange building, looking as if it were any other apartment with several roommates. It was lived in, that was for sure, liquor bottles and beer cans were spread about the place. You looked around and couldn't imagine who would be here but all three of you had made it here, so that must have meant you found the people you needed to find. Or at least, they found you.

The three of you must have been thrown onto the same bed considering you woke up next to Deadpool, passed out, cuddled under a golden blanket, but there was no Logan. You looked around and saw him standing near a window, an open liquor bottle in his hand as he leaned against the wall, staring into the morning light.  A small smile played on your lips as you carefully pushed yourself off of the bed so as not to disturb Wade, and then you walked over toward Logan. 

He obviously heard you coming but didn't acknowledge you, not yet, he was still wallowing in self-pity as he drank away his feelings yet again. The vicious cycle continued. 

You stepped next to him and stared out the window for a moment, adjusting to being awake as you let out a yawn. “Any idea where we are?” You asked softly, your head turning to meet his. 

Logan shook his head. “Nope, but they're pretty well stocked, that's all that matters to me.” I scoffed and threw his head back, taking a large swig of Jim Beam.

With your hands fidgeting, he could tell you wanted to say something, probably about yesterday and what you two had done. He figured it was coming, and he'd thought about it for the while he'd been awake; he had every intention of remaining by your side, even if their timeline was going to shit and the X-Men were dead, he had you, he realized that now. 

“Go ahead and say what you wanna say, bub, may as well before the Mouth wakes up,” he grumbled softly. 

You chuckled at the nickname, finding it fitting for Wade, but you sighed and nodded. He was right, you weren't sure where this would end up for the both of you, so you had to say what you needed to say. 

“Logan, I know that you're probably wanting to forget yesterday ever happened, and I get it, but I never will. The fact still stands: I love you. Nothing's gonna change that, I don't care how bad you think you are, I see more than that.” 

Logan sighed and looked over at you, catching your gaze as you stared over at him, and his expression softened at the mere sight of you. How blind he'd been to your dedication, your love, your kindness… he wasn't used to being wanted anymore, he was used to being the town fuck up, the one everyone could sneer at and blame for their problems. 

“You really are somethin’ else,” he sighed and shook his head, not sure what to say to your words. “But I don't wanna forget yesterday, I just… I want to go back to our world and have it fixed. Then maybe… maybe I'd be worth your love for me.” He didn't look at you, his eyes stared out the window, the bottle still in hand. 

You sighed and stepped closer, your hand now resting gently on the back of his shoulder. “Logan, I–”

“Thor!” Wade gasped suddenly, pulling you both out of your conversation. He looked around in confusion and stared over at you both. “Oh, well lookie here, if it isn't the lovebirds.” 

You groaned at Wade and shook your head. “Don't start,” you warned. 

“Oh no, I'm not starting anything, I swear! Just wondering why it smelled a lot like sweat, bodily fluids, and regret in the back of that car,” he said, his tone chipper, knowing very well what happened in the back of that damn car. 

Logan turned toward him and glared at Wade but said nothing, you, on the other hand, let out an annoyed groan. “How about figuring out where we are instead of grilling me about what happened in the Honda?” You asked with a sharp tone. 

“And where’s the fun in that?!” He asked with a laugh that followed. “Come on, I mean, I normally don’t kiss and tell, but you sorta made it quite evident all over those seats. Was he any good, Baby Lee?” You could imagine the face he wore under that mask, the way he stared at you, expecting something out of his question, all you could do was laugh.

“Wade, shut up,” you huffed, but you gave him a face that indicated that Logan was in fact very good, and you hoped Logan didn’t see the face you made.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get all the juicy, wet, intimate details later.” Wade just laughed and looked around, checking the place out. “Well, do we know where we are?” He asked.

“No clue, but I like it here,” Logan replied gruffly as he held up the bottle for Wade to see. 

As soon as Wade was about to speak, there was a commotion coming from across the room as if someone was about to enter. You and Wade ran toward the door and got into a fighting stance, but the woman burst forth and immediately put Wade in his place as she easily flipped him over and held her sai sword to his throat as you backed off, raising your hands in surrender. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Deadpool gasped and held up a hand. He scrambled to his feet and stared at the woman, who seemed to retract her blade from his face, but she kept her eyes on him. She was dangerous, poised, and ready to strike if needed. 

You looked over at her in awe, admiring her, until someone else walked into the room, and the tension only picked up once he laid eyes on you both. His gaze was hidden under a pair of sunglasses, but that didn’t make his stare any less overwhelming. 

Then a small card flew through the air, glowing a hazy purple until a hand reached out and caught it. The man who stepped forward still seemed intimidating, but more boyish in nature, though your body relaxed slightly as it seemed they didn’t mean harm. All three of them stared at the three of you, and you couldn’t help but look back at Logan, who seemed slightly on edge by their presence. He lingered in the back near the rest of the liquor bottles, away from the crowd of people. 

“Okay… Look at you… all. You must be the others. Terrific.” Deadpool was unsure of who these people were, but after hearing about other survivors in the borderlands who worked against Cassandra, he had higher hopes. 

As they went down the line and introduced themselves, you remained in the middle, sticking close to Logan like a protective animal while you kept your attention to the new people ahead. Deadpool did a lot of the questioning, but whenever they spoke of taking on Cassandra, Logan always had something to say, and he would have rather spent his time wallowing away in here, surrounded by the booze. 

“You know, we never had a Wolverine up in here,” the card dealer called Gambit stated. But I can tell you now, it’s just a common courtesy to ask before you drink up all of my liquor.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t give a fuck,” Logan replied and slowly lifted the bottle toward his lips. 

Before you could say anything to scold him in any way, Gambit chuckled to himself and with a quick snap of his wrist, threw one of the playing cards directly into the glass, causing the bottle to shatter. You took a step toward Logan, knowing he could have gotten angry if he let it get to him, but he tossed the broken bottle neck aside and grabbed another full bottle.

“Boo boo boo,” he said in a sing-song voice, smiling like the cocky son of a bitch he was.  

“Look, now that that’s settled, we came a long way to find you three-” Deadpool started.

“There’s four of us,” Elektra corrected. 

“Wait, is it Magneto?” Deadpool gasped, hoping and praying it was one of the strongest X-Men. “Dear sweet God in heaven, let it be Magneto, because with him-” Wade pressed his hands into a prayer and sighed. 

“He’s dead,” Blade said, completely deadpan.

“Fuck! Well, uh, who brought us here?” Deadpool asked, feeling a little more hopeless than three seconds ago.

A voice came from behind them all. “That would be me.” A slender figure came from the shadows of the staircase and descended, walking into the room, everyone was insanely quiet as she revealed herself. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Your eyes watched her, and you felt something familiar looking into her eyes. Deadpool, on the other hand, seemed almost speechless.

“Holy shit, Logan, that’s her, that’s X-23. She’s the one I told you about.”

You were there for that uncomfortable conversation yesterday, hearing how the Logan from Wade’s universe had sacrificed himself for this child, who they presumed to be his daughter, her genes taken from his DNA. Made in a lab. Experimented on. Like the other mutants you’d known, she wasn’t safe. But Logan had saved her and many other kids who grew up in that lab, giving them a fighting chance as he sacrificed himself, finally being granted the peace he probably wanted in that universe. 

The thought of it made your heart ache, imagining the scene unfolding, but you looked back at Logan and saw the conflict in his eyes, the intense look they both shared. You looked between the two and felt something you couldn’t quite place. 

The rest of the group began to talk about how they could get out of the Void and back home, all while you, X-23, and Logan had somewhat circled around one another, sticking to the back of the room. You looked at her and saw just how much of Logan was in her, it was almost a spitting image, and your stomach twisted.

Your attention was taken back by the group talking about getting through to Cassandra, and they wanted to get the ending they deserved, they would fight for the freedom they deserved. Deadpool had somehow convinced them to fight through Cassandra’s defenses, get to Juggernaut’s helmet, and get her to send them back. Deadpool laughed happily and looked back toward the three of you. 

“X-23, what’s it gonna be?!”

“The name’s Laura. Let’s fucking go.”

Deadpool clenched his fists together with glee and repeated: “Let’s fucking go.”

The group had all decided that they’d leave in the morning, whether they wanted your and Logan’s help or not, it was already set for them. They would get what they fought for or die trying. Logan had to commend them, even a little bit, they were brave. Stupid, but brave. As they all scattered a bit to come up with a plan, Laura lingered for a moment and stared at you, then at Logan, and then she walked off with the rest of them. 

When they all walked off, leaving you two alone in the room, Logan grumbled in annoyance and stalked off toward the exit. You called out for him to wait, but he didn’t listen, he was feeling confused and hated the way that Laura looked at him, like she knew him, like she had already formed an opinion about him. If she was smart, she’d stay away, but no one ever really did. All they did was complicate things, and bring him more pain and suffering, so he planned on getting blackout drunk alone.

Logan sat out by the fire as he held onto a bottle of Johnny Walker, his eyes glued to the embers, his mind miles away from everything. You figured since Wade was too busy with everything going on, he was distracted enough to give you enough time to talk to him alone since you’d been interrupted earlier. You took your time and waited to see if anyone would call out for you, thankfully they didn’t need you, so you stood up from one of the chairs near the poolside and walked toward the door as quietly as you could. 

Your steps weren’t muted in the slightest with the leaves crunching beneath your steps, but you stopped and hid behind one of the nearby trees as you saw Laura walking toward Logan already. You didn’t mean to intrude, but you also didn’t want to piss him off and bother him either.

He lifted his head to see Laura and waved his hand dismissively. “Hey, I’m not lookin’ for company. Get out of here.” He grumbled.

Laura laughed. “You remind me of him. Angry, drunk, mean-”

“Sounds like a great guy-” Logan interrupted.

“I wasn’t finished.” She looked back at the fire and stared at it for a moment, collecting her thoughts, and she wasn’t good with sharing them much like he wasn’t. “He showed up when it mattered the most. Couldn’t help it. You might not know it, but you’re a good man, Logan.” Her voice was soft but stern, telling him how she viewed him, no matter the universe, there was that strong belief she had that this Logan was no different.

Logan just chuckled and shook his head. “You might not know it, but apparently I’m the worst Logan.”

“I got to have a life because of you. I got to grow up because of you. A lot of kids did.”

“A lot of kids didn’t grow up because of me,” he retorted, his gaze still set on the fire before him. “Trust me, kid, I’m no hero.”

Laura sighed and looked back over at the man. “That suit says different.”

Logan looked down at the destroyed suit, the one he wore every single day beneath his clothes as a reminder of the pain he’d caused. “Yeah, ya like it? Scott used to beg me to wear it. So did Jean, Storm, Beast. All of ‘em. Wanted me to be part of the team. Told them they all looked fuckin’ ridiculous.” He sighed and his shoulders slumped slightly. “I couldn’t have them thinkin’ I wanted to be there. Then one day, I was off on my own, then the humans came and went mutant hunting.” His expression dropped, there was no longer sarcasm or disdain, but pain and sorrow.

“I can guess the rest,” Laura said softly.

You still stood behind the tree and listened closely to what Logan was saying, finally realizing that he was acknowledging what happened to you both, the losses you both took. You slowed your breathing so you could hear him properly, afraid that if you’d done anything to cause a distraction, you would never get to hear this again.

“No, no. Let… let me say it, I n- I need to say it.” Logan’s voice began to break, his eyes turned glassy and he felt the sting of tears welling in the corners of his eyes, but he stared ahead and recalled everything. “By the time I stumbled home shit-faced from the bar, it was too late. They were dead, every…” He paused, his voice wavering with pain, the dryness in his throat stung as he tried to come to terms with it all.  “This suit’s all I got to remind me of who they were. And what I did. And when I look at Star, it hurts because I see the disappointment, the hurt I caused…”

You tried not to cry too loudly as you leaned your body against the tree, you sighed softly, wiping away the falling tears as you finally heard Logan admit to it all out loud. When you were back home, he avoided talking about it like the plague, but having this young woman here who could very well be his daughter of sorts, looking at him like that, it made him want to open up. And that made you happy. It wasn’t opening up to you, but he was opening up, and that was something beautiful in itself. You let out another small sigh and closed your eyes as you leaned your head against the tree.

Logan sniffled but took another long swig of the drink in his hand and tried to steel himself once again. Laura looked over at him with understanding, she had witnessed pain in her Logan’s life as well, and she understood as well as he would. 

“We’re headed to Cassandra’s at sun up,” she finally said.

“Have fun” Logan huffed. “Not my fight.”

Laura leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees as her gaze was intense. “We won’t pull this off without you.” She stood up in a swift motion and began her walk back to the hideout. 

Logan looked over at her and sighed. “Hey, whoever you think I am, you got the wrong guy.”

The young woman stopped and turned back to look at him, her face still reserved as she saw the shell of a man sitting in front of the fire. “You were always the wrong guy. Till you weren’t.” She turned back and made her way back to the hideout, leaving you and him alone once more. 

You waited for a few moments as he continued to sit by the fire, his eyes still glued to the flames that flickered and licked away at the firewood, and with a deep breath, you barely moved out from your spot when you heard Logan’s voice. 

“You can come sit down,” he said firmly. 

Shit. He knew you were there, this entire time, he knew. And just maybe… he finally confessed all of that to Laura because he knew you were there, you needed to hear it come from him, even if it was indirectly. Logan sat on the large log and continued to listen to your footsteps, he could even hear the sound of your heartbeat quickening as you got closer, but he didn’t say anything about it. 

As you sat down on the log beside him where Laura had been, you didn’t look over toward him yet, you continued to stare off at the fire until you felt it was right to speak, but even then you were unsure. “It wasn’t your fault, you know,” you said softly. “You may have felt as if you’d abandoned us, but, you didn’t. I know things are complicated for you, feelings and emotions, but I know you wouldn’t have let them all die on purpose. And I'm not disappointed in you, if I was, I wouldn't be here.”

Logan looked over at you and sighed, his hand still wrapped around that damned bottle as he just stared. “I heard them screamin’ for me, Star, as the mansion burned to the ground. They all screamed and I hid. I hid because-”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you didn’t cause it, you didn’t allow the humans to come in and do what they did. How would you have known?” You asked, swinging your body to face him, staring with intensity. “How were you supposed to know?”

“I should have known!” He spat in defense. “I should have and I didn’t! I could have, I dunno, sniffed them out and followed my gut instincts when I knew something was off. But instead, I got shit-faced and ignored it. Ignored them and you.” He hung his head, the bottle lowered, and he placed a hand over his face as he tried so desperately to keep the tears in. This wasn’t who he was, he needed to live with this guilt, he needed to live with it every day to ensure he’d never forget.

Your gaze softened as you scooted right next to him, then wrapped an arm around him as you leaned your head on his shoulder. “Logan, you beat yourself up for it but just know, even in the end, they still cared about you. No one thought you were a bad guy, you’re not a bad guy, you’re in pain… and I hate seeing you in pain.” You sighed and closed your eyes, holding onto him with as much strength as you could muster as your hand rubbed comforting circles across his back. 

The edge he always had was breaking, the hardness from the anger he felt daily had been calming down thanks to you, and it was only for a moment that Logan finally allowed himself to sigh heavily as a few tears fell. You wouldn’t comment on it, you’d give him the time he needed to recuperate and pull himself back together like you always had, giving him the support and the space he needed. 

But you couldn’t stop your own tears from falling, ones not out of sadness, but out of acceptance. You heard that Logan confessed aloud how terrible he felt, how conflicted he’d been because of all of this, he wasn’t able to process the tragedy you’d both lived through so easily. It hurt you the most because you had to see the man you loved suffering, blaming himself, and adding more to his trauma. But you wanted to be there, you had to be there for him, to prove he deserved the good with all that bad, and as you’d told him in that car, you would be there every day if you had to to remind him of that. 

“I got you, Logan,” you whispered softly, smiling as your eyes remained closed and your arm tightened around him. “I’m glad I got to live, I’m glad I got to be here for you when no one else could be. And Wade, he doesn’t seem all that bad, either, he’s a lot like you in a way. He wants to help, deep down.” 

Logan scoffed and shook his head, almost offended by the comparison, but he didn’t respond, he just sat back and listened to you, your voice. It grounded him in moments like these now, and he was thankful he had that. After a while, Logan’s arm wrapped around you and pulled you closer to him, his side pressed against yours as you both looked at the fire. He allowed himself this personal pleasure as he nuzzled against your hair, your scent making him think of the good days before it was all so fucked up, and it was peaceful. He hadn’t experienced peace in so long. 

“I hope you can forgive me,” he said softly, his lips pressed to your hair as he gently kissed you, his eyes still fixated on the flames. 

“I have nothing you need forgiveness for, Logan,” you replied. 

His arm tightened around you, your face pressed against the fabric of his damaged suit. He relished in the feeling of you in his arms, the way you fit so perfectly against him, the scent of your hair filled his senses as he closed his eyes momentarily. He exhaled as he reached up to slowly stroke your hair, playing with the locks between his fingers. 

“I hope they can forgive me,” he said sadly. “I think about that every day, wondering if they’d see how much it fucked me up, how bad I wanna take it back…”

“Oh, Logan, they wouldn’t blame you, okay? They would never blame you, they cared about you despite how you pushed them away, not wanting to hurt them, and you took care of them till the end. You can’t say it’s your fault when it wasn’t, it was the humans.” 

He sighed again and pulled your head closer, kissing your hair once more. “I know that I hurt you though, I know I hurt them, but I hurt you the most. The one person who I had a chance to show that I was more than what I thought I was, and I fucked it up. I took it all for granted…” He sighed heavily and tried to fight back the negativity, but it was sinking in again, but you caught on.

You sat up, pulling away from his grasp as you placed your hands on either side of his face. “Logan, stop, don’t do that. You were suffering, okay? And I get that, you weren’t used to people being there, treating you like you deserved. That’s why I stayed, I always saw you more than others may have thought. You were in need of someone to be there for you like you were there for others. Like Rogue, like Charles, you were there for them despite feeling you shouldn’t be. Let me be here for you, please, Logan.”

He sighed heavily and tried to accept your words, the emotion behind them tearing away at him, clawing through to the depths as he sat there with you looking at him as if he was the most important thing to ever exist in this timeline, and the next.

“I think we should try to get home,” you said softly as your hand came to rest on his chest. “We should help them get to Cassandra. We can’t run anymore, I’m tired of it, aren’t you?”

“I’m tired too, Star, tired of runnin’,” he mumbled as he placed the bottle down beside the log, wrapping both arms around you and pulling you in tightly. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, feeling the weight of his mind channeling through his embrace. He rested his head on top of yours as he sat there with you in his arms, wishing you both could go back and he could do things differently. His fingers gently massaged your scalp as he held you tight against him, stroking your hair and allowing his fingers to caress your head gently. 

“I know,” he replied gently, his voice low and husky. “You don’t have to.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from pressing your face to his chest, feeling safe in the comfort of his arms as he held onto you, and you let out a small hum of contentment as you felt Logan allowing himself to feel what he wanted to feel instead of what he thought he deserved. “I don’t wanna let you go, Logan,” you whispered softly. 

Logan pulled away to look at you, his gaze locked with yours as he offered a ghost of a smile. He slowly reached out, his fingertips gently traced along your jawline, his touch sent a shiver down your spine. 

“Logan,” you said softly, “should we…?” You trailed off, the feeling of his fingers against your skin taking over your entire mind, causing you to lose your train of thought.

He noticed the way his touch affected you, the way you responded so well to a gesture so simple, it made a smile tug at the corner of his mouth as his eyes were still locked on yours. “I know, I know, but can you blame me? Especially after yesterday?” He asked, his fingertips still tracing your jawline, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. 

“What if they see us?” You asked him, not really believing that would stop either of you at this moment. The tension between you both was palpable, and he didn’t want to lose this feeling. You bit your lip in contemplation, trying to decide if you two would have enough time to get away with anything.  

“I know,” he said huskily, his voice strained with his own internal battle. “But you’re makin’ it damn near impossible to hold back when you’re lookin’ at me like that, princess.” Logan’s breath caught in his throat as he heard your heart beginning to beat faster within your chest, only signaling that you wanted it, too. 

You let out your own sigh and nodded, the blush creeping into your cheeks as your attention was now solely focused on him. “I can’t blame you, I feel the same right now…”

“Then why are we fightin’ this? If we really are gonna go after this bald chick, what if we end up stayin’ here or worse? You think I could forgive myself for not showin’ you just how much I need you?” One of his hands moved to your side, resting gently on your hip until his fingers dug into you. “I can’t fight the hold you got on me, doll. Give in to what we both want,” he murmured, his words a soft plea.

“Logan,” you sighed softly as you leaned in closer, thinking of all the ways you wanted him, all the ways you could show him just how much you loved him. Your eyes stared into his, half-lidded, filled with desire as you fought back to push him down right there.

The way you said his name like that, tinged with raw desire, it was all the encouragement he needed. Logan’s hand on your hip tightened further, and a guttural moan escaped his throat as he closed the remaining distance between you both, pressing his body against yours with a restraining need. He kissed you back with a fervor that surprised even him, his mouth devouring yours as his hands dug into your skin. 

Your breaths were short and fast, wanting nothing more than to taste him, to feel him, wanting to enjoy every moment you had with him before tomorrow. You couldn’t silence the soft groan you released against his lips as your hands reached up and tangled into his shorter hair, pulling on his gently while your tongues battled one another. 

Logan’s chest rumbled with a primal groan as you pulled at his hair, the feeling of your fingers buried in his locks sent a pleasurable shiver down his spine. He deepened the kiss, his tongue invaded your mouth as he claimed it with his own. 

He let out a frustrated growl as his hands gripped your sides, pulling you flush against his body as he made you straddle his waist, spreading your thighs wide open with his large hands. His eyes stared into yours, taking that moment to look deep within yours to make sure this was what you wanted, that he was what you wanted. He’d give you the opportunity to take it back if you wanted, even just that one day with him would have been enough for him to live off of. He leaned in, his lips brushed yours hesitantly. “You really want this?” He asked, checking one more time. 

You nodded in confirmation and pushed your lips against his, kissing him deeply to only signify your answer as his arms wrapped around you to pull you closer. He deepened the kiss between you both, his tongue slipping into your mouth as you moaned against his lips. His hands roamed across your back, settling at your backside as he pressed against you, showing you how hard he already was. He broke the kiss briefly, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his voice hoarse with need. “Need you to take those off,” he instructed. 

You pulled away and shrugged out of your top, undoing the intricate latches and buttons, making sure each part of the uniform remained intact as you tossed it aside as Logan worked quickly on his. You were both impatient and wanted nothing more than to tear at each other, to feel each other in that closeness once more, feeling his hands and mouth on you in ways you’d only dreamed of. Once he was back on the log, his pants undone and slightly pulled down to accommodate you, he pulled you back into his lap while your soaked folds rubbed gently against him. Logan hissed through his teeth, his fingers dug into your hips as he encouraged your movements, coating his cock in your sweet juices as you ground your hips against his. 

“Yes, just like that,” he grumbled, his head leaned back with his eyes closed. 

You continued to rub yourself against him, slowly and gently pushing against him, almost having him slip inside of you to only then pull away. He was dripping with pre-cum as he twitched with every lost touch, he needed you and did not like how long he had to wait. 

His eyes rolled back and he let out a guttural groan as he felt the warmth of your wetness rubbing against him. “Fuck, I need you, no more teasin’,” he demanded, his voice strained as his fingers dug into the flesh of your hips. “Please, sit on me.”

The moan you released was almost feral as you lifted your hips, slowly sliding down onto his cock, which caused you to groan out his name a little louder than intended. He was impatient and thrust deep inside of you, his hands slamming you down onto him. “Oh fuck, Logan, you’re gonna ruin me…”

His grip never loosened as he guided you up and down on his thick length. “Good, that’s the plan. Wanna ruin you for anyone else,” he growled possessively, his eyes locked onto yours. His pace quickened as he slammed you down onto him again and again, and it was funny that you thought you had any control here. 

Your body slumped forward as he wrapped his arms tightly around you, pulling your body against his, your hands and breasts pressed tautly against his chest as you leaned your head against his shoulder. His hips fucked up into you, pulling out those sweet sounds he heard from you yesterday, smiling like a cocky bastard with every gasp and whine you released. He went on like this for ages, dragging it out, slowing his pace when he saw you were getting too lost in the moment, and he laughed at your faces when you got upset with his teasing.

After a while, he pulled you into a heated kiss, groaning against your lips as he playfully bit your bottom lip, swiping his tongue against yours as his hips continued to piston up into yours. You were soaked, his thighs covered in your slick as he felt his abdomen tightening. 

“Please, Logan- Coming soon!” You managed to say between each slap, his hips relentlessly pounding into you. 

“Look at me, wanna see your face.” 

You snapped your head up, your gaze locked onto him as you tried your best not to break the stare, but it was difficult to hold on when he was pounding into you mercilessly. His low grunts and growls mixed with your gasps and whines only made everything so much sweeter. His face contorted in pleasure as his thrusts became erratic as he buried himself deep and growled as he released. His entire body stiffened for a moment as he finally chased his release, filling you up as your walls milked every last drop. “Fuck,” he growled as he leaned his forehead against your shoulder. “

You continued to ride him until you had finally chased your release shortly after his, and your cries died down to soft moans as your hips gently slowed to a gentle grind, smiling as you nuzzled your face against his. You hummed softly and closed your eyes, cuddling on his chest as you both took a few moments to rest. 

“You okay?” he asked after a few moments, his eyes slightly opened to look at you. 

A smile spread across your face and you nodded. “Better than okay,” you sighed in reply. “You?”

He grinned and pressed a kiss against your forehead. “Also better than okay. Not ready to pull out yet,” he mumbled and shifted his hips upward once, causing you to moan softly at the feeling. 

“No one said you had to,” you replied with a smile, hugging him as you rested against him. 

Logan’s eyes opened and he looked down at your mess of hair. “Weren’t you just worried about them seein’ us?” He asked, teasing you now.

You scoffed and smiled as your eyes remained closed. “I think the only one I’m worried about is Wade,” you grumbled and shifted a little, pushing yourself off of him to look into his eyes. Your smile only grew as you reached up to cup his cheek, feeling that overwhelming sense of comfort wash over you. He was allowing himself to feel for you, he was slowly tearing down that wall, and he was becoming Logan again. “Are you gonna come with us tomorrow?” you asked in a whisper.

His face peeked up at yours, his eyes filled with uncertainty while he rubbed comforting circles against your back. “Look, I dunno, I mean, it’s not somethin’ I should be involved in…”

You sighed and rested your head against his shoulder. “Laura is right, you know. You are a good man, you’ll come through.”

Logan sighed and sat back with you wrapped in his arms, his softened length still buried inside of you, and here you were talking about all this complicated emotional shit. He looked past you, over your head at the building where the rest of them were, thinking of your words and Laura’s. If this was to happen, if he were to do this and fight alongside them, alongside you, then maybe he was worthy of wearing the suit. Logan leaned in, kissed the side of your head, and sighed again. “We’ll see,” he replied gently. “But first, I think I wanna have more of you.” He pulled back further to look down at you, smiling as you met his gaze. “Get up, put your hands on the car, princess.”

Your eyes widened as you pulled back to look at him. “On the car, huh?” You asked with a playful tone.

“Don't question me,” he said with a smile, bringing his hand down on your backside, and giving you a small slap. “Up.”

You huffed and slowly pulled off of him, smiling as you both stared at each other while you stood over him. Then, you made your way to the hood of the car, standing with your legs spread apart and hands splayed on the hood. You looked over your shoulder at him as he approached, half of his suit hanging off him. He stopped behind you, slowly pumping himself in his hand as he looked at your body. All of the curves, the dips, the way you reacted just for him, it drove him crazy. The fact he'd been missing out on this for so long had made him feel foolish, how could he have looked past this the entire time? 

Logan growled appreciatively at the sight of you bent over the Honda, your back arched and your hair hung over your face as you looked over at him. He ran his hands over your rear, squeezing gently before he parted your cheeks to reveal your back entrance and your dripping wet core. "So beautiful..."

"Mhm and all yours, Wolvie, now come on, don't make me wait, I need you." You hummed seductively, looking over your shoulder at him, your legs shaking with excitement. 

Logan's eyes met yours, filled with primal possession. "All mine..." He growled possessively. He lined himself up with your opening and slowly pushed inside, his hands gripping your hips for leverage while he took his time, gradually pushing deeper and deeper until he was fully sheathed inside you. He started to move, pulling out slowly before slamming back inside you with a grunt. He set a brutal pace, pounding into you from behind with powerful thrusts while his hands never left your hips, holding you in place as he took you hard and fast. 

"Fuck, you're so tight... so fucking perfect..." Logan's grip on your hips tightened as he increased his pace, his movements became jerky and uncoordinated. “Tell me you’re gonna come, princess,” he gritted out, his voice strained with passion as he reached between you both and began to play with your clit. 

You could barely contain your cries and moans of pleasure, you were no longer afraid of being found out, you were too lost in the pleasure of it all. Your body shook and reacted so well to his touch, it was as if he’d navigated your body so well over the years that he knew which of your buttons to push. It was impressive, he had studied you, it seemed. Your head turned to look over your shoulder, your eyes lust-filled and hooded as you tried your best to speak between each hard thrust. “Logan, gonna come soon-” you cautioned. 

Logan let out a feral growl and buried his face in the back of your neck, his arms wrapped tightly around your middle to hold you even closer as he rutted against your ass. He continued his assault as his hips bucked wildly, nearing his edge as he made sure you were close behind. “C’mon, pretty girl, I know you can give me another one,” he hummed against your neck, kissing it as one arm still clung around your middle, and the other played with your clit, already clenching against him. 

You couldn’t hold on anymore while his large fingers rubbed you so well, or the way he fucked into you as if his life depended on it, you came undone within moments. With a final few thrusts, Logan buried himself to the hilt and found his release, yours chasing soon after as he spilled himself inside of you, and growled low against your neck. His body convulsed with the aftershocks, his hips slowly ground against your ass as his arms tightly wound around your middle again. Your breathing was heavy, and your body was warm thanks to him, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

Logan collapsed onto your back, his body heavy and languid as he nuzzled into your neck, still holding the majority of his weight so as not to crush you. His arms released your waist as he slowly withdrew from your body, allowing you a moment to adjust. You stood up and tried to regain your balance, your hand gripped onto Logan’s arm, smiling as he helped steady you until you were well off on your feet. 

Something inside of him awoken as he looked down at you, covered in sweat, smelled of smoke and his scent, looking up at him like you were… He was a fool, but you accepted him, every part of him, he was your fool. “Sorry, I’ve been so fuckin’ blind, Star,” he mumbled as he pulled you against him, wrapping his large arms around you as he placed a kiss on your forehead. This was the softest he’d ever been, he didn’t want any of the others to see, but you were worth getting caught for. Logan sighed and stood there with your face buried against his chest. 

“So, you coming with us?” You asked once more, your voice soft, and vulnerable, but you wanted to have him there with you.

“Don’t push it,” he warned, a playful edge to his tone. “C’mon, we gotta get you cleaned up.”

“So does that mean you’re coming back inside?” you asked with a smile. 

Logan shook his head and looked back at the car. “Think I’ll sleep out here for some peace and quiet.”

“Could I join you, then?”

How could he deny you? He smiled and nodded once, rolling his shoulders. “Since you asked so nicely,” he replied and kissed your head again, then walked over to hand you the top half of your outfit. He helped you get back into it and smiled down at you when he zipped up the front half, his hand lingering on you a little longer than usual, his eyes stared down and traced over your features, he just couldn’t believe he had reasons to look elsewhere when you were right here.

“What?” You finally asked with a smile on your lips, staring up at him curiously.

Logan just hummed and shook his head. “Nothin’, c’mon, let’s go and clean up.”

You turned from him first to walk back to the hideout, but you peeked over your shoulder at him, smiling wider as you held out your hand for him, waiting for him to take it. As he stared at you, thinking of all the things that he should have done, the look you gave him had wanted him to think about the future. To fight for a future if you were in it. So he slid his hand in yours, gripped it tight, and gave a gentle squeeze as he trailed along beside you as you both made your way inside as quietly as possible. 

The battle was exhaustive, you had fought alongside your new friends, making sure they were safe enough to get the package to them, and then you followed behind Wade and Logan to confront Cassandra. Wade was knocked out on the side of the room as Logan was stuck on all fours, Cassandra sticking her weird hate-filled fingers inside of Logan’s mind. His yells and guttural screams of torment caused you to panic until the bag flew into Wade’s hand as Laura disappeared from the window. 

You were frozen as you heard his yells, the echoes of the screams you heard from your friends as they pleaded for their lives, you felt the guilt Logan carried with him as you watched the scene unfolding, but the call from Wade snapped you out of your daze.

“Baby Lee, here!” He groaned as he slid the bag toward you, the heavy metal helmet hitting the side of your foot. 

You bent down and snatched it from the bag, then you ran up behind Cassandra as you plopped the large helmet over her head while Wade scrambled to your side, recovered from being knocked out, and held onto her tightly. You stood close by to ensure she remained in his grasp, and boy did she scream when she was pulled out of her little mind games. The large, dark veins within her skin pulsated, her eyes glazed over and turned red as she screamed. 

“You’re gonna send us home, or I’m gonna twist your fuckin’ head off!” Deadpool threatened, his arms wrapped around her as he also held the helmet in place. 

Cassandra just laughed. “I can’t send you home unless you get this thing off my head… And as soon as you do that, I’m going to boil your brains on an atomic level… Either you kill me or I kill you, both wonderful options.” She said as she patted Wade’s arm.

The boys began to argue back and forth on who would end up killing the woman, but after a moment of back and forth, as you stood by and grumbled at their theatrics, Pyro came in and shot Cassandra four times in the stomach, bringing her closer to death than the other two actually did. After Logan punched his lights out, the blood poured from her mouth and she stared up at Logan in shock as he looked at Wade.

“Hey, hey, if I take this helmet off, do you promise not to kill us?”

“I promise I’ll kill you first thing!” She gasped and looked at you and Logan, smiling as the blood dripped from her mouth. 

Logan sighed, looked at them, and demanded that he take the helmet off to the point where he yelled at Wade, demanding once again to remove it. “I am wearing this suit and that means a lot of things, but most of all, I’m an X-Man. And I know your brother. As much as I wanna kill you, every bone in my body wants to FUCKING kill you, he would not let me stand here and watch you die!”

He placed his hands on the helmet and sighed. “This is for him, this is for Charles.”

He appealed to Cassandra, speaking of Charles as you stood off to the side, your expression filled with sadness, hearing about the professor again, feeling that heartbreak again. You felt bad for the woman before you, you wished she could have had that love she craved, but you just wanted to get all three of you home and back to your worlds.

As Cassandra spared you all, she gave you a head start of four seconds to jump through the portal back to New York, and all three of you ran. You wished the best for your friends as they watched you from below, but you could feel the excitement pumping as you ran and took off, flying through the air beside Logan. 

Maybe you all had a shot at being happy again, this time, together.

You went for the last slice of pizza at the same time Wade did, and you both stared each other down as your hands rested on the box. It had been a few weeks while you and Logan lived with Wade and his roommate Althea, you and Logan still waiting on an application for your own place to go through. Al didn’t seem to mind and neither did Wade, in fact, he preferred if you two stayed, but you needed your own space. Besides, sharing beds wasn’t exactly what you’d call fun with a blind woman who snored like a chainsaw going off in a construction zone, and an ADHD-riddled bigmouth who seemed to talk in his sleep. So for now, you all shared your dinner nights together at the table, and you and Wade were having an intense stare-down.

“You know, Baby Lee, I should get the last piece because I ended up having to do the dishes because someone couldn’t keep it in their pants,” Wade began his argument, smiling with a raised eyebrow.

You stared at him deadpan and continued to hold your ground. “Then what about last week when I had to do them because someone ended up putting his suit in the washing machine and fucking up the whites in the load, so I had to fix everything?”

“Well, now that’s just not fair-”

“Wade, give her the damn slice,” Logan grumbled as he chugged a cold beer, glaring over at the merc. 

“Oh, now that’s just favoritism!” He retorted.  

You smirked as you leaned slightly against Logan, showing him you appreciated the backup, but your eyes never left Wade’s. “Yeah, Wade, give me the slice,” you said sarcastically. 

What you both didn’t seem to realize as you bickered, Blind Al had snatched the slice and ate it herself, giving a small bite of it to Dogpool, who sat eagerly on Al’s lap. You two didn’t seem to mind much as Logan chuckled to himself, looking over at Al as she chewed away at the cheesy goodness while your argument grew more competitive by the minute. 

By the time you figured it out, you looked over at Logan with a pout and back at Wade. “This is your fault,” you grumbled.

“My fault?! Look here, missy-” Wade huffed and threw an empty solo cup at you.

You gasped and looked at him with a shocked expression, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners. “Oh that’s it, Wilson, you’re dead!” You laughed and launched toward him as he bolted away from you. 

Dogpool made some silly yapping noises as Logan sighed and shook his head, finishing his beer, watching as the life in your eyes came back, it had been steadily returning since your first time with Logan. He noticed the little things that changed in you, and you noticed the changes in him, too. He sat back with a smile as you and Wade fought like children, sort of enjoying the life that surrounded him now, appreciating the ways he and Wade were alike, the way you took care of them both, and just happy with the fact that Logan had felt as if he’d found peace.

That night, you were snuggled against him as you always were, head resting against his chest as you clung to him, but he’d been awake just looking at you. He would stare down at you, brush your loose hairs away from your face as he saw just how peaceful you’d looked, the way you could sleep without having to worry or remain on edge. He felt the same too, he felt safe now, and with you here, there wasn’t anything in the way to stop him. With you here in his arms, he felt that all was right, he’d gotten the ending he wanted, and he felt that your friends would have wanted him to be happy in some capacity. 

You stirred slightly, blinking slowly as you stared up at Logan, meeting his eyes. “Couldn’t sleep?” you asked softly.

His smile grew slightly and the corner of his mouth twitched. “No, I just was thinkin’ is all.”

You hummed in response and readjusted your body, looking up at him comfortably while you pulled the blanket up under your chin. “About what?”

“About how happy I am.”

“Happy, huh?” 

He chuckled and nodded, pulling you closer against his chest as his large arm wrapped around your back, his chin resting gently on your head. “As much as I thought this wasn’t possible like I wasn’t allowed to feel happy while the others… well, you know. But, I think it’s okay, this is okay…”

You smiled and closed your eyes, listening to his steady heartbeat as you placed your hand against his chest. “Everything is gonna be okay, Logan. I know it is because you’re here, and Wade is here for us, too.” 

He scoffed and nuzzled against your hair, closing his eyes, and smiling as he inhaled your scent, the inviting smell of you mingling with his own. As he lay there with you in his arms on the air mattress, he thought that you were right about it despite him not wanting to admit it, everything would work out in the end. It had so far, all thanks to Wade fuckin’ Wilson. 

“That’s good enough for me,” Logan mumbled softly. 

[edenbbarnes]

Cut Your Hair.

summary: You help Bucky cut his hair.

warnings: Comfort | Mentions PTSD & past trauma | Post!Endgame

a/n: I wasn't sure what to write first for this blog, but I can at least start with something I know and that's comfort stuff. So, here we go. I wanted to write a blurb exploring the emotions around his hair for fun. I imagine this time frame is after Endgame, you are living in his apartment in NY. I used a lot of symbolism because I love to include it in fics. Anywayy unedited, so ignore mistakes. wc: 2.3k

You returned to your apartment after a particularly fruitful grocery shopping trip, managing to get all the necessary items for your planned dinner. New York had been experiencing a notable shortage of certain food products recently, so you felt especially fortunate to have acquired all the ingredients on your list. The scarcity had made simple shopping trips feel like treasure hunts, with each found item a small victory.

As you entered the living space, your arms laden with bags full of your culinary prizes, you called out, "Bucky? I'm back!" Your voice carried a mix of excitement about your successful foraging and the slight strain of carrying multiple heavy bags. With a relieved huff, you practically dropped your burdens onto the kitchen counter, the plastic rustling as it settled. You looked forward to telling him of your success, but you hadn’t heard him reply.

The apartment remained eerily quiet in response to your call. The silence was unusual and slightly unsettling, given that Bucky was typically quick to greet you upon your return. Your brow furrowed in confusion and a hint of concern as you scanned the room, anxiety began to creep its way through your body while an assortment of negative thoughts flooded your mind. "Bucky?" you called out again, your voice tinged with a note of uncertainty.

Still, nothing.

Now you started to worry.

You cautiously maneuvered around the counter, your footsteps deliberately quiet as you navigated through the dimly lit living space. The short hallway stretched before you, leading to the bathroom and one of the bedrooms. Your heart raced with each step, the silence of the apartment amplifying every small sound. As you approached, a sliver of light caught your eye - the bathroom door was slightly ajar, a warm glow spilling out into the darkened corridor. A wave of relief washed over you, causing your tense muscles to relax ever so slightly. You exhaled deeply, your hand instinctively moving to your chest as if to calm your pounding heart.

"Bucky," you called out, your voice a mixture of relief and lingering apprehension, "Shit... you really scared me there." The words hung in the air, met only by an eerie silence. Seconds ticked by, and still, there was no response from behind the partially open door. A creeping sense of unease began to settle in the pit of your stomach as you stood there, waiting for a reply that didn't come.

"James?" Your voice quivered with concern as you gently rapped your knuckles against the door. Hesitantly, you pushed it open, the hinges creaking softly. The sight that greeted you made your heart ache in your chest. There he stood, hunched over the bathroom sink, his posture a blatant portrait of distress. His hands, knuckles white with tension, gripped the edges of the ceramic basin as if it were a lifeline. You worried his metal hand would break the fragile ceramic but it looked like he had more self control for the moment. Bucky's head hung low, curtained by the long strands of his hair that fell forward, obscuring his face from view. The absence of his shirt revealed the taut muscles of his back, adorned with long scars, each one rigid and fairly faded, but still there.

No matter what he did to try to scrap them away, they were still there.

Your eyes were drawn to his hair, the ends were jagged and uneven, as though hacked at in a moment of impulse or desperation. Littering the bottom of the sink were the casualties of this impromptu haircut: dark locks intermingled with the gleam of small fabric scissors, splayed against the white porcelain. The air hung heavy with an unspoken tension, leaving you frozen in the doorway, unsure of how to proceed.

"Bucky...what did you do?" You inquired softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your hand moved with cautious deliberation, gently alighting on his shoulder. The moment your fingers made contact, you felt his muscles tense beneath your touch, a reflexive response to the unexpected contact. However, within seconds, the tension melted away as he seemed to recognize you.

Silence hung heavy in the air for what felt like an eternity. Bucky remained motionless, his gaze fixed downward, avoiding eye contact, but eventually he lifted his head ever so slightly. His icy eyes, brimming with an unspoken emotion, met yours in the reflection of the mirror before you. He looked so distressed, his face splotchy and flushed with an angry red, eyes were puffy and swollen from the tears had been running down his face before you came in. His bottom lip protruded slightly in a dejected pout, completing the picture of a man clearly grappling with some internal turmoil.

"What happened?" You prompted again, you kept your voice low and patient. Your words came out as a soothing murmur, not wanting to cause any distress to him, since he was clearly struggling. You felt his body tremble under your hand, your heart broke seeing him like this.

"Don't..." he began, his voice trembling with apprehension. He paused, swallowing hard as if to gather courage before continuing, "Don't be mad..." The words escaped his lips in a barely audible whisper, laden with fear. His entire demeanor spoke volumes, suggesting he was terrified of your potential reaction to something he had done or was about to reveal.

You felt your brow furrow involuntarily as you processed his words, your eyes instinctively seeking out his face once more. The fear etched across his features only deepened your concern.

"Why would I be angry?" you asked, your tone soft and reassuring. "You haven't done anything." Your words were meant to soothe, to dispel the cloud of anxiety that seemed to envelop him. However, your attempt at comfort appeared to have little effect.

He shook his head vigorously in response, the sudden movement causing several stray locks of hair to cascade from his head, pieces he had evidently cut himself - some still clinging stubbornly to his remaining hair.

"Because you cut your hair?" you asked, your voice a mixture of concern and curiosity. The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotions.

He nodded weakly, sniffling to clear his nose. The gesture was small, but it spoke volumes about his emotional state. You sighed softly, the sound barely audible in the quiet room. You reached up and ran your fingers through his still long, but much shorter locks, noting how they now only reached his jaw in some spots, and past his shoulders in others. The texture was different, unfamiliar from the choppy cuts he gave to his hair, clearly indicating his anger towards it.

"You've let it grow out a bit," you observed, your tone careful and neutral. Your fingers continued their soothing motion, offering comfort without words. After a moment of contemplation, you spoke again, your voice soft and reassuring. "I'm not mad, you know. It’s your body, you can do whatever you want with yourself, remember?" You paused, considering your next words carefully. "Do you want some help with it? Maybe we could style it together, find a look you really love, instead of letting you stay like this."

He remained silent for a beat, contemplating your words with a furrowed brow. The weight of his long, unkempt hair seemed to press down on him, both physically and emotionally. An overwhelming desire to rid himself of this burden consumed his thoughts. He yearned to feel the liberating sensation of shorter hair, to shed the heaviness that had settled upon him like a thick, suffocating blanket. In his mind, cutting his hair felt liberating. He had been stripped of all bodily autonomy for so long, this was something he wanted to do. For himself.

His head inclined, giving a sharp nod. "Yes...yes, please..." he replied with a soft rasp, "Cut it all."

You were certainly no professional hairdresser, but with the assistance of a few hastily searched tutorial videos on YouTube, you managed to grasp the basic concepts and techniques. The shorter hairstyle he wanted alleviated a lot of pressure you had to make it perfect, so a quick cut and shave would be easy compared to any sort of specific styling. As he settled into the chair you pulled into the bathroom, you grabbed the scissors and let out a deep breath to calm yourself.

Carefully, you began the process of trimming away at his dark, lustrous locks, cutting the long pieces away with scissors first before you'd clean it with a buzzer. Each calculated snip was made carefully, regularly checking in with him to make sure he was still doing fine. You found yourself completely engrossed in the task, paying close attention to maintain an even trim.

The freshly cut strands danced through the air for a brief moment before gently descending to the cool tile floor of the bathroom. Upon contact with the ground, the severed locks curled and twisted, creating an abstract pattern around his feet. The contrast of the dark hair against the light-colored tiles made your heart throb, the meaning behind cutting his hair away was much deeper than any outside eye could comprehend.

You didn't notice his tears at first, but as more of his hair fell away, the evidence of his emotional turmoil became undeniable. His shoulders quivered beneath the weight of his feelings, the internal struggle becoming more visible to you. You maintained your composure, focusing on the task at hand, your fingers steady as they continued to work through his locks. Dark tear trails etched paths down his cheeks, struggling with handling it all on his own.

When you finally reached for the electric clippers, the soft click as you turned them on echoed in the silence of the bathroom. He closed his eyes then, a gesture of surrender or perhaps trust, allowing you to proceed with this final, most drastic stage of the cut. The gentle vibration of the buzzer filled the air, a constant, reassuring hum that seemed to ground you both in the present moment. Bucky gave the occasional sniffle, the emotional undertones of this act filled both of you.

With a final buzz, you switched off the clippers and gently placed them in the sink. Your fingers glided through his freshly trimmed hair, feeling the soft, short strands beneath your touch. The cut was perfect - a smile played on your lips as you admired your handiwork, you were proud of yourself. "Wow..." you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, "You look just like that old photograph I have of you. It's like stepping back in time." Your words were soft and full of gentle admiration. Softly, you encouraged him to open his eyes, eager to see his reaction to his new look.

"What do you think, sergeant?" you asked, your voice tinged with anticipation as you waited for him to fully take in his reflection. As he gazed into the mirror, a profound sense of unfamiliarity washed over him. The face staring back was simultaneously familiar and foreign, he didn’t react like you expected but honestly…what did you expect? He looked disoriented and unsettled by his own reflection.

It felt so... strange, almost surreal. The sensation was akin to looking at a photograph of a long-lost relative, recognizing traces of familiarity but ultimately confronting the reality of a stranger. It felt like he were dreaming, seeing a resemblance of the man he once was - a version of himself that now seemed to belong to a distant, unreachable past.

The realization that this former self was now forever out of reach hit him with unexpected force. He knew he’d never be the person he was again, but seeing himself like this just…felt so sudden. Bucky felt the sick twinge of grief, as if he just lost a dear friend or a beloved family member, but the person he was mourning was his former self.

He had once cherished his former self, but that version of Bucky had long since vanished. HYDRA, black tendrils wrapped around him with its insidious grasp, had extinguished his essence, snuffing out his very being like a feeble, flickering ember desperately clinging to life in the face of an unforgiving winter storm.

Bucky found himself irrevocably altered. No longer was he the vibrant, spirited individual of his past, now reduced to nothing more than a charred remnant of his former self - a piece of blackened charcoal, devoid of the warmth and light that had once defined him. The flames of his identity, once burning bright with passion and purpose, had been mercilessly extinguished, leaving behind only the cold, lifeless ashes of who he used to be.

The cold consumed him, trapping him in a relentless, chilling embrace. Cryo never truly left him, the sensation continued to maintain its icy hold on him, refusing to let go. But, you...you were what he needed more than anything else in the world. You taught him what it was like to have a gentle touch, to be loved and cared for no matter what he did in his past.

You were patient.

You were loving.

You were nurturing.

You helped him throughout his long and dreary recovery, standing by his side throughout every visit to the doctor or hospital, the endless nights where he couldn’t sleep, the panic attacks that left his throat raw and eyes burning. When the days seemed darkest for him, you were there to thaw the ice that had frozen him for so long.

Winter slowly began to surrender to the bloom of spring, and you were the greatest force of nature he knew.

Bucky's voice emerged as a soft whisper after several minutes spent silently staring at his reflection in the mirror, the steady stream of tears cascading down his face had been completely unnoticed to him. You gently wiped the tears away, your thumbs tenderly brushing against his cheekbones as you dried them with care and affection.

“It’s perfect..”

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

Cover images from Pinterest.

[silenttrxxs]

vampire choi san! x reader

nsfw!, smut, angst (if you squint), mentions of blood, comsumptions of blood, wounds

it was another normal day, well thats what you thought to yourself. you walked the same route everyday grabbing coffee in the same shop as normal but it felt off, the coffee tasted more bitter than normal, the hot liquid burning your throat and causing you to whimper a little, the pounding in your head becoming increasingly more unbareable, taking yourself out the shop and stepping into the bright sun basking over the city you knew of old. you winced as it beat down on you trying hard to sheild your eyes from the glare finding shade in a nearby alleyway as you rooted through your handbag pulling out some tablets to cure the pain searing through your skull.

you felt a breeze as you watched the tablets fly from your grasp onto the floor and the world become black.

you blinked rapildly the bright light shining above your bringing the burning headache to come back with avengance, you winced and moved trying to block yourself with the pillow, groaning as you felt a sharp pain in your mouth and abdomen you whined and held onto the pillow the pain increasing more and more you looked around finding the help button and pressing it reapeatdly.

San was busy seeing to other patients in the hospital, his pager buzzing inssesantly as he grabbed it and looked at the number, grabbing his coat and stethascope and walking down the hallways pushing back the curtains and looking at your frail body writhing in pain. he spoke up annoucing his arrival.

"hi, y/n im doctor choi, ill be helping you today, we gathered your details from your id in your bag before admission, how are you feeling?"

you looked up squinting and wincing a little at the light behind him, you tried to speak but a hoarse whisper exited your mouth.

"it hurts; my entire body feels like its on fire doctor, can we at least have the lights out or something in here?"

san laughed a little standing closer over the bed sheilding the light from you and smiling down at you as he looked at your face taking in the look, noticing the hollow bags under your eyes and the slight shine of red glinting, he breathed knowing excatly what the diagnosis would be and knowing he didnt have long to help you.

"y/n i believe you have something serious and will need to be contained in quarentine for a while, i will guide you there myself and will ensure your full recovery, i will ensure that this condition is fully tested and my suspicions are deemed correct"

you looked up at him offering a weak attempt at a smile, you had no fight left to entertain the usual sharp witted back comments that you would usually come out with.

"okay" you breathed out weakly.

"i will carry you to the area and this will free up this bed" san said ushering a porter to take the bedding and picking your frail body up, in different circumstances this would have been something youd see in k-dramas, or in your dreams, being carried bridal style. you couldnt even bring yourself to enjoy the moment the searing hot flush of what felt like lava flooding through your veins, the pain in your abdomen becoming more painful by the second you held onto him with all the might you could muster hiding your face in his chest sheilding from the light.

san walked carefully and smiled to his collegues as he nodded to his collegue to sign your discharge note, thanking him before he walked outside, he placed you onto your feet, you wobbled a little as he fished his keys from his pocket and unlocked his car, guiding you to the door and helping you inside.

"y/n you can hear me right?" he spoke out looking to you as he sat in the seat before starting the car.

"yeah, i hear you loud and clear doctor" you breathed out feeling a little better as you looked around the tinted windows sheilding the glare of the sun.

"right, before i drive i have to tell you something"

"okay im listening..."

"firstly since i have clocked off now you can call me san, now i must explain that you will feel much better in no time if you are willing to allow me to take you to my place"

"i- erm i dont have a choice san i need help, this hurts so much"

"i know okay so ... wow how do i say this without sounding crazy"

"huh"

san noticed the wound on your forearm, clearly the wound had stopped healing due to your lack of food and blood.

"well look at your arm"

he gently lifted your arm showing you the wound.

"wait what is this"

"well this something thats going to sound crazy, you know that myths are real, vampire, gods all that... yeah its real and we live amongst everyone quite happily"

san breathed out looking out the window as he leant into his glovebox pulling out what looked like a cough sweet, taking the wrapper between his teeth forcing a fang to glint your way as he snarled a little and sucked the sweet out the wrapper.

"youre no longer human sweetie, i can help you but you first have to trust me"

"w-what why when huh?"

"its simple darling you got bitten, your turned now youre hungry and need to feed"

"o-on what"

"blood silly, now take this and ill get you some more when we get to my place"

he handed you the sweet carefully and watched as you took it and let out a slight moan at the feeling.

"i made this to help when im working"

"its so good oh my god"

"glad to hear now lets get going shall we"

san said starting the car and driving to his place.

pulling into the driveway he got out opening the door and awaiting your exit, noticing you felt a little better and was able to walk unaided he still walked with his arm behind you ensure to catch you if you was to fall. he unlocked the door and guided you into the living room.

the decor all dark and mysterious looking, curtains drawn to sheild the light from pouring in. breathing a sigh of relief he wandered to the sofa, unshering you to sit with him.

"now i am about to sound completely and utterly mad as this isnt how i usually do thing when this occurs but for some reason youve drove me crazy since i laid eyes on you"

san moved his shirt, exposing his collarbone and pulsing veins in his neck before tapping the area.

"let yourself go honey, do not feel frightened the thirst will be quenched after this i promise you"

you looked at him shocked, the exposed skin sending shivers down your spine, a searing fire feeling like it had been set off in your brain as you took in his entire form, your eyes landing on his and taking in the pure adoration and trust behind his irises.

"i trust you and i know how to make you stop darling dont worry"

you sighed as you leant closer, gasping a little as you felt his hands grip you and pull you onto his lap, settling you down and carressing the small dip in your back, if the hunger hadnt been comsuming your brain and the insessent throbbing of his veins sounding in your ears you may have gone a little mad and run away.

"t-thank you" you breathed out before latching your teeth into his neck, the blood seeping from his vein into your mouth, you moaned at the feeling of the hot liquid spilling down the back of your throat. you sucked and sucked feeling your body healing as you fed from him.

you lifted up, blood dripping from your mouth and down your chin as you looked down at him, a pleasured look plastered on yours and his face as you smiled.

"i- i can i?" you breathed out as you had the thought of kissing him flash through your brain.

"do it, now" he spoke lifting a hand to slide behind your head in the small nape of your neck guiding your moved closer before your lips attached into a passionate and hungry kiss. bodies entertwining as you both fought for dominance.

all that could be heard from the room was the sounds of breathy moans and kissing, your body taking action before you could even rationalise it, your hips moving against his increasing bulge. a stuttered moan leaving his body as you both caught onto this notion of where this was going.

you locked eyes for a second and nodded before moving at what felt like a second your clothes now shredded from your body, scattered across the floor along with his own and his body towering over yours as he gripped your thighs rubbing them and spreading your legs apart.

"fuck y/n" he moaned out as he guided his fingers over your slick folds, your body shivering at his every touch.

"s-san" you breathed out your hips bucking up into his touch.

"now now only good girls get rewarded" a

you groaned and gasped as his fingers slipped inside your hole, the wind being knocked out of you as he curved his fingers finding that delicous sweet spot, aiming for that every single time he thrusted his fingers inside you, watching the way you arched into his touch, your arm covering your face as you tried to contain yourself.

"nu uh i wanna see your face when i make you cum baby, now let go and cum over my fingers princess"

you clenched around his fingers as the wave of your orgasm flowed through your body at an alarming pace, you felt a hand pinning your arm above your head and saw the way san moaned as you gripped onto him urging him closer.

"f-fuck o-oh my god san" you moaned out as you came around his fingers, your juices flowing from you down his knuckles.

"good girl" he breathed out. taking his hand and wiping it.

his hand gliding down his body as he watched your hungry gaze.

taking his own length in his hand and stroking gently-

"f-fuck look at you clenching around nothing, so hungry for my cock arent you princess" he teased as he let his length glide over your folds, before guiding himself into you gently, letting your body pulsate and throb around him. he bit his bottom lip and held back a moan as you sucked him in fully and looked up at him.

"fuck me san please" you breathed out you body arching into him as you urged him to move.

"f-fuck oh my god" he moaned out starting to thrust into you hard, his nails digging into your hips as he pounded into you, your body becoming like jelly as he fucked you.

"fuck look at you, drooling over cock huh?" he said as he landed a slap to your ass drawing out a moan from you.

"looks like i found my perfect little cocksleeve huh?" he teased and moaned as he felt your walls instantly envelope him bringing him closer to his own impending orgasm.

"fuck baby im gonna cum" he breathed out as he gripped onto your hips harshly, the sounds filling the room almost cheesily pornographic, he looked down a thin layer of sweat coating the pair of your, hair dishelvled, the cockdumb look on your face broke him, he groaned loudly and thrusted into you brutally halting his movements as he spilled inside you. breathing heavily as he watched your face contort in pleazure and the way your walls clenched around him signalling your own orgasm has approached with him.

"f-fuck" he breathed out pulling out of you gently grabbing a cloth and coming back quickly.

"w-well... well talk about that another time let me just clean you up and we can chill and get to know a little more... than this about each other" san sighed and laughed as he wiped you down ensuring you was clean and comfy, grabbing his hoodie from the sofa where he left it in the morning before work.

"here wear this although were cold blooded ... we still feel semi normal things and plus i owe you some new clothes" he laughed looking around the room.

"pick anything ill be back" he ushered to the tv and remote before running to grab some joggers and returning to see you picked a movie.

"now ... i could get used to this" you both spoke at the same time. laughing and cuddling on the couch.