#the feeling of warmth and movement and light

[ctblanctt]

UNAUTHORIZED DIVORCE.

✷ n. romanoff x fem!ex wife!reader

Warnings: Explicit content, g!p!nat, dom!nat, sub!reader, p in v, creampie, no condoms used, explicit language, dirty talk, fingering (r receiving), oral (r receiving), hair pulling, toxic!nat, nat invades the reader's house, manipulation, Breeding Kink. Men/minors dni.

⌗ Solnyshko ⥱ solnyshko is a diminutive form of "sun", used to convey warmth, light and affection.

The rain was pounding against the windows when you heard the noise.

A soft click of the lock. The sound of boots on the floor.

You sat up in bed, your heart racing, before the lights suddenly came on.

And there she was.

Natasha Romanoff, standing in the middle of your room, drenched from the rain, her tactical uniform clinging to her like a second skin. In her fingers, dangling carelessly, were the divorce papers—torn in half.

"You…" Your voice trailed off. "How did you get in here?"

Natasha smiled, slowly, like a predator before its prey.

"Do you really think a lock would stop me?" She dropped the papers to the floor, stepping on them. "I gave you two years, Solnyshko. Two years for you to realize you were making a mistake."

You stepped back, but she was already too close, the heat of her body burning even through her wet clothes.

"The divorce is final," you insisted, getting up from the bed, trying to sound firm.

Natasha laughed, low and husky, one hand gripping your wrist while the other slid to your waist.

"Oh, really?" She pulled you close, until you felt exactly how happy she was to see you. "Because the civil records say otherwise."

Your stomach lurched. She was lying. She had to be.

Natasha saw the doubt in your eyes and smiled, her lips moving close to your ear.

"Want to see?" She pulled a document from her pocket—a marriage certificate, intact, with both of your names still engraved on it. "It never made it to court. You're still my wife."

The air left your lungs.

Before you could react, Natasha pushed you against the wall, her body pressing against yours, hard and demanding.

"And now," she whispered, her teeth grazing your neck, "you'll remember exactly what this means."

Natasha didn't wait for your answer. Her lips met yours in a kiss that felt more like a fiery declaration of war, possessive and filled with the pent-up rage of two long years. You tried to resist, but your traitorous body responded as it always had, arching against her as if you'd never been apart.

Her hands roamed your body with the familiarity of someone who'd never forgotten a single detail, awakening every inch of your skin with touches that blended pain and pleasure in perfect measure. "You thought you could just erase me?" she growled between bites on your neck, her fingers squeezing your waist hard enough to leave marks. "That I'd let you go?"

Your knees weakened as her fingers found the skin beneath your nightgown, gliding with irritating familiarity over the places only she knew so well.

"You still react the same," Natasha observed, satisfied, as a moan escaped your lips despite yourself. "Two years and your body still remembers who it belongs to."

"I don't belong to you," you breathed, even as your legs involuntarily parted at the feel of her knee pressing between them.

Natasha laughed, low and husky, as her other hand dropped to your hip. "Such a sweet lie. Let's see how long you can keep it up."

In one movement, she threw you onto the bed, covering your body with hers before you could react. The torn divorce papers landed beside the pillow—a silent reminder of the farce she'd engineered.

"Now," Natasha whispered, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand while the other ran down your body like a sentence, "let's settle this little rebellion."

Her fingers traced the contour of your hip before slipping beneath your nightgown, eliciting an involuntary shiver from your skin. "Two years without touching you," she murmured, her lips trailing along your collarbone. "Two years of abstinence. Do you have any idea what you did to me?"

Her hand dropped abruptly, her fingers finding the heat between your legs through the thin silk of your panties. You gasped, trying to close your legs, but Natasha's knee was already firmly positioned between them.

"It seems someone was waiting for me," she observed with a predatory smile, feeling your wetness through the fabric. "Even after all this time. Even pretending to forget me."

Your hips moved against your will, seeking the contact your body still remembered so well. Natasha growled in satisfaction.

"That's right, solnyshko. Don't fight it." Her teeth clamped down on your earlobe. "You were always mine. I was just lending you to the world for a while."

With a sudden movement, she ripped the thin silk barrier, making you shiver at the cool air against your exposed skin. "But the loan is over."

Her fingers found your clit unceremoniously, circling with the precision of someone who had the map of your body committed to memory. "Let's see how many 'no's' you can say when you're screaming my name," she challenged, increasing the pressure exactly at the point that made you see stars.

The orgasm hit you like a speeding train, tearing a muffled scream against Natasha's shoulder as your body writhed beneath her hands. She didn't give you time to catch your breath.

"Only the first," she announced, descending through your body like a storm. "I'll collect every day we spend apart." Her tongue found your center with a sharp thrust, making you writhe again. "With interest."

Outside, the rain continued to pound against the windows, muffling the sounds of your moans and Natasha's husky voice between your legs, murmuring in Russian all the things she would do to you until dawn.

"Now do you understand?" Natasha whispered, her voice rough as she emerged from between your legs, her chin wet and her eyes burning with renewed possessiveness. "No paper, no time, no distance will change what you are."

Her fingers—still damp from you—clasped your chin tightly. "Mine. Forever."

When she rose from the bed, you thought for a moment she was leaving. Until you heard the sound of her belt being unbuckled, wet clothes falling to the floor. Natasha emerged from the darkness like a ghost from all your dreams and nightmares—naked, imposing, and hard as stone.

"Time to remember your place," she growled, flipping you onto your stomach with a force that made the mattress tremble. Your knees dragged against the sheets as she positioned herself behind you, one hand tangling in your hair to pull your head back.

"Say it. Say it's mine." The tip of her cock pressed against your entrance, making you moan loudly. "Or I'll make you spend the whole night pretending you don't want this."

You tried to swallow your pride, but your body was already betraying you, pushing back against her in a silent plea. Natasha laughed, a dark, victorious laugh.

"I knew you missed this." She slammed into you in one go, tearing a cry from your lips as she filled you completely after so long. "So tight, almost like you've been waiting just for me."

Her hips began to move with a relentless rhythm, each thrust calculated to hit that spot inside you that made your vision blur. One of her hands gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises, while the other continued to pull at your hair, keeping your back arched perfectly beneath her.

"You will sign the new papers tomorrow," Natasha ordered between deep thrusts, her voice trembling with the effort of maintaining control. "The correct ones this time. With a marital obedience clause."

When you tried to open your mouth to protest, she chose that moment to deliver a particularly strong one, making you scream and clutch at the sheets.

"Oh no, solnyshko," she growled, leaning over your back, her lips hot against your ear. "You lost the right to speak when you tried to run away from me." Her teeth ground into your shoulder. "Now just listen and accept."

The rain outside increased, matching the frenetic rhythm of your bodies. Natasha was everywhere—in the sound of her heavy breathing, in the smell of her sweat mixed with the rain, in the delicious pain of her relentless possession.

And when the second orgasm hit, stronger than the first, you finally understood—there was no escape. Natasha Romanoff wasn't the kind of woman who took no for an answer. And, God help you, part of you loved it.

The air rushed from your lungs as she pulled you back hard, each thrust now calculated to hit that spot inside you that made your body tremble uncontrollably.

"Two years without filling you like you deserve," she murmured, her lips warm against your spine as one hand moved down to your abdomen, pressing there as if she could feel every inch of her inside you. "Two years without marking you inside, without leaving you dripping wet for days."

Her fingers dug into the sheets as she changed the angle, hitting a spot that made your legs tremble.

"I'll fill you to overflowing," Natasha promised, her voice husky with pent-up pleasure. "Until there's not a single inch of you left that isn't marked as mine."

Her rhythm became erratic, more brutal, and you knew she was close—you could feel it in the way her nails dug into your skin, in her labored breath against your back.

"And when I'm done," she continued, her teeth digging into your shoulder, "I'll start again. Until I'm sure you've got it. Until you forget you ever tried to live without this. Without me."

Your name escaped her lips in a moan as she finally reached her climax, spilling herself inside you with a victorious growl that echoed through the room. Natasha didn't stop immediately—she continued moving slowly, prolonging the pleasure for both of you while whispering words in Russian that you didn't need to understand to feel.

When she finally collapsed onto your back, sweaty and panting, her lips found your ear in an almost tender kiss.

"Tomorrow," Natasha murmured, her fingers tracing possessive circles on your toned hip, "we'll go to the registry office. You'll sign the new papers." Her teeth grazed your ear, "The ones that say 'forever' this time."

You tried to turn to face her, but your body was limp, exhausted, still trembling with the echoes of pleasure. "And if I refuse?"

Natasha laughed, a dark laugh that made your stomach churn with anticipation. "Then I'll take you tied up. And then I'll make you sign on your knees." Her hand slid between your legs, slowly collecting the proof of her possession. "Have you thought about it, solnyshko? Me fucking you while you try to write your name..."

Your body reacted before your mind could process it, a moan escaping against your will. Natasha smiled victoriously.

"You'll never say no to me again," she promised, licking her fingers devotedly. "Nor will you want to."

As she lay down beside you and pulled you against her body, you noticed something cold on your finger—your wedding ring, replaced while you were distracted. Natasha intertwined your fingers with hers, the two rings glinting together.

"Welcome back to the wedding, solnyshko," she whispered, sealing the promise with a kiss.

[texassmashmyass]

Behind Closed Curtains

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: You never meant to catch Superman sneaking home, but one glimpse through his window changes everything. Now you’re standing in your living room, half-dressed and breathless, face-to-face with the hero you’ve secretly watched for months… and you’re about to find out just how long he’s been watching you too.

Tags/warnings: smut, voyeurism, size kink

Note: I saw Superman over the weekend and just had to write this. I’m not super familiar with all things DC, so please be kind!

The night breeze caressed your skin. You were curled up in a small chair on your balcony, glass of wine in your left hand and a romance novel in your right. The work week had left you mentally and physically exhausted after handling project deadlines and team meetings. Your tiny balcony barely fit a table and a single chair, but it was your oasis. You had your small plants and herbs surrounding you, and you allowed yourself to close out the noise from your neighbors above and below you in an effort to wind down.

You took a small sip from your glass, eyes roaming the lines on the page before you. They seemed to all merge into a large, jumbled mess, and you sighed, closing the book before setting it on the table beside you. The cheesy romance book you bought off a whim was not nearly as entertaining as people watching was, and you looked over the other large buildings that surrounded you, lights emitting from the windows serving as little pockets into the lives of the people that inhabited them. You stared some, seeing shadows walk across the room, lights flashing in some from the television set, before your eyes landed on the apartment that was in the building directly across from yours.

The apartment across the way was dark, no hint of movement tonight. Too bad. He was always nice to look at.

You had seen the man who lived across the way multiple times before from your balcony or window. Sometimes you would have your morning coffee and see him rush back and forth as he got ready for work. Other times, you would see him lounging in his living room. Once, you had caught him looking at you as you moved about in your home. Whenever you had caught him looking, he seemed flustered, and waved a hand up, seeming as an apology.

You took another sip from your glass, sighing out as you felt the warmth from the alcohol slowly seep into your system, helping your body relax. Staring up at the sky, you only saw a few stars and the blinking lights of planes as they flew overhead. Feeling the effects from the wine and the long week hit your body, you decided it was time for bed. You stood up from your chair, about to turn towards the glass door, before you froze. Your breath caught in your throat, legs locking up at the sight before you. A large figure in a recognizable flash of red and blue had just flown into the apartment in the building across from yours through an open window.

You watched as he landed in the apartment, moving through with ease and familiarity that left you with no doubt. The man you had been ogling for months was the hero of Metropolis: Superman.

Glass shattering snapped you from your trance. Wine splattered the balcony, and your eyes shot up, only to find a pair of piercing blue eyes staring back, as shocked as yours.

You were caught.

Feeling indecent as you were only clad in a large t-shirt meant for sleep and panties, you took a few steps back, heart sinking in your chest as you stared at the man in the adjacent building. Shit shit shit shit shit. Without letting your eyes off of him, you blindly reached for the sliding door, fingers grasping the handle as you yanked it aside and backed into the living room. He continued to stare back at you, shock starting to wear off. You kept backing up, eyes locked on his, until your legs hit the coffee table. One second, he was staring back at you from across the street. The next, a rush of wind, and he was in your living room. The breeze from the open door was not the reason for your trembling body. It was the 6’4 mass of a man that was towering over you.

Your mouth opened and closed, gaping like a fish out of water as you searched for words. Instead of something clever, you whispered, “I’m sorry?”

He stared down at you, head tilting to the side. “Sorry?”

Body shaking, you stepped to the side of the table before taking a step back. “Y-Yeah, I’m sorry I saw you. I didn’t mean to look, I was just reading, and then you were there.” Your hands reached up apologetically. “I won’t tell anyone about you living there, I promise.”

His eyes widened, and he took a step forward. “You’re mistaken.” He glanced at the broken wine glass on your balcony. “Miss, you’ve had a long night. You should sleep.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks. You knew what you saw, and you saw him go into the apartment across the way, moving in it as though he had lived there. It made sense- the stature of his body, hair color- everything matched the handsome man you had been unintentionally watching for the past few months.

“Are you really trying to gaslight me? You literally look like him, and you knew exactly what window to fly into.”

He let out a soft huff, arms crossing over his broad chest as he towered above you. “I don’t live there. I was checking in on… a situation. That’s all.”

You raised your brows, folding your arms with your chin held high, still trying to ignore the fact that you were only half dressed. “A situation? So, you just… fly through random apartments in the middle of the night?”

He glanced away, jaw tightening. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

A spark of irritation bubbled up through your embarrassment. “Well, maybe you do. I’ve seen you in that apartment for months. Eating dinner. Folding laundry. Watching TV. Unless ‘laundry day’ is a world-saving crisis now, I’m pretty sure you live there.”

His eyes snapped back to yours, narrowing slightly. “You watch me?” His tone shifted; less surprise, more an edge of reprimand that made your stomach flip.

You scoffed, heat rising to your cheeks. “Don’t act all high and mighty. You’ve watched me too! Or did you think I didn’t notice you staring at me through your window?”

His mouth opened, then closed. For a moment, he looked downright flustered. The same way you’d seen him look that morning you caught him waving apologetically after staring at you.

You tilted your head, emboldened by his silence. “So don’t stand there and act like I’m some creepy voyeur when you’ve been doing the exact same thing.”

He stepped closer, closing the gap between the two of you. The faint scent of crisp air and something vaguely electric brushed over you. “You shouldn’t make a habit of spying on people. It’s dangerous.”

You lifted your chin, pulse hammering in your ears. “Then maybe you shouldn’t make a habit of leaving your windows open. Or staring back.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. Your heart pounded in your chest as you both stared into each other's eyes. His lips twitched, just barely, like he was fighting back a grin.

“Well,” He murmured, his hand lifted, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, “can you blame me? I saw a beautiful girl in the building across from me who never seems to close her curtains.”

Your breath hitched, heat blooming in your chest. You were overaware of his towering presence over you. “I just enjoy natural light, that’s all…” The confidence from your argument slipped away, replaced by the tingling awareness you’d been ignoring for months: that all this time, you’d both been looking.

Your eyes dropped from his face to the floor. “I really won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

The cool breeze from the open door made you aware of warmth radiating off his body. You yearned to move closer, but you stopped yourself.

“You really shouldn’t watch me. I’m supposed to have a cover.” His voice was rough.

You lifted your head, your eyes searching his blue eyes, acknowledging the hunger you saw in them before whispering back. “Then you shouldn’t give me something to look at.”

He moved in closer, leaning down towards you so you were nearly nose to nose. His breath ghosted your lips, and you felt a warmth surge to your core as his deep voice rumbled out. “Careful.”

“Make me.”

His lips pressed against yours, featherlight at first, testing. The large hand that had moved the hair from your face moved down to the base of your head, cradling it and your neck, while the other landed on your waist, so large that it covered most of your side. Your hands went to his chest, fingers rubbing against the massive display of muscle as you kissed him back. Feeling your willingness, he deepened the kiss with a quiet, controlled hunger that made your knees weak and fanned the fire that was already at your core.

The hand on your waist tightened, and he pulled you closer until your body was flush with his. His lips demanded more, and you felt a rush course through your body as his teeth gently nipped at your bottom lip. You gasped in response, only for his tongue to dive into your mouth. Your thighs clenched together, trying to gain some sort of friction, before his lips left yours.

He breathed hard, the hand on your waist flexed, possessive yet restrained. “If you want to stop, tell me now. I can go home, and we can forget this ever happened.”

You shook your head, going back up on your tippy toes to press your lips against his. “Please don’t stop. I want this. I’ve wanted you-”

His lips claimed yours again, the corners of his mouth curling into a grin he couldn’t fight as he kissed you deeper, hungrier. His thumb traced your jaw, then slid down to your throat, before both hands bracketed your waist. In one smooth motion, he lifted you as if you weighed nothing. You locked your legs around him, arms winding up his broad shoulders. His mouth devoured yours like a man starved, every careful bit of restraint falling away as your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, closer until the only thing you could feel was the fire you’d both spent months pretending wasn’t there.

He started toward your bedroom, carrying you like you weighed nothing at all. A shiver ran down your spine at the realization that he didn’t need directions- he already knew exactly where to go. The thought that he’d watched you more than the one time you caught him made the heat in your core surge, pooling low and sweet as you clung tighter to him.

Pushing your door open, he walked you inside before he leaned down and placed you onto your bed. The plushness of the mattress was a stark contrast to his hard, muscled body, and you stared up at him, chest rising and falling rapidly. You could see the evidence of his arousal through his superhero get-up. Like the rest of his body, you could tell that he was massive, and your thighs once again clenched together while you squirmed, trying to get some sort of relief.

Moving on pure instinct, you crawled to your knees on the bed, looking up at him through your lashes. His eyes never left yours, and he watched as you leaned forward so that you were on your hands and knees, face only inches from his clothed dick. Your warm breath puffed against him, and his entire body shuddered. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride overcome you, seeing the strongest man in the city, if not the world, react to you in such a way.

You reached a hand up to him, grasping onto his length before you ran your tongue over where the tip would be. A ragged groan left his body, and he leaned into your touch as you ran your hand up and down, creating friction from his clothes while simultaneously closing your mouth over him. The fabric over his tip was increasingly getting wet from your mouth, and you paused, looking up to see him with his fist clenched like it was taking everything in him to hold back.

“Is this okay?” You batted your lashes at him.

He panted, voice strained, “Sweetheart, it’s more than okay.” You took this as a go-ahead and moved in to continue before a gentle tug at your hair stopped you. “But, I think if anyone needs to be prepared, it’s you.”

An involuntary whine escaped your lips. Sure, you were no virgin, but you had never taken on someone of his size. His large hands moved under your arms, picking you up before laying you back on the bed with ease. Your sleep shirt rose up over your stomach, leaving your soaked panties exposed to his eyes. He took you in, relishing in how your hair was splayed over the sheets, the red tint in your cheeks, and the undeniable arousal that made it to where he could just make out the outline of your lips and entrance.

He crawled over your body, the bed shifting under his weight. One leg rested between your legs, and he leaned down, taking your lips into his once more. You kissed him back, legs clenching around his own, trying to grind against him in an effort to get some type of relief.

His hands roamed your body, and you shivered, feeling his fingertips go from your stomach to underneath your shirt. He palmed your breast, giving a light squeeze before he took your nipple into his fingers, pinching it. You shamelessly moaned into his mouth, and he took that as a sign of encouragement to continue. His other hand moved from your waist down to your hip. His thumb rubbed over the bone a few times, catching on your panties before he grabbed hold. He tugged them down, and you lifted your hips for him, desperate not to make him tear them in his impatience. A shudder coursed through your body, and you felt the cool air hit your wet folds.

He broke the kiss, sitting up before he moved down the bed. His mouth grazed your body as he went down, lips kissing and lightly nipping at your neck and arms before he was faced with your glistening pussy. He inhaled your scent, unable to hold back a groan. “You’re intoxicating.” He gently kissed the top of your mound, slowly making his way down until his lips found your clit. He began to eat you out like his life depended on it, and your thighs clenched around his head as he moved his tongue against you in a way that completely and utterly unraveled you.

“Yes, yes, yes-” Your back arched, hips pressing against his mouth before your hand reached down and tangled in his dark hair. “Please keep going. Please, I need it.”

He continued, his strong left hand grabbing your thigh, massaging it while his right hand moved below his head. His fingers traced the outside of your entrance, becoming wet from your arousal. He languidly moved his fingers against your skin as he moved his tongue against your clit before he pressed a single finger in. He moved it in and out in a steady rhythm, taking in the sweet sounds coming from you before he added another.

“Oh fuck- yes, that’s it!”

Encouraged by your cries, he continued, his tongue and fingers moving at a fast pace that you were sure you would never be able to recover from. He was going to ruin you. You could feel the build-up of the night start to take over, coiling up, making your entire body tighten.

“I’m getting close, please,” You cried out, and he moved at an inhuman pace, and you knew you would never be able to replicate it again on your own. No one could do this but him. His tongue continued to circle your clit, and his fingers moved within you at a punishing pace.

“Oh, oh, god!” Your eyes clenched shut, and your legs shook as a wave of pleasure washed over you. He continued, easing you through it as you came on his face and hand.

You panted hard, trying to catch your breath. The bed shifted, and his weight was off of yours before you heard the sound of clothes hitting the floor. You peeked your eyes open, body feeling like jelly, and watched in awe as he approached the bed.

His body was perfect- almost godlike. A sudden sense of self-consciousness began to gnaw at you, and you tried to cover your chest with your arms and close your legs, but his hand reached out to stop you.

“Don't.” His voice was soft, yet firm. “Let me see you.”

You swallowed, searching his face, nothing but hunger and awe. Your arms fell back to your sides. He crawled back over you, bracing himself on his forearms, caging you in. His lips brushed your jaw, your cheek, then found yours again, deep, claiming. You kissed him back, trying to keep up with his intensity before gasping- the heavy weight of his dick pressed against your thigh, and you shuddered in anticipation. You’d been prepared… but nothing prepared you for how big he really was.

You ran one hand up to his hair, tangling your fingers as you kissed him while the other reached down between your bodies, grabbing at his length. His body shuddered, and he moaned into your mouth as you took him into your hand, rubbing up and down his length. His hips bucked against your fist, trying to move faster so he could gain more relief.

You continued to jerk him, moving your lower body and adjusting your hips so that your wet core was rubbing against his head. He broke the kiss, lips moving over your cheek before he asked. “Are you ready?”

You nodded your head, hand guiding him towards your entrance before he took the lead, and you let go. His dick spread between your lips, and you had a sharp intake of breath feeling his head brush against your clit. He rolled his hips down again, his member pressing against your opening before he began to go in.

Even with the prep, nothing could have prepared you for how incredibly girthy he was. Your walls stretched around him, burning as you tried to accommodate. He could feel how tense your body had become, and he moved slowly. Eyes locked with yours to make sure you were okay. “Is this okay?”

You smiled at him, trying to reassure him that you were fine, before you moved your hips back to his. “Yes, it’s perfect. Please don’t stop.”

He rocked his hips against yours, and the burning sensation quickly left, replaced by the overwhelming sense of arousal. You could tell that his careful and restrained actions were coming to a halt, as you were able to take more and more of him until you were completely full, filled to the brim. Your head was spinning, and you leaned up, blindly kissing his neck and shoulders while trying to match his pace.

He let out a breathy moan, one arm moving around your waist to hold you in place. “You’re doing so good. So good for me.”

You preened at his praise and kissed him harder, nipping at his skin while meeting your hips with his. Your mattress squeaked under the pressure, and he used his free hand to move between your bodies. His thumb brushed against your clit, and you jumped.

“Give me just one more.”

“But I-”

He silenced you by pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I know you can do it. Be a good girl and give me one more. Just one more.”

Your body felt overstimulated, and you clenched your eyes shut, burying your face into the crook of his neck. You focused on the feeling of his dick piercing you, slamming in and out at a rough pace while the pad of his thumb rubbed circles over your nub at a rhythm that made your toes curl. Quicker than the first, you felt a second orgasm start to build. You wrapped your arms around his body, keeping your face in his neck as another wave of pleasure crashed over you. Tears streaked down your face, and you gasped loudly, prompting him to stop the assault on your clit. He fucked you through your orgasm, eyes rolling back, feeling your walls clench around him.

“Good girl. So good, you’re so good…” You could feel his body start to tremble as he mumbled nothingness into your hair. His pace quickened, the snap of his hips almost painful. “Sweetheart, I’m almost there.”

You clung onto him for dear life, body weak from the previous orgasms, kissing and sucking on his neck. “Please, please, you made me feel good. I want you to feel good too.”

His hips stuttered, his cock twitching deep inside as he spilled into you, warmth flooding you as he groaned raggedly into your hair. He rocked against you until he was spent, then pulled out gently, rolling to his side to keep from crushing you. You whimpered at the loss, but in the next breath, he tugged you close, one big arm wrapping around your shoulders.

You both stared at the ceiling for a while after that, listening to the sounds of the city as you both tried to take in what had just happened.

“Thank you,” He murmured.’

You blinked, shocked by what came out of his mouth, before you turned your head to face him, a small smile on your lips. “No, thank you.”

He chuckled, chest rumbling under your cheek. He pulled back just enough to look you over, flushed, hair messy, skin marked by his mouth. A wicked grin curved his lips. “So… want to go another round?”

[prosypepper]

here for a suguru drabble idea pretty pepper… comrade suguru frustrated after a mission during an operation went wrong and angry fucking you in his barracks 🫡 i salute you my raven haired hunk, do what you need with this request

hi bisque😏😏😏😏fancy seeing u around here😏😏😏😏😏😏

a/n: heehesheheh a little dubcon-esque i think, just rough suguru, unprotected p in v, uhh doggy yes mhm thats it i think, 18+ mdni

“how’d it go, sugu?”

you recognize suguru’s footsteps immediately, though this time it’s more of an angry stomp into the room. obviously, something is up with him—his hair is all messy and he’s almost sweating, his brows are knitted together so closely it looks like a permanent scowl.

“those fucking idiots fucked everything up,” suguru says, thrashing around your shared space, grabbing whatever clothes he can before spitting, “i’m going to go take a shower, i just—i’ll be back.”

“are you okay? can i—can i do anything?”

“no. i’ll be back.” he dismisses, walking out the door without even turning to look at you.

your heart and stomach drop. it’s rare for suguru to be upset, so angry over anything, really. his anger is usually quieter, it brews inside of him until he can do something about it—so someone must’ve majorly messed up for him to act like this.

awaiting his return, your eyes flicker up to the door at every creak and scrape, anxiety building up with each minute that passes. finally, he walks back through the door—this time, less heavy, more methodical. shirtless. chest rising and falling with fervor.

still…off.

his eyes are on yours, moving in like a predatory animal, words long forgotten in the back of his head. communication isn’t what he needs right now.

suguru needs you, it’s written all over him.

“sugu,” you breathe, words catching in your throat as he climbs onto the bed, over you, trapping you beneath him. looking into his eyes, you can see his pupils are blown wide, black overtaking the pretty dark brown you were so used to. you try and sink into the bed, away from his face, hoping he will talk to you.

“are—are you okay? you’re being—suguru.”

his name falls of your lips as a moan, his knee pressing in between your thighs, sending a wave of pleasure through you. one arm hooks under your head, bringing your forehead to his lips, a light kiss left as an apology beforehand.

“turn over,” suguru commands, the last bit of his patience thrown out the window long ago. the warmth of his body leaves you, he stands up to rid himself of whatever clothes he has left—and you compliantly roll over and lift your hips a little.

the bed dips under your husband’s weight behind you. suguru’s fingers hook into your bottoms, pulling them down and off your legs in a swift movement. he pulls your hips up—inspecting—and you’re soaked already.

you like this.

suguru smiles for the first time since that morning.

“fucking idiots,” suguru rambles, slipping a finger in you with ease, “can’t believe they kept me away from this all day just to fuck everything up. can you believe that, baby?” he hooks his fingers just right, brushing against that spongey spot and you moan out again.

not the answer he was looking for.

his hand wraps around your throat, not choking, but firm enough to pull your head back. firm enough to answer him.

“can you fucking believe that?” he grits, pulling his fingers out and landing a harsh smack on your ass that’s sure to leave a print.

“no—no!” you sob, the pain blooming from the initial hit.

he’s never rough like this. okay, yes, he’s been less than gentle—but suguru takes his time. never rushes. always thinks before he acts. follows the rules—foreplay, build it up, tease, prep—all before he finally allows himself to feel you.

your cheek rests against the sheets, lungs full of a breath you’re holding. he’s still grumbling, cursing whoever, and—oh.

suguru slides in, one long, thick movement—buried to the hilt.

it’s good, better than good, really. ‘good’ is such a feeble word to describe everything that runs through you at the moment. breathtaking, maybe. you’re not breathing. you forgot.

his hips draw back, sliding out only halfway, and he slams back in. the air held in your lungs is forced to escape. a cry rips from your throat, only to be cut through by suguru’s bruising pace.

there’s no stopping him—this is what he needs.

you better hope no one else walks through the door.

[homiesexuallaj]

Sweetheart, who’s this?

Pairing: Mafia! Bucky Barnes x reader

Genre/Warnings: fluff (overall), attempts at a slow morning, your ex (yuCK), kinda proofread

Summary: You get a text from someone that you thought had previously blocked you…

A/N: My ex hit me up the week before valentine’s day and the only thing I’ve been thinking about is what if Bucky was there when it happened :) Also there’s a college!bucky version <3

———

It’s Friday, and you and Bucky decided to just have a nice, slow morning to start off your day.

Bucky, ever the early bird, had woken up just when the sun was about to rise. He had decided to stay in bed with you though, curling and pressing his self against your back with an arm hugging you close. He may or may not have fallen back asleep like this because the next thing he knew was that the early morning sun was drifting in through the curtains of the bedroom and painting a golden path across your face.

When Bucky did decide to get up, he adjusted the blankets and comforter over your body and set his pillow against your back to keep the feeling of him still there. He gave your temple a lingering kiss before stepping into the shower to officially get up for the day. Afterwards, he had gotten started on breakfast for the both of you. He was content in taking his time, knowing that either he’d have to go in and wake you up or the smell of his blueberry pancakes would pull from you from the bed.

Which they did, because here you were dragging your hands under Bucky’s t-shirt and wrapping your arms around his torso. You rested your cheek between his shoulder blades and gave him a mixture of a hum and a grunt in response to his good morning greeting. You stood there for a few moments, living in Bucky’s warmth and the smell of pancakes and his body wash. You only pulled away when Bucky spoke.

“Why don’t you go sit down, sweetheart?” Bucky suggested over his shoulder. “Go get comfy on the couch. I’ll be done in a few.”

“Hmm.. okay,” You agreed after a few short moments.

After being pulled in by Bucky for quick kiss to the lips and another to the cheek, you wandered over to the couch in the living room and sat down. You didn’t turn the tv on, not yet, content on listening to the cooking of food and as Bucky mumbled to himself. You pulled your legs up to yourself and crossed you arms over your chest, laying your head back against the back cushions of the couch as you waited patiently for Bucky.

Just as Bucky began to dish up some blueberry pancakes and bacon, with syrup of course, for you both, you heard one of your phones go off in the kitchen. You could hear Bucky’s movements abruptly stop as he went to check it out.

Bucky and you preferred to keep your phones in the kitchen, away from the bedroom, as you two slept. He’d always said that bedroom time was you and him time, work could always wait for the morning. If they needed him so badly, then they would just have to figure things out. But showing up at Bucky’s doorstep was absolutely not an option, no need to bring you into the mix. You were Bucky’s peace away from work and he needed to keep it that way.

“Sweetheart?” Bucky called out.

“Yeah?” You responded, turning around slightly when you heard Bucky’s hesitant tone.

You could see Bucky standing at the kitchen island that was partially connected to the wall at one end. In his hand was your phone, still connected to the charger. He looked down at the device with furrowed brows before meeting your gaze with a curious one of his own.

“Who’s this ‘Dill’ person?” Bucky asked, looking down at the phone once more before back up at you.

“‘Dill’?” You asked for confirmation, beginning to wrack your brain for anyone you know that has that name.

“Well, it’s a text, but it came through as an email,” Bucky explained, his tone apprehensive as he spoke.

Oh weird.

Then a light bulb flickered on in your head. You desperately hoped it wasn’t the case, but you wouldn’t be too surprised either.

“It could be my ex,” You suggested, hoping it wasn’t.

“Well, what does he want?” Bucky asked like he didn’t have your phone in his hand. He seemed almost offended that your ex would text you so early in the morning, at Eight AM, and you don’t blame him.

“You have my phone, what does it say?” You ask in return, gesturing for Bucky to look back down at the phone and instead of at you.

“It just says ‘hey’,” Bucky told you, still confused at the situation.

You hummed, thinking for a second. Then,

“Well, go ahead and ask who it is, then come over here and eat with me cause I’m hungry,” You pat the back of the couch, offering Bucky to try and continue your try at a slow morning.

“Alright,” Bucky shrugs, obviously not worried if you’re not worried either.

With a quick few taps to your screen, Bucky shut the phone off and set it back down. Then, he was picking back up the plates of still-hot breakfast before making his way to join you on the couch. He handed you your plate once he settled down beside you and turned the tv on to have some background noise going as you two ate.

You gave Bucky a squeeze on his forearm and a reassuring kiss to his cheek before you dug into your homemade breakfast. You practically moaned at the taste of the blueberry pancakes doused in syrup, wanting a cocky brow raised your way.

“Careful, sweetheart,”Bucky teased after he swallowed a bite of food. “I promised a slow morning.”

“I can do slow,” You teased back, giving him a sly smile before you took another bite of pancake.

“After this week I had, I don’t think I can,” Bucky admitted with a low tone to his voice.

You only rolled your eyes and gave a gentle scoff, knocking knees with him as you two continued to eat.

Sometime between you finishing your plate and Bucky halfway through his food, since he always got more than you, your phone had dinged again in the kitchen. You made no move to get it, instead you set your now empty plate on the coffee table and settle back into the couch as a little food coma threatens to overtake you. You catch Bucky almost anxiously glancing back behind you two, so you set a soothing hand on his thigh and rub the area with your thumb to help calm his blatant nerves.

You can see the tension leave Bucky’s shoulders and watch as he turns his head to give you an easy smile. You smile back, giving him a reassuring expression.

When Bucky finishes eating and takes a sip of his orange juice, you pull him in by the scruff of his neck and press a strong kiss to his lips that taste of orange. You pull away after a few moments, giving Bucky a smile still and cupping his scruffy cheek.

“Don’t worry about it, Buck,” You try to reassure him. And it’s apparent that you could read Bucky like a book when you continue, “There’s nothing for you to worry about. You saw my phone. I’m all yours, big boy.”

Despite being the biggest crime boss in this side of the bay, Bucky still had his doubts of being worthy of you. He had always doubted that he was even allowed in the same room as you, much less breath the same air. You were this ethereal goddess in his eyes. Despite Bucky’s intimidating power, you had him wrapped around your dainty pinkie like a lovesick puppy, even after all this time.

Bucky sighed, nodding and kissing you again before taking your plates away to the kitchen to be deposited of in the dishwasher neatly.

You settle down into the couch, but perk right back up as you hear Bucky let out a scoff of a laugh from somewhere behind you. And it almost scares you half to death when Bucky hands you your phone to read whatever he apparently read.

The text thread between your ex and you, technically Bucky, is open. On the screen is a little pity text from your ex in response to your earlier question that reads something along the lines of “I can’t believe you deleted my number. I still kept your number after we stopped talking.”

You can’t decide whether to roll your eyes or gag at the obvious attention-seeking. And you almost want to respond, “That’s what you get for cheating on me, jackass,” but you don’t. Instead, you look up at Bucky, who hovers by the armrest of the chair you rest again, with an amused expression.

“Can you believe this guy?” You ask, appalled.

“Absolutely not,” Bucky scoffs.

Almost as if he’s relieved by your reaction, Bucky finally comes to settle down in his previous spot beside you on the couch. He leans into you to look at your phone screen, and you hold your phone in your lap so Bucky can look. He’s ever so noisy, but you supposed he has the definite right to be in this moment.

After debating what to say for a few moments, you decide on a simple “okay” as a response. And almost too soon is your ex texting back that he had a present for you.

You quirk an eyebrow and meet Bucky’s gaze as you side eye him. You’re amused by the attention seeking, but curious at this supposed “gift”. So, you ask what it is.

“You better no-“ Bucky starts.

You interrupt him, “I’m not going to meet up with him to get whatever this ‘gift’ is, I’m smarter than that, Bucky.” You met Bucky’s stern gaze with one of your own before you relax. “Plus, I have you to spoil me to your heart’s content.”

Bucky loved to spoil you, he certainly had the money to do so. No matter how many times you protested or tried to say you could save up your own money, a gift or something similar was always on your doorstep or waiting for you in Bucky’s home. He had always tried to get you to quit your little job and move in with him too, reasoning that his place was plenty big for the two of you and he had more than enough money to sustain you both.

You always protested, feeling guilty every time Bucky bought you something expensive or when he suggested that he could take care of you. You didn’t want him to spend on his money on you, or spend his limited free time taking care of you. But somedays, some battles will just have to be lost.

With your reassurance, Bucky calms right back down. He looks back at your phone with another text from your ex comes through.

‘It’s a christmas/birthday present for you. I’ve actually had it for awhile,’ The text reads.

“And he’s telling you this now?” Bucky speaks your own thoughts out loud.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” You agree with Bucky. “What a weirdo..”

You respond back to the text, telling your ex he can keep the gift and do whatever to it. The response you get is “Alright cool 😎” and quickly followed with “How’s that guy treating you?”

An instant scoff escapes your mouth, and you gape at the audacity of this boy texting you.

You’re not oblivious to the way that, despite blocking you for the first few moments after you and your ex’s breakup, he had unblocked you and then had taken to refollowing you on twitter and stalking your instagram. While, you weren’t one to care about social media drama, you were a bit appalled at the fact that you ex couldn’t leave you out of his life.

You don’t have the chance to reply to the text yourself before Bucky is snatching your phone from your fingers and typing back his own response.

‘I am treating her great, actually. Compared to what I’ve heard about you.’

You gasp as Bucky sends it, “Bucky!”

Bucky holds up a finger in front of your face, “We are being civil, not nice.”

You can’t argue with that, so after a moment of thinking you shrug, “That’s actually pretty fair.”

“Exactly,” And with a bop on your nose, Bucky’s attention is back on your phone vibrates on his hand.

‘That’s great’ The text from your ex reads.

‘Yeah’ Is all Bucky responds before clicking on the contact name to block and delete your ex’s email that came through the messages app on your phone.

“Wait!” You stop him before Bucky can delete the convo. You snatch your phone back for a moment.

With a few quick clicks, you screenshot the texts of your ex and you/Bucky before you’re deleting the messages yourself.

“Entertainment for the ladies later,” You explain, handing your phone back.

“Ah,” Bucky nods, understanding as he takes your phone back. He stands, brushing your hair away from your forehead before leaning down to kiss your cheek. “I’ll be right back. Gotta make a phone call. What’s your ex’s name again?”

You pick up on the implication of Bucky’s words and give a gentle roll of your eyes. Without complaint or hesitation, you give Bucky you ex’s full name before he saunters off towards the kitchen. You settle back down into the couch, focusing on whatever is on the tv as you wait for Bucky to come back into the living room and join you.

Bucky isn’t gone long, practically prancing back to you and joining you on the couch with a proud smile on his face. Bucky leans back in the opposite armrest from you, patting his chest in invitation.

You take it, crawling across the couch to settle down against Bucky’s chest and between his legs. You wrap an arm around Bucky’s back as you lay half against his chest and half on your side, and you sink into the man more as he wraps both of his arms around you to hold you close.

“Well, aren’t you proud of yourself?” You tease, moving your head to look up at Bucky.

“Always, when it comes to you, sweetheart,” Bucky says a little too casually as he presses a smooch to your forehead. “Now, let’s lay here for a bit. I didn’t get to start my morning off as slow as I’d like.”

“Sorry,” You apologize almost out of habit.

“Don’t got nothing to be sorry for, sweet thing,” Bucky soothes you.

You nod, settling into Bucky’s body more.

You two lay there for the rest of the early morning, watching whatever there is to watch on the morning cable tv. One or both of you may have even dozed off until the later morning, but you’ll both deny it if the other one mention it.

[heartofonychinus]

𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆

pairings: ex-boyfriend!rin x reader / husband!sae x reader

genre: angst, happy ending for reader.

tw: jealousy, breakup, emotional betrayal.

a/n: I totally didn't think of this at 4am in the morning when I should've been studying :(.

You should have known. To be honest, you did know somewhere, deep down, that Rin didn’t really love you. Not in the way you deserved. Not in the way you tried so hard to believe.

You still remember the day it all came crashing down. The way he looked at you when he finally told the truth, voice flat, too cold for someone who was supposed to care. "I only dated you because Sae wouldn’t shut up about how perfect you were for someone better." "I wanted to prove he was wrong."

You stood there, every last piece of you splintering apart, and when you turned and walked away, you didn’t look back.

Years passed.

The hurt dulled, reshaping itself into something like acceptance. You built a life far from that shadow, found laughter again, and rediscovered yourself. Eventually, you found love.

Rin doesn’t expect to see you on that rainy spring evening, he almost doesn’t recognise you at first, your hair longer, your eyes softer. You’re wearing a pale lilac dress, the hem fluttering against your knees as you turn to laugh at someone behind you.

His heart stops because he knows that laugh. He knows the warmth in your eyes, but he’s never been the reason for it. That's when he sees who you’re smiling at. Sae.

His brother’s hand is laced with yours, easy and familiar. He says something only you can hear, and you tip your head back, giggling like he just told you the most perfect secret.

The movement catches the light. A wedding ring, matching bands glint on both your hands. Rin feels something cold pool in his stomach. You look happy, genuinely, effortlessly happy in a way you never were with him. He knows, without question, that Sae has given you everything he never could.

You deserve it. God, you deserve it more than anyone. But when you turn, your eyes skimming the crowd, he can’t help hoping you’ll see him. That you’ll look at him and remember something that mattered.

You don’t, you slip your hand into Sae’s, step under his umbrella, and walk away. Rin watches you go, rain sliding down his cheeks, mingling with the ache in his chest. And for the first time, he lets himself admit the truth.

He loved you. Loved you so much he ruined it out of fear. Now, watching you disappear into someone else’s future, he finally understands:

He was never going to be enough, and you were always going to be better off without him.

[chimckenns]

NSFW - nothing explicit though, just softness

(Idk how to write proper smut anyway)

Although both David and Angel love leaning into the primal side of themselves during sex, it's not something they do all the time.

He's an inherently gentle man. And they need softness now and then.

So sometimes its not haste movements, rough bites, and passionate pleasure.

Sometimes its slow caresses, gentle touches, and deep kisses.

With the quiet patter of rain against the windows in the background, they lie together in bed. The curtains were left open to let the moon's light shine in, illuminating the room with its dim glow. Angel cuddled up to David, fitting against his body like two perfect pieces of a puzzle. His hand takes its time to run up and down their back, feeling each curve of their body and the warmth of their skin. He nuzzles against their neck with his nose, pressing kisses to their pulse. They're both naked, clothes strewn across the floor forgotten. David breathes them in, holding them in his arms and feeling their warmth seep into his heart. Angel holds his head with one hand, fingers intertwining with his hair and scratching his scalp the way he likes. Their gentle touch tells him to stay, and David couldn't bring himself to even think of leaving. Their legs tangle, hips slotting together and moving in a slow rhythm, Angel grinding gently against David as his hand travels to their chest, feeling their heartbeat under their skin.

They're vulnerable in his arms, and they love it. The safety and trust they have in him make them want to cuddle him forever, not worrying about the world. They let him gently suck on their neck, leaving a mark that tells everyone that they're his. While he does this, they nuzzle their head against his, letting out a satisfied moan that feels more like a sigh. David's arms wrapped around their waist, keeping them against him. The gentle pressure felt like home, and Angel felt a smile creeping onto their face. One of David's hands pressed against their cheek, guiding them to turn to look at him. He captured their lips in a slow, deep kiss, conveying his love in the way he knows best - through action.

There's no pressure. No rush.

They simply take their time to commit every inch of each other to memory.

It's not sex. It's making love.

[dirtyl0ver]

The Cabin in the Woods - Part 2 (Tim Wright/Masky x F!Reader x Brian Thomas/Hoodie x Ticci Toby)

CW: Sexual content, foursome, double penetration, squirting, extreme degradation, spitting, slapping, dubious consent, rough sex, cigarette burning, minor injury, weapons mentioned, power imbalance, psychological domination, themes of obsession and control.

Summary: You thought the worst was over. That they'd had their fun and disappeared into the trees. But the next night, they come back. And this time, they bring company.

Wordcount: 15k

You’d slept for over twelve hours. Maybe more. Hadn’t even made your way to the bed, just passed out on the couch right where they’d left you. The sleep wasn’t even restful. Your body gave out before your mind did, shutting down under the sheer weight of it all: the ache between your legs, the raw pulse in your throat, the memory of hands and teeth and words that still echoed inside you.

The light had shifted by the time you’d opened your eyes, the pale wash of midday pressing through the blinds without warmth. You lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling, blank and heavy, your limbs cottony and sore, your breath catching now and then like your lungs didn’t know if they were supposed to keep going.

Then you moved.

You paced the cabin for hours. Nerves gnawed at the pit of your stomach, each step more restless than the last. Your fingertips twitched, reaching for your phone, for your bag, for something, but never quite followed through. Guilt simmered under your skin, sharp and coppery. But beneath it… something else. Something ugly and needy and warm.

You thought about packing.

You didn’t.

You thought about calling someone. Just to talk. Just to ask, what do I do now?

You didn’t.

You even thought about reporting the incident to your Airbnb host, and calling the cops.

But of course, you didn’t.

Instead, you stripped down in the bathroom, the tiles cold under your feet, the mirror fogging around the edges as the water steamed up. You showered in silence. Let it run scalding hot, watching the dirty water spiral down the drain. You shaved, slowly, carefully, as if each stroke could scrub the memory away. Washed the dried cum from between your thighs. Cleaned yourself until your skin tingled raw. Until there was nothing left to rinse away but the truth.

Then you brushed your hair. Coaxed it into softness. Ran mascara along your lashes even though your hands still trembled. Spritzed perfume on your neck, the warm, floral one that made your pulse feel slower.

And then you slid them on: your favorite panties. Soft, lace-trimmed, barely-there. The ones that always made you feel pretty in a way that was almost painful. Ruinable.

You pulled the short nightgown over your head. Thin satin that skimmed your hips, clung to your chest, whispered across your skin with every movement. One strap slipped off your shoulder almost immediately, and you let it. You didn’t fix it.

You sat on the couch, legs tucked under you, facing away from the door. You didn’t check the time, didn’t pick up your book or scroll through your phone.

You just… waited.

Like your body hadn’t been fucked open the night before, like your soul hadn’t bent toward something dark and bottomless.

Like… you were hoping it would happen again.

They said they were going to be back. And ever since, your mind wouldn’t stop replaying it. The way Tim had held you down and fucked the gun into you, how Brian had whispered filth in your ear while splitting you open. The sharp sting of bruises blooming under fingers that knew how to take.

You’d never felt so helpless, and God, you needed more. Needed their mouths, their hands, but most of all, their rage.

You almost jumped when it finally came.

Knock.

You didn’t move right away, just let the moment stretch.

Then, very slowly, you rose. Walked to the door like your legs remembered them before your mind did.

You opened it.

And this time… there were three.

Tim, already grinning behind that same white mask, slouched against the porch post like he’d been waiting all day. Brian stood on the other side, still, hands in his jacket. His mask the same red-eyed frown, unmoved.

And between them–

A third man.

Tall, about Brian’s height, broad-shouldered, twitchy. Brown messy hair curled out beneath the straps of his goggles, which rested crooked on his forehead like he’d shoved them up with a shaking hand. He wore a mouth guard - high-vented, black, a tight wrap over the lower half of his face that only made his visible expression more unreadable.

But it was the eyes.

The way they twitched.

The way they moved over you - slow and then fast - like scanning and savoring and short-circuiting all at once.

Tim whistled low behind his mask. “Would ya look at that.”

Brian didn’t move.

The third man twitched once, a full shoulder jerk, then tilted his head.

“She’s–she’s still here,” he said.

His voice was rough. A little distorted behind the guard. Every few words cracked or stuttered. His fingers curled at his sides, clenching and releasing in rhythm with a tic in his jaw.

“She’s here,” he said again. “P–pretty. Fuck–she's s–so–”

“Don’t short out on the porch,” Tim said dryly. “You’ll scare her off.”

“She’s not running,” Brian said. “She’s dressed up.”

You flushed.

Tim stepped forward first, boots thudding softly against the wood. He reached out and caught the loose strap of your nightgown between two fingers, lifted it slowly back into place. His fingers trailed down your collarbone.

“Little thing got all dolled up,” he murmured. “Like she’s expecting us.”

“She was,” Brian said.

The third man twitched again.

He hadn’t moved from the top step, but his eyes were locked on your bare thighs - laser-focused, jaw twitching under the mouth guard. You could see the rise and fall of his chest under his hoodie, fingers tapping against his belt.

“She’s s–so fucking pretty,” he said.

Tim turned his head just slightly. “Told you she was.”

Brian finally moved - stepping in close, brushing past you into the cabin like he owned it.

You didn’t stop him. Didn’t stop any of them.

Tim followed, one hand low on your back, steering you inside like a hostess at your own destruction. The third man hovered in the doorway for a second longer.

Then he stepped in too.

The door closed behind him.

Click.

Locked.

You weren’t breathing right.

Tim stepped behind you, his voice low by your ear. “Go sit, sweetheart. Get cozy.”

You nodded weakly. Walked on shaking legs toward the couch again, the thin nightgown brushing the tops of your thighs. Your heart pounded in your chest. It wasn’t exactly fear, but something close. Your breath was wrong in your lungs, too shallow. Your skin buzzed like it had a heartbeat of its own. 

You sat down carefully, and when you looked up, they were all looking at you.

Tim leaned on the arm of the couch, jacket already off. Brian stood near the fire, unzipping his own jacket.

And the new guy? He was still by the door. Head tilted, fingers flexing. 

“She’s fuck–fuckin’ soft,” he muttered. “Sh–shivering. I can–can smell her.”

“Yeah,” Tim said. “That’s what happens when a girl spends a whole day remembering how good it felt.”

Brian spoke, voice flat. “You stayed, sweetheart,” he said. “So we came back.”

Something inside you snapped tight at that. Stayed. Yeah, you had, and not by accident. Because some sick, twisted, disgusting part of you wanted this. Even if it scared you, ruined you.

You sat back on the couch slowly, legs pressed together, heart rattling in your chest.

Tim was lounging on the armrest like he’d been there all along, like this was his couch, his cabin, his girl. One hand dangled lazily, fingers brushing the curve of your bare shoulder in soft idle strokes. Absentminded, like a man petting a favored pet.

Brian hadn’t moved from the fireplace. He stood with arms crossed, posture unchanged, but his gaze was razor-sharp. Behind the expressionless red-eyed mask, you felt the weight of his stare like a hook in your ribs. Watching every breath you took, noting every tremor in your hands.

The new guy stood in front of the couch, twitching fingers clenched and unclenched at his sides. His mouth guard remained in place, rising and falling with his breath.

The room was so quiet it ached.

Tim broke it with a soft, almost amused murmur.

“So… you gonna say hi, sweetheart?”

You blinked. “I-I…”

You tried. You really did. Tried to be polite. Small talk.

“So um… how do you guys know each other?” you asked weakly, like any of this was normal. The words tasted ridiculous the moment they left you, as if politeness could barricade what was coming.

Tim snorted. Brian didn’t blink, didn’t move. The new guy twitched once. Then laughed. “We a-a-are colleagues.”

Tim leaned in, resting his chin on his knuckles like he was watching a comedy. “You really gonna pretend you don’t know why we brought him?”

Your face went hot, shame curling up your spine like a hot wire.

Brian’s voice was dry. Final. “Toby here has been feeling lonely.”

You swallowed hard. So that was his name, Toby. You looked at him, this twitching, hungry Toby, and for the first time that night, your body hesitated. Tim and Brian had ruined you, shaped you, made you into a new version of yourself.

But this Toby? He felt… different. Unfiltered, like he didn’t know how to stop once he started. Your hands started shaking.

Toby tilted his head at an odd angle. “I-I heard what they did to you,” he said, voice rough. “They said you liked it. Said y-you were made for it.”

You flinched. “I-I didn’t-”

Tim grinned. “Didn’t what? Didn’t beg to be filled up like a little cumrag?”

Your thighs pressed tighter.

Brian’s voice was cool. “Didn’t suck us off like a good little thing before we even touched you properly?”

“You cried,” Tim added. “Then came on us like we were your boyfriends.”

You turned your face away, burning. This was all too much, the humiliation, the stares, the mocking. They were doing it all over again, tormenting you into submission. But you took it, because somewhere deep in your chest, beneath the mortification and the fear, was a hollow space that you knew they would fill. You’d realized it the moment they’d split you open the first time, wrecked you - and you’d thanked them for it.

Brian’s next line dropped like a guillotine. “You seemed like you were into being shared.”

You couldn’t answer. The words hit somewhere low and deep, folding you in on yourself, because they were true. You hadn’t said no, hadn’t resisted.

Toby stepped closer, which made you look up.

He was twitching still, one shoulder jerking, a tic making his head jerk slightly to the right. But his eyes were locked on your body like a predator who’d been told not yet for far too long.

He didn’t ask permission. He simply dropped to his knees. Right there, in front of the couch. Between your legs.

You froze.

“T-Told them I wanted to taste you,” he muttered. “W-wanted to know what the fuss was about.”

You opened your mouth. Nothing came out.

Tim’s voice was soft beside you. “Go ahead, Toby. She’s already wet. Always is.”

Toby reached out, slow at first, and placed both hands on your thighs.

His gloves were warm. His grip was tight. Then he leaned in.

You gasped.

He didn’t touch your pussy with his hands at all. Just leaned forward and inhaled. A long, slow breath.

“Mmmffuck,” he groaned. “Y-y-you smell s-so good.”

You whimpered, your hips shifting forward on their own.

Tim watched, delighted. “Look at her. Fuckin’ desperate already.”

Brian hadn’t moved. But you could feel him staring. His stillness had weight. You knew without looking that his jaw was tight. That this wasn’t approval, this was temporary permission. He was oozing that quiet, seething recognition that someone else was touching what he had already marked.

Toby tilted his head again, then pressed his mouth against the fabric of your panties. Just the mouth guard at first, firm, hot pressure against the soaked cotton.

You moaned. You weren’t even trying to look composed anymore. And then–

He unhooked the straps of the guard, pulled it off, and dropped it on the floor. You saw the scar immediately. The corner of his mouth, split and raw, puckered like a wound that had never healed. His tongue darted out instinctively to lick his lips, and when he did, he looked up at you. 

“G-gonna m-make a mess of you.”

You didn’t even get a chance to process the sight of his face, his scarred cheek, before he was biting the edge of your panties. His teeth hooked into the lace and dragged them down, slow, steady, inch by inch, until your hips lifted to help him.

Tim leaned in, voice teasing. “Careful, Toby. She’s sensitive.”

Toby didn’t answer. Just moaned, deep and animal, as his mouth pressed between your thighs and his tongue dragged a long, wet stripe through your folds.

Your head snapped back against the couch. “FUCK–”

He didn’t let up. His tongue was fast. Uncoordinated but hungry. He lapped at your clit, then dove lower, nose buried against your pussy, sucking like a man starved.

Your hands shot down to grab at his hair, messy, wild, and you were already bucking against his mouth before you could stop yourself.

He twitched again mid-lick, and the jerk made his teeth graze your inner thigh.

You whined.

Tim groaned beside you. “Look at her. Already losing it.”

Brian still hadn’t moved, but something in the set of his shoulders tightened, the cross of his arms higher now.

Toby looked up, lips shiny, eyes wide. “I l-like her,” he said, voice thick. “Wanna s-see her cum f-for me.”

Toby’s mouth was relentless. Messy, loud, completely uncoordinated, and somehow perfect. He moaned against your cunt like he was tasting heaven through heat and salt, and the vibrations made your thighs tremble. His tongue shook in gentle rhythms, tics lacing his every movement. And it worked.

You were already so close, and they knew it. Your thighs trembled. Your breathing fractured.

And that’s when Brian stepped forward. You felt it before you heard him, that cold edge slicing through the heat like a blade.

“She doesn’t get to cum yet.”

Toby faltered. Pulled back slightly, panting, lips slick, eyes glassy. “B-but–she’s–”

“She listens to us,” Brian cut in. His voice was flat. Final. “And so do you. We were nice enough to bring you here Toby.” He glanced at Tim as he said it, like it was mostly thanks to Tim that Toby was allowed to touch you. 

Tim’s fingers stroked lazy circles on your shoulder, casual, unbothered. “C’mon, Twitchy. Don’t be rude.”

Toby let out a strained breath and turned his gaze up to you.

And you, God, you nearly came just from that. The apology in his voice, the restraint in his hands. 

“S-sorry, pretty girl,” he muttered. “G-gotta listen.”

And then he kept going. Tongue dragging through your folds again, deliberately avoiding your clit, licking just enough to keep you trembling, but not tipping over. It was torture.

“Fuck, Toby, please-” you whimpered.

You were aching, shaking, so close you could taste it–

But no. Not unless they said so.

Brian stood beside the fireplace, arms crossed again, still stone. Watching.

He wasn’t even looking at you, he was looking at Toby. And if eyes could kill, Toby wouldn’t be kneeling, he’d be in pieces.

Toby pulled back just enough to speak, his mouth wet, jaw twitching, his scar pulling as he grinned. “She–she t–tastes like f–fucking sugar,” he muttered. “Wanna–fuck–drink her.”

And then he bit, hard. Right on the inside of your thigh.

You shrieked, hips jerking up, eyes wide.

“FUCK-what the-!”

He just growled. Did it again, on the other side this time.

“You think he’s sweet, huh?” Tim said lazily. “Thought the twitchy one might treat you better?”

Toby snapped his head up, face flushed, slick on his lips and chin. “I d–don’t share well,” he said. “She’s in my m–mouth now.”

Brian gave a quiet huff of amusement from the fireplace. “Oh look,” he said, dry as ever. “He’s territorial.” 

Then he took a few steps closer, standing closer to the couch, observing Toby’s work like a displeased teacher.

Toby went back in. And this time, he buried his tongue deep. He hooked his arms under your thighs and held you there, twitching fingers digging into your skin, holding you open while his mouth worked fast, fast, faster.

He avoided your clit, just fucked you with his tongue.

You couldn’t breathe. Your back arched off the couch, hands tangled in his hair, moaning so loud you didn’t even recognize your own voice.

Tim leaned in beside you, watching it unfold like art. “You close, sweetheart?” he whispered.

You choked on a gasp, nodding violently.

Tim smiled. “Say it.”

“S-say what?” you breathed.

“Say thank you.”

Toby moaned against you.

Brian’s voice was colder now. “Say thank you, Toby.”

“T-thank you, Toby,” you whispered. “P-please, I’m gonna–!”

But the hand on your thigh, Brian’s, firm and unyielding, gripped hard. “No, you’re not.”

Your whole body stilled.

“Not until we say so,” Brian added. “Not for him.”

Toby whimpered against your cunt. He kept licking.

You were trembling, every nerve flaring, every muscle straining toward orgasm, and denied. You didn’t even know you were crying until you felt the tears cooling on your cheeks.

Tim pushed his mask up to kiss your temple, a mocking gesture. “Good girl. You’re learning.”

And poor Toby looked up again, panting. “She’s d-d-dripping a-all over muh-my tongue,” he stammered. “Just for me.”

You couldn’t see the look on Brian’s face, but you knew it was sour. “Alright, that’s enough, stop licking.”

Toby didn’t stop right away, kept licking some more, like he couldn’t get enough of your taste, but a part of you suspected he also enjoyed provoking Brian. When he pulled back, he looked possessed. Eyes glassy, chin shiny. Mouth grinning under the scar.

Tim looked down at you, limp, glowing with sweat.

“You liked that?” he asked.

You barely managed a nod.

You were still catching your breath, legs parted where he’d slotted himself between them, kneeling on the worn cabin floor. The air between you buzzed with heat, heavy and close.

You gaze drifted from Tim to Brian. Arms crossed, mask unreadable. You wanted–

You didn’t know what you wanted.

But your hands reached out anyway, toward them.

Some desperate part of you needed them to see that you were still theirs. That someone else having you didn’t mean you were slipping away from them.

Tim caught it. His fingers found yours, squeezing. Possessive and proud.

And Brian… didn’t move.

But something shifted, slightly, barely there. His stance. His chin, a little nod thrown in your direction. 

Toby’s eyes dragged up your body, hungry and twitching, like he couldn’t decide where to look or what to do next. His hands were rough on your thighs, twitchy fingers squeezing just a little too hard.

Then he looked down, breath shaky, and muttered, “Hold still.”

That’s when you saw it.

The gleam of metal at his thigh, low, strapped tight, just beneath the hem of his hoodie. You hadn’t noticed it before, but now it was impossible to miss. A hatchet, black-handled and well-worn, tucked against his leg like it belonged there.

You opened your mouth to say something, but the words never came. He reached down and unclipped it in one fluid motion.

The sound of it dragging from the leather strap sent a chill across your skin.

“What-,” you gasped, instinctively tensing, but he was already looking at you again, eyes low, half-lidded, completely dialed in.

“Don’t worry,” he said. A tic pulled at the corner of his mouth. “This w-wont hurt.”

Then he leaned in. One hand gripped your nightgown near your sternum and yanked it taut. The other brought the flat edge of the blade to rest against the fabric, not your skin. Cold metal kissed cotton, right between your breasts.

He didn’t give you time to think. With one sharp pull, the blade sliced straight down, catching and tearing through the fabric in a single, brutal line. The nightgown split open, your chest bared to the flicker of the fire behind him. You gasped, half in shock, half in something else entirely. What was left of the fabric slipped off easily and you were left completely exposed.

He dropped the hatchet to the floor beside you. The thunk of it landing on the wood made your pulse spike.

His hands were back on your thighs a moment later, hot now, greedy, and his voice came low, rasped against your skin as he leaned in. “Much better.”

He hovered there for a second, breath hot against your now-bare skin, eyes flicking between your tits and your face like he didn’t know what he wanted more, your gasp or your gaze.

You felt the tremor in his fingers as he slid one hand up, callused palm dragging along the inside of your thigh. The other moved to your ribs, steadying you as he leaned in, tongue darting out to taste the skin just below your breast.

“F-fucking perfect,” he stammered, voice low and raw. “Like a p-present. Just for me.”

His teeth grazed your nipple and you jolted. A moan caught in your throat, high, needy. Toby twitched again, like the sound rewired something in him, and suddenly his mouth was on you, sucking hard, sloppy and desperate.

Beside you, Tim exhaled like he’d been holding his breath. He leaned forward again, hand sliding to your throat, thumb pressed just below your chin.

“Still playing shy?” he murmured. “Even with him between your legs and your tits in his mouth?”

You whimpered, arched, back hitting the curve of the couch as Toby's mouth moved lower again, trailing kisses and jerky little licks down your stomach. His hand slid under your ass, fingers digging in possessively, and his voice cracked when he spoke next.

“W-wanna fuck her,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Wanna feel her insides. F-fuck-Tim, can I-?”

Tim chuckled darkly. “You think she wants that?”

“She’s r-ready,” Toby insisted, voice hitching, hips twitching like he was already imagining it. “She w-wants it.”

And you did.

You were soaked - panting, flushed, still twitching from the aftershocks of his mouth. You wanted to cum so bad. Your thighs opened for him without thinking.

Tim’s grip on your throat tightened slightly. Just enough to hold you there. “Say it, sweetheart,” he said. “You want him to fuck you?”

You swallowed hard, gaze flicking from Tim to Brian - still standing silent, arms crossed, those red eyes staring daggers at you - and then back to Toby.

Twitchy and ferocious. Eyes blown wide.

“I want him,” you said. “Please.”

Toby growled.

You heard the clink of his belt being undone before you saw it, his hands were fast, fumbling, but determined. Pants shoved down enough to free his cock, and oh God–

He was huge. Thick and flushed. So hard it curved upward with its own twitching weight. He was so much bigger than you expected, and you couldn’t hide your surprise. 

Tim caught the look on your face and laughed, low and breathy. “Aw, baby. Didn’t expect our little freak to be packing, huh?”

Your cheeks flamed hot. You couldn’t look away. Couldn’t hide the panic tangled with want low in your belly. Toby didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he just didn’t care.

Brian’s voice came next, unimpressed. “Try not to break her, Toby.”

Toby’s hands were on your thighs again, spreading you wide. You didn’t even have time to brace before he lined himself up, and pushed inside.

You cried out.

He gasped. “F-fuck–s–so warm–shit–!”

He was all jerky motion at first, like his own body was fighting him for control. But then, then he stilled. Buried to the hilt. His hips flush against yours, cock throbbing deep inside your cunt.

Your walls fluttered around him, and the noise he made was practically a sob.

“I c-can’t–fuck-I’m gonna–” he muttered, breathless.

“No, you’re not,” Tim growled beside you, one hand sliding up to yank at his shoulder. “Not yet Toby. Hold it.”

Toby’s whole body twitched, and he nodded frantically.

He started to move.

Slow at first - deep, dragging thrusts that filled you over and over - but it didn’t take long for the rhythm to break. His hips snapped forward, rough and messy, grinding against your clit with each thrust. His fingers bruised your thighs. His breath stuttered against your skin.

You moaned louder than you meant to.

“F-fuck, she’s tight–she’s–”

“You’re not the only one she’s gonna take tonight,” Brian said coolly, stepping even closer now. “So don’t be greedy.”

Toby groaned, deep and animal, and somehow that just made him fuck you harder.

Toby’s pace had turned erratic, stuttering, hard, more hips than rhythm. His head dropped against your chest, tongue darting out to lick the sweat between your tits, a low moan breaking from his throat like he was unraveling with every thrust.

But before you could fall over the edge–

“Alright,” Tim said beside you, voice firm, slightly amused. “That’s enough.”

Toby didn’t stop.

Tim’s tone dropped. “Toby.”

His hips stuttered. One last thrust and he pulled out with a groan that sounded like it hurt.

“No f-fair,” he muttered, eyes wild. “She’s still w-wet–”

Tim gave him a look.

Toby groaned. Hands in the air like he was about to argue again but stopped himself.

“Sit,” Brian told him, nodding toward the fireplace.

Toby hesitated, twitching, still flushed and hard and visibly frustrated.

Tim didn’t have to say anything, just nodded once.

Toby dropped to the rug like a scolded dog and sat, back against the brick, legs spread, cock still twitching against his thigh. He glared into the fire like it had personally betrayed him.

Your legs were still trembling.

The spot between your thighs throbbed with emptiness, walls fluttering, still clenching down on nothing. You could feel the sweat drying on your skin, feel where Toby had held you open, feel where his cock had been.

You glanced at him from across the room, saw his twitching form, his defeated stance, and your eyes met his. He stared, eyes trailing over your wrecked body, split open and flushed. At your heaving chest and slick thighs. It was clear he wasn’t done with you.

Tim was beside you on the couch, relaxed. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and took one out, lit it with steady hands.

Brian moved slowly, stopped right in front of you, the same spot that Toby had previously been in.

You looked up at him, eyes wet, throat tight, and immediately tried to straighten. You wanted to look presentable, wanted to please him. 

But Brian’s voice came flat and cold. “Sloppy.”

One word, that’s all it took. It landed like a slap. Shame bloomed low in your stomach, sick and sharp. You flinched at the word.

“You let him make a mess of you,” Brian continued. “Like a mutt dragging its food across the floor.”

He made it sound like this was all your fault, like it wasn’t them that had brought Toby here in the first place. This was their idea, their initiative, and now he was shaming you for it? You opened your mouth to say something, to explain yourself, to apologize, anything, but Tim spoke first.

“Don’t pout, baby. You can’t help it, that’s just what whores like you do. Take any dick that is given to them, right?”

You whimpered.

Brian tilted his head. His gaze raked over you like a measurement. “You want to be used properly?” he asked.

You nodded.

“Then show us. Mouth first.”

You were on your knees before you’d even processed it.

The carpet burned under your skin, and you sank down in front of him like you were born for it. Head tilted up, meeting Brian’s burning stare. Your hands rested softly on your thighs, waiting.

Toby made a broken sound from the fireplace.

Tim laughed. “Look at her. Eager little thing can’t even wait to be degraded.” Then he stood up from the couch, cigarette burning between his lips, mask tugged upwards just enough to reveal his mouth, eyes glued down at you.

You lifted your eyes and reached forward, shy now, tremulous, fingers fumbling with Brian’s belt first. Your hands shook as you unbuckled it, peeled back the zipper, revealing the length of him, thick and heavy. Just like you remembered it. He was already hard.

Your breath caught.

Tim’s voice above you was rich with mockery. “Blushing, baby? After everything?”

Your cheeks burned hotter.

You turned to Tim next, fingers working the button on his jeans. He didn’t help, just stood there, smoking, watching.

“Aw,” he cooed, dragging smoke from his lips. “Look at those shy little hands. So sweet. Maybe she thinks if she acts cute, we’ll be gentle.”

Brian scoffed. “She doesn’t want gentle.”

And you didn’t.

They were both out now. Cocks thick and leaking, standing tall just inches from your face. Your mouth watered. You didn’t even know who to start with.

“Well?” Tim asked, nudging your cheek with the head of his cock. “You gonna start sucking or just kneel there lookin’ pathetic?”

You moaned softly and leaned forward, licked a stripe up Brian’s shaft, your eyes flicking up to watch his reaction.

He didn’t flinch. “Keep going.”

You wrapped your lips around the head of his cock and sucked, deep and desperate, hollowing your cheeks. Your hands moved to stroke Tim in the meantime, your grip shaking slightly. He groaned above you. “There you go, pretty girl.”

But it wasn’t enough.

You switched, took Tim in your mouth next, letting his cock slide over your tongue while your hand worked Brian. You could barely breathe, lips stretching, spit pooling. They were too big to take together properly, but you tried.

You gagged once, tears burning your eyes. But you didn’t stop.

You wanted their praise. 

You wished you could see their faces. You felt it deep in your gut, that aching feeling. You wanted them, not their fucking masks. Last night, they’d kept them on the whole time, not letting you see their expressions, their reactions. You craved them, all of them, everything.

You pulled back with a gasp. “P-please,” you whispered, throat raw. “Can I… can I see you? Take them off.”

Brian grunted. 

Tim exhaled more smoke. Smirked. “You wanna see the faces of the men destroying you?”

You nodded, desperate. Lowered your head between them like a guilty little pet. “Please. I-I want to see you when you ruin me.”

Silence. Painful, embarrassing silence. Except for Toby’s occasional tics in the background.

Then: “God, you’re so far gone,” Tim said. “That little freak cracked you open and now you’re beggin’ to be broken all over again.”

Brian moved first. Fingers at the straps, slow and steady. Peeling the mask from his face in one smooth motion.

You swallowed.

He was so handsome to you, in that terrifying brutal way. A strong jaw. Sharp cheekbones. Expression dull, but eyes dark with control. With possession.

And then Tim pulled his mask up too and let it rest on top of his head.

Messy dark hair, stubbled jaw, dark eyes. That crooked smile. Sin personified.

You whimpered. And they both watched your face carefully.

“That better?” Tim asked.

“Y-yes,” you whispered.

“Then open wider,” Brian said.

Your lips parted again, raw and wet, tears still clinging to your lashes from before.

Tim's cock slid back into your mouth, thick and hot against your tongue, the taste of salt and smoke clinging to your throat. He didn’t ease in, just thrust, shallow and fast, letting your spit run freely down his length, letting you gag with a kind of amused detachment.

“God, you’re a mess,” he muttered, cigarette still clinging between two fingers. “All that practice last night and you’re still choking on it?”

You tried to breathe, but his hips didn’t stop. He was holding your head now, fingers in your hair, guiding your pace as you slobbered around him.

Brian stepped in.

Without a word, he took your head from Tim.

His cock replaced Tim’s in your mouth a moment later, but the difference was immediate.

No teasing. He drove into your throat with one, brutal snap of his hips and stayed there.

You convulsed, lungs spasming, eyes widening.

“Breathe through your nose,” he said flatly.

You tried. You tried. But you couldn’t stop choking.

Your hands gripped his thighs, nails digging in, and your vision spotted. You didn’t even notice the tears breaking again until they dripped onto your chest.

Tim laughed. “Fuck, look at her. Cryin’ already and we haven’t even touched her pussy.”

Brian held your head in place a second longer. Your throat stretched wide, jaw aching, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth.

He pulled out.

You coughed violently, a sob raking up with it, and blinked up at him with red, dripping eyes.

“Pathetic,” he said.

You nodded. Agreed with him like an idiot.

You’d missed this so bad, missed them. You wanted to say it, but all that came out was a gurgled moan.

“What’s that?” Tim leaned in. “You miss us, baby?”

You looked up at him, lips trembling.

“Y-yes,” you gasped. “Missed you s-so much. Need you t-to ruin me again, please–”

Brian shoved his cock back in your mouth before you could finish the sentence.

You whimpered around it, tears streaming freely now.

Behind you, you heard it, a soft, broken string of tics. A gasp. A jerk. That short, sharp laugh Toby couldn’t suppress when he was overwhelmed.

You looked back, just barely, eyes glassy.

Toby was still sitting on the floor, cock red and angry against his thigh, fingers twitching near his knees.

“C-c-can I–can I help?” he stuttered, voice cracking with want.

“Not yet,” Tim answered, voice casual. “You already got to taste her. Wait your fucking turn.”

Toby sighed, cursed under his breath.

Your throat tightened again as Brian fucked your mouth harder now, brutal and deep, like he was punishing you. “Stop looking at him,” he growled. “Eyes on me.”

He grabbed your jaw and forced your head still.

You blinked up at him, choking around his cock, and the room spun as he snapped his hips forward again.

The wet, messy sounds filled the cabin. Your spit had soaked your chest, strings of it clinging from your lips to his shaft each time he pulled out.

That’s when Tim stubbed out his cigarette.

On your shoulder.

You didn’t register it at first - just the shift in his movement, the glance down, the flick of his wrist, and then the ember kissed your skin. A sharp sizzle, like meat on a skillet. The pain was immediate, piercing, blooming over already sensitive skin.

The cigarette dug in just enough to sear and you jolted violently, scream catching in your throat, swallowed by the thick heat of Brian’s cock as he snapped his hips forward again.

It hurt. God, it hurt, a line of pure fire, concentrated in one brutal second of contact. You could almost smell the burnt skin and smoke mixing with sweat and sex, clinging to your body like proof.

You sobbed around the length in your mouth, throat constricting, eyes rolling back as your nerves overloaded.

“There she is,” Tim chuckled. “Now you’re starting to look like ours again.”

Brian pulled out with a wet pop. You gasped, voice completely shredded, coughing hard as your body swayed. Your face was a mess of spit and tears, flushed and shining. 

You looked down at the burn mark, and then up at Tim, eyes wide and glassy, the pain still singing under your skin like it wanted to crawl inside your bones.

He smiled. Not kind, just deeply amused.

"Pretty little brand, huh?" he said, leaning in, thumb brushing the edge of the red, angry mark like he owned it. "Now you won’t forget who you belong to."

You didn’t answer. Your throat was raw, body trembling, chest heaving like it didn’t know if it wanted to keep crying or come apart completely.

“Get on,” Brian said, motioning to the couch.

You blinked up at him, dazed, starting to move.

He just stood there, cock slick and hard, watching you struggle to pull yourself together.

“You think you’ve earned it?” he asked, voice sharp. “You wanna sit on this dick?”

You froze, lips parting, your breath stalling.

“Beg,” he said. “Come on. Beg for it, slut.”

Heat shot through your body, shame and need twisting tight in your gut. “Please,” you whispered, humiliated. “Please let me–let me ride you. I need it.”

He tilted his head, unimpressed. “That’s not begging. That’s whining.”

You swallowed hard, your voice catching. “Please,” you said again, louder this time. “Please let me ride your dick. I want it–I want to feel you. I’ll do anything, just–please.”

A pause. He stared at you for a long, quiet moment, like he was deciding whether or not you were even worth the effort.

Finally, he sat back on the couch with a casual sort of contempt, spreading his thighs.

“Then get the fuck on.”

You scrambled into his lap with trembling knees, your whole body unsteady. Climbing onto him felt like surrender. His hands caught your hips instantly, gripping hard, dragging you down onto him like you were nothing but an item meant to be used.

You moaned, a broken desperate sound, as his cock filled you. Deep. You sank all the way, thighs shaking against his.

But when you leaned forward, lips trembling, eyes seeking connection, and tried to kiss him…

Crack.

His palm hit your cheek so hard your head snapped to the side.

You gasped. From the pain, from the humiliation.

From the way it made your whole body tighten.

His hand stayed firm on your jaw, holding you by the face, forcing you to keep your head turned away from him.

“Don’t get ideas,” Brian growled. “You’re not here for that.”

You whimpered, and nodded, eyes clenched.

“Use her throat,” he told Tim. “She doesn’t need to speak.”

Tim laughed. His cock was already in his hand.

“God, you’re such a romantic, Bri.”

He knelt on the couch beside you, grip tight in your hair, and pushed into your mouth again from the side - shallow thrusts now, teasing, letting you feel it while Brian fucked up into you from beneath.

You were being split, gasping and gagging between the two of them. One cock filling your cunt, the other using your throat. You couldn’t choose which felt better, or worse.

“Look at you,” Tim cooed. “Getting double stuffed like a filthy little toy. Think you can take more?”

You whimpered around him.

“Toby,” Tim called, voice rich with wickedness. “Come here.”

Toby was up before the words even finished leaving Tim’s mouth. He crossed the room fast, knees practically buckling, and stood at the edge of the couch beside Brian, hands twitching at his sides, cock bobbing, flushed and ready.

Your hand reached out blindly. Your palm wrapped around his cock and you started jerking him off, slow and clumsy.

Toby gasped, a soft, breathy sound like he'd been touched for the first time. “F-fuck,” he muttered, head tipping back, eyes fluttering shut. “Just like t-that baby, so g-g-good for me–”

“She’s ours,” Brian said flatly. But he didn’t stop you from touching Toby, he just fucked you harder.

And you cried again, not from pain this time, but because this was what you wanted.

You were surrounded.

Brian beneath you, his cock drilling you open with every brutal thrust from below. Tim beside you, his length slipping past your lips, grinning while you gagged. Toby on the other side, wide-eyed, shaking, and you were jerking him off like you needed to be touching them all at once or you might fall apart.

But it wasn’t enough.

They were all around you, so close, so deep inside you, but still half-dressed, their shirts clinging to sweat-damp skin, bunched up around their waists. The sight of them like that, nude from the waist down, cocks out and hard while their torsos stayed hidden, it felt unfair and incomplete. Like they were still holding something back. They’d done the same exact thing the night before.

You needed more of them. You wanted to see them. Their bodies. Their skin.

So between shallow thrusts, while Tim’s cock pressed to the back of your throat and your hips slammed into Brian’s lap, you managed to pull away just long enough to whisper:

“Take them off.”

Your voice was hoarse, barely audible. Your eyes watery.

Tim blinked. “Take what off, sweetheart?”

“Your shirts,” you whispered, dragging your nails over Brian’s chest, where the fabric still clung to his skin. “Wanna see you. All of you.”

For a second, silence stretched.

Then laughter.

Low and cold from Brian.

Soft and mocking from Tim.

“She’s getting sentimental,” Tim said. “You hear that, Bri? Thinks this is some kind of honeymoon.”

“She wants the full show,” Brian said. His voice was flat, but there was something colder in it. “Like this is some kind of romance.”

Your face burned, from shame, but also from hope. Because they listened.

Brian was the first to move.

He yanked his shirt up and over, tossing it to the side like it meant nothing.

What lay beneath? Not pretty. His chest was a battleground. Old scars crisscrossed his skin, long and clean, like blade work. Bruises still yellowing under his ribs. Faint burns along one shoulder. His chest was hard, unforgiving muscle, carved and damaged.

You couldn’t look away.

Tim pulled his shirt off next, slower, grinning at your awe. “Aw, she’s lookin’ like she’s seen ghosts,” he muttered.

And maybe you had.

Tim was bulkier, but no less marked. A lattice of slashes on his left side. A bite scar on his collarbone that never fully healed. His arms were battered, scarred. Veins thick under skin bronzed by exposure, muscle knotted from years of impact, wear, and violence. Bruises bloomed beneath old scars.

Toby hadn’t moved much, but when he saw you looking, saw your attention flicker from Brian’s carved-up chest to Tim’s bruised bulk, something in him shifted. His hand twitched at the hem of his hoodie. Then, slowly, like it was its own decision, he pulled it up. The fabric caught over his goggles for a moment before he yanked them down too, letting the hoodie crumple to the floor in a heap.

You didn’t breathe for a second.

Toby was leaner than the others, but no less ruined. His body was a mess of healing and hurt. Pale skin marred by jagged scars, bite marks, and strange bruising, discoloration in places that didn’t make sense. His shoulders were littered with scratches, some shallow, others deep, healed into warped tissue that told no clean story. A burn spiraled across his abdomen, low and dark. His chest bore long, knotted slashes, one reaching from beneath his collarbone down toward his ribs. And his arms, those twitchy, frantic arms, were covered in a patchwork of old damage.

But what caught you the most… was how unbothered he was. He didn’t flinch when you stared. Just tilted his head, eyes twitching with that barely-contained hunger, and whispered:

“Still p–pretty enough f–for you?”

Your throat bobbed. You couldn’t speak.

Tim laughed behind you, sharp and low. “You’ve got a type, huh, baby? All fucked up, all over.”

Brian just huffed. Still buried inside you.

You looked back at Tim and he caught your stare.

“You ever wonder what we do for a living, sweetheart?” he said, dragging fingers across a deep scar above his hip. “What kind of job leaves this behind?”

But your brain couldn’t process it. Not fully. Not when Brian’s cock was still buried inside you. Not when your jaw ached from Tim’s cock. Not when Toby moaned every time you squeezed his length.

You were too far gone.

Too broken open.

And they knew it.

Brian suddenly shifted beneath you.

His rhythm picked up and he thrusted upwards, roughly fucking into you. Like he was done chatting. Like whatever moment of calm had passed, and now he just wanted his.

You gasped, head snapping back, hand flying to his shoulders for balance. But Brian didn’t ease up. Didn’t slow. His hips slammed into you with a brutal rhythm, calculated and unforgiving. Each thrust felt like a sentence, like punctuation carved into your spine.

Tim yanked your hair, dragging your head back towards him, and shoved his cock back into your mouth.

You moaned, body jolting with every motion, thighs trembling from the force of it. Your nails dug into Brian’s skin, his scarred, unyielding skin, but he didn’t flinch. Just kept fucking you like he was trying to leave a mark that would never fade.

“She’s getting close again,” he said.

You gasped, hips stuttering, mouth falling away from Tim’s cock as your whole body tensed.

“F-fuck–please–just a little more–!”

But Brian’s hands slammed into your hips - and shoved you off.

You cried out, a raw high-pitched sound, as you fell backwards to the floor and landed right on your ass, hard, slick running down your thighs, aching and empty again.

“Jesus, man,” Tim muttered. “You could’ve at least warned her.”

You looked up through tears, stunned.

Brian didn’t even glance at you, he just stood. As if you were nothing but a used toy.

“She wants to be ruined?” he said. “She doesn’t get to choose how.”

Toby twitched, then stepped forward. He grabbed your arm roughly and yanked you upright like a rag doll, voice stammering but hungry.

“You o-okay p-pretty girl?” he mumbled. But his eyes weren’t on your face. They were everywhere else.

His hand slid over your belly. Your breast. Between your legs.

You moaned, sore and overstimulated, but let him. You needed to be touched.

Tim was already stretched out along the couch, flat on his back, his cock hard and glistening.

“C’mon, baby,” he said lazily. “Hop up.”

Your legs buckled once, but Toby kept you steady. You climbed on top of Tim, thighs shaking, cunt still dripping with Brian’s withdrawal.

He caught your waist, steadied you.

“Easy now,” he murmured. “Don’t break before the fun starts.”

You lowered yourself onto him with a trembling whimper. He filled you, slowly, all the way in. Your head fell to his shoulder, your arms weak as you held yourself up.

And for the first time since they arrived, Tim was… merciful. Not soft or sweet. But aware of the tremor in your body, the bruises forming. The mess they’d already made.

He cupped your cheek and pulled you in. The kiss was messy, wet. Tasting of smoke and spit and something desperate.

Your hips moved slowly over his. Your hips rolled, dragging your soaked cunt along his length, again and again. It hurt, a deep soreness creeping inside you, slow and spreading. Every movement pulled a strained moan from your throat, but you kept going. You wanted to, even through the ache.

Tim watched you from under hooded lids, smoke still clinging to his breath, his grin lazy and a little mean. “Look at you,” he murmured, thumb brushing your cheek. “Still working for it.”

You moved over him like you were trying to hold on to the last scrap of control, your thighs quivering with the effort. Tim just lay back, letting you do the work, letting you use him while your body trembled around him.

Your hand reached out and found Toby, who was still standing close, watching you fall apart on Tim's cock, wide-eyed and flushed. His length twitched the moment your fingers wrapped around it. You stroked him with shaky, unsteady movements, wrist sore, arm barely holding steady, but needing to touch something.

Your palm dragged slowly over his length before moving to his balls, cupping them gently at first, then massaging with clumsy care. He let out a strangled sound, hips jerking forward just a little. “Fuck,” he whispered, voice thick and cracked.

Tim chuckled beneath you, his thumb brushing lazily across your lower back. “Multitasking like a good little slut.”

You whimpered into the space between them, cunt fluttering around Tim’s cock as your body started to seize up again from the effort, the overload. Your wrist burned, your thighs ached, your whole body was screaming.

And then–

Brian was behind you again, kneeling between Tim’s thighs on the couch.

Hands on your waist, no words.

Just pressure.

You felt him press against your already filled entrance, and your breath caught in your throat. The memory of the night before slammed into you like a shiver - your pussy stretching to take both of them, the burn, the fullness, the way they didn’t ask, only took.

And now, they were going to do it again.

Brian didn’t say a word. His hands were on your hips, steady and cold, holding you in place like he was lining up a shot, not entering a girl. Tim’s chest rose beneath you, warm and slick with sweat, his hands dragging slow over your thighs.

Your body remembered before your mind could catch up - the way it stretched, the way it held them both. The way it gave in.

“No, please, not again, wait–”

He didn’t.

He pushed in.

Your scream caught in your throat, more soundless than loud, as your pussy was stretched impossibly. You let go of Toby, your hand dropping away from his cock like it no longer belonged to you. Your fingers curled against Tim’s chest instead, grasping for something solid, anything to ground you, as Brian pushed deeper.

Tim groaned beneath you. “Fuck, that’s tight. You missed this baby? Missed taking us both?”

You were shaking, arms trembling. Mouth open, but no words came out.

They began to move, opposite rhythms. One up, one down. You were filled. Beyond filled. Stretched to your limit.

“You like this, baby?” Tim whispered in your ear. “Like being torn open?”

“She’s fucking addicted,” Brian said coldly. “Couldn’t even wait a full day.”

You sobbed, broken. Overstimulated.

From the side, Toby stood trembling. His cock was flushed, leaking against his thigh, twitching with every jerky breath.

“F-fuck,” he muttered. “I-I can’t–sh-she’s–”

Tim looked over. “Well, one hole’s left, isn’t it?”

Toby was at your mouth before the sentence finished.

Your lips parted in invitation.

You took him in. Let him slide past your tongue, let him fuck your throat like it was the only thing you had to offer.

Their cocks moved inside you in opposite rhythms, Tim beneath you, deep and thick, his lazy grin betraying nothing of the way his hips snapped up to meet yours. And behind, Brian, fucking you like he owned you, thrusts punishing, perfectly angled to press you open from behind, filling every inch.

But it didn’t feel unfamiliar anymore.

You’d had both of them before, just once, but your body remembered. It knew what to do. It welcomed the pain now.

You stretched easier, felt deeper. A new kind of fullness, not just in flesh, but in need. In surrender.

“You’re taking it better this time,” Tim murmured, watching your dazed expression. “Little slut’s learning her place.”

“Don’t praise her yet,” Brian growled. “She’s close.”

You were.

Every thrust punched the air from your lungs. Your hands gripped anything, Tim’s shoulders, the back of the couch, skin, muscle, Toby’s wrist where it hovered near your cheek as he still fed his cock into your mouth.

Your moans were muffled by him, but you pulled back, just for a second, your lips red and raw, voice shaking.

“P-please–I’m–gonna–cum–”

The words barely formed.

They laughed.

Laughed.

“Already?” Tim said, cock twitching inside you. “Didn’t even beg this time.”

“Pathetic,” Brian added coldly, slamming into you harder. “All it takes is two dicks and she’s ready to fall apart again.”

“Motherfuckin’ whore,” Tim muttered, and snapped his hips upward violently.

And that was it.

You shattered.

You came with a scream, your body locking down around Tim like a vice, and then–

Wet heat exploded from between your thighs.

You gushed hard, pulse after pulse, soaking Tim’s chest and stomach, the couch beneath you, Brian’s thighs behind you.

Your release sprayed in rhythm with every tremble of your overstimulated body, leaking and pulsing in messy waves. You couldn’t stop it, couldn’t even think, just shook in their hands, legs twitching, breath gone.

“Oh, fuck–fuck!” Tim howled, laughing through it. “She fucking squirted all over me!”

Your head dropped, eyes squeezed shut, breath gone, voice broken.

Brian held you there, strong arms locked around your waist, forcing you to ride out every aftershock, every twitch, every high-pitched whimper that left your lips. His cock still dragged against your walls, slower now, almost cruel in how deep he stayed.

And then he pulled out.

“Messy little slut,” he muttered, brushing your soaked ass with the back of his hand. “You fucking drenched him.”

You could barely breathe.

Tim was grinning up at you, wet and flushed. His chest gleamed with your release, and he didn’t seem the least bit bothered. He almost looked proud.

And then Toby moved. He leaned in from the side, mouth already parted, eyes glazed and starving.

And licked a long, deliberate stripe up Tim’s chest.

Tongue dragging through your release like it was something sacred, something worth savoring. He slurped audibly at the mess on Tim’s chest, even sucked one of his nipples clean with a filthy groan like it was the best thing he'd tasted all night.

“Jesus fuck, Tobs–” Tim jerked back, trying to shove him off, half-laughing, half-horrified. “You’re sick, man.”

Toby just shrugged, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and grinned wider. “She tastes s-so sweet. Can’t let it g-g-go to w-waste.”

Brian didn’t say anything. Just exhaled sharply through his nose, like he was barely holding back a laugh - or maybe just disgusted. Hard to tell with him.

You couldn’t speak. You could barely move. You were shaking, open, dripping, your body ruined and twitching from the high, and now, watching Toby drink you off another man’s skin, your cunt pulsed like it wanted more.

But then–

You saw it. Long, angry red lines clawed down Toby’s forearm - four of them, raw and fresh, already starting to welt. Bright against his skin like open wounds.

Your stomach dropped.

You remembered, fuck, you remembered, how your hands had scrambled blindly in the middle of your orgasm, grabbing for anything, and how they’d landed on someone’s arm. How you’d dug in. Hard. Fingers curled like claws, nails dragging down in one brutal, uncontrollable stroke.

You immediately panicked, thinking back to when you scratched Brian last night and got brutally punished for it.

“O-oh my god, I–Toby–I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–”

But he just looked at the marks, blinking like he was only just noticing them. Then he looked at you.

And grinned. Wide and wild, almost fond.

“C-can’t feel a thing,” he said softly. “Swear.”

He didn’t elaborate. Just reached for you.

His arms wrapped around your waist, trembling but strong, and he lifted you. Away from Tim and into his grip.

You gasped, still shaking, body wet and open and exhausted, but didn’t resist.

He held you like you weighed nothing, your legs wrapping around his waist, your breath catching as he pulled you into his chest.

His mouth was on you a second later.

Kissing you.

Not like Tim. Not cruel or mocking.

Genuinely hungry, starved for you.

He kissed like he’d been waiting hours to be allowed. Like he didn’t care if he was sloppy or soft or anything else.

You tasted yourself on his lips and moaned into it.

And then he lowered you.

Guided you, right down onto his cock.

You sank with a cry.

Still so wet. Still gaping from Brian and Tim. But even now, your body squeezed for Toby like it wanted him. Like it recognized him as something different.

“F-fuck,” Toby moaned. “S-she’s–so warm–so soft–shit–”

Your arms went around his shoulders instinctively. He held you tight, breath ragged, forehead pressed to yours.

And inside you? He pulsed.

His hips started to move, shallow at first, careful.

But it was building. Your head rolled back.

“Please…” you whispered. “Don’t stop…”

Toby groaned like it hurt.

His hands gripped your hips with a kind of desperation you hadn’t felt from the others, something more than just possession, something like panic. Like he was terrified you’d disappear before he got his fill. Like you weren’t real unless he was inside you.

He was standing, holding you up like you weighed nothing, your legs dangling and trembling around his waist. He was already buried to the hilt, thick, twitching everywhere, and your breath came in short, shattered gasps.

“F-fuck,” he whimpered, rutting up into you. “She’s s-so wet, won’t stop fucking clenching–”

His voice cracked mid-sentence, his jaw ticking as he thrust again, deeper, and your back arched violently.

The rhythm was harsh, stuttering, absolutely unforgiving. Every tic in his body jolted through you, full-body spasms that made each thrust land harder, more unpredictable, more brutal. You couldn’t brace or prepare, it was pure chaos.

You sobbed into his neck, holding on for dear life.

Tim sat slouched on the couch, arms hooked over the backrest, watching like it was his favorite late-night show.

“She looks like she’s gonna cry again,” he said, lazy and amused. “You fuckin’ her that good, Twitchy?”

Brian stood nearby, arms crossed, his chest still glistening with sweat. He didn’t smile or joke.

But he watched. Eyes locked on where Toby’s cock disappeared into you, over and over, wet and loud.

Toby growled low in his throat, a sound more animal than human. His thrusts got faster, sloppier, his head twitching hard as he bit down on your shoulder, breath hot and ragged.

Then he kissed you again.

It was filthy. Desperate. Tongue deep, lips messy. He licked into your mouth like he was trying to taste your cries.

And you kissed him back. Something in you, broken and rewired, wanted all of them. Even the twitching man gasping into your mouth and calling you his.

When he pulled back, his face changed.

His eyes narrowed, lips curled.

“You’re such a fucking slut,” he spat suddenly, thrusting harder, teeth gritted. “Bet you’d let all of us fuck your pussy at once if you could.”

Your mouth dropped open, but only a moan came out. “Toby–Please–”

“C-could fuck you in the woods, in the blood, in the dark,” he hissed. “You’d still beg for more.”

You flinched from the whiplash. You were starting to see it now. Toby didn’t stay one thing for long. He could be soft, almost nice, and then turn on you with a sentence. A twitch, a snarl. And then come back around like nothing happened. Like he didn’t just spit venom in your face.

His hands gripped your ass, bruising. He slammed you down harder, again and again, until you were crying again, from overstimulation, from how good it felt, from not knowing who you were anymore.

You buried your face in his shoulder, whimpering.

But something pulled your gaze away.

You looked back at them.

Tim. Smiling wide now, stroking his cock lazily, eyes fixed on your ruined little frame.

Brian. Still. That lazy unimpressed scowl pressed into his face, even if his cock was hard.

You couldn’t help it.

“B-Brian,” you moaned, voice ragged. “Tim–please–”

Both their heads turned.

Tim grinned wider. “Look at that Toby. She’s getting fucked stupid by you, and still calling our names.”

Toby twitched. His rhythm stuttered.

“You d-don’t even know what you want,” he growled, biting your neck. “Crying for them while you’re on my dick.”

But he didn’t stop. He was fucking you like he had something to prove, like if he made you scream loud enough, you’d forget the others.

But you wouldn’t. They’d already claimed you.

You were theirs.

All of theirs.

Toby’s grip on your thighs tightened, a sharp, possessive squeeze, and then he dropped.

Still inside you.

Still pulsing.

He knelt with you wrapped around him, trembling and gasping, and then lowered you to the cabin floor with terrifying carelessness. Your back hit the worn wooden planks, your hair fanning out, the scent of sex and sweat thick around you.

His hands stayed on you the whole time, twitching, fumbling, but sure. He hovered above you now, panting, wild-eyed, cock still buried to the hilt.

“N-not done,” he muttered, jaw twitching. “W-wanna see your f-face. W-wanna break it.”

Your thighs trembled around his waist.

His hips snapped forward hard, with brutal strength, direct. He was in deep, pressing your spine to the floor. You sobbed out a sound between agony and addiction.

Toby moaned like it hurt. His tics worsened, full-body jerks, neck spasms, little sharp barks of breath, and every one of them drove his cock deeper, sharper, like your cunt was his grounding wire.

You looked up at him through wet lashes, totally gone. Chest heaving helplessly.

And then it happened.

A sharp tic, a sudden movement - his palm lashed out across your face. It cracked loud, unforgiving, his hand snapping across your cheek with brutal force. The burn bloomed immediately, hot and red, the impact echoing through your skull like a fire alarm.

You gasped, eyes wide, the sting bringing new tears to your eyes. But you couldn’t pull away, he was heavy on top of you, holding you down. So you simply moaned. God, you moaned.

Your head snapped back to look at him, cheek burning, cunt dripping, brain static, and he was just staring at you. Like he hadn’t even realized what he’d done. Or maybe he had and was just indifferent to it.

The hatchet came next.

He reached for it without breaking rhythm. You stiffened, but he didn’t lift it, didn’t threaten.

He set it. Right across your tits. The flat of the blade lay over them, metal kissing your skin, cold and heavy, the flat edge resting between your nipples.

“L-look at you,” he whispered, voice cracking. “You’re s-so fucking perfect. A mess. M-made for me.”

You were sobbing now. Overstimulated and raw. You wrapped your legs around him, ankles locking behind his back.

“C-cum inside me,” you begged. “Please, fill me up, Toby–want it so bad–”

His whole body spasmed. His mouth dropped open like he couldn’t believe you’d asked. He thrust harder, meaner now, chasing that edge like his life depended on it.

From the couch, Tim let out a low whistle.

“She’s begging for it,” he said. “Didn’t think you had it in you, Twitchy.”

Brian, still standing, arms crossed, didn’t smile, but his voice held something close to approval. “At least someone’s making use of her.”

You couldn’t stop crying.

Toby loomed above you, chest heaving, hatchet resting on your sternum, eyes locked on yours like you were his anchor and his breaking point all at once.

“G-gonna cum,” he gasped. “C-can’t–fuck–take it–”

“Do it,” you whispered. “Please. Fill me–want you to cum inside me–”

And then he broke.

His hips slammed forward and held.

He came with a sound that was half-snarl, half-whimper, his entire body convulsing above you. You felt it. The pulse, the heat, the messy wave of release inside your already raw cunt.

He stayed inside, panting, twitching, chest pressed against yours.

The hatchet clattered off to the side as he trembled, breath stuttering like an engine seizing.

You wrapped your arms around his back, didn’t know why, just needed to hold something.

“She’s fucking gone,” Tim said behind him. “Look at her.”

“Used,” Brian added, voice low. “Just how she likes it.”

And it was true.

Toby slipped out with a shaky groan, collapsing backward onto the wooden floor. His legs folded awkwardly beneath him, chest heaving, eyes unfocused. His head tilted slightly with every tic, breaths fast and uneven, like he'd left something behind inside you, and honestly maybe he had.

You were trembling, thighs soaked, cunt pulsing with his cum, body aching in every place that mattered.

But your eyes were already drifting.

To him.

Brian.

You pushed yourself up on your elbows, then your knees. Every limb trembled, but you didn't stop. You didn’t speak.

You crawled.

Bare knees dragging across the floor, streaked in slick and sweat and ruin.

You crawled to him like a dog.

A worshipper.

A whore.

You reached his boots and rested your palms on his thighs, looking up - your face tear-streaked, flushed, mouth open, wrecked.

You mustered up the courage to whisper his name. “B-Brian…”

He looked down at you, face cold, chest rising slowly.

You nuzzled against his thigh like you needed it to breathe. Your hands brushed the skin of his legs, feeling the strong muscles beneath your fingertips.

“Please,” you whispered. “Please, I… I need–”

He didn’t respond.

Just stared.

And waited.

Waited for you to fall further.

Let you humiliate yourself right there in front of him. 

You sobbed, forehead pressing against his hip, mouth open, useless. Pleading. You were so far gone, so desperate for his touch, his approval, that if he’d told you to lick the dirt from his boots, you would’ve done it without hesitation.

And then, with zero warning–

He moved.

Rough hands grabbed your waist and yanked you up with no gentleness. Your breath hitched, legs flailing slightly as he turned and carried you the few steps toward the dinner table.

You didn’t even have time to respond before Brian slammed you onto the tabletop. Flat on your back. Limbs splayed.

He stood, towering over you, body flush to the edge of the table, cock hard, thick and glistening, and your cunt welcomed him like it had missed him.

“Brian–fuck–please–”

He lined up and thrust in.

You screamed.

He ignored your reaction, just slammed into you again, and again, the sound of your bodies colliding echoing through the cabin. It was wet, brutal, and terrifyingly merciless.

Tim gave a low whistle from the couch. “Bitch barely wiped the last load out, and she’s already begging for seconds.”

You whimpered, shame and arousal knotting in your gut, every thrust from Brian punching your breath out harder.

The table creaked under you.

“Careful, Bri,” Tim called out. “Table’s gonna snap in half if you keep pounding her like that.”

Brian didn’t respond. Didn’t even look at him. Just fucked you harder, like maybe that was the goal all along.

Your tits bounced with every thrust, every movement, the edge of the wood biting into your shoulder blades. He held your thighs wide open, forcing the stretch, giving you nothing but that same dead-eyed stare and the punishment of his cock.

He spit in your face without hesitation, wet and disrespectful, watching it drip down your cheek with that same stare, like you were just a hole, just something for him to ruin. “Look at you,” he muttered, tone flat. “Filthy fucking whore.”

You should’ve felt disgusted. You should’ve flinched, turned your head, done something. But instead, your thighs trembled harder in his grip, slick pooling between them like your body hadn’t gotten the memo. The spit was cooling on your cheek, but all you could think about was how you wanted more of his disdain, more of his weight, more of him.

You looked up at him through the mess, wide-eyed and wrecked, silently begging for a scrap of attention, even if it came with cruelty. Please, your mind whispered, frantic and stupid. Please use me. Please keep looking at me like that.

Tim watched lazily from the couch, one hand wrapped around himself, stroking slow.

“Look at her,” he muttered. “Fucked dumb on a dinner table. Bet she doesn’t even know what day it is.”

And you didn’t.

You just cried and moaned and whimpered, pathetically.

Begged some more.

Brian grunted above you, rhythm never faltering.

You reached up blindly, fingers grazing his arm. Your mind scrambled, broken and spinning, reaching for any anchor.

“Where’s your gun?” you choked out. “M-miss it… miss when it was inside me–”

Brian snarled.

Something snapped in his face.

He slammed in even harder.

“Fucking slut,” he growled. “You miss it?”

You nodded, tears spilling down your cheeks.

“Yes, yes, I miss it–I want it–please–Brian–please–”

That did something to him. Maybe it was the fact that you’d brought up his beloved gun - not just any weapon, that one. The one he cherished so much, the one he and Tim had used on you last night like it belonged inside you more than it ever belonged in his holster. It flipped a switch in him - he realized that you weren’t afraid anymore, not at all. That you remembered, and most importantly, that you liked it.

He shoved his cock deeper inside you, hand closing around your throat this time, fingers splayed like he was gripping the last piece of your sanity. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, started feeling faint.

Then–

He kissed you. For the first time.

It wasn’t soft at all, absolutely not sweet.

It was a fucking mistake, and you felt it in the way his mouth crashed against yours, like he was punishing himself for even wanting it. His tongue shoved between your lips to mark the last place he hadn’t already ruined.

He tasted like fury. Like restraint fraying at the seams. Like he hated the fact that he wanted this, hated you for dragging something so human out of him. His teeth scraped your lip. His grip tightened on your throat.

And still, you opened for him. Kissed him back like it meant something.

And then… his hands softened.

A little.

They moved to your tits. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, once, twice, the contrast shocking. Like a man pulling flowers from a grave.

Your moan broke. Something in you cracked open.

“F-fuck–Brian–thank you, thank you–”

You didn’t even know what you were thanking him for. For the kiss? For not hurting you worse? For the way his hands had stopped treating you like a thing and started touching you like a woman again, just for a second? Or maybe it was for the softness in his thumbs as they brushed your nipples, like he hadn’t meant to be gentle, but was anyway. Like some tiny, buried part of him cared, even if he’d never admit it.

You were thanking him for all of it. For giving you anything at all.

He didn’t let you finish.

His thrusts turned erratic.

He was close, you felt it immediately.

You cried, gasped, wrapped your legs around his waist, but he pulled your hips down, fucked into you deep, once, twice, three more times–

And then he came, hard, a guttural sound tearing from his chest as his cock throbbed inside you, his cum filling you to the point of spill. His hips jerked one final time before stilling.

You sobbed through it, arms wrapping around his shoulders, desperate to keep him there.

He didn’t stay. He pulled out, slowly but roughly, and let your legs fall open like you were nothing again.

And at this point, maybe you were.

On the floor, Toby twitched once. Then again. His eyes were locked on you. And the look on his face? Hunger.

Brian barely looked at you.

He stepped back, pulled out one of the worn wooden chairs, and sat. Legs wide. Hands on his thighs. His gaze dragged over you, used, shaking, covered in slick and bruises, and then turned away, as if you'd served your purpose.

“Go to him,” he said. Flat. Dismissive.

You knew who he meant.

Tim was still sitting on the couch, legs spread, one arm over the back, the other hand dragging lazy strokes along his abs. That smug fucking grin carved across his face like he’d been waiting for this.

“Saved the best for last, huh, sweetheart?” he purred. “Come on, crawl if you gotta.”

And you almost did. Your legs barely held. But somehow, you stood.

Every step was a trembling surrender. Your thighs slick, breath shaky, eyes half-lidded and burning. You reached him like a ghost in your own body. He watched you like a predator licking his lips.

You collapsed into his lap. He caught you like you were nothing, weightless, ruined, and when he slid inside, it was too easy. You were already open, dripping.

“Look at that,” he murmured, dragging his lips along your ear. “So used up you just slip right on.”

And when he guided your hips down, when your body welcomed him in like it remembered, the sound that left your mouth was broken relief. You folded into his chest, barely upright, arms trembling around his neck.

He didn’t move at first.

Just let you sit there, full of him, flushed and shaking.

Then he slapped your cheek lightly, a sting more than a strike. “Hey,” he murmured. “Eyes on me, slut.”

You blinked. Looked up.

He smiled.

“Atta girl.”

And then he moved.

Hands on your hips, arms coiling under your thighs, lifting you slightly, flipping you in one sharp motion like you weighed nothing at all.

Your back hit the cushions.

Your legs were thrown up, over his shoulders, bent at the knee, and his hands held you there, open, trembling.

“Tired, baby?” he cooed. “Good. You don’t need to do anything but take it.”

The sound of your moan melted into a gasp as he started to move, slow at first, then faster, deeper.

“You want it again, don’t you?” he groaned. “That sweet little gush you gave me? Bet you don’t even know what you look like when you do it.”

His pace shifted, brutal now, and your breath shattered.

Across the room, Brian stared into the fire, jaw tight.

You reached for Tim's shoulders, dragging your hands across his chest, the slope of his collarbones, the ridges of his muscles, the faint scars you hadn’t seen before. You pressed your lips to his neck, kissed wherever you could, mouthed soft thank-yous into his skin like prayers.

Tim’s mouth dragged from yours to your jaw, then your neck, biting lightly, sucking harder. You moaned, head tipped back, every inch of skin oversensitive and starving.

Then his lips reached your shoulder to that spot. The burn. The cigarette mark he’d given you earlier in the night, still fresh, angry and red against your skin. You flinched when he touched it, but Tim didn’t tease you this time. He simply kissed it.

A low, smug sound left his throat, part groan, part satisfaction. He lingered there, mouthing over the wound like it was something precious. Like he was proud of it, like he owned it. Owned you.

“Good girl,” he murmured against the burn. “Still warm. Still mine.”

Then his hips slammed forward again, knocking the breath out of you. Your moan hit the ceiling.

And then he kissed you. Hot and hard, tongue greedy.

He devoured your mouth as your thighs trembled around his shoulders, his grip branding your hips with each thrust. He was everywhere, all at once, the weight, the sound, the sweat, all of him. You clawed at him, body strung tight, heat building deep and fast.

In the background, you could hear Toby. Tics snapping through the silence.

You turned your head and saw him, bare, sitting near the hearth, watching. His cock was hard again, standing up just for you. His jaw clenched, hands twitching at his sides, pupils blown wide.

He looked at you like he wanted to devour you.

And then he moved.

One hand fisted around his cock, stroking in messy, desperate pulls, the other bracing him as he crawled forward, slow at first, then faster, like something inside him had broken loose. He dropped to his knees in front of the couch, panting, twitching, staring at where Tim was buried inside you.

You met his eyes.

And that was it.

He lunged forward and kissed you, hard and needy. His mouth crashed against yours, tongue wild, breath sharp and hot.

Tim pulled back with a grunt, hand locking around your jaw like he meant to yank your face away. “Hey–” he scowled down at him. “Seriously? Back the fuck–”

But Toby didn’t even hear him. Or didn’t care.

He kept jerking himself off with sharp, frantic strokes, mouth still pressed to yours, tasting Tim’s previous kiss, your sweat, the wreckage of the night all smeared across your lips.

He pulled back just far enough to pant, breath ragged and uneven. His voice was barely a whisper, all twitch and tremble and hunger.

“W-wanna see–c-close up. Fuck–please–don’t stop, j-just let me–”

You didn’t say a word, just spread your legs wider between Tim’s shoulders, tilted your hips a little more toward Toby, like you were giving him a better view. Giving him permission.

His mouth dropped open, a broken little gasp escaping as his eyes locked between your legs, on where Tim was driving into you, slick and perfect and obscene.

He moaned and then kept going. Stroking, panting, cock in hand, eyes locked on the place Tim disappeared inside you over and over. His strokes were quick, frantic, like he was trying to keep up, like he needed to be part of it again.

Tim glanced down, rolled his eyes. “Jeez. You already came.”

Toby’s breath hitched, he didn’t even look at him. Just grinned, manic and trembling. “I can go for hours.”

Tim groaned. “Fuckin’ lunatic.”

Then he made a decision, clear and firm. He tuned Toby out entirely. Ignored his panting and staring, and instead, his focus snapped back to you. His eyes darkened. His hand gripped your thigh tighter, angling your hips with practiced ease.

His voice was low, smooth. “Gonna give me another show, baby? Gonna soak me again like the little mess you are?”

You moaned, nodded before you even knew you were doing it. You felt it, you were so close it hurt. 

He leaned down close, lips brushing your ear.

“Do it. Make a fucking mess.”

He pounded you. So hard you saw stars. So deep it felt like he was in your spine. Your pussy squelched with every wet, relentless thrust, obscene and perfect.

And then–

Your whole body snapped.

A cry ripped from your throat as the heat crashed over you, white-hot, unrelenting. Your back arched, fingers digging into Tim’s shoulders as your release poured out of you in pulses you couldn’t stop.

It soaked the couch. Your thighs. His cock.

You were shaking.

And Tim just laughed. He loved it. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he laughed. “You’re insane.”

He didn’t stop. He fucked through it, harder now, faster, grinning down at you like you were the best thing he’d ever wrecked.

“So messy. So fucking desperate.”

You moaned, clung to him, hips jolting with every thrust, brain long gone. He was all you could feel, all you could be.

Toby moaned at the sight of the wet mess you’d made. Like it hurt him not to be inside you, not to be part of it.

His hand shot down between your legs. He touched it.

Fingers sliding through the slick mess pooling on the couch cushions, up your inner thigh, between your trembling folds where Tim’s cock was still buried inside you, hot and deep. Toby gasped. Twitched. “F-fuck,” he stammered. “She’s–she’s soaking–fucking hell–”

He was twitching, panting, too far gone to stop. A shaking mess on his knees, jerking himself off frantically.

Brian sat, still, arms crossed, watching it all with that cold, unreadable stare. Then, finally, he spoke. “Look at you Toby,” he said flatly. “Fucking embarrasing. Can’t even touch her without losing it.”

Toby twitched, hard, but didn’t stop. His jaw clenched.

“Jacking off like a dog,” Brian added. “You proud of that, Twitchy? Begging for scraps while someone else actually fucks her?”

For a second, Toby said nothing. Just moaned softly, head tipped back, breath ragged.

Then, suddenly, he grinned.

Didn’t look away from you, or stop stroking. If anything, he sped up.

“Y-you’re just mad,” he panted, twitching again, voice wobbling between smug and cracked, “because my d-dick’s bigger than yours.”

Tim let out a short bark of laughter without breaking pace, still pounding into you like you were just a warm hole between them - something to fuck while they argued over who mattered more.

Brian didn’t respond. But the sharp flex of his jaw spoke volumes.

And you, sprawled under Tim, stuffed and wrecked and glowing, you smiled. Couldn’t help it.

Because fuck, Toby was something else entirely. Twitching and broken, a man that was so obscene and unpredictable, and yet somehow still lighting a fire in your gut.

Your smile was soft and dazed, but completely real.

Toby saw it. And his moan came louder this time, like your approval cracked him open further and pushed him over the edge.

Brian exhaled through his nose, quiet and controlled. Then, under his breath, barely loud enough for you to hear: “And yet I’m the one she fucking worships.”

Toby ignored him completely. Instead, his hand sped up even more. He was close.

Then, with one violent full-body jerk, his orgasm overtook him, cock twitching in his hand, hot streaks of cum spilling over his knuckles. But he wasn’t done.

He stood, fast and unstable, nearly stumbled as he climbed up and stood over the couch, already leaning in, cock still leaking, eyes locked on you.

Tim kept fucking you, didn’t stop him. Didn’t even look at Toby.

Toby grabbed your jaw with one trembling hand and shoved himself into your mouth. “P-please–” he gasped. “Swallow it–fuck–don’t waste–”

You opened without thinking, let him in, let him feed it to you. His cock twitched against your tongue as he came, a desperate cry leaving his lips as he pulsed down your throat.

You took all of it. Swallowed around him as he trembled above you, one hand still pressed on your jaw like he couldn’t let go of you.

He stared down at you like you were something divine.

And then he pulled back. Unsteady, glassy-eyed, breathing ragged. He stumbled back from the couch, hand dragging across his thigh, his cock still twitching, and dropped into the chair by the fire like his legs gave out. He sat there, dazed, watching you. Watching both of you.

You felt Tim finally tense inside you and you knew he was close.

His hips kept slamming forward, and then - one last time, deep, hard, and he stayed there. A shudder rolled through his chest as he came, groaning, voice hoarse and guttural.

You felt it, every twitch, every throb, inside. He filled you up to the brim.

His cock pulsed inside you, thick and heavy and so fucking deep. The heat of it flooded your cunt, so much that you could feel it leaking already, dripping from where you were stretched wide around him.

He stayed buried in you, breathing hard against your neck, one hand still clutching your thigh like he couldn’t let you go.

Then finally, he murmured, voice soft, wrecked, like a compliment pulled from the bottom of his lungs: “Fuck–baby–you’re perfect.”

You lay beneath him, wrung out, dazed, glowing with ruin.

Brian was turned half away, sitting by the dining table, but you knew he’d seen everything.

Tim finally stilled. His breathing was still ragged, mouth parted slightly as he looked down at you, wrecked, limp, stretched out beneath him.

He blinked a few times. Then, with a groan, pulled out and eased off you, dragging your body down with him as he slumped into a sitting position on the couch. One of your legs slid limply to the side, resting against his thigh, still twitching.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “That was… yeah.”

He leaned forward, grabbed the crumpled cigarette pack from the floor, slid one between his teeth. Lit it with his lighter.

The first inhale hit hard, and his shoulders dropped. The kind of drop that only happens when everything’s been spent.

“Not bad for a weekend getaway,” he said to you with a half-smile, smoke curling up around his jaw.

You couldn’t answer. You just laid there, eyes barely open, chest rising and falling in slow, shaky breaths. Your legs were shaking. Your throat burned. Your body hummed from everywhere.

You were… satisfied.

Absolutely ruined. But satisfied.

Brian was already moving.

He stood without a word and began getting dressed. He reached for his jeans first, tugged them up over his hips without urgency, buttoning them with quiet efficiency. Then the belt, leather sliding through the loops with a slow, metallic whisper, the buckle clicking into place. Next came his shirt, fabric pulled tight across the line of his chest. He didn’t rush or speak.

The mask came last. He picked it up by the straps and rested it lightly on the crown of his head, not pulled down. His face remained visible, jaw sharp, expression empty. That familiar, detached stare cutting across the room like a blade.

Tim looked over at Brian. Raised a brow. “You gonna sit, or what? Relax a little.”

Toby looked like he was already ready for round three. He was still shirtless, pants halfway up, hands flexing like he didn’t quite know what to do with them. His eyes were on you.

But even he could read the room.

His jaw twitched, then he groaned quietly and shoved himself back into his pants. No one told him to. He just did it.

Tim exhaled another plume of smoke and glanced over at him. “Sorry, bud. Show’s over.”

Toby didn’t respond, just hovered.

He moved to the edge of the couch, near your head. One hand reached out, hesitant at first, and then started to toy with your hair. Light, twitchy strokes. He didn’t say anything. You felt the heat of him above you, the quiet mess still vibrating under his skin.

You tilted your head, just slightly, resting your temple against the couch, and let him touch.

Tim passed you the cigarette.

You blinked at him, dazed.

“Go on,” he said. “You earned it.”

You took it with trembling fingers, brought it to your lips. The smoke burned, sharp, harsh, but it grounded you. A taste of normalcy in the aftermath of something that would never be normal again.

Tim leaned his head back, arms stretched lazily across the couch, one leg nudging yours.

“So,” he said casually, like they hadn’t just devoured you, like the air didn’t still reek of sweat and sex. “You leave tomorrow, huh?”

You inhaled again. Exhaled slow. “...mhm.”

That’s all you could say. That’s all you had.

And then–

Brian’s voice cut through the quiet.

“We took care of the Airbnb guy,” he said flatly from across the room as he was lacing his boots with precise care.

The words landed heavy.

Tim didn’t even blink.

Toby chuckled, an eerie sound with no real joy behind it.

You… didn’t move. But your heart did. It started to beat harder. Your eyes flicked open, just a little more alert.

Brian adjusted his sleeves. Voice calm, unbothered. “So the cabin’s yours. Whenever you wanna come back.”

Silence.

The fire crackled once behind him.

You stared at the ceiling. Smoke hovered near your lips. Your fingers twitched once.

The words didn’t register at first. Not fully. But then… they did. And something inside you paused.

You didn’t ask what he meant. You didn’t want to know. Because the way he said it… it was a promise. A gift.

You didn’t speak. Not because you didn’t have questions, you did. A thousand of them, stacked like sharp stones in your throat.

But because something deeper than fear had settled into your bones.

Understanding.

You’d stayed. You’d let them take you again. You’d asked for it, begged for it, and thanked them after. There was no hiding from that now.

And this was the price.

The cabin was yours now, and you were theirs.

And this, your aching, stretched, broken body, was their expectation.

They would be waiting. Every time. Whether you showed up next weekend, or next month, or the next time you couldn’t sleep without remembering how it felt to be split in half and ruined from the inside out.

You curled a little closer to Tim’s side.

The smoke drifted between you.

Brian sat down across the room, finally. Back to the wall, eyes closed. Toby stayed by the couch, tracing invisible patterns on your shoulder with two shaky fingers.

And you?

You stared at the ceiling. Eyes wide, heart slow. Body completely wrecked.

You didn’t say thank you.

But you didn’t need to.

They already knew.

Epilogue: The Cabin in the Woods

A few weeks later

The woods were quiet.

Evening light filtered through the branches, painting the path in warm gold and deep shadow. The breeze stirred the leaves just enough to remind you the world kept moving. The cabin waited ahead, half-hidden by the trees, as quiet and composed as if nothing had ever happened at all.

The car door slammed shut behind you. You stepped out slow, fresh-faced, hoodie zipped up halfway over a fitted tank, denim shorts hugging your hips just right. There was a calm to your stride now. That same cabin ahead, dark wood, shuttered windows, the faint scent of pine and ash still clinging to its bones, it didn’t feel ominous anymore.

It felt like yours.

You reached into your tote bag, pulling out a small ring of keys. Your fingers found the one easily, worn, slightly scuffed, a red plastic tag still looped around the metal.

You twisted it in the lock and it clicked. Welcome back.

The cabin was clean and quiet, a little cold. Waiting.

You took your time. Slid your shoes off at the door. Moved through the space like you belonged, because you did now. You unpacked slowly: a bottle of red on the counter, a new candle for the fireplace mantle, a change of clothes folded on the couch.

Your fingers grazed the couch’s fabric, lingering where the imprint of past nights still seemed to hum beneath the surface. You smiled.

The sun was already starting to drop, shadows curling deeper. Time ticked forward.

You lit the candle.

Changed into something lighter. Red silk, clingy and curve-hugging. Something you knew they would like.

By the time the light fully faded, you were back on the couch, legs folded beneath you, wine bottle untouched on the table, head turned toward the door.

Waiting.

Just like before.

And when it came, slow and deliberate, like clockwork, your breath caught just a little.

Knock.

[druidwolf21]

Abandoned.

Leman Russ/ Reader

Short and sweet!

No tw

A/N: Based on a comic I've included below by pigeon gazette.

@angronsjewelbeetle 👀👀 a lil somethin somethin fluffy

Leman paced back and forth, ignoring the foreign feeling of anxiety that grew in his gut and gnawed at the edges of his mind. Every sound had his ears pricking and his head spinning towards the door, just to be met with the heavy march of his marines or the softer steps of a serf passing by.

The wolfs frustration and unease grew with each passing moment. Your scent, once heavy and heady was now faint, hardly lingering upon the soft down pillow you rested your head on. The blankets had lost the warmth of your body and the hot tea beside the bed had long since stopped steaming, growing cold and congealing in the bottom of the mug. Lemans head dropped and he sank to the edge of the bed, his hand sweeping across the cold imprint where your body had lain. He sighed and dragged your favourite fur up to his nose, inhaling and biting back a whine upon finding your smell almost gone.

Still clutching the fur, Leman cast his eyes around the room. The fire had long since burnt low, its embers spitting and flickering pathetically as they grasped on to the last of the cindering timber. The candles placed around the room in wall mounted brackets had melted, dripping thick globules of wax down the tarnished brass and onto the floor. The only light in the room now was the cold light of the moon, seeping through the window, illuminating the bedroom with a cold silvered beam.

A whimper finally drew his attention and looked down. Laying on the floor, forlorn and aggrieved lay his pack brothers. Freki and Geri sprawled across the stone, huffing and groaning as they stared at the door.

"I know, but there's nothing I can do now...They're gone." Russ mumbled. The wolves snorted in reply, rolling their eyes and lolling their tongues out of toothed maws. Leman reached out to scruff his fingers across the wiry fur, feeling the low vibration of a whine building in the wolfs chest.

"You'll be ok" He rumbled. The wolf huffed and turned away, yellow eyes focused on the door.

Leman fell back across the bed with a resigned groan, throwing his arms wide and staring at the canopy of the bed. He had work to do, he knew he did. But the thought of leaving the room, where the last traces of you still lingered made him sick to his stomach.

"This is ridiculous" He growled, swiping his hand down his face, feeling the scruff of his beard rough against his palm.

"I am the great wolf, lord of winter and war. I will not be be laid low by-"

"I'm back!"

Leman and his wolves all jumped to their feet, hearing your voice as you slipped through the door. Kicking snow from your boots and pulling your thick cloak from off your head, you grinned, seeing the wolves and your primarch staring at you.

Freki and Geri got to your first, driving you to the ground with a high pitched yelp and slathering your face in hot spittle, their tongues swiping across every inch of skin they could reach. Their weight was heavy on your chest, pushing the air from your lungs they pinned you and nuzzled into you and howling.

Their joy was short lived as a massive hand reached into the fray and pulled you loose. lifting you over the wolves and setting you back down, you began to wipe the drool from your face on your cloak. Leman watched you, stony faced and scowling slightly with his arms folded across his broad chest. Finally getting clean, you tossed the cape aside and smiled, rubbing you hands across the two wolves head as they pressed their muzzles into your stomach.

"Hey" You grinned, rubbing between there ears and looking up at Russ. "How are my favourite boys"

"You left" Leman grumbled, his voice dangerously low.

you frowned, cocking your head to the side. "Leman i-"

He stepped towards you and in a burst of movement swept you up in his arms and buried his face in your neck, inhaling deeply.

"You were gone for so long. I was worried something had happened to you"

You laughed and wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his temple.

"I was gone for an hour!"

He grumbled something unintelligible, holding you tighter.

"What was that?"

"I said, far. too. Long"

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Tags: @beckyninja @moodymisty @jaghatai-khock @echo-of-damnation @laura-naruto-fan1998 @lemon-russ @astrohymn @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @incrediblethirst @kit-williams @iluminatka16 @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @bookandyarndragon @thisuserislilsilly @absynthe-mind @saintsylestine

based on this:

[celestialempirehead]

IT'S SAFE W HIM

Tw: comfort, injury

The forest was quiet, too quiet. Only the crunching of branches underfoot and the girl's ragged breathing broke the eerie silence. Simon led the way, his powerful frame clearing a path through the dense undergrowth, but every few steps he turned around to check if she had fallen behind.

His voice sounded low and hoarse, as if through his teeth. "Hold on."

The girl nodded, gritting her teeth. The hand pressed to his side could no longer hold back the blood — dark drops fell on the moss, leaving an intermittent trail behind them. The wound ached with every step, but fear and adrenaline wouldn't let her stop. She knew that if she fell now, she wouldn't get up.

Simon slowed his pace, allowing her to catch up with him. His dark eyes swept over her face, assessing her condition.

"You're losing too much blood."

— "I... can handle it," she gasped, but her leg suddenly buckled.

He caught her before she hit the ground, wrapping one arm around her waist. His palm was as hard as steel, but his movement was careful.

— "No, you can't," he muttered.

Without another word, Simon bent down and scooped her up in his arms, hugging her to his chest. The girl gasped in surprise, but she had no strength to protest — only a vague feeling of warmth emanating from his body, and the persistent smell of smoke and leather.

"You could have done it right away," she whispered, closing her eyes.

— "Don't whine," he snorted, but there was no anger in his voice.

He carried her confidently, avoiding bumps on the way. The forest gradually thinned, and soon an old hunting lodge appeared between the trees — their goal.

Simon pushed the door with his shoulder, and it creaked open. It was dusty and dark inside, but at least it was dry. He gently lowered the girl onto a cot against the wall, then quickly closed the door and slid the latch.

"Now we'll bandage you up," he said, dropping his backpack to the floor and taking out a first—aid kit.

The girl tried to sit up, but the sharp pain made her shrink.

Simon sat down next to her, his fingers already unbuttoning her bloodstained jacket. — This is not the time for heroism.

She wanted to say something, but his touch distracted her — his hands, accustomed to weapons, were now moving with frightening precision. He cleaned the wound, applied a bandage, and only when the job was done did their eyes meet.

— "Thank you," — she whispered.

Simon held his gaze for a second longer, then nodded and pulled away.

— "Get some rest. I'll check the perimeter."

He stood up, his silhouette obscuring the dim light from the window for a moment before he walked out, leaving the door ajar.

She closed her eyes, listening to his footsteps outside. Despite the pain, the fear, the uncertainty of tomorrow—here, in this abandoned house, with him by her side, she felt... safe.

And that was the strangest thing.

[lalachat]

"Shadows and Scandal"

Author's note: HEYO! I know this chapter is a day late... It's because I am in the process of moving, as well as being back at work. ehheeh I will have money again woohoo! no more summer school that takes up ALL my time. I have all of these next chapters in queue, but none of them have authors notes, summaries, or updated tag lists, hence why this one is being released now... I am not really sure what else to say in this except for thank you! With my busy life all the notifs i get on these stories makes my soul smile!! I love y'all <3

Summary: After your meeting with the inner court, Azriel starts to ask you questions about how your potion works. Deciding that its best to tell him, you open up to him about you past. But with secrets exposed and feelings growing, will you be able to keep your secret hidden from everyone else?

Word Count: 2155

Chapter 4: "With Me"

The house was quiet when you and Azriel returned. The warmth of the House of Wind, the laughter, the wine, all of it felt far behind now. Shortly after Cassian's antics, Feyre and Rhysand excused themselves as they had to get back to their parental duties. After that, everyone said their goodbyes, and now here you were back at Azriel's house.

You slipped off your shawl and laid it across the entry table, your movements slower now that the weight of the evening’s mask had finally started to wear off.

Azriel lingered near the door. His shadows were quieter than usual, like even they knew the night wasn’t quite over. He didn’t speak until you turned toward the hallway.

“How does it work?” he asked softly.

You paused. “The door?”

He shook his head. “No, the potion. The one that hides your wings.”

You looked at him, surprised by the gentleness in his voice. There was no judgment in it, only curiosity, and something close to concern. He was your husband now, even if just on paper. He deserved to know all of your truths, even the ones that haunted you.

You stepped toward the center of the room. “It’s a glamour,” you said. “A strong one. It's a masking spell layered over a binding tonic.”

“When do you take it?”

You rubbed your forearms, anxiety creeping in. “Every morning at sunrise, or close to it. Sometimes I mix it with tea. Other days, if I’m in a rush, I just take it straight.”

"Does it hurt you?"

“Not exactly,” you admitted. “But it gets heavy. By the end of the day, it feels like I’m dragging shackles full of stone.”

Azriel was silent for a long moment before speaking in a voice barely above a whisper, “Can I see them?”

The question settled between you, heavy and exposed. You searched his face for mockery, for hesitation, for the cold scrutiny you’d learned to expect from others. But there was none. Only a look of understanding. So you nodded, and with an exhale, the glamour fell.

The magic unraveled like silver threads slipping from your skin. Your wings shivered as the air touched them, after being hidden for too long. Slowly, you let them unfurl. The soft midnight feathers caught the light in the house and glimmered like ink in moonlight.

Azriel stared. Not in horror, not in pity, but in awe.

“They’re…” he began, voice low. “They’re stunning.”

You let out a small, breathless laugh. “They’re wrong.”

His brow furrowed, a flicker of something sharp crossing his face.

“They’re not like the others. Not like yours. I was born this way, feathered, not bat-skinned. That's not normal, Azriel." You paused, breath catching as trauma stirred, hurt, painful, unspoken.

“I told Rhysand I didn’t want my wings clipped. That was true. But it wasn’t the whole truth.”

Azriel’s brows furrowed, but he stayed quiet.

“When I wrote to him… I didn’t say I was different. I didn’t tell him I had feathers. I just said I was Illyrian and running from a father that would clip me.” You swallowed. “It was a calculated choice. I didn’t trust anyone, not yet. And I knew if I told him what I really was, he might treat me differently. Or worse, he’d tell the others. I can’t risk that information getting out.”

Azriel’s shadows slowed, sensing the shift in your heartbeat.

“My mother said I came from an ancient line. A rare kind of Illyrian with feathered wings that were once a symbol of magic. She said it skipped generations, that maybe her grandmother had them too. But over time, the world decided they were valuable in the wrong ways. The feathers hold power, and if harvested, they could be used in spells to enhance the enchantments, bind magic, that sort of thing.”

You stared at the floor. “If people knew what I was, they wouldn’t see a person. They’d see a resource. Something to control and exploit, so I ran.”

Azriel didn’t interrupt. Not once. Not even when your voice broke.

“That’s why I kept the secret,” you finished. “Why, even now, I haven’t told anyone else. Not Feyre. Not Rhysand. Because if they knew, things would change.”

Your gaze met his. “And I don’t want to be looked at like I’m some relic.”

Azriel’s expression darkened. “And your father? He tried to clip them?”

You shook your head. “Did more than try. The day before it was supposed to happen, I snuck out. I found the brewmistress that the village girls had whispered about. She gave me a vial along with the formula so it would hold up even under close inspection." Your voice trembled. "If my father finds me, Azriel-”

“He won’t,” Azriel said immediately, fiercely. “And if he does, I'll be there, I'll protect you.”

You looked at him, really looked at him. “That’s part of why we did this, isn’t it? This marriage. This lie. To protect my secret. You’re the only one who can know.”

He nodded as he was still watching your wings, shadows moving slowly around them as though curious too. Then his gaze flicked back to yours.

“Have you ever flown before?”

The question caught you off guard.

“I…” You blinked. “I don’t know.”

He tilted his head. “You don’t know?”

You folded your wings slightly, suddenly self-conscious. “I don’t remember ever learning. I don’t have memories of trying or even being off the ground. I must have been too young to remember.”

Azriel’s expression shifted to something softer, almost pained. “Flying is instinct. It lives in your bones, in your balance. It’s not easy, but once you get it…” He let out a small breath. “There’s nothing like it.”

You looked at him, curiosity blooming. “What does it feel like?”

A faint smile appeared on his lips. “It's freedom, control, and peace all at once. Sometimes terror, when the wind is too wild. But there’s a moment when you’re high enough and the air is just right, it feels like the whole world goes quiet. Like nothing can touch you.”

You swallowed, eyes flicking to your wings again. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

He straightened, a glint of something new settling in his expression. “With me.”

You blinked. “What?”

“You’re going to train,” he said firmly. “With me. We’ll start tomorrow morning.”

Your brows rose. “Azriel—”

“Self-defense first. Then flying.” His voice was calm. “You need to know how to protect yourself if you ever need to. But more importantly… You deserve to feel what it’s like to fly... Not just hide.”

The weight of his words settled in your chest like a promise.

You nodded slowly. “Okay.”

A silence passed. A moment of unspoken things as you both looked at each other.

Azriel stepped back, shadows curling close to his shoulders again. “You should get some rest.”

You hesitated. “Right.”

Azriel shifted his weight, glancing down the hallway, then back at you, as he started walking to his room. His mouth opened slightly, like he might say something, then closed again.

You mirrored the movement, stepping toward your own room with a quiet inhale. Both of you stood there, in the quiet of the house, facing opposite ends of the hallway. Not moving, waiting. For what, you weren’t sure. A word? An invitation? Something to tip the balance?

Your eyes met for half a second. Long enough to feel it. Whatever it was. But no one spoke.

Eventually, you both turned in opposite directions at the same time. His door shut softly behind him. So did yours. And the space between you stayed untouched that night.

Azriel POV

The soft click of her door echoed louder than it should have.

He stood at his door for a long moment, hand still hovering over the handle. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe.

He could still feel the echo of her wings in the air. The way the feathers had shimmered in the low light, the tremble that had run through them when the glamour lifted. He’d seen all kinds of wings in his lifetime. Broken ones. Brutalized ones. Bloody, clipped, torn. But hers... gods, hers were alive in a way he couldn't explain. They were unlike anything he'd ever seen, and somehow more right than any pair he’d fought beside.

And the way she looked when she talked about them, like she was trying not to break down in front of him, he’d seen that too. That quiet, desperate kind of strength. He hated it.

Azriel finally moved, shadows curling around him, restless. They always were when he felt too much. He rubbed a hand over his face and leaned against the door.

She didn’t even know if she could fly. Didn’t remember ever trying. His chest tightened. That wasn’t just sad. It was wrong.

Whoever had convinced her that her wings were wrong had taken something sacred from her. He’d give it back if he could. He would. Even if it took the rest of his damn life.

Tomorrow, they’d begin. He'd have to go slow and tread carefully, as this would take a lot of trust. And he couldn’t afford to fumble it. Not now. Not when all of it was already starting to matter more than it should.

He lay on the bed without undressing, staring at the ceiling, and didn’t sleep for a long time.

Y/N POV

You sat on the edge of the bed, your hands resting in your lap, your wings folded tightly behind you.

The room was dim, lit only by the moonlight streaming in through the windows. Casting across the floor, across your arms, across the ends of your feathers that still trembled faintly with the memory of air.

The glamour potion sat untouched on the bedside table. You couldn’t bring yourself to lift it. Not after the way he’d looked at you.

Stunning, he’d said.

You closed your eyes, exhaling slowly. The silence in the hallway had meant something, hadn’t it? The weight of it, the way you’d both lingered as if waiting for one of you to take a step forward. But no one had moved.

You pulled your legs up onto the mattress, curling beneath the blanket, and you were used to silence. To secrets. To keeping yourself hidden and tucked away. But tonight… he had seen you. Seen all of you.

And now you weren’t sure if you could ever put the mask back on and pretend that didn’t matter. Because suddenly it felt like it did.

Your gaze flicked to the door before you turned on your side and closed your eyes.

If you’re interested in being on my taglist, please let me know!

Tags:

@bookishbishhh @starsidesigh @tele86 @acourtofbatboydreams

[em1i2a3]

Ordinary Dream

Pairing: The Void/Bob/Robert Reynolds/The Sentry x Fem!Reader!

Summary: The Void comes out one night looking for some comfort from you.

Warnings: Clingy Void? Soft Void? Fluff, A hint of angst, non-sexual intimate touching, reader is naked but nothing sexual happens in this, mentions of throwing up.

Author’s Note: Going through my requests and saw this one and thought this would be a nice little short blurb just to get my brain back into Bob mode after going all out for Todd today ehehe. Anyways. Hope you enjoy this little dude!

Word Count: 3,163

You weren’t sure what woke you that night. Maybe it was the subtle creak of the mattress springs shifting beneath the weight of movement. Or the whisper-soft shuffle of bare feet across the thick, carpeting of your bedroom. The air was still–quiet in the denseness of the late-night, where even small sounds felt magnified, and suspended in moonlight and hush. You peeked through the curtain of your lashes, blinking groggily just in time to see the door to your ensuite ease shut with a soft click–no light flickering on behind it. Just darkness coming from the small space between the door and the floor.

A soft, drawn-out groan left your lips as you stretched beneath the covers, the warmth of the sheets pressing against your naked body as you reached your arms above your head, toes flexing downward. You arched your spine against the mattress with a sleepy sigh, trying to ease the stiffness clinging to your muscles from falling asleep at a strange angle and with Bob tangled up in you.

When you rolled onto your side your hand landed in the empty space that was usually occupied by your partner, feeling that it was still hot from his body. The pillow he laid on held the soft impression of his head, molded to the curve of him like it had memorized him. Your fingers brushed against the residual heat, and something in your stomach tightened. Something subtle. Something subconscious. Like there was a small, sudden realization that there was the absence of where your comfort once laid.

You breathed in and decided to listen for what was going on beyond the door of the washroom. For a moment, there was nothing, just the soft ticking of the watch you had on your nightstand–but then, there was the faint click of the faucet.

Followed by the unmistakable, sickening sound of retching. You sat up immediately, the covers falling away from your shoulders as your breath caught in your chest. Concern surged through your sleep-heavy body, cutting through the haze like someone had poured cold water all over you. Your hand instinctively clutched the blanket, pulling it loose from where it was tucked under the mattress as you rose to your feet, draping it around your body like a robe. The fabric pooled at your ankles, trailing after you as you padded quietly toward the door, heart climbing steadily into your throat, pumping right in the center of it, almost making you choke.

You knocked gently on the ensuite door.

”Bob…?” Your voice was soft, slurred slightly by the numbness in your face from where you had pressed too hard against your pillow, “Hun…Are you okay?” There was a beat of silence, and then a muffled response came out.

”Mmm…Yeah. I’m ok-okay.” But the words were punctuated by another dry heave. Your brows knit together, your frown deepening as worry won out over hesitation. You curled your fingers around the doorknob and twisted gently.

”I’m coming in, okay?” You didn’t wait for permission, you just pushed your way through slowly, and turned on the light with a soft him. The warmth of the glow gave way to the crisp, cooler air of the bathroom, and your eyes landed on Bob–slumped on his knees in front of the toilet, one forearm braced against the edge of the bowl, the other trembling slightly as it rested over his stomach. His back rose and fell with uneven breaths, with strands of his damp, light brown hair clinging to the sides of his forehead. His skin had paled even more than his normal tone, and his shoulders were hunched, muscles tensing up like another wave of nausea was passing over him. His eyes were sealed shut and he was mumbling something incoherent to himself as you stepped closer to him.

”Oh, sweetheart…” You whispered under your breath, padding barefoot across the tiled floor, crouching beside him without even thinking. One of your hands gently smoothed up the line of his spine, while the other brushed the sweat-matted hair away from his face. His skin was cool to the touch–almost alarmingly so–even though he felt damp, like he had been running a fever, “What’s going on?” Your voice was gentle as you leaned in closer, brushing your fingers along his damp temple, trying to get a clearer look at him. The overhead light was a little too bright for this hour–cool, sterile–but it caught every detail: the fine sheen of sweat clinging to his brow, the tension in his jaw, the barely-there tremble of his hands.

He looked…Worn through.

That same weightless ache you’d felt earlier bloomed wider in your chest.

Your eyes dropped to his face. The curve of his cheekbone, the dark bruising just beneath his eyes. A shadow too deep to be from exhaustion alone–black, as if it bled up from somewhere inside him, pooling beneath the skin like smoke trying to escape. Right where his under-eyes always puffed slightly when he was run down. But this–this was different.

Bob hunched again suddenly–his arm tightening over his stomach, as if bracing for another wave of nausea–but this time, nothing came. Just a broken sound in the back of his throat, followed by a slow, shuddering breath.

“He’s…He’s trying to come out tonight.” He said hoarsely. You felt your pulse quicken in your neck as your hand continued to rub along his back, gently massaging it with your open palm.

“Void?” He nodded immediately. Tight. Like the words he was trying to form in response wouldn’t be able to escape his mouth. Your hand swept slowly against the freckles that laid on his shoulders, soothing him through the silent confession he had provided, and you sighed.

”What’s going on with him that’s making him do this to you?” You asked quietly, watching as the muscles in Bob’s neck strained slightly while he swallowed, like the bile had burned his esophagus. Slowly, he turned his head toward you, his lashes fluttering open to reveal that the whites of his eyes had gone obsidian. The blue of his irises were in stark contrast against the darkness, and in the center of his pupils were twin white stars, like pinholes torn through a veil. You exhaled softly and cupped the side of his face, the pad of your thumb ghosting over the rise of his cheekbone. His skin was chilled but radiant, flushed faintly with the fever of what he was trying to contain.

“Bob…”

His jaw flexed beneath your palm. Then he sighed, long and low.

“He’s been…Wanting to be let out for a few days,” He murmured, voice shaking but no longer hoarse–just small. “But I’ve been afraid. Because he’s not pushing with anger. He’s not trying to take control or burn anything down. He’s just…” He swallowed again, and the movement of his throat looked painful. “He’s desperate to be with you. He said he wants to be held.” You softened immediately, your fingertips brushing down to his neck.

“Bob… He needs affection too, y’know?” you whispered, eyes locked with his. “He sees through your eyes. Feels what you feel. He watches the way I touch you, the way I kiss you, and he wants that. You both crave connection. He just doesn’t know how to ask for it without making you afraid.”

Bob’s eyes fluttered shut at your words–like hearing them was too much.

Like they hurt.

“I know…” He said quietly. “I know. And I know it’s not fair to keep him locked away. But I–” He paused, hand lifting slowly, shakily, to cover the back of yours. His palm was cold against your knuckles. “I was worried.” You brushed your thumb slowly beneath the bruised curve under his eye–where darkness had begun to pool and move like molasses, blooming in the space between man and entity.

“Worried about what?” You whispered.

“That he’d try to take too much.” You exhaled gently through your nose and leaned in, pressing your forehead to his once more.

“He won’t. And if he tries…I can stand my own ground.” You smiled faintly. “Even though you and I both know…He’s harmless with me.” Bob’s breath trembled between you.

”…You’re right.” You pulled back just enough to look at him again. The blue in his eyes was dimming now and the white pinholes took up more space now, almost like it was dilating from the conversation the two of you were having.

“I think you need to let him through now…” Bob sighed, and nodded, before pulling away from you, leaning his back against the wall behind him. You stayed kneeling on the bathroom floor as the shift began, your blanket now puddled around your waist, one hand still hanging in the air where it had just touched his cheek. Watching. Waiting.

It started in his fingertips.

The color bled from his skin like ink dropped in water–spreading out in dark veins that swallowed up every patch of freckled flesh. As if someone had taken a brush soaked in the purest black and swept it over his hands, up his arms, across his shoulders and throat.

And then his chest–his ribs rising with slow, steady breaths, muscles shifting beneath a surface that no longer looked human. His skin had turned to obsidian. Not flat, not matte–but slick and gently reflective, like polished volcanic glass under moonlight. And it moved, subtly, like the surface of a calm lake catching ripples from something just below.

His light brown hair was the last to go.

It darkened in strands–first the roots, then the mid-lengths, until it turned fully silken black, falling around his face in weightless, flowing threads. The softness of it almost didn’t match the rest of him, but that was what made it stranger. Beautiful. Alien and delicate all at once.

Your breath caught in your throat when the first tendrils emerged.

They slid out from his back and shoulders like smoke given form–reaching and coiling in the air, tasting the space around them. Slow and deliberate. Like stretching after years of confinement. A shiver crawled up your spine as one of them curled gently in your direction, but didn’t touch. Just hovered.

His face–what remained of it–was shadowed but shaped like before, only now marked by the silhouette of a mouth and twin glowing eyes.

The Void knelt before you, fully formed–but so still.

Then, softly:

“Y/N?”

His voice was quieter than before. No distortion. No thunder layered beneath. Just a breathy whisper of your name, tender and unfamiliar in its gentleness.

You barely had time to breathe before he surged forward–not fast, not aggressive, just immediate. Like he’d been holding back for too long and couldn’t do it a second more.

He wrapped his arms around you.

The coolness of his body hit your skin like a gust of night air. His arms didn’t shake. They didn’t clench or claw. They simply wrapped around you tight–too tight, like he thought you’d vanish if he didn’t pull you close enough. Like he needed your body against his to stay anchored in this world. You gasped softly at the chill, the feel of his skin slick and smooth under your hands, like touching running ink.

But you didn’t pull away.

You brought your arms around his broad shoulders, pressing your cheek to his obsidian throat, and whispered softly into the crook of his neck:

“I’ve got you.”

He exhaled hard–like he’d been holding in air he didn’t need. Like the release made his chest cave in against you.

“I’m sorry,” He breathed into your shoulder. “I tried not to. I tried to wait. But I needed–”

You pulled your hand up, threading it into the black silk of his hair, and cradled the back of his head. You could feel how deeply he leaned into your touch, like your nails tracing his scalp were pulling something human to the surface again. He whimpered quietly. Not dramatic. Not monstrous. Just…Small, like it was so out of place for an entity like him.

“Void…” You murmured, voice low and gentle against the crook of his ear. “You don’t have to apologize. But you need to know something.”

He stiffened slightly.

Your fingers didn’t stop moving.

“You can’t hurt Bob like that again.”He tensed further, a breath catching in his throat.

“He’s doing what he thinks is right,” You said softly. “He’s trying to protect both of you. He doesn’t deserve to suffer because you feel left out.”

Silence fell like snowfall–heavy, hushed, still.

Then a broken whisper:

“I…Won’t do it again. I promise.”

He pressed his face deeper into your neck, arms clutching tighter.

“Just please don’t let go of me.” Your heart clenched. He sounded so young and child-like when he said that. So desperate to be wanted. To be told he was safe. You pressed a kiss to the crown of his head.

“I’m not letting go,” You whispered. “But we can’t stay like this on the bathroom floor.” You traced soothing lines against the base of his skull, massaging gently with your nails. He made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a shiver, and his body started to soften in your arms.

“Let’s go to bed,” You suggested, “Then you can hold me for however long you need. I promise.” He drew in a deep breath and sighed.

”…Alright.” His arms finally loosened around you, reluctantly, like he was peeling himself away from a lifeline. You helped ease his weight back as the two of you pulled apart just far enough to move.

You stood first, adjusting the sheet clumsily around your naked body with one hand while the other reached out to him. His fingers curled into yours almost immediately.

It was strange–how something so terrifying to the world could look so hesitant when you offered him something as simple as help standing up. He didn’t let go of your hand even as he rose to his feet, the cool strength of him rising with a whisper of shadow and grace.

You reached behind and flipped the bathroom light off, blanketing the room in soft dark again. Moonlight washed the floor in silver as you quietly guided him back through the bedroom, bare feet padding across carpet. The air was still cool, but the bed still held the warmth from earlier, soft and inviting, like it had been waiting for both of you.

The Void climbed in first, slipping under the duvet, his black silhouette nearly disappearing against the dark linens, his glowing eyes being the only thing you could truly see of him in the darkness. You let the sheet fall from your shoulders and slipped beneath the covers, the mattress dipping gently under your weight. The duvet rustled softly as you settled into the center of the bed, the crisp sheets cool against your bare legs.

Before you could even adjust your pillow, he moved with no hesitation.

He followed instinctively–curling into you like a wave drawn to shore, fitting himself into the shape of your body with such urgency it made your chest ache. He settled half on top of you, half beside you, his head pressing into the space between your breasts and collarbone, one arm wrapping possessively around your waist like he needed to keep your soul anchored to his.

His skin, still cool and impossibly smooth, pressed against the warmth of your body in stark contrast, but it didn’t make you flinch. If anything, you held him closer.

You adjusted beneath him, shifting just enough to let him rest fully against you, your own arms coming up to wrap around his shoulders. One hand found the base of his skull, and your fingers immediately curled into the silk of his hair, petting him with slow, methodical strokes. The sound he let out was quiet–nearly a whimper. Almost involuntary.

His fingertips–longer than Bob’s, and less calloused–began tracing light, aimless patterns along your skin. Gentle sweeps along the slope of your ribs, the dip of your stomach, the softness of your side. He sighed deeply against your chest, his breath cool and steady where it ghosted across your skin.

“I’m really sorry for hurting Bob…”

You breathed in slowly, and brushed your thumb across the back of his neck.

“I know,” You said softly. “And I’m sure he knows, too.”

The Void was quiet for a moment.

Then he burrowed closer–somehow–nuzzling his face into the curve of your body like he was trying to vanish inside you. His arm tightened around your waist, and one of his legs slid across yours under the sheets, entangling completely, his body melting into your side like warm wax folding into flame.

“He doesn’t deserve it,” He whispered. “He’s kind. And I’m…”

“You’re not a monster,” You interrupted gently.

He didn’t respond right away.

You tilted your head and pressed a soft kiss to the crown of his black hair, fingers still stroking soothingly through it, combing through the weightless strands.

“You’re just lonely…And you acted out of impulse to try to get what you needed.” His entire body gave a subtle, shuddering exhale. As if your words had reached something buried too deep for even Bob to touch.

The glow of his eyes dimmed slightly, blinking against your skin like he was growing sleepier now that he was safe. Now that he was held. One of his tendrils peeked from beneath the duvet, coiling lightly around your thigh–not tight, not aggressive, just a slow gentle brush.

You felt his lips–just a shadow of a mouth–press against your chest.

“Thank you for letting me come to you,” He whispered, quieter than breath.

You tightened your arms around him and smiled into the dark.

“There’s no version of you I wouldn’t take care of.”

That was the last thing said between you for a long while.

The Void settled entirely then–his limbs heavy against yours, his cheek pillowed to your chest, his body humming faintly with the low vibration of cosmic quiet. He didn’t shift again, didn’t twitch or pull away. He just…Stayed.

Clinging to you like he belonged there.

Like he’d finally found a shape that soothed him.

And when you finally drifted off to sleep, your fingers still tangled in his hair, his arms wrapped around you like armor, The Void followed soon after–dreamless and warm, nestled in the softest corner of the universe he’d ever known.

[boiledkwamaegg]

Ngl i never thought that size of iris matter, (and i wanna steal this hc now if you don't mind), but! I also have headcanons about eyes, pupils in particular, that you might like

I noticed orsimers and bosmers have "+" shaped pupils, and in helps them both see good in both direction and both at night and day. They can change both vertical and horizontal lines individually depends of situation

Dunmers, in other way, have normal pupils, but they kinda able to see in infrared? They are able to physically see warmth from a person, so for dunmer its quite easy to spot a vampire faster than everyone else. Ironically it also help dunmer vampire to blend since its they have the least changes after transformation

Atlmers have...pretty eyes xDD nothing special compared to others but they have other advantages anyway

Oh yeah if anyone wants to steal my elf headcanons go ahead, I love spreading my propaganda XD

Also these are very interesting points, I love contemplating stuff like this... Now that I think about it, a larger iris would probably allow for a bigger expansion of the pupil, and while I don't usually draw elves with really expanded pupils, now I kind of want to, lol...

The pupil shape is also interesting to point out, I'm not sure what the mechanics of a cross pupil would be, and in reality it's probably just a cool aesthetic thing, but I'd assume for orsimer and bosmer that are seen as "barbaric" fighter types, it most likely does aid them in seeing vertical and horizontal movements faster than someone with a round pupil would - a good advantage to have while in close combat! So yes, they probably process movements faster than other races. I know these two races are sometimes depicted with round pupils, but that's boring lol, I mean if you're gonna have a fantasy race might as well go all out?

Dunmer having infrared vision actually makes a lot of sense, I'd imagine in their environment, especially during an ash storm where it's typically hard to see, seeing the heat of approaching entities would be very advantageous! Stealing that idea for sure...

I feel like other elven races could also have weird eye advantages too, maybe maormer have "w" shaped or crescent shaped pupils that allow them to see better in water. Falmer probably had some kind of protective membrane over their eyes that protected them from UV light, though now they've, uh, lost that feature... Dwemer could probably adjust and see in the dark pretty well too.

For altmer, I actually thought their eyes are adjusted to seeing colors and bright lights the best, since that's what they're all about anyway? Maybe they can see colors that other races can't, like mantis shrimp lol.

I thought the larger field of vision elves would have comes simply from the placement of their eyes - not only are the eyes physically bigger, they are slanted and positioned in such a way that they can see to their sides easier. Like, I think altmer could give some reeeally bombastic side-eye, it would make sense for their culture haha

I also want to mention, that since humans (afaik) evolved more visible scleras compared to other mammals as means of more effective nonverbal communication, maybe elves have subtler facial expressions and body language compared to humans, since they value verbal "high speech" more than some lowly nonverbal communication lol. It's harder to tell how they feel or what they're thinking from their face, maybe their brows move less and it's harder to notice the direction they're looking, and their body movements are often more refined and elegant.

Anyway, that's enough yapping for this post, thanks for indulging me in some headcanons!!!

[kleverarachnid]

No Happy Endings?

Ch. 1: Victoria

Summary: Victoria Pierce was helplessly in love with Natasha but it was clear the redhead only wanted one thing. She was beginning to learn to accept that before she got swept up in a portal that took her who knows where.

Full story on AO3: Here

It was the look in those green eyes, the way they sometimes softened and smiled at her. It was the warmth of her hands when she held her close as if she didn't want to let go; as if she was something precious. It was the way she kissed her with such emotion, saying what her words wouldn't. It was the way she always felt loved in those moments, and it was because of those moments that she let herself get lost time and time again in Natasha Romanoff. 

"Please," Victoria begged as Natasha relentlessly pumped three fingers into her, her other hand interlocked with Victoria's above her head. Victoria wasn’t normally one to beg, it was something she resented in fact, but Natasha somehow brought out this needy side of hers whenever they were together. "Oh, god please don't stop," she moaned. 

Natasha hummed, using her hips to force her fingers deeper and cursing when Victoria would clench around them. "You're so tight baby," she rasped in her ear, sending warm tingles down her spine. 

Victoria's free hand was holding onto Natasha's muscled back, keeping her close. She could feel every movement the redhead’s body made, her hard pink nipples brushing against her own darkened ones, her muscles tensing and un-tensing as she fucked Victoria into oblivion. She could feel Natasha everywhere, overwhelming her senses and heightening her pleasure. She could only moan and writhe under the warm body keeping her in place as she was brought to another earth-shattering orgasm. Natasha filled her deliciously, and with just the right amount of pain with her pleasure.  

"Ffff—uck!" Victoria threw her head back as she felt another orgasm approaching embarrassingly fast. 

Natasha's fingers picked up the pace, her now dark green eyes intently watching her every reaction, swollen pink lips hanging open. The sight of her red, ruly curls framing her face as the last of the light from outside shined on her was what finally brought Victoria over the edge, and she squeezed Natasha's fingers almost in a death grip as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her.  

She was a stuttering, moaning mess but Natasha was there, placing sweet kisses everywhere she could reach as Victoria came down from her high. Her cheeks, her nose, her lips, her jaw, her neck, and her shoulders were all given delicate kisses as Natasha murmured praises. "You're so pretty when you come for me." It made her feel gooey inside, and if she wasn’t already wet and naked underneath her, she would have blushed from the attention. 

Victoria was breathing heavily, trying to bring her body back down to earth because she felt like she was floating. She felt Natasha carefully pull her fingers from inside of her, causing her to twitch and jump but Natasha shushed her softly, squeezing her hand that she still hadn't let go of.  

Natasha was staring down at her with the look in her eyes that made Victoria fall in love all those years ago and Victoria couldn't help but smile at her. Then, like always, there was the shift. The affection in those green eyes was gone, replaced with the coldness of the Black Widow that Natasha liked to use as a mask. She no longer held Victoria close, letting go of her hand as she slipped out of the bed and gathering her clothes.  

This was the part Victoria hated, when Natasha suddenly tossed her aside. It made her feel dirty and worthless, like she was a child again begging her mother to not give her away to the strange, scary men. She wanted to cover up and hide under the covers, escape the empty look in Natasha's eyes.  

"Nat?" she called softly. All she got in response was a halfhearted hum as Natasha pulled her pants back on. "You could...stay if you wanted. You...you don't have to leave." 

Natasha didn't look at her or even in her direction. Her freezing for only a moment was the only indication that she heard her, but she only resumed pulling her shirt over her head, shrugging lightly. She cleared her throat sharply before shaking her head. 

"Nah, I... I can't. You understand right?"  

Victoria sighed, pulling the comforter over her cold naked body. She hummed halfheartedly in response, and Natasha was soon out the door without another glance, leaving her alone. Again. A few short moments passed before she heard her front door close, and Victoria stared at her bedroom door for an embarrassingly long time, hoping Natasha would suddenly change her mind and come back. Of course she didn't, she never did.  

Victoria sniffed back the tears, not wanting to cry again. She didn't understand Natasha's behavior and she didn't understand why she kept accepting it for only moments of happiness. Natasha was a drug, and she was an addict, always waiting for her next fix. Maybe she should attend an AA meeting or something. She chuckled at her own thoughts although there was no real humor there. She gave herself a few more minutes to sit in her own self-pity before she forced herself out of bed and into the shower to wash away the hurt and shame, telling herself this would be the last time.  

By the time she was out of the shower, the sun was completely set, and her room was bathed in darkness. She expertly navigated around her room by muscle memory and flipped the switch only to be met with her clothes from earlier thrown around, reminding her of what happened not even an hour ago.  

She swallowed thickly before bending down to pick them all up and tossed them in the hamper. She looked at her bed and thought of washing her sheets for all of two seconds before shaking her head at herself. If she was lucky, they would smell like Natasha for a few days. Weak  

~•~ 

"It's...I'm done, it's over." Victoria nodded to herself as if that would make it any truer. 

Tony raised a disbelieving brow over what looked to be a part of his ironman suit, obviously not believing a word that came out of her mouth. She tried to stand her ground, glaring at him for extra measure but it only made him smile, amused. "Uh-huh," he nodded.  

"Don't be sarcastic." She rolled her eyes and folded her arms over her chest. "I'm serious." 

"Right," he mockingly agreed. "And does she know that?" 

Victoria hesitated, opening her mouth to answer but no words came out. He waited for a response that she couldn't—wouldn't give because the truth was that Natasha did not know. Victoria didn't know how or if she would ever tell her. She sighed, of course, she would have to tell her.  

"I wish we didn't work together, then I could just ghost her," she grumbled. 

Tony laughed, shaking his head. "Didn't you guys take SHIELD and Hydra down with Rogers? How can you still be working together for an organization that doesn't exist?" 

Victoria stayed silent at that, she wasn't really supposed to tell Tony about things that happened at SHIELD, but he was also her best friend and the only person she had to talk to. She sighed trying to think of the best way to answer without revealing information she wasn’t supposed to. 

"Isn't being an Avenger a job?"  

Tony scoffed, "How much do you get paid?" 

She rolled her eyes. "Be serious." 

"I am." 

"Whatever, it's still a job," she huffed. He silently shook his head continuing whatever project he was working on before Victoria came over. "What are you doing anyway?" 

"Well...I'm trying to find a more effective way..." he paused as he focused on something, Victoria had no idea what, "...to get into the suit." 

"Oh, so the suit coming to you and putting itself on not enough for you?" she teased.  

He only took a moment to glare at her before focusing once more. "No, what if something happens and I don't have time to wait for the suit?" 

She sighed, glancing at Tony. She worried about the billionaire, a lot. Ever since the battle with Loki, he had been different, more anxious, and always preparing for the next fight. It had been over a year since his last panic attack, but now she was starting to wonder if that was true or if he was just hiding things from her. 

"Tony?" she started softly, chewing her bottom lip. He replied distractedly but she hoped he was at least somewhat listening. "How long have you been working on this?" 

His brows furrowed as he thought, but his hands never stopped moving. "Um...for about a couple of weeks." He paused but then nodded to himself before mumbling, "Or months." 

Victoria's eyes widened. "Tony!" 

"What?" he asked dumbly, and Victoria just gaped at him. 

She shook her head and stood, reaching over to pull the tools out of his hands. He tried to fight with her and grab his things back, but she was much stronger, pulling him away from his workstation and sitting him in the chair she previously occupied. She put her hands on his shoulders to keep him in place and looked deeply into his eyes.  

They were red with bags forming from not getting enough sleep, something she knew he struggled with recently. She wondered if he even ate. She studied his face as he tried to avoid her eyes, but they were too close for him to fully escape her gaze. He looked guilty and her jaw clenched, she was angry but not with him.  

"Should I be worried?" Pepper's amused voice suddenly appeared. 

Victoria stared at Tony for a moment longer, memorizing the way his eyes currently looked before turning and smiling at the blonde who was headed toward them with bags of food. With complete seriousness, Tony replied, "Yep, if you're not careful Vic will steal me away from you." 

He stood, escaping the serious moment with Victoria, and gave Pepper a kiss on the cheek as she rolled her eyes with a fond smile. Victoria took the bags from her, placing them on a nearby desk. "Yes," Victoria sarcastically agreed. "Because my biggest dream has been to be with a man twice my age." 

"Ouch," Tony feigned hurt. "I'm only 40 and you're about to be 25." 

Victoria snorted, "You are not 40, and only women lie about their age."  

She dug around the bags, not listening to Tony's reply. There were a few burgers and fries inside, and she took two burgers, holding them out for Tony to take. When he took them, she took a carton of fries and handed him those as well before taking a burger and fry for herself. 

"You staying for lunch, Pepper?" she asked before stuffing a handful of fries into her mouth.  

Tony did the same and Pepper cringed. "No, as much as I would love to see you animals eat, I have things to do."  

Tony shrugged, before leaning in to loudly chew in her ear. She tried pushing him away and Victoria laughed at them. "You sure?" Tony asked around a mouthful. 

"Yes. Get away from me!" Pepper shrieked as he took a huge bite of his burger, grease dripping down his chin and onto the floor. Even Victoria had to admit that was gross.  

Tony shrugged, completely unbothered and replied, "Suit yourself," and gave her a sloppy kiss on the cheek. He seemed to think of something for less than a second before suddenly leaning in and plopping a wet kiss on her lips too.  

"Tony!" 

He only smiled at Pepper who looked like she was seconds away from vomiting. "Love you, see you later."  

"Ugh," she sighed but smiled back at him. "I love you too." She leaned in and gave him a much more delicate kiss than he gave her and waved a goodbye to Victoria who smiled, then she left before Tony could torment her further.  

"You two are disgustingly cute," Victoria said when Pepper was gone.  

"Yeah," he mindlessly agreed looking at the door Pepper exited. She rolled her eyes but smiled. She was glad he had someone like Pepper in his life, she kept him balanced and taken care of.  

They finished eating in silence and Tony finally seemed truly relaxed now that he wasn't working on his suit. Victoria wasn't sure what to do in this situation; Tony was her first and only friend, although Steve would probably disagree. And Steve was nice, they got along because they had similar experiences, but they never really talked much outside of missions and alien invasions. Not that it was completely his fault because Victoria didn't try much either, but she was never good with people, except for Tony. He was different somehow and she still didn't know how exactly, but she cared for him deeply, and he just always seemed to be there when she needed him, he actually wanted to be there and made sure she knew it.  

Then there was Natasha, but that was an entirely different story. She wasn't exactly a friend seeing as they barely talked outside of sex. Victoria could probably remember a handful of times they shared a conversation over the few years she'd known the redhead. But never anything deep or personal, just small talk you make with an acquaintance. Or a stranger.  

"Stop thinking so much, it's not good for you." 

Victoria chuckled, rolling her eyes but grateful for Tony bringing her out of her racing thoughts. "I could say the same about you. And don't think I forgot about earlier."  

She gave him a stern glare and he frowned, confused before he guiltily looked away mumbling, "I don't know what you mean." 

Victoria sighed trying to think of the best way to talk to him. Without really thinking at all, she found herself saying, "You know my mom thought she was selling me to become a prostitute?" 

She didn't look at Tony, but she felt his eyes on her. He didn't speak and for a while, neither did she. This wasn't something she told anyone, and she didn't know why she was talking about it now. But she started and she couldn't stop. 

"Obviously that's not why they wanted me, and for the next ten years, I was subjected to tests and experiments where they would..." She paused and had to swallow the bile that rose in her throat.  

"Vic," Tony whispered. She could hear the emotion in his voice, but she still didn't look at him, she kept her eyes firmly on the ground.  

"They would cut me open with this...knife. I didn't heal as quick then so I would have to lay strapped to this metal table for hours in excruciating pain as my skin slowly pieced itself back together and everyone sat around and watched, taking notes."  

She inhaled sharply when she realized she begun crying, and she quickly swiped the tears away. She could remember the fear she felt every time she would be forced down on the table, the metal straps digging into her skin, the men in white lab coats having no empathy for her as they watched, fascinated. 

"I was forced to do tests and training exercises, things they wouldn't even allow in the military. I was their lab rat, and I was made into this...thing." 

She thought of Steve's friend, his cold, empty, lifeless eyes that looked at Steve with no recognition. He didn't even know who he was, he was just a killer for Hydra. Victoria could relate, although the men that took her weren't Hydra, she didn't know who or what they were, and she didn't want to know. She also didn't have the relief of forgetting, she remembered everything.  

"I would often wonder if it would have been better if I was sold as a prostitute. The things they did...I'll live with that forever."  

She shook her head, clearing the unwanted memories, and finally looked at Tony. The sight almost broke her. He was crying, face red with snot building up, his brown eyes glistened with the tears that didn't seem to stop coming. He looked at her with such helplessness, as if it was his fault she went through what she did.  

She swallowed the hurt those memories brought and continued, "I lived each day afraid, knowing the next day would be worse. Ironman freed me, but Tony... you saved me." 

His bottom lip trembled, and Victoria stood. He sat frozen, watching her helplessly, almost looking like a child at that moment. She strode over to him and gently cupped his face, wiping his tears. His body began trembling as he continued crying, but she hoped that he understood what she was trying to say.  

"Your suit isn't what makes you a hero," she whispered softly. He sniffled and took a deep breath. "It's your heart, and it's so big and loving but you never use it on yourself."  

More tears streamed down his face as he looked up at her and Victoria simply wiped them away, smiling softly at the man she would be eternally grateful for. He not only saved her life, but he saved her soul, making her into a real person again.  

"The people need Ironman," he argued weakly.  

She shook her head, sniffing back her own tears. "Some people just need Tony." 

He released a heavy sigh, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her close. She held the back of his head and laid her head on top of his. It was greasy and smelled like he hadn't washed in a while, so she pulled back, wrinkling her nose. "You need a shower." 

The heavy moment disappeared with his laughter, and he playfully pushed her away. "Okay Mom," he snarked and she giggled. 

They laughed easily together and fell right back into their easy-going dynamic. Victoria was glad she didn‘t ruin five years of friendship in one hour. Eventually, Tony decided to accept her request to shower, leaving his lab with Victoria following behind him. They walked to the elevator that led to the front lobby and he hugged her closely.  

"Thanks," he murmured near her ear. "For...you know." 

She smiled and squeezed him tightly before pulling back to look at him. "That's what friends do, right?" 

"Right," he nodded.  

She got in the elevator feeling lighter than she did before she came. That was until her phone rang and it was just the person she wanted to avoid. The elevator doors closed leaving her trapped with the ringing phone. She knew what she had to do, what she should do, but she didn't know if she could. Closing her eyes, she knew she had to end it with the redhead. It would be better if she ended things now, it had gone on far too long.  

"Hey," she answered right before the call dropped. 

"Hey," came Natasha's flirty voice. It did things to Victoria's heart...and other parts. "You busy?" 

Victoria held in a sigh but was grateful when the elevator opened, and she could breathe a little easier. "Um...no?" 

She rolled her eyes at herself, hating the way she sounded so uncertain. There was a small chuckle on the other side and Victoria clenched her jaw. With determined steps, she exited the building and found herself in a sea of people walking past her and not sparing her a second glance.  

"Well...if you're not doing anything, how about I come over?" 

Victoria swallowed, it was now or never. "Actually...um I was thinking we could talk." 

There was silence from Natasha, and Victoria held her breath. "Sure." She sighed in relief and almost let herself smile. "I can be over there in about twenty minutes."

Victoria tensed. "Uh..."  

The phone hung up before she could suggest meeting somewhere public and she sighed in frustration, which quickly turned into self deprecation. She didn't even want to be seen with her in public. It was about an hour long walk from Tony's and Victoria decided she would make the redhead wait. Feeling a small sliver of satisfaction with her petty revenge, she began her journey thinking of what she would say to her.  

~•~ 

"So, what'd you want to talk about?" Natasha asked smugly as she got dressed. 

Victoria stayed silent, her eyes hungrily taking in every curve, every muscle, and every piece of skin on display until Natasha was fully dressed again. She was disappointed when there was nothing else to oggle, but even more so in herself. She had meant to break things off, to tell her she wouldn't continue to be used like this.  

But then she made it home late like she planned, saw Natasha leaning against her door, flirting with her neighbor, and forgot all about that. And Natasha wasn't complaining, in fact, she seemed to take great pleasure in Victoria's jealousy, which just confused her further, and now she was dressed, leaving her alone once again.  

"Nothing important," Victoria muttered.  

Natasha hummed, running a hand through her hair. She looked thoroughly fucked and Victoria hated herself for finding herself aroused again. She bit her bottom lip, trying to tear her eyes away but she simply couldn't. It would be a sin to look away. A true crime.  

"Mm, see something you like?" Natasha teased as she sauntered over to where Victoria still lay naked.  

"Maybe," Victoria replied looking up into green eyes through her lashes.  

Natasha smirked and leaned in very close, but not quite touching. Victoria licked her dry lips, now unable to take her eyes off the swollen pink lips inches away from her own. "I'll see you later." 

The moment was gone, and Victoria was left cold when Natasha suddenly pulled back with her jacket and swiftly left the room. Victoria waited for the sound her front door to close before she finally let herself cry. Once again, she was left alone feeling dirty and ashamed, being reminded that she wasn't worthy of something as precious as love.  

She would always just be that little girl begging her mother to let her stay. She would always just be an object used for others' benefit. And of course, now would be no different, but maybe if she could accept that, she would be happy. Maybe this thing she had with Natasha could be enough.  

She crawled under the covers, curling herself into a ball as she mourned the idea of a relationship with the redhead. She tried to forget fantasies of late nights curled up together, talking about everything and nothing, early mornings making breakfast together and soft kisses before work. She tried to stay silent but soon let her harsh sobs fill the silence of her empty apartment, all the while telling herself it was for the best.  

After crying until she couldn't anymore, she dragged herself out of bed and into the shower where she once again washed away her shame and disgust for herself, although when she got out, she didn't feel any less ashamed or disgusting than she did when she first got in. Her head hurt from all her earlier crying making getting dressed feel like an impossible task. 

It was when she had some sleep shorts and a sports bra on that she heard her work phone ring. She knew sooner or later, she would be getting a call even though SHIELD was supposed to be gone. One thing she knew about Fury though was that he did not give up easily. All emotions disappeared into the back of her mind as she seamlessly slipped into work mode.  

"Pierce," she spoke into the phone, her voice a little hoarse.  

"We need you to come in. We've sent you an address, be there in an hour."  

The call ended quickly and Victoria frowned. She didn't recognize the agent's voice and since everything that happened recently, she had been a little more on edge. She went to her closet, pulling her cargo pants out. She swapped her shorts for the pants and pulled a black compression shirt out of her drawer.  

She pushed her wet hair back and out of her face and tried styling it in a way so it wouldn't bother her when it dried. She didn't like keeping long hair so she couldn't pull it into a bun like most of her women colleagues did. She was a little self-conscious about it at first, thinking it would be a problem to have her hair cut like a man, but Tony reassured her that it wouldn't matter, and short hair was "hot" on women. Not that looking hot was her worry, but she hated her long hair because it reminded her of her time as a lab rat.  

She pulled her boots on, shaking her thoughts away, and buttoned her pants. She pocketed her work phone and headed to the kitchen where she kept her gun, hidden under her dining table. She put it in her holster and grabbed her keys, exiting the apartment after grabbing a grey hoodie from her hall closet. After pulling it on, she pulled her phone out to check the address. 

It was a private hangar that she recognized because Tony used the same one. She smiled at the irony and pocketed her phone as she walked to the parking garage a block away from her apartment complex where she stored her motorcycle. She pulled the sheet off, revealing her sleek, black 2015 Harley-Davidson Livewire, recommended by Natasha of course.  

She pushed thoughts of Natasha out of her mind, forcing herself to focus on her task ahead. She had about 45 minutes to get to the airport, and she didn't like being late. The bike roared to life after she turned the key, and she strode out of the garage and into the streets of New York. She maneuvered through traffic with practiced ease, the wind drying her hair quicker. 

She made it in thirty minutes, knowing her way around the city, and was stopped at the gate being asked for her ID. She opened one of her pockets in her pants and pulled out her SHIELD badge. It was the only identification she had that had her real information on it and since SHIELD's information was released, she could no longer use her previous fake ones.  

The man checked it, clicking something on his tablet before nodding and motioning for the gates to be opened. She rode through and followed the directions that were in the texts, stopping in front of the hangar with a private plane. She saw a few other SHIELD agents packing boxes into the plane and watched as she waited for instructions.  

"Pierce!"  

She tensed hearing Natasha's voice and turned, being met with green eyes and full pink lips set into a smirk. "Romanoff," Victoria replied hiding her discomfort.  

Natasha looked completely put together, with no trace of what happened a few hours ago to be seen. She was in her suit that did things to Victoria's insides, and one she hadn't seen in months, and was heading toward her, cocky smile in place. Victoria kicked her stand out to park the bike making sure she turned it off before getting up. 

"What's going on?" she asked, looking around at the agents still loading boxes into the jet. 

"Transporting supplies," Natasha answered. 

"What supplies?"  

"Don't know, I didn't ask." She shrugged crossing her arms over her chest, pushing her breasts up a little Victoria noticed, with a teasing smirk.  

Victoria sighed, trying not to look down. She didn't think she would be called for something like transporting supplies, but she figured SHIELD didn't have many people to trust anymore so she would do it with no complaints this time. But next time, she would be having words with Nick Fury.  

"Ready?" Natasha asked. Victoria nodded and followed her onto the jet and into the cockpit. "So, what do you think? Finally want to learn?" The rasp in her voice brought flashes of her hovering over Victoria telling her how good she tasted. 

Victoria cleared her throat, "Sure." 

The flight was filled with flirty smiles, "accidental" touches, and eyes sending hidden messages. Once again Victoria was reminded of why she fell in love with this person who hurt her so much. Moments like these, she felt like she was floating which fueled her feelings further, making it easier to forget the pain that went along with it all.  

"We're here," Natasha announced what felt like too soon. This was the most open Victoria had ever seen her, and she didn't want it to end but as always, it did.  

She let Natasha land while she checked their surroundings, making sure everything was the way it should be. Everything seemed normal so she radioed in their landing and waited for instructions. She snuck a glance at the redhead beside her who was pressing buttons. Victoria didn't know what any of them did, but she seemed focused on her task, and yet Victoria couldn't help but think this would be a good time to finally talk. They had to wait for whatever was on this jet to be loaded off before they could fly back to New York anyway, and Natasha couldn't distract her with her body. 

"Nat?" She was proud of her voice not faltering. She received a hum in response, and she knew now was her chance. She cleared her throat nervously and clasped her hands together. "I... I'd like to have dinner with you." 

Coward , she thought to herself. Natasha was dreadfully silent, and Victoria snuck a glance to see green eyes already on her, studying her with an unreadable expression. When their eyes met, pink lips curled into a slight smirk.  

"Dinner?" she asked coyly.  

"Yes," Victoria replied with only a little uncertainty.  

"And what would we be doing after this...dinner?" The flirty tone was back, and Victoria held in a sigh. But there was this look in those mesmerizing eyes, it showed more than Natasha ever said. Victoria couldn't help but fall under their spell, smiling at their promises she knew wouldn't be kept. 

"Anything you want," she breathed. 

Natasha hummed, satisfied and her smirk widened. "I can think of a few things," she whispered.  

~•~ 

Days went by, and then weeks, and still Victoria never broke it off with Natasha. There wasn't much word from SHIELD since they transported supplies which just meant she saw the redhead more and more. Tony wasn't happy about it though and he made sure to let her know on multiple occasions.  

Victoria almost felt like she was going crazy, not having anything to do and being stuck in an endless cycle of pain and heartbreak, so when Steve came back ready to take down Hydra and find Loki's scepter, she jumped at the chance for a change of pace. She got into contact with Thor, Natasha with Clint, and Tony with Bruce, and soon everyone was back together again. Steve took the leader role while Tony funded everything they needed, and soon everyone had new and improved suits along with technology with Tony's AI, Jarvis, installed.  

Tony even offered everyone a room in his tower that was now fully repaired and fully stocked with things everyone would want and need. He even made improvements to Natasha's widow bites, much to Victoria's surprise since he made it clear he didn't like her very much( at all ).  

"She's part of the team, whether I like it or not and she's good. Even I can admit that" was his response when she questioned him. He also tinkered with Steve's shield so that it would always come back to him, making fighting easier. She knew Tony would never say it out loud, but he liked the captain in his own way, and they were friends although neither would ever admit it.  

It was an early morning one day, about a month since Steve returned, when Tony called everyone to his lab where he and Bruce had been working together to find possible Hydra locations. "So, we found one here." He pointed to a spot on the screen that showed a map. "They're using a church as a front, pretty clever but a bit ironic if you ask me."  

Victoria rolled her eyes but listened as he continued, and then listened to Steve's plan of attack. It was different, she realized, being a part of something so small but achieving something so big, as opposed to SHIELD where she was a part of something big achieving something small. No one really knew what SHIELD did for them, but everyone knew the Avengers and what they had done.  

Soon everyone was suited up, except Bruce who would only be joining if needed, and on the quinjet. They were flying to a small city in Mongolia, the base was supposed to be underneath an abandoned church. Victoria sat next to Thor who seemed different the last time she saw him, sadder with a darkness that wasn't there before. She wanted to ask but didn't think now would be an appropriate time.  

Also, she was distracted by the sight in front of her. Bruce was nervous, probably about the possibility of turning into the Hulk, like always, and Natasha was soothing him with a hand on his arm and a soft smile as she whispered comforting words to him. Victoria wasn't jealous, she had no right to be, but she couldn't help the foul taste she got in her mouth from looking at them.  

"Look alive team. We're almost there," Steve announced, and she heard the distinct sound of leather rubbing together as he tightened the hold on his shield. 

Victoria took her eyes off Natasha and Bruce, forcing herself to focus on the task ahead. It was easy, making the switch since it was something she learned to do long ago unless she wanted to die. All feelings related to Natasha Romanoff were gone from her body and mind as she prepared for the fight ahead.  

The church seemed empty and if she didn't know any better, she would have thought Tony was wrong, but Jarvis confirmed heat signatures inside, though not many. They decided to split up, wanting to silently take out as many soldiers as they could. Victoria was paired with Steve and they walked side by side, surveying the area for any sign of the scepter, but so far there was nothing but rooms filled with what looked to be junk to Victoria. They had yet to run into anyone and she didn't know if that was a good or bad thing.  

"Wait," Steve suddenly whispered and Victoria stopped to listen. She slid against a wall when she heard footsteps coming their way. She and Steve shared one look, then a nod before quickly and quietly taking out the men as they turned the corner. They didn't even get a chance to scream for help.  

"Status?" Steve spoke into his comms. He kicked the agent who weakly tried to reach for his gun, effectively knocking him out.  

"Clear," Clint's voice came through.  

"Nothing here," Natasha answered next.  

"Loki's scepter isn't here," Tony said.  

Steve sighed, visibly deflating. "It's okay, Cap," Victoria said with a reassuring smile. "We might not have found the scepter but this is one less Hydra base in operation." 

He nodded with a soft smile then spoke into the comms, "Take out any Hydra agent left. They're all getting locked up." 

"Aye, Aye Captain," Tony mocked and Steve rolled his eyes.  

Victoria smiled and soon followed Steve through the halls looking for any stragglers. Either most of the Hydra agents were coincidentally not here or they knew they were coming. Either way, it was barely anyone there and Victoria was naturally suspicious.  

"Anyone else getting a bad feeling?" Clint asked.  

Victoria nodded to Steve who frowned. "Uh guys," Bruce's anxious voice suddenly came through.  

"What is it?" Steve tensed.  

Before Bruce could respond, there was a loud explosion that shook the entire building, and suddenly everything around Victoria seemed to move in slow motion. The walls around them cracked, small at first before they soon grew at an alarming pace, breaking and collapsing around them.  

Victoria's first thought was Natasha, and as the walls and ceilings crashed down on her she felt fear, not for herself, but for a red headed assassin with bright green eyes that gave broken promises. Then she felt a strong arm wrap around her waist and pull her tightly against a large body. Steve , she thought. She held up her arm not currently crushed between Steve's body and her own, limiting the damage to her head.  

Everything fell around them with Steve's shield covering most of them, but the smoke was almost as heavy as the concrete and burned her lungs when she tried to breathe. It felt like hours went by before everything stilled. Then it was quiet, as if the entire world stopped in that moment. Her ears were damaged by the rubble, but then all sound rushed back to her ears as they quickly healed. There were gunshots and roars of the Hulk, and Victoria quickly extracted herself from Steve to join the fight.  

"Is everyone okay?" Steve's hoarse voice came through comms. Victoria heard him cough behind her before his footsteps sounded. "Does anyone copy?"  

Victoria's speed picked up as she worried for Natasha. She tried not to, knowing she could take care of herself, but she couldn't help it when there was no response. With the building basically gone, she made it outside quicker than she did entering. The shots were closer, and she hid behind some rubble while she scanned the area.  

"Does anyone copy?" Steve repeated, more forcefully.  

There was a sharp intake of breath before harsh coughs in the comms, then static. "I—I'm good. I copy," Clint's strained voice came through.  

"Stark, Romanoff? Thor?" He was suddenly beside Victoria, crouching down as he waited for a reply.  

He was distressed and Victoria could relate to his plight. "Don't have a heart attack, Rogers. You know you're getting old."  

Victoria smiled, feeling some of the heaviness of her chest loosen, even without trying Tony always said the right thing. Steve sighed heavily, shaking his head. Well, he always said the right thing for Victoria to feel better. She raised her eyes to the sky where she suddenly heard his suit followed by roaring thunder where Thor emerged after him.  

They set off in different directions and Victoria turned back to Steve, having a silent conversation. Since the battle with Loki in New York, they had been on countless missions together for SHIELD, and now they could almost read each other's minds while out in the field. Victoria took off, following Thor who was closest to her while Steve followed Tony.  

There was still no word from Natasha, but Victoria knew Clint would be looking for her and she had to have faith that he would find her. She had a job to do, and she couldn't lose focus no matter what. She flipped what she called her 'task switch', putting all worrying thoughts out of her mind so she could focus on the task at hand.  

"This doesn't look good," Tony mumbled.  

Victoria picked up her pace as more gunshots sounded, hitting what sounded like metal. She heard thunder come from somewhere behind her, and soon she saw what Tony did, agreeing with his earlier comment. There were probably hundreds of Hydra agents, seemingly ready for war. Lightning soon came down, striking about a handful at once but the rest were still shooting at Thor while he used his hammer to dodge, and fly around them making himself a difficult target. 

After scanning the area for her best form of attack, Victoria charged through with her weapons out, taking Hydra agents out with ease. Almost like a dance, she glided through them, killing those who noticed her and using them as a shield as she killed those who noticed her too late.  

All her senses felt heightened as she made her way through, only taking a few bullets that healed almost right away. The smell of blood filled the air, and she could hear every gunshot fired by the agents and from her own gun clearer than ever. The knife in her other hand easily cut through the throats of the men she would choose as her next shield, shooting those around her before repeating this process. Soon, Thor joined her on the ground helping her take men out quicker with his hammer. She was almost jealous of what he could do with that thing.  

"There's too many of them!" Steve shouted.  

"Where's Barton and Romanoff?" Tony asked.  

"On our way!" Natasha finally replied.  

Just then, there was a loud roar that Victoria immediately recognized as the Hulk and he went past almost in a blur, taking out the rest of the men around her. She allowed herself a breath for only a moment before clearing out the stunned men that were left.  

Before she could really register what happened, she was in the air after someone grabbed her wrist. She looked up to see Thor before he dropped her a few feet off the ground where Tony and Steve were fighting. Thor dropped down, lighting following his path and striking men down a few feet around him. 

With the Hulk soon joining, the 5 of them worked around each other seamlessly, as if they were a part of a choreographed dance. Not too long after, there were arrows and bullets being shot one after another taking out more Hydra agents, signaling Clint and Natasha’s return. They worked like gears, handling the ambush with ease, and soon the hundreds of agents turned into measly dozens.  

"It looks like there's more coming," Tony announced.  

"How did they even know we were coming?" Clint groaned.  

"They must have been expecting it to happen sooner or later," Steve sighed.  

Victoria reasoned Hydra must have assumed that since taking them down within SHIELD, they would eventually find and take down any Hydra remaining. Their plan didn't seem to be working though as the 7 of them easily took out their hundreds. She suddenly felt a strong burst of wind almost knocking her balance off as Thor landed beside her.  

He had a broad smile and was breathing a little heavily. "I believe I lost my talking device," he said. 

Victoria chuckled while Steve laughed. "Hey Thor, I have an idea," Steve said walking up to him.  

Victoria left them to their planning, deciding to follow Tony and get an early attack on the oncoming Hydra agents. She was out of bullets leaving her guns useless and had to rely on her knives now which wasn't exactly a problem except for the fact that she was going to take a lot more damage. While it was something she was used to and capable of handling, it still had the ability to slow her down.  

Tony was blasting men left and right while Clint used his distance to his advantage, she knew this because she was suddenly finding arrows around and in men. The Hulk seemed to find something else that caught his immediate attention and when Victoria saw the tanks, she was grateful she wouldn't have to deal with those. She healed fast sure, but a shot from those still hurt like a bitch, she would know.  

"Mind some company?" came the all too familiar teasing voice of Natasha Romanoff. 

"I thought we'd lost you for a second there," Victoria said picking up a forgotten rifle from a dead agent.  

"Worried?" Natasha smirked. 

Victoria rolled her eyes but before she could say or do anything else, there was a loud bang leaving her ears ringing, and then a force so strong, it took out half the Hydra agents. When she recaught her balance, she looked around confused, only to see Thor lifting his hammer away from Steve's shield with a satisfied grin. Steve looked shocked before he nodded to himself. That must have been his idea.  

"Damn," Clint's muttered astonishment came through her ears.  

Everyone seemed frozen in shock, or awe, for a moment until the gunshots sounded again, spurring everyone back into action. Then there was a deafening roar and suddenly, a tank came hurling toward them. Victoria only had a second to think before she grabbed Natasha, pulling her into her chest and bringing them to the ground. The tank narrowly missed them, but took out the remaining Hydra agents, once again leaving everyone in stunned silence. 

Victoria's chest was heaving with adrenaline, and she looked around as she sat up, catching her breath. "I'm getting deja vu," Natasha said. Victoria looked down, suddenly remembering she had grabbed the redhead. She had that smirk on her lips that always tripped Victoria up, and it soon turned into the smile that always caught her fall. "Thanks by the way. I owe you one." 

Victoria only nodded, standing up and holding out a hand for her. She looked around as Natasha gripped her hand, seeing no imminent danger and without realizing it, flipped her switch back. As she pulled Natasha off the ground, her forgotten emotions rushed through her at once; fear, anger, hurt, love. So much love that it hurt. She swallowed thickly, suddenly more aware of the warm hand in her own and stumbled back slightly as the warmth disappeared. Her vision blurred for a moment and she had to regulate her breathing to bring herself back to earth. She was feeling strikingly out of place with everything suddenly running through her.  

"Uh...how do we get Banner back?" Tony asked, breaking through her fog. It was then that she saw the Hulk still stomping around, smashing tanks and kicking anything in his path. She didn't know the answer to that either.  

Victoria thought her heart could have stopped when she saw Natasha cautiously headed toward the angry green beast. "Nat," she hissed, moving to stop her but Natasha held a hand up, stopping her movements.  

"Hey big guy," Natasha called. 

Victoria gritted her teeth, wanting to go after her but not wanting to put her in any more danger by startling the Hulk. So, she stood helplessly as she watched Natasha approach him, holding out a hand as if he was just a skittish puppy. 

"Nat? What are you doing?" Clint's worried voice came through the comms. 

"I got it," she whispered back.  

The Hulk seemed to calm down for a moment, looking at Natasha over his shoulder and growling lowly. He exhaled and when he turned to fully face her, Victoria was sure her heart rate spiked. She almost jumped when Tony suddenly landed next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. It felt strange since he was still in his suit.  

"Don't worry, she seems to know what she's doing," he whispered to her.  

It didn't make her feel any better. "And if he decides to make her his next target?" 

"That's when you step in, right?" He chuckled, wrapping his arm around her, and pulling her into his side. 

"It's not funny, Tony." She tried to pull away from the metal digging into her rib, but he held her close.  

"Of course not but look it's working."  

Her jaw clenched when she saw it was in fact working, and the Hulk was turning back to Bruce, a very naked Bruce at that, and Victoria finally looked away. Tony took his arm from around her and squeezed her shoulder once before flying off. Not wanting to be around whatever was going on, she headed back to where they left the quinjet.  

"Good job team," Steve's tired voice came through the comms.  

"I need to sleep for at least a week," Clint groaned. 

"Don't be such a baby," Natasha chuckled.  

Victoria decided to take her earpiece out and finish her journey in silence. She needed to sort out her thoughts and emotions, which seemed like an impossible task at the moment. Nothing a good burger couldn't fix. Maybe she and Tony could get some when they got back. She hadn't seen Pepper in a while, so maybe they could stop by and see her too. She wouldn't want a burger though, maybe some chicken. Or a salad. 

Victoria shook her head. She wouldn't allow Pepper to only have a salad for a meal. Tony wouldn't either although he wasn't any better when it came to food. At least Pepper ate regularly, Tony could go days without food, being stuck in his lab. Pepper didn't let that happen often though, but sometimes she was too busy to make sure he ate. Maybe Tony should create something that would make sure he was taking care of himself. Like a... babysitter? No, he didn't need a babysitter. Or did he? She would probably joke about it with Pepper later.  

Victoria really wanted In N Out, or maybe Jack in the Box, two things New York didn't have. She sighed, missing California. It was nice there and their Mexican food was really good. Maybe they could convince Pepper to take a break and fly to Cali for a few hours. That would be fun, almost like a family outing. Family ? Victoria hadn't had a family since her mother sold her, and even before then, it wasn't as if her mother would be receiving any best mother awards, or even okay mother awards.  

Maybe it was best that she gave her away. She obviously didn't like Victoria to begin with and didn't protect her when kids at school bullied her for being weird. A freak. Instead of giving a time out or taking away toys as a punishment, she would starve her. For days. She also never had any toys to get taken away, all she had was a book given to her by her second grade teacher, "Grimm's Fairy Tales".  

She thought about its stories when she was being cut open and experimented on, but after a while, even her thoughts weren't enough to subdue the torture and she instead learned to flip everything off so she wouldn't feel it. That worked for a while until she couldn't turn it back on. By then, they started training her to fight, to kill, and to withstand torture. She was becoming a machine instead of a person and there wasn't anything she could do about it. 

At least until Ironman came and killed everyone. She was in her holding cell at the time, but she heard everything. He had let her out and brought her to a hospital, soon finding out about her regeneration powers. He didn't think she was weird or a freak, and he didn't want to experiment on her, never asked even to this day. He was just there because she didn't have anyone else, and she liked his humor. He joked and never tiptoed around her wondering if he said the wrong thing because nothing he said was meant to be offensive or mean.  

He got her an apartment and moved things into it for her, offered to introduce her to Phil Coulson if she wanted to use her abilities for good. She didn't want to at first and he didn't push. He introduced her to Pepper and Happy instead, making her a part of his life and before she knew it, she was no longer this thing, no longer a killing machine, she was just Victoria. And that was all thanks to Tony, she would never be able to repay him, not that he ever asked for anything in return, and she doubted he ever would.  

"Hey!" There was a hand in her face, snapping their fingers to get her attention. Victoria blinked a few times and realized it was Tony. "What's up with you?" 

"Huh?" She was still a little disoriented and she looked around realizing she was sitting in the quinjet and it was empty.  

"We're back home and I've been trying to talk to you. So was Thor, and I'm pretty sure you hurt his feelings ignoring him like that."  

"Home?" She was still confused. She didn't remember getting on the jet, let alone sitting through the ride.  

"Hey," Tony said more softly this time, kneeling to be at eye level with her. He was studying her, she could tell but he looked a little blurry through her eyes. She could see his frown though, which in turn made her frown. "Come on." 

He stood and grabbed her hand, pulling her up. She wobbled a bit, but he caught her, keeping her from falling forward. "I—I think I'm good now," she whispered.  

He ignored her and wrapped an arm around her waist as he led her out of the jet and onto the landing pad. She focused on her steps to make sure she didn't trip over herself. When they entered the tower, the cool air hit her warm skin and she sighed in relief. She hadn't even realized she'd been so hot. She suddenly felt exhausted and rested her head on his shoulder.  

"T-Tony?" she slurred, trying to thank him. He shushed her, softly kissing the top of her head and she closed her eyes knowing she was safe with him. 

~~~ 

She made it to the quinjet first and took the time she had alone to take a breather. That fight took a lot of her energy, although it was nothing a good burger couldn't fix. She sat in the cockpit so she could talk to Tony on the way back, maybe invite him and Pepper to lunch. Or would it be dinner by the time they got home? She soon heard a group of footsteps, signaling the team was near. She could hear Thor and Steve's conversation about future fighting tactics, and Clint asking Natasha what the hell she was thinking. Victoria wondered the same thing.   

"Vic, how you feelin’?" Tony asked as he plopped in the seat next to her.  

She shrugged, "Tired mostly. Wanna get burgers?"  

He smiled as if she had just come up with the best idea he ever heard. "A woman after my heart."   

He placed a hand over his chest and dramatically fell back making Victoria roll her eyes but she smiled anyway. "You think Pepper will take a break and join us?"  

He hummed in thought as he prepared the jet. "Maybe, but if not, we'll convince her."  

Victoria nodded and once they were in the air, conversation around them flowed, Steve trying to keep it business by discussing technique and scheduling team training, and Tony constantly budding in and talking about a party once they found the scepter.   

Victoria stayed silent, not liking the idea of training because of her past but also not wanting to attend a large party, although she knew it was just Tony looking out for her like he always did. Once conversation started to die down and exhaustion crept into everyone, Victoria settled in for a nap.  

She woke what felt like hours later, feeling a little disoriented and forgetting where she was for a moment. It was quiet, no subtle sound of the engine running, and she could feel that it wasn't moving so she assumed they were back. She opened her eyes to see someone standing over her.   

"Hey, sleepyhead," Tony said. She looked up being met with a smirk.   

"I don't like what your face is doing," Victoria mumbled sleepily.  

He only smiled wider, "Funny, I know a lot of women who would say the opposite."  

"Gross," she shuddered.   

He rolled his eyes and lightly pushed her shoulder before walking ahead. "Come on then. Burgers awaits us," he called over his shoulder.   

Victoria quickly pushed aside her grogginess and hopped down, following behind him until she caught up. "Did you already ask Pepper?"  

"No, she's working, unfortunately, but that's where your puppy dog eyes come in."He had a mischievous smile and while Victoria knew she was in on this plan, his supervillain grin still made her a little uneasy. She shook her head and followed him to the parking garage where his Audi waited.   

"How is she supposed to fit in here when we leave?" she asked as they got in.   

The car, as nice as it was, only had two seats and wasn't the best choice for a group activity, however, Tony only shrugged with a devilish smirk and Victoria started to wonder what exactly he had planned. She usually loved being a part of his random schemes that sometimes turned into crazy adventures, but she really just wanted a nice relaxing lunch with her two favorite people and to take a long nap afterward.   

They made it to Pepper's office building in less than thirty minutes, only because Tony drove as if he was the only one on the road, and entered through a hidden entrance so she wouldn't be told that they were there. After sneaking past her assistant, Tony found Happy, stopping for a conversation while Victoria snuck into Pepper's office. She would have kicked Tony out immediately before he could distract her, so Victoria was the best choice.   

Pepper looked up from whatever she was doing on her computer when Victoria opened the door, raising an eyebrow at her. Victoria smiled sheepishly, suddenly realizing she didn't have a plan in place to convince her to take a break. She closed the door and leaned against it.   

"Uh..." She cleared her throat. "Hey Pep, what ya doin'?"   

"Working," Pepper deadpanned and Victoria nodded. That was a dumb question.   

"Right. So, I just got back from...well that doesn't matter." Victoria waved her hand as if throwing away her sentence and walked further into the office. Pepper's eyes were on her, she looked almost amused. "How do you feel about lunch? With me and Tony?"   

Victoria smiled brightly then, hoping it would be enough to convince her. She could see the hesitancy on her face and before Pepper could speak, she quickly tried to think of what to say before she could decline. "I'm starving and... I haven't seen you in a while. Well...not really anyway. I miss you." She pouted and hoped Tony was right about her puppy eyes.   

Pepper seemed conflicted then and before she could give an answer, the door opened with Tony entering. "Hey, honey."   

Pepper sighed, exasperated but she still wasn't declining, so Victoria thought that was a win already. "You two do realize I run a billion dollar company. The last owner was very irresponsible, and I have to clean up years of inconsistencies."   

She gave a pointed look to Tony who feigned offense. "Excuse me, I was an excellent CEO."  

Pepper rolled her eyes but made no further comment. Victoria thought it'd be best if she stayed out of that particular argument. "Anyway," she cut in. "Pepper, will you please come to lunch with us? Please?"  

She batted her eyelashes, silently begging her to say yes with her eyes. She grinned when Pepper gave a defeated sigh and high fived Tony when she turned the computer off and stood. It looked like she'd be getting exactly what she wanted today.   

"Fine, what were the two of you thinking?" Pepper grabbed her purse and was putting things in it from her desk.   

"It's a surprise," Tony said before Victoria could answer. She looked at him confused and he only winked.   

The office door opened once again, this time revealing Happy. "It's ready."   

"Great!" Tony cheered, pushing Victoria forward. She stumbled a bit but caught herself, looking over her shoulder to see Tony guiding Pepper forward with a hand on her back.   

"Didn't have to push me," she grumbled.   

They followed Happy to the elevator but instead of pressing the ground floor to the parking garage, he took them to the roof. "Why are we going to the roof?" Victoria asked with a frown.  

"It's part of the surprise," Tony answered, winking with a smirk.   

Now Victoria was really confused because she thought they were just going for burgers. She was still frowning when the elevator doors opened revealing a running helicopter. She should have known nothing would be simple with Tony Stark.   

"Where are we going?" Pepper asked, sounding hesitant again.   

"To get burgers," he answered plainly.   

Pepper looked to Victoria for answers but all she could do was shrug since she also didn't know anything. She thought they would just be going to a burger place close by, but it was obvious Tony had other plans. They all clambered into the helicopter, Victoria first and then Pepper with Tony holding the door open.   

What a gentleman, she thought. He climbed in last, securing them inside, all the while with a mischievous smile. Victoria had been on the other end of his surprises enough to know that asking questions was useless. All they would get in response were vague responses and sly smiles. He was nothing if not unpredictably predictable.   

Four hours later, they were in Tony's jet landing in Tony's hangar located in California. The helicopter was just his way of showing off in Victoria's opinion, using it to take them to his hangar where they then transferred onto the jet and headed for another unknown destination. That destination was Los Angeles, which Victoria at once recognized.   

She couldn't complain about the unexpected plans, Tony definitely knew of her love for In N Out, which she constantly went to while they lived there. He brought her out there often, especially when she was having a hard time coping with her relationship— or non-relationship— with Natasha. It's where he would take her when he tried to convince her to leave her alone.   

An exasperated sigh brought her out of her thoughts. "Really Tony?"  

"You needed a break," he said quickly in his defense.   

"You always think I need a break," Pepper retorted.   

"Because you're always working hard," he said and then hastily added, "which is great." Pepper gave him an unimpressed look and he smiled awkwardly. "If I have to take a break, so do you."  

Victoria sometimes felt like a child watching their parents argue in moments like these and all she could do was sit quietly and wait for them to finish. She was glad she had never experienced a more serious argument between the two, and as always Pepper smiled slightly and looked away, the small argument coming to an end.   

"Fine, but I am not eating anything with grease."  

"We'll see about that," Victoria muttered, then smiled innocently when Pepper's eyes cut to her with a mock glare.   

By the time they made it inside In N Out, all earlier arguments or disagreements were forgotten, replaced with contentment. Victoria felt herself smile as she looked around the familiar restaurant and turned just in time to see Tony and Pepper wrap their pointer fingers together. Her smile widened and any doubts or worries Victoria had vanished for the time being.  

They ordered and of course, got special treatment because of Tony. Everything was made right away, their fries freash out the grease and their burgers freshly made. The delicious smells filled the small fast food establishment and Victoria was glad she suggested burgers to Tony.   

~~~  

Victoria woke up, confused and groggy. It was dark and she was warm, wrapped in a thick comforter. It smelled familiar, but she couldn't place it in that moment. She shifted to get into a more comfortable position, but she ended up colliding with another body. She groaned, annoyed but cuddled into whoever it was that smelled so good. 

"Hey there," a soft voice spoke with a chuckle.  

"Hmm?" Victoria was still confused and just wanted to go back to sleep. 

She felt fingers in her hair, raking through it softly and almost soothing her back to sleep. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been this relaxed and wanted to stay in this spot forever. There was a soft sigh above her, and she cuddled further into the warm body. 

"Do I need to be worried?" Victoria recognized that voice, it was Tony. She opened her eyes, trying to adjust to the darkness, and saw his silhouette walking toward her. He turned on a lamp, leaning over the bed to look at her. "How are you feeling?" 

"Fine," Victoria mumbled.  

She sat up, finally recognizing the warm body as Pepper, and leaned back against the headboard. She couldn't remember how she got there, or back in New York for that matter. The last thing she remembered was walking back to the quinjet after the fight.  

"What are you thinking about?" Tony asked. 

"How did I get here?" She looked around seeing they were in her room Tony gave her at the tower. It looked different now since it got damaged during the fight with Loki but comforting all the same.  

"Uh, well I think you took a lot of damage in the fight today. You weren't looking too hot after, and I had to carry you up here. Then you wouldn't stop crying about needing Pepper so I asked her to come because you wouldn't calm down. When she got here, that's when you finally fell asleep." 

Victoria didn't remember any of that. She sighed and looked between Pepper and Tony who were both looking at her concerned. "Sorry," she finally said. 

Pepper only smiled and shook her head. "There's nothing to be sorry about. I'm just glad you're okay." 

"Yeah, and plus it could have been worse than you wanting to sleep with my girlfriend," Tony said and then laughed at his own joke.  

Victoria smiled, but she still felt as if she had done something wrong. Pepper must have been able to tell because she grabbed her hand and squeezed it which relaxed her a little bit. Tony soon climbed into the bed, sandwiching Victoria between them and that was when she finally felt like she could breathe normally. She didn't know how or when it happened, but they always made her feel safe and could calm her racing mind with their combined presence.  

The next hour was spent with Tony going into more detail on what happened after she passed out, or more accurately blacked out since she was apparently conscious enough to cry for Pepper like a baby. She would have been more embarrassed if she was with anyone else but between Tony's light teasing and Pepper's reassurance that it was okay, she was comfortable enough to laugh it off.  

She told them about the dream she had where they went to In N Out and Tony offered to take her when she was feeling better. Pepper even agreed to go with no convincing needed. She felt truly content in that moment, surrounded by the people who loved her most and she wondered if this was how children with loving parents felt. If it was, she could understand now why kids were so happy.  

"Why are you smiling like that?" Tony asked feigning disgust although his own smile gave away his true feelings. 

Victoria could only shrug. "Just happy, I think." 

"You think?" Pepper asked gently.  

Victoria looked down at her fingers, twisting them with a soft sigh. "I just..." she paused. She took a big breath before continuing, "I never really felt...loved before. I'm still getting used to feeling like...like I matter for just me you know?" 

Pepper nodded with a sad smile and Tony's jaw clenched. "You do matter Vic," he said staring at her intently. "And you deserve so much better than what Romanoff is giving you." 

Victoria softly sighed. He never missed a chance to tell her how he felt about the redhead. His protectiveness over her was endearing but she hated that she kept accepting the crumbs that Natasha left her only to cry about it to him later, but she just couldn't help but cling to the little bit of love she was offered.  

There wasn't much said after that, Pepper wrapped her up in a hug as if to protect her from Tony's words and Victoria soaked up any comfort she got. She still felt tired, but it wasn't like earlier, and she knew when she woke up the next day, she would be back to normal. At least what was normal for her, and after reassuring them that she was fine, Victoria finally convinced them to go to their own room so they could all get some much needed sleep.  

The next day, Victoria was up at 6am feeling ten times better and ready for whatever the day held. Usually, she would go for a run, but she wanted to avoid Steve in case her dream of his plans for training came true. No one except Tony knew much about what she went through, it wasn't something she really liked to talk about, but she'd rather avoid anything that would bring her back to that place if she could. So instead, she showered and snuck up to the roof where she often went to get away from everything.  

When Tony found out about her little getaway, he planted all kinds of different flowers for her to always see and she couldn't help but smile as she walked past the purple petunias. It was the only flower besides a rose that she knew. Natasha once picked a few of them for her while on a mission, saying they reminded her of Victoria, enchanting and graceful.  

However, when Victoria looked them up, she read that it was a flower you give to a friend or a colleague. Despite that, she kept the little flowers Natasha gave her for as long as she could, remembering the soft smile she had as she presented them to her. She never told Tony about that and was pleasantly surprised when she saw them on the roof the first time.  

Her watch vibrating on her wrist brought her reminiscing thoughts to an end and she sighed softly. She looked at the time, realizing it had been almost two hours since she came to the roof and Tony was calling her. "Where are you currently?" he asked as soon as she answered. 

"Why?" she asked back.  

"I have something to show you. Wanna see?" 

Victoria took one last look at the city below, everything seeming so small from how high she was. "Sure." 

"Okay. So go to my lab and grab Steve's shield and then meet me at the bar." 

Victoria frowned, none of those instructions seemed to correlate with the other but she knew it would probably make sense when Tony showed her whatever it was he wanted her to see. Or it wouldn't make sense at all, and he would have a dopey grin on his face while she looked at him like a lost puppy. 

"Uh...okay?" 

"See you in ten!"  

He hung up and Victoria stared at her watch for a few more moments before she shrugged to herself. She took the elevator that led to his lab, or more accurately labs. It was huge and instead of rooms being separated by walls, there was a bunch of different projects he had going that made it seem like they were each in a different room and then he had a smaller lab that was in a different room almost like his office but it was still big enough to fit half of his suits and little side projects that he didn't tell Pepper about.  

The elevator opened and she was met with a familiar perfume. She rolled her eyes at herself for being so familiar with the perfume Natasha wore, but after enough times of sleeping with someone surely that would be something one remembered. She nodded to herself and went further inside to find Steve's shield. For someone who tried to act as if he didn't care, Tony sure did a lot for the captain.  

"What do you mean?" Victoria paused when she heard an unexpected voice, well not entirely unexpected but she did forget that Bruce would likely be in there.  

"Just..." Victoria's blood went cold. "Different. It's not a bad thing."  

She knew that voice, that tone . She didn't stop to think why she smelled Natasha's perfume in Tony's lab but now she wished she did because she was frozen in place as she listened to Natasha flirt with Bruce. She was hidden by one of many of Tony's projects, she couldn't even try to imagine what it was or what it did. 

"I like that you're different. Sweet ." Victoria could picture the smile she foolishly let herself believe was just for her. 

She could physically feel her heart breaking, the pain in her chest making it difficult to breathe and there was no healing it this time. "I-I... I'm not." 

"You are. I never met anyone like you." She almost sounded shy, and Victoria felt like she was going to vomit. She never knew the redhead could be shy . 

"Well, I don't think there are many people that turn into a raging green monster," Bruce said with a self-deprecating laugh.  

"No," Natasha replied. "But you're more than that. You know that right? Besides...I'm pretty sure Hulk likes me. I wonder why." 

It was torture listening to Natasha like this. It was different than when she caught her flirting with her neighbor, it was more personal. It was all Victoria wanted from her and Bruce got it without even trying. She never talked with Victoria like this unless she was trying to bring her to an orgasm only to leave her alone afterward, probably so she could give everything Victoria wanted to Bruce. 

"I mean...you're you know," Bruce mumbled. He sounded awkward and uncomfortable, at least Victoria thought so until, "You're nice and... You must know you're pretty. 

"Just pretty?"  

"Well...ah." He chuckled and Victoria decided she had heard enough.  

She was lightheaded and sick. If she didn't leave now, the floor would be covered in the remains of her bleeding heart. She took a step back, and then two before she bolted back toward the elevator, smashing the button and willing it to come quicker. She was drowning in each breath that was more painful than the last, feeling cold and almost lifeless. When the elevator finally opened, she collapsed inside, using the wall to keep her upright. 

The deafening silence was roaring, and her limbs were basically useless as she tried and failed to coordinate her movements. She could barely move quickly enough to close the elevator to take her back to the roof. She heard absolutely nothing, not even her own breathing. She couldn't be sure if she was breathing at all. She put a hand to her heart to make sure she was still alive and felt her heart racing at an alarming pace.  

The elevator doors opened again, this time to the roof and she stumbled out trying to find the comfort the flowers usually brought to her. It didn't help at all, instead, she was suffocating around them, and when she saw the petunias that was when she finally broke. She collapsed on the ground, wrapping her arms around her knees as she sobbed.  

She cried harder than she ever cried before. Harder than when she begged her mother to not give her away, harder than the days spent being cut open and experimented on and the nights spent terrified of when they would start again, and harder than the other times she'd cried over the redhead. This was a pain so deep and agonizing, she never felt anything like it before and she wasn't sure if she would ever recover.  

If she could go back and do everything over, she would have never even looked at Natasha Romanoff. All those moments of happiness were not worth the pain she was currently feeling. She wasted years convincing herself that what Natasha gave her was enough and that she could be happy with crumbs. But what were crumbs when she gave the bread to someone else? 

As Victoria sat in front of the purple petunias, feeling broken and betrayed, sobbing into her knees, she felt her watch vibrating on her wrist. It was probably Tony calling to find out where she was. She pulled her head up, being blinded by the harsh sunlight and unable to see due to the tears that wouldn't stop. Before she could answer Tony's call, there was a sudden strong burst of wind that didn't stop, almost like a tornado.  

She looked up, seeing a clear sky but felt herself being sucked forward and that was when she saw it. Some sort of portal outlined in an orange light. She couldn't see what was on the other side and she tried to grab onto something to stop herself from falling through. Her body still felt weak, and she still couldn't see. Panic replaced almost everything she felt as she tried to reach for anything but found nothing but air. 

"No!" she screamed as she was eventually sucked into the portal, the last thing she saw was a blurry outline of the purple petunias before everything went black.

[feizon]

PAST MISTAKES, CURRENT PROBLEMS.

ʚwarning: none

ʚsummary: jinwoo x reader: messy childhood friendship "break up" in the past. reader is a bit self-centered in the past.

ʚnote: Not proofread sorry guys

It wasn't always supposed to be like You were walking down the sidewalk, coming from another tedious shift at a company that paid too much for you to quit. The streetlights were on as the moon settled in the sky for its daily shift of watching over those who thrived in the nighttime. Your boss gave you hell today, adding new reports for you to go through before the next dawn. What was worse was that the temperatures dropped, and it seemed the number of couples cozing up with one another increased by a tenfold.

You sighed. The soft tap your heels created with the ground being somewhat rhythmic, using the warmth of your coat to keep yourself from freezing any further. With the sight of city lights and your on breath keeping you company, you couldn't help but feel as if this materialistic warmth couldn't compare to the warmth of someone specific. How pathetic, mourning something that never happened! Something that can only be imagined but never had the tools to be brought to reality. A silent heartbreak of sorts, the pain of remaining the supporting character in someone's life. In his life.

The day Jinwoo told you about his feelings for someone else, who was, in fact, not you. You felt your world spiral into an endless abyss. The acknowledgment of an unrequited love hurt much more than you let on. You remember how his eyes lit up and how shyly, but oh, so passionately, he talked about her. A young man in love reaching out to a friend he trusted enough for advice. It hurt terribly. Each movement of your lips felt as if your mouth was made out of sandpaper. Regardless, you were sincere with your words. Advising him on how to carry out his plans to confess. That was 5 years ago, and as expected, his confession went perfectly. What woman was foolish enough to reject his advances? You felt almost guilt on how badly you wanted her to reject him, but atlas, that wish never came true. And since then, you have never spoken to him since.

Now you're 25, a corporate manager living comfortably in a high-end apartment by yourself with a puppy that was basically your own child covered in fur. You reach your car, unlocking it with a simple press of a button before settling in and driving off, tuning into whatever nonsense was on the radio this evening. From the recent raids, various hunters participated in the latest cafe advertising. It actually wasn't too far from your area. However, something else caught your attention, the sudden news that Sung Jinwoo had just gotten out of a 5-year relationship with fellow S-rank Hunter Cha Hae-in. You briefly lost focus on the road ahead, almost running a red light before you braked just in time. You sat there, surprised as the reporter kept talking, though nothing truly registered in your head. Did they really break up? You swore they were end game with how happy they looked together. You shock your head. It wasn't any of your business anyway, and Jinwoo was a topic you tried to bury away. Changing to a different channel as a sigh left your lips.

For the next coupled days, it seemed fate wanted to constantly remind you of what had transpired against your will. It was all people talked about for the next few days. You almost felt bad about the lack of respect people had for their personal lives, a disadvantage for being well known amongst the general public. Some fans and hunter enthusiasts even picking sides on why they broke up and who was most likely to blame. You didn't participate, of course. A simple hum as a colleague chatted your ear off on the topic. If only they knew you went to high school with him before he got to where he was today.

"It's a shame, you wouldn't imagine my surprise when I heard about it this morning. Guess love isn't simple for those at the top either."

You lightly chuckled before giving her an amused smile, packing your bag in preparation to go out for a coffee run.

"I didn't know you were a love expert suddenly?"

Your colleague giggled in return.

"Whatever, how about that date you had last week? Another fail in your books?"

You scoffed, walking out towards the door with a smile.

"You know me too well. He didn't even bring flowers!"

You bid her goodbye before leaving the building, walking down the street to a cafe not too long after. A gathering crowd catches your attention, the flashing lights, and shouting of fans ringing in your ears. You shook your head at the commotion, planning to walk away until you saw a familiar face, the reason why people seemed to be so unrestrained right now. Not too far away was Hunter Sung Jinwoo, walking out of the hunters HQ building with a few body guards, though he didn't really need them. He seemed a bit out of it, figures. He just got out of a relationship a few weeks back.

You found yourself staring for a fraction longer than you wanted to. He was still as beautiful as the day she last saw him but taller and with a more mature flair around him. Damn it, why did your heart react more to him than any other man you had gone on a date with within the past 5 months? And as if to make matters worse, why did his eyes meet your gaze even from so far away? You bit your lip, cursing under your breath as your legs moved before you could register, the sudden spike of adrenaline telling you to get as far away as possible. As far as speed-walking in heels could get you. However, you felt a sudden presence appear behind you. All while being just as confused as the reporters and fans behind you who were wondering where he vanished off to suddenly. The moment you turn around, you scream before feeling his arms surround you as he effortlessly takes you somewhere quieter as dark wisps engulf you both.

You're about to yell, to scream out any possibly vulgar word in your vocabulary to get him off you but after he muttered your name with so much familiarity, you couldn't even let out a sound. Once vibrant violet eyes fading to grey, his hold gentle yet secure, swearing that his hands trembled slightly against your form. He looked at you as if he saw a ghost and tried to figure out if it was real or not. Doing what he did just now, which was no different from abducting someone, wouldn't be a good headline in the media, after all.

"y/n."

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. It surprised you that he recognized you so quickly. Saying your name once more as if trying confirm of his suspicion, as if a wish of his had just showed up for the taking. It was an opportunity he couldn't risk losing. Despite how you would of longed for an opportunity like this years ago, you tried to squirm your way out of his grip. The quiet surroundings of a random alleyway make the setting all the more unreal. Unfortunately, this only tightened his grip. The once stoic expression reflecting hints of vulnerability.

"y/n. Where have you been? Why haven't I heard from you-"

"What are you doing! Let go!"

"Let... go?"

You managed to break free, your hand over your heart as you tried to catch your breath. He just stood there and watched, looking down at the hand that was seconds away from grabbing your wrist. Confused about why he was acting on his impulsive thoughts just at the sight of you again. He clenched his fist, trying to compose himself as he felt his anger and hurt infused with past memories.

"Why did you leave? Why didn't you tell me you planned to go abroad?"

Your eyes widened at the sudden confrontation. A shiver down your spine at his tone alone, but you didn't waver as you kept your lips pursed. He bitterly laughed at your silence, though it held no humor. This clouded look in his eyes indicating thst he was seconds away from losing it.

"So you don't want to talk either? Am I that repulsive to you now? Speak, damn it, do you want me to beg!?"

"Don't be ridiculous-"

"Then what should I be to have you near again!?"

And with that, a series of poorly patched wounds and feelings from the past all surfaced. Just you, him, and the embrace of the alleyway. You knew you were wrong to an extent. The whole situation was childish, but could you really blame the 17 year old version of yourself back then.

"You don't have to be anything, I was simply respecting your relationship!"

Back and forth, back and forth. The conversation was leading nowhere yet everywhere at the same time. All within the heat of the moment. Jinwoo had never been so engaged in an argument like this since 3 months ago during a game of uno. It wasn't often that he let his feelings take the lead like this. That is what made him stop suddenly, pushing his hair back at the realization that he was more affected by this than he thought.

"Look at us. This is no different than back then. The only difference is that you're not telling me everything."

You froze. He stepped closer. Forcing you to back into the wall as he placed his hands on both sides of your head. Was his gaze always this tantalizing? Was it always this hard to breathe?

"Tell me, Y/n... Let's stop beating around the bush. I missed you, and I want to fix whatever happened between us for you to pull away like that back then."

With a gentle tuck of your hair behind your ear, you felt riddled with guilt, yet so insane with all your emotions for once. It was jealousy. It was hurt and naivety that drove that wedge between you and him. A whole 5 years to for the answer to be so clear. The question was if he would even look your way again with the answer he was looking for. With his awaiting gaze and intoxicating proximity. Maybe the timing of his recent breakup was the wake-up call you needed.

@feizon

[dontmakemebabyblue]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝑲𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒀𝒐𝒖

𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕𝟗 | 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

i'm sorry this part is so short/not so plot heavy the next one will be promise !

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You wake in the hush of night.

At first, you think it’s the cold. The blanket has slipped down your shoulder, cool air brushing your skin. But then you realize it’s not just the temperature that stirs you it’s the weight. The sensation. The quiet presence you’ve settled against.

Your cheek is pressed against something firm. Warm.

Your mind scrambles in the dark.

It’s him.

Ghost.

You blink slowly, breath catching in your throat as the reality settles in around you like mist. Your body is curved delicately toward his, your knees drawn up slightly beneath the shared blanket, and your face rests gently carefully against the space between his shoulder blades. The fabric of his shirt is soft and radiating a quiet, steady heat that seeps through your skin and into your bones.

For a moment, you don’t move.

You don’t even breathe.

Your pulse thrums at your temple. Not out of fear something else. Something quieter. You’re not sure how this happened, how your body found his in the dark. Maybe it was the warmth. The comfort. The unspoken agreement not to make it weird.

The way he made you feel safe.

And then somewhere along the way… you’d let go. Just enough to drift closer.

Your cheek lifts slightly from his back, and that’s when you see it.

Just peeking out from beneath the blanket barely visible in the ambient glow of a lap flickering down the hallway is a lock of blond hair.

Your breath stills.

You blink once. Then again, to be sure you’re seeing what you think you are.

His mask... isn’t on.

It’s the smallest thing. A glimpse. The tousled edge of soft, dusty hair, flattened slightly from sleep, curling above the nape of his neck.

But it’s enough.

Your heart squeezes in your chest not in the way it does when something’s wrong like you seen something you weren't supposed to, it feel more like something sacred has been placed in your hands and you’re afraid to break it. He’d taken off his mask. The one constant. The one rule he never bent.

And he’d done it here. With you nearby.

You don’t move. You don’t look. You don’t even try to see more.

Because you know you know what this means.

This isn’t just him needing rest. This is trust. Bone deep and rare. The kind that creeps in slow, takes time to build, and makes a home in the quiet places between heartbeats.

A shiver rolls across your shoulders from the weight of it. From the realization that you’d been given something you didn’t know you had been asking for, but still desperately want to protect.

You shift, gently, easing yourself an inch or two back without rustling the covers. Enough to give him space. Enough to tell him, in the only way you know how: you’re safe.

You fold your arms beneath your pillow and close your eyes again, facing away now. You don’t touch him. Not again. But you stay close. A breath apart. Nothing more.

Sleep drapes over you slowly, like fog across a field. And for the first time in a long while, it feels like the dark is holding its breath for something good.

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He’s awake before the sun.

He always is.

It’s muscle memory now. A reflex burned into him by years of training, survival, and unrelenting vigilance. But this morning this house, this bed it feels different. And it’s not the soft send of lavender that seems to cling to every sufece or the softness of the blanket tangled around his legs.

It’s you.

He slips out from under the covers with practiced care, the movements slow and deliberate. He doesn’t want to wake you not yet. Not after the way you’d curled up beside him, warm and gentle and unafraid.

He grabs his things in silence, crosses the bedroom. The hallway is still lit faintly by the glow of the fireplace, casting orange-gold shadows across the old wooden floorboards. They creak faintly under his weight.

The bathroom light flickers on above the sink and for a moment, he just stands there.

Staring at himself.

Hair flattened, pushed back in awkward ridges. Dark circles softened slightly by rest. Jaw bristled with stubble. Vulnerable in a way he swore he’d never allow.

Simon.

He exhales slowly, eyes dropping to the edge of the counter.

His mask lies there folded. Silent.

He hadn’t meant to take it off. He never does. Especially not in the field, not on a job. But last night, after you turned off the light… after you promised not to look… something inside him had loosened. Like a rope pulled too tight for too long, finally slipping.

And when he’d felt you beside him warm and breathing and real he hadn’t moved.

You’d curled into his back sometime after midnight. A feather-light touch. Not bold, not possessive. Just… there. Human. Present. And for the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t want to pull away.

Because it didn’t feel like a threat.

It felt like trust.

The steam from the shower begins to fill the room as he steps under the hot spray and braces his palms against the tile wall. Water runs down his back, washing away the last remnants of sleep and something else something heavier. Not regret. Not shame. Something closer to relief, though he won’t name it yet.

He tells himself not to think about how easy it had been to let go. About how your breath had warmed the back of his neck and he had almost welcomed it. About how you’d woken, had the chance to see what no one ever sees and chose to turn away.

That choice…

That quiet decision not to cross a line, not to claim more than he was offering it meant more than he can begin to process.

You could’ve looked.

But you didn’t.

He exhales again, slower this time. Letting the truth of that settle into his bones.

When he finally steps out, skin flushed and hair damp, he doesn’t rush for the mask. He wraps the towel around his waist, lets his hand hover above the familiar black fabric but doesn’t touch it yet.

In the quiet Simon finds himself almost wanting to let himself to just be.

Not a ghost.

Not a shadow.

Just a man, standing alone in the bathroom of a too-small house, remembering the way your cheek rested so softly against his back… and how it didn’t feel like a weakness.

How it felt like peace.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

tag list: @floweronacloud @full-cover32bitch @headphones-on100 @your-internet-tenshi@thriving-n-jiving @fuckmepreg @hadassery @beausato @missanastas1alet me know if you want to be added! ( ˘ ³˘)♥

[brokenchicken2]

PERFECT LIFE

Cast : Y/n, Jeon Wonwoo, Choi Seungcheol, Kwon Hoshi.

Genre : Angst, romance, smut, marriage.

Summary : Wealth, a beautiful family, loyal friendships. Y/n has it all, but will it last forever?

Warning : Minors do not interact!!

Here's the chapter 2

Chapter 3: The Deepest Cut

The house was a tomb. Y/n had spent the afternoon meticulously erasing any trace of the birthday party, packing away the streamers and balloons with a cold, robotic efficiency. She moved through the rooms, not cleaning, but purging. With every colourful remnant she stuffed into a black trash bag, she felt herself discarding another piece of the life she had once cherished. The sweet scent of leftover cake was gone, replaced by the sterile smell of antiseptic cleaner.

She didn't cry. The hollow space inside her was too vast and cold for tears. It was a vacuum where grief and love and warmth used to be. All that remained was a single, diamond-hard point of focus.

She waited.

When she heard Wonwoo's key in the lock just after six o'clock, she was sitting on the sofa in the living room. The room was dark, save for a single, stark lamp on the end table. Its light fell on the coffee table, illuminating a neat stack of papers. The top sheet read, in bold, clinical letters: PETITION FOR DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE.

Wonwoo walked in, shrugging off his jacket, a weary but placid look on his face. He was still wearing his mask of the devoted husband returning from a long day at work. The sight of her sitting there in the gloom made him pause.

"Y/n? Why are you sitting in the dark?" he asked, his voice attempting a light, casual tone. Then his eyes fell to the coffee table. The smile vanished. "What's all this?"

Y/n didn't move. She didn't even blink. She just looked at him, her gaze flat and empty. "The theatrics are over, Wonwoo," she said, her voice completely devoid of emotion. It was a stranger's voice, cold and clear. "I know about you and Chaewon."

For a moment, he froze, a deer caught in the headlights. Then, the training kicked in. The years of practice in deceit took over. He let out a short, incredulous laugh. "What are you talking about? Are you feeling okay? You've been acting strange since the party."

It was a masterful performance. The feigned concern, the subtle gaslighting to make her question her own sanity. A day ago, it might have worked. Now, it was pathetic.

"Don't," she whispered, the word sharp enough to cut glass. "Don't insult my intelligence by lying to my face. Not anymore." She didn't raise her voice. She didn't need to. The sheer force of her stillness filled the room. "Hotel Ciel. Restaurant L'Étoile. The five-hundred-dollar bouquet of roses you bought last week. Do you want me to continue? I have the credit card statements. I have the dates. I have the times."

His face paled. The mask of the charming husband dissolved, revealing the cornered, panicked man beneath. He stared at her, his mouth opening and closing silently, searching for a lie that wasn't there.

"Y/n... listen," he stammered, taking a step forward. "It's not what you think. It was a mistake. A few mistakes. It meant nothing. I love you. You and me, this family, this is my life."

"Your life?" she echoed, a flicker of something dark and dangerous in her eyes. "This isn't a life. It's a stage. And you have been playing the lead role in a very long, very cruel play." She finally stood up, her movements slow and deliberate, like a predator uncoiling. "We are getting a divorce. I want you out of this house. Tonight."

Panic flared in his eyes. He looked around the room, at the life he was about to lose. "No! You can't!" he pleaded, his voice cracking with desperation. "You can't do this to us! You can't just throw everything away!" He took another step, his hands outstretched. "Think about Na Ri! You can't leave! What about Na Ri? She needs you!"

His words hung in the air. Y/n stared at him, a strange frown creasing her brow. Of all the arguments he could make, this one made the least sense. "What does Na Ri have to do with this?" she asked, her voice laced with genuine confusion. "She has nothing to do with your affair. I would never abandon her."

Wonwoo's desperation made him reckless. He saw her confusion as a potential opening, a way to bind her to him with a truth so monumental it would have to hold her in place. He thought it was a shield. He didn't realize it was a sword he was about to hand her.

"You don't understand," he said, his voice dropping to a raw, desperate whisper. "She's not just some child we adopted, Y/n. She's... she's the reason. She's the center of all of this. She's not just my daughter, Y/n." He finally met her eyes, his own filled with a terrible, pleading truth. "She's ours."

The room tilted. Y/n gripped the back of the sofa to steady herself, a roaring sound filling her ears. Ours? The word didn't compute. It was nonsensical. She felt a dizzying vertigo, as if the floor had dropped away from beneath her feet.

"What... what did you just say?" she breathed.

"Chaewon... she's Na Ri's biological mother," he confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush. "She couldn't raise her on her own. We... we orchestrated the adoption so she could have a good life. With you. I knew you'd be the perfect mother for her."

The perfect mother. For their child. The roaring in Y/n's ears intensified. The carefully constructed walls of her composure began to crack. She looked at Wonwoo, at this man she had loved, this man who had fathered a child with her best friend and then placed that child in her arms, letting her fall in love, letting her build her entire world around their secret. The cruelty of it was bottomless. It was a betrayal so profound it defied comprehension.

Her mind, reeling from the impact, began to race, tumbling back through time. A new, far more horrific thought began to form, a sliver of ice in the chaos. Her fall. The miscarriage. The day she had lost her own baby.

She remembered it with horrifying clarity. She had been carrying a heavy laundry basket down the stairs. Chaewon had been visiting. Chaewon had been walking behind her, telling her a story, making her laugh. And then, a sudden, sharp pain at her ankle, a tangle of feet. A scream. A dizzying, terrifying tumble into darkness. The doctors had called it a tragic, unlucky accident.

She looked at Wonwoo, her eyes wide with a dawning horror that was even greater than what she had felt a moment before. "My fall," she whispered, the words barely audible. "The day I lost the baby. Chaewon was there. She was right behind me."

Wonwoo's face crumbled. The last of his defenses washed away, leaving only the raw, ugly truth. He couldn't meet her gaze. He stared at the floor, his body shaking with silent sobs. His silence was her answer.

"Tell me," Y/n commanded, her voice dropping to a lethal whisper.

"She didn't mean to hurt you that badly," he choked out, the words of a coward. "You had just told us you were pregnant. She was jealous. Devastated. She knew I'd never leave you then. She just wanted to... to stop it. She tripped you. She said it was an accident, that she barely touched you, but... it worked. And after... when the doctors said you probably couldn't have any more... it was her idea. To give Na Ri to you. It was a way for everyone to get what they wanted. She would know her daughter was safe, I would have you both, and you... you would get to be a mother."

He looked up at her, his face streaked with tears, as if expecting her to understand this twisted, monstrous logic. As if this confession were some kind of appeal for mercy.

But he wasn't looking at Y/n anymore. The woman he knew—the kind, gentle, forgiving Y/n—was gone. She had died in that moment, right there in the dimly lit living room. In her place was something new. Something forged in the absolute zero of betrayal.

A sound escaped her lips. It wasn't a sob. It wasn't a scream.

It was a laugh.

A low, chilling, utterly broken sound that echoed in the silent room. It was the sound of a heart shattering and reforming into something sharp and cold. The laugh grew louder, tinged with a terrifying hysteria. It was the laugh of a woman who had lost everything and therefore had nothing left to fear.

The sound terrified Wonwoo more than any scream could have. He stared at her, his eyes wide with fear. This was not his wife. This was a stranger.

Y/n's laughter finally subsided, leaving an unnerving silence in its wake. She looked at him, and for the first time, he saw the bottomless abyss that had opened up behind her eyes. Her face was a placid mask, but her eyes were burning.

"Get out," she whispered.

"Y/n, please..."

"Get. Out."

He finally stumbled back, grabbing his jacket and his keys, fumbling with the lock on the front door like a frightened animal. He fled from the house, from the woman he had created.

Y/n stood alone in the silence, her arms wrapped around her own waist. The pain was a physical presence, a shard of ice lodged deep in her chest. But it was no longer just pain. It was fuel. It was purpose. She thought of Chaewon's comforting arm around her shoulder. She thought of Wonwoo's gentle lies. She thought of the life they had stolen from her, the child they had killed, the daughter they had used as a pawn.

A single tear, hot and final, traced a path down her cold cheek. It was the last tear she would ever shed for them.

"You will both pay for this," she whispered to the empty room, her voice a vow, a curse, a promise. "I will burn your world to the ground."

Chapter 4

To be continued...