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tenebraevesper · 2 days

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Sonadow Moments in Sonic Cyber Revolution (The Final Haunt Arc)

[...]

''Got it!'' Amy nodded, with Sonic curling up into a ball and hit him with her hammer. Sonic flew above the Buzz Bombers, right towards the Egg Hornet. However, Eggman saw this, pressing another button that unleashed another homing missle, hitting Sonic mid-air and knocking him out.

''Sonic!'' Lucas shouted as the cobalt hedgehog fell, dazed from the explosion, while Eggman laughed gleefully that he got the last hit on his nemesis.

There was a sudden flash of light blue light, with a dark figure catching Sonic mid-air, followed by another flash of light, with both the dark figure and Sonic landing on the ground safely. Sonic groaned in pain, feeling dazed and his vision clearing as he looked up at the person who saved him and was currently carrying him bridal style.

''Shadow?'' Sonic was stunned to see his rival.

''You can't go one day without running into trouble, do you?'' Shadow responded. Sonic's eyes narrowed.

''I don't think you're the one to talk about avoiding trouble,'' he responded.

Shadow avoided his gaze, clearly feeling troubled, but then added in an irked tone, ''Do you want me to drop you, Faker?''

''Nah, I'm good. Feels nice being carried around,'' Sonic responded, smirking. Shadow just rolled his eyes and dropped him regardless, with Sonic hitting the ground with a hard 'thud'.

[...]

''I suppose this brings us to what I had experienced,'' Rouge said, sitting on the table, her legs crossed. ''I can verify that your friends had indeed been abducted by Mephiles and his partner, but I don't really know what exactly had happened before I had arrived.'' Her eyes narrowed as she added in a more serious tone, ''Whatever they had done to your friends, it broke Touka. The last I saw her, she seemed to have suffered from some kind of mental breakdown. She just… shut down.''

''I guess that explains why Shadow left so soon,'' Sonic commented, his tone solemn.

[...]

''Honestly, I think it would be a good idea to give them some time and space to process what had happened,'' Makoto suggested. ''We can talk to them once they're ready.''

''I think that's a good idea,'' Lucas replied, glancing at Sonic. The latter had his head lowered, clearly thinking about his teammates. Lucas knew his partner well enough to be aware that Sonic wouldn't let this be so easily.

xXx

Three days… Three days of complete radio silence from both Touka and Shadow. Lucas had sent Touka a message to ask her how she's doing, but there was no reply. She didn't even read it.

''We should go check on them.''

''I'm not sure. You know that neither Touka and Shadow have a tendency to check their messages. Maybe we should leave them alone for the time being.''

''I don't think so. What if they never answer?''

''…''

Sonic frowned as he sped through the streets of Neos City, the conversation he had with Lucas still echoing in his head. He knew that Lucas was worried about Touka and Shadow, but unlike his partner, he felt that they should actually confront the two rather to leave them on their own. Still, he agreed to wait. Fortunately, he didn't have to worry about Eggman, as the Doctor didn't show up after the attack three days ago. He and the rest of the gang had figured that he was occupied with something else, with Rouge having admitted that she did mess with the computer at the Egg Base, so he would remain busy with that.

So, in the meantime, Sonic decided to occupy himself with testing out his new ability, which he referred to as the ''Boost''. He had figured out that, in order to trigger it, he would have to remain focused and steady while he increased his speed in small bursts. It did drain him of his own energy, but it was something he could use without using Chaos Surge, so he felt it was worth it. While his stamina was finite, he had more than enough of it for the training sessions. As a matter of fact, he actually wanted to show off his new ability to Shadow, maybe challenge him to a race. However, given the current circumstances, he wondered whether that was even possible.

What I didn't tell Lucas was that I also sent a few messages to Shadow, asking him how he's doing. Sonic sweatdropped as he pondered about the ebony hedgehog's reactions to his messages, figuring that his rival was probably annoyed by them. At least he could see that he was reading them, so that was a good thing. I still don't think that's a good idea, leaving them alone without even knowing whether they'll be fine or not. Sonic hummed. Maybe I should pay them a little visit, just in case.

Grinding to a halt, he turned around on his heel and sped right towards the Kageura residence.

xXx

''…''

Touka was lying in her bed, having pulled the blanket over her head and staring at the wall, her back turned towards Shadow. The ebony hedgehog was sitting on the swivel chair, just staring at her in silence as he thought about how things have been like this the past three days. After he had warped both of them home, Touka went to the bathroom, closing it right behind her and didn't come out of it for hours. When she did, Shadow noted how she had washed off Sakamoto's blood, having thrown Tomoe's light blue dress into the trash, and how her eyes were dark and red, having clearly spent a good amount of time crying her heart out. She barely spoke as she walked into her room, her only words being:

''I don't want to talk to anyone. I want to be left alone.''

That was the last 'conversation' they had before Touka once again completely shut down emotionally, barely even acknowledging him.

Shadow felt an overwhelming sense of guilt while watching her like this, just wasting away, but there was nothing he could do. There were times when he wanted to talk to Touka, but what was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to comfort her? He knew what was on her mind, but at the same time, he felt like she was a complete stranger to him. This was not the Touka he knew; she wasn't the determined, mischievous and protective older sister who took comforted him when he was at his lowest, who was defiant to the point of going against anyone who had authority or control over them and making them listen to her. She was always so strong, something Shadow deeply admired, but now? Now she was broken, a former shell of herself.

Shadow blamed himself for this, even though he knew that this was not his fault whatsoever. He wished that he could've done more to protect her, to shield her from the unfortunate truth. They both wanted to learn more about their past and they dug to deep, eventually getting buried in it. And when he didn't feel guilt, he was overwhelmed by the sensation of rage, the same kind he felt when he woke up after years of believing his beloved sister had died at his hand. The voice in the back of his mind returned, convinced him to find someone, anyone, and take his anger out on them, to punish them for what they had done to Touka. The first person who came to his mind was Sakamoto… and that's when the voice turned cold and the memory of his death replayed in his mind over and over again, like a broken tape. Shadow felt not pity for the man after what he had done to them, but the sudden brutality of his death did make his stomach squirm.

Shadow's ears twitched at the sound of voices coming from downstairs. He glanced at the hatch, unable to make out anything specific with his sensitive hearing, but he was sure that there was someone else in the downstairs besides Kisaki. He glanced at Touka, who hadn't moved from her position, having refused to leave her room unless absolutely necessary. He wanted to be there for her, and yet he couldn't.

He felt like a failure.

Sighing, Shadow got up and opened the hatch, leaping down into the hallway and walking to the stairs, the voices becoming louder. He stopped in the middle of the stairs, where he wouldn't be seen by anyone but still hear the ongoing conversation in the living room. Just as he had assumed, one of the voices was Kisaki's, but the other…

Sonic. Shadow frowned harder, clenching his fist as he listened in.

''Thanks once again for letting me in, Kisaki,'' Sonic said as Kisaki brought him a coaster and a glass of orange juice. ''I guess Shadow and Touka are at home as well, right?''

''Yeah, they are,'' Kisaki replied, as she sat down on the couch, sighing heavily. ''Unfortunately, neither of them is in the mood to talk. Touka has basically locked herself up in her room and Shadow refuses to say anything. I only see him whenever he comes down to get food for Touka.'' She pressed her fingers against her temple. ''I don't know what is going on with the two. Just a few days ago, they were both fine, if a little brooding, but now…''

Kisaki trailed off, clearly deeply concerned by the whole situation. Sonic's ears were pinned back as he thought about whether he should tell her what he knew. He wasn't that familiar with the relationship Touka and Shadow had from Kisaki, aside from the fact that Kisaki was Touka's adoptive mother on paper only and Touka never considered her a parental figure. However, seeing just how worried Kisaki was about her adoptive daughter, he decided that it would be the right thing to say something.

''I've heard that the two had been through a really traumatizing event. I don't know the details, though,'' Sonic responded. It wasn't a complete lie – he really didn't know all the details besides what Rouge had told them about witnessing Sakamoto's death, but he figured that Kisaki was better off without knowing that part. He reached for the orange juice, taking a sip out of the glass.

''I see… Thanks for telling me,'' Kisaki muttered, noting how Sonic was glancing at the stairs after putting the glass back on the coaster and fidgeting anxiously. ''If you want to talk to them, you can try, but I doubt you'll suceed.''

''I know you said that Touka and Shadow refuse to talk to you, but I'm persistent. Maybe I could get them…'' Sonic trailed off when Kisaki shook her head.

''It's not just that,'' she said, taking a deep breath. ''Listen, I know Touka and Shadow for a long time now, and when it comes to Touka, her being this closed off is not normal. I have never seen her behave like this, and I fear that, whatever had happened, it may have broken her mind. However, before you even get to talk to her, you would have to deal with Shadow.''

''Don't worry, I already know how to handle him,'' Sonic replied confidently, only to be met with Kisaki shaking her head again.

''I'm sure that you're well aware of just how protective Shadow is of Touka,'' Kisaki started, with Sonic nodding, having witnessed it first-hand. ''This kind of loyalty runs quite deep, and when put in the right mindset, Shadow will refuse to listen to anyone but Touka. This is one of those situations.'' Kisaki glanced at the stairs. ''I had tried to go to talk to Touka, but Shadow refuses to let me inside the room. He had told me that Touka wants to be left alone, and he's enforcing her will with an iron fist. So, unless you want to get caught up in a fight, I doubt you'll get through any of them.''

''So, Touka willingly put herself into isolation and Shadow's supporting her decision,'' Sonic voiced his thoughts, a little astounded. He knew that these two weren't particularly social, but he felt that this was going too far. He then gave Kisaki a confident grin. ''Well, I'm not afraid to get into a fight if necessary. I already know how Shadow is like.''

''There is one more thing I need to tell you,'' Kisaki added, feeling a tiny spark of hope when she saw just how confident Sonic was. She had to wonder if the blue hedgehog would be able to get drag the two out of their self-imposed isolation. ''I don't think Shadow wants this either.''

''You mean, isolating himself and Touka?'' Sonic asked, giving her a curious look. Kisaki nodded.

''Shadow may not be someone who is open with his emotions, but I could tell that he's frustrated with the whole situation and himself, and he doesn't know how to fix it. He knows Touka is hurt and he's doing everything in his power to prevent anyone from hurting her further, even if it means to keep her isolated.''

''That's even more reason for me to confront him,'' Sonic responded, grinning confidently. ''Just leave it all to me. I'm sure I'll be able to fix this.''

Shadow, who was listening to this, scowled, and walked back upstairs into his and Touka's bedroom, not wanting to listen to anything anymore. To his surprise, he saw Touka on her feet, all dressed up. She still had that solemn look on her expression, but she wasn't anymore hiding under the bedcovers.

''Touka, are you-?''

''I wanted to go outside. Are you coming with me?'' Touka asked, extending her arm. Shadow nodded, taking it and he could feel through his glove that her hand was cold and clammy. She was clearly not feeling well, but he figured that this was still better than nothing. There was a flash of blue light, and a moment later, they vanished.

A few minutes passed, with Sonic opening the hatch to the room, surprised to see that it was empty. ''Hey, they're gone!''

''What? But, we didn't see them leave!'' Kisaki shouted back from downstairs. Sonic ran up to her.

''They probably warped away. Don't worry, I'll find them and talk some sense into them,'' he said. Kisaki just put her hand over her mouth, supporting her elbow with her other hand as the hedgehog dashed off, hoping that he was right.

[...]

''I… I wasn't supposed to be like this…'' she said, shaking. ''I'm… I don't deserve any of this. I-I stole another person's life. I'm living a lie.'' Touka bit her lip, feeling as if someone was outright choking her. She couldn't breathe. ''I… Sometimes, I wish I was never created at all.''

Shadow felt like he was thrown into icy cold water, any breath he had vanishing and his eyes wide as he stared at his older sister. He knew that the situation was bad, but he had no idea it was this grim.

''Touka, don't say things like that!'' he suddenly shouted at her, only to immediately regret it.

''Shadow, please, just leave…'' Touka turned to him, her tone suddenly firm. Her eyes were still hazy from the tears, but there was an unmistakable look of determination in them. ''I don't want you to be around me anymore,… for your sake. You've done enough for me. More than enough.''

Shadow stared at her silently, unable to come up with a response. He wanted to respect her wish, but at the same time, he feared what would happened if he did. Sighing, Shadow got up and stepped in front of Touka.

''If I leave now and return later, will you still be here?'' he asked, his ruby eyes narrowing as he stared straight at her. Touka didn't respond. ''Touka, promise me that you will be here when I return.''

''Shadow, I…''

''Promise!''

Touka was caught off guard when Shadow suddenly snapped at her, staring at him for a moment, before slowly nodding.

''I promise,'' she whispered. Shadow just nodded in response and turned around, walking away. He hated the idea of leaving her alone, but if that was what she wanted, he wanted to respect it. He knew that while he was away, he'd be clutching onto this promise with his dear life, his only hope that Touka wouldn't do something to endanger herself.

Besides, he still had something else he needed to take care of. He walked onto the street and, just as he predicted, saw a blue streak of light zooming towards him. Sonic was relieved to have found Shadow, having searched the whole city for him and Touka.

''Hey, Shads, I was just-!''

POW!

Before Sonic could even finish his sentence, he was sent flying by Shadow, who punched him straight in the face. Sonic landed on the ground, shaking his head and rubbing his cheek, which was burning to the touch. He stared at Shadow, who was glaring daggers at him as he approached him, hands balled into fists, baring his fangs, completely livid.

''What makes you think that you have the right to stick your nose into my personal matters?!''

Shadow took another step as Sonic quickly got up. ''Shads, I know that you're angry, but I just want to help you.''

''I don't want your help!''

Shadow grabbed Sonic by his neck, lifting him up as they vanished in a flash of blue light. Sonic then felt a sharp pain in his back as Shadow slammed him against a wall. He realized that the wall was actually the underpass where they had one of their previous battles, not too far from the park they were previously at.

''I have enough of your self-righteousness! Only because you get to play hero, you think you can now be everyone's savior!'' Shadow growled furiously. ''Let me make something clear, Sonic! You can't fix everything! You can't fix me and you can't fix Touka! So stop trying!''

Shadow suddenly stumbled back as Sonic managed to kick him in the stomach, forcing him to let go of his rival. Sonic rubbed his neck, taking a deep breath. ''Okay, I get it. You're frustrated that things are falling apart. I understand. However, if you just talked to me about what happened, then…''

''There is nothing to talk about,'' Shadow cut him off, his tone harsh and cold. He was done with Sonic's antics. Sonic, on the other hand, sighed.

''Okay, then. I guess we'll have to do it the hard way,'' he said, stretching his arms above his head before getting into a battle stance and smirking. ''You know, I was actually looking forward to this, Faker.''

''I'll make you regret ever approaching me in the first place,'' Shadow responded.

The two hedgehogs then rushed forward into another clash.

[...]

Sonic dodged a punch from Shadow, which was followed by another punch, then a kick. Sonic just kept up avoiding the blows until he could find a good opening, but Shadow was relentless. Sure, Sonic fought him before a couple of times, but he had never seen him this furious. Although, he'd take furious Shadow over Shadow who had nothing left to fight for any day. Sonic briefly glanced back, noting the wall behind him, and he managed to dodge another sweeping kick to his head, stepping back and using the wall to bounce and tackle Shadow to the ground, trying to pin him down.

''Do you have enough?'' Sonic asked, grinning as he pressed Shadow's shoulders down. Shadow's response was to kick him with his knee, leaving Sonic reeling from the pain and then punching him again in the chest.

''Hmph, I've seen better from you,'' Shadow responded, staring at Sonic coldly as the latter recovered from the hit.

''Yeah… You did,'' Sonic responded, suddenly dashing forward.

Shadow braced himself for an attack, but Sonic zoomed past him, circling around him in a zig-zag manner to confuse him. Shadow kept calm, though, having understood what Sonic was planning to do, and when Sonic vanished from his sight, Shadow turned around, expecting a sneak attack from behind. However, instead, Sonic performed a homing attack from above, hitting Shadow and knocking him down. Sonic leapt back with a smirk on his expression as Shadow slowly got back up, knowing well his rival wouldn't just go down from one attack.

Admittedly, Sonic's plan wasn't to defeat Shadow. He just wanted the latter to vent his aggression through a battle and calm down so they could have a proper conversation. It was a simple stalling tactic, at least on paper, but Shadow was everything but simple. Sonic just hoped that he'd have enough stamina for this battle.

''Chaos Spear!''

''Yikes!'' Sonic managed to side-step the energy spear, letting it fly past him, feeling a little alarmed. If Shadow was willing to use his Chaos Powers, then things just got more complicated.

Another Chaos Spear formed in Shadow's hands, but instead of throwing it, Shadow used more like a weapon, swiping at Sonic. The cobalt hedgehog curled up, doing a spin attack at Shadow, who used the Chaos Spear to block the latter, energy sparking all around them. As the Chaos Spear dissipated, Sonic bounced back, uncurling, with a faint scent of burnt fur filling his nostrils. Before he could do anything about it, Shadow suddenly charged it for another punch, but to both of their surprise, Sonic blocked this one by grabbing Shadow's arm.

''You know, if you already want to fight me, then at least we can also talk!'' Sonic told him, sweep kicking Shadow, who leapt back, dodging the attack.

''There is nothing to talk about!'' Shadow growled. However, Sonic persisted, avoiding another punch and kicking Shadow in the chest.

''I understand that you're angry at me. I probably shouldn't have sent you so many messages either…''

''You spammed me 50 messages per day!''

POW!

Shadow managed to punch Sonic in the face, sending him flying. Sonic landed on the ground, shaking his head. ''Ughhh… I guess I deserved that one.'' He quickly got up, having to use his super speed to dodge another punch form Shadow as the latter warped right in front of him. ''However, I still think you should've just gone out and talked to someone than isolating yourself!''

''I don't want your advice!''

Sonic rushed down the street, forced to dodge Shadow's attempts at punching and kicking him as he warped around him. He saw a street lamp, rushed towards it and used it to circle around, kicking Shadow right in the gut as he warped in front of Sonic. Shadow fell on one knee, glaring at his rival as he clutched his stomach.

''I'm not saying that you have to take my advice. I just want to understand what is going through your head. I know that you're traumatized-'' Sonic replied when, suddenly, Shadow tackled him, warping both right back to the underpass and pinning Sonic below him.

''What do you know about trauma?!'' Shadow snarled furiously, glaring daggers at Sonic. ''What do you know about losing the most important person in your life?! What do you know how it feels when the whole world is against you?!''

''I… don't…'' Sonic responded in a defeated tone. Shadow stared at him, still angry, but noticeably calmer after hearing Sonic's response. He furrowed a brow when Sonic then looked back at him with a determined gaze. ''However, I know that you're feeling really lonely, as if everyone had abandoned you, and that you're carrying a huge responsibility on your shoulders. I want you to help with that burden, because I understand that feeling of loneliness. I told you before, and I'm telling you now, even if this is the path you have chosen, I won't give up. I will continue to fight for my friends, for Neos City, and especially for you, Shadow. So, stop being so stubborn!''

To Shadow's surprise, Sonic managed to kick him off him, causing him to stumble backwards, with Sonic getting ip on his feet. He expected Shadow to attack him again, but instead, the latter just stared at him with a steely gaze.

''Why?'' Shadow asked, suddenly walking towards Sonic, who quickly stepped back, feeling a little nervous, only to feel the wall behind him once again, with Shadow slamming his palm next to Sonic's head, keeping Sonic pinned against the wall once again. Shadow stepped even closer, with Sonic catching a faint scent of lavender coming from him. ''Why are you so determined to be so close to me?''

''Because I think you're an interesting person and I like hanging out with you. It's simple as that,'' Sonic responded in a chipper tone, giving Shadow a smug grin. Shadow's expression fell, avoiding eye-contact with Sonic.

''Right… It's simple as that,'' Shadow muttered, stepping back, his ears drooping as he stared at the ground, fists clenched. Sonic exhaled, feeling relieved that Shadow had finally calmed down. Shadow then looked back, his glare sending shivers down Sonic's spine, making him wonder if Shadow found another reason to be angry at him. ''You're still insisting on that, despite me showing no interest in being your friend like the others do. I agreed to being your ally and rival, but nothing beyond that.''

''Well, regardless of what you think, I still consider you my friend,'' Sonic replied happily, much to Shadow's chagrin. ''So, what happened to you and Touka? If you don't want to talk about it, could you at least give me a hint or something?'' Sonic noted the glare Shadow shoot at him, his ears drooping. ''Okay, I know I'm not really the best person when it comes to talking things out, especially emotional stuff. Amy's way better at this, so if you're more comfortable with that, we could go to talk to her. Or if you prefer a more blunt approach over a compassionate one, we could also talk to Minami.''

Shadow remained silent, giving Sonic a steely gaze, then lowered his head, staring somberly at the ground, arms folded across his chest. He closed his eyes when he felt a hand on his shoulder, followed by a surprisingly gentle tone coming from Sonic, ''Shads, I'm serious. You're not alone. If you still believe that, then I'll be always here to remind you that you have a friend by your side.''

''You're really a thorn in my side,'' Shadow responded, with Sonic feeling a little concerned, only to see Shadow's expression change to a more vulnerable one. He sighed, showing a pained look as he continued, ''I-I feel like I'm losing Touka again.''

''Shadow…''

''What we learned at that place, the truth… It completely broke her. I never saw her like this before; it's like she has turned into an empty shell of the person she used to be,'' Shadow explained, his hands falling by his side and clenched his fist, shaking. ''I hate seeing her like this and it frustrates me that there is absolutely nothing I can do to help her. I want to protect her, but how do you protect someone who is hurting themselves? I feel like a failure.''

''Shadow, I don't think you have failed,'' Sonic said, stepping up, with Shadow giving him a look of genuine surprise, only for it to change to a frown when Sonic placed his arm around his shoulder. ''I see this as a setback. Yeah, things were going great before, but you tripped and now you don't know how to continue. All you can do now is get up and keep going.''

''I'll consider your advice… Would you take your arm off my shoulder?'' Shadow growled.

''Sorry,'' Sonic quickly stepped back, grinning sheepishly. ''Also, next time you feel like venting your frustrations through a battle, just ask. I'm always up for a sparring match.''

''I'll keep that in mind,'' Shadow responded. Sonic just smiled at him happily, with Shadow still feeling a little irked by his positive outlook, but at the same time, the weight he felt on his shoulders wasn't as heavy as before. He was too used to act and fight on his own, with only Touka by his side, and he felt like there wasn't anyone beside her he could trust. Sure, there was also Kisaki, who would watch over them, but even then, they would exclude her from many things. During their life at the Codex Research Facility, they had developed an ''us against the world'' mentality and it was hard to shake it off. He hated the fact that he had just cracked under the pressure, but at the same time, he knew that he had to accept outside help to find a solution to this problem. It was quite frustrating for him, but at the same time, he felt a sense of relief.

''Now, let's go pick up Touka and…'' Sonic was about to walk away when, suddenly, a bunch of crystals shoot out of the ground, stopping him in his tracks. ''Whoa- What was that?!''

Both suddenly heard a cold chuckle coming from somewhere above. They ran out of the underpass, spotting a shadow-like figure hovering on the top of it. Shadow frowned, growling, ''Mephiles!''

''It was quite amusing watching you fight and struggle, but having you heal from your emotional trauma is certainly not part of the plan,'' Mephiles told him. Sonic glanced at Shadow, then back at Mephiles, realizing that this was the ARNav Rouge had told them about.

''Dude, what are you talking about?'' Sonic asked the Dark, while Shadow understood immediately.

''You didn't bring us to that place just to meet Prof. Sakamoto. His death was planned from the start,'' he said, with Sonic giving him a confused look. Mephiles gazed at him, at first not answering to his accusation, but then relented.

''I see that you put quite some thought into what had happened,'' Mephiles started. ''You're correct in your assumption though. The reason Toshiro and I brought you to meet Prof. Sakamoto is because we hoped that you would eventually succumb to your prior programming as a weapon after learning the truth and go on a rampage. The additional trauma you and Touka had experienced was just the cherry on the top and I sincerely enjoyed seeing you at your lowest. Touka's breakdown was especially amusing. Is it true that she has actually become suicidal?''

''You-'' Shadow gritted his teeth, baring his fangs. ''You'll pay for what you've done to Touka!''

''Hmph, I'd like to see you try!'' Mephiles rose up his arm, with flames suddenly bursting from the crystals that had sprouted from the ground, going right after Shadow. Sonic quickly tackled his rival, getting both of them away from the fire.

''This guy looks like real trouble,'' Sonic said, with Shadow glancing at him, noting the determined look on Sonic's expression. Sonic winked confidently, ''How about we take him down together?''

''How about we make it a competition and see who gets the most hits?'' Shadow responded, with Sonic grinning widely, looking excited.

''Now you're talking!''

Both nodded and then turned towards Mephiles, who just frowned in return. This was not the kind of reaction he wanted to see.

[...]

Both Sonic and Shadow dodged a wall of flames Mephiles sent towards them. Sonic then used his super speed to rush towards the Dark, only to be surprised by a barrage of sharp crystals growing out of the ground. Fortunately for him, Shadow fired a Chaos Spear, shattering the crystals and clearing the path for Sonic, who launched into a spin attack towards Mephiles. However, instead of hitting the Dark, he spun right into the flames that Mephiles had conjured.

''Sonic!'' Shadow shouted as he saw a ball of fire emerge from the flames, spinning and hitting a nearby wall. He uncurled, clearly dazed and singed. Shadow then turned to Mephiles, who fired a whirl of flames towards him. Shadow warped around them, about to punch Mephiles, only to pass through him, with the shadow-like copy disappearing and Mephiles appearing right behind him.

''You're so predictable,'' Mephiles hissed, with Shadow turning around in an attempt to roundhouse kick him in one swift motion, but the Dark already merged with the hedgehog's shadow, avoiding the attack. Shadow looked down, only to for crystals to sprout from the ground, enveloping the dark hedgehog completely.

''Shadow!'' Sonic screamed, holding onto his hurt arm, his eyes wide as he saw the ghastly crystallic structure with Shadow in the middle of it, trapped. Mephiles emerged from the shadows on the ground, looking at his little masterpiece in interest.

''I expected you to put more of a fight,'' he said. ''But, I suppose I should've expected this from someone so weak-minded and easy to manipulate.'' Mephiles then turned to Sonic, who tried to ignore the pain in his arm and took a battle stance. ''I suggest you to back down unless you want to end up the same as this idiot. My business is with Shadow.'' Mephiles' gaze then changed for a moment. ''Although, I wouldn't mind taking you down as well.''

''I know that you hurt Shadow and Touka, and I will make sure that you- huh?'' Sonic cut himself off as he saw a glowing red light behind Mephiles. The Dark too turned around, realizing that the red glow was coming from Shadow, his whole body enveloped in crimson light.

''Chaos BLAST!''

The crystallic prison exploded due to the blast of red energy, with Shadow falling down on his knee, breathing heavily, the glow in his eyes fading. Unfortunately, he had to use up a lot of energy just to free himself from Mephiles' trap and he was winded from the attack. Still, he got up, glaring at his opponent. Mephiles' eyes narrowed as he stared back. He had to admit, Shadow was stubborn. Nevertheless, he was the one standing on the top. The so-called Ultimate Lifeform and his equal were clearly unable to make a scratch on him.

''I had fun playing, but-'' Before Mephiles could even end his sentence, he suddenly felt something wrap around his chest, pulling him backwards. A string? Before he could even respond in any way, whoever was holding onto the string swung him into the wall of the underpass, causing him to hit it hard and fall over.

''You're being really mean.''

''Big?!'' Sonic and Shadow's eyes widened in complete surprise when Big emerged, holding a fishing pole, with Froggy on his shoulder. He was glaring at Mephiles, who cut through the string with his claws and glared back at Big. Rest assured, he clearly didn't expect for him to appear in join the fight.

''Why you-?!'' Mephiles felt a sense of rage overwhelming him. He made it clear that no one was going to even put a scratch on him and if this purple cat wanted to participate in this battle, he would make him pay. However, before he could do that, Shadow suddenly rushed forwards, using the moment of distraction to launch an attack at Mephiles. Unfortunately for him, Mephiles turned back, creating once again a wall of fire to stopped Shadow in his tracks. ''Tch, you can't defeat me!''

''Leave my brother alone!''

Too distracted by what was going on in front of him, Mephiles didn't even register Touka sneaking up behind him, holding a pipe in her hand and whacking him over the head with it. She glared at him as he fell over, seething with rage. Shadow was shocked to see her here, only to get elbowed by Sonic.

''Hey, Shads, remind me to never make Touka angry,'' he said, a soft grin on his lips. Shadow couldn't help but grin in response, as this was the Touka he was familiar with. The teenager dropped the pipe and then ran past Mephiles and towards the hedgehogs, Big and Froggy.

''Are you guys okay?'' she asked, a look of concern on her expression.

''It's nothing that we can't walk off,'' Sonic responded in a casual tone. Shadow gave her a worried look.

''What about you?'' he asked. Touka shook her head, responding with a look of guilt.

''I'm so sorry for making you all worried about me,'' she replied. Shadow was about to respond, but Sonic interrupted the two.

''You know, we can talk about this once we're done with Mephiles,'' he said, pointing at the Dark, who got up. Despite the glare he shoot at them, there was clearly a slight hint of alarm in his gaze, especially since Touka was clearly more than willing to aid the group in the battle rather than be consumed by her depression and trauma. Shadow noticed that, stepping out.

''Care to prove your status as The Ultimate Weapon against the Chaos Surge-boosted Ultimate Lifeform?'' he asked. Mephiles frowned, backing away into the shadows. He knew that without Toshiro's aid, he would have a hard time against Shadow powered up by Chaos Surge.

''This won't be the last time we see each other!''

The group watched him disappear, before collectively sighing in relief. Sonic then put his arms behind his head, adding in a causal tone, ''Well, that was fun.'' He smiled sheepishly when he saw the exasperated look Shadow gave him, turning towards Big and Froggy. ''Thanks for the help, guys!''

''You're welcome,'' Big responded happily, glancing at Touka, who had a smile on her lips, despite her clear look of discomfort.

''I… I suppose there's a lot to explain,'' she started. Shadow raised an eyebrow, surprised to see that she was actually willing to come clean about what had happened, with Touka catching on his non-verbal question. ''I had talked to Big, and I think it would be a good idea for the rest of Team Neos to learn the truth.''

''Are you sure?'' Shadow questioned her. Touka gave a firm nod, with Sonic and Shadow exchanging glances. While Shadow was still uncertain, Sonic just gave him an encouraging grin and a thumbs up.

''I'll call Lucas and the rest of the team, then.''

[...]

''You're already familiar with Mephiles, right? He also has a partner named Toshiro Miwa, and just like Touka, Toshiro is an artificial creation, albeit for a different purpose,'' Shadow explained.

''They're the ones who will destroy the future,'' Silver said in a grim tone, drawing everyone's attention as he approached Shadow. ''The kind of fire powers Mephiles has is identical to that of Ignis Infernalis, and considering how I was sent from the future to the exact moment of the past from which the fire originates, I'm certain that it's him who will be the catalyst for this disaster.''

''Then we will stop at nothing to make sure to prevent that,'' Shadow said in a firm tone. He and Silver were suddenly startled by a blue blur, with Sonic appearing right between them, placing his arms over their shoulders and pulling them closer.

''Shadow's right! Be it past, present or future, nothing can stop us from making the world a better place!'' Sonic said cheerfully, with Silver smiling back at him, while Shadow shoot him a glare, clearly still not liking the idea of being touched.

Links:

#Sonadow Moments in Sonic Cyber Revolution (The Enter The E.G.G.M.A.N. Arc & The Babylon Rogues Arc)

#Sonadow Moments in Sonic Cyber Revolution (The Starfall Arc)

#Sonic Cyber Revolution (Masterlist)

#Sonic Cyber Revolution #Sonic Cyber Revolution Analyzer #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #sonadow

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she-posts-nerdy-stuff · 3 days

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Don't Go Blindly Into the Dark

Summary:

To hide that he can't read, Jan Van Eck has been forcing his son to pretend he's blind since he was eight years old. Wylan is now attending Ketterdam University, and meeting Jesper Fahey may very well be about to change his life. But is he safe to tell Jesper the truth? And what will Jesper say if he does?

Jesper is struggling to weigh up his life in the Barrel and his life at the University of Ketterdam, and there's a good chance that his growing debt is about to make the decision for him. He hasn't attended class consecutively for months, but maybe that will change when his newest project includes partnering up with Wylan Van Eck. But can he really leave the Barrel behind him? And how long can he keep up the pretence of who he thinks Wylan wants him to be?

Content warnings for this chapter: weapons, ptsd references, implied violence

Tags: @justalunaticfangirl @lunarthecorvus

If anyone else would like to be tagged let me know :)

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55445686/chapters/140852350

Chapter 5 - Kaz

“It can’t be a coincidence,”

Kaz mused over Nina’s words for a moment, the cogs in his mind turning slowly to put the pieces together. It definitely didn’t feel like a coincidence. But Kaz tended to follow a strict practice of believing nothing was a coincidence. He’d told Inej that once, and she’d nodded wisely.

“Fate has plans for us all,”

She’d been sitting on his windowsill, watching the rain running down the glass. She began to trace one with her fingertip, and he followed it with his eyes. Kaz frowned. He’d left the door open, because it was raining and he didn’t want her to open the window, but for some reason he was suddenly compelled to push it shut. Like there was something here that should be hidden, that he didn’t want to entertain the possibility of anyone else ever bearing witness to. He flexed his fingers and gripped his cane tighter, refusing to move.

“Suddenly, I believe in coincidences again,”

Inej looked at him for a moment, then back to the rain.

But it seemed very unlikely that Nina landing a strange job on the Geldstraat right before this job started was a coincidence. Kaz didn’t know what it added up to yet, but he would figure it out.

“Well, anyway,” said Nina, “I spoke to Feliks, all good for the job. He’s not thrilled about it though,”

“Of course he’s not,” said Kaz.

“He said you’ll owe him for the lost income,”

That would be more concerning if Feliks didn’t already owe Kaz money. And anyway he wasn’t really paying attention to that; mind still whirring away trying to solve the puzzle of Nina’s job on the Geldstraat last night. Not a coincidence. No such thing as a coincidence. No such thing as fate either, but Kaz really shouldn’t be thinking about that right now.

“Did they want you to go routinely? At the Geldstraat?”

Nina bit her lip.

“He said it could be an ongoing offer, if I wanted it. But he also said he lost an indentured Healer recently, if he gets someone else I don’t see him forking out any extra cash for the pleasure of my company,”

“When you say lost…?”

Nina grimaced.

“Concerningly vague,”

Kaz wasn’t surprised. He nodded.

“Alright, I’ll look into it. If this ends up being an ongoing job for you it might be good for intel. Inej is at the Crow Club, tell her to get a bag together - I want you at the university tonight,”

“Tonight? Kaz, you said two days, I have clients-”

“They’ll wait,”

“Kaz-”

“Update Inej. I need to talk to the old man,”

Nina huffed a little, but she turned on her heel and went on her way. Kaz watched the empty doorway for a moment before he slowly stood up - his leg was wreaking havoc today, and he leant heavily against his cane to find his balance. He was going to be vulnerable without the Wraith for a time, and now she was vanishing slightly earlier than expected. He’d set up a communication line but it still felt dangerous not to have her close by, gathering secrets.

“I’m not sure I’m following,” she’d admitted last night, when they were discussing the plan.

It was before word had come from Nina and she’d left to follow her to the Geldstraat. They sat in Kaz’s office at the Crow Club - the door was closed and the room had no window, but they needed privacy and there wasn’t much Kaz could do about that. He watched Inej, wondering if they would need to step outside, but she seemed fine perched cross-legged on a chair, posture perfect, hands planted on her knees. Kaz found himself studying the tiny movements in her fingers, the occasional movement of her boots against her knee as she shuffled her feet. He bought her the boots the night they came back to the Slat, because he was an idiot and he hadn’t brought anything with him for her to wear. She’d traipsed after him all the way from the very North of West Stave to the very South of East still dressed in those ridiculous purple silks, completely barefoot. It hadn’t helped the whispers amongst the Dregs about what he’d hired her for.

“What connection does any of this have?” she asked, beginning to drum her fingers against her knees.

“It’s about forming the connections,” he’d told her, “Just focus on getting close to the mark - or let Nina get close and follow suit. Then we can discuss what comes next,”

Kaz’s leg screamed at him all the way down the stairs, only quieting slightly when he began to cross the ground floor of the Slat towards Per Haskell’s office. The Slat was nothing special to look at - actually it was ugly as hell to look at, with its faded, faintly mossy eaves, the wonky boards at the front that made it look like it was leaning on the buildings either side of it for support, and the fact that it probably was leaning on them but the boards just accentuated it - but nothing had come as close to feeling like home to Kaz as the Slat did since he’d arrived in Ketterdam and his entire world was slowly pried from his weak little childish hands. That was what this city did; took everything from you. And this is what you did to survive it: demand something in return. Scrape and claw and bleed your way through the Labyrinth until you didn’t just defeat the monster at its centre, you became it. Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, the Bastard of the Barrel. He wasn’t quite there yet, on the very top, but he would be. He would taste the monster’s flesh, and embrace the city as his own. The Labyrinth was meant to be a prison, but if you played your cards right you could own it. And Kaz never sat down to a card game he couldn’t win.

“Enter,” came the gruff, muffled response from Per Haskell to Kaz’s sharp, single knock on the door.

It sounded like he’d already been drinking, and when the door was open the smell alone confirmed it. Kaz fought the urge to grimace, keeping his face a cool, flat mask as he closed the door behind him. There was a window in this room and for a strange, ridiculous moment Kaz almost moved to open it. He needed to get his head on straight - the Wraith wasn’t even here, and if she had been then she could open a damn window herself if she wanted to.

“Kaz, my boy,”

Haskell gestured for him to take a seat, and Kaz’s leg was putting up such a protest that for once he took up the offer.

“Sir,” he said, nodding.

Haskell grunted. He was playing with one of his little ships in a bottle things again, and for a moment just let Kaz stew whilst he drove his focus into rearranging one of the tiny pieces. Kaz didn’t get the appeal of these little models but they were popular to display in merchant houses, to sit on desks or mantelpieces like the homeowner was waiting for your gaze to linger on it just a second too long so that he could tell you a long story about it and how it’s an exact replica of a ship he, in fact, owns himself. There were two half-constructed ones sitting on Haskell’s desk that he’d given up on over the last few months, and Kaz watched the man’s meaty, and slightly shaking, fingers fumble over the details of his newest one, feeling unsurprised that he’d never been successful at finishing any. After a minute had passed Haskell sighed and plunked the thing carelessly against the table, then picked up his glass and downed the last few drops before all but slamming it back down. Kaz flexed his fingers over the crow’s head of his cane, tightening his grip.

“Brandy?” asked Haskell, as he began to pour himself another glass.

Kaz abstained.

“Alright,” the old man breathed, taking a sip before he continued: “What trouble are you here to tell me this time, then?”

What could Kaz tell him by way of trouble? That Jesper Fahey abandoned his security shift without telling anyone where he was, only for the Wraith to drag him back five hours later from a Dime Lions club? That Nina Zenik had been sent to the Geldstraat to complete a highly suspicious Tailoring job that might have had something to do with the job Kaz had been planning for so long? All he said was:

“I need Nina and Inej to start the job earlier than I thought,”

Haskell frowned.

“How long will they be gone?”

“I don’t know yet, but it’s all under control. You’ll get your twenty percent,”

Haskell’s jaw twitched. It always got on his nerves when Kaz didn’t tell him what a job was, but that wasn’t part of their agreement. And besides, Kaz didn’t want to spread the details of his plans to too many people - everything in Ketterdam leaked.

“You can’t just take my Heartrender and my best spider without telling me h-”

“They’re not yours,”

“Well they ain’t yours,” growled Haskell.

“That isn’t what I meant,”

He groaned loudly and performatively, shaking his head.

“Don’t go getting righteous on me now, boy. I want them back here within the month, at minimum,”

Kaz pursed his lips.

“I’ll try to arrange that,”

“You see that you do,”

“Yes, sir,”

Haskell snorted, but Kaz knew he lapped up every stupid politeness he gave him. He liked to think of himself as the patriarch of a large, criminally-inclined family, but everyone knew it was Kaz who did the real work. It was more of a formality for Kaz to ever tell him anything at all.

“The Black Tips are still edging away at Fifth Harbour; pushing their luck,” he said, watching Haskell run a ringer along the rim of his glass, “We should move quickly if we want to re-establish our dominance,”

Haskell waved a hand dismissively through the air,

“A mere dog yapping at our heels. Monitor the situation, if things are any worse in a few months time we can organise a parlay,”

The man really was an idiot. Kaz nodded.

“Yes, sir,”

By the time Kaz left the office, disgruntled and impatient, Nina was back at the Slat.

“Where’s Inej?”

“Upstairs getting her stuff,” Nina said, nodding vaguely towards the stairs, “You really not going to tell us anything at all?”

Kaz sighed.

“When you get to the University, go straight to the office opposite the Boeksplein; it’s 24 hour, and they should be expecting you. You just arrived from Ravka - private journey, pepper it in because the tourist ferries don’t arrive this late - and there should be transfer papers waiting in your name. They might kick up a fuss about you being early, accommodation-wise, but-”

“But we’re two young rich girls from Ravka, it’s the middle of the night, we’re exhausted from travelling, and we’ve nowhere else to go,” Nina finished in a falsely distressed voice, winking at him, “I think I can manage that,”

“Good,” he handed her a thin stack of kruge, “That’s a month’s salary in advance, if it takes longer I’ll give you more but if it’s shorter I’ll need it back,”

She narrowed her eyes.

“This is your money? Not the Dregs’?”

He shrugged. He had to pay her somehow.

“Thank you, Kaz,”

“You won’t be any use to me if you run out of cash and starve,”

Nina sighed, tucking the notes into her pocket.

“Well thank you anyway,”

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gottagobuycheese · 1 year

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there’s got to be a faster way to play this game but How

#not that I don't absolutely love meandering my way around this world and chatting to all the NPCs #but I want to start octopath traveller ii when I still have time and before there are too many spoilers floating around #and I can't DO that when I'm barely even halfway through the first one #at this rate it's going to be years before I finish...#which is fine but like also. I want to Know What Happens #I could do this by just looking up the stories sure but I want to PLAY IT #but I want to play it faster >:(#<- says the person who learned you can fast-travel between taverns somewhere around hour 60 or so yet has refused to do so #‘~60.5 hours for the main game and maaaaaybe 100-ish for completionists’ BUT WHAT ABOUT PEOPLE WHO ARE BAD AT FIGHTING #WHAT ABOUT PEOPLE WHO NEED TO TRAVEL ON FOOT EVERYWHERE BECAUSE THEY'RE TOO WEAK TO MISS OUT ON ANY EXPERIENCE #WHAT ABOUT PEOPLE WHO FORGET WHERE ALL THE HIDDEN CHESTS AND SIDE QUESTS ARE AND HAVE TO RE-FIND THEM EVERY TIME #all these side quests are haunting me...yes this name sounds familiar no I do not know from when or where #good luck finding your lost lover sir #I'm pretty sure I've met her like 4 times but I can't remember where she is #and because I hit A too fast you will no longer tell me her name :/#could I simply look up this information? yes. but I want to bumble around authentically as much as possible like with botw #‘IS THERE A FASTER WAY TO DO THIS!!’ I scream while doing everything as slowly and inefficiently as possible #cheese plays octopath traveller #<- unlikely to be used more than once but Who Knows #I'm glad I actually got to play video games today though even if it didn't quite hit the level of enjoyment i was hoping for #two unexpected days of in a row man I never want to go back to work #but I also don't want to exist in my own head forever doing nothing #I don't want to move forward. but I also don't want to stay here #do you see the Dilemma #anyways time to go train h'aanit on the way back to whoever the heck's chapter 3 I was supposed to be getting to #while training for tressa's chapter 3 that I put on the backburner years ago because the boss was too hard #I LIKE to think our posse is strong enough to take it now but I feel like I keep disproportionately training certain people over others #it's so much harder to keep everyone on relatively equal footing in this game than in pokemon :(#Primrose my first ever companion how I miss thee </3 I'm sorry I so rarely need to use your skills for anything

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unproduciblesmackdown · 1 year

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one in a million when i watch smthing in the horror genre and don't end up disappointed to/and/or pissed off about it so like "also yeah i liked it. ooo" is like relative to that an off the charts rave review of media of the millennium. also i did think about mh a lot along the way so would recommend its affect/effect if you like mh's horror too

#i didn't realize at first that's the director/creator tim's qrting. thought a rando went ''i love mh'' & he went ''& i love smthing else''#saw this a few weeks ago while also like writing or drawing or smthing like oh good plot's beside the point? b/c i'm splitting this focus #even checking in w/recaps was both like oh ok i missed that / didn't realize xyz could be a Thread or something but each of the like three #or four recaps i went over Also saw points differently in terms of even like; who was there or said what lmfao. or noting sm detail at all.#i went ''oh worm?'' at some early shot that may or may not have even gone mentioned by any of them. depending lol. doesn't matter #anyways we don't have time for tags media analysis except that i'll count this as: once again horror for children wins. even tho it's...#not rated? well anyways you know. probably generally not advisable for children as a direct audience lmao. however #like yes as per the premise as a child we've all experienced this [the media] anyways. perturbing summons dreams we've all had em #anyhow fr i'd even struggle to think of horror movies i'd say i mostly liked / would or did rewatch but still wasn't like. i disliked major #elements / choices to the point of being pissed off abt it. so many movies i can't be bothered to watch b/c i already know specifics like #i don't like or respect any of you people. or choices or elements or premises or executions or effects. not even interested fr like lord...#but often what has better odds are mediums that Aren't straightforwardly tv / film. like i'd compare mh to a series of several movies and #that's also imo largely a more apt categorization than saying it's an ARG or smthing but anyways like i'd recommend it to someone sure....#rare to be like yeah a movie was enjoyable. & if you already liked mh then that's a useful reference point here #which like usually i'd use mh as a categorical tag but idk i guess actually it's actively popular nowadays lmfao i really don't know #posting is already exhausting like whew but this one's for whosoever happens to follow me i guess #which is possible? nonzero ppl arrived for mh but unlikely lmfao. but also ppl see it on their own anyways coincidentally.#and you never know who observes the posts like hell yeah for an anon enjoying niche akd theatreposting who is to me ambiently out there #really odd the other day seeing an mh reblog like ''??? huh. i made that eons ago; then'' & people in the tags talking abt some repost like #on the one hand that Original Source post is two layers of deactivated blogs so a repost could be archival. but if they don't say as much #i.e. that it's even from a different source then that's not exactly it then is it. but also that even finding an original document For OP #is like. oh yeah that's me actually. but then knowing & technically saying as much doesn't / didn't actually affect me as that op lol #just kind of archival on both ends then. vs someone else in the tags saying they saw it on fb 9 yrs ago? definitely didn't post it there #my true op experience: keeping it nicheposting & just kind of saying sm shit & maybe some people are out there nodding thoughtfully #oh also in case fyi. that's tim as in actor playing [also tim] in mh. & did some writing for mh & other such behind the scenes efforts also #every time i look at the text in this post i notice a new typo of mine. get it tgoether (organic typo there. so; lol)

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nezuscribe · 7 months

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𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you find yourself in a marriage that you never wanted in the first place. your husband seems to hate you and you begin to wonder if anything you used to think of him was even true. who would have though a marriage to gojo satoru would be so difficult?

warnings: 18+ mdni, arranged marriage, misunderstandings and just not talking shit out, mentions of cheating, slight angst (with comfort), eating out (fem! receiving), fingering, gojo doesn't really know how to husband for some of it

word count: 10.9K (whoops)

note: part two is up! i really had a lot of fun writing this so reblogs and comments are always appreciated! as always, thank you to @jadeisthirsting for beta reading <3

jjk masterlist

never did you think that you’d be stuck in a marriage to a man who didn’t love you, but there’s a first for everything.

you should count yourself lucky that he’s not old and bald. he’s pretty. in fact, he’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. his eyes are the bluest, bluer than the sky. his hair mirrors the winter snows, and his back ripples with muscles whenever he fights.

his agility is unlike any other man. he fights swiftly and cleanly, never taking more than a couple minutes to get rid of whatever it was that stood in his way. he’s charming with his words (or so you’ve heard), and he knows how to make somebody swoon if he really wants them to.

and he seems to despise you.

you had known gojo since you were a child, the two of you running around each other's fields as you chased him with your wooden sword. you remembered watching him in training, wishing him good luck whenever he went on a hunt. you could even remember how he would stutter whenever he tried to talk, something he must have worked on because he never seemed to stutter anymore.

he was always nice to you, his cheeks rosy whenever you kissed him goodbye. he was kind back then, grinning brightly whenever he saw you.

but as time grew and you with it, and it was only a matter of years before the two of you went your separate ways. it didn’t help that once he turned thirteen he had to leave for training and fighting in whatever it was that was needed of him, but you had hoped that he would be able to write back.

you would send him letters whenever you could, it was tradition whenever the two of you were separated for too long to do so. each letter telling him about new experiences and embarrassing things that happened in your life, but he never responded. you liked to send one every week, sometimes including little tokens you thought he might enjoy. but you stopped sending them after the first two years and stopped asking about his whereabouts after three.

but you were hopeful that when you saw him that night so many months ago, he’d be civil with you. you were nervous, sure, but who could blame you? you had recently gotten news that his time to serve his clan was over and that he was finally back home. it wasn’t as though the two of you had left on bad graces, so you were hopeful that he would at least remember you. but he could barely meet your eyes whenever you tried to catch him from across the room, acting as if you had never existed.

he looked so different since the last time you had seen him. he was taller than most of the people in the room, his white hair just as bright as it used to be. he had gained muscle mass almost everywhere, and you felt yourself wondering just how much training he had to go through to look this way. you could see him talking to a girl, a smile on his face as he tilted his head to look at her better. you gave him some time to socialize, not wanting to intrude on anything.

after an hour you decided that it was long enough, and tried to weave your way through the crowd to get to him. you had tried to call out to him, waving to him despite your mother quickly shoving your hand down, saying how improper it was. he heard you and you knew that he was purposely ignoring you, so you began to feel heavy-hearted after a couple of attempts at trying to catch his attention, eventually giving up.

and now, despite you wanting to, you can’t even blame him for hating you.

ever since your mother caught you, alone with him, a man you hadn’t seen in so long, she had swiftly and promptly proposed the idea of marriage only a few days later. it was really to save face for the two families, but it helped that this marriage would unify the two clans.

you were sure he had ladies lined up to marry him, and you weren’t somebody he was actively trying to pursue. you didn’t even know if he was in love with somebody else if he shared a connection with a girl who was surely not you and cursed you for taking that away from him.

not that it mattered now.

all you wanted was to reconcile, to catch up on all the things happening in your lives. you wanted to hear all the stories he must have racked up over the years, not for this to happen. all the things he wanted for himself were ripped away because of one night from one simple act of kindness, and so you couldn’t find it in yourself to hate him for the way he acted.

you rarely come down for dinner whenever he’s there, but when you do, you feel those eyes turn icy, tracking your every movement till you sit down opposite of him. he doesn’t say much, just mutters a quiet “good evening” and you’re sure he’s only doing it so the maids don’t start to gossip.

whenever your hand brushes his you feel him snap back, flexing his hand as though your touch burned him. he rarely came by to ask you about how you felt, and so you stopped trying to act kindly towards him if he didn’t want anything to do with it.

any semblance of romance you had dreamed of as a young girl quickly dissipated when you realized your husband wanted nothing to do with you, so you didn’t try to pursue any sort of love, deciding it’d be easier if he just did his part and you did yours so the two clans wouldn’t worry.

he was always gone, which might be the best for the two of you. when he’s not training new men then he’s gone in a hunt. if he’s not in a hunt then he’s somewhere in his endless home, hiding away.

you don’t know if he does this for him, for your sake, or for everybody else.

“did you see your husband this morning?” one of your maids said excitedly as she tugged the undergarments over your raised arm, a gleeful smile on her face as she rambled about something gojo had done. you couldn’t help but return a smile of your own, although it didn’t quite meet your eyes.

“yes, briefly. he’s busy with having to worry about the feast,” which wasn’t a total lie. you’d seen him hurriedly brush past you, quickly glancing at you as if he had forgotten you were his wife. you felt your chest tighten up with the way he glanced at your hand, and then quickly left.

it was only a few nights away and you knew that it was the only buzz of news anybody seemed to talk about. unfortunately, for you, it meant having to socialize with other clans. you were fine with that aspect, you’d been doing it since you were young, but this time they had a right to be nosey. you knew there would be endless questions asked about the honeymoon stage of your marriage, to which you had no answer.

sure, you’d been making up answers to hypothetical questions, but you didn’t know what gojo would be answering with, so you were only praying some of your responses would line up.

for a night the two of you would have to pretend to be husband and wife, and while the people around you knew you were anything, you knew you had to commit to the role for the sake of you and your family’s dignity.

but all this worrying isn’t good for your head, you could already feel the pang as you squeezed your eyes to try and get rid of it. you tried to move on from your worries, going to comment on her necklace, it seemed new, but a knock interrupted you. the two of your heads popped up, looking at where the sound came from.

“come in!” you called out, buttoning up the last bits of your top as you thanked myra. she nodded, bowing as she went to open the door. you could hear her faint footsteps, not bothering to look up as she greeted the person behind. you guessed it was franchesca coming with the fabric samples.

“sir,” you heard myra say, and your head swirled around, only to see the topic of your conversation make his way into your room, excusing your maid with a swift motion of his hand. she glanced once at you and then to him, ducking her head as she left, closing the door behind her as she left you two alone.

you felt heat prickle at the back of your neck as he looked at you and then to your room. the two of you slept separately, as per your request the first night. you couldn’t bear the agonizing silence between the two of you, and he obliged.

he was dressed for sparring. he had a loose-fitting tunic on, and pants that would allow him to move freely and without constraint. it was in moments like these that you were reminded of the fact that gojo was the strongest warrior that any of the clans had seen, that the child who once splurged on sugar in his tea was capable (and has done so before) of taking down entire armies.

he had matured so much since what you last remembered from him. he no longer acted rashly nor spoke without thinking about what it was he wanted to say. but you still saw him eating sweets with the same fervor he did as a kid, and it never failed to make you smile, hiding it behind your hand so nobody could hear your quiet giggle.

it had been a while since it was just the two of you, alone, and all you could think about was that night. your cheeks heated up just thinking about it, and it seemed that gojo could tell your discomfort with the way he cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair as he began to speak.

“good morning,” he started, his eyes darting around, never setting on yours. it was funny if it didn’t cause your heart to hurt irrevocably, at how the strongest warrior in all the land could barely look at his wife.

if only you knew.

“good morning.” you offered him a quick, disingenuous smile, moving around until you found your vanity, rummaging through your laid-out earrings as you kept your back to him, not trusting your face to give you away if you were to look at him for too long.

you heard him take in an audible breath, but he continued whatever it was he wanted to say.

“with the feast coming up, i want to clear some things with you,” you turned around, looping the earrings in as you nodded for him to continue. it was such a shame he was so stunning, effortlessly attractive as the sun caught off his cheekbones, bouncing off of his chest. he rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, and you wondered if being here was just as painfully awkward for him as it was for you.

“we should act like we’re…” he trailed off and you felt yourself itching to leave, knowing what he meant without having to say it.

“in love?” you finished and he slowly nodded, gnawing on his lip as you brushed past him, going to find the mirror so you could adjust your jewelry. you could see him fidgeting in the corner, and for once you could see a hint of nervousness and unease on his features.

and a part of you hurt. you would never admit out loud that you harbored a crush on him for as long as you could remember. it hurt knowing that you acting like you were in love was perhaps the lost genuine form of love you could show.

“what if they ask about the night we met?” you ask after a couple of seconds, looking up from what you were doing. deep down, you knew somebody was bound to ask. even if it was just your mother who had caught the two of you alone in that garden, the news of it somehow spread (she was always one to talk).

he scratches his head, shrugging as he eventually settles on an idea.

“just tell them the truth.”

the truth.

tell them how he followed you after you had run outside, sick to your stomach after a man, who was as old as your father, had introduced himself as a possible suitor. how gojo, the most ruthless warrior in all the land, had carefully put his hands on your back as you retched, offering you a towel he had fetched from inside to clean yourself up.

tell them how you hadn’t seen him in years but the first thing you had done was to hug him tightly. how his hands wrapped around your back as though they were the only things keeping you afloat. perhaps they were.

tell them how he murmured words in your hair to bring you back to reality, his thumb running up and down your arms to calm you down. how it seemed like even though it had been years since you two last saw each other, it felt so right, so normal, to be back in his arms.

tell them how he had looked at you with such worry, such care, unlike anybody else had looked at you, and you for once felt safe in somebody’s arms.

tell them how your mother found you two in such a compromising position, with your head nestled in his chest as he tried his very best to soothe your cries. it was humiliating and embarrassing to be caught with a man you had only seen back in your teenage years, and especially so in such a vulnerable position.

you shake your head, scoffing at the idea, “i’ll just come up with something,” was your answer and he nods along, realizing how the story would be too private to share with people you barely knew.

“and we need a reason for why,” he cleared his throat once again, pink dusting on his cheeks as his eyes dropped to your stomach. your eyes met his in the mirror, and one of your eyebrows raised, “well, you’re not exactly looking like you’re carrying a child at the moment.”

you quickly looked away, the tension in the room increasing as you moved away from the mirror, doing anything you could to keep your hands occupied. you flushed at the comment, your throat drying up as you glanced at your stomach.

the two of you have barely touched, much less been intimate with each other. you were glad he hadn’t forced the idea onto you, instead, leaving it to you to bring up the topic. you only talked about it, once, the night of the marriage, and then never again. you knew that it would have to happen eventually, but you couldn’t do it right now, not with your state of mind.

you scrambled to say something. in all honesty, you had been dreading this question. you hadn’t been answering any of the letters your mother sent, and you knew people were expecting to hear the news of a pregnancy.

“we’ll just say we’ve been so busy and preoccupied with the politics of marriage that we couldn’t… consummate.” you offered and he just shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as if this was the biggest inconvenience to him.

you knew that this marriage was brought upon quickly and before either of you could object to it, but at least you tried to hide it away. if only he hadn’t acted so rashly that night, his hands on your shoulders, eyes bewildered as they racked over your figure. if only he had been more careful, or you were smarter in picking some place to be more concealed, you wouldn’t be put in this position.

but neither of you was thinking ahead, and here you were. but he was certainly making sure that you knew of his contempt for this arrangement far more than you were. it was irritating, it scratched at your skin and ate away at your mind the more you saw each other.

“look,” he couldn’t take his eyes off of you, off of the way you were fiddling with the ring he had delicately placed on your hand so many weeks ago, “i can come up with whatever they ask, so just try your best to do the same.” you say, your voice tinged with anger, the ring on your finger acting as an anchor to the depths of the sea with the way it weighed down your movements, feeling your chest swell as he stayed silent, watching you as you opened the door.

“i don’t-”

“um, i won’t be joining you for dinner, so don’t wait on me…i apologize, i need to work on some things for the feast…have a good day.” you swiftly murmured, shutting him in your own room as you left, your heart thumping erratically in your chest as you almost ran down the hallway.

you had no idea how you were going to persuade the masses that this marriage was working if you couldn’t even persuade yourself.

---

the feast of clans came earlier than you expected.

you found yourself perched at the end of the table, gojo next to you, your stiff bodies mirroring each other as the people around you joyously helped themselves to the vast variety of food offered.

you could barely touch the meal in front of you, your stomach churning uncomfortably with the sheer number of people that surrounded you. back home, you hated these feasts, opting to leave after a couple of bites and finish the rest of what you could pocket in your room, but here, as the clan leader's wife, you had no such luxury.

“are you not hungry?” you looked to your side, gojo staring at your plate and then to you, his eyes squinting as he tried to decipher what you were feeling.

“i can’t eat,” you murmured, playing with your utensils as you swallowed thickly, “i don’t do well in large crowds.”

he nodded once, looking out into the sea of bodies as he inched a little bit closer to you. he was donned in expensive fabrics, although his hair still messily fell all over. the candle that was lit in front of you had different hues of oranges and reds bouncing off of his pale skin, and if you didn’t know any better, the blush on his nose and cheeks could have been from the frigid winds from outside.

“i’ll have myra save you a plate,” he said, giving you a curt smile as he went back to eating.

you were momentarily taken aback by his comment, but tried not to show it, going back to fidgeting with your ring as you looked at the sea of people. nobody had thankfully come up to you and bombarded you with questions, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t going to eventually happen.

“thank you,” you say, glancing at him and then back to your plate.

“anything for my wife,” he replies. it’s only for show, you remind yourself, after all, when was the last time he referred to you as such?

“gojo,” an old man had walked up to your table, his face lined with wrinkles and a beard, dressed in orange as he offered gojo his hand to shake, “i’m glad to see that you finally settled down.”

gojo blushed deeply, trying to offer him a smile as he motioned to you.

“it’s hard to resist marriage when such a woman offers it.” he says, and you feel your eyes widen as you try to laugh off his statement.

“yes,” the old man chuckles, eyeing the two of you. he looked familiar, and you were sure you had seen him around these sorts of gatherings before, “it was only a matter of time before it happened. we all knew just how much you liked her back when you were children.”

the two of you sputtered on your coughs, and you felt a little smile grow on your face as gojo did what he could to usher the man away.

you could tell with the way he shifted uncomfortably in his seat that gojo wasn’t expecting that, and before you could realize what you were doing you found yourself talking.

“i’m not a fan of feasts.” you quickly said, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them. it’s not like you felt you owed him an explanation, but you said it regardless.

gojo looked up from his plate, grabbing his cup so he could wash down his bite.

“any feast?” he asked, and you could feel the way the air shifted. he was glad you brought up a different topic.

“one’s as big as this,” you twisted your ring back and forth on your finger subconsciously, “i get nervous in big crowds.”

“i remember,” a small smile grew on his face as he thought back to when the two of you were children, “you would hide under the tables and force me to come with you.”

you chuckled, blood rushing to your ears at the fact that he remembered this about you. it was the bare minimum of what you remembered from him, but you had convinced yourself that he had washed every memory of your last selves from his mind.

a rush of distant memories came to your head; nights spent under the tables, laughing as you two tried to keep your voices down as you tried to dodge the feet. you could still hear his whispers of staying quiet, trying to sneak out so he could smuggle in some pastries for you to eat.

“the adults scared me; they were always loud and insistent on asking personal questions.”

“like they are now?” he replied back, a tilt in his voice as you nodded feverishly.

“yes!” you covered your mouth with your hand as you let out a laugh, a genuine one as you tried to look as put together as you could, “i swear, it’s even worse than when we were young. just the other day a wet nurse came to me and told me the best positions to get into when giving birth!” it really was a mortifying moment, your eyes darting all around as the old lady even took it upon herself to demonstrate the movements, but gojo didn’t seem to mind, laughing along with you. his eyes twinkled as they took in your giggly state, years since he had last seen you like this.

“i feel like i should apologize,” he starts, having to cover his own infectious smile as he ducks down his head in shame, “i had her sent up to your chambers.”

your mouth dropped open in shock, lightly smacking his arm as he grinned at the look on your face.

“to mortify me so that i would never leave?” your thumb moves your ring back and forth and gojo watches you as you do it.

“you seemed sick at breakfast, but i guess she thought it was a different sort of sickness.” gojo tells you as he cuts off some of his meat, not knowing just how much his words affected you.

you had forgotten how simple and easy conversations were with gojo. although this was under a guise to fool people, you felt at ease with him, as if you didn’t have to be on guard with your emotions when he was around.

“do you still want to hide under the table now?” he asked a couple of seconds later, chewing on a potato as you shrugged, looking around before your lips grew into an apologetic smile.

“…yes,” you admitted bashfully and he smiled at your honest response.

“if you want to hide, i’ll-”

“satoru!” a booming voice interrupted your endless spiral of thoughts as the two of you glanced upwards at the sound, “it’s been too long!”

a man with hair as dark as night and a smile wider than any ocean had come up to your table. he was the first one to do so all night, but gojo didn’t seem bothered by it. he seemed to smile, crescents forming around his eyes as he took his friend's hand.

“too long,” he emphasized with a charming grin, motioning to you and then back to the man in front of you as if he suddenly remembered the two of you and never met, “suguru, this is my wife, y/n. y/n, this is one of my oldest friends.”

you extended your hand outwards and the man, suguru, took it, placing a soft kiss on the back of it as he shot you a playful smile. he wasn’t at the wedding, but then yet again, it was a rather quick one. the only people who had attended were your families.

“it’s a pleasure to meet you.” he greeted, and you nodded in agreement, sitting back down next to gojo. you felt his long fingers reach for yours, enveloping your hand in his as your heart sputtered at the touch.

“likewise,” you answered and the man grinned politely before he slightly tilted his head, looking at the two of you sitting next to each other.

“he’s not bothering you, is he? i know satoru can be fiendish when he wants to be, so call for me and i’ll take care of him.” he teased and you could only smile tightly and laugh along, gojo’s fingers slightly tightening around yours as he moved your hand to rest on his thigh.

“i can take care of him when he’s fiendish. i just have to take the sugar away, right?” suguru snorted and gojo glared, but it was playful the way he looked at you.

his hands were warmer than you would have expected. you could feel the indents of calluses on his fingertips, could feel his thumb moving back and forth on your skin in a calming sort of manner. he didn’t look over at you as he did it, playing it off as second nature.

“i apologize for not having much time to get to know you, but i have something i need to talk to gojo about. would you mind? it will only take a minute?” he asked, and gojo let go of your hand at the time of his friend's voice. you had to control your urge to roll your eyes, shifting in your seat as you motioned for suguru to talk to your husband, watching as he stood from his seat, leaving with the man as they went somewhere a little more secluded.

you watched as gojo leaned down to hear whatever it was that suguru was whispering in his ear, pulling back with a frown on his face. he snapped something that only caused suguru to reel back, cast a quick glance at you, and then shake his head in clear annoyance.

you saw gojo look up, his eyes landing on somebody from across the room, and you followed his stare, only to land on a girl.

she wore a dark yellow tunic and skirt, colors from a neighboring clan. you hadn’t seen her before, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t known. just one look at the men surrounding her and you could pick up on their lovesick expressions.

she motioned for gojo to come to her with a bend of her finger, slyly brushing her hair out of her face to make it look as though it was nothing, exiting from the dining area and vanishing into one of the halls.

you looked down in case either of the men glanced over to see if you were staring. your eyes pierced through the meat on your plate, bile rising up your throat.

you gave yourself some time, counting up to a minute before you looked back to where suguru and gojo were, finding suguru standing alone. you looked at where the girl was and saw a flash of white hair before it disappeared, your heart sinking as you glanced back at suguru, only to find him looking at you.

you looked back at your plate, picking up a knife and fork as you stabbed the meat. you couldn’t keep anything down but it’s best to pretend.

---

gojo didn’t return until half an hour later, and you refused to talk to him.

“did anybody bombast you with questions?” he teased, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. he didn’t seem to pick up on your darkened mood as your fingers dug into your dress.

“i had a woman ask me if you had disappeared with your mistress, but that was it.” you remarked, silence filling the void between the two of you and you realized that all you had thought of him was crumbling down.

you didn’t care for your image anymore, giving curt answers to any questions somebody had asked. you could feel his stare on the side of your face but you didn’t humor him in looking over, focusing on your plate instead.

so what if he was seeing somebody else? you would have been naive to think that he wouldn’t wander. the two of you barely touched each other.

once all the guests had left over the course of the following days, you did everything you could to steer away from gojo.

you no longer came down for breakfast or dinner, choosing to eat in your own quarters. if he wanted to have his own secrets, he could do whatever he pleased.

though you rarely saw suguru after the feast, he did try to talk to you the morning after it took place. he cornered you after you had left from breakfast, his once playful demeanor turned serious as you tried your best to end the conversation.

“what you saw last night-”

“is none of my business,” you finished, raising your hand as you cut him off, “if gojo has his own private matters to deal with, i’m indifferent to them all.”

“you know that’s not what it was.” his hand hovered over your arm, careful not to touch you but not wanting you to leave either.

“i ruined his life, didn’t i?” you tilted your head a bit in questioning. after all, that’s all you could hear from the women who gossiped as they folded the laundry, or behind the hands of the girls who watched you and gojo interact and the mothers who wanted their daughters to be set up with him only sneered at you from across the tables.

“you…where’d you get that from?” his brows scrunched together in confusion as you scoffed, hoping he couldn’t see the tears welling in the corner of your eyes at the sting of your own words.

“i can see it on his face. if gojo wants to have his own affairs, he can have them. it’s not like we’re in love. hopefully, i find my own way out so that the two of us look happier and this marriage looks somewhat presentable to the public.”

you didn’t want to see the look on his face, but you’re sure he reported this all back to gojo because he didn’t look at you once after it.

you heard from a maid a week later that he was gone for another meeting with a clan, a southern one from what you picked up, and that you should probably go and wish him some luck.

leading up to the night of his departure you anxiously paced around your room, your feet padding on the floor as your nightgown swished behind you.

you hadn’t talked to gojo at all that day, and purposefully so.

it was petty, you know it was, to not want to see him, but a part of you still aches when you look back on that night. at how he didn’t explain where he was even after you asked, at how it was suguru he had sent to fix his dirty work for him.

“y/n?” a muffled voice came from outside your door.

your head shot up at the familiar sound, quietly dragging yourself out from your bed as you grabbed the candle, hovering on the other side as you waited for him to say something else.

“are you awake?” you heard a soft thud from his side, almost as if his head or arm had hit the door.

you didn’t answer, still, waiting.

“i’m leaving tomorrow and i wanted to see you before i left.” your heart skipped at his words, careful not to make a sound as you near the door.

“if you’re sleeping i won’t bother you anymore but if you’re not,” you could hear the old stutter he had coming back, his words meshing together as he tried to regain control, “and you’re choosing to stay quiet, i…” he sighed, his forehead thumping down as he rested it on the door, “i wanted to apologize for the feast. i shouldn’t have left you alone, and if you’d open the door, i would explain why…” he could see the flicker of the candle from underneath the crack, and saw the way it blew away, darkness following suit.

you walked back to your bed, turning your back to the door as you set the candle down on your table.

“goodnight,” his voice was quieter than before, and you felt guilty, but pushed the bitter feeling down.

a couple of seconds later you heard him let out a sigh of defeat, his footsteps leading away from your bedroom as you curled into yourself, hoping you would let your heart stop taking control of what your head should be doing.

---

gojo didn’t return for a while, and you grew more impatient by the day.

it normally took him and his men a week at maximum, and once two had passed, you felt yourself growing uneasy.

you tried to act as passive as you could, but even myra could pick up on your growing apprehension. you have never voiced your worries over your husband before, but she knew this wasn’t like any other time.

when you went to bed, the only thing you could dream about was that night, your brain re-running the images as you tossed and turned.

“are you alright?” he asked, his hands on your elbows as you could barely speak, your blurry vision impairing your sight. you could only see a mop of white in the darkness, your stomach betraying you as you tried to keep the sick down.

“i don’t feel too good,” you mumbled, trying to put some distance between the two of you as you pushed him away, only to feel him coming closer as he placed a hand on your forehead and then to your cheeks.

“you’re burning up,” he muttered under his breath, guiding you gently so that you wouldn’t trip over your feet.

“i’m sorry, you can go back inside, i don’t want to keep you out here.” you were slurring your words as you tried not to throw up on him. you wiped at your eyes so that you could see him better, only to reel back in utter shock to see the face of your childhood friend frowning down at you.

your mouth formed in the shape of his name, going to say something else, before you hunched over, feeling his strong hands pat your back and keep the hair out of your face as you felt your world tilt on its axis.

you ate your dinner at the table, eyeing his empty seat as you tried to shove his last night out of your mind. you shouldn’t feel this way, especially about a man who feels nothing towards you, but your little heart was churning in its confines the more you let yourself think about it.

sitting in the same spot where the feast took place only brought back the venomous taste in your mouth, and so you pretended that you were back home, eating somewhere without the worry of your life weighing you down like a thousand weights on your shoulders.

myra tried her best to distract you, but she could see the distant look in your eyes, how your voice never seemed too genuine. she began to worry for you, but it seemed like your mind was fixed on one thing.

until you found yourself pacing around your room, just like you were the night you last heard of him, playing with the ring on your finger as the moon carded through your window.

“my lady,” you heard myra through the door, her voice shaky and a bit more on edge than usual, “there’s-” but before she could finish it slammed open, revealing the man you’d been biting your nails over, standing in the flesh.

his eyes were a dark blue, squinted as they looked right through you. his chest heaved as he looked like he was trying to catch his breath. you could see the streaks of blood that lined his usually clean clothes, the red that stained his cheeks and jaw.

he looked feral, and it was throwing you off balance.

“out.” he snapped at myra, and before you could scold him for his tone she fled, the door shutting roughly behind her.

the two of you could only stare at each other. you didn’t know what to think after weeks of uselessly worrying over him, not knowing about his well-being, to see him here, in front of you, but looking different than he ever had.

“are you alright?”

you could barely get it out, the works sticking on your tongue as you took a tentative step forward, not knowing what to do with his state of being.

he eyed the blood on his shirt, wiping at his cheeks as if he had forgotten it was there. he didn’t look too dirty, less dirty than one would expect from a five week endeavor through the woods, but he didn’t look too good either.

“you were awake.” is all he says, his chest still moving up and down as though he couldn’t breathe properly.

“that night i came by, you were awake. i saw your candle, i heard your footsteps.” he says this as though it’s fighting its way out of his mouth as if it’s all he could think about to tell you.

“i,” you pretend that you don’t care, shrugging, “i wasn’t up to talk.”

“you were with suguru.” he snaps, his tone shocking you, and he steps back as if he had shocked himself. he jammed his palms into his eyes, tilting his head upwards before he looked back at you.

“for five weeks you were all i could think about. i wanted to come back, i wanted to tell you what i felt but we kept running into issues with other tribes and clans.”

“what could you possibly think about that occupied your mind for five weeks?” you so desperately wanted your voice to come out strong but it sounded weak, as though you were hanging off of his every syllable.

“you had told suguru that you were going to find your…own way out,” he took a step forward, and here you could see the scratches on his chest, the cuts on his arms, “i was praying to every god there was that you hadn’t found somebody in these past weeks, that you hadn’t…”

you could barely believe his words, not knowing if you should feel offended, shocked, worried, or a mix of all those three.

“what business would it be to you if i did?” you hate that this was the response you settled on. hurt flashed across his face but he tried to regain his composure.

“you are my wife-”

“and you are my husband!” you snapped and watched as he was momentarily taken aback by your outburst, but you continued your nose flaring, “you cannot argue with me on this when you left with some girl in the middle of our feast!” you felt all your emotions finally pouring out and you had no control over them, “everybody was talking about it, everybody was looking at me in pity!” your voice cracked, tears poking at your eyes as you pointed an accusatory finger at him.

gojo looked down, running a hand through his hair as he pointed a finger back.

“if you had let me explain myself, you would have known that she was trying to do what you thought she was. i left as quickly as i could but you would barely look at me!” you wanted to rip your hair out, cursing yourself for ever feeling any sort of worry for this man.

“i know that this marriage was the last thing you wanted but at least you could play the part of a husband! you didn’t send a single note, anything to tell us that you were okay, that you were alive!” you heaved, fidgeting with your ring as you wiped at your cheeks, “and you come back here accusing me of adultery? all everybody could talk about was the fact that you were warming somebody else’s bed! they said a meeting never takes this long unless something…somebody else comes up.” your voice wobbles at the end, and you find yourself furiously rubbing your tears away, hiding your sniffing as though that would do anything.

he paused upon seeing you cry, his face falling as he tried to step forward but you angled yourself away from him, hoping he’d get the hint.

he wanted to hold you, to tell you that all the rumors you were hearing were false and that the only room he had left in his heart was for you. but he couldn’t blame you for feeling or thinking this way. hell, he was so sure that he’d open the door to find another man comforting you that he didn’t even stop to consider what must have been going through your head all these weeks.

“one of the clans tried to attack us, and we weren’t ready for it. that is why we took so long.”

you sniffle again, not caring for his explanation although it did soothe a part of your past self.

“you could have at least sent a letter telling me what happened,” you fidget with your ring, your thumb running over the diamond, “everybody asked me questions that i should have had answers to, but i had no idea where you were or what you were doing…” he nods, his lips pressed into a thin line as he agreed with you.

“you're right,” his voice was thick with emotion, the words slurring in his mouth as he found himself anchored in place, not knowing what to do. but you were rambling, your thoughts going on and on and you couldn’t stop yourself.

“…but i know you don’t like letters, so the least you could have done was send a parchment saying i’m alive or something like that.” you rub at your nose again, feeling like all the weeks of worry we’re coming to a standpoint.

he looked confused now, if anything, and scratched at his jaw.

“what do you mean?”

you scoff at the audacity, rolling your eyes as you feel anger prickle at your skin.

“you never once responded to any of my letters. in my eyes, that must mean you have some sort-”

“letters? what letters?”

you glance at him, taking in his shaking form.

“come on gojo,” you feel embarrassed as he urges you to speak, having to spell it out for him, his eyes pleading with you to continue, “the ones from when you left for training.”

his mouth opens and then closes, looks at the ground and then back up to you as he shakes his head. you could hear your fireplace crackling in the background. the only sounds circling the room were the pops of ember and your breathing.

“i…” he feels like there’s cotton in his mouth, hoping that you’re lying, “i never got any letters.”

the fire crackled once again and you could almost hear a pin drop as you shook your head vehemently at his statement.

“n-no, no you did. i wrote to you every week, i sent one every week for two years and you never responded and my mother said that you must have forgotten about me…” and you trail off, the tears in your eyes stoning as he furiously wipes at his own eyes, and for the first time since you had seen him fall down when he was a kid, you saw his own tears staining his cheeks.

“nobody gave me your letters. i thought that you,” he takes a deep breath, tongue poking inside his cheek as he tried to control himself, “i thought that you didn’t care for me anymore.”

you hug your midsection, your emotions running wild at his words.

“i was under the impression that you hated me.” you admit, and he looks as though you stabbed him through the heart. if only others could see the powerful warrior now, stripped bare to his conscience and all he could think about was you.

“why…why would you think such a thing?” you two inch closer without knowing it, longing to touch each other, wanting to know that the other was really there and that this wasn’t a figment of your imaginations.

“gojo, you could barely looked at me that night at the gala and now it seems as though you, well, look at you - you’re flushed!” you’re grasping at straws, motioning towards his face, twinged with pink as you rub at your nose, “you seem angry whenever i am near-”

“the only person i am angry at is myself.” gojo whispers, but his voice echoed around the expanse of your skull.

“yes, i’m aware,” you feel cold despite the fire in the corner, your tone carrying an air of know as you scorn, “i know the last thing you expected by comforting me was a marriage but-”

“you think i am angry because i married you?” he was moving closer, his hands shaking, his eyes wet. you could see the ring on his finger glow in the dim light of the fireplace, how it shined brighter than any of the night skies, “the only good thing that has happened to me these last few months was being able to introduce myself as your husband. i know that i stripped you bare of any love you may have had for any other man, but call me selfish for feeling glad that i did.”

you could barely focus on what was happening, his words sinking deep into your skin, going to your bones.

“i told myself that you had forgotten about me those years i left. when i saw you that night i was so sure you had come with the intention of finding a suitor that i didn’t want to distract you, but then i saw that man come up to you…” and he couldn’t finish, choking on his words as he stuttered, and you saw a glimpse of the boy you had fallen in love with so long ago.

“and i followed you out. if i knew that simply being alone with you would have gotten me married to you then i would have cornered you in a closet the moment i saw you enter the dining hall.”

a tear rolls down your chin, splattering on the ground beneath you as you struggle to make sense of what he was saying. it felt as though the months of being married to him were weeks spent pacing around your own rooms, thinking the same worried thoughts, and not having the strength to confront each other about it.

“you…you don’t hate me?” your voice is timid, almost not believing yourself as the statement tumbled out. gojo had the audacity to laugh a bit, shaking his head as strands of his hair fell into his face.

“my every waking moment is spent thinking of you. when i was in training, you were all i could dream about, hoping that when i’d come home i could finally have you to myself.

“you have control over my emotions, my mind, my soul, and i cursed myself for taking away your options for a husband, but the only thing i’ve wanted to do these past few weeks was to hold you in my arms. to tell you just how deeply i yearn for your love back.”

he wiped at his cheeks, glistening in the faint light. he looked angelic, despite the grime and blood that decorated his clothing. you didn’t want to think about the men he had killed just to come back, to come back to you, and the thought of ever losing him hurt you more than when you spent nights wondering why he never responded to any of your letters.

you couldn’t stop your feet from leading you toward him, and you could only watch as he met you in the middle, catching you with all his strength, holding you as if you weighed nothing, and it only took a few seconds before your lips collided.

it was rushed, and messy as you felt his hands holding you as if you carried the weight of the universe. your teeth clashed, your tears staining each other's skin as your hands gripped at his hair, using it for leverage as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, enjoying the whimper that escaped your lips when he nipped at yours.

it was what years of longing and desperation felt like. how it felt like you two just molded into each other as if your bodies were cut out with the other in mind. you felt like your heart was about to stop beating, and you knew gojo felt the same with the way he’d whine against your lips, wanting you more than you could have ever imagined.

“we’ve been stupid people, haven’t we?” you whispered as you pulled away, trying to catch your breath as he smiled against you. if only you knew just how much he’d been wanting to kiss you like this, to see your swollen lips as you looked at him from beneath your eyelashes. you were his venus, his only saving grace, and he could only vex himself for ever making you feel anything but love.

“very, “ he pressed a kiss to the corner of your eyes, “very,” to your nose, “stupid,” his lips were on your cheeks, feeling like he was breathing in new air at the sound of your laughter, “people.” he pressed his lips to yours again, cherishing in the way you whined at the harshness.

he had spent months convincing himself that you no longer cared for him. weeks of perilous training to only come back to a bed and dream of a girl who didn’t share his emotions when in reality you did. he wants to track down the letters you had sent him, to read every word carefully, as if each sentence carried its own riddle inside of it. he wanted to apologize for never having the honor of experiencing your skilled penmanship, for leading you to believe that he had simply forgotten about you.

“gojo,” your fingers curl in his tunic, your heat transferring, trying to be rational in such an irrational state of being, “you’re bleeding, i should call for the doctor.” he didn’t stop kissing your face, moving to your jaw as he smiled hearing you shudder.

“it’s not my blood,” he murmured and you wanted to smack him for how cocky he sounded, “and don’t call me gojo.” he nipped at your lips again.

“husband?” you found yourself smiling at the title, but he shook his head. you saw how he was trying to hide his own grin.

“sire?” you tested it out teasingly, hating how it sounded. he seemed to agree with the way he grimaced at the name.

“my lord?” he wanted to bottle up your laughter forever, knowing he could get drunk off of the sound. his nose nudged up at your jaw, pressing wet kisses wherever he could.

“hmm, what about my liege?” you're curling a strand of his hair around your fingers letting him settle you down on your vanity as you spread your legs so he could slot between them.

“my men call me that.” he says, cringing as it falls off your mouth. you pretend to think, not knowing how you were able to live without this banter for as long as you did.

“satoru?” you felt breathless saying it after so long. but he still didn’t seem to find it satisfactory enough, a pout on his lips as he wanted you to find a better one.

“close, but only when you’re angry with me.” you tuck that information in the back of your mind for if you ever need to scold him, your cheeks flushed as he interlocks his fingers through yours.

“‘toru…?” his lips broke into a giddy smile, and you had to control yourself as he swooped back in for a kiss. his eyes were so much softer when he laughed, the kind ones you fell in love with so many nights ago.

“there it is,” his voice was husky, raw as your fingers gripped at the baby hairs at his nape. he was taking your air away with him and you couldn’t find it in yourself to fight back for it.

“i forgot how cheeky you can be,” you bite your lip to keep the moans inside, feeling feverish as his tongue ran over his love marks, not knowing what to do yourself as you scrambled to grab onto something to keep you afloat.

“you have no idea how much self-control it’s taken not to ravage you,” his breath is hot on your skin, and he’s tugging at your shirt, fingers slightly brushing upon your breasts, “every night you’d come down for dinner i wanted something different to eat.”

“stoppp,” you mewled, not used to this. he chuckles as his slender fingers work to untie the knot keeping you together, tugging at the string until it falls, revealing your naked chest, heaving as the fabric pooled at your hips.

you wanted to cover yourself up under his heavy gaze, to take the fabric and hide, but you felt pierced by his stare. his eyes darted to yours as if checking to see if you were okay. when you gave him a timid nod, it seemed as though it prompted him to finally move.

his fingers were gentle as they ran across your waist, large as they covered the soft of your stomach, eager as they went upwards. he looked like he was crazed and starved, as if you were his last meal and he couldn’t wait for the sweetness death would give.

your breath stuttered as his fingers found your mounds, rubbing a soothing thumb over your nipples as his pupils grew. he was eager as he flicked them over and over, a cheshire grin growing as they hardened under his touch.

“you’re perfect,” he murmured, dropping down so he could suckle at your tits, his spit shining in the light of the fire, and you tilted your head back, soft moans escaping as his tongue drew circles around your buds.

“f-fuck, ‘toru, that’s,” you couldn’t even finish your sentence, his second hand coming to cup your other tit, not wanting to leave her unattended as he sucked and bruised, wanting to forever leave his mark on your untainted skin.

“good?” he’s so cocky, and you want to smack the smug smirk off his devilishly handsome face.

his knee is purposefully rubbing against your clothed clit, and you feel yourself subconsciously rubbing yourself against it. you hope that he can’t feel how drenched you are from him just sucking your tits, but he pinches you, pressing his tongue flat against your skin as he looks up through his lashes.

“horny from just me touching you?” he’s teasing you, it’s so painful the way you want, need him like oxygen. you tug on his hair roughly, bringing his spit-soaked lips back to yours as you bite down on his lower one, enjoying the groan you draw out from him.

“don’t be mean ‘toru,” you taunt, and you feel him melt in your fingers, nodding to your request as he lowers himself down.

he presses wet kisses down your torso, stopping just above your hips, his fingers hooking along the rim of your underwear, being careful and slow in his movements as he waits for any objections, making sure you’re okay with this.

but you were in your own world, hitching your leg over his shoulders, drawing him in closer to you, sweat dotting your forehead as he licks a stripe over the cotton on your pussy, smiling to himself at the taste of you.

you were so sweet, sweeter than any desert he’d indulge himself on. he was sure that once he had a taste of you he’d be able to repent, to go before any god, and to tell them that you were his religion.

he had spent countless nights, tossing and turning in his bed, the only thing putting him to sleep being the idea of coming home to you. running after you that night was him running home to you, regardless of where you were. he was glad he got your hand in marriage, but if he had to, he’d wait another ten years just to hold you in his arms again.

he peels your underwear off, a string of your arousal connecting to it, and he tucks it in his pants, for safekeeping.

“you’re going to be the death of me.” he says against your heat, his nose rubbing against your clit as your eyes wring shut in pleasure. his hands grip your thighs, making sure you stay in place as he kitten licks around where you need him the most.

“don’t let…don’t let any of your enemies hear,” your voice comes out in bits, your hand resting on the back of his head as your leg tightens around him, “don’t want them to come after me or something.”

he snorts, pinching your thighs as if anybody could come within a ten feet radius of you without losing an eye.

his lips come closer to where you desperately want him, a finger prodding at your tight entrance, his tongue finding your clit as he begins to suck.

it’s all too much, the sensations far better than your own fingers have ever proved to be.

his fingers are skilled, long enough that they reach deep within you. he sinks one fully in, your walls clamping around him as he continues sucking your clit, his teeth grazing it every so often, making your head thump against the wall.

“talk to me, how do you feel?” his mouth discontented from your bud and you whine at the loss. he sinks in another finger to make up for it, but he doesn’t move them, waiting for your response.

“‘s good,” one of your hands is fisting your discarded robe, trying to hold onto your senses as you desperately nod, “don’t stop ‘toru, please,” and he obliges, loving the sounds of your begging, but loving the sound of your pleasures more.

his fingers stretch you open and you welcome the sting, your nails digging into him as you long for more.

he switches his mouth with his hand every now and then, his tongue taking the place of his fingers as it licks at you, groaning at your taste as he eats you out with his entire being, his chin shining with your essence and his spit as his thumb rubs furiously at your clit.

“mmhhh, just like that, fuck!” you’ve never heard your voice at this pitch, never knew it was possible to feel this way. his other hand reaches up to flick at your nipple, the extra sensation making white dot around your vision.

you feel yourself getting closer to the sweet release, feel your wall clamp around him even tighter as that knot in your stomach builds to a crescendo.

“come on, let go f’me, know you want to, know you can.” he spurs you on, his fingers unrelenting as they piston in and out of you, reaching that gummy spot that makes you go dumb.

“fuck, ‘toru, m’gonna, m’gonna come!” you cry out and you’re sure anybody walking past you could hear the debauchery. your thighs were starting to shake and you felt it all go black as you reached your high, your orgasm washing over you unlike anything you’ve ever felt.

you creamed around his fingers, gushing around him as you wailed out, tears dotting your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure you were feeling. you squeezed around him, wanting to never lose what this felt like, trying to catch your breath as his mouth never stopped sucking at your nub before he was sure your climax was over.

when he finally pulled away the only thing that could be heard was the two of you, trying to come back down as stupid smiles made their way onto each of your faces.

he was boyishly charming as he stood in front of you, licking yourself off of his fingers as he grinned at the taste. you couldn’t be bothered to be embarrassed after having him just between your legs, but you still felt a heat blossom in your chest.

“so…” you awkwardly start, sweat dripping down your face from just how hot the room had suddenly gotten as you avert your gaze, “what now?”

he shrugged nonchalantly, despite the fact that his heart was about to beat it’s way out of his chest. you let him pick you off of the vanity and tucked you safely away into his chest as he led you to your bed, gently setting you down in your mountain of pillows and blankets as you felt sleep etch away at you.

“i’m going to clean you up,” he pressed a kiss to your hair, smiling at the way you giddy smiled at whatever he did, a dopey grin on your face as your hand searched for his, interlocking you fingers with his as if you didn’t want to watch him go, “if you let me.”

you yawn, your head tilting as he sat down at the edge of your bed, still not letting go of your hand as your fingers run through the soft pelts beneath you.

“and what about you?” your chin points the obvious hard-on growing in his pants. he looks down as if suddenly realizing, and he plays it off by looking back up to you with a wink. you felt your mouth going dry at the size of it, not knowing if you could even be able to take something as big as that.

“for another day,” he promises, and you’re sure he’s not going to forget it. not like you want him to.

“and then?”

your question lingers in the air. you don’t want to wake up to him acting like this never happened, as if your feelings were only a figment of your wildest dreams. but his eyes hold onto yours, never letting go as he brushes some strays away from your face.

“and then i get a bigger bed for my room because there’s no way i’m letting you sleep here alone after this.” his thumb runs along the palm of your hand, his fingers tracing patterns into the soft of your legs.

“and then?”

“and then you tell me all the things i missed out on when i was gone. i’ll tell you about the time suguru shaved my head, and you’ll tell me about anything on your mind.”

“what if i run out of things to say?” sleep is overtaking your voice, and you’re already nodding off, not even truly knowing what you were asking.

“then i’ll make up stories so that you’re not bored.” he finds a clean towel, soaking it in water from a nearby pitcher as he drags it slowly across your body, as if your fragile and made of porcelain.

“how do i know you’re not a dream? you might just be,” you yawn, rubbing at your eyes as your finger traces his ring, “you might just be my own mind tricking me.” your eyes are shutting, but the teasing smile on your face never leaves.

“because a dream wouldn’t hide under a table with you if you asked.” he whispers, kissing your lips with a soft peck as he pulls the blanket over you, letting you sleep into a slumber as he crawls in next to you, holding you to his chest just as he did that night, just as he will every night from now on, and just as he longed for those nights he wished you next to him.

#gojo x reader #gojo x reader smut #gojo x you #gojo x you smut #gojo x reader angst #gojo x you angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader smut #satoru x reader #satoru x you #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader fluff #gojou x reader

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sweet-as-an-angel · 4 months

Note

so! you mentioned in the 'p0rn preferences' post that Gaz is not the one who jerks off the most in the 141, and I humbly ask you, who would that be?

I don't mean this as a request, just a little discussion, cause I feel like Soap would just be going at it at any chance possible, like a bunny. he probably doesn't care much if someone hears it, but that's just me thinking too much into it.

Who Jerks off the Most in the 141 + König

Warnings: 18+, Heavy Mentions of Masturbation, Male Masturbation, Implied Reader in Individual Headcanons, Accidental and Implied Voyeurism, Edging, Brief Mention of Injury, Men Who Moan <3, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except 'You'.

A/N: As per Anon's question (which I just had to turn into a post of its own) I present to you the list of the 141 members (and König) who jerk off from the most to least <3

Soap

I have to agree with you here, Anon - Johnny is most definitely the king of self love when it comes to the 141.

He doesn't much care where he is or who he's with; when he has to satisfy his needs, he'll do so.

Though, he'll spare whoever's with him the sight of watching him throwing his head back, trying to stifle his moans behind gritted teeth whilst the wet sound of his hand slipping up and down the length of his shaft fill the room.

Unless they want to.

For one reason or another, he's nigh-insatiable when it comes to his libido, and the fact that his stamina affords him the luxury of beating himself off until his cum is practically translucent doesn't help.

The slightest thing can set him off.

Someone brushing past him ? Hard.

Someone stroking his ego a little too enthusiastically ? Bricked up.

He sees something that's shaped to be a little too curvy or phallic ? Stiff as a pole.

He remembers something mildly suggestive you did three years ago in that restaurant ? He's going to the Horny Realm.

Yes, his teammates have complained about his incessant moaning-come-grunting-come-whimpering through all hours of the night, his voice contorting through a spectrum of desperation and Johnny always ending up spent and overstimulated by the time the sun comes up.

And then he's ready to do it all again the second night touches the horizon line, giving his teammates a knowing smile when he walks into the room sporting nothing else save for a pair of boxers and a monster that looks to be trying to tear itself free from them.

Gaz

Dude's young. Of course he's throttling that rooster on a nigh-daily basis.

The only reason he's not at it as much as Soap is because he likes to believe he still has a few threads of his self-restraint intact.

He doesn't.

Especially when it comes to you (regardless of whether you're dating yet or not).

But he doesn't need to know that.

Honestly, the only thing that separates him from Johnny's unmatched libido is the fact that it takes a little more than the slightest provocation to get Gaz going.

Albeit, that line is a thin one.

If he so much as accidentally sees something explicit for upwards of three seconds, he's hard.

The only advantage of his need for satisfaction is the speed with which he can achieve it.

He and Johnny actually timed each other once to see who could get off the fastest.

Gaz won. Though, only by a slim margin.

Needless to say, that made for a rather interesting conversation with the Captain when he walked in on two of his best soldiers sat panting on the edge of their cots, an almost-translucent spray spattered across their stomachs, eyes half-lidded and hazy.

Ghost

The third-in-line for the Throttle Throne is none other than our beloved Ghost.

Unlike Johnny and Gaz, Ghost is more likely to leave himself alone at the first sign of trouble, toughing it out until he can will his mind to less lustful pastimes.

He won't make his jacking off known to anyone, either, often doing it in the shower where the water beats down so harshly that no sound can be heard for the water's fall.

That, and he's a master at keeping his voice low, no matter the circumstances.

More often than not, Simon makes quick work of jerking off purely because it’s a means to an end. However, if it’s you he’s thinking of, he’s much more likely to take his time — to immerse himself in the fantasy of your body around his, taking him so well in one capacity or another. Fucking yourself dumb on his cock.

During these times, he’s thorough — much more likely to edge himself, to throw his head back and growl between gritted teeth, to savour the sensation coiling in his stomach, his balls growing tight.

Otherwise, he’ll stroke one out as quickly as he can, getting back to business as usual.

And to look at him, on the surface, you'd never know that he just spent the last three minutes rubbing one out in the bathroom (yes, he is also a contender for first place in the 'Who Can Jack Off The Quickest Competition', but he'll never allow Johnny or Gaz the luxury of witnessing his unprecedented skill; that's for your eyes only).

Until he corners you, breathing down your neck, scolding you for tempting him - a man whose restraint lies only in his ability to hold off from reducing you to an exponential reflection of his prior state, breathless and covered in fluids.

König

Have you seen the size of that thing ? Man should be in the olympics for being able to throw that weight around.

Similarly to Ghost, König only gets himself off when it's absolutely necessary.

Only if he doesn't have you lying around to help him, of course.

Though, he lets himself have a bit of fun with it. Especially if it's been a tough day.

He's vocal, too. Though he tries not to be.

He just can't help it. Days' - maybe even weeks' - worth of unspent adrenaline and semen is hardly any way for a soldier like König to go about his life. So, he expels it in the privacy of quite literally any isolated space he can find.

König is not an adventurous spirit by any means when it comes to self pleasure, but when needs must, he's willing to shoulder the weight of the prospect that someone on his team could walk in at any second and catch him spraying his stomach or the wall white with, let's face it, thick ropes of cum.

Hong-Jin's actually caught him doing that before now.

That's actually how the two became friends: Horangi heard König grunting in the store cupboard and, knowing how stubborn his Colonel was with letting others know when he was injured, sought him out. Wanted to offer his help.

Catching Colonel König in the act of throwing his head back whilst growling the name '(Y/N)' into the darkest corner of the room was, suffice it to say, not what Horangi had been expecting.

Price

You just know he's cool with it. And by 'cool', I mean incredibly intentional, controlled, and not ravenous in the ways our other favourite military princesses are.

Sure, Price has gotten hard on the job a few times.

Who hasn't ?

But thanks to his level head, unwavering devotion to his work, and absolute refusal to acknowledge that he did, in fact, get a little bit of a chub during a shoot-out, he's managed to gain control over every facet of his body.

Until he comes home to you, of course.

Until he's able to loom over you like an omen and run his hands down your sides, stopping at your hips and pressing kisses that become more open-mouthed the further down the side of your neck he dips.

Pressing his hips into yours. Something demands your attention.

There have been very few occasions where a cold shower wasn't a quick enough fix for him.

When the days of having you milk him are too far out of sight, he's had to suffice with his own hands before now. Had to imagine - remember - what yours felt like in his place, your lips curled up as he gripped the chair arms, breathless as he moaned into the warm tones of your shared apartment.

But don't worry ! He'll be sure to catch you up on everything you've missed while he's been away once he returns.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

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blumineck · 4 months

Note

Your videos are so awesome! Question about pole dancing:

I'm a trans man, and before I transitioned I did some aerial silks and trapeze at a school near where I lived. Then I transitioned, moved, and after a few years have wanted to get back into something similar. There are plenty of pole places around my house, but they're heavily oriented towards women. One's even marketed for ONLY women. I feel really weird about trying to attend classes as a man. Any advice?

OK, this is a tricky one. As this is anon, I need to post publicly, so here's some context for passers-by:

Pole dance is a heavily female-dominated activity, and because it's also frequently sexualised (either by design or by association), and requires fairly revealing clothing, many women feel less comfortable in classes with men. Some studios might then attempt to foster a safer environment by excluding men altogether (and even if they don't, the vast majority of students are usually female anyway, so pictures on the website, etc rarely feature men even if there's no actual policy).

And I GET all that. But also, I feel like it's ok for men to want to do pole too. I was literally drawn to pole in the first place BECAUSE it defied traditional gender expectations. So here's my advice, to you and any other men who might want to start:

1) Ask. Drop the studio an email, see if they take male students. The way they respond will tell you a lot about whether this will be a safe/welcoming space for you. It might feel weird and scary, but they don't know you yet, and if their answer is off-putting, they never have to!

2) Be prepared to be in a minority. Even if the studio is welcoming, you are unlikely to be in a class with more than 1 or 2 other men (at most!) and reasonably likely to be the only one. You may find different moves easy/hard, and you may find it takes a little longer for other students to relax/open up around you. This can be hard for some men who aren't used to that dynamic, but it /is/ a predominantly feminine space, so it's worth being thoughtful in how you approach things.

I'm not saying this to put you or anyone else off! IME most studios are happy to take male students, and most students are reasonably open and welcoming, and once you get settled, you can have a lot of fun and make lots of friends. As long as you check in and make an effort, I absolutely recommend giving it a go!

#pole dance #advice #this is based on personal experience and some trial and error #it's not to be taken as some kind of difinitive rule set or anything

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gutsby · 1 month

Text

Benign

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Marrying a former Soviet sleeper agent was your first mistake. Letting curiosity get the better of you and saying his trigger words before sex was your second.

Warnings: 18+. DUBCON - Bucky is partly brainwashed; R is reluctant at first. Reliving past trauma (i.e., grief, prior HYDRA captivity). Rough, unprotected p-in-v.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Marrying into the mob meant one of two things: turning a blind eye to your husband’s crimes or taking them up as your own. Most of the women who had gone before you chose the former, leading lives of willful ignorance while their spouses cut deals, shed blood, stole guns, and submitted only to the laws of secrecy and discretion.

You, unlike those wives, hadn’t had the luxury of choice.

Your life, unlike theirs, had been sold to a man you didn’t know, by a father you couldn’t stand, and now your dad was dead, and this man—your husband—was to blame.

The least Bucky could do was fuck you hard to say sorry.

But no, ever since the Winter Soldier had reared its ugly head that dreadful night in Madripoor two weeks prior, your husband hadn’t laid one finger on your body that was not soft, sweet, and sickeningly apologetic to you. He seemed almost scared to initiate sex, and when he did, couldn’t help but act like a touch might break you.

After all, one almost had. Those hands he’d hear you beg and plead to put on you now were the very same ones he’d used to kill dozens, if not hundreds, including blood of your own blood. To the world, Bucky’s reputation commanded fear. To his wife, now, he felt duly obliged to prove he was more—that you were safe with him, not from him. He’d carted you off to every GP, hematologist, nutritionist, and grief specialist lauded among Brooklyn’s elite to make that happen. Fast. Frankly, these days, the thought of fucking was the furthest thing from his mind.

Unbeknownst to Bucky, somewhere along the spectrum of grief, you’d already come to settle comfortably at the ‘Need-to-be-fucked-until-I-can-no-longer-think-or-feel’ phase, and every bone in your body was crying out for respite in the form of ruthless, mind-numbing sex. It didn’t make sense. You hardly knew what to do with it. You should have lashed out, shut down, cried rivers and lakes of tears for that integral part of family that had been lost, but for whatever reason, you had to go numb.

You wanted to do something really, really fucking dumb.

Remorseful as he was, Bucky and his explanations for who or what the Winter Soldier was had been sparse. He’d told you that he had once been held in captivity by HYDRA, had his brain re-wired some way to make him a merciless Soviet sleeper agent, and that the night in Madripoor was the first in ages he had been ‘activated.’ How did activation happen? Of course, he wouldn’t tell.

But Steve would.

Steve had told you everything you wanted to know about your soldat, describing in painstaking detail how he worked, trained, operated, and could be called to action. You were almost certain Rogers had said it all as a way to assure you that it wasn’t Bucky who’d killed your father—it was someone inside him. You were more than positive Steve had never intended for you to use his intel like this.

You hadn’t believed him. Couldn’t believe him. How the fuck could someone sever all ties to their conscious mind and just transform anew into a killer? You got to be hell-bent on knowing for certain whether it’d been Bucky or him, it, whatever the hell the Winter Solider was, and on knowing it now. If your husband was faking it all and simply using this persona to justify the killing, that would be it. Trust gone, marriage over. If he wasn’t, well…you hadn’t gotten that far into your own line of thinking.

“Tell me what you want, doll,” Bucky said, pulling you back to the present.

He shifted gently against you, cotton trousers raising the friction a little as he slotted between your legs. He was still dressed head-to-toe from his meeting that morning.

“I want you to fuck me. Make me cum. Please.”

You were bare, save for one small scrap of linen and lace that somehow passed as a nightie. Your gaze was soft.

Bucky didn’t want to say no, but he also felt too guilty to say yes. The way you were watching him now, eyes so helpless and pleading, body writhing for contact, he knew you didn’t want his touch so much as needed it. Desperately. Couldn’t bear to be burdened with grief so you brushed it aside, to the furthest recesses of your mind until all that was left was desire. Starvation, really.

He could satiate you for now, but that hunger might not ever leave. The corners of his lips twitched into a frown.

“Gentle?” he mumbled.

“Rough,” you countered.

“Baby—”

“I really don’t need another fucking lecture on death, Bucky. I know I’m not myself right now, but I can still make these decisions, okay? Don’t talk to me like I can’t.”

Anger flashed in your eyes for a second, then indignation, then nothing. Without much energy left, you pushed him away. Flopped back on the bed and, seeming to sink into yourself, heaved a low, feeble sigh.

“I know. Hey,” Bucky leaned over to press a touch to your tummy, and it made you want to hurl, “I’m sorry.”

You turned onto your side.

“You still don’t remember what happened?”

The question came suddenly, almost from somewhere outside your body, it seemed. For the hundredth time.

“No,” Bucky answered, for what felt like the thousandth.

“This Winter Soldier—”

“He isn’t me.”

“You didn’t know?”

“Couldn’t know. Wasn’t…programmed for it.”

Bucky was watching you now, eyes as contrite as they’d ever been while you rehashed this subject to the brink of tears. He never could stay composed when he saw you cry.

“Baby…” he started, arms reaching out for you.

Eyes still filling with tears, you shook your head and swatted him off. You sat up, and your brows pinched together in a look he couldn’t read. Contemplating.

At last, you made up your mind.

You would try something new—and really, really stupid:

“Zhelaniye.”

“What?”

Bucky’s own expression contorted with uncertainty.

“—semnadtsat, rzhaviy, rasvet—”

He heard that. He immediately wished he hadn’t.

“Wait—”

You were curious. You had no idea what you were doing.

“Baby, baby, stop—”

“—pech, devyat—”

You were speaking so fast, surely it wouldn’t work like that. Either way, he had to stop you. He seized your arms, giving a sharp, deliberate shake, pupils blown to the size of saucers in his eyes. There wasn’t much time.

“Don’t—”

“—adin—”

No time at all.

“—dothisdon’tfuckingdothishoneyplease.”

Losing himself already. Feeling it stir inside his mind.

“—dobroserdechniy—”

‘Kind-hearted.’ ‘Benign’. You truly had no clue what these words were liable to do, much less what they meant.

Having enunciated this last part, you swallowed. Took the tip of your tongue and rolled it left-to-right across the backs of your teeth, waiting for your speech to take effect like some magical performance before your eyes.

It hadn’t, it seemed. You blinked. He blinked. You sat in a protracted silence for what seemed like seventeen years, and presently, your stomach began to churn. Nothing happened—you’d been right about this fuckery all along.

Then you remembered one last word of the sequence.

Faintly, you said:

“Soldat.”

The man above you straightened. Sitting. Stiff. Still perched by your legs at a comfortable distance but regarding you now with a pointed stare. Expectancy made manifest in a simple, sharp glare from his eyes to yours.

“...Bucky?”

The look on his face grew even harder. For a time, he persisted in that strange and silent grimace, and just when you started to suspect he was faking this whole demeanor of deadened stoicism, you heard a voice. Clawing out of his throat but sounding nothing like him:

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

The words drove a fear to the greatest depths of your bones, and you hardly knew why. You stared back at the handsome, barren man still watching you with severity, and you couldn’t seem to find your husband anywhere.

“James?” You weren’t sure why you tried his name again. You just didn’t know what else to say.

The scowl seeped into his mouth, and he frowned.

“James,” he repeated, like the word was foreign to him.

You found yourself shuffling back on the bed just then—to what, you didn’t know. You just felt a gnawing need to put some space between you and this person, this glowering face, however you could. When he grabbed your ankle, you let out a startled sound, and when he followed you up on the bed, you did more than just whimper; you lifted your leg to knee him directly in the stomach. He caught it.

Then he stared again, expression bloodless and wan.

“You’re scaring me, Bucky.” Your voice trembled as you tried to free your leg from his fist—grip unusually strong.

The man paused another moment, if only to soak in your words and let his gaze trail over your face. Your exertions did not register. And, for the very first time, you felt as though you were something more like a plaything in your husband’s eyes—not a full-fledged human being but a system to be gamed. The feeling was so unsettling that you had to turn away.

Or try to, anyway.

Craning your neck just far enough to spy your phone on the nightstand, your first thought was Steve; he would know what to do. But before you could even think to twist and lift your body in that direction, you felt a hand yank you to the bed, flat on your back. You looked up at Bucky and found yourself caged between two arms. He lowered himself to his elbows, shifted his weight to one side, and seemed not to notice your movements at all when you tried to slide away. The man just splayed his hand across your stomach and pressed it firmly. Stay.

You weren’t one to shy away from a challenge—or keep hope alive against the odds. You put your hand over his.

“James—”

“Zhena.”

The abruptness of Bucky’s word stole the rest of yours. You cocked a brow and followed his gaze to your hand.

To the gaps between your fingers, then the touch that fanned across them to settle on one digit in particular.

Bucky thumbed at the diamond and smiled. He smiled.

“Zhena,” he repeated.

You blinked.

“I— you...gave me that, Bucky. You did.”

He hummed in acknowledgment.

Bucky stared at the ring for what could’ve been five seconds or several years, and then he did something unexpected. He shifted his touch to the bodice of your dress—again, if you could even call it that—and he began to tug at the satin bow situated between your breasts.

Of course, this nightie being designed for honeymoons and supremely easy access, it didn’t take much effort at all for the folds of your dress to come apart. Your breasts spilled out of the fabric without so much as a hint of protest, your torso was quick to become fully exposed, and suddenly, shortly, your hands were fumbling at your chest in an effort to regain some smidgen of modesty. Your husband just shook his head, following your hands.

“Moya zhena,” he said, a touch more emphasis and fervor to the first of the two words.

Now it was you who was shaking your head. Trying to pry his touch away as you slid up the bed. When he followed, you saw the icy expression had been supplanted by intrigue and, though you still felt ill at ease, you couldn’t deny you were curious to know what he was thinking. Who was thinking it? Soft, plush lips swiftly replaced his hands, and before you even knew what he was doing, Bucky, or someone, was latching onto your left breast. Using teeth to graze the hardened nub and send a ripple of thick, guilty pleasure coursing through you.

You whimpered. Bucky groaned.

Your fingers slotted through his hair with every intention of pushing him away, but when you tried, he just flicked his tongue and made another delicious sound against you.

You pushed with even more force, and he groaned again.

Not Bucky, not Bucky, not him, you have to—

“Stop!” you cried.

A set of soft, warm baby blues darted up to meet you.

Some flicker of recognition seemed to cross them, too.

“Honey?”

You almost lurched toward the sound. It was Bucky.

Suddenly, your hands were making fists in the collar of his crisp white button-up, and you were trying to yank him up. You murmured his name in disbelief, relief, and gathered him up in your arms to pull him in for a kiss.

The lips that met you were soft for a moment—just one.

Then the teeth reappeared. Harsh, jarring, biting. You jerked back at the sensation, and when you found his face again, it seemed your husband was lost to you all over. The eyes were attentive still—nowhere near as cold and aloof as they had been before—but they did not radiate the same warmth and admiration that Bucky’s always did. You almost couldn’t believe what you were seeing. He was gone, just like that, and there was nothing you could do to stop it from happening.

A broad palm cupped your cheek to bring you in for another kiss, and you weren’t sure if you should indulge. It didn’t seem you had much choice anyway, because the lips that were seeking yours were hungry. Starved. Searing into your mouth with a force you couldn’t refuse.

But something inside you wanted to find Bucky again.

Somewhere inside this stranger was lying dormant a trace of your husband; you’d seen it yourself, if only for a second. It made you curious. Where had he gone? What did he do when forced to retreat into this strange, preprogrammed being, and how could you get him back?

“Bucky,” you mumbled, more of a plea than a moan.

You were kissed harder than you had been in a long time. You didn’t have to think, or do, or breathe one puff of air that this man didn’t account for. His tongue wedged a gaping space in your wet, welcoming mouth for him to fill, and somehow, you didn’t feel the urge to protest. A familiarity in the way he kissed almost put you at ease, and when his body lifted slightly, yours lifted with it.

Before long, Bucky was sitting. Kneeling between your legs with an eye to your soft, shaking torso. You’d barely even come to notice just how hard you were breathing until you felt a palm on your stomach again. There was an oddly calming insinuation in that one simple touch.

And again, he smiled. Brighter than before.

“Nashe?” He sounded eager as he said it.

You peered up at him and raised an eyebrow in question. Perhaps you should’ve felt more exposed; after all, you were sitting half-naked with your husband’s assassin alter ego stroking your stomach and beaming over you, eyeing you expectantly, and you didn’t know what to say. Apart from the short set of words Steve had taught you, you were totally clueless to Russian, and you weren’t quite sure you were in a place to ask Bucky to translate.

When it seemed words might never come, the gleaming teeth above you were shrouded in a tighter, close-lipped smile, and Bucky nodded. Appearing to understand. Instead of forcing a response from you, he just let his hand migrate down your belly, fingers tracing the skin, then settle comfortably—momentarily—at the crest of your pubic bone. Then he pressed the heel of his palm into the place residing right below it, and without really meaning to, you moaned. A quiet maelstrom of pleasure circled low in your abdomen, threatening to draw noises from your throat you weren’t planning to make with every gentle gyration of Bucky’s lower hand.

You had to purse your lips to contain the sounds.

Again, he nodded.

“It’s okay,” he said, so quiet he almost couldn’t be heard.

He let the friction continue for a while like that: just palming you, watching you react to the simplest of motions against your swollen, aching clit and try not to writhe. At length, you squirmed a little bit. Bucky seemed to want to wait for something to happen, and when you bucked your hips, a look in his eye said that was enough.

He lowered himself between your legs. Shoulders bumping your thighs as he spread them apart, chest rising and falling in measured breaths, and lips smiling all the while. You sucked in a breath when his face came to rest just a few inches shy of your bare, aching warmth.

“Bucky?”

The man looked up at you and blinked.

“Yeah, honey?”

One thumb traced over the seam of your cunt, and your back nearly arched off the bed. There he was, again, gaze safe and secure to yours and hands moving in tandem as they always would. His tongue calmly followed suit. When you fisted his hair, he blinked once more and then directed his attention back to your wet, warm, velvety folds with a pointed look and a purpose.

The sound that escaped you next could hardly be classed as anything less than a scream, but the soft and unperturbed demeanor of the man between your legs showed he hadn’t noticed at all. He just sucked diligently—damn near dutifully—on your clit with a vigor you’d never felt, and when you yanked at his hair, he hummed.

It was like his lips had been trained for perfect suction; that was how well and thoroughly he descended upon your swollen little bud. An airtight kiss and a quick flick of his tongue, paired with his hot and heavy breaths fanning over your cunt, sent your senses into overdrive. Your toes curled inward, your throat let loose a gasp, and without fully realizing it, your walls were clamping down, pulsing and leaking out desire for more of this touch.

Then, without warning, Bucky brought a hand to the throbbing and slick cunt that was presently clenching around nothing, and he fed it two fingers. So forceful and deep he nearly buried his knuckles right along with them. Then he started scissoring those two fingers, sharply.

“Open, milaya,” he said. Again, it wasn’t entirely Bucky.

But you felt a faint remembrance there. You didn’t want him to stop. Maybe you were led astray by the gentle laps of his tongue or the prodding of his fingertips, or perhaps there was something stubbornly familiar about the way he was touching you now. You couldn’t tell.

All you knew was that both of your hands were holding tight to his head and begging him, wordlessly, for more.

Your moans rang all the way through the bedroom in your new, far-too-big penthouse apartment in Brooklyn, down the hall, reverberating through every inch of the space until all that could be heard were your sounds and his and the delectable little noises of your bodies working together. Bucky hadn’t even stirred to pleasure himself.

You wanted that part to change.

With your hip pinned to the mattress and Bucky’s tongue laving over your clit in ruthlessly quick movements, you probably would’ve liked to cum all over his mouth and fingers, but you wanted to see him pleased even more.

Just when he’d worked a third finger inside you and was driving you close to your peak, you pushed him away.

Bucky parted from your folds with a glistening chin and two furrowed eyebrows, clearly frustrated to have been torn from his mission before you reached completion, but you wouldn’t let that look linger for long. You used your leverage in his hair—however slight, comparatively, that grip might have been—to pull him up on the bed.

Bucky surprised you with just how swiftly he moved.

His steel-blue gaze was on yours in a second, equally penetrating and soft.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Nothing—”

“My baby okay?”

He surprised you again; this time by how quick his demeanor was to shift the second he sensed something was wrong. Just like Bucky. It had to be him in there.

You nodded, still out of breath from the wonders he’d been working with his tongue. You squeezed his arm and tried to coax him toward you, to help him lower his body some, and when he seemed uncertain, you offered a smile. It’s okay to touch, you won’t break anything.

Bucky eyed you skeptically, but it was clear he was more wary of himself than of you. He glanced over your body, briefly to his, then slowly, apprehensively, sank down.

“Just fine,” you mumbled, hooking your legs around his back the second his chest was close enough to yours.

You felt an uptick in his heartbeat when your heels dug a little more firmly into the waistband of his pants. While your hands started working their way toward the front of that fabric, wedging clumsily between your bodies, his gaze flitted to yours, and his brows drew even tighter together. He didn’t try to stop you, but he certainly seemed confused as to why you wanted to include him so soon. Why you cared to show concern for him at all.

You noticed that then, and in just about every moment preceding, the man was taken aback by kindness.

Whether it was pulling him closer to you, tugging his pants down with a tender touch, running your fingers across the bulge in his boxers, or simply nodding your head and letting him know it was okay to touch you back, Bucky seemed unaccustomed to any care in this area.

When your fingers made it around his cock and started stroking him, gently, he just might’ve come apart.

His chest shuddered with the inhale of a short, strained breath, and his eyelids fluttered, as if meaning to close.

Bucky’s jaw clenched, and he started to shake his head.

“No, let me—”

“Let me,” you finished for him, wrist flicking back and forth quietly. You paused just to rub a quick touch between your folds, collect some arousal, then return to touching him when he met your eyes again and allowed you to continue. You skimmed his sensitive underside with your palm and let the warmth of him bleed into your fingertips as you worked him up to a comfortable pace.

Bucky rutted into your touch, probably harder than he meant to. Then he planted a hand beside your head and anchored his weight above you so that he was close enough to reach your lips—but he didn’t kiss you.

His expression hardened again, and he forcibly removed himself from the pulse of your fingers. He frowned.

“You want me to fuck you, no? Make you cum?”

He sounded irritated again.

Briefly, you recalled your words from earlier and nodded. It was true, you’d said it to him like that, and you’d meant it. You just couldn’t make sense of what he wanted now.

It seemed Bucky couldn’t wait to indulge you any longer. He fisted his cock in one hand, angled the head just outside of your cunt, and burst in with one thrust.

“Then let me,” he muttered, plunging down to the hilt.

The first go was rough, and the second was no kinder. Bucky’s face screwed up with indifference again, like he wanted to get something out of his brain and just do.

Like there was a task at hand that needed to be finished.

You couldn’t deny it felt fine at first. Fucking edifying after all those horrific thoughts had been eating away at your mind and rousing your own hunger for numbness. The drive of Bucky’s thick girth in and out, in and out repeatedly was no doubt capable of rendering you dumb. But being slammed into and taken so roughly was only good for you when you knew he was feeling good too.

This Bucky was back to being entirely flinty and lifeless—practically devoid of all emotion as he railed into you.

The back of your head was forced into the pillow with the weight of each thrust and Bucky’s thumb pushing into your chin—‘Better, milaya? Is this better for you?’—and frankly, you wanted to push him back and ask the same.

But you couldn’t. The pace he’d set was suffocating, and the stretch of his cock inside you was unusually tough.

Instead, you sank your nails into his arm and mumbled:

“Bucky.”

The man’s thrusts were both stabbing and rhythmic, sending a welt of pleasure blossoming up in your chest. You tried again:

“Bucky.”

He blinked.

And slowed.

“Bucky,” he mumbled back.

Seemingly mindless and mechanical, he snaked a hand behind your head to lift your face and tilt it toward the sight below: his cock splitting you open before him, parting your insides with an easy, welcome glide through the slick of your folds. You watched as your arousal enveloped him fully. Not a single inch of his rock-hard, throbbing shaft was spared; even his balls were soaked. They felt even heavier slapping your ass with each thrust.

“You remember?” you asked, hating how small you sounded.

The man’s nostrils flared, but he gave a curt nod. Expression taut and vigilant, as though anticipating something going wrong at any second. Still, he nodded.

“Years,” he answered.

“Years?”

Since he’d done this? Felt good? Become this way?

No, Bucky was activated in Madripoor just weeks ago. He didn’t look like he was ready to indulge in any ‘feel-good’ pleasure, and you weren’t sure when he’d last been with anyone else before you. Years could mean anything.

You chanced a few soft fingertips up to his cheeks, cupping either side of his clean-shaven face in an effort to anchor you both to one place. The pit of your stomach was reeling with warmth, and friction, and fullness. It took everything in you just to pull him in for a quick, grounding kiss before the feeling gave way to even more.

Bucky’s teeth nicked your bottom lip. He flinched back.

You ignored the sting and repeated his name, murmuring it carefully up to the seal of his mouth as if requesting entry with that word alone.

It seemed to work. Bucky kissed you back with a gentle, albeit guarded, sort of tenderness that made him soften. His thrusts weren’t as rough and punishing as they were before. The dull, throbbing ache between your legs transformed into something sweeter, and your body no longer had to brace itself against strokes that, to you, were nearly bruising and, to Bucky, were just necessary.

For once, your husband let out a soft grunt of pleasure.

“They never let us,” Bucky said as his teeth grit together, “It’s been years.”

“Since what?”

The face above you tempered more—this time with a trace of sadness behind it. He continued to rut into you, but now his thrusts were sloppy, and it seemed as though he were battling against his own pleasure with every motion. He lowered one hand between your legs and began to thumb at your clit, gaze torn from yours.

“Close now?” he muttered.

Ignoring the question you’d asked.

“Years since what?” you pressed anyway. The tiny ripples preceding bliss had already begun to stir inside you, maddeningly, with every flick of his thumb, but your curiosity to know the whole truth was stronger still.

Bucky’s hips were moving at a feverish pace now; his free hand made a fist in the sheets beside your head, and his chest heaved with a series of short, ragged breaths that were no doubt meant to mask his moans as well. Notwithstanding the burn you felt between your legs—he really was much rougher and stronger now, you saw—you cupped his cheek again to tilt his face toward yours.

What you saw made your stomach drop.

Your heart clenched like a fist within the confines of your ribcage, and there it was—that terrible ache you felt each time you saw something awful materialize before you.

Bucky’s eyes were wet with tears. He wouldn’t blink.

He tilted his head into your touch, as if for support, but really, the weight of it signaled to you that he just wanted to feel you. Be assured that you were there. His big, broad arms seemed suddenly unable to hold his weight, and then he sank into your frame with a grunt and another stuttered breath. Like he was ready to collapse.

“Don’t leave again,” he said quietly.

The pain in your chest elevated, in bloom.

“Bucky I didn’t— wasn’t—” you started to say.

The friction between your bodies was almost too much to bear. You couldn’t be sure if you were talking to your husband, soldat, or some strange, inconceivable mixture of the two, but you could tell that this one was desperate.

Pleading.

“I can’t lose you again.”

The head of his cock grazed your most sensitive spot inside, and a whine seeped out through your teeth. Bucky’s whole body was blanketing yours, torso flush with your front and hips working an erratic cadence as he got a glimpse of release himself. He groaned out in pleasure and begged you to stay. You promised that you would. Your legs were still wound around his sides, but both of your bodies were slick with a sheen of sweat; it was hard to hang on. Bucky’s hair was wild and pushed back from his face, but his eyes were clear when they finally met yours, and you heard him mumble again, ‘Please stay.’

You didn’t know what else to say but okay, baby, I will.

You swore you would stay, and in between oaths, your mouth was consumed by a barrage of kisses—Bucky got to feast with a full set of teeth again, primal as ever—and then your climax hit. Euphoria washed over you whole with a force you weren’t expecting to feel, and you couldn’t help but cry out and whine as waves of pleasure coursed straight from the innermost depths of your core.

Bucky’s hips collided with yours in two more stuttered thrusts, and when he bottomed out at the last, you felt a heavy spurt of warmth. A groan coiling out of his chest. Muscles growing lax and two sturdy arms coming to bracket your head as your husband’s whole body weight went folding into yours. You kissed some more, in between frenzied intakes of breaths and steadying moments where you were simply trying to ground your body and get your heart to slow down to a normal rate.

You held each other in silence for a while. Bucky’s head fell next to yours on the pillow when the last of his spend had been emptied, but otherwise, he didn’t stir. At some point, his hands slid behind your back, and the second he hugged you to him, you felt secure in that embrace.

You were probably as far as you’d ever been from understanding who the fuck your husband was, but all it seemed you were capable of feeling for now was pity.

Pity for the years he’d lost to captivity; pity for what was little more than mere existence under HYDRA’s thumb; pity for all the things you still didn’t know about his past.

You held Bucky tighter, and, flooded with this strange, grating emotion and an overwhelming sense of powerlessness, you wished you could protect him, too.

“James?” you mumbled into his hair.

Bucky didn’t respond.

You squeezed his shoulder. Still nothing.

Against your better judgment, you tried to shift yourself underneath his body. You figured you wouldn’t make it far at all, but at least he would be aware that you were trying to get up. Maybe even start to move with you.

He didn’t.

It took everything in you just to wedge an elbow back, struggle to prop yourself up against his weight, and when you were about to let out a huff of an exasperated laugh and tell him, Bucky, you’re crushing me, honey, could you please ease up a little, your request was answered before the words could even leave your mouth.

At the sound of two new muffled voices carrying up from the living room and what appeared to be noises from shuffling feet, Bucky rose straight from the bed, off you.

Your gaze trailed his to the door, and you reached for him.

“Baby, it’s just—”

Bucky was back on his feet. Yanking his boxers and pants up his legs and buckling his belt in no time at all.

The movers. It’s just the movers bringing in furniture—

You moved your hand closer to your husband in the hopes of stalling his movements for half a second, but then a set of ruthless blue eyes had you pinned, quick:

“Stay.”

Your outstretched arm was taken up in a much stronger, stiffer one, and you were suddenly pulled over to Bucky.

But you knew from the eyes it wasn’t him at all.

And you weren’t so much being tugged toward him as you were being hauled to the floor. Thrown on your knees beside the bed, next to Bucky. He was about to leave.

Without thinking, you reached for one of the legs of his trousers and sank your nails into the fabric to hold him in place, to tell him again that there was nothing to see out there but the people you knew, no threat outside at all. But Bucky was deaf to your pleas, it seemed. He shrugged you off easily and made a move for his gun, expression blank, stolid, calm, hardened. Decided.

You tried to rise to your feet but were stopped.

“STAY,” Bucky boomed again, this time an order that he didn’t even deign to complete with a look your way.

If he had—if he even possessed the ability to consider anything but the immediate task at hand—he would’ve seen his own hand knock you to the floor to keep you from standing. Might’ve caught a glimpse of the instant your head struck the edge of the nightstand before you hit the ground. Could’ve even made out the first traces of blood that came trickling out from above your temple. Would’ve seen you cower back, viscerally, out of fear.

But holding the side of your head and watching him leave, grim realization twisted at the pit of your stomach, and you knew the man wouldn’t have stopped if he had.

If your soldat’s objective was to protect you from any harm lurking outside that door, real or illusory, nothing you were capable of doing now could stop that. At expense to yourself, at expense to him, at expense to whatever lives stood between the Winter Soldier and that unwavering, hardwired goal, he still would not ever stop.

Thinking of new, innocent lives in the balance, now, you scrambled for your phone the next second to call Steve.

You tried him once. Twice. A third time crawling on your knees, then standing, then staggering over to the door and pulling the phone from your ear just to send a string of texts to your friend while the thing continued to ring.

SOS

Need help

Pick up please

Bucky’s stuck and he’s

About to hurt people here

A crash sounded outside. You hurried to the door. Your hand closed around the knob and tried to turn it. The handle turned freely, but something behind it was refusing to let you leave the room. You pressed again.

“Bucky!”

Your cry was useless in the face of the barricade outside.

You pushed your shoulder and, behind it, the whole force of your weight against it anyway, trying to get out.

The line went dead. You tried again.

Now with your phone to one ear and the bedroom door taking the brunt of your hits from the other, bleeding side of your body, you scarcely heard much of anything else. The ring started. Stopped. Began again when you pressed a shaky finger to Steve’s contact name, and continued in a cycle for some time while you tried to force whatever was on the other side of the door away.

The second a voice broke through the haze of your frantic, half-crazed state of consciousness, you cried:

“STEVE!”

“Mrs. Barnes?”

You were shocked to hear a woman on the other end. Your pulse was still racing, shoulder aching from the impact of each desperate push you’d been forcing against the door, and then you stopped. Another loud something sounded down the hallway, further away, but you were too startled and unnerved to take any note of it.

You started to ask, ‘Where’s Steve?’ when the voice continued:

“This is Mrs. Barnes?”

“Yes,” you answered woodenly.

You held the phone as close to your ear as you could, but still, the woman’s words were coming in and out in bursts. You must’ve mistakenly accepted the call when trying to reach Steve—you couldn’t think right now; could barely retract the phone far enough to see a strange number displayed on the screen. You swallowed.

“—from Lenox Hill Hospital at Northwell Health—”

The high-rise medical center on the Upper East Side you’d visited that week. Bucky had wanted you tested for nutritional deficiencies and anemia, of all fucking things.

“—if you had a moment or two to chat and maybe—”

No, you needed Steve, not this outpatient courtesy call.

You would’ve liked to hang up. Should’ve hung up. In fact, your fingers were practically itching to hit the button the whole time the nurse was speaking to you, but something in you just couldn’t be persuaded to do it. It took several more seconds before your senses began to creep back, and by then, when you were about to drop the call, you heard a phrase that stopped you on a dime.

“—but the doctor advises prenatal vitamins—”

“What?” you snapped, far more harshly than you meant.

The nurse paused a beat, whether from incredulity at how rude you’d just sounded or to consider something. When she resumed, she sounded a little more guarded.

“Yes…Dr. Watkins did reach out to you about your bloodwork from your last visit, didn’t she? I thought—”

“No,” you said, rushed and painfully brusque, again. You tried to rein in your tone some before continuing, “She didn’t—didn’t reach out about anything. What vitamins?”

Another pause.

“Prenatals.”

You hated that she gave you another second to chew on that word before taking a breath and pressing on.

“I’m terribly, terribly sorry to be the one to spring that on you, Mrs. Barnes—I thought you knew…um—” The nurse was sheepish now, almost embarrassed to be speaking, “—you’re about…three weeks along in your pregnancy.”

Three weeks along.

Advised prenatal vitamins.

For the child growing inside of you.

A rivulet of blood trickled into your left eye.

Your whole body was apt to convulse, but it didn’t.

You hung up.

—

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