#I've heard that even with a mask it hurts to breathe

[relia-robot-writes]

"I- I don't understand," I stammered. It was like looking in a mirror. I backed away from my duplicate, edging ever closer to the roof's edge. "Where did you come from? Why are you here? What did I ever do to you?!"

The other me laughed, a slightly manic tone to it as she pointed the knife at me, blade shining in the moonlight. "You stole my whole life! My job, my house, my friends, my wife! What, are you going to pretend you did it by accident?"

"I- I don't know what you're talking about!" I backed away again, but tripped, falling backwards, my back now to a sheer three-story drop. "I've lived here for fifteen years! I met Lilith on our first date five years ago! I remember, I- I thought-"

"You LIAR!" My clone shouted, and dove at me, knife in hand. I screamed in pain as the blade sliced open my cheek, and again as it plunged into my shoulder. I struggled to get control, but I could feel my arm losing its strength as the blade trembled between the two of us. I didn't want to hurt her! I didn't want to die! What could I-

"Drop the knife! Both of you!"

Lilith had made her way onto the roof, finally, and in her hand she held the gun my clone had dropped during the chase. She gripped it hard, pointing it in our direction.

"Lilith," said the clone, "Lilith, it's me, it's Kathrine, you have to believe me, I got kidnapped, I haven't been here for months, you've been living with this impostor-"

The safety on the gun clicked, but the muzzle wavered. "I said, drop the knife."

Slowly, she released her pressure on it, and so did I. When she let go, I knocked it off the roof. I gasped, bleeding, barely able to rise to my knees. "Lilith, I don't know what's going on. I've been here," I gulped, gasping against the pain, "the whole time. The cats know it's me, you know how they get with strangers-"

My clone snarled at me. "The cats? You even managed to fool the cats?! You bitch!" She grabbed my dress, hauling me to my feet. I hung on desperately to her hands, all too aware of the drop behind me.

"I don't-" I started, at the same time Lilith shouted, "Put her down! I'm warning you!"

My clone's eyes were wild, deranged, panicked, darting back and forth between Lilith and I. As her eyes settled on me, she stared at something on my face. "I can prove it," she breathed. "I can prove it!" She shouted to Lilith. "Watch! I'm the real Kathrine!" She reached up towards the cut in my face and dug her nails in. I screamed, closing my eyes, Lilith shouted something, and then...

And then it was quiet. It didn't hurt anymore. I heard my clone breathing rapidly in front of me. I slowly eased my eyes open to see her staring at me in fear and victory. I glanced at Lilith, gun pointing more at our feet now, mouth open in shock.

"Jig's up, impostor," said my clone. She let go of me, and held something up to my face. "Your disguise is busted."

The thing she was holding... it was like a mask. Floppy, sort of rubbery in the way that it hung.

A mask of my own face.

I grabbed at my own face, my cheeks, my eyes, all of it felt smooth, cold, metallic. I felt raised bumps in regular patterns, weld marks, maybe, or small rivets. My mouth opened in shock, and I could hear the hum of tiny servos. "W-what-"

My clone - no, Kathrine, the real Kathrine - looked at me with surprise and distrust. "You can't tell me you didn't know."

"I- I- I had no idea!" I turned to Lilith. "I remember our first date! We were both so nervous, and then you infodumped about amusement parks at me for an hour, and I thought I had to see you again! I remember our wedding! I thought, she looks so beautiful, I could die right here and go directly to heaven and I wouldn't notice the difference!" I started to cry at the memory, at the situation, at learning who and what I was...

Lilith stared at me, raising the gun again. "You never told me that."

The look, the betrayal in her eyes, it nearly made my heart break. I slumped to my knees. Had it all been fake? My whole life?

Then, suddenly, standing in front of me, arms wide, was Kathrine. I looked up at her in shock, but she was facing the other way, towards Lilith, who hastily pointed the gun at the ground. "I never told anyone that," she said. "It sounded too sappy, even for me." She turned to face me. "You're not just an evil clone. You are me, aren't you?"

I sniffed, and looked up at her. My voice quivered, and reverberated oddly through the metal of my face. "I thought I was me."

She dropped to her knees, and embraced me. A moment later, so did Lilith. I hugged both of them as tears erupted from all of us.

After a while, I sniffed and let go. "Hey," I said, my voice still wobbly, "if I'm not the real Kathrine, does that mean I don't have to go to work on Monday? Or file taxes?"

Kathrine looked at me. "Oh. Uh, I guess not?"

"Oh thank god," I said. "Being real was fucking exhausting."

next

[darkbluekies]

Hurting (reupload)

Yandere!doctor och x reader

Summary: it's not often he lets you out of your room, and he figures, for good reason.

Warnings: yandere, a kiss, blood, violence, poisoning,

Word count: 1.9k

A/N: i must have accidentally deleted this when I was cleaning up the account but fortunately I have all my stories backed up so here you have it again😅

"Doctor?"

"Yes, Y/N?"

"Can we do something today? I don't want to sit in here all day again."

Dr Kry moves over to your bed slowly. "What would you like to do then?"

"It's so lonely sitting in here", you sigh. "Could we go to the lounge? Please? I want to be surrounded by people again."

"Y/N  you're fragile, you know that. You shouldn't breathe their air."

"But … I've been to other parts of the hospital and I was fine. I was even outside with you, remember?"

"Yes, and do you remember how weak you felt?"

You pout slightly. Another try that failed. Dr Kry tips his head, smiling slightly.

"Okay, what about this", he says. "You wear a little oxygen mask and then I'll take you to the patient's lounge?"

"You'd do that?" you ask excitedly.

"If it makes you happy."

"Yes, yes, it really will!"

Dr Kry smiles, nodding and says he will be back soon. You sit in your bed with a smile on your face until he returns. He has a machine with him and a plastic mask connected to it.

"You'll have to wear this over your face", he says. "The oxygen in the tank is pure for you. I've measured the toxic levels. It's safe."

"Will they laugh at me?" you ask carefully. "The other patients?"

"What? Of course not! They're wearing casts and bandages of all weird types, they won't even bat an eye."

"Do you promise?"

"Of course. If you want, you can hold onto me when we enter, if it feels scary."

"Yes, please."

Dr Kry tries to hide the smile creeping up on his face. You catch it and smile with him.

Dr Kry leads you through the white hospital corridors with his arm around your shoulders. His firm, protective grip is reserved for you. 

You enter the patients lounge and see people of all ages, ethnicities and genders sitting here and there. Some are discussing, some are playing games. And some are hiding for themselves in the corner.

"Alright …", Dr Kry mutters. "What would you like to do?"

You look around, eyes catching the Playstation console in front of a protected TV-screen.

"I want to play some games", you whisper. "Can I?"

"Let's go see what games they have."

You're not surprised that there are no shooting games. There are animal simulators, puzzle games and Lego star wars. Dr Kry nods, approving the little selection there is. You pick up a goat simulator.

"I'll be by the wall with the other doctors", Dr Kry whispers in your ear, rubbing your shoulder slightly. 

Otherwise they'll be suspicious of his close relationship to you. He has to blend in with them.

"Okay", you say softly, meeting his blue eyes. 

He thinks he's going to faint. Your eyes look so sparkly. He fixes your oxygen mask and gives you a small smile before walking over to the wall.

"It's not often we see your patient out and about", a doctor snickers.

Dr Kry doesn't look at him. He leans his back against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. 

"They're sick", Dr Kry answers dryly. "Why would I let them out among bacteria?"

"You're still careful, I see", the other doctor smiles. "What exactly is wrong with them?"

Dr Kry flinches at that word. He turns his cold  blue eyes to the doctor.

"Nothing is wrong with them", he corrects him coldly. "They're just sick. Other than that they're perfectly normal."

"I didn't mean it like that, Kry. I was just wondering since they're always in their room. No ones allowed to meet them."

"I don't want them to become worse. Everything in that room is sterilized and pure, exactly what my patient needs. If I allowed people to walk in and out as they pleased, it'd be contaminated and they'd be worse."

The doctor nods. "I understand. You're a very dedicated man, Kry, I'm impressed. I've heard that you stay in the doctors dorms with the patient room telephone by your ear."

"I do have a life to care for. They're still sick even when my working hours are over. I have to be available in case something happens."

The doctor is about to answer when your voice cuts through the air. A loud, heartbreaking scream. Dr Kry snaps his head in your direction. Everything seems to go in slow motion. A boy has approached you and ripped the oxygen mask off of you. He's over you with the console in his hands. Dr Kry grows cold and runs forward. He reaches the boy and rips him off you, throwing him wherever he can. He silently hopes that he cracked his skull open on the drawing table. The doctor who he had talked to shoots forward to retrieve what seems to be his patient.

Dr Kry’s attention shifts to you. You're lying on the floor, trembling with tears in your eyes. Your lip is burst. He can tell that the Playstation controller has a bit of blood on it. In one quick motion, he scoops you up in his arms. You lock your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck, and hide your face into his broad shoulder. Dr Kry secures one of his strong arms around your waist and grabs a hold of the machine with the other.

"What the actual fuck is wrong with your patient?" Dr Kry spits angrily, angrier than he's ever been before. "They're not just sick, they're actually wrong! How dare he attack my patient like that?!"

"He didn't mean to-", the doctor tries.

"I don't believe that. Get your uncontrollable beast far away from my patients or I'll show that little bastard a thing or two."

Dr Kry doesn't wait for an answer. He walks out with you and the machina tightly clutched in his hands. You sob into his shoulder. The sound of it makes Dr Krys heart ache. Your body is trembling in his hold. He wants to check up on you, but you're not safe yet. You have to get back to your room first.

"Are you okay, little one?" he asks as he hurries through the corridors. "Try not to breathe so much filthy air, breathe down into my neck. Good job, just like that. You're doing so good. You'll be okay soon. I'll take care of you right when we get to the room."

He swings the door open to the hospital room and places you down on the nearest surface — the desk. He backs away enough to see your face.

"Poor thing, your lip is bleeding", he cooes and touches your bottom lip with his fingers ever so gently. 

He turns to the drawers to get you some cotton balls, swiftly placing his fingers to his lips. He's not one that usually likes the taste of blood, but he finds himself enjoying the metallic taste of yours. He flinches, stopping. Did he just really do that? 

Dr Kry gravs the cotton ball and a bit of disinfection substance and dabs it on your soft lips. You hiss and try to pull back.

"Y/N, stop, I have to clean it", he says apologetically. "I know it hurts, but I have to make sure it doesn't get infected. Be good for me now and I'll give you something fun later, okay?"

You nod unnoticeably. His heart absolutely shatters at the sight of your tears. He's so close to dropping the professional act and swooping you up in his arms — where nothing can ever hurt you again.

"There we go, your lip is clean", he says and takes your hands in his. "Are you hurt anywhere else? What did he do to you?"

"He wanted the game console and I said no … so he got mad. He demanded it again and I refused … so he ripped the mask off of me and tried to grab it. I refused to let it go so he ripped it from me and threw me down on the floor and hit me."

Dr Kry clenches his jaw. His grip on your hands tightens significantly. You whimper, begging him to let go of you. As if awoken from a trance, he apologizes and lets go.

"I'm not really hurt", you reassure him quietly. "I got more startled than hurt. I'm sorry if I scared you."

"You're bleeding. You're hurt. He hurt you. He won't get away with it."

You touch his shoulder carefully. He shivers.

"Your uniform …", you say in shame. "I got it bloody, I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Y/N, I don't mind", he smiles and wipes your tears with his hands. "It's washable." 

He fights the strong urge to hug you. Every nerve in his body fights bravely, but they're not strong enough. He wraps his arms around you to bring you into his embrace. The placement of you both makes him blush. You, sitting on his desk with him standing between your legs … it's all so dangerously close to what he wants. It's teasing him. He can't give in. Not more than this.

"I'm so glad you're okay", he whispers in your ear and tightens his embrace. "I got so scared. Are you sure that you're not hurt?"

"The only thing that hurts is my lip."

A sudden wave of confidence washes over him. He pulls back, glances at the cleaned wound.

"I can make it go away", he whispers in a husky voice he didn't know he could achieve. He glances at your eyes carefully. "May I?"

You give that nod again. He has half a second to contemplate before his lips will meet yours. One part of the brain tells him to stop, that this isn't professional. The other screams at him to hurry up, he's been waiting long enough. He gulps and finally, finally, allows his lips to meet yours. All air in his lungs disappears, but that doesn't matter, he doesn't need it. He wants to breathe you, day and night. You're softer than he could ever imagine. A small taste of blood fills his mouth. He has to kill that boy.

You place your hand on his clean shoulder and answer his kisses. It's the only signal he needs to hold you closer, bring you into him. He wonders — wishes — that you can feel how hard his heart is beating, so you can finally understand how much he has longed for you.

He understands that he has to pull back, whether he likes it or not, to not go further. 

"You're so unbelievably pretty, do you know that?" he whispers.

"Do you really think that?" you ask just as quietly.

"With all my heart."

You avoid eye contact for a few seconds before glancing back carefully.

"This won't change a thing, I promise", Dr Kry whispers with a small smile. "I'll still be your doctor. You can count on me, okay?"

You nod.

"Good", he smiles. "I think you should rest now. This has been very straining for you."

"Can you hold me?"

Dr Kry nods. He lifts you over to the bed and lies down beside you, holding you in his arms. You shut your eyes and slowly drift off to sleep. Dr Kry can feel an ounce of regret in him, but a big part of pride. He finally dared … he hopes you won't be uncomfortable with him now.

When he's sure that you're sleeping, he leaves the bed and tucks you in. He takes a good look at you, his beautiful patient. "As long as I'm here, nothing will hurt you", he whispers. "I'll get rid of everyone who causes you harm. I'll be back soon, that boy needs to be taught manners."

[shadow4-1]

I'm just imagining an a/b/o dynamic where the entire 141, including you, are all Alphas. Except, after a few years of such close contact something starts to shift.

You start to become an Omega.

"Why is this happening to me?" You all but wail. It hurts to breathe, everything feels like it's on fire. Your stomach twists again, painful cramps shooting white hot lighting up your spine. "Why does it hurt so bad?"

Your pack is all around you, trying to soothe you in anyway they can but it's not working. Everything hurts, your teeth feel like they're going to crack from how tight you have them gritted. The wave of pain ebbs for a few gracious seconds before starting up all over again. You whine and sob and reach out for any of your team.

"Whats going on?" Price huffs, his cool hand cupping at your face. His touch is the barest relief even as he drags down one of your lower eyelids. He tuts in an intense concern. "Simon, have you seen this before?"

The larger male drops to one knee. He gives you a quick once over before dipping his head towards yours. He presses the front of his mask to the crown of your head. Through your labored panting you barely hear him take in a deep inhale of scent.

He coughs and stands back up too quickly. Judging by his flighty gaze, something is seriously wrong. Another tremor of pain wracks your body. You open mouth squeal. It's getting so much worse.

"Simon!" Soap growls, trying to bring his fellow alpha back from whatever memory he'd fallen into. "What's wrong wit' 'er?"

"She's turning into an Omega."

Everyone in the room turned their gazes towards Ghost, even you, despite your pain. You? An Omega? But you've always been and Alpha. It was part of the necessary requirements to be a part of the 141. You'd been genetically tested, hormonally tested, and aptitude tested. You were a full blooded Alpha coming from generations of Alphas.

"There's...ngh...no way." You hiccup out, tears blurring your vision.

"That doesn't make any sense. That can't happen." Gaz adds. He rubs at your back. His cool touch soothes even more of your pain into a dull throb, but it isn't enough.

"M' n' Alpha!" You cry out in anguish, the first of many tears finally dripping down your cheeks.

Something about Ghost's words hurt worse than any pain your body was making you go through. Try as you may to deny it, he was right. You could feel your body changing, altering, breaking and bending.

"Why is this happening to me?" You wail.

"There's too many of us." Ghost huffs, he glances around at your pack.

"Why does that matter?" Soap grumbles, scooping an arm around your center to pull you up into a sitting position. "We're a pack."

"That's just it." Ghost sighs tiredly.

"I've never heard of this being 'n issue." Price butts in. He grabs your face again and brushes the tears off your cheeks. "Task Forces are fully Alpha run. They 'ave been for years."

"If what Ghost is saying is right, it's biological, Captain." Gaz huffs, his thoughts visibly racing. "Too many Alphas, not enough Omegas. It means we'd go extinct."

"But why didn't she change earlier?" Johnny asks. You teeter in his hold but he keeps you upright. He lets you lean against his chest. He smells more comforting than usual.

"It's hormonal. She's been with us almost three years now, it takes time." Ghost says. Price nods in agreement.

"I'm an Alpha!" You sob, trying wrench yourself free from the multiple men around you. "I- I don't want to be bred. I don't want to be claimed! I'm an Alpha!"

"We're know you are, Love." Price breathes softly. He continued to wipe tears away from your face with a tenderness that only makes your despair swell further. "But this is happening, and we can't stop it."

"Take me to sick bay, please. They'll...they'll put me on blockers or something! Please, anything but this! I don't want to be an Omega."

The pack looks toward Ghost but he shakes his head.

"This is you first heat. The blockers will kill you."

You scream in pain, fear, and frustration. Another wave of excruciating pain washes over you. You wrench out of Soap's grip and fall against the floor. The tile is cool against your flushed skin.

As much as you hate him for it, Ghost is right.

This is your first heat.

Your back arches off the floor. Your toes curl and you squeal, shaking, gasping, panting hot breaths. You can feel yourself start to sweat. There's a sudden gush of wetness between your thighs. Embarrassment floods you. You try to curl into a ball but your body keeps being wracked with tremors.

"H-help me..." You cry out weakly, sobbing into the tile.

Your pack seems to finally get a whiff of your fluctuating scent. All around you, you watch as one by one each of their gazes grow more and more pointed. All of you know what must be done. After all, you're an Omega now.

...and there's no going back.

[prythianpages]

Tell Me I've Been Lied To | Eris x Reader

Eris x Reader | Eris didn't know that three simple words could change the course of your lives.

a/n: This was the first part I had written for this series so most of it was already written. I thought it would be better if I started with Stuck for the ✨suspense✨

warnings: angst (the night eris breaks your heart),brief implied smut, reader is pregnant/ hidden pregnancy trope

“I love you.”

Eris tensed beneath you, the hand that had been idly threading through your hair freezing mid-stroke. You rested against his bare chest, warm and trusting, your breath soft against his skin.

And all he could think about was how badly he wanted to disappear. Or run. Or pretend he hadn't heard you at all. 

But the words had already sunk in, refusing to be left ignored and tugging at something deep inside.

I love you.

Your fingertips traced lightly over his side like you didn’t realize the walls were closing in.  You couldn’t hear the alarm bells screaming inside him. You said it as if it were simple, as if those three words were so easy.

No, no, no. His lungs tightened, his mind racing. You shouldn’t love him. You couldn’t love him. This couldn’t be real. 

Surely, you were joking. Surely, you were mistaking lust or comfort or affection for something else. He let out a sound, dark and humorless. A small laugh made of panic and denial.

Eris wasn’t someone you loved. He was someone you used. Someone you burned for in the dark and forgot in the daylight. Since the beginning, your relationship had been one of mutual benefit. That’s what this was–casual and convenient. Or at least, that’s what it was supposed to be. 

But even Eris had seen the cracks forming in the walls he had so carefully built. The way he searched for your face in court, how he saved the last dance for you every single time and how he touched you more gently than he ever had anyone else.

“I mean it,” you said quietly but so certainly. 

Panic flooded in, full and clamant. A rising tide of everything he didn’t like letting himself feel. Because if you meant it…if you really, truly loved him…and he…

For a heartbeat, he let those three words unfurl in the barren wasteland of his chest. And it burned. Cauldron, it burned. It set alight that tightening in his chest, like a coil on the edge of snapping. Because he wanted it. He wanted you. He wanted to believe someone could see every ugly, broken parts of him and still offer softness.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he murmured, but the words weren’t meant entirely for you. They were a warning to himself too. 

“Eris–”

“Don’t do this. Don’t make this into something it isn’t.”

You rose from his chest, bringing the sheets with you to cover yourself, brows furrowed in confusion and hurt. He didn’t look at you, even as he felt the weight of your gaze on him. He couldn’t bring himself to, afraid that if he did, he’d shatter. Instead, he stared at the ceiling like it might swallow him.

 “You can’t tell me you don’t feel it too.”

His jaw clenched in restraint. “There is nothing to feel.”

“Liar,” you breathed. He could hear the break in your voice, the way your heart cracked with it. “That’s not true.”

“It is,” he bit out, voice clipped. “You and I… we had fun, but that’s all it was. A distraction.”

“That’s all I was to you?”

No, of course not. You were so, so much more. His eyes flickered, just for a second, but it was gone before you could grasp onto it.

 “Yes.”

The word was a dagger, sharp and precise, aimed straight at your heart. It was a double edged dagger because it pierced through his chest too, leaving the bitter taste of blood on his tongue.  

You shook your head, tears burning at the corners of your eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

Eris pushed off the bed, sitting up. “Believe what you want. It doesn’t change anything.”

“You can’t even look at me.”

He looked at you then and it nearly broke him. You were crying. He had made you cry. Years of carefully practiced cruelty, of masks and control, all culminated in this moment of self-destruction. It took everything in him to stay still when every part of him ached to reach for you, to wipe away those tears.

“Because I want you to leave.”

And still, you whispered, “Why are you doing this?”

Something flickered in his gaze again, the truth trembling on his tongue. Because I love you too. And if I love you, they’ll tear you apart.

But he said none of it.

“You’re just another lady of my court,” he said coldly. “And I am the next High Lord of Autumn. This was never going to be more than what it was.”

Your eyes searched his face one last time. Desperate, breaking.  And he watched you fall apart, tears streaming down your cheeks. Then, you were gone, pulling on your dress, fingers trembling. You didn’t look back.

And worse of all, he didn’t stop you. He let you walk away, thinking you meant nothing. When in truth, you meant everything.

It happened then.

That coil that had been on edge since you said those three words finally snapped. He doubled over from the brutal force of it, choking on air that refused to fill his lungs. It was a bond–a mating bond. A tether that had perhaps had always been there, waiting patiently and quietly.

Now, it was roaring to life like a tormented scream and tearing through his very soul.

What had he done?

What. Had. He. Done?

Eris hadn’t expected you to leave. Avoid him, yes. Give him the cold shoulder and torment him with your silence and side glances? Also, yes. That, he could’ve handled–even prepared himself for it. It’s what he thought you had been doing.

Your family had an estate of their own, but it wasn’t unusual for your family to also stay in the guest wing of the Forest House. You had your own room here, practically living here more than at your family’s estate. You occasionally joined dinners when Beron invited the families of his advisors. You simply didn’t show up at the following one. 

Before, he’d often catch glimpses of you in the hallway, just as you were heading toward the library—his study being nearby. That’s when he’d smoothly pull you into his grasps and the shadows of the Forest house, stealing a moment and a kiss or two. 

He’d even once stayed in his study all day, leaving the door slightly ajar, hoping to catch sight of you slipping by.

But nothing.

Those days of your noted absence turned to weeks and those weeks turned into a little over a month. The moment he overheard your father mention your absence during a meeting, his blood had run cold. 

You hadn’t just been avoiding him. You were gone. You had left Autumn.

He didn’t want to believe it. He had braced himself for your avoidance, but not for your absence. And this—this was somehow worse.

He had lingered after the meeting, sharing a drink with one of Beron’s advisors and his brother. Not Jayce. He could barely stand him. It had been Sawyer who proposed a drink after a strenuous meeting of war talk.

One drink had turned to one too many. 

He welcomed the effects of the bitter liquor, allowing it to dull his thoughts for once. It led him to your room. He shouldn’t have come here. It was well past midnight, and no excuse would’ve justified his presence if caught. Thankfully, no one had seen him slip through the corridors, his magic helping to cloak him even through his drunken haze.

Your room was... still. Almost too still. Everything was neat, unnervingly so and the silence screamed at him. When he stepped further in, deeper into the quiet, he saw it. The small things missing such as your favorite books, jewelry box and the shawl you always draped over your reading chair. 

Gone. Just like you.

Eris’s chest caved in. He stumbled, like the realization of your absence physically struck him.

“No,” he whispered, voice cracking.

He looked around your room. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for.  A parchment sat on your nightstand, and he lunged for it, only to find it was a checklist of tasks dated from three months ago. He had been hoping for a letter. Not that he deserved it…

Eris sank down onto your bed. The sheets were soft and they still smelled like you. He let himself fall, his head landing on your pillow–the exact side you always slept on. He buried his face it, one hand fisting the covers. 

And then he breathed in deeply, drinking the sweetness of your scent in. It hit him like a blow to his ribs, even more so when he realized it’d fade, like all things eventually did. The mating bond throbbed painfully in his chest, as if a wound had been reopened, reminding him of what he’d lost. What he’d pushed away.

He hadn't let himself feel it, hadn’t allowed himself to recognize the bond when it snapped into place after that night. Just as he hadn’t whispered those words back when you offered your heart to him.

Love was dangerous. Love made you weak. Love had the power to destroy, as it had with Lucien’s first love. It was a flaw in the armor, a vulnerability he couldn’t afford—not in the Autumn Court, not when everyone was already watching, waiting for him to falter. Jayce was watching him. 

He knew Jayce would take the shot the second he found it. All he needed was one crack in Eris’s armor. And Cauldron, you—you were the crack.

Eris let out a strangled noise, half a breath, half a sob, and curled in on himself. Your scent enveloped him. His arms tightened around the pillow, as if by clutching it, he could hold onto you. This must be divine punishment, he thought.

For the Cauldron, in all its cruel wisdom, had waited until he buried his feelings to force him to confront the full depth of them.

a/n: Alexa, play Lykke Li's Possibility. Eris is having his New Moon Bella moment.

The next part will have a bit of a time jump from pt. 7. It's going to have Eris seeking Lucien's help, which I'm excited to write! I don't have anything prewritten for it just vibes lol so that update may take longer than my usual updates with this series.

series taglist: @kodafics , @shinyghosteclipse, @marrass, @posierosie, @solanaaaaaaa

@tele86, @bubybubsters, @k-homosapien, @mariaxliliana, @kathren1sky-blog

@anainkandpaper, @icey--stars, @moonlovefairy, @hellohauntedturnstudent, @lucia-valentinaa,

@wrenisrad, @smol-grandpa, @sleepylunarwolf, @63angel, @anuttellaa

@anon1227 @paleidiot @thatacotargirl, @queenoffeysand , @slut4acotar @awkardnerd

@blueroseava , @lovetia , @historygeekqueen , @idk1027 ,@naturakaashi

@blightyblinders , @wolvesnravens , @galaxystern08 , @faeofthemoonandstars , @antisocial-architect

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General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444 @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human @mrsjna, @adventure-awaits15, @lorosette

@alwayshave-faith, @xadenswhore, @kodafics

[mercedista]

𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐇, 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓⠀⠀⠀→⠀⠀⠀𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘:⠀A killer breaks into your room, except he doesn't kill you. Well, that's one of the pros of being his girlfriend, even if you don't know that behind the mask is your boyfriend.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒):⠀Porn with plot, horror, non-con, dub-con, mention of murder, threat, poor smut, squirting, toxic relationship.

𝐀/𝐍: Part one for more context. Also, I haven't proofread the content, I don't have any experience with smut and English is not my first language. Keep it in mind.

"Open your fucking mouth, before I make you pay for what you did with your own life." Not that there was any other option, he gave your cheek a light slap, just as a silent warning, and as soon as you opened it, he stuck his fingers in. It was a disgusting sensation for you, that glove rubbing against your tongue as you were forced to watch him use his other hand to open a little of the cape he was wearing and then his own pants.

You knew what to expect, and your vision became blurry again with tears.

He took his fingers out of your mouth and pushed the back of your head against his cock. You didn't want to notice, much less compare, but there was no way you couldn't, he was big. Maybe as big as your boyfriend.

"You've lost your choice, slut." Your thoughts were interrupted by his cock entering until he felt your throat squeezing it. You fought against it, not having prepared yourself, and not having any experience. You didn't know if that pain was normal, if it was his exaggerated size, or just the result of him being too violent with the thrust.

He held your head against him for a few seconds, before letting go and allowing you to catch your breath. But as soon as you recovered – a matter of only five seconds – he was already making you swallow his cock again. "Back to work."

At least he seemed to be having a little more mercy now, continuing to pump your head on his cock, while he threw his back each time your tongue dragged against a vein of his. His hair was already sweaty beneath that mask. "Fuck...!"

His breathing was heavy, but his throat was still forced to wait a few minutes that seemed more like hours until he finally reached his peak.

You were already dizzy, your head hurting, when he pushed your head back, ordering you to stick your tongue out. "I'm going to paint your pretty lips, baby."

The salty splashes touched your tongue, you felt disgusting, you wanted to spit it all out. Not because of the taste, but because of the guilt you felt for being used, even though you had no responsibility for it. "It's not over yet, doll."

Pulling you by the neck, he threw you on the bed, your face sinking against the pillow, while you only heard the clink of more parts of his clothes falling to the floor. "Please, just kill me already... I can’t–" You begged one last time, sobbing, fearing the worst that was to come.

"Don't cry, princess." He said, his voice surprisingly human now. And definitely familiar, more than you would have expected. You felt his hands turn your body, and through the tears that blurred your vision, you recognized the face of your dear boyfriend. If you could still call him that. "Surprise, I guess?" The look of horror that once again crossed his face was divine, and even better with the small sobs that passed through his lips.

"Did I scare you? I went easy on you, baby. I've done worse to my victims." He said, spreading your legs. Without any warning, he thrust into you, a growl escaping his lips as he felt your walls clench around his cock. "But you know... I'm faithful, I've never fucked them like that, if that makes you feel any better."

He wasn't being as delicate with his thrusts as his tone of voice was deceiving, his skin slapping against yours without any mercy. Your boyfriend bit the tip of his glove, ripping it off and throwing it to the side, leaving his bare hand to slap dangerously close to your clit. "I'm glad... that you chose to stay faithful as well..." He said, giving a particularly violent thrust, which made you grunt between sobs. He pressed his uncovered face against your neck, nibbling on it as he continued to fuck you. "I didn't mean to test you, but hell...! I fucking love you."

He said smiling. Your faces were so close, he squeezed your waist. You felt his tongue lick a tear that ran down your cheek. He loves you alive and well, of course, despite his sadism. But, the thought of you cheating on him just to save yourself? He would kill you before you had the chance to do that. "Fuck." He bit his lip. "Such a good little fucktoy. Taking my cock like a champ. You're still as tight as the day I fucked you for the first time."

You closed your eyes, trying to find some semblance of sanity amidst the whirlwind of thoughts and feelings that were running through your body at that moment.

"Aw, baby, look at me. Think of how good..." His boyfriend paused, moaning. "How good it feels now... There are no more secrets between us. Like it always should have been."

"You're a damn murderer... you lied to me...!" You snapped, biting your lip then to make a moan die in your throat. "And now you expect... me to forgive you–"

You were interrupted by a sudden movement, he turned you around again, without even making much effort, and put you on all fours. "Silence, now. For someone who was crying minutes ago, you're talking too much." He grunted, slapping your ass, rubbing his cock, still hard, against it. "Shut your pretty mouth, or I'll fuck the little hole you don't like."

He chuckled at the irritated noise you made before he slid his cock back into your entrance. "Now why don't we start over, and you thank me for being a good boyfriend and not opening your throat with a knife after that kick?"

You feel a mix of emotions swirling inside you as he hugs you waist, pressing his body against your back. The pain from his rough thrusts is intertwined with a sickening sense of pleasure, and the realization that he's truly capable of such violence sends shivers down your spine.

"Too... much..." You manage to choke out, your voice barely audible above the sound of your boyfriend's grunts and the creaking of the bed.

He seems to take pity on you, or perhaps he's simply enjoying watching you tremble and humiliate youself. Either way, he slow down a bit, but continues to pound into you, his grip on your hips tightening. "That's a good girl," he purrs, his breath hot against your ear. "You're learning your place." As he speaks, you feel his cock twitch inside you, and you know he's close to climax. "God, I can't even imagine what it's like to fuck your ass..."

Tears stream down your face as you try to hold back your orgasm, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much you're enjoying being used. But it's no use; the pleasure is too intense, and you feel yourself teetering on the edge.

Suddenly, he pulls out of you, and you feel cold and empty without him inside. Before you can protest, he flips you over onto your back and climbs on top of you, pinning your wrists above your head.

He leans down and captures your lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue invading your mouth and claiming you in the most intimate way possible. "You're so easy to play around with, like a doll, so easy for me to put you in any position." At the same time, he lines up his cock with your entrance and slams back inside, burying himself to the hilt in one movement. The pain from his grip on your wrists mixes with the pleasure of his cock hitting your sweet spot.

He let go of your wrists and reaches around to grab your breast, squeezing it roughly. "Tell me, have you ever let another man touch you like this?"

You shake your head frantically. "No..." You whimper.

He chuckles darkly, his hand sliding down to rub your clit. "Good... good fucking answer." he purrs, his fingers circling the sensitive nub. "Because if you ever let another man touch this tight little cunt, I'll fucking kill you."

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but wonder if he's serious. But the thought of him being jealous and possessive only turns you on more. And you hated yourself for it.

"Oh?" He mocks, giving your cunt a sharp slap. "Did you just get tighter? You fucking freak." Your boyfriend couldn't help but smile at his pretty girl.

"Y-You're imagining things..." You try to deny it, saving a shred of dignity that was still left, but it was just so hard, you can feel every inch of his cock as it slides in and out of your sore, sensitive flesh. 

He bites down on your shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark, and you cry out. "I don't have time to baby you," he growls, his hips snapping against yours with brutal force.

Right now, he was only concerned with his own orgasm. Maybe he himself was already tired of all that edging. You can feel your orgasm building, your walls clenching around his throbbing cock as he drives into you relentlessly. Just as you're about to reach your peak, he pulls out, leaving you empty and desperate, his cock spurting cum all over your pussy and stomach. It made you tremble just with the mere contact of his tip over your clit.

Even without having reached your orgasm, you were dizzy from all the stimulation and tired, without much strength to move. So you were expecting the same from him, but a few seconds after cumming, he was already moving again, making you groan. He moves down your body, his tongue tracing a path from your neck to your belly.

"Aw, my poor baby..." he coos, his breath hot against your skin. "You didn't get to cum, did you?"

You shake your head weakly, too exhausted to form words. He smiles at you, his eyes filled with a wicked gleam. You were already too tired to fight, and you just wanted to cum already, it didn't matter if you had to beg or cry for it.

You can feel the heat of his breath as he moves lower and lower, until he's positioned between your legs. He spreads them, exposing your sensitive, swollen clit. He takes a moment to admire his handiwork, the sight of your glistening pussy making his cock twitch with renewed interest

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "So desperate." He dips his head down and starts to lap at your clit, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. You moan, your hips bucking up against his face as he continues to tease you. He chuckles, the vibrations sending shivers through your body.

He slips a finger into your pussy, pumping it in and out as he continues to suck on your clit. You can feel your orgasm building once again, your walls clenching around his finger as he works you closer to the edge.

Your boyfriend increases the pressure on your clit, his tongue flicking rapidly against the sensitive bundle of nerves, your body tensing as you prepare for the inevitable release. Your hand went to his hair, fingers tangling with his beautiful locks, he chuckled against your pussy, before going back to his work. You barely had time to warn him, your body shook in ecstasy as you felt yourself squirt. Your heart was racing and your vision was blurry, your chest rising and falling in search of air.

Your boyfriend's eyes widen in surprise as he feels your pussy clench and release around his finger, your juices gushing out and coating his chin. He pulls back, looking up at you with a mixture of shock and excitement on his face. His voice woke you up from your trance.

"Holy shit, did you just squirt?" he exclaims, his voice filled with awe and disbelief. "I've never seen you do that before!"

He grins at you, his face glistening with your juices, and you can't help but feel a sense of pride at the effect you've had on him. He looks like a kid on Christmas morning, his eyes sparkling with joy and anticipation. "That was so fucking hot!" he says, his voice filled with enthusiasm. "I want to see you do it again." He was already going back between her legs.

"No, no, no! Fuck, I am sensitive, you dumbass...!" Your mind barely processed what you said, and when you realized it, you didn't expect him to listen to you, but he did. With a sad exaggerated expression, but he obeyed, at least.

"Aw, but I was having so much fun." he pouts, his lower lip jutting out in an exaggerated display of sadness.

He crawls up your body, resting his head on your chest, his ears pressed against your heart. You can feel his breath, warm and steady, rising and falling with each beat of your heart.

"I'm sorry, baby..." he murmurs, his voice soft, but you knew it was just another one of his attempts at manipulation. You were already used to it enough to recognize it. "I just wanted to play around a bit, I didn't expect things to unfold this way."

"Be quiet or get out of here." You snapped, eyes closing. "You better kill me before I wake up with energy again, because you're going to pay for all this shit."

He faced you, his hand resting on your waist as he observed how upset you were. Which, to be fair, he should have expected. "Come on, baby," he murmured, as if he were pleading for you to talk to him, but it only sounded like mocking. "I made you cum, didn't I?"

When you didn't answer him, he continued. "We both know you'll forgive me before the morning, princess."

Of course he expected you'd let him get away with this. As you always did. But he didn't blame you—he would always find a way to manipulate you, because it suited him so much more.

"You'll be lucky if I even look you in the face after all this, let alone forgive you." You said and covered yourself with the blanket, pushing him away from you and laying with your back to him.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance, having to resist the urge to roll his eyes. He knew you'd give in and forgive him... eventually.

"That's cute." He said, with a scoff. "You act like you have any choice." He said, standing up and picking up his clothes. He stared at his mask, wondering whether to take it or not, but smiled, deciding to leave it as a reminder for you.

[pome-seed]

Soldat

Pairing: Winter Soldier! x Doctor!Reader

Word Count: 1.0k

Summary: The reader knew her soft hearted connection to her unwilling patient would become a tool her captors used against her. So, after escaping captivity only to find the soldier waiting in her motel room to retrieve her, she shouldn't have been shocked.

Authors Note: Hi guys! This is the first of my works that I've ever posted on here, so please be kind :). This is a snippet from an incredibly long and complicated novel length fic I've written about a doctor being taken captive by Hydra Pre CATWS, to care for the Winter Soldiers declining health. Hope you guys like it!

Song Choice: Haunted by Beyonce

His silhouette cast a heavy shadow across her body. “Soldat…” She whispered, her gaze nervously flickering up to meet his. 

He looked pained as he stared down at her. His tormented blue eyes were shadowed by his tightly knit brow. The black mask locking his jaw shut muffled any words he could have said. Though she doubted that he’d say anything if he could. 

“Please don’t do this…” She whispered, too afraid to slide her foot backwards to put space between them. 

His breath came in heavy pants against his muzzle. His metal hand slowly rose and slid around her wrist. She gasped at the cold feeling. “I can’t go back there-” She wavered, trying to tug her arm back. He just blinked at her, his hold on her like steel. “Soldat please- please tell me you can hear me-”

But he couldn’t. Because the man she was speaking to wasn’t just the Soldat. He was the Winter Soldier. And there was nothing she could do to stop him. 

Not when she was his mission. 

He took a slow step forward into her space, crowding her into the wall. Her breath hitched, stomach twisting fearfully. His cold flesh hand brushed against her waist before his fingers dug into her hip. 

“Please…”

Her feet left the ground as he yanked her close and hauled her over his shoulder. She yelped, struggling against him, but his metal arm hissed as it circled her waist and locked in place. The man moved like smoke, slipping easily in and out of her hotel room without a sound. She sobbed as she writhed on top of him. 

Panic surged in her veins, deep and piercing. She couldn’t escape his grip. And she couldn’t call for help. The Soldier would kill anyone who interfered with his mission, whether he wanted to or not. And she couldn’t bear the thought of doing that to someone. 

She was trapped. 

When she escaped, her only hope was staying hidden. But now it was too late. 

The Soldier walked in steady silence, his heavy duty boots barely crunching against the pavement. “Soldat-” She grunted, her nails digging into the leather suit on his back. 

She could reach for his belt. She could grab his gun. But he knew she wouldn’t. They all did. Because that was the whole point of sending the Soldier after her. They knew she would never hurt him. 

She couldn’t even imagine it. 

“Please listen to me-” She gasped, his shoulder digging into her stomach and stealing her breath. “None of this is real- you can come with me-”

But it was useless. The man inside couldn’t hear her. Not really.

He was trapped in the prison that was his body.

She could see it in his eyes, the fight, the cloudy daze. She could see the way his fingers twitched and his breath rose and fell quickly. Deep down he knew what he was doing, and god did he want to stop, but he just couldn’t. 

A black suv parked in the alleyway behind her motel beeped to life. He laid her out in the back seat and grabbed her wrists. She heard the sound of duct tape tearing before she saw it. 

She tried to scramble back but he caught her ankle and yanked her back to the edge of the seat. “Don’t do this- I���m begging you-” She wept, the sticky tape pressing into her skin as he taped her wrists together. 

She reached out, her trembling fingers brushing his mask, long dark strands of hair tickling her knuckles. His gaze shifted to hers, dull and clouded. His brows knit together as she begged, the words falling flat before him. Recognition was just beyond his reach. 

A gloved hand gripped her jaw firmly, but without excessive force. He held her there for a moment, steadying her as she verged on hyperventilation. “Soldat…” She whispered, willing him to hear the humanity in her voice.

His thumb swept over her lips, pressing them together. She swallowed around the lump forming in her throat. The soldier watched her as he pressed the last piece of tape over her mouth, his palm smoothing it down over her lips. 

Tears slipped down her cheeks, staining her flushed skin. He watched one travel and drip onto his glove before he pulled away. 

He pushed her back and the door slammed shut, and she knew it was over. It was all over.

Authors Note: I hope you like it! Just a little something from my hundreds of thousands words length fics I've been writing about my man Bucky. Please please let me know if you're interested in more! I have a lot, haha! Comment and let me know what you thought! (Please be kind)

[docile-dove]

Cheating yandere

I Only Ever Loved You.

Tw: cheating, begging(lots of it), bone breaking, manipulation, killing, harming reader, bondage,Emotional abuse, physical violence, captivity, obsession, disturbing behavior, non con

The room was cold, silent—until the door slammed open behind you.

"Wait!" His voice cracked, desperation oozing from every syllable.

You didn’t look back. You couldn’t. If you saw his face, you knew you might break. You have seen some other girls underwear lying there with the bed reeking with alcohol, sweat and cum. Assuming he cheated, you just clutched your bag tighter, fingers trembling. "I can explain," he said, voice thick with emotion as he approached. "It wasn’t what it looked like—"

You spun on him, eyes blazing. "I've seen enough evidence, Ren!"

He flinched like you'd slapped him, but his expression twisted into something pitiful. “I was drunk,” he whispered, stepping closer. “I thought she was you.” (typical lame ah excuse)

You stared in disbelief. “You thought she was me?” He reached for your arm—gently, but you stepped back. That made something flicker in his eyes.

“No, no, you don’t get it,” Ren said, his voice cracking. “You’re all I ever think about. Even when I’m out of my mind, you’re the only one in my head. That’s why I… I thought it was you. I swear.”

You shook your head, disgust creeping into your stomach. “I made a mistake,” he continued, eyes watering. “A horrible, stupid mistake. But I’ll fix it. I have to.”

He grabbed your wrists before you could respond, grip tightening slightly—not painful, not yet. “You can’t leave me. I won’t let you.”

You froze.

“I already took care of her,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “She was nothing. She meant nothing. Just a stupid, worthless girl who got in the way.”

You looked up, horrified. “What did you do?”

Ren smiled—soft, almost sweet. “She won’t be bothering us anymore.” The room felt colder suddenly, your skin crawling with unease.

“You’re insane,” you whispered.

He cupped your cheek, thumb brushing away a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen. “If loving you makes me insane, then I’ll gladly lose my mind.” You tried to pull away, but his grip only tightened. "Please don’t leave me,” he begged, lips brushing against your forehead. “You’re all I have. Everything I do—everything—I do for us.”

Your breath hitched, the lines between fear and pity blurring. His voice was warm, soothing, like a lullaby designed to keep you from noticing the chains tightening around your ankles.

“You don’t need anyone else,” he whispered. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll love you the way you deserve. No one will ever hurt you again. Not even me. I promise.”

His promises were poison, sweet and addictive. But you can't trust him.

“No,” you said, voice hard despite your trembling.

Ren froze. Your word cut through the air like a blade. Cold. You watched the smile drop from his face, like a mask slipping. His eyes widened slightly, shimmering with disbelief.

“What… did you say?”

“I said no,” you repeated, standing your ground even though your heart pounded so loudly it hurt. “I don’t forgive you. I don’t want to stay. You don’t get to lay your hands on me. Not anymore.”

His mouth parted, trembling, searching for words. “You don’t mean that,” he whispered. “You’re just upset. You’re hurt. I can fix this, I can, just please—”

You turned and walked toward the door. And that’s when you heard it: the sound of him hitting the floor.

“Please!” You spun just in time to see Ren collapse to his knees, his hands stretched out, shaking. His eyes were wet, red-rimmed and wide like an abandoned puppy. “Don’t go. I’ll die if you go,” he choked out, crawling forward pathetically.

“I swear I’ll do anything. I’ll change, I’ll never drink again, I’ll never even look at anyone else, just—don’t leave me!” You didn’t speak. You didn’t move.

He reached you and grabbed the hem of your shirt like a lifeline, clutching it in his fists. “You’re all I have,” he whispered, face buried against your stomach.

“You’re the only thing that keeps me breathing. You're my lifeline.. please.”

You reached down, pried his fingers off you, like dirt was touching you. He didn’t like that. His hands snapped around your wrists, grip turning harsh.

“Why are you doing this to me?!” he snarled suddenly, pulling you down to your knees with him. Making you let out a yelp. “After everything, after all the love I’ve given you—you want to throw me away?!”

You tried to pull back, but his grip turned ironclad.

“Let go of me!”

“No!” he yelled. “No, no, no, you’re not leaving me like some cheap thing you toss aside! You’re mine! You were always mine! That bitch was just some stupid whore, a fling! She meant NOTHING to me." He slams a hand on the wall beside you, close enough to make you flinch, breathing ragged

His face was inches from yours, flushed with rage and desperation. “Do you know what I did for you? I killed for you. I destroyed everything just to keep you safe! And this is how you thank me?!”

Your voice was small, but steady. “You’re hurting me..”

That made something snap. His eyes flicked down to his grip—and for a moment, just a moment—he let go. You didn’t run or scream. You just looked at him with eyes full of disgust. And that hurt him more than anything.

He fell back onto the floor, staring at his hands like they weren’t his. His breath shook, tears falling silently now. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he whispered. “I just… I don’t know how to live without you.” You stood up. Looked down at him like he was a stranger.

“Then learn.” You turned toward the door again. And behind you, you heard the shift. The moment of silence that comes right before something breaks. Calm before the storm, they say.

You barely got the door open when a hand yanked you back by your hair. You screamed—but only for a second before your breath was knocked out of you.

Ren tackled you to the floor, the world spinning as your head smacked against the hardwood. He was on top of you, shaking, eyes wide and crazed. You felt your head get dizzy.

“You really tried to run?” he hissed. “After everything I said? After everything I gave you?! I even BEGGED you. I was on your feet like you're my goddess.”

You thrashed under him, nails clawing at his arms, but he was stronger—and now, he was unhinged.

“You’re not leaving me!” he shouted, grabbing down at your ankle and twisting. Squeezing harder and harder until..

Crack.

It echoed through the room, followed by a scream of yours. Your throat felt dry and painful from screaming.

Agony flared up your leg. You couldn’t tell if it was dislocated or broken, but the pain was blinding. Ren froze for half a second, looking at your ankle in horror… and then smiled. A sick, fragile smile.

“Now you won’t be going anywhere.” he murmured, trying his best not to laugh. He grabs your hair while you're still shocked in pain of what just happened and then he dragged you down the stairs to the basement. You try to struggle, grabbing the floor, his leg, anything to stop this. Your mind still not over the excruciating pain you felt in your ankle.

The basement was colder than you remembered. The air stale. Damp. The scent of mildew mixed with something worse—something rotting. The smell of blood. Wait....rotting—?

You were thrown against a mattress on the floor. Wincing as your leg hit the mattress harshly. One leg being useless and the other tied with a coarse rope that burned your skin. He worked fast—bindings around your ankles, then your wrists.

You turned your head slowly.. to see the girl he cheated on you with lying there dead. That's what you thought atleast, it was unrecognizable with the acid melting her face and privates right off. You could see the multiple stab wounds and various other torture devices around her.

You felt like puking, your chest feeling pain at this point, from the horrors u just witnessed. You gagged, kicked, screamed and cursed him. It only made him grin wider and feel some sick arousal in his pants. “You’re so pretty when you’re scared and struggling,” he whispered, brushing hair out of your face with a bloodied hand.

“Like a wild trapped animal. So stubborn. So full of fight. It’s cute.” Your chest rose and fell in quick, panicked bursts, trying your best not to whimper. The last thing you wanted to do was make him feel even more pleasure.

“Let me go, Ren. You’re sick. You need help..”

“I need you,” he snapped. “But you… you were gonna leave. Like I was some mistake to be erased. Like I was nothing.” His fists clenched. His voice cracked again.

“I was drunk—I thought she was you! Why can’t you just understand that?! Why can’t you just forgive me?!”

You glared at him, even through the tears. “Because you’re a monster!”He stopped. Then he turned slowly toward you, head tilted and laughed. It was soft at first, then louder. Hysterical.

“A monster?” he repeated. “No, no, no, sweetheart. A monster would’ve left you. A monster wouldn’t beg on his knees for you. A monster wouldn’t kill for you. A monster wouldn’t try to make you his whole world.”

He crouched next to you, pressing his forehead against yours. You tried to pull away, but the ropes held you firm.

Then his hand closed around your throat—not tight enough to kill, just tight enough to make you gasp, to feel like the air was always just out of reach.

“You don’t get to run anymore,” he whispered. “You don’t get to say no. You’re mine now. Forever.” Your vision blurred from the lack of oxygen and the dizziness you felt when he crushed your head on the ground.

He choked you harder. Pushing himself onto you, making you feel even more panicked and suffocated. He captured your lips and bit down harshly, licking the blood off your mouth.

You tried your best not to fall unconscious, afraid of the things he'd do to your body. You turned your head to the side with all your strength. He smiled and gently guided his lips down your neck, thinking you were inviting him to kiss your neck too. His sick, twisted mind.

You whimper seeing the rotting corpse again and close your eyes tight. He grinds on you, feeling your body, his hands caressing your hips and stomach. You felt disgusted.

"Stop.. ugh.. i dont—"

"Oh? Youre still awake?" He coos gently. He then covers your mouth and nose harshly, enjoying seeing your eyes shoot up suddenly as your sounds muffle in his hands. "Just fucking go unconscious. I need this more than you and i dont have the energy to put up with your begging and whining. Let me fuck you in peace, slut."

You struggle with the last of your strength before everything goes black.

[empresskylo]

I don't know if you take requests but I would love a fic where Ghost returns hurt badly and the doc tells him not to make any effort, so in return reader needs to ride him during ��️their time✨️

I would really appreciate it 🫶🏻 love you and your writing 🫶🏻🩷

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 sure can. thank u for this because i am now obsessed with the idea of a hurt ghost who wants you so desperately that he doesn't even care about the pain and lets you ride him slowly 😩

⋆｡°✩CONTENT WARNINGS | afab!reader, feminine pet names used, smut! 18+ (2k words)

cod masterlist | main masterlist

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐖

“Come’re,” Simon mumbled towards you. You came to sit beside him on his bed where he’d likely be stationed for the next week or so given the extent of his injuries.

His large hands brushed over your hips and tugged you towards him. You giggled, letting him pull you against him, trying your hardest to avoid putting any pressure on his shoulder wound that had fresh stitches just begging to rip.

“Simon, be careful,” you muttered into his chest as his arms wrapped firmly around you.

He hummed into your hair, his fingers stroking the soft skin of your upper arm. He didn't care about the pain, he just missed you and wanted your body against his.

You played with the fabric of his dark grey t-shirt, relishing in the way the man that was usually strapped to the nines in military gear was stripped almost bare. His mask had been forgotten, all his tactical gear tucked beside his bed. He had on black sweatpants and a t-shirt. That was it. His hair was disheveled from being locked away in his mask and then promptly shoved against a pillow while repairs were made to his arm.

Simon wasn’t usually the most touchy person, but something about being injured made him want to have you all over him—probably the drugs—and he was desperate to have you. He didn't care if his arm groaned in pain.

His hand wandered lower on your body, the faint glow from the hall subtly illuminating the two of you alone in the infirmary for the night.

“Simon,” you warned as his hand gripped your ass.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he said smoothly.

You titled your head to look up at him, his dark eyes still smudged with black paint.

His face was stoic but you could see something kindling in his eyes. You shifted your arm to stretch across his stomach and felt your hand brush against something hard…

“You don’t want your stitches to come out,” you said softly, knowing where this was going. Leave it to Simon to be horny only hours after returning from a brutal mission, his shoulder wrapped and bandaged from a bullet wound.

“Hm?” He hummed pretending not to heed your warnings. His arms tried to hike you up closer to him, wanting you to straddle his waist, when you heard him grunt in frustration.

You rolled your eyes, sitting up on your own. “Stop moving. The doc said you needed rest,” you said with a grin forming on your lips.

Simon relaxed back against the pillow and watched you curiously as you shuffled on top of him, a knee on either side of his hips. His arms couldn’t stop themselves as he reached out and gripped your exposed hips, your shirt riding up.

“Let me take care of you for once,” your voice was barely above a whisper, sending a chill up Simon’s spine. He was always the one to take control. He liked being the one in power. Liked to toss you around and make demands. But now, with his arm injured, you were going to be the one in command tonight.

His fingers aimlessly traced circles on your hips as you leaned down and connected your lips to his. The kiss started sweet and gentle before you both fought for dominance, his tongue swirling yours, his teeth grazing your lips, one of his hands coming up to pull your head further into him.

You desperately reached down between your bodies and palmed Simon through his sweatpants eliciting a groan from him that you quickly swallowed.

"Fuck, I've missed you," he said with a husky breath before kissing you again. You smiled against his lips.

"Mmm," you hummed against him. "What did you miss the most?" You slowly worked him above his pants, his hips ever so slightly rocking into your hand.

"Your scent," he grumbled.

You pulled away, breaking the kiss to look at his dark eyes that somehow managed to look black. You were caught a bit off guard, a small laugh escaping you. "What?"

He used his good arm as his hand slid up your side and pushed the hair that he had messed up behind your ear. "The way you smell. I didn't realize how much I loved the way you smelt like rain and goddamn sugar cookies until I was surrounded by Soap, Price, and Gaz for weeks, in the middle of fuckin' summer."

You giggled again, running your hand through his hair as he stared at you, his gaze never wavering.

"And that laugh. God how I missed hearing that." His hand slid over to your breast, gently groping it in his hand. "And your warm body tucked against mine at night. Slept like shit without you."

Your eyes fluttered closed as he kneaded your flesh, his kind words sending butterflies in your stomach.

"I fuckin' missed everything, pet."

You hummed in contentment, his hand moving back to the hem of your shirt, edging it upwards. You opened your eyes and tore your shirt off, then your bra, leaving you exposed to him. He groaned in satisfaction as he took in your bare chest. His hand gripped your neck and pulled you in for a kiss before he urged you up slightly so he could take your nipple into his mouth.

"Simon," you breathed through a moan as he sucked and nipped at you. You rocked your hips against him, his hard length feeling wonderful against your clothed center.

He released your nipple and kissed up to your neck, his hands brushing against the hem of your pants. "Need these off, love."

You obliged, shuffling your pants off awkwardly before settling on top of him again. He squeezed your ass in his hands, his teeth grazing your bottom lip.

You were very happy you decided to wear one of your less practical pair of panties. Simon slid his fingers along the tiny strap of your black and dainty thong before brushing over your clit. You mewled, burrowing your face in his neck as he rubbed his fingers up and down you.

He pushed your underwear aside and his fingers teased your entrance before you stopped him. You wanted to take care of him tonight. Not the other way around.

You trailed your hands down his chest, his shirt taut against his muscles, the hem riding up and exposing the V by his hips.

You licked your lips as you pulled him out of his sweats and underwear, his cock springing free. He watched you intently as you took the tip of him in your mouth, his hands running through your hair, gripping it in his fist when you took him in fully.

He moaned darkly as you slid your tongue around him while you bobbed your head up and down.

"Fuckin' hell, baby," he grunted in sparring breaths.

It didn't take long as you hollowed out your cheeks and let him hit the back of your throat before he pulled you off him. He had been without you for so long that he had been dreaming about being inside you. It was all he could think about. He needed you.

His thumb wiped along your bottom lip as you caught your breath. He smirked mischievously as he pulled you in for another kiss.

You reached down between your bodies and shifted your underwear to the side, too impatient to take them off. He stroked his fingers against your cunt, mumbling to himself. "Fuckin' hell, you're soaked."

He fisted his cock, using your juices for lub, and helped to line you up with him. Your hand met his as you directed him, sitting down slowly. His head breached your entrance making you gasp. You heard Simon hum while you took him in painfully slow.

By the time you were fully seated, your nails were digging into his chest and your breathing was unsteady. Simon rubbed circles on your hips where his hands rested. "Take your time, baby," he said soothingly.

You tilted your head up to look at him and he pushed your hair out of your face before hooking his hand behind your neck and bringing you down to kiss him. As the kiss deepened, you instinctively rolled your hips making him grunt.

"Shit," he grumbled against your lips. You rested your head in the crook of his neck, breathing heavily onto his skin, his good arm wrapped tightly around you, and you began to rise up, feeling every ridge of his cock inside you.

"Jesus, baby. You feel fuckin' amazing," he said hoarsely. You mewled against him as you took up speed, trying to be gentle enough to not hurt his bad shoulder

"God.. Simon.. I missed you," you said through panting breaths. Simon gripped your ass firmly in his hands, allowing you to hit slightly deeper, making you let out a startled moan.

"I missed you too, sweet girl," he breathed against your lips. You connected your lips to his and swallowed each other's moans and gasps.

You hadn't even touched yourself since Simon left so you knew you weren't going to last long. You could feel the warmth pool in your lower belly, shocks of electricity shooting up your spine and chest whenever Simon hit that particular spot inside you.

The only sound in the dark room was your ragged breathing and the slight slap of your body as you collided against him. Your clit seemed to hit his skin in the perfect way that shocks coursed through you each time you sat down.

His arm around your waist began to help hoist your down to meet his hips, making you both break the kiss in a heady gasp. "Oh my god," you breathed.

"You close, pet?"

You nodded your head impatiently, squeezing your eyes closed as you felt your entire body fill with pleasure and love.

"Look at me, baby," he said. You fluttered your eyes open to look at Simon's whose were dark and looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered to him in this world. "I wanna watch as I make you come," he said, his hand fisting your hair as he tried to control himself to not finish before you did.

You nodded again, unable to speak in coherent words.

"Fuck--Gah, fuck," he growled, feeling himself grow dangerously close. "Come for me, love. Please," he begged, not wanting to finish until he felt you clench around him.

You groaned, your arms going weak against him, having to use all your strength to keep bouncing up and down. "Simon," you whispered as your walls tensed around him, crushing him almost painfully. That was enough to send Simon over the edge with you, coming inside you as you babbled and whined, your walls clenching and unclenching, sending intense waves of pleasure through Simon.

"Thats it, baby," he managed through grunts. You collapsed against his chest as you lazily kept riding him up and down, his hand cradling your head, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he continued to come in spurts.

"Fuckin' hell," he groaned, stopping your hips from moving to avoid overstimulation. He held you close as you both tried to catch your breath, both of your eyes heavy, your bodies spent.

He ran soothing patterns against your back as you lay against him, smiling in contentment.

"Stay the night?" he asked in an almost plea. As if you might say no.

It wasn't long after that you were curled up against Simon, your legs intertwined with his, your head tucked under his chin, his arm gripping him closely, that you both fell asleep.

[thoughtdaughtersworld]

Silent Lullabies Pt 4.

Azriel X f!reader

Summary: Azriel and Y/n take a step closer to each other but is that enough

Warnings: angst, emotional turmoil!!

Authors note: Finally back!!! I've been dealing with major writers block and just trying to survive in school lol. Also this chapter is a bit short but the next one is going to be longer.

**************************************************

The words hit you like a wave, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze. Everyone went still, and then the murmur of congratulations began, but you were still frozen. They had all been smiling, but their eyes flickered nervously toward you, unsure of how to react, how to celebrate when they knew the state of your heart, when they knew you were not quite there with them.

You tried to smile, tried to be happy for her, and you whispered, “I’m happy for you, Fey,” but the words felt like they got stuck in your throat. It wasn’t that you weren’t happy for her—of course, you were but something sharp and painful cut through you. You hated that you felt sad. You hated that the joy you wanted to share with her felt tainted by the emptiness inside you.

Feyre’s voice softened, and she started, “I wish-” but she didn’t finish.

“Don’t,” you whispered, your voice tight, almost broken. You stood up quickly, needing to put some distance between you and the table, between you and the growing ache in your chest. You reached out, pulling her into a hug. “You’ll make an excellent mother,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. Feyre hugged you back tightly, her arms warm and reassuring, but all you could feel was the distance between you and everything that used to be.

You pulled back from the hug, forcing a smile even though it felt like a mask slipping over your face. “Excuse me, I’ll be going to bed,” you said quietly, the words barely more than a whisper. You couldn’t stay there, couldn’t sit at the table and pretend everything was okay when it felt like your walls were cracking under the pressure.

You turned quickly, walking toward your room, but as you passed through the hall, you heard the sound of their laughter, their congratulations, the excited murmurs of joy filling the air. And you stopped for a moment, your hand on the doorframe, your chest tight. You wanted to be happy for her. You wanted to celebrate with them. But why did it feel like everything inside of you was crumbling, like you were too far gone to share in that happiness? 

**************************************************

Azriel had seen how broken you were when Feyre announced her pregnancy. He had felt it through the bond you had forgotten to close off this evening. Every raw emotion crashed into him, the sharp sting of sorrow, the aching hollowness that you tried to bury beneath a forced smile. It settled inside him like a weight, pressing against his ribs, making it hard to breathe.

His eyes followed you as you walked away, his shadows shifting restlessly, aching to follow you, to wrap around you and shield you from this moment. But he stayed seated, forcing himself to believe that maybe—just maybe, you wanted space. That you needed to process this on your own.

But anger burned low and simmered beneath his skin. They knew. Rhys and Feyre knew how fragile you still were, how much you had lost, how much you still carried. And yet they had sprung this on you tonight, in front of everyone, as if it wouldn’t crack something inside you. Azriel was happy for them truly, he was, but did it have to be now?

"Excuse me," he said, standing abruptly.

Rhys reached out, stopping him before he could leave. “Az,” he murmured, regret lining his voice.

Feyre’s face was tight with guilt as she glanced toward the door you had disappeared through. "I didn’t think she was going to come down tonight," she admitted. "I had planned to announce it, but… I should have waited."

Azriel clenched his jaw, his wings tensing as he exhaled sharply. He wanted to be understanding, he knew Feyre hadn’t meant to hurt you, but that didn’t change the fact that she had. That Rhys had.

"You should have waited," he said, his voice low, controlled, but edged with something sharp. "She’s barely keeping herself together as it is."

Feyre’s expression crumbled, her lips pressing into a thin line. "I know," she whispered. "I just—I thought maybe it would bring her some happiness."

Azriel scoffed softly, shaking his head. "You thought wrong."

Rhys sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Az—"

But Azriel was already turning away. "I’m checking on her," he said, leaving no room for argument.

Just before he stepped out of the room, he paused, glancing back at them. His gaze softened, sincerity threading through his words. "Congratulations, brother. Truly, I mean it." And then he walked out.

The hall was quiet, save for the distant murmurs of celebration behind him. But his focus was already elsewhere. His shadows stretched ahead, slipping under doors and down corridors, searching for you, drawn to your pain as much as he was.

And when he reached your door, hesitating only for a second before knocking softly. No answer

Azriel knocked again, harder this time, his patience fraying. Still no answer. A sinking feeling clawed at his chest, and before he could second-guess himself, he pushed the door open.

The room was empty.

Panic shot through him like ice. His shadows darted ahead, swirling through the space, searching, desperate. The room was eerily still, untouched, but then—then, his eyes caught the faintest flicker of movement. A sliver of light from the slightly ajar bathroom door.

Azriel crossed the room in a heartbeat, the door creaking as he pushed it open.

His breath caught.

Glass shimmered across the tiled floor, jagged pieces reflecting the dim light. And there, in the too-cold water of the bathtub, you sat curled into yourself, your arms wrapped tight around your body.

His heart pounded against his ribs. The sight of you, so small, so utterly broken—knocked the breath from his lungs and almost brought him to his knees.

"Love," his voice cracked, raw with emotion as he moved closer, careful of the glass beneath his boots. You didn’t respond. You only stared blankly ahead, as if you weren’t even fully here, as if you had been dragged somewhere unreachable.

Azriel crouched beside the tub, his hands hovering above the water, unsure if you’d let him touch you. "You're freezing," he whispered, his voice thick with something dangerously close to desperation.

Still, you didn’t move.

Azriel doesn’t hesitate. He pulls off his boots, stepping into the tub without a second thought, the cold water soaking through his clothes as he settles across from you. He doesn’t care. Not about the chill, not about the discomfort—only about you.

For a long moment, neither of you speak. The silence stretches, thick with things unsaid, until his voice finally breaks through.

“Talk to me,” he pleads, his hands finding your arms, rubbing slow, steady circles in a desperate attempt to warm you. His touch is gentle, grounding. “Please.”

You swallow hard, your gaze dropping to where the water ripples between you. “I didn’t—” Your voice falters, but you force yourself to continue. “I am happy for Feyre. If that’s why you’re here.” You lift your eyes to meet his, searching, hoping he understands. “I just… I just couldn't be in there.”

“Hey,” he says softly, tilting his head, trying to catch your gaze. “I’m here for you. And you never have to explain what you feel to me, not now, not ever.” His voice is firm, unwavering. “I’m always on your side, no matter what.”

You nod, biting the inside of your cheek to keep the tears at bay.

Azriel watches you for a beat before exhaling through his nose, as if making a decision. “Come on,” he murmurs, reaching for a towel. He wraps it around your trembling body, his movements careful, deliberate. The warmth seeps into your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the warmth in his touch, the steady way he holds you as he helps you up.

He doesn’t say a word as he dries you off, dresses you in one of your softer nightgowns, then guides you to the bed. Only after cleaning up the shattered glass does he return, standing beside you, his eyes still searching, still worried.

He’s about to say something when you shake your head, cutting him off.

"I'll be fine, Az," you say, forcing a small, fragile smile. You don’t want him to stay. You don’t want him to see how bad your nights have become.

For a moment, he doesn’t move. His gaze lingers on you, as if debating whether or not to push.

"Don't do that," Azriel says, his jaw clenching. "Don't push me away."

He wanted—needed—to be here with you. He knew the mental toll tonight had taken on you.

You stay quiet. "I just can't do this right now," you exhale, the lie slipping easily from your lips. "I just need to be by myself."

Azriel steps forward, kneeling in front of you. You try your hardest to look anywhere but at him, to escape the vulnerability in his eyes, because you know one look is all it would take for you to give in.

His fingers brush against your cheek, tilting your face towards him, his touch impossibly gentle..

"I'm scared." His voice wavers.

Your breath catches. "What?"

Azriel takes a shuddering breath, his throat bobbing as he swallows.

"I'm scared that if I walk out that door, something's going to happen." His voice is barely above a whisper now, raw with emotion. "And I—" He exhales shakily. "I just can't leave you."

You look into his eyes, and for a moment, it feels like the world is standing still. There’s so much pain in his gaze, so much fear—for you, for what might happen if he leaves. The vulnerability that’s always been hidden beneath his tough exterior is laid bare, and you realize that this isn’t just about you anymore. It’s about him, too.

You feel the weight of everything pressing on your chest, the guilt, the sadness, the exhaustion and yet, there’s something else, something unexpected: relief. He’s here. He wants to be here.

You blink, swallowing the knot in your throat.

"Az... I..." The words feel so small, so insignificant in the face of what you both are going through. But you know you can’t push him away anymore.

The silence between you stretches, and then, before you can stop yourself, you reach out, pulling him closer. His breath hitches as he leans into you, the tension in his body melting the second your arms encircle him.

For a moment, he’s still, unsure. Then he lets out a long, quiet sigh, as if he’s been holding his breath for hours.

"Please," he whispers against your hair, his voice broken. "Just tonight. Let me be here."

And you do. You let go of the part of you that wanted to push him away, the part that convinced you you didn’t deserve this. You let him hold you, feel his warmth, his presence wrapping around you like a blanket.

Because, at the end of the day, you both needed this. You needed him, just as much as he needed you.

**************************************************

Azriel didn’t sleep the entire night. He held you through every shuddering breath, every restless toss and turn, as if letting go would mean losing you completely. He hadn’t realized how desperately he’d needed to hold you, to remind himself that you were still here. That he could still do something.

Now, with the first light creeping through the curtains, he watches your brow furrow in sleep. Without thinking, he leans down and presses a soft kiss against your forehead, smoothing away the tension, just like you always did for him.

A small part of him wants to stay like this, wants to pretend that last night meant things were getting better. But he knows better.

So he moves carefully, slipping out of bed, intending to make you breakfast because deep down, he had a sickening feeling you hadn’t been eating.

But the moment he stands, something brushes against his leg.

Azriel stills, frowning as he kneels, reaching under the bed. His fingers close around something cold, and when he pulls it into the morning light, his stomach turns.

A bottle.

His pulse pounds in his ears as he glances back under the bed. More of them. Hidden away.

A sharp breath hisses through his teeth. He doesn’t even realize he’s gripping the bottle too tightly until his knuckles ache.

Behind him, you stir.

A groan leaves your lips as you wake, head throbbing, the remnants of nightmares clinging to you like a second skin. You blink blearily, still expecting to be alone, only to find Azriel sitting rigidly at the edge of the bed, his back turned to you, shoulders tense.

Something was wrong.

“Az?” Your voice is still rough with sleep, but there’s something else now, an undercurrent of dread curling through your ribs.

He doesn’t answer right away.

When he finally turns to face you, his jaw is clenched so tight it looked painful. He held your gaze for a long, unreadable moment before he spoke.

“I think you need to talk to Madja.”

Your stomach drops.

“What?” you force out,

Azriel exhales sharply, the sound barely controlled. “I’m worried about you.”

You shake your head immediately. “Az, I’m fine.”

His expression doesn’t change. If anything, it hardens. “You think drinking yourself to oblivion every night is fine?”

The room tilts slightly. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw the bottles,” he says quietly, but there’s an edge to his voice now, something restrained, like a thread pulled too tight. “Under your bed.”

Your breath stutters, and something like shame claws at your throat. But you shove it down, sitting up straighter. “It’s not—It’s not like that.”

Azriel looks at you, his hazel eyes dark and unwavering. “Then what is it like?”

You hate that he’s seeing this. Hate that he’s looking at you like that-like he’s trying to put together the pieces of something broken.

“I don’t need to talk to Madja,” you say, your voice sharper now, defensive. “I’ve been doing fine.”

“No,” Azriel says, shaking his head. “You haven’t.”

 “You don’t get to decide that.” You grit your teeth

“I’m not deciding anything,” he says, the frustration bleeding into his voice. “I’m telling you what I see. And I see you drowning.”

Your nails dig into your palms. “I don’t need your help.”

Azriel exhales, slow and measured, like he’s trying to keep himself in check. “That’s bullshit.”

You glare at him, your heart hammering against your ribs. “Why are you even here, Az? What, you want to play hero? Fix me?”

His jaw tightens. “I want you to stop pretending you’re okay when you’re not.”

“I didn’t ask for that.”

“No,” he says, his voice quieter now, but no less sharp. “You didn’t.” He looks at you, really looks at you, and something in his expression flickers, something raw, something almost pleading. “But I can’t just sit here and watch you destroy yourself.”

Something in your chest twists violently.

“Then don’t,” you say, your voice cold. “I’ve been fine without you for a while now.”

The words are out before you can stop them, sharp and cold and final.

Azriel stills. His fingers flex at his sides, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak for a long moment. And then, finally, he exhales through his nose and pushes to his feet.

A muscle jumps in his jaw as he looks down at you, his face unreadable. “Fine.” It shouldn’t sting, but it does.

He steps back, shadows curling at his heels as he heads for the door. But just before he reaches it, he pauses. Doesn’t look back.

“I meant what I said,” he murmurs, voice quiet but firm. “About always being here for you. We made a vow to each other and I intend on keeping it”

And then he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind him. And you’re left alone.

The silence that follows is suffocating.

You stare at the door, heart still pounding, fingers curled into the sheets like they’re the only thing anchoring you.

He’s gone.

You should feel relieved. This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? To keep him at a distance, to stop him from seeing the parts of you that were fraying at the edges. To protect him from the mess you’ve become.

But all you feel is hollow.

Your eyes flicker to the bottle still clutched in your hand. You don’t even remember grabbing it, but there it is—cool and solid against your palm, the last thing tethering you to reality.

You squeeze your eyes shut and inhale deeply, willing the tremor in your hands to stop.

Azriel saw. He knew. And now, there was no taking it back. You should’ve known better than to think you could hide this from him.

You don’t know how long you sit there, staring at the wall, your mind racing in circles. Minutes? Hours? The light outside shifts, and eventually, you drag yourself out of bed, feeling like you’re moving through water.

You pace the room once. Twice. Your skin felt too tight, your chest too full.

You needed air.

Your feet carry you towards the balcony before you can think twice about it, and before you know it, you’re outside, the cool morning air biting at your skin. You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to ward off the chill, but it does nothing for the ache inside your ribs.

Azriel’s scent lingers in your room. The ghost of him still clings to the space he left behind.

And gods, you wanted to chase after him.

You wanted to run to him, tell him you didn’t mean it, that you didn't want him to go.

But you don’t.

Instead, you sink down onto the floor, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes as the weight of everything crashes over you.

You don’t know how long you sit there, but eventually, exhaustion wins.

And when you finally drag yourself back inside, the only thing left is the gnawing, empty quiet.

*************************************************

Azriel didn’t know his heart could break more than it already had, until today.

Your words echoed in his mind, each one a confirmation of how much he had failed you. The weight of it was unbearable, suffocating. By the time he made it back to his room, his stomach twisted violently, and the first thing he did was stumble into the bathroom and throw up.

The realization hit him like a blade to the gut, you had drowned your sorrows in bottles instead of him. And the bitterness that followed was something he couldn’t shake.

Azriel gripped the edges of the sink, his knuckles white as he tried to steady himself. His reflection stared back at him, hollow-eyed, jaw clenched so tight it ached. Shadows curled around his shoulders, restless, feeding off the storm raging inside him.

You had chosen the bottle over him.

He squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling sharply through his nose. It shouldn’t matter..it wasn’t about him. This was about you, about the pain you carried, the weight you refused to share. And yet, the thought of you suffering alone, of you pushing him away when all he wanted was to help, made something inside him splinter.

He had known you were hurting, but seeing it up close, seeing the bottles stashed beneath your bed, the way you flinched at his concern made it real in a way he wasn’t prepared for. And it killed him.

His hands trembled as he turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on his face, hoping it would wash away the sick feeling in his gut. But it didn’t. Nothing would.

Because no matter how much he wanted to be the one to help you, you didn’t want his help.

And that hurt more than anything.

***************************************************

You weren't speaking to anyone in the house. The silence had become suffocating, a constant companion that pressed against you, reminding you of everything you couldn’t escape. Most days, you found yourself hiding away with Clotho, retreating to the library as a sanctuary from the chaos swirling inside your mind.

Feyre’s bump was unmistakable now, a joyful sign of life that only amplified the ache you carried. She’d tried to reach out, tried to talk to you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be around her. You couldn’t bear to cast a shadow over her happiness, and if you did, you knew how it would end: with you comforting her, reassuring her that none of this was her fault. That she had nothing to feel guilty for.

Cassian had made attempts, trying to coax even the faintest smile from you with his jokes. But Nesta saw it, the hollow look in your eyes, the way your lips never quite formed a smile. No matter how hard you tried, the façade wouldn’t stick. You couldn’t pretend anymore.

And Azriel… you and him were locked in your usual dance of silence, each passing day feeling heavier than the last. The weight of what had been left unsaid between you was unbearable, and the thought of trying to fix it seemed almost impossible.

You hadn’t touched a drink since that last argument, your longest streak in a while. You couldn’t even bring yourself to admit it to him, not after how things had ended. Not when you weren’t even sure if anything could ever be the same again.

They had all noticed how much worse you were getting. Yet, no one knew how to fix it

The house was eerily quiet when you returned from another long day with Clotho. Too quiet.

A sinking feeling settled in your stomach as you stepped inside.

Then you saw them...sitting in the living room, waiting for you. Concern was written all over their faces. Your eyes landed on Azriel, standing in the far corner, his jaw clenched tight, shadows curling at his feet.

And the absurdity of it all wasn’t lost on you. An intervention. They were staging a damn intervention.

[fvsm4x]

‚ 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜, 𝐈‘𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧‘𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 ‘ — 𝐀𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐬

𝐜𝐰. Best friends to fwb / fwb! gojo satoru x fem! reader / one sided love? / smut / gojo is kinda a whore / jealousy / kinda angsty / 18+ content / oral (f receiving) / fingering / p in v / 5k words

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠. : @starlightanyaaa @froufrousnowman @101strawberries101 @dazaisfavgf @the-lazy-perfectionist @maiiluvs @lukiaheart

November 26

The city skyline glittered under the moonlight, a sprawling array of lights against the night sky, painting a mesmerizing backdrop to the chaotic rhythm of the urban jungle. From your balcony, perched high above the city streets, you watched as life carried on below, oblivious to the turmoil brewing within you.

You picked up your phone, the screen glowing softly in the darkness, displaying a single message from him.

Satoru: you busy?

October 2

The neon lights of the bar flickered in the darkness, casting an ethereal glow over the crowded room on that Friday night. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol and the hum of conversation, creating an atmosphere charged with anticipation. Lost in your own thoughts, you sat at the bar, nursing your drink in silence, observing the world around you.

“Fancy meeting you here,” a voice drawled beside you, jolting you from your reverie.

Turning, you found Gojo Satoru sliding onto the stool beside you, his trademark smirk in place. “Can't say the feeling's mutual,” you retorted, taking a sip of your drink and pointedly ignoring him.

He chuckled, undeterred by your icy demeanor. “Come on, don't be like that. I'm just trying to be friendly.”

Rolling your eyes, you resisted the urge to scoff at his feeble attempt at charm. “Save it, Satoru. I've heard it all before.”

Raising an eyebrow, a hint of amusement danced in Gojo's eyes. “Touché. But you have to admit, we make quite the pair.”

You scoffed, downing the rest of your drink in one gulp. “Speak for yourself.”

As the night wore on, the tension between you grew, fueled by a potent combination of alcohol and unspoken desires. Arguing and bantering became your shared language, trading barbs and insults with the ease of long-time adversaries. But beneath the surface, a different kind of tension simmered—a tension born of attraction and longing, a tension that neither of you dared to acknowledge.

“You know, for someone who claims to hate me, you sure do spend a lot of time with me,” Gojo remarked, his lips quirking up into a sly grin.

“Maybe I just enjoy watching you make a fool of yourself,” you shot back, though the words rang hollow even to your own ears.

He chuckled, leaning in closer until his breath fanned against your ear. “Or maybe you just can't resist me.”

You tensed at his proximity, the heat of his body sending a shiver down your spine. “Don't flatter yourself,” you replied, though the words lacked conviction.

He leaned back, his grin widening into a smirk. “I'll take that as a yes.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn't deny the truth in his words. There was something undeniably magnetic about him, something that drew you in against your better judgment.

“Why do you always have to be such a pain?” you muttered, though your words lacked the bite of true conviction.

He chuckled, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. “Because it's fun.”

You swatted his hand away with a scowl, though your heart wasn't in it. “You're impossible.”

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “And yet, you love me.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words died on your lips as his gaze locked with yours. You furrowed your eyebrows and turned away from him.

“I could never lower my standards for a rodent like you.” you said, averting his gaze,

Gojo's smirk faltered for a moment, before he masked it with a nonchalant shrug. "Ouch, that hurts, (Y/N). I didn't realize I was dealing with such high standards."

You clenched your jaw, frustration bubbling beneath the surface as you struggled to maintain your composure. "High standards? More like basic human decency," you shot back."You're not nearly as interesting as you think you are." You lied.

He raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable as he studied you in silence for a moment. "Is that so?" he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, refusing to meet his gaze as you focused on the empty glass in front of you. "Yeah, it is," you spoke, the words leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

With a heavy sigh, Gojo leaned back, "Such a meany“ he muttered, a hint of playfulness in his voice.

You chuckled, shaking your head at his dramatics. "Oh, please," you retorted, rolling your eyes. "You love it when I give you a hard time. Keeps you on your toes."

Gojo's grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that, (Y/N)," he teased, "But deep down, you know you couldn't live without me."

You feigned a gag, a smile playing on your lips. "Don't flatter yourself, Satoru," you replied, though there was a hint of fondness in your tone. "I've managed just fine without you before, and I can do it again."

“Yeah, right,” he quipped, a playful glint in his eyes as he leaned back against the bar.

You arched an eyebrow at his retort, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips. "You doubt me, Satoru?" you replied, your voice dripping with mock indignation. "I'll have you know, I'm perfectly capable of thriving on my own."

He chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "Sure, sure," he said, his tone teasing. "But let's be honest, (Y/N). You'd miss me too much if I were gone."

You rolled your eyes, though there was a small kernel of truth in his words that you couldn't deny. "Yeah, right," you muttered, though the words lacked conviction.

As Gojo's phone buzzed with a notification, he glanced down and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. With a smirk, he tapped on the message, and his smirk widened into a grin as he turned the screen toward you.

"Look," he said, his voice tinged with amusement.

You glanced at the screen, expecting to see a harmless message or maybe a meme, but your eyes widened in shock as the image loaded. It was a picture—no, several pictures—of a woman in various states of undress, her features blurred out but her intentions unmistakable.

Your jaw dropped, heat rising to your cheeks as you struggled to process what you were seeing. "Are those...?" you started, unable to form a coherent sentence as your mind raced with a million questions.

Gojo chuckled, his amusement evident as he scrolled through the messages. "Looks like someone's eager to get my attention," he said, his voice dripping with arrogance.

You tore your gaze away from the screen, a mixture of embarrassment and anger bubbling beneath the surface. "That's disgusting," you muttered, unable to keep the disdain from your voice.

Gojo continued scrolling through the pictures, his expression shifting from amusement to mild annoyance. "Girls these days really are something else," he remarked, shaking his head,“I know i‘m handsome and allat but they need to chill out.“

You glanced at him with a deadpan expression. "Thats your fault," you replied, the words dripping with sarcasm.

He hummed in response, his attention still fixed on his phone. "You're not gonna go to her place after she sends you something like that?" you asked,

He shrugged, finally looking up from his phone. "Why should I?" he replied, his tone casual. "It's nothing new—I get pictures like that every day."

Your eyebrows shot up in disbelief at his nonchalant attitude. "Ah, right. I forgot my best friend is a whore," you retorted, unable to stop the words from slipping out.

Gojo's eyes widened in surprise at your accusation, a flicker of hurt crossing his features before he masked it with a practiced smirk. "Hey, now," he protested, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I prefer the term 'charming ladies' man,' thank you very much."

You rolled your eyes at his flippant response, unable to hide the hurt that lingered just beneath the surface. "Yeah, well, whatever helps you sleep at night," you muttered,

He leaned in, his playful demeanor shifting to something more serious. "You know that I wouldn't leave you just to be in another woman's bed" he said, his voice softer. "I'd rather be here with you to be honest.“

"Thats not what happened before" you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper.

He reached out, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. "The past is the past, (Y/N)," he said, his tone sincere. "You're the most important person in my life except for suguru. I wouldn't leave you here hanging for some chick, especially when you‘re drunk."

You looked up at him, searching his eyes for any hint of deception. But all you saw was the familiar warmth and mischief that had always drawn you to him. Despite everything, you couldn't help but smile.

He chuckled, his hand still resting on your shoulder. "Seriously. I know it can be hard to deal with me sometimes but if you ever need anything, you know I'm here for you."

You nodded, appreciating the sincerity in his words. "Yeah, I know."

The moment was interrupted by another buzz from Gojo's phone. He glanced down and sighed, rolling his eyes. "Not again," he muttered,

"What now?" you asked, curious despite yourself.

He turned the screen toward you, revealing another message from the same woman. This time, it was a video—equally suggestive and equally unwelcome.

„Don't show me that—” you muttered, turning away from the screen,“could've just said that you got another pair of nudes send“

"I don't wanna be the only one seeing that, gotta share it with someone.“ he replied, while letting out a soft chuckle.

You sighed.

„Didn’t I already tell her that it was a one-time thing?" Gojo muttered under his breath.

You couldn't help but snort at his predicament. "Looks like someone's not getting the hint."

He shook his head, quickly typing out a reply. "Some people just don't understand the word one-time thing," he grumbled,“I don't mind if women send me nudes though, it boosts my ego up.“ he replied with a chuckle after.

„Of course it does..“

You watched him for a moment, a thought forming in your mind. "Why don't you block her?" you suggested.

Gojo looked up, "I guess I could," he said slowly. "But that would be admitting defeat."

You rolled your eyes. "How would that admit your defeat? Only you would see it that way."

He chuckled, his fingers hovering over the block button. "Alright, fine." he said, finally pressing it. "She wasn't anything special anyways. I can always find a replacement for her.“

You rolled your eyes.

Gojo put his phone away and turned his full attention back to you. "So, what were we talking about before we were rudely interrupted?"

You smirked, leaning back in your chair. "How much you adore me, I think."

He laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Oh, right. That."

For the rest of the night, the conversation flowed easily between you. The barbs and insults remained, but they were laced with affection rather than frustration. The alcohol loosened your tongues and you found yourselves reminiscing about old times, sharing secrets, and laughing at inside jokes.

As the night drew to a close, you realized how much you valued these moments with Gojo. Despite his flaws and his infuriating arrogance, he was your best friend. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

Walking out of the bar, you stumbled slightly, the effects of the alcohol making themselves known. Gojo steadied you with a grin, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

"Easy there," he teased. "Can't have my best friend falling over."

You leaned into his embrace, grateful for his support. "Thanks, Satoru," you murmured, your voice soft.

He looked down at you, "Anytime, (Y/N). Anytime."

The walk to your apartment was filled with laughter and playful banter, the cool night air doing little to sober you up. The alcohol had settled into your system, making your steps uneven and your thoughts a bit hazy. Gojo's arm remained around your shoulders, guiding you along the familiar path.

Finally, you reached your door, fumbling with the keys as you tried to unlock it. Gojo chuckled, taking the keys from your hand and smoothly opening the door.

"You'd be lost without me," he teased, his breath warm against your ear.

"Shut up," you muttered, but there was no real bite in your words.

Inside, you kicked off your shoes and stumbled toward the couch, collapsing onto it with a sigh. Gojo followed, sitting beside you and stretching his arms out along the back of the couch.

"Do you need help with getting to the bedroom?" he remarked, his voice softer now.

"No it's fine," you replied, closing your eyes for a moment. When you opened them, you found him staring at you, his blue eyes intense and unreadable.

"What?" you asked, feeling a flush creep up your neck.

"Nothing," he said, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Just thinking how pretty you look even when you‘re drunk."

You rolled your eyes, but the compliment, however casual, warmed you. "You’re such a flirt," you said, your words slurring slightly.

"And you love it," he shot back, leaning in a bit closer.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the way his gaze seemed to pull you in, but you found yourself leaning in too, your breath hitching as the space between you shrank. Before you could second-guess yourself, your lips met his in a tentative kiss.

-

November 26

Satoru: you busy?

It had been the same message countless times over the past months.

The memory of that first night flashed in your mind. It had been a typical Friday evening, and you and Gojo had decided to unwind at your favorite bar. You had always been close, best friends who shared everything from secrets to inside jokes. But that night, something had shifted.

Gojo had looked at you differently, his gaze lingering a bit longer, his touches more frequent. You had felt a spark, a pull that you couldn’t ignore. The drinks had flowed, loosening your inhibitions, and before you knew it, you were back at your apartment, your lips crashing into his.

The next morning, tangled in sheets and the aftermath of a night you couldn’t quite believe had happened, Gojo had suggested the arrangement.

“Let’s keep it casual,” he had said, his tone nonchalant but his eyes intense. “No strings, just fun. What do you think?”

Caught between the high of what had just happened and the fear of losing him, you had agreed. You told yourself it was a good idea, a way to enjoy each other without complicating your friendship. But as the weeks turned into a month, it became clear that things weren’t so simple.

You replied to his message, your heart already racing at the thought of seeing him.

You: "No, come over."

Minutes later, there was a knock at your door. You opened it to find Gojo standing there, his familiar grin in place. He stepped inside, his presence filling the room. He was always like this—effortlessly confident, always in control.

“Miss me?” he teased, slipping off his shoes and stepping closer.

You forced a smile. “Yeah.”

His gaze lingered at you for a moment before he chuckled. His hands found your waist, pulling you into a kiss. It was intoxicating, the way he kissed you, but you knew better than to let yourself get lost in it. He was good at making you feel wanted, but there was a distance in his touch, a barrier you couldn’t breach.

As his lips moved against yours, you felt a familiar rush of heat. Gojo’s kisses were always intense, a blend of passion and skill that left you breathless. He deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with a practiced ease that made your knees weak. For a moment, you let yourself forget, let yourself drown in the sensation of his mouth on yours, his hands roaming over your body.

But then, reality intruded. The knowledge that this was all it would ever be, that he would never give you more, clawed at the back of your mind. You broke the kiss, gasping for air, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Something wrong?” Gojo asked, his voice husky with desire.

You shook your head, forcing a smile. “No, just… catching my breath.”

He smirked, his hands sliding down to your hips. “Then let’s keep going.”

He picked you up by the thighs, and walked to the bedroom with you in his arms. He laid you down on your back, and hovered over you, his eyes dark with desire. He kissed you again, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You arched into him, your body responding instinctively to his touch.

He nibbled your neck, his hands slipping underneath your t-shirt, teasing your skin as they moved upwards towards your breasts. You moaned softly, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. His touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine. You wanted him, needed him, but there was a part of you that longed for more than just the physical.

"You like that?" he murmured against your skin, his voice rough and filled with heat. "You like the way I make you feel?"

"Yes, Satoru," you breathed, your voice trembling with desire. "I love it."

"Good," he growled, his hands cupping your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. "I’want to hear you say my name."

You arched into his touch, your body alight with sensation. "S’toru," you moaned, the sound of his name slipping from your lips like a prayer.

"That's right," he murmured, his lips trailing down your body, his hands working to remove your clothes with practiced ease. "I want you to remember this. Every touch, every kiss. I want you to crave me."

You shuddered beneath him, your body responding to his words and touch. He undressed you slowly, savoring every moment, his eyes dark with hunger. When you were finally bare before him, he paused to drink in the sight of you, his gaze intense and possessive.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, "So perfect."

Your heart ached at his words, knowing they were just a part of the game he played. But you let yourself believe them, if only for a moment. "S’toru," you whispered, your voice filled with need.

He smiled, a dark, predatory grin. "I know," he said, his hands sliding down your body, caressing every curve and dip. "I know exactly what you need."

He kissed his way down your body, his lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire in their wake. When he reached the apex of your thighs, he paused, his breath hot against your skin. "Tell me," he demanded, his voice a low growl. "Tell me what you want."

"Please, Satoru," you begged, your voice a desperate whisper. "I need you. I need you inside.."

"Not yet," he said, his eyes glinting with mischief,“Want you to beg for it.“

You whimpered, your body trembling with anticipation. "Please," you repeated, your voice breaking. "Please, Satoru, I need you."

„More.“

You closed your eyes,“please, please s‘toru. Please.“ you begged.

He chuckled, a dark, satisfied sound. "Wasn’t so hard now was it?“ he said, his hands parting your thighs.

His fingers slipped between your thighs, teasing the sensitive skin there. "S’ wet for me," he muttered, a smirk playing on his lips. He slid a finger through your folds, gathering your arousal and spreading it over your clit. “All for me, right?”

You reopened your eyes and looked at him, only to find him staring at your body instead of your face. It reminded you that he was doing this only for pleasure. “Yeah, only for you,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady despite the emotions swirling within you.

His finger moved in slow, deliberate circles over your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body. “That’s right,” he said, his voice low and filled with satisfaction.

Your breath hitched as he increased the pressure, his touch expertly finding that perfect rhythm. “Satoru,” you moaned, your hips bucking against his hand.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. “I love the way you say my name,” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. “Say it again.”

“Satoru,” you gasped, your voice a desperate plea. The sensation of his thumb on your clit, combined with the way his fingers teased your entrance, was driving you to the edge.

“That’s it,” he growled, his lips trailing down your neck. “Let go for me. Show me how much you need it.”

With a deliberate slowness that was both torturous and electrifying, he slipped a finger inside you. You cried out, the feeling of him filling you causing your body to arch off the bed. He started a slow, steady rhythm, his finger curling inside you to hit that spot that made you see stars.

“God, you’re so tight,” he murmured, adding a second finger. He moved them in and out of you, his pace unhurried, savoring the way you responded to his touch. “I could do this all night.”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you. But the pleasure was too intense, too consuming. With a cry, you came undone, your body trembling as you climaxed around his fingers.

He watched you intently, a satisfied smirk on his lips. “So beautiful,” he murmured, his fingers still moving inside you, prolonging your pleasure.

Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, the aftershocks of your orgasm still rippling through your body. “Satoru, please,” you whispered, your voice filled with need.

He grinned, his eyes dark with desire. “Don’t worry,” he said,

Without warning, he withdrew his fingers and shifted lower on the bed. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wide as he settled between them. The sight of him there, eyes dark with desire, made your heart race.

He leaned in, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. “I bet you taste even better than you feel,” he murmured, and then his mouth was on you.

His tongue flicked out, teasing your clit with feather-light strokes that made you shiver. He started slow, savoring every reaction you gave him, before gradually increasing the pressure and speed. Your hips bucked against his mouth, a moan slipping from your lips as he licked a long, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit.

“Fuck, Satoru,” you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair as you tried to hold on.

He hummed in response, the vibration sending waves of pleasure through your body. “You taste so good,” he muttered, his words muffled against your skin. He sucked your clit into his mouth, his tongue circling it in a way that made your toes curl.

You could feel the heat pooling in your belly, the tension building with every skilled movement of his tongue. He alternated between sucking and licking, his fingers slipping back inside you, pumping in rhythm with his mouth.

“More,” you pleaded, your voice trembling with need. “Please, Satoru.”

He looked up at you, his eyes locking with yours as he continued his relentless assault. “You like that?” he asked, his voice husky with arousal.

“Yes,” you moaned, your head falling back against the pillow. “Don’t stop.”

He grinned, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. His tongue moved faster, his fingers curling inside you, hitting that perfect spot that made you see stars. The combination of his mouth and fingers was overwhelming, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“You’re so close, aren’t you?” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

You nodded, unable to form coherent words as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable level. “Please,” you gasped, your body arching off the bed. “I’m gonna—”

“Come for me,” he commanded, his voice a low growl. “I want to taste you.”

With a final, shuddering cry, you came undone, your orgasm crashing over you in waves. Your body trembled, your hands gripping his hair as you rode out the pleasure. He didn’t stop, his tongue and fingers working you through every pulse and shiver, prolonging your release until you were a quivering mess beneath him.

Finally, he pulled back, his lips glistening with your arousal. He looked up at you, a satisfied smirk on his face. “You’re even more beautiful when you come,” he said, his voice rough with desire.

You lay there, panting and spent, your body still humming with aftershocks. “Satoru,” you murmured, reaching out for him.

He crawled back up your body, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, the intimacy of it making your heart ache. “I’m not done with you yet,” he whispered against your lips. “Not even close.”

He pulled back from the kiss, his breath hot against your lips as he murmured, “Turn around.”

You blinked up at him, a slight frown of confusion crossing your features. “What?”

“Turn around,” he repeated, his voice firm but not unkind. “Gonna take you from behind like always.”

There was a flicker of something in his eyes, something that made your heart clench. But you complied, rolling over onto your stomach and then up onto your knees, your body still thrumming with the lingering aftershocks of your orgasm.

He positioned himself behind you, his hands gripping your hips. You felt the tip of his cock brush against your entrance, teasing and relentless.

You moaned in response, your body arching back toward him. “Please, Satoru.”

Without another word, he pushed into you, filling you completely in one smooth thrust. You cried out, the sensation of him inside you overwhelming. He paused for a moment, letting you adjust to the feeling before he started to move, his pace steady and controlled.

His hands tightened on your hips, holding you firmly in place as he fucked you. Each thrust was deep and precise, hitting that perfect spot inside you that made your vision blur. “God, you feel so good,” he groaned, his voice low and rough. “So tight.”

You whimpered, your body moving in time with his, the pleasure building once again. “S’toru,” you gasped, your fingers gripping the sheets.

He leaned over you, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “You like it when I fuck you like this, don’t you? When I take you from behind?”

“Yes,” you moaned, your body trembling with each thrust. “I love it.”

“Good,” he growled, his pace quickening. “Because I want to hear you scream my name.”

You could feel the tension coiling in your belly, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable level. “Satoru,” you cried out, your voice breaking.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “Come for me. Let me feel you come around my cock.”

With a final, shuddering cry, you came undone, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. He followed moments later, his own release spilling inside you as he groaned your name.

For a moment, there was only the sound of your ragged breathing, the feel of his weight pressing down on you. Then he pulled out and rolled onto his back, a satisfied smirk on his face.

You lay there, your body spent and trembling, your heart aching with a mixture of satisfaction and something more. “Satoru,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He looked over at you, his expression unreadable. “What is it?”

You hesitated, the words you wanted to say stuck in your throat. But in the end, you just shook your head. “Nothing,” you murmured, closing your eyes.

“Good,” he said, his voice distant. “Get some rest.”

And as you lay there, your body still humming with the afterglow of pleasure, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was all you would ever have with him. The physical connection was undeniable, but the emotional distance felt like an insurmountable chasm.

But for now, you would take what you could get. Because even if it was just physical for him, for you, it was something more. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

Gojo’s phone buzzed on the nightstand. He sighed, reaching over to grab it.

“Yeah?” he answered, his voice returning to that familiar, nonchalant tone.

You could hear a faint voice on the other end, though you couldn’t make out the words. Gojo’s expression shifted, the playful glint in his eyes replaced with a more serious look.

“Alright,” he said after a moment. “I’ll be there soon.” He ended the call and turned to you, his demeanor already changing.

“I have to go,” he said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing up.

“Now?” you asked, unable to keep the disappointment out of your voice.

“Yeah,” he replied, pulling on his clothes with practiced efficiency. “Work stuff.”

You watched him dress, the familiar ache in your chest growing stronger. He was always slipping away, always leaving you with just a taste of what you wanted.

“Will I see you later?” you asked, hating how vulnerable you sounded.

He paused, looking at you with an expression that was hard to read. “Sure,” he said, though the word felt empty. “You know where to find me.”

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Be safe.”

He gave you a quick nod, his usual smirk flickering across his lips. “Always am.”

And then he was gone, leaving you alone in the dimly lit room. The silence felt deafening, the weight of his absence pressing down on you.

You sighed, pulling the sheets around you as you tried to gather your thoughts. The physical connection with Gojo was incredible, but it always left you wanting more, longing for something deeper that he seemed unwilling or unable to give

© fvsm4x 2023/4 : do not translate, plagiarise or steal my work.

[ninibeingdelulu]

His empress ✧

Plot: Because of Michael’s busy life, he barely have any time for you.

A/N: Loved Kaiser from day one , like he’s literally my bf. Also, I made him a little poetic so idk if it’s good😓.

The apartment doorslammed with enough force to rattle the windows. Michael stormed inside, cleats leaving muddy tracks across the hardwood in his wake.

His sharply angled features were locked in a ferocious scowl, blue eyes blazing with frustration. Another grueling training had pushed his limits to the brink once more.

You glanced up from the kitchen, unable to mask your wince at the unrepentant mess he left behind.

"Welcome home," you ventured in a measured tone, knowing his volatile moods all too well.

Michael barely acknowledged you. Instead he ripped off his muddied jersey in an angry flourish and hurled it aside, seeking to strip away the stench of another dissatisfying day.

Your eyes followed his toned form from behind the marble island as he stomped towards the bathroom. His shoulder muscles were knotted ropes of tension beneath that porcelaine skin.

You knew it was intentional, feeling your steady gaze tracking him like a hunting falcon.

That was just Michael's way - everything was a crucible, an excuse to exude that overwhelming dominance he so craved.

But today the display did little to spur your usual fluttering admiration. A different rawness simmered in your chest as you watched him disappear into the bathroom without a backwards glance.

The spray of running water filled the strained silence in Michael's wake. You stood there motionless, mulling over the painful sting festering deeper each day.

Though his ferocious commitment to training and perfecting his craft was legendary, lately it had consumed him to an almost alienating degree. Including from you.

How long had it been since you last shared an intimate moment together?

Or even heard that cocksure voice murmur sweet maddening praises that used to set you aflame from the inside out?

Those precious instances had dwindled to near non-existence as Michael became more obsessed, more distant, more...unseeing of the person he'd once crowned his devoted empress.

The bathroom door creaked open, steam billowing out with Michael's emergence in fresh sweats. Without forethought, the question slipped from your lips in a dull murmur.

"Do you even care about me anymore?"

His hand paused where he scrubbed the towel through those signature bedhead spikes. Sea-glass eyes flicked over to pin you with an owlish blink.

"What?"

You swallowed, turning to face him fully now that his defenses were stripped bare.

"Sometimes I wonder if you ever really loved me at all... or if I was just another passing conquest for the 'great emperor' to claim and discard."

The words hung in the air with damning finality.

Michael froze, hands falling away from his blonde and blue hair. For several beats his expression was unreadable, marbled handsomeness set in an impenetrable mask.

Then his sculpted brows slashed downwards in undisguised hurt.

You shrank back instinctively when he stalked towards you with quickened strides, expecting more flaring tempers to clash.

But instead of the storm you braced for, gentle calloused palms cradled your face with trembling reverence.

Michael searched your gaze with those kaleidoscope depths, as if reacquainting himself with the woman he'd unforgivably taken for granted.

"You..." he started roughly before clearing his throat. "Never think that, liebe. Not even for a moment."

A shuddery inhale filled Michael's broad chest as one hand drifted down to splay over your thundering heart. His touch was feather-light, worshipful in its tenderness.

"You are the single greatest treasure I've ever had the honor of possessing, my shining star among the world's dim masses. More divine than any earthly jewel or victory on the pitch."

You felt your breath hitch at the unbridled ardor shining through those captivating blue eyes. Michael's voice dropped to an intimate baritone murmur that caressed over you like velvet.

"I am an arrogant, obsessive fool in so many ways - but my absolute worship of you is one truth I'll never stray from. You make me an emperor worthy of respect, make me burn with desire to prove my worth to stand at your side.I-"

He cut himself, his thumb brushing over the plump swell of your bottom lip reverently.

"It is my gravest sin to ever make you question how utterly you reign over my soul, meine liebe. I’m sorry if I’ve been distant these last weeks, I just had a lot in mind with the upcoming games. Forgive me if I made you feel l didn’t care about you."

You were rendered utterly speechless at the searing depth behind Michael's heartfelt confession.

A powerful tremor rippled down your frame, threatening to melt you into an incoherent puddle.

Before you could trust yourself to speak, he sealed his words with a ravaging kiss that blazed away any remaining traces of doubt.

His hands tangled in your hair, keeping you molded flush to his solid frame as if you were the single tether anchoring him to this world.

When the need for air finally parted your joined mouths, Michael bored his eyes into yours with hypnotic intensity.

A familiar smolder flickered to life in their whirling depths - a predatory allure reserved only for his empress.

"Tonight," he rasped against your swollen lips, "allow me to worship you again and again, until the nights where you felt alone disappear from your mind, mein juwel..."

[samuelsdean]

Stay With Me

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary:  "you’ve been shot countless times, huh?” “that sounded a bit more reassuring in my head.”

genre: angst & fluff

word count: 1.1k

author's notes: almost a year of no writing, but i'm finally home (i posted a new fic)! it's been one hectic year for me. uni was crazy & i started my clinical rotations. plus, i did my thesis & it even got a distinction mark so i'll be presenting it at a research congress pretty soon (yay!). with that, i'm really sorry for ghosting ao3 & tumblr. i couldn't find the time to insert it in between uni & breaking down lol. anyway, i'll be posting a lot more while i'm on break. i hope you'll enjoy reading my first fic after a year of zzz. have fun!

YOU CAN HEAR SIRENS AND PEOPLE SHOUTING.

They say when you are knocking on death’s door, hearing is the last of your senses you will lose. If you’re dying, you don’t know it. Nothing makes sense at the moment. It’s all just blurry hues of blues and reds and shouting—Stay with me—the smell of something metallic. The only thing you’re sure of right now is that your head hurts and it seemed like a van ran right through you with how achy your body feels right now. 

Who’s  that? You mused. Why are they yelling at me?  I’m  right here. You turned your head slightly and tried to open your eyes.

It’s quite the task.

“T-That’s it,” The person, whom you think was yelling at you, said. “Stay with me, Y/N. Don’t close your eyes.”

You groaned and gripped the person's hand tightly as if to stand up, but you couldn't. Everything ached. And the person holding you, just kept on talking, their voice a low murmur at first. But even through the haze of pain, it was starting to sound familiar. You recognized that dulcet tone, the rich, smooth sound that could captivate your attention with random facts or lull you to sleep with equal ease.

The voice, you realized with a flicker of a smile, belonged to Spencer, its familiar cadence a warm current cutting through the blossoming pain.

“Reid?” You croaked.

Your throat’s dryer than any other desert in existence right now. And you sound worse than you look—you think—you don’t know for sure, except the fact that you can’t move much.

“It’s me,” Spencer chuckled while sniffling. “I’m right here.”

“What’s going on?”

Even through the haze of pain, a new wave of discomfort bloomed in your shoulder, sharp and insistent. Before you could react and get up, Spencer's hand tightened on yours, his voice laced with a tremor you'd never heard before. "Don't move, Y/N. You've been shot."

He applied pressure on your wound—which you just noticed. The pain hit you in a delayed wave, a white-hot stab that stole your breath. You hissed a weak sound that did little to mask the spike in your heart rate. 

"Stop moving or you're gonna bleed out even more!" Spencer's voice, usually so calm and collected, was laced with a raw panic you'd never heard before.

"Easy there, tiger," you tried to joke, your voice raspy. "I've been through worse. I’ve been shot countless times. W-why are you so worried?"

The question came out in a shaky whisper, the concern evident in his voice a stark contrast to the usual intellectual debates you shared.

Spencer's grip tightened, momentarily cutting off your circulation. "Because you could have died, Y/N!" he snapped, his voice cracking with a choked sob. "You… you were…"

He trailed off, unable to put into words the terrifying image that had flashed before him when he saw you collapse, after hearing the sound of a bullet whizzing by and hitting you.

The sight of your vulnerability stripped away his usual composure, leaving a raw fear he couldn't conceal. It took him a moment to regain his composure, his voice softening as he continued, "You shouldn't be so glib about this. It was a nasty shot, close to a major artery."

Despite the pain, a warmth bloomed in your chest. You'd never seen Spencer like this, so shaken and afraid.

"Okay," you murmured, forcing a weak snicker. “I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, at least I got you to patch me up, right, Dr.Reid?"

A ghost of a smile glinted across his face, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Hold still," he mumbled, amused but also bothered at your dreadful timing for jokes. He applied pressure more gently this time. "You’ve been shot countless times, huh?”

“That sounded a bit more reassuring in my head” You quipped. 

A bit lightheaded from the pain, you clutched Spencer’s hand. The shriek of approaching sirens and the glare of headlights cut through the haze. You struggled to focus on the lifeline thrown in a storm of confusion.

"They're here," Spencer said, his voice tight. A sheen of sweat beaded on his forehead, a stark contrast to his usual cool composure.

"About time," you rasped, trying to lighten the mood. The effort cost you a fresh wave of dizziness, the world tilting slightly on its axis.

To which, Spencer shot you a look that was half-annoyed, half-worried. "Don't try to be a hero. You're losing a lot of blood. Any movement can dislodge the clot forming in your wound, renewing the bleeding. So, stop moving!"

"Just keeping things interesting," you mumbled, the words slurring slightly. “Wouldn’t want my last moments here on earth to be so grim…”

Spencer's jaw clenched for a moment, then he sighed, the sound heavy with relief. "You always were a pain," He muttered, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. You’re  going to be okay, he thought.

The sirens reached a fever pitch, pulling up right beside you. A flurry of activity erupted as paramedics swarmed, the rest of the team trying to make sure you were tended to and that you were going to be okay, their movements a bit panicked but practiced, and efficient. Relief washed over you, a sweet wave that threatened to pull you under. 

"Hold on, Y/N," Spencer said, his voice desperate despite the composure of his words. He kept his hand pressed firmly on your wound, his touch a grounding anchor in the chaos. “Help is here. Everyone’s here. Just… stay with me, okay?"

"Going somewhere," you slurred, your eyelids drooping.

"No, you're not," he said fiercely, his voice barely a whisper above the shouts of the paramedics. "You're coming with us."

You coughed a sharp rasp that sent a jolt of pain through your shoulder. "Stats say shoulder wounds aren't usually fatal," you wheezed, trying to distract yourself from the ache.

Spencer's hand stilled for a moment, looking at you like you’ve grown a second head. "What?"

"Yeah," you continued, your voice weak but persistent. "L-look, I get it, you're scared. But statistically, shoulder wounds aren't as serious..." Your voice trailed off as a wave of nausea washed over you.

"Maybe you shouldn't be reciting medical statistics right now," Spencer said sharply, his voice laced with a hint of panic.

“S-shouldn’t that be my line, boy genius?” You continued to joke, as the world dissolved into a scramble of flashing lights and blurry faces.

The last thing you registered was the feel of Spencer's hand tightening around yours, his touch a silent promise that resonated louder than any siren.

[giorno-plays-piano]

Ars Amatoria

Ancient Rome AU

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, chase, period-typical violence, death of minor characters, Satoru is the Emperor's brother.

Words: 3.1k

Summary: By the end of the second month, you could no longer leave the house without numerous servants circling around you. He is everywhere, whether it is a market or an arena, a house of your father's friend or a city street. If you stay alone, he always comes to talk to you even if for a minute. When you are surrounded by servants and family, he will find a way to attract your attention simply to wave to you from afar. Nothing can keep him away.

__________

He is right behind you.

Nothing betrays his presence but his erratic breathing as he makes a step closer, leaning in to get a whiff of your hair while you freeze like a statue. The sick bastard somehow always catches you alone as if he knows in advance when you give a command to the maids to fetch something. He is always there, a shadow behind a curtain. He has been following you for months, and there is nothing you can do to stop him.

"Greetings, my lady," he snickers, thrilled from the proximity. "I've missed you."

Your hands get cold, but you forbid yourself to tremble. Satoru Gojo is a predator through and through, and showing fear in front of him is akin letting him sink his teeth into you.

"This is very improper, my lord. There will be talks."

As if he ever cared about it. Being a younger brother of the Emperor has its benefits: Satoru Gojo can do anything he wants and will not get punished for any offense except for treason. Nevertheless, you hate to admit, he is not a spoiled and pampered boy he pretends to be. With years spent on a conquest of neighboring lands to expand the Empire's territory, he is well-versed in the arts of war and politics. Truly, despite his odd character, he is an honorable member of the Imperial family, and the Senate speaks well of him.

If only not for his inexplicable obsession with a woman he hardly knows.

You've met him at the Saturnalia, on the second day of the festivities in the house of one of the senators. Your father, albeit not a politician, knows his trade well, and it earned him enough respect and support to be invited. His only surviving child, you were brought along to enjoy the guising among the other sons and daughters. You did not expect any disturbance: soft-spoken and well-educated, you knew how to enjoy the carnival without inviting trouble. Unfortunately for you, the trouble found you in the face of a masked suitor who spent the whole evening beside you.

He was so charming that night. Holding your hand, he recited poetry and spoke of legends he learned in the faraway lands, enjoying your full attention. As you two drank wine and ate fruits on the terrace in the middle of the night, he pointed at the stars at the sky and told you many, many stories about each of them. At one point, you suggested he was making them up to feed your curiosity, but it only flattered you. It seemed the stranger was enamored by you, too.

By early morning, when drunk and sleepy guests were finally leaving the house, you let your suitor drop a kiss to your hand and gave him a little fibula with your father's insignia on it. While it wasn't very wise to search encounter with masked strangers outside of Saturnalia, you couldn't believe a senator would have unworthy guests under his roof. Besides, your suitor seemed to cultured and well-behaved, you thought knowing a little more about him wouldn't hurt. Your maids would never betray your secret, and you were too clever to do anything that could cause unnecessary talks.

When you heard his voice behind you on the third day of the festivities, you thought it was a happy coincidence he'd found you so fast. When you saw the face of a man you knew from the celebration the Emperor held for him after his return from the conquest, you realized what a dangerous game you were playing. Satoru Gojo was no match for a rich merchant's daughter. You were not meant for the life of the court or high politics. When he spoke of courtship, you realized the dangers awaiting you if you were mad enough to accept his offer. That is, if Emperor wouldn't assassinate you before marriage for daring to seduce someone well-above your rank.

You rejected him carefully. Surely, it was not his fault: neither of you knew the identity of the other that night. Satoru seemed strangely hot-headed for an acclaimed general to be offering courtship so early, but your father often spoke of the vigor of young soldiers to marry. Perhaps, when a bit of time passes, he would realize his mistake.

But Satoru Gojo did not accept the rejection. He smiled, flashing his pearly white teeth, and assured you he would come to you later, when you would grow accustomed to the thought of marriage.

This was how the chase began. By the end of the second month, you could no longer leave the house without numerous servants circling around you. He is everywhere, whether it is a market or an arena, a house of your father's friend or a city street. If you stay alone, he always comes to talk to you even if for a minute. When you are surrounded by servants and family, he will find a way to attract your attention simply to wave to you from afar. Nothing can keep him away. In fact, you are left wondering why he did not yet drag you to his house: in his position, he can do anything he wishes, and neither your father nor his senator friends can save you. Perhaps, the predator that he is, he simply enjoys the chase.

When your father summons you at the end of the fifth month, you are certain he will speak of this marriage. You are the only child of his that survived past infancy, and he cares for you greatly. You know he does not want to give you away only to see you perish from an assassin's knife or poisoned wine sent by Satoru Gojo's enemies, but he has no choice. No one can offer you protection.

Yet, your father does not speak of marriage. "Gather your things," he says firmly, a sealed letter in his hands. "Tonight, you will depart to Cilicia. A good friend of mine has offered you refuge until things will settle down here. I will send guards and servants with you. If the general asks, I will pretend you are sick and need to recover before you are seen in public."

For a second, you think you forget how to breathe. Leave? You can leave?

"But what if he still wants to visit?"

The man rubs the bridge of his nose, his eyes tired, and head bowed. "I will say you are contagious and should be kept away."

"But what if he sends me a doctor?"

When your father lifts up his greying head from his heavy wooden desk, you realize he is ready to die for the offense if only it gets you away from the Emperial bastard. You can't go. If your suitor finds out the truth, your house will burn. He will kill everyone for your father's lie.

"You will go to Cilicia even if I have to bind you by the hands and feet," your father says with such determination you know he will stay true to his word despite any pleas. You were blind to the depth of his love for you, his only child, and it brings you to tears.

When you leave, you have but a couple of maids to keep you company, all of them frightened but obedient to your father's will. For hours, you do not speak, staring into the darkness as the cart is being dragged further and further away from the capital until you no longer hear anything but the sound of hooves. You fear the uncertainty, but Satoru Gojo and the danger surrounding him scares you more. The way his eyes always seem searching for you in a crowd, his normally pale cheeks a shade of bright pink the second his gaze lands on you; the way he touches you tenderly, trembling from excitement when his hand reaches for your hair, hidden beneath the veil... There is something very disturbing about him, and you fear the future where you are his wife and his has power over you. Would he truly love you as he promised on the third day of Saturnalia? Was the man reciting poems to you like an actor on the stage of a theater truly Satoru Gojo? Or was it all a pretense to capture your attention, a predator's instinct to lure its prey? He plagues your thoughts long after you left your home.

By the time you reach the next big city, it's been days, and you crave a hot bath and a proper meal before going to sleep in a real bed: the tiny villages you crossed could offer little comfort even for big money, and everyone surrounding you is equally exhausted from long travel. You need a little rest before continuing further. Surely, one or two days won't hurt? You need to exchange the horses, anyway, and the servants and guards require rest as much as you.

While you avoid all public spaces, you cannot resist balnea that is conveniently close to your inn. You smell worse than a cattle. Far from home and surrounded by your people, you are somewhat pacified by the thought of Satoru being far away: you do not think he could have already found you. Surely, despite his status, he is only a man. Enjoying your time at the public bathes, you forget your worries for a minute, and your maids are grateful for a little respite.

When you return to your quarters, the inn is strangely quiet. You do not see it at first, chatting with the girls, all of you finally clean and proper, your skin shining in the sunlight. By the time you reach the doors, you see the blood leaking on the floor from behind them. The maids, untrained in the matters of murder, scream as you stare at the pool of crimson liquid, your body numb. Before you know it, you run.

Who is it? Who would hunt you down to kill? Satoru might be deranged, but he'd rather catch you to have you for himself instead of murdering you for defiance. It must be someone else. Is it the Emperor? Is he finally aware his younger brother is publicly humiliating himself, pleading for the hand of a woman who is below him? Is it someone else?

Tears are spilling down your cheeks as you choke on air, running the streets like a mad woman, your maids and servants abandoned somewhere behind along with everything your father gave you for protection. There is nothing you can do, alone and defenseless in a strange city. You are going to die. Oh gods, you are going to die today.

Turning away to see if anyone chases you, you suddenly crush into someone, the wind knocked out of you from such forceful encounter. You would hit the ground if the stranger did not pull you up by the hands. Disoriented, you turned your head to him, tears clouding your vision. Was he the killer? The assassin sent by the Emperor? Was he going to stab you with a knife or cut your head off and bring to his master as proof?

Instead, you hear Satoru Gojo's troubled voice, "Are you injured?"

Before you blink away the tears, he already drags you away from the street to a tiny back alley, wrapping you in his thick wool cloak to hide you from prying eyes. He shushes you, his warm hand on your head as he nudges your face into his chest, asking you to keep quiet, and you stay still, the heat of his body almost burning your skin. Another minute pass, and you hear the shouts of those who were chasing you before they fade away as men continue on, convinced you are still running ahead of them. Every single hair on your body stands on end. Someone truly sent assassins after you.

"Please, help," you plead, ready to sink to your knees and kiss Satoru's feet for a chance to get to safety. "P-please! I'll do anything you ask, just get me out of here!"

His clear blue eyes shine in the darkness of the alley when he smiles at you, his head held high as he promises proudly, "Of course, love. Stay close."

Never in those months you've known him you could imagine asking him for help. His proximity meant nothing but trouble even if he was kind to you, sending you gifts or reading poems, because danger always follows people of his statue wherever they go. Now, though, he is your only chance of leaving the city safely, and you aren't going to waste it.

You cling to him like a child to their mother, following him from an alley to an alley as he eyes the streets, his other hand on the handle of his sword, ready to draw it the second he sees a threat to you. While you never truly thought of him as a hero, used to seeing him in a rather unbecoming of a man state, Satoru Gojo is not only a good soldier: he is the best Imperial Legion can offer. Scanning the crowd, he quickly moves from one place to another without drawing attention, and you barely register as you end up next to his soldiers, all of them armed.

You fail to register your two maids among them, but they quickly remind you of themselves with their shouts, crying as they run to you. Luckily, they are unharmed, you think as you sob, too.

"We need to get moving," Satoru proclaims, saddling his steed and extending his hand to you. "Quick, come."

Needles to say, you are too scared to argue, and you mount the steed with your savior sitting just behind you. Strangely, instead of usual dread, you feel safe with him. He is here to protect you.

Your maids ride with the soldiers as you make way outside of the city, not stopping for what seems like hours to you. Not once you see your pursuers, but, perhaps, it simply fails your attention: all the soldiers Satoru brought are on guard, and you can see the unease on their faces. Indeed, you are simply lucky to get away on time.

By the time you finally stop, your thighs and back ache, and your mouth is dry as if you spent the day in a desert. You lost your new woolen palla somewhere in the city, and your long stola is torn and surely caked with dirt. Oh, your poor father would have a stroke if he could see you now.

"I'm sorry for the uncomfortable journey," your suitor smiles at you, helping you get off the horse as you moan from pain. He then wraps his spare cloak around your shoulders and puts cloth on the fallen tree for you to sit on. "The cart would slow us down, and we couldn't afford losing more time."

You ask, agitated, "Are we safe now?"

Sadly, he shakes his head. "Not until we're back in the capital. I will keep you from harm, but the assassins sent after you are not some street rats. We need to get home."

You have no tears left after today's chase, and all you do is hide your face in your palms, moaning in exhaustion. What have you done to warrant this savagery? What crime have you committed?

"Why do they want my head?" You exhale, looking up to the man in front of you, and his expression falls. Even he feels sorry for you

Landing next to you, he rubs his shoulder, seemingly tired from this race as much as you are. "You are my chosen one. They want to hurt me."

Blood rushes to your head when you hear him admit it. It is his fault. You are being hunted for the pleasure of his enemies. All the time spent avoiding and rejecting him, all these efforts to escape to Cilicia... it all is for nothing. You are already a target despite refusing marriage.

Seeing the change in your expression, Satoru is quick to grab your hands in his and speak again. "I am at fault. I should have stopped you from leaving. I have been guarding you everywhere you go since the time we met, but I cannot give you the same protection elsewhere. My enemies have been watching you since Saturnalia."

Horrified, you stare at his handsome face, his pale cheeks and the tip of his nose red from sunburn. From Saturnalia? You have been a target for so long? How did you survive for months without even realizing you were being hunted? How could your father not know someone was watching your house? Your guards? Your servants?

Satoru's rough, callous hands squeeze yours tenderly as you sob again, angry at him but still grateful for your escape. You were doomed from the start, weren't you? Nothing you could do would change anything. All of this has been for nothing, even your poor father's attempt to hide you in a faraway province. You would always end up here, with Satoru, or simply dead somewhere on the streets.

"I tried to tell you, but you did not want to listen to me," he whispers gently as he embraces you, his hands wrapped around your back as he shifts you to sit in his lap. "Please, do not weep, love. I will deliver you back to safety."

"What s-safety?" You hiccup, disillusioned with all your attempts to separate from him. "So they would watch the house of my father and strike us later?"

When the man lands a soft kiss to your forehead, you sniff, palms pressed to his chest. It's all his fault. Even if he was not stalking you for his own pleasure all this time, it's still all his fault for you ending up like this, for the death of your people.

"No, no," he reassures you quickly. "We will get married, and you will live in my house. No one can get through the gates unless I personally give them permission. If you so wish, you will not see a single soul in your chambers for months."

Sounds like a dream, you think, tired and hungry and upset. Not having to worry about your life taken in your sleep is now a luxury you cannot afford.

"You promise?" You murmur into his ear, curling against him, abandoning all modesty for why would you be modest with a man you will marry upon entering the capital?

"Promise," he whispers in response, his cheeks sickly pink again as he delivers a kiss to the top of your head.

_______

Tags: @shybluebirdninja

[two-white-butterflies]

how can beauty that is living, be anything but true?

Description: Daemon being adored and treated well by his loving wife while they talk about war and its aftermath.

Pairing: daemon targaryen/reader

A/N: quite short.

"I feared the worst when the King sent his letter," you say.

Daemon has always been unpredictable. He did as he pleased, took and took until the entire realm inevitably bent to his desires. "- three years away in war, and not a single word." You glared, seeing him take a step inside of your shared chambers.

Your handmaidens tell you that he returned during the night, and slept in a separate chamber lest he interrupt your sleep.

"I tried to write, my lady, but the enemy would strike our ravens down." He replies, amused. "You should've marched here on foot," you snapped, accepting his reason, but not letting him know.

"Targaryen princes have been taken by fickler things than war." You provided a reminder, but he silences you with a kiss to your forehead. Followed by a silent stare, a reminder that there is nothing in this world that would keep you from him.

"Yet, I am alive." He responds, though there were many nights he spent wishing otherwise. "Barely alive," you corrected. "I've heard rumors." You added with a prolonged sigh. There were at least five different rumors of his death, some say that he was impaled by arrows, hit by dozens of swords, or drowned, never to be seen again.

His expression changes for a second, but he composes himself before you even notice. "Rumors are skewed versions of the truth." He wraps his arms around your body, inhaling your scent that he has forgotten after three years smelling only sea and sand. "- but they still hold somewhat of a truth." You hiss.

"You promised me that if anything were to happen to you, that you'd return immediately." You held that promise above his head.

"Dragons don't run with their tails in between of their legs," he argues. "So, you were hurt in battle?" You raised an eyebrow.

You were aware of his duties, that he couldn't abandon them easily, but he could've at least whispered information about his welfare. "A scratch compared to the soldiers who will never return to their families," he answered the question without answering the question.

"What happened, Daemon?" your voice turns sweet at the utterance of his name. "Arrows, fire, swords, and a couple wounds to remember them by." He still refuses to tell you the whole truth. "Show me," you plead. Something behind his eyes shifts. His pupils become watery, almost leaking tears - but your husband does not cry.

He'd rather hide his sorrows behind a mask of cold callousness.

He does not take his eyes away from yours. He focuses on your features, your eyes, your lips, your nose - features that he's engraved in the back of his head to save him from the brutal pictures that unfolded in front of him during battle.

He gently unbuttons his tunic. He takes your hand and places it on the healed skin. A wound that spanned from his shoulder down to his stomach diagonally. "All I could think about while fighting that battle was how stupid my brother and his hand are for believing that I want to supplant Rhaenyra and claim his throne as mine." Daemon laughs.

"Men like that, my lady, those who sit on iron thrones know nothing about war. Soldiers die on the battlefield to ensure our safety, to ensure that our stone castles remain fortified against invaders. They know nothing of the mothers and wives that have lost their sons and husbands. I scorn my brother, I really do." He whispers, lest anyone except you hears his confession.

"I cannot even imagine the depths of your sorrow, lord husband." Your eyebrows merged together, wrapping him in a warm embrace. "I made it mine advocacy to return home. I could not bear to think of your sadness. Young, very beautiful and widowed." He breathes.

"I love you, Daemon."

"Likewise, my lady."

[howi99]

From the Nest 19

Jaune: Forever fall? *Pensive* I've heard it was quite the sight, from what my teacher told me. *Sigh* Never could see the place myself.

Ruby: *gulping down a cookie* Why not?

Jaune: *sigh, slumping down with a defeated look on his face* I'm such a Grimm magnet, it would be like running in a bear's den covered in honey...

Yang: *arms behind her head, her chair dangerously leaning back* And yet, you survived in the wild for years. How?

Jaune: *shrug* Traps.

Yang: Traps? *Chuckle* What, did you booby trap the entire forest?

Jaune: Yeah, why? *Scratch his head* Don't y'all do the same?

Yang: *blink* No, not really- *lean back a bit too much, losing her balance* Oh crap!

Jaune: *Quickly grab Yang's arm before she falls to the ground* And stop doing that! You're going to hurt yourself at this rate.

Yang: *giving an apologetic smile* Sorry, bad habits.

Weiss: *glaring at Jaune from the other side of the table* ...

Jaune: *locking eyes with her, smiling* Can't keep my beautiful visage out of your mind?

Weiss: *looking away* Tsk...

Blake: So what's the plan? Are we going or?

Jaune: You mean to forever fall? *Pensive* I guess with everyone being there, it shouldn't be a problem.

Ren: If it's such a problem, i can use my semblance to mask both our aura.

Jaune: ... *Wiping an invisible tear* Where were you all my life?

Ren: *shrug* Surviving in the wilderness, like you. Then joining Sanctum with Nora.

Jaune: Were there a lot of guys like you two? You know...

Nora: *nod* Yeah, but not as much as we thought. *Shrug* Apparently there's a bunch of bandits who keep the villages safe from the Grimm. I think they are famous or something.

Yang: *curious* Really? What's their names?

Nora: *pensive* I think they're called the... Branwen tribe...? I think?

Blake: They are helping villages? That's nice.

Ren: They are even doing a better job than the huntsmen. Since they had a change of leadership, they've been trying to clear their names.

Yang: (A change in leadership, huh? That must be her they are talking about)

Weiss: *pensive* The Branwen tribe... *Frown* Jaune, you said your tribe interacted with the white fang before.

Jaune: *sweating* W-well yeah, but-

Weiss: And from what i remember, the Branwen tribe was known to attack SDC mining operations in collaboration with the White Fang.

Jaune: *confused* Mining operations? *Horror creeping on his face, completely forgetting Yang was there* You mean those forced labor camps were yours!?

Weiss: *also confused* What are you talking about? Everyone there is paid a salary and they are working willingly! We are not monst-

Jaune: *slamming his fist on the table* They tortured faunus kids, marking them like cattle! *Breathing out, feeling nauseous* Fucking hell, no wonder your family was targeted by them... *Looking at Weiss* Do you have any idea how many unmarked grave there was in each of those camps!?

Weiss: *Freeze* ... What-

Jaune: *throwing his hands in the air* Hundreds! *Get up, turning around angrily* And here i was feeling bad for you and your family... *Grit his teeth* Fucking butchers... *Leave*

Weiss: *looking down, sweating heavily* That can't be true...

Everyone: *silently staying around* ...

Pyrrha: *coming back from the kitchen with a sandwich* ... Where's Jaune? And Yang?

_ _ _

Jaune: *trying to light himself a cigarette, his hands shaking from rage* DAMMIT ALL! *Throwing the cigarette on the ground, stomping it angrily* FUCK FUCK FUCK! *Kicking the wall* FUCK!

Yang: Jaune-

Jaune: *not noticing her* It's not like she's responsible for what her father did! Fucking hypocritical bitch that i am, it's literally the same for me!

Yang: *her arm crossed* Jaune!

Jaune: *noticing Yang* What!?

Yang: We need to talk.

Jaune: No we don't.

Yang: *grabbing his arm firmly* You're a Branwen, aren't you?

Jaune: *sarcastic scoff* Wow, figured that just now?

Yang: *frown* I had my suspicions for a while, i'm not dumb.

Jaune: ... *Sigh* Fine, we'll talk later.

Yang: *shake her head* No, now-

Jaune: *cutting her* Trust me, you want to talk to me later. In the meantime, could you tell Weiss that i am sorry and didn't meant those last parts?

Yang: ... *Let go of his arm* Fine. *Point her finger at him* But you better answer every question i have.

Jaune: I will.

Yang: ... *Turn around, leaving him alone*

Jaune: ... *Sigh* What a mess.

[adams-angels]

I want to see my man in pain, Adam break down after reader said they want to break up (fluff in the end pls) 😞

I reaaaally enjoyed writing this

I love pain 🥹

💖 Please send me requests! Send me your own headcanons! I will draw! I'm obsessed rn!💖

Used

Adam POV

It was a normal night. Out talking to some babes. Tellin' them how great I am. Because, well, I AM! HA! I'm the first fucking man! These bitches swarm me. Who am I to deny them. I check my phone a see y/n has text me. "Ugh, what do you want now you needy fuckin'" I can't believe what I'm reading.

"we're done."

My heart sinks. Why is it sinking. I don't care. I'm fucking ADAM!! Adam stands, pushing away the crowd of angels surrounding him and tries calling you. "Come on.. come on, pick up, you dumb bitch." No answer. NO FUCKING ANSWER. His head spins. Panic sets in as. This isn't happening. Not again.

You think you're better than me?! You're nothing! I'm Adam!! I can get ANYONE I FUCKING WANT YOU THINK I NEED YOU?!

I'VE GOT TONS OF BITCHES WAITING FOR ME!

I DONT NEED YOU I NEVER NEEDED YOU!

He tries calling you again. No answer. "FUCK!" He expands his wings and shoots up, smashing through the skylight. He continues to text and call as he makes his away to your apartment. "FUCKING ANSWER ME!" He screams into his phone. By the time he arrives at your apartment he calms himself down, "I can get them back." He thinks to himself as he lands on your balcony. "They didn't mean it. They couldn't of."

As he reaches for the handle of the sliding door his hand shakes. "No, no, no, no." He grips onto his wrist stepping back from the door, being stopped my the railing. He slides down to the floor. "No, no, no...." His voice cracks, fear, sadness, anger. He never let himself get close. At least that's what he told himself. After the second wife also betrayed him he swore he'd never care so he would never hurt. But somewhere along the way, he fell for you. Although he denied himself.

He rushed to remove his mask, feeling like he can't breathe. Once he got it off he threw it aside. Clutching at his chest as tears escaped from his eyes. "No, no, no.." he whimpered. He sat on the floor for an hour. Thinking about you. What he did wrong. If he did something terrible. Why you're ending it. There wasn't even anything to end and yet his world felt like it was crashing around him.

Once he calmed down he leaned forward and sighed. Wiping his cheeks as he stood up and put his mask back on. He reached for the handle, hesitating before opening the sliding door. He sees you in your bed, asleep. He closed the door quietly and just watched you. For about half an hour before he realised how much a creep he's being. He walked into your livingroom. He's been here plenty times before. He memorized the layout.

He walks over to one of your succulents. You loved them. Once he came over and accidentally knocked one on the floor. You were so upset. He didn't see the big deal but he still went out of his way to buy you a new pot for it and a new succulent altogether. Just something to say he was sorry without actually saying sorry. He smiled as he remembered your joy. He sat on the couch and waited.

A couple hours later he heard rustling in your room. He shot up from the couch and heading to your bedroom, freezing at the doorway as he sees you wake. You scream in surprise, falling off your bed. He noticed your phone falling off the nightstand with you. His chest tightens. Your phone. Those horrible texts. "Adam?! What the hell are you doing in my apartment?!" You yell at him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

He stands there, feeling awkward. "You want to leave me?" He asked, trying hard to not break his voice. You tut, he watches at you stand, wanting to help but to afraid to move. "You say that like you cared." You snap, picking your phone up from the floor. "Don't look at that." He took a step towards you, reaching out but you recoiled. "Why? You next me nasty shit? Telling me I'm worthless? That I was lucky to -" he interrupted, "y/n, I'm sorry. I just want to know what I did wrong."

Adam braces himself. For you to yell. For you to scream. For you to tell him you love someone else. "I just... I can't... I don't want to be a place holder for you." His shoulders slump down he hesitantly steps closer to you "What are you talking about?" He carefully slides his hand under yours "I don't want to be someone you just use until you find someone better." His fingers interlace with your as his other hand brushes your hair from you face. His breath catches seeing your red, watery eyes "I just want to be... I don't know, Adam."

His hand cups your face. He looks into your eyes and for the first time in eons he chose to be vulnerable. "Be mine?" He watches you shrug. Rightfully assuming you've misunderstood his request he clarifies "no, I'm asking. Be mine." The way you look at him makes his chest tighten in fear. "What?" He recoiled. "I mean, maybe we could start again? Like.. properly?"

"You mean like.. date? What happened to "I don't date. I'm the first man. I have the first penis ever bla bla!"" He glares at you. Of course you'd remember that. "I don't sound like that." "You do." Adam brow furrows in in frustration. "Whatever, y/n, please. I can't lose you. I don't want to lose you. Please don't leave me." He felt pathetic. He was pathetic. "I'll have to think about it." His chest tightened. His heart beating a million miles a minute. You'd see how pale he would be if he wasn't wearing the mask. "H-how long will that take?" He asked, desperation leaking out of him.

"I don't know, Adam." You shrug. The air was thick. He was struggling to breath and needed to get out of there. "I really care about you, y/n. You have to believe me, babe." He kisses your hand before releasing it. "Just.. uh... Delete those texts. I didn't mean any of it." He heads to the sliding door he entered from, opening it and expanding his wings as he jumps off. He looks behind to see if you watched leave like you've done so maybe times before. But you're not there.

It's been a month. A whole month. It should feel like nothing to him considering how long he's been in existence yet it feels like a years. He sees you about. With your friends. Getting groceries. Whenever his eyes catch on to you he freezes. No matter what he's doing.

He can't keep this up. He didn't want to pressure you. Make you feel like you had to choose him. But fuck he needed you to choose him. He was in his office. But he couldn't focus. He was so tired, not being able to sleep well without you. Even if he didn't sleep the whole night it was always nice knowing you were there no matter what. At least that's what he used to think.

He checked his phone to see nothing from you. It was too much. He was alone. You were never coming back. No one ever comes back. Lilith left him. Eve left him. Now you. "Fuck. FUCK!" He picks up his coffee and punts it at the wall. He can't stay here. He needs to find you. He needs you back.

He swung the door open and there you were. He couldn't believe it. He thought you'd at least text him. Not show up at his office! His feathers were literally ruffled, his office looks like a bombs hit it. "Y/n?" He said softly, it was like time stopped for a minute. He wish it did. Then he could scoop you in his arms and never let you leave. He snapped back into reality changing his expression quickly, not want anyone to see a softer side to him. "Come in." He stands aside letting you in to his office. He hates that you didn't text. He would of cleaned up there were documents everywhere, a smashed mug on the floor and coffee stains on the wall. He hated it was such a mess for you. "Bad day?" You commented he grumbled in response. "There are no bad days in heaven." He mumbled as he slumps down on his office chair.

Resting his chin on the back of his hand as he watches you walk over to his office window, opening it. The musky smell almost dissipating immediately "So... I thought about it." He perks up, sitting straight, watching you like a hawk. "And?"

"and I'm willing to start again. Properly." He immediately bolts from his chair, wrapping his arms around you. "Fuck, thank fucking Christ. Don't do that to me again. Please." His voice breaks, wings surrounded the both of you. "Please, I'm sorry. I'll treat you so much better." "Promise?" "Yes, promise."

～⁠♡✧⁠｡ I really hope you enjoyed! I'm not a writer by any means but I appreciate any support I receive so thank you for reading! ｡✧⁠♡～⁠