#Pulled down by the weight of his mistakes

[shinig6mis]

it had been a few seconds since bakugou had knocked on your door, but it felt like a lifetime. his mind raced in circles, not knowing whether his thoughts were rooted in paranoia or if there was some truth to them. why hadn't you texted him? it wasn’t like you two had a strict routine or anything, but after everything that had happened last night—how you two had stayed together, cuddling and falling asleep—he couldn't shake the feeling that something was different.

every other night, you've been in and out of his apartment, always leaving within ten minutes. but last night, something different happened. he couldn’t explain it, but it felt right to be lying there with you, sharing your warmth, hearing the steady rhythm of your breathing as you fell asleep. he could still feel the weight of you in his arms, the way you fit against him perfectly like you were meant to be there.

then, when he woke up, you were gone. no text. no call. no nothing. his heart squeezed painfully at the thought of it and he found himself racking his brain with the worst possible scenarios. maybe it had been too much. maybe crossing that boundary had been the mistake. maybe you’d seen the intimacy between you both as a sign that this arrangement had to end. maybe you regretted it, and that terrified him.

so, here he was, standing at your door, hands tense by his sides, hoping he wasn’t about to hear something he wasn’t ready to face.

when you finally opened the door, your eyes were slightly puffy, your hair pulled up in a messy bun, and you looked far too tired for someone who just woke up. the faint glow of a desk lamp illuminated your room. his eyes went to glance at the textbooks were scattered on your desk and the laptop still open with whatever assignments you had yet to finish.

“bakugou?” you blinked in confusion. “what are you doing here?”

“i—uh…” bakugou started, caught off guard by the sight of you. you were wearing those loose pajamas that he secretly found adorable. “can i come in?”

you didn’t hesitate, stepping aside to let him into your room. the moment he entered, he made a beeline for your bed, sitting down, while you stood across from him, arms crossed in that way you always did.

his eyes stayed on you as he tried to gather his words. “you didn’t text after last night,” he finally blurted, his voice rough as always, but the worry in his tone was clear. he couldn’t stand it anymore.

you let out a soft sigh and explained, “i’ve been buried in assignments, bakugou. aizawa’s been on my ass, and i just haven’t had the time to check my phone.”

he exhaled deeply, the tension in his shoulders easing as you spoke. he’d convinced himself he’d lost you, but hearing that explanation made everything feel weirdly better. “so, no… nothing’s wrong?” he hated how nervous he sounded, but he couldn’t help it. this arrangement you both have meant more to him than he was willing to admit, and the thought of losing it scared the hell out of him.

you raised an eyebrow, taking a moment before saying, “we can talk about last night tomorrow if you want. for now… just stay. sleep over. you can be annoying and overbearing in the morning.”

the relief that washed over him was almost overwhelming. he hadn’t realized how much the silence had been eating at him until now. you weren’t breaking things off. you were just distracted, which was probably what he should’ve assumed in the first place. but he couldn’t stop thinking that maybe, just maybe, he had crossed a line he wasn’t supposed to.

for the rest of the night, you sat at your desk, buried in your work, while he watched you, propped up on your bed with his arm supporting his head.

it was quiet. only the sound of your focused typing and the occasional shuffle of papers filling the space between you two. he couldn't help but appreciate the view, watching you get lost in your assignments. despite how complicated this arrangement felt sometimes, he loved the fact that he was the only one who ever got to see you like this. no one else.

he stayed there, his mind quiet for the first time in hours, just taking in the sight of you. you were everything to him in that moment, even if you didn’t know it.

time passed, and eventually, you closed your laptop and crawled into bed. without saying anything, you curled up under the blanket, pulling it tightly around you. bakugou hesitated for a second before sliding in behind you, his arm instinctively wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer. he buried his face into the back of your neck, inhaling the scent of your shampoo, the softness of your skin.

he felt the tension leave his body as he held you, but his mind still wouldn’t let go. there was a an annoying part of him that wondered what you really thought of him. if you felt the same or if you didn’t. if this was all just temporary to you. but the other part of him that refused to let go of his pride was content just being here. being with you. even if nothing between you was official.

you shifted slightly in his arms, making him tighten his hold on you. it wasn’t perfect. it wasn’t what he had expected when he first got into this arrangement with you. but right now, with you in his arms, it was enough. and maybe, he could keep pretending that it always would be.

© 2025 shinig6mis | do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my work.

[viagracex]

could you do a George Clarke one shot where him and maxs sister are secretly hooking up? All good if not x (love your work btw)

Off Limits

george clarke x balegde!reader

summary: george is secretly hooking up with max's sister. what starts as no-strings-attached turns into something more

warnings: brief mentions of sexual content

note: if this feels a little rushed im sorry, i tried not to have to write it as two parts.

4.4k words

Masterlist

₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊

You weren’t meant to be here.

The rational part of your brain knew that.

Yet, lying in George Clarkey’s bed, tucked under his sheets, skin still warm from his touch, you feel the weight of his arm draped over your waist. You know this is a disaster waiting to happen. But at this point, it’s almost tradition.

A night out turns into tipsy flirting. Flirting turns into one of you cracking first and texting where u at? And before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re tangled up in him, his hands gripping your waist, his mouth pressing hot, lazy kisses against your neck, and the world shrinking to just you and him. The way his mouth moved against your skin, the way his hands gripped your body—it always felt like an electric current between you.

This had been going on for months now—longer than you ever expected. What started as a drunken mistake had turned into a routine. Nights out ended with you texting him, or him texting you, or one of you finding an excuse to be at the same place at the same time, until you ended up here. Sweaty, satisfied, and entirely too comfortable in his bed.

It was just sex. Really good sex. That’s all.

But it couldn't be more complicated.

For one, George Clarkey was one of your brother's closest mates.

And Max had made it painfully clear that dating YouTubers was off the table.

"They’re all walking red flags, babe," Max had said once, waving his hands for emphasis. "All of them. You’d just become another London Content Creator’s Girlfriend, and I won’t be having that."

Not that you and George were dating.

You were just… shagging George Clarke in secret.

And maybe that was worse.

But that was the key difference—the thing that made this somewhat okay.

You weren’t a couple. You weren’t sneaking around because of some grand forbidden romance.

You were just fucking.

And it was casual.

Totally.

Absolutely.

…Okay, maybe there were some complications.

Like the fact that George could be an oblivious idiot at times and that you were slowly falling for him.

As you turn your head on the pillow, watching George lazily stretch in front of you, his hair a messy tangle on the pillows, you can't help but admire how good he looks even after just waking up. He catches you staring and a smirk tugs at his lips.

"You're thinking too much," he says in a rough, sleep-filled voice, and when you glance over again he’s watching you through lidded eyes, his dark hair sticking up in every direction.

You scoff, turning onto your side. “I’m thinking about how screwed we’ll be if Max ever finds out about this.”

George smirks, his grin only grows wider as he pulls you closer until you’re pressed against his chest, his warm skin against yours sending shivers down your spine. “Then we just don’t let him find out.”

You let out a resigned sigh. "Easy for you to say. You don't have to live with him."

George chuckles, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder, and fuck—that should not feel as nice as it does.

“Relax,” he murmurs against your skin. “We’re being careful.”

You want to believe him, but a nagging doubt persists. "Are we though? Being careful?"

George's fingers trace lazy patterns on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "Course we are. Max hasn't got a clue, has he?"

You bite your lip, remembering all the close calls. The time Max almost walked in on you two in the kitchen. The suspicious glances when you laughed too hard at George's jokes. The way your cheeks flushed whenever he was mentioned.

"I don't know," you mumble. "Sometimes I think he suspects something."

George's hand stills on your waist. "You worried?"

You turn to face him, studying the lines of his face in the dim light. His blue eyes are soft, filled with concern. You hate how much you like looking at him.

"Maybe a little," you admit. "It's just... Max has always been so protective. And he's made it clear how he feels about his friends dating his sister."

George's lips quirk into a half-smile. "Good thing we're not dating then, eh?"

You roll your eyes, but can't help smiling back. "Right. Just fucking."

"Exactly," George says, pulling you closer. "Nothing to worry about."

But as he kisses you, slow and deep, you can't shake the feeling that this is far more complicated than either of you want to admit.

Weeks pass, and your "arrangement" with George continues. The sneaking around gets easier, the guilt less noticeable. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

But then there are nights when you catch yourself staring at him too long. When your fingers linger in his hair, when you laugh too hard at his jokes, when his hands slip under your hoodie, and you realize—this doesn’t feel casual anymore.

You don’t just look forward to those stolen moments—you need them. You tell yourself it’s about the thrill, the secrecy, the rush of slipping out of Max’s flat unnoticed. But the truth is, you like waking up in his sheets. You like the way he pulls you back into bed, groaning that it’s too early. You like how he makes you tea in the morning, knowing exactly how you take it, without needing to ask.

And suddenly, the thought of this ending makes your stomach twist.

You should say something. You should ask him if he feels it too.

But you don’t.

Because once you say it out loud, you can’t brush it off anymore. 

If you admit it, you can’t take it back.

And you’re not sure if you’re ready for that.

One night, after a particularly wild party at some private club celebrating another one of the Sidemen’s achievements, you end up with a group of friends back at George‘s. The bass from the music downstairs thrums through the walls as George presses you against the door, his lips hot on your neck.

"We shouldn't," you gasp, even as your fingers tangle in his hair. "Someone could come up..."

George grins against your skin. "That's half the fun, innit?"

You're about to retort when the door handle rattles. Your heart leaps into your throat as you hear a familiar voice on the other side.

"George! You in there?"

It's Max.

You freeze, panic flooding your system. George's eyes widen, but he quickly springs into action. He shoves you towards his closet, motioning for you to hide. You slip inside just as George opens the door.

"Yeah, mate. What's up?" George's voice is impressively casual.

"Have you seen my sister? Can't find her anywhere."

You hold your breath, praying Max doesn't decide to search the room.

"Nah, sorry. Maybe she went home early."

There's a pause, and you can picture Max's suspicious frown. Your heart pounds as you listen to the conversation through the closet door. You can practically feel Max's suspicion radiating through the wood.

"Right," Max says slowly. "Well, if you do see her, tell her I'm looking for her."

"Course, mate," George replies smoothly. "I'll let her know if I spot her."

You hear the door close and let out a shaky breath. A moment later, the closet door opens and George's face appears, a mix of amusement and concern in his eyes.

"Coast is clear," he whispers, helping you out.

You stumble slightly, the adrenaline making you unsteady. George's hands catch your waist, steadying you. The touch sends a familiar spark through your body, but the fear of almost being caught overshadows it.

"That was too close," you mutter, running a hand through your hair.

George nods, his expression sobering. "Maybe we should call it a night. I'll sneak you out the back."

You agree, and with George's help, manage to slip out of the house unnoticed. As you make your way home, you can't shake the feeling that your luck is running out.

The next few weeks are tense. You find yourself jumping at every sound, convinced that Max is about to burst in and catch you in the act. George notices your unease and suggests taking a break, but the thought of not seeing him makes your chest ache in a way you're not ready to confront.

As autumn creeps in, painting London in shades of gold and crimson, you find yourself spending more time at George's flat. The cozy nights in, wrapped in blankets and each other's arms, start to feel dangerously domestic. You catch yourself imagining a future where you don't have to hide, where you can walk hand-in-hand with George down the street without fear of being spotted.

One chilly evening, as you're curled up on George's sofa watching a movie, the weight of the secret becomes too much.

"George," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I think we need to tell Max soon."

He turns to you, surprise etched on his features. "You sure? I thought we agreed to keep this under wraps."

You nod, twisting your fingers nervously. "I know, but... I'm tired of sneaking around. And honestly, I'm starting to think that this might be more than just casual."

George's expression softens, and he pulls you closer. "Yeah," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I've been thinking the same thing."

-------------

It wasn’t meant to happen like this.

but apparently, George is an idiot.

The tension in the air was palpable as you walked into your shared flat to find Max holding George's hoodie like a piece of evidence at a crime scene. His eyes narrowed as he asked, "Why is this in our flat?" Your heart raced as you tried to play off the situation nonchalantly. "Maybe George left it here," you suggested with a shrug.

Max's gaze flicked between you and the hoodie. "In your room?"

Your throat tightened as you replied, "Maybe."

Max's mind worked like a detective on a true crime documentary at that moment, piecing together the puzzle before him. And then, his expression changed from confusion to horror, his jaw-dropping.

"You're shagging George," he exclaimed.

You winced and tried to downplay the situation. "Max—"

"YOU'RE SHAGGING GEORGE," he repeated, his voice growing louder.

Frustration and embarrassment washed over you as you dropped your head into your hands. "For fuck's sake, can you not say it like that?"

But Max was already caught up in the drama of it all, looking around wildly like he was in an episode of punked. "How long has this been going on? When did this start? Why am I just finding out now?!"

You shifted uncomfortably. "Uh...a while?"

"A while?!" Max's disbelief was evident.

"...A few months?" You offered weakly.

"MONTHS?!" Max couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"It's not a big deal!" you insisted.

"Not a big deal?! You’re shagging my mate!" Max's frustration reached its boiling point.

You flinched and pleaded with him to lower his voice, but he continued to express his disbelief that this was happening behind his back. In a desperate attempt to calm him down and protect your relationship with George, you blurted out, "It's nothing serious! We're just...having fun. Casual."

Max blinked in surprise. "Casual? With George?"

You nodded, trying to defend yourself. "Yes?"

"With George?"

"Yes, Max!" you exclaimed in frustration.

Max's expression shifted as he absorbed the information and then whipped out his phone.

"What are you doing?" you asked nervously.

"Texting George," he replied, his thumbs flying across the screen. "He has five seconds to explain himself before I track him down and make him piss himself."

Before you could stop him, George walked into the flat at that exact moment.

Perfect timing, you thought sarcastically.

George froze upon seeing the tension between you and Max. His eyes flicked from you to his hoodie in Max's hands, and it was clear he knew exactly what was going on, it doesn't take a genius to figure that out.

"...Shit," he muttered under his breath.

"So it's true!" Max shouted. "You absolute little—"

But before he could finish his sentence, George raised his hands like a hostage negotiator. "Alright, before you get mad—"

"I'M NOT MAD!" Max yelled, which only confirmed how mad he actually was. "I'M JUST CURIOUS AS TO WHY YOU THOUGHT THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA?"

Max paced back and forth, running his hands through his hair in frustration. "I can't believe this. My best mate and my sister. It's like a bloody soap opera!"

You and George exchanged nervous glances as Max continued his tirade.

"How long has this been actually going on? And don't lie to me!" Max demanded, his eyes narrowing as he looked between the two of you.

George cleared his throat. "About... six months?"

"Six months?!" Max's voice rose an octave. "You've been sneaking around behind my back for half a year?!"

You winced. "We didn't mean for it to go on this long. It just... happened."

Max let out a humorless laugh. "Oh, it just happened, did it? What, you tripped and fell onto his dick?"

"Max!" you exclaimed, scandalized.

George stepped forward, his hands raised placatingly. "Look, mate, I know this isn't ideal—"

"Ideal?!" Max interrupted. "This is the opposite of ideal! This is a bloody nightmare!"

He turned to you, his expression a mix of hurt and betrayal. "And you. I warned you about getting involved with YouTubers. I told you they were all walking red flags!"

You felt a surge of defiance. "George isn't like that. He's different."

Max scoffed. "That's what they all say. And then next thing you know, you're just left high and dry”

"It's not like that," George interjected, his voice firm. "This isn't just some fling."

Max's eyes widened as he looked between you and George. "What are you saying?"

You took a deep breath, reaching for George's hand. "We didn't mean for this to happen, Max. But... it's more than just casual now."

George squeezed your hand, a small smile on his face. "We care about each other. A lot."

Max stares at you both, jaw clenched so tight you think he might actually crack a tooth. His fingers twitch at his sides, like he’s debating whether to pace, punch something, or just scream into the void.

Finally, he exhales a sharp breath and rakes a hand through his hair, pacing a tight circle before stopping in front of George. His glare could burn a hole straight through him.

"You," he says, voice tight. "You, out of all people."

George swallows, standing his ground. "Look, mate—"

"Don’t 'mate' me," Max cuts him off, shaking his head. He lets out a humorless laugh, but there's no amusement in his eyes. "This is actually happening. You—" he jabs a finger at George's chest, then turns to you, scandalized. "And you?!"

You don’t answer. What could you possibly say? Sorry I broke your one rule? Sorry I fell into bed with your best mate and accidentally started catching feelings?

Max lets out another deep, exhausted sigh, dragging a hand down his face. "I can’t believe I’m saying this, but—" He levels George with a look so sharp it could cut glass. "You actually give a shit about her?"

George doesn't hesitate. "Of course I do."

Max narrows his eyes, searching George’s face like he’s waiting for him to blink, to crack, to say something stupid that will give him an excuse to deck him. But George holds his gaze, unwavering.

After a long beat, Max scoffs, shaking his head. "Fuck me."

He turns away, pacing again, muttering something under his breath. You barely catch the words "This is my villain origin story."

Finally, he stops, pinches the bridge of his nose, and points a finger directly at George.

For a long moment, silence filled the room. You could practically see the gears turning in Max's head as he processed this new information. Finally, he looked up at you both, his expression resigned.

"You're serious about this? Both of you?"

You and George nodded solemnly. "We are," you said softly.

Max sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. "I can't believe this is happening. My best mate and my little sister. It's like some bad rom-com."

He stood up suddenly, pointing an accusatory finger at George. "If this is just some game to you, Clarke, I swear to God—"

"It's not," George interrupted, his voice firm. "I care about her, Max. More than I've cared about anyone in a long time."

You felt your heart flutter at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest.

Max's gaze softened slightly as he looked between the two of you. He could see the genuine affection in your eyes, the way you unconsciously leaned towards each other.

"Fine," he said finally, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I can see this isn't just some fling. But I swear, George, if you hurt her—"

"I won't," George assured him quickly.

Max continued as if George hadn’t spoken. "—I will end you, I will make your life a living hell. I will start beef with you publicly. I will make a YouTube exposé, I will get you cancelled on Twitter. I will make sure your brand deals drop like flies. I will be so fucking annoying that you will never know peace again."

George nodded solemnly, as if this was a completely resonable response  " Understood."

Max turned to you, his expression softening. "And you. You're sure about this? You know what you're getting into, dating a YouTuber?"

You smile softly at Max, touched by his concern despite his outburst. "I'm sure, Max. I know it won't be easy, but hes worth it."

Max groans dramatically, flopping back onto the sofa. "I can't believe this is my life now. My best mate and my sister. What's next, Mum dating KSI?"

You and George both choke back laughter at the mental image. The tension in the room eases slightly as Max's dramatics break through the awkwardness.

George chuckled nervously. "Does this mean we have your blessing?"

Max shot him a withering glare. "Blessing? Don't push it, mate. I'm still processing the fact that you've been sneaking around with my sister for months."

You winced. "We really are sorry about that, Max. We didn't mean for it to go on so long without telling you."

Max ran a hand through his hair, his expression a mix of frustration and resignation. "I just... I don't understand how this even happened. When did you two start... you know?"

You and George exchanged glances, silently debating how much to reveal. Finally, you took a deep breath and launched into the story.

"It started at Cal's birthday party," you began. "We were both a bit drunk, and one thing led to another..."

Max groaned. "Please spare me the details."

You rolled your eyes. "Nothing happened that night. But after that, we kept running into each other at events and parties. We'd flirt, maybe share a dance or two. It was harmless at first." As you speak, Max's expression cycles through disbelief, anger, and grudging amusement.

"...and then we just kept finding excuses to see each other," you finish lamely. "We didn't mean for it to become anything serious, but..."

"But it did," George adds softly, squeezing your hand.

Max groans, flopping back dramatically on the sofa. Muttering something about how this wasn’t how his day was supposed to go.

He sits up suddenly, pointing an accusing finger at George. "And you! What about all those girls you're always banging on about in your videos? That better all be a lie?"

George has the decency to look sheepish. "Ah, well... might've exaggerated a bit there, mate. For content, you know”

Max's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Exaggerated? Or flat-out lied?"

George shifted uncomfortably. "Well..."

You jumped in, trying to diffuse the tension. "Look, Max, the point is, George and I are together now. For real. No more sneaking around or lying."

Max sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes. "I still can't believe this.” He stood up suddenly, pacing the room. "And what about when this all goes public, eh? Have you two geniuses thought about that? The fans will go mental. You'll be harassed non-stop."

You and George exchanged glances. It was clear neither of you had given much thought to the public aspect of your relationship.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," George said finally. "For now, we just want to focus on us. And making sure you're okay with this."

Max scoffed. "Okay with it? I'm far from okay with it. But..." he trailed off, looking between you and George. Despite his anger, he could see the genuine affection in your eyes, the way you instinctively leaned towards each other.

Then, after a beat—reluctantly, begrudgingly, like it physically pains him to say it— " I mean, I'd rather you weren't shagging one of my mates, but honestly?" He turned to George with a knowing look. "You could've picked worse. At least I know George. Even if he is an idiot sometimes."

George protested, but there was no real heat behind it. He knew Max was right - he could be an idiot sometimes. But when it came to you, he was determined to do better.

Relief washed over you as you threw your arms around your brother. "Thank you, Max. Really."

He hugged you back, then pulled away to point a finger at George. "And you. No funny business when I'm around, got it? I don't need to see my best mate snogging my sister."

George nodded solemnly, though you could see the mischief dancing in his eyes. "Wouldn't dream of it, mate."

Max gives him one last death glare before sighing dramatically and turning back to you. “I hate this. I hate it. I swear, if I ever walk in on anything, I'm moving out and never speaking to either of you again."

You laughed "Deal."

You and George share a glance, and suddenly, it doesn't feel as scary anymore. The weight that had been pressing on your chest for months lifts, replaced by a giddy lightness. You can't help the smile that spreads across your face, mirrored on George's.

As Max continues to grumble and mutter about the unfairness of it all, you and George gravitate towards each other. His arm slips around your waist, pulling you close, and you lean into him, reveling in the feeling of finally being able to do this openly.

The autumn sun streams through the window, casting a warm glow over the room. Outside, you can hear the bustle of London life - cars honking, people chattering, the distant rumble of the Tube. But in here, in this moment, the world has shrunk to just the three of you.

George's thumb traces lazy circles on your hip, sending shivers down your spine. You breathe in his familiar scent - a mix of cologne, laundry detergent, and something uniquely him. It's comforting, and grounding.

Max catches sight of you cuddling and makes exaggerated gagging noises. "Oh God, it's starting already. I'm going to need therapy after this."

You and George laugh, the sound mingling together in a way that makes your heart skip. You realize that this is the first time you've been able to laugh freely together in front of others, without worrying about giving yourselves away

As the days turn into weeks, you and George settle into a new rhythm. No more sneaking around, no more hushed whispers and furtive glances. Instead, there are lazy Sunday mornings spent tangled in his sheets, the London rain pattering against the windows. There are impromptu double dates with Max and Andrew, where you catch yourself marvelling at how natural it feels to be out in public with George, his hand intertwined with yours.

You find yourself falling deeper in love with George every day. It's in the little things - the way he makes your tea just right without asking, how he laughs at your terrible puns, it just makes your heart swell.

The YouTube world explodes when news of your relationship finally breaks. Your social media notifications blow up, a mix of excited fans, shocked friends, and the occasional hater. Your DMs are flooded with a mix of congratulations and jealous messages. You learn to ignore the hate comments and focus on the supportive messages from friends and fans.

Max, true to his word, makes a show of dramatically covering his eyes whenever you and George so much as hold hands in his presence. But you catch him smiling softly when he thinks you're not looking, and you know that deep down, he's happy for you.

As autumn fades into winter, you find yourself spending more and more time at George's flat. Your toothbrush migrates to his bathroom, your favourite mug finds a permanent home in his kitchen cupboard. One night, as you're curled up on his sofa watching old Sidemen videos (George insists it's "research"), he turns to you with a nervous smile.

"Move in with me," he says, his voice soft but sure.

Your heart skips a beat. "What?" you ask, barely above a whisper.

George takes your hand, his thumb tracing circles on your palm. "Move in with me," he repeats. "Half your stuff is here anyway. And I... I want to wake up next to you every morning."

You study his face, taking in the hopeful glint in his eyes, the slight flush on his cheeks.

Your heart swells with emotion as you look into George's eyes. The nervous hope there, the vulnerability – it's a side of him you've grown to cherish over these past months. You think about how far you've come from those first furtive encounters, sneaking around and convincing yourselves it was just casual fun.

"Yes," you whisper, a grin spreading across your face. "Yes, I'll move in with you."

George's face lights up, and he pulls you into a kiss that leaves you breathless. When you finally part, you're both laughing, giddy with the promise of this new chapter.

The next few weeks are a whirlwind of boxes, packing tape, and furniture rearrangement. Max helps you move, grumbling good-naturedly about being demoted to "pack mule" status. But you catch him giving George a stern talking-to when he thinks you're not listening, something about "taking care of my little sister, or else."

As you unpack your life into George's space – now your shared space – you're struck by how seamlessly your belongings fit together. Your books nestle comfortably next to his on the shelves. Your favourite blanket drapes over the back of the sofa, adding a pop of colour to the room. In the bedroom, your clothes hang side by side in the closet—proof that you’re done sneaking around, done pretending this is casual. Proof that this is real.

[amitiel-truth]

River Maiden Pt. 6

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5,

"Telemachus..." (Y/N) sighs into the sea, leaning out the window with a longing look in her eyes and a small pout, hands under her chin, missing her Prince.

Two guards stand behind her, who is just about done with her yearning.

"She's been longing for the Prince since he left." one of the Guards mutters, remembering how the two barely want to let go of each other, kissing too passionately to the point it unnerved The Prince's crew and (Y/N)'s Guards, before being forcibly pulled apart.

"If we didn't pull those two apart, I swear they were close to having sex then and there." the other Guard points out.

"I can hear you, Ioannis, Panagiotis. Oh, who am I kidding? We were about to have sex then and there." (Y/N) agreed, whining, burying her face in her arms, as the two Guards shared a tired look.

A storm had just passed, (Y/N) doesn't know why but it feels different, familiar.

Suddenly she heard yelling at the palace entrance, there she saw Antinous and the Suitors, antagonizing who seemed to be a Beggar.

"What are they up to now?." (Y/N) grimaces, before walking down the hall with the knights following her.

"You—dare to call me out, beggar? You who live on the scraps thrown to you by the mercy of others, who have never known the power of a seat at the king’s table, speak as though you are in any position to judge me? You think I take advantage of the royalty's hospitality? Ha. You are mistaken."

He steps closer, his voice low and venomous.

"I’ve earned my place at their side. The gods themselves would envy the privileges I enjoy. You? You’re nothing more than a shadow, a fleeting thought that the nobility might spare a coin or two, and that is the extent of your world. Do not mistake my invitation for weakness, beggar. It’s a courtesy you will never receive."

With an icy glance, Antinous leans in, voice barely a whisper.

"Keep your insults to yourself, or I will remind you what happens to those who speak above their station."

He turns sharply, leaving the beggar with nothing but the weight of his contempt hanging in the air.

"What's going on here?" a sharp voice cuts through Antinous arrogant claims, there stands a woman the Beggar never seen before, as the Suitors give way with two guards behind her.

Antinous steps forward, trying to maintain his composure, though his irritation is evident.

"Ah, it seems we have a new guest. I was merely handling a... misunderstanding, my lady. A beggar is attempting to sow discord with his wild accusations." He gestures toward the beggar dismissively, his voice carrying the weight of entitlement. "It’s nothing of concern, truly."

The woman’s eyes meet his with a sharpness that makes his words falter, her expression unreadable as she glances from Antinous to the Beggar. before (Y/N) walked up to the Beggar, a soft smile began to appear on her lips.

"Hello Sir, you seem tired and restless, you seem like you haven't had a good rest for the past 20 years or so, would you like a place to rest for a while, I assure you, you'll be provided with food and fresh clothes, think of it as compensation from our unruly guest, please take some rest." (Y/N) offered gently, surprising the Beggar.

The Beggar stares at her for a long moment, his face a mixture of disbelief and cautious hope. He hesitates, glancing at the guards behind her and then back at the crowd. But there is something in her gaze—something genuine—that softens his hardened exterior.

"Food… fresh clothes?" He repeats, a small laugh escaping him, though it’s laced with uncertainty. "For a beggar like me? A man who’s seen nothing but the gutters and shadows for more years than I can count?" He looks down at himself, his clothes ragged and dirt-streaked.

He bows his head slightly as if humbled by her offer. "But... perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to rest for a moment. A bed… food… I’ve long since forgotten what it feels like."

He nods slowly, accepting the offer, though his eyes flicker to Antinous one last time, a small but defiant smile pulling at the corner of his lips as he steps forward to follow her.

"Thank you, my lady," he murmurs softly, as though the words themselves are foreign to him. "I will gladly accept your generosity."

"Right this way, Sir." (Y/N) leads the way, with the guards following them behind, barely paying any mind to the Suitors's leering eyes

“Forgive me, lady… but I’ve wandered these streets for years. I’ve heard no word of a princess on Ithaca. No news, no whispers, not a single mention of one among the suitors. You carry yourself as though you’re of noble blood, yet none of the townsfolk have spoken of a princess." the Beggar asked in curiosity as they began to walk down the halls near the servant quarters.

"Oh, I'm no Princess, Sir. I'm the Prince's bethrode" (Y/N) clears up the confusion with a wave of both her hands.

"The Prince’s betrothed?" He repeats, voice laced with disbelief. His eyes flicker to the men, now understanding why they’re watching her with such intent. But it still doesn’t quite add up in his mind. "I’m new to Ithaca, so forgive me, but… I’ve heard nothing about any betrothal, let alone the Prince being promised to anyone."

His voice drops slightly, almost to himself as he continues, trying to make sense of what’s happening around him.

"These suitors, they’ve been here for ages. They talk about the Queen’s hand, the one they’re all fighting for. But no word about a Prince, no whispers of his betrothed, nothing at all. It’s like they’re all focused on the wrong prize."

"And I wish to keep it that way." (Y/N) commented, as they reached one of the unoccupied servant's room.

"This is your room for now, I'll make sure someone brings you food, clean water, and fresh clothes" (Y/N) opens the door for him with a smile.

"You say you wish to keep things quiet, but I wonder..." He turns to face her, leaning against the doorframe of the room. "Is there danger in revealing who you truly are? Or perhaps the suitors are only a small part of this, aren’t they? There’s something else, something you're not telling me."

He gives a small, wry smile before continuing, his voice lowering as if speaking to himself. "I don’t mean to pry, but it feels like there’s a storm brewing here, and I’ve just walked into the middle of it." (Y/N) simply stares at him with a smile, but her eyes seem different.

His eyes soften, his voice gentler now as he adds, "But I’ll take what you’ve offered—food, clean clothes, rest. I won’t question your kindness. For now."

"It'll only take a while, take as much rest as you want." (Y/N) stated as The Beggar softly closed the door, and she turned to leave to look for a servant.

As (Y/N) walks down the hallway, leaving the beggar alone in the room, Antinous appears at the end of the corridor, leaning casually against the stone wall. His eyes lock on her the moment she walks by, and he pushes himself off the wall with a smirk, stepping into her path.

"Well, well, if it isn’t the lady herself," Antinous says smoothly, his tone laced with mock admiration. He takes a look around the palace hall as if inspecting the surroundings, then gestures broadly with a sweep of his hand. "You’ve really turned this place into an inn, haven’t you?" He chuckles, clearly amused by the thought.

"Beds for everyone, meals on demand... What’s next? A 'no questions asked' policy?" His eyes twinkle with mischief, though there’s an edge to his words that suggests his distaste for what’s happening. His gaze flickers back to where the Beggar is resting in the room she’d just shown him.

(Y/N) simply scoff "If the palace were an Inn, you'd be our no. 1 customer, the problem is, you don't even bother to pay your bill." (Y/N) taunted, looking at him mockingly.

Antinous’s smile falters for a moment, his eyes flashing with irritation, but he quickly recovers, giving a low chuckle as he crosses his arms over his chest. His posture remains relaxed, though there's a noticeable edge to his voice now.

"Ah, a sharp one, aren’t we?" He gives her a sideways glance, clearly amused by her response, but his tone still holds that familiar arrogance. "I suppose I’d be a loyal customer if the service were worth my time." He pauses, his eyes lingering on her body as the guards cross their spears over her, making (Y/N) raise her hand as they back down.

"And what makes you think you deserve those kinds of services?" (Y/N) asks, tilting her head.

"Deserve?" He echoes her word with a mock thoughtfulness, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. "Well, I don’t believe in the concept of deserve as much as I believe in taking what I want. And I want what I see. It’s as simple as that, (Y/N). You’re not as untouchable as you seem."

"And I don’t need to explain myself to anyone—especially not to someone playing pretend in a palace like this." His words are laced with a sharp edge, his confidence unshaken despite the guards presence. "You might be the prince’s betrothed, but that doesn’t mean you’re above everyone else here. You still have your role to play, just like the rest of us." He pauses for a moment, his voice lowering with a hint of something darker, something more possessive.

"You know," he begins, stepping a little closer, his eyes scanning her with a new, pointed intensity, "the thing about being a betrothed is that you need someone strong by your side. Someone who can really protect you." His lips curl into a sly grin, clearly aware of the implications of his words. "Not some... boy pretending to be a man."

"Especially when you’re as... fragile as you are," he adds with a mocking edge, his voice turning colder. "I mean, look at you—caught in a palace full of men who don’t even see you for what you are. It must be so... lonely, being with someone like the Prince. You need someone who sees your worth, who can show you what real power feels like."

His lips curl into a slow, almost predatory grin as if savoring every word.

"I can give you that, (Y/N). A man like me, not afraid to take what’s mine."

(Y/N) looks at him blankly, a cold stare in her eyes, before laughing, an extremely taunting laugh, akin to someone who's not afraid to...send a message.

"You truly believed all that act?!" (Y/N) laughs, heaving, as the guards look at her confused.

"Oh, but I couldn't blame you, my dearly beloved was so protective of me that day and I wouldn't have it any other way, I just love being doted by him day and night." (Y/N) sent him a smirk with her hands on her cheek.

"Something you can never do~."

"Really?" He drawls, clearly attempting to mask the sting of her words with feigned amusement. "So you think this is some kind of... sweet little game?" He looks her up and down, his gaze sharp as he tries to regain some control of the conversation. "I’d be more careful with your little prince’s doting, you know. Protective, you say? Sounds more like someone’s trapped in a gilded cage."

"Sure, you can love being doted on. But you know what they say about people who need constant reassurance..." His voice lowers, a hint of condescension creeping in as he steps closer, his eyes glinting with a dangerous satisfaction. "It’s not about strength—it’s about needing to be needed. And from what I can tell, your prince is happy to play the part. But let’s be real here, (Y/N). He’ll never be able to give you what you really need."

He leans in slightly, lowering his voice to a near whisper, but his words are as sharp as ever.

"And that’s something I can give you. Strength that doesn’t cower behind softness. Power that doesn’t rely on foolish ideals."

Antinous stands a little taller, his smirk widening at the tension he’s created.

"So go ahead, keep playing this little game with him," he finishes with a mocking laugh of his own, "but don’t be surprised when you realize—he’s nothing compared to the kind of man who can truly show you what it means to have control."

"I don't need control, all I need is Telemachus. and besides, why would I ever replace a Prince, to a man who couldn't provide his own food and shelter? ~." (Y/N) smirked at him, before leaving him in the middle of the hall to collect himself.

Antinous stands frozen for a moment, his smirk faltering as the weight of her words sinks in. He watches her walk away, and for a brief second, his usually unshakable confidence cracks. "Telemachus." The name lingers in the air like a bitter taste, and it’s clear that her declaration has hit him harder than he expected.

He stands there, his jaw tightening, fists clenched at his sides as he watches her retreat, a surge of frustration rising in his chest. He opens his mouth as if to say something—anything—but the words don't come. Instead, he stands in the middle of the hallway, surrounded by the heavy silence, trying to mask the feeling of being dismissed.

His eyes narrow as he watches her back, the smirk on his face replaced by something darker. The mention of Telemachus cuts deeper than he’d like to admit, and he realizes, with some bitterness, that (Y/N) isn't playing by the same rules he’s used to.

With a slow, deliberate exhale, Antinous turns away, his pride bruised, but the fire in his eyes burns just as brightly as before. As much as he wants to dismiss her as another game, a part of him knows this won’t be the last time their paths cross. And next time, he’ll be ready.

For now, though, he retreats to gather his thoughts, the tension of their exchange lingering in the air, his mind racing with all the ways he plans to make his mark.

"Mother, is it truly time?" (Y/N) asked, looking at Penelope in worry, as she held her husband's old bow.

"...I don't think I have any other choice, My dear," Penelope answered with tired weary eyes, as they walked out of the Queen's Quarters with the guards following them from protecting its doors, (Y/N) looking at her solemnly, taking her hand to give the Queen some comfort.

As they reached the Throne Room, The Suitors' chatter died down, as (Y/N) let go of his hand to let Queen Penelope present the bow, her challenge.

"This is the bow of Odysseus, King of Ithaca." Queen Penelope presented it, licking her lips, as she felt her mouth dry to the next words she was about to speak.

"The man who strings it and shoots an arrow, cleanly, through all 12 axes, shall take his place." Queen Penelope presented her challenge, as she placed the bow on a stone pedestal, for anyone who wants to try and complete her challenge.

The Suitors murmur among themselves, some impressed by the challenge while others scoff at it. After a moment of whispers and mutterings, each of the Suitors steps forth to try and string the bow. However, each one of them fails miserably, the bow remaining taut and unyielding in their hands.

As the Suitors fails the challenge, (Y/N) moves to Queen Penelope's side, taking her hand in a show of support. The Queen gives her a small, appreciative smile, touched by the gesture. The Hall is filled with the sounds of the Suitors mumbling and grumbling amongst themselves.

Nightfall came, many had tried but still unstrung the bow, as Queen Penelope and (Y/N) left for Queen Penelope's room.

"Are you sure you'll be alright alone, Mother?" (Y/N) asked in worry after escorting her with the guards.

"I'll be fine, Dear, get some rest as well, It's been a long day." Penelope sent her off with a caress on her cheek, before closing the door, but the three of them could hear her soft sobs, but none of them decided to comment on it.

"Let's go." (Y/N) softly tells her guards, as they begin descending the stairs, as (Y/N) takes the lead, Ioannis notices she's taking the wrong path.

"Lady (Y/N), this isn't the way to your room."

"Yes, yes. I know, I just want to check on them, It's quite hilarious to watch them fail." (Y/N) points out with a teasing smile, as all the guards could do is share a look.

as they reached the throne room, (Y/N) ordered them to wait by the door while she sneaked in to watch.

... a few minutes later, she slipped out of the door quickly, shaken.

"Lady (Y/N), What happ-"

"Keep our voices down, please." (Y/N) requested, calming herself down.

"Go to the Queen's Bedroom and guard the door right now and don't let anyone inside, I'll be there shortly, quickly!." (Y/N) orders as she runs off the opposite way from the guards.

The Guards stand by the Queen Room, unsure for what purpose, as they hear footsteps on the spiral stairs, they point their spears at the would-be intruder, before getting off their guard as they see (Y/N) on sight.

"Lady (Y/N), what's going on?" Panagiotis asked, confused while (Y/N) watched her breath.

"The Suitors, have grown impatient, they're planning to ransack the palace for all it's worth and force Penelope to choose by all means necessary." (Y/N) explains, panting, shocking the guards.

"I ask you both, are you willing to protect your Queen and me, from 108 hungry men?." (Y/N) asked, looking at them seriously, without a second thought, Ioannis pulled out a small dagger from his strap, giving the handle to her.

"Get inside." Ioannis tells her, while Panagiotis opens the door for her.

"Thank you, thank you both of you." (Y/N) Thank them both, before taking the dagger, rushing into Penelope's room, and began blocking the door.

"(Y/N), dear, what's going on?" Penelope asked, sitting up from her bed.

"The Suitors, they've grown impatient." (Y/N) explains, blocking the door as best she could.

"They've formed a takeover, they're going to ambush Telemachus at his return by the pier, they plan on forcing themselves on us, Mother." (Y/N) reveals, tears building up in her eyes.

Penelope’s eyes widened in shock, her heart sinking as she tried to process the gravity of (Y/N)'s words. She could hear the fear in her voice and immediately moved to comfort her.

"How... how do you know this, my dear?" Penelope asked, her voice trembling but steady, trying to keep calm for both of them.

(Y/N) wiped her eyes, taking a deep breath as she stood firm in front of the door, protecting her. "I overheard them, planning it out. They're going to strike before Telemachus can even reach the pier. They know he's the only one who can stop them."

Penelope nodded slowly, her thoughts racing. She had been through so much, but this—this was a new level of danger. She stood, moving toward (Y/N) with a quiet resolve.

"We must think, quickly. We cannot allow them to succeed," Penelope said, her voice hardening with determination. "If we have to, we will fight back. We won't let them take us."

"We only have two guards outside, but they won't be able to hold off 108 men, we also didn't have time to run away, the moment they formed the plan, they began spreading out." (Y/N) panted, leaning onto Penelope's arm.

"I would have thought you'd go after Telemachus, you must have the power for it." Penelope commented, rubbing her back.

"Every fiber of my being is begging to go to him, to warm him, but I know he can handle himself, and he would have wanted me to protect you, Mother." (Y/N) replied, a teary smile on her lips as Penelope appreciated her choice.

"Besides, I've already taken of them."

A group of Suitors began their plan to ambush Telemachus by the pier while laughing along the way like a pack of hyenas.

"Three of you! there! the rest form a formation, keep yourself hidden to not scare him off." their makeshift leader orders, making the rest of them grumble but follow, but their plans are all futile, as an unnatural wave washes over them, falling on all of them, but this wave is different, it doesn't let go of them, it deliberately pulled them into the water, into the sea, and finally, the depths of the ocean, where they are never heard off ever again.

[soulofapatrick]

“You can watch me” - Ridoc Gamlyn x female reader 

Summary: You and Ridoc end up sleeping together almost immediately 

Warnings: Smut; fluff; fingering; 

Words: 3.4K

Notes: I couldn’t wait much longer to post this - we need more Ridoc stories so this might become a small series ehhehehe

This isn’t proofread so sorry for any mistakes or repetitions or anythinggggg 

Part One Here ⇒ I'm Not Watching You

Y/N’s POV 

Ridoc’s lips don’t leave mine as we stumble further into the room, his hands warm and steady against my hips, like he’s guiding me but not controlling me. Every kiss is teasing, deliberate, like he’s savouring the moment—or more accurately, savouring the way I’m starting to melt under his touch. His lips leave mine briefly, only to trail down to the sensitive spot just beneath my jaw, where he pauses to press slow, heated kisses that make my breath hitch.

“You’re quiet,” he murmurs against my skin, his voice low and rich with amusement. “I like it.”

“Don’t get used to it,” I manage to say, though my words are breathless, lacking any real conviction.

Ridoc huffs a soft laugh, his lips curling into a smirk that I can feel against my neck. “You keep saying that, but I’m not convinced.”

I don’t have the chance to reply because his hands slide up my sides, his thumbs brushing beneath the hem of my shirt, just barely grazing my skin. The simple touch sends a wave of heat through me, and I gasp quietly, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as I pull him closer, refusing to give him the satisfaction of stepping back.

He tilts his head, catching my mouth with his again, and this time the kiss is slower, deeper. His tongue brushes against mine, coaxing rather than demanding, and I swear he’s trying to dismantle me piece by piece. One of his hands moves to the small of my back, steady and insistent, while the other tangles in my hair, tilting my head just enough to deepen the angle of the kiss.

“You’re trouble,” I mutter against his lips, the words coming out more like a sigh than anything else.

“So are you,” he counters smoothly, his grin audible in his tone. “But isn’t that what makes this fun?”

The teasing glint in his voice is enough to snap me out of whatever spell he’s weaving. I tug at his shirt, pulling him closer as a challenge, refusing to let him have the upper hand. Ridoc seems to enjoy it, his laughter rumbling low and warm in his chest as he lets me take control for a moment, his lips meeting mine with equal fervour.

It’s only when the back of my knees hit something solid that I realise he’s been steering me the whole time. I barely have time to register what’s happening before I lose my balance, the unexpected movement sending me tumbling backward onto the edge of the bed with a soft, surprised sound.

Ridoc comes with me, catching himself with one hand braced against the mattress beside my head. The other stays firmly on my waist, his grip steady as he looks down at me with a mixture of amusement and something darker, something that makes my heart skip a beat.

“Careful,” he says, his voice softer now, though his grin hasn’t lost its mischievous edge. “I’d hate for you to hurt yourself.”

“Funny,” I retort, though my voice wavers just enough to betray me. “I thought you were the dangerous one.”

He smirks, his free hand coming up to brush a strand of hair away from my face. “Oh, I am. But don’t worry—I’ll catch you every time.”

There’s something in his tone, something warm and unguarded, that makes my chest tighten. Before I can think too hard about it, he leans down, capturing my lips in another kiss that’s slower this time, more deliberate. His weight presses against me, his body warm and solid, and the sensation sends a thrill racing through me.

His lips leave mine to trail down my neck again, his teeth grazing my skin just enough to draw a quiet gasp from me. His hand slides beneath my shirt, his fingers tracing lazy circles along my waist, the touch light and teasing.

“You’re going to drive me crazy,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the sound of my own racing heartbeat.

Ridoc lifts his head, his grin softening into something almost tender as his thumb brushes against my skin. “Good,” he murmurs, his tone playful but laced with sincerity. “Then we’re even.”

He kisses me again, his hand slipping from my waist to thread through my hair, and I lose myself in the feeling of him—his warmth, his weight, the way he’s somehow both maddeningly teasing and completely grounding all at once. I don’t know where this is going or what it means, but for now, I don’t care.

Ridoc’s lips trace a burning path down my neck, his kisses deliberate and lingering, as though he’s memorising every inch of me with his mouth. Each touch sends a rush of fire through my veins, making it harder to think, harder to breathe. His hands are everywhere—sliding over my waist, my back, cradling me like I’m something precious and fragile, yet anchoring me so firmly I feel like I might shatter if he lets go.

I arch against him instinctively, a soft gasp slipping free when his teeth scrape lightly against the sensitive skin below my ear. It’s too much and not enough all at once, my thoughts spinning wildly as he presses closer, his body fitting perfectly against mine.

“Ridoc,” I whisper, his name tumbling from my lips without permission, and he hums in response, the sound low and dangerous and enough to make my knees go weak.

His lips skim my collarbone, his fingers slipping under the hem of my shirt, the heat of his touch burning into my skin. I feel the shift in him—the slight hesitation as his fingers trail upward, his movements careful but insistent.

“Is this okay?” he murmurs, his breath warm against my skin, his voice rough with restraint. He lifts his head, his dark eyes locking onto mine, searching, waiting.

I hesitate, my hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt to steady myself as the weight of the moment crashes over me. My heart pounds in my chest, a relentless rhythm of want and worry. I want this. I want him. But a tiny voice whispers in the back of my mind, reminding me of the risks, the stakes, the things I can’t take back once they’re given.

“Wait,” I say, my voice breaking as I press a trembling hand against his chest. He freezes instantly, his brow furrowing as he pulls back just enough to look at me fully.

“What is it?” he asks, his tone softer now, threaded with concern.

I bite my lip, glancing away as I try to gather my thoughts. My chest tightens with a mix of vulnerability and fear, but I force myself to meet his gaze. “I don’t want this to be… just a one-time thing,” I admit, the words spilling out in a rush before I lose my nerve. “If we’re doing this, it has to mean something. I need to know that it’s not just casual for you.”

Ridoc stares at me for a moment, his expression shifting into something I don’t entirely recognise. There’s no cocky grin, no teasing glint in his eye—just an earnestness so raw and unguarded it makes my breath catch. Slowly, he lifts a hand to my face, his thumb brushing gently over my cheek in a touch so tender it nearly undoes me.

“You think I’d be here, like this, if it didn’t mean something?” he asks, his voice low but steady. His gaze never wavers, his intensity pinning me in place. “You think I’d touch you, kiss you, look at you the way I do if there was anyone else? There’s no one but you. There never has been.”

His words hit me like a thunderclap, unraveling every ounce of doubt I’ve been holding onto. My chest tightens, my throat burning as I stare at him, trying to find any trace of insincerity and coming up empty. He’s serious. Ridoc Gamlyn, the man who could charm his way out of any situation, who always seems to have a smirk on his face and a joke on his lips, is looking at me like I’m the only thing that’s ever mattered.

I swallow hard, my hands trembling as I slide them up to his shoulders, pulling him closer. “Okay,” I whisper, my voice breaking on the word. “Okay.”

Ridoc doesn’t move for a heartbeat, his gaze lingering on mine as though he’s giving me one last chance to change my mind. Then his lips crash against mine, harder, hungrier, every ounce of restraint slipping away. His hands grip my waist, pulling me flush against him as his kiss deepens, his teeth catching my bottom lip in a way that makes my breath hitch.

My fingers tangle in his hair, tugging lightly as heat coils low in my stomach, a heady mix of anticipation and need flooding through me. When his hands find the hem of my shirt again, this time pulling it up just slightly, I don’t stop him.

Instead, I let myself fall into him completely, losing myself in the heat of his touch and the fire in his kiss

Ridoc’s kiss deepens, his lips and tongue working in perfect rhythm with an intensity that sets me alight. His hands are everywhere—careful but commanding, sliding over my sides, my back, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. The world narrows down to just him: the press of his body, the rasp of his breath, the faintest tremble in his touch that tells me he’s holding back more than I can fathom.

When his fingers find the hem of my shirt, he pauses again, his forehead resting against mine. “Tell me to stop, and I will,” he murmurs, his voice low, husky, and utterly sincere.

I shake my head, my own breath shaky as I grip the fabric of his shirt tighter in my fists. “I don’t want you to stop.”

That’s all he needs. Slowly, deliberately, he tugs at the hem of my shirt, his hands brushing against my skin as he lifts it higher. Every movement is unhurried, reverent, like he’s savouring each second. When the fabric finally clears my head, Ridoc tosses it to the side, his gaze dropping to my newly exposed skin.

The way he looks at me sends a shiver through my entire body. It’s not just lust—it’s awe, reverence, like I’m something he never thought he’d deserve but refuses to let go of now that I’m here. His hands trace over my shoulders, down my arms, his thumbs brushing the curve of my collarbones with a gentleness that feels at odds with the fire in his eyes.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, the words so soft they’re almost a breath, but they hit me with the force of a confession. His lips follow the path of his hands, pressing soft, lingering kisses to my shoulders, my throat, the curve of my neck.

Ridoc takes his time, his touch maddeningly slow as he works his way lower. His fingers trail down my sides, slipping beneath the waistband of my flight trousers just enough to tease but not enough to make a move yet. He looks up at me, his eyes locking onto mine as he leans in to press a kiss just below my collarbone, his lips warm and soft against my skin.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmurs, his voice thick with restraint.

“It’s not,” I manage, my voice trembling. “It’s perfect.”

His smirk makes a brief appearance, softer now, tinged with affection. “Good. Because I’m not rushing this. Not with you.”

His hands find the button of my flight trousers, and as he unfastens it, his lips continue their slow exploration, kissing and nipping at every inch of skin he reveals. He presses his lips to the dip of my stomach, the edge of his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there just enough to make my breath hitch.

When my flight trousers join my shirt on the floor, Ridoc leans back slightly, his gaze sweeping over me in a way that should make me feel self-conscious but somehow doesn’t. There’s no judgment in his expression, only raw, unfiltered desire mixed with something deeper, something that makes my chest tighten.

“You’re incredible,” he says, his voice low and rough, and the way he says it—like he truly believes it—makes my heart stumble in my chest.

He reaches for me again, his hands warm and steady as they slide up my thighs, over my hips, his touch reverent and grounding. Every brush of his fingers, every press of his lips feels deliberate, like he’s worshiping every inch of me, committing every detail to memory.

When his lips find mine again, it’s different this time—slower, deeper, filled with an intensity that makes my head spin. His hands cup my face, his thumbs brushing over my cheekbones as he kisses me like he’s trying to tell me everything he can’t put into words.

“Ridoc,” I whisper against his lips, my voice trembling with emotion I can’t quite name.

He pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, his forehead resting against mine. “You okay?”

I nod, swallowing hard as I lift a hand to his face, my fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw. “I just… I’ve never—no one’s ever made me feel like this before.”

Ridoc’s expression softens, his eyes searching mine as he lifts a hand to cover mine where it rests against his cheek. “Good,” he says, his voice low but firm. “Because I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”

His words settle over me like a promise, and when his lips find mine again, I let myself fall into him completely, trusting him to catch me. And he does.

Ridoc’s hands move with a slow, deliberate intent, his fingers brushing over my shoulders before gliding down my arms. His touch feels electric, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. When his hands come to rest at the clasp of my bra, he pauses, his eyes flicking up to meet mine, searching for any sign of hesitation.

My breath catches, my heart pounding so loudly I’m sure he can hear it. I nod, giving him the silent permission he seems to need. His lips curve into the faintest smile—soft, reverent—before his fingers deftly undo the clasp.

The moment the fabric slips away, I feel the cool air against my skin, a stark contrast to the warmth radiating off him. Ridoc’s gaze lowers, his expression shifting into something almost worshipful. His hands return, gliding up my sides and stopping just beneath my ribs, his thumbs brushing over the sensitive skin there.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, the words barely audible but carrying the weight of absolute sincerity.

His hands move higher, slow and careful, and when his palms finally cup me, I feel the world tilt on its axis. His touch is firm but tender, his thumbs grazing over me in a way that sends a shiver racing down my spine. My breath stutters, and a soft sound escapes me before I can stop it, a mix of surprise and overwhelming sensation.

Ridoc’s lips find my throat, pressing kisses there as his hands explore, mapping me with a care that makes my chest ache. His touch is maddening, teasing, like he’s determined to take his time and savour every reaction he pulls from me.

“Ridoc,” I whisper, his name a breathless plea.

He pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, his eyes dark and filled with something that makes my stomach twist in the best way. “Tell me what you need,” he says, his voice rough but steady, grounding me even as I feel like I’m unraveling.

“I just—” I bite my lip, heat rushing to my face as I struggle to find the words. But I don’t need to.

Ridoc seems to understand, his hands sliding lower, tracing a path down my stomach. Every movement feels deliberate, each touch igniting something deep within me. When his fingers finally slip between us, brushing against the apex of my thighs, I can’t hold back the gasp that tears from my lips.

The sensation is overwhelming, a sharp spike of pleasure that spreads through me like wildfire. His touch is gentle but assured, his fingers moving with a confidence that leaves me breathless. My hips arch instinctively, seeking more, and Ridoc responds with a low, throaty sound that makes my pulse race.

“You’re incredible,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my ear. “Every sound, every movement... I could get drunk on you.”

His words, combined with the skilful way his fingers explore, send me spiralling further into a haze of pleasure. The world falls away until there’s nothing but Ridoc—his touch, his voice, the way he looks at me like I’m the only thing that matters.

Ridoc’s fingers move with unrelenting precision, each stroke coaxing a crescendo of sensation that builds higher and higher, until I feel like I might shatter from it. My breath comes in ragged gasps, and I clutch at his shoulders, grounding myself in the solid warmth of him as he watches me, his gaze heavy with intensity and something softer, more profound.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmurs, his voice rough but gentle, sending a shiver down my spine. His thumb brushes a sensitive spot, and I cry out, my body arching into him as the tension inside me finally snaps.

Pleasure crashes over me in waves, and I cling to him as the world blurs and narrows to nothing but the overwhelming sensation and the sound of his voice murmuring quiet encouragements against my skin. His lips press soft kisses along my temple, my cheek, grounding me as I come back down, trembling and breathless.

When my pulse steadies and I open my eyes, Ridoc is watching me with a small, self-satisfied grin tugging at his lips. The tenderness in his gaze makes my chest ache. Without thinking, I reach for him, tugging at his shirt, my fingers desperate to find skin.

But Ridoc gently catches my hands, stilling them with a quiet chuckle. “Whoa there,” he teases, though his voice is husky, betraying his own restraint.

“Ridoc,” I protest, pulling at his hands, but he shakes his head, leaning down to capture my lips in a slow, lingering kiss.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, his breath mingling with my own. “Tonight’s about you,” he whispers, his voice low and steady. “I wanted to make sure you felt how much you mean to me. We can do more another day, but for now…” He trails off, brushing a strand of hair from my face with a tenderness that sends warmth flooding through me.

I start to argue, but he silences me with another kiss—soft and insistent, stealing the words from my lips and leaving me dizzy. “Let’s get into bed,” he murmurs when he pulls back, his smile gentle but firm. “I just want to hold you tonight.”

There’s no room for argument in his tone, but the sincerity in his eyes melts any resistance I might have had. With a soft sigh, I let him guide me toward the bed. He pulls the covers back and helps me settle in, his movements careful and unhurried, like he’s savouring every moment.

When he slips in beside me, his arms wrap around me, pulling me close against his chest. His warmth surrounds me, his heartbeat steady and grounding beneath my ear.

“Just you and me,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “That’s all I need.”

And as I lie there, cocooned in his embrace, I realise it’s all I need, too.

Fourth Wing Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

@caramelmacchiato07 @fanficscuziranout @daisydark @mariahoedt @marrass @honethatty12 @ladymacbabe

[nerokoma]

press start! — zero survival instincts (5/22)

955 wc

Tsukishima let out a sigh as he glanced up at the star-filled sky, the quiet sounds of night filling his ears. He’d made the mistake of forgetting his headphones at home that morning. Although he’d gone through the day just fine, he couldn’t wait to get home. Walking alone wasn’t new to him, but the lack of music only solidified his opinion of the world.

It was boring.

He was at the edge of the school grounds when a small ‘meow’ sounded in the air. Tsukishima halted, eyebrows furrowing as he scanned his surroundings, eventually falling on a small red figure huddled in the short distance.

“Hey little guy.” Your voice came out in a gentle whisper, one arm extending toward the other small figure sitting directly in front of you. As he peered closer, Tsukishima came to the realization that there was a small cat in front of you, its black fur blending in with the dark surroundings. “You’re so cute. Are you hungry?”

Tsukishima watched in curiosity as you rifled through your bag, pulling out a single onigiri. The plastic crackled as you unwrapped it before taking a bite.

“Here, it’s tuna,” you said, mouth full as you extended the bitten onigiri toward the cat with a smile.

A small smile unknowingly spread across Tsukishima’s face as the cat tentatively sniffed at the onigiri. Eventually, it leaned forward and began to nibble. You grinned at the cat, using your other hand to gently pet its head as it continued to eat.

Tsukishima let out a single chuckle, about to walk away when his foot landed on a dry twig, which snapped under his weight. The sound caused you to snap your head in his direction, while the cat turned and disappeared into the nearby bushes.

“Oh.” Was all you said as you looked to where it disappeared. You looked back over your shoulder to where Tsukishima stood, wearing a blank expression. “Dude, you scared it away.”

The boy raised his eyebrows at you.

“Oh,” he said, mirroring your previous reaction. “Sorry.”

A small sigh escaped your lips as you shrugged. “Oh well,” you said, wrapping up the rest of the onigiri before throwing it back into your bag. You looked up at Tsukishima, narrowing your eyes. “You’re from Karasuno, right?”

Tsukishima blinked at you before nodding silently.

“Tsukki, was it?”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Tsukishima,” he corrected.

“Sorry. Tsukishima,” you said, giving a small smile. “Are there a lot of stray animals around here?”

Again, Tsukishima blinked at you. You frowned as you stared back at him, trying to decipher the look he was giving you, though your mind was drawing a blank.

“I guess so,” he eventually replied. “I always see one or two whenever I walk home.”

You nodded, turning back to where the cat had disappeared to. “I’ve only ever seen a couple of stray cats. They’re not that common in Tokyo. I mean, unless you count my teammates.” You said the last part with a small chuckle that almost made Tsukishima smirk.

“Did you follow it all the way here?” he asked. “The club room’s on the other side of campus.”

You let out a sheepish laugh, nodding.

“I couldn’t help it. It was just too cute.”

Tsukishima felt a buzz in his pocket. Pulling out his phone, he read the messages that popped up in his notifications.

Hinata: SOS

Hinata: nekoma’s manager is missing

Hinata: has anyone seen her?

“Did any of your teammates know you followed that cat all the way here?” he asked, staring down at his phone as more messages popped up. He watched as realization dawned on your face and you immediately jumped up, a stream of obscenities leaving your lips as you adjusted your bag.

“Shit shit shit shit shit,” you said. “We’re supposed to be gone by now.”

In your panic, you stumbled as you began running toward the direction of the club room. However, as you approached the boy, you miscalculated the amount of space you had to run past him, resulting in you barreling into Tsukishima’s shoulder. The force caused both of you to stumble to the ground, the contents of your bag spilling out onto the ground, along with some of his.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry,” you said as you pushed yourself up off the ground, staring at him with wide eyes. Tsukishima only stared back, processing what had just happened. Still panicked, you hastily gathered all of your items in your arms and started haphazardly shoving them back into your bag. Tsukishima, still on the ground, helped you by handing you some of your items, which you took gratefully. You glanced down at your full bag before looking over at him, eyes widening as you realized he was still on the ground. “Wait, shit. Sorry, let me help-”

“It’s ok,” Tsukishima said, placing his own items into his bag. You leaned forward to try and offer him a hand, though he simply brought himself to his feet with a small wave. “I’m fine. Go catch your bus.”

Despite the hesitant expression on your face, you nodded at the boy and gave a small bow.

“Thank you. And again, I am so sorry,” you said before turning and sprinting away.

Tsukishima watched as your figure slowly grew smaller the further you ran, your bag bouncing against your side as you sprinted away. At some point, something fell out of your bag, and you quickly halted to pick it up before continuing to run.

A small chuckle escaped his lips as he brushed himself off. He glanced around at his surroundings, double checking that nothing had been left on the ground before turning, making his own way home.

after spending almost a whole year on academic probation, you’re finally allowed to start your position as a manager for the nekoma boys volleyball team. you’re determined to stay focused on your team and academics, but things get a bit difficult when a certain middle blocker makes his way into your life

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[ryoshiwaah]

˖ ๋࣭݁ ⭑ Astronomy Lessons 🔭๋࣭⭑.

ᯓ🛸Warnings: a swear word, spelling mistakes and nothing else.

ᯓGenre: fluff, strangers to friends to situationship to idk.

ᯓ🔆Pairing: photographer!Minji x fem!reader

ᯓSynopsis: you're Minji's Sun, muse and best work of art.

ᯓStarring: Haerin as Minji's cousin & Hyein as your little sister.

ᯓ🛰️Word count: 2.9k

a/n: a one shot to feed you guys while we wait for my motivation to bring back Holidays, also the story is heavily inspired by 23.5 (watch it bc it's soooooo good and funny and fluffy), enjoyy!

If Minji was asked how much she loved the Sun on a scale of 0 to 10, she’d say 5, 5.5; sure it helped the plants grow, created the perfect light for photos and much more. The big star was fundamental to humans and the solar system, the whole thing was named after it too!

Spending half of her life in a darkroom thanks to her photography passion, Minji became sensitive to the sun’s light – She wore caps every day to cover her eyes, she bought so many that seeing her without one was odd, plus, she made space in her wardrobe just for them.

The photographer turned into some sort of vampire, worrying not only her poor mother but also her friends.

Though, she never got tired of, or annoyed at her Sun, you.

Minji basked into the light you emanated just by standing next to her, a warm feeling spread through her every time you got close enough for your shoulder to touch hers, or when you picked her up with your Vespa.

The scooter had a bright yellow color that reflected your personality perfectly: it was named “Sunny the third”. Lame, yes, but she found it cute.

“The third” part was added because that was your third scooter: you broke the first one by trying to race your dad’s car and ended up crashing into it, earning a 3 months grounding and a broken arm.

Sunny the second tragically died by the hands of a thief who, just like you, was a clumsy mess and crashed into a pole; the guy lit it on fire to hide the evidence but failed and burned his hand instead.

He was caught in the act and sent to jail for a week.

Let’s just say that now you guard your scooter from everyone and anyone, even the smallest insect will be “gently flicked away”.

Still, you didn’t miss the opportunity to help others, picking them up and driving them around. You were a kind soul that she couldn’t help but admire from behind her camera lens.

She noticed the way you went at a slow pace whenever she was with you, remembering the very first time she hopped on: tense, anxious – you name it.

Panicked screams left her lips when you speeded through the traffic, making sure to balance both of your weights.

The entire ride to school was chaos accompanied by laughter, your laughter, since Minji took her time to recover every now and then before starting to scream again until her lungs were empty.

After parking in front of the building, she immediately got off and thanked you way too many times before remembering she hadn’t introduced herself – “I’m Minji by the way, Kim Minji.”

“I never heard of you, new student?” You said after taking off your helmet, a bright smile on your face.

Your face matched your voice, sweet and adorable. Minji felt uneasy at how fast her heart was beating, it was a surprise her soul didn’t start levitating from how gorgeous you looked – gravity seemed to be pulling it down when you poked her cheek.

“Helloooo, Earth to Minji!”

“Uh- Huh? Yes. I’m new here.”

“Cool! My name is Lee Y/n, nice to meet you.”

From then on you noticed Minji being a constant presence in your life, not only in school but even in your own home: her cousin, Haerin, was a good friend of your little sister Hyein so every time they hung out, the photographer ended up tagging along.

Her parents forced her to go out, otherwise she would spend all day studying and taking pictures, which meant she locked herself in her darkroom and avoided social interaction with everyone.

Eventually things got always too girly for her, so you invited her over to your room, making the younger girls wonder what happened behind the four walls.

You spent your time watching Minji’s camera roll, gushing and praising her about the amazing photos she took; she would blush and tell you she wasn’t that good, but not so secretly loved hearing you compliment her.

The way your eyes lit up when she showed you the new photos she took, or how you would beg her to take a picture of you was hilarious.

“Oh pleaseee!” Your whine rang in her ear while she worked on the new composition, adjusting the settings of her camera.

“No, Y/n, my life already revolves much around you, stop asking.”

That made you slap the back of her head, a move that she expected since she mindlessly avoided it.

“That’s not true! We barely see each other anymore…”

“We saw each other yesterday and the day before, and the day before the day befo–”

“Okay! Okay! I get it geez.” You scoffed, bringing your knees over on the table you were sitting on, leaning against the wall behind you.

As Minji took pictures of the various objects scattered on the table, claiming that it was contemporary art, you just looked around the room of the photography club: all the artworks of the members were stuck to the wall, creating a cozy atmosphere.

Haerin’s main topic was cats, of course, your friend’s cousin was obsessed with the felines and took pictures whenever she saw one. But a few of them portrayed a girl with curly hair, smiling brightly at the camera.

Hanni’s side of the wall was funny and covered in polaroids, the dates written in red while the notes were in black, some of them were with loved ones, probably family members, some of herself and others of food.

“She could be an influencer.” You mumbled to yourself, before taking a look at Minji’s corner, skipping the other 3 columns of pictures before her.

You felt like witnessing the whole universe before you. 

There were photos of the moon, stars and constellations; Minji had connected the stars with a light blue pen and wrote the names in the corner. The only thing missing was a picture of the sun.

You knew she didn’t like being exposed to it, she had glasses because her eyes couldn’t adjust well to the light, so you guessed that was the reason why she didn’t have a photo of it.

Speaking of sunlight, the right side of your face started to feel hotter due to the light coming from the window. You closed your eyes, enjoying the warm feeling of the rays on your skin.

‘Click’

The familiar sound made you turn to Minji who was pointing the camera towards you, a faint smile making its way to her lips; you saw that expression tons of times, it was the same face she made after taking a good picture. The satisfaction etched in her eyes.

An inaudible gasp left your lips after realizing what happened: after months of begging, Minji finally took a picture of you with her camera, not her phone, her beloved camera!

You looked at the photographer with wide eyes, not knowing if you were dreaming or not.

“Minji?” You asked incredulously, as if she had grown a second head, your body shifting so it leaned closer to hers. Your faces were inches away, noses almost touching.

“Did you really just take a picture of me??”

“No.”

And then she turned back, working on her previous task.

“No? I heard the cick and you were pointing your camera at me.”

“Nope, I think being exposed to the sun kills your brain cells.”

“Wha–”

“Here.”

She interrupted you by sticking her cap on top of your head, changing the size from behind since your head was smaller than hers.

“There there…” She smiled, her dimples showing, as she patted your head. “You should be okay now.”

An exasperated sigh left your lips before you slumped back against the wall, now letting your legs loosely swing from on top of the table. You were rethinking the interaction because where on Earth did that make sense?!

Luckily for Minji, you forgot about the picture the next hour and were too bored to do anything at all, just wanting your friend to clock out from the club.

An hour later you two were out, your body feeling heavy from the sleepiness. “Note to self, never accompany Minji for club activities ever again.”

“Are you sure you can drive?”

Minji’s husky voice snapped you out of your daze. Already knowing where this was going, you reached into your pockets and tossed the taller girl your keys. She caught them with a fond smile before picking you up and sitting you on the scooter.

“I could have climbed it up myself, you know?”

Oh, how that sleepy voice made Minji feel all fuzzy and glad she was alive to hear it, a small thought made its way through her mind: what if one day she would be able to hear it every morning when she woke up… that’d be perfect.

She started humming happily while switching the cap she gave you with the helmet, securing it so it wouldn’t fall off.

“Happy?”

“Hmhm.”

“What made you happy?”

“A sleepy girl that I’m driving home.”

She said casually before thrusting forward and turning on the bike, taking off and heading to your house.

Your arms were secured around her waist and your head was resting on her back; it didn’t take long before you fell asleep, holding tighter on your gir– friend. On your friend.

“Saturn is Haerin’s favorite, I think it’s a basic answer.”

“And why’s that, my dear astronomer?”

It was a Friday night, Minji just crashed at your house like usual and you were discussing planets after staring at your ceiling for too long. It had the planets and some stars scattered around so the conversation started naturally.

“Nowadays Saturn is so mainstream, ugh, people like it for its aesthetic.”

“You’re too harsh, Y/n.”

“What? It’s your favourite planet too?”

Minji scoffed, gently pushing you away from her but you rolled towards her body, making sure that the side of your heads were touching.

“I’ll let you know that I don’t have a favourite planet… They’re just balls in space.”

“It’s like saying that your photos are just colored pieces of paper.”

Your hand wrapped around her wrist, making sure her finger was pointing up at the ceiling, towards Venus. 

“That’s Venus, Taurus’ ruling planet.” then you pointed to another one, making Minji shriek from the suddenness of the movement. “And that’s Mars, Scorpio’s ruling planet.”

You let her arm go, as it rests on the ground again. She’s silent for a few seconds, thinking of what your words meant. You talked about you two’s zodiac signs, there must be a reason.

“Uh… thank you for letting me know?”

You turned your head towards Minji, raising an eyebrow. Why was she acting like she didn’t know about the planets? Her photos were all about astronomy and space.

Plus, you didn’t spend the entire month trying to get all the names right just for her to be unaware of what you were talking about.

“You don’t get it?”

“I fear I don’t, sorry.” The look on her face turned into a sad one when she saw the hope slowly fading from your eyes, but then, a wholehearted laugh left her speechless.

All you could do was exactly that, laugh and slowly roll on the carpet as the realization hit you: all those hours studying to impress Minji were for nothing, because, apparently, the photographer barely knew what zodiac signs and ruling planets were.

“Your photos…” You began as the giggles began to quiet down, leaving you breathless and Minji scared she might have just watched you have a manic episode over heavens knows what.

“Moon phases, the constellations, the stars. I thought you knew all about astronomy.”

Then it hit Minji, it was like a lightbulb turned on in her peanut brain; she sat up and looked down at you.

“Don’t tell me you know all of this because you were trying to impress me.” 

She used the same tone a parent would use when scolding their kid, but decorated with a hint of amusement. Minji was incapable of imagining someone putting so much effort for her, but knowing that you, out of all people, did that, made her whole day and probably year.

In response you remained glued to the wooden ground, staring at the planets on your ceiling, hoping they could tell you what to do, now that your information was useless for the both of you.

“I learned all that for nothing!” You whined, your feet kicking the ground while you threw your little tantrum.

At first Minji chuckled, but then she thought about it and shook your shoulder, making you glare at her. 

“Teach me the secrets of astronomy, I want to understand, no matter how long it takes.”

The astronomy lessons went on for weeks. Even if they were only an excuse to spend more time together, Minji started learning for real, surprising you: not only she was a fast learner, but she was actually interested in the topic.

It was regenerating talking to someone who was so willing to listen, that’s why you never lost a chance to mention even the smallest detail.

You spent so much time together that Minji started to call you her Sun, while only in your mind you thought of her as your Moon; you’d stare at her hoping she would catch you and call you out on it, but instead, your best friend was always focused on the teacher.

Or, in general, something else that wasn’t you.

The probability that you and Minji weren’t aligned anymore made you doubt your own feelings towards her – You noticed it on a wednesday, while eyeing the lunch lady give out food to your sister and Haerin, the cat-like girl talked about her cousin’s birthday coming up.

Your train of thought drifted from the kimbap you were going to ask for, to the photographer, way too quickly.

“3 Kim Minji please…”

The lunch lady raised an eyebrow, already fed up with you. “You mean kimbap.”

“That’s what I said…”

With a roll of her eyes she almost tossed at you your 3 miserable kimbap and called for the next one in line. Confused but not in the mood to deal with old women, you decided to just walk away, food in your hands.

“You said my name, moron.”

The familiar voice startled you, almost making the rice rolls fall from your grip, but you weren’t so careless with food, thankfully.

“Did I– Oh shit, I did.” You blushed after recollecting yourself and your train of thoughts.

“You think about me so much it messes up your social interactions, what a loser.” 

“I overheard your cousin talking about your upcoming birthday and you popped in my mind, miss stubborn.”

“All excuses!” She grinned smugly, now getting in front of you. How she got so dangerously close you didn’t know, but damn she looked good: her hair was put up in a messy bun, while she had a jacket over her school uniform.

Her face was naturally beautiful, but what attracted your eyes were her plump lips.

Before you knew it, she pecked your forehead, stole the kimbap you started eating and ran away, leaving you in the middle of the canteen – a blushing, gay panicking mess, standing there with food in her hands.

The more time passed, the more you started to doubt your knowledge. It seemed like the Sun’s orbit changed, making it move around the now static Moon.

Your infatuation became stronger every day, and you couldn’t deny that Minji felt the same too. But when was she going to make a move, or maybe, when were you going to do something about the growing tension?

Haerin was tired of hearing her cousin ramble for hours about you, she swore Minji said your name so many times that she lost count, even of how many times she spaced out.

Things got worse when you bought the photographer a new camera for her birthday, making her promise to take more photos of you. And she did, of course she did.

If months before you had to beg her on your knees to even turn her camera towards you, now it was the complete opposite; it seemed like she had no other subject to snap photos of than you.

Of course, you thought she was just sticking to her word, her promise, but deep inside you were aware that Minji’s behaviour shifted since her birthday. None of them had the guts to confront one another, so the situation remained…questionable.

To her though, you’d become more than a simple Sun; you were art, her constant inspiration and muse, the deep feelings she nurtured for you could be seen in her photos and the dedication she put in them. 

She spent hours editing out and in anything that could make you the center of the picture, even if that meant learning how to use photoshop, she’d do it for you.

The only person that didn’t notice all of that was the protagonist of the works, you.

Only the ones stopping by for a visit could notice that Minji’s corner changed completely, displaying only certain photos, that of course were space related, carefully arranged around the best snaps she took of Y/n.

A detail, one that could blow up Minji’s aloof and careless facade, exposing her feelings to the world, was the little sentence written at the corner of the photo at the very center.

“My Sun”

Once again, the photographer found herself reconsidering her opinion about the protagonist of the solar system, seeing her reflection into the picture of the Moon that just like Earth, found herself orbiting around the Sun.

🗂️jeanzforfree masterlist

[stvrnioloslvt]

❛❛ ⛸️ + 🏒 ❞

pride

t.w: suggestive language, sexual tension

there was a reason why you tried to interact as little as possible with matt, way too scared by the effect he had on you each time you two would meet.

growing up, your mother had taught you two lessons that quickly became the fundaments of your own persona:

lesson number one, if you think you have mastered something, you have not. you're just overestimating yourself, and you can't risk that when there will be judges on the other side of the plastic walls of the rink.

lesson number two, if a person has an effect on you, they have power over you. and no one should have power over you, outside of yourself.

love wasn't even an option: love was a distraction, an emotion for those who've got nothing to loose. but you had something, you had your thing, that little passion young baby had for figure skating quickly became both your best friend, and your worst enemy. well, no, technically your worst enemy was your mind, always so fucking determined to make you the best out there, the number one in every competition. there was no space for distractions, and no space for mistakes, either. your mind and eyes were fixed on one thing only: perfection.

your little ambition, unfortunately, got quite out of control and you had soon learned to see the worrying consequences of it when your grades drastically dropped. sure, you were studying. but what could a stressed out mind ever memorise?

cherry had tried to help you more than once. poor, sweet, cherry, who had to live with you every single day. you were truthfully sorry for everything you put her through, sometimes wishing you had never met her just to spare her from your toxic side.

either way, cherry's help turned out to be useless, no matter how smart the girl was, and you still needed to bring your grades up. that's how you ended up replying to matt's messages a whole day later, asking if he could actually help you with that exam you couldn't pass no matter how hard you tried. he accepted, of course, always so polite even if he looked all tough and mean on the outside. you both had decided that you would go to his place after your skating lesson - which was right after his hockey lesson - and try to at least understand where the problem laid.

useless to say, you made a mental note to yourself: you had to focus on your studies, nothing else. no matter how hard he pulled and tugged your strings, you would not cave like this.

except, you did. you fell for matt harder than you thought, and you didn't even notice.

a soft puff of air blew from your lips as you entered the arena, sitting on one of the empty seats, your gym bag slipping from your shoulders and dropping down with a thump. you grumbled, reaching down to pick it up and put it on the seat next to you before slipping your headphones on. the hockey team was almost at the end of their practice, their coach had just blown into the whistle before announcing to cool down and then head to the showers.

"sturniolo, come here," he yelled, sitting down on the bench right outside the rink. at that command your ears perked up, slightly slipping your headphones to the side of your left ear to hear better what was going on. truth was, you had fully expected for chris to head to the coach, thinking that maybe he had done yet another stupid thing, so you were definitely surprised when you saw matt gliding towards the middle-aged man, carrying his whole weight on his right leg. you observed as his left foot didn't touch completely the ground, his leg slightly bent. right behind him, chris waved his hands in order to grab your attention. you looked at him with a puzzled expression as he took off his helmet, mouthing "watch now" while discretely pointing to his brother, a smirk forming on his lips.

your gaze shifted back on matt who had taken off his helmet, running a hand through his sweaty hair as the coach touched his leg in multiple points, asking where it hurt more. you couldn't really make out what was going on exactly since he had given you his back, but the two men seemed engrossed in their conversation.

chris reached you on the benches, motioning for you to move. "scoot over, ice baby, wanna see your reaction." you muttered a confused "what?" before the boy grabbed your chin with his long fingers, turning your head back towards the rink. your breath stopped in your throat for a second as you watched matt follow his coach's instructions, slowly falling to his knees and elbows while the older man crouched down next to him, keeping a hand on his lower back as he helped him open his knees as much as possible before coming back to the initial position, instructing him to repeat the stretch for a couple times. his head hung low, his long hair covering completely his face. well, fuck.

chris' eyes didn't leave your face for a second, not even trying to hide the amused expression printed on his face while your eyes bore into his brother's figure, almost drooling at the sight.

"enjoying the little show, baby?" he chuckled at your reaction, a little flinch taking over your body as you were brought back to earth by your rather annoying friend.

"w-what?" you asked, your voice raspy and feeble. your eyes didn’t leave matt’s figure for one second, your mind running miles per hour with not-so-innocent thoughts, hypnotised by the way his hips and legs moved. all of a sudden, his head shot up, his eyes straightway locking with yours. everything in that moment ceased to exist, wrapping you and matt in a bubble. he, too, looked taken aback by your presence there, his gaze slowly dropping to chris’ fingers sinking in the soft flesh of your chin and then to his brother’s satisfied grin. matt’s expression turned dark; if looks could hurt, chris would be grabbing his own hand in pain for how intensely matt was staring at the iron-grip his brother had on you, jealousy bubbling under his skin. 

you cleared your throat, excusing yourself before bolting out of the arena with your bag dangling in your hand, rushing towards the locker room. as you entered, you shut the door behind you with a loud bang.

you didn’t even notice cherry sitting on the bench, rolling her muscle warmers on her calf. “whoa, what- what is happening?” asked the girl, taking in your shocked and flustered appearance. you whipped your head around, your back melting against the wall as you slowly slid down on the ground. “one of the weirdest things in my life,” and just like that you began explaining to your best friend what had happened in the span of the last ten minutes, which definitely felt like hours. 

in the end, cherry groaned frustrated, complaining about the lack of action from both of you, rambling about how you two would never end up together if neither mustered up the courage to go talk to the other one.

“first of all, we do talk to each other. matter of fact, i’ll go to his place after practice since chris insisted he could help me study.” cherry raised her eyebrow at that, a sceptical yet surprised look on her face. you raised your hand before she could speak further, continuing with your remarks. “and secondly, i don’t want us to end up together, i ain’t got the time for that.” 

“okay you’re fucking ridiculous,” began your friend, but before she could continue the door opened and revealed the two sturniolo brothers, their helmets and skates in hand and weird looks on their faces. as the two spotted you and cherry, they quickly raised their hand in greeting before grabbing their gym bags and heading for the showers. matt was the first to disappear, still looking pissed off. chris waited for him to go to the showers room before he muttered as silently as possible “he’s pissed cause i had my hands on you,” snickering to himself as he, too, disappeared in the other room. cherry’s jaw hung low, excitement building quickly in her. “see!” she half-whispered, half- screamed, “i fucking told you!” 

“no, no,” you quickly interrupted her, jumping towards her figure to slap a hand on her mouth, trying to contain her excited blabbering. “shh, cherry, damn. get your skates, you need to burn some of this pent-up energy.”

you spent the next two hours training and training and training, trying to perfection your technique as best as you could, trying to ignore the two brothers sitting on the furthest bench of the arena, knowing that a particular set of eyes was planted on you the whole time.

“give him a chance,” whispered cherry as you closed your bag, swinging it over your shoulder. you had finished practice a few minutes ago, and after a quick shower you were ready to head towards the brothers who were waiting for you outside. “i’m serious, baby. you don’t need to be always so strict with yourself.” you smiled softly at your friend, nodding briefly before you reached the brothers who were waiting inside their car. the ride to their place wasn’t uncomfortable, but not pleasant either: you could tell matt was trying to brush off the events from earlier, failing miserably. and chris - well, he did nothing to ease his brother’s mind, constantly talking about memories he had of when you two met for the first time years ago. you really couldn’t tell if he was that oblivious to his brother’s annoyed attitude, or if he was working him up on purpose. either way, whatever his plan was was working perfectly. 

as you reached their place, chris finally quieted down. he was the first one to jump out of the car, immediately heading towards his room. 

matt sighed tired, running a hand on his face. “i’m sorry, i- had a long day.” you smiled sympathetically at him, feeling sorry for the poor boy who had to deal all this time with his brother’s constant teasing. “it’s fine, i know how obnoxious chris can get. by the way, how’s your leg?”

matt groaned, shaking his head before plopping down on the couch. “apparently i pulled a muscle and it hurts like a motherfucker,” he mumbled, closing his eyes and throwing his head back on the couch’s back. you put your bag down, trying to not dwell too much on how attractive he looked like that, manspreading and confident. 

“you can come sit down,” he said, patting the space next to him. “just give me five minutes so the pain subsides and we’ll get to studying.”

“yeah, no it’s fine, don’t worry about it. do you want some medicine? i think i’ve got something in my bag.” you replied, bringing your bag with you on the couch. as you sat down next to him, you rummaged through your things to find the little pouch you used to store your medicine. 

“no, i’m fine, it’s not the first time this has happened.”

“you sure? i’ve got a few things against the pain, i just need to find where they went-”

“baby,” matt’s hand gently grabbed your wrist, pulling it out of your bag. your skin broke out in chills at the contact, your heart racing in your ribcage. “i’m serious, i don’t need anything. thanks, though.”

you nodded, staring at his hand still neatly wrapped around your wrist, not showing any signs of wanting to let go anytime soon. he gently pulled it towards him, making you turn slowly so that you were completely facing him. you observed as his eyes fell slowly to your chin, his free hand delicately lifting your head and turning it side to side to check if your skin had any marks from chris’ grip earlier. your breath hitched at the proximity. if you closed your eyes and focused, you were sure you could feel his breath gently fanning over your neck. you didn’t dare to speak, not wanting to mutter a single word in fear of fucking everything up. your mind screamed at you to pull away, to break contact as soon as possible, but how could you when it felt so good?

a loud noise broke the spell that had you both hooked, followed by music playing softly in the background. matt groaned annoyed, pulling back slightly to mutter “‘m sorry, it’s the fucking speakers, chris is probably convinced that he turned them on only in his room.” at that, you couldn’t hold back a smile from creeping on your face, chuckling softly. “may i say that i do not envy you?”

matt scoffed, an amused glint in his eyes. “yeah, well, understandable. don’t even know how you bear him as your friend.” you shrugged your shoulders, a silent way of saying “it is what it is.”

matt cleared his throat, his index finger running softly on your jaw. “he- he didn’t hurt you, right?” you shook your head, instinctively shifting closer to him. you felt his breath blowing on your lips, and you observed as his eyes shifted from your jaw, to your lips, to your eyes and then to your lips again. the air all around you buzzed with electricity, the tension between you two becoming almost palpable. 

“i’m- i’m sorry, i…” you whispered, hands shaking with anticipation. you tried to stabilize your breath, wanting to gain back control over your body that seemed to respond only to matt’s actions instead of your own mind.

“don’t.” he mumbled, finally closing the space between you two. his lips found yours in a delicate and tentative kiss, but once you kissed him back there was nothing soft left. his hand cupped your cheek, bringing you impossibly closer to him as he deepened the kiss, his tongue gently brushing over your bottom lip. you whimpered quietly as his tongue grazed yours, his other hand leaving your wrist to wrap around your waist, helping you straddle him. 

“matt,” you moaned, fingers locking in his soft hair and pulling them gently. his lips traveled down your jaw and to your neck, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses behind. “‘m sorry, angel,” he whispered on your skin, his teeth nipping and sucking and painting your neck in violet marks. “couldn’t hold back anymore,” he continued, arms wrapping even tighter around your torso. your hands stroked his cheeks, bringing him in for another kiss. 

and while you two were busy on the couch, a song played in the background, tying everything together:

love' s gonna get you killed

but pride’s gonna be the death of you, and you and me.

© stvrnioloslvt

ও read other parts of this au here. asks and requests are always open!

icy taglist!:

@sofieeeeex @shadowthesim @sturnioloszn @m4ttg1rl @marrykisskilled @thecrawlys @x0x0bunny @izzylovesmatt @sturniolosweets @sturnslutz @user1smvtysturniolo @gabrielaperez11 @frankoceanfanpage @ivysturnss @watercolorskyy @bluestriips @sllutty-sturniolo @hesvoid34 @mattsturniolover @emely9274 @boomshakalaka12381238 @lovergirl4gracieabrams @sturnsrecord @joselyncsblog

[onebadassunicorn]

The Spy Who Loved Me

pairing: Azriel x Reader

content warnings: angst, torture and eventually some very light smut and fluff

word count: 9.9K

Taglist: @motheroffae @rosecobollway @tele86 @anainkandpaper

If you would like to be added to the taglist, please leave me a comment!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

********

Chapter 14

As your side of the bond became a very faint echo, Azriel sat alone in the quiet of his chambers, the dim glow of the stars outside casting faint light across the walls. The room felt larger than usual, emptier, though he couldn’t tell if it was the space itself or the hollow ache inside his chest that made it seem that way. His wings rested heavily against the back of his chair, his scarred hands clenched into fists on the table in front of him.

But no matter how tightly he tried to hold himself together until dawn, his thoughts unraveled, spiraling back to you.

He exhaled shakily, leaning forward and pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, as if he could block out the memories that flooded his mind. But they came anyway—vivid, unrelenting, cutting through the haze of anger and regret that had consumed him for weeks.

Rhysand’s words echoed in his head. Every time Eris touched her, she thought of you. She hated it. It made her sick.

The weight of that truth settled heavily on Azriel’s chest, constricting his breath.

He couldn’t stop the images that followed, the ones Rhysand had described with clinical precision—Eris’s hands on you, his mouth on your skin.

The thought of it had been driving Azriel crazy before, but now… now it was worse.

Because he knew that while your body might have been with Eris, your mind had been elsewhere.

It had been with him.

And as he sat there in the suffocating quiet, the memories of your time together at the beach house came rushing back, vivid and undeniable.

He thought of the way you had laughed as you splashed water at him, your hair shimmering in the sunlight, your eyes alight with mischief. The way you had shrieked when he had lunged at you, pulling you into the surf and pinning you beneath him in the gentle waves. Your laughter had turned to soft gasps as he’d leaned down to kiss you, the warmth of your skin contrasting with the coolness of the water.

He thought of the nights spent tangled in the sheets, the moonlight streaming through the windows as the sound of the waves filled the room. He remembered the way you had whispered his name, breathless and reverent, as he made love to you. The way your fingers had traced the scars on his hands and wings, as though you were trying to memorize every part of him. The way you had looked at him, your gaze filled with something he hadn’t dared to name at the time but now knew was love.

It had been real.

For you and for him.

The weight of his cruelty pressed heavily on him now, each word he had spoken to you replaying in his mind like a damning echo.

He had called you a liar, told you that the bond didn’t matter, that you couldn’t be trusted. He had accused you of toying with him, of manipulating him, when all along you had been risking everything for the greater good.

Azriel’s chest tightened as he thought of the way you had looked at him in the dungeon—broken, devastated, as though he had ripped your heart from your chest and crushed it in his hands.

He wasn’t sure if you would ever forgive him for what he had said, for what he had done.

And the thought of losing you, of losing the future he had begun to imagine during those quiet nights at the beach house, was a pain he wasn’t sure he could endure.

He let out a ragged breath, his hands shaking as he braced them against the table. He didn’t want to be here, sitting alone in the darkness, consumed by his mistakes.

He wanted to be with you.

Back at the beach house, walking along the shore with the sand between his toes, listening to your laughter as you teased him for his seriousness.

He wanted to hold you in his arms as the moonlight reflected off the water, to feel your warmth against him as the waves crashed outside.

He wanted to make love to you again, to hear you say his name the way only you could, to remind you—and himself—of what you meant to each other.

And as the hours stretched into the night, he sat there, haunted by the memories of what he had thrown away—and the aching hope that somehow, you would still be alive when he came for you tomorrow.

********

The Autumn Court awoke to chaos.

At the break of dawn, thick plumes of smoke began to rise from the far wings of Beron’s palace, accompanied by the unmistakable roar of flames licking at the ancient stone walls. The fire spread with terrifying speed, fed by carefully placed accelerants that had been set ablaze under Eris’s orders. The inferno consumed the servants’ quarters and storerooms first, drawing the attention of Beron’s men as shouts of alarm echoed through the grand halls. The courtiers were roused from their chambers, rushing to escape the growing flames, and the palace guards scrambled to organize a response.

Eris stood in one of the upper balconies, watching the fire spread with calculated calm. His golden eyes gleamed as he observed the carefully orchestrated chaos, his sharp mind focused on every detail of his plan. He had made sure that the guards stationed near the dungeon had been redirected to assist with containing the fire, leaving only two to guard your cell. He knew Beron would be furious at the distraction, but it didn’t matter. This was your only chance.

He prayed that Azriel was already there, waiting in the shadows.

The path was finally clear.

********

Azriel arrived just as the first rays of sunlight pierced through the dense canopy of the Autumn Court forest. He winnowed directly into the outskirts of the palace grounds, his shadows coiling tightly around him as he assessed his surroundings. The air was thick with smoke, the acrid scent stinging his nose, but he didn’t falter. His focus was razor-sharp, his heart pounding in his chest as he approached the dungeon entrance.

He moved silently through the shadows, his movements a perfect blend of stealth and precision.

The air in the dungeon was thick and suffocating, the acrid scent of blood and damp stone clinging to everything. The faint, distant roar of flames from the distraction above reverberated through the walls, but Azriel paid no attention to it. His entire focus was on the corridor ahead, his steps silent as his shadows writhed around him like restless sentinels. Truth-Teller rested in his hand, its blade glinting in the dim torchlight, ready to strike.

His heart pounded in his chest, a relentless rhythm that mirrored the faint pulse of the bond in his chest. It was still there, fragile and faint, but it was enough to keep him moving. Enough to keep the desperation at bay, though only barely.

Two guards stood outside the heavy iron door to your cell, their attention half-focused on the faint sounds of chaos from above. They were distracted, unprepared—and Azriel capitalized on it. He moved like a shadow, swift and deadly, his blade slicing through the first guard’s throat before the man could even draw his weapon. The second guard managed a strangled gasp before Azriel’s shadows wrapped around him, pinning him in place as Truth-Teller plunged into his chest. The bodies crumpled to the floor, their blood pooling beneath them, but Azriel didn’t spare them a second glance.

He turned to the door, his hands trembling as he worked to unlock it. His shadows slipped through the cracks, manipulating the mechanism with precision, but every second felt like an eternity. He could feel the bond growing weaker with each passing moment, the faint thread that connected you to him stretched impossibly thin.

Finally, the lock clicked open, and Azriel shoved the door wide.

His breath caught in his throat as his hazel eyes landed on you, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop.

You were slumped against the wall, your head tilted to the side, your body limp and lifeless. Deep cuts crisscrossed your arms and legs, blood seeping from the wounds and staining your torn clothing. Your hands hung limply at your sides, your fingers mangled where your nails had been ripped away. Bruises marred your once-radiant skin, dark and cruel, and your chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths.

Azriel froze in the doorway, his entire body trembling as he took in the sight of you. His heart clenched painfully, the weight of your injuries hitting him like a physical blow. You looked so small, so fragile, like a doll that had been carelessly tossed aside and left to break.

“Gods,” he whispered, his voice cracking as he stepped into the cell. “No, no…”

He dropped to his knees beside you, his shadows curling protectively around both of you as he reached for you with shaking hands. His scarred fingers brushed against your cheek, gentle despite the storm of emotions raging inside him. Your skin was cold, far too cold, and he could feel the faint tremor of your weak, uneven breaths against his palm.

“Please,” he murmured, his voice hoarse and trembling. “Please, wake up. I’m here now. I’ve got you. Just open your eyes.”

You didn’t stir. Your head lolled to the side, your honey-colored eyes closed, your body completely unresponsive. The bond pulsed faintly in his chest, a fragile reminder that you were still alive, but the sight of you like this—broken, battered, and so lifeless—shattered something inside him.

Azriel let out a choked sob, his wings drooping as tears blurred his vision. He gathered you into his arms carefully, as if you were made of glass, cradling you against his chest. You were so light, so still, and it made his heart ache with a pain he had never known before.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he pressed his forehead to yours. “I should have been here sooner. I should have protected you. Please, don’t leave me.”

The bond throbbed weakly again, and Azriel clung to it desperately, his tears falling onto your bloodied skin. He had seen death countless times, had been the one to deliver it more often than he could count. But this—seeing you like this—was unbearable. It wasn’t just pain; it was a hollow, gaping wound that threatened to consume him entirely.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice trembling as he kissed your temple. “I love you so much. Please, just hold on. I’m taking you home.”

Azriel stood, holding you close as his wings flared wide. He glanced around the cell one last time, his shadows swirling darkly around him, before he winnowed away.

When Azriel emerged in the open field outside the Night Court, the morning sun casting a golden light over the landscape, he fell to his knees. He held you tightly, his arms wrapped around you as if he could shield you from everything that had hurt you. The bond in his chest flickered faintly, but it was enough to tell him that you were still with him, even if just barely.

“Stay with me, baby” he pleaded, his voice soft but desperate. “You’re going to be okay. I promise. Just hold on.”

Though you didn’t wake, Azriel felt the faintest flutter of your breath against his neck, and it gave him the strength to keep going.

He pressed another kiss to your forehead, his tears still falling as he whispered, “I’m never letting you go. Never again.”

He winnowed once more, the world blurring around him as he carried you toward safety, his heart breaking with every beat.

He would save you.

He would bring you back.

And when you opened your eyes, he would tell you everything.

How much he loved you.

How much he needed you.

And how he would spend the rest of his life making sure he never doubted you again.

********

Azriel winnowed into the heart of the Night Court, cradling your broken body against his chest as if you were the most precious thing in the world. The bond in his chest pulsed faintly, a fragile thread tethering you to life, but it was enough to keep him moving, to keep him from breaking completely. His wings flared behind him as he landed in the House of Wind, his shadows writhing with agitation as he stepped into the grand hall.

The inner circle was already there, their faces pale and tense as they turned to see him. Rhysand’s violet eyes narrowed in concern as he took in the sight of you—limp and bloodied in Azriel’s arms. Feyre let out a soft gasp, her hand flying to her mouth as she took a step forward, her gaze filled with horror.

“Madja,” Feyre said immediately, her voice tight with urgency. “I’ll get her.” She didn’t wait for a response, disappearing into a winnow as Rhysand stepped closer.

Azriel barely acknowledged them. His focus was solely on you, his hazel eyes dark with anguish as he carried you toward the nearest sitting room, where a plush chaise awaited. He laid you down gently, his hands trembling as he adjusted your position to make you as comfortable as possible. You looked so small, so fragile, and the sight of you like this made his heart ache in ways he didn’t think were possible.

“Az,” Cassian said softly, stepping forward. “What happened?”

“It’s my fault,” Azriel said hoarsely, his voice trembling as he knelt beside you. His shadows curled protectively around the two of you, their movements erratic and desperate. “I didn’t get there in time. She… she suffered because of me.”

Rhysand crouched beside him, his violet eyes sharp but filled with understanding. “This isn’t your fault, Azriel,” he said firmly, though his voice was laced with a quiet pain. “You brought her back. She’s alive because of you.”

Azriel shook his head, his jaw clenched as tears slipped silently down his face. “She shouldn’t have been in that position in the first place. I—” His voice broke, and he turned back to you, his scarred fingers brushing against your bloodied cheek with infinite tenderness. “I failed her.”

Before Rhysand could respond, Feyre reappeared with Madja in tow. The healer’s sharp, no-nonsense gaze swept over you, her expression tightening as she took in the extent of your injuries.

“Clear the room,” Madja ordered briskly, her tone leaving no room for argument. “I need space to work.”

Azriel didn’t move.

“Az,” Feyre said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Let her work.”

But Azriel didn’t budge, his eyes locked on your face as if letting you out of his sight for even a moment would make you disappear. “I’m not leaving her,” he said quietly, his voice trembling with resolve. “I’ll stay out of the way, but I’m not leaving.”

Madja glanced at him, her sharp gaze softening slightly as she saw the raw anguish etched into his features. “Fine,” she said briskly. “But do not interfere.”

Azriel nodded, his shoulders sagging with relief as he moved to sit in a nearby chair, his eyes never leaving you. He watched as Madja worked, her hands glowing with faint, golden light as she assessed your injuries. Feyre stood beside him, her hand still on his shoulder, but he barely noticed. His entire world had narrowed to you—your shallow breaths, your too-still body, the faint flicker of the bond that told him you were still hanging on.

Hours passed, the tension in the room thick enough to cut. Azriel sat in silence, his hands gripping the arms of the chair so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Every now and then, Madja would mutter something under her breath, her magic flaring as she worked to stabilize you. But Azriel couldn’t bring himself to ask questions. He didn’t want to know how bad it was. He didn’t want to hear that he might lose you.

When Madja finally stepped back, her expression grim but determined, Azriel was on his feet in an instant.

“She’s alive,” the healer said, her tone cautious but steady. “But her body is weak—dangerously so. It will take time for her to heal. Days, perhaps weeks. She’s unconscious now, and there’s no telling when she’ll wake.”

Azriel nodded stiffly, his throat too tight to speak. He moved back to your side, sinking into the chair as he reached for your hand. Your fingers were cold and bruised, but he held them gently, his shadows curling around both of you like a protective shield.

“She’s strong,” Madja added, her gaze softening as she looked at him. “She’ll fight her way back. But you’ll need to be patient.”

Azriel nodded again, his gaze locked on your face as he whispered, “Thank you.”

Madja left the room, followed by Rhysand, Feyre, and Cassian, though they lingered at the door, their eyes filled with worry. Azriel didn’t acknowledge them. He was already leaning forward, his forehead resting against your hand as he whispered softly.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his voice cracking as tears slid down his face. “I’ll never let this happen again.”

********

The bed in the quiet, softly lit room felt far too large and empty as Azriel carefully climbed onto it beside you. His movements were slow and deliberate, as though he feared disturbing you even in your unconscious state. You lay motionless on the plush mattress, surrounded by the scent of lavender and herbs from the healing salves Madja had applied to your battered body. Your face was pale, your honey-colored eyes hidden beneath closed lids, and your chest rose and fell with shallow, uneven breaths.

Azriel settled beside you, his wings tucked close to his back as he gently slid an arm under you, cradling you against his chest. His other hand came to rest lightly over one of your bruised hands, his scarred fingers brushing against yours with infinite tenderness. You were so fragile, so quiet, and it tore at him in ways he couldn’t describe. But the bond still pulsed faintly in his chest, a fragile thread of hope that kept him grounded.

“I’m here,” he murmured, his voice soft and trembling as he pressed his lips to your temple. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He held you close, his body curled protectively around yours, his wings draping lightly over the bed as though they could shield you from the world. His shadows stirred at the edges of the room, subdued but ever-watchful, their movements slow and deliberate. Azriel closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply as he tried to steady the storm of emotions raging inside him.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words falling from his lips like a prayer. “Gods, I love you so much. I should have told you sooner. I should have fought for you, protected you. But I’ll do better. I’ll make it right.”

The room was silent except for the sound of your breathing, and Azriel tightened his hold on you slightly, his head resting gently against yours. He began to speak, his voice low and filled with emotion, as though he were pouring every piece of himself into the words.

“I’ve spent so much of my life in the shadows,” he said quietly, his fingers tracing light patterns along your arm. “I thought that’s where I belonged, that it was all I’d ever have. But then I found you, and… everything changed. You brought light into my world, brighter than anything I ever thought I deserved. And now, I can’t imagine my life without you.”

He swallowed hard, his throat tightening as he continued. “I think about the life we could have together, the life I want with you. I think about waking up next to you every morning, hearing your laugh, seeing your smile. I think about building a home with you—somewhere quiet and safe, where we can just be together.”

Azriel’s voice softened, filled with a tenderness that was almost painful in its rawness. “I want to take you flying, to show you the beauty of the world from above. I want to hold your hand and walk through Velaris, to see the stars reflected in your eyes. I want to give you everything, everything you’ve ever wanted, because you deserve that and so much more.”

He paused, his thumb brushing gently over the back of your hand. “And one day, if you’ll let me, I want to have a family with you. I want to see you happy, to hear the sound of our children’s laughter filling our home. I want to give you a life full of love, full of joy, because you’re my mate, and you’re my everything.”

His voice broke slightly, and he pressed another kiss to your temple, his tears slipping silently onto your skin. “But none of that matters if you don’t wake up,” he whispered, his chest aching with the weight of his words. “I can’t do this without you. I need you, more than I’ve ever needed anything in my life. Please, come back to me. Please.”

Every day, Azriel spoke to you like this. He told you stories of Velaris, of the stars, of his dreams for the future. He whispered his love for you over and over, his voice trembling with emotion as he poured his heart into every word. He told you how he wanted to spend forever with you, how he couldn’t wait to start the rest of his life with his mate.

And every night, he held you close, his arms wrapped protectively around you as he drifted into a restless sleep. His shadows kept watch, ever vigilant, as though they, too, refused to let anything happen to you.

He waited, day after day, for the moment your eyes would finally open.

********

The world came back to you in fragments.

The first thing you felt was warmth. It wrapped around you like a cocoon, chasing away the cold emptiness that had been your constant companion for what felt like an eternity. The softness beneath you was foreign, a sharp contrast to the rough, unforgiving stone of the dungeon floor you had endured for so long. Slowly, sensations began to filter in—soft fabric against your skin, the faint scent of cedar and something darker, richer, that was achingly familiar.

Your lashes fluttered open, the light in the room muted but still enough to make your head swim. The ceiling above you was unfamiliar, high and elegant, painted in soft hues that didn’t belong to the dark dungeon you had last remembered. Panic stirred faintly in your chest, but it was quickly replaced by something else—a steady, comforting weight wrapped around you. An arm, strong and protective, holding you close.

Your gaze shifted, and your breath caught in your throat.

Azriel.

He was lying beside you, his body curled protectively around yours as if shielding you even in sleep. His face was inches from yours, peaceful but etched with exhaustion, the faint shadows beneath his hazel eyes betraying the toll the past weeks had taken on him. His wings draped over the edge of the bed, his arm slung lightly over your waist, and his scarred hand rested just above your hip, his fingers curled slightly as if even in sleep he couldn’t let go of you.

You blinked, unsure if you were dreaming. The bond between you felt faint but steady, a quiet hum in your chest that soothed the ache of all you had endured. Your fingers twitched, your body sluggish as you tried to lift a hand to touch him. It felt unreal—impossible—that he was here, holding you as though you were his entire world.

“Azriel,” you whispered, your voice hoarse and trembling.

At the sound of your voice, his body tensed. His lashes fluttered, and his hazel eyes opened, meeting yours. For a moment, he stared at you as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. And then his expression crumpled, the sheer relief and emotion that flooded his face stealing the breath from your lungs.

“You’re awake,” he breathed, his voice breaking as tears filled his eyes. “Gods, you’re awake.”

He sat up slightly, his hand moving to cup your face with a tenderness that made your chest ache. His scarred fingers brushed against your cheek, and his thumb traced the line of your jaw as if to assure himself that you were real.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered, his voice trembling as tears slid down his face. “I thought… I thought I was too late.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you against his chest. He held you tightly, his body shaking with quiet sobs as he buried his face in your hair.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice raw and full of conviction. “I love you so much. I can’t—I can’t live without you. You’re my mate, and I will never let anything happen to you again”

Your own tears began to fall, the weight of his words and the depth of his emotion breaking through the walls you had built to protect yourself. You clung to him, your fingers gripping the soft fabric of his shirt as you pressed your face into his shoulder.

“I thought I was dreaming,” you whispered, your voice muffled against him. “I didn’t think… I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hazel eyes glistening with tears as he took in every detail of your face. His fingers brushed your hair back from your forehead, his touch gentle and reverent.

“You’re here,” he said softly, as though trying to convince himself. “You’re alive. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you stay safe, that you know how much I love you.”

His words wrapped around you like a balm, easing the raw edges of your soul. You nodded, your throat too tight to speak as fresh tears streamed down your cheeks.

Azriel leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm and uneven against your lips. “You’re everything to me,” he whispered. “Everything. I don’t care how long it takes—I’ll prove to you that you can trust me, that I’ll never let you go again.”

You closed your eyes, letting his words sink into the deepest parts of you, soothing the cracks and fractures left by the horrors you had endured. The bond between you pulsed faintly, growing steadier with each beat of your heart, as though it, too, was healing.

The silence stretched between you. Finally, you looked up at him, as he wiped your tears with trembling hands. “I don’t know if I can trust you again,” you whispered. “You threw me into a dungeon like I was a criminal. Like I was a piece of trash. How could you think that about your mate?”

Azriel flinched, your words hitting him like a physical blow. He gazed back at you, his shadows swirling tighter around him as he struggled to speak. “I was angry,” he admitted, his voice shaking. “I was jealous, and I let that blind me. I couldn’t see past my own pain, my own rage. And I hurt you—gods, I hurt you so badly.”

You stared at him, your chest heaving as tears streamed down your face. “You broke me, Azriel,” you said, your voice trembling. “You broke me when I was already broken.”

His throat tightened, his voice soft and pleading. “I know. And I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you’ll let me. I was a fool. I didn’t deserve you then, and I don’t deserve you now. But I love you, and I will do whatever it takes to make this right.”

He looked at you, his hazel eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and longing. “Rhys told me everything,” he began, his voice trembling slightly. “Everything he saw in your mind that day.”

You stiffened as your eyes searched his. “And?” you asked quietly.

He took a shaky breath, his gaze never leaving your face. “He told me how you sacrificed everything for Prythian. How you gave yourself to Eris, how you hated every moment of it. How you thought of me—every time.”

Your shoulders tensed, you stared at him. He continued, his voice cracking, “He told me how you were saving yourself for your mate, for someone you loved, and you gave that up because it was the only way to save lives. He told me how much you love me.”

His hazel eyes glistened with unshed tears. “You fell in love with me the moment you saw me,” he said softly. “You wanted me, even when I gave you no reason to. And I… I love you too. I’ve loved you since that week at the beach house, since I held you in my arms and heard you laugh and saw the way you looked at me. I love you, and I can’t—I can’t live without you anymore.”

You searched his face, your heart aching at the raw sincerity in his gaze. Taking a deep breath, you brushed a tear from as it began to slide down his cheek. “Azriel,” you began, your voice trembling, “everything Rhys told you—it’s true.”

His breath hitched, his shadows flickering around him as he watched you intently.

“I fell in love with you the moment I saw you,” you continued, your voice soft but steady. “I didn’t even know who you were, but something about you—it just… it drew me in. And that week at the beach house? It was the best time of my life. I’ve never felt so happy, so free, as I did in your arms.”

His jaw tightened, his hazel eyes filled with a mixture of pain and longing.

“I wanted to give myself to you completely,” you said, your voice breaking slightly. “With my maidenhood intact. It was important to me—to save that for someone I loved. For my mate. For you.” Tears slipped down your cheeks, and he raises his thumbs to wipe them away. “But I couldn’t. I had to do what I did, Azriel. I had to get close to Eris, to gain his trust, to save the countless lives that depended on that information.”

Azriel’s throat worked as he swallowed hard. “I understand,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I hate what you had to do, but I understand.”

You nodded, your tears falling freely now. “Being in your arms,” you whispered, “is the happiest I’ve ever been. And making love to you—it’s nothing like I’ve ever experienced. Your smile, your touch, your kiss, your heart—they captured me in a way nothing else ever has. And knowing what it felt like for you to hold me, to love me—every time Eris touched me after that, it made me physically ill. I hated it. I hated him. Because it wasn’t you.”

A soft, choked sound escaped Azriel’s throat. His scarred hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears as his hazel eyes searched yours, his expression filled with anguish and love. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “For what I said. For what I did. For not believing in you. I didn’t deserve your love then, but I swear to the gods, I will spend the rest of my life earning it if you let me.”

You reached up, your hands resting on his wrists as your tears continued to fall. “I don’t know if I can forget what happened,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “But I do know that I still love you. I never stopped.”

Azriel let out a shaky breath, his wings folding tightly against his back as he leaned his forehead against yours. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “And I will do whatever it takes to make this work. To make you happy.”

Your heart ached as you looked at him, the bond between you thrumming faintly, a reminder of the connection you couldn’t ignore. And though the pain lingered, something in his eyes—raw, vulnerable, utterly unguarded—made you realize that he meant every single word.

He loved you.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice trembling but sure. “I love you so much, Azriel.”

He let out a shaky breath, his lips brushing softly against yours in a kiss so tender it made your chest ache.

And in that moment, surrounded by his warmth and the steady hum of the bond, you knew you were safe.

********

You sat up in bed, your body weak but slowly gaining strength as the days passed. Azriel was perched on the edge of the mattress beside you, his hazel eyes watching you with unwavering attention. The bond between you pulsed steadily now, stronger than it had been in weeks, but you could still feel the remnants of his guilt and anguish woven through it. His scarred hand rested lightly on your knee, a grounding touch that spoke of his need to keep you close, to remind himself that you were here.

The warmth of his presence was comforting, but questions lingered in your mind, questions you had been too weak to ask when you first woke. Now, with the clarity of thought returning, you turned to him, your voice soft but steady.

“Azriel,” you began, your honey-colored eyes meeting his. “What happened in Hybern? And how… how did I get out of the dungeon?”

Azriel’s jaw tightened at the mention of the dungeon, a shadow passing over his face. He took a deep breath, his wings shifting slightly behind him as he began to speak. “Hybern’s forces were mobilizing, just as we feared. Beron had aligned himself with them, and Tamlin’s court had joined their cause. Eris... Eris knew his father’s plans, knew the invasion was imminent, but he was waiting for the right moment to act.”

You listened intently, your heart pounding as he continued.

“Eris… helped me,” Azriel admitted, his voice low but steady. “He sent word to Rhysand about where you were being held, about the distraction he would create to give me time to get you out. He risked a lot to ensure we had a chance to save you.”

“Why would Eris do that?” you asked, your brow furrowing. “Why would he help you after everything?”

Azriel hesitated, his gaze dropping to your hands, which he gently held in his own. “Because it served his interests. And because he needed the support of the other courts to take down his father. Eris followed through with his plan—he killed Beron the same day I got you out. He’s now the High Lord of Autumn and has allied himself with the courts that remain loyal to Prythian’s survival. Rhysand and Tarquin are among those counseling him as he tries to stabilize his court.”

Your breath hitched at the mention of Beron’s death, and you couldn’t help but ask, “He’s… gone? Beron is dead?”

Azriel nodded, his expression grim. “Yes. Eris didn’t waste any time. He knew the longer Beron remained in power, the more damage he could do. He struck swiftly, using the chaos of the distraction as cover.”

The weight of the news settled over you, and you leaned back against the pillows, exhaling shakily. “And you… you rescued me during all of that.”

“I did,” Azriel said softly, his voice heavy with emotion. “But not soon enough. I should have gotten to you faster. I should have never doubted you in the first place. What happened to you… it’s my fault. I’m so sorry.”

You reached out, placing a trembling hand over his. “Azriel, you saved me. That’s what matters.”

He shook his head, tears glistening in his eyes. “You were so close to death when I found you. Seeing you like that… it broke me. I’ll never doubt you again. Never.”

The sincerity in his voice, the raw vulnerability in his expression, made your chest ache. You squeezed his hand, offering what comfort you could, but there was something else you needed to share—something that had been lingering in the back of your mind since you’d woken.

“Azriel,” you began hesitantly, “while I was unconscious, I… I had these dreams. They felt so real, like memories of a life I wanted but couldn’t have.”

His brow furrowed, his attention locked on you as you continued. “I dreamed of us. Of a life together. Of waking up next to you every morning, of walking through Velaris hand in hand. I dreamed of us building a home, raising a family, of you flying me above the clouds to show me the stars. It was beautiful, and it felt so real.”

Azriel’s breath caught, his hazel eyes widening as he stared at you. His hand tightened around yours as tears began to spill down his cheeks, his shoulders shaking slightly. “Those weren’t just dreams,” he said hoarsely, his voice trembling with emotion. “Those were the words I whispered to you while you were unconscious.”

Your eyes widened, and your breath hitched as he continued, his tears falling freely now. “Every day, I sat by your side. Every night, I held you and told you about the life I wanted with you. I told you how much I love you, how I want to spend forever with you. I talked about the family we could have, the places I’d take you, the life we could build together. I didn’t know if you could hear me, but I couldn’t stop. It was all I had to hold onto.”

Tears blurred your vision as the realization sank in. “I heard you,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I didn’t know it was real, but I heard you. I saw it all, Azriel. The life you described… it was everything I wanted.”

Azriel let out a soft, broken sob, pulling you into his arms as he buried his face in your hair. “I thought I’d lost you,” he murmured, his voice trembling. “But you came back to me. And I swear, I’ll make that life real. Every dream you had, every word I whispered—it’ll all be ours.”

“How would this even work?” you asked softly, your voice trembling slightly. “Between the two of us? You’re a spymaster for the Night Court, and I’m—” You hesitated, your throat tightening. “I’m a spy for the Summer Court. Our lives are built on secrets and lies. How do we make something real out of that?”

Azriel exhaled shakily, his wings shifting slightly behind him. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice low and rough. “But I do know that I can’t live without you. We’ll find a way. Whatever it takes, we’ll find a way.”

“How do we move on from here?” you asked softly, your voice trembling with vulnerability. “With both of us being spies? How do we make this work?”

Azriel’s hands stayed on your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks as he exhaled deeply. “The only way this works,” he said, his voice steady but low, “is if we’re completely honest with each other. No secrets, no lies. Not when it comes to missions or anything else. We need to trust each other fully.”

You nodded slowly, your hands resting on his wrists. “And the boundaries?” you asked cautiously.

“We have to respect them,” Azriel replied, his hazel eyes steady. “Your missions, your choices—I won’t stand in the way of them, and I won’t let my emotions interfere. But that has to go both ways. We need to communicate and make decisions together, especially when it comes to dangerous assignments.”

You felt the weight of his words, the sincerity in his tone. It wasn’t going to be easy, but you knew he was right. Trust and honesty would be the foundation of whatever came next.

“There’s more,” Azriel said hesitantly, his gaze softening. “Rhys has a proposal for you. He’s spoken with Tarquin, and they’ve reached an agreement.”

Your brows furrowed slightly, confusion flashing in your eyes. “An agreement?”

Azriel nodded. “Rhys wants you to take up a position in the Night Court. You would work for both courts—Summer and Night—as part of the alliance. Tarquin has agreed to the terms, but it means you’d be working closely with me.”

Your breath caught, and you tilted your head slightly. “Working with you?”

“Yes,” he said, his tone softening further. “Rhys and Tarquin agreed that for the most dangerous missions, you and I would work as partners. We’d handle them together, side by side. For less dangerous assignments, you’d go solo, operating under the direction of either Tarquin or Rhysand, depending on the mission.”

You blinked, your mind racing as you tried to process what he was saying. “Why would Tarquin agree to this?”

Azriel’s lips curved into a faint smile, a shadow of his usual stoic demeanor. “Because he trusts you, and he knows how valuable you are to him—and to Prythian. He also knows the value of an alliance with the Night Court, and he sees the logic in sharing resources. You’d still be loyal to him, but you’d also be part of something bigger.”

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening as the implications sank in. “So, I’d be splitting my time between the two courts? Working with you, with Rhysand, with Tarquin?”

“Yes,” Azriel said, his gaze steady. “And it means we’ll have to be more careful, more intentional. But it also means we won’t have to hide from each other anymore. We’ll be in this together.”

The words hit you like a wave, a mixture of relief and apprehension washing over you. You had spent so long operating alone, hiding your truths and your vulnerabilities, that the idea of working alongside Azriel—of being honest and open with him—felt both terrifying and liberating.

“Do you want this?” you asked softly, your voice trembling. “Do you want me to work with you?”

Azriel’s gaze softened, his hazel eyes filled with a quiet intensity. “I want you with me,” he said simply. “In whatever way I can have you. I want to protect you, to stand beside you. And I want to earn back the trust I broke. If this is a way to do that, then yes, I want it.”

Your heart ached at his words, the sincerity in his voice wrapping around you like a warm embrace. You nodded slowly, your hands tightening slightly on his wrists. “Okay,” you said softly. “I’ll do it. I’ll work with you. But you have to promise me something.”

“Anything,” Azriel said instantly, his voice firm.

“Promise me you won’t let your emotions cloud your judgment,” you said, your gaze steady. “Promise me that you’ll trust me, even when it’s hard. And promise me that you’ll respect my choices, just as I’ll respect yours.”

“I promise,” Azriel said without hesitation, his voice filled with conviction. “And I’ll prove it to you, every day.”

Azriel’s hands framed your face, his calloused thumbs brushing away the lingering tears on your cheeks as he leaned in closer. His hazel eyes, filled with love and longing, searched yours as though memorizing every detail.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. “So very much. More than I ever thought I could love anyone.”

Your breath hitched, the bond between you thrumming with a warm, steady hum that echoed the truth of his words. You lifted your hands to his face, your fingers tracing the strong lines of his jaw, the curve of his cheekbones. “I love you too,” you whispered, your voice soft but steady. “I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you.”

Azriel’s breath hitched, his wings flaring slightly behind him as he pulled you closer. He kissed you then, his lips gentle at first, reverent, as though he was savoring the moment. But as the kiss deepened, as your hands slid into his hair and his arms tightened around you, it became something more—something raw and unrestrained.

His hands roamed over your body, his touch firm yet tender, igniting every nerve as he slipped his fingers under the hem of your dress. His lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, then to the sensitive spot just below your ear, making you gasp. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough with desire. “I’ve missed you so much.”

You couldn’t hold back the soft moan that escaped you as his lips traveled lower, his hands slowly peeling your dress from your body. You mirrored his urgency, your fingers working to undo the clasps of his tunic, your movements clumsy in your desperation to feel his skin against yours.

Azriel pulled back for a moment, his gaze raking over you with a mixture of awe and hunger. “Perfect,” he whispered, his voice filled with reverence. “You’re absolutely perfect.”

Your hands found their way to his chest, tracing the planes of muscle as you pushed his tunic off his shoulders. Your fingers fumbled with the ties of his pants, driven by the need to remove the last barrier between you. He stepped out of them quickly, and when he stood before you, completely bare, your breath caught at the sight of him.

He scooped you up effortlessly, his wings spreading slightly for balance as he laid you down on the bed. Azriel hovered over you, his wings framing you both like a protective cocoon. He kissed you again, his lips passionate and hungry, his hands exploring every inch of your body as if committing it to memory.

When he finally joined with you, the bond between you flared, a bright, golden light that filled every corner of your being. You gasped, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he moved with you, his rhythm slow and deliberate, each movement a declaration of his love.

“You’re mine,” he whispered against your lips, his voice raw and filled with emotion. “And I’m yours. Always.”

You moaned his name, your body arching into his, your fingers threading through his hair as he kissed you over and over again. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you tangled together, the bond between you glowing brighter with every touch, every whispered word.

He loved you thoroughly, reverently, his movements growing more urgent as the night wore on. And when you finally reached your peak together, his wings flared wide, his head dropping to the crook of your neck as he whispered your name like a prayer.

The hours passed in a blur of kisses and soft touches, of whispered confessions and promises. He made love to you again and again, his passion for you seemingly endless. And when sleep finally claimed you both in the early hours of the morning, you felt a peace you hadn’t known in years.

When you stirred awake, the first rays of sunlight filtering into the room, you felt Azriel’s warm body pressed against yours, his arms wrapped tightly around you. Before you could fully open your eyes, he kissed your shoulder, his lips brushing softly against your skin.

“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice low and husky.

You smiled, turning to face him, your heart swelling at the sight of his messy hair and the tenderness in his eyes. “Good morning.”

He didn’t give you a chance to say more before he kissed you again, his lips insistent as his hands began to wander. “I’m not done with you yet,” he whispered against your mouth, his voice filled with desire.

You laughed softly, your fingers tracing the curve of his jaw. “Then don’t stop,” you whispered back.

And as the morning sun bathed the room in golden light, Azriel made love to you all over again, the bond between you stronger than ever, unbreakable.

In that moment, you knew that no matter how broken you felt, no matter what you had endured, you would heal.

Because Azriel was there, and with him, you could rebuild.

Together.

********

The days of healing passed slowly but steadily, and with Azriel’s unwavering presence, you began to feel like yourself again. The bruises had faded, the deep cuts had turned to faint scars, and even your fingernails were almost fully regrown. Though your body was mending, the memories of the torture and the dungeon still lingered in the back of your mind, a shadow that clung to you. But Azriel’s love—his presence, his whispered reassurances—became a balm that softened the ache.

One evening, as you sat by the fire in the sitting room of the House of Wind, wrapped in a soft blanket with Azriel at your side, you turned to him. His scarred hand rested on your knee, and his hazel eyes, warm and steady, met yours the moment you shifted.

“I’ve been thinking,” you began softly, your voice hesitant but resolute. “I’d like to go to Autumn. To see Eris. To thank him for everything he did.”

Azriel’s brows furrowed slightly, his wings tensing at the suggestion. “You want to go back to Autumn?” he asked, his voice low and cautious.

“Yes,” you said, holding his gaze. “I know how dangerous it was for him to help me, to defy Beron. Without him, I wouldn’t be alive. I owe him my gratitude.”

Azriel’s lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw tightening as he considered your words. The idea of you stepping foot back in Autumn made his shadows writhe uneasily, and the thought of leaving you unprotected there was unthinkable. But he could see the determination in your eyes, the resolve that he had always admired in you.

“If you go,” he said finally, his voice firm but gentle, “I’m coming with you. I’m not letting you out of my sight. Not yet.”

Relief flooded through you, and you nodded, reaching for his hand and squeezing it tightly. “I wouldn’t want to go without you.”

********

The cool, crisp air of the Autumn Court was laced with the vibrant hues of the season. Golden leaves fluttered gently to the ground as you and Azriel appeared on the palace grounds, his arm firmly wrapped around your waist. Though you were here to thank Eris, the weight of your last experience in Autumn lingered faintly in your chest. Azriel’s presence, steady and protective, helped you keep your focus as his shadows curled around you, restless but comforting.

Eris stood at the edge of the courtyard, waiting for your arrival. His golden-red hair caught the sunlight, and his amber eyes flicked over the both of you with an unreadable expression. The sharp angles of his face softened momentarily when his gaze settled on you, clearly taking note of your healed appearance. Relief flickered across his face, though he quickly masked it with his usual cool demeanor.

“You look well,” Eris remarked, his voice smooth, though there was a hint of genuine warmth in his tone. “Far better than when I last saw you.”

You stepped forward, offering a small but sincere smile. “Thanks to you,” you said, your voice steady but filled with gratitude. “I came to thank you, Eris. For everything you did to save me. You risked so much to help, and I’ll never forget that.”

Eris inclined his head slightly, his lips curving into a faint smile. “It was a calculated risk,” he said casually. “But one I deemed worth taking. Your survival benefits more than just me.”

“Still,” you pressed, holding his gaze, “I’m grateful.”

Eris studied you for a long moment, his amber eyes flickering with something contemplative. Then, as though deciding something, he let out a quiet sigh. “You know,” he began, his tone shifting to something more personal, “I once imagined you beside me on the throne. As my High Lady.”

The words sent a ripple of tension through the air. Azriel stiffened beside you, his wings twitching slightly, and his shadows flared in response. You glanced at him, catching the flicker of irritation in his hazel eyes before turning back to Eris, stunned by his admission.

“I…” you began, your voice faltering. “I didn’t know.”

Eris’s gaze softened, and he stepped closer, though he kept a respectful distance. “You’re remarkable,” he said plainly, his voice smooth but sincere. “Intelligent, resilient, cunning. You have everything a ruler needs to survive in a court like this. And more than that…” He hesitated for the briefest moment before continuing. “I could see myself falling in love with you. We’re alike in many ways, you and I. Both of us have had to endure, to fight to survive in worlds that seek to crush us.”

Azriel’s hand on your waist tightened slightly, and his wings flared just enough to make his presence known. His shadows coiled darker and closer, a tangible representation of the irritation simmering just beneath his carefully composed exterior.

“I thought we could rule this court together,” Eris continued, his gaze flickering to Azriel briefly before returning to you. “Rebuild it, make it stronger. But I see now that your heart belongs elsewhere.”

Azriel’s shadows writhed violently, and his hazel eyes burned with a cold fury as he spoke, his tone sharp. “Her heart was never yours to claim, Eris.”

Eris’s lips quirked into a faint smirk, clearly enjoying Azriel’s reaction, though his tone remained smooth. “Relax, Shadowsinger. I’m merely acknowledging the truth.”

Azriel’s wings shifted again, and you placed a hand gently on his chest, silently urging him to remain calm. “Thank you, Eris,” you said firmly, your voice steady. “For everything. But my place isn’t here. My place is elsewhere.”

Eris studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded slowly, the faintest hint of regret flickering across his face. “I know,” he said quietly. “But should you ever change your mind, the offer stands.”

Azriel stiffened again, his jaw tightening as his shadows snapped at his feet like restless flames. “She won’t,” he said, his tone low and final.

Eris merely smiled faintly, clearly unbothered by Azriel’s ire. “I’ll take your word for it,” he said lightly, though his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer.

You inclined your head politely, though your heart was firm in its decision. Your place was with Azriel, in the Night Court, where you had found love, purpose, and the life you wanted to build.

As you turned to leave, Azriel’s arm slipped around your waist once more, his touch grounding and protective. He winnowed you both away without another word, leaving Eris behind in the golden light of the Autumn Court.

********

As the familiar warmth of the Night Court enveloped you both, Azriel guided you silently into the sitting room of the House of Wind. His hand lingered at your waist, steady but tense, and his shadows coiled tightly around his legs as if they shared his frustration. The journey to the Autumn Court had gone as smoothly as it could have, but the weight of Eris’s words lingered heavily in the air between you and Azriel.

You turned to him, your honey-colored eyes soft as you gently placed your hands on his chest. “Azriel,” you said quietly, searching his face. “What’s wrong?”

His hazel eyes met yours, swirling with a storm of emotions—frustration, jealousy, and something deeper, raw and unrelenting. “Eris,” he said tightly, his voice low and simmering with irritation. “The way he spoke to you. What he said about falling in love with you. About wanting you beside him on the throne.”

You let out a quiet sigh, cupping his face gently in your hands. His skin was warm beneath your touch, but his jaw was taut, his tension radiating through every part of him. “Azriel,” you said firmly, your voice steady but soft. “Eris may have seen something in me, but that’s all it was—his vision of what could have been. My heart was never his to claim. It has always belonged to you.”

Azriel’s hands came up to cover yours, his scarred fingers trembling slightly as he closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. “You’re mine,” he murmured, his voice low but filled with unshakable conviction. His hazel eyes opened, locking onto yours as he repeated, “You are mine. My mate. My forever.”

A shiver ran through you at the possessiveness in his tone, but it wasn’t fear you felt—it was reassurance, a fierce love that echoed your own. You stepped closer, tilting your face toward his as you whispered, “Nothing and no one could ever take me away from you again. You’re my mate, Azriel. My forever. And I’m yours—completely, utterly, forever.”

The tension in his shoulders eased slightly, but the intensity in his gaze didn’t waver. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest as his wings curved around you protectively, cocooning you both in their shadowed warmth. His hands slid up your back, anchoring you to him as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“I’ve spent so many nights worrying,” he murmured, his voice trembling slightly. “Thinking of all the ways I could have lost you. That someone else could have claimed you. That Beron could have taken you from me permanently. I can’t go through that again. I won’t.”

“You won’t have to,” you whispered, your hands sliding down to rest on his chest. “I’m here. I’m alive. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Azriel’s lips pressed to yours in a kiss that was both tender and consuming, a silent promise that said more than words ever could. His hands held you close, as if letting go might mean losing you all over again. The bond between you pulsed strongly now, steady and unyielding, a lifeline that tethered your souls together.

When he pulled back, his hazel eyes were glistening with emotion, the vulnerability in them breaking something inside you. “I love you,” he said softly, his voice cracking with the weight of his words. “I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that to you. Proving that I’ll never let anyone or anything come between us.”

You smiled, tears welling in your eyes as you rested your forehead against his. “I love you too, Azriel. More than anything. And nothing—no one—will ever change that.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, Azriel’s expression softened completely. The shadows around him stilled, their restless movements calming as he let out a slow, steady breath. He pressed another kiss to your forehead, his wings tightening around you as he held you in silence for a long moment.

“You’re mine,” he whispered again, as if reaffirming it to himself. “And I am yours. Forever.”

And as you stood there, wrapped in his arms, you knew that nothing in the world could ever take this away from you.

Not Eris, not the trials of the past, not even the darkness you both had endured.

You were his, and he was yours—and that was all that mattered.

Forever.

The end.

[jaggedamethyst]

circuit breaker 🔬🌌 (part six)

tutor!jayce talis x reader, ekko x reader college au

content: after a week of sessions with jayce, you finally have to take your quiz

i dont think there's any warnings here...sad ekko like the chat requested though!!!

notes: i regret nothing

word count: 2.6k

series master list

。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆　　 。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆

The start of class almost always was filled with you and Viktor talking. In fact, it was the way you first met—casually asking one another about the syllabus. There was a nostalgia whenever the two of you would meet before your scheduled start time. Viktor was truly a good friend, you’d always thought. You wouldn’t pass up your chats for anything. 

“Me and Jayce had a few sessions this week, I feel like I’m prepared for once.” You looked down at your planner as you spoke. 

Viktor dug in his bag, “I’m glad to hear that. It’s great to know that Jayce is a good tutor.” 

“He is,” you nodded, continuing your writing. 

A sound of your instructor coming in made you grab your laptop. On Fridays it went unspoken that the first task of the day was the weekly quiz. You shook off your hands, feeling a sudden nervousness. 

Viktor placed a hand on your shoulder, “You’ve got this.” He sent you a soft smile before turning to open his laptop—not at all phased by the quiz. 

“Not to change the subject, but,” you leaned over to Viktor, “How’s Sky?” 

You immediately noticed the blush prickle on his cheeks. “I think…we should focus on the task at hand.” 

A knowing smile found its way to you, “Send her my regards, then.” 

The both of you stifled a laugh, your whispers echoing over the quieting class. Soon, the only sound to be heard was that of paper being written on and calculators clacking. It comforted you to know that everyone seemed to take this seriously. In the sea of people, you thought, maybe there were others who also had a lot at stake. You let the thought carry you, almost sinking you into a warmth that made you feel surprisingly comfortable. 

Scrolling through the questions left you to picture your sessions, to imagine Jayce outlining the graph for you. The color coordinated arrows filled your mind, and the answers came flooding in. You had to be sure; you checked, double checked, and even triple checked for simple mistakes you’d made before. Before you knew it, you were submitting the quiz with a sharp breath in. 

You glanced over to Viktor who’d already finished. He looked at your screen expectantly, just as eager to see your result. With one click, the submission page loaded—with another your score appeared on the screen. 

“Oh my gosh?” You whispered quickly and looked to Viktor with wide eyes. 

“Does that say what I think it says?” 

“Viktor… I got an 87%.” 

“I can see that,” he mirrored you wide eyed expression but kept his tone low. “Well done.” 

“With the midterm in two weeks I really needed this.” You nodded to yourself, feeling the tears well in your eyes. As embarrassing as it might be, this was a reflection of your hard work and perseverance—you could do this. 

Viktor rubbed your now shaking arm encouragingly. “Good job.” 

You exhaled the weight of everything as you spoke, “Thank you.” 

With a quick flip of your hand, you pulled out your phone. You made sure to not make much noise, wiping the tears that threatened to fall from your lash line. Scrolling through your recent messages was much more conflicting than you’d imagined. The urge to press on Jayce’s name, to tell him immediately was immense. You let the thought come and go, deciding against bothering him with something so minuscule. Ekko, though, he’d understand. 

You grimaced at the last messages you sent to each other being so plain—empty, even, after what happened with Jayce. You didn’t intentionally push him away—there was just so much going on. 

hi

i miss you !!! 

btw i did good on my quiz…so you should come out with me to celebrate tonight…because im def celebrating 

please? 

You frowned at your phone. Enough time passed where you thought Ekko might be ignoring you. But you couldn’t pester him—that would be even worse than simply being left on seen. Deciding to let it go for now, you paid attention to the lecture, typing away notes that you would undoubtedly bring back to Jayce to decipher later. Just before you closed your laptop, a notification popped up on screen and illuminated the top corner. 

let me know where the celebration is you know i love a good party

As the first text from Ekko went away another popped up in its place. 

i missed you too

——————

For once your afternoon and evening weren’t spent in worry about the next big thing you had to do. Your quiz was done, you’d done a good job, and you still had time to prepare for the midterm. On top of this, you had the opportunity to reconcile with Ekko; you were truly grateful. 

Arriving at the bar, you were immediately bombarded with the sound of people talking and the overwhelming background music. Your eyes trailed the sea of people, searching for any familiar figures until you settled on two. Viktor and Ekko were sitting in the corner, tucked away in a spot they knew you’d like. It was slightly intimate and allowed you to actually talk—you appreciated the thought. 

You approached the table, waving at the pair. 

“Look who finally decided to show up.” Viktor joked, nudging Ekko.

They looked at each other, Ekko speaking up, “Hey, it takes time to look good, right?” 

“Absolutely,” you high fived Ekko as you slid in beside him. The booth was rounded, which you always liked. Instead of being forced to choose what side of a seated booth to be on, you could sit and see everyone equally. You’d mentioned that particularly annoying feeling before—and they remembered. “So is anyone gonna get the fries or should I?” 

“Already ordered,” Viktor said, “Ekko made sure to get those and your drink.” 

Ekko nodded, “Shirley Temple so you can be fake drunk like you do…for the vibes you know?” 

Just then, the ordered arrived. You exchanged looks with your friends, “I love you so much.” 

“And we love you,” Viktor spoke up. “But don’t be angry with me. I saw Sky walk in just a few minutes ago.” 

“In any other circumstance, I’d be a hater…but I know you like her so go ahead.” 

“You are an amazing friend.” He moved to stand, putting pressure on his cane. “I’ll be back, but you’re in good hands.” With that, he walked away and moved toward Sky on the opposite side of the bar. 

The sound of Ekko beside you broke your gaze, “Hi.” 

“Hi.” 

“Congrats on your quiz, knew you could do it.” 

You nodded, “Thank you.” You let silence fill the space for a few seconds before speaking. You didn’t want to face the awkwardness, but it was inevitable. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry, it wasn’t your fault.” 

“But Jayce showed up to help me and it interrupted our whole thing—and I feel so bad.” 

“Dont,” he twisted his lip, and reiterated. “It’s not on you.” 

“You sure?” 

“I just dont like people trying to walk all over you…you don’t deserve that.” 

You agreed, “I know.” You moved to start in on your fries, taking a sip of your drink between your chews. 

You and Ekko fell in and out of conversation, sometimes letting the comfortable quiet sit between you before laughing together again. Between the sweet giggles from the both of you and the crinkles in your eyes from pure enjoyment, Ekko paused. You watched him look at you with a more serious look on his face. 

“What,” you reached for a napkin, “Is there something on my face, or-“ 

“No,” he laughed, then. “There’s just nobody like you, really.” He punctuated the sentence with a slow roll of your name from his lips. You straightened up at that, looking down at your plate of half-eaten fries. 

Usually, you just liked the ambience of a bar. The social setting got you just out of your comfort zone enough to fulfill your quota without overwhelming you. But the ruckus had done just that. To top it off, you weren’t even a drinker. You never drank, in fact. It just wasn’t a taste you enjoyed. So you settled on the somewhat enjoyable appetizers they offered and would call it a night. Tonight was different. You became increasingly aware of the sensory overload, and whatever Ekko was trying to say had you feeling stir crazy. 

“I have to pee.” 

Without another word, you pushed out of the booth and beelined it for the back of the building. You moved away from the blaring sounds of people talking, cutting the corner toward the bathrooms. Even if you didn’t have to go, the solace of a quieter room sounded nice right now. You took your time, going through the motions slow—even making sure to take extra time to dry your hands twice. Your mind wandered between the hand dryer and paper towels; the time dragged but not enough to allow you to avoid the reality waiting just beyond the door. 

You stepped out, a bit disoriented by which direction you had to go in. 

“Funny seeing you here.” 

You perked up at the sound of Jayce’s voice to the side of you. Without thinking, you approached him and paused, before reaching to hug him in gratitude. 

He continued, voice muffled by you pressing into his chest. “Heard someone did well on their quiz.” Viktor must’ve told him, you figured. 

“That would be me,” you looked up at him. “With your help, of course.” 

He backed up, breaking the hug and wiping his hands in a dramatic motion. “Oh no,” he shook his head, “That was all you.”

“Oh, please. We both know I wouldn’t have done remotely well without you.” 

He grasped both of your arms at your sides, shaking you reassuringly. “What did I say about giving yourself more credit?” 

Peering up at him, you didn’t speak, just twisted your face in recollection. You took the time to observe him, his hair looking slightly different. The volume had fallen through the day obviously, and the bags under his eyes were more visible than you’d ever seen them. 

Jayce spoke again, “So how was it? Tell me all about it.” 

You stayed close to him, recounting the details of the quiz. “And like in our sessions, I made sure to go back and check my work. Made me feel way more confident and obviously… it paid off.” You put your hands on your hips, “Eighty freakin seven.” 

Jayce just smiled warmly. Not responding, but rather just admiring you and how happy you were. He reveled in the pride you showed, knowing he had a part but that it was ultimately you who had done the work. 

With a hand on your shoulder, Jayce finally spoke. “You’re really smart, you know that?” 

You suddenly became aware of how desolate the hall to the bathroom was. The sound of people socializing only echoed as opposed to resounding in your ears. Music seemed to dissipate where it would screech. You were left with nothing but the tingling of Jayce’s grip on you and the intense focus of his eyes. 

You continued to study him, watching as his chest rose and fell—mirroring you. You blinked, finally responding through a whisper. “I have a good tutor.” 

The words just barely passed your lips—tumbling off of them slowly in a way that had the man mesmerized. You watched his eyes flicker down and then back up to you. 

The hand on your shoulder found itself snaking around and up to your cheek, a thumb rubbing small back and forth motions into your skin. Jayce allowed his other hand to mimic the motion—both of his hands now cupping your face in intrigue. 

He tilted his head slightly before pushing himself forward with urgency. You hadn’t registered how quickly Jayce’s lips connected with yours until they slowed against you—appreciating the feeling. The tension in your body had released, allowing you to reach your arms up and around Jayce’s neck. Your lips molded into each other’s, like they were meant to be there and intended to stay. You tugged on the hair at the nape of his neck, allowing yourself to nip at Jayce’s lips. 

You pulled back slightly, observing only the lower half of his face. The way the ghost of facial hair lingered there. How the swell of his lower lip almost always resembled a pout—even when he smiled. 

He couldn’t stand the distance and pulled you back in, working on a lip at a time. He groaned to himself, drowning in the sweetness of your lips. He continued to nudge into you, accidentally pushing your back to the wall. Your hands roamed his back, clawing at anything to ground you. His rough stubble, the fabric of his clothes, that scent of him that you loved so much, it was all too much. 

The sound of an approaching person startled you, even more so when you heard it was accompanied by the noise of clinking metal. When you realized, you pushed Jayce away—an apologetic look all over your face. 

A call of your name had you straightening your clothes; Jayce remained still, watching you. 

Viktor had come into view, pausing his steps at the sight of the pair of you. 

“Hey,” you spoke first. “You okay?” 

Viktor looked at Jayce, then at you. “I’m well. Just curious to see where you disappeared to.” 

“Oh…I just,” you smoothed over your shirt again, “Just had to use the bathroom.”

Viktor quickly flickered over to Jayce. “And you?” 

Clearly not paying attention and still looking at you, Jayce let out a sound. “Hmm?” 

“Are you also using the bathroom, Jayce?”

“Right, yeah…” he cleared his throat. “I just stepped out. We ran into each other.” 

With your lips? Viktor wanted to say. 

“Right, well.” You interjected, “I think this celebration’s lasted long enough.” You clasped your hands together dramatically. “I should head home for the night.” 

You allowed your peripheral to linger on Jayce, expecting something from him, before fully turning your head. He masked a smile—but the quick upturn of his lip made the motion apparent.

You awkwardly raised your hand, waving to Jayce and slipping past Viktor’s standing form. Flustered didn't even begin to explain it. You moved fluidly through the now growing crowd of people, the bar becoming more packed as the night went on. Without a second thought you approached Ekko, tapping his shoulder and motioning for him to leave with you. 

“I’m tired, I think. You wanna head out?” 

Without a reply, Ekko stood, following you toward the exit. The brisk air whipped around your skin—a chill there that hadn’t been before the sun went down. You shivered, then, both at the temperature and at the lingering feeling of Jayce’s lips on yours. 

Ekko broke your train of thought, “You okay?” 

You looked over to him, “Yeah, why?” 

“It’s just,” his focus was quickly drawn to your lips. “Just that you wanted to leave so suddenly, I guess.” His mouth seemed to open and close, searching for the words. Ultimately he was taken aback; he noticed the displaced sheen of your chapstick. The shine of the balm that was once properly placed seemed to have traveled and smeared around your mouth. 

Ekko nodded to himself, urging his body to take a step away from where he’d been so close to you. 

You cleared your throat, missing the way Ekko’s body slumped. “I just wanna get some sleep, it’s been a long week.” 

“Okay.” 

Your brow arched at him, then. “You alright?” 

Ekko swallowed in his mouth, controlling his stride and masking his distress. “I’m good…let’s head back.” 

“Okay.” Your voice trailed off. You matched his step back to your place until he stopped to see you off. Without another word, you waved bye—watching him disappear down the path. 

taglist

@juskonutoh @sseleniaa @aerina127 @sleepysoldier @angelicmisty @1800latenitecreep @venus-in-roses @myxticmoon @rando-no-5

[luvashli]

Synopsis -> you are pulled into a mysterious mansion where seven men are bound by a dark pact. As you navigates their secrets, desires, and emotional turmoil, you must decide whether to break free or embrace your dangerous connection with them all, uncovering love and sacrifice along the way.

12 -> A New Resolve

The storm showed no signs of letting up as Heeseung sank into the armchair near the fireplace, his head in his hands. The weight of what had just happened pressed down on him like the thunder rumbling outside. The flames in the hearth crackled softly, their warmth doing nothing to soothe the cold dread pooling in his chest.

“I’m such an idiot,” he muttered, his voice thick with frustration. He leaned back, staring at the ceiling as if it held answers, the drink in his hand long forgotten on the table beside him.

He hadn’t meant to say it. He wasn’t even supposed to know the full extent of the pact, let alone share it with you. But watching the anger and betrayal in your eyes had gutted him in a way he couldn’t explain. Because it wasn’t just guilt about the pact anymore.

It was you.

“Why couldn’t I just keep my mouth shut?” he hissed, clenching his fists until his nails dug into his palms. He replayed the moment in his mind—your voice cracking, your retreating figure, the storm echoing your fury. His chest tightened. He should’ve said something else, anything else. But the truth had spilled out before he could stop it.

And now he’d pushed you further away.

Heeseung sat forward, gripping his hair, his breaths coming faster. He hadn’t told you everything—not even close. The pact wasn’t just a cruel binding forcing them together. It wasn’t some heartless ritual designed to manipulate you. No, the connection was deeper, more insidious than that. And worst of all? It wasn’t supposed to include feelings.

But it did.

It did, because somewhere along the way, he had fallen. So had the others.

Heeseung had been the first to notice it—the way his chest tightened when you smiled, the way his heart raced when you walked into a room. He’d shoved it down, buried it beneath the pact’s cold logic. But as the others started showing the same signs, he’d realized there was no escaping it. And now? Now you thought it was all fake, all manipulation.

“Stupid,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I’m so stupid.”

Heeseung stood abruptly, pacing in front of the fire. He should’ve never let it go this far. Never let his own emotions blur the line between duty and desire. And now he’d gone and broken the one rule that had been drilled into them from the beginning: Do not let her know everything. Don’t let her know what we feel.

Because if you knew the truth, it could unravel everything—not just the pact, but whatever fragile thread was holding the seven of them, and you, together.

The thought made his stomach twist, a sharp pang of regret slicing through him. He wanted to fix this. Wanted to tell you everything he couldn’t say earlier. But how could he, when the truth would only make things worse?

Heeseung stopped pacing, staring into the flames as if they could burn away his guilt. “I’ve already ruined it,” he murmured. “She’ll never believe me now.”

The storm outside raged on, a mirror to the chaos inside him. And as he stood there, haunted by your absence and his own mistakes, Heeseung made a silent vow: if there was even the smallest chance to make things right, he’d take it.

Even if it meant breaking himself in the process.

The kiss left you reeling, your mind spinning with the weight of Heeseung’s words. Every stolen glance, every heated moment, every kiss—they all felt different now. The realization sat like a stone in your chest, heavy and suffocating. You couldn’t shake the look in his eyes when he told you the truth, as if he knew it would destroy something in you.

But it wasn’t just Heeseung.

The others had kissed you, too—Jay, Sunghoon, Jungwon—and now, in the dim light of the storm-lashed night, their actions took on a new, bitter meaning. Each kiss was a thread in a web you hadn’t even realized you were caught in.

As thunder rolled in the distance, you stood in the center of the library, staring at the six boys gathered around you. Heeseung was leaning against the fireplace, his face shadowed and unreadable. The others looked at you with varying degrees of confusion and unease, except Sunghoon, who avoided your gaze entirely.

“You told them, didn’t you?” you said, your voice cutting through the tense silence like a blade.

Heeseung nodded once, his jaw tight. “I had to. They needed to know.”

“Did they?” You folded your arms, your voice cold. “Or was that your way of making sure I couldn’t trust any of you anymore?”

“Y/n—” Jay started, but you cut him off with a sharp look.

“No,” you said, your tone firm. “Don’t try to explain this away. I’m done pretending I don’t see what’s happening here.”

The room was silent, save for the crackling of the fire and the distant howl of wind outside. You took a deep breath, willing yourself to stay composed.

“So,” you continued, your gaze sweeping over each of them, “was it all part of the pact? Every kiss, every moment that made me feel like maybe—just maybe—I could trust you?”

“Of course not,” Jungwon said quickly, stepping forward. His voice was soft, pleading. “Y/n, it wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it like?” you snapped, your anger boiling to the surface. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like all of you were just following some script to keep this stupid pact alive.”

“It’s not that simple,” Sunghoon said quietly, his eyes flicking to yours for the briefest moment before looking away again.

“Then explain it to me,” you demanded, your voice rising. “Make me understand why I was stupid enough to believe any of it was real.”

The silence that followed was deafening. None of them seemed able to meet your gaze, and the weight of their guilt pressed against you like a physical force.

“I thought so,” you said bitterly, your chest aching.

“It was real,” Heeseung said, his voice low and raw. “Maybe not at first. But it’s real now.”

You laughed, the sound hollow. “Do you even hear yourself? Do you know how little that means after everything you’ve done?”

“Y/n,” Jay said again, his voice softer this time, almost hesitant. “We never meant to hurt you. We—” He hesitated, glancing at the others. “We care about you. More than we’re supposed to.”

“Don’t,” you said sharply, holding up a hand. “Don’t stand there and tell me you care about me after everything. Do you have any idea how it feels to realize I was nothing more than a pawn in this game?”

“You’re not a pawn,” Jake said, his voice firm. “You’re more than that. To all of us.”

“That’s enough,” you said, taking a step back. “I don’t want to hear it.”

The weight of their stares pressed on you, but you refused to let them see how close you were to breaking. You straightened your spine, forcing steel into your voice.

“Here’s how this is going to work,” you said, your gaze hard. “I’ll help you figure out how to fix this pact or break it or whatever it is we need to do. But from now on, I’m keeping my distance. No more kisses. No more moments. No more of this.” You gestured vaguely to the tension hanging in the room like a storm cloud.

“Y/n, you don’t have to do this,” Heeseung said, his voice desperate.

“Yes, I do,” you said, your tone leaving no room for argument. “Because I can’t trust any of you anymore. And honestly? I can’t trust myself either.”

The words left your mouth before you could stop them, and the pain in their eyes only made it worse. But you didn’t waver. You couldn’t afford to.

“If we’re going to fix this, I need to keep the upper hand,” you said, your voice steady. “And that means keeping my distance.”

For a moment, no one spoke. The storm raged outside, the fire casting flickering shadows across the room. Finally, Heeseung nodded, his expression unreadable.

“Fine,” he said quietly. “If that’s what you want.”

“It’s not what I want,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s what I need.”

Without another word, you turned and walked out of the library, leaving them in stunned silence. As you made your way down the darkened hall, your heart ached with every step.

You wanted to believe them. You wanted to believe that their feelings were real, that you weren’t just some means to an end. But the cracks in your trust ran too deep, and you couldn’t risk falling for something that might shatter you completely.

The storm outside echoed your turmoil, lightning illuminating the halls as you made your way back to your room. You had made your decision.

And there was no turning back now.

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Masterlist Previous Next

[an-established-butt-dent]

Dragon age: the Veilguard

What I imagine the cover of a comic about the Dreadwolf looks like.

[thermodynamic-comedian]

arthur and john's relationship is built on codependence and working together because there's no other choice, but it's also a lot about arthur projecting onto john. arthur considers himself a failure as a person, but now he has a chance to prove that someone evil can actively choose to be better. he believes that if john can be saved, so can he. if john can be redeemed, so can he. that's why he tries, at every possible turn, to push john to be better. that's also why, whenever john takes a few steps back in progress, it has such an intense effect on arthur. because he wants to save john.

because if he can save john, he'll finally have proven to himself that he can be saved too.

[bizlybebo]

Dakota and Williamcore

KILLS YOU.

[frogaroundandfindout]

Vienna but make it about dick grayson talking to Tim so he doesn’t end up like Jason

[catchastarorten]

—Sleep well.

Pairing: Kang Dae-ho x fem!reader

Summary: Gi-hun suggested that the group took turns staying on watch in case the other players attacked, him and Jung-bae stayed up while you and the others napped, Dae-ho took his place beside you to rest with you.

Content: fluff, cuddling(?), you head-butting him in your sleep lol, English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, not really proofread, sorry!

Word count: 808

You were tucked into the corner with your group—Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Young-il, Dae-ho, and Jun-hee. Trust was a rare thing in the games, but the six of you managed to stick together, watching each other’s backs through the brutal rounds.

The weight of exhaustion clung to you, but Gi-hun’s paranoia kept your eyes open longer than you would have liked. He wasn’t wrong, though. The fear was palpable.

Your group pulled a couple of mattresses off of the bunks, arranging them as best as possible. One was dragged and laid flat against the wall, the others shoved under bunk frames for some semblance of protection.

“Is this really necessary? I don’t like sleeping under there.” Jung-bae asked, sliding a mattress to Gi-hun, who shoved it under a bunk frame.

“Once the lights go out, somebody might attack us.” Gi-hun said, his eyes focused and his voice steady. “The prize money still goes up if we kill each other. It’s a part of the game they designed.”

You exchanged a look with Dae-ho, who sat cross-legged beside you, holding onto some blankets and pillows. He had been your shadow ever since Red light, Green light. Always sticking close, insisting on protecting you in this place after seeing the way you froze during the first game—when he told you to stay behind him closely so you could use him as a human shield.

“We need to take turns keeping watch after the lights go out.” Gi-hun muttered, sitting down at the foot of the bunk beds, his sharp eyes scanning the room. “I’ll take the first watch.”

The lights flickered out not long after, leaving the only source being the giant piggy-bank hung on the ceiling that was glowing dimly.

It was after a while when Jung-bae rolled out lazily from under a bunk and plopped down beside Gi-hun, the two of them speaking in hushed voices.

You laid down on one of the mattresses, wrapping the thin blanket around yourself. Dae-ho settled beside you not long after, and though you weren’t expecting it, his hand brushed against yours as he shifted to get comfortable, and you were sure you saw his face flush before he hid it, which barely worked, to be honest.

“Don’t worry,” he mumbled, his voice low and soothing. “I’ll keep you safe. I’ll fight them off if they try to come over here.”

The sincerity in his words made your heart ache in the best way. Dae-ho had a knack for looking out for you since you met him in the games, even in the little ways—giving you his portion of food, stepping in when someone got too close. You hadn’t known him long, but there was this easy warmth between the two of you.

Within minutes, you were sound asleep.

Dae-ho’s soft snores filled the small space you both shared. Exhaustion had gotten the better of him, just like it did to you. His arm had draped protectively over your side in his sleep, his presence a cocoon of safety.

Gi-hun and Jung-bae sat near the bunks, their attention now drawn to the sound of soft snoring. Both sets of eyes landed on you and Dae-ho, curled up together on the mattress.

“They’re out like a light,” Jung-bae remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice. “You know, seeing them like that... it reminds me of when we went on strike. We were occupying the factory, and management told us to come out. They said anyone who came out voluntarily would be let off the hook and receive more severance pay.”

Gi-hun stared into the distance, as if recalling what happened.

“You were sleeping beside me and you were talking in your sleep. ‘Mom, I’m hungry, give me some food.’” Jung-bae made an exaggerated crying face, and Gi-hun gave him a glare as Jung-bae nudged him with his elbow, smirking.

Their voices echoed, and soon enough, soft laughs filled the quietness.

Jung-bae chuckled again, louder this time. He clapped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late. The noise had reached you, and you stirred slightly. Dae-ho, still asleep, curled closer to you instinctively, his arm tightening around your side. His movement caused your head to shift slightly, and without warning, you head-butted him in your half-asleep state of grogginess.

Dae-ho furrowed his brows, a soft noise escaping his lips as he shifted again, burying his face into the crook of his arm. You tugged the blanket over your shoulders, muttering something incoherent before nestling deeper into the mattress, falling right back asleep.

Jung-bae stifled another laugh, his shoulders shaking with the effort. Gi-hun gave him a glare, but a faint smile was already tugging at the corners of his mouth too.

“They’re like kids,” Jung-bae whispered, his tone fond.

“Let them sleep. They’ll need it.” Gi-hun shook his head and sighed softly.

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐍𝐄 ❞

❝ SATORU GOJO IS THE HONORED ONE - AND HE'S MORE THAN HONORED TO BREED YOU ! ❞

✧ pairing: gojo satoru x sorcerer!reader

✧ summary: it's your duty as the wife of the clan head to help your husband get dressed -- even for battle. but that didn't mean he couldn't spend some time undressing you. aka fucking gojo in his shinjuku showdown outfit

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, canon compliant, feral gojo, Ijichi featured, dom!gojo, breeding kink, dirty talk, oral (f), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), mirror sex, clothed sex, creampie, implied multiple rounds, multiple positions, swearing,

✧ w/c: 7,946

✧ now playing: feature one of sab's kinktober

“Perfect,” 

The word slips from your lips without a second thought as you slip the haori over his shoulders, snow locks against the coal colored silk, slick as steel and light as a feather, yet carrying the heft of expense. 

Just as your husband did. 

Little words could describe Satoru Gojo — the most common being the strongest — unmatched strength that matched his flawless appearance and even more unsullied skill set. Curses would sooner exorcise themselves rather than face him, and those who didn’t, well, they did not have long to linger on their mistake. 

But you didn’t think of him as the strongest. No, your husband was so much more than that. A teacher. A mentor. A friend. An idiot (but he would insist that he was your idiot, and he very much was). And he was perfect. 

A remark you knew many would balk at,  and even now — as you dressed your husband, at his insistence, fingers helping him pull the fabric over his body, before smoothing it over his muscle and the word fell from you without a second thought — you caught glimpse of a grimace on Ijichi’s face in the mirror. 

“Ijichi, you should go before I slap the shit out of you for your expression,” Ijichi squeaks in horror before slipping from the room, quiet click of the door welcoming silence, only for a moment, “what was that again, sweetheart?” 

You roll your eyes, “should I really indulge you in making your ego any bigger? You may defeat Sukuna with just the sheer size and weight of it,” you tease, fingers smoothing and adjusting his haori. 

“Think that would be a victory either way, sweetheart,” his fingers find yours, weaving with your own — miraculously soft even with bearing the weight of the world in his hands alone, “but I don’t want to win in such a boring way, especially to Sukuna,” 

“And why’s that?” His lips curl. 

“Because I have to look cool in front of my precious students, don’t I?” you see a hint of sadness linger in his gaze — and you hear the unspoken words, especially Megumi, but the smile slides back on as usual,  “I can’t have myself embarrassing myself can I? You’d never let me live it down,” 

“Oh, no I wouldn’t,” your fingers slide up to cup his cheek, “but you’d expect nothing less from your wife, now would you?” 

And he grins, just as he did the day he had proposed to you, at the classroom at Jujutsu Tech where you first met, deep reds and oranges flooding the wood paneled room, painting it as it only could in the evenings, but even the sun paled in comparison to Satoru on his knee, lips curled in your favorite smile — the very one he gave you every day. 

“My wife,” he hums, and you have to stop yourself from biting your lip and tense your muscles so you didn’t jump him then and there. 

“What about it?” he runs the back of his fingers over your cheek. 

“Just glad I convinced you to let us get married early,” not that it took much convincing at all — only a single look after he was unsealed and several minutes of making out later, and he had gotten Ijichi to get the registration and paperwork for him — the very papers Satoru had prepared before Shibuya, “because now you’re stuck with me, wifey,” 

You chuckle, your fingers finding his as they brushed your cheek, turning your head to kiss his fingers, “I’ve been stuck with you from the moment we met,” 

And you had been — you hadn’t known peace since he had thrown that Jujutsu Tech classroom door open all those years ago, with a welcome party prepared for you and the other first years, microphone in hand as he introduced each of you. And it wasn’t his strength or his skill or even his stupidity that charmed you — but the goddamn smile on his lips. 

Funny, how everyone was so preoccupied with his eyes, when every inch of his was just as captivating— 

“Think you’re going to lose me now, Toru?” You rub your thumb across the length of his cheek, “don’t know if I could ever live without you,” 

“Oh yeah?” he wraps his arms around your waist, his warm form enveloping you, “no regrets?” 

“Only one,” and he tilts his head, blues gleaming with the low light of the room, catching like sunlight against waves, as your fingers traced down to the smooth silk of his clothes, “that we never got married in a formal ceremony,” 

“If I recall, you were in just as much of a rush as me,” his lips graze your jaw, threads of heat slipping up and down every inch of your body, a kiss pressed to the soft skin behind your ear, “you barely wanted to even have the small ceremony we did,” 

“That’s because someone kept touching me while I got ready,” and he did, as you changed into a dress you selected for the small ceremony — or rather you tried, as his warm palms slid up your body, his mouth covering your soft gasps and protests, “or do you forget that you nearly fucked me against the wall right outside the room we were going to marry?” 

“It’s not my fault my wife is so tempting, they say my technique is deadly, but you yourself are far more dangerous,” he hummed, another kiss against your cheek, as his thumb and forefinger cups your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze in the mirror,  “why the want a formal ceremony anyway? If I remember, you said formal ceremonies were only for the attendees rather than the couple,” 

“Well, maybe I saw something that changed my mind,” or someone in something—

“Oh? And what could change my incredibly stubborn wife’s mind?” 

You hate him — hate the teasing glint in his gaze because he knows exactly why, as he noses the hollow of your neck, lips grazing your flushed skin, “You know why,” and he does, he sees it in the way your gaze lingers across his body, the way you shiver when his palm slips down your hip only to squeeze, and in the soft sound that leaves your lips when his fingers trace down your chin to the valley of your chest. 

“I’d like to hear you say it, sweetheart,” he presses himself flush to your back, heat seeping through the fabric, just as his breath warmed your skin, “don’t tell me you forgot how to use your words,” 

“You’re the worst,” and his chuckle reverberates against you, sending a shiver up your body, his hands sliding down the front of your shirt until he reaches the hem, fingers toying with the fabric. 

“And what does that make you since you married me?” 

“A fool,” your lips curl, his eyes meeting yours, “but a very smart one,” and he clicks his tongue. 

“So smart and yet she can’t answer a simple question,” you sigh, and his fingers, finally, slide underneath against your bare stomach. 

“You just want me to stroke your ego,” and he grins at you in the mirror, robes nearly engulfing your form now. 

“Oh, that’s not all I want you to stroke,” your snort is cut off by a gasp as his palms slide under your bra, “I’ll just keep teasing you until you break,” and his fingers tease your pert nipples, a wave of heat headed straight for your cunt, “and y’know I can, wifey.” 

~~~

“Hngh, Toru, please—” 

Satoru doesn’t know what he loves more — the sound of his name on your lips, desperation on your tongue, the same tongue that he had tasted again and again or the sight of you below him, spread out on his desk, papers and books long crumpled and pushed onto the floor — but he doesn’t need to choose a favorite thing when it comes to you. 

Because every single thing is his favorite. 

“If you want me to stop, you can try, sweetheart,” he presses a kiss to your thigh, teeth grazing the soft flesh, another mark blooming among the rest, a field of reds and purples he could spend hours exploring, “don’t know how far you’d get,” 

His fingers press your thighs further apart, with the barest hint of strength, and you’re still utterly restrained under his touch — a lovely butterfly pinned for his viewing — and what a view it was. 

“Fucker,” you pout at him half-heartedly, your kiss ruined lips and fucked out gaze doing nothing to help your case, “we were supposed to be getting you dressed for—“ 

“Then there’s no problem,” his fingers tug your blouse over your head, your bra askew from his eager fingers, and his hand reaches around to undo the clasp. But he doesn’t pull it away with his fingers, but instead bends down to  away the intruding garment, “because you’re the only one getting undressed, sweets,” 

There was something about the thought — and the sight — of you completely bare for him, at his mercy naked and vulnerable, while he stood clad in the clothes meant for battle. His cock twitched, he supposed this was a battle of kind — as he pushed his sleeves up — a battle of how many times he could cum inside you. 

“Satoru—“ you squeal as he nearly rips away your panties, leaving you bare for him, your thighs closing on reflex, only for him to press them back apart, “fuck—“ 

“That’s what I’m trying to do, sweetheart,” he clicks his tongue, bringing your soaked panties to his nose to smell, before pocketing them, a grin on his lips, “a good luck charm,” 

You gape at him, half horrified and half amused at the thought of the Gojo elders somehow finding out that the Gojo clan head’s clothes had been defiled by your underwear — though you were sure they expected nothing less from Satoru Gojo.  

But even so, you can’t bring yourself to complain, “You don’t need luck to win,” and he scoffs lightly, his warm palm sliding up your thigh, lips pressing hot kisses up your shin, right to your knee, “you just need to know I’ll kick your ass if you don’t make it back in one piece to me,” your fingers run through his soft locks, before tracing over his cheek. 

“I know, and the thought of you waiting for me is all I need,” he turns to your hand, lips pressing a kiss against the cool metal of your wedding ring, “and it wasn’t for that,” and he’s shifting, settling fully between your thighs, lips inches from your sopping pussy, “it’s for making sure I can breed you right,” 

His fingers brush against your fluttering walls, index finger tracing the outer walls with the very tip, pulling and tugging until you were spread out completely, messy pussy on display just for him. You couldn’t squirm under his the wet squelch making your cheeks burn, “S-stop teasing, just—“ 

You moan as he sinks a thick finger into you, knuckle deep and fast, “So needy for someone who was whining a second ago about stopping,” it doesn’t take long for a second finger to join, stretching out your perfect pussy, warm walls pulling him deeper each time he pulled out, his wrist and palm drenched in your juices, “but y’know I can’t stop, wifey, it’s our duty, right? Duty to produce an heir, but more importantly,” And a third finger sinks inside, as he peers up at you, lips parted in a sweet moan that makes his cock throb, ready to bust without a single touch, because he doesn’t need touch — not when it’s you under him, “my duty to fuck and yours to be fucked,” 

And your cunt squeezes his fingers at his vulgar words, a coil growing tighter in the pit of your stomach, heat building, as you can’t help moan his name, “and how will we fulfill our duty if I don’t prepare you, huh? Gotta make sure you’re ready, hm?” 

His thumb rubs over your aching clit, the lewd noises of your slick nearly white noise to your ears as pleasure builds, every muscle taut underneath his touch. He’s pumping faster and harder, nails dragging over your walls, until his fingers find that spot you love — the one he knows how to hit again and again, and he does. 

Your head lolls back against the desk, pleasure ripping up your spine, “I’m—“ 

And that’s the only warning you give before you cum, name on your lips as your back arches, as he fingerfucks you through your orgasm, working you down from your high. You're panting, chest heaving as he slowly eases his fingers from you, the emptiness making you whine. 

Your eyes flutter open to the sight of him licking his fingers clean of your cum, tongue darting across his lips, a glint in his eyes.

“You’re so sweet I can never get enough of you,” and he lifts a finger to your lips, letting you taste yourself on his digit, obediently closing your mouth around it, until he’s dragging it out, pulling at your bottom lip, “you’re dripping from both lips aren’t you?” 

“That’s your fault,” god, you’re too fucking cute, thighs twitching as he leaned down to your soaked cunt, a pretty flushed pink, “you made a mess,” and his tongue licks a stripe up your leaking walls, sparks blooming from the hot muscle flicking against your hard clit. 

“Then I guess it’s my responsibility to clean you up,” 

Satoru Gojo is always too much — it’s too much the way his tongue drags over the seam of your cunt, it’s too much when his nose bumps against your clit when he buries his face in your pussy, your fingers curling in his white locks, and it’s too much when you feel his grunts and moans resonate against your drenched folds. 

It was too much. 

“How are you so soft?” He mumbles, words whispered against your puffy clit before he kisses it, “you say I don’t play fair but you were unfair from the moment I met you,” he reaches down, palming at his erection, “and I knew you’d be mine,” Your eyes find his lips less than an inch from your pussy, chin and lips shiny with your cum and his spit, “you and this sweet pussy,” 

And he’s slurping every ounce of your essence you give him, greedily lapping at you as if he’d rather drown in your juices than breath real air, “fuck, Toru, slow down—“ toes curling as you 

He clicks his tongue, your head rolling back as your nails dig into his scalp, “You shouldn’t lie, sweets, not when this pretty girl is so honest,” the only sound being the wet squelch of your 

“Satoru Gojo!” A familiar voice rings out followed by several knocks, “how long do you expect to keep us waiting?” 

Fuck. And there was the reason you two were getting sresssd to begin with — a showing before Gakuganji and the Gojo clan before the battle with Sukuna. A showing Satoru agreed to undoubtedly to fuck with them — and you, now, for that matter, as he sucks at your clit again, your hand flying to cover your mouth. 

“Didn’t know you were waiting. Thought keeping you waiting would have sent you the right message,” Satoru replies, words said nearly against your wet cunt, breath warming your folds, a shiver working it’s way up your spine, “do you all need to see me in my clothes for battle that badly? I’ll have to start to suspect other motives — and while I’m flattered, with how flattered I can be from a bunch old geezers, I am a married man—“ 

“You insolent brat—“ his tirade falls on deaf ears as you try to urge Satoru off, but he doesn’t, only pinning your hips in place, hands locked under your knee, as he tugs you closer. 

And he only grins, “Don’t tell me you’ll let this old coot distract us, sweetheart? Gonna make me insecure, does my wife not like this as much as her pussy does?” He groans his fingers, spreading your walls apart, parting them to see your cum and pre leak, only for him to lap it up, “because you’ve gotten wetter, haven’t you?” 

“T-Toru, I swear to god, I’ll—“ you half whisper, half hiss, and he sinks two fingers inside your needy walls, his tongue and fingers doing nothing to keep quiet as the squelch of your folds only grows louder as he drags his fingers inside every inch of you, while his tongue busies itself with your clit. 

“You’ll what, wifey?” he hums, making you whimper, “leave? You know you don’t want that. We could make a show of it, should I open these doors and let everyone see how needy you are for me,” and you can’t help the gasp that parts your lips, walls clenching around his fingers, “maybe then those geezers will see why I chose you,” 

“Satoru! Are you even listening?” 

“You can say whatever you want to me here,” Satoru sinks a third finger inside, teasing your clit with chaste kisses, “I’m not leaving this room for the rest of the night,” 

Gakuganji pounds at the door, but you barely hear it, heart pounding in your ears, as you barely muffle your moans behind your clenched fist, “Disgraceful, do you think this is anyway to behave—“ you’re so close, too close, ready to cum as he pumps his fingers once, twice, three times — hitting your sweet spot again and again—you feel yourself reach that peak—

Only for him to stop. The whine that leaves your lips is a little too loud, just as his smirk is a little too wide. 

Fucking asshole. 

Satoru chuckles, teasing you open with his fingertips, just carding your folds barely open at all, pulling small gasps and moans muffled against clenched fingers, “Aw, c’mon, you don’t think being sealed up in that box taught me anything? You should know it only made me take what I want,” Satoru pulls his fingers from inside you, licking up the side of his digits,  “and what I want is right here,” he leans back down, “so tell me and leave,” 

“Even so, I need to speak to you alone,” 

“It’s only me and my wife. You can tell her anything you tell me, she’s the more responsible one after all,” he punctuates it by his teeth grazing your clit, making your hips jerk underneath him, his hand covering your mouth, your fingers curling over his. He grins down at you as he kisses your thigh, “My wife is indisposed at the moment,” 

You don’t hear what Gakuganji says as his fingers sink back inside all at once, fingers rough as they fucked you open in earnest, but you hear Satoru scoff nonetheless. 

“Get your mind out of the gutter, you old geezer — she’s just lying down,” and he adds with a whisper, curling his fingers just right, “and getting her brains fingerfucked out,” and your pretty eyes are full of tears, cries muffled against his fingers, spit soaked, as he feels your walls clamp around his fingers, “what do you think? Should I let him in, sweetheart? Let him see how you well you get fucked by me, hear you scream my name when you cum for me?” 

Nerves on fire from his touch, he’s just adding fuel to the fire, and you’re bucking into his fingers, wanting his fingers deeper even a little—

“No, I don’t think so,” his lips curl as he leans down, cerulean glinting in the low light, as your walls give that tell tale flutter, “because this pretty cunt is just for me,” and he sucks hard at your clit, just as he pulls his hand away, “cum.” 

And you do, pleasure ripping through every inch of you as your back arches upwards into his touch, as he holds you against his face, cumming against his fingers and lips. 

It’s heaven, buried in your sweet cunt as you cum, hot release against his tongue that he laps up greedily, the wet squelch of your pussy along with your lips crying out his name again and again. doing nothing to ease the throbbing between his thighs. 

And when he finally does pull away, licking his lips and chin clean of your release, he watches you coming down from your high — eyes fluttering open slowly as your chest heaves, pussy split open just for him, your cum staining parts of his pants shirt and haori. 

Fuck, he’ll have to see everyone off like this — your cum on his clothes — and his dick twitches, as he leans down to press kisses along your body, with you shivering as he does. And he wants nothing more than this moment to last, with you beneath him, the taste of you on his lips, and the sounds of your soft pants filling his ears. 

That is until, you flipped him, back hitting the plush of the mattress, “sweets—“ 

“Did you forget? It’s a wife’s duty to serve her husband,” and your fingers are as deft as they are possessed — grazing over the bulge in his pants, a hiss before pulling the drawstrings apart, “isn’t that right, husband?” 

Fuck, he bites his lip as he watches you tug his trousers down, his erection slaps his stomach, hard and leaking through the fabric of his boxers, a large dark stain of precum from his weeping tip. 

Fuck, your cunt ached at the sight of him — no matter how many times you saw his cock, you couldn’t get over just how long he was — it was a miracle you were able to take him without breaking your cunt, though he’d gotten far too close. 

“And I thought you said we couldn’t undress me,” his cock twitches as your fingers trace over the dripping slit through the drenched material. 

Your eyes don’t meet his, still fixed on his hard on, “if the clothes are on you, does it even count as undressing?” 

And your fingers dip into the elastic of his boxers before snapping it against his skin, making him jolt, “should I stop then, oh honored one?” You rub your thumb over his slit harshly, a gasp falling from his lips as his head lolls back, “maybe I should go get Gakuganji, let you have your meeting,” 

“Playing dirty doesn’t suit you, sweetheart—“ and you pull his boxers down, pooling around his knees just as his pants did, cold air hitting his cock making him hiss. 

“Like I said,” your palms slide up his body, from his waist, and under his shirt, to his chest, stealing the breath from his lungs, “should I stop?” 

He looks up at you, lungs filled with heat instead of air, lips hovering an inch from his leaking erection. 

“Fuck no.” 

~~~

You’d be the death of him. 

There was no mistake about it. 

Satoru Gojo only had one weakness—and you were sitting on top of him. Your hair disheveled with your fingers running through them, lips kiss bitten and ruined even as your teeth grazed your bottom lip, and your gaze molten and only for him — just for him. 

And you called him perfect. 

A groan leaves his chest as your tongue flicks against his slit, salty precum swallowed by eager lips. He’s hypnotized by you, fingers reaching for you, as his thumb drags down your puffy bottom lip, parting your mouth for him, tongue darting out to lick the pad of his finger. Fuck, your mouth is so sweet, but how is it so wicked all the same? 

“Fuck, sweets, how do you look so good on your knees f’me? S’not fair,” and your forefinger traces his pretty veins from base to tip, running over every curve and inch that would be buried in your tight cunt soon enough, his hips jumping against your touch, “g’nna make me cum before you even touch me,” 

“If you’re gonna cum anywhere, it better be on me,” your lips curl at the shiver that runs down his body, your fingers sliding up his thigh as your fingers slide the pre down his length, fingers slowly pumping him. 

“Fuuuuck, just like that, can’t wait to bury myself in your sweet pussy, wifey—“ your lips kiss his slit, sucking as your fingers toyed with his balls, feeling far too tight from your touch, a moan cutting off his words. 

“G’tta find a way to shut you up somehow, Toru,” you spit on his cock, pressing teasing kisses up and down his begging length, “or maybe we can find a gag,” 

You’ll kill him before he even gets a chance to fight Sukuna, and he’d die a happy man. 

His precum drips down your chin, painting your lips, tongue darting out to lick it off your skin, “s’fucking good for me,” the praise sending a wave of heat right to your cunt, hot cum slipping down your thighs — and you finally let his cock slip past your lips. 

A whine leaves his throat, his head lolls back, your pretty mouth wrapped around his dick, soaking his length, hips jerking against your mouth. Half muttered apologies, he couldn’t look away from the sight of you on your knees for him — mouth stuffed full of his cock with glassy eyes from the soreness of your jaw as you bobbed your head up and down his length. Just watching his dick go and in out of your pretty fucking lips, drenched in your spit and his pre, was enough to make him want to cum then and there. 

But he wasn’t the only one. 

Small whimpers and moans reverberate against his cock, tongue flicking against his veins, when his eyes flicker down, nails nearly digging into your scalp as he sees you two fingers deep in your cunt, the wet sounds of your pussy mixing with the squelches of his cock in your mouth. 

“Fuck, such a nasty girl I married, huh?” He runs his fingers through his hair, entranced by the sight of you fucking yourself open with your fingers, your mouth growing sloppily as you do, “does fucking my dick turn you on this much? You’ve soaked the sheets,” he chides, wide smirk undercutting any iota of scolding, while you meet his gaze with a glare, “Aw, what? Can’t take it—“ 

His words are cut off as you take him deep, too bumping against your throat, and his fingers curl in his locks. 

“Shit—“ Your fingers graze his balls again before squeezing, hard, he nearly busts them and there, but he can’t, not yet — his fingers weave into your locks to slowly pull you off, strings of spit and pre connecting your — not when he hasn’t fucked your pretty cunt yet. 

Your eyes are dilated, dark with pleasure as his gaze meets your own, a mix of his pre and your spit slipping from the corner of your mouth, “You haven't cum yet—“ and his fingers wrap around your wrist and pull your fingers from inside yourself. 

You yelp as he flips you over in an instant, hitting the mattress with a bounce, large palms sliding up your thighs, as he presses your knees to your chest. 

“The only place I’m cumming, sweetheart,” as he drags the swollen head of his cock against your needy folds, watching his precum smear against your twitching folds, before lifting your soaked fingers to his lips, “is inside your sweet cunt.” 

“Toru—please—“ and you’re so needy, just for him, your fingers finding the front of his scarf before tugging him close, a gasp chased away by a grin as he sees the pure desperation in your eyes, “I need you,” 

“I’m right here, sweets,” and he’s leaning down to dot sweet kisses down your body — against your neck, the bridge of your collarbone, the swell of your breasts. “You’re going to have to be more specific,” 

“Fucker,” he laughs. 

“Now you’re getting closer,” and he does too, bumping the head of his weeping erection against your puffy clit, as your folds feel as if they’ll part for him in an instant, “this pretty girl is more honest than you are,” he’s parting your folds with his tip only to pull out. 

A whine turns to a scowl, as you tug him even closer by his scarf, “I swear to god, if you don’t fuck me, I’ll strangle you with this—“ and he sinks into you. 

Fuck, you swear you feel every goddamn inch, vein, and curve as he works himself into your tight cunt, walls fluttering as if beckoning him deeper—and he was only too happy to oblige. 

“Toru, s’too big,” your whining only makes his cock throb inside you as he bottoms out inside, “s’too much,” 

“Too much? No, sweets, this dick was made to fuck you,” he grunts, taking every iota of his self control not to thrust into you and bury his cum deep in your womb — no, he wanted this to last, “and this pussy was made for my cum,” he rolls his hips against you swallowly, his tip brushing against your cervix, as both of your heads roll back. 

“How are you so tight? Pleasure rips up your spine as he begins a steady pace of fucking you, sounds of skin smacking together ringing in your ears, “you’re fucking wet and yet you have me in a vice grip,” his clothes rub against you, your slick soaking through the fabric, “should I go meet with the elders like this? Let them see the Gojo clan’s haori soaked by your juices,” fingers pressing your legs apart wider and higher, divots in your flesh from his touch. 

Your walls squeeze at his words, mouth falling open wordlessly as he grunts, “F-fuck,” you can only manage to say, chest heaving as you grasp at the front of his haori, pulling him needlessly closer, “f-faster—“ and he grins. 

He was more than happy to oblige. 

He rails into you at a pace impossible for anyone but Satoru Gojo. And your gasp fades into a drawn out moan that makes him only want to fuck you harder and faster — he needed to bury himself in your cunt until all you remembered was how to moan his name. 

“You take me so well, so deep,” his hand laces with yours and guides it to the bulge in your stomach, “see how deep you take me? Good girl,” the praise makes you keen, sending another wave of pre to soak his dick, and he chuckles, “gonna fit my baby so well too,” 

Your mouth falls open as his dick ruts against you, bullying your pussy open, “W-what?” 

“Y’think we’re gonna leave this bed before I’ve filled you up?” And he punctuates his words with each roll of his hip, “nah, this cunt is all mine tonight,” his thumb drags down your lips, pressing against your tongue, spit leaking out as you groaned, “and so are you,” 

And you’re sucking at his thumb, teeth grazing it before brushing it away to lean up to meet his lips in a bruising, messy kiss — all spit and teeth and tongue, as your hips meet his thrusts, tip finally finding that sweet spot that has your back arching and your eyes rolling back. 

“Toru, fuck, I’m g’nna—“ and you’re cumming, hard, orgasm hitting every inch of your body at once, nerve endings shot with pleasure as he fucks you through it — fucking relentless (or should you say limitless?). Satoru grunts as your walls clamp down on him, the wet squelch of your pussy only growing louder among your pants and moans. He watches the white ring of cum wrap around the base of his cock as it split you open, and all he wanted to do was cum inside you. 

He needed to. 

But he’s pulling out suddenly, a gasp ripped from your lips at the emptiness, before he’s pulling you into his lap, your back pressed to his chest, an arm around you to keep you from squirming. 

“What are you—“ your sentence cuts off as he teases your far too sensitive entrance with the head of his cock, “T-toru,” 

And his other hand snakes around to cup your chin, forcing you to meet your own gaze in the mirror. 

You’re a mess — sweat slicked and naked, your skin littered with blooming red marks dotting up and down your body, your nipples pebbled and hard under his touch, and your cunt on full display, his fingers slipping down to spread them, as if to show you where he just was. 

And he was — hulking behind you, his whole form enveloping you as his cock pushed against your needy entrance. His haori disheveled and his hair askew from your fingers running through it, skin shiny with sweat, skin beautifully flushed, and his eyes filled with lust and his smile far too pleased with himself as he watched you squirm. 

Your eyes squeeze shut, “Don’t wanna be the only one to watch me cum inside you, you should enjoy the view too,” he’s finally sinking to you again, body falling back against him as he sheathed himself in you fully again, “look at how well you take me,” 

And his fingers are cupping your chin, spit slipping from your mouth, as he forced you to look again, see the bulge in your stomach as he slowly began to fuck you, his grunts and moans hot against your ear, “y’know, I’m beginning to really believe you were made for me, sweets, the only one for me,” and he’s emphasizing it with a thrust, “you’re the only one I can even imagine wanting, even just thinking of you is enough for me,” his words do nothing but make you grow tighter as he fucks upwards into you, as he spots your eyes shut again, “c’mon baby, watch me fuck you,”

So you do, watch as his cock slides in and out of your cunt, the wet noises and squelch almost too much for you to bear, the all too familiar knot in your stomach growing ready to snap. His fingers slide up your body to pinch and tease your sensitive nipples, already flushed from his attention. He’s murmuring sweet words, but you don’t hear any of them — you’re gone, lost in the pleasure, in the sweet stretch of your pussy around his cock, unable to look away as he fucks into you. 

“S’good for me, sweets, I’m close,” and he’s pulling you down flush against him, cock buried to the base as his tip brushes against your g-spot with every thrust, his lips pressing needy kisses to the side of your neck, “fuck, g’nna cum—” 

“Cum inside me, fill me up, Toru,” and he groans your name, turning your head to find your lips in a sloppy kiss, tongue wrapped around yours just as his cock hits the deepest part of your tight cunt and his fingers rub against your clit. 

And you’re squirting, gushing over his lap and cock, pulling your lips from him as you moan his name, as he rails into you through your orgasm, until he notches himself as deep as he can before he’s cumming too, hot release painting your walls as he fills you up. He’s fucking his cum into you. 

You both grow slack as he slows his movements, relaxing against his body, murmuring soft praises as he slowly pulls himself from inside, clicking his tongue, as he watches his cum slip out of you. 

“Sweetheart, how will you fulfill your duty if you let my cum slip out like that?” he kisses your cheek, before he’s gathering the cum on his fingers to stuff it back inside, drawing a gasp from your lips, “maybe I’ll just fill you up again, hm?” 

His softening cock twitches at the thought, as you lean into him, shifting as you feel just how wet you’ve gotten him…and his clothes. 

Fuck. 

“Toru, how are you going to fight in these clothes tomorrow?” you cover your burning cheeks, “it’s drenched,” 

“It’ll dry,” you snap your head to him to glare at him, and he pouts, “what? It’ll be like you’re fighting with me—” 

“I swear if I have to live with the knowledge you fought the king of curses with my cum all over you, I’ll kill you—” 

“And if I’m not alive—”

“I will bring you back to life, just to kill you,” and your palm slides against the slant of his cheek, “and you’re not going to die, I forbid it,” 

He chuckles, his lips leaning down to meet yours in a sweet kiss, “Then I better not now, huh?” 

~~~

“You’ll come home to me, won’t you?” 

It hadn’t been a question, not until now, now when you’re faced with the reality of the day pressed against you as day breaks over December 24th. Daylight seeped into the bedroom, his thumb tracing a lazy circle against the divot of your hip, a soft smile on his lips, with his arms wrapped around you. 

Atlas long having shifted the sky to your husband’s shoulders, from the second he existed in his world — but for a moment, you feel it too. Not like him — never like him, even when you tried to bear it with him. But you never could understand, no matter how you tried to.  

But you tried — his fingers lacing with yours, engulfing yours with his warmth, as he lifted your intertwined fingers to his lips. 

“Where else would I go, sweets?” And you didn’t want to think of the other possibilities, to say the words out loud and manifest them as some cruel jujutsu god’s intention. Because when were these gods ever kind? “I only belong in one place — two if you count the mochi place in Sendai,” 

But he doesn’t earn a smile out of you, frown still firmly fixed to your lips, “ouch, not even a pity half smile?” he tilts his head, “sweetheart—“ 

“You said it yourself that the ten shadows is the ultimate counter to infinity,” you hate the words that leave your lips, filling in your mouth like bile, unable to do anything but spit them out like acid, “that and Sukuna’s technique, I’m worried—“ 

“Worrying won’t change the outcome, baby, and I’m not planning on losing,” 

“If you aren’t, then why did you agree to give Yuta your body?” your words were quiet, his movements still, muscles tense as if he had already given up his autonomy to another, “and you didn’t tell me,”

He’s careful with his words, tiptoeing between buried mines— “I didn’t want you to worry about something that wouldn’t happen—“ but still managing to step on one all the same. 

“Bullshit. You thought it would be better for me to find out if push comes to shove?” you laugh, a bitter noise, but all the anger leaves your body, and only fear is left, “I can’t lose you, Toru,” 

“Baby—“ 

“I can’t. I won’t,” you’re being petulant, you know are, but he’s the one person you’re allowed to be childish about, just as he is with you. 

“You won’t, huh?” He wasn’t used to be treated like this — as fragile, as something that’s fleeting, that could slip from fingers as easily as everyone else did. Even as you touched his, fingers tracing the curve of his jaw with the most delicate of touches, as if he’d shatter under your touch, “I don’t think we get a say in that, sweets, unless you had secret meetings with a god I don’t know about,” 

“Satoru—“ 

“Don’t worry I won’t get too jealous—“ and you cover his mouth, yanking him close by his scarf, your forehead pressed to his shoulder. 

“I love you, you absolute idiot, you know that right?” And you feel his lips curl ever so slightly against your fingers, before he presses a soft kiss to your palm, easing it from his mouth, “I love you, I love you so much,” 

“I love you too,” he presses his forehead to yours, “I’ll come back to you, but even if I don’t…I’ll always be with you, you can’t get rid of me, even in death,” 

“Promise?” And he kisses you, soft and languid, thumb rubbing back and forth against your speak. 

“Promise.” 

And Satoru Gojo was never one to break his promises. 

~~~~

Except now. 

The slice cut through the silence of the battlefield with the wet squelch of flesh and blood, followed by two thumps, one soon after the other. 

No, no. This wasn’t true. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. 

It couldn’t be. 

He promised he would come back. He promised he’d live. He promised. 

He can’t leave like this. No, he can heal himself, he can save himself, couldn’t he? RCT like he did before with Toji. And for your eyes flickered around the room, no one could meet your gaze, none except Shoko, who saw the question in your eyes and only frowned before shaking her head, lit cigarette snapping in half as he held it too tight. 

“No, no—“ you didn’t even realize you said the words out loud before you felt everyone’s eyes on you suddenly, before you felt something, a flicker of his cursed energy and you snapped. 

“Ui ui, take me with you,” Kashimo was already on his way to the battlefield, a lightning flash to death’s door, with no fear. 

Yuta says your name softly, “I don’t know if that’s a good—“ your eyes snap to his hard. 

“You have your plans, Yuta, and I have my own, this isn’t a matter of discussion,” you step over to Ui Ui, seeing Yuta’s hands curl into fists, vision averted, “I’m not ready to give up on him,” 

And in a second, you’re in the middle of the battlefield, dust clearing as the distant noises of fighting rings in your ears, but you barely register it, no, not when wind rolls and you see him. 

“Satoru,” 

You’re at his side in an instant, your fingers running over his cheek, the heat leaving his body, cold creeping in, but as your fingers graze his, a quiet murmur of his name, and you see his eyes flutter. 

And it’s immediate. You look to Ui Ui, as your hands are placed on either side of his split body, palms spread against his body, “Take us to Shoko, he’s alive.” 

~~~~

Satoru Gojo was never one to lose. 

But he supposed if he had to lose to anyone, it might as well be the king of curses. But he knows he didn’t really loose, as he watches the snow fall above him, wondering if the cold against his skin was the snow or if it was something else entirely. 

Was this what it was like for Suguru? Is this what he saw? The winter sky, or was it him knelt beside him as his life left his body. 

Maybe he’ll ask him when he goes back, when he sees everyone again. 

And then he hears it — your voice, the quiet murmur of his name, and the brush of your hand against his.  

No, no, he can’t leave. Not if he can help it. Not when you’re here. 

He feels your cursed energy flood his body, the flow of cursed energy through every inch of him, as it keeps his heart beating and his brain alive — a gasp caught in his throat. 

If you want to start anew, head north. If you want to return to your old self, head south. 

There’s only one option. 

He had to head north — even if it meant — he closed his eyes — losing everything, but himself. 

But he’d have you — and that would be more than enough. 

~~~

“Are you enjoying the view?” 

Your lips curl as you stand in the doorway of your bedroom, leaning back against the doorframe, watching your husband dress himself. 

“Always do,” the floorboards creak lowly as you cross the bedroom to your husband’s side, “why do you think I married you?” 

He chuckles, “and here I thought it was because of my incredible personality,” and you snort, as your arms wrap around his middle, your fingers adjusting the obi belt around his waist, “feels like you laughed at that a little too hard, sweetheart,” 

“I just imagined how your students would react at that,” you laugh softly, as you finish adjusting his belt, only to grab his haori, a deep sky blue, as pretty as he is,  “pretty sure they’d disagree, especially after the stunt you pulled—“

And of course, the stunt you were referring to was him coercing you push a box out to his students, only for him to pop out. 

“How many chances would I have to do that? Plus, it was hilarious — did you see their faces?” And you scoff, shaking your head, “Plus, I figured it would be less shocking this way. Surprising them this way changes the focus from what happened to right now,” 

You helped him pull the haori on, guiding his arms in one sleeve and then another, “I think you just being alive was enough of a shock,” you kiss his palm, pressing it against your face. 

And his lips curl, “Well I made a promise didn’t I?” His other hand reaches for you, finding your waist and tugging you close, “and I never break a promise, especially when it comes to my beautiful wife,” 

“Can you call me that yet? We still haven’t had the ceremony yet,” he shakes his head. 

“This is only a formality, something to appease the elders and keep the idea of a clan war at bay,” he scoffs, shaking his head, before shrugging, “but it isn’t so bad,” 

“Why’s that?” And he smiles.  

“Because now we can have no regrets,” and your fingers trace upwards over his face, the scars from his battle bumpy as your fingers run over his soft skin, fingers reaching the blindfold over his left eye, before pushing it up — his cerulean blue eye now a milky white, “except maybe being able to marry you with both eyes,” 

“Like you said, we were already married,” your thumb runs over his shut eye gently, “this is just a formality,”

He leans into your touch, nuzzling your hand, before his arms pull you flush against him, “Then can we be late?” And his lips lean down to press a heated kiss to your neck, voice reverberating against your skin, “because I’d like to enjoy my wife before I have to share her with everyone else,” 

“Toru—“ a soft gasp cuts you off, as his hands slide down your sides to cup your ass, fingers squeezing, “we can’t—“ 

“Oh what will they do? Start without us?” And your resistance is waning as his lips start trailing kisses down your neck, tugging at your kimono if only to pull the fabric down your shoulders, “I promise I’ll be fast,” 

“Last time you promised that, we didn’t even make it out the door—“ and his fingers are already undoing your obi, before sliding up and underneath the silk material, thighs parting under his touch, “god—“ 

“You don’t have to call me ‘god,’ sweetheart,” and his fingers toy with your panties, “look at my wife,” and he’s tilting your gaze to make you look at yourself in the mirror again, “perfect,” 

“Just like my husband,” and his lips curl. 

“Even now?” And your fingers cup his cheek, forcing him to meet your gaze — no longer the look of the strongest or the gaze of the six eyes — just the eyes of your husband, Satoru Gojo. The very gaze he’ll use to look to the future. 

“Especially now.”  

✧ a/n: welcome to the first kinktober fic!! sorry it took a bit T_T. i've been super busy with work and i keep getting sick in weird ways. last week i got hives and this week, my stomach is being a jerk. but i hope you guys enjoyed :) i think the next fic may be 'a cult classic' or 'scream (only for me)' so look forward to that!! thank you to @coffee-and-geto and @gaylatteart for betaing!

✧ taglist: @risuola , @riamallow , @montilyetron , @saccharinesatoru , @notgoodforlife , @aerithsthingss , @satorusmochis , @silvarys , @oracle014 , @jimabenamara , @seijakuu00 , @erwinawesomeness , @staryukis , @idiotgojo , @torubug , @theshylittleelfgirl , @mitsuristoleme , @forest-hashira , @aishies-stuff , @midnaamethyste , @fiannee , @paperstarsthings , @satosuguwifee , @kachntos @meow-satoru , @rowaelinsdaughter , @emonaculate , @hojoslutoru , @strawberry1042 , @fairiesthrum , @shoyosdoll , @gladiatorgladiator , @tojis-ball-sack , @astraecea-silversin , @sleazymac-n-cheesy , @wakashudou , @cstandsforchaos , @yuminako , @zetianzz , @dazailover1900 , @sunamatic , @euphorism , @satowooo , @hawkwithsocks