#although it has a bit of blood in there and that freaked me out | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

happyyyandcrazyyy · 4 days ago

Text

love and tattoos (kaz brekker x reader)

summary: in which jesper has a theory and kaz might be the matching tattoos kind of guy.

it’s two small words, a raven and a crow, a broken lock and a key, and a band around their ring finger.

“He has to be drunk, or high, or something, because there is absolutely no way he’s just seen a band of ink around Kaz’s ring finger.”

warnings: brief panic attack (not detailed), mentions of wounds and blood (not detailed, canon typical), set in the future, kaz has worked on his touch aversion

kaz taglist: @the-tpd-bau @ellievickstar @thestudiouswanderer | soc taglist: @ancientbeing10 (if you want to be added or removed from the taglist just dm me!)

a/n: here i am, once again, because apparently im incapable of stopping myself from writing for kaz brekker. i have so many wips but kaz always calls to me😭😭 this one was so much fun to write, it just flowed, and i hope you enjoy it just as much as i did!!

i. a band of ink around his ring finger, part one.

Jesper must be hallucinating, he has to be. He blinks once, twice, looks down at the drink in his hand, briefly wonders if it’s been laced with some sort of drug powerful enough to have his brain imagining things— because Jesper does not have the imagination to be making this up, he wishes he did —and then looks back up. The ink remains in place. Nope, no way. He shakes his head, presses his eyes shut. He has to be drunk, or high, or something, because there is absolutely no way he’s just seen a band of ink around Kaz’s ring finger.

It’s not the tattoo itself that shocks Jesper. Although, maybe it does freak him out a bit, a band around the ring finger can only mean one thing, and Jesper has never believed Kaz to be the marrying type. (Then again, he never thought him to be the matching tattoos kind of guy, and the last couple of months have had him discovering that Kaz very much could be.) No, what makes Jesper spiral is that he’s seen that exact same tattoo on (Y/N)’s own ring finger.

ii. you break, i mend.

Jesper has seen the tattoo on the inside of (Y/N)’s left wrist more times than he can count.

The word ‘mend’ in all lowercase, the typography delicate and elegant, the font somewhat rounded. Jesper has never asked what it means— because everyone in the Barrel has been branded, either by choice or against their will, and Jesper knows the black ink carries memories, promises and pain, he knows better than to ask —but he thinks it’s fitting for her, both the word and the style. Because (Y/N) is a gentle force, someone who provides emotional care to those close to her, a fixer. She loves proudly and deeply, and Jesper has never met someone in this wretched place that is so unafraid to be kind. He doesn’t know what she does to remain untainted, to keep her soul so pure in spite of their line of work. He envies it, sometimes. But then he’ll hear muted sobs through the thin walls, wake up at the sound of screams caused by nightmares, and he’ll wonder if feeling and caring that much is even worth it.

Jesper doesn’t think much about (Y/N)’s tattoo— it’s pretty and it suits her, and, yeah, he gets the desperate need to ask for a backstory whenever he catches a glimpse of it, but never does. There’s nothing more to it. That is until he spies a word on Kaz’s own wrist.

He only sees the tattoo because Kaz takes his gloves off. That doesn’t happen very often, if at all. But it’s the hottest day of summer they’ve had in Ketterdam in years, and they’ve been out in the sun all day, so Jesper is only mildly surprised when they reach Kaz’s office and he takes the black gloves off. What does take him completely off guard, however, is the inked word on his right wrist, partially hidden by the sleeves of his shirt.

‘BREAK’. In uppercase, with jagged and fragmented lettering. Jesper only catches a glimpse before Kaz twists away and the ink is completely sheltered by his clothes, but he’s almost sure the tattoo has some sort of optical effect, makes it seem like the words have been shattered, all sharp and angular lines.

Kaz is saying something and Inej is responding, and it’s probably important and he definitely should be paying attention, but Jesper’s mind is elsewhere because (Y/N)’s delicate tattoo suddenly comes to mind. The similarities are just right there and now all Jesper can think about is how odd of a coincidence it is that (Y/N) and Kaz have mirror tattoos. Same place, but opposite wrist. A single word, one neat and elegant, the other harsh and precise. Jesper does not believe in coincidences, but it can’t be anything else— because believing it to be something else would mean believing Kaz to be a matching tattoos type of person and Jesper would bet his guns against that —so he simply ponders over the possible coincidence, just for a quick second, before Kaz is directing questions towards him and Jesper is forced to shove the information in the back of his mind.

He ends up forgetting about it. Not forgetting forgetting, more so in the way he forgets his debts until there are collectors knocking on his door. The information is there, stored in some corner of his brain, ready to be brought back into his consciousness with just the right push.

The right push comes a Saturday night, two months after he first notices Kaz’s tattoo.

(Y/N) is out on a job. Jesper doesn’t know any of the details— not the target, nor the entry and exit routes, nothing at all —but he knows something is wrong because Kaz has been pacing for the last half hour.

“She should be back by now,” is all Kaz says when he asks. He doesn’t really need to say more. Jesper feels the way his chest constricts, panic slowly building. (Y/N) is never late.

Just as Jesper feels like he’s about to start pacing himself, the door of the Slat opens. She’s got her hood on, doesn’t look up from the floor when she walks in. There’s a certain drag in her limbs, something that tells Jesper that something is wrong, wrong, wrong.

“Where the fuck were you?” The words aren’t directed towards him, but Jesper cannot help but flinch. Kaz doesn’t get like this often, cold and harsh because he’s worried, so the job must’ve been important, high stakes, the type where survival isn’t assured.

(Y/N) looks up, and it’s only then that Jesper notices the blood. It’s everywhere. It drips down the slope of her nose, it trails down her lips. She walks closer and with the change of light he notices that it’s also embedded in her clothes. The most disturbing thing, however, are her eyes. Glassy, distant, unseeing. She’s shaking. Full body tremors.

By his side, Kaz deflates completely at the sight of her. He’s already moving towards her when she whispers brokenly, “I’m sorry.”

The apology goes ignored, “Where are you hurt?” Kaz asks. He reins his panic well enough, but Jesper can still taste the traces of it, they float around in the air.

(Y/N) doesn’t move, doesn’t acknowledge Kaz as he comes to stand right in front of her, trying his best to assess for injuries. It’s hard when all there is to see is blood.

“I’m not hurt,” she responds, and it’s like she’s in a trance, capable of responding but not truly present. Jesper furrows his brows, catches the concerned look on Kaz face. Does she not realize she’s covered in blood? She raises her hand to gesture at herself, and it’s only when she does so that Jesper notices the blade. She waves it around. It’s stained red, all the way to the handle. “Blood’s not mine.”

Jesper freezes. Kaz stops dead on his tracks, too.

Kaz looks back at him and understanding passes through them. She snapped. Something made her snap.

It seems like she’s just processing it, too, because a second after she mutters those words the knife falls from her hand and her knees wobble. It’s like Kaz had been expecting the sudden crash, because he’s quick to help her down. He grabs her by the sleeves of her tunic and sits her on the floor, back against the wall.

Her breathing begins to come out hard and labored, she clutches at her chest, hard.

“Look at me,” Kaz instructs, but she’s not here anymore. Jesper cannot help the way fear courses through him at the sight of her faraway eyes and the sound of her disordered breaths. He’s only ever seen (Y/N) like this once before, and even then, it hadn’t been this bad, she’d been responsive to Kaz, and very much able to breathe properly. Right now, not even Kaz’s words are cutting through the haze.

The wheezing becomes louder, more intense. The more she panics, the less she breathes, the more Jesper feels like he, himself, isn’t capable of getting air into his lungs. Kaz keeps talking, but she doesn’t seem to hear him.

“I can’t—” Her lips are slowly losing color.

Jesper is still frozen in place, and he can tell that Kaz is also beginning to panic by the way he grabs her clothed hand and presses it against his own chest.

“Breathe,” he orders. Insistent, firm. Kaz’s words leave no room for argument and (Y/N) reacts accordingly. Like it’s instinct to do as Kaz says, she takes in a deep breath, ragged.

“Good girl.” Kaz’s hand, the one that isn’t on top of (Y/N)’s own, pressed against his chest, hovers over her cheek. He ends up grabbing the end of the hood that still partially covers her face. “One more time.”

She repeats the action, another deep breath, interrupted by a brief coughing fit.

“You’re okay, match my breaths.” She nods weakly and does as best she can, eyes shut. The hand that is on Kaz’s chest has become a fist, rumpling his shirt. She holds onto him like a lifeline.

“I’ll get her water,” he finds himself saying.

Kaz doesn’t turn to look at him, “Bring a wet cloth, too.”

Jesper nods and slips out of the room and into the kitchen. He feels like he’s having an out of body experience, his body working automatically on pouring tap water in a glass, on finding a clean cloth. His mind is miles away.

Saints.

It’s disconcerting to see someone as serene and put together as (Y/N) so rattled and distraught. He feels disoriented, like the world has shifted off his feet. He’s never seen her snap so badly that she ends up spiraling into a panic attack. Jesper doesn’t know much about her past, but Kaz had once mentioned something about a complicated upbringing, about being raised as a weapon not a child. He doesn’t want to begin to imagine what he’d meant.

The soft murmur of words brings him back to reality, grounds him and guides him once again into his body.

“Are you with me?”

No response, but Jesper imagines that she must’ve nodded because he hears the soft sigh of relief that Kaz lets out.

It’s quiet for a little while, Jesper focuses on the sound of water flowing through the cloth in his hands, the feeling of it getting damper.

“I’m sorry.” The words come out soft, filled with emotion and embarrassment.

“None of that.”

“I didn’t mean to…”

“I know. It’s okay.”

The silence lingers before being filled by quiet noises. Jesper has heard her sobs through his wall enough times to identify them. His heart tightens painfully.

“It’s okay,” Kaz repeats, softer this time. It’s a tone Jesper has never heard him use with anyone else.

“There were children, Kaz,” Jesper has to strain to make out the words, they’re muffled by something, “little kids. And it just reminded me of… I couldn’t...”

“I know.”

A sniffle, “I’m sorry,” followed by a broken laugh, soft and sad. “I’m a mess.”

Jesper turns off the faucet, twists the cloths to remove any excess of water. He grabs the glass of water with one hand and the cloth with the other and then, just, waits. He knows this conversation is not one he should be present for, he doesn’t want to be present.

It’s a good thing, too, that he doesn’t make his way towards them, because he’s pretty sure he would’ve stumbled and dropped everything at the next words that fall out of Kaz’s mouth.

“If you break, I mend, remember?”

(mend

BREAK)

Jesper places the glass of water on the kitchen counter and blinks once, twice.

Saints be damned.

Kaz might be the matching tattoos type of person.

iii. a raven and a crow

The matching tattoo theory, as Jesper likes to refer to it, remains just that, a theory. Because Jesper has no real way of proving it, not unless he finds the will to ask (Y/N)— which he just can’t do, she’s so open about everything that prodding just feels unfair —or unless he brings his curiosity to Kaz— which might just end up with him losing a finger, and Jesper likes his limbs just as they are, thank you very much. So, for now, it’s merely speculation, something that could be played off as a coincidence. And he thinks it must be a coincidence, right? Matching tattoos are too sentimental for someone like Kaz. (Then again, he has always been different when it comes to (Y/N), so maybe Jesper shouldn’t be that surprised.) And they aren’t matching tattoos, not really, they are more like, well, mirror ones. It’s different. Probably nothing. He might be connecting dots where there’s absolutely nothing to connect.

He can’t help the way he begins to observe more, trying to find anything to sustain or disprove his theory. It’s only natural, he tells himself, Jesper is nothing if not a curious man.

It’s only because he becomes so attuned to them, and whatever that thing is that they have going on, that Jesper notices little things.

“Inej?”

“Good.”

Kaz keeps on making roll call, making sure all of them are there and unharmed.

“Jes?”

“Very much alive,” he grunts in response, letting himself flop into the haystack. His heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest, but at least it’s still beating. He cannot believe a blizzard of all things is what saved their lives.

He looks to his left. Even Inej looks slightly winded. She pats the pocket of her coat, sags in relief immediately after. Jesper does the same, touches his inner pocket, feels the edges of the glass key, and sighs.

The goods are safe.

“Nina?”

“Here.” Her cheeks are rosy. Jesper isn’t sure if it’s because of the dreadful cold or the exertion.

There’s silence after, the room filled by only harsh breaths. Jesper snaps up, looking around frantically, because Kaz is not calling (Y/N)’s name and that can only mean that she’s not there or she’s…

His mind quiets down when he takes in the sight in front of him.

Kaz is not calling (Y/N)’s name because he already has eyes on her. Probably always did.

And that’s when Jesper sees it, a little thing, something that tilts the scales in favor of his theory; the softness in (Y/N)’s face as she listens to Kaz.

(Y/N) is always kind— with battered gang members and hungry street urchins, with the loud customers and even with those who dare gamble against her —but Jesper is just now realizing that there’s a different gentleness when it comes to the way she takes Kaz in. The look in her eyes becomes quieter, more intimate, delicate. She says something, much too quiet for Jesper to hear, and smiles. Kaz shakes his head fondly, responds with a hushed whisper. It’s tender, precious, private. It makes Jesper feel like he’s intruding.

And then something Jesper has never seen before happens. Kaz takes (Y/N)’s chin with his gloved hand, thumb and index fingers holding her. He moves her face around, looking for any visible injury.

There goes another detail in favor of the matching tattoo theory.

Jesper thinks he might’ve just entered some sort of altered reality because what is he even looking at right now. He looks around but Inej and Nina aren’t paying them any mind, too engrossed in their own conversation.

Great, he’s all alone in trying to figure this thing out.

“I’m okay,” he hears (Y/N) reassure.

For the most part, Jesper thinks to himself, because he doesn’t miss the way she’s pressing her hand to her abdomen. Apparently, it hasn’t slipped past Kaz either, because he hums and raises his eyebrows, eyes pointedly trailing down to the wound.

She rolls her eyes at him, even that action looks fond, “It’s not deep.”

Kaz is more tactile with her, Jesper realizes with a start. It’s not a word he would ever use to describe Dirtyhands, but it’s the only one that comes to mind. (And Kaz has gotten better over the years, he has. It’s been gradual, and Jesper has no clue as to how or what he’s done, but he hasn’t missed the way Kaz doesn’t cringe away from the Crows anymore, how he doesn’t pale when someone brushes against him. He doesn’t seek touch, but he doesn’t lose all semblance of control at it either. Still, tactile is farther from what Kaz is, and this? This is huge. This is the greatest display of touch Jesper has ever seen him do.)

“You’ve got it?”

“Yeah, I’ll stitch it.”

His gloved thumb brushes her skin, briefly, before he taps the bottom of her chin gently, in approval, and lets her go.

“I can help you with that,” Nina pipes up.

Jesper turns around, immediately catches the look in the Heartrender’s eyes. Seems like he might not be the only one noticing things.

(Y/N) nods in agreement and Nina follows after her. Jesper decides, after taking only two seconds to ponder on the thought, to trail behind them. He wants to listen in— because he knows Nina won’t be able to keep herself from commenting or questioning and he’s aching to know —but he’s also hoping the Heartrender will take pity on him and heal some of his bruises.

“What do you want?” Nina asks him as they settle on a small corner of the stable. (Y/N) leans against a wooden post as she begins to undress, untucking her shirt.

Jesper simply points at the bruise he can already feel forming on his cheekbone, offering a cheeky smile.

“I’m not a nurse, Fahey.”

“You’re gonna stitch her up!” (Y/N) is watching with amusement and when Jesper points at her she raises one hand in surrender, the other still pressed against her wound.

“Yeah, well,” Nina shrugs, needle and thread in hand, “She’s my favorite.”

(Y/N) chuckles. There’s a broken-down iron chest and she sits on it as well as she can, leaning back so that Nina can work. She winks at him, “Privileges, Jes.”

He pouts.

“Saints,” Nina mutters when she catches a look of him. She’s decided that kneeling by (Y/N) side will be the most comfortable position for her to work. She cleans the wound, pours water over it, and doesn’t turn to him as she says, “If you stop doing that face I’ll see what I can do about the bruise.”

He smirks to himself, “You’ve got it, boss.”

Jesper can’t see it, but he’s sure she rolls her eyes at him.

“Try not to move,” she instructs (Y/N), voice gaining a softer, less teasing edge. The needle pricks the skin.

It’s not a deep wound, (Y/N) had been right about that. It bleeds, but the flow seems to be slowing down. It’s a little bit over her hipbone, but not quite on her abdomen. Judging by the injury, if Jesper had to guess, he would say it was probably caused by a straight back blade.

He had sort of expected Nina to immediately fire away, to start unabashedly questioning, but she doesn’t. She moves her hands in a repetitive motion, closing the skin. Then, she casually comments, “That’s not a crow.”

It’s only then that Jesper notices the ink; just over (Y/N)'s hipbone, only visible because she’d pulled her trousers a bit down to give Nina more skin to maneuver around.

“No, it isn’t,” (Y/N) confirms. She’s got her eyes closed, looks a lot more like she’s sleeping and not like she’s having her skin stitched back together. Either Nina has an amazing ability or she’s somehow managing to dissociate from the pain.

“A raven?”

“Yeah.”

Jesper leans away from the wall to get a better look at it. It’s small, simple, just the silhouette done in thin black lines. He has no idea how Nina managed to identify the bird.

Nina stays quiet for a split second, musing. She keeps her hands steady, thread pulling skin. Apparently, she decides she does not care about decorum— just like Jesper had expected —because she ends up stating, matter-of-factly, “Kaz calls you that.”

Jesper sort of forgets how to breathe. That’s why Nina hadn’t gone on a tangent regarding the touches and the glances, he realizes in that moment. She’d been distracted by something much more interesting.

And she hadn’t identified the bird, she’d just made an informed assumption. Because Kaz does call her that, raven, and sometimes, when he's feeling particularly fond, little raven. He uses it interchangeably with her name and often enough that when Jesper had initially joined the Dregs, all those years back, he’d assumed it to be her name. He’s not quite sure how Nina, who’s been with them for a shorter period of time, managed to make that connection quicker than him.

(Y/N) lets out a breathy laugh, “That he does.”

Instead of further grilling (Y/N) about the tattoo, as Jesper had expected, Nina changes the line of inquiry.

“Why?” She stops sewing and looks up at (Y/N), eyes filled with curiosity.

Oh, she’s insane, Jesper thinks to himself. He sort of wishes he’d have the audacity to ask such direct questions.

(Y/N) doesn’t seem bothered by the prodding, only mildly amused. She chuckles, “You would have to ask him that.”

Not even Nina is insane enough to dare do that. Probably. Nina is sort of a wild card, Jesper can never get a complete read on her.

She proves her sanity by taking the easier route, she whines and pouts, “C’mon. Tell us.”

(Y/N) laughs, louder this time. The reaction is immediate, the wound oozes more blood, and she flinches, moving her hand towards the injury and managing to stop herself millimeters before touching it. It makes Nina get back to stitching.

“You’re bold,” (Y/N) opens her eyes and looks straight at Jesper. There’s something in her eyes, a glimmer that passes quickly, like she knows something that Jesper doesn’t and it amuses her. “Jes would never dare ask.”

“Hey!” He pretends to be offended but isn’t really. She knows him too well.

“You know it’s true.”

He only grumbles in response, hates that she’s right.

Nina is suddenly tense, as if she isn’t quite sure if (Y/N)’s words are meant as a compliment or a reprimand. (Y/N) closes her eyes again, rests her head against the wall and reassures her, “I like that. Your boldness.”

And Nina preens, subtly, but she does. Jesper understands. (Y/N)’s approval somehow comes to mean everything to those around her. She’s like an older sister you’re always trying to impress.

Jesper thinks she won’t be saying anything more, but (Y/N) does.

“Ravens are softer than crows, more playful,” she mumbles quietly. Jesper, who isn’t even far from her, strains to hear, “Gentler, too.” And it’s like she knows exactly where the ink lays on her skin, like she has it memorized, because she manages to avoid Nina and the needle and trace the outline of the tattoo, eyes still closed, “And yet they manage to survive in the same brutal world that crows do.”

The words sink in. Jesper blinks once, twice, shifts on his feet, somewhat uncomfortable. It feels like he’s just gained insight on something much too private, into the feelings and thoughts of Kaz Brekker. Because what she just explained, vaguely and in simple words, has a much deeper meaning, and Jesper doesn’t miss that. It’s how Kaz sees her, an equal. Someone as strong as a crow, as fierce and resourceful and capable, but softer, gentler. That’s (Y/N) to him.

“That’s it?” Nina sounds perpetually unimpressed, but she doesn’t get it. She hasn’t been with the Crows long enough to understand.

(Y/N) smirks, like she knew the words wouldn’t mean much to her, and that tells Jesper something. There’s even more to the meaning of the nickname and she won’t be sharing.

“If you want more you can just ask Kaz.”

Nina huffs and pouts, pulls at the thread a bit harsher than necessary in retaliation. It probably doesn’t even sting, but (Y/N) plays along.

“Ow!?” The smirk remains on her face.

“Sorry,” Nina says, not sounding the least apologetic.

(Y/N) only chuckles, “I really do like your boldness.”

It isn’t until later that night, as Jesper sleeps in the haystack and shivers from the cold, hoping to the Saints that the smell of horse can be removed from his clothes, that realization strikes him. His eyes snap wide open.

The image of a letter R inked in Kaz’s forearm flashes through his mind.

A Raven.

No fucking way.

He has no evidence of it, no evidence that those tattoos might be complementary, but something in his gut tells him they are, and he decides to listen to his instincts.

Great, that’s yet another circumstantial piece of evidence in favor of his theory.

(Jesper doesn’t know, will never know, but he gets it both wrong and right. The letter R that is permanently etched on Kaz’s skin means something else entirely, but he does have the small silhouette of a crow, different from the one on his arm, over his ribs.)

iv. a broken lock and a key

Jesper and (Y/N) stay behind. It’s Jesper’s fault, he’d landed wrong when they jumped off the cliff, too busy on firing his guns to focus on the landing, and the resulting sprained ankle made it hard to keep up with the rest. (Maybe it was sort of Kaz’s fault, too, because who even decides on an exit route that includes free falling off a cliff. Jesper should be used to Kaz’s antics by now, but the man keeps on outdoing himself.)

(Y/N) had quickly offered to match his pace, to keep him company while the rest went ahead.

After a quick discussion Kaz had agreed to it. Jesper hadn’t missed the way they’d said goodbye. Their pinky fingers interlacing with one another.

He might not be completely sure about his matching tattoo theory— denial, really, he’s in denial, and he’s man enough to admit that to himself —but he has absolutely no doubt there is something going on between them. Jesper hasn’t put a name on it yet, he’s not even sure they have, but one would have to be blind to deny it.

Wylan had volunteered too, but Kaz needed him for the next phase of the plan, so he wasn’t really an option. A shame, really, Jesper would’ve enjoyed some alone time with his boyfriend, but he can’t complain, (Y/N) is good company. She doesn’t whine about how slow they’re going, doesn’t mention the fact that, by now, they’re probably two days behind. She keeps the air between them filled with light chatter and that makes it more bearable, makes him feel less of a burden.

On the third day of their journey Jesper wakes up alone. He’s not immediately filled by dread because he’s a light sleeper, he’s sure he would’ve woken up at the sound of any commotion, and he’s even more certain that (Y/N) would’ve had any attacker down on the floor with a gun to their temple before they even had the chance to breathe too close to them.

So, he’s not worried, but there’s something about not having (Y/N) within his line of sight that feels wrong, partly because he’s got no idea where she is, and mainly because Kaz had given him a cautionary glare when they’d ventured ahead, an easily interpreted warning to keep her safe or else.

It’s only when he begins to look around that Jesper notices her knapsack is also missing. He closes his eyes and focuses. Somewhere in the distance he can hear running water. He follows the sound before he can think too much, limping along the way.

Jesper finds her easily. He sort of wishes he hadn’t found her. Because she is showering in the lake and she is completely naked.

“Saints!” It’s a knee-jerk reaction to turn around, eyes screwed shut. “I am so sorry.”

(Y/N) snickers, unbothered, “Relax, Jes. It’s okay.”

And she’s saying that, but Jesper is pretty sure Kaz would gauge his eyes off is he found out he’s just seen her completely nude.

He shakes his head, over and over. Ah, Kaz is going to kill him. He is a dead man walking.

She must be watching him because she lets out a laugh.

“Oh, please.” There’s amusement in her tone, “Nothing you haven’t seen before,” she teases, and Jesper regrets every single thing he’s ever told her about his sexual encounters.

He huffs out a laugh. It’s got nothing to do with that, Jesper isn’t a prude, he’s just trying to process the fact that if Kaz ever finds out he will more than likely lose a finger, or his life. But he can’t say that, that’s a conversation he’s not ready to have, so he settles for, “You’re like my sister, it’s not the same.”

“Fair enough,” she responds. Jesper catches the affection in her voice. He doesn’t think he’s ever told her how she sees her as family and she must’ve known, their bond runs deep, it goes unspoken, but maybe it’s different to hear it out loud.

“It’s my fault anyways, I shouldn’t have left without telling you where I was going,” she disrupts his thoughts. “But you were finally sleeping.”

“Yeah,” he mumbles. Obviously it wouldn’t slip past her that in between the pain on his ankle and the cold of the night he’s been having a hard time falling asleep.

“You shouldn’t be standing for long,” she points out, and Jesper agrees. His leg is beginning to ache and if they’re going to travel long today, he must rest as much as he can. But the idea of walking back to camp and leaving her alone doesn’t sit right with him— even if he knows she’s capable of defending herself, she would probably do a better job than him, given his state —so he limps towards a big rock, back still towards her, and sits.

“You’re gonna keep me company?”

Jesper hums in response, “Talk so I know you haven’t suddenly been kidnapped.”

She doesn’t talk, instead she sings. It’s an old Kerch song, Jesper knows because of the mournful feel. It builds up slow and steady, flows with the morning air. She's got a nice voice. Jesper never gets tired of hearing her.

It’s as he listens, slowly being lulled into a peaceful mindset, that the memory of the ink flows through his mind. It’d been the thing his eyes had zeroed in, the black mark on the back of her neck.

Maybe it’s the soothing music, or maybe he’s slowly becoming more daring, but the words slip out of his mouth without thought, “Is it a key?”

(Y/N) stops midway through the bridge of the song.

“What?” she asks, confusion permeating the lone word.

“On the back of your neck,” Jesper clarifies, gesturing to his own neck.

There’s silence, long enough for Jesper to start thinking that maybe this wasn’t the best idea, before the air is filled with laughter. She chuckles as if he's just said the funniest thing.

She’s still giggling when she says, “I can’t believe you caught sight of it.”

He’s confused by her reaction and settles for responding with a teasing, “I’ve got a great vision.”

“That you do,” she replies. "It is a key," she confirms and then the singing starts again, more of a humming this time around, a much brighter song.

And Jesper must be really really losing the filter between his mouth and his brain— he blames the pain and the lack of sleep —because he finds himself asking, “Does Kaz have a lock, by any chance?”

He’s teasing, but not really. It’s a good enough question, not truly invasive. It gives her room to answer as she wishes.

To his surprise, she says, “Yes, he does.”

His head snaps towards her, momentarily forgetting that she’s naked and that Kaz will definitely kill him for seeing her naked twice. To his luck, (Y/N) is already getting dressed, water dripping down her hair and staining her shirt.

“What?”

There’s a sharp glint in her eyes, knowing, almost playful. A smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth, just enough hint of mischief to make Jesper doubt the truthfulness of her words.

“Yeah,” she repeats in mock seriousness, “he’s got a small lock around here,” she points the area around her collarbone, close to where her heart is. “It’s very pretty.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

(Y/N) snickers, “Maybe I am.” She ruffles his hair as she walks past him.

Weeks later Jesper realizes that she had been fucking with him, but not lying. Kaz’s shirt rips during a heist and Jesper catches the briefest glimpse of the image of a broken lock, inked right above his heart.

v. a band of ink around his ring finger, part two.

As if summoned by his thoughts, (Y/N) materializes by his side. She takes a look at his face, follows his line of sight, and snickers.

“Did you finally figure it out?”

He turns to her. Blinks once, twice.

“What?”

She looks highly entertained by the evident confusion on his face.

“I caught you staring at my tattoo sometimes,” Jesper follows the movement of her fingers, watches as she rubs the mend on her wrist absentmindedly. “And then you would get this constipated look on your face.”

Jesper sputters, “I do not look constipated.”

“Only when you’re thinking too hard,” she teases, her smile bright. “So, I figured, well…”

“That I might be losing my mind trying to figure out if Kaz is the matching tattoo kind of person?”

“Yep, something like that,” she takes a sip of her drink. “He is, by the way.” (Y/N)’s not looking at him anymore, her eyes have drifted. He follows her sight and isn’t surprised to find her looking at Kaz. She softens immediately. “All the tattoos were his idea.”

Jesper feels like he’s really entered some other reality. He can’t believe she’s just telling him all this. Does this mean that he could’ve known months ago if he’d just asked?

“And,” he dares ask, because apparently (Y/N) is in a sharing mood, and apparently he's grown bolder. It must be the alcohol. “You’re married?”

He doesn’t miss the way she rubs her thumb against her ring finger, the one that contains the exact same band of ink as Kaz’s.

“Yeah.”

“Actually?”

She pulls her necklace. A wedding band lies there. It’s anything but traditional. Black, probably forged from oxidized steel. Sleek, unadorned and somehow still elegant. There’s something engraved on the inside. Jesper just catches the letter R.

“Got the documents to prove it, too.”

Jesper sighs, astounded, “You never said a thing.”

“We didn’t really keep it a secret, just private.” It sounds like an apology somehow. “It's just, in a place like this," she gestures around, "some things you have to keep to yourself."

Jesper understands.

He shakes his head, still somehow feeling like he’s drugged.

Kaz Brekker, a matching tattoo and marriage type of person. Who would’ve guessed.

“Lovers, huh?”

(Y/N) smiles, before she slips away and makes her way towards Kaz, Jesper hears her whisper.

“‘Lovers’ feels too small a word for what we are.”

244 notes · View notes

reiding-writing · 9 days ago

Note

could you pretty please write something where spencer visits unsub!reader and she’s incredibly beat up and only responding in slurs and spencer’s like wtf why has no one taken her to the doctor

THE GUARDS’ HEAVY HANDS

spencer & gn!unsub!reader | 1.3k | unsub!reader masterlist.

main masterlist.

a/n— unsub!reader is in remission babyyy

WARNINGS | reader has been on the receiving end of physical violence from prison guards without medical treatment.

Four days until the board of appeals made their decision.

Four days until you would know if you truly were going to spend the rest of your life inside a concrete box or be moved to a psychiatric facility and have your psychology picked and prodded at by doctors.

You’ve been ‘visited’ almost every day over the last week, half of your singular recreational hour spent talking to some stupid appeal board official every day for the last multiple days.

You were sick of it.

You knew that they were only bothering you in the hope you’d crack, that you’d say something that could condemn you to your solitary hell and save them the effort and money in placing you in proper psychiatric care.

But you refused to placate them. You refused to let your seething frustration manifest verbally or physically, no matter how much you wanted to.

Four days. That’s all you had to last.

They weren’t making it easy though. Of course they weren’t. Because why would anything in your life ever be easy?

No. Instead you were questioned on the same mundane topics over and over by the officials, dragged harshly from meeting to meeting by the guards, and subjected to torment whenever there was a minuscule break in the monotony.

Your most recent ‘accident’ involved one of the guards shutting the food hatch whilst you still had your hand in it.

‘Accident’, because it definitely wasn’t one, and now you were dealing with a fractured index finger on top of all of the other shit that is making you want to rip your hair out.

Although you couldn’t do that either, considering you had a sizeable bruise spreading over your left temple and onto the side of your head after you’d been pushed straight into one of the phone boxes as an encouragement for you to pick it up.

It was bordering a black eye a few days ago, a mulled purple mark that stretched through your eyebrow and mottled your eyelid, but it was slowly turning green, and it’d stopped hurting now. For the most part anyway.

No use crying over spilt milk. Or a possible concussion.

There’s a sharp bang on your cell door from the side of a fist to garner your attention, along with the grating metal on metal sound as the food hatch slides open.

“Up you get freak, you’ve got a visitor.”

Another stupid visitor.

Another half an hour spend enduring the most relentlessly idiotic questions and torment of your life that you literally had to bite your tongue to stop yourself replying to and dumping all of your progress down the drain.

“Oi!” Another sharp bang. “Didn’t you hear me? Get your ass up!”

“I’m coming—” You bite back the groan that threatens to echo in your tone, muttering a curse under your breath as you’re all but dragged from your cell and thrust down the corridor into the visitor’s room.

Every minute you spent sat at that stupid concrete table in those stupid handcuffs that were way too tight made you want to rip your own hair out, or anyone’s in a five metre radius.

Four days. Then you could forget about this damn appeal and give your ‘handlers’ a piece of your goddamn mind.

And then the door opens.

“Doctor Reid,” You almost sound surprised as you pick up the visitor’s phone. “What brings you here?”

Spencer adjusted his satchel, his gaze fixed on the table where you sat, hands cuffed, a rough bruise blooming along your cheekbone. There was a fresh cut on your lip, a bit of dried blood near the corner of your mouth. The sight made his stomach twist.

He sat down slowly, his brow knitting with concern as he took in the other injuries: your knuckles scraped raw, the angry red welts visible just beneath the collar of your prison jumpsuit.

He was used to violence, certainly, but seeing it on you, someone he considered something close to a… friend, or whatever it was, made him tense with anger.

You didn’t look at him any differently despite it all. When he met your gaze, your expression was flat. Detached, indifferent. He could still tell you’d been through hell though, and as much as he hated it, he hated it. "What happened?" he asked softly, voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, you just blinked, and then that small sliver of intrigue disappears from your irises to be replaced with distaste.

You scoffed, muttering something under your breath that he couldn’t quite make out. It sounded like you were slurring, words broken, as if the energy it took to have a full conversation was almost too much.

Spencer leaned his elbows onto the table, his heart hammering. "Did they hurt you?" he asked. "The guards… have they been—?"

You interrupted with a barely audible sneer, tossing out a curse that barely registered as coherent. A string of profanity. You spat them out, each word slower and more incoherent than the last.

"Is anyone taking care of you here? Any doctors?" Reid asked, his voice filled with disbelief.

You laughed, a hollow sound that sent chills down his spine. "Doctors," you scoffed. "Sure. Lots of those. Right after the love they give with their fists."

Spencer's jaw clenched. "Has anyone done anything about this? Filed a complaint?"

Another empty laugh. “Who’s going to report them, huh? Me?” you muttered, the words broken by gasps of pain. “And who’s gonna do anything about it?”

The part of Spencer that had learned to remain neutral, clinical, started to unravel. This was wrong. Whatever you had done in your past, this treatment wasn’t justice; it was plain cruelty.

He glanced back toward the door, contemplating the confrontation he wanted to have with the prison staff. But he knew what would happen—they’d brush it off, say you were exaggerating, a troublemaker who’d gotten what you deserved. And maybe they’d even be right… but he couldn’t ignore the bruises, the hollow look in your eyes.

Spencer reached across the table, his fingers brushing the cold plexiglass between you in what’s an almost subconscious want to wipe the blood stain from your mouth. “I’ll see what I can do. I’ll try to get someone to check on you.”

You met his eyes again, expression clouded. He could see that behind the apathy, some tiny part of you was surprised. Maybe even grateful.

“Why do you even care?”

Spencer swallowed, the weight of the question settling over him. “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly, his voice tinged with sadness. “But I do.”

You watched him in silence, as if searching his face for a reason, an answer he couldn’t give. Then, a flicker of something softened your gaze—just for a moment, like the smallest fracture in a stone wall. You’d probably deny it later, but he saw it. A spark of relief, of trust, maybe.

He didn’t know if he’d ever get through to you, not completely. But he could try. And that would be enough.

“So, uh,” Spencer fiddles with the phone cord between his fingers. “How are you feeling, about the appeal?”

And you deflate all over again.

#unsub!reader ᝰ.ᐟ #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #mgg #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff

375 notes · View notes

wintersera · 1 year ago

Text

study date? || futa!wonyoung x f!reader

notes: first time ever writing futa and i feel like a hentai loving freak for doing so- anyways “hermaphrodite” futanari especially refers to pornographic characters in erotic manga or anime, known as hentai. basically wy has a pussy and a dick 😭 also happy belated birthday @wonysugar this was for u

cw: futanari, sub!wonyoung, dom!reader, dacryphilia, strap on (i say cock as well), overstimulation if you squint, praise(?), 100% not proofread leave me alone 😭

wc: 5k

“you know you’re about to be kicked off campus if you don’t pass right?”

“what…”

your teacher had summoned you a mere 5 minutes ago to drop the most devastating news you had ever heard in your half assed school life. obviously you knew your grades weren’t the best- they were shit.

you had joined the university to get away from your annoying ass parents, and you were very VERY lucky to have been accepted into such a prestigious one, a university that would make your parents proud. only skimming the entry requirements by a passing grade.

anyways, you couldn’t have the risk of losing the good friends you had made, so you started thinking... if you were to study hard you could stay, maybe fuck around at parties and whatnot, but then again you and studying don’t go hand in hand, unfortunately. even if you tried to sit down in the lecture hall with a notebook and your laptop on the side you’d most likely forget the content in as soon as you step out.

groaning in frustration, you throw your hands up into the air dramatically “ughhhh… okay, i’ll make it up to you somehow. please don't kick me out just yet”

—

stumbling into your next class like the dramatic person you are, you mumble under your breath with a displeased look on your face obviously shown by furrowed brows and your persistent frown.

“fuck this class, this is so shitttt” uttering as you take your note book from out of your bag to scribble down some barely readable half assed notes, since your teacher was rambling about some topic you didn’t quite grasp.

it was extremely obvious that you had no clue on what was being taught. instead of embarrassing yourself in front of the whole entire class by extending your arm up in the air, it was only natural for you to ask the person next to you for help. the girl next to you was known as the most intelligent person in the class, maybe the most intelligent person on campus if you say so yourself.

“…hey” whispering while poking her shoulder “what exactly are we learning?” the girl carefully placed down her pen to turn her head in your direction, her hair doing that cliche slow motion sway as she adjusts her glasses, making sure that it was tucked behind her ears. it took her a while to speak up, maybe it was nerves. people often depicted you as an outgoing ‘popular’ person, but you didn’t believe that at all- i mean who uses school hierarchy at your big age. sure, you have a couple of close friends here and there and you easily become acquainted with people, yet that doesn’t really make you popular… you think. just a few drinks and you’re already chatting to everyone at the club.. you wouldn’t call that being popular, right? or maybe she was repulsed by you instead, you dont know why, but maybe she just didn’t fuck with your vibes- your personalities clashed severely, and although you weren’t a believer of those cliche stereotypes where the nerd is absolutely terrified of the avid partygoer- those cliches almost felt too real.

her eyes widened and it seemed like all the blood had rushed up to her cheeks as she stared at your face for a few seconds, completely forgetting what you had asked her before “uh.. um… what did you ask me again?” by her body language alone, you could sense that she was tensing up. okay maybe you were a little bit intimidating, who wouldn’t think you were by the way you waltzed into the lecture hall all dramatic like that.

“i’ve been behind on everything and i’m about to get kicked out so could you maybe help… please?”

“um- well, it’s kinda impossible to learn all the content in one sitting, since our professor kinda just talks for hours on end. so… uh if you’re okay with it, do you wanna do a little studying together?”

“yes?! oh my god perfect, you’re a lifesaver. just say where and i’ll be over” immediately accepting the offer just like that. you’d think that she would be more timid considering that she was literally paralysed when you poked her, but luckily enough, she had the balls to speak to you. god bless confident ass nerds.

being too enthusiastic about studying with her, she was a little bit caught off guard by the way you beamed “w-we could do it after class. i’m not busy and no ones gonna be in my dorm today apparently…” you thought about it. even though you were fine with studying at a local cafe, or the university library, a change of environment could possibly help you “that’s if you want to of course” fiddling with her pen as she softly added the last sentence.

“sure, why not. a change of environment wouldn’t hurt- and plus i might study better with someone as smart and cute as you”

“h-huh? what?”

you felt a little pang in your heart, her confused face made your pulse race a little too fast for your liking “ah… i didn’t mean that in a flirtatious way” sureeee “i meant it more like- you know what… i'm digging myself a hole. i meant you’re very very smart and i’d love for you to help me study” flashing her a quick smile.

“uh- um yeah.. ahaha. so my place is fine?”

“sure”

—

after another painful hour of sitting impatiently in your seat, class finally ended with you still not understanding a single thing that came out of your professor's mouth.

“i have no idea what she was yapping about”

“it’s because you sleep at the back sometimes. you better stop taking naps or else she’s gonna kick you out for real”

“…you pay attention to me sleeping in class?” interrogating her seemed fun. she was always so quick to answer your questions with a funny flustered response. something along the lines of stuttering profusely everytime you ask her a simple question. it was like you knew her for a while, being so comfortable in her presence that you can easily toss banter around.

“NO- i mean.. it’s because you sleep so soundly and so obviously, probably because you’re partying almost every night, r-right?”

“you’re so cute when you stutter- also yes i do go out a lot but not that much” teasing her a bit more as you walk out of the lecture hall “so where’s your dorm at pretty girl?”

“oh! uh.. it’s just a 10 minute walk away”

you called her a pretty girl? out of nowhere? it was involuntary but it came out smoothly and without you thinking, plus it really messed with her head. score. what you failed to realise is that she walked a little funny, shuffling as she walked beside you. the tent in her pants being so obviously apparent that she covered it up with her bag, that was thankfully big enough.

that 10 minute walk to hers felt oddly familiar, until you realised that you lived in the same accommodation. what a shocker.

what's even more funnier is that she lived one floor above you

“wonyoung”

“y-yes?” she jumped in place as she reached for her keys in her bag, the keys almost falling out of her hands.

“it’s kind of funny how i live right below you” giggling about how silly you thought it was “how come i’ve never seen you around?”

“hmmm… too busy studying i guess”

“ah, that would make sense. anyways why are you just standing at the door, are we gonna go in or nah”

you waited as she lowkey struggled to insert the key into the door. watching her closely as she curses under her breath, she must’ve thought that she looked like a complete and utter loser. she was right. she was a mess in front of you-

“take your time babe”

“s-stop don’t call me that. you’re gonna make me mess up again” panicking as she missed the key hole.

the door finally opened and you were in. her room was, well, basically the same size as yours of course, but it was definitely much more organised in contrast to your hell hole of a room “god damn, i’m glad you didn’t offer to go to mine”

as you sat down on her bed, you scanned across her walls and other stuff, taking note of what types of posters she had on her wall just in case you felt generous one day and decided to give her a gift. not like you had any money for that though. it wasn’t surprising when you glanced over her desk to see a couple of shoujo anime figures still fresh in the box “hah wow you really are nerdy”

“s-shut up and come sit here”

—

“alright so that’s how you finish off this part… are you okay… you look out of it” she questions you while you slide down her conveniently placed extra chair that was placed right next to her.

“that felt like a fuck ton of cars just crashed simultaneously into my brain. wonyoung i know you’re smart, but can you dumb down the explanations plea-” you pause as she got up from her seat- your jaw swung wide open in shock laying your eyes upon something you guess wasn’t meant to be seen.

“how about we take little break. let me get you some.. um y/n? helloooo- are you good? is your brain fried?”

yeah it was. your focus was shifted onto something else. no thoughts, no words just..

cock?

you responded to her question with a nod- yeah yeah your brain was definitely fried, you even questioned if it was because the studying REALLY did fuck your head up, but my god it was as clear as day. the print in her pants was certainly real, there was no way that it was fake. her bulge being so unrealistically big that it looked like her pants were restricting all the space in there- no room for her cock to breathe at all.

“i… i uh- i don’t wanna be a creep or anything but… wonyoung i think you might have an issue down there”

“down where?” HOW did she not realise that she had a massive hard on right in front of you.

luckily she was cute, and thankfully you had a huge thing for nerds like her. you take a deep breath- praying to the skies that she doesn’t find you weird for asking this specific question.

“need help?” you breathe shakily, the sight of her cock begging for it to be released from her tight pants made you almost drool. heat spread to your face while she looked at you confused for a second until it hit her.

“ah, you meant t-that? aha i don't know how it got there um uh.. it’s definitely not because- i mean it’s like… well it seems like i have a hard on ahaha” there was an awkward silence that washed over the both of you.

“i- sorry i didn't mean to get turned on by you” shyly admitting whilst attempting to cover her hard on with her note book.

“oh, so i turned you on?” a smirk slowly appearing on your flushed face, a teasing hand brushed her cock ever so slightly as you crossed your legs.

“fuck… y-yeah you did.. sorry” she began to lose her balance as you cupped your hand around her bulge.

“no need to apologise” once again, silent washes over you- collecting your thoughts on how to approach her again “…wonyoung”

“mhm?”

“take your pants off for me” you eyed her down like a predatory animal, crossing your arms as she slowly takes her pants, then her boxers off. her cock sprung out and hit her stomach with a thud. damn, she was hung-

telling a cute girl to strip in her own dorm room wasn’t really on your to do list today, or at all, but here you were. the cute girl in question having a massive cock and what seems to be the lack of balls.

wait pause? she doesn’t have any balls? interesting- now you’re equally intrigued and horny.

“sit down on the bed for me cutie” the sudden use of a pet name made her whine aloud. you guess she was weak towards those types of words- adorable. she sat down on her bed, legs shut from embarrassment “awww” you coo at her “how cute. come on, spread your legs for me baby”

“mmm.. wait wait you’re gonna be weirded out. i-i don’t think we shouldn’t do this”

“there’s nothing to be ashamed of. be proud of your dick wonyoung, people would die to have a cock this size” lifting yourself outta the chair to kneel in front of her “nowww, i did say i was gonna help- i promise i won’t be weirded out”

even though her dick was out, and you were so ready to suck it off. clearly nervous, you placed a reassuring hand on her thigh “it’s not like i’ve never seen a dick before- you’ll be fine with me, promise”

“it really isn’t about my dick. it’s more about the um… the… okay i don't have balls”

“huh?” you sat there perplexed- she has what? what do you mean she has no balls “n…none at all? well it’s not like i care anyway, dick is dick”

“okay so um- instead it’s just… actually just look for yourself” no words could explain how embarrassed wonyoung felt, her cheeks heated up- actually no, her whole entire face lit on fire. slowly spreading her legs apart, she revealed her sopping wet cunt.

yeah whatever, you weren’t opposed to the idea of nerd girl jang wonyoung having a massive fucking cock and a pretty tight pussy at the same time- more so, it turned you on severely knowing the nasty things you could do to her “you don’t need to worry about it baby, i’ll make you feel so good that you’ll forget about being embarrassed” you say after licking a strip up from the base of her cock to the very tip

“ah.. mhm… your tongue- warm” hands extending to grab your head gently, her long fingers tangling themselves in your messily tied hair.

“first time?” looking up from in between her legs. surprisingly, she shook her head with the bite of her lip “not a virgin? okay so i can do this” swooping one strand of hair to the back of your ears, you make haste, your mouth opening wide as you let her cock slide into your mouth, and a little into your throat.

“hngh s..so deep, sorry i lied ah- i am a virgin” it makes you giddy on how she always gave such honest answers, not a single drop in this woman's body could lie. even through pleasure she was true, her hips jolting upwards and never shying whenever you did something she enjoyed. you played with her tip, attentively listening to her whines gradually increasing in volume. for funsies, you then ease one finger into her needy pussy, her head thrown back- rolling her hips shamelessly.

releasing her cock from your mouth and resting your face next to it “feeling good?” you ask, just to make sure she’s actually good. she doesn’t answer, well she does, but in a series of whimpers and squeals. her response confirmed it for you, she felt more than good.

your pulse quickened, her once tense body relaxed under your control. to be an extra tease, you flashed her a cheeky smile before you take her cock back in your mouth. she gasps again, you watching her face contort; brows furrowing, biting her lip, her eyes occasionally rolling back as you curl your fingers inside- stretching her pussy by adding a second finger just so you can see her mouth fall open.

wonyoung felt like she was crumbling over the edge with your fingers pumping in and out of her hole without any breaks, and your tongue working magic around her throbbing cock. soon enough her legs were wide open for you and in return you giggled a little. an unknown feeling building at the pit of her stomach freaked her out yet it was oddly welcomed. you knew by the way her thighs trembled that she was close to finishing.

she couldn’t help but call out your name. she really tried her best to take her cock out of mouth while she came, but you refused to move even an inch, letting her load paint your throat white as you gulp down every last drop of it. you still kept fingering her until she couldn’t take it anymore, wriggling herself out of your hold and flopping onto the bed “that… felt… too good. i-i think i need to.. catch my breath” she says while blankly staring at the ceiling.

even in a situation like this you found her endearing, unlike the many hookups you’ve had where you’d leave after a good fuck. she was different from rest; a hidden gem “sorry i got carried away, you’re too cute wonyoung” like that her dick sprung back up “really, just by me calling you cute your cock is back up?”

“it has a mind of its own, leave it be” you giggle at her silly antics. with zero hesitation, you pull off your flimsy shirt exposing your bare skin to the air. it’s a little cold

still on the bed lying down, her eyes closed, you straddle over her hips “can we do it again, i didn’t get off. or maybe no… you know i don’t mind, i just wanted to see you flustered, and of course feel good”

she sprang up- which, to be honest, caught you off guard. huffing into the crook of your neck, peppering ticklish kisses alongside. there was a minor look of desperation on her face that you weren’t familiar with when it came to her. you’d usually see her around campus all calm and collected, looking so poised and shit and yet here she was, crumbling over a simple comment you made about her and her dick.

she switched between light pecks to open mouthed kisses, definitely leaving obvious bruises all over “you’re.. so.. pretty… wanna-”

“yeah? you want that dont you baby. wanna fuck my pussy don’t you” poor girl was flustered at your words. her lips grazed your neck again and whimpered as she kissed your jaw.

“yes please” your stomach twisted. so so cute begging to fuck your pussy. you complied, quickly discarding your underwear and tossing it somewhere. a hand took her shoulder, stabling yourself as you gradually let yourself sink onto her cock.

“hnggh… fuck. wonyoung you’re so? haaa- you’re really big” you felt a little lightheaded after fitting the entire length of her inside. you weren’t expecting her to reach that deep into you, maybe to the point of you losing yourself all over her dick. it was insane to you how much you could take. really really insane how she was able to stretch your pussy out so much to the point of your eyes rolling back.

fuck, why was she that big? you started tearing up and she wasn’t even moving “won… wonyoung, please i need you to start doing something” i think you might’ve driven her past processing because tell me why she wasn’t listening at all. she could be pussy drunk for all you care, actually no she was one hundred percent drunk off of your pussy. you were wet beyond comprehension, and the feeling of your walls clenching down on her cock made her moan so loud. thank god her flatmates weren’t because if they were, they’d hear the most filthiest things through the thin ass walls.

you gave her some time to adjust herself accordingly, waiting… for… quite a long time. it really looked like she was basking in the heat of your cunt and you honestly you thought that was quite endearing, but fuck, you needed her to ram into you or at least move around. she still hasn't done that still… good lord she was gone. so taking the situation into your own hands, you lifted yourself off of her hips just a tiny bit and harshly slammed down, both of you moaning at the overwhelming feeling “ah- fuck? wait wait..” you couldn’t wait any longer, you needed to be fucked crazy.

“mhm, just- just stay still like that. let me do what i need to do” you bounced once more, watching as wonyoung threw her head backwards, her mouth agape and everything.

even though you were mid fuck, wonyoungs glasses were still on. she needed to take them off for some reason, but you didn’t let her “hey don’t- keep those glasses on, you look so… mgh.. you look so fucking good” saying all of that while you increasingly sped up. now your thighs began to ache, worth it though. with each time her cock pumped inside, the closer you felt towards coming.

shit, you felt it so much, it was much stronger than usual and you felt like you were about to explode.

“come- fuck. wonyoung baby, are you close too?”

she nodded weakly. she was about to come again after the last- and so quickly too. her head was spinning, her thighs clenched, snapping back up to wrap her arms around your torso to keep you still; and to keep you close “close.. gonna…”

“me too… me too. keep- oh my god” your movements became frantic. then, not so shortly after, wonyoung lets out a long lasting moan. a mind breaking orgasm hits her so hard, her mind blanking out yet again while her thick semen fills you up. you followed straight after, your hand gripping her shoulder tightly until your knuckles turned white. a harsh groan reverberating inside of wonyoungs head as you moan straight into her ear.

awkward and weird as it may sound, but you immediately thought about hmmm… strap. you really wanted to try it. the thought of her with her ass high up in the air, with you dicking her down and jacking her off seemed something almost so pornographic and unrealistic that it excited you beyond comprehension.

why not give her the chance to cum all over you, and then get severely embarrassed about it. something about her just made you want to tease her until she’s crying. well that did sound like an appealing thing to do.

wonyoung laid down again. out of breath “made me… come again… i’m so…”

“cute… haa.. you’re really cute” you were equally as spent as she was but you HAD to try pounding her pussy. sure, your legs weren’t able to support you standing back up, after all you did use them to fuck yourself on her, but you were UP “can i go back to my room real quick? i’ll be back, it’s a pleasant surprise, i promise”

“uh, sure?” she was confused as to why you grabbed your pants and her shirt that she took off to then sprint outside of her room. quite strange don't you think? well whatever.

you hurried to your door, searching for your keys in your back pocket “come on- come onnnn” your thighs were so sore but you had to get that damn pink strap out of your closet. it was a need to fuck her perfect pussy.

there it was in its glory, a small rectangular box that concealed your strap. alright, time to speed back up the stairs.

i guess she wasn’t even bothered to check who it was, but she immediately opened the door as soon as she heard you knock once “hey i’m back, i got you a present” you heaved as you legitimately ran up a flight of stairs not too long ago.

“a present for me?” i mean she was bewildered, you had a box in your arms. no decoration, just a plain ass box.

“yeah- fuck, let me catch my breath… okay yes i know it doesn’t look like all that, but look-“ you opened the box to reveal your unused strap on “can i use it on you?”

you cannot stress this enough, but wonyoung’s face was violently red again. given the fact that you had made her cum twice and she was still this flustered about it had you drooling at the thought of making her a mess all over again.

“y/n do you think that can fit… in me?”

“we can try. i know your pretty pussy can take me whole” and with that she was soaked again. she felt that and got hard once more.

“g-get inside, you’re in the doorway”

“oh shit yeah okay”

wonyoung fell on top of her bed, cushions and blankets were still messed up. you closed the door behind you and opened up the box, a whole eight inches just for wonyoungs pussy “it’s so cute how you’re still soaked, were you thinking about me while i was gone?”

“it was five minutes… yeah, i was thinking about you” hiding her face behind her hands.

“aww cute, lean on your hands and knees for me babe”

“o-okay” she responded obediently to your words. wonyoung got onto her hands and knees and waited patiently for your next order. her back looked way too pretty, so you got up onto the bed, planted a kiss on her lower back making her twitch in response and cooed

“aww still so sensitive?” she didn’t realise it before, but you were behind her with your strap already fitted on you. she unintentionally arched her back, feeling your presence already there “god, you’re so desperate for me aren’t you?”

“please… just- i’m ready. just hurry up and take me” you giggle as you acknowledged her insatiable craving for your cock.

“you’re dripping.. and you’re so hard, tell me how much you want it” telling her just to be a tease “beg for it”

“…please…” her voice low, almost a whisper.

“good girl” you slowly buried yourself inside her cunt, letting her familiarise herself with the new sensation. her hands gripped the sheets tightly, a fist full of cloth was keeping her from losing her control.

“oh my go- so… fuck” she cried out your name a couple of times before spilling out incoherent sentences. something like “good, so good” and a few more unintelligible words followed with high pitched moans.

a girl this cute and needy deserved more than just this. you slowly paced your thrusting, making sure that she felt comfortable, and by also not shoving the entire strap inside of her. all though you wanted to go rough and abuse her tight hole, that was for another day or maybe even in a couple of seconds actually.

“you good?”

“nnghh- s… so good” she couldn’t even form sentences. there was no need to even ask. her body alone showed how much she yearned for your touch.

oh so now you needed to fuck her till she’s dumb. what happened to that little smart brain of hers? so spent out on being fucked till she’s dry made her behave like she’s out of her mind. you started thrusting your strap in even deeper, hoping that she can take the full thing. she did. with how wet she was, it wasn’t surprising that it slid in so easily. a choked moan coming straight from her mouth as soon as you finished pushing it all in “you’re taking me in so well. i knew you could do it babe”

it was like you didn't think but you started to pump in and out of her faster and harder. each guttural moan that came out of that pretty mouth of hers, the faster you went. the more ruthless you got. oh how hard you were going, giving wonyoung no time to settle. the sounds her pussy made were nothing but filthy, the sweet sounds of her squelching pussy was like music to your ears. she loved every single thing you did to her body, although she couldn’t express it through her words.

you grabbed her hips, moving them and slamming them straight back into your cock just to make her scream out your name “you like that? want me to pound into your pretty pussy like that again?” there was a slightly mean tone to your voice.

“mhmmm… again- do it again” she begged and cried for more.

this time you pulled straight out, leaving her whining until you slammed right back into her again, but this time with a twist. you leaned over wonyoung a little, resting almost on top of her back. you slithered your hand across and grabbed her cock, teasing the tip a little before snapping your hips that made her ass push into you. she sharply inhaled as you played with her cock, moving from her sensitive tip to stroking her length gently while you ravaged her insides

“too- too much.. feels so.. haaa… mmmmm” two sensations blending into one could be described as too overwhelming and extremely overstimulating. being fucked dumb made her sob a little, feeling as if her insides were about to collapse, and feeling as if her dick was about to erupt.

shit, it felt way too good.

her entire body convulsed, her hands were balled into a fist, clutching onto the sheets desperately, she screamed profanities into her pillow. her orgasm hit her harder than it did the other two times. you could say it even made her almost pass out. poor girl was seeing stars as you kept stroking her cock to help her ride out her climax. you never knew she could scream that loud… or even cum this much. beds being completely drenched with both her juices and her cum. you’d have to help her clean up for sure…

“stop- stop.. oh god… mmm oh my god”

and maybe you could do this again. another study date.

#wintersera #ive smut #wonyoung ive smut #futa!wonyoung #g!p wonyoung #jang wonyoung smut #wonyoung x reader smut #wonyoung x fem reader smut #kpop girl group smut #fem!reader #kpop smut #girl group smut

940 notes · View notes

worldlxvlys · 9 months ago

Note

HI ANNA BBG

REQUEST HEREE

UHMM CAN YOU MAKE ANOTHER CHRIS AND TOXIC GF ONE(when you get time ofc!!) AND CHRIS AND THE READER START GETTING A LITTLE KISSY WISSY AND MAKING OUT AND SHI AND CAN THE GF CAN IN?

from : isa.

reader x chris who has a toxic! gf (part 5)

chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: cursing, mention of blood, no actual p in v but it’s nsfw, cheating

** i’m not promoting cheating in the slightest, this is fiction. please do not cheat on anyone.

a/n: previous part

after sobbing on my kitchen floor for a while, i found the strength to pick myself up and wash the blood off of my hands.

i didn’t hear from chris for the rest of the night, and i didn’t attempt to reach out in respect of the fact that he needed space.

although the thought of him taking care of layla made my blood boil, there wasn’t much i could do to stop it.

the next morning, i decided that it was time to talk to chris face-to-face.

without eating breakfast, i grabbed my car keys and headed out.

i stopped for food on the way to his house, grabbing his favorite pastry for him.

when i arrived at his house, i spotted chris walking out of his front door as i pulled into the driveway.

he didn’t seem surprised to see me, in fact, he walked towards my car.

when i unlocked the doors, he climbed into my passenger seat.

we both sat in silence for a few seconds, before chris broke it.

“i was just about to head to yours” he spoke, “ we need to talk”

“you’re right, we do. but first, here” i spoke as i handed him the pastry.

“thanks” he whispered as he took the bag.

we sat in silence for a minute before i decided to speak. “look, i know what i did yesterday upset you. but, honestly? i’m not sorry” i said.

he looked like he wanted to say something, but i stopped him.

“chris, she talked about you like you didn’t mean anything to her. first off, those tears were fake. she said she was just using it as a way to get you to have sex with her” his face dropped at that.

“she said terrible things about manipulating you to get what she wants, that you were a ‘good fuck’, i couldn’t just let her talk about you like that”

“i’m always going to protect you, and you deserve to be treated like a human being, not a fuck toy. so yes, i beat that bitch up and i’d do it again a million times. and i won’t apologize.” i said.

chris just sat there and stared at me with wide eyes.

“chris, say something. i get that you’re mad, but you have to underst-” i was cut off by his lips crashing into mine.

i froze for a few seconds, unable to process the fact that chris was finally kissing me. once i came to my senses, i melted into his touch.

he pulled away for a second to look at me, “sorry, i just couldn’t wait any longer to do that” he said.

“look, i’m not mad about what happened yesterday. i was just kinda freaked out when i saw you on top of her like that. but i shouldn’t have reacted that way, and i’m sorry. of course you don’t have anything to apologize for, all you ever do is look out for me” he spoke as his hand caressed my jaw.

his eyes bounced from my lips to my eyes, going back and forth.

“can i tell you a secret?” he whispered, his breath tickling my face.

“always” i whispered back as my eyes fell shut.

“seeing you on top of her like that? it kinda…it kinda turned me on. especially now that i know that it was for me” he said.

“i’d do anything for you, you know that right?” i asked as my hands found their way to his hair, gently playing with it.

“anything?” he rose his eyebrows at me, moving a little bit closer.

“anything” i confirmed as my lips brushed against his.

with that, i grabbed his jaw and pulled his lips back onto mine.

in one swift motion, chris pulled me over the center console, seating me so i straddled his waist.

each touch of our lips was electrifying, it made me want to kiss him all day.

his hands were under my shirt, squeezing the bare skin of my waist.

my hands traveled all over his body, never stopping in just one place.

i could finally feel him the way that i wanted to, with no limitations, and i didn’t know where to touch first.

my hand crept its way under his shirt, and i took in the warmth radiating from his body. the touch of my cold hands against his skin made him shudder slightly.

chris pulled his lips from mine, moving them to the tip of my ear. he left kisses on my ear, down my neck, my collarbones, down to any skin of my cleavage that was exposed.

he intertwined our hands, lifting them up and placing kisses against mine while he looked at me.

he brought his mouth to my boob, sucking it through the thin layer of my tank top.

he stuck his hand under my shirt, playing with the other boob.

“shit, chris” i moaned as my head flew back.

“fuck, i need to hear that sound again” he spoke as he pinched my nipple, eliciting a high-pitched moan from my mouth.

“god, you sound so good. wanna hear you moan my name” he spoke against me.

“chris” i moaned as he continued his assault on my boob.

he bunched my tank top up, fully exposing my chest and bringing his mouth to my nipple.

“louder” he growled, lightly biting the bud.

“chris! oh my god” i screamed.

he pulled me as close to him as he could, my chest pressing against his as he brought his lips to mine once again.

our lips molded together beautifully, like two pieces of a puzzle.

his hand reached down to the waistband of my sweatpants, when-

knock, knock, knock

the sound of someone’s fist against the glass of my driver side window made us pull away from the kiss.

i fixed my top as i looked over, eyes widening when i saw his girlfriend standing there.

she looked pissed.

granted, she just found the same person who broke her nose less than twenty-four hours ago making out with her boyfriend. i’d be mad too.

chris gave me a look, as though he was apologizing in advance for whatever crazy action she took next.

i gave him a light smile and patted his chest before moving to sit in the driver’s seat.

i rolled down the window enough to speak, but not low enough for her to stick her hand in.

“are you fucking serious right now?” she yelled, her face turning bright red.

it took everything in me not to laugh at how worked up she was.

“you make me cry, break my nose, and steal my boyfriend from me in less than a day?”

“not a single one of those things was hard to do, either” i tilted my head at her.

“what was that you were saying about being in a relationship with him ? guess that’s over now, huh ?” i raised my eyebrows at her.

her face scrunched up and she looked like she wanted to throw a tantrum.

“see, the difference between me and you is i treat him right because he means everything to me. i don’t talk down to him or make him feel like he isn’t important, because he is. i protect him with everything i have in me, because he doesn’t deserve to be brought down by ugly ass bitches like you. you may look nice on the outside, but the inside? there’s no disguising that. you genuinely disgust me” i said.

she just blinked at me in response.

“and if you didn’t pick up on it by now, we’re over” chris added in , scrunching up his face in a sarcastic smile.

“you can get the fuck out of my driveway now” he spoke.

“whatever, you two deserve each other” she said, desperately searching for a comeback.

“you’re right, we do” chris smiled at me.

having had enough, layla walked back to her car and drove off.

i pulled chris into a big hug, squeezing his waist.

“i’m so fucking proud of you” i spoke into his shoulder.

“thank you for opening my eyes” he whispered into my neck.

💟💟💟💟

yayyyyy y’all can stop planning chris’s murder now !

CHRIS W/ TOXIC! GF MASTERLIST.

MAIN MASTERLIST 1.

MAIN MASTERLIST 2.

tag list: @lustfulslxt @bernardsleftbootycheek @sleepysturnss @cheesesoda @spencerstits @gvf23 @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @junnniiieee07 @pepsiboyy @https-urwife @cm-slvts-31 @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sophssturn @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @stramboli4life @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @ciarasturn1 @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @heraakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @abbie13sworld @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @carolinalikesthings @chrisstopherfilmed @vanteguccir @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x you #chris x reader #christopher sturniolo texts #sturniolos #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fic

519 notes · View notes

yandere-yearnings · 4 months ago

Note

what r ur thoughts on sun getting jealous and crazy but darling matches his freak and might just be worse… erm…. i have no excuse i just need to ruin this man he makes me VISCERALLY ANGRY. but in. like. a Pleasant way. the people (me) are dying to know 🎤🎤🎤

genie you're out here asking all the right questions😌💕 there are a few possibilities for how things may turn out and it all depends on the situation at hand so i wrote out two little bits hehe also, sun is staring bc he heard the word ruin and it put an image in his head,, i think you need to take him away🤧 to the people (you) i present sun w/ a jealous darling:

...in general

Honestly, Sun believes jealousy is a healthy feeling to have in a relationship. He's a bit delusional, and really, he flies off the rocker way too easily for someone who supposedly has a lax stance on the matter, but he thinks it can only be proof that you love each other. You don't like the way other people are putting their hands on him? That means you accept that he's yours! So, if you just happen to be a jealous person like that, he doesn't mind; in fact, he endorses it and will set-up situations just to watch the way you seethe.

Now, matching his freak — potentially being even worse than him — is an entirely different thing. Tell him you'll pluck off his fingernails just because they grazed someone else's hand and it has him squeezing his thighs together like it'll stop you noticing how hot the comment made him. Sun loves feeling like you possess him, and he's ready to give himself over to you wholly if that's what you want.

...when he is jealous

On the odd occasion that Sun loses his cool and lets his reoccurring jealousy drive him off the edge, he isn't really able to comprehend anything other than his desire to paint the walls with someone else's blood. You could be equally as mad, you could be tearing at his clothes with your hands at his throat, you could be screaming into his ears until the drums burst — but Sun isn't there so it doesn't change anything. Whoever or whatever it is that's taking your attention away from him will be his only priority in that moment, and if he can't deal with it imminently, he'll be thinking of how to until he can.

If you can overpower him, there's opportunity to calm him down. No amount of words will reach him when he's in a mood, regardless of their severity, but if you can hold him back for a while, he'll eventually be able to come to his senses. Although, that doesn't mean he's any less angry. You best keep your promises and do everything you said you would to him, Sun is waiting for you to teach him a lesson so he knows you still care.

220 notes · View notes

teenidlegirl · 2 months ago

Text

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝓑eauty 𝓞f 𝓣his 𝓜ess ♡ 𝓒hapter 𝓕our

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀military!miguel⠀𝓍⠀fem!neighbor!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

‧ ִ ۫⠀♱ 𝓢𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. you encounter a few problems in your apartment. luckily, your handy next door neighbor comes to your rescue. his kindhearted actions keeps leaving you speechless.

‧ ִ ۫⠀♱ 𝓒𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. fluff, swearing, pet names, tension, little angst, reader has arachnophobia (a little self-indulgent), terrible military knowledge, backstories, miguel is a sweetheart

❛⠀ previous chapter⠀⋅⠀masterlist⠀⋅⠀next chapter ⠀❜

a quiet saturday to relax.

the gloomy weather as a cherry on top. gray, puffy clouds covering the sky. gentle breezes passing by, flowing through the trees. the forecast said it would rain later in the afternoon. oh it’s just perfect.

the perfect weather to snuggle on the couch with a blanket wrapped around you, a few snacks on the coffee table, watching your favorite movie or show, and luna laying beside you. the perfect day off.

as you head to the bathroom and turn on the light, there is a thick black spider in the corner of the ceiling. you let out a terrified scream like you’ve seen a horrifying monster. well, technically spiders are horrifying creatures to look at. not to mention your terrible case of arachnophobia. you’ve hated spiders since you were a child. while playing outside with the neighbor kids, a spider was crawling on your arm and you screamed bloody murder.

you’ve been traumatized since.

when you lived with your parents and roommates in college, someone else would kill the spider when you found one. they were understanding, although they would pick fun at you sometimes.

but now, as a young adult living on her own, there’s a fucking spider in your bathroom and the entire floor must’ve think you’re being murdered.

luna is barking and running up to you as you bolted out the bathroom. she barks when you’re scared. you try calming her down so your neighbors don’t get upset while your heart is pounding like a fucking drum. blood pressure through the roof.

you screamed so damn loud that someone is knocking on your door.

oh fuck.

the last thing you want is an upset neighbor and might dial 911 for a ridiculous misunderstanding.

approaching and opening the door with shaky hands, your next door neighbor stands in front of you with the biggest concerned look on his face.

“what happened? are you hurt?” he sounds a bit breathless. eyes filled with panic and chest heaving.

a huge wave of embarrassment hits you, making you grimace. you were right, your neighbor believes you are screaming bloody murder.

“no no, i’m fine. it’s just— oh god.” you groan, that wave of embarrassment hitting you like a fucking brick. a hand covering your face, rubbing the temples of your forehead frustratingly.

his frown deepens, growing more concern. miguel was about to repeat the two questions but you manage to speak up again.

“i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean to scare you, i just—“

“what happened?” he sounds more serious, desperately wants to know the issue.

you close your eyes and inhale a deep breath, preparing to embarrass yourself in front of your next door neighbor. “there’s a big ass spider in my bathroom and i freaked out.”

you spit it out so quickly that you believe he can’t understand at first, but he did.

a big weight was lifted off his chest. the panic leaving his body. you aren’t hurt, that’s good. his expression relaxes a bit but his brows remain furrowed.

a spider scared you, seems natural.

but the scream you made tells him that you are deadly afraid of it. a scream that made his heart stop. miguel never bolted out his apartment so quickly.

“do you need me to kill it?”

you finally look up at him, taken aback by his offer. “oh- no, it’s okay. i’ll probably just spray poison.”

from a great distance, you thought.

“i’ll kill it so you’ll feel safer.” miguel insists.

did this man just make your heart skip a beat for the millionth time?

yes, he did.

you shake your head. “no, it’s okay, seriously. i don’t wanna bother you with my stupidity.”

“hermosa, leaving you alone with a spider that made you scream will bother me.”

how is this man so fucking nice?

you also don’t miss the new pet name, making your cheeks more warm than they already are.

a hinge of guilt lingers in your heart. this man has fixed enough of your problems, he can’t fix more. especially a stupid one like this one. although he did insist on you asking him for help when needed. and you know he won’t stop insisting until you give up.

with a quiet sigh, you accept. “alright…”

moving to the side, you allow him to enter your apartment once again. you show miguel to the bathroom, stopping in front of the door. you offer him the poison but miguel insists toilet paper is enough. his hand will finish the job. although, he still takes the poison as extra precautions.

miguel notices the hesitation and fear illustrated on your face. the noticeable distance you set yourself between the bathroom door. your hands folded together and pressed against your chest, a sign of fear. the sight makes him frown.

he also noticed the lack of eye contact. miguel can sense the embarrassment and it’s completely understandable. he doesn’t blame you one bit.

although, he does wish to see your eyes for a second.

as miguel heads into the bathroom to deal with the bitch ass spider, leaving the door closed so you don’t witness it, you remain outside waiting anxiously. scooping up luna in your arms and holding her for comfort. the harsh thud makes you jump a little.

miguel killed it. bless him.

you hear the toilet flushing as miguel exits the bathroom. the bitch is gone for good.

“it was hideous.” he says amusingly.

you softly chuckle. “yeah, thank you.”

“of course. you okay, now?”

“yeah now that the bitch is gone.” that earns you a soft chuckle from him. “sorry for scaring you, you probably thought i was murdered or something.”

“you did sounded terrified but i’m glad you weren’t hurt. it’s okay, don’t feel bad about it.”

“my bad case of arachnophobia explains it all.” a soft, awkward chuckle escapes your lips.

he frowns ever so slightly, lightly nodding. “it’s understandable. if there’s a spider, don’t hesitate to call me over.” miguel said sincerely.

this man keeps making your heart flutter with his sweet acts of service and kindness.

walking back to the living room, you past by your bookshelf which miguel stops in front of when he notices one of the shelves is slightly crooked.

“you need a new shelf.”

his statement makes you turn around, glancing at the crooked shelve. “oh- well, it isn’t that bad. it seems fine.” you shrug.

miguel looks at you with a disbelief expression. “fine? chica, the poor shelf is on the verge of breaking.” he gestures at the shelves. “those books will fall.”

you wave off with a hand. “it’s fine, give it three more months then it will collapse.”

to you, it really did seem like it was just slightly misplaced and can still manage.

to miguel, the shelve looks like on its last brink considering the amount of books on it.

you have a lot of books, he thinks to himself.

it’s not a bad thing. people have their hobbies. it’s just fascinating to him. miguel wonders how many books do you read in a week? or maybe even a day?

“give it three more seconds and it will collapse.” he said. “let me fix it for you.”

you simply blink at him, surprised. “no, you don’t have to. you already killed a spider for me, you don’t have to do anything else for me. plus, that isn’t a big a issue so don’t worry.”

“hermosa, do i have to remind you that you can always come to me for help?”

okay, again with the new pet name.

it makes you weak.

“ya sé, but that i don’t need help with that shelf. at least not now, it’s perfectly fine.” you said nonchalantly.

one of his thick brows quirks, a deadpan look settled on his features. “i’m two seconds away from walking back to my apartment to grab my tool box.”

this man really never backs down. there’s really no need for him to fix that dumb little shelf for you. it does look fine, to you at least. but your heart can’t deny his kindness and you know he offered to fix things for you. for free, as a reminder.

there’s no point of arguing because it’ll waste both your time. in the end, you accept his help, causing miguel to break into a little smile.

how could you say no to that smile?

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ 𓂃 ₊ ୧ 𓂃

miguel is fixing your shelf and you’re in the kitchen cooking dinner. he’s been too invested in fixing it to realize you’re making dinner for you both. that’s how you’re repaying him, he just doesn’t know it yet.

“your shelf is fixed.”

pausing the cooking, you quickly walk over and see the now fixed shelf. not that crooked anymore.

“thank you.” you flash him a smile, he hums in return.

you return to the kitchen, miguel following you curiously after putting away the tools in the box, placing it on the marble counter.

“¿qué estas haciendo?” miguel asks softly beside you, peeking at what you’re cooking.

“teriyaki chicken, one of my favorites.”

“qué rico.” the smell of the sauce invades his senses, causing his stomach to rumble a little.

you feel him stepping away, turning around to see miguel about to put on his shoes.

“adondé vas?”

“home.”

“you’re not leaving without food.”

he quirks a brow amusingly before lightly shaking his head. “i appreciate it, chica but i’m okay, gracias.”

“you helped me today so i’m repaying you with food.” you place your hands on your hips, standing in sassy posture. “i ain’t taking no for an answer.” you smirk.

the hint of authority in your tone intrigues him. his lips match yours. he got a hint of your sass at the bar with all your friends that night. to see your true self, sassy and interesting sense of humor yet caring. just so authentic with some sass, miguel was intrigued.

that’s why he couldn’t stop admiring you that night.

he was given the privilege to see the other side of you, the true side. you aren’t just his neighbor.

“pues… i can’t say no to that smell.” he smirks, eliciting a soft laugh from you.

after serving yourselves, you offer to do it for him since he’s a guest but miguel kindly insists he’ll do it himself and to not worry, you sit at your little dining table across from each other.

“wow… that was the best teriyaki chicken i’ve ever had.” miguel gently wipes his mouth with a napkin.

“oh you’re being too nice now.” you playfully roll your eyes, unable to hide your smile.

“en serio.” he smiles. “it was really delicious. it’s different from other ones i’ve had, it was incredible.”

you shake your head, smiling. “well, kudos to my mom. she makes it the best.”

“she’d be very proud.”

the comment warms your heart.

“reading is your hobby, huh?” he asks.

you nod. “since i was a kid. it relaxes my mind, especially after a long ass day at work.”

“favorite genre?”

“murder mystery, or sci-fi.”

“i noticed the amount.” he gestures at the bookshelf.

“can’t help it, they’re that good.” you chuckle.

miguel chuckles as well. “i don’t doubt it.”

“is building things your hobby?” resting your elbow on the table, you place your chin in your palm.

“robotics club, remember?” a smirk on his face. “still do, when i’m not away.”

“you said you served 9 years, verdad?”

“sí and still counting.”

“what made you decide to sign up, if you don’t mind me asking?”

miguel goes silent for a few seconds. you notice how his eyes immediately tear away from yours. the way his shoulders tensed for a moment.

oh fuck, was that too personal?

you’re about to apologize but he finally speaks.

“my brother wanted to, i signed up with him.” miguel reveals. “he always wanted to join the military since we were kids. he wanted to be a soldier, like the bucket o’ soldiers from toy story. i couldn’t let him out of my sight so signed up with him.”

your heart warms at the adorable story. “brothers stick together, huh? that’s cute.”

the corners of his lips twitch ever so slightly, not a complete smile like before. “este güey, pinche loco. couldn’t leave him alone for 5 seconds without him getting his ass busted.”

“the glories of having younger siblings.” you chuckle.

miguel nods. “you too?”

“no, i’m actually the youngest.” you laugh softly. “i wasn’t getting my ass busted, though.”

that elicits a chuckle from him. “how many?”

“two, a brother and sister. my sister is the oldest.”

as you tell him stories about you and your siblings, you realize miguel never mentioned his brother’s name. you’re curious to know.

“oh by the way, you never told me your brother’s name.”

you notice his shoulder tense again, seems hesitant to answer your question. it worries you a little. each time you mention his brother, he tenses.

“gabriel.” he reveals.

a nice name.

“it seems like your mom really liked the ‘el’ part.” you joke, softy chuckling.

silence follows after, making you look at him to see the solemn look on his face. his gaze on the empty plate in front of him instead your own.

fuck, you might’ve pushed it too far.

what’s going on with you tonight?

“i’m sorry, that was rude of me to say—“

“don’t be, please.” miguel quickly reassured you. “it’s true, she did like the ‘el’ part. she did like matching things with each other, even with her own kids.” he offers a kind, small smile. his gaze back on yours.

his smile makes you feel a little better. you offer one of your own, sharing gentle smiles.

glancing at the two empty plates, you reach to collect his plate but miguel grabs it and yours, standing up from his seat.

“wait, i got it—“

“don’t worry, chica. i can take them for you.”

“you’re a guest, you shouldn’t have to.” you try to take the dirty plates from him but miguel slowly moves them out from your reach.

“you cooked for me, i should wash them.” he insists in a gentle manner.

“es mi casa, i’m the one who should wash them.”

“at least let me help you.” miguel pleads.

you really insist that he shouldn’t since he’s a guest but you know arguing over a topic that doesn’t need to be argued about is unnecessary.

you accept his help but only to pass the dishes, you still insist on washing them. miguel simply laughs at your stubbornness but agrees, saying as long as he gets to help you. plus, you can’t deny that smile.

once the dishes are done, it’s time for miguel to return to his home considering it’s dark outside.

“thanks for your help today.”

“siempre. your dinner was delicious, gracias.”

“be expecting that more often.” you smirk.

“you don’t have to, chica.”

“i want to, it’s my gratitude.”

miguel can’t help but chuckle, appreciating your kindness. luna slowly approaches him, her tail wagging as she sniffs at his feet.

“she likes you.” you glance down at her with a smile.

“i’m glad she approves.” he jokes.

you say goodnight each other, thanking miguel one last time before he leaves. you close the door once you see him enter his place. scooping luna in your arms and shutting off everything in the kitchen, you head to your room for the night.

just as you past by, you stop in front of the bookshelf. you stare at the newly built shelf miguel did for you today. the sight and memory makes the corner of your lips curl up into a smile.

a memory you won’t forget.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ♡ @reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @marshhbs @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @watertribeissuperior @lovehadlovelost @auiciqa @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost @tomalymme @skadiloki @miguelsfavwife @asterrrrose @glossygreene @aefin @youcantseem3 @resident-clown @kutsipie @zuevcs @totorotales-08 @meowgirl1 @sukunash0e @jadeloverxd @sirendyes

( ◟ ࣪⠀ׅ ♱⠀𝓝ote. special shout-out to @aphinthestars for the bookshelf idea! thanks for helping! dedicate this chapter to you! )

#⠀꒰⠀𝜗𝜚 ֺ 𓂂⠀꒱⠀﹕⠀ℬ𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑦 𝒪𝑓 𝒯ℎ𝑖𝑠 ℳ𝑒𝑠𝑠⠀.ᐟ⠀#miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #military!miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara angst #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara smut #across the spiderverse #fanfic series

275 notes · View notes

achilles-rage · 3 months ago

Text

Good Luck Charm: Chapter 13

college football player!buck x plus size!reader

summary: evan takes you back to his house, where you tend to his wounds and talk about what he said earlier.

word count: 5.2k

previous chapter

series masterlist

A/N: the way i was giggling and kicking my feet writing this and got carried away. enjoy them freak nasty<3

warnings: smut, no use of y/n, fem!reader, race inclusive!reader, not proofread

MDNI- 18+ only!

“Are you okay?” you ask against his chest, feeling yourself melting into him as he holds you firmly against his chest.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me, princess. Are you okay?” he asks, leaning away from you slightly and putting a finger under your chin to force your eyes up to look at him.

“Can we go home now?” you ask as you nod. Your nerves have mostly settled, the short time outside allowing you to catch your breath and slow your heartbeat. While you were still worried about Evan, knowing his teammates were in there with him settled your unease greatly.

“Of course, let’s get you home.” he tells you, leaning in to kiss you softly before he removes his arms from your waist. He’s quick to put an arm around your shoulders as you begin to walk back to his house, not willing to have his hands off of you for a second.

As you walk home, you keep your face angled towards the ground, watching your feet, while Evan scans your surroundings, his arm still firmly draped over your shoulder.

After a few minutes of walking, you shrug out of his grip, wanting to hold his hand instead. You grab his hand, rubbing your thumb across the back of his hand as a way of fidgeting, but you freeze when you hear him wince under his breath. You look up at him with sad eyes as you pull your hand away from his, afraid you’ll hurt him more.

“You’re hurt.” you state, to which he sighs, trying to reach for your hand again.

“It’s nothing, princess. I’ve had worse.” And he has. You saw him playing football. But the fact that he probably got this injury from beating up a guy? For you? It fills you with guilt.

You pull your hand away as he tries to grab yours, instead grabbing it with both hands and holding it up to your face, examining it. You can see a bruise already forming as you pass under a streetlight, and some dried blood littered across his hand. You’re not even sure if it’s his or the other guys, or both, but you don’t care.

“It’s already bruising.” you tell him sadly, looking back up into his eyes, trying to see if it’s causing him any pain now that you’re not touching the injured area.

“Seriously, it’s nothing. It was worth it to deck that bastard in the face.” he says smugly, giving you a smirk as your eyes widen.

“You hit him in the face?” you ask in disbelief. You assumed he pushed him around a little bit, but you didn’t think he’d hurt him that bad. Although, from the damage to his hand, you’re not sure why you didn’t assume that from the beginning.

“Yeah, that’s what he deserves. Grabbing you like that.” His voice is still smug as he speaks, but there’s also a hint of anger coming back into his features, which makes you sigh softly.

“I’m taking a look at it when we get back.” you tell him sternly, suddenly finding a new thing to worry about. You pick up the pace, and you’re now practically dragging him down his street.

“Baby, I’m fine.” he huffs, but doesn’t make a move to pull away from you.

“You’re not getting out of this. You’re hurt because of me.” you say over your shoulder, finally getting to his house and walking up to the front door.

“No, I’m hurt because of him. But if it makes you feel better, you can look at my hand.” he says finally, as if you looking at his hand is a big hassle.

Despite his tone, his heart is pounding in his chest, and he feels a wave of adoration filling his body as he thinks about how eager you are to take care of him.

“And we’re icing it. Don’t argue with me.” you add, looking at him with narrowed eyes as he unlocks the door and lets you both into the dark house.

“Yes ma’am.” He rolls his eyes and shuts the door, a soft chuckle rumbling through his chest as you point to the couch.

He puts up his hands in mock surrender and walks to the couch. He sits down quietly and watches you dig through his freezer, smiling when he sees you hold up a bag of frozen veggies in victory. You grab a paper towel and run it under the tap for a second, then walk into the living room with the paper towel and the frozen veggies.

You straddle his lap absentmindedly, and put the frozen bag on the couch beside Evan before you grab his hand again. You use the paper towel to wipe the blood away, and sigh in relief when you see that the blood on his hand is, in fact, not his.

You put the paper towel on the coffe table behind you, not wanting to get the couch wet, then run your fingers along his hand. You gauge his reaction as your fingers ghost across his knuckles, trying to tell if anything is broken, barely realizing that his other hand has moved to your leg and is gently moving up and down your thigh.

He winces as your hand runs over one of his knuckles, and you raise your shoulders and wince instinctively.

“Does that hurt?” you ask softly, shaking your head at yourself once the words leave your mouth. Of course it hurts, he just winced.

“A little, but it’s not bad. I’ve broken bones before, I know it’s not broken.” he tells you, ducking his head to pull your eyes away from his hand.

“It doesn’t feel broken.” you tell him, looking back up into his eyes.

“Yeah, it’s just bruised. I promise, princess, I’m fine.” You sigh at his words, finally nodding. You raise his hand to your lips and kiss it gently, avoiding the spot that made him wince.

“I wish it didn’t.” you whisper, biting the inside of your cheek as you look down at his hand. His heart is beating out of his chest at your words and actions. He’s not used to someone caring for him this much. He tuts softly, and takes his hand off your thigh to lift your chin with his fingers.

“It’s really not that bad, princess. You don’t have to worry about me.” he tells you in a quiet voice, trying to convey that he’s okay in his expression.

“You punched a guy in the face for me. I feel a little bad.” you say with a small laugh, your hands still holding his injured hand in between them.

“Don’t. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. He put his hands on you. I wasn’t gonna let that slide.” you both stare at each other for a moment, enjoying your close proximity. After a moment, you reach for the frozen bag on the couch, and hold it to his hand. He moves his other hand back to your thigh, resuming his feather light touches. Your cheeks are on fire as you keep your eyes locked on your hands holding the bag, feeling his gaze still on you, studying you.

“Thank you.” you whisper after a moment of silence.

“Of course. You don’t have to thank me.” he says as he shakes his head. He lifts your chin again with his unoccupied hand, giving you a smile. He leans in and gives you a soft kiss, humming quietly.

At this moment, he’s not sure if he’s ever felt this loved and appreciated by someone.

“And thank you for not leaving when I stormed off. Maybe I overreacted to you not telling everyone I was your girlfriend. I can see how it could’ve been instinct. I heard you tell them I was your girlfriend after.” you add once you both pull away.

He was far enough away that it was hard to hear, but you know what you heard. As soon as the word “girlfriend” came out of his mouth, you knew you forgave him. You’re sure he didn’t even know you could hear him, and that made it all the better.

“I wasn’t gonna leave you, princess, even if you were upset. And I am sorry about what I said. I want everyone to know you’re mine, that’s why I had you in my jersey. I’ve never had any other girl wear it.” he says, his hand moving from your chin to your cheek. His thumb runs along your cheekbone, and he’s looking at you in such an intimate way it makes your head spin.

“Yeah? Keep it that way.” you get out after a moment, a hint of teasing in your voice. He chuckles, returning your kiss as you lean into him, humming softly.

It’s not until his hand tilts your head slightly to deepen the kiss that you drop the frozen bag, hands going instead to his shoulders.

With both hands free, he moves them to your hips, pulling you down firmly against him. You begin to move your hips against his slowly, a soft noise escaping your throat as he starts to help guide your movements. You pull back as he squeezes your hips with a worried look in your eye, stopping your movements.

“Doesn’t that hurt your hand?” you ask in a small voice, your lips puffy from the kiss.

“It’s fine, princess. The pain is kind of being overshadowed by a different feeling right now.” he tells you with a smirk, eyes trailing from your face to his jersey across your chest. You’ve barely started moving on him, and he can already feel himself growing hard.

You fight back a smile at his words, shaking your head as his eyes travel down your body.

“You should keep it still.” you tell him sternly, although there’s a soft look in your eye, and he knows you’re only half serious.

“Yeah, but it’s hard when you’re moving your hips like that.” he murmurs, licking his lips as his eyes glance down at your lips.

“Should I stop?” you ask softly, biting your lip as you wait for his response, but you don’t have to wait long, because his next words follow yours almost immediately.

“No, you should definitely not stop.” he says sternly before pulling you back in for a desperate kiss. His lips move down to your jaw, and then your neck as his hands grip your hips, starting to guide them in the same movement as before.

You can feel his hard length under you, and you start to move your hips in his grip, grinding harder against him. You can feel him brushing against your clothed core, and that, paired with his lips on your neck makes you moan softly. Your head is tilted back and your eyes are closed as he nips and sucks on your neck, and your hands are still gripping his shoulders, trying to keep yourself grounded.

“Don’t you have roommates?” you whisper after a moment, opening your eyes, slowly pulling yourself back to reality.

“Mhm. They’re not home. Still at the party.” he gets out between kisses. His lips trail up to your neck, nibbling on your earlobe gently, making you giggle as his breath hits your ear.

“What if they come home?” He groans softly at your words and pulls back to look up at you. His pupils are blown with desire, and his breath is quicker than normal as he feels his heart rate elevating.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, watching you bite your lip nervously. He knows you were nervous before about any sort of intimacy, and he doesn’t want to move too quickly.

“You have a bedroom, don’t you?” you tease softly, smiling as he lets out a relieved breath.

You’re not really nervous about being with him anymore, you’re more worried about his roommate walking in on you like yours did. And you assume his won’t be as nonchalant about it.

He grins up at you, and you take that as the queue to get off his lap, taking his hand as he gets up and letting him lead you to his room.

As soon as you’re in his room, your back is pressed against the door. His lips have landed back on your neck, and one hand is on your jaw while the other rests beside your head on the door.

“Have I told you how good you look in my jersey?” he whispers against your neck, his hand moving from the door to your hip. He slides it up under the fabric of his jersey, fingers ghosting your stomach.

“I think you mentioned it once or twice.” you say with a soft laugh, your chest heaving and eyes full of desire.

“Of course I have. My gorgeous girlfriend has my name on her back. God, you drive me crazy.” he tells you before his lips are back on yours. He’s quick to slip his tongue into your mouth, and you’re both moaning into each other's mouth desperately as his hand finally makes its way up to your covered breast.

You bring your hands to his belt loops and pull his hips against yours, desperate for some sort of friction. He chuckles against your lips, a little surprised by your sudden actions. He pulls away and looks down at you with a dazed smile.

“You know what I’d like more than you in my jersey?” he purrs, his other hand moving from your jaw to your hip before he slides it under his jersey and trails up your side.

“What?” you ask breathlessly, lips slightly parted as you look up at him.

“You in nothing but my jersey.” he says smugly, smirking as he notices the way your breath catches in your throat at the idea. “You like the sound of that?”

You nod, closing your lips and swallowing. You can feel desire pooling between your legs, and you have to fight the urge to jump on him.

“Mmm, and you know what’s gonna happen after that?” he asks. You reply with a soft “what?” and he laughs softly at your innocence. “I’m gonna lay you down on my bed, and kiss down your body, all the way down,” he trails off, smirking.

You bite your lip, and in an instant, your hands are moving to your waistband, struggling to undo your jean shorts.

“No, princess. That’s my job.” he tells you sternly as he pulls your hands away, replacing them with his. You bring your hips off the door, letting him slide your shorts and panties down your legs.

“God, you’re gorgeous.” he whispers, more to himself, as his eyes trail down your bare lower half. He pulls you in for a rough kiss again, hands reaching for the hem of his jersey on your body and slowly lifting it.

“Thought you wanted me in your jersey.” you whisper against his lips. He pulls away for a moment and takes his jersey off of you, eyes drinking in the sight of you in nothing but your bra.

“Oh, I do. But I want to look at you completely bare for me first.” he says, his voice just above a whisper. He’s too focused on your body to say anything else. He’s mesmerized by your beauty, by your soft curves. He drapes your jersey over his shoulder, still wanting you to wear it after he’s done looking at you.

He reaches behind you and unhooks your bra with one hand, and a thought enters your mind about how easily he’s able to do it, but you push it to the side. He pushes the straps down your arms until your bra is completely off of you, and he lets it drop to the floor.

You feel slightly awkward as he studies your bare chest, a hungry look in his eyes. You’re suddenly very aware that you’re completely naked, and he still has all his clothes on, and you fight the urge to cross your arms over your chest.

Those thoughts are immediately thrown away when he attacks your neck again, kissing and sucking with a soft groan. His lips move down to your chest, one hand massaging one of your breasts while his mouth focuses on the other. He squeezes your breast softly, then rolls your nipples between his thumbs, which makes you let out a shuttered moan.

He chuckles against your other breast, then moves his lips to wrap around your nipple, now using both hands to squeeze your breasts. His mouth switches to your other breast after a moment to give it the same attention, then pulls back, smirking at your dazed expression.

He finally takes the jersey back off of his shoulder and urges you to raise your arms. You let out a relieved sigh as you obey, letting him pull the jersey back onto you. You feel a little more comfortable in the jersey, and you also feel like his jersey is adding to the way his mouth is claiming you as his.

Once his jersey is on your body, one hand holds your hip firmly while the other moves from your side to the middle of your stomach. He moves it down slowly, and you whine softly once his fingers make light contact with your dripping core.

“So wet for me.” he murmurs, keeping his eyes on your face as he begins to move his fingers in circles around your clit. You bite your lip, moving your hips against his hand instinctively, which makes him smile. He keeps up his teasing of your slit for a moment before he speaks.

“I’m gonna go slow baby, get you nice and stretched out. Are you ready?” he asks you in a soft voice, eyes searching yours to ensure that you are ready. He smiles wider when he sees your nod, and wastes no time in inserting a finger into your heat.

You whimper softly, hands going up to his biceps. He moves his finger in and out of you achingly slowly, trying to get you used to the sensation.

“Taking it so well, baby. You want more?” he asks after a moment, seeing you getting used to the feeling. He chuckles at your desperate nod, your chest heaving as you keep your eyes on him.

He adds another finger slowly, watching your expression intently to make sure you’re still okay. When you buck your hips against his hand, he starts to move again, then curls his fingers up to meet your sensitive spot.

You let out a breathy moan as you tilt your head back, your head hitting the door with a soft thud. You close your eyes, grip tightening on his biceps.

“Uh uh. Open your eyes, princess. Wanna see your pretty eyes.” You open your eyes at his words, and he doesn’t think he’s ever been so turned on. Watching you react so easily to his touches makes his head spin, and the tightness in his jeans is starting to get painful.

“There we go, there’s my girl.” he praises you, beginning to move his fingers faster as his thumb starts to rub circles against your clit.

Your grip on his biceps tightens even more, and your whimpering starts to get even breathier and high pitched. He knows you’re getting close, and he can’t wait to see the sight.

“God, you’re beautiful. Can’t get enough of you.” he whispers, then bites his lip as he watches every reaction you have to his fingers working you slowly.

“Evan.” you get out between pants, feeling your release approaching.

“Let go for me, pretty girl. Come for me.” he tells you softly, and it doesn’t take much longer before you’re coming hard on his fingers with a loud whine. You tilt your head back against the door as he works you through your orgasm, not even registering the smirk on his face.

He slowly removes his fingers from your core and raises them to his mouth. He runs his tongue along his fingers, and then puts his fingers into his mouth, sucking up your juices. He hums at the taste, keeping his eyes locked with yours as he tastes you.

You keep your eyes on his as he does, blinking slowly. Your face heats up at his dark gaze, and you bite your lip.

“You taste so good, princess.” he speaks after he removes his fingers from his mouth. His hands go back to your hips and he pulls you in for a kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue and moan softly, rising onto your toes in an attempt to deepen the kiss.

He smirks against your lips and tightens his grip on your hips. He pulls away from the kiss and in one swift movement, turns you around and pushes you onto the bed. He climbs on top of you immediately, positioning himself between your legs as he holds himself up with his hands on either side of your head.

Your hands move to his own jersey, trying to pull it up, desperate to see more of him. He leans up onto his knees for a moment and pulls off his jersey, letting it drop to the floor before he’s back down on top of you, kissing you hard.

Your hands move down to his belt as you kiss him back, and he pulls back once he feels you working to undo his belt. He raises a brow, which makes you bite the inside of your cheek.

“Wanna help you.” you whisper, suddenly feeling nervous again at the idea.

He smirks at your words, and gets off of you again. He grabs your hands and pulls you off of the bed to stand in front of him.

“Pull them down, princess.” he tells you in a soft voice, gesturing down to his pants. You nod and bite your lip as your hands go to his belt again.

Once your shaky hands undo his belt and unzip his pants, you pull them down, along with his underwear. Your eyes widen slightly at his size, which makes his chest swell with pride. He notices the unsure expression on your face, and he smiles, loving how bashful you’re getting.

“Now put your hand around it.” he instructs you with a small smile. You keep your eyes on his hard length as you reach for it, firmly wrapping your hand around the base. He lets out a quiet moan at the feeling, then grabs your hand. He spits in your hand once you’ve released him, and then guides your hand back to where it was.

“Move it up and down, baby, slow.” You nod as you do what he tells you, looking up at him to gauge his reaction.

He lets out a moan as your hand moves, trying not to buck his hips against your hand, trying to let you take it at your own pace. Right now, he wants your lips wrapped around his aching cock more than anything, but he knows this is enough for you to take in right now, so he lets you continue.

You start to get more bold as you take in his moans and quickened breathing, and you move your hand quicker, ghosting your thumb over the head of his cock. He moans loudly at your actions, his hips bucking slightly against your hand.

“God, princess, where’d you learn that?” he asks softly, a soft chuckle escaping his throat. You look up at him with a sheepish smile as you shrug. You may have never done this before, but you still know some things.

You keep moving your hand on him, speeding up as his groans get breathier. You smile as you feel his dick twitch in your hand, knowing he’s getting close. You’re quick to lower onto your knees in front of him, keeping your hand moving as you think of him coming in your mouth.

He growls as you kneel in front of him, almost coming on the spot, and moves one hand down to your wrist, pulling your hand away from his length and replacing it with his own.

“You want me to cum on your tongue, pretty girl?” he asks smugly, smirking as he sees you nod desperately. “Open your pretty little mouth for me, princess.”

You do as you’re told, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out. This is all it takes for him to reach his peak, shooting hot ropes of cum into your mouth.

He groans as he sees his release dripping down your chin, watching you keep your mouth open until he’s empty. You close your mouth once he’s finished, swallowing eagerly.

“Fuck, princess, do you have any idea what you do to me?” he growls, grabbing your hands and pulling you back up. He moans against your lips as he leans back into you, desperate to have your silky walls wrapped around his leaking cock.

He kisses you for a minute or two, hands touching and grabbing at every part of you he can until you push him back, forcing him to sit on the edge of his bed. You straddle his lap, grinding your dripping core against his aching length, eliciting moans from both of you. He pulls back once he hears the soft “please” escape your lips, looking up at you with an awestruck expression.

“You trust me, baby?” he asks you softly, one hand still on your hips while the other rubs your cheek gently. You nod as you reply with a whispered “yes,” and he smiles.

“Good. It’s gonna hurt at first, but you’ve just gotta breathe and keep your eyes on me, okay?” You nod again, raising your hips off of his lap, looking down as his hand positions himself at your entrance.

He teases your slit for a moment before you finally sink onto him slowly, getting impatient. You tense as the pain washes over you, stopping halfway down and closing your eyes.

“Look at me, sweet girl. Open your eyes. I know it hurts, but you’ve gotta relax. You’re making it worse.” he tells you in a sweet voice, thumbs rubbing light circles over your hips, hoping to calm your nerves.

He fights back a groan as he feels how tight you are, but he knows you’re just tense and nervous. He waits as long as he has to for you to finally relax, feeling you unclench around him.

He smiles as you sink down the rest of the way, groaning as he feels your slick, warm walls envelope him. He fights the urge to move you himself, knowing he needs to let you control the pace.

“There we go, baby, just like that. You’re doing so good. You need a minute?” he whispers, nodding as he sees you nod. He grabs your cheek with one hand and pulls you in for a kiss, hoping to distract you as you get used to his size. Your hands are tightly gripping his shoulders as you kiss him back, and he pulls away from the kiss once your grip loosens.

“Are you ready to move?” You nod, biting your lip as you slowly start to move back and forth against him, which makes him groan.

“Go at your pace baby. Go however slow you want.” he tells you, keeping your hips firmly in his grasp, helping you with your movements.

As you continue to move, you feel the pain being pushed away as the pleasure moves to the forefront of your mind. You slowly start to lift your hips off him, moving up and down on his cock as you whimper loudly.

He smirks as you begin to get more comfortable riding him, and after giving you a second to move up and down on him, he leans back on the bed and starts to buck his hips up into yours with a moan. He watches every reaction on your face as he thrusts up into you, keeping his grip firmly on your hips.

“You’re doing so good for me, princess. Such a good girl.” he mutters, one hand moving up under your jersey and roughly grabbing your breast, rolling your nipple between his finger and thumb again.

You throw your head back as you keep moving your hips against his, desperate for your quickly approaching release. He senses you’re getting close, and he’s relieved, feeling his own approaching as well.

He moves his hand from your breast to your clit, circling it with his thumb as he keeps up with his hard thrusts. You tilt your head back down to look at him, moving your hands to his chest, using it as leverage to keep moving, so overtaken by pleasure that you can’t make out any words.

“Just like that, sweet girl. Use me.” he pants, smirking as he sees your legs starting to tremble and shake against him.

“You gonna come again, princess? You wanna come on my cock?” he purrs, making your moan loudly as you nod.

“Please.” you get out through your whimpers, chest heaving as you feel yourself teetering on the edge.

“Come for me, princess. Let me hear you.” You feel him twitch inside of you, and with one or two more thrusts, you’re coming around his cock with a loud whimper.

Feeling you clench around him is all it takes to send him over the edge. He comes with a loud groan, feeling his come fill you up.

He stays inside of you as he looks up at you, trying to catch your breath. He pulls you down by the neck gently and kisses you passionately, feeling your hands placed so delicately on his chest.

“You did so good for me, baby. God, you’re so beautiful.” he tells you in a soft voice once he pulls away.

You smile absentmindedly at his words, closing your eyes as you take in the feeling of his cock still inside of you.

After a few minutes you raise your hips off of him, groaning as you feel him slide out of you. His eyes are glued to your core, and he bites his lip as he watches your mixed release dripping down your thighs.

You lay on the bed beside him, your breathing finally going back to normal as you lay beside each other in silence. After a moment he gets up and crosses the room, reaching for a towel in his closet and bringing it back over to you.

He wipes his release off your thighs, finishing with a soft kiss to your forehead. He throws it somewhere in the room, and then lays down with his head on one of his pillows, urging you to come lay beside him again. You move up to him and rest your cheek on his chest, sighing happily as you listen to his heartbeat.

He knows at this moment that he can never let you go, and you have to fight hard to stay awake, so content with feeling his warm skin against your cheek and his fingers ghosting over your thigh that’s draped over his hips.

next chapter

notes: likes/comments/reblogs would be much appreciated if you liked this<33

click here for my masterlist!

click here to be added to my taglist!

click here to read my request rules!

taglist: @sherlocksbaby2323 @essienoe @p14th0mps0n @celestixldarling @minsugafour @brooke0297 @zelfanswhenshecan @sarahsmi13s @avengersgirllorianna @bingbongsupremacy @nishinoyahhh @alyssanicole01 @outof-spite @supernatural-bangtanboys @sporadicmakerwerewolf @x0xchristine @pear-1206 @swanshells @tpwkstiles @lulubelle14 @cannibalhellhound @odetolocksmiths @charlie-winchester94 @hollandxxmix @evysian @buckandeddiesverison @love-kha1 @starbyun92939798 @maxinish @theking-mustdie @daeswash @911varietyposts @superlock-in-the-tardis @officiallyalbino @girl-of-multi-fandoms @wanniiieeee @persesphonestears @dreams-encapsulated-in-glamour @heartmix @theoramamtolo @keyweegirlie @catkight @hufflepuff-spidey @starboygf @lilsquatch7898 @may-machin @wnbweasley @damndirtylitch @eva-tts5 if you interacted with my taglist post and are not on this list, make sure your blog is visible in searches, otherwise i can’t tag you!)

182 notes · View notes

squigglewigglewoo · 1 year ago

Note

Can I request for where Yandere dazai is down bad for reader/fem. That when reader finally allows him to have her, he rips multiple orgasms and keeps her panties for later use..

(✧) warnings: half of these warning depend on his you see the fic, perv behavior, slight noncon, possible drugging, intoxication, alcohol, mentions of stalking, mentions of violence, yandere behavior, manhandling, overstimulation, possible manipulation? Dazai not listening when you say no more, dacryphilia, slight blood play? sadistic dazai bc have you seen that man? he was literally in prison and has 138 counts of aggravated murder, no way he's not a sadistic fuck. mentions of masterbation, mentions of head (male receiving). fem bodied reader, pet names, degradation, praise, sugar coated degradation, Dazais a liar, mentions of chuuya, dazai literally covers his darling in marks, bruises, bites, hickeys, cuts, claw marks, hand prints. readers mentioned to wear a dress, I wrote this with my cunt and it's not proof read. lowercase writing, english is my first language but I suck at it(beware, shitty gramer), bare with me. ik ur reading this bestie, u a little freak but ily<3 NSFW below the cut, MDNI, ageless blogs will be blocked!

(✦) summary: oh, when you finally agree, although with a little bit of help from being under the influence, who is Dazai to say no? 519 words~

(✧) (a/n): I'm sorry I've been silent for so long! got a little too silly and almost got sent to a mental hospital, I'm back though!! exams are coming up so if there's radio silence again, I apologize!! this'll be short, it's 3:46 and my anemia is killing me.

(✦) pairing(s): yandere!Dazai x fem bodied!darling!reader

(✧) listening to~ Poison by Bell Biv DeVoe

the empty sake bottle forgotten on the ground, Dazais hand eagerly undressing you and near tearing your sundress off as he presses you onto the couch, your head thrown back against the armrest, head spinning from both Dazais lips on your neck and the affects of the alcohol. you usually don't get drunk this easily, nor does your head spin like this. what was going on?

"it's alright, pretty girl, I got you, I'll make you feel good." Dazai shushes you whimper and squirm, one hand firm on your hip, the other slides up your back, unclasping your bra and kneading at your breasts. his hands rest at your hips once more, pulling your panties off and stuffing them in his pocket, a little keepsake for later. he kisses you, his grasp tight on you as he bends and folds you, his belt falling to the floor before he rams into you, making you cry out from the sudden wave of both pain and pleasure.

your legs wrap around his waist, his lips swallowing your pained moans as he fucks you at a brutal pain, murmuring something about "god, you're taking me so well.. should've done this ages ago if you felt this good the whole time.." that your fuzzy, intoxicated brain can't understand. done what? what's he talking about? Dazais nails dig into the fat of your thighs, your pussy squeezing around him as he fucks your cervix, making your tummy twist and turn, your body flushing. cumming with a loud cry, you claw at his clothed back, the man having been to impatient undress himself, whining out for him to stop, that it hurts, and he only laughs, fucking you harder, and you feel another orgasm build up.

"c'mon, didn't you want this, why're you asking me to stop now? don't you wanna feel good?" he taunts, his nails drawing blood, his hold so tight it bruises your thighs. his eyes gleam at the sight of your tears and the small pearls of blood, kissing the tears away as they roll down your cheeks. he kisses you, pulling away and licking at your swollen, red lips, and he can't help out Imagine what they'd look like around his cock. he'd kill anyone else who even thought of you like this, he was sure of it, you where his, his belladonna and his alone.

what will chuuya think when he sees you with Dazai, covered in hickeys and bite marks that the brunette most definitely isn't going to let you hide, why would you, anyways? there's no need to hide if he's the only man your seeing, right? Dazai cums inside you as your second orgasm rushed over you just minutes after the first, Dazai slows, pulling out and watching his cum flow out of your abused hole before flipping you over, sliding right back into your cunt and grabbing the fat of your ass, squeezing as he leans over your figure, whispering in a hushed, near scolding tone. "oh, you didn't think we were done, did you? we still have the whole night left, sweetheart. get comfortable, your not getting a break any time soon."

masterlist!

dividers by @/cafekitsune

#bsd x reader #bsd #bsd dazai #bsd x you #dazai osamu x reader #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai smut #yandere #yandere dazai #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #dazai osamu smut #i mightve gotten bored #bsd smut

1K notes · View notes

magicdustsworld · 4 months ago

Text

Honour

Levi Ackerman x Reader

Synopsis: You've heard tales of the infamous humanity's strongest soldier – Captain Levi. The first time you meet him, you come to know how wrong they are.

Tropes: Hurt/Comfort, Angst

Warnings: Graphic description of violence, injuries, bit of something I can't add, gn!reader, Canon AU, no mentions of y/n.

Word count: 1.9k

Event: Submission for the prompt day 6 - Love at first sight on @levievent

“Square up, cadet!”

The terse call from one of your fellow soldiers instantly prompts you to straighten your spine. Footsteps serenade before halting right beside you, he scrutinizes the area you were assigned to clean. A hefty sigh leaves your lips, hopefully you’ve done a good job enough considering you’ve been on it since the last twenty minutes.

“Is this what you call clean?”

Just like that all of your hopes are shattered.

He presses the pad of his finger on the glass pane, dragging over the surface – a speck of dust grazes his skin. You swallow a lump, “I- well…”

“What are you mumbling like a maggot, now?”

Chewing on your bottom lips, your eyes flickered from him to the window “No, I- I thought it was clean-”

“Don’t get cocky, newbie.” He leans towards you. “I don’t know what the hell is up with you freshly out trainees-”

“Oluo, stop trying to imitate Captain Levi!”

A third voice chimes in, soon a hand is placed over your shoulder and you are met with a concerned mien of an auburn haired woman. “You okay?”

You nod and Oluo lets out a grunt. “Did I do something wrong?”

A corner of her lip curls up, “Not necessarily.” Her eyes flicker to the window pane then back at you. “You just need a little… guidance.”

You blinked, “Guidance?”

“Yeah, I will help you out around here.” She muses. “Its just- the captain can be quite a clean freak so if you want to be in his good books, you should get used to spotless and abrupt cleaning sessions.”

“Hm? Captain Levi?”

“Yeah,” You affirm, sitting beside Petra in the mess hall. “What is he like?”

She tilts her head – taking a second to conjure a proper response for you. Her spoonful of porridge has halted near her mouth before it is put down. “The true captain Levi he is well… cold, irritable, violent and always has a poker look on his face.”

“Was he always like that?”

“As far as I’ve seen,” Petra answers and you nod. Silence for a second stretches the table until she starts again, “I’ve heard rumours that say he was a thug but he joined the scouts after Commander Erwin pulled some strings. He hails from the underground so-”

“From the underground?”

“From the underground.”

A pang of unease surges through you. Although you’ve lived your entire life on the surface, you aren’t elusive to the underground district. A region where no sunlight permeates, a hub for the criminals and the thought of such an enigmatic figure of the military being from there happens to cause an apprehensive pang.

She chuckles, “Pretty conflicting for you, right?”

“Well uhm,” You try to suppress the coy smile from forming on your lips. Running your fingers through your hair, you answer, “To be honest, I had a rather different picture of humanity’s strongest soldier.”

“Don’t let that title deter your eyes, cadet.”

This time, it is the soldier sitting across you who intervenes in the conversation. You shift your gaze to him, “Excuse me?”

“Don’t get all blinded by that strength and titan kills,” He replies with venom lacing his tone. “He doesn’t care about any of his comrades.”

“Duran!”

You try to twist your body, wincing from the pain that surges from your ripped abdomen.

Warm blood gushes out from the ghastly wound, hands coated with blood of yours – it’s a futile attempt to stop the bleeding by pressing on the area. The pressure only causes the backflow of blood causing it to rise up your throat and akin to bile, you throw up. Consciousness slips in and out of you by each passing second and the way your shredded intestines coil in fingers, the smooth pulsing flesh grazing your skin sends tremors up your shoulders.

A splitting headache shoots through your mind and you grunt. You can feel the anxious yet despondent stare of the medic by your side. The rather slow paced bandaging of your torso helps little. It’s almost like they have given up. Honestly, you can’t blame them for their surrender, the injuries you’ve sustained from almost being chewed up as titan fodder is far from curable. Even if you manage to not lose your life now (which is impossible with the amount of blood you’re losing), you’ll only be a burden to bring back to the walls (a factor which would risk the loss of more lives).

Either way, there is no win.

A zap of the ODM gear momentarily distracts you from the pain. Sooner than you can comprehend, there’s another figure kneeling beside your worn and moribund form. You are greeted with a lingering warm touch on your shoulder and just like that, your ragged breath ceases.

“What’s the condition?”

“The organs are ruptured and I can’t stop the bleeding, Captain Levi.”

The quivering voice of the medic stalls you that this is in the infamous Captain.

You don’t know what comes over you but you try to speak; resulting in a coughing fit with blood dripping down your lips, marring your skin with its tint.

Levi’s attention shifts to you, his thumb brushes a slow circle over the fabric of your uniform, “Easy there, Soldier.” He says, tipping his head as a sign. “You don’t need to speak.”

You gesture your understanding with a scuffling nod. Significantly, your vision is blurred due to obvious reasons. Yet, it’s not impossible to mark raven bangs fanning his forehead, sharp features, steel blue eyes that gaze down at you with… is that concern?

“Don’t get blinded by all that strength and titan kills, he doesn’t care about any of his comrades.”

Didn’t they say he doesn’t care?

“If you want to know does your sacrifice make any difference or not,” He starts, voice lowering yet a newfound grit ignites. “It does.”

It doesn’t. You want to say. It doesn’t make a difference. It is only your first expedition and just like the average rate of sixty percent of the new cadets who traverse beyond the walls for the first and last time – this is your last as well.

It’s what they are obliged to say in the last moments. The same words will be spoken to your family as well. Just a responsibility.

“You will be remembered,” He tells you, his shoulders turn rigid as he turns his full attention on you. “If not by anyone else, by me you will. Your will and memories will live on as long as I live.”

Never did you think you’d be put in a situation where mere words of assurance would prove so much to you. Never did you even think that you’d receive them from the proclaimed stoic captain. It had been a cloudy today, for the reason the sight of an aberrant circling the region near your flank was unnoticed. Till the time a messenger had rode off to relay the news, the destruction had commenced. You had given up as soon as the titan got hold of you, even after you were released from its hold, the sustained wounds and the pain rippling through your gobbled up gut wall were toppling you down into a spiral of decadence.

The storms running in your head were ruining the garden of clarity until a ray of sunshine pierced through the clouds in the form of Captain Levi.

Humorously, the gloomy sky clears up – the soft warmth of the sun mingling with the air of death falls upon you.

“It’s just the captain can be quite a clean freak so if you want to be in his good books, you should get used to spotless and abrupt cleaning sessions.”

Maybe the vast amount of blood loss was affecting your capability of rational thinking; you hold up your bloodied hand. Without a second thought, Levi seizes it.

“I will kill each and everyone of those bastards who did this to you.”

For reasons unknown, you find tears prickling up your eyes. You choke out a sob as the tears fall down. Your body is weakening but Levi holds your hand in his – interlocking the fingers. The blood drips down from the conjoint to the cufflinks of his shirt; he doesn’t let go. Instead, you are met with a tender touch of him wiping away your tears.

“The pain will end soon enough.”

It will. You need to accept it.

Through the impaired vision, you can make out his beautiful steel blue eyes staring back at you. Tears have not collected over his lashes but the silent intentions evoked by his gaze is more than any emotion you’ve known. It’s a good enough sight for a last sight.

“So will your suffering,” He continues with a cinched determination. However, the grave voice is coated with a tinge of sincerity and an emotion you can’t decipher. “Wherever you go now, you will be free so-” He pauses, swallowing a lump in his throat. “So forget about this wretched world anyway. You are destined for peace.”

It’s ironical but you crack a smile.

Since you were a child, you had perceived death to be scary. Then… Then why was it so beautiful?

It’s so cruel – all of it. It’s the first time you are meeting him but why did it also have to be the last? Couldn’t you be granted just more time for this fateful meeting to happen? But- you assume- but not meeting him ever would cause you a lifetime of regret. Even in this little moment, even with the life slipping from your fingers, even when the illusion of a reaper starts to stall near, you know it’s him. You know it’s him because you couldn’t give any reason. It’s Captain Levi and he’s like the moon you’ve found amidst the veil of stars.

You part your lips and Levi gets the clue that you’re about to speak so he intervenes. “Don’t-” You shake your head, gesturing for him to lean in.

He complies but it’s getting too hard for you to keep your eyes open.

Therefore, you say your first and last words to him.

“Thank you, Captain Levi.”

It’s an empty tomb but Levi still stands before it.

Due to urgent reasons, most of the corpses couldn’t be retrieved. Besides, the gloominess of the day which serenaded just after your death made it rather difficult to bring back all the bodies. It doesn’t matter really.

Levi heaves a breath, kneeling down before the tombstone. Like a fever dream he reverts back to the moment when he saw you for the first time. Worn out and clinging to life while your blood stained the grasses red.

He doesn’t know why, neither will be fret himself over knowing the reason. Yet, when he saw you drowning in the ocean of despair, he found himself suffocating as well.

He reaches into his pocket, grasping an object before he sets it over the stone. It’s empty. He knows. You aren’t here. He knows. He had to leave you behind. He knows that as well. Sunlight falls upon the ivory and azure wings of freedom – your insignia of the Survey corps. Levi has never understood the concept of bringing home the corpses. It wouldn’t change a thing. The dead is the dead after all. Dwelling over the past would only affect the present and future. In a way which rarely proves to be good.

However, the memories thrive. They always do. So keeping the brief encounter with you in his memories, he speaks to you for one last time.

“It was an honour to meet you.”

189 notes · View notes

nvuy · 6 months ago

Note

Argenti has really been on the brain as of late…I miss my wife….how do we feel about vampire agrenti//getsranover

love bites! — argenti

summary. argenti would do anything for you, even if that anything went against his own moral code.

notes. i think ANON YOU COOKED. YOUUUU COOKED. YOUUUUUUUU COOKED.

warnings. ehhhh… i’ll give it a 16+, suggestive content, as per usual you’re a freak, but argenti is also a freak so it’s okay, as the ask suggests argenti is a vampire, blood, biting, ummm, yk. vampire stuff. but it’s romantic i think.

You feel the couch dip next to you with added weight, and Argenti rests his head in the crook of your neck.

He has barely just gotten comfortable on the couch when you decide to be a thorn in his side. You grin wryly down at him. “Wanna try it?”

Argenti flutters his lashes in confusion.

You huff. “There’s a reason I wore a low cut shirt, dude.” You gesture towards your neckline.

“Oh!” Suddenly, he looks guilty. “As much as I appreciate your offer, I’m afraid I must decline.” He shakes his head and offers you a kind smile of his own. “I have staved off blood for years. I cannot start now. It would be… very unbecoming of me.”

“But, I want you to,” you try lightly. “And it’s your birthday.”

Birthday. As if his birthdays meant anything anymore. Argenti has had hundreds by now. Still, you always manage to make him feel like the most important man in the universe.

He laughs. “My birthday is two months away.”

“Early present,” you conclude firmly.

Then, you lean forward and wrap your arms around his shoulders. His skin has been bloodless since the day you met him, but there’s something so beautiful about it’s near translucency. It’s iridescently white and brilliant, and it’s like pearl silk when his hair spills over his shoulders.

Speaking of which, his hair smells of cherry and coconut.

Hmm, hmm. He’s used your shampoo—not that you mind. Not at all. He uses it because it is something to remember you by when he leaves for extended voyages. And it’s cute.

“C’mon.” It comes out as a childish droning low whine as you hit his shoulders gently. “I see the way you look at me when I get hurt. It'll be good for you.”

Argenti appears sheepish, though he indulges in your hand that cards over his scalp. His fangs poke from behind his bottom lip.

He glances away for a moment. His eyes have traced down to your neck, and he almost abandons his willpower to taste your skin.

“Just a teensy weensy bit.” You pinch your fingers together for good measure.

“It will not be ‘teensy weensy,’” Argenti explains softly. Although his voice falters for a moment, his hands do not tremble. “I will not be able to stop myself. You have always been tempting.”

“Aww.” You bop him on the shoulder. “You’re worried about me?”

“Well, of course. I do love you.”

Your heart falters. You’re sure he can hear how your blood stutters in your veins. He’s said it those words again—how many times? Almost everyday—and it still manages to fluster you.

How you managed to score this dude was beyond you. Maybe the ‘tempting’ part of you was the friends we made along the way.

You giggle like he’s smacked you over the head with his giant spear and caused a concussion. That’s what it feels like, at least. He makes you feel dizzy, but in a good way, like you’re being spun around and around by a lover when you return home after a long day.

Your fingers are still pinched together. “Just a little bit.”

You see him swallow.

He fidgets with his fingers for a moment.

He’s staring at your jugular, and though he appears apprehensive, there’s something clouding over his gaze.

He can’t say no to you. It goes against all of his moral principles.

“If it will make you happy.” Just a taste. He’s set in his ways, now. He’ll prick your neck, allow your blood to wash over his tongue, and then he’ll pull away.

And he really does love to make you happy.

“Hell yeah, it will.” You press your chest to his. “All yours.”

Oh, goodness. He swallows harder, and his hands that are usually confident with how they move, are suddenly hesitant now that they rest on the sides of your face. His hands are free of his gloves, and though his skin isn’t warm, you enjoy the callouses and marks that rub against your flesh.

Dutifully, you push his hair behind his ears.

You’re jealous of how lovely he is.

“Are you certain this is–”

“Yep.”

His brows knit together. “But this–”

“Argenti.”

He smiles apologetically. “I just want to make sure this is something you want, and not something you are doing for my sake.”

You sigh.

Then, you press your lips to his. You don’t let the taste of him distract you, however—and you know that’s secretly what he’s plotting by how his eyes flutter shut.

Argenti appears disappointed when you pull away.

“I want you to do this.”

Uh oh. You’re in for it now. You know that look.

He wants to. He does. He’s wanted to for a while now. But it is selfish of him to drink the blood from your wounds, so he instead ignores the desire.

Now, he can’t ignore it any longer.

His lips press to your cheek first. Then he moves to your jawline, painstakingly slow, but still considerate with how he dotes upon you. Maybe he’s trying to coax you from making the worst decision of your life. Wouldn’t be the first time.

You hum, pleased.

His nose is cold when he buries his face into the side of your neck where the throbbing arteries lie beneath thin supple skin.

And you smell delicious. He smells every throb of your veins as your heart pumps in your chest; that metallic earthy smell, like soil after the rain, and dew on rose petals.

Suddenly, you grow nervous.

He notices.

He tries to reel back, but you lock a hand behind his head.

Still, he tries, “you’re uncomfortable. I won’t–”

You’re excited. Your legs are jittery. The adrenaline rush is exhilarating, and sugar flows through your veins like hot ash.

Your skin feels set alight. You’re burning to the touch.

The scent of you is too much. He pinches his eyes shut in a desperate attempt to control himself.

“Bite me.” You feel his lips bump against your neck. “C’mon.” He lets out a stuttered gasp against your skin. “Do it.”

His will is not strong enough.

He wets his lips and they then part to allow sharpened canines to dot along the skin above your veins. He knows each and every path beneath your flesh. He knows where danger lies. He understands your fragility, for he was once the same.

He steers clear of the artery, as enticing as it is. It’s wrong; and he could very well hurt you beyond repair.

Your heart stutters when his fangs slice through your skin.

And it hurts. Of course it hurts, and Argenti knows as such. His other hand that is not trying to hold you still rubs along the other side of your throat soothingly. The pinpricks of his teeth are slow and deliberate. Perhaps it would hurt less if he was quick, but the sharpness stirs hot on your flesh anyway.

You try not to voice your anguish. Instead, your fingers curl firmly into his hair.

He lingers with his teeth lodged into your vein.

It’s uncomfortable, especially when you feel something hot and wet trickle from the puncture wounds and slip over his cold teeth, but you’ve never felt so alive.

His teeth pull away with a wet pop and you shiver.

You’re bleeding, rightfully so. It’s not a major wound—he’d never. You knew he’d never—but with how sticky the holes were growing, you would be convinced otherwise.

Gingerly, you felt a warm tongue swipe over the wound.

That hurt, too. You hiss then, and you feel Argenti wince against your skin.

The damage is done.

“I’m fine.” And you are. You’re practically jumping out of your skin. “Keep going.”

After a pause, his tongue cards once again over the fresh blood spilling from the wound. It doesn’t help the fire in your veins when he slots his lips over the punctured skin and begins to suck. The noises are alarming at best, and you can hear him swallowing.

It hurts.

But it’s good.

You stiffen in his hold.

Argenti stops for a moment to pepper sticky kisses over your wound. You’re sure it’s stained in the shape of his lips. Stupidly, you giggle at the idea.

He continues to indulge and he’s slow. Maybe he’s hesitant, or maybe he’s savouring you. You’re not sure.

When you’re sure he’s finished, Argenti’s bloodied teeth scrape lower along your neck until his fangs sink into the junction of your throat and your shoulder. Somehow, it hurts more.

More bloodied kisses that make your skin stiffen. His tongue draws over your flesh again.

Both the wounds are still bleeding when he decides to add another to your body.

This one hurts even more. You can tell because his teeth don’t sink in cleanly. The other side of your throat has that arterial vein you know he wants to get to. You also know he wouldn’t ever. He’s inching dangerously close to it, though.

He’s sucking and sucking and you smell copper in the air and you’re stomach is churning and your neck is covered in blood.

Your hands slacken from around his head.

The fourth puncture wound comes over your shoulder.

Your eyes flutter for a moment.

He’s not stopping.

In fact, he hasn’t even opened his eyes to check on you. He’s way too absorbed in your taste to notice your slackening grip on his shoulders.

His tongue grazes your shoulder.

“Argenti.”

He doesn’t even hear you. You move your hands to push him away, but your arms tremble. You’re growing weaker with every second.

Oh, God. This was a bad idea. You’re good at making those.

You hit his shoulders weakly.

“Argenti.” It comes out strangled and weak.

His teeth pop out of a new wound. He hums.

You’re already dizzy. Weakly, your arms wrap around him and grip loosely onto his clothes.

As sexy as this is, and because you feel like the main character in some cheesy vampire story, the stupid primal urges in your brain to survive shut down the idea of laying there, taking it, and letting him ruin your neck until you fall unconscious.

Argenti finally understands just how strong you smell and is horrified at what he’s done when his eyes finally refocus on you.

He lays you down properly on the couch and rushes to get a first aid kit.

When he comes back, he’s mumbling strings of apologies. He looks forlorn, because he’s betrayed himself, and you.

You don’t think it’s appropriate to comment on how the blood around his mouth is almost enough to make you jump on him. Only issue is you’re not sure your bones can support your weight at the moment.

The alcohol stings as he tends to the punctures, but not as much as his teeth did.

You sigh, but it’s happy.

Argenti looks at you. Guilt is smeared over his face like a thick paste.

“You look just as beautiful as the day I met you,” you murmur to him. Because that day had been a wild day. Not only did a giant man with flaming red hair stop to offer his sincerest compliments on how radiant you were—dressed in flip flops and pyjama pants because you were simply hosing your front lawn—with two squirrels at his feet and five birds resting on his shoulders.

If Argenti could blush, you figure he’d be bright red by now.

Instead, he lets out a shaky laugh. “You flatter me so. I know nothing more enchanting than you.”

The wounds have stopped bleeding now, and he makes sure to clean each one thoroughly. He expresses no concerns about a stitch job. You’re relieved at that one.

Weakly, an arm raises to push his hair behind his ears again.

That alone takes all of the strength out of you.

“You okay?” you ask him.

He looks confused at your question. “Fret not, I have had my fill. It is you who I’m worried about.”

“I feel alive.” It’s partly true. As woozy as you feel, it’s like warm sugar still lingers in your veins. “That was great. I bet you enjoyed it.”

Argenti’s grin turns crooked. “Very much so. Perhaps too much. I’ve hurt you.” His fingers rub over the tender skin surrounding the puncture wounds. “But, you are as sweet as I thought you’d be.”

“I’m so in love with you, dude.” Very appropriate thing to say. Maybe it’s the blood loss. Amazing pet name, too.

Still, Argenti flusters. He clears his throat for a moment and his fingers still around your neck. “Words cannot convey how often I think of you, or better yet how often I long to hold you.”

He behaves as if this is his first confession of many to come.

Oh. Your heart is racing in your chest.

Arms much too tired to move, you instead pucker your lips obnoxiously.

Argenti eagerly leans down to kiss you again. His lips are still bloody, and the scent and taste of metal makes your stomach twist for a moment, but it’s him. It’s him and how gentle he always is—and how can you still be so gentle when you’re enraptured in cutting holes into your partner’s neck? Beats you.

“Still so sweet,” he whispers against your lips. “Is all of you this sweet?”

You kiss his cheek. “Wanna find out?” You’re happy to play pillow princess for an hour.

Argenti smiles at that, but it’s cheeky. His eyes crinkle with mischief as he moves to your lips again.

#✦ ( love mail. )#✦ ( anon. )#( ANONNNN I LOVE YOUUUUUU. )#argenti x reader #argenti x you #hsr argenti

234 notes · View notes

hadesrise · 2 years ago

Text

𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐄.

part one — part two

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞. the wayne family witness how you handle jason’s trauma.

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘. jason todd x addams!male reader

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘. sfw content, foul language, trauma, nightmares, mentions of torture, typical addams behavior (dark, edgy, gothic, disturbing behavior), romantic, death threats, soft addams!reader, mentions of a very dark and gruesome fictional book, dealing with trauma, fluff, lots of fluff, everything’s just soft

𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗'𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊. can't help it, i really enjoy writing addams!reader content. honestly, it's kinda getting old but i guess this will be the last one??? or one more and then i'll end its endless cycle?? anyway, if y'all have any recommended translation apps it'll be nice to know. don't wanna trust google translate that much.

FEM ALIGNED DNI !!

“Why are you awake so early in the morning?”

Bruce’s slightly raspy morning voice interrupts the silent reading you had indulged yourself in, barely reacting at his sudden presence despite the fact you failed to notice him from how focused you were on your book.

You glanced at him only for a split second before your eyes went back to reading again, “I prefer the quietness of your manor in the morning for a quick read. Although, I must say the bright sun is such a terrible sight. It nearly burned me as soon as my consciousness awakened.” As you replied casually, Bruce took notice of how the curtains are closed completely shut to block the sunlight from entering, as if getting even a little bit of it would burn you like a vampire. Well, you did look like a vampire because of how pale and ghostly your skin is as well as the all black, gothic medieval or victorian outfit.

Bruce still wasn’t used to your unique culture, ancient speech and intimidating presence, but had learned not to be too bothered by it ever since you and Jason began visiting the Manor often. He didn’t want to waste energy by constantly reacting to any unusual traits you displayed, and he’s been successful so far. Even though he still doesn’t agree with your morals, he knew not to argue with you like before, since you’ve been nothing but respectful to him everytime you set foot in the manor.

Raising one of his eyebrows, Bruce tilts his head. “Do you always read?”

“Yes, indeed.” Came your immediate response. “Books are what defines me, Mr. Wayne. My soul is practically attached to it.”

“Is that why you always carry a book with you?” Stephanie suddenly chimes in out of nowhere with Tim behind her, curiosity plastered across her face. You nodded, glancing up to see Damian sit down on the other sofa while playing a brutal game that occasionally makes a blood splattering sound.

Bruce sighs, “And why are you all awake so early?”

Tim looks at him weirdly, “It’s already eleven o’clock. Almost lunch time, you know.” Deadpanning, he then leans in from behind to get a glimpse of what you were reading, only to cringe slightly after his eyes read a particular sentence; The flesh muscles of his legs were torn off, almost as if it had been ripped open by a lion, exposing bones with blood uncontrollably flooding out. It’s definitely one of those horror books who has unnecessary amount of gore. “What in the hell are you reading?”

“Bloodthirst by Clementine.” You sipped on a black coffee before continuing, “Wherein the main character becomes bloodthirsty for revenge after his lover had been abducted and mutilated by a group of serial killers. The sentence you’ve read is one of his acts of revenge which includes a pack of wolves.” The corner of your mouth twitched up a bit, looking up at him with that glint in your eyes. “It has a pleasantly satisfying plotline.”

Disturbed and quite freaked out, Tim exchanges eye contact with Bruce and pressed his lips together. “That is... uhm, interesting.” Amusement merely crosses your face before it instantly went back to your usual emotionless expression.

They still haven’t gotten used to the extremely calm demeanor you had because of how most of them grew up not having a quiet presence in the manor, even Cassandra wasn’t as silent as you before. You’re the only calm and fully collected person they’ve ever met, coming off as rather intimidating due to your piercing gaze, emotionless face, wiser-than-thou mind, and utmost patience. Especially the patience one, because most of them were either short-tempered or just born enraged. Sometimes, they get intimidated without you even speaking — once, you and Jason reluctantly joined them to a grand event and someone made an utterly horrible decision to insult Jason by comparing him to the “well-behaved” eldest son Dick, which resulted in you shooting them a piercing, dark, cold and harsh glare not even a second after that instantly made them freeze in spot. That look in your eyes alone made their blood run cold and face pale.

Needless to say, they regretted insulting Jason as quick as the wind blows, but that story’s for another time.

“Where’s Dick? Did he sleep at Barbara’s?” Stephanie wondered, realizing the lack of annoying presence.

“Nope!” An all too cheerful voice in the morning pipes up as Dick appeared with a big smile on his face. He quickly noticed you reading a book and approached, “Reading a dark book again? Where’s Jay?”

“There’s only an obvious answer to an already obvious question, Richard.” Retorting without sparing him a glance, you flipped the page and earned a snicker from Damian. “He will be walking down the stairs soon. Sois patient, frère.”

Dick replies an ‘okay’ before jumping on the couch Damian was sitting on, deciding to annoy his youngest brother instead. Shaking your head with the corner of your mouth twitching up only barely, you focused on reading your book again despite the peaceful silence being broken by their chattering, although it didn’t take long before you averted your gaze and stared at the ceiling, as if feeling something wrong.

Damian notices. “What are you doing?”

You didn’t speak right away. Just staring up like something was there, which also made the others look up in attempt to figure out what you were doing.

“Jason is not sleeping well,” You finally stated, not looking away from the ceiling. “Humans often radiate different energy depending on their mental state, which makes it easier to specifically identify what their current emotions or moods are. It can be felt if you concentrate enough. Jason’s energy has been much peaceful ever since I’ve tormented Joker. It is supposed to stay as that.”

“What do you feel now?” Cassandra asked worriedly, her body leaned back against the wall.

“He’s distressed.” You concluded, shutting the book close without bothering to slip a bookmark on the page, which she noticed quickly. She reads with you a lot and had never seen you close a book without bookmarking it; books are absolute treasures for you, but not as much as Jason now.

Confusion took over Tim’s face as you set your book down and drink your black coffee in one go, “How do you know?”

“There is not one thing I don’t know about Jason.” You remarked nonchalantly, like it’s how it should be. You just knew Jason well enough to understand him more than anyone else, even more than himself sometimes.

Before you could stand up from the couch, a footstep erupts from the top of the stairs and comes Jason slowly walking down, wrapped around in a blanket and thick arms hugging his body, making himself as small as possible despite his large frame. “(Y-Y/n)...?” His voice was thick and hoarse, as if he had been crying, as he stuttered and looked for you like a lost child.

You quickly got up from the couch and walked up to him when he stopped in the middle of the stairs. “Come here, darling.” Jason doesn’t hesitate to drop the blanket and wrap his arms around your neck, clinging onto you for dear life. Slipping your hands on the back of his thighs, you lifted him up with ease and returned to the couch, sitting down sideways so Jason could lay on top of you, just how he liked.

“Horrible...” Jason murmured, face buried in your chest. “Horrible, all of ‘em. It hurts. Everything hurts.”

You frown, although your face had the softest look anyone had ever seen as you gently stroke his back, still having him caged in your arms. “Terrifying dream, was it?” You asked, earning a nod.

“ ‘m scared...” Jason breathes shakily, “I’m still there... Still hurts. Too dark. Cold. He’s still laughing. Hurts, it hurts.” He blabbered, words repeating over and over again, and breath increasingly becoming rapid as panic begins to slowly build up inside him. His entire body was trembling, sobs wreck through his body.

Everyone except you was at lost for words.

Jason seemed... weak and fragile. A cracked glass that can easily break with just one touch. Had Jason been suffering like this all this time? It felt as if Bruce was bludgeoned by a brick in the form of realization, opening his eyes to how the events with Joker truly affected Jason. He was obviously and clearly traumatized (who the fuck wouldn’t be?), but this is the first time everyone had actually witnessed the trauma, considering Jason refused to be vulnerable in front of them.

“Shh... Open your eyes, chéri. Look into mine and breathe slowly,” You gently instructed, rubbing his back in a soothing manner and muttering encouragements. Jason does as he’s told and open his eyes, staring into your calm and comforting (e/c) eyes while attempting to slow down his breathing. “Doing so excellent, mon amour. Breathe in and out, slowly. Good boy. You do not have to rush yourself.” The soft tone of your voice bringing him a sense of safety.

Once he’s calmed down, you slowly hold his hand and squeeze to provide warmth, hugging him tighter with one arm. “Can you tell me where you are and who you’re with right now?”

Jason squeezed back, little tears still running down his cheeks. “T-the Wayne Manor... With—with you... A-and Bruce, and Dick... Tim... Damian... C-Cass and Steph...” His gaze focusing on your encouraging eyes, his mind slowly detached from the nightmare it was drowning itself in.

“Good boy, sweetheart.” You kissed his forehead, “Is it still dark?” Jason shakes his head. “What about coldness? Am I succeeding in warming you up?” He nods this time. You smile, running your hand through his hair. “Be not afraid, Jason. Darkness will not consume your mind forever, although it is a part of our lives. You might remain afraid of the excessive trauma for years, but being afraid of it does not mean you will be chained eternally, and neither does it mean you are weak nor easily destructible. You’ve bravely fought a war within yourself. I know you will be able to defeat the nightmare someday.”

Jason sniffles, “Do you think I’m healing?”

“Yes, very slowly, as how healing process should be.” You stroked his cheek, “Trauma comes with nightmares. It especially shows when you are doing well so it could test your strength, whether you’ll be able to overcome. But it can never defeat you; it only knows to cause pain, agony, and fear. You know love, joy, compassion, and empathy. It is what make us humans that defeats the monsters.”

He curled up against you, “Just want it to be over. I feel less like myself.”

“You are not bounded to your trauma for all eternal, chéri. It does not define who and what you are, and it certainly does not make you any less.” You softly replied. “Never doubt yourself, my love. Healing cannot be completed within a day, it takes more than few years and I will be with you every step of the way.”

Biting his lip, Jason rests his chin on your chest. “You’ll get fucking tired dealing with me. Your patience might not be able to handle it.”

“I cannot get tired of you. Not when you hate pastels too.” Jason chuckles at your joke, the mood surely lightening. “And do not speak as if you don’t know me, Jason. There is no such thing as might not be able to handle it in my vocabulary when it is you. I love you too much. If I cannot handle anything that involves you and matters about you, then my love for you will mean nothing but dishonorable. The two of us definitely have knowledge of how I would rather decapitate myself than offer you a half-hearted love.”

Jason’s heart swell as the back of his eyes sting again, tears threatening to come out. He knew how difficult it is to be with someone as much trauma as he has, which made him live in fear of you getting tired and leaving one day, even though you’ve assured him more than a hundred times. He knew he was difficult to be with even without the trauma, yet you willingly giftwrap your heart to offer to him while simultaneously providing him with the understanding he deserved. You accepted him along with his trauma. Nobody knows how special that feels.

Cassandra and Stephanie sat on the carpet near the couch where you two laid, so they could check up on Jason. The others had scooted closer as they watch you comfort him nearly expertly.

“Can still feel it, (Y/n).” Jason snuggles on your chest, “The crowbar. It’s still hitting me.”

You gently pull his hand to see his arm that was littered in autopsy scars, some little and some a bit big. Caressing them, you press a lingering kiss. “It was just a fragrance of your memory, beloved. You are safe now, I will keep you protected for as long as I am here. No crowbars.”

Jason nods and looks up at you, puckering his lips. You immediately kiss him, then pressed a kiss on his forehead. “I know he can’t touch me anymore. You already tortured him enough.” He smiled and wiped off his tears.

You pat his head and hug him closer, “Everything will be alright someday. Would you like a hot chocolate with marshmallows on top? I’ll cook you breakfast as well.”

“Yeah, that would be nice.” Jason whispers.

You slowly slip out from under him, making sure he’s laying down comfortably before fetching the blanket he dropped and wrapping it around him, muttering an i’ll be right back. Watching you disappear into the kitchen, Jason sighs in content and curls up on the couch, still feeling vulnerable but not worse. Stephanie smiles softly at him as Dick walks over to sit beside her, ruffling Jason’s hair.

“You’ll be fine soon, little bird.”

Jason only nodded. The first time he didn’t scoff nor bark, indicating he still can’t forget the nightmare he had.

Soon, his other brothers joined Dick while Bruce sits on the couch beside Jason, looking regretful and apologetic with a frown. Witnessing the amount of trauma Jason has to endure even after many years dropped an equal amount of realization within the family, even though they knew he was traumatized. They just didn’t know the extent to it, and seeing it unfold before them had made them realize they hadn’t been supportive or doing enough for Jason when they should’ve known how much trauma torture and murder would cause. He literally died and came back to life — it’s impossible to not carry a lifelong trauma that greatly affects his personality and attitude; the utmost rage and murderous desires he displayed before might have just been his coping mechanism until meeting you, who quickly became his comfort and calmness.

Nearly most of them had guilt written in their faces due to feeling as if they had been invalidating Jason’s trauma, especially Bruce who did not deal with the entire thing well and had failed to show Jason he cared even though he did more than the son could ever know.

Once again, you beat him to it.

“He cares about you so much, doesn’t he?” Bruce quietly and rhetorically questioned.

Jason nodded happily, “A little too much sometimes. (Y/n)’s always careful and calm, but he gets reckless when it’s about me. Like that Joker thing.” He chuckles, “He said fucker didn’t even have time to laugh.”

The corner of Bruce’s mouth twitched up only to disappear, the guilty look still staying. He breathes in and out slowly, causing Jason to look at him questioningly as Bruce avoided eye contact. “Jason, I... uh — I’m sorry. I’m sorry If you ever felt invalidated or unloved by me. I had been so focused on my morality that I failed to show you I cared for you. I really do, Jason. Just maybe not the way you were expecting me to show it.” He carefully says as to not trigger anything in his son.

Pulsing his lip, Jason shakes his head and reached out to play with Bruce’s hand. Bruce seem surprised, but let him nonetheless. “Mhm,” He hums, “It’s okay. I was just angry and hurt... You didn’t look for me enough, and there’s suddenly a new Robin, so... I thought you forgot about me. I couldn’t accept that you seemed to move on so easily.”

Bruce’s heart clenches. “That’s not true, son.”

“I can see that now. I was too bitter and angry, it made me blind.” The broken boy smiles a bit in an attempt to reassure him. “It’s not your fault I turned out like this and ruin everything, you know.” He sadly says, looking down.

The older Wayne shakes his head, “You don’t ruin everything, Jason. You were coping and still coping with what you went through. (Y/n) was right when he said healing takes time.”

Letting go of his hand, Jason instead fidgeted his own fingers now with a sad pout. A little child-like. “But you gave up on me. I know I’m difficult. It’s why you normally can’t deal with me and we always end up arguing. And I was a failure ‘cause I died easily as a Robin.” His voice was slightly high-pitched and trembling. It reminded Bruce again of a child.

Immediately shaking his head, he grasped Jason’s fidgeting hand and firmly looks at him. “You were never a failure, Jason. I’m sorry I made you feel that way. You did everything you could. What I can’t forgive is that I let you die as Robin and not as Jason Todd. I can’t forgive myself for being too late to save you. It wasn’t your fault. Nothing’s your fault, son.”

He pulls him into a hug, which caused Jason to breakdown as he clings onto Bruce and cries his heart out. Embracing him tightly, Bruce kept stroking his back for comfort. The others watched silently with a sad smile, knowing both of them wanted to reconcile for a long time but was too hesitant to do so. It made them happy yet emotional at the same time, Dick and Stephanie already having tearful eyes.

“It truly feels upsetting to ruin this wonderful moment, but I’ve got to feed Jason. May I?” Your calm voice erupted, just then everyone noticing your presence standing at the side of the couch. Bruce chuckles and pulled away, sitting down on the carpet instead so you could take his place. You nodded appreciatively before taking a seat.

Jason sits up, accepting the hot chocolate from you with both hands and sipping it. You ruffle his hair gently.

“His age mentality regresses when the nightmare’s been too severe,” You explained what Bruce was wondering. “It is one of his responses to trauma. I believe it’s the inner child coming out, attempting to relive again.”

“How long?” Dick asked.

“About an hour.” You take the mug from Jason and set it on the table as you begin to cut a bite sized piece from the pancakes to feed your lover. “He has the desire of being taken cared of and I intend to fulfill it. Mother and father takes care of him once in a while when it happens in our Addams home.”

“Mom and dad takes me shopping. It’s fun.” Jason remarked, grinning.

“Shall we buy you some dead flowers, chéri? And a new gun, perhaps. Would you like that?” You caressed his cheek while feeding him with the other, Jason leaning his face on your palm.

“Yeah, I’d love that. Love you, (Y/n).”

“I adore you too, my love.” You kissed the tip of his nose, which caused him to erupt into a fit of giggles as you feed him again.

After Jason had fallen asleep peacefully on the couch, you pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh deeply in attempt to calm yourself down. Seeing Jason struggle with trauma is not easy, especially when he’s far too scarred mentally that it causes mental age regression. It also probably came from the fact he had never lived a peaceful life even before meeting Bruce, losing his childhood by witnessing the harsh reality at such a young age, and having to stop being a child after becoming Robin.

You had utmost patience, but when something affects Jason greatly like this, you often tend to lose calmness and be overwhelmed with rage and bloodthirst. If you could take all his pain away and those painful memories, you’ve already done it. You would give up anything for Jason to not struggle with the torment of his torture and murder — you will give up everything for him.

“You okay, (Y/n)?” Tim asked worriedly, feeling your atmosphere change.

“I wouldn’t call blood boiling with rage okay.” You muttered murderously as your dark eyes glared daggers at the carpeted floor. “Joker is already encaged and chained down within the cells of Arkham Asylum, but the aftermath of his vile actions still haunts and torments the victims who have gone through survival. Trauma is inescapable, including fear of the perpetrator. Their spirits won’t rest peacefully, alive or dead, while his existence still roam the Earth.”

The way you spat with utmost disgust and anger was now understandable, as well as your nearly inexcusable actions committed before. You witness this side of Jason more often than they do. It’s already unbearable even for them, what more for you who takes precious care of him?

Suddenly, Bruce comes to understand your morals. Why you do what you do, why you believe what you believe.

“May I ask you to take care of him while I’m out, Mr. Wayne?” You asked, voice thick, clearly grounding yourself to your humanity.

Bruce nods, for the first time. “Yes, now go do what you want to do.”

You smiled, immediately standing up and wearing your coat before rushing off the manor.

Cassandra shakes her head with a smile as Damian looked at his father with a smirk, “He might kill him, you know.”

Bruce just shrugged.

“Well,” Stephanie sighs, “Can’t stop (Y/n) from going on a rampage against the Joker. He deserves what’s coming for him anyway.”

Few hours later, Jason wakes up to the news of Arkham Asylum increasing its security due to an unknown attack against Joker that left him barely alive, and you casually reading a book with pleased and prideful look. It doesn’t take him long to figure things out and tackle you in a hug, leaving kisses all over your face.

Joker’s probably going to have nightmares about you, but he deserves what’s coming for him, doesn’t he?

2K notes · View notes

forestdeath1 · 9 months ago

Text

Canon Sirius through quotes

Part 3. Harshness and toughness (and how Sirius Black differs from James Potter). It's long. Really long.

Sirius isn't a soft crybaby. His harshness (and even cruelty) goes beyond the silly teenage pranks we usually see in fanfiction. Sirius is often either whitewashed by newer fans or overly demonized by anti-Marauders fans. Sirius has a tough exterior but a heart of gold. He's not childish and had to grow up early, though he can still be quite fun.

‘Do you know, I still have trouble believing it,’ said Madam Rosmerta thoughtfully. ‘Of all the people to go over to the Dark side, Sirius Black was the last I’d have thought ... .’

"Of all the people to go over to the Dark side, Sirius Black was the last I’d have thought" – this shouldn't be taken literally. Rosmerta saw many others regularly, Dumbledore, Lily, Remus, and many others, and out of all of them, Sirius Black was the last who could turn to the Dark side? Seriously? Did Sirius walk around with a halo and angel wings?

One trait that is always emphasized in his appearance is his haughty, bored look.

Rosmerta speaks metaphorically, not literally. She saw Sirius once a month or two when they went out to Hogsmeade to have fun and drink. In those moments, Sirius was lively, funny and noisy (especially lively after running away from home), and perhaps he even flirted with Rosmerta in a childish manner, melting the heart of the adult woman.

Sirius can be funny, although his humor is always edging towards dark:

"Imagine wasting your time and energy persecuting merpeople when there are little toerags like Kreacher on the loose.’

Ron laughed but Hermione looked upset.

‘Sirius!’ she said reproachfully. ‘Honestly, if you made a bit of an effort with Kreacher, I’m sure he’d respond. After all, you are the only member of his family he’s got left, and Professor Dumbledore said –’

‘So, what are Umbridge’s lessons like?’ Sirius interrupted. ‘Is she training you all to kill half-breeds?’

Moreover, he interrupts Hermione, not letting her finish her point. He sharply outlines if he doesn't want to listen.

"the stuffed elf-heads on the hall wall wore Father Christmas hats and beards"

Dark humor.

‘Kreacher is cleaning,’ the elf repeated. ‘Kreacher lives to serve the Noble House of Black –’

‘And it’s getting blacker every day, it’s filthy,’ said Sirius.

Here he responds with a clear "Black" shade. His mother also loved to talk about filth.

‘Sirius – it’s me ... it’s Peter ... your friend ... you wouldn’t ...’ Black kicked out and Pettigrew recoiled. ‘There’s enough filth on my robes without you touching them,’ said Black.

And again. And here’s his mother:

‘Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers –’

‘Stains of dishonour, filthy half-breeds, blood traitors, children of filth ...’

Sirius desperately wants to be unlike the Blacks, but he is still Sirius Black.

‘I thought it was the perfect plan ... a bluff ... Voldemort would be sure to come after me, would never dream they’d use a weak, talentless thing like you ... it must have been the finest moment of your miserable life, telling Voldemort you could hand him the Potters.’

Sirius's humor isn't the only harsh thing about him. Even though here he has a reason – after Azkaban he met James's traitor – his way of speaking reflects his overall personality. The way one speaks is a mirror of personality, even if Sirius has PTSD, it only exposes even more vividly what he might control in a calm state.

‘Nasty temper he’s got, that Sirius Black.’ (Peeves)

At the same time, yes, he can be cheerful and infect everyone around him with his cheerfulness. If he's in a sombre mood, he creates a quite oppressive atmosphere around him that everyone feels. Just as with a good mood – everyone feels it.

Harry could not remember Sirius ever being in such a good mood; he was actually singing carols, apparently delighted that he was to have company over Christmas.

Sirius tramping past their door towards Buckbeak’s room, singing ‘God Rest Ye, Merry Hippogriffs’ at the top of his voice.

Sirius’s delight at having the house full again, and especially at having Harry back, was infectious. He was no longer their sullen host of the summer; now he seemed determined that everyone should enjoy themselves as much, if not more than they would have done at Hogwarts, and he worked tirelessly in the run-up to Christmas Day, cleaning and decorating with their help.

But the ability to be cheerful is in no way connected to being very harshn at the same time. This is precisely the case with Sirius.

Of all the Marauders, only Sirius is really harsh and can be truly dangerous (the author wrote about him, “The best-looking, most rebellious, most dangerous of the four marauders”). James was also a bully, but he's not harsh, despite the fact that it was he who pulled down Snape's trousers. Why? I think Sirius was already aware of what they were doing. James – not. Without awareness, it's too early to speak of any harshness and cruelty. Sirius had this awareness and still continued to do it.

Let's consider the reactions of Sirius and James in comparison.

‘Who wants to be in Slytherin? I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?’

Sirius did not smile. ‘My whole family have been in Slytherin,’ he said.

‘Blimey,’ said James, ‘and I thought you seemed all right!’

Sirius grinned. ‘Maybe I’ll break the tradition. Where are you heading, if you’ve got the choice?’

A small note: Sirius didn't even react to James's "I'd leave", even though he knew his whole family was from Slytherin, and he was likely to go there too.

James lifted an invisible sword. ‘“Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!” Like my dad.’ Snape made a small, disparaging noise. James turned on him.

‘Got a problem with that?’ ‘No,’ said Snape, though his slight sneer said otherwise. ‘If you’d rather be brawny than brainy –’

It was Snape who starts the confrontation on a personal level. James in his insults in this memory refers to moral qualities. "Who wants to be in Slytherin?" Only bad people. He is prejudiced against Slytherin because Slytherin is evil. Voldemort is gaining momentum. The first Muggle-born Minister was recently ousted. Attacks are happening here and there. Dark forces are growing. More and more of the pure-blood society talks about "Mudbloods" not belonging in this world. And "amazingly", they all turn out to be from Slytherin. James sees himself as a noble knight "James lifted an invisible sword", and he is against Slytherin not so much personally as against the moral component of Slytherin.

‘Where’re you hoping to go, seeing as you’re neither?’ interjected Sirius.

James roared with laughter. Lily sat up, rather flushed, and looked from James to Sirius in dislike.

Sirius immediately strikes at Snape's personality. Sirius is sharp-tongued, self-assured, and likely accustomed to considering others below himself. He probably assessed James as his equal right away. Brave, cheerful, sincere.

'Come on, Severus, let's find another compartment.'

'Oooooo...'

James and Sirius imitated her lofty voice; James tried to trip Snape as he passed.

'See ya, Snivellus!' a voice called, as the compartment door slammed...

James tried to trip Snape. James most often uses physical/magical force. He trips Snape, he pulls down Snape's trousers, he uses most of the spells on Snape in SWM. But it's Sirius who goes after Snape's personality. It looks like James has concocted a "noble justification" for his behavior and attitude and punishes Snape for existing just as he is.

Sirius, on the other hand, hardly uses magical/physical force in memories; he finds painful points in Snape's personality – from character to appearance, intentionally demeaning his personal traits.

Moreover, it was Sirius who focused on Snape's appearance. No one, except him, places such an emphasis on Snape's unattractive appearance and his untidiness.

'Snape's always been fascinated by the Dark Arts, he was famous for it at school. Slimy, oily, greasy-haired kid, he was,'

Very vivid epithets. Sirius is very eloquent when it comes to demeaning someone he dislikes.

Moreover, it's James who's the attention seeker. It's James who plays with the snitch, drawing attention, glancing at the girls by the lake, and ruffling his hair to show everyone how cool, strong, brave, and awesome he is.

After five minutes of this, Harry wondered why James didn’t tell Wormtail to get a grip on himself, but James seemed to be enjoying the attention. Harry noticed that his father had a habit of rumpling up his hair as though to keep it from getting too tidy, and he also kept looking over at the girls by the water’s edge.

While Sirius, likely, isn't much interested in societal validation. Sirius is more reserved, with firmer boundaries, he's not as interested in public adoration as James might be.

Lupin had pulled out a book and was reading. Sirius stared around at the students milling over the grass, looking rather haughty and bored, but very handsomely so.

This is a typical expression for Sirius – bored and haughty. He spent nearly five full years in Gryffindor alongside James, and the bored and haughty expression is still with him. It's not just a random trait in his character – it's one of the pillars of his personality, reflecting his attitude towards random people around him.

‘Put that away, will you,’ said Sirius finally, as James made a fine catch and Wormtail let out a cheer, ‘before Wormtail wets himself with excitement.’

As I've said, Sirius cuts with his words without a knife. They've been studying together for five years, been friends with Peter, and he jokes about Peter like this. I think they all joked about each other in the same way, just James's "jokes" are blunt and probably he just says whatever comes to mind, whereas Sirius's are more subtle and hurtful.

Moreover, when people say this is the only episode we know of bullying by James and Sirius and that it's the worst in their history, that's not correct. This episode is the worst in Snape's life. And not because they pulled down his trousers. But because he lost Lily forever that day. This episode, likely, was quite typical for the Marauders. They were in a good mood, had finished exams, Snape just happened to pass by, there were no obvious reasons for this bullying. Harry sifted through their detention records, and there were many, very many, and how many more when they weren't caught?

Sirius got bored, and there they decided to "have some fun."

‘I’m bored,’ said Sirius. ‘Wish it was full moon.’

‘You might,’ said Lupin darkly from behind his book. ‘We’ve still got Transfiguration, if you’re bored you could test me. Here ...’ and he held out his book.

But Sirius snorted. ‘I don’t need to look at that rubbish, I know it all.’

I won't discuss The Prank here, many have written about it. In general, Sirius doesn't show empathy in everyday interactions even with Remus. Sirius has a heart of gold, but his shell, especially as a teenager – tough, harsh, sharp, and cutting. The grown-up Sirius interacts with close people much more politely, though he still occasionally shows his harshness (for example, with Hermione).

‘This’ll liven you up, Padfoot,’ said James quietly. ‘Look who it is ...’

Sirius’s head turned. He became very still, like a dog that has scented a rabbit.

‘Excellent,’ he said softly. ‘Snivellus.’

I don't want to justify Sirius and James, but for context – Snape is fascinated by the Dark Arts, hangs out with future Death Eaters (= fascist), and they have mutual dislike from the first year. No, the act is immature, but James justifies it in his head exactly like this – Snape is bad for him, so anything goes, and anyway, "so what?" Sirius doesn't need justifications. He's just bored.

Even when James uses all the spells on Snape, he still glances at the lake:

Snape lay panting on the ground. James and Sirius advanced on him, wands raised, James glancing over his shoulder at the girls at the water’s edge as he went. Wormtail was on his feet now, watching hungrily, edging around Lupin to get a clearer view.

Why look at the girls by the lake when you're humiliating someone, if you know you're doing something really bad? James genuinely sees himself as a noble knight, deserving of admiration. Moreover, many do admire him (''Students all around had turned to watch. Some of them had got to their feet and were edging nearer. Some looked apprehensive, others entertained. Several people watching laughed''), and Lupin mentioned several times that James was popular at school.

‘How’d the exam go, Snivelly?’ said James.

‘I was watching him, his nose was touching the parchment,’ said Sirius viciously. ‘There’ll be great grease marks all over it, they won’t be able to read a word.’

Again, Sirius harshly targets Snape's personal traits, including his appearance.

‘You – wait,’ he panted, staring up at James with an expression of purest loathing, ‘you – wait!’

‘Wait for what?’ said Sirius coolly. ‘What’re you going to do, Snivelly, wipe your nose on us?’

And again – Sirius strikes with words.

Snape let out a stream of mixed swear words and hexes, but with his wand ten feet away nothing happened.

‘Wash out your mouth,’ said James coldly. ‘Scourgify!’

And James responds with a spell to what? Snape's insults. He says ‘Wash out your mouth.’ He appeals to the moral side of the issue.

‘I don’t need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!’

‘Apologise to Evans!’ James roared at Snape, his wand pointed threateningly at him. ‘I don’t want you to make him apologise,’ Lily shouted, rounding on James. ‘You’re as bad as he is.’ ‘What?’ yelped James. ‘I’d NEVER call you a – you-know-what!’

This also proves that James is sure he's doing everything right. James is like a volunteer in the allies' army against the fascists, a brave Gryffindor, and his sword is to cast spells on anyone he deems not fitting his moral standards.

‘Messing up your hair because you think it looks cool to look like you’ve just got off your broomstick, showing off with that stupid Snitch, walking down corridors and hexing anyone who annoys you just because you can – I’m surprised your broomstick can get off the ground with that fat head on it. You make me SICK.’

And from the outside, it looked like this.

‘What is it with her?’ said James, trying and failing to look as though this was a throwaway question of no real importance to him.

‘Reading between the lines, I’d say she thinks you’re a bit conceited, mate,’ said Sirius.

And Sirius understands it all too well. Who he is, who James is, and what Lily thinks about it all. Sirius knows about James's crush on Lily and finds it even funny that she rejects him. Likely because Sirius understands that they often cross the line. I don’t think Sirius could have stopped Potter. I don't even think Sirius wanted to stop Potter. He found it all funny. Azkaban, on the other hand, softened Sirius in his interactions with others. It knocked down his pride and arrogance. Showed him that life can be unfair and you don't need to act like a haughty jerk who thinks the world revolves around them.

At school, Sirius was more about psychological bullying, while James was about the physical. Given that James and Sirius were very popular at school and within their house, their bullying was likely directed mostly at Slytherins or at arrogant jerks like themselves who they just "didn't like."

And the adult Sirius understands that they were “arrogant little berks.” And he’s “not proud of it,” but his next words speak for themselves:

“ I think James was everything Snape wanted to be – he was popular, he was good at Quidditch – good at pretty much everything. And Snape was just this little oddball who was up to his eyes in the Dark Arts, and James – whatever else he may have appeared to you, Harry – always hated the Dark Arts.”

Sirius justifies James while simultaneously praising him. Justifications always imply a partial denial of guilt. Someone fully aware of their guilt doesn’t seek to justify or be justified. Of course, Sirius said this for Harry's sake too. To ensure Harry didn’t think his father was just a bully for no reason. His father was actually “on the side of good,” is what Sirius wants to convey. About himself, he remains silent. But he doesn't miss the chance to insult Snape again “little oddball.”

Even Remus, as an adult, sincerely justifies James.

‘She started going out with him in seventh year,’ said Lupin.

‘Once James had deflated his head a bit,’ said Sirius. ‘And stopped hexing people just for the fun of it,’ said Lupin.

‘Even Snape?’ said Harry. ‘Well,’ said Lupin slowly, ‘Snape was a special case. I mean, he never lost an opportunity to curse James so you couldn’t really expect James to take that lying down, could you?’

‘And my mum was OK with that?’

‘She didn’t know too much about it, to tell you the truth,’ said Sirius. ‘I mean, James didn’t take Snape on dates with her and jinx him in front of her, did he?’

Lupin finds a genuine justification for James. The concept of “violence in any form is bad” isn’t fully grasped by them. They follow an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Lupin even was ready to kill Peter, and he insisted that war is not a playground and that killing is sometimes necessary in war. Remus, though gentler and kinder, and preferring not to engage in conflict, genuinely wished Sirius and James hadn't bullied anyone at school, but yet, he still reconciles with all they do and even justifies James.

In Sirius's mind, James may have acted like a fool, but Sirius doesn’t genuinely condemn it. He just thinks they were too arrogant. And Sirius’s behavior after Azkaban (how he became gentler with others) indicates he truly realized – you don't need to belittle everyone you dislike or even like. Yet, Sirius’s harshness, even after Azkaban, didn’t disappear; it was just redirected towards what he genuinely hates.

‘Professor Snape was at school with us. He fought very hard against my appointment to the Defence Against the Dark Arts job. He has been telling Dumbledore all year that I am not to be trusted. He has his reasons ... you see, Sirius here played a trick on him which nearly killed him, a trick which involved me –’

Black made a derisive noise.

‘It served him right,’ he sneered. ‘Sneaking around, trying to find out what we were up to ... hoping he could get us expelled ...’

Remus's reactions are much softer, but Sirius’s reaction, even years later, is harsh and even a bit cruel. ‘It served him right.’ Because it's an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.

However, Sirius’s harshness still occasionally breaks through even towards his close ones when he slightly loses control over himself after Azkaban.

‘You’re less like your father than I thought,’ he said finally, a definite coolness in his voice. ‘The risk would’ve been what made it fun for James.’

‘Well, I’d better get going, I can hear Kreacher coming down the stairs,’ said Sirius, but Harry was sure he was lying. ‘I’ll write to tell you a time I can make it back into the fire, then, shall I? If you can stand to risk it?’

Sirius calls themselves “arrogant little berks,” but the peculiarity of Sirius’s arrogance is that it's due to his personal qualities, not external “glamour”.

‘I, a spy for Voldemort? When did I ever sneak around people who were stronger and more powerful than myself? But you, Peter – I’ll never understand why I didn’t see you were the spy from the start. You always liked big friends who’d look after you, didn’t you?’

He despises Peter for groveling, for weakness, for the same reasons he despises Regulus, considering him a soft idiot. Sirius’s arrogance was never built on finances or blood purity, on popularity, on playing Quidditch, not on his name, although the family dynamics undoubtedly influenced his pride. But overall, his arrogance is of a different level – that of a rebellious spirit, a very strong person, not like the Malfoys. Lucius Malfoy is intentionally depicted as the complete opposite of Sirius Black (in character – the most rebellious of their pure-blood circle and the most sycophantic, and in appearance – black and white).

Sirius and Kreacher's story demonstrates that Sirius does not forgive those he hated and can carry hatred through the years. People usually soften over time, but Sirius has an excuse – Azkaban. Nonetheless, the behavioral pattern remains unchanged. Azkaban does not change the essence of people, it makes certain traits more vivid and pronounced. Sirius became calmer towards the people around him who help fight against evil, he toned down his arrogance and pride (even towards Snape, he no longer hurls insults first, it’s Snape who insults Sirius first), but Sirius became even harsher towards those he hates.

‘Sirius was horrible to Kreacher, Harry, and it’s no good looking like that, you know it’s true. I’ve said all along that wizards would pay for how they treat house-elves. Well, Voldemort did ... and so did Sirius.’

Harry had no retort. As he watched Kreacher sobbing on the floor, he remembered what Dumbledore had said to him, mere hours after Sirius’s death: I do not think Sirius ever saw Kreacher as a being with feelings as acute as a human’s ...

And he himself demonstrates this repeatedly:

At which Sirius, ignoring Hermione’s protests, seized Kreacher by the back of his loincloth and threw him bodily from the room.

Dumbledore believes Sirius showed cruelty to Kreacher through his indifference and neglect. That is, Sirius could shut off his empathy towards a being, despite generally being friendly towards house-elves.

‘He (Sirius) regarded him (Kreacher) as a servant unworthy of much interest or notice. Indifference and neglect often do much more damage than outright dislike… Sirius was not a cruel man, he was kind to house-elves in general. He had no love for Kreacher, because Kreacher was a living reminder of the home Sirius had hated.’

Sirius was not evil. But the neglect emanating from him was very cruel, harsh, and cold. Sirius can shut away all the good within him towards anyone he despised – “And whatever Kreacher’s faults, it must be admitted that Sirius did nothing to make Kreacher’s lot easier –”

‘– comes back from Azkaban ordering Kreacher around, oh, my poor mistress, what would she say if she saw the house now, scum living in it, her treasures thrown out, she swore he was no son of hers and he’s back, they say he’s a murderer too –’

‘Keep muttering and I will be a murderer!’ said Sirius irritably as he slammed the door shut on the elf.

However, Sirius likely never killed anyone, even while serving in the "Order."

Regarding his family and even Regulus, Sirius is also harsh. Even if he, like any child, deep down loved his family, it doesn’t matter because his real words and actions are very harsh and aimed at severing ties. The possible love for them deep down only further highlights his harshness and readiness for confrontation.

“I hated the whole lot of them: my parents, with their pure-blood mania, convinced that to be a Black made you practically royal ... my idiot brother, soft enough to believe them”

Likely, he’s ashamed of them, and his hatred also builds a wall between them and himself.

‘Does it matter if she’s my cousin?’ snapped Sirius. ‘As far as I’m concerned, they’re not my family. She’s certainly not my family. I haven’t seen her since I was your age, unless you count a glimpse of her coming into Azkaban. D’you think I’m proud of having a relative like her?’

And at the same time Dumbledore about James:

‘I knew your father very well, both at Hogwarts and later, Harry,’ he said gently. ‘He would have saved Pettigrew too, I am sure of it.’

I don’t know how true this is (though likely, the author speaks through Dumbledore here), but considering that Harry himself is a character whose main traits include the ability to understand and forgive others, perhaps James had this to some extent too. But Sirius lacks the ability to forgive, and this is deliberately shown in the book – that he suffered precisely because of his excessive harshness.

In conclusion, Sirius's harshness and toughness is not just teenage arrogance; it's directly a trait of his personality, something that cannot be overlooked when talking about the canonical Sirius, not his sugar-coated substitute in fandom. Sirius had to grow up very early, and all this left its mark on him.

Of all the Marauders, only Sirius is really harsh and can be truly dangerous.

But Sirius was not cruel in a moral-ethical sense, or more precisely – ideologically. There's no reason to believe Sirius is constantly drawn to the dark side or that he's amoral. His constant fight against his family suggests instead that he formed high ideals within himself. No, Sirius is not amoral; he has difficulty with empathy (especially in childhood), a tendency towards aggression and cruelty (mostly in childhood, he controls himself quite well as an adult. Well, for Sirius Black quite well), arrogance, but he very well understands what is right and what is wrong.

‘She’s got the measure of Crouch better than you have, Ron. If you want to know what a man’s like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals.’

#sirius black #james potter #the marauders #the marauders meta #sirius black meta #hp meta

364 notes · View notes