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scariusaquarius · 3 months ago

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devotion.

Sosuke Aizen x Fem! Reader

Synopsis: You and Orihime are abducted and taken to Hueco Mundo. While Orihime's purpose is clear, your purpose seems to be more...personal

A/n: a bleach fic??? of course! I just got done rewatching Bleach and FINALLY got to Thousand Year Blood War (i'm on episode 4, NO SPOILERS PLEASEEE) and EVERYONE is serving cunt and dick. Here's an aizen (with grimmjow sprinkles) fic

Genre: Horror, Angst, Friendship, Romance Rated: explicit Warning: Humiliation, Dubcon/Noncon, Oral Sex (male giving/receiving, female giving/receiving), Forced Exhibitionism, Forced Voyeurism

Author: ScariusAquarius

His eyes were squinted as he stared, his gaze calculating and scrutinizing as you stood before him. His body language was lazy and candid as he rested his chin on his hand; uncaring of you and your being as you attempted to still your shaking. Like a cat, his brown eyes were zeroed in on you; watching your every move from the slightest tremble to the subtle way your throat was clenching as you held your breath.

"You must be so afraid...knowing who it is that is right in front of you."

Truthfully, you didn't know his name. You weren't kept in the loop of what was going on with your friends nor why Orihime had disappeared suddenly, but from the way everyone would quiet down when you would come around; especially Ichigo...you were certain it was all because of this man.

This terrifying man who had your body feeling so heavy, you almost couldn't bear to keep standing. This man who had your heart wanting to burst within your chest and the pressure in your head to crush your brain.

You wanted to reply; to tell him that you didn't know him nor why you were here, but you couldn't even speak. Not with the blue-haired man with the weird mask and a hole in his abdomen holding onto your shoulder so tightly that it felt like he was crushing you.

"Hey, he's talking to you."

The blue-haired man was ruthless. When he had appeared in front of you before your kidnapping, you had almost thought that he had always been there and you just didn't notice. You had continued walking until suddenly, there was this heavy pressure that was familiar yet brutal, unlike the way your friends' auras felt.

Your whole body had stopped moving; knees crumbling in the middle of the sidewalk and chest feeling as though it was caving in. Then, there was a hand tangling itself around your throat, and you were being lifted, blue eyes cruelly amused at the way you choked and struggled to breathe.

"You don't even have enough spiritual pressure to be important," he had said. "you're not even worth keeping alive, but whatever." and suddenly, you were here in this dark and desolated place; cold and barren of any light. At least, that's what you thought had happened.

Everything had been a blur after the blue-haired man had simply flicked your forehead and knocked you unconscious.

You knew these people around you were dangerous and, to be frank, not normal. You weren't sure what was going on or what these people wanted from you, and you couldn't help but to be speechless from the fear running through you.

The blue-haired man gripped your shoulder tighter, and you couldn't help but to yelp in pain from his grip as it suddenly heated up. Red light was glowing from beneath his hand, scorching your skin and burning your flesh as he yelled.

"Hey, what are you, deaf? Didn't you fucking hear me?"

"Easy, Grimmjow."

The light dissipated instantly, but his crushing grip never wavered. Tears spilled past your eyes and down your chilled cheeks, unable to look away from the ground as the brown-haired man who was sitting so uncaringly spoke; his voice calm and...almost soothing.

"We don't want to scare her now, do we?"

Grimmjow, as you had learned, just clicked his tongue and turned his gaze away from the man, saying nothing. The frightening man spoke again.

"It's not nice to not look at someone when they are speaking to you."

His tone was...almost soft; but you knew when a wolf was in sheeps clothing. You knew that whoever this man was...he could kill you or let Grimmjow kill you if he wanted to. Quite honestly, he probably was planning to do so...would being obedient prolong your life enough for someone, anybody, to save you?

You shakily glanced up at him, his cupid lips curled up into a small smirk as he spoke.

"Aw, you've made her cry, Grimmjow."

"Tch, weak bitch."

The man uttered beneath his breath, his grip on your shoulder tightening more, and you couldn't help it when more tears fell down your cheeks. The man chuckled for a moment before he acknowledgd.

"I'm sure you have so many questions...why are you here...who are you...what does this man want from me...where am I....am I right?"

To avoid having your shoulder burned again, you replied shakily, too afraid to speak above a whisper.

"Y-Yes..."

The man chuckled and placed his hand down against the arm rest of the chair. There was a moment, however, when a slight breeze kissed your face and you couldn't help but to blink. Within that second, the man was in front of you, your chin in his grip and making you look up at him.

What just happened? How did he do that? I...I didn't even look away from him...all I did was blink...what's going on...who is this man?

"You have a right to be afraid...in fact, there's nothing to be ashamed of. Even though you barely have any spiritual pressure, you can still stand up on your own two feet. That's no easy task when in the presence of so many powerful beings."

You couldn't look away from him no matter how much you wished to. You were frozen in shock and from the sheer amount of weight that was on your shoulders, inlcuding Grimmjow's grip.

"I do wonder what it is about you that had your friends trying very hard to protect you. Are you special like Orihime Inoue? Do you have extraordinary abilities as well? Or is it that Ichigo Kurosaki cares about you more than anything else?"

Your heart was racing, pounding within your chest, and you whispered to him shakily as he seemed to look you over; his gaze making you feel almost violated as the man gazed at and through you.

"I...I don't know...what you mean."

His eyes narrowed just the slightest, and it was quiet for a moment before he chuckled.

"How cruel of Ichigo to not warn you nor tell you about anything. I wonder if he truly does care about you...I mean, don't you think it's unfair that he kept you in the dark about what he is and what he does?"

Suddenly, the man let your chin go to cup your cheek, his hand warm and almost inviting as his voice deepened just the slightest.

"Don't you think it's wrong that Ichigo disregarded your feelings and kept you away? He might as well had given you to me himself.."

"I...I don't understand...who...who are you?"

The man hummed, tilting his head just the slightest as a chuckle rumbled from deep within his belly as he played with a piece of your hair.

"My, where are my manners? I can't help but to lose my tact when in the presence of women. My apologies...my name is Sosuke Aizen."

There was something familiar about the name; something that was itching at the edges of your consciousness, and while you couldn't comprehend what it was, this man...Aizen...seemed to know.

"Hm. How interesting...tell me, do you think Ichigo Kurosaki would be devastated by your death?"

Blood running cold, you couldn't formulate a thought as Aizen ghosted his fingertips down the side of your neck and to your sternum, dancing his fingertips against the chilled skin.

"Do you think he would be so overcome with despair that he would become reckless...desperate...to try and kill me?"

He was digging his fingers into your skin; almost as if he was trying to bury his hand within your chest, and you replied shakily.

"I...Ichigo cares about....all of his friends. I...I wouldn't be any different to Orihime...or Chad...Uryuu...or Rukia."

Aizen's eyes were empty, you observed as you looked at him. Not empty in terms of stupidity or boredom for your words...they were empty of light and compassion...or anything that could be considered good. Evil and danger oozed off of this man just like the crushing spiritual pressure he continued to let off so that you, a measly human with a weak amount of spiritual pressure, knew your place.

He could absolutely kill you with no second-thought, and that was what scared you.

"So, you're saying that...you're useless to me?"

There was intention and purpose now within his fingers, his eyes becoming uncaring as he leaned back just the slightest, and you panicked.

"No! No, I...I'm not! Please...please don't hurt me...or...or kill me...I...I can...I can be of use, I swear!"

Aizen's lips smirked slightly as someone within the room laughed.

"Listen to that whining and begging! I say we just kill her and leave her out front for Kurosaki to find!"

Grimmjow hummed, saying as he leaned forward, making you glance at him from the corner of your eye as you began to spiral.

"Nah, I say we rip her into pieces and leave a trail. That'll get Kurosaki pissed!"

His hand was heating up again, and you were about to scream from the terror until a voice cut through, making everyone quiet.

"That's not necessary. While they are trash, keeping Orihime Inoue and (Y/n) (L/n) alive is beneficial to Lord Aizen's cause. Until Lord Aizen gives the order, we are not to touch them."

The largest man in the room who had his chin in his hand scoffed.

"You're no fun, Ulquiorra. When are you gonna ever stop having such a stick up your ass?"

The man with the green eyes and tears did not respond, and Aizen hummed gently.

"How does it make you feel...hearing the different ways you could be killed? It's okay, you can be honest."

You were trembling again, and you couldn't help but to sniffle and whisper.

"I...I'm scared."

Aizen chuckled before his hand came up to your neck, gently grasping though you knew it was to give you a false sense of security.

"Such a poor, pathetic girl...I think I know what I want to do with you. I can take it from here, Grimmjow. Thank you."

Grimmjow was hesitant to unhand your shoulder, but shoved himself off and walked somewhere to sit; his steps echoing all around the room and deep into your mind; each step making you flinch. Aizen began to walk around you, and he murmured.

"Make no mistake: I know you are the most important person in Ichigo's life at this moment. I know that he is coming to save you and Orihime Inoue...and that is going to be his downfall."

You were holding your breath, unable to speak as Aizen continued.

"He will come here, and he will be annihilated...along with the rest of your friends. It's quite unfortunate that he didn't tell you about your impending doom...but to be honest, it makes it more fun for me."

He seemed to be observing you, looking at you from head-to-toe and dissecting you as if you were a specimen; picking you apart from the very last sinew.

A monster on the prowl.

Oh, god, what was he going to do to you?

You jolted at the feeling of his fingers brushing against your hair, tucking behind your ear and subtly caressing the skin with his fingertips; sending shivers down your spine.

"Does he know?"

His question caught you off guard, and you couldn't help but to look over at him in confusion; unknowing of what the man was implying.

"What...what do you mean?"

Aizen chuckled before leaning in slightly; just enough that your noses were almost touching.

"Does he know that you love him?"

Heat ran up your neck from the embarrassment, and you couldn't help but to exclaim.

"What? I don't have feelings for Ichigo! Sure, he's my friend...but I...I don't like him like that!"

Aizen chuckled and your shoulders caved in again, attempting to make yourself smaller.

"Oh? You seem so embarrassed."

He was taking the detail to heart, mulling over it, and you weren't sure if you were supposed to speak or to stay quiet. Aizen walked behind you, and you froze when both of his hands came to rest upon your shoulders.

"Quite frankly, it doesn't matter. You won't be leaving this room alive unless I say so...and I haven't been given a good reason to keep you alive...except for one."

There was a slight bit of hope that ran through you; a glimmer of safety that was squashed instantly by the way his hands gripped your shirt and tore it open.

You gasped and yelped, reaching your arms across your chest, and you could feel everyone's anticipatory gaze upon you. Fear and humiliation ran through you, and you were horrified when Aizen sighed.

"Grimmjow, would you like to assist me?"

Grimmjow's eyes opened wide, a huge sneer upon his cruel lips as he walked towards you.

"Oh, absolutely."

Your body began to tremble; frozen with shock the closer the man got until he was standing before you, and his hands shot out and wrenched your arms from your chest, making you screech. You tried to back away from Grimmjow, but instead, you were blocked by Aizen's own chest; his chuckle reverbing into your ear.

"How would Kurosaki react if he knew that the one he loved the most was made impure, hm? I think he'd be devasted....angry, even. I think he might even become reckless."

"Doesn't fucking matter. We'll still crush that bastard either way!"

Grimmjow responded, and you began to struggle slightly as Aizen began to peel away the remnants of your shirt, threads and buttons coming undone until you were shirtless and only in your bra. You were breathing heavily, almost hyperventilating and becoming lightheaded. However, there was another part of you that was afraid to even pass out.

You froze when you felt a blade against your back, Aizen resting his chin against your

shoulder as his voice whispered into your ear dangerously.

"I could run my blade right through you...and kill you without any second thought...but that would be such a waste, wouldn't it?"

You could feel the panic clenching your throat, your voice unable to come out as the tip of his blade glided up your back before slocing your bra into pieces. You began to struggle then, feeling humiliated and terrified as you tried to pull yourself from Grimmjow's grasp. Tears began to fall down your face as Aizen said, his tone of voice demanding and nothing short of an order.

"Beg for your life...give my Espada a reason why I should spare you...why you deserve to live. What can you offer to me that will be of value?"

Your voice refused to come out; throat clenched shut, and Aizen clicked his tongue.

"Perhaps, you need more encouragement. Grimmjow, restrain her from behind, would you?"

Grimmjow looked annoyed that he couldn't ogle at your naked chest and huffed, yanking your arms behind you and forcing you to push your chest out slightly as he held you with no remorse.

"Go on. Beg."

Despite his gaze becoming cruel and taunting you, his voice continued to sound suave and uncaring. Almost as if your suffering was a game to him.

You could feel all of their scrutinizing and hungry gazes on you; all the ones that cared, anyway. You weren't sure if these people, these...things...wanted to be a part of Aizen's game or straight-up eat you.

Both thoughts scared you.

"P-please...please stop...this is wrong!"

Grimmjow scoffed before switching from holding both of your arms with each hand to clamping down on both of your wrists with one hand so he could reach and brutally manhandle your breast. You screamed, Grimmjow's touch unforgiving as he sneered.

"You call that begging? What a pathetic fucking bitch. I've heard weaker beings beg better than that! Don't hold out on us!"

He was squeezing hard, painful and making you squirm and fight within his grasp. Grimmjow was already irritated, but he paused when Aizen held up a hand.

"Now, now, Grimmjow. Let's not resort to violence so soon. She's never been touched like this before...poor girl has no idea how to beg properly. So, why don't we show her how...in good faith that if she tries her best, maybe I'll let her see Kurosaki one last time."

Lies. You knew it was lies. This man had no ounce of compassion in him. Evil oozed from every part of his being, and there was no guarantee that you were going to get out of this alive.

He was toying with your life as if it was a game.

You froze when Aizen placed his hand upon your cheek gently, leaning down slightly until his nose was brushing against yours.

"If you bite...if you try to fight back in any way...I will string you up in front of Las Noches in pieces...after I have torn apart your friends. Now, on your knees."

You wondered if it would be the best route. You wondered briefly if death would be better than this...than whatever Aizen, and possibly Grimmjow, were going to do to you. An image of Ichigo popped into your mind, and you clenched your jaw slightly as you tried to keep from sobbing.

I have to stay strong for Ichigo and believe that he will save me!

"On your knees!"

Grimmjow kicked the back of your knees, making you yell out from pain and surprise as you fell; smacking into the ground hard in front of Aizen. Aizen moved back to sit upon his throne, and he beckoned you with a finger.

"Come here. Undo them."

You didn't have to be a genius to understand what Aizen was referring to.

But how were you supposed to undo his pants without the use of your hands?

How fucking humiliating and perverse.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you bit your lip and leaned down. Maybe, if you imagined that it was Ichigo, it would make things easier. Maybe, if you imagined it was Ichigo's hakamas that you were undoing with your teeth, you wouldn't be so scared.

It's not Grimmjow behind you, but perhaps Renji...keeping a firm grip and pressing his hard cock against your asscheeks as you got Ichigo's cock free.

Aizen's voice broke the daydream once his hard cock was sprung free from his hakamas, and you felt your stomach drop when Aizen teased his fingers beneath your chin.

"Now...beg."

Suddenly, there were fingers digging into your scalp, making you gasp in pain, Grimmjow's overwhelming and terrifying presence pushing against you as he hissed in macabre delight.

"What are you waiting for, little girl? If you don't get to suckin, maybe I'll have to really ruin you for Kurosaki."

Aizen's grip became harsh, digging in enough to the point that you couldn't close your mouth on your own, and Grimmjow pushed your head down, forcing you to swallow Aizen down.

You had never done anything like this to anybody. Hell, while you had a general idea of what a penis looked like thanks to your perverted friend, Chizuru Honsho, you had never actually seen one. You were a virgin through-and-through. Hadn't even had your first kiss yet, and here you were...being forced to suck the cock of the most evilest man in the whole world.

He was salty, bitter, and the size and way you were being forced all the way down until he was stretching your throat and making you gag had tears running down your face. Aizen made no expression nor gave any indication of what he was feeling. In fact, he looked completely nonchalant when you glanced up at him in a moment of panic, and he sighed for a second when you began to gag vigorously.

"Grimmjow, if you hold her down any longer, you're going to make her vomit. I really don't want that."

There was an underlying threat within his voice that had Grimmjow freeze in place before pulling you back up wordlessly. You coughed, saliva running down your chin, and Aizen hummed.

"I can take it from here. Why don't you get her prepared for me? I think it'd be a nice reward for you."

Grimmjow laughed, and you weren't sure if you liked what Aizen was implying. Suddenly, you felt Grimmjow grab a tight hold of your skirt and yank as hard as he could, tearing your skirt straight off. You screamed out, and Grimmjow exclaimed, smacking you in the back of your head as he tightened his grip on your wrists.

"Oi, quit your whining, woman! I think you'll like this next part."

Your attention was commanded back to Aizen, his fingers sliding against the back of your head and guiding you back.

"Now, now. Don't take your focus off of me...it might mean your death. When I said to beg, I wasn't asking."

With no hesitation, he shoved you back down, forcing his cock down your throat again, and you whimpered slightly, gagging and feeling your abdomen tighten as you did so. You pulled back up, and Aizen pushed you back down.

"Just like that, but with suction. Poor girl, you've truly never been touched. A pure and innocent soul...destroyed and conquered like the rest."

There were fingers touching your legs and hips, running all along the globe of your ass before smacking harshly. Your jaw clenched slightly, teeth grazing Aizen's shaft, and the man hummed in distaste.

"Have some self-control. I would rather not kill you while my cock is in your mouth."

You were beginning to shake, almost too weak to hold yourself up, and you almost kicked your foot back when you felt Grimmjow's nose dig into your panties, sniffing deeply.

"Gods, you ain't ever had no man here before, huh. I can smell how sweet your fucking cunt is."

Aizen chuckled then, saying with an air of haughtiness.

"And that belongs to me now, Grimmjow. Don't get too ahead of yourself. I just want you to get her ready for me."

Grimmjow made a noise of displeasure before hissing quietly to himself.

"Whatever."

Your panties were torn apart, and when you went to scream, Aizen shoved your head all the way down until your nose was pressed against his skin, gagging and panicking from how deep in your throat his cock was.

"None of that. It's quite distracting."

Suddenly, there was something wet and warm against your skin, tingles and terror running down your spine as Grimmjow's big hands anchored on either side of your hips and forced you down onto his face. He was lapping at you and groaning, tonguing at your clit and making your body try to squirm.

The sensations he was forcing upon you were strange, foreign, and slightly tickled. You weren't exactly sure how to describe it other than spine-tingling. He was lapping at you desperately, suckling and groaning noisily, and you squeezed your eyes shut tightly.

It was a torturous rhythm. Up and down, in and out; breathing and not breathing. You were a cauldron of emotions and sensations that were overwhelming you to the point that you were beginning to feel light-headed and nauseous. Your eyes fluttered slightly, and it seemed that Aizen knew what was happening.

He was ever-present and ever-observant; taking in every little detail down to the way you blinked. Pulling your head up off of him, he hummed.

"Grimmjow, that's enough."

Grimmjow was hesitant at first, his licking and suckling becoming slower for a moment, and Aizen sighed.

"Don't make me repeat myself."

Grimmjow was slow to get out from beneath you, wiping his mouth, and he snarled out to Aizen; seeming to be running on pure instinct as he glared at Aizen with dilated eyes.

"Selfish prick..."

Aizen just hummed before he pulled you off of his cock, his brown eyes gleaming with nefarious and fiendish ideas.

"Let's get you prepared for your reunion with Kurosaki."

part two soon

IF YOU ENJOYED THIS WORK, PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT AND REBLOG. SUPPORT YOUR CONTENT CREATORS <3

#cliffhanger dundundun #i do plan to write a part two to this; but my brain was starting to fry and i wanted this out asap #aizen sosuke #sosuke aizen #aizen #sosuke #aizen x reader #sosuke x reader #sosuke aizen x reader #aizen sosuke x reader #grimmjow #grimmjow jaegerjaquez #grimmjow x reader #grimmjow jaegerjaquez x reader #grimmjow jaggerjack #grimmjow jaggerjack x reader #bleach #bleach x reader #bleach fanfiction

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fangdokja · 6 days ago

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Some truths are better left buried.

❤︎ Synopsis. A charming façade hides a mind unraveling, as jealousy sinks its claws into a man obsessed with the untouchable "Ice Queen," her mysterious past igniting a sinister need to claim what was never his to own.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured: A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Ex-Boyfriend x Fem. Reader

♡ Novella. Friction & Fire - Part 2

♡ Word Count. 8,000

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, general non-con + manipulation, possessiveness, psychological manipulation and conditioning, suggestive themes, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and/or touching, forced relationship, BDSM, manipulation of circumstances

♡ A/N. Not me only realizing recently that this was a FINISHED work that I never posted. My drafts in Tumblr are a mess I tell you. It's like the various requests, fandoms, and works in general are mixing wahaha. YOU KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE???? It's like I'm universe hopping in the multiverse, going to different fandoms and worlds to bring the content you all want. And, just like someone with multiple jobs and side hustles; if it's not recorded or arranged right, it gets lost to the void I tell you. wahhhhh

The office was silent except for the rhythmic tapping of your keyboard and the faint hum of the air conditioning. The morning sun bled through the blinds in fractured slivers, painting your desk in a dull, sterile glow. You sat across from him, your shoulders squared, your focus unyielding as you combed through line after line of data.

And yet, despite the quiet, he could feel the tension lingering between you like a living thing.

It was still on his mind.

He wasn’t the type to fixate—hell, he prided himself on letting things roll off his back—but this? The thought of your first kiss, of the strange, detached way you spoke about it last night, had lodged itself in his brain like a splinter.

He leaned back in his chair, one leg lazily draped over the other as he watched you with sharp, predatory focus. On the surface, he looked relaxed, his usual cocky nonchalance on full display. But beneath it, his mind was a storm.

“You know,” he began, his voice cutting through the stillness like a knife, “last night got me thinking.”

You didn’t respond, didn’t even look up. Your fingers danced across the keys, swift and precise, as though you hadn’t heard him at all.

He smiled, leaning forward just enough to rest his elbows on the table. “For someone who’s so good at everything, you sure don’t like talking about yourself, do you?”

Still, you gave him nothing. Not a word. Not a glance.

He didn’t let it deter him. If anything, your silence only spurred him on.

“So, first kiss,” he said, his tone as light as a feather, casual enough to sound innocent. “When was it? And don’t give me that ‘transaction’ excuse. I want details.”

Your fingers paused for half a second—so brief it was barely noticeable—but it was enough to make his grin widen.

“I’m working,” you said flatly, your voice like steel.

“And I’m curious,” he shot back smoothly, his grin taking on a sharper edge. “Come on, indulge me a little. Was it some rich heir your parents set you up with? Or…” He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Was it someone you actually liked?”

You exhaled slowly, your gaze still fixed on your screen. “Drop it.”

“Oh, I would,” he said, his voice dropping into a softer, more insidious tone. “But it’s kind of hard to stop wondering when you’re so damn mysterious about everything. I mean, it’s not like I’m asking for state secrets here. Just a name. Or a story. Something.”

Your fingers hit the keys a little harder now, your movements growing sharper, but you still refused to look at him.

He leaned back again, tapping his pen idly against the table, his expression deceptively calm. “Okay, fine. Let’s broaden the topic. Ever had any other boyfriends? Or am I the only one lucky enough to deal with your charming personality?”

The sarcasm in his tone was sharp, but it wasn’t enough to mask the strange, simmering edge beneath it.

“Work,” you said simply, not bothering to look at him.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about!” He leaned forward again, his voice growing louder, though his grin remained firmly in place. “You’re like a damn iron wall. It’s impressive, really. But also kind of annoying.”

You finally paused, your hands hovering above the keyboard as you turned to meet his gaze. Your expression was calm, cold, and utterly unreadable. “If I don’t answer,” you said, your voice low and measured, “will you stop asking?”

“Not a chance,” he said, his grin widening into something wolfish.

You sighed, turning back to your screen. “Then keep asking. It won’t change anything.”

He let out a soft laugh, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was something else there now, something darker and more insistent, coiling tightly in his chest.

He didn’t know why this mattered so much. Why the thought of someone else—someone before him—made his jaw clench and his stomach churn. But the idea wouldn’t let him go.

“Fair enough,” he said finally, his voice dropping into a softer, almost dangerous tone. “But don’t think I’m letting this go. Sooner or later, princess, I’ll get you to crack.”

Your silence was answer enough. But the faint flicker of annoyance in your eyes as you typed? That was all the encouragement he needed.

———

The late afternoon sun filtered through the office windows, casting long, golden streaks across the sterile desks. Papers and coffee cups littered the space, evidence of a day stretched too long. You sat at your desk, immersed in another report, your brow furrowed in concentration. The tension that had gripped you for days had finally loosened, and though your posture remained rigid, there was an air of calm about you now.

It was a calm he intended to disrupt.

He stretched lazily from his chair, a satisfied smirk curling his lips as he sauntered over to your side. His steps were slow, deliberate, the kind of gait that was both casual and predatory. Leaning down just slightly, he peered over your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck.

"Still working, huh? You're really setting a new standard for the term 'workaholic.' Should I be worried you're cheating on me with a spreadsheet?" His voice was light, teasing, but there was a flicker of something sharper beneath it.

You didn’t even glance his way. "Your jokes are terrible."

"Terrible? Wow, you wound me," he said, clutching at his chest as if your words had pierced his heart. But his grin didn’t waver. Instead, he slid closer, resting a hand casually on the back of your chair. "Seriously, though. You’re in a much better mood now. My charm’s working, isn’t it?"

"Or maybe I’m just ignoring you," you replied dryly, typing without pause.

He chuckled, his laughter rich and low. "Ignoring me? Oh, sweetheart, if you were ignoring me, you wouldn’t have responded at all."

You sighed, still refusing to meet his gaze. He watched you intently, his eyes tracing the lines of your face, the subtle movements of your lips as you murmured something under your breath. For a moment, he was silent, caught in the strange, unfamiliar pull of wanting to touch you—not for show, not as part of this ridiculous transactional arrangement, but because he wanted to feel the solidity of you beneath his hands.

So, he acted.

Before you could react, his arms were around you, pulling you into a firm, almost possessive embrace. He buried his face against your hair, his lips brushing against your temple in a gesture that was disarmingly tender.

You stiffened but didn’t pull away. Not yet.

"Not in public," you said flatly, your tone devoid of emotion.

He laughed, the sound vibrating through his chest. "We’re in an office. No one’s here but us. Doesn’t count."

You sighed, finally turning your head just enough to give him a withering look. "Still. Stop."

"Stop what?" he teased, his grin widening. He tilted his head, pressing his lips to your cheek in a playful kiss, lingering just enough to make your expression harden. "I’m just fulfilling my boyfriend duties. What, you don’t want me to be affectionate?"

"This isn’t affection. It’s a distraction," you retorted, your voice sharp but your body strangely still in his hold.

"Oh, so you do know what affection is. I was beginning to think you were allergic to it," he quipped, his arms tightening slightly as if daring you to push him away.

But you didn’t. Not yet.

His gaze drifted down to your lips again, unbidden memories of last night creeping into his mind. The way you’d slapped him, the way you’d rubbed at your mouth as if scrubbing him off—it had stung. More than he wanted to admit. And then you’d dropped that bomb about it not being your first kiss. That knowledge sat heavy in his chest now, simmering with something dark and ugly.

Jealousy.

He hated the word, hated the feeling even more. But there it was, coiled tight around his thoughts, tainting everything.

"Hey," he said suddenly, his voice softer, almost coaxing. "You never did tell me about your first kiss."

"Drop it," you said firmly, shifting in his hold.

"Come on," he pressed, his tone still light but his grip on you unyielding. "It’s not like I’m going to judge. I’m just… curious."

"I said drop it." This time, your voice had an edge to it, and you finally moved to shrug him off.

But he didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression carefully masked with that infuriating grin. "Alright, alright. I’ll drop it. For now."

You narrowed your eyes at him but said nothing, turning back to your work.

Still, his hands lingered, his fingers brushing over your arm in a way that felt deliberate. He smiled to himself, his mind churning with thoughts he didn’t want to dissect too closely.

Transactional or not, he was still your boyfriend. Your first boyfriend. The only one you had now.

And that? That was enough. For now.

────────────

The garage hummed with a low din: the scrape of pool cues against felt, the occasional clink of beer bottles, and the raucous laughter of his friends echoing off the cement walls. The air reeked of oil, sweat, and cheap cologne, a heady cocktail that somehow felt like home. He leaned against the pool table, a cue stick balanced lazily in one hand as his gaze drifted—unfocused, distant, and entirely unlike him.

“You good, man?” One of the guys leaned in, squinting at him. “You’ve been off all night. Usually, you’re the one running your mouth the loudest. What gives?”

He blinked, snapping out of his trance, and a lazy grin slid across his face. “What? I’m just letting you losers have your moment. Can’t have me wiping the floor with you every game.”

The group laughed, though the scrutiny didn’t ease. Someone else chimed in, gesturing toward him with a beer bottle. “Nah, nah, there’s something going on. You’ve been staring off into space like you’re in some indie movie montage. What’s eating you?”

He rolled his eyes, straightening up and spinning the cue stick in his hand. “Nothing’s eating me. You guys are just too boring to hold my attention.”

The teasing jabs came quick after that, each more ridiculous than the last. “Oh, I know what it is,” one of the guys said, smirking. “It’s that ice queen of his. What’s her name again? Miss ‘I’m too good for this world’?”

A chorus of laughter erupted, and he smirked, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You mean my girlfriend?” he shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, you wish you could land someone like her. Don’t be jealous just ’cause I’ve got taste.”

“Girlfriend, huh?” Another guy leaned in, grinning. “Man, you’ve never been serious about anyone in your life. What’s the deal? She finally melt that big ‘I don’t care about anything’ heart of yours?”

He snorted, the sound sharp and dismissive. “As if. It’s a transactional thing, remember? Don’t go reading any Nicholas Sparks nonsense into it.” He paused, spinning the cue stick once more before adding, almost offhandedly, “Though she did mention something interesting.”

That got their attention. “Oh?” one of them said, his tone dripping with curiosity. “What’s that?”

“She’s got a past,” he said, feigning nonchalance. “Romantic history or whatever.”

There was a beat of stunned silence before the room erupted into laughter again.

“Her? No way!” one of them wheezed, slapping his knee. “You’re telling me the Ice Queen actually let someone get close to her? Hell, I thought she’d freeze anyone who tried.”

“Right? She barely tolerates him,” another joked, pointing at him with a pool cue. “And he’s the boyfriend! Can you imagine anyone else even standing a chance?”

He shrugged, the grin on his face sharp and self-assured, but there was a flicker of something darker in his eyes. “Hey, I’m just as shocked as you guys. But yeah, apparently she’s kissed someone before. Wild, right?”

“Pfft, no way,” someone scoffed. “She’s probably messing with you. Bet she said it just to get under your skin.”

“Yeah, no offense, but she doesn’t exactly scream ‘romantic whirlwind.’ What, did she date a robot?”

The laughter rolled on, but he didn’t join in. Instead, he leaned back against the pool table, his grip tightening on the cue stick. He kept his expression light, easygoing, but inside, something coiled tighter and tighter, a venomous knot of jealousy and something he couldn’t quite name.

“Maybe she did,” he said finally, his voice smooth but edged with something razor-thin. “Or maybe she just has good taste and doesn’t fall for losers like you.”

The guys hooted and hollered, taking his words as another well-timed joke, but he didn’t laugh. Instead, his mind lingered on the thought of her—her cool, distant demeanor, the way she brushed him off like he was nothing. And yet… someone else had touched her first.

The idea churned in his gut, hot and nauseating.

Transactional or not, she was his now. Wasn’t she?

———

The laughter around him ebbed and flowed, but it barely registered. He leaned against the edge of the pool table, staring blankly at the neon beer sign on the wall. The buzz of their voices blurred into a distant hum, and his mind gnawed at the frayed edges of the conversation like a dog with a bone.

“Yo, you’re spacing out again,” one of the guys said, snapping his fingers in front of his face. “What’s the deal, man? You look like someone ran over your dog.”

He smirked, forcing himself back into the moment. “Please, like I’d ever let that happen. You guys know me—cool as a cucumber.”

“Cucumber, my ass,” someone quipped. “You’ve been weird ever since you brought up her romantic history. What’s the matter, hotshot? Jealous someone else got to her first?”

The words hit like a sucker punch. Jealous? Him? Of course not. He was the picture of casual detachment, the poster boy for not giving a damn. It wasn’t like they were in love. The relationship was an agreement, a mutually beneficial arrangement. It wasn’t supposed to be messy. It wasn’t supposed to matter.

But it did.

“Jealous? Me?” He barked out a laugh, the sound a little too sharp. “C’mon, you think I care about some guy who’s probably ancient history? If anything, I’m curious. What kind of guy would even catch her eye? She’s not exactly handing out free passes.”

“Curious, huh?” One of the guys grinned, leaning against his pool cue. “Sure, let’s call it that. I mean, it’s not like you’ve ever been the possessive type.”

The comment was met with a wave of snickers, and he rolled his eyes, his grin widening. “Exactly. I’m chill. Relaxed. Totally unbothered.” He emphasized the last word, slapping the pool table for effect, but the laughter around him only grew louder.

“Yeah, sure you are,” another guy chimed in, taking a swig from his beer. “That’s why you’ve been stewing over this for, what, ten minutes now?”

He forced another laugh, but inside, the knot in his chest tightened. What was wrong with him? This wasn’t like him. He’d had plenty of relationships—flings, hookups, even a couple that could loosely be called serious—and he’d never felt like this. Never felt this gnawing, restless ache that made him want to punch a wall and pull her closer at the same time.

It wasn’t even logical. So what if she’d had someone before him? It wasn’t like he owned her. She was her own person, icy and untouchable as she was. And yet…

And yet.

The image of her brushing off his kiss the night before crept into his mind, unbidden and unwelcome. The way she’d wiped her sleeve across her mouth, the way her voice had been sharp, cutting, when she’d told him it wasn’t her first kiss.

The thought burned.

He clenched his jaw, spinning his pool cue in his hands like a restless fidget. It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. He wasn’t the jealous type. He wasn’t the possessive type. He was laid-back, easygoing, always ready with a joke or a grin. That was who he was. That was what made him so good at this kind of thing.

So why did the thought of her with someone else make him feel like he was coming apart at the seams?

“Alright, spill it,” one of the guys said, breaking through his spiraling thoughts. “Who was it, huh? Some prince charming? Some straight-laced business major who knows how to schmooze parents?”

He scoffed, the sound automatic. “Please. Like I’d even know. She didn’t exactly give me a play-by-play.”

“Bet it was some boring, pencil-pushing nerd,” another guy chimed in. “She seems like the type to go for someone... predictable.”

Predictable. The word grated against his nerves. Predictable wasn’t him. It wasn’t them. Their relationship, transactional as it was, wasn’t supposed to fit into neat little boxes. It was supposed to be different.

He was supposed to be different.

But here he was, sitting in a dingy garage with his friends, trying to rationalize the irrational. Trying to figure out why he cared so much about a past that wasn’t supposed to matter.

“You guys are way off,” he said finally, his tone light but his grip on the cue stick betraying him. “If she did have someone before me, they weren’t memorable. She’s with me now, isn’t she? That’s all that counts.”

“Spoken like a true charmer,” one of them teased, and he smirked, though the weight in his chest didn’t lift.

Yeah, she was with him now. That was all that mattered.

So why didn’t it feel like enough?

———

The ribbing didn’t stop. If anything, it picked up speed like a train without brakes, and he was tied to the tracks.

“You’re really off your game tonight, man,” one of them said, chalking the tip of his cue stick. “You keep spacing out, missing shots, and letting us win? That’s not you. You’re usually the one handing us our asses.”

Another chimed in, leaning against the edge of the table with a sly grin. “Seriously, you’ve got this whole garage thinking. Is the great charmer finally losing his touch? That what’s bugging you?”

He twirled his cue with exaggerated nonchalance, plastering a smirk across his face even as his grip tightened enough to whiten his knuckles. “Please. Like I’d ever lose my touch. I could charm the rust off a bolt if I wanted to. I’m just... keeping things interesting. Letting you guys feel like you’ve got a shot for once.”

The laughter was immediate, loud, and thoroughly unconvinced. One of them even doubled over, clutching his stomach.

“Yeah, right. You’ve been distracted all night. And don’t think we didn’t catch the little bombshell you dropped earlier. The Ice Queen has a romantic history?”

“Shocking, right?” another piped up, voice dripping with mock astonishment. “I mean, no offense, but she doesn’t seem like the type to go for you. Or anyone, really.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t interrupt, knowing that trying to stop them would only make it worse. He’d been here before—well, not exactly here, but close enough to know the best way out was to wait until they got bored.

Too bad that wasn’t happening anytime soon.

“I mean, think about it,” one of them continued, his tone growing more amused by the second. “She’s this cold, untouchable, straight-laced type. Always looks like she’s got a stick up her—”

“Careful,” he interrupted, his tone light but the edge unmistakable. The shift in the air was subtle but palpable, like the faint scent of ozone before a storm.

The guy raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. My bad. I was just saying—she’s not exactly your usual type. And you’re definitely not hers.”

“Yeah,” another added with a smirk. “She probably goes for, like, bookworm types. You know, the quiet, nerdy guys who read poetry and bring her tea while she’s working. The ones who wouldn’t dare try anything until they’ve written a formal letter asking for permission.”

That earned a round of chuckles, and his smirk faltered for a fraction of a second. Not that anyone else noticed—they were too busy piling on.

“Yeah, man, face it. You’re too loud, too flashy. She probably thinks you’re just a walking ego trip. All charm, no substance.”

“Exactly,” someone else added. “It’s probably why your charm doesn’t work on her. She’s immune. Bet she’s only with you because it’s convenient or something.”

The words hit harder than they should have, slipping under his skin and sticking there like splinters. He forced out a laugh, sharp and just a little too loud. “Convenient? Yeah, right. She’s lucky to have me. I’m the full package: brains, brawn, and a personality that makes life interesting.”

“Interesting, huh?” another guy said, raising an eyebrow. “Or annoying? Pretty sure those are interchangeable in your case.”

“Hey, she hasn’t dumped me yet,” he shot back, deflecting with practiced ease. “That’s gotta count for something.”

But even as he spoke, the words rang hollow. His usual bravado felt like a thin shell, barely holding together under the weight of something he didn’t want to name. Something ugly, and burning, and clawing at the edges of his chest.

Jealousy.

He hated admitting it, even to himself. But the idea of her with some quiet, bookish type—the kind of guy who might actually understand her silences and match her calm, reclusive nature—was like sandpaper against his nerves.

And worse, the idea that she might prefer someone like that...

He clenched his jaw, his smirk freezing into something sharper.

“You know,” one of them said, breaking into his thoughts, “it’s kinda funny. For all your talk, you’re acting a lot like a guy who’s got something to prove. Like you actually care what she thinks.”

“I don’t,” he lied smoothly, his voice as light as air. “Why would I? It’s not like this is anything serious.”

The words tasted bitter, but he swallowed them down, flashing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Whatever you say, man,” someone said, shaking their head. “But you might want to figure it out before she realizes you’re not as cool as you think you are.”

The garage erupted into laughter again, and he joined in, the sound loud and hollow.

But later, when he was alone, the laughter would fade, leaving only the burning question that wouldn’t let him rest:

Why did it matter so damn much?

────────────

The stars above the city burned cold, distant, and sharp as needles. The private balcony was far enough from the glittering chaos of the gala to offer a semblance of quiet, though the muffled hum of music and laughter still seeped through the glass doors. The cold air bit at your skin, but it was a welcome reprieve from the stifling heat of the crowd.

He leaned against the balustrade, a champagne flute dangling from his fingers, the liquid untouched and shimmering like pale gold in the faint light. His tailored suit clung to his frame, the picture of nonchalance, but his eyes betrayed him—glinting with something predatory, something calculating.

“So,” he began, his voice smooth and edged with a teasing lilt. “I was thinking.”

You didn’t bother to turn from the view of the sprawling city below. “That’s dangerous.”

He chuckled, soft and low, but there was a weight to it that made your spine stiffen. He tilted his head, watching you like a hawk sizing up its prey. “Funny. No, really, I’ve been thinking about us.”

“Us,” you echoed flatly. “The contract is clear. There’s nothing to think about.”

“Sure,” he said, pushing off the railing and stepping closer. His presence was like a shadow swallowing light, oppressive and impossible to ignore. “But I’ve been reviewing it, and I think we’ve overlooked some... fine print.”

“Fine print,” you repeated, finally turning to face him, your expression impassive. “There is no fine print. You drafted it yourself, remember?”

“Exactly,” he said, flashing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Which means I have the right to amend it if I see fit. And I’ve noticed a few areas that could use... adjustment.”

You crossed your arms, your gaze narrowing. “Such as?”

He stepped closer, close enough that the faint scent of his cologne mingled with the crisp night air. His tone was light, almost playful, but there was an undercurrent of something darker, something that coiled around his words like smoke.

“For one,” he began, “I think we need to establish clearer boundaries about third-party interactions. You know, to avoid misunderstandings.”

Your brow twitched. “There haven’t been any misunderstandings.”

“Not yet,” he agreed, his voice soft and coaxing, like a blade hidden in velvet. “But let’s be proactive. For instance, we should clarify what kind of behavior is acceptable when interacting with... other men.”

You stared at him, your expression as unyielding as stone. “That’s unnecessary.”

“Is it?” he countered, his grin sharpening. “You don’t think it’s wise to define expectations? After all, appearances are everything. Wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea about us.”

“People already know what this is,” you said coolly. “A performance. There’s no need to complicate it.”

“But isn’t the whole point of a performance to make it convincing?” he asked, his tone dripping with feigned innocence. “And for that, we need consistency. Unity. Which is why I propose we add a clause about exclusive proximity.”

“Exclusive proximity,” you echoed, your voice flat. “That’s absurd.”

“Is it?” he asked, tilting his head. “Think about it. If we’re seen with too many... distractions, it undermines the whole charade. It’s just common sense.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he was already pressing on, his words smooth and relentless.

———

The air seemed to thin as his words settled between you, the kind of silence that carried a weight far heavier than sound. He leaned closer, bracing himself against the railing with the kind of ease that betrayed the sharpness lurking beneath his carefully curated mask of charm. The city glittered below, but its brilliance felt muted compared to the fire smoldering in his gaze.

“Let me break it down,” he said, his voice silken, the edges just sharp enough to catch. “Exclusivity isn’t just about proximity. It’s about cohesion. A story without holes. Every moment you’re with someone else—a colleague, a stranger, hell, even a waiter—it opens a crack in the facade.”

Your eyes flicked to him, narrowing. “You’re reaching.”

He smiled—a wolfish, predatory thing. “Am I? Think about it. Someone catches sight of you laughing with some random nobody, and suddenly, the gossip mill is running wild. The illusion cracks. We lose credibility. And if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s losing.”

The venomous certainty in his tone made your stomach twist, though your face remained unreadable. “So what exactly are you proposing?”

He straightened, his shadow looming over you as if it carried a weight beyond the physical. “Ground rules. For both of us. Simple ones. For example…” He tapped a finger against the champagne flute, the ring of the glass echoing faintly. “No private conversations with anyone of interest. No one-on-one meetings without prior notice. And no touching—intentional or otherwise—unless absolutely necessary.”

Your brow arched, your lips tightening. “No touching. That’s… excessive.”

“Is it?” he shot back smoothly, tilting his head as if genuinely curious. “Think about it. Even the smallest gesture—a hand on the shoulder, a brush of fingers—can be misconstrued. Especially when it’s you.” His gaze flickered, a flash of something unspoken. “People notice you. They watch. And they talk.”

You crossed your arms, leaning back slightly against the balcony rail. “Fine. But if we’re establishing rules, they go both ways. You don’t exactly have a reputation for restraint.”

His grin widened, amusement flickering in the depths of his eyes. “Touché. Consider it mutual, then. No unnecessary interaction, no inappropriate proximity. Strictly business.”

“And why now?” you asked, your voice measured, almost detached. “Why bring this up tonight?”

For a moment, something flickered across his face—an almost imperceptible crack in the facade. But he recovered quickly, his grin sharpening. “Call it foresight. With the families involved, things get messier. More eyes, more pressure. We can’t afford to slip.”

You studied him, your silence stretching just long enough to make his fingers twitch against the railing. Finally, you inclined your head. “Fine. If that’s what it takes to keep this convincing, I’ll play along.”

He exhaled, a sound that was almost a laugh but carried none of the humor. “Good. I knew you’d see reason.” He lifted his champagne glass in a mock toast, the liquid catching the starlight like liquid fire. “To flawless performances.”

You didn’t respond, turning back to the city below. The cold bit deeper now, but you didn’t shiver. Behind you, his gaze lingered, heavy and unrelenting.

The ground rules were set, the game clearly defined. But as the night pressed on, the sense of control he so carefully clung to felt like it was unraveling thread by thread.

And it wasn’t the rules that haunted him—it was why he felt the need to create them in the first place.

———

He leaned casually against the railing, but his posture was deceptively loose, the sharp intelligence in his eyes betraying his calculated intent. The champagne glass in his hand caught the faint glow of the city below, though he hadn’t touched a drop.

“So,” he began, his tone laced with a playful edge, “while we’re ironing out the details, there’s another area I think we should revisit. Physical affection.”

Your eyes snapped to his, cold and narrowed. “What about it?”

He smirked, tilting his head slightly as though considering his words carefully. “Let’s be honest. Right now, the way things are? We’re convincing, sure—but just barely. The hand-holding, the occasional arm around the waist? It’s surface-level. Anyone with half a brain can see through it.”

“That’s the point,” you replied, your voice calm but firm. “It’s enough to maintain appearances without crossing unnecessary lines.”

His grin widened, but there was an almost imperceptible edge to it, a flicker of something darker in his expression. “Enough for who? The nosy old ladies at brunch? Sure. But for the vultures at this level? Not a chance. They smell weakness. And right now, what they see screams ‘contractual convenience,’ not passion. We need to up our game.”

You folded your arms across your chest, your stance unmoving. “Define ‘up our game.’”

“Well,” he said smoothly, setting the untouched glass on the railing, “kisses, for one. Not just the casual kind. Something real. Convincing. Hell, even a few heated moments in public wouldn’t hurt. And behind closed doors?” He gave a mock shrug, his grin turning teasing. “Who knows? Maybe even a little noise for the sake of appearances.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t fall from your skull. “You’re joking.”

“Am I?” he replied, his tone maddeningly reasonable. “Think about it. The way things are now, people will start talking. Rumors of a weak marriage. Arranged out of convenience, not love. And with you being... well, you—” his gaze flicked over you, deliberate and lingering— “it won’t take long for people to start circling. People like to test boundaries when they think they can get away with it.”

“People already talk,” you shot back. “That’s inevitable. But none of this changes the fact that this is fake. I’m not pretending that far.”

“Why not?” he countered, his grin sharpening. “You’ve already agreed to exclusivity. This is just the logical next step.”

“It’s unnecessary,” you said flatly. “The exclusivity rules make sense. This? This is overreach.”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low, almost coaxing tone. “Is it, though? Think about it. If we don’t convince them, it undermines everything we’ve built. You don’t want to spend the rest of this arrangement fending off speculation and propositions, do you?”

“Speculation is manageable,” you said, your voice cool and steady. “And propositions are irrelevant. I can handle myself.”

“Of course you can,” he said, his tone light but his gaze intense. “But why should you have to? Why not just nip it in the bud? Make it clear to everyone that you’re untouchable.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line, your patience fraying. “I already am untouchable.”

His grin didn’t waver, but there was a flicker of something else beneath it—jealousy, sharp and bitter. “Sure. But people don’t see that. What they see is opportunity. The kind that comes from a woman who’s too beautiful, too brilliant, and too unattainable for her own good.”

The words were teasing, but the way he said them made your skin prickle. There was something possessive lurking beneath the surface, something he tried to bury beneath layers of logic and charm but couldn’t entirely hide.

“This isn’t about logic,” you said, your voice steady but edged with steel. “It’s about control. And I’m not giving you that.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin turning mischievous. “Touché. But hey, I’m just saying—when the rumors start flying and the vultures start circling, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You turned back to the city, dismissing him with a sharp glance. “Noted. But the answer is still no.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and dangerous. “Fair enough. For now.”

———

The cold of the night pressed against your skin, biting and relentless, but his body, wrapped tightly around yours, was an oppressive heat you couldn’t shake. The weight of his arms on your shoulders felt heavier than it should, his fingers grazing your arms with a possessive slowness. He leaned into you, his chest firm against your back, his breath warm and invasive against your ear.

“You know,” he murmured, his tone as smooth as the glassy city lights below, “this hesitation of yours—it’s fascinating. Almost charming, in its own way. But... I can’t help but wonder.” His voice dipped lower, a silken purr laced with something darker. “What’s got you so hesitant? People do this all the time, don’t they? Even when it doesn’t mean anything.”

You stiffened, your gaze locked on the sprawling cityscape, refusing to turn. Your neutrality was a fortress, built brick by brick to withstand his probing. But his persistence was a battering ram. Slowly, deliberately, he dipped his head closer, inhaling deeply near the curve of your neck, the action intimate enough to send a shiver rippling through your body.

“Unless,” he mused, his lips curving into a smirk you couldn’t see but could feel like a knife at your throat, “it’s because of them. You know, the one who got that first kiss of yours. Was it them?”

The question hung in the air, venomous and cutting. For a fraction of a second, the apathy on your face cracked—a millisecond’s slip in the armor you wore so flawlessly. Your hand twitched, and your lips parted as though to respond, but no words came. Instead, your expression hardened once more, a glacial mask snapping back into place. Silent. Untouchable.

But he had seen it.

That brief, fleeting moment of vulnerability had told him more than you ever could. And though his smile remained, it was stretched too tight, his teeth bared in something that wasn’t amusement. His fingers dug into your shoulders, just a little too hard, before softening as if to mask the momentary lapse in control.

“Ah,” he said, the word slipping out in a low exhale, almost inaudible. He pressed closer, the air between you suffocating. “So it was them. That explains so much.”

His tone was still light, teasing, but the undercurrent of tension was unmistakable, coiling tighter and tighter beneath his practiced facade. His lips ghosted near your temple, the proximity a calculated weapon, and his fingers trailed down your arms, leaving trails of heat in their wake.

“You know,” he continued, his voice honeyed but sickly sweet, “whoever they were... they must have left quite the impression to make you this way. But I’m curious—did it mean anything to you? Or was it just... a moment?”

Your silence was deafening, a dagger plunged into the space between you.

He chuckled softly, though the sound was hollow. “Not that it matters, of course. You’re here now, with me. That’s all that really counts, isn’t it?”

But his grip tightened imperceptibly, his smile curving into something dangerous, something that betrayed the storm raging just beneath the surface. He didn’t let go. If anything, his hold on you became stronger, his presence more invasive.

And though he kept his composure, the truth was a venomous whisper in his mind, sinking its fangs deep and twisting.

Not fucking happy at all.

────────────

He didn't bring it up again. Any of it, anymore.

But, the room still felt colder than it should have. The air conditioning hummed low, but the chill that seeped into your skin wasn’t mechanical. It was the kind of cold that came from within, from the way your fingers gripped the edge of the desk too tightly, from the rigidity in your spine as you pretended not to notice the man leaning against the corner with the practiced ease of someone who could read you too well.

He’d been watching you for too long now, his gaze like a scalpel, peeling away layers you’d tried so hard to keep intact. He shifted, breaking the stillness with a deliberate, exaggerated sigh.

“You know,” he began, his voice carrying that maddeningly playful lilt, “if looks could kill, that desk would be in pieces by now. What’d it ever do to you, baby?”

You didn’t answer. Of course, you didn’t.

He moved closer, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the sterile air. The sound of his footsteps was soft but deliberate, a hunter’s tread. “Still giving me the silent treatment? Harsh. I’m starting to think you don’t appreciate my charming company.”

“Go away,” you said, your voice clipped, devoid of emotion. Your fingers tightened on the desk, a small tell he didn’t miss.

“Aw, come on,” he said, his grin audible in his voice. “Don’t be like that. I’m just trying to help. You know, as your incredibly dedicated, selfless boyfriend.” He leaned closer, his hand resting on the back of your chair. “And let’s face it, I’m the only person who’d put up with you when you’re like this.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t look at him. It was exactly the reaction he wanted.

“Seriously,” he continued, his tone shifting to something softer but no less teasing. “What’s going on? You’re more wound up than usual, and that’s saying something.”

“I’m fine,” you said, the words flat, a wall slamming down between you.

“Sure you are,” he said, circling around to lean on the desk beside you. He crossed his arms, his smirk unwavering. “You know, for someone so icy, you’re terrible at hiding when something’s bothering you.”

“I said I’m fine,” you repeated, your tone sharper now.

“And I said I don’t believe you,” he shot back, his voice light but with an edge of persistence. “C’mon, Ice Queen. What’s eating at you? Work? Family? Or did someone finally dare to make eye contact for more than three seconds?”

You ignored him, your focus locked on the papers in front of you, but he wasn’t deterred. He crouched slightly, putting himself in your line of sight.

“Look, I get it,” he said, his tone almost mockingly serious. “You’re all about the whole ‘strong, independent, untouchable’ thing. Very admirable. But newsflash, sweetheart: nobody’s that stoic all the time. Except maybe statues. And even they crack eventually.”

You pushed back from the desk abruptly, rising to your feet, but he didn’t give you space. Instead, he moved closer, his hand brushing your arm as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re really not gonna tell me, huh?” he said, his voice dropping to a murmur. He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your ear. “Not even a hint? A clue? C’mon, I’m dying here.”

You stiffened, stepping away, but he followed, his persistence like a shadow clinging to your every move. His hand caught yours this time, his grip firm but not forceful.

“You know,” he said, tilting his head with a smirk that was all sharp edges, “this whole ‘bottling it up’ thing you do? It’s kinda cute. Annoying, but cute. But it’s also not healthy. So spill.”

“There’s nothing to spill,” you snapped, finally turning to face him. Your eyes were cold, your voice even colder, but he wasn’t fazed.

“Liar,” he said simply, his grin widening. “You’re terrible at it, by the way. And you know I’m not going anywhere until you give me something.”

You glared at him, your jaw tightening, but he just leaned closer, his fingers brushing against your arm. “Is it work? Someone bothering you? Or—” His tone shifted, sly and teasing now. “Wait, don’t tell me. Is it me? Did I finally get under your skin?”

“Always,” you muttered, pulling your hand free and turning away.

He laughed, the sound warm but with a sharpness that didn’t quite match. “Good. Means I’m doing my job right. But seriously, baby girl, if someone’s bothering you—besides me, obviously—you’d tell me, right?”

You didn’t answer, and for a moment, the teasing dropped from his voice entirely. He straightened, his gaze darkening as he watched you retreat to the far side of the room.

“You don’t tell anyone anything, do you?” he said softly, almost to himself. The words weren’t a question; they were a statement, heavy with an emotion he refused to name.

You paused, your back to him, but didn’t turn.

“Fine,” he said after a moment, his usual bravado snapping back into place like armor. He grinned, stepping toward you again. “Keep your secrets. But just so you know, sweetheart, I’m very good at getting what I want. And you? You’re not as unreadable as you think.”

The way he said it—soft, teasing, but with an undercurrent of something darker—sent a shiver down your spine. But you didn’t respond, and he didn’t push further. Not yet.

────────────

The glow of his laptop bathed the dim room in cold, blue light. The muffled sounds of the city filtered through the cracked window—a distant hum of engines, the occasional wail of a siren. But none of it reached him. His focus was absolute, his fingers ghosting over the keyboard with a precision that bordered on surgical.

Lines of text blurred and refreshed, tabs multiplied, searches refined. It was nothing. It was nothing. Just... research. A precaution, really. Something any diligent professional would do in his field.

"Due diligence." The phrase rolled through his mind like a soothing mantra as he adjusted his search parameters. Business students did this all the time, didn’t they? Gathering information on potential clients, tracking leads. It wasn’t unethical—it was smart. Practical. Just like he was.

His brow furrowed as the screen refreshed again, yielding nothing new. No personal social media accounts. No tagged photos. Everything you had out there was airtight—pristine. Your LinkedIn was polished to perfection, clinical and devoid of any personal flair. Your work email was meticulously professional. No footprints, no cracks.

You were a fortress, an enigma wrapped in ice, and it was maddening.

"Not even a stupid Instagram," he muttered under his breath, leaning back in his chair and scrubbing a hand through his hair. His other hand hovered over the touchpad, fingers twitching with a restless energy he couldn’t quite contain. He hated how good you were at this, at keeping the world at arm's length. It was infuriating.

And yet, it only made him more determined.

Because how else was he supposed to help you? Protect you? It wasn’t like you’d talk to him, let alone open up. You were a steel door slammed shut, your apathy the lock, and your sharp, biting tongue the key he could never quite reach.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t stalking,” he murmured, as if saying it aloud could make it true. “This is... protecting my investment.”

He winced at the word. It felt wrong somehow, but logical. The contract between you two was the foundation of your relationship, after all. If you didn’t want to share your problems with him, fine—but he couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. That wasn’t who he was.

“People research celebrities all the time,” he reasoned, his voice low and even, the rhythm of his own words calming. “Background checks, public records... It’s normal. It’s not like I’m invading her privacy. This is just... strategy.”

But even as he said it, a part of him bristled.

It wasn’t just strategy. And he knew it.

The truth was, it gnawed at him—the not knowing. The mystery of you was a drug he couldn’t quit, the unanswered questions keeping him awake at night. Who was the person who kissed you first? Why did your walls feel so much higher, so much thicker, lately? What the hell was going on in that brilliant, maddening head of yours?

He leaned forward again, fingers flying across the keyboard with renewed purpose. If he couldn’t ask you, he’d find out on his own. He told himself it wasn’t because he needed to know, wasn’t because the thought of anyone else touching you—or knowing you—made his stomach twist with something cold and acidic.

No, it wasn’t jealousy again. It was logic. Rationality.

But as the hours ticked by and the search grew colder, that logic began to crack.

His phone buzzed, breaking the silence. He glanced at the screen—one of the boys from the garage had sent a message, probably another joke about his “domestication.” He ignored it, returning his gaze to the screen.

Nothing. Again.

“Damn it,” he hissed, slamming the laptop shut with more force than necessary. He sat back, running both hands through his hair, staring up at the cracked ceiling.

You were impossible. And that impossibility—it thrilled him. Infuriated him. Tore at him like a splinter buried too deep to pull out.

But he wouldn’t stop. Not until he had answers.

Because protecting you wasn’t just part of the job anymore.

It was everything.

────────────

♡ Masterlist. If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology. Thank you.

�� Tag List. “A Heart Devoured”: @definetlythinkimanalien , @floooring , @lilyalone , @theogborjie , @ne7zach , @songbirdgardensworld

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. 🔞Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

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levi-4uckerman · 2 months ago

Text

╰┈➤ satoru gojo x reader // reader self insert // prologue here

╰┈➤ like ghosts in the snow // synopsis: Two years ago, you vanished from Tokyo and its world of curses entirely. First grade status be damned-- you were gone without a trace. Left to raise the son of the strongest sorcerer in a world far removed from the dangers you and his father both had been subject to. You escaped the endless battle of curses vs man, the burden of a life sopping wet with death and tragedy. Here, in the solitude of these snow-covered mountains, you were finally safe.

Right?

╰┈➤ CH 1 TWs: male masturbation, explicit sexual content, graphic descriptions of sex, original characters used, secret pregnancy, mention of young children, mention of past character death, possible manga spoilers, blah blah blah. enjoy :)

╰┈➤ see story timeline here, if you wanna!

╰┈➤ next chappy :)

✎ side note before we dig in! I know y'all hate a YN so the reader has been given a random japanese name. welcome to ur new life as Shiori Myoji :)

Somewhere out west, 2018...

You sat alone in your cabin, staring at the flickering fire... The wind howled outside, shaking the windows and piling snow high against the panes. You barely noticed. Winter had come early this year, though the townsfolk chalked it up to the unpredictable nature of the mountains. You held a half-empty teacup, the liquid long since gone cold. Your fingers trembled slightly as you gripped its handle, though you told yourself it was just from the chill in the air.

The fire crackled on, and your thoughts drifted like smoke, pulling you backward through time as you stared into the hypnotizing flames.

...

Tokyo, Japan- December 2014.

The first time you saw Satoru Gojo as human was at the ceremony following Suguru's death, a private event held at Tokyo Jujutsu High after hours. There weren’t many guests, but the crowd was big enough that he hadn’t seen you at first. You’d stood at the edge, out of the way, your umbrella shielding you from the rain pouring down as if the sky itself was in mourning, too.

You hadn’t planned to approach him. What could you have said? The strongest sorcerer in the world, staring at the ground as though he could will himself to fall through it– what words could you possibly offer? Anything that crossed your mind felt hollow, tasted meaningless on your tongue.

Yet, still, you approached. Those bright blue eyes had landed on you and you were drawn in, like a moth to flame. Your feet were moving before you realized what you’d done.

“Shi-chan, you’re staring,” he chided, his voice sounding hollow. “Didn’t think you cared.”

“I don’t,” you replied, aware that you both knew it was a lie.

It always was.

He smiled, soft but genuine– like he was just grateful for your company. You nodded, letting him take what he wanted from the gesture.

The relationship you’d had after wasn’t supposed to mean anything. A month of stolen moments, grief shared in the only ways you knew how. You sought comfort in each other’s arms, filling the empty spaces that Suguru had left behind. Late night texts. Solo outings. You told yourself that it wasn’t real, that it was just a way to cope. Was that a lie, too?

That time together had changed everything. And two months later, when you realized you were pregnant, you knew that there was no going back.

The sound of Haruto stirring in his sleep pulled you back to the present. The cabin’s quiet stillness wrapped tightly around you as you set down your teacup, your fingers still slightly shaking as you stepped toward your sleeping son, curled around his stuffed rabbit. He was so small, so peaceful– and yet, every time you looked at him, it was like staring into the past. Your big, scary past.

His hair, white as the snow outside… his eyes, that same piercing shade of blue that gazed at you from across classrooms, found you in crowded hallways buried deep in your memory… Sometimes, if you looked at him just right, he even had his father’s stubborn smirk. Sometimes it was enough to make your heart ache.

You didn’t regret leaving– you wouldn’t let yourself. You’d made the choice for Haruto, for Satoru, for humanity– he deserved a childhood free from the crushing weight of the Gojo name, free from the dangers of being born into a world of curses. And Satoru…

He didn’t need the burden of fatherhood, another anchor to his already heavy chains.

He didn’t stop you when you left.

Your breath caught in your throat. You told yourself not to think about him, not to wonder where he was or what he was doing. You’d left him behind, you’d left everything behind, but the truth lingered. Sharp and bitter in the back of your throat. You’d run because you were afraid. Afraid for the part of you that wanted to believe that Satoru might have chosen you and the life growing inside of you over everything else.

But you’d seen the threads of fate. Tangled, cruel, impossible to ignore. You left because you couldn’t bear to watch him choose the world over you.

The fire snapped sharply, loud enough to make you jump. The flames cast dancing shadows against the walls, and you felt a familiar prickling at your scalp as you watched them move. It wasn't a vision, but a feeling, a suggestion that something may be on the horizon. You closed your eyes, trying to will fate’s whisper into a conversation, but it remained quiet– imperceptible. Glimpses came to you in flickering waves, an apparition at the edge of your mind… someone tall, broad-shouldered, with eyes like the sky…

Your chest tightened as you pushed the thought away with a gasp, forcing yourself to focus on the crackling fire and the sound of howling wind outside.

“Shiori,” an older voice called softly from the adjoining room. “Are you still awake? It’s well past midnight.”

“Aya-san,” you replied, withdrawing your hand from your son’s hair. “Did I wake you?”

“No, child. The storm did.” Aya stepped lightly into the room, moving with the ease of someone used to late-night watches. She lowered herself onto the armchair by Haruto, dimming the table lamp and casting soft shadows across her face.

Aya Takahashi, formerly Zenin– she’d sought an escape from the troubling world of jujutsu, same as you. Born into the infamous Zenin clan with a powerful technique, she had built her life around the expectations of her lineage… until she met her late husband. He was a non-sorcerer whom she'd fallen in love with devastatingly quickly. Their love was defiant in the eyes of the Zenins, and Aya chose him over their approval. They ran away together, knowing the cost of their love, only for her spiteful relatives to come for them both, bringing their marriage to a sudden, violent end.

Aya lost her husband that day.

She ran away to this sleepy, mountainside town out west, hoping that its wild, untamed cursed energy would mask her signature. For thirty years, she had been successful. When she came across you and Haruto, barely ten months old at the time, she saw herself in your struggle, and she knew... she couldn’t walk away.

And gods bless her soul, she didn’t.

Aya had become such an unassuming yet steady presence in your life—a former sorceress who had left her old life behind and found solace in this small, secluded town just like you had.

The arrangement had begun with practicality, but Aya’s quiet strength and experience had turned her into a figure of comfort, almost a guardian. Her motherly tendencies extended to you as much as to Haruto, though she rarely showed her cards outright.

Aya studied you for a moment, her expression knowing. “Something tells me you haven’t slept yet,” she hummed, reaching to turn on the television as if to settle in for a watchful night.

You studied her with a hint of reluctance, knowing exactly what she intended. “Aya-san, you really don’t have to—”

“Go and rest, Shiori.” Her voice was gentle, but her tone left no room for debate. “I’ll be here if the boy wakes.”

“But I—,”

The look she gave you, one full of quiet insistence, spoke louder than any further protests you could make.

With a resigned sigh, you shook your head and accepted the fate she’d laid out for you, the comfort of her presence an unspoken balm. You relented and bid her goodnight, resting a comforting hand on Haruto’s little head before walking away.

Tokyo, Japan- 2018.

In Tokyo, Satoru Gojo was feeling a similar kind of anxiety.

Ryomen Sukuna had a vessel. The thought of it alone made his jaw clench tightly. It was unprecedented, unpredictable, and as far as he was concerned, a major pain in the ass. There were no protocols for this sort of thing— well, maybe one, but that was the last thing he wanted. “I can’t let them kill him,” he muttered to himself, tone sharp as nails. “He’s just a kid.”

He leaned back in his office chair, staring out at the Tokyo skyline with mild interest. His head pulsed with a day-old migraine as he studied the tiny flares of cursed energy erupting in short bursts across the city's grid. The presence of curses and the activity of curse users had become more erratic than usual, flickering in the depths of the city like embers waiting to be ignited. It had only gotten worse since Sukuna's fingers entered the equation; like all of Japan was holding its breath. Even with his technique, Satoru was struggling to keep up with the endless spikes of energy on the horizon. His head throbbed, his senses constantly assaulted until finally, he pulled the blinds closed.

Satoru sighed. He hadn't been this on edge in a very long time, not since...

He dismissed the thought, reaching for a bottle of painkillers nearby and rattling it in a last-ditch effort to dull the throbbing in his skull. He popped two in his mouth and swallowed them dry before running a broad palm over his face, a low groan slipping out as he reached his lips. "This is fucking stupid," he muttered, voice muffled by his hand.

With a sigh, he pushed himself out of the chair and stretched his long arms above his head, joints stiff and aching from too many hours of vigilance and too little rest. He hated to even consider leaving campus, knowing that Yuuji-- no. Sukuna was here. Yuuji had done well in controlling the king of curses since they had started training, but the thought of leaving him alone still left Satoru uneasy. Could he really turn his back on him?...

Yes, he decided, as his eyes caught sight of his phone screen flashing the time: 3:55pm. He hadn't slept a wink in over 40 hours, a reckless oversight even by his standards. His Six Eyes needed rest, and he'd be no use to anyone-- especially against Sukuna --if he burned out completely. I can leave. Just for a few hours.

With a tired sigh, he dialed his assistant. “Ijichi,” he sang half heartedly into his cell, his voice missing some of its usual playfulness. “I’m going home.”

Ijichi's protests were immediate, though muffled through the receiver. Satoru didn't bother listening. He slipped the phone into his back pocket without even hanging up, ignoring the last few sputters of "--but Gojo-san!"

Stretching his limbs once more, he felt the weight of exhaustion settling into his bones. It wasn't like him to abandon his post so early into the afternoon, but he wouldn't be of any use in this state. Half-blind, staggering through a haze of pain. The pounding behind his eyes was growing unbearable, his senses dulling with each passing minute.

With one last glance at the skyline, Satoru exhaled, letting his shoulders drop just slightly. It was strange, the guilt that had begun creeping in these days, as if his raw determination alone would be enough to protect humanity from Sukuna's dark influence. But at his core, he knew that if he wasn't sharp, if he wasn't fully there, then he was no more than a tired body standing watch.

Humanity deserved better than that.

Yuuji deserved better than that.

In his apartment, Satoru wandered thoughtlessly into his bedroom, tossing aside his phone, his wallet, his blindfold, and all of the other little trinkets he carried on the job. The blinds were drawn and the room was dark; still, he manipulated the pitch black space seamlessly, thankful for the small mercy of darkness. He migrated to his shower-- something else he'd been putting off.

The hot stream of water-- scalding against his porcelain skin --was healing. Following the contours of his body, mapping the planes of his muscles as it traveled across his skin. The rich scent of his body wash hung thickly in the air, cutting through 40 hours' worth of sweat and frustration. With a sigh, he bowed his head, letting it all fall into his eyes, mouth.

What the fuck had happened to him?

Being alone was something he still struggled with. He'd once thought of Suguru as the only person who could possibly understand the isolation that followed his responsibilities as the strongest. But Suguru was gone, had been gone longer even than he'd been dead, and all that was left now was... Satoru and his sadness? Longing? He didn't know what he was feeling.

Remorse?

"You promise you won’t regret this?"

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Eyes snapping open, he reared his head back. Infinity kept him from losing his balance, thankfully, but didn't stop the way he wobbled a bit on his feet with the emotional whiplash he'd just received from that memory. That voice.

He exhaled, long and slow, steam swirling in the dimmed light. His pulse quickened just slightly as the memory returned to him in living color, as if he were reliving it-- naked and vulnerable.

A laugh-- soft like morning mist. Perfume dancing across his senses, igniting warmth within his chest. He felt her presence even here, in the sanctuary of his mind.

Shiori Myoji. The Clairvoyance User.

The quiet, mundane memory came to him suddenly-- like his pain had picked the lock to a door he'd forgotten long ago. She was sitting on the edge of a windowsill in the Jujutsu High dorms, delicate fingers cradling a cup of tea. He sat beside her, much too close, with a large hand resting on her covered thigh. She was blushing, and he remembered the way it made his heart race. Has anyone ever done that before?

Has anyone ever done that... since?

"You're incorrigible," she scolded lightly, though the light smile upon her lips told him all that he needed to know. With a glance toward the halls, assuring there would be no witnesses, she leaned into him and he did the same, capturing her mouth in a tender kiss.

Fuck, she was always so soft. So calm. The kind of calm he pretended that he was, but had never really felt. Only in these moments, did she ever seem to look at him. Usually, her gaze extended into a space that he couldn't see-- a space that no one occupied, as if she were seeing something that he couldn't.

The water hit his shoulders harder now, as if trying to call him back to the present. He straightened, shaking his head as if that could wash away the memory of her. As if it were something that could be scrubbed away as easily as sweat and blood from his skin.

But she lingered, as she always seemed to do. She'd been away for too long for him to still think of her. She was a distraction at the time, something they both craved desperately. That is what she was, wasn't she? His distraction. His excuse. His anchor when the weight of Suguru's passing had threatened to tilt him off-balance. She was his-- then, now, whether she knew it or not.

His, because he couldn't let her be anything else.

Yes, a voice in his head purred. Yours, it agreed— languid and sweet, sounding suspiciously like her.

She was an addiction he’d been more than willing to rid himself of— even if it hurt like pouring salt into a wound. He’d love to say that he didn’t feel it, or that it paled in comparison to the pain of killing his best friend, but that simply wasn’t true. He’d grown attached to her warmth, her quiet strength, the mutual understanding of their own responsibilities as sorcerers. She’d been an enigma to him in high school, a close friend as an adult, and now? A ghost. A shadow. Someone who knew him intimately, someone whose taste hadn’t left his mouth since the last time his tongue was inside of her— because only he knew her so intimately, too.

Only he had been privy to the way that her brows furrowed in a mix of confusion and disgust when he said something lewd, the way her cheeks would darken at the slightest mention of their extracurricular affairs, igniting a fire in the pit of Satoru’s belly each time. Only he got to see the spit-slick part of her lips when she came, her wet heat wrapped so tightly around his member that he’d nearly blacked out at the force of his own orgasm. Only he knew that it was like that every. Single. Time. with her, like they were both squirming virgins experimenting with strange new feelings.

Except Satoru had never felt so enthralled with a lover before, and he never would again— something he’d come to terms with after trying and failing to fill the void she left in his life as his ‘distraction’. That’s all she was.

Right?

“Fuck,” he muttered through clenched teeth as he recalled her image in near-perfect clarity, spread out above his sheets— moaning softly, gasping his name when he fucked her just right. “Fucking shit.”

Satoru took himself in his hand, letting the water cascade down his back as he hunched over, pressing his forehead against the cool tile as he recalled more. Her dainty fingers tangled in his hair as she writhed beneath him, bucking her hips against his pelvis and fucking herself on his cock. Broken whispers of ‘Satoru, please,’ as her walls contracted around him, milking his seed into her waiting womb. The taste of her sweat on his tongue, salty and sweet, while he sucked his little purple love bites into her skin. He’d spell out his fucking name with them if he could.

He’d carve it into her flesh with his teeth if she’d let him.

Feelings Satoru had never experienced before her— or after her — flooded his senses. The hollow ache of desperation as he craved her warmth, the bitter taste of jealousy as he thought of her with anyone else, the crushing weight of grief when he remembered she was gone—

“Fucking miss you,” he spat, pumping desperately into his own fist, slick with prespend. “Fucking miss the way you feel.”

In his mind’s eye, Shiori writhes underneath him, pinned to the mattress by his weight. Her fingers tangle into his hair as he fucks into her, hard and fast, carving out a space just for him. He’s grunting along with his thrusts, her pretty little gasps coming out in broken hiccups. They’re hiding in the campus dorms again and they have to be quiet; she muffles a loud cry against his shoulder, teeth baring down into his flesh as she locks her legs around his waist with surprising ferocity, holding him so deep inside of her, and oh shit they forgot a condom—

“Fuck,” he hissed out in a sharp breath, tightening his grip on himself. The exhaustion in his bones temporarily forgotten, Satoru slammed a fist onto the wall above his head, a satisfying little crack! coming from the tile. His orgasm had nearly taken his breath away in its intensity, years of frustration and repressed feelings finally coming to a sore, bursting head.

He stood panting in the shower stall, watching the physical evidence of his longing swirl down the drain. His head pulsed with every beat of his heart, the effort he’d exerted not mixing kindly with his already throbbing migraine. He groaned, running a hand through his slick hair, and subsequently flicking water onto the wall behind him. Fucking Shiori, he muttered to himself.

Head swimming, Satoru emerged from the muggy bathroom several minutes later. He was still stewing over his momentary loss of control. He could have anyone he wanted, and here he was, fisting his cock to memories of an old flame. A ghost from his past.

He’d buried her in the place he’d buried Suguru— except, the ache was different knowing that her physical form still roamed this earth. Somewhere. He could find her, if he wanted to. Maybe she'd be able to tell him what the fuck he should do, how the fuck he was going to save a 16 year old boy with an eons-old curse living inside of him.

A plan began to unfurl inside of him, unwillingly. A first grade sorceress, gone without a trace... But all cursed energy left residuals, didn’t it? Would it really be so hard for the Six Eyes to follow her clues, hunt her down, and bring her back home?

It wouldn’t be hard, but it wouldn’t be right, he thought.

Last he heard, Shiori had fled west to study cursed energy manifestation in other regions. It was a convincing cover up, but given her technique and her history of omitting bigger details, he'd always assumed there were other implications to why and where she'd gone. Did she know what was happening in Tokyo? Did she see something that he didn't?

Of course she fucking did, he scoffed, slipping a t-shirt over his bare shoulders. When didn't she? She always knew more than she let on. It had frustrated him back then, and it frustrated him even more now. The idea that she might have seen this, predicted it-- Sukuna, Yuuji, the spiraling chaos of Tokyo's curses --and had chosen to leave anyway gnawed at him.

The truth was, he didn't want to think about why she left. Shit, he didn't want to think about her at all. But her name sat heavy on his chest now, a quiet itch he couldn't continue to ignore. If anyone could make sense of the impossible, it was her. And yet... she was gone. She'd left without so much as a goodbye, or a trace worth following. Maybe that was all of the explanation he really needed.

Maybe that was all of the closure he’d ever get.

With a low groan, Satoru flopped onto his bed, stretching his arms out wide. He didn't get tired often, but exhaustion was settling into his bones. He closed his eyes, letting the darkness settle over him, the plan that he refused to admit beginning to stir in his minds' eye once more, unwelcome and persistent. He could find her. If he wanted to. If he needed to.

This is Chapter 1 of a multi-chapter fic to be crossposted to AO3. Taglist below as requested. @starlightglimmersworld @mccookiemonster @leilakaro @certainduckanchor @itsbellablue-blog @shokosbunny @hyookka @drogonfruitzen

#gojo x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen #geto suguru #smut #JJK smut #JJK s1 #JJK oc #reader insert #pregnancy fic #pregnancy fantasy

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munefille · 3 months ago

Note

I’m not sure if you already answered this but why is Lorne disliked? You mention that his coloring isn’t the chief reason

Also does Lorne like the reader in a platonic or potentially romantic way? I’m only asking because I wonder how Lorne would react to the reader coming up to him and asking for a blessing to pursuit a romantic relationship with someone ô_ô

Love your work!!! Thank you!!

They kind of know he's not really... all there. His mother is also to blame for some of it too. He was conceived while she was already in a courtship with another male, which is extremely looked down upon in a species that typically pairs for life. Even though Lorne had nothing to do with his mother's infidelity, the fact that he was the product of it makes him perceived as tainted.

I would say he just likes you in general, whether that's platonically or romantically depends on the scenario. It wouldn't matter much though because he's not sharing you either way. You're his little worshipper and frankly he'd start spiraling if you held someone else to the same importance.

here's a drabble to expand on it more (took so long to answer bc I kept rewriting this)

cw: gore

✂┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

"What’s going on?"

Cool night air brushed past you in a hurry, the breeze taking with it the unorthodox scent of iron and melted ice. Far above hung the pale moon, gazing down like a witness to what was occurring, clusters of stars accompanying it in its judgement. Your question was left unanswered by a few moments of tense silence.

“This is your beloved?” came a quiet voice from above you, so slightly hesitant as it asks. An excited nod was your response as you directed your attention towards the person on the other side of the trees. The man remained unaware of the presence watching, merely believing you had taken him on a night walk and had disappeared to search for something beyond the forest line.

The being beside you spread his wings a small degree, the white feathers appearing nearly iridescent when hit by wandering moonlight.

"And you asked for my approval. There is one thing that must be shown before I can offer that." He answered, gently tilting your head to the scene before you. "Watch. If you are still together by the end of the night, then you will have my approval."

You would've found such a proposal suspicious had you not trusted Lorne, the angel, with your life. That's why you had asked in the first place for him to bless your union; surely, he would guide you in the right direction. Not far from where your beloved stood was a cave. Your angel seemed rather adamant at bringing him here.

It wasn’t long before you heard deep growls echoing from within the dark hole. A lump formed in your throat. It was during this time of the year that bears searched for their last meals before their long sleep. You had never stumbled upon one yourself, but you knew from others that there were some that roamed the forest, highly territorial creatures they were.

Your suspicions were proven right as a beast lumbered out of the cavernous shadows, nearly as dark as the place it emerged from. Your lover remained unknowing of the threat approaching, his back turned to the path in wait for you.

You wanted to call out, to warn him of the danger that was coming upon him with a ferocious snarl, revealing teeth longer than your hand. A pleading expression enveloped your face as you looked up to Lorne, “Please-”

He hushed you with a far too large hand over your lips, but it was too late by then.

The bear launched itself at the man with a final roar, though the time for warning had long since passed. He couldn’t even turn around fully to face the creature before it got ahold of his arm, tearing it nearly clean off. The scream he emitted then would haunt you. Never had you heard a man wail like that, the wail of a man watching his own flesh be torn and eaten in front of him. Oh, there was so much blood spurting from the stump, yet that was only the beginning of it.

He attempted to scramble backwards, but the removal of one of his limbs distorted his balance, causing him to collapse on his side. The bear saw an opening, large jaws revealing those wicked teeth stained red, bits of skin caught in between them. It latched onto his side, shaking him around like a ragdoll in its maw. There was a terrible choking noise as the bear’s teeth punctured his lungs, and finally you could take it no more.

You pushed past the dense brush from where you were positioned. Lorne made no move to stop your mad dash towards the mauling of your lover, eerily silent at what had happened.

It was a foolish idea, yes, but you couldn’t just stand and watch as his cries for help died. You picked up a stick, throwing it to the bear to get its attention. Anything to draw it away from the poor soul it was torturing. With a sickly crunch, the bear dropped the surely deceased corpse of the one you had adored, now hardly recognizable as a mass of badly desecrated flesh. Its angry eyes looked towards you first before its whole body lurched itself in your direction.

Bloody matted fur and flesh decorated teeth was what you assumed would be your last image before closing your eyes, expecting the same fate as your lover to become of you.

A few seconds passed, then a minute, the sensation of ripping limbs never gracing you.

When you found the courage to open your eyes, the bear was before you; its head was snapped all the way backwards. A shaky exhale came from your chest, tears beginning to blur your eyes as the adrenaline and grief still coincided.

“Oh. What a pity. I suppose it wasn’t meant to be.” Lorne’s voice trailed on monotonously, clearly uncaring of the gruesome slaughter that had just occurred. It was disorienting at times how soothing it was when it really should've disturbed you. The tears finally released themselves then, a quiet sob wracking your body.

“You see, had I not been there, who would’ve protected you from such a threat?” He came closer to where you were trembling on the ground, hurling the bear corpse away from you.

“The one you had chosen was inadequate. Don’t spill such sorrow over something that would’ve died eventually.” He said, in what you assumed was supposed to be a reassuring way, yet the tears didn’t stop.

He frowned at your mourning. Your shaken form was lifted into his arms as your eyes remained glued to the explosion of guts that seeped into the forest floor.

“You don’t need to worry,” he muttered into your hair, “I’ll find you another one.”

He spoke so calmly, his words a halfhearted attempt at consolation. All you could think about was how brutal God could be.

#yandere monster x reader #ask #monster oc #yandere x reader #lorne the forsaken #yandere drabble

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cheeseceli · 4 months ago

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That must be right

Pairing: Min Yoongi × Gn!reader

Genre: fluff, f2l, drabble

Request: can i request a yoongi idolbf! x reader and its just like a fluffy date, they're just dating and didnt really actually confess their feeling yet and like at the end of the date he or reader confesses

Warnings: tzuyu (twice) makes a cameo, suga overthinks a bit, y/n was delulu for a second here, not proofread.

A/n: don't you just love when he smiles | daily click

Yoongi doesn't know what to feel right now.

He should be happy, because oh my God this is happening. But he should also be anxious, because what is he supposed to do now that this is happening? And on top of it, he should be scared, because is this even supposed to be happening?

The way you saved his number as "my love" is a fact that has been spiraling in his head for hours now, since he discovered it. And it is just a silly little detail about your every day life. He wasn't even supposed to know about that. But he does. And now he can't stop thinking about that.

It's also about how you told Tzuyu (who definitely shouldn't have told Suga) you couldn't go out with her since you were having a date with your boyfriend. The boyfriend being Yoongi. And the date being the place you guys should go to in a few hours.

And there's nothing wrong with that, right? Except for the fact that you called him your boyfriend when he is... not your boyfriend. He would love to be, of course! But he is not. Unless he got lost in translation, which he highly doubts, considering how he is always replaying everything you say and do in his mind.

But you called him that. And, in some type of way, you called him your love as well. Never to his face, but you did. And Yoongi has no idea on how much of that he should consider. It could be just a not very funny joke. But you wouldn't joke about it, would you? So maybe he should just behave like nothing happened. Yeah, that's right. He shouldn't even know about those things at all.

So for the rest of the day, he pretends that he didn't discover anything. Everything is exactly as it was. But he can't bring himself to actually forget those. "My boyfriend". "My love". Those sentences were quite harsh to forget about.

You guys are on a date, so why can't you be actually dating? Do you even know that this is a romantic date? Does Yoongi know that? When did the line between friends who are secretly in love and actual lovers blurry itself so hard? It's getting ridiculous at this point. So many questions and very few answers.

He watches as you hold the huge popcorn bucket, trying your best not to drop anything. You were just waiting in line with him, waiting for the movie session to start, but you were so happy. Even when just standing still, your eyes were undeniably full of joy.

Yoongi also didn't miss how you never failed at being close to him. Not on a way to overwhelm him, just to be there. Like you just wanted his company, even if you weren't touching each other. Even if you were in complete silence, even if you didn't even look at each other just yet. You were both there. And that was all that mattered.

Useless to say that he paid absolutely no attention to the movie on the silver screen. He had no idea of who was staring in it, or what it was about. He barely looked at it to be honest. He was looking at you all the time. My boyfriend. My love. You surely acted like there was truth to those words.

For the first time in the past hour or so he looked away from you. He focused his gaze on the movie playing instead, but only because he wanted to reach to hold your hand, and he wouldn't be able to do it if he looked at you while doing so. That was proven particularly correct as he felt you turning your head just to look at him the moment you felt his touch.

He should've looked though. Maybe then he would see how your eyes proved that Yoongi was indeed your love. Maybe just not your boyfriend. Yet. That was soon to be solved, as he was already planning on how to confess the moment the two of you got out of the movie theater.

You were, after all, calling him your boyfriend for a while now. However, now it was time for him to call you his partner. Oh, and he so would do it. It felt right to do so.

And if it feels right, it must be right.

Masterlist | you'll probably like: shut me up

Reminder that this is all fiction! This does not represent the members in real life!

Taglist: @yuyubeans @butnotmontana

Dividers by @sweetmelodygraphics | credits for images 1, 2 and 3

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wonderlanddreamer · 6 months ago

Text

Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary - The high you get from drugs is nothing compared to the high you get from Eddie Munson.

Warnings - 18+ Only. Drug use. Explicit Sexual Content. Intense Sensory Experiences. Consensual Intimacy Under Influence. MDNI.

Word Count - 3246

The flickering neon lights of Eddie’s makeshift sanctuary in the trailer park cast a kaleidoscope of colours across the room, blending seamlessly with the thin, curling wisps of smoke emanating from the joint loosely held between his fingers. The air was thick with the scent of marijuana, creating a hazy veil that softened the edges of reality.

The room itself was a dimly lit haven, a cocoon of muted hues and muffled sounds that provided a perfect escape from the relentless, harsh realities of Hawkins. On the walls, vibrant posters of iconic metal bands like Metallica, Iron Maiden, and Judas Priest proudly displayed their rebellious spirit, their edges curling slightly from the humidity and time. Each poster told a story of defiance, passion, and a love for music that transcended the mundane.

Scattered across the room, an eclectic mix of knick-knacks cluttered the shelves, each item seemingly random yet holding a personal significance to Eddie. A worn-out Dungeons & Dragons manual lay open on the table, its pages marked with notes and sketches from countless campaigns. A collection of vintage vinyl records stacked haphazardly in one corner, their covers worn but their contents treasured, added to the room's nostalgic charm.

The centrepiece of Eddie's sanctuary was an old, beat-up leather couch, its cushions sunken in from years of use but still providing a comforting embrace. A faded tapestry hung behind it, depicting a fantastical scene of dragons and wizards, adding to the room's chaotic yet magical ambiance. String lights, intertwined with the neon signs, draped across the ceiling, casting a gentle, almost dreamlike glow over the space.

This sanctuary, though chaotic in appearance, was a testament to Eddie's spirit—a blend of rebellion, creativity, and a longing for something beyond the mundane. Here, amidst the haze and the flickering lights, he could lose himself in his thoughts, music, and dreams, finding solace in the chaos he had come to call home.

"Here," Eddie said, passing the joint to you with a devilish grin, his eyes glinting with a mix of mischief and challenge. The neon lights cast a shifting glow across his face, accentuating the wild, untamed mane of hair that framed his features. He looked every bit the troublemaker everyone warned you about, but there was something undeniably magnetic about him—a whirlwind of rebellious energy that drew you in like a moth to a flame.

You hesitated for a moment, your gaze locking onto his. Those mischievous eyes seemed to see right through you, past the façade you wore for the world. Eddie Munson was trouble, that much was clear, but tonight, trouble felt like exactly what you needed. The weight of reality had been pressing down on you, and the promise of escape, even if just for a few hours, was too tempting to resist.

"Why not," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you took the joint from his hand. The moment it touched your lips, you felt a rush of anticipation. Inhaling deeply, the smoke filled your lungs, spreading a warmth through your chest that was both foreign and exhilarating. You exhaled slowly, watching the wisps of smoke curl and dance in the air before dissipating.

The sensation was immediate, a buzzing in your head that made the world around you soften and blur. The sharp edges of reality dulled, replaced by a comforting haze that seemed to wrap you in a gentle embrace. You sank deeper into the worn-out couch, the fabric rough and frayed under your fingertips, a stark contrast to the softness enveloping your mind.

Eddie chuckled, the sound rich and comforting in the otherwise silent night. It was a laugh that spoke of shared secrets and unspoken understanding. "See? Not so bad, right?" he said, his voice tinged with a playful yet reassuring tone.

"Yeah," you agreed, the words slipping out slower and more languid than you intended. Your mind felt as though it was floating, untethered and free. "Not so bad."

Eddie leaned back, his own head resting against the couch, eyes half-closed in contentment. The room was a symphony of muted colours and sounds, a perfect backdrop for this moment of shared escape. The flickering neon lights continued their dance, casting shifting shadows that seemed to move in time with the music softly playing from an old cassette player in the corner.

Minutes, or maybe hours—time seemed to lose its grip—passed in a blissful blur. The haze of smoke and the gentle hum of a barely audible heavy metal track playing in the background created an ethereal atmosphere, where reality and fantasy intermingled seamlessly, the sense of euphoria lingered, wrapping itself around the two of you like a comforting blanket.

But soon, the effects of the weed hit you harder than you had anticipated. What had started as a gentle buzz of euphoria quickly morphed into an overwhelming sensation that gripped you with surprising intensity. The room, once a comforting cocoon of dim colours and soft sounds, began to distort and spin, as if the very walls were closing in on you.

The neon lights, previously a source of ambient charm, now seemed to take on a life of their own. They pulsed rhythmically, synchronising with the frantic beat of your heart. Each flash of colour felt like a jolt to your senses, amplifying the dizziness that was steadily washing over you. You couldn't latch onto a single coherent idea, each one slipping through your mental grasp like sand through fingers. The warmth that had spread through your chest turned into a heavy weight, pressing down and making it difficult to breathe.

"Eddie," you whispered, your voice trembling and tinged with panic. "I don't feel so good."

Without a moment's hesitation, Eddie was at your side, his carefree demeanour evaporating and replaced by genuine concern. His mischievous grin was gone, replaced by a furrowed brow and earnest eyes. "Hey, hey, it's okay," he said softly, his voice a soothing contrast to the cacophony in your head. "Just breathe."

His presence was grounding, a lifeline in the midst of your spiralling thoughts. Eddie gently placed his hands on your shoulders, guiding you to lie down on the couch. His touch was reassuring, each movement deliberate and careful, as if he were handling something fragile. You focused on the rough calluses on his fingers, a testament to countless hours spent mastering the guitar. The familiarity of it offered a small but significant anchor.

"You're gonna be fine," Eddie assured, his voice steady and calm. "Just close your eyes and breathe with me, okay?"

You did as he said, focusing on the rhythm of his breath. Slowly, the panic subsided, replaced by a comforting warmth that spread from where his hand rested on your arm. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest next to you, grounding you in the moment.

"Thank you," you mumbled, your voice still shaky but filled with genuine gratitude. A warm wave of thankfulness washed over you, momentarily easing the remnants of your discomfort. "You're really sweet, you know that?"

Eddie chuckled softly, a sound that seemed to vibrate through the air, making it feel a bit lighter. His eyes, warm and sincere, locked with yours, creating a moment of unspoken understanding. "Don't let that get around," he said with a teasing glint in his eyes, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I have a reputation to maintain."

A comfortable silence settled between you, the air thick with unspoken words. Your mind, still hazy, drifted to thoughts of Eddie—the way his eyes sparkled when he laughed, the way he always seemed to know how to make you feel better. You noticed the small scar above his eyebrow, a remnant of a long-forgotten skateboard accident, and the way his smile lines deepened when he was genuinely happy.

Before you knew it, you were leaning in, your lips brushing against his in a tentative kiss. Eddie froze for a moment, surprise flickering in his eyes before he responded, his kiss gentle and slow. His lips were soft, a stark contrast to the rough exterior he often displayed.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice husky as he pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. His breath was warm against your skin, mingling with the lingering scent of smoke.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. "Yes. I've never been more sure of anything."

With that, the last of the barriers between you crumbled. He took your hand and ledEddie's kisses became more insistent, his hands roving over your body with a mix of urgency and tenderness.

He guided you to his bed, the sheets rumpled and smelling faintly of his cologne. As you lay back, Eddie's fingers traced intricate, delicate patterns on your skin, each touch sending electrifying shivers down your spine. His hands moved with a slow, deliberate grace, as if he were committing every inch of you to memory. His touch felt electrifying, each caress sending waves of exaggerated pleasure through your heightened senses.

He took his time, his fingertips brushing gently along your arms, then down to your sides, and finally across your back. Time seemed to stretch and warp, each moment lingering as if you were moving in slow motion. The reverence in his touch was palpable, each caress imbued with a depth of feeling that words could scarcely capture. It was as though he was discovering you anew, with an unspoken vow to cherish every moment, every sensation.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion and awe. The words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity. His breath was warm against your ear, sending another wave of shivers cascading through you. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

His admission was like a key turning in a lock, opening a door to a shared vulnerability that neither of you had dared to breach before. You felt a rush of warmth, a mixture of relief and joy that settled in your chest.

“Me too,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper, trembling with the weight of your own emotions. Your fingers found their way to his hair, tangling in the soft, unruly strands. The sensation of his hair slipping through your fingers was a tangible connection that anchored you in the moment. “I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

Though the drugs had you floating, it was Eddie who truly had you soaring. You lay beneath him on his bed, his weight pressing you into the mattress as he clasped your hands above your head. His kisses were tender, his lips trailing down your body and brushing against your skin as he eagerly cast your clothes aside. Your body responded instinctively, arching into his touch, begging for more. You found yourself hyper-focused on the small details, like the texture of his skin the way his breath felt against your neck.

You could hardly think straight, the world around you a blur of colours and sensations. But Eddie, oh Eddie, he was the one clear thing in your mind. Your breath hitched as his lips worked their magic, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Your fingers intertwined with his, holding on like he was your lifeline. "Eddie..." you whispered, voice trembling with need. Every touch, every kiss, sent shivers down your spine, making your body respond to him instinctively.

Eddie's eyes met yours, a mix of desire and tenderness reflecting in them. "I've got you," he murmured, his voice a husky promise against your skin. His kisses grew more urgent, yet still so gentle, as if he was savouring every moment, every inch of you. Your breaths came quicker, your body aching for his touch, for the connection that seemed to electrify the air between you.

You felt his hands slide down your sides, taking their time, memorising every curve. The intensity of his gaze made you feel seen, wanted, in a way you had never felt before. Eddie’s hands moved with a careful, deliberate tenderness as he began to remove your clothes. His fingers traced the outline of your collarbone before gently slipping under the fabric of your shirt, lifting it over your head. His eyes never left yours, filled with a mix of desire and deep affection, as he continued to undress you, each piece of clothing falling away to reveal the vulnerability and trust that existed between you.

With practised ease, Eddie then began to remove his own clothes, his eyes locked onto yours, never breaking the connection. He peeled away his shirt, revealing the contours of his chest, and kicked off his jeans with a casual flick. In those brief moments, the space between you seemed to buzz with anticipation of what was to come.

"Eddie, please..." you gasped, your voice barely a whisper as the world narrowed down to just the two of you. He paused, just for a moment, to look into your eyes, his own filled with a mixture of love and raw need. "I need you," you confessed, feeling vulnerable but safe under his gaze.

Eddie's smile was soft, yet filled with a promise. "I'm right here," he reassured, his lips capturing yours once more, sealing the promise with a kiss that left you breathless. His body moved against yours, the world outside disappearing as you surrendered to the intoxicating sensation of his touch.

Eddie's skin pressed against yours as he positioned himself, his tip teasing your entrance. He took the joint from his bedside table and rested it between his lips, taking a long drag before he took it from his mouth and offered it to you, which you accepted eagerly. After you took a drag, he placed the joint in the ashtray beside his bed and let his body sink down on top of yours.

As Eddie's weight settled back on top of you, you exhaled, the smoke curling around his face. Your eyes locked, the connection between you deepening, unspoken words and promises passing in the silence. "Eddie," you whispered, your voice breathless but certain, your heart pounding in sync with his.

A smirk played on his lips, his eyes dark with desire as he positioned himself once more, his tip teasing your entrance, heightening the anticipation. "You’re mine," he murmured, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine. His hands found yours again, fingers intertwining around yours as he pinned your hands above your head.

Eddie's eyes searched yours for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, he entered you with a slow, deliberate thrust, his breath hitching as he felt you envelop him. The initial sensation was a mix of tenderness and intensity, your bodies adjusting to one another in a perfect, intimate dance.

Each subsequent thrust was measured and deep, a rhythm that spoke of both passion and control. Eddie's movements were fluid yet powerful, each one sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. His hips rolled with a practised grace, driving deeper and harder with every motion.

The room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in this shared moment of ecstasy. Your breaths synchronised, mingling in the air between you, each thrust drawing a soft moan from your lips. Eddie's pace quickened, the intensity building as he pushed you both closer to the edge.

"Oh fuck," you gasped, your voice a mix of plea and gratitude, every touch, one that transcended the physical and touched the very core of your being.

As the pleasure built to an almost unbearable peak, your body trembled beneath Eddie's, every nerve ending alight with anticipation. His hands tightened around yours with possessive urgency, his breath hot and ragged against your lips. Each thrust brought you closer to the edge, the connection between you deepening with every movement.

"Eddie,I’m gonna…" you gasped, your voice filled with desperate need. He responded with a deep, primal groan, his pace quickening ever so slightly, the intensity of the moment swelling around you. You could feel the tension coiling within you, ready to snap, and you knew he was right there with you.

Eddie's rhythm became more urgent, his thrusts faster and deeper, driving you both towards an inevitable, explosive release. The air between you crackled with electricity, every nerve in your body attuned to the mounting pleasure. His breaths came in ragged gasps, mingling with your own, the sounds of your shared ecstasy filling the room.

Your body convulsed, waves of pleasure crashing over you, every muscle tightening and then releasing in an overwhelming rush. Eddie continued to move, drawing out every last bit of your orgasm, his own release following closely behind. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and heavy against your skin as he found his own peak, a guttural groan escaping his lips.

For a few moments, the world was a blur of sensation, the two of you lost in the aftermath of your shared pleasure. Slowly, as your breathing steadied and your heart began to calm, Eddie loosened his grip on your hands, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your skin.

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, a soft smile playing on his lips. "You okay?" he asked, his voice tender and full of concern. You nodded, a contented smile spreading across your face.

"More than okay," you replied, your voice a soft murmur. Eddie's smile widened, and he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"Good," he said, his voice a soothing balm in the quiet room. He settled beside you, pulling you into his arms, the warmth and comfort of his embrace a perfect end to the intensity of your shared moment.

As the moments slipped by, you found yourselves wrapped in each other, the intensity of your earlier passion giving way to a serene, comforting intimacy. Eddie's fingers lazily trailed through your hair, his touch soothing and familiar.

"I'm really glad you're here," he murmured, his voice a soft rumble against your ear. "I mean, I’m always glad when you’re here, but tonight... It feels different. Better."

You smiled, your heart swelling with warmth. "It does," you agreed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Eddie's lips brushed against your forehead in a tender kiss, his breath warm against your skin. "I guess we both needed a little push," he said with a chuckle, reaching across her to grab the discarded, half smoked joint from the ash tray beside his bed. He rested it between his lips, sparking it to life with a steady inhale.

You shifted closer to him, your head resting on his chest. You could hear the steady beat of his heart, a comforting reminder of the connection you shared. "I always feel safe with you, Eddie," you admitted, your fingers tracing the contours of his chest. "Even when everything else feels out of control."

Eddie's arms tightened around you, his grip possessive yet gentle. "You're safe with me," he promised, his voice filled with sincerity. "Always."

The room was bathed in the soft glow of dawn, the first light of morning filtering through the curtains. The gentle illumination revealed the familiar outlines of Eddie's room—the cluttered desk strewn with scattered notebooks and D&D figurines, the posters of Iron Maiden and Metallica that adorned the walls, and the guitar propped up in the corner. Each detail was a vivid reflection of Eddie himself: chaotic, passionate, and full of life.

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things smut #eddie munson x you #smut fanfiction

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darlingsblackbook · 3 months ago

Text

Shattered Trust

Rafayel x Reader

Summary : Rafayel had decided to love and trust you again, even knowing how dire the consequences had been in the past. What happens when history repeats itself and he's betrayed yet again?

Wordcount : 5k

Warnings : us being a untrustworthy ho, betrayal, sad fish, angst, violence against us ( free us ). Drugging!

°•♡•° Masterlist °•♡•°

The underground club was a labyrinth of dark corners, shadowed faces, and winding pathways lit only by the occasional flicker of neon signs overhead. I could feel Rafayel’s steady presence beside me as we pushed deeper into the crowd, his arm brushing against mine each time someone jostled past us. In this city, trust was scarce, and this place was a dangerous testament to that fact.

“Stick close,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper under the bass-heavy beat pounding through the walls.

I nodded, glancing around for any sign of the dealer. Our target, someone rumored to be deep in the trade of the elusive Aether Core, had told us to come here alone. But, despite Rafayel’s calm demeanor, I could sense the tension simmering beneath the surface. He had been by my side for a long time now, through more than one dangerous mission, and I knew his watchful eyes were taking in every shadow, every suspicious figure.

It wasn’t long before we were pulled apart by the ebb and flow of the crowd. I felt his arm slip from mine as someone stepped in between us, and when I turned to look for him, he’d already been swallowed by the sea of people.

I hesitated, debating whether to look for him, but then my gaze landed on the far side of the room. There, seated in a dimly lit booth surrounded by a few guards, was the dealer.

He was watching me, his expression unreadable, but he inclined his head ever so slightly in invitation. My stomach twisted, but I pushed forward, ignoring the itch of unease crawling up my spine.

I approached slowly, keeping my posture relaxed despite the knot of apprehension in my chest. As I neared the table, the dealer’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he gestured to the seat across from him. The air around us felt suffocating, like the walls were closing in, but I forced myself to stay calm.

“You’re here about the Aether Core,” he said, his voice as smooth as ice. He didn’t bother with introductions; his gaze was sharp, calculating. “But before we discuss anything, I have terms.”

I nodded, keeping my expression neutral. “I assumed as much.”

His lips curled into a faint smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “You see, I know exactly who you are. A hunter, with a certain… reputation.” His eyes flicked toward the crowd. “And you’ve come with a companion, yes? The man with you?”

“Why do you ask?” I replied carefully, feeling my pulse quicken.

The dealer leaned back, steepling his fingers. “Because I don’t trust anyone who comes looking for the Aether Core,” he said, each word heavy with implication. “If you want to deal with me, I need a guarantee. That companion of yours… he will stay with my guard. If you’re trustworthy, you’ll get him back by the end of our business. If not…”

My stomach twisted. “And if I refuse?”

The dealer’s smile widened, a dark, predatory gleam in his eyes. “Then you’re free to walk away… without the information you seek. But let me assure you, anyone looking for an Aether Core is usually in no position to be picky about terms.”

He was right. This was the only lead we had, and walking away would mean throwing away weeks of progress. I clenched my hands under the table, weighing my options.

Rafayel would never agree to this if he knew. If I explained it to him, he might resist, and this was too important to risk failure over. I took a steadying breath, feeling a pang of guilt as I nodded my agreement. “Fine. I’ll make sure he doesn’t resist.”

The dealer looked satisfied, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. “Then it’s settled.” With that, he pushed himself up from the table, gesturing to his guard.

“You know where to find me. Once your friend is under control, we’ll meet upstairs.” He disappeared up a narrow staircase to the VIP section, his figure fading into the shadows above, leaving me alone with the weight of my decision.

I weaved back through the crowd, my mind racing. The truth was, I had no idea how I was going to pull this off. Rafayel trusted me—trusted me to have his back, not to turn on him. But if he found out, if he even sensed what I was about to do…

I spotted him near the bar, his back turned as he scanned the room. When he saw me approach, his expression softened slightly, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

“Got a bit lost, didn’t you?” he teased, his tone light as he leaned against the bar. “This place is a maze.”

I forced a smile, my heart pounding as I stepped closer to him. “It’s… crowded in here.”

He chuckled, oblivious to the turmoil churning inside me. “Yeah, I noticed.” He glanced back at the dance floor, watching the swirling lights and shadows. “So, did you find him?”

“Yeah,” I said quietly, my hand slipping into my pocket to retrieve the small vial I’d hidden there. “He’s upstairs. But… there’s something I need to do first.”

He turned to face me, brow furrowing slightly, a hint of curiosity flickering in his eyes. “What’s that?”

My fingers brushed the edge of the vial, my pulse racing as I met his gaze. “I need you to trust me.”

He raised an eyebrow, the faintest trace of concern creeping into his expression. “Since when have I ever doubted you?”

His words only made this harder. With a deep breath, I moved closer, placing a hand on his shoulder to steady myself as I uncapped the vial.

Before he could react, I pressed it to his lips, tilting it back as he inhaled in surprise. The liquid took effect almost instantly, and his eyes widened in confusion as he staggered slightly.

“Y/N… what are you…?” His words slurred, and he reached out to steady himself, his grip tightening on my arm as he struggled to stay upright.

“I’m sorry, Rafayel,” I whispered, watching as his eyes began to glaze over, his expression turning from confusion to betrayal.

The dealer's guard stepped up from the shadows and grabbed onto each of his arms as he slumped forward. Rafayel raised his head up one last time, looking at me as I just stood there as he was being dragged away. Just before my sight of him was blocked by the partying people around us I saw his eyes roll back as the drug finally took him out.

°•♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•°

I stood at the bar of the busy club, staring at the staircase leading up to the VIP section where the dealer had disappeared. My pulse pounded in my ears as I took a shaky breath and I walked over and forced myself to climb.

I reminded myself this was for the greater good—Rafayel is safe, he would not be harmed. But the look in his eyes as he’d passed out, the betrayal there… it stayed with me, eating away at my resolve.

Two guards waited at the top of the stairs, stone-faced as they eyed me. One nodded and stepped aside, pushing open a heavy door, revealing a room filled with shadows. In its center, the dealer sat alone at a polished table, glancing over his shoulder with a faint smirk.

“Please, come in,” he said, gesturing to the seat across from him. “Don’t look so tense.”

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to cross the room and sit. The tension in my chest only tightened as I settled in. The walls here were lined with dark velvet curtains and the faint, musky scent of incense filled the air, adding to the suffocating atmosphere.

The dealer studied me for a long, silent moment, and the smirk on his face twisted with satisfaction. “So, you made the right choice, it seems.”

“You have what you wanted,” I replied coolly, barely keeping my voice steady. “Let’s get down to business.”

He chuckled, a cold sound that echoed in the empty room. “Straight to the point, I see.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “So. What is it that drives you to chase after something as dangerous as the Aether Core?”

I frowned, not expecting him to question my motives. “That’s not part of our deal.”

“But I’m curious,” he pressed, the gleam in his eyes growing sharper. “The Aether Core is no ordinary artifact. To be here, asking questions about it, means you’re either desperate or foolish. Which is it?”

I kept my expression blank, refusing to rise to his bait. “We didn’t come here to share life stories. We came for information.”

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. “Very well. Let’s discuss terms, then. You’re aware that acquiring the Aether Core requires more than simple inquiries, yes?”

“I assumed as much.”

His smile widened, but it was anything but friendly. “The Core’s current whereabouts are… precarious. Guarded by people who’d just as soon kill you for even mentioning it. And I don’t usually put myself in harm’s way for such reckless causes.”

“Which is why we’re offering compensation,” I said sharply, my patience thinning. “Name your price.”

He gave me a pitying look, as though I were a child asking for the impossible. “This isn’t as simple as money, little girl,” he sneered, tapping his fingers against the table. “But you must know that already. That’s why you brought him along, isn’t it?”

The subtle threat made my heart skip, but I kept my face unreadable. “What does he have to do with this?”

“Oh, more than you’d like him to, I imagine.” He laughed quietly, the sound grating. “A shame, really, dragging someone so… capable… into this. But collateral, as we discussed, is a necessary evil.”

I clenched my fists, feeling the urge to lash out, but I kept my composure. “Are you trying to change the terms now?” I asked, my voice barely controlled. “You said as long as I played along, no harm would come to him.”

“Relax,” he drawled, waving a dismissive hand. “I’m just being realistic. After all, accidents happen.” He looked at me with mock sympathy, watching my reaction as he added, “It’d be a pity if your companion ended up as collateral damage.”

The threat sent a chill through me, but I forced myself to hold his gaze, refusing to let him see how much he’d gotten under my skin. “You have him exactly where you want. Just keep your end of the deal, and we’ll leave. Simple as that.”

He chuckled again, amused by my defiance. “And that is where you’re mistaken, dear. You think you can just walk in, take what you need, and walk away? This Core is far more valuable than you seem to realize.” His tone dropped, laced with something dark. “One wrong move, and I could make sure you both disappear without a trace.”

I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to stay calm despite the fire building in my chest. “If you so much as touch him—”

“Ah, but that’s entirely in your hands, isn’t it?” he cut me off smoothly. “If you want his safety, perhaps you should show me a bit more… gratitude. After all, I’ve been very accommodating.”

I could feel my control slipping, anger flickering through me. “Gratitude?” I repeated, my voice shaking. “We had a deal— and now you're threatening him because I dared to ask questions - just for what do you want gratitude?”

“Watch your tone,” he warned, his voice icy. “Or you might find yourself without a bargaining chip at all.”

My heart pounded, the urge to rip that smug look off his face almost overwhelming. But I couldn’t risk Rafayel’s safety, not when he was already at their mercy- because of me. I swallowed, forcing myself to take a deep breath.

“So, what do you want, then?” I asked quietly, doing my best to sound composed. “You’ve already made it clear you’re not giving up the Core without something in return.”

The dealer leaned back in his chair, studying me with a calculating gleam. “Information, of course. About you, your little companion… your hunting methods.” He smirked. “Perhaps a demonstration.”

I felt my stomach twist, disgusted by the insinuation in his tone. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“No,” he agreed lightly, feigning innocence. “But deals evolve, especially when one side has so much to lose.” He paused, his eyes narrowing as he watched me. “Don’t test my patience, girl. I am not a man who tolerates insolence.”

I glared at him, fury boiling inside me, but I knew I was backed into a corner. Every instinct screamed at me to fight back, to demand Rafayel’s release and just have the dealer give me what I need- but I couldn't and I was starting to regret my decision.

Now the dealer had me in the palm of his hand and Rafayel's safety hinged on my cooperation. I couldn’t risk pushing this man too far.

“I’ll answer your questions,” I replied, barely managing to keep my voice steady. “But only about me. Rafayel has nothing to do with this.”

He scoffed, a mocking smile curving his lips. “How noble. But you’re not in a position to make demands. If you want to keep him breathing, you’ll answer anything I ask.”

My heart raced, but I kept my expression calm, even as dread sank deep into my bones. The dealer’s smug smile was infuriating, but I couldn’t afford to push him.

“Fine,” I said quietly, my voice laced with barely restrained anger. “What do you want to know?”

He leaned forward, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as he studied me. “Tell me, hunter, what drives you to chase after power you don’t understand?”

The dealer's question lingered in the air, a taunt woven into the shadows around us. I could feel his eyes on me, waiting, enjoying every second I struggled to keep my composure.

Part of me wanted to lash out, to tell him exactly what I thought of his games. But the memory of Rafayel’s limp body, his gaze dimming as the guard dragged him away, kept me grounded.

I took a slow breath, forcing the words out. "I’m here because I need it," I said, my tone low but steady. "Not for power—nothing like that. I’m here because lives depend on it."

The dealer raised an eyebrow, an amused glint in his gaze as if I’d just told him a fairy tale. "Lives?" he echoed, his tone dripping with disbelief. "So noble, and yet here you are, bargaining with a man like me. Sacrificing a friend in the process." He tilted his head, eyes narrowing with feigned pity. "Doesn’t sound very noble to me."

A spark of anger flared in my chest. “This was your choice,” I snapped. “I agreed to your terms. Don’t pretend this is anything other than what it is: a threat.”

He grinned, clearly enjoying my frustration. “A threat, perhaps,” he replied smoothly. “But an effective one. You see, I like control—and people like you, hunters so used to playing saviors… you need to understand that nothing comes without cost.”

My jaw tightened, but I forced myself to nod, staying calm. “So then what do you want from me?”

He leaned back, folding his hands in front of him as he studied me. "Cooperation. And patience. You ask me to hand over something precious, and yet you withhold honesty." He let his eyes drift over me, the calculating look in them unsettling. "If you want the Core, you can have it. Of course, it however does not come for free."

I couldn't help think of Rafayel again, trapped somewhere within this den, a wave of guilt crashed over me- what had I done?

I could almost hear his voice, laughing as we had entered the club together, blissfully unaware of what I would do later on. Of how I would betray him. Even now, I could feel the weight of that betrayal pressing down on me.

“So what do I need to do?” I asked, barely able to keep the exhaustion from my voice.

The dealer tapped his fingers against the table, his gaze never wavering. “For a start, I want to know why you’re willing to risk his life so carelessly. You claim this is for the greater good, but somehow, I doubt that’s all there is to it.” He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with dark curiosity. “What did you really come here for?”

My throat tightened, but I forced myself to keep steady. “The Aether Core has information—a map hidden within it. I need it to stop something dangerous, something that could destroy entire sectors if left unchecked.”

“A noble cause, then,” he murmured, though his expression suggested he was far from convinced. “And yet, you didn’t tell him, did you? You brought him here, then drugged him, using him to get what you want...” He tilted his head, an amused smirk pulling at his lips. “What does that say about your precious ‘greater good’?”

I felt the sting of his words, and the guilt I’d been trying to suppress rose to the surface. “I did what had to be done” I said quietly, the words tasting hollow even to my own ears.

The dealer scoffed, clearly unimpressed. “Is that what you tell yourself? You know, I have eyes and ears anywhere, I know...you two have been playing more than just bodyguard and artist. Oh, how much it must hurt to be betrayed by his love. Maybe, you did not even have to do it like this, maybe you could've just told him about my terms and he would have willingly walked away with my guards. I mean, I never said you had to drug him!"

He shook his head, laughing loudly. “I wish I could see his reaction when he finally wakes up. That is, if he ever wakes up to tell you.”

The threat sent a spike of panic through me, but I kept my face neutral. “You said you wouldn’t harm him if I cooperated.”

“And I won’t,” he replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. “But you’re walking on a very thin line. Push me too far, and even I can’t guarantee what might happen.”

I clenched my fists under the table, the tension tightening in my chest. I could only imagine what Rafayel would think if he woke up now—chained somewhere, alone, believing I’d left him to fend for himself. “Fine,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Just tell me what you want.”

The dealer’s eyes glinted, victorious. “It’s simple, really. I want loyalty. A taste of that hunter dedication you so freely hand out to those who don’t deserve it.”

“What do you mean?” I asked warily.

“A small task.” He leaned back, a satisfied smile stretching across his face. “There’s a rival in the sector—a thorn in my side. I want him… removed. Quietly, discreetly. And in return, I’ll give you the Core.”

The implication made my stomach twist. “You want me to kill him some guy for you.”

“Such an ugly word,” he said, shrugging. “But yes. You should be thankful this is all I am asking. An Aether Core is worth much more than a measly life, don't you think?"

The idea of being manipulated further made my skin crawl. I glanced toward the heavy door, feeling the weight of the situation pressing in. If I accepted, I’d be walking into a trap of my own making- who am I kidding? I had walked into the trap as soon as the thought of hurting Rafayel occured to me.

This was all the consequences of my own doing, now I had to deal with it.

He watched me, the anticipation in his gaze like a predator cornering its prey. I felt my resolve harden. I had no choice- if I disagreed, weeks worth of careful investegation of the Core would go to waste and most importantly, Rafayel....

I had to play the dealer’s twisted game—for now.

Swallowing hard, I forced myself to meet his gaze. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

His grin widened, satisfied. “Good. I knew you’d see reason.” He rose from his chair, giving a nod to the guard near the door.

"The instructions will be sent to you later. Remember—any hesitation, any slip-up, and I will find your precious friend and the consequences will be severe.”

I didn’t flinch, even as his warning settled heavily in the room. With one last glance, he motioned to the door, dismissing me like I was nothing more than an obedient pawn.

°•♡•°♡°•♡•°♡°•♡•°

The door closed behind me, the dealer's words still echoing in my mind, heavy with implications. Each step away from him felt like I was sinking deeper into quicksand, every choice leading me further from what I wanted and closer to something darker.

The hallway stretched long and empty before me, dimly lit by pale neon lights that flickered intermittently, casting my shadow in jagged, broken patterns along the walls. Somewhere behind these walls, Rafayel was likely about to wake up, groggy, confused, and furious.

I felt the weight of what I'd done gnawing at me. I'd justified it, telling myself it was for the greater good, that it was a necessary evil for something bigger.

But had it really been necessary?

I clenched my fists, trying to suppress the tremor in my hands. He would understand. I’d explain it to him, it will be fine.

Turning the corner, I was met with another dimly lit hall, punctuated by the murmurs of voices and the steady, dull bass from the music overhead. I walked briskly, half-aware of the curious glances from people lingering in the shadows, assessing, judging.

But they didn't matter right now. All that mattered was getting to Rafayel.

Down this hall, through the double doors, and into a storage area, Rafayel was supposedly held. I forced myself to move with purpose, brushing off the anxiety twisting in my stomach. The dealer's warning lingered—any hesitation, any slip-up—and I knew he would go after Rafayel again to ensure my compliance.

I pushed open the doors, stepping into a dimly lit room with high walls and rows of crates stacked haphazardly. My gaze swept the room, searching for Rafayel, my heart thudding as I spotted a figure slumped against one of the crates, shackles around his wrists, barely visible in the shadowed light.

"Rafayel." His name left my lips before I could stop myself, rushing toward him. Relief flooded me when I saw his chest rising and falling, even as his face remained turned away, his eyes closed.

The silence in the storage room felt stifling, pressing down on me as I knelt beside him. Relief washed over me just seeing him breathing, but it was tempered with a heavy dread.

“Rafayel…” I whispered, my voice barely audible as I reached out, resting a trembling hand on his arm.

Slowly, his eyes fluttered open, a glaze of confusion softening his usually piercing gaze. His brows furrowed, and his gaze wandered, trying to find something to latch onto in the murky space around him.

“Y/N?” he murmured, his voice thick with grogginess. His eyes met mine, and in that brief moment, he softened, searching my face like he was seeking comfort, an anchor in the haze of whatever I'd given him.

I felt my heart clench, guilt and relief warring within me as I touched his shoulder lightly.

“Rafayel, you’re okay,” I said, voice trembling with a gentleness that even surprised me. “You’re safe.”

He blinked, trying to focus, and I watched as fragments of realization flickered across his expression.

He moved sluggishly, bringing a hand to his temple as if to fend off a dull ache, his breathing slow, still heavy with the drug’s lingering effects.

For a second, he seemed almost vulnerable, a shadow of the man I knew. And then, slowly, I watched him piece it together—the confusion clearing, the warmth in his eyes fading as memory returned with devastating clarity.

“You…” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. “You did this.”

The words were soft but weighted, sinking into the space between us, and I saw the shift in his gaze, the creeping betrayal overtaking what little gentleness had been there moments before.

He tried to sit up, his muscles straining with the effort, and I instinctively placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to steady him.

“Please, let me explain—”

But he flinched at my touch, a sudden tension stiffening his posture. He didn’t shove me away, but the distance in his eyes felt far worse. The confusion had settled into something darker, something twisted in hurt.

“Explain?” he asked, his voice a quiet, bitter rasp. There was no anger in it yet, only the raw, open wound of betrayal. He was still dazed, his hand trembling slightly as he reached for the chains around his wrists, feeling the cold metal, the indignity of it.

My throat felt tight as I tried to find the words. “They… they wouldn’t meet with me otherwise. They needed you as collateral. They promised me you would be safe.”

“Safe?” he repeated, the word heavy, almost mocking. He looked up at me, eyes glassy with disbelief, and something else—something that looked like heartbreak.

“l trusted you and you drugged me! You my stripped me off my powers and left me vulnerable- left me to be locked up, used as some bargaining chip for your deal!"

He breathed heavily, "And what?" He spread his arms "You thought that was okay? B-Because they pinky promised that I would be safe...?”

The disbelief was slowly giving way to fury, an anger that simmered just beneath the surface, barely held back by his lingering weakness. His eyes searched mine, as if trying to reconcile the person he thought he knew with the one who had betrayed him.

“I didn’t mean....” I said, hating how small my voice sounded, the desperation woven into each word. “I just- I wasn't thinking… I didn’t know what else to do.”

He laughed, a broken, quiet sound. “You didn’t know what else to do,” he echoed.

His gaze hardened, as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. “So your solution was to knock me out and hand me over?” His voice cracked, raw with hurt. “You didn’t think maybe, just maybe, I’d do anything to help you achieve something so important to you?”

He took a step forward, “Tell me, Y/N—how many times do I have to be betrayed by you before it finally stops hurting?”

The words stunned me. Betrayed by me? I didn’t understand—he was speaking as though this wasn’t the first time, as if there was some history between us I couldn’t grasp. “What are you talking about?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “I have never...betrayed... you before…”

He looked at me then, his eyes clouded with a pain that ran far deeper than I could have imagined. “You don’t even remember, do you?” His voice was filled with quiet devastation, his words dripping with bitterness. “Of course you wouldn’t.”

The soft glow of the storage room lights flickered, casting Rafayel’s face in sharp, angular shadows. “You betrayed me,” he hissed, the words slicing through the silence like a weapon. “How could you do this... again?”

My pulse quickened as I looked up into his storm-gray eyes, clouded with a mixture of hurt and rage. My mind whirled, scrambling to understand his anger, but all I could feel was the confusion gnawing at me. Something I had done had triggered a memory in Rafayel that I couldn’t recall, a past betrayal that still bled through his soul.

“Rafayel, please, listen to me,” I began, my voice trembling as I fought to keep calm. “I don’t remember…but..today.. I really didn’t mean to hurt you.”

I wanted to reach out, to tell him that whatever he remembered, it wasn’t like that this time—that I didn’t even remember any of it.

But the venom in his eyes made me pause. He wasn’t seeing me as I was now; he was seeing a ghost from his past, a woman who’d betrayed him over and over, leaving scars that never healed.

But it was too late.

Rafayel’s face twisted with pain and fury. “You don’t remember? How convenient.” His power surged around him, a dark aura that seemed almost tangible.

He took a step forward, his hands trembling with barely restrained energy. “Do you have any idea! What it’s like to be betrayed over and over again! To be killed and left behind! Then have to watch you pretend as if nothing ever happened?”

My heart pounded, each word of his like a fresh wound. I could feel his anger intensifying, his power leaking out uncontrollably as the memories overwhelmed him.

The lights flickered again, and I felt a sharp chill crawl down my spine as the air crackled with his energy.

“Rafayel… I’m sorry,” I managed, my voice breaking. I reached out, hoping to calm him, to make him understand that I was different now. “Please, don’t do this.”

But he flinched away from me, his gaze cold and unyielding. “Every lifetime, you find some new way to tear me apart. And every time, I let you back in.” His voice was barely a whisper now, thick with bitterness and betrayal. “But not this time. This time, I’ll make sure you feel the pain you’ve put me through.”

Before I could respond, he raised a hand, his power flaring up. I barely had time to gasp before the wave of energy pulsed toward me, raw and unforgiving, knocking me back. Pain shot through my whole body like an electric shock as I collided with the wall, my vision blurring.

I looked up at him, eyes wide with shock and hurt. For a moment, his expression softened, as if he realized what he had done. His hand trembled as he lowered it, and just for a fleeting second, I thought he might reach for me, might offer me the comfort I so desperately needed.

But he turned away, his face once more a mask of hardened resolve. “Stay away from me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. And with that, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving me alone with the crushing weight of his anger and the millions of pieces of my own shattered heart.

A/N : This one really made me feel mad at us for Rafayel. I feel like he deserves so much better, poor fish, he and all the lemurians had to suffer bc of us and now he is being betrayed again. The fact that he is willing to even try again in the game-✋🏻🥲 please you deserve better, pookie.

Some might not like that he hurt the reader at the end but honestly? I kind of see the possiblity that it might happen, imagine the pain and hurt he has carried for so many years. Unlike the others, he had the worse thing that could happen, happen to him. Imagine still trying to open your heart again because you just love someone so much and they betray you once again.

Anyways, meow.

#lads x you #lads spoilers #lads x reader #lads angst #lads #lads rafayel #love and deepspace angst #love and deepspace #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel angst #rafayel x mc #rafayel x you #rafayel x reader #rafayel #rafayel x y/n #lads x y/n #lads x mc

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a-court-of-mischief-and-madness · 5 months ago

Text

ICY PURSUITS

Summary: Fire and ice—she was the water meant to extinguish his flames, but instead, they created a burning desire neither could resist.

Pairings: Eris Vanserra x winter court reader!

Warnings: 18+ Smut, childhood friends to enemies to lovers, language, oral fem receiving, p in the v, minors dni

a/n: help, dont know where this came from, but enjoy! Inspired by our childhood (fire boy and water girl)

The cold of the Winter Court always had a bite to it, a sharp edge that you’d grown used to over the years. But tonight, it felt more punishing, as though the wind was determined to strip you of your resolve, to drive you back to the safety of your home. Yet, you pressed on through the snow-covered forest, each step more hesitant than the last. The snow crunched beneath your boots, each footfall louder than the last as if the forest itself was warning you to turn back.

But you couldn’t—not when you were so close to the Autumn border, so close to the flames that drew you in like a moth to a fire. It had always been this way between you and Eris Vanserra, a dangerous dance where fire threatened to consume water, where polar opposites collided. As a child, you’d been entranced by him, the boy with flames in his hair and a smirk that made your heart race. But those days were long gone, replaced by years of bitter silence and strained politics. Now, you were enemies, but that didn’t stop the pull you felt toward him—a pull that terrified you as much as it excited you.

You knew the stories—how he was as brutal as his father, how he’d inherited not only the throne but Beron’s cruelty. But you’d also seen the cracks in that carefully crafted mask, the fleeting moments where the boy you once knew peeked through. That was what drew you here tonight, wasn’t it? A foolish hope that the boy still existed beneath the man who now hunted you.

A snap of a branch pulled you from your thoughts, and you whipped around, heart pounding in your chest. Eris emerged from the shadows, his auburn hair a stark contrast to the snow-covered landscape. His eyes blazed with the same fire that had always drawn you to him, but now there was something else—something darker, more dangerous.

“You shouldn’t be here,” his voice was a low growl, sending a shiver down your spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

“Neither should you,” you shot back, trying to keep your voice steady even as your pulse quickened. But the bravado in your tone faltered as he took a step closer, his presence overwhelming, suffocating.

His gaze traveled down your body, lingering on the way your chest heaved with each breath. You cursed yourself for being so obvious, for letting him see just how much his presence affected you. His smirk widened as his eyes locked onto the small glimpse of your cleavage that your jacket failed to hide. The heat in your cheeks was unavoidable, a blush that betrayed every thought running through your mind. But his gaze, so intense and burning, traveled lower, making your breath hitch in your throat.

Without another word, you turned and ran, the cold air biting at your skin as you sprinted toward the safety of your Court. You didn’t dare look back, knowing that he was right behind you, his footsteps barely audible over the pounding of your heart. The trees blurred past as you raced toward the icy lake, the only thing between you and freedom. But as you reached the edge, your foot slipped on the slick surface, sending you crashing to the ground.

Pain shot through your back as you hit the ice, the impact knocking the wind from your lungs. You gasped, struggling to breathe as the cold seeped into your bones, the cracks in the ice beneath you spidering outward like fragile veins. Before you could even think of getting up, Eris was there, towering over you with a predatory gleam in his eyes.

His hand was on you before you could react, fingers brushing over your thigh with a deliberate slowness that made your breath hitch. You shuddered at the contact, your body betraying you with the heat that pooled low in your belly. His smirk grew as he watched the way you reacted to him, every muscle tensing beneath his touch.

“You’ve always been drawn to the flame, haven’t you?” he murmured, his voice a dangerous whisper that sent another shiver down your spine. His fingers trailed higher, brushing the hem of your dress, and you cursed the way your body arched into his touch, betraying you once again.

“Eris…” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper as you tried to push him away, but the effort was half-hearted at best. The tension between you crackled like the flames that danced in his eyes, and despite every logical thought screaming at you to stop, you couldn’t. He was a fire, and you were the water meant to douse it, but instead, you felt yourself burning up from the inside out.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear, sending another jolt of heat straight through you. “You should’ve stayed away,” he whispered, his voice laced with both warning and desire. But even as he said the words, his hand was moving again, trailing up your thigh to where your dress had ridden up, exposing the smooth skin beneath.

The ice beneath you cracked louder, the sound echoing through the forest, but all you could focus on was the fire in his eyes and the way it matched the heat pooling in your core. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your breaths coming in shallow gasps as you struggled to maintain control. But his touch was too intoxicating, too overwhelming, and you couldn’t help the way your body responded to him.

His gaze never left yours as he brushed his fingers against the exposed skin of your thigh, the heat of his touch searing through you like a brand. “Tell me to stop,” he whispered, his voice rough with barely contained desire. It was a challenge, a final test of will, and you knew that if you didn’t stop this now, there would be no going back.

But instead of pushing him away, you reached up, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him down to you. Your lips met in a clash of heat and desperation, and all thoughts of stopping evaporated in the face of the fire that consumed you both.

Eris groaned against your mouth as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. The ice beneath you continued to crack, but you didn’t care anymore. All that mattered was the way his hands gripped your hips, the way his body pressed against yours, and the way his tongue teased yours with the promise of something more.

In one fluid motion, he winnowed you both to his chambers, the warmth of the fire that filled the room a stark contrast to the cold you’d just left behind. But even here, in the safety of his quarters, the tension between you only grew, crackling like the embers in the hearth.

Eris set you down gently on the bed, his eyes dark with the same hunger that burned through you. He was on you in an instant, his hands roaming your body as if he couldn’t get enough, as if he needed to memorize every inch of you. And you let him, your own hands exploring the hard planes of his chest, the muscles that tensed beneath your touch.

When you straddled him, your dress riding up to expose even more skin, his breath hitched, and he looked up at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as his gaze traveled up your body, taking in every detail, every inch of exposed skin.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice rough with desire but tinged with something softer—something that made your heart twist in your chest. He needed to know you wanted this as much as he did, that this wasn’t just the heat of the moment.

You nodded, your breath catching as his grip on your thighs tightened. “I want this, Eris. I want you.”

That was all he needed. In an instant, his lips were on yours again, fierce and demanding, and you melted into him, letting the fire consume you. His hands roamed your body, tugging at your dress until it pooled around your waist, exposing even more of you to his hungry gaze.

Eris’s mouth trailed down your neck, his tongue leaving a blazing path in its wake. When he reached the curve of your breast, you moaned, your hands fisting in his hair as you arched into him. His mouth latched onto your nipple, teasing and tormenting until you were writhing beneath him, desperate for more.

But he wasn’t done with you yet. With a wicked grin, he shifted lower, his hands guiding your hips as he moved between your legs. The anticipation was unbearable, and you bit your lip to keep from begging him to hurry.

When his tongue finally touched you, it was like fire igniting inside you, a searing heat that sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You cried out, your hands gripping the sheets as you arched into him, desperate for more. Eris didn’t relent, his tongue and fingers working in perfect harmony to drive you closer and closer to the edge.

“Eris,” you moaned, your voice breaking as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with lust, and the sight of him between your legs, his mouth on you, was enough to push you over the edge.

You came with a cry, your body trembling as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. Eris held you through it, his hands gentle on your hips as he coaxed every last bit of pleasure from your body.

When you finally came down, breathless and boneless, he moved back up your body, capturing your lips in a slow, languid kiss. The fire between you hadn’t dimmed—it had only just begun to burn.

Eris pulled back slightly, his breath hot against your lips as he looked into your eyes, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race all over again. The way he looked at you—like you were the only thing in the world that mattered—was overwhelming. The fire between you was still blazing, and you could feel it pulsing through every inch of your body.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging him closer as you kissed him with renewed fervor. The taste of him was intoxicating, and you couldn’t get enough. The hunger in you grew stronger with each touch, each caress of his hands on your skin. You wanted more—needed more.

Without breaking the kiss, you reached down, fumbling with the ties of his trousers. The friction of his body against yours was driving you mad, and you needed to feel him, to have him inside you, to finally sate the fire that had been burning between you for so long.

Eris groaned against your mouth, his hands gripping your waist as he helped you with the last of his clothing. When he was finally free, you could feel the heat of him, hard and ready, pressing against you.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and filled with a mix of lust and something deeper—something that made your heart ache in the most beautiful way. “Are you sure?” he asked again, his voice rough with need.

In answer, you shifted your hips, aligning yourself with him as you leaned down to kiss him again. The sensation of him pressing against you was electrifying, and you couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped your lips.

“Please,” you whispered against his lips, your voice trembling with a need that you couldn’t suppress. “I need you, Eris.”

With a growl, Eris surged forward, entering you in one swift, fluid motion that stole your breath away. The sensation of him filling you was overwhelming, and you clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you tried to hold on to something—anything.

The pleasure was intense, almost too much to bear, but you couldn’t stop. The way he moved inside you, the way he fit so perfectly—it was everything you’d ever wanted and more. You rode him slowly at first, savoring the sensation, the connection between you, the way his hands gripped your hips and guided you, the way his eyes locked onto yours, filled with desire.

Eris’s hands roamed your body, tracing every curve, every dip and rise, as if he was memorizing you. His touch was both tender and demanding, a perfect blend of fire and control that left you breathless. You could feel the tension building again, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter within you as you moved together.

You leaned forward, pressing your chest against his as you rode him harder, faster, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. Eris met you thrust for thrust, his grip on your hips tightening as the intensity between you grew to an unbearable peak.

“Look at me,” he whispered, his voice low and commanding, and you did, your eyes locking onto his. The connection between you was electric, a burning intensity that threatened to consume you both.

You were so close—so close to falling over the edge again. You could feel it, the pleasure building, the fire inside you burning hotter and hotter until it was all you could focus on, all you could think about.

“Eris,” you moaned his name, your voice breaking with the effort to hold on just a little longer. But you couldn’t—you were too far gone, too lost in the sensation of him, in the way he made you feel.

With a final, desperate thrust, the pleasure finally overtook you, and you cried out his name as you came undone in his arms. The intensity of it was overwhelming, a shattering wave of ecstasy that left you trembling and breathless.

Eris followed you over the edge, his own release crashing over him as he held you close, his body tensing beneath you as he found his own pleasure. You could feel him trembling, his breaths ragged as he buried his face in your neck, his lips pressing against your skin in a desperate, hungry kiss.

For a long moment, the two of you stayed like that, tangled together, your bodies still trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure. The fire between you had finally been sated, but the connection, the bond you’d formed in that moment, was stronger than ever.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your fingers tracing the lines of his face as you memorized every detail. There was something different in his eyes now—a softness, a vulnerability that hadn’t been there before. It made your heart swell with something warm and tender, something you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel for him in years.

Eris seemed to sense it too because he leaned in to kiss you again, this time slow and tender, as if he was trying to pour everything he felt into that single kiss. And maybe he was—maybe this was his way of telling you everything he couldn’t put into words, everything he felt for you but had never been able to say.

When the kiss finally ended, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your lips. “I didn’t know it could be like this,” he whispered, his voice soft and full of wonder. “I didn’t know I could feel like this.”

You smiled, your heart full as you stroked his cheek. “Neither did I.”

For the first time in years, you felt truly at peace. The fire and the water had finally come together, not to destroy each other, but to create something beautiful—something that would burn brightly for years to come.

#eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris vandaddy #azriel x reader #eris x oc #feyre x rhysand #rhysand sister #eris fic #rhysand #eris fanfic #eris vanserra x oc #eris vanserra fic #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x y/n #acotar fanfiction #acotar

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kaeyas-beloved · 1 year ago

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before i could tell you

Character: Wriothesley

— he died never knowing your greatest secret

CW: afab!gn!reader (they/them), ANGST, hurt/no comfort, pregnancy, death (Wriothesley), Fontaine Act 4 spoilers

val’s no sympathy november masterlist

happy birthday Wriothesley... <3

The clock in the Chief Justice's office never ticked as loudly as it did now. What once served as pleasant background noise was presently a gut-wrenching reminder that you're currently in the realm of reality and not some dream world. However, you still futilely fight against it... simply because it’s all you can and want to do.

"Quit... quit joking around, it's not funny." Neuvillette takes a deep breath through his nose, subtlety glancing at the other faces in the room. The traveler from afar can’t bring themselves to raise their head, Clorinde stands deep in thought and Paimon floats beside her companion, sniffling softly. All of them can’t bring themselves to face you, each harboring their own regret.

As the embodiment of justice, Neuvillette rarely jokes, especially with concerns to another’s life. You knew this well, and yet you still repeat that same plea to him, hoping you’ll get a different answer than just silence. “Don’t joke like that Neuvillette… he’s fine… Wriothesley’s okay… he’s at home isn’t he? Like he said he’d be?”

You’re holding yourself like it’s the last defence you have at not splitting at the seams, and Fontaine’s Iudex wants desperately to deliver a different verdict than what the world has decided. Words the Warden spoke to him one evening over a hot pot of tea echo in his mind as he looks at your fragile form.

“You’ll keep them safe for me, won’t you Neuvillette? Life as Warden has its twists and turns, you never know what might happen down here. Ah, but of course you know this, don’t you?” He followed with a carefree laugh, and he could easily lie about being unaware of the ticking time bomb he sat above if he wanted to.

He feels as if he’s failed the man in keeping that promise. You physically may be safe, but your heart is going through hell and back in that moment and there wasn’t anything he could do. He could only watch on as the world around you buzzed, everything suddenly a trigger made to launch your senses into a state of overload. The light pouring through the window is too bright, everyone’s presence is too suffocating, your chest tightens and your stomach feels like it’s tearing itself apart and you just might be sick right then and there if you didn’t take a breath.

The embrace you had on yourself tightens, and as a form of comfort you imagine the familiar heat of your husband hugging you from behind, his large frame encompassing and the only thing you ever needed to feel better at times like these. For just a moment you’re able to feel him hold you, tuck his head into your shoulder and telling you that everything will be alright as he keeps you afloat.

He can’t though, not anymore, and instead it’s Paimon who tries to console you through words and the champion duelist who steadies you when your legs threaten to give out. “It’s okay, Wriothesley would want you to stay happy right? He’d want you to keep living even though he’s not here with you…”

Your gaze slowly lifts to the pink fairy, a shaky breath forcing itself past your lips, “it’s not okay Paimon… he didn’t know… I didn’t get to tell him…”

Your quiet admission not only confused her but the others as well, “Paimon doesn’t understand, you didn’t get to tell him what exactly?”

Neuvillette suddenly speaks, his eyes scanning over you. Anyone who knew him could see the underlying shock in his irises, unprepared to face this new revelation, “you’re with child, aren’t you?” The pieces click in his mind and anyone that was paying attention would notice the beginning of a heavy downpour starting right outside.

Softly nodding, fat tears began to slide down your cheeks, voice breaking as you continue, “I was going to tell him today, after he got off work. He promised he’d make it home tonight. Oh that Wriothesley… stupid, stupid Wriothesley…”

“Tell me how what happened, please. In full detail,” your request is met by hesitant silence, Clorinde finally being the one to speak up. You didn’t think it possible, but somehow everything just got worse and worse.

He was splashed with Primordial Sea Water closing the gates in the Fortress of Meropide. There is no body to bury. There’s no way to say a final goodbye. The Iudex watches a fresh wave of tears line your eyes, your blank stare as you process everything his cue to proceed with what hehe had in mind.

Standing from his seat, he walks up to you and lifts your trembling hands, placing something cool in your palm. Looking down, you’re surprised to see the necklace you’d gifted Wriothesley a few years ago, the one he refused to take off because it, according to him, “feels nice against my heart. Like a piece of you is always with me.”

“This was… in the pile of clothes left behind. I believe it to be something returned back to you,” he said, patting your hand once before brushing past you. Out of your view the male waved the others out of the room, just to give you a few moments to yourself.

When the door closed was the same second the dam broke, sobs of a heartbreaking calibre echoing in the quiet room. There was only one thought that circled in your mind: he’s gone, and he’s not coming back. No more waking up to his gruff voice in the morning, hair tossed in all different directions. You’ll never feel his calloused hands caress your cheeks, his voice low and only meant for you as he tells you he’s the luckiest man in the world to have you as his spouse and how he can’t wait for what the future would bring you both.

No more gushing to one another about how you’ll spoil your children as much as you can, daydreaming about what the little ones could look like, only to cuddle close and ready to fall asleep with the promise that no matter what you’d love them regardless.

“We’re getting our biggest dream to come true Wriothesley… I’m telling you now, so come back and love them liked you promised dammit. I can’t do this without you.”

Tag list: (both regular and event exclusive): @spoopy-fish-writes // @that-enby-alien // @xenuuu // @kaeyaloml // @mariposa666haruka // @quackquackmfs // @kunikuzushiii // @genshin-impact-writings // @ventisweetheart // @lordbugs // @leena-shi // @ari-the-wr1ter // @xiaos-wife // @milkwithspiceyicecubes // @stygianoir // @francisnyx

@kaiserkisser // @multipleshadesofblue // @moloteco-real // @kithewanderingme // @scaramood // @ii-lily2 // @esuz // @kochothehoe // @cindywasneverhere

#val’s nsn #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #wriothesley angst #wriothesley x gender neutral reader #genshin impact #genshin angst #genshin fanfic #genshin wriothesley #genshin writing #genshin impact wriothesley #genshin x you #genshin x gender neutral reader

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muzansfangs · 1 year ago

Text

Enjoy the silence.

Starring: Shinji Hirako x f!reader;

Format: one-shot;

Warnings: nsfw, fluff, slight somnophilia, oral sex (f!reader receiving), slight overstimulation, morning sex, enstablished relationship, Shinji’s piercing on his tongue is a warning itself.

Plot: you had convinced your boyfriend Shinji to accompany you to a concert. He loved music, but he loathed the band you supported. For the sake of you, he had let it slide, although he complained all the way back to your flat. The morning after, you woke up to an immense pleasure engulfing your nether regions, only to find out your boyfriend’s shit-eating grin giving you a sweet good morning.

Track: Enjoy the silence – Depeche Mode “All I ever wanted, all I ever needed is here in my arms. Words are very unnecessary, they can only do harm”.

MASTERLIST FOR THE EVENT.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Some golden rays seeped through the curtains, lazily illuminating the bedroom with a soothing orange light and the comforting warmth of the sun raising up in the sky. It was early, right, and you were still peacefully sleeping into your bed with the white blankets tangled in your legs and your boyfriend’s head resting on your chest. The sound of the chirping birds outside your window woke him up, his heavy eyelids slowly opening to greet the new day ahead of him.

His head ached a little, the aftermath of the rock concert you had dragged him to still affecting him quite badly. Maybe he should have stayed sprawled on your sofa yesterday night. Still, he could not turn you down. Not after the puppy eyes you had given him to his first refusal to accompany you there.

He lifted himself up the elbows, eyes darting on your body and your delicate features. You were still sleeping, chest raising and falling rhythmically, lips parted as you navigated through the mysterious roads of dreamland.

You were so beautiful, so perfect for him, even if you literally drove him mad at times. If he closed his eyes, he could still see you dancing beside him, screaming at the top of your lungs all the lyrics of the band he loathed oh so much. Still, you were so happy and dashing, shining among thd dancing crowd, and he loved seeing you smile like that. Yet, he had to somehow get back at you. He could not resist and restraining himself was not an option.

Being into a relationship for quite a while had granted you the chance to explore each other limits. You had told him more than once in the past that you were not bothered by the idea of him initiating intimate activities, while you were asleep. You trusted him blindly and, being touched by the person that had saved your life countless times in past, felt right, no matter the circumstances.

Shinji sighed, crawling down your body and carefully grasping your left leg to make some more space for him to move during the act. As he switched his gaze from your sleepy face to your panties, he made sure to slip his slender fingers underneath the straps and slowly pulled the item down your legs. A goddess, you looked like a real goddess.

From that position, the former Captain of the Fifth Division could enjoy the way your chest raised and fell in your slow and steady breathing, admiring the gentle curves of your body in awe. His pierced tongue swept out of his mouth, as he was lost into thinking about the way the the metal sphere over his tongue would have soon stimulated your bundle of nerves.

“Here we go, love…” he whispered lowly, a shit-eating grin plastered over his face as he lowered his mouth down to your heat.

At first, you did not even seem that affected by the gentle licks of Shinji’s tongue. You were clearly still too tired for having danced all night long, singing and pestering your boyfriend with facts about the singer only a true fan could know, to wake up right away.

You should have probably clamped your mouth shut on your way back to your flat, but you were too euphoric not to comment on the event you had attended. Maybe, though, you just wanted to enjoy the pained face crossing your boyfriend’s sharp features, whenever you praised the band.

Now, as Shinji delicately gripped your thighs, half-lidded eyes scrutinizing your face in hunger, you could sense something stimulating your pearl deliciously. As you stirred in your sleep, you whined softly and your hips bucked, causing Shinji’s nose to unintentionally bump onto your clit.

“W-What… Shinji?” you whispered softly, eyes still closed as your mouth hung open in pleasure.

“Good morning, darling” the blonde man replied, his hot breath fanning your soaked cunt as he greeted you with his slightly high-pitched voice.

Oh, now you knew what was going to happen.

You sighed and smiled lazily, your hand reaching down to allow you to run your fingers through Shinji’s irregular bob. It was an affectionate sign for him to continue, because he knew you could never get enough of him and his own special way to give you oral.

“Ah, no. That’s not how things work. Your voice is so melodic, ya know? I enjoyed listening to you use your voice all night long yesterday! Use your words for me one more time. What is it that you want?” the man asked, a snarky smirk on his glistening lips, as he flicked his tongue teasingly over your most sensitive area.

Jolts of electricity made your body shake, as you gasped and bit onto your bottom lip in pleasure. He knew where to touch you, how to drive you insane and push your buttons.

“You’re mean…” you muttered, pouting down at him, as you finally opened your eyes and met his bright ones.

And, dear God, what a sight to wake up to.

“Blame it on the Hollow inside me…” he purred, biting the inside of your thigh softly and leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down to your heat. His lips felt heavenly on you and the small moans falling from your lips were the unconfutable proof that you were loving his touch and that you craved more of it.

“Shinji, please. Baby, please, I can’t take it… Make me cum” you breathed out, making him wink at you and chuckle at the pathetic state you were in so early in the morning and he had not even involved his fingers yet.

“I got it, I got ya, baby… Now, let me treat that pussy right” he purred, not caring about punishing you anymore, as his lips started to suck at your aching clit passionately.

There was only one thing that mattered to him and it was not driving you crazy, or getting back at you. Shinji Hirako only cared about you, your needs and your love.

No matter how many times he had to follow you down roads he did not like, he would have endoured anything to see you happy. No matter what, no matter where.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! I’m sorry for being late with updates, but I have been so busy. However, I have completed another one-shot for my event. Yay, I feel at peace with myself. Why? Because it’s a smutty one and it’s officially kinktober! This is a little shorter than I had originally planned, but I guess it will suffice this time.

Likes, comments and re-posts are appeciated!

Until next,

x o x o

TAGS: @stygianoir @quinnies-blog @electronicwitchcollection

#shinji hirako x reader #shinji hirako #hirako shinji x reader #shinji x reader #shinji x y/n #bleach x female reader #bleach x reader #bleach x you #shinji hirako x you #hirako shinji

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yanderecrazysie · 1 year ago

Text

Galeophobia (Kirishima)

Please don’t request any phobias. I just felt like making this for fun.

Be kind to me, I'm still not good at writing NSFW

Title: Galeophobia

Pairings: Kirishima Eijirou x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, mershark Kirishima, pirate reader, marking, NSFW, NON-CON, belly bulge, excessive cum

Phobia: The fear of sharks

Normally, the setting sun is something that makes you smile, its beautiful pink-and-orange hues are a feast for the eyes. Here and now? It feels as though it is taunting you as your water sloshes over the deck of your sinking ship.

How can nature be so beautiful, yet so cruel?

The storm is completely gone- there’s no sign that it ever happened. No sign, save for one wooden ship taking on water. The jolly rogers above you wave feebly in the light wind before crumbling in on themselves as even the air falls silent. You sigh wearily.

After all the danger you’d put yourself in to get rich, sinking serenely in the middle of calm waters, all of your comrades having fled on lifeboats. Leaving the captain to go down with the ship.

It’s a dumb tradition that the pirates of your country take part in, you thought dully, so why did I bother following it? You wished you weren’t quite so honorable.

The water ripples below your lazy perch on the ship’s front railings, now reaching past the deck and slowly inching towards you. Somewhere off in the distance, you see something shimmer in the sunset’s pink-tinged water.

You squint, confused, as something bright red begins rising in the clear water right below you, on the end of your ship and the open ocean. Water breaks at the surface as the crimson object reveals itself to be spiky hair on the head of a handsome tan-skinned man with equally-red, intense eyes.

At first, you think he must be dead. After all, how else could there be someone out here in the middle of the ocean, unless they were from a ship already sunken below? But no, the man gazes at you with a lively expression, smiling brightly at you as though he’s never been so happy to see someone else.

The next conclusion fills you with hope: there must be land nearby! Surely he had swum from an island to your ship. But how far away was it? You look in every direction and see nothing but water.

“Where do you come from?” You ask urgently, “It’s not too far is it? I’m not a strong swimmer.”

The man laughs loudly, “Don’t worry, I got you, babe.”

You wrinkle your nose at the pet name but hold your tongue. After all, this redhead was the only thing between you and the bottom of the ocean.

He holds out his arms as though he’s ready to catch you, “Come on down, babe. I don’t bite. Much.”

He flashes you a smile and you gasp. His teeth are unnaturally sharp and triangular, nothing like a human’s. For the first time, you feel a sense of foreboding and your heart pounds in your chest.

Your gaze falls below his bare abs under the water and you’re shocked to see that instead of bare legs, there’s gray and white smooth skin that ends in a sharp fish tail. From the shape and the earlier glance at his teeth, you surmise he’s some sort of shark merman. Not human, in any case.

“What are you?” You shriek, wrapping your arms around your legs protectively, all too aware of how close the water was to you now.

The shark-man grins, flashing those sharp teeth at you once more, “My name’s Kirishima. What’s yours, babe?”

“Stay away from me, you fish freak!” You seethe, pulling your compass from your pocket and heaving it at him as hard as you can. It bounces off his chest with a thunk but he doesn’t so much as flinch. “Wait until after I’ve drowned to eat me!”

Kirishima sighs, a soft pout to his features as he tells you, “List babe: you’re either coming down on your own or you’re going to sink.”

The reality of the situation dawns on you just as you feel water licking at your toes. You were going to be eaten by this half-shark, half-man creature. All that would be left of you would be your bones on the bottom of the ocean, alongside your trusty ship.

Hot tears prick your eyes as you let yourself slide off the railing into the water. If my death is coming, then let it be quick, you thought sadly.

Kirishima blinks in surprise before a smile spreads across his face. This time, his lips are pulled over those vicious teeth, and you can’t help but think it’s a little cute. He reaches his hand out to brush away a few stray tears, but that just causes more to spill.

Strong arms wrap around you and you close your eyes, ready for death. It doesn’t come. Instead, Kirishima nuzzles into your neck, cooing softly into your ear as he holds you close.

He pulls you away from the sinking ship, most of which is already underwater. Your first and only ship- you feel more tears slip down your cheeks. It’s gone now, there’s no getting it back.

“Shh, it’s alright, babe.” Kirishima shushes you softly as he swims farther away, tugging you along through the water. You shiver in his grasp and he takes notice, stopping immediately to run his hands over your body, “Oh man, you’re cold all over.”

The grin that cracks across his face is mischievous and predatory at the same time, “I know how to fix that.”

Something cold and hard brushes against your butt and your heart stops all together before it starts up tenfold again. Don’t tell me he means…

Incredibly sharp teeth pierce through the skin on your neck and you let out a scream. Warm blood pools on the surface as he sucks gently before releasing with a pop. He takes a look at his handiwork- at the wound swelling on your neck- and has the audacity to look proud.

Kirishima presses against you as he begins peeling your clothes from your skin. Something very large and very hard pokes against your thighs and, although you cannot see it, you already have an idea of what it is. Curiosity has you briefly wondering if it looks like a human’s or not.

You don’t have a chance to look down at it from the angle he’s holding you but, once he tears your pants from your body in a violent, eager motion, you quickly get to know what it feels like. It seems to be shaped the same as any human male’s dick, but it’s much larger than what you thought was possible.

The bulbous head pushes against your unguarded pussy, pressing and pressing until pop- it forces its way inside. You expected unimaginable pain, but you’re instead overrun with pleasure.

The cock fills you out with each inch shoved deeper. It stretched your insides out and, when you look down, you see a visible bulge in your stomach. He’s crammed into you so much your little human body can barely take it.

Kirishima holds you still while he forces his shark cock deeper and deeper. The bulge in your belly is bigger than ever when he comes to a stop. Unconsciously, your hand moves and puts a hand over the bump in your stomach and you hear the man behind you moan with pleasure as you accidentally massage his cockhead.

The thrusts begin, more brutal than you could ever anticipate. Kirishima uses his arms to keep you in place while he fucks into you, tearing apart your vagina and womb easily with his monster cock.

You writhe with pleasure, barely able to move from your positioning but trying all the same. It’s all too much- his dick is pressed up against every nerve and pleasure spot you have, each thrust hits all the right places.

Kirishima grabs your hips and bend your body a little, moving you into a position where he can fuck you even deeper and harder. It isn’t long before you come undone on his cock, twitching and spasming from the intense pleasure he’s giving you.

Your pulsating walls prove to be too much for the redhead, and he follows you shortly after. His cum floods your insides, inflating your belly a little around the bulge and filling you so completely that some escapes around his cock and into the water around you, making the water turn more milky than clear.

Your eyes roll back in your head as he rolls his hips, getting out those last few drops of cum. His giant cock finally softens and slips out, dirtying the water even more with the cum that escapes your stuffed-full womb.

“Yeah, I’m keeping you.” Kirishima says, grinning widely as he pulls you close. You don’t bother fighting it as he gives a kick of his tail and takes off swimming with you snug in his arms.

You can feel cum still rushing out of you as he whisks you away to wherever it is he plans to keep you.

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere one shot #one shot #yandere my hero academia #my hero academia #yandere kirishima #kirishima eijirou #tw noncon

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angel-kyo · 1 year ago

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Pay it no mind

Part XIV

In which reader confesses their feelings to Gojo, but it seems these are not returned (maybe?).

Warnings: reader is on the receiving end of rejection (kinda), and the fact that I'm obsessed with unrequited love is a warning itself. There is a mention of reader being injured, and I guess everyone is ooc here, but thank you for bearing with me.

Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Part XIII

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

A week. Seven full days of silence. When was the last time you had gone this long without any contact with Satoru?

No calls. No messages. Not even a glimpse of him. You had learned from Ijichi that he had been sent on a mission to a distant part of the country just a couple days ago. In other words, there was nowhere to see him.

Initially, it had been a relief. After he left on that fateful night, and you allowed your feelings out. It was only then that it hit you: you had never cried over his rejection. It had hurt, and you had grieved in some way, but maybe by immediately pretending it had never happened, you had prevented yourself from accepting heartbreak.

The truth was just too scary to accept, so you had told Satoru the same lies you had been telling yourself for the past months. ‘It was just a crush’, ‘It has passed’, ‘I’m over it’.

“Liar,” you muttered to your own reflection on the bathroom mirror. Dark bags were starting to form under the eyes that returned your gaze.

Your back was sore and your sleep had not been the best during the last few days.

At first, you had been upset with Satoru, and then upset with yourself for not being able to just dodge the hit and play it cool.

Satoru must have known how much of an unpleasant memory it was for you. Why did he have to bring up the rejection again?

He was not that dense, and neither were you. Your friendship had often felt as both of you stepping right on the line between friends and lovers. Sometimes one of you would lose balance and almost fall on either side of it. Even if both of you denied it, none of you had a similar relationship with anyone else. Still, you believed he had given you the definitive push the day he rejected you.

If he could not feel the same, you could respect that. In fact, you had vowed to just forget it. But why did he have to kiss you while being aware of the hold he had on you?

It’s probably nothing to him, that’s why.

You remembered what Shoko had told you once.

“He is a bit selfish when it comes to you,” Shoko said softly, putting her head on your shoulder.

It must have been summer with how hot it was, and you could see droplets of sweat forming on Shoko’s forehead. You and she were sitting on a bench, outside of a convenience store. She had sent Geto and Gojo for drinks inside.

Satoru had initially said that Shoko and Suguru should go, but Ieiri had refused, saying she was getting a heatstroke and needed to sit down, with you to keep her company. Gojo rolled his eyes but let Suguru pulled him into the store anyway.

“Are you really feeling unwell?”

She only smiled.

At the beginning of your friendship with Suguru and Shoko, Satoru had wanted for all of you to get along, but he was not particularly appreciative of you spending too much time with either of them without him. He had loosened up quickly, though, but Shoko and Suguru were an exception. If he could keep you by his side, he would.

He could not take it back. All he had said and done; all the ways he made it look like there was more to it when there was not.

He can’t take any of it back, and neither can I. Paying it no mind is not going to solve it either.

You looked at your phone. You had sent Satoru a message earlier, just to make sure he was okay. Not that you should worry; he was strong, and if the world had not yet collapsed under curses, he was probably still alive. However, it was not like him to stay away from you this long with nothing but radio silence in between.

I guess I did kick him out, so I can’t blame him.

You washed your face and went to bed, not bothering to take your phone back to the bedroom. You needed to sleep, and the only person you cared to chat with at the moment had not even read your message.

***

“Okay, this one is it. Just try it out.” Satoru patted the mattress of the queen size bed he had found at the department store you were currently at.

You sat down. “It’s… It’s okay,” you said.

To Satoru, you did not sound impressed at all. “Just okay?”

You nodded. “Comfortable.”

“Is that how you try out a mattress? Do you sleep sitting up, [name]?” he asked smiling as he laid down on the sample bed.

You looked around. None of the other clients were really looking at you, too focused on their own shopping to care, but still…

“It’s kind of embarrassing.” You directed your eyes back to Satoru.

“It’s not, and it’s the only right way to do it,” Satoru said smiling and patting the mattress again so you would lay down too, which you finally did.

“And?” he asked.

The ceiling lights of the store were a little too bright, but if you focused only on how the mattress felt, it was indeed comfortable.

You had just signed the lease for your first apartment and getting some furniture was the next thing on your to-do list to become an independent person. Among the basics, having something to sleep on would be nice. That is how Satoru had accompanied you shopping for your first mattress.

“It’s more than okay,” you admitted.

“You should get it then.”

“How much is it, though?” Your eyes widened a bit after looking at the price, and you got up from the spot immediately. "Forget it. It's one zero too much."

I wouldn’t be surprised if they charged for just trying it.

Satoru, on the other hand, could not have looked more unbothered even if he tried. This was why going shopping with him and a budget in mind was useless.

“If this is the one you like, I would not mind…”

You shook your head. “No way. I have a budget, I just need to stick to it,” you reassured him. “Besides, this one would not even fit in my bedroom.”

Of course, he would not mind lending you money. He might not even ever ask you to pay back, but this was your quest for independence. You would rather not to lean on his resources. It was the same reason you had declined Yaga’s offer to crash at the school dorms, even though now that you were starting your teaching career there, it might have been convenient. It was going to be nice to have your own space, plus, now that all your former classmates had left, the dorms were too empty and too full of memories at the same time.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” A store clerk had spotted you and landed next to you. The woman was quick to compliment the model ‘you two’ had chosen.

Satoru had sat up and was now looking at her. When she looked at him more closely, her words halted, and a light blush appeared on her cheeks.

Right, that’s the effect he has on people.

You mentally thanked Satoru for being so good-looking that people would become speechless on his presence and allow you to speak instead.

“Actually,” you started, “this is not quite what I’m looking for.”

“Oh, well…” She seemed to have recovered from the momentary shock of first meeting Satoru’s face, “We have some other options that are preferred by couples. I will be glad to show you…”

You and Satoru shared a small smile. Another one, huh?

“We are not…” he said.

“We are friends,” you stated.

“Oh, sorry.” Her smile looked sincere, “Then is there anything you are looking for in particular?”

“Are there any… smaller options?” you asked hopeful. Maybe she had some cheaper ones too.

She nodded politely and asked you to follow her to another area of the store.

“Smaller?” Satoru had stood up to follow you. “How will we both sleep in it?” He was smirking.

You elbowed him, and he was kind enough to pretend it had hurt.

“Don’t say anything else that will confuse the lady,” you hissed and he chuckled.

That day, Satoru pretty much ended up picking your bed. It was not as big as he had wanted it, but it was comfortable enough and, to your delight, within budget. The only downside to Satoru was that it would require a bit of effort for both of you to fit in.

***

“Fancy seeing you here.” Satoru sat across from Shoko at her table in the school cafeteria.

She had decided to take a break from reviewing files at the infirmary and usually, she would not go to the cafeteria, but you had pulled her there so many times that her feet had carried her there almost automatically.

She looked at Gojo’s face. “You are back.”

“Got back last night.” He took out his phone and Shoko saw him check something on the screen and put it down on the table. Was it her imagination or he seemed tired? Tough to say without seeing his eyes, but he did have a duller aura around him right now.

Shoko raised her cup of tea to her lips and eyed Satoru’s phone.

“New phone?” she asked.

Satoru had leaned back on his chair and a adopted a more carefree expression. Even if he was a grown man, Shoko would have said he looked just the same as when they were highschoolers.

“Yeah…” It was impossible to tell, but Ieiri also thought his eyes were looking around the cafeteria, and she had a hunch on what he was searching for, or rather, who. “The other one broke down. It’s the same number, though.”

His phone had broken down three days ago, it slipped and the screen turned pitch black. It had not shut down immediately, though, and it still rang when Ijichi called him, but if he could not see the screen, it was no use keeping it.

Satoru had not really cared at first, only getting a cheap phone to communicate through the end of his mission. Ijichi had gotten a more suitable replacement ready for him when he got back, and it was only after setting it up and retrieving his backup data, that Satoru realized you had actually messaged him days ago.

Unlucky.

He had not replied yet, figuring he would see you at the school anyway and could maybe set things straight between you two. However, he had not encountered you across campus, and when he peeked at your class, your students were being looked after by a first-grade sorcerer he had seen around a few times, filling in the substitute teacher position.

He wanted to ask Shoko. “Say, Sho-”

“[name] took a couple days off,” she interrupted him while placing her cup back on the table and encircling it with both hands.

Can she read minds?

Shoko could not, but knowing Gojo, it was taking him long enough to ask about you.

"Oh."

She looked at him. “They...”

Shoko wanted to tell Satoru you had paid her a visit after one of your missions that week, but she was not sure you would have wanted Gojo to know.

Ieiri had been surprised at first when she saw you that day. A lot of blood always made it difficult to perceive at first glance how big a wound really was. After a closer inspection, she realized the injuries on your torso were not too concerning, not for someone with her abilities at least.

But if they were a regular person and I was a regular doctor, they would have probably been bed-ridden for a while, she thought.

She had had you in walking condition after a couple days, but it still bothered her. Getting injured during missions was the norm for sorcerers, especially younger ones, however, she knew you were experienced in battle. A scratch here and there was expected, but she had seen you returning more beaten up lately.

They are taking on more difficult missions, that was what she wanted to tell Gojo. She was not sure whether you were trying to get promoted or if for some reason they were actively assigning you missions above your rank.

The cup Shoko was holding was warming her hands.

A thought assaulted her mind: There is no predicting the higher-ups.

If you had upset one and now had a target on your back, Satoru could help you out, could he not?

“What is it?” Gojo tilted his head looking straight at Ieiri, or at least she felt this time he was looking at her.

“Nothing. I think they will be back tomorrow.”

Satoru had thought about visiting you, but seeing how that turned out last time, he decided to wait.

Giving you space was the right call in his experience. Usually, no matter what the problem was, you could talk it through when you both had had some time to mull it over.

But, in this case, how much time did you need?

The whole situation was like nothing you and him had faced before. Fighting over snacks or over a joke that went a step too far was one thing. The look you had given him that night and the way you called him selfish, that was completely different, and it had haunted him since he left your apartment.

Satoru grabbed his phone and finally replied to your message. He hit 'send' and offered an attempt of a smile to Shoko.

“If I asked for advice, would you give me some?”

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

Note: I almost forgot my iconic note (even though I'm the only one who thinks it's iconic). And the note is... there is no note, just my love. <3

Thank you for reading!

Next: Part XV

@mavs-stuff @witchbybirth @crookedlyaddictedone-blog @tqd4455 @maybe-a-bi-witch @mo0nforme @maliakealoha @zacatecanaaaa @blushhpeachh @astriarose @missesgojosatoru @ba-ks @sukunasleftkneecap @songbirdlully @cole-silas @heijihattorisgf @chokesonspit @hersheyzzz @smolbeanzzz @luciledreamz @avidreadee123 @moonmalice @ratscandaler @sadmonke @allie-jay @username23345 @spin-garden @ashehateaccount @kayzens @blehtotheblehtothebleh

#gojo satoru #jjk #gojo x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk fanfic #gojo x you #jjk gojo #gojo x y/n #gojo fanfic #satoru gojō x reader #satoru x reader #pay it no mind #jujutsu kaisen

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lcvelust · 3 months ago

Text

Champange Problems / Sirius Black

Inspired by Little Women (2019)

A click resounded through the room, followed by a soft flicker of light. Sirius groaned as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, yawning as he scratched the skin just under his jaw.

He squinted; his gaze settling on your figure as you paced around the room. Noticing that he was awake, you halted all of your movements. You always hated the fact that he was a light sleeper.

“Sirius.”

You spoke his name with an air of seriousness, and he couldn’t help but feel his nerves creep up on him. He didn’t know why, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. You trembled under his stare, his eyes darting to the letter that you held tightly in your hands. “What’s that?”

Gulping, you pressed your lips into a thin line. “I’m.. it’s for Aunt March. She’s very ill.”

A crease formed on his forehead, and worry etched itself on his face. It was a surprise how he was still so expressive, despite his past living circumstances.

“Come here.”

He patted the space close to him, and you complied with his wishes, slowly setting yourself down on the foot of his bed. It seems as though sadness has coursed through your veins at that very moment, threading onto your very being as you looked down at your lap; pushing down your tears.

Sirius sat back, carefully tucking your hands underneath his, letting the envelope fall astray. “What is it?” He asked.

His touch had always set your skin ablaze, yet this time around, it felt different. It didn’t soothe the pounding in your heart, nor the defeaning ringing inside of your ears. “She doesn’t have anyone else. I am to take care of her.”

“That wouldn’t be too bad, right?”

You sighed, gnawing at your bottom lip as dread crept up your insides, tearing you apart as the moments pass. Finally looking up at him, you laughed, humor barely visible in your tone. “No. Not if she doesn’t force me to marry a wealthy man.”

His handsome face was pulled into a frown, “Why would—?”

You shook your head.

“I’m going to have to fly to Europe soon. I can’t keep her waiting.”

Nodding in response, he passed you a look of sympathy, one that you couldn’t bear to have received. Not from him, at least.

As if he had thought of an idea to try and make light of the situation, he cracked a small, dopey smile.

“If that’s your only concern, then we can fly out there together. Marry me.”

Your eyes widened in shock, sensing some truth in his words. They felt like a dagger straight to your chest— its blade shoving its way through your throat, gutting you from the inside out, wrenching the air from your lungs and prying it out of you. Your mouth runs dry, struggling to come into terms with what he had said.

“Sirius.. I refuse.”

His face contorted to one of confusion, and you stopped yourself from scoffing. “Think of it. I’ll make you happy, I am highly devoted to. You won’t work, and you and your aunt will be provided for. You don’t even have to cater to me, or love me. If you would just let me.”

He was genuine, yet you could not bring yourself to fall onto his hands. You still felt as though his admittance was fake. The words that you had always waited to hear, tumbling out of his mouth casually while he laid his gentle eyes upon you— the same eyes that held that look for another— holding your heart down under its crushing weight.

“No, you can’t do this, Sirius. It wouldn’t be fair. You’re not being fair.”

You shook your head once more, pulling away from his burning hot touch, as if being scorched. You jump to your feet, snatching your almost-forgotten letter up from the floor; feeling like the walls were closing up on you. Sirius was quick to follow your tail as you exited his room, disgruntled.

“You could marry for any reason under the sun. I would not be an accomplice in getting that privilege taken away.” You whispered to the wind, your vision being obscured by black and white, and the air between the two of you thicker. “I.. money is not the only reason I have to marry. I need to marry for love and security, too, can’t you understand that?”

“I can give all of that to you! I’d happily do!”

“No! You can’t! Just.. I’m not the person you’re in love with!” You snapped, stilling your movements as you looked at him with teary eyes. “It’s.. it’s not right, Sirius. I don’t think it’ll ever be.”

His gaze dropped, and a dent had fought its way onto the space between his brows once more. It was all in your intention to make him feel the hurt that he had inflicted on you, and you were not sure if you had just done so; your stare dancing across his soft features.

He was illuminated by the sun rising from beneath the horizon, the windows letting specks of light penetrate through its crystalline panes. His lips were taut with something that you couldn’t quite decipher, almost on the verge of trembling. He was as beautiful as the hurt that had blossomed inside of you. He was pained; vulnerable, and so, so beautiful.

“Please,” he muttered, reaching out to hold one of your hands in his. Tantalizingly soft, it was obvious that the man has never worked for a day in his life.

“I love you.”

He had let go of the words so carelessly, without missing a beat. His head was still bowed, like he was ashamed by his confession. There, you had realized that you were no longer young. You were man and woman. You couldn’t be held back by the threads of yesterday.

You sniffed. He was wearing his heart on his sleeve, yet you couldn’t will yourself to take it— your mind racing with the thoughts of him and his lover of the past. Not anymore. The tenderness, adoration, the embarrassment. All was clear, and they were dancing around his clouded eyes, ones that you wouldn’t have guessed to be grey if you hadn’t memorized them long ago.

“You’re being mean.” You had managed to get out, sobs forcing themselves to bubble in your throat. “I’ve loved you for so long, Sirius. You can’t possibly— you can’t just say that. You’re being mean.”

You didn’t dare look at him as you picked up the little dignity you had left. You didn’t give him time to answer as you shook him from your arm, in a rush to enter your room; closing the door on his face. You placed your back on the door, helplessly crying, and furiously wiping at the tears that had escaped from your eyes.

It was the first time that you had fell apart, and the first time it had happened right outside of his arms. You had loved him once; and perhaps, that was enough.

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earthlybeam · 30 days ago

Note

Hi! Can you please do the secret crush story with Haldir?

how would the elves react to this?

↓

Haldir Version below. (You and haldir well secret have a crush but either of you acted till now.)

🏹𝓗𝓪𝓵𝓭𝓲𝓻

➳ The great hall was alive with warmth and laughter, a sanctuary of festivity against the biting cold of the winter night. The towering stone walls glowed in the golden light of flickering torches, their warmth mirrored by the crackling hearths scattered throughout the space. Garlands of evergreen and bright red ribbon adorned every archway and pillar, while the rich aroma of roasted meats and mulled wine mingled with the faint sweetness of honeyed cakes. The room buzzed with life, the air filled with the lively hum of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter. But Haldir barely noticed any of it. He sat with you in a quieter corner of the hall, where the distant hum of conversation faded into the background. Normally, this quieter space would have been a refuge for him, a place where his usual composure could remain intact. But tonight, Haldir was decidedly not composed. Not even close. It wasn’t the noise, or the revelry, or even the rich aroma of food and wine distracting him. No, it was you—seated beside him, as animated as ever, speaking a mile a minute with your voice bubbling with enthusiasm. Your hands gestured dramatically as you shared a string of anecdotes and observations, barely pausing for breath. Haldir, normally an attentive and patient listener, was struggling to keep up—not because your words were dull, but because he wasn’t hearing them at all.

➳ Your voice was a melody he usually loved to hear—bright and full of life, a sound he had come to associate with warmth, with you—but tonight, he barely heard the words. Instead, his attention kept slipping away, drawn again and again to the small sprig of mistletoe hanging just above your heads. It swayed gently, its green leaves and white berries catching the soft glow of the firelight, taunting him with its quiet, insistent presence. Mistletoe. The thought of it sent a tremor of uncertainty through him, so unlike his usual composure. Haldir was always poised, his sharp mind steady and controlled, but now he was a mess of swirling thoughts and restless tension. He couldn’t focus on the endless stream of words flowing from your lips. He couldn’t think past the question that had lodged itself firmly in his mind. Should I kiss you? His gaze flickered back to you, tracing the curve of your smile, the way your eyes sparkled with excitement as you recounted yet another tale. You were utterly captivating, as you always were, and utterly oblivious to the storm raging within him. His heart pounded against his ribs, each beat echoing in his ears as he tried to summon the courage to act. For months now, he had danced around his feelings for you, always keeping them carefully contained, hidden beneath layers of restraint. And yet, here you were—beneath the mistletoe, no less—and the weight of those feelings was threatening to break free.

➳ “And then, of course, they tried to convince me that it was my fault!” you exclaimed, laughing at your own story. Haldir blinked, realizing too late that you were waiting for some kind of response. “Right?” you prompted, your smile widening as you looked at him expectantly. “Indeed,” he murmured, the word slipping out automatically, though his tone lacked its usual confidence. He wasn’t even sure what he had just agreed to. You didn’t seem to notice his distraction, diving right into another story, your hands gesturing animatedly as your words poured forth without pause. Haldir’s lips twitched into a faint smile—half-amused, half-exasperated—as he watched you. He admired the way you threw yourself into every conversation with such enthusiasm, but tonight, your endless chatter was driving him to the edge of his patience. Not because it annoyed him—no, never that—but because it left him no room to speak, no opportunity to act.

➳ How could he possibly tell you what he was feeling when you wouldn’t even stop talking long enough for him to try? His eyes flicked upward again, to the mistletoe, before settling back on you. He had tried to hint at it, subtly glancing toward the sprig in the hopes that you might notice. But you hadn’t. You were too lost in your stories, too wrapped up in your excitement to see the way his hand fidgeted restlessly on his knee or the way his gaze lingered on your lips just a moment too long. Haldir drew a quiet breath, his jaw tightening with resolve. Enough, he thought. If he waited for you to notice, he’d be here all night—and perhaps every night after that. The thought made his heart ache. No, he couldn’t wait any longer. He had to do something.

➳ “Y/N,” he said softly, his voice low and steady despite the storm of nerves beneath it. You paused mid-sentence, blinking up at him with a curious tilt of your head. “Yes?” For a moment, he hesitated, his eyes searching yours. Your expression was open and trusting, so utterly unaware of the weight of the moment. His heart hammered in his chest as he leaned in slightly, testing the waters. His hand lifted slowly, brushing against yours—just the faintest touch, but it was enough to send a jolt of electricity racing up his arm. You didn’t pull away, but neither did you seem to notice the tension coiled between you. Instead, you opened your mouth to speak again, ready to launch into yet another story.

➳ But Haldir didn’t let you. Gently but firmly, he reached up, cupping your cheek with his hand, his touch reverent as though afraid you might vanish if he moved too quickly. The motion startled you into silence, your lips parting slightly as your gaze locked onto his. There was a quiet intensity in his eyes now, a storm of emotions carefully hidden for so long but finally breaking free. His thumb brushed lightly against your cheek, his touch as soft as the whisper of a breeze. And then he leaned in, closing the distance between you in one smooth, deliberate motion. His lips found yours, hesitant at first, but warm and soft, lingering as though he was savoring the moment. The kiss was gentle yet firm, a quiet declaration of everything he hadn’t yet said, of everything he had been holding back for so long. For a heartbeat, you froze, caught completely off guard. But then, as the warmth of his lips and the steadiness of his hand anchored you, the initial surprise melted away, replaced by something deeper, something undeniable.

➳ Your hands moved instinctively, one brushing lightly against his arm while the other found its way to the back of his neck, fingers tangling gently in his hair. You leaned into him, returning the kiss with a quiet intensity that matched his own. Haldir’s hesitation began to fade, his lips moving against yours with a newfound confidence, a silent promise in every touch. When he finally pulled back, it was slow and deliberate, as though he didn’t quite want to let go. His forehead rested lightly against yours, his breath warm against your skin as he searched your gaze. His normally composed expression was softened, his blue-gray eyes unguarded in a way you had never seen before. His hand still cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin as though grounding himself in the reality of the moment. You stared at him, breathless, your voice finally—finally—silent your lips parted slightly, your eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and something softer—something that made his heart skip a beat. For the first time since the evening began, you were silent. “Haldir,” you murmured softly, his name falling from your lips like a whispered prayer. A faint blush rose to his cheeks as his lips curled into a soft, almost bashful smile. But his gaze never wavered from yours, and when he spoke again, his voice was quiet but steady, his words carrying a quiet, unshakable resolve.

➳ Haldir swallowed hard, the faintest trace of color rising to his cheeks as he dropped his gaze for a fleeting moment before lifting it back to yours. When he spoke, his voice was soft and unsteady, betraying a rare vulnerability. “Forgive me,” he murmured, his words barely louder than a whisper, “but you left me no other choice. You… you wouldn’t stop talking.” The words tumbled out awkwardly, and the blush deepened along the sharp lines of his cheekbones. His usual composure was entirely absent, leaving him looking both earnest and utterly flustered. You blinked at him, caught off guard by the admission, and then a light, breathless laugh escaped you. “Wait,” you said, grinning as you tilted your head, “are you telling me you kissed me just to get me to stop talking?”

➳ Haldir’s lips parted, and for a moment, he seemed at a loss for words, his blush deepening further. He glanced to the side as if gathering his thoughts, then returned his gaze to yours, his expression a mix of embarrassment and hesitant honesty. “Perhaps,” he admitted quietly, his voice almost shy, though his lips twitched with the faintest hint of a smile. “But that is… not the only reason.” Your breath caught at the soft, halting confession, the weight of his words sinking into your chest. His hand slipped from your cheek to hover near yours, his fingers fidgeting ever so slightly before brushing against your own in a tentative, almost nervous motion. “The truth,” he added, his voice dropping lower as he met your gaze fully, “is that I have wanted to kiss you for some time. I just… I was unsure if you’d welcome it.”

➳ His words, so earnest and tinged with quiet vulnerability, made your heart skip a beat. You stared at him, your eyes tracing every detail of his face—the slight blush staining his usually pale complexion, the way his lips were pressed together as though he wasn’t sure what you might say next, and the rare, almost boyish nervousness in his usually calm, commanding gaze. Haldir was the picture of elven grace and composure, always collected and sure of himself, and yet now he seemed uncharacteristically unsure, his usual confidence replaced by a quiet, vulnerable hope that made your chest tighten. When you finally found your voice, it came out soft and teasing, though it carried an undeniable warmth. A smile curved your lips, lighting up your expression as you leaned in just enough to close the already small space between you. “Well,” you murmured, your voice low and inviting, “if that’s the case, you should definitely kiss me again.”

➳ Haldir’s breath hitched audibly at your words, his sharp elven ears catching every nuance of your tone. His eyes widened just slightly, the faintest flicker of surprise crossing his face as though your invitation had truly startled him. For a heartbeat, he seemed frozen, his normally swift reflexes faltering as if he couldn’t quite believe what he had heard. You felt a rush of affection for him in that moment—this proud, composed elf reduced to speechlessness because of you. And then, just as quickly as the surprise had come, his expression softened. His eyes held yours, a mixture of relief and quiet joy filling their blue-gray depths. The corners of his lips tugged upward into the faintest of smiles, one that spoke of wonder and a hesitant sort of confidence. His fingers, which had been brushing tentatively against yours, grew bolder as they threaded carefully through your own, his touch warm and steady despite the slight tremor you could feel in his hands. “Are you… certain?” he asked, his voice softer than you had ever heard it, almost trembling with the weight of his emotions. His gaze flickered between your eyes and lips, as though he was memorizing every detail of your expression, his blush deepening even further. Your smile widened, and without hesitation, you gently tightened your fingers around his, grounding him in the moment. “Completely,” you replied, your voice unwavering, your eyes shining with affection. The sheer certainty in your tone seemed to melt away the last of his hesitation.

➳ Haldir exhaled a soft breath, the tension leaving his shoulders as he leaned in once more. This time, there was no hesitation in his movements, no second-guessing the way he closed the distance between you. His lips met yours again, warm and firm, but this time with a quiet, growing confidence. The kiss was deeper, more certain, as though he was finally allowing himself to give in to everything he had been holding back for so long. From your perspective, the world seemed to shrink until it was just the two of you, wrapped in a warmth that far surpassed the fires burning in the great hall. The way he kissed you—gentle yet insistent, with an almost reverent care—made your heart race. You could feel the faint blush lingering on his cheeks, even as his hand cupped your face again, his fingers lightly brushing against your jaw in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

➳ For Haldir, the kiss was grounding and exhilarating all at once. Every touch, every press of your lips against his, felt like a revelation. The warmth of your hands in his, the way you leaned into him so trustingly, made his chest tighten with an emotion so profound it almost overwhelmed him. The restraint he had held onto for so long melted away, replaced by a quiet, unspoken promise in the way he kissed you now, his lips moving against yours with a growing fervor. You felt his confidence build with every passing second, the way his movements became surer, more assertive, and yet there was still that ever-present tenderness in his touch. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a confession, a declaration of everything he hadn’t yet found the words to say. And yet, it wasn’t hurried or rushed. Haldir seemed intent on savoring the moment, on committing every sensation, every detail to memory.

➳ When the kiss finally broke, it was slow and deliberate, as though neither of you quite wanted to part. Haldir pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his forehead resting lightly against yours as his hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb tracing a gentle arc along your skin. His breathing was slightly uneven, his usual composure still shaken, but his expression was soft, unguarded in a way that was utterly unlike him. You stared at him, your own breath coming faster, your heart still racing. His eyes searched yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken, but beneath the sharpness of his gaze was a vulnerability that made your chest ache. His voice, when he finally spoke, was quiet, almost a whisper. “I have wanted to do that for far longer than I can say.”

➳ His blush deepened as the words left his lips, the faint pink staining his pale complexion contrasting beautifully with the calm strength in his tone. You felt a warmth bloom in your chest, your smile softening as your fingers brushed lightly against his. “Well,” you murmured, your teasing tone returning as you leaned closer, brushing your nose against his in a playful gesture, “if that’s the case, then I think you should keep going.” Haldir’s lips parted slightly, his eyes widening just a fraction before his expression softened into something that could only be described as utterly adoring. A soft chuckle escaped him, low and warm, as he dipped his head again, capturing your lips in another kiss. This one was deeper still, filled with an assurance that made your knees weak, and as you melted into him, you felt the world around you fade entirely.

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