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sleep-0-deprived · 4 days

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Gyomei Himejima x Male Reader who's a demon who was rehabilitated by Tamayo and one day met Gyomei and it was like love at first sight? And M/N has like a rope/belt like power similar to Daki's? And they wanna experiment with that?🤭

Experiments~ (Gyomei Himijima x demon male reader)~ ໒꒰ྀི˶˃ᆺ˂˶ ꒱ྀིა

WC:. 2.2k

Tags binding, praises riding, no protection, soft sex (firm believer in Gyomei being a gentle giant), anal sex, size differences, belly bulging, creampies ૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱ა

A/N I’ve never written for a blind character so please excuse any errors! Sorry it took so long to write I hope you enjoy though <33

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You were a demon. You favored Nezuko and Tamayo in the fact you didn’t follow nor submit to Muzan’s cruel plans and you still kept contact with your human side. That was what led you to meeting lady Tamayo and by default she managed to rehabilitate you over time. You eventually make yourself known to the core, wanting to help the greater cause by fighting against muzan and his demons with them.

The demon slayer corp didn’t trust you at all at first, I mean why would a demon of high status, no- one of Muzan’s most loyal switch sides and come to them and offer himself over?…well you did and master thought the only person fit to handle and keep tabs on you was none other than the stone Hashira Gyomei.

You were forced to stay in the stone estate with Gyomei, and occasionally Genya when he stopped by. Genya was more accepting of you than Gyomei at first being that Genya’s fighting style was him temporarily turning into a demon he was understanding

Genya was more open to the thought not all demons were bad. Gyomei on the other hand was still skeptical keeping his senses strong listening to you at night walking around the estate.

Gyomei would sense your blood demon art at night, he’d expect you to sneak off maybe hunt for food or run back to your master but you never did. You would use your blood demon art to grab things doing the most laziest things with them like opening doors grabbing a pillow that was too far out of reach,

he could tell what you were doing by the sounds of your belts and pillows ruffling. The large man might not have any sight but his other senses were heightened in every way.

Slowly over the months he’d ease his guard and stop holding his body ready like you were about to betray the core, he’d even swoon for you almost when he first heard your voice it made him question if you were really a demon because you sounded just like an angel to him.

Sadly your scent betrayed you showing to him you really were the demon that did such horrific crimes. The rehabilitation brought you close to Gyomei, and you spent most of your days together in the empty estate.

Present day the two of you have been together going close to a month and shockingly you two do have sex, one might think a religious and traditional man like Gyomei would wait for sex until marriage but nothing about his relationship with you was traditional I mean you were a demon and the two of you were both men but he didn’t seem to care.

“I’m bored Gyo?” You’d grumble all sprawled around in his lap like you were a king on a tanned flesh throne “must you lay like that on me [name]?” He’d sigh just reaching one hand down firm on your hip, his voice holding no true disdain having you in his lap

“yes I must!…and you know we could always pass time in other ways Gyomei?” You’d lean close standing on your knees in his lap now leaning into his ear whispering using your thumb to wipe the tears running down his cheeks with his eyes open glossed over as always unblinking and pale white.

“Always insisting sinful things to me, you really can be a from [name] pulling me into temptations with your binds..”his slightly red beneath his skin tracing his hands to your waistband with you straddling his lap in his room of the stone estate.

“Speaking of my binds….wanna use mine on you when you’re stretching me out. Bind you against me skin to skin while I ride you” you speak shamelessly nearly confident in his lap but he was totally flabbergasted, his body tense you could see red on the tips of his ears with a few hot tears pricking back down his cheek right where your thumb pressed wiping his cheek off again.

His large hands felt your pants around tracing and guiding them to the zipper making due with his lack of sight while you on the other hand let go of his cheek taking your hand down to his pants undoing his fly as he sits under you. With your belts coming out of your back wrapping around his waistband pulling them off softly before turning to blades cutting his boxers up to get his cock out

“you are such an eager demon [name]” his voice rang in the cool night of the estate with his cock hard pressed to his shirt with a pearl like bead of pre cum sitting on his tip, clearly sensitive pulsing eager for touch— which you were happy to give.

“You’re eager too Gyomei, don’t bother telling me different I feel it” you murmur retracting your binds for a moment to Scoot closer lifting your shirt over your head with your cock springing free when he can finally get your boxers off.

You crawl further in his lap sitting down on his cock with it pressed between your cheeks reaching above your crack making a sticky mess in your laps

“always feel so good, boy” he groans grabbing your hips with his teary eyes white and wide as always grinding his cock between your cheeks easily lifting you around like a boy toy in his lap making your binds react wrapping around his back tearing through his haori leaving marks in his skin unintentionally.

“Shit- didn’t mean to Gyo—“ you let out a sharp gasp hushed by him taking one hand off your hip keeping you firmly pressed to his cock reaching his hand up to the back of your head and shoving your face upwards leaning down eagerly kissing you into silence “it’s fine, not worried about it [name]”

He murmurs his tongue pushing past your lips into your mouth running against your cheeks pressing to your tongue making you huff using your binds to fully get his haori and shirt off with the sound of his golden buttons hitting the floor with your chest pressed to his leaving your cock weeping between your thighs pressing all leaky between your stomachs.

“Prep me already gyo..” you muffle out guiding his hand off your hip pulling your mouth off of his panting trying to catch your breadth before shoving two of his fingers down your throat “so warm baby” he speaks his teary face all red and flushed at the lewdly of what was happening with him only being sad his prayer beads weren’t around we hike his cock throbs between your cheeks producing more precum.

“I’m going, be patient or you aren’t getting anything but your own fingers” he finally broke away with a string of saliva his voice booming making a shiver run down your spine pouting pressing more to him feeling his large hand snake out of your mouth using the hand on your hip to lift you off his lap enough to push one finger inside you.

“Hm, you can’t do that to me” you shriek a little panicking with your rim puckering staying still in attempt to adjust to the feeling looking up at the blind Hashira with your binds all sharp and from wrapped around his muscular back holding his larger body to yours while your jaw slacks a little feeling him thrusting his finger in and out massaging your walls curling against your prostate before trying to prod his second finger in you.

“I can, and I will if you don��t get it together in my lap” he hums now scissoring your rim open using the mix of spit on his fingers and precum from where his cock rested between your cheeks to open you up. His fingers rub against your bundle of nerves building up a hot pit in your stomach and you think he knew that too because right as your cock perked up against his stomach he pulled his fingers back out.

“Want you to cum from me, need to know my cock was what pushed you over” his hands trail lifting you up by your hips making your binds lose grip on his back with your hands holding his muscular shoulders while he nudges his cock head against your rim. “Feels like you’re ripping me in half Gyo~” your air fled your lungs leaving you exhaling harshly feeling a burn shoot through your body but any tears quickly heal from your regeneration sealing yourself around him bottoming out inside you leaving a outline in your stomach.

“I bet you look so beautiful sitting on me like this, wish I could see your body. I’d kiss it up in every way” his large arms move on your body grabbing around your waist holding you slowly starting to jerk his hips upwards from beneath you making your rim stretch further and engulf his full length feeling his balls pressed firmly to your cheeks while you dig your nails into his shoulders straddling his large lap.

“I- know you would gyo-mei~” you squeak out, your muscles tensing reaching forward kissing him nearly eating his face off moving your lips against his slipping your hand off his shoulder wrapping around the back of his neck with your binds all slithered around the two of you holding you two skin to skin. His hands hold onto hour hips bouncing you in time with his movements with your thighs on either sides of his hips filling the room with small plap’s of your asscheeks smushing to his balls getting stretched with your cock bobbing back and forth tapping your stomach with your tip an angry red.

“Mh- [name] you’re clenching me so tight, boy” a soft strained sigh leaves his lips starting to pick his pace up holding your hips down firmly groaning against your lips pulling back only to suck in air before smushing his lips back on yours rutting his hips upwards driving into you with his cock stretching you out, his veins dragging along your inner walls while you hold your arms around his neck pulling your mouth off his and shoving his face in your pecs gripping his black hair.

“Just suck em” you moan your Adam’s apple bobbing like your cock while your binds dig at the skin in his back leaving marks from how tight you hold him to you. Gyomei’s cock pushing and nudging into your sweet spot over and over practically bullying your prostate making you feel its pulse while his face buries into your pecs biting at one of your nipples rotating between sucking and biting with his tears dampening your s/c skin.

“I can tell you’re getting close [name], you’re clenching up more- cum for me baby” he murmurs pressing sloppy kisses over your perked up buds holding your hips tighter making the bulge in your tummy bigger feeling a burning pain build up inside you from being fucked and spread open on him so long. One hand in Gyomei’s hair and the other holding his shoulder firm rocking your hips downwards into his thrusts trying your hardest to feel him deeper and deeper inside you with your belts tightening even more erupting a moan from the larger man.

“Oh fuck-oh I’m gonna—! I’m cumming~!” You mewl out shoving his face in your pecs harder arching your back up straight with your hips rolling erratically clenching and clamping as tight as you can around him breaking his skin with your other hand digging nails in his shoulder with your cock stiffening nearly jumping forward shooting sperm in its own groaning dropping your head forward on top of his when your cock shots a final rope of cum onto his stomach.

“That’s a good boy, gonna make me cum won’t you?” His chin resting on your rib cage blowing on your sensitive peaks rocking his hips forwards into you slowing down going in deeper and longer thrusts trying to let your rim milk him while he hits his own climax, the muscles under your hand tensing up letting you know the fire in his loin is bursting hot feeling the first spurt enter you making you shiver your eyes half lidded getting filled up.

“So warm” you coo out in his lap feeling your bulging tummy bloat up some with your binds slowly loosing around him letting him go as they retract back inside your back with your regeneration healing up your once broken skin. “Did I go over board [name]?.. how are you feeling?” He’d murmur lifting his head from your chest with a serious expression on his face needing to hear your verbal words not being able to see your reaction.

His tears flow freely down his cheeks making you sigh in his lap reaching your hand up from his hair and off his shoulder wiping his cheeks mumbling “I’m great Gyo, you were great.” Leaning in with a kiss on his cheek sitting still on his cock letting out a little hiss when you lift yourself off his cock feeling his semen slipping from your now loosened rim leaving your cheeks all slick when he grabs your waist and lays back pulling you right on top of his chest holding you laying on his mat in his personal bedroom of the stone estate letting you pull a blanket up.

“In the morning I’ll make sure to draw you a bath inside the estate, I know your beautiful skin is sensitive to the sunlight” he spoke in a soft tone to you holding you to him in a comfortingly tight regard rubbing at the back of your head and if it wasn’t for you being a demon he’d personally take you to the saunas but he knew that wasn’t possible with your inability to stand in the sun, doesn’t mean he still won’t give you the great aftercare you deserve.

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scarlet-bitch · 28 days

Text

You'd Have to Stop the World...

11.5k words, FWB Eddie X afab!reader, 18+ Explicit Content - MDNI, use of "baby" as a nickname, no use of y/n, little to no description of reader, set in Hawkins 1990 so everyone's aged up accordingly, no mention of upside down - could sorta be canon if you pretend vecna was defeated and eddie never got attacked by the bats but reader wouldn't know it ever existed. * fair amount of smut in this especially the beginning - it's a fwb plot so... but yes, there is plot. lots of angst and some fluff*

a/n: most of my ideas are usually inspired by a song - the concept for this came entirely through a playlist I made, so l added the track list! Feedback is greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading and as always, I hope you enjoy! xo, scarlet 💋

Struggling through a dry spell, an ideas comes to you when your attractive friend Eddie vents about his recent disappointing hookups. What starts as casual fun gradually complicates as physical and emotional boundaries begin to blur.

“I keep recalling things we never did / Messy top lip kiss / How I long for our trysts / Without ever touching his skin / How can I be guilty as sin?”

A few years ago, you met Eddie Munson, thanks to an introduction from your then coworkers, Robin and Steve. What began as a casual acquaintance in a larger group quickly evolved into a genuine friendship.

But as with many great friendships, a new romance - this time with Matt - changed the dynamics. As your relationship with Matt grew, so did the distance between you and Eddie. Matt didn’t like him, his dislike fueled by a few key grievances: he accused Eddie of overcharging for weed, could barely tolerate Eddie’s metal music - and was visibly irritated by the number of times you dragged him to Eddie’s shows. Yet, beneath it all, Matt’s discomfort had a more personal edge. He was convinced there was something more to your friendship, despite your insistence on its platonic nature.

“Okay, sure, whatever you say,” Matt insisted, his tone dripping with frustration. “But I’m telling you, he definitely wants to fuck you.”

Matt’s reasoning included:

• “He never makes you pay for weed.”

⁃ Ah, the classic move of the charming drug dealer - Robin and Steve are also lucky recipients of Eddie's personal stash. Generosity? Sure. A sign of deeper feelings? Unlikely.

• “He flirts with you.”

⁃ Eddie flirts with everyone. This isn’t a private act of seduction - it’s his default setting. And sure, before you dated Matt maybe you’d indulge in Eddie’s flirty nature but it was just all in good fun.

• "He call's you - Baby."

⁃ The nickname was not some romantic gesture, Eddie's just a menace. It all started after a shift at Family Video, you and Robin went back to Steve's house. Eddie made an entrance, a blunt was passed, and you started rambling about the ridiculousness of the name "Baby" in Dirty Dancing. "You know, it's funny you hate it because 'Baby' suits you perfectly," Eddie quipped. You shot him a look of annoyance, but Eddie, with that trademark grin, decided it was a keeper and has called you it ever since.

• “The way he fucking looks at you.”

⁃ This is where the plot thickens. While the other signs are easily explained, you didn't quite see what Matt was ever referring to.

Yet, every time Matt voiced his theories, your mind couldn’t help but drift to thoughts of Eddie in bed. He had quite the reputation as a good fuck and it was undeniable that he was incredibly attractive. But the guilt of entertaining these thoughts, especially while with Matt, was crushing. So, you shoved them aside.

In December of '89, Matt accepted a job that meant relocating out of state. By then, your relationship had lost its spark, of course, except for the one area where it still managed to flicker - the bedroom. You both knew it was time to let go, the idea of a long distance romance wasn't practical when the only thing holding you together required physical proximity you would no longer share.

Despite it being the obvious choice - the end of nearly two years together was tough, but as the saying goes, when one door closes, another opens. With Matt no longer in the picture, your calendar quickly filled with late nights and laughter, surrounded by Robin, Steve, Eddie, and your ever expanding social circle. It was the start of a new era, as you entered the new decade.

"These fatal fantasies / Giving way to labored breath / Taking all of me / We've already done it in my head / If it's make believe / Why does it feel like a vow / We'll both uphold somehow?"

Four months into being single, and the dry spell was becoming a cruel joke. Every date you'd been on had left much to be desired, as none of them ever ended with you on your back. Ultimately a waste of your time.

It was an added frustration to be out with Eddie and watch him glide from one partner to the next with such ease. You even found yourself feeling a bit envious of his conquests, because the more time you began spending with him, the more you understood why Matt had his suspicions.

On quite a few occasions, you caught Eddie's gaze lingering on you. The stolen glances and charged looks sent your heart racing. Gone were the days of pushing these thoughts away. Now, you found yourself indulging in them, late at night, hand between your thighs, wondering if the fantasies might ever become reality.

“Don’t play dumb, I know you fantasize. You could have me on my back every night.”

One night, after having your friends over for dinner, Eddie decided to stay and chill after Robin and Steve had left. He sprawled on your couch, legs draped over the coffee table, grumbling about the monotony of his recent casual encounters and the lack of sexual chemistry he'd been experiencing.

Eddie looked at you, cutting himself off mid rant, his fingers deftly rolling a blunt. "It's cool if I smoke in here, right? Or d'ya want me to go on the balcony?"

You hesitated for a moment before nodding. "I don't usually love it, but why not for tonight?"

With a grin, Eddie continued on his ranting as he finished rolling. Lighting the blunt and taking a long drag when he finished his complaint.

"Okay, but bad sex is more often than not, still enjoyable," you said, in response to his last comment.

Eddie held out the blunt offering you to take a hit and while normally you’re pretty weary to cross fade, you were feeling adventurous as you grabbed it from his fingers taking a hit.

"I get what you're saying, but nothing's been like, mind-blowing. I was getting head the other day, and I was literally counting the minutes until it was over. I think it would've been more enjoyable if I'd just taken care of myself."

You let out a laugh, the smoke escaping in a light cloud. "You think counting maybe prolonged the experience a bit, bud?" Passing the blunt back to Eddie.

"No, baby, the counting's what got me there." He smirked before taking another hit.

You rolled your eyes playfully, but his words sparked thoughts of your own dissatisfaction.

The two of you sat there listening to the soft sounds of The Cure album you had on, as you took turns with the blunt. Eddie's gaze didn't leave you, his eyes focused on your lips - the movements of your mouth. The subtle way your lips parted and closed around the blunt had him entranced.

You were too lost in your own thoughts to notice his staring. "I think this is one of those grass is greener situations. l'd take the bad sex. There's only so much I can satisfy myself, and sometimes I- well, I just want to get railed." The words slipped out before you could fully think them through but as soon as they did, you felt a rush of heat flood your cheeks.

Eddie's eyes widened slightly, a blush of his own creeping onto his face as he exhaled smoke. "Oh sure." You'd always been open about discussing sex, but this was a new level of candor for you and it caught him by surprise. It also made his cock twitch.

You weren't sure what it was - the alcohol, the pot, the adrenaline from your embarrassment, - but Eddie's complaints mixed with your own dissatisfaction sparked an idea. You set your wine glass down, turned to face him, and criss-crossed your legs on the couch.

Passing what was left of the blunt back, you asked the question that's been on your mind for weeks.

”Eddie… are you attracted to me?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest.

"What?" He asked as he put the blunt out.

"Eddie," you pressed.

He chuckled, the sound a bit shaky. "Everyone thinks you're pretty, you know that."

"That's not what I asked," you countered. "I'm asking if you think I'm like, hot - not just pretty."

A smirk played on Eddie's lips as his eyes scanned over your figure, nodding. “Yeah, you’re hot,” he said, taking a sip of his beer and letting his eyes linger on how the soft fabric of your clothes hugged your chest. Truth be told, he thought you were fucking heaven sent.

"So why haven't you made a move? I've been single for months."

"You know me, baby. No attachments. Couldn't have you falling in love with me."

You scoffed. "Really, that's your excuse?"

His gaze met yours, a touch of defensiveness in his eyes. "It's not an excuse. It's just how I am. I don't hook up with friends, it can get messy."

"Got it," you replied, considering letting it go, but curiosity had taken hold. "Do you ever fantasize about them, though?”

A wry smile appeared on his lips. "Depends on the friend, I guess.”

"Cut the shit, Munson.”

His smile grew. "Alright, yeah. A lot more than I probably should have.”

You leaned in closer, your voice dropping to an intimate whisper. "If it's any consolation, I've fantasized about you a fair bit too.”

"Oh, yeah?" he breathed, his voice huskier than before.

"Mmm-hmm." You shook your head slowly, maintaining eye contact. You noticed the way Eddie's eyes darted down to your lips and then back up to your eyes.

"What about?" he asked.

"I could tell you," you whispered, "or I could show you.”

Eddie's laughter was shaky as he looked away, running his hand through his hair. "Tempting," he whispered, leaning back and trying to create some distance. His arousal, however, was unmistakable.

The room fell silent. You could see the inner conflict in his eyes: the struggle between desire and his self imposed boundaries. The sight of Eddie's hard cock straining against his jeans had your pulse quickening more than the conversation had. You felt yourself growing wet, the heat between your thighs demanding attention.

"So even though it's clear we both want this, you're willing to just let it go because of some vague principle?" you asked, frustration tinging your voice.

Eddie's expression grew serious. "I wouldn't want to complicate our friendship just to get off.”

"And if I promised you it wouldn't complicate anything, that nothing would have to change - it would just be a good time?”

His breath hitched at your words, his eyes soaking in your presence. "Then... maybe I’d rethink some things."

You sighed, acknowledging his hesitation but also feeling the urgency of your own desire whether Eddie joined you or not.

“Well, you think about that,” you said, standing up and heading toward your bedroom. “You’re welcome to join me if you decide you’re in. If you decide to leave, the spare key is by the door. Just lock up and I’ll get it next time.” You closed the door behind you

Eddie sat on the couch contemplating for all of 5 minutes before his decision was made. Of course he wasn't going to let this moment pass him by. He stood up, his mind racing as he walked toward your room.

When Eddie opened the door, he found you lying in bed, bathed in the amber glow of your lamp, only in your panties. You were lost in your own pleasure, hand moving beneath the fabric, eyes closed tight as breathy moans escaped your lips.

"Fuck," Eddie muttered under his breath, his gaze locked on the scene before him. He froze, taking in every detail. The gentle, desperate movements of your fingers, the soft sway of your breasts, and the way your lips formed an O with every soft whimper. He was mesmerized.

He moved closer, cautious not to disrupt the moment. You whispered his name, soft and needy. "Eddie..."

The sound of your voice, so vulnerable and inviting, was nearly enough to push him over the edge. He groaned, a deep, guttural sound that came from the very core of his being. As he stood at the end of the bed, your eyes fluttered open, taking in his presence.

You kept your eyes locked on him, focusing on his face, the way his gaze was fixed on you.

Looking at you like this, made him feel as if he was witnessing the eighth wonder of the world. "What are you thinking of?" Eddie asked, needing to understand what was driving you.

"That this is your hand instead of mine, just like l've been imagining for weeks," you admitted, voice trembling slightly.

Eddie's breath hitched. "Can I see all of you?" he asked, desperation lacing his voice as he sat on the edge of the bed.

You nodded, slowly sliding your panties down your legs and tossing them aside, revealing your glistening cunt. You returned your hand, teasing yourself gently. Eddie's eyes were fixed on you, the sight almost too much for him to bear, a low whimper escaping his lips.

"How would you touch me, if it were your fingers?" you asked, voice a seductive whisper.

Eddie slid up from his spot on the edge of the bed, closer to your side, as he began directing you on how he would pleasure you, eyes glued to your movements. "I'd start by gently tracing my fingers, just like you are now."

You whimpered as he continued his instructions, caught between the fantasy he was describing and the reality of your own touch. His guidance was driving you wild, but the need for his direct touch was growing unbearable. Breathlessly, you said, "Eddie, please."

“Tell me what you need,” he rasped, his eyes locked on yours.

“Touch me,” you pleaded.

Eddie knew what you meant; you wanted him to replace your fingers - but he needed to kiss you and at the vague request for his touch he couldn't help but use that as his cue. He leaned in, his body hovering over yours, cupping your cheek and pulling you into a kiss. The kiss was rough, and raw as if years of restrained longing were unleashed in that heated moment. His lips were demanding, his tongue wrestled with yours, the taste of beer mixing with moscato. You bit his lip and Eddie’s groan was deep.

His free hand found its way to your thigh, gripping it tightly, driving you further into your own touch. The intensity of his actions only heightened your pleasure. You gasped into his mouth as your climax hit. Eddie’s grip on your thigh never letting up as you clung to him, struggling to steady yourself through your orgasm.

As the waves began to subside, you whispered raggedly, “I need you.”

Eddie trailed his hand from your thigh to your cunt, only for you to stop his hand. “No. I need more, I need you inside of me. Now.”

Eddie groaned at your desperate plea for him to fill you. Without a word, he began undressing. His breathing was labored as he quickly removed his shirt, tossing it aside. He fumbled with his jeans, eager and clumsy in his haste to free his hard cock. When he finally did, you let out an audible gasp, taking in the sight of him. He was so fucking perfect.

“How do you want it, baby?” He asked, eager to give you anything you’d ask for.

“What have you fantasized about?”

Eddie hesitated, “We don’t have to -”

“Tell me,” you demanded.

“You, um, you’ve got great tits,” he all about moaned. “I think about you riding me a lot.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before you pushed him back to lean against the pillows, a sly smile on your lips. You reached for a condom from the nightstand, tearing open the wrapper with a quick, practiced motion, and rolled it over his throbbing cock. Eddie’s eyes followed your every move, sighing at your touch.

With a deep, steadying breath, you positioned yourself above him. Your hands rested on the headboard while his hands gripped your thighs, his fingers digging in as he watched you. Slowly, you began to lower yourself, the initial contact making both of you gasp. The incredible stretch of his cock stung as you lowered yourself down inch by inch. It was almost overwhelming, but so perfectly pleasurable. Eddie’s eyes widened, his breath coming in quick, ragged bursts.

“Fuck,” he said through gritted teeth. His hands tightened on your thighs, reminding you just how much he wants this.

You continued to sink down, savoring the sensation of being filled. Once fully seated, you paused to adjust, getting accustomed to his size. Eddie wasn’t the longest you’d ever had, but by no means was he small. Close to 7 inches if you had to guess. He was however, the thickest not by an absurd amount but enough to notice the difference. He felt phenomenal.

You began to move, lifting yourself slightly before sinking back down. The room began filling with the sound of your mingled moans. As you established a steady rhythm, Eddie’s moans grew more frequent, his grip sure to leave bruises. “Fuuuuuck,” he repeated, his voice rough with pleasure.

You shifted from leaning forward to putting your full weight on him, arching your back slightly as you moved your hands from the headboard to behind you, resting them on his thighs. In this position, you had better control and began to increase your pace.

“Aghh - just like that,” Eddie groaned. “Show me how much you want it." Eddie’s eyes were locked on you, taking in every detail - the bounce of your breasts, the flush on your cheeks, the intense pleasure on your face. You looked stunning.

He moved his hands to your breasts, groaning as he squeezed them gently. He adjusted himself so he was sitting up, his hands moving to roam over the rest of your body as he began kissing your skin. He started at your collarbone and moved along your chest until he reached your left breast. Kissing and nipping at the soft skin before enveloping your nipple into his mouth and sucking gently. You shuddered at the added stimulation, moving to rest your hands on his shoulder for better stability as he moved his mouth to your right nipple.

You were finding it hard to keep quiet, biting your lip to stifle your moans as the combination of his mouth and the fullness of his cock drove you closer to ecstasy.

Eddie, however, was having none of that. Removing his mouth from you chest, “Don’t hold back," he rasped. "Let the whole fucking building know how good it feels to have my cock inside you.”

You let yourself moan freely, the sounds echoing in the room as you quickened your pace.

"Ooooohhh god,” you cried out as your orgasm began to build.

You swirled your hips, adding a tantalizing motion that made Eddie mumble curses of pleasure. His hands moved to your hips, gripping firmly as he reclined against the pillows. You leaned forward with him, placing your arms on his chest for support as you rode him with increased intensity.

“Such a good girl,” Eddie said in awe, his eyes locked on you as you chased your orgasm. The praise spurred you on, and you let out a loud cry. Eddie’s lips curled into a wry smile as he watched you, clearly enjoying the effect his words had on you.

“You like that, huh?” he teased, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

You whimpered a feeble “yes,” your voice barely audible as you tried to keep up with the intense pleasure.

“Thought you might,” he chuckled. “Be the good girl that you are and cum for me,” Eddie instructed.

That was all it took. Your hips began to falter as your orgasm ripped through you, sending your body into a shuddering climax. Eddie’s groans of satisfaction grew louder as he watched you come undone on top of him. He gripped your hips tightly, taking over control and thrusting into you with a fierce rhythm, pushing you seamlessly into another orgasm.

As you came down, your body collapsed against Eddie's, still trembling from the aftermath of your third orgasm. Tears gathered at the corners of your eyes, the intensity of the pleasure overwhelming you. Eddie, sensing your exhaustion, slowed his thrusts, his hands gently tangling in your hair as he lifted your face to look at him.

“Shit Eds” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I don’t know if I can come again.”

Eddie’s lips curled into a mischievous smile, his eyes gleaming with determination. “Sure you can, baby. You haven’t even gotten what you wanted yet,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before repositioning you both.

The sudden loss of him inside you made you whimper, the emptiness leaving you desperate to be filled again. Eddie lifted you, placing you on your knees, and then knelt behind you. His hands took hold of your hips, and he lined himself up with your entrance before thrusting into you with a forceful, deep motion. The immediate fullness made you moan, the new position allowing him to penetrate you more deeply and hit your g-spot perfectly with every thrust.

“Fuck, oh fuck,” you cried out, your voice raw with pleasure as he continued to thrust into you with a relentless rhythm.

“This is what you wanted, right baby? To get railed?” Eddie asked, his voice a deep, gravelly whisper. His hands squeezed the flesh of your ass as he drove into you.

“Yes!” you cried out. “Please Eddie, harder,” tears streaming down your face. He responded by pounding into you just as you asked.

Leaning forward, Eddie kissed the skin along your back, his teeth grazing your flesh with gentle bites, adding another layer of sensation. Your hands gripped the sheets tightly, knuckles white from the strain, as desperate cries of pleasure fell from your lips. His left hand slipped between your legs, fingers finding your clit and rubbing it frantically.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, don’t stop,” you moaned, your voice trembling with need. Eddie’s fingers worked your clit with determined precision, the added stimulation making it clear you were about to lose it.

As the pleasure built to its peak, you screamed his name, your body shaking uncontrollably as you came. Eddie’s grip on you tightened, his thrusts never faltering as he felt you clenching around him.

“There it is,” he moaned, his voice filled with satisfaction as he felt you coming undone. Your mascara ran down your cheeks in streaks, merging with your tears as you reached the height of your pleasure. Eddie continued to pound into you as your orgasm subsided, savoring the way you responded to him.

He was relentless, driven by his own need to reach his climax. He removed his hand from your clit, gripping your hips firmly as he thrusted into you with increased force. “I want you to cum with me,” he growled.

You cried out, your voice filled with desperation. "I-I ahhh..." Your words were swallowed by your moans as Eddie kept thrusting.

"You can do it," he encouraged, his voice low and steady. "I know you can."

Eddie's thrusts grew more intense, his rhythm never faltering as he drove you toward another climax. His hands gripped your hips tighter, his own breath coming in ragged bursts as he neared his release.

"Atta girl," Eddie growled. His thrusts grew sloppy, driven by the raw intensity of the moment. You clenched around him, surrendering to the pleasure as euphoria washed over you. The sensation was all -consuming, a final, powerful climax that left you gasping.

Eddie's own climax hit hard. He let out a string of moans, his body shuddering as it hit. His thrusts became erratic, his grip on your ass tightening as he rode out his release.

Eddie collapsed beside you, both of you breathing heavily, basking in the afterglow. The intensity of the night had left you feeling dizzy and euphoric, your body still tingling from multiple orgasms - five mind blowing orgasms, to be exact. The most you’d ever had with a partner before was three - and while still sensational it was nothing compared to this. Making it clear that Eddie Munson was the best fuck you’ve ever had.

As you started to come down, you glanced over at Eddie. He was staring at the ceiling, his face a mix of disbelief and deep thought. "Eddie, what's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

"Can I level with you?" he asked, his voice serious.

"Of course," you replied.

"It's pretty obvious that what we just had was too good to be a one-off," he said, his eyes meeting yours. "And it's not going to be easy to just go back like this never happened. I mean, I can't just pretend I don't know you've got a praise kink." He teased.

"Eddie!" You laughed, giving him a playful nudge.

"I'm only half kidding. I clocked that shit when I tried to teach you guitar, this just confirmed it," he admitted with a grin.

You rolled your eyes, a smirk on your lips. “So, what's your point?"

He shifted, propping himself up on one elbow and looking at you seriously. “If you can handle keeping it casual, I think we should do this again.”

“Fucking hell, Munson didn't we address this on the couch? I wanted to fuck you, I'm not in love."

Eddie laughed. “Right, I know. But sometimes it can lead to that, and I just want to make sure you understand if we continue to hook up it will never be anything but physical. I can never offer you more, is that clear?"

You grinned. “Crystal."

"So, friends with benefits?” He asked.

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips as your eyes locked with his.

"It's a Sexually Explicit Kind of Love Affair"

Two months had passed since you and Eddie established your friends-with-benefits arrangement, and you had both adhered to a set of rules: open communication, no exclusivity, and keeping things private. Your frequent hookups had become a thrilling part of your routine, each encounter more intense than the last, and quite a few that were unforgettable.

Fucked You in the Bathroom When We Went to Dinner: The two of you went to dinner with your friends to celebrate Vicky’s birthday. Amid the celebrations, you and Eddie shared knowing glances across the table and when the opportunity arose, you both slipped away, heading towards the restaurant's bathroom.

As soon as the door closed behind you, Eddie's hands were on you, pulling you close. He pressed your back against the wall, as his lips found yours in a rough kiss. His mouth began trailing along your jaw as you you reached down to unbuckle his belt. Eddie's pants were down around his knees, his hands hiking your dress up, growling when he saw you had no panties on. You lifted your leg, resting it on the sink, back still pressed to the wall as Eddie wasted no time before guiding himself into you. Your hands immediately threading through his hair as he sunk in.

Eddie's thrusts were urgent and desperate. "Fuck, can’t get enough of you," Eddie gasped, his breath hot against your neck.

You could only respond with a series of breathless moans. The pleasure building rapidly as Eddie's movements grew more intense. His hands gripped your hips firmly, holding you in place as he drove into you.

Your climax was approaching quickly, and you couldn't help but let out shrieks of pleasure. Eddie's hand reluctantly coming to cover your mouth to stifle the sounds. He loved hearing you, but not here.

“Shh, baby. I know." He whispered feeling you beginning to clench around him. You bit the palm of his hand to stop the scream that was desperate to escape you as your climax hit. His thrusts growing erratic as he came with you, burying his face in your neck, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

As you both caught your breath, you quickly adjusted your clothes, and you fixed Eddie's hair. You walked out first heading back to the table. Eddie arrived a few minutes later, drink in his hand as if he had been at bar the whole time, a satisfied smirk on his lips as he sat down.

Knee Deep in the Passenger Seat: It'd been a lively evening out at the bar playing pool with Chrissy, Eddie and his bandmates. You were keenly aware of the effect your outfit was having on Eddie as you'd chosen a particularly short skirt that barely covered your lacy black panties if you moved too much. So each time you bent over to take a shot, your underwear was tantalizingly visible.

As you lined up for another shot, Eddie approached, leaning in close. To any onlookers it would seem like he was giving you a tip to make your shot. "You're such a fucking tease," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

You turned your head slightly, catching his eye with a sly grin. "I know, but you love it," you whispered back.

Eddie's gaze was fixed on you as he walked back to his spot against the wall. As you knelt over the table to take your shot, a smirk tugged at your lips knowing he was clearly struggling to focus on anything other than the view you were providing.

If Eddie could have had his way, he would have sunk to his knees right there and ate you out while you were bent over that pool table. But patience is a virtue.

As you turned to face him after landing your shot, you knew he was trying to maintain his composure.

When it was time to leave, Eddie offered to take you home. "Chris, I’ve got her. I pass her apartment on my way home anyway.” While that was true, you knew that wasn't his plan.

As you walked out, Eddie's eyes never left you, his gaze focused on the way your hips swayed with each step. When you reached the van, he opened the passenger door for you and you slid into the seat, feeling his intense gaze on you.

As you settled in your seat, you looked at Eddie who was still standing next to you. A sly grin pulling at his lips, as he stepped in. You were confused until he knelt down on the floor in front of you, shutting the door. His expression one of eagerness.

With his hands now gripping your thighs, he pushed your skirt up, his fingers brushing against your skin. "I've been wanting to taste you all fucking night," he hummed, his voice low and filled with need.

You looked down at him, a teasing smirk on your lips. "Aw look at you, did I tease you so much that you can't even wait?"

Eddie’s big doe eyes, looked a lot less innocent in this position, darkening at your words. Hunger written all over his face.

In an instant he pulled your panties to the side, leaning forward so his head was nestled between your thighs. His tongue making contact with your bare slit, with a tantalizing slow lick. You gasped at the feeling. Eddie moaned against your pussy, "You taste so goddamn good,” his voice vibrating through your core.

The moment his tongue touched your clit, he was relentless, alternating between licking and sucking. Your eyes rolling in the back of your head as he savored you.

Within just a few short minutes you were a moaning mess, hands tangled in his hair, breath ragged, eyes screwed tight as you could feel yourself on the brink of your orgasm. Then suddenly, Eddie pulled away. Your release immediately ripped away from you.

His face flushed and glistening with your essence, looked up at you with a smirk. “Look at that, I can be just as much of a tease as you," he rasped.

You whined at the loss of contact. "Please, Eddie.”

“You’ll have to wait, baby.” He said, readjusting your underwear and skirt, wiping his mouth as he dipped out of the van and walked to the drivers side.

Truth be told, this was just as upsetting for him as it was for you. You were intoxicating and if he was being honest he’d love nothing more than to continue to devour your sweet cunt until you came all over his tongue - multiple times. But he thought it only fair that you feel the same strain that he had all night. He’d make it worth the wait when he got you to his trailer.

You're on your knees, I'm on the case: You had the day off, so what better way than to spend it in Eddie's bed. When you arrived at his trailer, he answered the door shirtless, wearing only boxers with a towel draped over his shoulder.

"I'm about to shower," Eddie said, ushering you inside and closing the door behind you. "I'll be out soon. Feel free to watch TV, the remote's on the table."

As Eddie went to shower, you settled on his couch, finishing up the episode of Seinfeld that was on. After about ten minutes, you began to get restless.

You could hear the shower running, steam cascading into the hall because Eddie didn't shut the door completely. You made your way to the bathroom, knocking on the door to let him know you were there as you walked in.

"Be out in a second, just gotta rinse my hair."

"Mind if I join ya instead?"

There was a brief pause before he responded, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Sure, come on in."

You quickly undressed and slipped into the shower the steam enveloping you. You were facing Eddie as the water was cascading down his hair. Some droplets hitting your body, as Eddie glanced over you with a grin.

You gave him a playful smirk before immediately dropping to your knees, positioning yourself in front of his hardening cock. Eddie's eyes locked onto you, filled with anticipation.

Without hesitation, you took him into your mouth, the warmth of the water mingling with the heat of your breath. Eddie's response was immediate. His breath hitched, at the feeling. "Ahhh," he grunted, his voice thick with pleasure.

You began to move, sliding your lips up and down his length with practiced ease. Eddie's hands gripped the shower bar for support, his fingers tightening as he struggled to maintain his composure.

"Holy Shit," he gasped, his voice strained with pleasure. "You're so good, that feels so fucking good."

You continued your rhythm, your mouth and tongue working him expertly. Eddie's groans grew louder, the pleasure clearly overwhelming him. "Oh god, yes," he panted, his hips thrusting gently to match your movements.

The water continued to cascade around you both, mingling with the sounds of Eddie's pleasure as you pushed him closer to the edge. "Don't stop, baby" he urged, his voice breaking. "I'm gonna cum."

With a final, deep stroke, Eddie came hard. You kept your mouth on him, sucking every drop as he moaned and gasped, his hands gripping the shower wall for dear life bracing himself.

His face was flushed, a mix of steam and sweat glistening on his skin. He looked down at you with awe and satisfaction. "You're fucking amazing," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

You stood up, and Eddie cupped your face, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. As your mouths moved together ,his cock began hardening again, ready for round two in his room.

"I know, "Baby, No Attachment!"

As the months passed the frequency of your encounters with Eddie had evolved beyond merely getting off. At first you considered that it was just your friendship deepening, but as time went on, you couldn't help but feel that these interactions between you were teetering the line of something more.

Eddie's band practices had effortlessly blended into your weekly routine. “Want to come to practice again?” he’d ask, flashing a grin. The first time he invited you, you joked about whether he had a fantasy of hooking up in Gareth’s garage or something. Eddie only laughed and said, “Nah, I just figured you might enjoy hearing us play and I thought it’d be nice to have you there.” Of course you went, and enjoyed every second of it, maybe even more than the shows. Seeing Eddie perform offstage, goof around with his bandmates, and brainstorm new arrangements was incredibly fun to witness.

By the third week into attending practice, Eddie offered another invitation. “Want to come with me to visit Wayne this Sunday?” he asked one afternoon. You hadn’t seen Wayne since he left Eddie the trailer, and although the invite surprised you, you agreed. Wayne’s warm hospitality was a delight, and seeing Eddie with his uncle gave you a new insight into his life - it felt special he shared it with you.

You began noticing more changes in your own habits. Instead of going to social events alone, you often opted to ride with Eddie. Your weekend hookups had bloomed into near everyday occurrences, leading you to spend a lot more time at his trailer, as it offered much more privacy than your apartment - Eddie and you were rather loud. Eddie's loud anyway, but when he's inside you he doesn't shut up. Always talking you through it, telling you how good you're making him feel and he loves hearing what he does to you, so you never hold back.

On more than a few occasions you’d accidentally fallen asleep over there, and eventually Eddie just began inviting you to stay the night in the first place. Gradually, your personal items like a toothbrush, a few changes of clothes, and your favorite books made their way over. You were there so often that it was shifting from a convenient arrangement to something that felt more like a shared space.

The boundaries you’d set were being tested, and it was becoming harder to maintain the pretense that this was purely physical. The line between attraction and emotional connection was blurring, and although Eddie had always insisted that this arrangement was meant to stay casual, his actions seemed to contradict that. In those soft moments with him, at practice or Wayne's, or when you were lying in his bed wrapped up in his arms after another incredible fuck, you found yourself dreaming of more and every time you did you'd think back to Matt's insistence that there was something between you and Eddie. Back then you thought it was Matt's jealously, eventually giving way that it was underlying attraction but now like this you can't help but think maybe there has always been more simmering between you both.

You didn't dare say it though, you wanted to remain the “chill girl” who didn’t push. But the more time that passed the more you felt caught between holding your tongue and addressing the growing complexity of the situation.

"It's fine, it's cool, you can say that we're nothing but you know the truth."

The summer heat was beginning to wane as you and Eddie arrived at Steve’s Labor Day party.

You were enjoying yourself, chatting with Nancy when you overheard a conversation nearby. Eddie was talking to Chrissy, who had just referred to you and he as a couple.

“Oh, no, we’re not together,” Eddie said, a dismissive edge in his voice as he responded. The words hit you like a slap. You knew what you had signed up for, but it still stung, especially when the lines had been blurring for months.

You attempted to shake it off, focusing on the friends around you. However, as the evening wore on, the frustration you felt was hard to ignore. Eddie’s behavior had been increasingly confusing. And this comment felt like the final straw - if your friends could see it, why couldn't he?

When the party ended, Eddie drove you back to his trailer with Metallica blasting through the speakers. The music did little to ease the anger you were feeling.

Once inside the trailer, Eddie reached out his hands gripping your waist, as his lips found yours. The kiss felt good, almost intoxicating, but your anger quickly reclaimed its hold as the words "we're not together" echoed in your mind.

You pulled back, needing a moment to regain your composure. Eddie’s eyes searched yours, confusion in his gaze. “What’s wrong, baby?” he asked softly.

"I'm not really feeling it right now,” you said firmly, pulling away from his touch. "I think I'm going to head home actually."

Eddie’s face fell for a moment before a small smile played at his lips. "You don't need to go, stay the night. We can watch a movie."

A few months ago, this invitation would have felt like a friendly gesture. After all, the beauty of a ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement is that it starts with a foundation of friendship. But tonight it was just a bitter reminder of how these nights have morphed into something much more complex. At the start of your arrangement, movie nights often transitioned from watching the film to fucking until the credits rolled. This felt natural, expected. But now the dynamic of movie nights has grown significantly more intimate; cuddling on the couch, Eddie softly playing with your hair, and gentle kisses between scenes. All gestures that are only typical in, well - relationships. You've had enough.

"Eddie, are you being avoidant or are you truly oblivious to what's going on?"

Eddie’s brow furrowed. “Wait, what? What are you talking about?"

"Us. This," you said, gesturing between the two of you. "It feels different, and it has for a while now." You took a deep breath, struggling to steady your voice. "Eddie, even our friends notice it."

"This is about Chrissy's comment?" he asked, annoyance seeping into his voice.

"You were so quick to dismiss it."

"We're not a couple, so that probably has something to do with it," he said, with a laugh, his irritation evident. "What was I supposed to say?"

You gave him a short nod, as you began to gather your things. "It's not even about what you said, it's about what you're not saying."

The frustration was evident on Eddie's face. "I thought we were both on the same page about this," he said, following you.

"Dammit, Eddie," you turned towards him, your voice rising. "We were, but it’s hard to feel like we’re still casual when my favorite bra lives in your dresser!"

Eddie’s expression shifted, a flicker of guilt crossing his face, but he still held his ground. "From the start, I told you I don’t do relationships. I never promised you anything more than what we agreed on."

You scoffed. “I know, and that’s exactly why I’ve kept my mouth shut for so long. But you’ve pulled me into every aspect of your life, and it’s not the same anymore. If you weren’t so hung up on that concept, maybe you’d admit what you’re feeling.”

“Don’t," he said sternly. "Don't try and make me out to be the bad guy because you couldn't keep your own feelings in check.”

His words felt like a punch in your gut. You could feel the lump take perch in throat, trying to swallow it back but the tears were coming.

Eddie’s expression softened as he noticed your your eyes glistening. He watched helplessly as you continued to pack, his frustration morphing into anguish as tears streamed down your face. "Wait,” he pleaded. "Let's talk, we can take a step back."

Your hands shook as you stuffed your clothes into your bag, sobs coming in ragged, painful gasps. “A step? We'd have to take twenty." you choked out, your voice breaking.

Eddie looked away, struggling to reconcile your pain with his own fears. "I just, I'm sorry I confused you. I didn’t mean to give you the wrong idea."

"Maybe you didn't intend for things to change, but they did. We both let them. I did because I liked it, why did you Eddie?"

His stomach twisted at your words.

“Every rule we set, you broke," you continued, bitterness lacing your voice. "It was all ‘let’s keep it discreet’ until you kissed me between songs at practice. What the fuck was that?! ‘We need open communication,’ but you never talked about any line we crossed." Your voice rose despite your sobs. "For fucks's sake Eddie, we haven't been exclusive yet for six months, you’ve called after me! Going as far as turning down others because you want me in your bed. Whether we fuck or we don't."

Eddie stood still, motionless, as the weight of your words sunk in.

"You can try to downplay this all you want, but deep down you know. And it's why your past hookups could never satisfy you the way I do.” Tears streamed down your face as you glared at Eddie.

He just stood there, hit with the reality of your words. The silence grew heavy as he struggled to find a response.

"I don't know what you want me to say. I can’t just flip a switch and become something I’m not. I made my stance clear from the beginning." His voice wavering as he spoke.

You shook your head in disappointment. "Got it." Your tears fell harder, and Eddie’s own eyes were on the verge of tears as he watched you zip up your bag.

“Baby,” he started, his voice trembling as he reached out a hand towards you.

“Don’t, Eddie,” you scolded, your voice a harsh whisper. “You don't wanna call it love, fine. But it's done."

Eddie’s face twisted in confusion and frustration as you finished speaking. He seemed to get only a fraction of what you were saying. "Okay, okay," he said, his voice cracking with desperation. "We'll just go back to how it was before. I mean, we can just forget about all this..."

"You're not getting it, Eds" you replied, your voice steady despite the tears. "I can’t be your friend.”

Eddie’s face contorted with panic. "No, don’t say that," he pleaded, his voice trembling. "I’m sorry I led you on. We can go back - just like it was. We can fix this." Tears welling up as he tries to grasp what you're saying.

"Eddie, it wasn't just that. This whole thing between us has made me realize that maybe… maybe I had feelings for you long before we hooked up."

Eddie's face pales, his panic escalating as he tries to comprehend what you're saying. "What the fuck is happening right now?" he says, his voice rising in distress. He collapses onto the couch, his body shaking as the gravity of the situation hits him full force.

"Before we, before this, you said you didn't," he mutters, almost to himself, as he tries to reconcile your words with his memories.

"I didn’t realize it then," you admit, your voice breaking.

Eddie’s face was wet with his own tears now, his hands trembling as he held his face, taking in your words.

"I never would’ve let anyone else call me a nickname I hated. Anyone else’s persistence would’ve been stopped but it just sounded so pretty coming from your mouth..." Your voice was choked with emotion. “And I think being honest with myself about that, along with everything we’ve been doing... I've realized that maybe I was being a fool to think it was ever just attraction."

Eddie breaks down, his tears flowing freely. "Goddammit" he chokes out, his voice thick with regret. “I can't-"

You cut him off knowing what he was going to say. "I know Eds, you've made it clear," your voiced cracked sobs breaking through the words. "You were right to worry this would get messy, I'm sorry I told you I could handle it." You took a deep breath and looked at him one last time, the ache in your chest almost unbearable. You slung your bag over your shoulder, heading for the door. "I'd probably do it again though." You whispered.

"I don't want to lose you,” he said, his voice wavering as he tried to hold back his emotions.

You paused, your heart aching with the weight of his words. "I have to go," you said finally. With one final glance at Eddie, you turned and walked out of the trailer.

“You just need a better life than this / You need somethin' I can never give”

Eddie’s tears fell uncontrollably as you left. Watching you walk away was like a rift tearing through time and space, an unbearable ache that pierced his soul.

His mind spiraled in a loop, like a broken record that kept repeating the same line: It was a mistake. He knew better, he knew better than to get involved with you, but he had, and now you were gone. Eddie had wanted to believe that you could handle something casual, he risked it because he had an insatiable hunger that only you had satiated. His own denial ran so deep he hadn’t even fully accepted the magnitude of what was happening between the two of you until your words hit him like a freight train tonight. But as Eddie sat there, drenched in regret, his mind wandered to all things you.

Eddie had always been branded the freak for being a little outside the box, and while he stayed true to himself it was always a bit toned down when he met new people. However when he met you, he knew he didn't have to do that. While you could fit neatly into the box, you didn't care to. Eddie was instantly captivated by you, and it wasn't just because you were stunning - it was your wit, and charm that pulled him in.

He could never forget the first day he realized he wanted to kiss you. It was one of the early times you hung out - that night you were complaining about "Dirty Dancing." You just kept rambling - so comically irritated, he found it hilarious and he wanted to just shut you up with his lips. He couldn't help himself coining, "Baby" for you. It had felt right rolling off his tongue, and even though you shot him an annoyed look, he could’ve sworn he saw a hint of a smile. Eddie then proceeded to try and get you to reenact the lift scene from the movie, but you refused with a firm “Fuck no, Munson.” Robin wouldn't either, but Steve, high as a kite, agreed. Of course it ended with them flat on the floor and the four of you laughing your asses off. For whatever reason that night marked a turning point for your friendship - the two of you began spending time together outside of your shared circle. It was always a little touchy, a little flirty and Eddie was constantly having to push the urge to kiss you outside of his mind.

Steve was always trying to persuade Eddie to just go for it, but Eddie wasn’t interested. He typically only hooked up with the same person three times - if ever more than once. He feared that if he ever got involved with you he wouldn’t be able to go back, and commitment was something he wasn't into. Fast forward three years and nothing's changed. Still, one night around two years ago he nearly let his guard down.

A group of you had gathered at a nearby bar before Corroded Coffin’s first paid show at The Hideout.

“Let me buy a round for you guys, a little liquid courage before tonight!" you insisted. Gareth joked that it wasn't necessary when they had Eddie's good luck charm - You. “Is that why you keep me around, Munson?” you teased, planting a playful kiss on his cheek. “For a little extra luck,” you said with a wink and a smile before heading to the bar. In that moment, Eddie was certain he had to kiss you.

When you returned with a round of tequila shots, your cheeks flushed and your smile bright, you explained that the handsome guy at the bar; Matt - asked you out and then proceeded to buy the round of shots for you when you'd said yes.

As Jeff raised his shot and toasted, "To Matt!" Eddie looked at you, realizing that it was better this way. It would have been foolish to kiss you. You deserved someone who could offer you more.

Eddie’s mind whirled, jumping from that almost kiss to the fateful night on your couch. He should've went home because from that moment everything changed. You were sensational, the way your body responded to him, the way you sounded, the way you made him feel. He was right to know himself, that after a taste, he would never want to go without. He was selfish for this.

The past 6 months together Eddie had recognized little shifts, but he'd ignored them. Looking back it was probably June when things first began to change from the raw thrill of a good time to something that hinted at a little more intimacy. Your presence had turned his bed into a sacred oasis, where he felt truly seen and understood. The laughter, the warmth, the touch - it was all part of a connection he cherished. Yet, every time it felt like it was too much, he would push it out his head, trying to drown out the truth that he felt something more. Even if he wanted to risk all for you, he couldn’t. He wasn’t good enough to make you his.

This painful realization was a truth he had to face. His fear of inadequacy and his belief that he couldn’t sustain a meaningful relationship had driven a wedge between you. And now, with you gone, he was left grappling with the reality that he had pushed away the one person who had made him question his own defenses. Sitting on his couch, a headache pounding from his tears, he tried to sleep, searching for some sort of peace.

In the weeks that followed, Eddie rarely visited his bedroom. It was a space tainted by your absence. His home felt hollow, so he picked up extra shifts at the diner, and crashed at Gareth’s when he could. He thought about reaching out to you, admitting you were right, that he loved you too, but he knew it wouldn’t change a fucking thing. He still couldn’t give you what you wanted. He wasn’t ready for a relationship, not when he didn’t believe he was enough.

You deserved the best, and Eddie didn’t think he was that. He was still a pot dealer, bussing tables to make ends meet and for some free food, just dreaming of a future with his band...

Eddie had been so absorbed in the band that he had drifted from the usual social circle. The only time he’d seen Steve and Robin since your departure was after one of his show the last weekend in September. They had approached him, and Eddie, looking weary and regretful, had apologized for not being around much. He wanted desperately to ask about you - God, he did - but he struggled to find the right words.

When Steve and Robin happened to mention they hadn’t heard from you either, Eddie’s heart sank. You were probably avoiding them, likely to keep from running into him. Steve, with a knowing look, asked if the two of you had gotten involved. Eddie gave a brief, vague answer that painted a picture of your arrangement without exposing too much.

“Maybe try reaching out to her though.” He suggested.

Robin nodded solemnly. “Of course,” she replied, understanding the complexity of the situation without needing more.

The days blurred into weeks as Eddie threw himself into his band, trying to escape the gnawing emptiness and the haunting memory of you. Each gig was an escape, but it never lasted. The real struggle was coming home to an empty space, a home without the one person who had made everything feel right.

“Back when we were still changin' for the better / Wanting was enough / For me, it was enough"

It was the kind of night that makes you want to crawl into bed and pull the covers over your head, except you weren’t in bed. You were behind the wheel of your car, heading home after leaving the man that you loved.

As the tears flowed freely, your mind drifted to the most serious relationships you’d had. Your college boyfriend, your relationship with Matt - both seemed like mere practice compared to what you shared with Eddie. He wasn’t just the best fuck you’d ever had, he was the best person you’d ever known. The thought of never being around him again was agonizing.

Returning to your apartment felt like a warm welcome from an old friend. You had spent nearly all of August entwined in Eddie’s bedsheets, living for the hope that maybe, just maybe, you could have a future together. You uncorked a fresh bottle of Riesling, not even bothering with a glass as you tried to drown out the fact that Eddie was never truly yours.

Weeks after leaving Eddie, the silence was deafening. The ache of not hearing from him, of not knowing how he was, ate at you incessantly. You knew that this was your choice, yet you'd expected some sign - any sign - that he was still there, still thinking of you.

You threw yourself into work, hoping that staying busy would numb the pain. But this came at a price - you isolated yourself from your friends, avoided their calls, and shut yourself off from the world that might remind you of Eddie. When Robin buzzed your intercom one evening, her arrival was a welcome disruption to your self-imposed exile. She stood at your door with pizza and ice cream in hand, a silent understanding in her eyes.

"Hey," she said softly, a warm smile breaking through her concern. "I thought you could use some company."

You invited her in, your heart heavy as you tried to muster a smile. You sat in your living room, as you finally let your emotions spill out.

Between sobs, you managed to ask, "How is he?"

Robin took a deep breath, clearly choosing her words carefully. "He hasn't been around either, but Steve and I saw him last weekend, he's been busy with the band. They're doing really well - they’re working hard to catch the eye of an A&R rep to help develop them. When we told him we hadn’t heard from you, he briefly explained why that might be, and not that I wouldn't have anyway - but he was one that suggested this."

He had thought of you. That was enough to make you break down again. Robin wrapped her arms around you.

“It’s okay," she whispered.

Robin comforted you the rest of the night. Reassuring you that in time it will get better. As Robin was on her way out you told her that while you missed everyone it was just too hard right now, and you needed more time.

She nodded, understanding. "We’ll be here whenever you’re ready."

As she left, you felt hope amidst the sadness. But even with that hope, you found it difficult to move forward. You almost mustered the courage to attend Jonathan and Nancy’s Halloween party, but after getting dressed, you couldn’t bring yourself to go. A week later, you had plans for lunch with Steve and Chrissy but the nausea of confronting your emotions kept you from following through. It was still too soon to be around the people who reminded you of Eddie, so you stayed away, in your cocoon of sorrow, hoping that someday the pain would ease enough to allow you to step back into your life.

“And from the outside / It looks like you're tryin' lives on / I miss the old ways / You didn't have to change/ But I guess I don't have a say / Now that we don't talk"

It was the second week of November, and you’d decided to go out for drinks with some colleagues. You were at a bar you’d never been to before, located on the other side of town - quite far from the usual spots you and your friends frequented. With the slim chance of running into anyone you knew, you let your guard down and enjoyed the evening.

You were so engrossed in your conversation that you almost missed it. At first, you thought you’d imagined it, but then you heard it again. Your stomach dropped, and a wave of heat washed over you as you recognized Eddie’s unmistakable voice. Looking around, it was Gareth you spotted first, and as you looked for Eddie, your heart sank. He looked drastically different - his once long hair was now a buzz cut, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, while dressed in a navy striped button-down. His signature leather jacket draped over the back of his chair the only remnant of the man you remembered.

Despite your attempts to refocus on your colleagues, your attention kept drifting back to Eddie and the band. They were celebrating with a round of shots, and you wondered if they were marking a milestone. Since the round of drinks you’d suggested for their first paid gig, you knew they had a tradition of celebrating this way. Your heart sank as you overheard Eddie’s toast: the local station had agreed to start playing their music, and they were promised a small tour around neighboring states in the new year.

Watching the band’s journey over the past three years - early gigs at house shows to paid gigs at dive bars - you knew you had to say something, not just to Eddie but to all of them. You were proud of their progress, and after witnessing their hard work at countless practices this year, it felt right to acknowledge their accomplishments. You couldn't deny that it almost felt kismet, that you were here tonight.

As your coworkers began wrapping up their night, you excused yourself. You made your way over to the band’s table, your heart racing. As you approached their table, Gareth’s eyes lit up as he saw you.

“Well, look who it is!” Gareth exclaimed.

Eddie turned, his smile dropped as he took in your presence.

“Of all the gin joints, you walk into the one I’m in?” you joked, attempting to ease the awkwardness. The band chuckled, and you continued, “I couldn’t help but overhear you guys. I just wanted to come over and say congratulations. I know how hard you’ve all worked.”

The band echoed their gratitude before Gareth suggested you join them. A sudden, overwhelming discomfort gripped you. This was a mistake. Every lingering feeling you had for Eddie was rushing back, and you found yourself struggling to maintain composure. "Oh thank you, but I need to get home” you say, attempting to mask the unease. “But I’m really happy for you all.”

As you start to walk away, Eddie rose from his seat. “Baby, wait" he called out.

There it was, the nickname only he called you. The one you'd been aching to hear.

You stopped, turning slightly to face him as he reached you. "I um, just wanted to say, thanks for that. I really appreciated you coming to to the table.”

"Of course." you say softly.

His eyes roam over your figure as he takes in the way your dress fits, and a low, almost involuntary groan escapes him. “Wow, that dress, you.. you look incredible."

You give him a thankful nod. It hurt you to hear him say that, knowing you'd bought this dress months ago solely with the intention of him taking it off.

"Me? Look at you, you look so.... I don't know. Refined, maybe?"

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Is that good or…?”

"Oh y'know you always look good," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. "But I’d be lying if said the hair didn’t shock me a bit at first,” you admit.

Eddie’s eyes soften, and he responds with a chuckle. “It’s weird for me, still. I haven’t had a buzz cut since middle school. But I just needed... a change.” His words hit you harder than expected, and you feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

You nod, unable to hide your emotion.

He smiles, though it’s tinged with sadness. “I want you to know I thought about reaching out but I wasn't sure...." he trailed off.

You nodded again, acknowledging the sentiment, a small smile on your lips as you try to swallow the lump forming in your throat. “I really should go, but I am truly so proud of you, Eddie,” you said, your voice wavering. “Ever since I met you, I’ve seen how hard you’ve worked for what you want and I'm so happy that it's paying off."

The words seemed to break something in him. Instinctively he reached out, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. “I’ve missed you,” he breathed into your hair.

You hugged him tightly, tears rolling down your cheeks. “I’ve missed you too,” you whispered back, feeling the warmth and comfort of his embrace. For a moment, it felt like time had stopped, and you wished you could stay there forever. But as much as you wanted to linger, you knew you had to go. You slowly pulled away, forcing a smile through the tears. “I'm really glad I got to see you,” you said softly.

Eddie looks at you, his gaze lingering as if he’s on the verge of saying something more, but he simply nods. “Me too,” he says quietly.

“And I’d give up forever to touch you / ‘cause I know that you feel me somehow / you’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be / and I don’t want to go home right now”

The ride home felt like déjà vu. Another teary-eyed drive to your apartment after walking away from the man you loved.

Once you were home, you sank into the couch. Wrapped in a blanket, tears streamed down your face as The Smiths' The Queen Is Dead album played on the record player. For the 17th of November, the weather was a bit of a mess. It honestly felt poetic, the thunderstorm mirroring the emotions you were feeling. Every crack of thunder echoed your sobs.

About an hour into your pity party, you were starting to regain some composure when the buzz of the intercom startled you. You figured it was your neighbor, who often used the wrong buzzer, so you hit the button to let them in. Just as you were about to lay back in your spot on the couch, you heard a knock at your apartment door. Curious and a bit irritated, you peered through the peephole and froze. It was Eddie, drenched from the rain, with tears streaming down his face. Your heart raced as you swung the door open, and he walked in, shutting the door behind him.

"Eddie, what-" Before you could utter another word, he started rambling.

“What are the fucking odds you’d be at that bar tonight?” he began, his voice breaking. “On a night that was supposed to be a highlight in my life, all I wanted was to share it with you.” His words came out in fractured gasps, his tears mixing with the rain on his face.

“When you said I fought for everything I wanted, it felt like a knife twisting in my chest... because it’s a lie when I let you leave.” His voice cracked, and he struggled to steady himself.

“I should’ve told you this at the bar,” he choked, his tears falling harder now. “It felt like fucking fate that you were there tonight, and I still let you walk away. Again. I'm so sorry for the way things turned out. I should've fought for us. I should've fought for you. I let you go because I couldn’t admit I loved you. Even though you knew - of course fucking you knew - because you see me, all of me. And you’ve loved me through it, even when I didn’t think it was possible.” He buried his face in his hands, wiping his tears and catching his breath.

“I was convinced I wasn’t enough for you,” he continued. “But you wanted me all the same. I’m so sorry, I should’ve called you weeks ago. I’m sorry for being scared I couldn't be what you deserve, but every day without you has been fucking hell.” His breaths came in jagged, broken waves. “I thought I could move on... but the goddamn world would have to stop before I could ever stop feeling this for you... It’s always been you.”

“Eddie,” you breathed.

Eddie stepped forward, his hands cupping your face. “I'm still not sure if I'm the man you deserve, but I'd like to try if you’ll have me.”

You nodded at his words, tears streaming down your face. Leaning in, you pressed your lips to his in a kiss that began tenderly but quickly deepened, fueled by a desperate need to reconnect and erase the distance that had come between you. Your moans mingled as your tongues met, and Eddie's hands tangled in your hair. When you finally pulled apart, both of you breathless, you rested your foreheads together.

“I love you, Eddie Munson,” you whispered.

“I love you so fucking much, baby,” he murmured, placing a kiss on your forehead.

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inkdrinkerworld · 2 months

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Hurt comfort requests you sayyy?

What about post-prison spencer comforting sunshine reader when she got hurt during a case and she’s like physically hurt but trying to still be sunshiney to keep the team from worrying but spencer was like you don’t have to keep doing that, it’s okay to acknowledge your pain

"I don't want anything with opium in it." you say to the nurse who nods, leaving the room in search of your doctor.

Spencer is sat beside you on the plastic chair, watching you intently as he has been since you'd been admitted.

You hadn't cried once, and Spencer knows a little about being banged up and you should've cried at least twice. You've got bruising on your ribs, a couple broken as well as a broken nose- you really should've cried.

Instead, you let the nurses set your nose, bandage your side and read you your prescription like it was nothing.

"I can't wait to leave, I've been missing my ice cream." you sigh longingly as you lean back into the bed, turning to face Spencer.

His fair skin is a little splotchy, two spots from where he'd been fighting with the unsub, and one long red mark on his hand where you had been holding him as they reset your nose.

He's been a little checked out seeing you in the hospital bed. It's hard watching someone you love struggle to let themselves feel the less than desirable emotions.

"Do you think Emily will be upset if I come to work in the morning? I don't think I'll need more than a couple hours, but maybe the full day would be nice."

Spencer's eyes snap to yours at that. "You're not going to be able to be in the field for at least seven weeks."

Your eyes widen, "I'm fine. It's just a couple broken ribs, I can go to the office and fly on the jet no problem."

Spencer rolls his eyes, not at all liking that you're acting so cavalier about your injuries. "Try sitting up then, since it's just a couple ribs."

He doesn't mean for heat to seep into his words, and it's evident you weren't expecting it when he watches your eyebrows jump. Still determined, you try sitting up, wincing the whole time.

"Stop," you don't even lift yourself more than two inches off the bed before his hand is pushing your shoulder gently. Laying you out. "You don't have to pretend that everything is okay. You're injured, you can cry or scream or emote in something other than cheeriness."

You frown, "It's kind of my default." you murmur, Spencer doesn't believe you. He knows a lot about psychology and he knows a lot about you, he knows it's not your default.

"A learned one?" Your eyebrows jump again. He's still just as awkward and to the point as he's always been. Spencer takes a steadying breath, "I won't judge you for being upset or sad or anything else. You're allowed to and I don't want you suppressing it."

Your body sags with his permission. It's not that you needed his permission, and more that you needed the reassurance that it was okay. That you could just be.

"All emotions are good, we're supposed to feel all of them." it's this that does you in. Your throat scratches from the tears building through your chest and neck.

You sigh, shutting your eyes as you feel the sting of tears behind them. "I'm in a lot of pain, Spencer." your voice cracks and he's on the edge of your bed immediately, kissing your forehead as the tears fall. "It also kinda hurts to cry with a broken nose."

He chuckles at that, rubbing your arm as your tears begin to slow.

"I'll take care of you. The doctor is gonna come in and tell you that you can take Ibuprofen and you're gonna be here a couple more hours, but then we can go to my place and I'll have you in tip top shape in no time."

You open your eyes and look up at him. "You'd stay with me the full seven weeks?"

Your eyes shine with more tears under the harsh florescent light of the hospital, "I'd stay with you even longer than that, pretty girl." You know in your bones he means every word.

#spencerreid #spencer reid #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x black reader #spencer reid x sunshine!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid x y/n #post prison!spencer

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futureplayboibunnie · 1 year

Text

Aphrodesiacs Pt.8

Miguel O’Hara x fem! spidey! reader

You and Miguel O’Hara were bitten by the same spider…what could possibly happen?

*sigh* let me just feed my starving children. consider this my girl dinner to you all. fully feeding u this time. the day has finally come (in more ways than one)

NSFW AS ALWAYS (but pls extra caution on this one, i got carried away and i don’t want to spoil the surprise) 18+

also i was gonna finish this series at 10 chapters but pls lmk if u want more!

It was far too late to function. You were pulling on many mental threads as you sprawled out on your bed.Sighing into the empty, overly spacious air of your room didn't alleviate anything, you were still wearing Miguel's shirt.

The streetlights dimmed into your room, the warm glow offering nothing to help fix this crack that resided in you. Tossing and turning wasn't helping, your limbs fluctuating from rigid to limp whenever you thought about Miguel. Your sheets were hurled to the floor and your half-naked form contorted at every angle on the bed, nothing was comfortable and you couldn't sleep. Your mind buzzed awake from the lightning shooting down your thighs whenever you inhaled, his shirt was so big on you but it smelled so good, and the fact that he let you just have it.

It smelled like him, his cologne, his natural ambiance, his musk. You rubbed your naked thighs together.

You couldn't help but sigh breathlessly and throw your head back into the pillow, whining at how stimulated you were just by inhaling. For fucks sake. Since when were you this pathetic? You almost wanted to bite into your pillow out of sheer aggression. Today was a cluster fuck of emotions, your lips still felt the tingle of him, your tongue was against his enough that you could still feel him exploring when he wasn't even there. It was like a ghostly touch, tracing against the most sensitive parts of your body. You still couldn't believe that he had finally kissed you, he had finally given in to such a disastrous impulse that he so constantly warned you about. Your pussy fluttered at the fact you affected him enough to go against everything he believed in, that you meant that much to him. The pulse under your heated skin sent your body into an unshakable overdrive.

Miguel tasted like testosterone, anger, and sex. The way you were just pressed against him had slick forming between your thighs. You were so ready for him. You've always been ready for him. The way he gave you a tiny fraction of what he was going to do- what he was prepared to do...well before Peter had to cockblock you into oblivion. He was going to fuck you on the sink like an animal. Hot and Heavy. But then Miguel had to go back into his old ways.

Your throat was raw, and constantly groaning in frustration was a default setting at this point but it was getting worse and worse. You draped your forearm over your eyes, involuntarily arching your back against the mattress and spreading your legs as your stomach lurched. Your pussy would drown in his cum. That seemed to be the last straw. The canines of your teeth dug into your bottom lip at a depth that pierced the blushed tenderness of your lips, tiny holes turned into splits as blood pooled inside of your mouth and slightly dribbled to the outskirts of your mouth and chin.

“Fuck…” You winced out, more pained by the thought of Miguel leaving you unfulfilled than the pulsating of your lips bitten raw.

Miguel was aimless, ice doused his heated veins as he swung from building to building. He attempted to convince himself that he was in your universe for any other reason he could get, he was particularly good at lying to himself but in this case, it wasn't. The most honest thought he's had in months is knowing that he wants you.

Miguel knew where he needed to be right now. With you. He hated how he left you in the bathroom, part of him wanted to fuck you while anyone watched, just to show them who you belonged to. But he could never do that.

He groaned as he whacked through the air, his fingers smashing against his neck to get rid of the mask. He felt claustrophobic like you were subconsciously taking away his ability to breathe. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. You had steel in your spine and that only fueled the flames of desire that were lit in him long ago. The roaring fire in your eyes every time you laid into him made him hard as ever, no woman has ever been stupid enough to question him- and then there was you. At HQ you were the perfect picture of cool elegance and competence, you weren't as fun-loving as the others and nowadays Miguel felt like he had pulled that out of you. Miguel frowned at the thought. Your presence evoked an unwanted heat in his gut and a leaking cock to go with it, and he didn't even fucking like you, he just had to deal with you. But now, after all this, you were the name he'd call in the middle of the night. His entitled, needy, girl. He couldn't take two steps without Jess or Lyla gushing to him about how lovely you were

It was galling.

Maybe he could marry you. Fuck you full of his kid.

Jesus Christ.

Miguel squashed the thought with a grimace and a shake of his head. With a grunt he landed on the side of your apartment building, using his claws to dig into the brick, subtIty was never his play but in this certain situation, it was completely off the board. He had no idea what he was going to say to you or if he was going to see you at all he just needed to be near you. He wanted to see those eyes darken in pleasure again, if that's all he could get from a kiss, he couldn't even begin to wrap his head around what would happen when he was actually in you. He knew he drew near when the scent of you clouded his brain, he quickly hung from the side of the building until he got to a large window, it was cracked open slightly. Windswept hair made tufts of his hair impair his vision, Miguel peeked his face to get a glance at the window it was your bedroom window.

You were sat on the edge of the bed, sweet face buried in your hands, hair tumbling down your shoulders, contemplating something for a second before standing up.

He could smell how wet you were. Maybe one day he could pour wine all over you, cum on you and then taste it off your sweet body.

He bit the bullet. He raised a pointer finger and tapped his talon on the glass. The moonlight outside kissed your face perfectly, but he did notice some red around your lips- he didn't know what it was.

His mouth dried as his gawk fell to what you were wearing- you were still wearing his shirt. Fuck

You hummed in irritation, thinking your sex-filled mind was making you hear things. Your heart sank at the wave of shock when your gaze accidentally flitted to your window. Then you saw it. Your tongue ground into your jaw, waves of shock reaching every corner of your already fire-tinged body- but now every single cell was about to sizzle into thin air. All this time, it felt like you were both dancing with your hands tied. Your pulse pounded in your ears when you saw him, eyes wide and concerned but ultimately fucking elated. It was like God answered your prayers just this once. You stood up from sitting, a random burst of adrenaline licking at your knuckles, you were practically shaking and Miguel was more than happy with that.

The sight of Miguel's face could make you cream: that black hair, olive skin, taut muscles, and brooding attitude made for complete devastation in a spider suit. You watched like a dumbfounded idiot as Miguel pried the window open and crawled through, he wormed into your room and stood up tall just taking a beat to drink you in.

Damn.

He thought you looked fucking incredible in a bikini, but here you were, standing there with a vacant doe-eyed look wearing nothing but his shirt. He doesn't think he's ever been this aroused just looking at someone.

Miguel raised an eyebrow to see blood on your lips, trailing a little down to your chin as you blinked up at him. He inched closer and raised his hand, his fingers slightly cupping your chin to meet his scorching, worried gaze.

“What happened here?” He asked softly, his breath was warm and honeyed, a stark contrast to the Miguel you've always known. That cool bleak demeanour cracked for a split second.

“You.” Leaning into his touch proved to be easy, you melted into his fingertips, lips parted and eyes needy as the man you've been fantasizing about for so long was touching you again, but it felt more meaningful than the last. Miguel's eyes were the clearest you've ever seen, a tinge of red gleaming against the burgundy of the outer rim. The way you uttered that word sent a shudder spiraling through him, you were both affecting each other so much- that first kiss only fueled the ever-increasing wildfire.

“What are you doing to me…?” Miguel whispered. He was asking himself that question too: what were you doing to him? He's driven himself crazy, utterly mad over this dance of death he called morality and ethics. You were holding your breath, scared that if you gave into the natural urge to breathe, you'd moan out his name.

“You never finished telling me all the things you wanted to do to me.”

“If I told you all of the things I wanted to do to you...we'd be sitting here all weekend talking and then I'll never be able to show you exactly what's been running through my head every hour of every day, the reason why I can’t sleep, why I can’t fuck my fist without thinking of you.” Miguel inched closer and cupped your face with both hands, smoothing out your soft skin, your palms fell onto his hands too.Just touching each other softly. Miguel was still afraid. He was afraid of hurting you, and losing himself, he's already not in control when it comes to you. You sighed out at his vulgar words and you were ready to get on your knees.

You stood in silence, gawking at each other intensely. You scoffed to yourself, teeth clamping onto your bottom lip as the corners of your mouth upturned to a smirk.

“That would be quite inconvenient.”

“Yes, it would carinõ.” Miguel hummed lowly, definitely understanding the effect the pet name had on you. Miguel thought your snarkiness would be the death of him by now but here you are, being so compliant. His thumb toyed with your bottom lip, teasing it into your mouth. Your eyes grew wider as his thumb massaged your tongue For easier access, you just stuck your tongue out, licking and sucking on it every so often. He had dreamed about this day but he never fully thought what it would really be like once he gave in.

Miguel's pretty features were locked in a state of vacant yet concentrated drunken smugness. Anger played at his brows, creasing the olive skin around it, his stare was piercing, looking at you as if you were both a diety that needed to be worshipped and a dirty slut that was begging to be pounded- he sighed at the thought, he was beginning to slowly lean in. Your free hand went to the fangs that he was baring, your fingers prodded at the sharp point, slurring completely drunk off of his presence.

“These are spikey...I love it.”

“This is so wrong.” He muttered against your lips, feeling the explicable sensation of hot and heavy lust sparking between your lip.

“Tell me how wrong it is then.” You nipped at his bottom lip, making his eyes flutter closed.

That was it.

A sickening crunch ripped inside of him.

A chain loose of its hinges.

His muscles coiled inside of him, reaching their apex, and now his restraint was seeping between his fingers until there was nothing left in his hands...except you.

Shock, hope, fear, elation, and uncertainty all mingled together on his face until they were indistinguishable from each other. He blinked for a second and then his eyes mixed both black and red, midnight specks in the violent pool of red. He was angry and so hard. Frustration overrode his guilty conscious. Fury carved harsh lines across Miguel's face, hardening his jaw and turning his cheekbones into slashes of tension by the moonlight. His eyes simmered with a slow-burning desire, the type that snuck up and annihilated him before he knew it.

Miguel had always been intimidating, but at that moment, he looked like the devil himself had left hell to exact his retribution. Arousal leaked out of you at that look. The air sharped with dense tension and desire, enough that it finally yanked him out of his frozen stupor. Time suspended for a brief, agonizing moment, just long enough for your breath to become his.

Miguel yanked your arm away from him and curled it behind your back, your soft gasp making drool form at the back of his throat. His other hand gripped your chin and at that moment he saw thunder in your eyes. “I'd rather fuck you instead.” Uncertainty evaporated from his voice, leaving nothing but satin and smoke in its wake.

His mouth shattered against yours, finding its rightful place in your mouth. Home. You thought his last kiss was good, but this was ferocity at its most unhinged. You had succumbed to the skillful assault on your senses.

Your body was molded to his, all hard muscles under the holographic suit. Your mouth was like a pure shot of heroin- the forbidden fruit that he was restraining himself for was now all his to devour, his to savor. The first kiss was passionate but impulsive. This... was sticky and wet, saliva mingling with saliva, this was primal and addicting. Miguel's worries melted into nothing, for now, he was fucking delighted that your body instinctively curved against his, seeking more contact like a horny virgin. His lips left yours to breathe, a rough calloused breath shot out of his throat, as his mouth fell to your jaw, kissing and sucking so fucking hard, desperate to mark you.

“Miguel…” You moaned out in failed protest, the word rolled like heaven off of your tongue. You were made to moan his name.

“I'm going to wreck this tight cunt..”

“Listen, listen...I'm bad. I'm a bad girl. Now I'm making you bad..” You whispered in his ear, yelping a little when he bit down hard on the skin of your jaw. You felt the indents of his teeth.

“Carinõ...I'm not a good man, you know that.” His eyes wildly found yours again, his face hardening like granite, his steely resolve thrumming in the air around you.

You begged to differ, but you didn't want to think about that right now.

Miguel shoved you on the bed, manhandling you by being completely careless of where you landed.

“Miguel!” You whined like a kicked bitch in heat, it felt so humid in your room, you scrambled to get your- well, his- top off. Miguel stood up straight and gawked at you from the foot of your bed, waiting like a hungry predator. You discarded the shirt so you were completely naked on your bed, shining and glimmering in the pale moonlight, skin as soft as fresh silk. Your chest rose and fell with every rapid breath, Miguel's eyes were clouded in the dark hellfire that is desperation when you spread your legs. You propped yourself up on your elbows, tilting your chin down to glare at him with impossibly sizzling fuck me eyes. Miguel's heartbeat pummeled to the tip of his leaking cock at the sight of you in such an impossibly filthy position- free for him to use, fuck and bite however he pleases. He glanced at your hands and your fingers were ripping up the sheets under you, spotlighting the tension and swirling heat in your cunt. He was like a kid in a candy store, your pussy was leaking, the clear sticky liquid running down your thighs.

“Every time you speak, this is what happens.” Your tone was dead serious and the expression on your face was stony- you were definitely not toying with him now. You were just too eager for that.

Miguel's eye twitched. Without warning, he grabbed your ankles and pulled them to the edge of the bed, you gasped softly when you felt your legs dangle out, Miguel was between your thighs, glaring down at you with a demanding instinct.

“Sit up straight.” He ordered coldly, you felt a new wave of wetness form between your folds at his words.

You did what you were told, eyes piercing against his, challenging each other but it was obvious who had the upper hand.

Oh…the things Miguel could do to you in this position. The things he wanted to do, x-rated scenarios reeled through his head. You blinked up at him with doe eyes, wide and needy. His needy, desperate girl. A hint of a wicked smile played on his lips. Miguel smashed a few buttons on his watch and his holographic suit disintegrated off. Your eyes scanned his golden olive skin, his body was sculpted with such perfection you expected to find Michelagelo's signature embossed on his V-line. Broad shoulders. Muscled chest. A faint dusting of black hair that tapered down to…

Oh fuck.

His cock was staring at you right in the face, jutting out, huge and hard- 11 inches for sure at least. It curved to the side, a thick vein bulging out of the underside, an angry red tip leaking pre-cum. The mere idea sent twin frissons of apprehension and anticipation spiraling down the deepest pit of your stomach. You gawked blankly at his dick, mouth open wide and eyes outspread. It felt like you'd never even seen one before. Well, you had never seen his before.

That fucking face, that gape. He was going to frame it in his office and fuck his fist under the desk staring at it.

There was no way he'd fit. It would be impossible.

“Oh my…God.” You mumbled under your breath

When you finally dragged your gaze back up to his, Miguel's eyes were already laser-focused on you, dark and smoldering with a banked heat that you were sure could crumble you to dust. His hand gripped your cheeks, ensuring that your eyes were on him without hesitation. Miguel smiled crookedly when he spotted the slivers of saliva hanging from your bottom lip, quite literally drooling over his cock absentmindedly. He loved how dumb he’s got you already.

"Aww querida...I always seem to think about my own suffering, yet I neglect yours the most.” His tone had slivers of mockery in it, and tears pricked in your eyes.

“Yes. You do. So just fuck me already.” You scowled, pretty eyebrows tensing and creasing when he planned on stretching out such a momentous occasion. If anything it should be you punishing him for the amount of times he had denied you of the very thing that kept your soul alive.

Hypocritical son of a bitch.

Miguel harshly let go of your face and slapped your cheek with his dick, your face whipped to the side due to the sheer force of such an obscene thing- he definitely caught your attention now, undermining his authority never sat well and it regurgitated back onto you tenfold. You blinked up at him, the surprise hitting you like a brick and making you choke out the breath you forgot you were holding, your cheek heated red as the stickiness smeared slightly. You were about to internally combust, for such vulgarity to feel that good.

"All you do is fucking talk.” Miguel snarled at you gruffly, the force behind it sounded very real.

“I'm prepping you, getting you all wet so you can at least take about half of me.” You wanted to kick him in the face and make his fangs stick into the walls of his gums and snap them. He really thought you wouldn't be able to take him? Well, a few minutes ago you thought it would be quite frankly impossible to take his sheer size but now since he doubted you...you thought otherwise, wildly determined didn't even begin to cover it.

You cocked a condescending eyebrow at his incredibly smug statement. “I'm wet enough! We were practically designed to fuck each o-!“

Miguel cut you off, waiting for the opportunity when your mouth was wide enough to just shove his cock in. And he did just that. He grinned and let out a low rumbling chuckle at your pathetic and dumb demeanor, who knew a woman who viewed herself so highly could end up being so damn bendy for someone else. Your eyes pricked glassy mirrorball tears, he almost saw his own smug reflection in them, that beautiful surprised look on your face needed to be painted and sold for millions. Your mouth was so warm, so wet, bucketfuls of spit spilling on his cock as you sucked, glaring him right in the pupils of his midnight rings. Miguel's lips flipped to a pretty smile as he watched you struggle to take him all. Your tongue was flat on his tip but what was really jarring was the barely there touches you'd flick onto the sensitive slit, causing him to be unable to repress his animalistic grunt. He could've cum right then and there just from how your mouth felt alone, but he had to endure- he couldn't be known for lasting 5 seconds.

“Yes, we were. You're exactly right.” He gritted through his grinding jaw.

This was exactly what you dreamed of, the spark that lit the flames of desire that licked at the very essence of your soul. It just felt so right. He was so thick and he tasted so good, his natural musk clouded your nostrils, and your throat flexed to take him that much more. One more jerk and he was sure he was going to cum.

Woah, easy. Easy.

Miguel's eyes shot open as you hummed around him appreciatively.

He really thought you couldn't do it. You'd show him that he meant jack shit. There was something so heady about the idea of making a man like Miguel fall to your mercy. You could either bring him over the edge or keep him there forever.

You slid him down your throat a little more. He put his fist in your hair to jerk your head around but you scratched and slapped them away earning nothing but a breathless, accusing scoff from him.

“You'll choke.” It was a half-assed warning and a half-assed patronizing joke. A hint of wariness crept into his voice when you finally gripped the base of his cock with two hands. The sensation tinged his nerve endings in heat, saliva escaping the corners of his mouth.

You didn't care, your eyes tangled with his as if you were saying ‘You think I can't? Watch me.’ You slid him all down your throat, hitting the very back of it. You whimpered tasting the salty sweetness before you swirled your tongue from side to side, bobbing your head up and down, suckling softly at first before fucking him hard with your tongue. Jesus Christ, his mind was exploding with static heat- he was trying to conceal his chest from heaving but he couldn't.

Fuck.

This was most definitely the best blowjob he's ever had, you had this twist-and-jerk technique that was truly remarkable. Miguel raised his eyebrow, dumbfounded by your skill but then a wicked smile slashed through that.

What a pretty little slut. His pretty little slut.

“You feel so good. You're...fuck. You're fucking perfect for me...” Miguel moaned drunkenly, unable to control his lips from moving. He's never been this sensitive before, every barely there touch elicited a new wave of pleasure. Pain and pleasure blurred into one at this point. The compliment made you wetter if that was even a possibility.

“I'm gonna...Mierda...g'na...I'm gn'a cum.” He could barely string together a sentence, a coil snapped inside of him, the coil that has been tightening ever since he met you.

Miguel pulled his cock out of your mouth and jerked himself off, cumming on your chest, creating a pearl necklace with his hot salty cum, dripping all down your tits to your stomach. His face creased into a desperate wince as he groaned from the deep chasms of his gut, a rumble as he released all over you. Your gasp was helpless and he wanted to hear that specific sound all night, it turned into his favorite music. This was the most gratifying and fulfilling orgasm he's ever had. He opened his eyes after they screwed shut, peeking through to see the mess he made on his fist and your body...and there you were looking like a sculpture, something akin to a Greek goddess, leaning back slightly, hair touselled and messy, skin glowing. He could finish again at the sight alone. His sex drive was insatiable.

“Still think I'm in need of prepping?” You chided, embarrassingly pleased with yourself at proving him wrong.

You didn't have any time to lose, your mouth was wrapped around him again.

You retracted a hand from the base of his leaking cock and let them slide down your thighs before your nimble fingers edged to your hot cunt. Your index finger found your swollen clit, rubbing it for a single second, feeling a small fraction of delicious pain before his glare caught you red-handed. Miguel's blood reared at the blurry sight, he gripped your hair again with his white hot fist and pulled you off of his cock, drooling-invisible strings of cum and spit connecting you together. He took a moment to admire you at your most beautiful, heated cheeks, swollen pink lips dribbling into a lazy smile

Miguel grew indignant in a matter of nanoseconds.

“No. Don't you dare think about touching. You've done more than enough yourself.” He grunted like a boar. He used your hair like a leash and threw you back flat on the bed, breasts bouncing at the action. You pouted as he crawled on top of you, his heavy weight being a welcome invite to your body, his cock slapped against your stomach and you could feel his skin turn wet due to your drenched mound. “I said don't give me that look.” He said seethingly. The feeling of his skin on yours was making you intensely needy. You wrapped your legs around his waist, locking yourself in your new favorite position: under him.

“Please...Miguel. I need you, I'm desperate for you, I'm tired of waiting for you, I've been ready for you for so long…” A desperate plea ripped away from your throat in a choked sob. Miguel had never seen your eyes emanate such honesty and sincerity, glowing in the pale moonlight- you weren't making a glib or clippy joke about this. It was as honest as you could get.

Miguel's eyes darkened as your words fell on his ears, slurring at your incessant whining. “Mi nina necesitada…” He hummed under his breath. “So cockdrunk already?”

You had been dying to let him roam your body freely, doing whatever he pleased, a breathy moan escaped from your parted lips when his apathetic hand traced the curves of your body, goosebumps strangely patterning your heated skin. Miguel crashed his lips against yours again, his fangs snagging against your mouth and his teeth clinking against yours. It was messy and sloppy, spit against spit, tongue against tongue. His hands palmed your tits, feeling them before his talons pinched and rolled your already-sensitive nipples. Pulling and playing with them, snarling and grinning crookedly against your lips as he swallowed your moans.

“I'm gonna cum..” You breathed softly but Miguel was not having it. “Miguel...if you keep doing that I'm gonna cum.” You warned him but it landed on deaf ears.

"You're gonna cum on my cock.” He corrected you unkindly before chuckling lowly. “My sweet sensitive cunt.”

Before you knew it, Miguel gritted his teeth, you didn't have time to do anything more than gasp before his length slid into you so easily, hitting that spot that made him realize you were right: you were designed to fit each other, designed to fuck each other

“Fuck...Oh my god...” You moaned out loudly.

He filled you up to the hilt with only one thrust. You only had a few seconds to adust before one hand was on your neck and the other gripped your hip and slammed you up and down on his cock, hard, while he drove down inside of you. Each thrust was more brutal than the last, you were getting embarrassed at the whines and moans, and attempting to conceal them with your fist wasn't helpful either. You threw your head back into the mattress, exposing more skin on your neck for his palm to grip.

“Be loud. Let me hear you.” He demanded coolly, his steely resolve shattering just from watching your swollen lips turn into a full-blown gape. You gave in to his instruction and let yourself moan without shame. Miguel manhandled you and threw you about sloppily again and again, harder and faster until your knees buckled.

His fangs ground together, threatening to shatter the pearly whites he was known for as he watched your body contort. Fuck, you looked so beautiful. He saw his cock bulge under the skin of your stomach and it was just another lightning bolt that was the thunderstorm between you two. You whined when he grabbed your knees and pushed them into your chest, smooshing your breasts together, allowing him better access to pump you full.

Miguel knew you were on birth control but he couldn't help but feel disappointed about it. He disguised it as a throwaway thought

“You can't even begin to understand how bad I've wanted you.” Your tongue slipped out, reiterating the same thing as always: your desperation.

“Tell me I'm the best you ever had.” He growled brutally, staring down at you, watching your hair nuzzle into the pillow. Your nails dug crescents into his back, probably enough to draw blood if you angled it another way.

"You're the best I've ever had!” You screamed back, begging to finish. “Please...you're the best I've ever had.” You cried out, eyes welling up with tears, streaking down your warm face making Miguel even more aroused. Miguel felt so dirty and depraved, but that's the kind of man he was. He wasn't a good man at all.

You clung onto him for dear life as he rutted in and out violently, you threw your head back into the pillow, his talons were sure to leave indents on your neck, and you drooled at the idea. Your body felt nothing more than a mass of sensation and nerve as you matched his rhythm and grinding your swollen clit up against him: like you were made for each other. It was like you were sucking the soul out of him.

“You need to get used to being fucked like this because I'm not leaving you alone for the entire weekend Hermosa.” Miguel declared with a snarl and it felt like the world was tipped on its axis. “My pretty little cumslut, eh?”

That's all it took.

One promise.

One last final rub of your clit.

Your mouth fell open to a silent scream, but then Miguel glared at you- instructing you to be loud. So you did. Your pussy gushed onto him and your throat ripped out a pornographic moan, the sound echoed into every nook and cranny of your being- it was an out-of-body experience, both a complete cleansing and a complete dirtying of the person you've become. You've never cum that hard, ever. It was so powerful and all-consuming that it drowned out every sound other than Miguel's heavy breathing. He was still pounding into you, chasing his second release of the night. His dick twitched when he saw your face look so blissed out, stars burst behind his eyes as his dick pulsated. Miguel threw his head back and spurted inside of you, before pulling out, spurting again, and then plugging his dick back in.

You were both panting messes, sweat rolling off of your skin as if you had just finished a marathon. Your faces were inches away from each other, gawking at each other vacantly, eyes wide and glittering with that after-sex aura. Silence clawed into the atmosphere, all you could do was stare at each other, silently saying ‘I can't believe we just did that’

Miguel leaned in and planted a soft kiss on your lips. “I meant what I said. I'm not letting you leave” The contrast between his gentle kiss and his filthy words made you feel limp.

i feel like this was lowkey self serve bc all i want to do is give miguel head LOL .

i also just have to say another thank u to all the people who love this series! i’m so overwhelmed by the idea that you guys like the way i write miguel. thank u so much! i love u

taglist (giggles): @thel0velykey190 @scaleniusrm @drefear r @imkikibtw @tbeanie3 @spxctorsslxt @saturnknows @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick k @mafer383 @i-feel-violated @crowleysthings @avatar-lover @l3laze @wyvernnest @rowboatweeb @schniti-is-in-the-house ri @d1lf-loverrr @iamv1n @ro99se @nxrdamp @mrssabinecallas @jesmynsjoys @xiylio @leahnicole1219 @reine-sans @tallmanlover @neverlandlostchild @axerrri @frieschan @plzfeedmebread @rorel1a @z0mbiekat @rey26 @stunkbiggu @honeycovered-bandaids@hearttjason @brittney69 @thyroidissues @4imhry @pinkliquor @realalpacorn @dr-skazka @simoniithehomii @aisyakirmann @deezisnotreal @synamonthy @bread6069 @iite-cool @thedevax @soymiguelsesposa @heartthrobinsblog @siidmm @queerponcho @luvingmyships @dhollandhs @kehlanilopez @lyrasdrawer

(IT WONT LET ME TAG ANY OTHER PPL BRUH TUMBLR WHY)

#spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o’hara smut #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara

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miley1442111 · 6 months

Note

Please do one where Aaron and reader are like training and the tension breaks and they kiss and there's an age difference and... yeah.

thank youuuuuu

omg thank u for requesting,i love this idea :))))))))

breaking rules mr. hotchner?- a.hotchner

a/n: i didn't imagine a fem! or male! reader so imagine what you want :)

summary: what happens when both aaron and you have to train together?

pairings: aaronhotchner x reader, platonicbauteam x reader

warnings: kissing, tension, workplace relationship, age gap, i think that's all :)

“Team training sessions, all weekend! If you can’t make it, you’ll need to make it up,” Strauss’s email made your face fall. You would be away all weekend with your sister's wedding.

“Anyone else not making the team training?” you asked, hoping you wouldn’t be stuck with someone from another department. The entire bullpen seemed to be able to make the training and a groan made its way out of your mouth.

“Maybe Hotch will be missing it, I think he has Jack this weekend,” Rossi smirked, a knowing look on his face. A look you badly wanted to remove, forcefully. You shot him a fake smile that made him laugh as you walked up the stairs to Hotch’s office. Everyone in the office seemed to have picked up on the weird energy between you two. His gaze always defaulted to yours, in the field he was extra protective of you, and any and all fleeting and seemingly innocent touches made your skin feel like it was on fire.

You knocked politely on the open door and he hummed in response. You walked in and his eyes were immediately glued to you as you stood in front of him. He was obviously an authoritative figure, he was your boss after all, but conversations with him always had an underlying ease and equality to them.

“Is everything alright?” He asked after a short moment.

“Yes, I just wanted to let you know that I can’t make the training weekend, I’m at my sister’s wedding,” you explained quickly. “Sorry for the inconvenience. I’m sure there’s others that’ll have to make it up too-”

“I will too,” he stood from his desk, files in his hands. “How about we get ahead of it and do a few hours in the gym? You don’t have anywhere to be tonight, do you?” He asked so casually that the heat creeping up your spine seemed ridiculous.

“That sounds fine,” You confirmed.

“Good. See you tonight then.”

You took one step outside his office and you were met with stares from all of your co-workers. “He’s missing it too.”

“Looks like dad is getting some action tonight-” Derrick started but you hit him on the back of the head, silencing his words as the rest of the team laughed. All you could do was wait for tonight.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were on time to the office gym. It was already set up for the weekend training sessions and a wide array of mats were on the floor. You noticed Aaron sitting on a bench across the hall, a navy shirt that hugged his biceps perfectly and gym shorts that ended at his knee.

“Hi,” You smiled from across the hall, your own gym clothes adorning your body.

“Hi,” he smiled back.

“I asked Spencer about what they were covering and he said just general hand-to-hand combat and practising taking a subject down so… what do you want to start with?” You asked, beginning to stretch your muscles softly. You felt his eyes lingering on you as you stretched and a shiver ran down your spine.

“Whatever you think,” he stated, the remnants of a smirk on his lips. He must know what kind of effect he has on you, right?

“Well, maybe just some hand-to-hand, I don’t really want to pop my shoulder out of place again,” you joked, a memory from the last training day you had attended. Derrick had gotten a bit too strong and dislocated your shoulder, meaning Spencer was forced to pop it back into place with Jj and Aaron’s help.

“Makes sense,” he smiled, a certain mysterious dampening in his usual bright smile. “You come at me, go for my waist,” he ordered.

“Your waist?” You questioned, preparing your stance regardless.

“My gun,” he explained, preparing himself for contact.

“Oh,” Was what you got out before you lunged forward to his waist, after a long back and forth, punches and dodges and the small smirks or grunts he continued making made you practically dizzy, until you pinned him under you, a smirk on your lips. His hands rested on your waist, both of your breaths heavily with the strenuous activity, and the tension in the air. He reached up and brushed some hair out of your face, and that was all it took.

He grabbed your face, pulled you down and kissed you. His other hand held your waist in an almost bruising grip. You had gasped when your lips first made contact and he used that as an excuse to push his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss. Your hands found grip on the sides of his face, some moving back to pull on his soft hair. He had sat up, the hand that had been on your cheek moved to hold the both of you up but he never broke the kiss. His hand on your waist squeezed harder as his tongue explored your mouth, an evident smirk on his preoccupied lips. You pulled away, desperate for breath. As you caught your breath, Aaron’s hand dropped from your body and rested on the mat.

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t right, we shouldn’t have done that. I’m very sorry if you felt pressured into-“ he started apologising but you cut him off with another passionate kiss. Your hands wrapped around his neck and his hands wrapped around your torso as you deepened the kiss. He groaned into your mouth as you bit his lower lip softly, not enough to draw blood, but enough to warrant a reaction. He pulled away, an uncertain mystery playing behind his beautiful eyes.

“You’re surprising,” he had a soft smile on his lips while his hands ran up and down your sides.

“How so?” You smiled, your hands messing with his black hair.

“Well, you just kissed your boss-“ he joked, and you cut him off with a push to the chest. He laughed as he fell back, hitting the soft mat.

“Shut up,” you groaned. “You kissed me first!”

“That I did,” he admitted, “which we should probably talk about.”

You nodded in agreement and allowed him to go first.

“I have a romantic interest in you, and it’s fine if it’s not reciprocated. You are… much younger than me and I’d understand if you didn’t want to be with someone who has a child and isn't exactly in the prime of his life-“

Another kiss cut off his sentence, you held him closer than before, as if trying to prove you wanted this. His hands roamed your body again and you pulled away, a certain lightness in your voice.

“I don’t just go around kissing all of my co-workers, Aaron,” you smiled. “I want this. I want you.” He barely stifled a grin at that comment.

“Alright then. Can I take you out to dinner sometime?” He smiled, an unknown hopefulness in his eyes.

“Yes, yes you can.” You smiled and he kissed you again, just as much passion and tension as the first.

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

The Monday you came in, Penelope was waiting at your desk with a smile.

“Morning,” you smiled. “How was your weekend?”

“It was amazing,” she over exaggerated her words. Strange. “But not as good as yours.”

“Oh, you saw my post? Yeah the wedding was beautiful-“

“I saw that, but I also saw the gym cctv footage from Friday night,” she exclaimed, piquing the interest of Jj, Emily, Derrick, and Spencer.

“What happened in the gym on Friday night?” Derrick smirked and you sent Penelope a look, one to tell her to not speak.

“Let’s just say we might be calling y/n mom from now on,” she confirmed what all of them thought and you sighed as the onslaught began.

“You get to third base?” “In the office?!” And many other jokes and serious comments were thrown your way until you heard Spencer.

“Derrick, you owe me 10 bucks!” He exclaimed, reminding Derrick of their bet. Derrick rolled his eyes and took out his wallet.

“You two had a bet?!” You asked in absolute shock.

“Yeah, it was whether or not-“ Spencer started to explain until felt a presence behind him.

“You all call me dad?” Aaron smirked as the team's faces dropped. You smiled at him.

“We- it’s just a-“ Spencer tried to explain but Aaron silenced him with a hand on his shoulder.

“We have a new case, briefing starts in 5 minutes,” he shared as the team started grabbing their things for the briefing. “Oh and agent y/n, I need you in my office.”

Everyone stilled, staring at the two of you.

“Paperwork,” he smirked, knowing the team knew about you two.

You rolled your eyes and followed him all the same, walking into his office with a smile. He cupped your cheek and kissed you softly, despite kissing being big no in the workplace.

You pulled away, “breaking rules Mr. Hotchner?” You smirked.

“They’re watching,” he shrugged. “They want a show.”

You rolled your eyes and pressed a short kiss to his lips, then proceeded with the actual paperwork.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #criminal minds imagine #bau team #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x reader #ssa aaron hotchner #crimnal minds

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umemiyan · 4 months

Text

𝙋𝙊𝙎𝙏𝙈𝙊𝙍𝙏𝙀𝙈 / 𝙋𝙊𝙎𝙏𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏𝙐𝙈. — 𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖳 𝖨𝖨

𝘗𝘙𝘌𝘝𝘐𝘖𝘜𝘚 𝘊𝘏𝘈𝘗𝘛𝘌𝘙 ･ 𝘕𝘌𝘟𝘛 𝘊𝘏𝘈𝘗𝘛𝘌𝘙 ･ 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 ･ 𝘛𝘈𝘎𝘓𝘐𝘚𝘛

𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗨 𝗚𝗢𝗝𝗢 𝗫 𝗚𝗡!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥. ⌇ sfw, but minors dni (nsfw future chapters likely) / an interpretation of "came back wrong" gojo (he's not necessarily wrong, just different) / yandere!gojo vibes / disabled-coded gojo with reader acting as caretaker; it's essentially a learning curve for everybody involved / some dubcon physical affection moments, but nothing serious / 3.4k words

well... we have made it to a second chapter!! this overall idea just really resonated with me, and after learning how it affected others as well, i just knew i had to do my best to keep it going. this is the first ever "part 2" of anything i've ever written, so i beg for just a shred of mercy! i'm trying my best, and thank you to everyone who has said kind things about this story so far. i hope you enjoy <3

The winter air is brisk and a little volatile, but you feel blessed to have it whirl past your skin—even more blessed to watch Satoru’s flesh prickle at the sensation. Alive.

You had done your best to rummage through the expanse of his closet to find a suitable coat for him to wear—one that would cut the chill of an afternoon breeze when it inevitably brushed across his body. January could be unforgiving at times—the harshest of winter moths. You wondered how cold death must’ve felt.

“Satoru, where are your shoes?” You inquired, voice muffled in his closet as you sifted through garments, multitasking in an attempt to compose an outfit for him.

He sat at the edge of his bed, eyes fixed on your movements as they often were, mind turning at your question for a moment. He stood then, paced towards the shoe rack that stood outside the closet door, and reached gently for one of your busied hands. Satoru points your fingers towards the collection of shoes.

You paused your movements, eyes curious as they followed his guidance before landing upon their intended target. “Oh, that’s right,” you said with a small shake of your head, bearing a self-defeating smile and feeling rather silly for your oversight.

It was a challenge to become acquainted with someone else’s home amidst everything else, responsibilities stacking upon responsibilities. However, Satoru continued to prove that he could recall more than you initially thought, that he could act as your guiding light when called upon. A little ironic, you think. A little pathetic, too? No, you are human, after all. Just as he is.

He smiled in return. You swore there was even a hint of a familiar light-hearted, teasing glimmer in his eye, unless you were seeing things.

(You weren’t.)

For once, you are grateful for the rather serene nature of the school’s grounds as you stroll across them side-by-side with him, much like in days from a not-so-distant past. The remaining fallen leaves from the trees dressing the mountains rustle with the wind, colored by the touch of death but still beautiful all the same, just like something else you know.

“We can always go back if it gets too cold,” you say as a reminder to Satoru of his agency, his home on campus easy to circle back to should you take the notion. You fear he might choose to freeze himself into another early grave if that’s what you wished, and you can’t fathom the idea of making him suffer simply because he thinks it pleases you to do so. Your happiness is somehow his, and although this is a new quality you have yet to decipher, there’s still something about it that strikes you as indulgent and rather characteristic of a gluttonous Satoru Gojo.

He doesn’t respond, gaze flitting across his surroundings as he walks, nerve endings and six eyes absorbing a litany of information. A silent Satoru used to be a rare occurrence but is now the default, the air somehow punctured by the lack of his voice riding along it. However, his presence is still stark, his being brimming with energy as if to make up for the words he can no longer speak.

Unbeknownst to you, he communicates with you not only with his physical body, but with his feelings, too—waves of energy that he projects outward on instinct, hoping you’ll have the means to grasp what he is trying to say even if he isn’t always sure what it is. It has been rather unsynchronized and sloppy thus far, but with each day that passes, your ability to hear him grows.

You can hear him now even with the only sounds being the breeze rushing in your ears and leaves crunching beneath the soles of shoes. There is something somber about him, more than usual, mixed with that same sense of being lost in a world that feels brand new.

All of it is familiar to Satoru on a physical level—the paths, the buildings, the foliage—but what prickles his mind is attempting to piece together the myriad of strange feelings that arise as he is faced with more and more reminders of a past that he can’t fully recall.

It’s as though the memories are trying to surface but can’t quite fuse into something tangible, something concrete, like when you feel a word forming just at the tip of your tongue but it never arrives. He can sense them deeply in his body, almost experience a brief image flashing like lightning through his mind before it disappears. Satoru’s frustration is palpable, and he reaches for your hand.

Icy-cold fingers nipped by winter intertwine with yours, tethering him in place as his fractured mind aches with the burden of obscurity. His physical affection is new to you, but you allow it—welcome it, even. As much as the earnest displays contrast with his previous tiptoeing around connection, it is yet another thing you can’t bear to turn down, not after everything that’s happened.

You hope it isn’t simply guilt of all things compelling you to accommodate him, but wouldn’t it be equally bad to do it for selfish reasons? Could one misconstrue it as taking advantage, of feeding off his need to satisfy some part of you that had always wanted him?

The various implications make your head swim with conflict, so you force yourself to shut them down for the time being. Satoru is only holding your hand, nothing more, at least for the moment. There had of course been instances of his lips pecking against your own, wandering down to your neck, his hand settling on your waist as if to draw you closer… but you’d always managed to divert his attention in one way or another, severing the connection before either of you could become too engrossed in it. He never seemed overly perturbed to shift direction, but you couldn’t help but wonder just how long his patience might last, and if you’d be able to figure out what you even were to him before then.

Needless to say, nothing could have ever prepared you for something like this. What drives you forward more than anything is your contentment with the fact that he’s here walking the earth with you, as whole as he can be after having been stolen from the arms of death. And despite the abundance of challenges, part of you can’t help but feel special for being chosen to face them.

When your feet bring you near the school’s entrance, gates opening way for a path down the mountain, Satoru stops dead in his tracks, alert like an animal that’s suddenly caught a scent. His grip on your hand tightens, heart plummeting into his stomach as something takes hold of him, something he likely couldn’t put into words even if he had the ability to speak.

You turn to check over him with your gaze, concern etched upon your features at the immediate change of pace. “Satoru…?” you call softly, yearning for a chance to be able to peek into his mind. All you can do is feel the chill of his demeanor.

His name drifting upon your voice earns a split second of his attention, but he is, for once, captivated by something else.

Pierced gut. Blocked throat. Summer sun and the sounds of buzzing.

It’s a memory that lives in his body but not his conscious mind, an instinct telling him to heed the surroundings for a threat that once was. He relives it with a rapid heartbeat, knows it bears importance, but he can only recall shreds of information that don’t merge together to form a full picture. He simmers in mounting frustration.

Black hair. Sharp eyes. Boiling blood—the brink of death.

Satoru turns on a dime and faces a figure in the distance, on guard and brimming with a sort of defensiveness you’d never quite seen before, at least not coming from him. Muscles rigid, he squeezes your upper arm as if to warn you, to keep you close, his extraordinary senses absorbing information quicker than you can even pivot to see what it is he’s looking at.

From around the corner of a building emerges Megumi, clad in warm clothes and a mellow disposition. His distinctly unruly hair makes it easy to identify him even from where he appears down the path, hands in his pockets as he strolls towards you upon recognition.

Satoru’s mind runs through calculations as the young student approaches, attempting to distinguish and fill gaps and create something he can take hold of as a semblance of fact.

Black hair. Sharp eyes. Something… different?

Megumi’s cursed energy burns in a recognizable way, striking Satoru as peculiar as he instinctively studies it with the six eyes. But it makes sense to him—it’s familiar, even if he struggles to trust it in full. This is someone he hasn’t met since his awakening, but someone his eyes have certainly seen before.

You can sense the fear radiating off Satoru’s being and into yours, the presence of someone other than you agitating his already troubled state. You must act.

“Look, it’s Megumi,” you say softly with an encouraging smile, encasing his hand with your palm and hoping that your pleasant reaction takes the edge off. Satoru is reluctant to avert his gaze, but does so anyway, blue darting in your direction to witness the happiness written in your features. You appear to trust this person, and he trusts you, so despite the pounding in his chest, the sorcerer relaxes his grip.

You guide Satoru to take a few steps forward with you to meet Megumi as he draws nearer, a tired but welcoming smile turning your lips upward to greet him. It’s nice to see the boy alive and well in the aftermath of his own debacle—or at least as well as someone could possibly be. You wish there had been something more you could’ve done to help him recover, but it was known to many that you happened to have your hands full at the moment. Hopefully he will understand.

“Hey,” Megumi utters quietly, eyes scanning over your face and then his teacher’s, trying to briefly assess your individual states.

“Hi, Megumi,” you respond, appraising him yourself. He seems to be all in one piece, which you had been informed of, but had yet to see yourself. It’s nice to have visual confirmation. “How are you?”

“Fine,” he replies quickly, flatly, minimizing himself as usual. His voice is more sincere when inquiring about your wellbeing. “And you?”

You grin, finding a way to sum up your experience without overwhelming him. “Hanging in there,” you muse with a breathy chuckle. There’s no use in worrying him with all the details of Gojo’s current condition and how it has subsequently flipped your world upside down, but Megumi is shrewd, and you’re sure he can come to some sort of conclusion, especially when briefed by the others who have eyes on the situation.

Megumi awkwardly rubs at the back of his neck, skirting around vulnerability and concern as his next question arises. “Gojo-sensei… how are you doing?”

Satoru has been silent all the while, of course, but sorting through every detail while you and his former student exchange pleasantries. Neurons fire, rewiring frazzled connections, giving him a glimpse at how this boy is not the same as the one he bears a resemblance to.

Megumi isn’t sure what sort of response to expect; in fact, he feels silly for expecting one at all, posing a question that he’s fairly certain can’t be answered directly. But how else was he meant to conduct himself in such an interaction, to show that he cares? To speak as if Gojo weren’t even there would feel like even more of an insult.

You’re caught in the middle, watching Satoru’s face and seeing the gears turning in his head. “I think we’re all just… learning how to adjust to things, y’know?” you reply with a rather vacant smile, turning back to Megumi who understands your subtext with ease. Rather than speak for Satoru, you’ve made a blanket statement to provide just the slightest bit of feedback, and Megumi is well aware.

The student nods his head with a short hum of acknowledgment, doing his best to see his mentor in this new light—one he never thought would be possible, not when it came to someone who had always claimed to be so strong. But at least there is a light at all.

The wind tosses leaves around between the three of you, filling the silence with its quiet whispers. You wish there was more to be said. You wish you had a solid grasp of how well Satoru really was doing.

“I think Ieiri said she wanted to see you soon,” Megumi states, acting as a courier, trying to fill the space with words.

You nod. “Yeah, we’ve been in touch. We’re actually meant to meet up with her tomorrow.”

Shoko, while expectedly rather removed, had been one of your primary contacts and supports thus far, apart from Ijichi who shouldered the burden of several essential tasks you hadn’t been able to complete on your own. You felt guilty for sending him out for groceries and back to your apartment for extra sets of clothes, but how else would you manage to make it by? Leaving Satoru alone or in the care of someone else wasn’t currently an option, and taking him outside the school grounds didn’t sound like an optimal idea either at the present moment. So you had to make do in the meantime, and you were truly grateful for the help, but you couldn’t help but hope that things would eventually fall into place. Maybe Shoko would have answers.

“That’s good,” Megumi replies with a sparkle of hope in his tone, then reluctantly adds, “and, uh… just let me know if I can do anything to help, okay?”

You respond to his gesture with a warm smile. “Thank you, Megumi. That’s very kind.” You don’t have immediate plans for taking the young man up on his offer, but you appreciate the sentiment regardless. He deserves to rest and seek peace, not fight any more battles for the sake of others.

A twinge of pink colors the apples of Megumi’s cheeks, and he recedes into the scarf wrapped around his neck, unused to accepting grace from others without feeling inclined to quarrel about it. He is at a loss for words, somewhat eager to make his escape before the vulnerability has the chance to further consume his dignity. You take that as something of a cue.

“Well, we—” you start, preparing to make a closing statement and depart, before being interrupted by a sudden movement to your left—Satoru, breaking free from his fixed state to perform a familiar gesture.

As if finally making a connection, he grins and mimics the Ten Shadows hand configuration for summoning the Divine Dogs, clapping his palms together and examining Megumi’s reaction with ardor. The student is startled out of his mild embarrassment, somewhat baffled by the sudden communication attempt and the implication that his mentor perhaps actually remembers who he is. It’s a pleasant surprise to you both, and a moment or two is required for it to sink in.

Your face lights up with glee, heart warmed by the simple action in a way that’s difficult to express. Megumi appears to be in a similar boat—taken aback, but ultimately stricken with joy.

A modest smile creeps upon Megumi’s lips as he softly mirrors the motion with his own hands, acknowledging Gojo’s revelation. “Yeah…” he says, voice faint but pleased. “Divine Dogs.”

Every brief glimpse into Satoru’s thoughts feels like a blessing, and this is certainly no exception. It’s refreshing to watch him have a moment of sincere connection with someone other than yourself, and it leaves you glowing with hope for the future as you bid Megumi farewell and make your way back home.

“Head back, Satoru.”

Water splashes into the bathtub as Satoru cranes his neck to peer up at the ceiling as per your request, a cup full of liquid streaming over his hair and carrying shampoo suds along with it.

After returning from your walk, you’d prepared something for dinner and eventually urged Satoru into the tub for a bath before bed—yet another activity that seemed to get a little easier every time you did it.

Figuring out how to get him to bathe had initially been quite the challenge, but you had managed to devise a method that had gotten the job done quite well thus far. He might’ve looked rather awkward sitting cramped in the shallow bath with a pair of swimming trunks on while you rinsed him with an old plastic cup you’d excavated from a cabinet, but it was the most effective way to get him clean and preserve both your dignities while doing it. Though you were the only one who seemed to be concerned with such things.

Satoru blinks when a few soapy droplets backslide into one of his eyes, causing him to squint, scrunch, and rub it with his fingers until the uncomfortable sensation eases. He looks at you, almost as if to say, “Hey! That burns!”

You chuckle and shake your head with a playful roll of your eyes. “That’s why you’re supposed to close your eyes, goober.”

He wants to submerge in a pout, but your playfulness rids him of the inclination. Satoru instead shifts his focus to the beauty of your frame perched upon the edge of the tub, a beacon of divinity as you cleanse him with care and devotion. He takes the notion to express an inkling of gratitude by leaning forward and placing a kiss against your lips, lukewarm water rippling around him as it gradually cools.

You’re somewhat stiff and unresponsive, the sudden gesture catching you by surprise as it usually does, but you don’t chastise him for it; in fact, it takes a certain level of concentration for you to avoid letting your thoughts linger on his current state: hair slicked back; flesh exposed and glistening with droplets of water; lips warm, wet, and eager for reciprocation…

Your mouth receives his but does not encourage him for more than a split second, pulling back gently from his advance until you can see Satoru shiver as the water chills his body. His eyes are glued to your face, waiting for a reaction as you prepare to make one more pass over his hair with the cup to see that he is fully rinsed, this time using your hand to shield his eyes from any backflow (and from your expression, which is surely indicative of your now rapid heartbeat).

The action is enough to distract him for the moment, but Satoru is still on edge, teeming with infatuation and need. He is unsatisfied with your response—or lack thereof—and is frustrated with his inability to express it, but your hands carefully wiping drops of water from his face act as a temporary soothing agent.

“Alright, let’s get dried off and ready for bed,” you say, standing to fetch his towel from the rack and bring it back to him before reaching down to trigger the tub to drain. “We’re going to talk to Shoko tomorrow.”

Satoru is less concerned with the meaning of your words than he is with how lovely you sound while saying them. He is once again caught in your spell, entranced by the need to be closer but settling for the scraps that you give him—for now.

You aren’t convinced of his comprehension of what you say, but nevertheless, you use the sweetened tone to deflect from the overwhelm of watching him stand and observe your every move as you help to dry his chiseled body. Satoru is tall and looming, scarred in the midriff, but compliant with your ministrations; however, his easygoing nature doesn’t keep your hands from wanting to shake against the towel that repeatedly caresses his physical beauty. You wish you could torch every thought in your mind, switch your brain off to preserve the strength and sanity that remains.

You aren’t sure how long you’ll be able to remain steadfast and maintain this cycle of “temporaries” until something eventually changes. And what if it never does?

You suppose the only thing you can do for now is try your best and wait and see what the future holds. It certainly can’t be any worse than what you’ve already been through, especially now that Satoru is by your side once more. That is something you’ve realized you wouldn’t trade for anything.

#satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #dividers by @saradika #my writing.#re: satoru gojo

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nahoney22 · 5 months

Note

Hi!! Congratulations on 4,500 followers, you deserve it and SO MUCH MORE!! If you’re interested and comfortable of course, can I request from the fluff prompts “I like your eyes” and from the NFSW prompts “I wanna make love to you” and “you can be a little rougher” with Echo please? I love him and I’m so happy he made an appearance today, he deserves the sweetest and sensual things, thank you!!♥️✨

Moonlight***

🫧 Pairing: Echo X Gender Neutral Reader

word count: 1.6k

prompts:

“I like your eyes.”

“I want to make love to you.”

“You can be a little rougher.”

Summary: The flirtatious gazes and gestures finally leads to something more; but why is Echo holding back?

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ Only, Explicit Sexual Content and Language, Sex, Multiple Positions, Nervous Echo, Reassuring Reader, Dirty Talk, Praising, Light Hair Pulling, Light Rough Sex, Aftercare, Creampie, Cuddling, Kissing, Mutual Pining, Spoiler Free. NSFW under the cut.

Authors note: Cheeky asking for 3 prompts when I said you’re only allowed 2… buuuuut I’m feeling generous 😌🩶 and you didn’t specify pronouns so I defaulted to GN so I hope that’s okay?🩶

He stands before you, his breath dancing with yours as you both find refuge in a secluded corner, shielded from the prying eyes of the others. "You look so good tonight," Echo murmurs softly, his hand gently resting on your waist, pulling you closer. "It almost feels a shame to undress you."

A flush rises to your cheeks at his compliment, and you bite your lip, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck. "Perhaps... but I sense this is something you've desired for quite some time, Sir," you whisper huskily, before claiming his lips with your own, feeling a rush of excitement as he presses you against the wall.

After the consistent exchange of flirtatious glances and the occasional suggestive remarks after months, the tension between you and Echo finally reached its boiling point. Unable to resist any longer, you whispered in his ear for him to follow you after the batch decided to have celebratory drinks at a rather upscale bar.

As you both slipped away, your hands couldn’t stay off each other. "I got us a room… do you want to do this?" you asked, your words muffled by the heat of his breath against your lips, followed by a gasp as he trailed kisses from your jaw down to your neck.

"Absolutely," he replied, his smirk obvious against your exposed skin, sending shivers down your spine. "Just lead the way."

Taking his hand and ensuring the others didn't see (not that it was any of their business anyway), you led him up to the room, a mixture of excitement and a touch of anxiety coursing through you as you entered. You were both really doing this.

When the door hissed closed behind you both, you looked at each other, the realization that you were finally alone together hitting you.

Silently, he unclipped all of his armor pieces and set them aside, you doing the same with your gear, but also slipping off your shirt. Echo gazed at you, nothing but awe in his eyes.

You chuckled at his reaction and pointed to your face. "My eyes are up here, handsome."

"Well, that’s good to know because…” he smirked as he approached, a soft hand cupping your cheek as his scomp rested on your hip, “…I like your eyes."

He pulls you closer, both consumed by another fiery kiss until you tumble onto the bed with him falling on top of you, his hand exploring your chest, touching you in all the places you've fantasized about.

Shedding the remainder of your clothes and Echo's, he sits between your legs, admiring you for a moment. "I feel so lucky right now."

"As do I," you grin, your lips swollen and eyes filled with desire as you take in his form. However, when you briefly glance at his cybernetics, you notice him shift uncomfortably. He doesn't say anything, instead chuckling and focusing on his hand's work. Slipping between your legs, you gasp his name as he expertly caresses your sex with precision and tenderness.

"Mmm, do you like that, darling?" he whispers in your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. "Do you enjoy it when I touch you there?"

"Y-yes, oh yes, Echo," you moan, your skin ablaze with desire as he swiftly brings you to climax, his words of praise and encouragement sending you soaring to cloud nine.

Your gaze drifts to his throbbing cock beside you, and you smirk as you reach out, taking it in your hand. His reaction is immediate—a gasp followed by a deep groan. "Such a beautiful cock," you purr, stroking along its length as his movements between your legs intensify.

Desiring to maintain eye contact as you pleasure him, you do struggle to keep your gaze fixed on him. Your eyelids grow heavy as the impending orgasm coils tightly within your core, causing your back to arch in response to his touch. He's biting his lip, gasping, his breaths deep and heavy as his hips grind into your soft palm.

"I want to make love to you," he breathes, and you eagerly comply with his request, releasing his cock and pulling his lips back down to yours, his member pressing against your stomach as his tongue eagerly explores your mouth.

"Then love me, Echo," you pant, your voice filled with longing. "Love me."

He groans in response, taking hold of his cock as he positions himself at your entrance, teasing you with the gentle rub of his tip.

He locks eyes with you as he slowly sheathes into you, filling you gloriously. "Fuck, yes—just… just like that," you moan, sitting up on your elbows, watching as his tip disappears inside you.

As you lay back on the bed, Echo places his hand on your thigh, spreading your legs an inch wider as he begins to rut inside you, his movements slow and tender. "This is all for you, darling… all for you," he whispers.

Your eyes flutter closed, savouring the sensation of his stiff cock pushing slow and deep inside you, your body tightening around his girth. But you crave more. You want him to love you passionately, yet at this moment, he's being too delicate.

"Faster, Echo, fuck me faster, baby," you moan, feeling him pick up the pace. But as you open your eyes, you see him deep in concentration.

"You can be a little rougher," you suggest, prompting him to still his movements, his cock remaining warm inside you.

Raising a brow at his concern, you reassure him, "You won't hurt me. I trust you. You can fuck me however you want."

His eyes flash with understanding, and suddenly, both of your legs are draped over one of his shoulders as he bends you almost in half, before he starts slamming down into you with increasing force, eliciting moans that scratch at your throat as he becomes more demanding.

Your hands grip at his shoulders, gasping as pleasure floods your senses, the sounds of his balls slapping against your skin reverberating around the room. "Is this rough enough for you, darling? Do you like it nice and hard?" he taunts, delivering a complete switch-up, bordering on rough yet remaining aware that he will be gentle if you ask him to be.

"Yes! Stars, yes!" you cry out in ecstasy, your legs aching from the intense position, but the pleasure is undeniably worth it.

"So perfect, feel so good around my cock. Can’t believe I waited so long to fuck you," he murmurs, his hand gripping your thigh tightly, his scomp ensuring your legs stay positioned over his shoulders. After another minute of him fucking you so good, he releases you, panting before flipping you onto your stomach.

Your face is buried in the duvet, hands gripping tight as he positions himself at your entrance again before sliding in. "O-oh, Echo!"

"That’s it, my beauty," he whispers, leaning over you to kiss between your shoulder blades. "Is this okay?"

It's more than okay. He's more than okay.

"Yes, don’t stop—don’t stop until you cum inside me, Echo," you beg, earning a sensual chuckle in return as he thrusts into you, his scomp resting on the base of your back and the other tangling in your hair, tassels of hair scrunching between his fingers as he delivers back shots like you’ve never experienced before.

With a steady pace and sharp, precise thrusts, your eyes sting from the intensity of him stretching you open and lightly tugging at your hair. "M-More."

He shifts from being on both knees to kneeling on just one, finding a better rhythm as he continues to plow into you, releasing your hair and placing his hand on your shoulder, pulling you back into him so you can meet his thrusts as he pounds you into the bed.

Stars blur your vision once again, your moans muffled by the duvet as he takes you from behind. You can feel your orgasm building again, and by his ragged breaths, you know he is too.

You're moved again, this time onto your side as he slides in behind you, keeping your leg raised in the air as his arms wrap around you, sliding into your slick hole effortlessly. Your gazes lock as he cups your jaw with his hand. "Are you close, darling? I'm—fuck—I'm not going to last much longer."

You nod feverishly, biting your lip as sweat glistens on your body. "Yes, yes, yes, please cum in me, Echo. I need you."

"I've got you," he murmurs, leaning in to tenderly kiss you, his thrusts becoming labored. "I love you so much."

Your arousal peaks at his words, and you whimper your reply into his mouth as you feel his seed fill you up and drain out of you. "I love you too, Echo."

Panting, you reach your climax, your body trembling, but he holds you close, murmuring softly in your ear. "That's it... you did so well." He kisses the side of your head as he slips out of you, the sensation lewd but a wave of tiredness washing over you.

When Echo returns from the refresher after saying he was going to get something to freshen you up, he pauses, his gaze lingering on you as you lie in bed, bathed in moonlight filtering through the blinds, casting shadows over your body.

Sensing his presence, your eyes flutter open, and you warmly smile at him. "See something you like?"

"Absolutely," he chuckles, stepping closer and handing you a cloth and towel. After you freshen up, you curl up under the duvet, Echo slipping in beside you. You nestle into his embrace, the silence between you comfortable.

But as you wince while shifting, he immediately panics. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, sweetie," you reassure him softly, kissing his cheek. "I'm just a bit tender. It's been a while," you admit sheepishly.

"Well… if you're sure," he says softly, visibly relaxing.

"I'm sure. I loved tonight. Thank you for being careful with me," you smile, and Echo can't help but plant a kiss on your hair, holding you close until the two of you fall asleep after a perfect night, at long last.

Tags: @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog g @chrissywakingup @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @lulalovez @thiswitchloves9904

#echo x reader #the bad batch #the bad batch echo #the bad batch echo x reader #tbb echo x reader #tbb #bad batch #echo smut

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bbyquokka · 1 month

Text

fizzy pop

– yn has a habit of bottling up their emotions, chan comforts them & explains the importance of communicating about feelings/emotions.

pairing | bang chan x gender neutral reader

genre | angst w comfort – 18+ is strongly advised!

cw | established relationship, mental health (low moods, low/no motivation, lose of interest in hobbies/things), pet names.

words | 2k ~ ( 2,042 )

notes | idk why but i've been putting off on posting this for months, maybe bc im nervous 🤔 don’t forget to leave feedback, reblog and tell me what you think here. i hope you all enjoy! ‹3

m.list — wips list — you can also read it on my ao3

dont repost. dont translate. minors, ageless & default blogs; dni! feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

it's just another day. another day of just being there. another day of feeling like you have no purpose in life except to please others. another day of wondering “what is the purpose of me being here?” you fake smiles, say you're "ok" because saying how you actually feel is exhausting.

aside from it feeling exhausting, you also don't want to draw attention to yourself and when you do speak, you feel stupid for doing so, so you keep it all in, bottle it up until it's too much for you to handle. some days you wonder why you even bother to get out off bed.

is it because of the birds you hear outside? the sun's heat that you want to feel on your skin? could it be the laughter and chitter chatter of others? or maybe you want to hear the rain on the leaves–who knows. all you know is that everyday is the same and it's tiring.

the days merge into one. what day is it even? monday? tuesday? oh wait, it's saturday morning. time doesn't exist anymore. in your mind you see no point in getting up out of bed because again, what's the point?

so why is it that your boyfriend is gently shaking you, asking, no, begging you to get up.

“darlin'. please get up.” chan whispers as he gently shakes you by the shoulders. you sigh deeply, a tired sigh that causes chan to swallow and his suspicions to come to light.

you pull the duvet over your head, body curled in a small and fragile ball. the curtains are still drawn providing darkness despite the morning rays that wish to peak inside.

chan has been up since the crack of dawn. he has showered, made breakfast and managed to get dressed. he gave you some extra time to sleep in because he knows you're not a morning person but when the number nine on his watch turned to twelve and you're still not up and out, does he grow concerned.

he's had his suspicions for a while. he's noticed how defeated you sound. how there is little to no energy in the words you speak. he's tried everything to cheer you up, thinking, hoping you were just having an off day. but that off day turned into an off week which slowly, but surely, turned into an off month.

you lost your passion for being creative, lost the will to make anything which you despise. being creative is one of the many pleasures you have in life, to be able to make something and share your creations with others is exhilarating but when you feel like this, your mood turns bitter and cold towards everything you do which results in you resenting everything you create.

you lost the energy to speak to people. to pick up the phone and just talk. you're not deliberately ignoring nor trying to be difficult but keeping conversations flowing is just too hard right now and when you think they're giving you the same energy back do you feel so guilty.

what have i done to deserve this? why am i forced to feel like this. you find yourself questioning everything late at night. your head loud as soon as it hits the pillow and no amount of music you blast down your ears can silence those thoughts.

everything is so exhausting. everything is the same. you just want to disappear whether that be for a few days or forever, you're not quite sure, but certain people around you wont allow that to happen. they are keeping you afloat, head above water. you desperately and silently wish they never let you go, no matter how hard you fight and push them away.

“baby, please.” chan's words dripped with desperation. his knees on the bed behind you as he kneels causing the mattress to dip. his hands on your shoulders gently as his eyes bore into the duvet, burning holes into it until he is burning holes into you. tears threaten to spill down his soft cheeks as he becomes increasingly worried for you.

“chan..“ you whisper, your words shaking. “please.. leave me alone.”

he swallows. those three last words he hates to hear. now he is left in a difficult position. should he do as you say and leave you? leave you to fester and rot in your own thoughts and feelings. watch you melt into the mattress and become nothing but a lifeless shell. or should he force himself, force you to acknowledge him. show you, tell you that's it's going to be ok–even if you don't believe him in the beginning.

but this is chan and you know more than anyone how stubborn chan can be.

“lets go take a shower yn, together! and maybe we can go out and get lunch at that café you love so much?”

silence.

“or how about we go to that art shop! pick up those water colours you've been eyeing up for months?”

silence.

“ok well, what about some new cloth–”

“chan please!” you snap, causing him to jump. “what part of leave me alone don't you understand?!”

you don't mean to sound harsh and you hope chan doesn't take it to heart. the last thing you want is to hurt the one person you adore so much. luckily, chan knows you don't mean it but it doesn't hurt him any less.

“all of it.” he softly speaks. you feel the weight being lifted up off the mattress and footsteps against the wood flooring before the bedroom door squeaks open at the hinges.

your heart breaks. hot angry tears finally being set free and rolling down the bridge of your nose and cheeks, soaking into the material of your pillow. you sob, curling up into a ball even more as your heart aches in your chest. you grip onto the pillow as you silently cry out for chan, thinking he has completely left you alone.

but you did ask for it so why do you feel so guilty?

the duvet gets pulled back from you, the cold air hitting your hot and sweaty skin. the mattress dips once again as an arm snakes over your midriff. chest being pressed against your back as chan spoons you.

“don't cry, darlin'. i'm here, your channie is here.” his soft words provide you with a sense of comfort and an indescribable feeling of warmth as well as relief. his hand strokes your soft stomach, his lips kissing your neck so tenderly you worry that he isn't really there.

“c-chan…” you sob through your words as a way of confirmation. you can't breathe, the pain of everything that's built up over the past months is making it impossible for you to breathe. your mind fogs over as your chest heaves up and down.

you struggle to take breaths as tears stream down your face. your pillow becomes soaked with your tears. chan strokes your unwashed hair gently, hushing you and singing softly to help ground you.

“sh sh sh. you're ok, you're safe.” he whispers.

“sorry! i'm sorry!” you repeat over and over again in your fits of tears. chan continues to hush you, noticing that it's not working so he gently rolls you over to face him and pulls you into his naked chest.

the warmth and softness of his skin calms you down in an instant. his natural scent hugs your nostrils and sinks into your heart, soothing your heartbeat as well as your mind. you grip onto him, desperately trying to cling onto something before resulting in wrapping your arms around him tightly.

he gives you a bear hug. arms around your shoulders gently, fingers raking and massaging your scalp. his chest wet with tears as he continues to hush you through your episode.

there isn't much he can do when you're crying like this except wait. wait for it to pass–and it does, fifteen minutes later.

“better?” he gently asks. you peer up at him to notice that his own cheeks are wet with a few tears slowly falling.

“you're crying..” you whisper as you reach up and wipe the tears away. chan laughs softly before leaning into your touch. “why?”

“because it pains me to see you like this, my love.” that guilt comes back, settling in your stomach and wrapping itself around your heart, like black fog. you look down, tears falling from your lower lash line.

“sorry..” you mumble.

“hey.” chan unwraps his arms from you to gently lift up your head. “it hurts because i can't do anything about it. it hurts because i love you! seeing you in so much pain is rough darling. and it's not physical pain either, it's not like i can put a band aid on your wound.”

“i'm sorry i'm like this, chan. sorry i'm so difficult and such a disappointment.”

“oi.” his tone of voice turns stern which causes you to look up at him. his brows furrowed together as he reaches and strokes your cheek. “you're not a disappointment or difficult baby. it's ok to feel like this, to have off days and feel like nothing is right, however, you have to come to me when you feel like this! or if you can't come to me, talk to a friend.”

“but i hate talking about my feelings, chan.. i feel like a burden and that it just bores people and when i do confined in people, it feels like i don't get the comfort i expect to get so i'm left thinking if it's worth it and if i just expect too much from people.”

“what have i told you about bottling things up, mhm?”

“that it's just going to keep building and building until i explode.” you mumble to which chan hums and nods too

“imagine you're a bottle of fizzy pop. your body is the bottle, your feelings are the fizzy liquid. what happens when you shake a bottle of fizzy pop?”

“it bubbles and explodes, creating a huge mess.”

“and what happens when you bottle your feelings up?”

“i get shaken up by the smallest of things, which causes me to bubble and explode..”

“mhm. you have to remember, my darling, that how you feel is valid. your feelings are valid. you might seem like it's something so small or stupid, but that something small could build and build and build.”

“so i should come to you whenever i feel negative?”

“yes.”

“even if i'm frustrated at a piece of work? even if i can't get a recipe right and it annoys me?”

“yes.”

“but that is so small and not as important..”

“yn, if it's bothering you then it's big. if it's bothering you, it's important to me. if you feel angry, upset, energy less, i beg that you come to me or to a friend! it's important that we voice these things, let it be known because you'll feel better.” he tucks your hair behind your ear gently before you nuzzle into his chest, thinking about what he's saying.

he is correct. he always is and that's the thing that sometimes bothers you, but in a good way! it just means that you can't hide anything from chan, whether it's good or bad and when you are feeling down, chan is always there to pick you back up and dust you off, providing you with love and comfort.

“shall we go shower together to start the day?”

“isnt it a bit late for that? besides, hasn't your day already started?” you mumble against his chest.

“it's never too late to start the day and besides, i don't mind ‘restarting’ my day if it means i get to do it with you.” he kisses the top of your head gently, stroking your back as you tangle your legs with his.

“soon.”

“soon?” he questions.

“i just want to spend some more minutes with you..”

“we can spend as many minutes together as you like, my darling. as long as you're happy and content.”

“i'm always happy and content with you, chan. you're my safe space.”

“and i hope i continue to be and provide you with that safe space, yn.”

#kwritersworldnet #wkcnet #straykidsland #skz angst #skz comfort #stray kids angst #stray kids comfort #bang chan #chan #chan x you #chan x reader #bang chan x you #bang chan x reader #skz x you #skz x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader

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puckarchives · 8 months

Text

basement yard conversations: l. hughes

blurb: in which you overhear luke say that you’re much more attractive than him while he’s talking to jack and quinn. / word count: 1.7k / pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader

The conversation had taken place on the back deck of the Hughes Family lake house, and to be fair, you don’t think you were supposed to be particularly privy to it. It was nearing almost 11 PM at night, and you had just come out of the shower— clean and sun kissed and reveling in the after effects of a day well spent out in the sun with your favorite boy and your favorite family.

This was the second summer you had spent with Luke, and by default, the entire Hughes gang as they took a much deserved rest in the off-season, now that both the Devils and Canucks had ended their seasons. So, with you being off from college and the boys not starting their training for at least two more weeks, you had opted to spend some time at the lake house in Michigan.

That particular day, you had spent most of your morning (and afternoon, if you were being honest,) out on the lake, simply laying on the boat or joining in when the boys began wakeboarding— falling a few times, but ultimately being able to hold your own before Luke had jumped in with you, and caused you both to go tumbling into the water.

From the boat, you could hear both Jack and Quinn laughing at you and Luke, both of you making your way over to where they had stilled in order to let you reboard, and where Luke readied himself to begin his turn— which didn’t last long, as he began swaying to the point where he just simply fell over.

Once the four of you had come back in, it was straight to the shower for you— a moment to wash off the lake water and reapply aloe vera before your skin began to get dry.

Walking towards the back porch, you could see the boys huddled around the fire pit— Jack and Quinn sitting in their designated chairs, and Luke in a larger seat, waiting for you with a blanket in his hand. As you walked closer however, and before you could open the screen door, you overheard a snippet of their conversation— something that always surprised you, as their conversations could exist on a spectrum of simply talking about dinner plans, to them arguing over who the most problematic Pokémon character they played with growing up; currently, Charizard was in the lead because, as Luke had stated a few weeks prior, you can’t spell the world ‘Charizard’ without ‘hazard,’ an explanation that still made no sense to you, but that the boys had agreed to almost immediately.

Stilling at the fragments you could piece together, you could hear Jack repeating that he “definitely did have it,” but that for him, “it was louder than it was for Quinn.” You didn’t know exactly what “it” was referring to, but quickly pieced together your answer as Quinn spoke up.

“It’s like, the internet thinks I have no rizz. I got called a fucking wet cat the other day,” he said, waving his hands around. It was true— you had seen the tweet first, and then sent it to Luke, who promptly sent it into their group chat. So that’s what they were talking about— rizz.

Although you didn’t know exactly how that had come up— when you left, they were discussing the intricacies of Zegras’ worst choices— it was still a novelty to take in— the way that Quinn would talk in his broody way, only exacerbated by the winces he would occasionally give off because of his gnarly sunburn, whereas Jack was all excited hand movement and loud laughs. But it was your boy, specifically, who had all of your attention— Luke’s soft smirk on his lips, the way he would wait until either boy was finished talking before including his own thoughts, and the way he would keep egging on his brothers. However, you didn’t miss the way he would open his mouth to say something, but automatically be either shut down, or have to wait for another turn to avoid interrupting his brothers. While Luke may have been a killer on the ice, he was still the youngest brother— caught up in trying to work his hardest to be on the same level as his brothers, but still always beating himself up for it.

You didn’t think there had been a day where Luke went without comparing one thing about himself to his older brothers— whether it be simple comments about how he needed to get faster in order to compete with Quinn’s own speed, or even have better hand-eye coordination in order to keep up with Jack, it was always something that he lacked, and he never paid attention to the things he did have— things that you loved about him, like the way he would always bring his brother’s up in conversation— always with a smile on his face, and always reminiscing on their childhoods. He never spoke ill of anyone, (even when they deserved it,) and when he had hurt another player on the ice a few weeks back he had made it a point to apologize personally, and even send them a card. Luke, for all the faults he saw in himself, had one-hundred times the good parts, even when he didn’t recognize them.

It was the next few sentences, however, that caught your attention; now, the conversation had switched over from Jack and Quinn’s respective levels of charmism and ability to, as they so eloquently put it, “pull and have game,” to Luke’s, he looked down, still with a small smirk on his face, and played with his thumbs.

“Well, you see her,” Luke said. “She's definitely much more attractive than me, and if anything, I have the rizz because she was strong enough to get my head out of my ass and see that she had been there the entire time,” he laughed.

His brothers only egged him on, adding in moments where they saw Luke, quote on quote, ‘have game,’ including earlier that same day, when the four of you were out on the boat. When you had been putting together the coolers for the boys to lug on to the boat, Luke hadn’t missed a beat and, while you were chopping up pieces of fruit on the kitchen island, had flirted with you like he had never met you before, and hit on you.

“Well hello, pretty lady,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows, and flexing his arms above his back. He puffed out his chest in a mock bravado, and continued. “You come here often? Because you’re a sight for sore and beautiful eyes,” he said, scooting closer to you. For as cheesy as he was, Luke loved doing this— hitting on you as if you were two teenagers in the 80’s, and as if he hadn’t been your boyfriend for the past two years.

“You know, I’d love to take you out on the boat sometime, if you’re free? I’ll even let you drive it if we leave your boyfriend on the shore,” he said, now with his arms actually up, and him, (once again,) flexing. God, you’re boy was a total softie.

Your only response was heaving laughter, as anytime Luke got like this it only brought a smile on your face. “Well, sir, my boyfriend would surely be disappointed in me if I just left him on the shore” you jokingly replied. “And besides, he’s old. I’m not sure his fragile heart could take it if I just up and left,” you said, before closing the cooler and making your way outside.

Luke scrambled after you, only to grab the cooler out of your hands, open the door, and drop it right outside. Before you could ask why, he whistled over at Quinn who was waiting for the two of you on the deck, and scooped you up in his arms, before making his way to the dock, you still laughing, and him looking at you with a look of pure adoration, and, in your opinion— full of love.

Now, however, as you stood on the other side of the screen door, you opened it, automatically calling all three heads to look in your direction, and, as you walked towards Luke who had his arms open to you, said: “No, Luke’s definitely lying. This man has ALL the rizz. How do you think he keeps me coming back over-and-over for more?” you asked the other two, giving your boyfriend a kiss on the forehead as you stood between his legs and pet his still-wet curls.

“He can say that I’m the one who got him to notice me, but your brother? The ultimate rizz king,” you laughed, trying to mimic what you heard the gamers on TikTok say about rizz the other day.

“But, to settle your debate once and for all, I have literal proof of who has the most rizz,” you announced, to which the other two Hughes brothers cheered and egged you on to show them. Pulling up Twitter on your phone, you scrolled through your favorited tweets before getting to one that had made you bust out laughing only days prior, but that labeled what kind of “rizz” each Hughes brother had.

“According to this tweet, a certifiable source if I’ve ever seen one,” you joked, “Quinnjamin Hughes has the rizz level of a wet cat you want to take home, and of a man that just makes your “I CAN FIX HIM” fever go crazy, Jacket Hughes has the rizz of a man who had a borderline homoerotic relationship and a praise kink all in one, and Lucas Warner Hughes has the rizz of a man who will always shoot up and knows it,” you finished.

As you closed your phone and set it down, you looked up at the faces of the Hughes dynasty around you— Quinn was shaking with laughter, his head in his hands, Jack was wheezing in the corner over you calling Quinn “Quinnjamin” and the way they had gotten all of their names wrong, and Luke despite the jokes, was looking directly at you. He wasn’t laughing like his brother’s, but instead looking at you with the softest smile.

“And don’t I know it, sweetheart,” he said.

#luke hughes x reader #luke hughes #luke hughes imagine #nhl imagine #hughes brothers #new jersey devils #nj devils #jack hughes #quinn hughes

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vibingandsimping · 1 year

Note

This is exactly who you think it is. 🦜🦜

Might I request the origin characters (+ Halsin) of your choice caring for a burnt out/sick Tav?

Hello! I shall call you bird anon…

(Leave me and my family alone)

But ask and you shall receive! Requests/thoughts always make my day.

Origin characters + extra companions taking care of an exhausted reader pt. 1

No forewarnings besides maybe some suggestive mentions and a little angst. Mostly all fluff + comfort… barely proofread

Characters included in this part: Astarion, Gale, Lae’zel and Jaheira

Astarion

Astarion, when you present him with the problem after his insistent pestering, is a little lost. Everyone has their breaking points and their limits. You just held a confident front for so long that he started to believe you truly lacked one. He suggests the pleasures of the flesh at first. “To ease that pretty mind,” he claims with a smirk. You can tell in his gaze it’s his default- he was used for his body for so long it’s clear he’s unsure of what else to say. A bit of frustration with both him and his past bubbles up. It hurts to know he values himself that little and at the same time… it’s frustrating that he thinks it will solve anything. After a curt “No thank you.” he seems to deflate a bit. You stalk off to your tent as he watches from afar.

He sat with himself as he contemplated his abilities. You’d done so much for him over the period of time you’d known each other. Quite frankly, he hates to say it but he’s realized he’s taken you for advantage. He reminisces over the times you’d let him feed and he has had his nose pressed into your skin. How he’d inhale your scent and memorize it with your blood. He broods over it for a little before beginning to test different scents and oils. What he believed would work with your body chemistry and what he knew you liked.

It’s an hour or so later when you hear slow footsteps. Whoever it was made their presence known, so as to not scare you with a sudden intrusion. You’d been laying with your head in silence and the dark due to how it throbbed. Everything seemed so loud and overwhelming. He speaks smoothly and announces his arrival, you just grunt in acknowledgment. It seems to amuse him as he laughs gently and places something on the ground. Which? You’re unsure- and you could care less to check right now. It’s only when you hear the flick of a match and the room illuminates that you peek. He has a couple of wax candles laid out that seem to be dripping in mixtures. He smiles at you in such a way that you push suspicions aside. The room flickers with the light of the candles. “Relax. I made these special for you. Just focus on them and let the world wash away.” You watch him for a minute more as he lights the candles and the scent grows stronger as it burns with the wax. At first, it also overwhelmed you. You decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and focus on taking deep breaths. With each inhale, you draw more of it into your lungs and feel your muscles slack. Whatever he used was working wonders to calm your body and ease your mind. He did miss his calling as a perfumer.

The feeling of cold hands on your neck tenses your so delicately relaxed frame. His voice comes out in a shush, making you shiver from the tone. The way his fingers move so slowly tells you he’s holding a part of him back. It’s likely the reflex to make things more… intimate. A part of you swells knowing that he is trying a more simple intimacy on you. Thumbs dig into the tense muscles until they’re worked from the stiffness. Soft moans of content escape your throat. Though, just the same are the groans of pain when he reaches a more tender spot. “You’re lucky you have such a caring companion.” He muses half-heartedly, an attempt to make you smile. It did, matter of fact. You’re sure he knows because his movements become more confident. You drop your head back into your pillow and breathe out a sigh. He didn’t say anything but you could feel his eyes on your back. It was quite comforting to know he was there if you needed it. You eventually drift into a half-conscious state as he works your tender flesh. By the time he’s left you to rest you were already asleep.

Gale

Gale’s watchful eye concluded your growing burnout long before it settled in. He was a wizard- a man who studied for a living. He understood frustration and burnout. He’s faced it many times before… and it’s never an easy thing. When you settle down at the camp for the night, he can’t seem to get his eye off you. You walk around slowly and seem out of it. The man sits in his thoughts for a moment longer and decides to make his way over to you. You, of all people, deserved to have a moment to relax and truly replenish your mind. His hand makes contact with your arm and you’re snapped from your daze. He gazes down at you with a softness and silently asks you to follow him. You’re too worn down to argue and just nod.

He winds you out of the forest and towards a still lake. A drinking deer turns and shoots out from its spot when you two arrive. You quirk an eyebrow at him and he bashfully smiles. “Water is soothing to the mind and muscle. I’ll take care of you- let me.” The moonlight dappling the water is tempting and he seems harmless enough with his request. You relent and begin to slowly peel the clothing off your body. Turning back around you stride into the water only to find it pleasantly warm. It was almost hot- glancing up at him as he removed his robe, you knew he tampered with magic to heat the water. You’re not complaining though. It’s already doing wonders to work out the aches in your muscles. He slides in behind you and asks you permission to touch you. You hummed approval as you closed your eyes and put your trust in him.

He lathers his hands with soap and begins to work your muscles along your back. Simultaneously massaging gently and washing you clean. His fingers work from your neck to your shoulder blades, down your spine, and to your legs. He slowly turns you around so he can repeat the same process down your front. He’s careful around your more intimate areas, eyeing you cautiously to gauge what’s too much. It feels nice to be doted on and not have to bathe yourself for once. You’re sure he knows it, too. Then, he whispers for permission to do your hair. You barely speak and instead hum once more. He chuckles a little before wrapping an arm around you and one under your head. He dips you into the water until your hair is thoroughly soaked and pulls you back up. Like that, he begins to lather shampoo into your scalp. His fingers work wonders and you moan a little. The moment is gone too soon for your preference and he’s washing it out.

After a minute more of holding you in the water as he rinses you off, he guides you out. You almost protest like a child, wishing to relish the hot water a little longer. He hands you a large linen cloth and you dry yourself off. Squeezing your hair until it no longer drips annoyingly and wrapping it around yourself to conceal your intimates. He follows alongside you back into camp and you head into your tent. He lingers beside you while you settle down and gather some night clothes. Then, as soon as the eyes are noticed, he leaves you to your own devices. You manage to get to sleep surprisingly easily and the night passes mostly peacefully. In the morning, your previous clothes are folded neatly outside your tent. They’re clean and practically spotless. Gale must’ve taken the time to wash them while you slept and hung them to dry overnight.

Lae’zel

Lae’zel’s instinct is to scold you for showing weakness. Githyanki are warriors and have no time to tend to the frail. Yet, you’ve proven anything but frail in the time she’s known you. She’s utterly torn and wears it on her face obviously. You’re unsure why you turned to her for comfort, it was obviously a mistake. You sigh exasperatedly and trail off as she watches. You almost make it to your tent before her hand wraps around your wrist and tugs you to look at her. “Battle me,” she speaks blatantly. “Githyanki soothe their mind and body with battle. It is all I know to do. Battle me.” There’s a desperation in her voice. She cannot stand to see you so exhausted and fed up. You squint at her and almost protest that all the battling you’ve done is what led you to this point. The expression she held deterred you. You complied in the end.

She leads you into a dirt clearing and unsheathes her sword. Her face is like the steel she holds in her grasp and you ready yourself. There’s a moment of silence and anticipation that hangs in the air as you two lock eyes. She makes the first move, launching towards you and missing the side of your face by a few inches. You retaliate and dig your weapon of choice into her side. She grits her teeth as she is sent sprawling a few feet away. The girl gives you little time to react. Her next attack flies at you and you two are a clash of steel and flesh. There’s an adrenaline that elicits your veins and your head clears. The worries of taking care of everyone fade and you focus solely on your sparring partner. It’s like a second wind that envelops your body. It takes you a few hits until you realize she’s purposefully leaving herself open and using weaker moves.

She was allowing you to win. To taste her blood and victory in battle. You’re almost insulted if it weren’t so flattering that she was laying herself openly for you. You lay a final hit on her and she kneels with her head bowed. The two of you pant as wounds seep blood. Nothing is too deep and can easily be fixed by bandage or magic. She pulls herself to her feet and smiles softly at you. “A formidable opponent. You underestimate your power.” It was her form of a compliment, you supposed. She then followed you back into camp and sat you down. She runs a wet rag along your scrapes and cuts. The crimson washes off and leaves the wounds exposed to the fresh air. The githyanki is gentle in her touch as she wraps them with a bandage and secures it in place. The muscles in your body flex as you test the hold before turning your attention to her. You go to tend her wounds but are met with a hand in your face. “I am fine. I am strong enough to take care of myself. You, on the other hand, need to recover to lead us onward.”

You quirk a brow at her before pulling away and allowing the campfire to warm your bones. She works deftly on sealing her wounds and you can’t help but feel a little rejuvenated. It wasn't pampering of sorts- but she cared. She tried her best to show it and that’s truly what mattered. She fought against her nature to shame you and instead attempted to cure your ailments. She was rough around the edges but had a soft heart. The thought made you smile softly as you watched the shadows of fire dance along her olive-green skin. She catches your gaze for a moment and seems flustered. “Go rest.” She commands softly and you laugh breathlessly. It takes you a moment to get to your feet but you manage it. Some sleep would surely help repair the worst of it as long as you took it easy the next day.

Jaheira

Jaheira was an older elf. She could spot the telltale signs of wear. Whether that be mental or physical. She took care of her harpers for just about as long as she could recall at this point. It felt nice to not have to be the one in charge- but maybe she took too much comfort in it. A little guilt weighed in her heart. Too late to dwell, though, you needed assistance. The crackle of the fire was all that could be heard as you sat in front of it. You were still- seemingly lost in thought. She groaned a little as she lowered herself to a seat. Her knees weren’t as they used to be. The sound alerted your mind and you snapped out of it to look at the woman. She smiled softly at you and handed you a goblet. In her other hand was a bottle of wine and her own goblet. “Do not worry, no funny games this time. Just something to unwind.” You scrunch your nose a little before grabbing it.

The bottle uncorks and she pours a glass for you two. It’s not the finest wine but certainly was much better than the gruel served at the tiefling party. You draw your knees to your chest and take a long sip. After she takes a sip of her own she clicks her tongue in thought. Her gaze isn’t on you but on the campfire as she begins to speak. “You are more powerful than you know,” she begins and you look at her from the corner of your eye. “I’ve seen it firsthand. You vanquished the curse of the shadowlands and defeated Ketheric Thorm. I am surprised you didn’t succumb to exhaustion sooner.” You tense, almost expecting it to be an insult. Her softness of tone betrays that thought. “You need to rely on your friends and company more. We are here to help. We care. I care.” She enunciates the last word by looking at you. You can’t help but feel a soft fuzz blooming in your chest. Was it her words or the alcohol?

“I took care of my harpers for a century or more. It is hard work to look after the well-being of everyone else and yourself. I think I became too comfortable in letting you guide me. I apologize for that, truly.” You open your mouth to speak but she shushes you with a point of her goblet. That gesture makes you flush a little and take a sip of your wine once more. “I have seen many people in my life. I have lost many people in my life. You are among some of the most… wonderful I have seen. I will be damned if I lose you to anything beyond yourself.” She smiles at you, the age lines on her face only speaking to how truthful she is being. You can’t help but feel relaxed by both the influence of the alcohol and her words. You realize anything you say would be practically pointless. So, you just shuffle to her side and press against her. She hums in satisfaction and wraps an arm around you. You can hear her swallowing her wine more clearly. There’s a comfortable silence that is punctuated occasionally by the crackling of the fire.

“Another pour?” She offers as she holds the bottle and you cannot help but laugh while gesturing your goblet. Indulging for a night hurt nobody and hell you deserved it. She refills the two glasses and rests her head against yours. There’s a mutual understanding of comfort and connection between you two as you sip and watch the fire. It’s nice to not have to say anything in return. To be able to simply sit and digest the fact that somebody appreciates the fact that you work so tirelessly for them and everyone around you. It’s only til your goblets empty again does she finally pull away and cork the wine. You stand and allow the buzz of the alcohol to warm your veins and loosen your mind. She offers a hand out with a sheepish smile, “Help a gal up?” you tease her for a minute and grab her hand as she hoists herself off the ground. She regards you with a softness and plants a gentle kiss against your forehead. You two part and head to your respective tents to sleep the night away.

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darkdevasofdestruction · 1 year

Text

The White Rose of Jerusalem ~ King Baldwin IV x Reader

Summary: As a young girl, Y/N had the honour of marrying the King of Jerusalem, just before the healers found out of his fatal diagnosis. Though she had the choice of backing down from a fruitless marriage, she remained faithful to the young boy-King who captured her heart.

Note: I know the chance of people knowing this movie are very slim, but I was long fascinated by King Baldwin IV and re-watching this movie for the N-th time only reinforced that notion; And I’m too hyperfixated to study for exams, so I gotta do this.

Note 2: I have two endings in mind, one with a happy ending, which will be the default one, and another, with an angsty, sad one, which I will be writing under a line and a warning. :) Hope you’ll like it!

Note 3: The lyrics from the Angsty Ending come from the song ‘Luthien’s Lament’ by Eurielle, with some words alternated, to fit the story. Hope you like it, and that you will be compelled to check out her fantastic work! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4F3X5CrPn8I

She was just a little girl, not even a decade old, when she was chosen as the most fitting candidate at being the future wife of young lord Baldwin IV, the future King of Jerusalem. A beautiful lad with long locks of gold like a field of wheat shining in the summer sun, and eyes as blue as the celestial azure sky, fair skin, flawless and angelic like that of the most beloved seraphim, and a voice so soft and tender that would put anyone to ease.

Princess Y/N was so nervous - How could she possibly compare to... How could she possibly become good enough to stay around the future King of Jerusalem? Her worries were plaguing her mind so much, that she simply stared at him, with the eyes of a scared fawn, completely forgetting that she was supposed to do a pretty courtesy and speak.

But the boy could see your pretty face as pink as a lovely flower in bloom, from something as silly as nervousness around him; He chivalrously offered his hand for her to take, and he guided her away from the wave of adults they were surrounded by, and outside, to the lush gardens of Jerusalem where there was nobody to bother them. He hummed idly and scanned the place, before abruptly stopping in from of a bush, and cut a single white rose, which he de-thorned and put in her hair. “There, a beautiful flower, for a beautiful lady.” she couldn’t help but cast her eyes down, unable to meet his. “You see, out of all the flowers in the world, I think a white rose fits you best.” he smiled down at her. “Do you know their meaning, My Lady?” Y/N began biting on her bottom lip, whilst her fingers were anxiously fidgeting and picking at one another. “Forgive me for my rudeness, Your Majesty. I did not mean to disrespect you with my silence and awful behaviour.” The young lad tilted his head to the side in confusion, before reaching out to her hands, holding them dearly. “You have not offended me, My Lady. Still, I would like to request you not to harm such beautiful hands. I have never felt anything as delicate as them, not even flower petals.” her timidness was adorable, he noted. “You need naught feel uncomfortable around me, nor abide to such formalities. I would like for you to speak freely - You are soon to be my lovely wife, and I wish for you to become my confidante.” Baldwin could feel her hands tightening their grip slightly on his own. “I am asking again, whether or not you know the symbolism of white roses -- May I call you by your name? I wish for you to do the same in return.” “Y-Yes, of course, Your Majesty, you may call me as you wish.” the boy’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Baldwin. My name is Baldwin. Do call me that.” the alarmed look in those gorgeous eyes of hers, that resembled the most precious gems, only made him realise the overly strict upbringing that she had, so afraid to step the wrong way, or do any kind of misdeed, in fear of being punished, or quite possibly, bringing about Armageddon. “I-I could never show such disrespect to the future King of Jerusalem!” the boy let out an amused exhale, before gently raising her chin up to have her look at him. “Y/N. We are going to be married. For you, I will not be the King. I will be your Husband. If the two of us do not trust each other whole-heartedly, then who else can we trust?” Baldwin finally felt a little satisfaction once she finally dared meet his sight, only for her to bow to him deeply, which once again, confused him. “I wish I will one day end up being a person that you can rely on... Baldwin.” the childish smile of glee that the boy held made her heart leap. “I do not know much, but I wish to learn everything. I was limited in everything I was taught, in detriment of becoming the perfect wife and mother, fit for the King of Jerusalem, so much so that I forgot that I am allowed to live for myself.” “Then I will teach you how to live.”

Though she continued to be as shy as ever, barely capable of speaking up, especially to adults, Baldwin was graced with the most dazzling smiles from the young beauty, whom he’d teasingly call ‘My Wife’ with every chance he got. They were so adorable together, and so very in love with each other, that his elder sister, Sibylla, although jealous of their happiness, would often declare them as ultimate soulmates. They were glued to each other.

It was Baldwin who encouraged her to approach the horses and tend for them, and it was his instructors who taught her how to ride, so that they could ride together whenever they wanted to have some fun, by themselves; The young Price could see the remarkable bond she had made with all of the horses she took care of - Only the most gentle person could create such a connection with a sensitive animal like that.

They would write and recite love poems for each other, though the boy was much bolder than her, and would have to read her love confessions himself. In spite of that, she was content with singing for him, which would, in turn, urge him to ask her for a dance, outside, in the gentle moonlight.

Though he wasn’t one for painting, he loved all of the flowers that Y/N would paint for him - She only ever liked drawing flowers of all kinds, and pretty landscapes; And he would hang around all of her most precious masterpieces in his own bedroom.

They were doing everything together, to the point that Sibylla felt a little lonely, but Baldwin became even more enamoured with Y/N during one evening, when he was pondering over a chess puzzle made by one of his instructors; And there she came in, like Virgin Mary herself, brightening up his dimly lit room. She towered for a few seconds over the chess board, and moved a single piece before flicking over the enemy King piece. Baldwin looked up at her, then back at the board, and up again in complete disbelief - Such an easy solution, yet he kept overcomplicating a thousand useless and difficult ideas, only to end up with no outcome except for his own ultimate failure.

The boy shot up to his feet and engulfed his lady in his arms with so much love, kissing both of her cheeks. “You are a fantastic strategist, my rose! You are going to be my most treasured advisor!” “Oh, I could never - I just moved a piece, nothing that great!” but the boy shook his head vigorously. “Nonsense! I’ve been losing nights over this, and I couldn’t figure it out! If it weren’t for your insight, I would have continued to agonise over it.” he explained tenderly. “Even the wisest of kings need new opinions and views.” “Then, I hope I will continue inspiring you in the future also, and that you will see me as worthy of staying by your side.” the boy could see small tears gleaming in her eyes, though she held the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen. “I wish for nothing more than to see you succeed and be known in history as the best King that Jerusalem ever had.” with a burst of boldness, she embraced her fiance tightly, nuzzling her face in the crook of his neck. “I love you.” “Generations forward will be hearing of the wisest and most supportive Queen of Jerusalem, the one who equally reigned alongside her King; the one so kind and caring that all our people will look up to her.” he smiled tenderly, his hand caressing her soft locks. “Just like the purest white rose, so innocent and beautiful, wise, enlightening, intelligent, inspiring of hope, compassion, peace, humility, understanding, tranquility.” cupping her face, he tilted her head so that he could touch his forehead to her own. “And representing of an eternal love, genuine and unbreakable.” his voice was so soft, so loving. “I love you.”

But this love was soon going to be put to test on one day, when the young prince was outside, playing around with other noble boys, while Y/N was making flower crowns and embroidering with the girls. The boys would pinch each other, and rough each other up, scratch and slap their arms; They made so much noise, crying out, whining, whimpering and yelling from paint, but it was Baldwin alone who uttered no sound, and remained as quiet as the lake.

“My love, you are bleeding!” Y/N rushed to his side, stopping his friends from continuing to play around. “Oh, is that so? I have not noticed.” he looked down at his arm, examining all the marks left on his skin, and although they looked painful, he could barely feel anything more than a simple pressure. He could barely even feel her touch. “Have not noticed?! Your whole arm is in awful shape!” the girl shook her head in worry before turning around to look for any of his mentors. “Lord Godfrey! Lord Godfrey, please do come over!” once the man stepped in front of them, Y/N explained what happened - From the concerned look that the adult tried to conceal from them, the girl realised he suspected something with a grim epilogue.

The young prince was treated by the royal physicians the whole day, while Y/N remained alone in his room, pacing around aimlessly and agonising over the truth being concealed from her, yet after many hours, when the Moon took over the skies, and the stars were twinkling the brightest, Baldwin was returned to his bedroom. As Y/N tried to run over and engulf him in her arms, she was stopped by Lord Godfrey. “Princess, I know that you cherish the Prince dearly, but I bare terrible news. His Majesty is being suspected of a disease called leprosy. It would be unwise for you to keep in direct close contact, as you would be at high risk of also getting this curse.” Y/N looked up at the adult with tears rapidly streaming down her face. “It’s alright, my dear rose. I value your health and life above all else. If being apart will ensure your safety, then I am content.” “Don’t you dare say such blasphemy!” it was the first time Y/N ever raised her voice above that sweet, comforting mutter of hers. “Am I not your wife? Your soulmate? Your confidante?” she asked in disbelief. “I have promised I will be staying by your side, until the end of times - The amount of years matters little - But there is no life worth living if you are not in it. I would much rather live a short life, and be able to support you for as long as God may keep you on this Earth, than live a long life, cursed with not being able to see you again.” Even a hardened Lord like Godfrey could feel his heart trembling with emotion at the loving confession from the young lady, who fell to the ground and hugged the boy’s legs. “Please, my love, do not drive me away from you, unless you grow to hate me, and should I ever be so awful that I may make you despise me so, then may God strike me down where I stand, for I could not bare to be torn apart from you.” “Y/N, my love, please, never kneel before me. Out of all the people that I may be reigning over, you alone, shall never kneel.” Baldwin had to gulp down his emotions, though he felt light-headed from such a bold and heart-wrenching confession, and he helped her get up. “I do not want to give you this wretched curse, but I would be a liar if I were to say I were not selfish, for I want to hold you in my arms forever, just as before.”

The realisation that half of his right arm and the hand were completely numb completely shattered his father’s heart, and he had the best physicians, maesters, priests and what not to treat him with oils, ointments, poultices and even charms, yet nothing worked. Though Baldwin had quickly gotten used to the idea, Y/N continued being in denial, and took over most of the physicians’ work, entirely, from then on. She was his wife, and she wanted to take care of him for as long as they had together; She simply loved him so much, and this disease was killing her, more than it did him. Such an intimate thing, touching his skin, cleaning it with herbs and oils every morning, lunch and night before sleep, and she would wash his feet and hands, just like Jesus did to all of his apostles in the Bible. Baldwin felt himself wanting to cry - The love of his life shouldn’t feel compelled to take care of him like that; That’s what servants and healers were for; Yet all the same, he felt so grateful for having someone who loves him so much...

But with so much love, comes the uncertainty of the future, and when he stops being the beautiful Prince that he is now, and becomes blind, disfigured, and loses feeling in all his limbs, will she remain by his side? His heart will never stop loving her, and although the selfless part of him hopes that she would run away and find someone better, some handsome knight or lord to take care of her, someone healthy and with many decades ahead of him... He was still human, and he was selfish. He wanted those few years he has ahead of him to have her by his side, until he does not open his eyes to see the daylight again.

Years passed and tragedy struck Baldwin and Sibylla, once their father died and the young boy of thirteen had to be crowned. A mere boy of thirteen, forced to become the ultimate leader of God’s Kingdom of Heaven, with Raymond, count of Tripoli’s help through his regency, and the unshakable support of his wife.

Baldwin and Y/N stood straight and tall, with the grace and elegance befitting the King and Queen of Jerusalem, though the pressure was weighting heavy on their shoulders, and the lives of so many people, and their Holy Land, were in their hands. The archbishop stepped behind Baldwin and did a cross-motion over his forehead and said a prayer, before putting the crown over his head. “Behold, your rightful King and heir to the throne of the Kingdom of Jerusalem. Long live the King, in prosperity!” people chanted ‘Long live the King!’, though it felt more like mocking, given his condition - Granted, the people were unaware of his leprosy, save for the physicians and the closer advisors - They had to be kept in the dark, at least until his coronation... What will happen further, was a mystery. The crowned Baldwin took the other crown from the pillow and stepped next to his beautiful wife, dressed so formally, with such grace and etherealness, that she looked akin to an angel. “I, Baldwin IV, by the grace of the Holy Spirit, choose Y/N L/N, the woman to be my wife, and with the help of God, she will rule her people with the same love and kindness as always, and continue supporting me wisely. Long live the Queen, in prosperity!” as the King placed the crown over her head, the people chanted ‘Long live the Queen!’ again and again, awaiting for their King to sit on the throne and be given the scepter and globus cruciger, whilst the Queen was standing up next to him.

That evening, Baldwin and Y/N were finally allowed to formally spend the night in the same room, without earning scrutiny from the religious people around, who were bound to gossip senselessly. Wearing their sleeping clothes, the King was laying on his side on the bed, watching his Queen embroider a handkerchief, with his name written with golden thread. “Are you happy, Y/N?” the boy asked, suddenly. “I am happy that you have not forced me to abandon you. But I am not happy, knowing that your disease is disallowing you to live a normal life.” she answered with such ease, that it sent a shiver down his spine. “You are supposed to answer personally, not with tying your answer to someone else.” Y/N shifted her gaze upwards, a cheeky side-smile gracing her beautiful features. “And what if my happiness is tied to this certain ‘someone else’, as you like to call yourself?” she challenged him playfully. “Then, I would call you a fool in love.” he chuckled, smiling fondly at the girl. “And I would be guilty of the same charade.” “There is no room for guilt in love, my darling. Though duty is the death of love, I am allowed to make my own choices - This liberty, it was you who had given it to me, and for that, I will be eternally grateful.” she explained, placing the handkerchief on the table, before stepping by the bed and kneeling, leaning on the edge, their faces so close to one another. “You could have gone home with your parents, yet you chose to disobey them, and remained the wife of a leper, willingly. That was a silly choice. I am going to make you the youngest widow in history.” he spoke bitterly, and though his hand reached out to cradle her cheek, it ultimately fell down on the sheets, afraid to directly touch her skin, in fear of passing the illness. “And I will regret only not having met you sooner, and the cruelty of God, for taking his most beloved human so soon into his Eden.” Y/N took his hand and kissed his fingers, before placing his palm on her cheek. “But loving you, is something that I would do over and over again, if given the chance.” “I do not deserve you, my sweet rose.” he felt himself breathless, every time he heard her speak such tender words addressed to him. “Remember what you told me, so many years ago, to encourage me to live for myself?” he only wished he could feel her soft touch playing with his fingers so dearly. “Howsoever you are played, or by whom, your soul is in your keeping alone.” she cited him so perfectly, word by word, that is genuinely surprised him, after over 5 years, that she remembered his advice. “Even though those who presume to play you be Kings or men of power, when you stand before God, you cannot say - But I was told by others to do thus - Or that virtue - Was not convenient at the time -. This will not suffice.” “To think that so many years would come to pass, and you still continue to surprise me.” though he wanted to chuckle, this body froze entirely once Y/N climbed in bed next to him. “Y/N -- If you contract this curse because of me, I would never forgive myself.” “The Saracens say this disease is God’s vengeance against the vanity of our Kingdom. As wretched as lepers are, the Arabs believe that the chastisement that awaits you all is going to be far more severe and lasting, once you are thrown in hell. If that is true, I call it unfair, and that God is nothing but a farce, and life, a cruel joke.” she snorted unceremoniously, before laying down and cradling his body flush against her own, his head resting comfortably on her chest, and she was soothingly playing with his hair, lulling him to sleep. “To hell with anyone who can consider you anything less than an angel, for you are the kindest man I have ever met, and Jerusalem is lucky to be under your rule. The way I see it, God must have thought you so worthy of joining the highest angelic ranks, that he was unaware of a faster way of taking you to his side. It is, after all, the prettiest of flowers that we are quick to pick first and show-off to others, before they wilt in our hands, and we throw them away.” “I am truly honoured to have someone like you hold such sincere feelings for me, and speak only superlative words regarding me. I feel better, knowing that you do not think me lesser, or unworthy, in spite of this misfortune.” though his limbs were gradually getting numb, he could feel ever part of her body touching his own. “Y/N.” he called out her name, cuddling into her, like a cute kitten seeking comfort and warmth. “I am happy.” he was deathly afraid that he could somehow transfer the disease to her, but in that second, his senses were drowning in her love. “You make me happy.”

But the boy at three and ten winters, barely crowned and orphaned, had not expected to grow into the respectable young King that he became by the time he reached sixteen years of age, though by now, the entirety of Jerusalem was calling him the Leper King - They found out the inevitable truth of his condition, and despite the wretched ostracizing that all of those commonfolk cursed with this skin disease, he was able to show that a noble, wise, kind and strategic King and deserved all the respect of the world.

The young King had all of his advisors around him, telling him of all the risks, the cons and pros of going to war against the powerful leader Salah al-Din; They were greatly outnumbered, but if they weren’t going to war, the odd were high that Jerusalem would fall to the Muslims. Sitting on the throne, Baldwin felt himself unconsciously raising his hand to his forehead, feeling a migraine creeping, from the overwhelming amount of shouting and unnecessary bickering and arguing between each notable knight, commander and representative of each army under the command of the King of Jerusalem. He wasn’t one to raise his voice, nor did he bother - At the end of the day, men were going to continue being men, and they will continue trying to dominate and overpower each other. At some point during that abysmal meeting, he noticed the frown on his Queen’s face, clearly irritated that the adults were creating more problems than offering good advice for him, and she could barely keep herself under control not to jolt up to her feet at yell at them to stop behaving like petulant children. Alas, neither of their Royal Majesties were known to raise their voice or even get angry at their subjects; After all, it would be beneath them to stoop so low, when virtue was everything they were supposed to embody.

By the time they returned to their shared chamber, Y/N sighed dramatically, complaining about the unbecomingness of those nasty advisors, whilst Baldwin couldn’t help but chuckle at her reaction. His sweet rose truly was adorable in everything she did. Instead of laying on the bed, the young lad sat in front of his chess board and stared intently at the pieces laid in wait to begin a game. Suddenly, a brilliant idea knocked him into a new sense of giddiness. “My sweetling, would you be willing to brighten my day by engaging in a game of chess with me? I cannot think of anything better that could relax me after such unnecessary stress.” His wife smiled at him with that loving tenderness, as she sat opposite of him and urged him to begin the game by moving his piece first. Baldwin carefully moved each of his pieces so that he would create the ultimate strategy, not only for his own side, but manipulate the girl’s pieces into well thought-out spots. In the end, it was Y/N who won the game, but it was him who started cheerfully laughing in triumph. “Never once have I seen a man so happy to lose a game.” Y/N smiled lightly. “What have you concocted, you little weasel?” “The game we just played, my love, contained my strategy for the upcoming war with Salah al-Din, with my side being the Muslims, and yours, Jerusalem.” he exclaimed with glee, getting up from the table. “Jerusalem will prevail once again!” “How cunning of you! Never once during this game have I thought you would be manipulating me into playing my pieces the way you wanted me to. You are wise and intelligent beyond your years, my love.” she praised him, stepping in front of him, and gently placing her hands over his face. She could see the way his disease was rapidly and heavily affecting him, and that once angelic face of his was now scarred and ulcerated beyond anything that the physicians resoluted or predicted. He had to learn how to guide his horse with his knees, instead of the tugging of the reins, as he lost feeling in his right arm completely, and the disease was quickly afflicting the skin of his other limbs also. “And neither will the Muslims, my sweet rose. They will be unable to retaliate, and will have to retreat back to Cairo.” despite all of the scars, and the way his golden hair was beginning to fall out and lessen, that adorable, boyish smile of his remained as charming as ever, and his crystal eyes were just as bewitching. “Will you please allow me to follow you in this crusade?” Baldwin was tempted, as her enchanting fawn eyes were his biggest weakness; His ration and wish to protect her was above even that, however. “I dearly wish to never be apart from you, but my love, you are the Queen of Jerusalem, and with me gone, there will be no one that I trust to rule the Kingdom. I need you here to rule over our people and keep them safe.” Y/N simply sighed and rested her head on his chest, her arms gently around his body. “As always, you are right, of course - If only that you weren’t! How many sleepless nights of worry will I endure, and nightmares shall plague me, until I receive good news from a dove, and am allowed to rejoice your victorious arrival?” the King chuckled softly, resting his chin on the top of her head, reciprocating her embrace. “How dramatic, yet poetic - I am honoured that you worry so much about me, but you needn’t, that is my oath to you. With your aid, my strategy will prevail, and with God’s providence, I have the courage to mount my horse and lead our people to victory.”

And true to his affirmation, the young King rode valiantly into battle, at Montgisard, and just as the strategy dictated, they gave the Muslims a run for their money, returning to Cairo very much defeated, and barely with a tenth of the initial army. Christianity had prevailed once again, and God had not turned his back on them yet.

“You should have seen me, my love, with the Holy Cross shining brightly with the light of Heaven, leading our army to victory! It was such a fantastic win, that I felt powerful as never before! I felt truly blessed and empowered - Like I will be walking the sacred lands for a whole century, and fighting for our faith!” the young King was laying his head in her lap, as she played with his golden locks; Whenever hair would freely fall off in her grasp, she would quickly throw it away, so that her husband wouldn’t have to see the way his beauty was being forcefully taken away from him by the cruel claws of Death. “If all the most beloved Kings were to live for centuries, our world would be a better place. You, especially, deserve to live for many, many hundreds of years, a prodigy above all else, and loved like no other before you.” his grin couldn’t be wiped from that pretty face of his. “Ah, if only that were true, my darling!” he exclaimed. “Now, I only wish to settle my sister with a new husband, deserving of her. With the death of William de Montferrat, and the birth of my little nephew... Sibylla is all alone, and named the heir to the throne once I am no longer.” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I have to take her with me on public affairs, so that the people would get used to her being the next ruler - But she is so against everything I try to do for her.” “Sibylla is still young and very beautiful, my darling, there is no need to worry over her future husband. I know time might not be on our side, but it is on hers. She will be fine, I assure you.” she leaned down to place a small kiss on his forehead. “I only pray that you are right, my dear. I love my sister dearly, and I only wish her the best.”

That wish, however, was never going to become reality, as come 1180, an adventurer under the name of Guy de Lusignan found his way in the Holy Land, and seduced Sibylla into marrying him. Baldwin was angry as never before, and even threatened to hang him for daring to debauch the Princess of Jerusalem, yet the tears of his sister and mother were enough to break his resolve and agree to this marriage out of love. That was the first mistake he did, and one that could never be rectified. Guy was a man that earned the scrutiny of the whole realm faster than any man before, and became the most despised being in the country, by all, except for his wife.

By this time, the King was turning twenty years of age, yet he knew he wouldn’t reach to see his age change its prefix again. His condition had gotten so severe that he completely lost feeling in his limbs, and he wasn’t allowed to travel. Not only that, but the skin ulcerations were so drastic, and his face was so disfigured, that he had the blacksmith forge a silver mask for him to wear at all times, and his body was bandaged in its entirety, and robed in white, covering himself whole. It was only his wife, Queen Y/N, that was allowed to gaze upon him, as she continued the ritual of bathing his sores and treating them.

Every day of his life, King Baldwin was happy that he hadn’t given his most darling white rose this accursed disease; Likewise, every day of her life, Y/N continued to pray to God that he may spare her beloved husband and cure that curse that afflicted his body and health - He was a worthy King, and most capable; one the likes that Jerusalem had never witnessed before - Surely, he deserved a blessing!

God, however, did not discriminate when it came to life-taking and misfortune. Be it King or peasant, Lord or fisherman, all had the chance to get sick and die before their time, no matter their worth, faith or the amount of good deeds done whilst roaming the earth.

The stress and all the incompetent people that advised him were none the wiser, and they only dug him an early grave, with all their arguing. Not only that, but Sibylla continued to deny her brother’s wish of divorcing that good for nothing scoundrel - The whole Jerusalem was against him and his lack of sense - Were he to become King, he would destroy the Kingdom of Heaven in a day. She was a fool in a love, but not like himself and Y/N. The Queen was right - Duty is the death of love, but the reverse was also available. Were Sibylla a simple woman, a merchant, or simply a living being without any responsibilities on her shoulder, her devotion would have been most applaudable - But she was the heir to the throne, and she had duties to the realm, she couldn’t afford to be so foolish and cling onto a man that would lead not only to her destruction, but to the whole realm falling into ruin!

By the time King Baldwin turned a most exhausting age of merely three and twenty springs, he was beginning to turn blind, as his eyes were incapable of shutting, and his corneas were burning and stinging him so excruciatingly painful, yet there was nothing he could do in that regard. Despite barely being able to walk around anymore, he had to deal with the consequences of that single mistake of allowing Sibylla to marry that incompetent Guy, who not only broke the pact that Jerusalem had with the Muslim by attacking one of their caravan and killing all of the people there, but he also dared massacre Salah al-Din’s own sister. How can his sister not see that this man was only going to bring ruination to their home? How can she continue devoting her life and affections to such a monster of a man, good for nothing and hated by all, whose head is set only on carnage and bloodshed, under the pretext of spreading the Faith and Word of God over the heathens that tried to obliterate them and convert them?

Thus, King Baldwin stood slumped in his throne glued next to the Queen’s; She gently held his hand, their fingers intertwined; He loved the visual of their hands being so intimately together, before all to bare witness at their pure and sincere love that transcended even leprosy and scrutiny, yet at the same time, he hated how he could not feel her hand, and that his own was bandaged over like a mummy.

“Guy de Lusignan and Reynald de Chatillon, with the Templars, have attacked a Saracen caravan.” just as always, the crowd of knights began fighting each other like a bunch of babbling baboons, until some person of authority yelled at them to keep silent. “It was no caravan. It was an army headed for Bethlehem to desecrate our Lord’s birthplace.” Guy justified his immoral actions under the guise of protecting the Faith. “Reynald, with the Templars, have broken the King’s pledge of peace. Salah al-Din will come into this kingdom -- “ the Count of Tripoli was promptly cut off by the daring fool. Oh, how Baldwin wanted to let go of his reign and live the remaining days of his life in peace, alone with his wife - Yet knowing the Kingdom would fall into this monster’s hands, he could not, in good faith, abandon his people, nor could he see his Holy Land destroyed before his very eyes. “Tiberias knows more than a Christian about Salah al-Din’s intentions.” Guy got up to his feet, walking to the count, towering over him in an attempt to intimidate the old and seasoned Lord. “That I would rather live with men, than kill them... Is certainly why you are alive.” the knight sneered discreetly at him. “That sort of Christianity has its uses, I suppose.” the King and Queen shared a look of annoyance. “We must NOT go to war with Salah al-Din!” Tiberias exclaimed. “We do NOT want it, and we may not win it.” he was the single voice of reason left in that sea of idiots who cried out ‘Blasphemy!’ like a flock of sheep. “An army of Jesus Christ which bears his Holy Cross cannot be beaten!” some Templar spoke with unbacked confidence. “Does Tiberias suggest it could be?” the scarred man remained silent, looking with disgust at the rest of the knights. “There MUST be war! God wills it!” those idiots were using God’s name as a means to bloodshed. The Queen could stand this complete disarray no longer, and though she missed the moment a servant brought the King a message to read, she shot up to her feet, and shouted at them the people for the first time in her life - Great was everyone’s surprise, especially Baldwin’s, to bare witness of something different than her otherwise honeyed and soft voice that soothed one’s worries. “Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain, for the Lord will not hold him guiltless that taketh his name in vain.” she recited a line from the Exodus 20:7. “Are you suggesting we are using the name of God with unclean intentions?” Guy looked up with defiance at the woman, whose elegant and royal aura turned cold and stern, like a strict ruler. “I am your Queen, and you will address me as such.” she harshly snapped at him. “You, who are worth less than a worm, and held in no one’s graces, dare create such disorder in the presence of the King of Jerusalem. The disrespect you have shown is punishable by death.” she stepped towards him, head held high, dignified. “To think that all of you will be listening to the poisoned tongue of this viper; That you would summon God’s name, to commit bloodshed - Have you forgotten the Ten Commandments? Thou shalt not kill, it was written on the stone tablet given to Moses - Yet all of you are thirsty for war - Not out of Faith, but out of boredom. You listen to this warmonger who knows naught of diplomacy, of tactics and strategy - Lest of all, of the good of the people of the Holy Lands.” the crowd of knights could feel their blood freezing in their veins from such a scolding. “All of this, in front of the King! Such rudeness should be the cause of you yelling out Blasphemy! Not evident caution and refusal to go to war against an army that is outnumbering our own greatly!” “You talk much, but say very little... My Queen.” Guy taunted the Queen with blatant disrespect. “What would a woman know of war, when all she knows is to was to sored feet of a man that may not seen the world outside of these Holy walls in so long? You call me lesser, yet when the King is no more, neither will your title remain. We are the same - Lucky to have been chosen, yet worthy all the same.” “How wrong you are - For at the end of the day, marriage or not, I will continue being a Princess, yet you will be nothing more than the fourth son, good for nothing, landless and with no title - And most of all, a sinner.” the Queen drew the sword from Tiberias’s scabbard, pointing it at Guy. “Kneel before your Queen.” his eyes widened in shock at such an order. “Are you going to ignore a direct order from your Queen?” Guy’s head snapped towards the King, who waved his hand at the man, as to follow the order. “The Queen’s command is absolute.” Baldwin nodded his head briefly at the buffoon who dared disrespect his wife, not only in front of him, but in front of the whole court. He was glad that someone was putting that idiot to respect, however, he hated that his wife had to step over her kindness and get angry, for his sake. Begrudgingly, Guy knelt down, though he glared at the Queen with those scorned, dark eyes. In a swift move, the woman swung the heavy sword with such ease, ready to behead the man - Only to stop, right as she touched his neck, careful not to injure him. Sibylla was quick to shout at her to have mercy and spare him - That she loves him, and what not. She was ignored. “Do not mistake my past kindness and mercy, for weakness. I may be benevolent, but I do not tolerate disrespect addressed to me, to God, and especially to the King.” she returned the sword to Tiberias, who nodded at her in acknowledgement and approval. “That your head is not rolling to the ground for children to play is my final act of mercy and acceptance towards you. You disrespect the King, your disrespect Jerusalem. Trust me when I say it, Guy - I always mean what I say.” she returned to her seat next to the King, who handed her the message to read. The look on her face said it all - She was both concerned and terrified, not for her life, but for his own. “Salah al-Din has crossed the Jordan with 200,000 men.” the King spoke out once ultimate silence reigned over them all. “He’ll make for Kerak and Reynald de Chatillon. My Lord...” TIberias was the first to speak, walking over to Baldwin in an attempt to help him stand up. The King gestured him to stop, and subtly shook his head, as a way to show he was still capable of at least getting up from the throne. “We must meet him before he reaches Kerak.” the King whispered in his advisor’s ear. “I will lead the army.” “My Lord... If you travel, you’ll die.” the Count of Tripoli voiced the Queen’s concerns. “Send word to Balian to protect the Queen and the villagers.” the King addressed the crowd then. “Assemble the army.” came his resolute order that earned a chant of happy cheers from the knights.

The King did not wait to consult with the Queen - Instead, he went into his room to rest, for on the morrow, he would be marching towards Kerak to create some kind of temporary peace treaty with the Muslim leader. Y/N shared a look with Tiberias. Fear was welling deep into her eyes - She was terrified. The nightmares that kept plaguing her every night were coming to fruition much faster than anticipated. Her husband was going to die. “Tiberias... I know you care for the King as much as I do. Though we both know his mind will not be swayed... Please, do try to keep him away from this journey.” her voice became a weakened whisper. “I cannot bare the thought of losing him so soon.”

Tiberias could feel his heart impaled, yet he was unable to utter a single word. He placed his hand on her shoulder, as if to show they share a similar kind of pain, and he hung his head. Y/N went to their shared room, and seeing her husband sitting on the chair, by the chess board, she fell to the ground, hugging his feet and placing her head on his lap as she wept. “Please change your mind, my love! Do not go to your death, not so soon! You are so young, still so strong -- I cannot... I cannot imagine living without you.” Baldwin sighed, his eyes stinging, yet feeling a little relief from the forming tears that were wetting his dry eyes, and his bandaged hand was placed numbly over her cascading hair, petting it. “Forgive me, my sweet rose.” he spoke with a shaky voice. “I did say I was going to turn you into the youngest widow, yet I did not imagine my condition would hinder me from even reaching thirty years of age.” even his body was softly trembling, in tune with her pitiful sobs. “Forgive me for breaking your loving heart. I was not the husband that you deserved. I was unable to bring you happiness, nor pleasure, nor was I capable of creating a family with you. God had forbidden me from even touching your body, in fear of transferring this curse upon you... He had denied me the feeling of your delicate skin, and a normal life span spent by your side.” “Do not say that!” she exclaimed, raising her head. “You have been more than I ever deserved. You have been more than I could ever dream of, even. I never desired for anything in life, except to see you alive, every time I woke up, and to feel you heart lul me to sleep, as you held me so dearly in your arms. For as long as I could hear your tender voice... Just knowing you were alive... It was all that I ever needed.” she reached her hands up to his face, taking off his mask and revealing the horrific, disfigured visage of the one seraphic boy. “If I could, I would trade all of my tomorrows, just to spend another night with you. I would trade all of my days, so that you could keep on living on, for as long as I would have. I would take the disease upon me, just to rid you of this curse. I would accept even being purged by the divine fires of retribution, if it gave you your health back.” her sight was blurred with the amount of tears hindering her and rivering down her face. “But to hell with God, and with the Faith, and with everything there is! Why must a good man endure misfortune after misfortune, and die young, whilst incompetent, evil bastards like Guy keep on living and thriving so frivolously?! I prayed day in and day out, and I have devoted all of my being to God, but instead of returning your health, he is taking you away from me even faster!” she wailed so pitifully, that Baldwin felt his entire being shattering before her anguish. “What kind of sin have I committed, that I cursed the love of my life as such a tender age, just a little after I have met him?” “You couldn’t possibly think to blame yourself for my disease.” he scolded her in complete disbelief. “Y/N, my love, never think that way.” he placed his hands on her elbows, urging her to raise, only to guide her to sit on his lap. Her slight panic was quickly shushed with a reassurance. “I am ill, not made of glass. If anything, this proximity could only serve to energize me.” Y/N gently held his hands and took off the bandages, revealing the severe ulcerations, the leathery skin and the open sores, red and painful, were it not for the numbness. She kissed his fingers lovingly, before placing his palms over her face. “Were I a mighty Phoenix, I would be able to heal all of your wounds, with the amount of tears I have shed. I would be able to fly into battle by your side and spit fire over our enemies, but also thrill a song of bravery and victory to embolden our army.” she took a ragged breath, stammering over her words. “But I am just a woman, powerless, and foolishly in love with one man, who is dying before her very eyes, and can do nothing but live in fear that he may take his last breath when she is not around him.” “You always did leave me speechless with your love confessions - And that is no easy feat, my sweet white rose. To say that I love you, is an overstatement... Yet God may strike me when I say... I do not love even He, the way that I love you. My only regret is that I was not able to even kiss you, when I was still young and handsome, fitting of a young King. I wish only to make you the happiest... If only life was not so cruel with us.” Y/N leaned down slowly, placing her lips over his own, completely uncaring of her malformed mouth, or the possibility of catching the disease herself. She wasn’t planning on living longer, if he wasn’t going to be alive and hold her hand any longer. “A silly woman, foolishly in love with a silly man, just as foolishly in love with her.” he muttered, gazing at how beautiful she was, even with eyes puffy and sparkling with tears, and skin twinkling wet.

The King guided his Queen to the bed and cradled her into his arms to cry as much as hear dear heart needed, all whilst playing with her hair, as much as his useless fingers allowed him to, and whispered a string of endless sweet nothings, though he was aware, no word of love was going to sooth or mend her shattered heart, and the fact that his lack of days were the cause of it was a bittersweet knowledge.

On the morrow, the King nodded at Tiberias, placing his hand gently over his horse’s snout to urge it to kneel so that he could mount it and ride towards Kerak, where he would face Salah al-Din and propose a truce. The journey was long and arduous, lasting a whole week on horseback, yet he rose tirelessly, and slept like a baby in the tent, every night. There were no physicians by his side, nor his Queen, to wash and treat his skin damage - But it was fine, he wasn’t going to live long anyway, so it mattered little.

After seven long days, they reached Kerak, the stronghold of Reynald the Idiot, and with the King of Jerusalem in front and the shining-white Holy Cross that brightened up the battleground, the King, dressed the part, rode and faced the leader of the Muslims.

The two king met, face to face, horse to horse - One, the Splendor of Christianity, dressed in full white, yet with a silver mask and the light-blue tabard of Jerusalem, and his horse was the same, white and pure, as was his virtue and soul. The other was dressed in black, and his horse was black also, to represent his own faith and leadership to his people, but also, his humbleness. The two stared each other in the eyes, siesing each other but, yet it was Salah al-Din who spoke first. “I pray you pull back your cavalry and leave this matter to me.” “I pray you retire unharmed to Damascus.” the King replied, his eyes seemingly unblinking behind his silver mask, adorned with crosses and swirls, to represent his Faith and Love of God. “Reynald de Chatillon will be punished. I swear it.” the man vowed, speaking in a soft, yet firm tone. “Withdraw, or we will all die here.” the two’s silence, as they stared each other up, was this time interrupted by the Christian King. “Do we have terms?” The Muslim leader only had one fear, and that was of the Leper King, who so easily bested him at merely 16 years of age, and heavily outnumbered; Now, older, yet with a frailer constitution, even the ghost of him could send a shiver down his spine; A rival worthy of his respect. “We have terms.” he nodded at him. “I will send you my physicians.” he humbly offered, wishing his rival to remain alive and healthy, for as long as he may. “As-salamu alaykum.” he King of Jerusalem tilted his head down and bowed his hand as a sign of respect, wishing him and his people peace. “Wa alaykumu s-salam.” Salah al-Din rose his hand and replied with the same respect, wishing him the same.

The two leaders of their faith turned their horses around, and Sibylla watched from the safe fortress, as her brother was victorious in avoiding an all-right war, and rode towards the stronghold of Reynald, who quickly ran, disheveled, to greet the King, who gracefully rode before him, and commanded his horse to kneel, so that he may dismount. Reynald offered a courtesy, as the King stumbled in front of him, whipping out a wand from his waist. “On your knees.” he ordered, with such disgust as no one has ever heard him before. Reynald did as instructed without hesitance. “Lower.” he had to be deeply punished for all of his thoughtless actions that served to ruin everything he worked so hard to build for his people. In an exhausted breath, yet still as kingly, he spoke “I am Jerusalem.” with another swift move, he took off the glove of his left arm, and the bandages, revealing a thoroughly maimed hand, along with a golden ring with a large ruby. “And you - Will give me the kiss of peace.” he extended his seeping, untreated, dirty hand towards Reynald, who started slobbering and kissing his fingers without hesitation.

From disgust and anger, the King used the scepter to strike his face - One, twice, and a few more times, until the idiot was on the ground, cradling his injured face. Though the physical exhaustion took over His Highness, and as he turned around, he stumbled to the ground, and into the sand. It was Tiberias who rushed to support him to stand, along with two guards, that helped him lay on a comfortable couch, as the Count of Tripoli commanded the arrest of the idiot. With a nod at the man, the King was risen with the bed, and carried out, so that he may return to Jerusalem, with the much needed aid, before he may return by himself, on horseback.

Once returned, however, the guards that greeted them started yelling ‘Imposter!’ and claiming the King that led them to Kerak, the King that settled peace with Salah al-Din, their most feared enemy, the King that punished Reynald - He was an imposter, and the real King Baldwin IV was in his study; The Imposter was quickly immobilised, struck down and roughly brought over before the real King, whilst the Imposter was thrown to the ground to kneel, despite Tiberias and the other knights’ protests and attempts to stop such blasphemy.

Before their eyes, however, the knights witnessed two Kings - One a little taller than the other, and dressed in his normal robes, sitting on the throne and reading; The other, on the ground, just smaller, and with the War outfit on. The King of Jerusalem rose on his feet, startled at the sudden disturbance, and the peculiar sight before his eyes; It would have been almost hilarious, were he not enraged at the guards having been so rough with the Imposter, when he did not ordered them so. “You may release that one.” though the guards looked in shock at the orders, they complied. “Of course, there is no one who knows me better, than yourself. I was foolish to believe you would just remain quiet, at home, where I asked you to be. You fool.” his scolding was light-hearted and tender. “Tiberias, tell me, how did the affairs go?” “Your Majesty... Ergh... Salah al-Din agreed to a truce, and Reynald de Chatillon was severely punished... By... You.” the Count of Tripoli found it difficult to voice out the ambiguous message. He was upset that he did not realise the truth sooner; He had let himself be tricked, and so well. “All of you - You may leave.” the King ordered with a dismissive yet respectful wave of his hand. “But -- My King -- The Imposter --” one of the knights stammered over his words. “There is no Imposter, but a loving Queen who was ready to accept anything may come, to save her husband from a life-ending journey.” the King stepped in front of the Imposter, and taking the silver mask off, revealed the beautiful face of the Queen; The revealed earned an ocean of protests and gasps - How was a woman capable of not only fooling everyone, but of mimicking the King so flawlessly. “Perhaps it is not that you know me best, but that you know me better than even I know myself. Truly, I am honoured, and my heart soothed with honeyed mead, to know that you have gone through such trials, for my sake. Foolish indeed, yet with such positive outcome that I am incapable of feeling anything but happiness.” with some difficulty, he knelt besides her, so that he may pick her hands and get her up. “As I told you so many times, my love, you do not bow to me, for it not I alone, but the both of us, that are Jerusalem.” “My sweet King, I bare good news, for once!” Y/N spoke for the first time since she’s arrived; Though her voice was weak from dehydration, not only was she happy that her quest was a success, and that her darling Baldwin was not upset with her tricking him, but she was also smiling so brightly, so much so that it surprised the young man, as he hasn’t seen her so genuinely blissful since they were children. “Salah al-Din sent over his physicians, and they offered a gift - It is called Chaulmoogra oil, and they said people in India and China use it to treat leprosy - The statistics show great improvement, unlike any other treatment before. That man truly respects and cherishes you as a rival, and a leader, my love.” Baldwin froze on the spot, seeing the woman reveal a rather large carafe that she kept hidden underneath the robes, hanging from the sash. Were it not too hasty to have hope again? A miracle treatment, so suddenly, for him? And even if he does get treated, his face will never recover, and he doubts his limbs are going to feel again. Still, he was unable to refuse her, seeing as it was the only thing that put such a genuine smile on her face, after so long. “Alright, my sweet flower - For you, I shall try any treatment, no matter how revolutionary or eccentric.”

He could barely keep himself standing up, as Y/N, in a fit of euphoria, threw her arms around his neck and swayed him. The treatment made him nauseated more often than not, and he vomited at some points, yet after good weeks of continuous intake of this oil, added with the herbal cleaning and ointments for his skin, and regular walking, his body was beginning to feel a little stronger than previously - It almost felt that he was getting younger. It was a scary feeling, for it was so good and hopeful, that he feared losing it, and in turn, Y/N’s happiness.

As Baldwin began regaining his strength, and to some degree, even the feeling in his arms and legs, and he was properly capable of holding a sword again, he was emboldened to think of a future of his own. First, he asked Sibylla whether he agrees to divorce Guy, especially now that she knows how awful of a man he was - But once again, he was denied - Thus, he was forced to exile this idiot, and with him, his sister also followed. With the timely death of his nephew, Baldwin V, at the mere age of 10, the King realised he had no direct Heir to ascend the throne once he dies, whenever that may be, and as he was incapable of creating an heir himself, and with Sibylla refusing to step up as a Queen, if Guy does not ascend with her; Once again, it fell on poor Tiberias to help out with this matter. He trusted Balian to become a good King, but of course, he wanted to live a peaceful life, as a blacksmith, not restrained by the burdens of a King.

Next, he had to get rid of both Guy and Reynald, permanently, so that there would be no risk of enticing the Muslim Leader to wage war on Jerusalem; Especially as he has him to thank for his unexpected recovery, and for as long as he may live, he will remain eternally grateful for his kindness.

Baldwin fortified the walls of Jerusalem and strengthened the bonds with the armies under him, and kept the Kingdom of Heaven safe. It was a true wonder, being able to stand on the balcony, with his wife’s arms around his body, and watch the starry night illuminating the city to beautifully, and the song of the crickets and toads resounding soothingly through the place.

Though he was still uncomfortable with letting go of the mask, knowing well enough that people will keep being horrified of his disfigured face, he felt at ease, dancing with his lovely white rose around their room, hearing her sweet giggles, and seeing that beautiful, dazzling smile of hers that captured his heart, from the very first time that he laid his eyes on her.

Baldwin was a fool, so deeply in love with Y/N, that he prayed to God every day not to make him up from this reverie, for he is eternally grateful for keeping his Faith in times of need, and that He replied to him with the greatest gift there was - Not just the treatment, but his Queen’s happiness restored. The glee of a fool in love.

------------------------------------------------------------------------- ANGST ENDING -------------------------------------------------------------------------

Though the quest that Y/N embarked on was a success, once she returned to Jerusalem, she was met with the reality of her husband’s health, which was degrading at such a swift pace, even without the journey made. It was ridiculous, thinking that she went through all of that, yet it aided Baldwin with nothing, save for two weeks of worry over her well-being. What a disaster, she thought to herself, as she returned to her room, her head hung, and discarding the Kingly outfit with annoyance and disgust, as though she was a little brat throwing a temper tantrum.

“I do not have the power to say how worried I was over you, for I cannot help but be so proud of my Queen, and infinitely happy beyond the horizon, to feel your heart soulbound to mine own. I missed you more than the deserts miss the rain.” though he tried to reassure Y/N, he knew he wouldn’t be seeing the change of the seasons.

And his prediction was correct; Soon, he was unable to move whatsoever, and his white outfit was changed with a royal black and golden one; Even his silver mask was replaced with a golden one, and he could only lay on the bed, his eyes mostly closed, and awaiting the sweet release of death.

Unexpectedly, Y/N was came over, smiling, but also crying, holding a goblet filled with honeyed red wine; She sat comfortably over his waist, looking down at him - She looked like a child, with her eyes glazed, and expression slightly dazed - And she took another gulp of the wine. “Oh. Hello, my sweet white rose.” it was difficult for him to speak, and though he wanted to address her unexpected drunkness, he couldn’t. He knew his time was ending, and perhaps selfish, he wished to see her smile as the last thing he’d witness in this world. “What were you dreaming of, my love?” she slurred cutely, dropping the now empty goblet to the ground, her hands placed on his chest, and slowly roaming up to his chest. “How great it would have been, if we were not separated by a curse.” she hummed, allowing herself to fall over on the bed next to him, smiling widely. “We are in the earthly Kingdom of Heaven. Once we reach the Celestial Heavens, there will be no afflictions or diseases hindering our love any longer, and for the rest of eternity, in the afterlife, our love shall continue onwards, transcending this unseen barrier between us.” she nuzzled into his side; Baldwin wasn’t sure whether she was giggling, or sobbing - Yet he was pretty sure she was doing both. “We will be ruling over nothing except our love, and we will have no responsibility, except to ourselves. We will finally be free to live, and to love... And to be happy.” “My love... What was in that wine?” with a lethargic move, Y/N pulled him into her body, his head resting onto her chest. “What were you dreaming of, my love?” she asked again - The excruciating revelation dawned on him - Y/N had poisoned herself. She could not bare seeing him die before her eyes, she couldn’t bare him dying before her, and her having to endure all the agony of a lonely life, with a shattered heart, never to be mended again. She cared little whether people would find out she killed herself, and she would get beheaded. Her only wish, written, was to be buried with him - Wish that she also voiced to him. “I was back in that summer, when I defeated Salah al-Din.” if he could cry, he would, not only for himself, but for Y/N feeling so heartbroken that she felt compelled to end it all. “Do you remember it? We were only 16.” “Of course I remember. I was so worried for you, out there, without anyone to care for you. I was praying to God every hour I was awake, to keep you safe, and have you return to me. I remember I jumped on you from happiness, as soon as you dismounted your horse. I toppled you to the ground. The Archbishop yelled at me for not behaving like a Queen, but Tiberias pushed him away, so he wouldn’t bother us.” he could only offer a weak, breathy chuckle as a reply. “You are as beautiful as the white rose that I put in your hair, that day, when we met. I am truly honoured that I had the fortune of being your husband. No man ever felt love, as much as I did, thanks to you.” he stole one last good look at her, before settling comfortably in her embrace. “My sweet white rose.” he called out. “Will you sing for me?” “Yes, my love. Allow me to sing you to sleep.”

I seek a man named Baldwin Whom I bid await me here I pledged that I would see him Before he leaves this sphere

This man of whom I speak He gave his heart to me But thence my soul grew weak And at last it too broke free

So borne upon an urgent breeze I travelled to his place Where only one thing could appease The torment I now face

Oh tell me I am not too late To see my love once more For that would be too cruel a fate I beg him be restored

That we may take a little time To bid our last farewell And remember all we shared erstwhile Such joy no one could quell

For never was a greater love Than that within our hearts Once born, forever binding us Through not e’en death we part

Who was the first to ascend to heavens, not even God knew, for they both appeared before him, holding each other so tenderly, looking like the most beautiful youth, foolishly in love with each other.

As in Eden, so on Earth, the two were found cradling each other, though the heart beat that once lulled the other to sleep, was no longer present; Yet a smile adorned both of their faces. Just as left on the note, Y/N was buried together with King Baldwin IV - The King and Queen who loved each other more than any before, and certainly, any in the future also - The two lovers who could never be torn apart, in life, death, or anything in between.

Up there, however, they were no a pair of King and Queen, but just a man and a woman, fated to eternally love each other. They were just themselves - Y/N and Baldwin - Two fools, so foolishly in love with each other.

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