#whichever she feels like doing in the moment

[mysterioussquigley]

𓌜˚.⋆ Shauna Shipman 𓌜˚.⋆ Nsfw Alphabet

⚠️Miners dni, Sensitive content, Nsfw⚠️

Pairings: Dark Top!Shauna Shipman X Afab!Reader

Content Warnings: knife play, choking, bdsm, sadism, masochism, abuse (when Shauna gets pissy she cuts you, deep), fingering, thigh humping, oral sex, degradation, masturbation, body worship (just a lil bit), semi-public sex, reference to canabalism, slut-shaming.

2.46k words

(This is my first time writing something like this, so I hope y'all enjoy! Honestly might’ve gone abit hard on the warnings but eh better safe then sorry. Feedback is welcome and if you have any requests/questions my inbox is open!!)

(#wantthat oh my god she's so hot🙏🙏)

꒷꒦✧˖°🫀⋆｡𖦹꒷꒦

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

𓌜˚.⋆ Really depends on her mood. Some days she'll leave you a pathetic, sweaty mess on the floor, swiftly redressing herself and walking away. Other times she'll lean back and watch as you regain your composure, a small smirk on her face as she admires her work. The way you shake as you come down from your high, your sweaty and red face, how you curl into yourself. But most often, she'll wrap you up in her flannel, trapping you in her arms and holding you close. Her mouth travelling from your head to your neck and chest, sucking, nibbling and biting her way down. Dont even think about trying to leave, or she’ll dig her canines deep into your shoulder, not caring how much it hurts. She would never admit it, but it soothes a part of herself knowing your safe in her arms, away from the others (and the cold). On those days, you'll have to have a scarf or something else prepared if you want to hide the Hickeys and bite marks littering your neck.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

𓌜˚.⋆ Hers are her hands. She loves spending time admiring every small nick or scar, the dirt and blood smudges, how jagged her previously perfect nails have become. She loves the way she can make you shake in anticipation or fear, by simply grabbing your neck. How she barely has to move them deep inside your cunt before you start coming apart in front of her.

𓌜˚.⋆ Her favourite part of you are your thighs and eyes. She's obsessed with watching your eyes as you fuck, how quickly they flash between fear, lust and love. She loves dragging your chin down so she can watch your reaction to her trusting the hilt of her knife deep inside you. And of course your thighs. Oh how she loves littering them with bites and hickeys, small nicks and cuts from the tip of her blade. The way they shake after you cum, and how soft they feel under her palms as she digs her nails in deep.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

𓌜˚.⋆ She cannot get enough of tasting you. Every time you have sex she finds some way to get a taste of you. Licking her fingers, eating you out, or nibbling on whichever object she's used to please you (almost always the hilt of her knife). Watching as you ride her thigh, waiting for the moment you're done to lean down and lick it off of her leg. Or even better, forcing you to do it.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

𓌜˚.⋆ Degradation. She would never admit it, not even to you, but she loves it when you talk condescendingly to her. Shaming her for how quick she is when trying to get in your pants. Calling her names as her head is in-between your thighs. But don't even think about calling her Shipman. The last time you tried to, you were left unsatisfied on the floor of the forest with a fresh and decently deep cut on your thigh.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

𓌜˚.⋆ Not very experienced. She'd only done it a few times with Jeff and she didn't even try to be dominant then. And the only thing she ever did with Jackie was slumber party make-out sessions. Her relationship with you has been a learning curve for the both of you, but she's a fast learner.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

𓌜˚.⋆ Anything where she can see your face.

𓌜˚.⋆ The way your eyes roll back into your head, the sweat glistening down your face, how your mouth is twisted and open letting out the cutest little moans. And of course your tits bouncing softly as she thrusts her fingers inside you. It gives her a rush that's more potent than anything she's ever felt before, even more than running her blade across your skin or wrapping her hands around your throat.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

𓌜˚.⋆ Almost entirely dead serious.

𓌜˚.⋆ When you two get down and dirty, you won't be getting anything sweet or goofy. You'll get a power hungry and lust filled smile, or a low throaty laugh. She's all about controlling you and she feels that if she breaks character and let's out anything that's not serious, she's lost all her control in the situation.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

𓌜˚.⋆ Well, having been living in bum-fuck nowhere for well over a year, all the girls shaving/waxing supplies either had run out early on or had been burnt in the cabin, there's not really anyway to shave. At the beginning, she tried to tame the bush (maybe in hope of a certain dirty blonde taking notice of her) but after Jackie's death she really couldn't give a shit anymore.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

𓌜˚.⋆ Surprisingly quite romantic.

𓌜˚.⋆ On the monthly anniversary of you two getting together, she'll pick some flowers and hang them throughout the hut, spreading their petals on the floor. She even purposely picks ones she knows you like, water lilies from down by the lake or sweet smelling wildflowers. On those nights, she'll take it slow. Little to no roughness, no knives or choking, just slow and intimate sex. Maybe she'll even bless you with a soft smile afterwards, in the glow of lantern light and the soft moonlight spilling through the doorway.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

𓌜˚.⋆ Only does it when she has no access to you. Either you or her are out hunting, down at the lake or occupied with one of the other girls, those are the only times she'll masturbate. Always thinking of you (at least that's what she says) and usually it's quick. It's not something she really enjoys doing, just sees it as a solution to whats distracting her from her job.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

𓌜˚.⋆ Knife play, choking and a little dabble of bdsm, specifically sadism and masochism.

𓌜˚.⋆ Shauna's knife is practically a part of her, so it's no surprise she brings it with her during sex. She doesn't use it to cut off your clothes, albeit very begrudgingly, but you can almost definitely expect her to use the hilt on you. Thrusting it inside you while rubbing rough circles around your clit, grinning as you cry from overstimulation. Whenever she feels like it, she'll leave little nicks and cuts across your skin.

𓌜˚.⋆ Oh, you can expect her to choke you, slipping her fingers together around your neck, leaving you just barely able to get enough breathe. Tying you up is also one of her favourites, using vines or rope to pin your arms above your head, legs spread wide open, inviting her to use and abuse your pussy.

𓌜˚.⋆ And she especially loves you inflicting pain on her. However she's careful to make sure she's still in control. The way your fingernails dig into her back or arms, leaving small drops of blood smudging her skin. Or when your so overwhelmed you bury your head into her neck and bite down hard, she especially adores that, treasuring those bites as proof she can

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

𓌜˚.⋆ Literally anywhere. My girl is a Freak with a capitol F.

𓌜˚.⋆ She's very willing to do the deed anywhere. Pushing you into the dirty forest floor, the rocky shore of the lake and on the softer floor of your shared hut, it dosen’t matter to her because whatever she wants she will get. More than once one of the girls have stumbled upon you two, and, obviously wise enough not to say anything, just walked away.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

𓌜˚.⋆ You, anytime she's angry, and privacy.

𓌜˚.⋆ Just looking at you and remembering that she owns you is enough to get her hot and needy, but it gets especially badwhen she's angry. As soon as shes able to, and sometimes even when she shouldn't, she’ll grab your arm painfully tight and drag you to a more secluded spot to fuck you raw. And then she'll cling to you for literal hours, until either you or her fall asleep.

𓌜˚.⋆ Privacy is another things that gets her motivated. Whenever she finds you two alone, either by the lake or in the woods, she'll stop for a moment and then pounce on you, having you naked and her head between your legs in under a minute.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

𓌜˚.⋆ Anything that reminds her of Jackie, anal and her bottoming.

𓌜˚.⋆ As stated before, the last time you tried to call her Shipman, she did a cut-and-run. Since you started dating, she's basically expected you to know what not to do to remind her of Jackie, and when you do she'll leave you with a pretty nasty cut. It imediantly kills her mood and shell probably avoid you for a few days before fucking you into an apology, though it wont be fun for you.

𓌜˚.⋆ Her need for control in your relationship has caused her to really dislike bottoming. The only thing she'll allow is degrading comments and the times when you cause her pain, but she’ll make sure you know she's still in charge. And anything to do with anal just gross’ her out majorly.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

𓌜˚.⋆ Has a light preference for giving, as you know she just loves the way you taste, having her head buried in your thighs and lightly nipping your cunt makes her light headed with lust. But she also can't get enough of grabbing fistfuls of you hair and guiding you down, keeping you there until she's satisfied or you desperately need a break. After all, she may be the Butcher, but she isn't heartless.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

𓌜˚.⋆ Depends on her mood and the occasion. On those slow and soft nights once a month, she prefers taking her time and worshipping your body, but whenever she's mad she'll be rough and fast.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

𓌜˚.⋆ Doesn't mind them but prefers to keep them minimal.

𓌜˚.⋆ Those times early in the morning where she can't help herself, but has to be quick before the others wake up, give her a distinct kind of thrill. Or whenever you two have to speed things along when the others are bound to walk in on you two. However when she can take her time with you, savour your taste, go for as many rounds as possible and use her binds and knife, that's when she's the happiest.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

𓌜˚.⋆ Absolutely 💯.

𓌜˚.⋆ Anything new the two of you can think of she's game to try. And when you live in a cannibal commune in the woods with barely any privacy, it's hard not to get ballsy in how openly you can fuck without getting caught.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

𓌜˚.⋆ Easily 3-4 rough rounds back to back. Having been practising incase of another hunt and getting her stamina up, she can go for awhile. Due to how often you two fuck, she's been able to prolong how long it takes for her to cum. However she savours testing your endurance, and how much you can take before you break.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

𓌜˚.⋆ The hilt of her knife and a stick she's been working on since the 3rd month they've been out there.

𓌜˚.⋆ Her knife is her favourite, the danger and ease of it makes it special to her. But goddamn that stick is something to be impressed by. Originally was a price of driftwood she found by the lake, shes wittled it down as smoothly as possible, with light detailing to increase pleasure. Shes made damn fucking sure theres a zero percent chance to get a splinter when using it on either herself or you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

𓌜˚.⋆ Often. Like, really often.

𓌜˚.⋆ She'll find little things to insult or make fun of you for: how needy your being, how wet you are, the way you moan. It's never truly mean, more slut-shaming but occasionally she'll get really nasty. She's recently taken an interest in delaying your orgasm, delighting in your begging whines as you shiver and thrash your bound limbs.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

𓌜˚.⋆ Usually quite low, but can get really loud.

𓌜˚.⋆ Grunts, moans, growls and low words of encouragement are most of the noises she makes, but when she gets close to her climax, she gets loud. Whenever your semi in public she locks you into a deep kiss to stifle her yells of pleasure, or bites down on her arm when your mouth isn’t available.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

𓌜˚.⋆ Loves to feed you well after a good fuck session. She makes sure to time your sessions about a half hour or less before she prepares a meal, making sure to give you the heartiest peices of meat and piles it up higher than anyone else's. She'll steal Misty’s guide book to wild herbs and hunt down a bunch of things to spice up your meal. The smile on your face and compliments on your meal are always enough to make her happy (even if she’ll never admit it).

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

𓌜˚.⋆ Lightly tattered mismatched bras and panties. There's not many options in the Wilderness.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

𓌜˚.⋆ Quite high.

𓌜˚.⋆ She uses sex as an outlet for her emotions and she very easily gets riled up, considering everything thats happened. Whether it's when she's angry, with you in private, or you just look particularly beautiful that day, she's very easy to set off.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

𓌜˚.⋆ Almost always over 30 minutes to be specific. Unless she's absolutely exhausted she rarely falls asleep before you. It's a fear of hers, that if she falls asleep she might wake up to your dead body (wonder where that came from). So unless she's 100% sure you're safe and wrapped up tightly in her arms, she won't be falling asleep anytime soon.

[dormiloncito]

got tagged by @piratebay to post characters that (i think) are me-coded!

😼

tagging: @plague-of-nice @pupuseriazag @alfajorsin @bonyato @fujimen and @kyueishin! no pressures as usual 😇

[dior-luxury]

Hi! I really like your headcanons! I was wondering if I could make a request for sebek, azul, jade, trey, and rook? Or whichever you want! The prompt: they forget they had a date with you and stood you up accidentally

Accidently Standing You Up On A Date

( ✧ ) ────── boyfriend stories . fluff/drama - she/her .

- [𝐜𝐡.] trey . azul . jade . rook. sebek

- [𝐩:𝐬] nothing rlly

Note: Thank you so much for enjoying my hcs!! ＞︿＜

Trey Clover

Trey is usually responsible and dependable, so when he realizes he completely forgot your date, he feels a wave of guilt wash over him. It probably hits him when he's in the middle of baking or helping out with a club activity, and suddenly, it clicks: he was supposed to meet you an hour ago.

Panic isn’t usually Trey’s thing, but right now, he’s scrambling. He quickly wipes his flour-covered hands, grabs his phone, and sees several missed messages from you. His heart sinks. Trey knows he’s messed up big time, and he doesn’t waste another moment.

Rushing over to where he was supposed to meet you, he spots you sitting alone, looking a mix of sad and disappointed. He takes a deep breath to calm his nerves before approaching you.

“Hey...” he calls softly, guilt heavy in his tone. As you look up, he’s already beside you, his usual calm smile tinged with regret. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I completely lost track of time. I know that’s no excuse. You must have been waiting for a while.”

Trey would be the type to offer a heartfelt apology without making any excuses. He’d carefully listen to you vent your feelings if you needed to, never once interrupting or brushing it off. When you finish, he gently takes your hand.

“To make it up to you, how about we go out right now? I’ll take you anywhere you want—no distractions, just us. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. And... I’ll bake your favorite treats tonight. Please let me make this right.”

Trey’s sincerity and his gentle, caring nature would shine through. You know he genuinely didn’t mean to hurt you, and seeing him so remorseful makes it hard to stay mad for long.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul prides himself on his organization and punctuality, so when he realizes he’s missed the date, his reaction is a mixture of disbelief and sheer panic. Maybe he got caught up in an overwhelming amount of work at Mostro Lounge or was drawn into an elaborate scheme. Whatever the reason, once he notices, his stomach twists painfully.

He fumbles for his phone, muttering curses under his breath, and when he sees your unanswered messages, he nearly drops it. Azul’s mind races, already imagining the hurt expression on your face. He feels sick with guilt, but Azul’s pride prevents him from sending a rushed apology text. No—he needs to do this in person.

He fixes his tie and tries to compose himself, but his nerves are shot. When he finally finds you, he hesitates, seeing the disappointment in your eyes. Azul straightens his posture, but there’s a rare, unguarded vulnerability in his gaze.

“Angelfish... I have no excuse. I failed to keep my promise, and I know I’ve hurt you. I cannot begin to express how regretful I am.” He pauses, voice softer. “Please, allow me to make it up to you. I’ll do anything you wish. A special evening at Mostro Lounge? A dinner prepared just for you? I just... I can’t stand knowing I’ve made you feel this way.”

Azul’s usual eloquence is laced with genuine worry. He hates feeling powerless, and the idea of losing your trust makes his chest ache. He’s prepared to offer you anything, but what really matters to him is hearing that you forgive him.

Later, he’d spend days planning something extravagant—a private dinner at the lounge with a dish named after you, symbolizing how important you are to him. He’d also be more careful about balancing his commitments, never wanting to repeat the mistake.

Jade Leech

Jade is usually composed and meticulous, so forgetting a date with you would be unusual for him. It likely happens when he’s out exploring the mountains, captivated by a rare mushroom species, or when he’s helping Azul at the lounge. Time tends to slip away from him when he’s fully absorbed, but the moment he remembers, his eyes widen just a fraction—an uncharacteristic break in his calm demeanor.

Jade takes a moment to assess the situation, letting out a small, almost amused sigh at his own mistake. Despite his outward composure, he feels a twinge of guilt. He quickly makes his way to the agreed-upon meeting spot, already calculating how to smooth things over.

When he finds you, his smile is warm but slightly apologetic. “Ah, there you are, my dear. I must apologize—it seems I lost track of time. I didn’t intend to keep you waiting.” His tone is calm and sincere, but he’s carefully observing your reaction, those heterochromatic eyes studying every flicker of emotion on your face.

If you express your disappointment, Jade’s smile softens. He steps closer, his hand brushing against yours. “It’s quite unlike me to be forgetful. I must have been too engrossed in my tasks... but that’s no excuse. Allow me to make it up to you. Perhaps a private dinner at the lounge? I’ll prepare something special myself.”

Jade is surprisingly gentle when making amends, and though he’s skilled at charming his way out of situations, this time, his apology is genuine. He doesn’t want you to doubt his intentions, and he’ll be extra attentive during your rescheduled date, showing that he values your time.

Rook Hunt

Rook is often poetic and passionate, but his passion can sometimes lead him astray. He probably gets caught up tracking a rare beast or observing the beauty of nature, completely losing track of time. It’s only when he notices the setting sun and the quiet of the forest that it hits him—he was supposed to meet you an hour ago!

Immediately, his heart pounds with both excitement and guilt. How could he, the ever-attentive hunter, forget his most beloved prey—you? Rook rushes back to campus, all the while crafting apologies in his mind. When he finally finds you, his face lights up with relief and regret.

“Mademoiselle! Mon trésor!” he calls out dramatically, dropping to one knee as he takes your hand, his green eyes sincere and almost pleading. “I have committed a most grievous sin! To leave you waiting, unknowing of my whereabouts—it wounds my heart! Forgive me, for I am but a fool who let himself be enchanted by the wild’s siren call!”

He listens attentively as you express your feelings, never once interrupting, and when you finish, he holds your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “Your forgiveness would be a treasure I would cherish. Allow me to make amends! I shall devote myself entirely to you for the evening—whether a serenade, a meal, or a grand hunt! Whatever your heart desires, I shall deliver!”

Rook’s apologies are grand and sincere, and his poetic nature makes it hard to stay upset. He’s genuinely remorseful and will likely spend the rest of the night showering you with affection and compliments to make you smile again.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek prides himself on his loyalty and punctuality, especially when it comes to his duties—or anything related to Malleus. So, when he realizes he missed your date, it’s like his entire world comes crashing down. He was probably caught up training or attending to Malleus, and when he remembers, his reaction is explosive.

“What?! I—IMPOSSIBLE! HOW COULD I—” Sebek’s voice booms as he panics, his brain trying to comprehend his mistake. He’s frustrated with himself and mortified at the thought of letting you down. Immediately, he sprints to the meeting place, not caring about the curious stares from fellow students.

When he finds you, his loud presence precedes him. “HUMAN! I—” He stops abruptly, seeing the hurt on your face, and his usual loud demeanor softens, his ears lowering slightly. “I... I failed to keep my word. There is no excuse for such negligence. You have every right to be upset with me!”

His fists clench at his sides as he struggles to maintain his usual proud posture, but you can tell he’s beating himself up inside. “I... I was training. I thought I’d be back in time, but I was careless. I do not deserve your forgiveness!”

If you tell him how you feel, Sebek’s frustration with himself only grows. “To fail both you and my own standards... I will accept any punishment you deem fit! But... I will not let it happen again! You are important to me, and I should have prioritized our time.”

Sebek would spend the next few days making up for his mistake, offering to accompany you everywhere, carrying your belongings, and trying to be extra attentive. He doesn’t quite know how to express affection as gracefully as others, but his efforts to make it up to you are both endearing and earnest.

[lyonnerileyauthor]

you live like Cinderella, used and abused by your so-called family, forced to work all day and live in the barn like a rat. you clean up after them every moment, doing all the chores and cooking all the meals. you're tired, so tired of the punishments that meet you for stepping slightly out of line.

one day, it goes too far. with a broken arm, you hobble back out to the barn, intent on one goal: to get revenge and escape this place.

there's a village witch, you see, who everyone detests. they throw food at her when she comes to the village and taunt her as she buys her groceries. you find your way to her house after dark, and knock on her door. when she sees you, it's as if she expected you, and she has a small stack of ingredients ready.

mix them together over a flame and chant these words, she says. this spell will fix what ails you.

you chant the words and stir the mixture. then, as instructed, you pour it out onto the floor. the whole barn turns red, bright red, and you wonder if you've made a mistake by listening to that old witch.

he appears in a puff of smoke, skin as crimson as the dawn sky, with a spaded tail that flicks like a cat's. he has many horns along his crown, and a snakelike tongue darts out as he regards you.

for what purpose have you summoned me? he asks. but all you have to do is show him your arm, and he understands.

he rains down punishment upon the family, turning their house to ash, sending his fire nymphs to chase and beat them. when the true monsters are burned and bruised, he aims to kill, but you stop him.

that's good enough, you say. you've had your revenge. but you see, he's infuriated at how you've been treated. he wants to end this, to bestow the final blow, but you convince him to let them live with their punishment.

then what else can I do? he asks. where will you go next?

you'll wander, you figure, until you find a new home. at least now you're free.

then I will wander with you. he's not ready to return to the other realm yet, not while you still need his help.

together, you abandon the village before anyone can discover what you've done. deep in the woods, though, there's nowhere to sleep except the circle of the demon's monstrous arms.

I promise I won't use my claws, he says, welcoming you into them. here, ensconced in him, you feel his cock emerge from that pocket at his groin. he doesn't move to use it, but you find you want him to—this creature who saved you, who has helped you without asking for payment in return. he's marvelous, powerful, and strange. perhaps this is how you might reward him.

you spread yourself and slowly, sink down on that massive crimson cock. he groans as you take all of him, soaking up his need, coasting on a river of your desire. you begin at your own pace, until his lust grows overwhelming—and then he throws you down to the forest floor, his eyes wild and red. now he fucks you harder, claiming you, owning you. you're mine now, he mutters, bringing you to your finish over and over again. he will eat your pleasure until there's nothing left, drowning in it.

when you're finished, you sleep; but soon he grows hard again, his craving for you having taken over. when you've restored your strength, he fucks you again, demanding that you never leave him. whichever realm you choose, he'll stay by your side.

[wheeboo]

for a moment, forever | choi seungcheol

SYNOPSIS. in which while shopping for wedding dresses for your best friend, you can't help but want to try one on too. PAIRING. choi seungcheol x gn!reader (ft. jihyo from twice as reader's engaged best friend) GENRE. fluff, established relationship WARNINGS. mild cursing, terms of endearment, reader wears a wedding dress, cheol doesn't show up until like halfway into the fic HAHAH WORD COUNT. 2.2k

notes: this is lowkey me describing my dream dress if i do somehow get married lmao so also self indulgent too ig, and it was fun searching up dresses! this also reminds me of that one scene from extraordinary attorney woo. if u know u know :') happy belated bday cheol <3

[02:39PM | y/n] should be done with jihyo's appointment in a few hours!! you can pick me up then bub❤️

[2:41PM | cheol 💕] Sounds good, my love. I'll see you then 😊

"Wait, oh my God, that one is beautiful!"

"Right?!" Jihyo exclaims eagerly before swiping to the next photo in her camera roll, on it displayed a gorgeous mermaid wedding dress that she had saved from Pinterest. "Okay, not sure if I like the mermaid ones but this was one was too pretty to not be saved."

"You can always ask to try one on too. I still think you'd rock whichever one you put on," You tell her, lacing an arm around hers as the two of you approach the bridal boutique that was just around the corner. "I still can't believe you're getting married."

When you and Jihyo exchange knowing glances with each other, squeals of excitement escape both of you. It feels surreal, almost like a dream knowing that your best friend is about to walk down the aisle and take her first steps into married life. Just ahead of the two of you, the bridal boutique gleams with soft lights and elegantly displayed gowns in the windows.

As you both step inside, the cozy warmth of the boutique wraps around you, and a subtle, lingering floral scent and delicate perfume fills the air. The interior is enchanting yet inviting, with a variety of dresses arranged by style. The boutique's consultant greets you both with a welcoming smile, and after a brief chat and a rundown of the different options, she leads you to a private area where Jihyo can begin her fitting.

You follow Jihyo as she naturally gravitates towards the gowns on display. You can tell she's already picturing herself in each dress. It's a bit overwhelming being surrounded by so many intricately designed dresses, like you've walked straight into a world of fairytale. Lace, satin, tulle𑁋every fabric imaginable seems to be represented here.

While helping Jihyo pick out some dresses, you can't lie that some have caught your eye more than you can admit. Knowing that one day these dresses will be worn by someone on of the most important days of your life fills you with awe. The thought makes your heart full, and briefly, you can't but help but imagine yourself walking down the aisle one day.

For a moment, your mind flickers to the thought of Seungcheol, and your heart does a jump.

One particular white tulle, floral embroidered dress with off-shoulder sleeves catches your attention. It's a perfect blend of elegance and romance. You let your hand run over the delicate embroidery, marvelling with admiration at the elaborate details caressed over every inch of it. The floral patterns are so finely crafted that they seem to bloom like real flowers right out of the fabric.

"Y/N, you need to try that on right now!"

You turn swiftly at the sound of Jihyo's commanding voice. "What? No, I can't𑁋"

"Come on, please!" Jihyo urges insistently while holding just about a dozen dresses in her hands. "It's so beautiful!"

"But this is for your special day, not𑁋"

"Honey, you and Seungcheol have been together for so long now, and sooner or later, you're going to have your special day too. Just try it on for fun, and I’d love to see how it looks on you!"

Okay, she really didn't have to bring up Seungcheol like that, but now you can't get it out of your head. An odd, fluttery feeling bursts in your stomach on top of the embarrassment crawling up your neck.

"Fine," You relent with a playful look. "But I'll do it after you try on all your dresses. Once again, today is for you, missy."

A wide grin spreads across her face as she shuffles towards the fitting room. "It's a deal!"

The next hour or so you spend lounging on the couch as Jihyo tries on dress after dress. Each one seems to bring out a different side of her: from elegant to dramatic, playful to sophisticated. You can’t help but laugh and cheer her on, snapping pictures and videos to capture every moment. You also help with various aspects of the fittings, from adjusting straps to even adding the veil on her head.

"You look like a princess!" You exclaim, clapping your hands as she twirls in a voluminous ball gown in front of the mirror.

"I feel like one!" Jihyo giggles, even doing a dramatic hair flip to add for an endearing touch.

The last one that she tries on is a mermaid dress with stunning lace detailing and a long, flowing train that spreads across the floor like ocean waves. As she steps out of the fitting room, the dress hugs her curves perfectly, and she looks every bit of a confident, radiant bride shining in her own element.

"Girl," You gasp out, voice full of awe. "that dress was made for you. You look absolutely stunning!"

Jihyo gazes at herself in the mirror. "Really?"

"Yes!" You claim, and you almost want to cry thinking about your best friend walking down the aisle. "I can so picture you walking down the aisle in this, holy shit."

Jihyo chuckles bashfully at your reaction.

"I'm going to be a bride," she says aloud, somewhat to herself and in a way announcing to the world too, before turning to you with a gleeful expression. "I'm going to be a bride!"

[04:45PM | cheol 💕] Are you done, sweetheart? I got to leave work earlier and just arrived at the place. Might come in since it's boiling outside 😅

"I really don't know about this𑁋"

"Come on, just try it on!" Jihyo nudges you ever so slightly to the fitting room, the dress trembling in your grasp. "This will be us doing some early preparations for your wedding, 'kay?"

Reluctantly, you find yourself stepping into the fitting room, the dress in your hands feeling both light and heavy at the same time. Taking a long, deep breath, you start to change into the dress as the consultant comes to your side to assist.

At first, the fabric feels odd against your skin, the delicate embroidery and soft tulle brushing against your shoulders as you put on the dress. The off-shoulder sleeves fit surprisingly snug when you slip them through your arms. The floral patterns seem to come alive right before your eyes, just like they had when you first saw the dress.

You take the first glance of yourself in the mirror in the fitting room, and it's almost as if you've been kicked in the gut and all the words had left you.

"Wow," You whisper to yourself, doing a small spin to see how the dress looks, and it feels absolutely magical to be the one wearing this dress right now.

Scrambling slightly, you look around your scattered belongings on the floor for your phone, knowing that you just have to capture this very moment before you would have to take the dress off.

But you can't find your phone anywhere.

"Crap, where did I put it?" You mumble annoyedly, having to move your dress around to get a better look, yet you still don't see it. Did you leave it outside? "Hey, Jihyo! If you're out there, can you pass me my phone?"

No response.

"Jihyo?"

Still no response.

Deflating your shoulders, you decide you might as well step outside to retrieve it.

"I didn't think the dress would fit this good. It's a bit heavier than I thought but I think I could manage𑁋"

And then you freeze, almost as if you were caught red-handed committing some sort of heinous crime, because Seungcheol is standing not that far away from you, eyes wide with disbelief and mouth dropped down to the floor at the sight of you wearing the wedding dress.

For a few moments, it's like the world stops as well, and you start to feel a little self-conscious under his gaze.

"Cheol? What are you..." Then you look down at yourself and the dress you were wearing. "You're here earlier than I-I thought, I should go change𑁋"

Seungcheol blinks back to reality from your words. "Wait, no, don't move, please."

He keeps his eyes locked on you, his gaze moving from your face, to the way the dress hugs and accentuates your figure in all the right ways, then back up again. You can practically see the gears turning in his head. You can't help but feel a blush creeping up your cheeks as you stand there, awkwardly holding the hem of the dress in your sweaty hands.

You can hear your heart pounding in your chest. This is not how you imagined seeing Seungcheol after Jihyo's appointment. You were expecting a casual, friendly greeting, maybe a quick kiss, and then a drive home. But this... this is different. You've been with Seungcheol for years, but he's staring at you like he's seeing you for the first time.

"Wow, I..." He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly before placing his hands in his pockets. "You're fucking breathtaking, honey."

Your cheeks burn brighter than ever, some sort of choked sound leaving you at his bluntness. You glance down at the dress, then back at Seungcheol.

"You... You think so?" You ask, voice timid and tainted with unsureness.

"Think so?" he repeats, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I know so. I can't take my eyes off you."

A rush of heat climbs up your neck as you avert your eyes away, pretending to adjust the hem of the dress, fingers clumsily tugging at the material. The dress suddenly feels suffocatingly hot and you don't know how much more you can take.

His eyes still don't leave you even when he steps closer, the features of his face softening into simply an adoring look.

You could feel your feet melting into the ground below. "Cheol, I should really go change𑁋"

"Not yet," he says firmly, and you stay put. "Just let me look at you for a little longer, please?"

That familiar, pleading tone to his voice makes your heart run laps in your chest and causes your knees to feel like jelly. He takes a few more steps towards you, and before you know, he's standing right in front of you, half-lidded eyes flickering between yours and your lips. He takes a hand out of his pocket and reaches out to gently cup your face, letting a finger trace slowly over your cheek, leaning in just close enough to whisper in your ear.

"I can't wait to marry you."

His words come out so quiet that you're barely able to hear it. And before you can respond, some loud, marching footsteps snaps you out of thought.

"Y/N! Look at this, I found the perfect veil for you!" When Jihyo sees you and Seungcheol, she stops short in her tracks, glancing at the sight of you in the dress and Seungcheol standing in front of you appearing as if he was just two seconds away from kissing you.

You clear your throat loudly, stepping away from Seungcheol and towards Jihyo.

"You found a veil for me?" You ask her.

"Yeah, put it on!" Jihyo hands you the dainty veil. "I went through hell trying to find a good one and I think this one works perfectly."

You feel Seungcheol's eyes on you as you carry the veil towards the mirror and carefully place it over your head. The light, airy fabric showers down around you, complementing the elegant gown. As you adjust the veil to your liking, you catch a glimpse of your reflection and can't help but smile. You see Seungcheol in the mirror as well, staring at you with an intense gaze of admiration.

And when you turn around, Seungcheol thinks you look more beautiful than what his imagination could possibly give him. He has to bite at his bottom lip in order to suppress some of the giddiness threatening to spread throughout his body, and the thought of seeing you again in a wedding dress makes him almost dizzy.

You're like an angel who has stepped foot into his world. The dress houses your wings and the veil is your halo. It's a perfect vision of the future he’s been dreaming about for so long it nearly makes him burst; a reality that he never thought he'd be seeing so soon.

He's going to marry you𑁋he knows he will. He knew that from that moment you first smiled at him back in your freshman year English class, all because you both simply made unexpected eye contact while you were introducing yourself. He knew it even more when he embarrassingly fell on his ass during a university soccer game and your laugh was the only sound that he could hear.

This is his first peek of forever with you, and he can't wait for it to all come true.

Seungcheol faintly hears you ask what he thinks about it, and only the heavens know how much he wants to answer by putting that ring stashed in the depths of his bedside drawer on your finger right then and there. But there's a time and place for everything. He has to make sure everything is perfect first.

So, yeah, he should really get to planning. And right now seems like a good start.

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[princessbellecerise]

The Sowing of Seeds

Summary ✩ Ulf the White was an imbecile in Jacaerys’ eyes. A drunk and an unworthy dragon rider. However, the Prince finds that his sweet daughter might not be so bad…

Warnings ✩ Smut, mean!Jace, Jace being an ass, classism, self doubt, loss of virginity, innocent!reader, creampie, oral sex, unequal power dynamics (reader is smallfolk and Jace is a Prince), slight mentions of blood

Despite your father’s sloth and drunkenness, you were a sweet little thing.

Jace could not help but to notice you. He tried not to, gods he really did, but with your innocent smile and kind laughter it was hard not to notice the girl who was the complete opposite of your dragon riding father.

You see, when Ulf the White answered the call to Dragonstone, he hadn’t been alone. You his daughter had come with him and it was only natural since you’d been taking care of your father all your life.

You weren’t sure who your mother was exactly, but Ulf always told you that she had long silver hair, purple eyes, and—depending on how many drinks he had that night—skin as pale as the moon or as dark as rich chocolates.

Whichever it was, your father was known for his embellishments, and often times his lack of manners. It wasn’t as if you’d had the most fancy of upbringings in Fleabottom, but you still liked to think that you had some class.

Your father, of course, had no care for such things. As long as he had a drink in hand and a listening ear, he could make himself comfortable anywhere. And unfortunately, right now he had both of those things.

You shook your head disapprovingly and frowned as you saw him seated at the war table, feet propped up and blabbering to Hugh about some tale or another.

You tried to warn him, you really did.

“This kind of behavior is not acceptable here,” You had hissed at him. Like always though, your father didn’t listen. He did as he pleased and now that he had a dragon, he felt entitled to do so.

So when the Prince Jacaerys marched in angrily and settled his fiery gaze onto your father, all you could do was wince and think,

I told you so.

“My Prince.”

You lowered your gaze and refused to make eye contact as he passed you. Suddenly, your worn down shoes became the most interesting thing in the room and you could feel Jacaerys’ stare on you briefly before it turned back to your father.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His accusing tone was not lost on you and your father quickly stood up, a grin on his face as he approached.

“Ah! There he is. Prince Jacaerys in the flesh!” He chuckled as he reached the Prince, not seeming to know or care that he was pissed.

“That’s my mothers’ seat you were sitting in,” Prince Jacaerys hissed, and the only thing he got from your father was a full-fledged laugh.

“Oh, it was just a bit of fun, my prince! I meant no harm,” Ulf waved him off. “You could use a bit of that round here, couldn’t you? All that handsome face is missing is a smile. Look at you—those lovely dark curls. I bet you get all the women with those looks eh?”

“Father!”

You sharply gasped as he carelessly ruffled the Prince’s hair, only stopping once Jace grabbed his arm and squeezed.

Your father winced, probably not expecting the Prince’s grip to be so tight. Briefly, you saw his fingers inch towards the sword that was seated on his hip, and the idea to cut in so that he wouldn’t cut off your father’s hand quickly reached you.

“Forgive him, my Prince. He is not familiar with the manners of court,” You quickly explained.

Jacaerys scoffed. “Or any manners at all, I’d say,” He said. His gaze once again traveled back to you, standing quietly as second hand embarrassment from your father washed over you.

You could tell that his actions irritated the prince more than he already was. He had a habit of looking down on you from the moment that you arrived, and now it seemed that his belief that none of you were good enough was validated.

“And you…” You flinched as Jacaerys’ amber gaze settled on you, breath quickening as a frown appeared on his face.

“How could you allow this? I thought you were better than this.”

The words stung more than anything you could’ve imagined. The implication that the Prince thought highly of you before this encounter made you both want to cry and strangle your father.

You opened your mouth to explain his behavior, to apologize for Ulf like you’d done so many times before. But suddenly,

“I’ll need a word with you to discuss the issue of this behavior,” The Prince suddenly said. You froze. “There is clearly a conversation needed to be held about how to behave yourselves at court.”

Your eyes widened. “But, my Prince—”

“Now.”

His harsh tone left no room for arguing. And neither did his glare. Quickly, you bowed your head in understanding and you tried not to cry as you locked eyes with your father.

Ulf stared at you as you followed the Prince, a hint of something that might have been guilt in his eyes. Whatever it was, you didn’t linger long enough to decipher it before you were gone, following Jacaerys and his guard until you reached another room.

You had to walk nearly halfway across the castle to get there. Briefly, you took in the sights of Dragonstone’s interior and figured that this must have been a place Dragonseeds were forbidden to enter.

Queen Rhaenyra had told you upon arrival that there were only three. The dragon pits without permission, the war council chambers, and the floor of their personal chambers.

Your eyes widened when you realized that this was latter.

“Leave us,” Jacaerys ordered that the two of you be left alone as soon as you walked into his room, making nerves practically explode in your belly.

You wondered if maybe this conversation was that serious to where he didn’t want anyone around to witness what he had to say. Again, your breath hitched as the thought of him bringing you here to privately tell you that you were being hanged or kicked off of Drgaonstone crossed your mind.

You prayed that neither would happen as fear struck your heart.

As the Prince Jacaerys turned to you with a disappointed gaze, you felt like you could hardly breathe. You tried so hard to avoid his gaze, but it was moot as Jacaerys placed a finger your chin and made you look at him.

“He cannot keep doing that,” Was the first thing the Prince said to you, and you were quick to agree as you nodded your head.

“I apologize, my prince. I really do! As I said, my father did not have the most civil of upbringings, and it is hard for him to adjust to all the new ways we must conduct ourselves.”

“And yet somehow, you’ve somehow grasped them just fine, despite being raised by him. Have you not?”Jacaerys mused.

You did not know what to say as you stared into his kind amber eyes. Compared to the look he had given your father, his gaze was considerably softer and you wondered why as you cleared your throat.

“I try…I try not behave as unruly as my upbringing, my prince,” You told him. Trying to ignore how your heart skipped a beat, noticing how handsome he was and how difficult it was to make eye contact with him because of it.

Jacaerys was easily the most attractive and the most important man you had ever met. With full lips, long lashes, and a dashing smile, he looked just like the prince’s you used to dream of rescuing you when you were a girl.

You had not been lying when you said that your childhood had been unruly. Often times, it consisted of taking care of your drunk father and working as soon as you were old enough.

You did little things here and there, enough to keep food on the table and afford shelter amongst others. But the streets of King’s Landing weren’t kind to any children, let alone little girls.

Often times, the only way to earn a decent living was either to leave or stay and sell your body.

No matter how hard times got, you vowed to yourself to never do the latter. No matter what, you just wanted to maintain your dignity and survive, which why you why you were so afraid of being kicked out.

Your father might’ve been too absorbed in his cups to remember what it was like, but you didn’t. You remembered every cold night, every threat of starvation and death.

Here on Dragonstone, those kinds of things didn’t exist. You could eat as much as you wanted, drink so much that your head didn’t throb from the lack of water.

You did everything right here to avoid going back to that place, but was your father really going to be the one to mess it up for you both?

“Hm.” Jacaerys let his eyes roam over you for a few seconds before responding. “You are different from them, you know. You are not like the other…mongrels my mother has invited into our home.”

You swallowed thickly as he took a few steps closer, trying to ignore the sting in your heart at the insult. “How so, Prince?” You managed to ask.

You were ever aware that the things you were thinking about could get you hanged. But gods, Prince Jacaerys was just so pretty that you almost wanted to be like your father and run your hands through his hair.

You wondered what it would feel like to touch a prince. To feel him on your fingertips, and the mere thought had you shivering as his eyes bore into you.

“Well for starters, none of them are as pretty as you,” The Prince smiled.

You reeled back at the compliment, not used to hearing any sort of praises from a man, let alone a Prince. His words had your cheeks growing hot, thankful he could not see the blush creeping on your skin as he continued.

“They are not smart like you are, nor courageous. When Vermithor released his rage you did not flee like the others, did you? You stood your ground to protect your father and it made the dragon deem you worthy. Now that is something I can admire. That is what makes you special.”

“M-My Prince. I—”

“Shh. Call me Jacaerys. Please?”

You shook lightly as he stepped forward, resting a hand on your face and stroking your cheek. You swore that you felt ready to pass out as the Prince rested his forehead against yours, his lips so close that you could feel his breath as his spoke.

“Tell me Dragonseed, and don’t lie. Have you thought of me the way that I’ve been thinking of you these past few weeks?”

“I…Jacaerys!” You let out a gasp, eyes wide as his lips brushed your ear. The sound was so sweet to Jace that he couldn’t help but to smile wider, liking the way that you shivered at his touch.

“I cannot get you from my mind, Y/N,” He confessed quietly. You tried to stop your heart from falling out of your chest as you stood there, stunned. “You plague me like a disease that will not go away. I’ve tired, but I’ve concluded that no remedy will rid me of this ache until I’ve tasted its cause. Until I’ve tasted you, sweetling.”

You stopped breathing momentarily as his pink lips brushed over your neck.

“M-My Prince, Jacaerys, we shouldn’t. I—”

“Do you not want to?” Jacaerys pulled away to stare at you quizzically, waiting for you to give any indication that you wanted him to stop.

While you didn’t, and while you couldn’t ignore the way your body lit on fire form his touch, you still couldn’t deny that a part of this wrong.

“I…You are a prince. I’m just a girl from Fleebottom. A bastard,” You told him weakly, reminding him of his position and your own. “I’m not…I’m not very worthy of you, my Prince. You said it so yourself.”

Quite ashamed, he remembered when you had accidentally walked in on a conversation with his mother and heard him call you that.

You had apologized to no ends for it, but even then Jace had felt guilty when he saw the hurt look on your face.

“I regret deeply what I have said, and I wish I never said it,” He confessed. “I admit, upon seeing strangers claim the birthright I’ve always been entitled to, I grew resentful. I did not think any of you were worthy enough but the dragons themselves have proven me wrong. You…” He shook his head as he smiled. “You are more than worthy of it Y/N, and I believe you are worthy of me. Do you accept this?”

It took only half a second for you to nod, and then giving into your desires, you allowed Jacaerys to kiss you again, feeling yourself getting lost as he guided you to his bed.

The sheets made of velvet and silk were the second softest thing that you had ever felt. The first was Jacaerys’ touch, feather light yet still intoxicating as he ran his hands down your body.

They roamed where no one else’s hands had roamed before, pinching and squeezing and clawing at the fabric that hid what he really wanted. All the while, his soft mouth moved against yours, urgency and desperation in his kiss.

You wondered how long he had desired this for. How long had the Prince laid in bed, thinking of having you like this while you simply had no clue. Had it been weeks? A month? The entire time you’d been here?

That thought alone had wetness pooling between your legs, the excitement of knowing a Prince desired you turning you on like no other.

Eagerly, you allowed Jacaerys to pull away in order to pull your dress down, the flimsy cotton easily giving away to his harsh pulling.

It wasn’t like you were a lady, so no corset or small clothes masked your body. Instead, your breasts sprang free the moment the fabric was pulled down, and Jace licked his lips hungrily as he dipped down.

“Oh!”

He started by taking one of your nipples into his mouth, and sucking like a babe desperate for milk. His soft lips wrapped around the bud until he was satisfied with the mark left on your skin, and the gasps that left your lips

Then, the prince carried on.

He kissed eagerly down your body, pulling and ripping at the fabric without a care in a world. Never mind that this was the only ‘nice’ dress you could afford, neither you or Jacaerys cared.

Your body was too busy reacting to the feel of his lips, jolting whenever he kissed a sensitive spot on your belly. The further down he got, the more it seemed like the pleasure and sensitivity increased.

Finally, the Prince managed to wiggle your dress completely off and you blushed as you were exposed.

Never before had you revealed yourself to a man, and Jacaerys’ reaction did not disappoint.

His amber eyes lit up as he spread your legs, using one hand to keep you from covering yourself. You were a bit shy about being on display in front of him, but Jacaerys shook his head every time you tried to curl away.

“Do not hide from your Prince, dragonseed,” He said firmly, running a finger over your most intimate parts. “That is an order.”

Fire licked at your body as the Prince smirked, liking the way you obediently nodded your head at him and moaned when he touched your cunt.

It was cute and painfully obvious at just how inexperienced you were. You whimpered nearly every time Jace’s finger teased you, gathering your wetness on his fingers and seeing how you reacted.

Every time you panted out his name, looking at him through your eyelashes, he swore he was going to make a mess in his pants.

The ache was nearly killing him, and he desired to feel some type of relief before he took you.

You looked at him, confused when the Prince pulled you up and made you get off the bed.

Naked and shy, you stood before him with your arms wrapped around your gorgeous body, unsure what to do until the Prince approached you and said,

“Get on your knees, bastard.”

You gasped at the foul name that had left his lips, not expecting him to be so…bold. His own status seemed to be forgotten in his mind, and his dark eyes peered down at you smugly as you did what he wished.

Shaking, you kneeled down in front of him and whimpered when Jace took ahold of you cheeks, squeezing them before lightly before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

When he got back up again, you could see him fumbling with the belt of his tunic, loosening it before stripping altogether.

The Prince stood before you, naked and aroused and you had never felt so unworthy of seeing such a beautiful sight. Your mouth drooled, your cunt throbbing at the idea of his pretty cock being inside of you.

“Open your mouth.”

Immediately, you did as he commanded though you weren’t sure why. You thought coupling was done a different way, but you were shocked when Prince Jacaerys rubbed the tip of his cock against your lips.

He teased you for a little bit, shoving the tip inside of your mouth before taking it out. He loved seeing the way you gasped lightly, obviously not used to this.

This foreign act had your heart hammering in your chest, no clue what to do as the Prince eased his cock in your mouth.

He went slow at first, giving you time to adjust to the new sensation but that didn’t mean he was all that nice. Once he felt the way your lips wrapped around him, so soft and so unsure, he couldn’t help but to thrust deeper, chuckling slightly as you mewled.

He grabbed your hair, and it took everything inside of you not to pull away as his cock slipped down your throat.

You gagged as his tip triggered your reflex. Almost instinctly, your hands came to grab his hips so you’d get better control, sniffling when his cock finally settled all the way in. You could taste his preseed combining with your own spit, making it easier to suck him off.

Though you were a novice at sucking cock—and he could tell—Jace still tried to guide you as best as he could. He used your hair as a way of telling you how you were doing. He squeezed to the point where you cried out if you did something wrong, and he stroked it lovingly if you did it right.

He loved seeing the way that you gagged, you cheeks puffed and wet with tears. In his mind, there was no better position for a bastard like yourself than on your knees, taking your Princes’ cock just the way he commanded.

It made Jace feel powerful to see you cry, obviously struggling but unwilling to disobey your beautiful Prince.

By the time he pulled out, your throat was raw and Jacaerys was on the brink of his peak. Surprisingly though, he held back, giving you moment to breathe before helping you up.

You had just barely caught your breath before the Prince’s lips were on yours again, and you melted into the kiss and tried to hold him tight.

The Prince allowed it, liking how desperate you were to feel him. Of course, it was your naïvety that lead you to act this way, the need to be held by the man who would be your first strong.

You were happy enough when Jace set you down on the bed again. This time, he wasn’t so mean to you as he laid down, grinning as he guided your hips towards him.

It was safe to say that you were confused all over again when he lined your cunt up to his mouth, not to mention, horrified.

“Jacaerys, I’ll…I’ll smuggle you,” You panicked as he grabbed your ass and guided you down, but the only response you got from the Prince was a chuckle.

It sent rippling vibrations against your cunt, making you gasp. You trembled as Jace’s tongue darted out to taste you, crying out as the Prince sucked on a spot you never even knew existed before.

The sheer amount ecstasy that filled your body couldn’t be described, only cherished as Jacaerys got to work.

He lapped at your cunt, making sure to pay attention to your pearl. He loved the way you squirmed as he did, out of breath and desperate as you rode his face.

Your previous worries about possibly suffocating him went away as the pleasure distracted you from caring. You grinded your cunt against the Prince’s sharp nose without a care in the world. Eagerly taking his mouth, and greedily chasing the sensation that was beginning to build in your belly.

It had your legs shaking and your frustrations at an all time high when Jacaerys suddenly pulled away.

He pushed you from his mouth and licked his lips, ignoring the way you whined and reached from him.

Gentle yet firmly, he wrapped an arm around you and flipped you in your back. Now, Jacaerys hovered over you with a hungry look in his amber eyes, smirking lightly as he saw the eager look on your face.

You must have known what was coming as he rubbed his aching tip along your folds, feeling that you were now well prepared enough for him to fuck you. It was with this thought that the Prince finally pushed in, keeping your hips steady and groaning as he sank in.

Instantly, you screwed your eyes shut as he pushed through your barriers. Jacaerys had no clue, no idea that a woman could have been this tight. You seemed to squeeze the very life out of him which threatened to made the Prince cum faster than he wanted to.

In order to savor it, he went slow and you were grateful for it. The pressure between your legs only seemed to grow the more that he pushed in, and finally Jacaerys was forced to acknowledge your maidenhood as you cried out.

He felt something break inside of you as you did, and when he looked down, he cursed at the redness that coated his cock.

“You’re a maiden?” He asked softly, looking more guilty than he ever had as a small yet subtle tear ran down your cheek.

You nodded, your cunt throbbing as you squeezed him desperately.

“Y-Yes,” You sniffled a slight pain spread through your body, wigging to alleviate some of the discomfort. “I’ve never even kissed a man before you, my Prince. I swear!”

Jacaerys moaned as he sunk further inside of you. Kissing both of your cheeks as if to soothe you, and allowing you to bury your sweet face into his neck as he held you. “Gods, how is this even possible? How can a mongrel like your father sire someone so perfect?”

You did not have an answer to that, too caught up in the feeling of being fucked for the first time to respond.

In the beginning, Jacaerys took it slow, letting you adjust to him whilst he peppered your neck with kisses and brushed any tears away. He let you decide when he moved, and once the sting in your lower regions faded away you gave him the okay to do so.

Slowly, he pulled out of you only to sink back in. You whimpered as Jacaerys filled you to the hilt, wrapping your legs around his back to keep him there and capturing his mouth.

As you kissed, you suddenly felt emotions overcome you like never before. Lust, passion, love—it was all too much. It made your head spin in the best ways possible, loving the way Jacaerys used your body, loving the way he fucked you.

It got better the more you began to relax, and eventually your cunt didn’t strain as much to take him. In fact, all of the wetness between your legs allowed Prince Jacaerys to slide in and out with ease, fucking you balls deep every time so that you could feel every thrust. Savor every vein and every inch of his delicious cock.

It had you moaning pathetically and tugging at his hair. Just like you predicted, it was soft underneath your fingertips; silky. The smell of his body and his gorgeous locks could be traced back to the oils he had used this morning, and his scent was just as intoxicating for you as yours was for him.

“Fuck. Tell your Prince how good his cock feels inside of you. Tell me,” Jacaerys demanded. You cried out as he pounded into you harder, feeling him repeatedly hit a spot inside of you that you didn’t even know existed.

It sent jolts of pleasure through your belly, making you squirm and cry out underneath him.

“It feels…it feels amazing! Gods, Jacaerys!” His lips captured yours in a bruising kiss, the sound of the bed creaking as he fucked you echoing through his room.

You held on for dear life, trying to chase that slow building, euphoric feeling in your belly. You weren’t sure what it was, but it had you seeing the stars the moment the tension snapped, wrapping you in a pleasure so hot it momentarily made your body go weak.

Soon enough, Jacaerys’ pace began to grow sloppy, and his hips stilled as he cursed. With the feeling of you cumming and squeezing around him, he couldn’t have lasted longer if he tried. Warm seed spilled inside of you as he also reached his high, muttering incoherent words as he fucked it into you.

You could feel it coating your walls, thick and heavy. It surprised you that he was so careless about finishing inside of you.

After all, he was admednet that all dragonseeds were nothing but bastards and mongrels. Unworthy of his sacred inheritance and bloodline, but now there was a possibility that he could have sired one of his own.

When he rolled off of you, you were afraid that he would kick you out and simply order a Maester to bring you tea. Never to speak of this again, never to hold you again.

Tears pricked your eyes at just the thought of being cast aside so easily, your heart aching. You sniffled as you watched him pull his trousers up, but to your surprise, he did not kick you out.

Still breathing heavily, the Prince poked his head out of the door and called for a maid to clean you up instead. When your dazed and slightly confused eyes met his, he merely smirked.

“I don’t intend to shun you, Y/N, only take reparations. You and your father have my dragons and now I have your maidenhead. I do believe it has been a fair exchange, ānogar hen issa ānogar. Don’t you agree?”

You were too distracted by his lips to respond, but even if you had, you would’ve agreed.

You had a dragon, and now you had the Prince. If that wasn’t enough to keep you satisfied and loyal, then the babe that grew belly certainly would.

Jacaerys thought about this as he pulled away. Quickly, his lips attached themselves to your cheeks, then your neck, and then playfully around your body. When you giggled at the ticklish sensation, pure joy filling your veins, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling as well.

I hope you’re proud, mother. The seeds of loyalty have been sowed tonight indeed.

—

tags 🏷️

@alyssa-dayne

@callsigncrushx

@smithieandy

[moonstruckme]

Hii i have a request for doctor!remus or maybe emt!marauders (whichever you think goes best) with clumsy reader who is constantly covered in mystery bruises and maybe she bumps her head a lot in a just a few days between them and they find out bc they feel or see the bump or they see her bump her head and maybe gives herself a concussion ?? This is kinda what happened to me a few days ago when i smacked my head really hard and then yesterday at an appartement sighting right infront of the previous tenants and the real estate agent 😩 and i remember walking home and seeing like these white spots you see after hitting your head, you know?? And thinking oh if the boys where here they would be scolding me soo hard but also the coddling i just wanted to be wrapped up by them 😭

Oh god sorry for the long unnecessary and embarrassing backstory 😅

And ofcourse you only have to write this if you want to !! Hope you have a great day 💗🫶🏻

Thanks for the request lovely, hope your head is okay!!

cw: concussion

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 658 words

Sirius watches you, nearly falling asleep against Remus’ side at one in the afternoon. You’ve been in a funny mood all day, only wanting to lie around with the curtains drawn and watch films you hardly seem to be paying attention to. It’s not very much like you, but your boyfriends are more than happy to go along with it. Remus has been half drifting off too, while James keeps going back and forth between the kitchen to make more snacks and Sirius sits with your legs across his lap. 

“Is your head still hurting you, lovie?” James asks as he sits down again, probably only for another ten minutes. 

You hum discontentedly. 

Remus responds by holding you to him as he leans forward, taking your water bottle from the coffee table. “Drink some more,” he tells you, voice rough with drowsiness. 

Sirius watches vigilantly as you take a few slow sips. You look tired and put out, but your expression eases into something closer to contentment when Remus pets your hair approvingly. Sirius sees the moment your boyfriend’s brow furrows. His frown as he looks down at your head, moving his hand over the same spot again. 

“Dove, what happened here?” 

“Hm?” You look up at him, but then Remus must press down slightly because your expression pinches. “Ow.” 

“What is it?” Sirius scoots closer. James leans forward in his chair, too.

“There’s a bump on the side of her head,” Remus says worriedly. He’s trying to part your hair to see better. “Can you lean forward for me, love?” 

Sirius sets a hand on your shoulder, encouraging you to bend over and murmuring a thanks when you do. While Remus tries to turn on his phone flashlight, he brushes his fingers gently over your head. You inhale, and his heart flinches. 

“Sorry.” He kisses your hair consolingly. “Do you remember bumping it?” 

“Yeah,” you sigh, as though the mere memory exhausts you. “I knocked it on a cabinet yesterday at work.” 

“You knocked it hard?” James stands up, peering over Remus’ shoulder as he inspects your head. 

“It felt hard at the time, yeah.” 

“Angel, why didn’t you say anything? You ought to have called us after a bump like that.” 

You shrug. Sirius can see you looking sheepishly into your lap. “It was embarrassing, and it didn’t seem very bad. It’s fine now, just a bit sore.” 

“But you have a headache,” Remus says dubiously, “and you’ve been tired ever since.” 

You hesitate. “Yeah, but…” 

“Can you look up here for me?” Sirius touches under your chin, prompting you to sit back up. He holds up his flashlight, making sure you see it before clicking it on. 

Though it shouldn’t be a surprise, you flinch hard, your face scrunching with the force of your squint. Sirius clicks the light off. 

He kisses the space between your brows. “I think you’ve given yourself a mild concussion, sunshine.” 

“Really?” you ask, bemused, at the same time as James makes a horribly dejected sound and leans over for a hug. 

“Our poor sweetheart,” he laments, bent over awkwardly with his arms around you. “No wonder you’ve been feeling so odd today, hm? We really shouldn’t be letting you watch TV while your brain’s trying to recover.” 

“No, we shouldn’t,” Remus agrees, reaching for the remote and switching it off. “How do you feel about a nap, dovey? You’ve seemed sleepy.” 

“That’s a good idea.” Sirius mushes another kiss into your temple. “It might help a bit with your headache, and I know Remus would nap with you.”

You hesitate. James tightens his hold and Remus strokes the hair near your injury, each of your boyfriends desperate to dote on you in their own ways. “Sure,” you say. “That could be nice.” 

“There you go, lovie,” James says approvingly. “If you hadn’t wanted to cuddle with our Rem, then we would’ve had to really worry about your head.”

[seraphicsentences]

you told me your new man don’t make you nut, that’s a damn shame.

closeted/in denial abby anderson x reader

pt.2 here: all mine

tags: internalized homophobia, smut, cheating, tw:owen, fingering (aa!receiving), lowkey sub!aa

A/N: we do not condone cheating here! unless it’s on owen fuck that asshole. sorry i disappeared for 100 years!! hope this is half-decent enough to make up for it. working on reqs i promise!!!! i love you all my sweet angels <333

please click me!!!

it was undeniable— the tension, between you and abby anderson. your queer sexuality was common knowledge amongst the WLF base, and your reputation as a womanizer quite contributory to the hot topic. on the complete opposite of the spectrum stood abby: top soldier, with the highest leading score in kills, and most importantly, dutiful girlfriend to owen moore.

where she stood on the line of homosexuality was made evidently clear. from the way she scoffed under her breath at the sight of your marked-up one night stands, to her weekly mornings at the base’s sunday service, you had found an almost masochistic pleasure in ticking her off to your best efforts.

you would catch yourself throwing offhand comments towards your latest hookups when she was in ears range. “my dick’s better than any man’s, isn’t that right, baby?”

in the mere corner of your peripheral vision you would see abby’s jaw tighten, gaze hard as she refused to look your way— her own sort of defiance to your antics. a haughty smirk threatened to break across your face. you couldn’t exactly place your finger on as to why you were so enamored with her understated reactions, rather than focused on the pretty, blushing girl in front of you. it became a thrill you craved insatiably, and built up as a wall between you two over the years, bound to come tumbling sooner or later.

~

mid-summer now, the longer days and better hunt called for a compulsory celebration. wlf’s central lounge was buzzing with drunken chatter and alight with the golden hue of mini lamp lights.

your childish bickering with abby hadn’t lessened up any bit, and to much of your delight, had begun to stir up more volatile reactions of hers as they’ve persisted.

you sat across her now, separated by only a couple foot’s distance and a beer bottle, which lay empty and flat on its side.

“spin the bottle? what are we, twelve?” abby scoffed at the idea.

she sat crisscrossed, forearms resting atop her legs, muscles straining against her tight grey shirt, and you couldn’t help but wonder how she, the very picture of masc, was so adamantly straight.

“aw, scared, anderson?” you grinned devilishly.

she physically recoiled, as if the very thought of being intimidated by someone like you burned her mind. haughty self satisfaction coursed through your veins, sick pleasure in knowing you could get under her skin so easily. running your eyes salaciously down her figure, you watched as she shifted nervously. cute.

“es solo un juego, abby,” manny says, shrugging.

“whatever,” she replies, “just get on with it.”

as the rounds go by, you can’t help but take note of the way abby awkwardly averts her gaze from whichever two lucky partakers kiss, no matter the duo. scoffing, she teasingly mouths ‘pendejo’ after manny stupidly grins into his third kiss of the night. you watch her smile disappear in a brief second when the your turn arises.

eye contact unwavering, you stare down abby as the bottle whirls around, waiting for it to select its next target. you can’t quite understand why your heart feels like it’s racing out of your chest the closer the bottlehead gets to nodding the blonde’s direction.

it inches closer. slower now.

a person away— and it stops.

…on the pretty girl next to abby.

abby releases a harsh breath you didn’t realize she was holding, chest rising slowly as she catches some air. you blink.

you cross the short distance between the two of you crawling, abby eyeing you down, before swerving your course of action in the last moment to land yourself in front of the girl next to her. without a moment’s hesitation you tug her in for a kiss, or no, multiple kisses as you tongue the girl down hungrily. she groans into it with a matched eagerness, desperate to get a dose of your infamous mouth.

your eyes flicker open between kisses, expecting to get an eyeful of the top of the blonde’s head, but you’re met with quite the opposite. the piercing stare of none other than abby anderson sends a chill down your spine. her breath hitches— she looks like she’s been fucking caught. and as tempting as the girl in front of you is, you can’t tear your gaze away from her.

you begin to dominate what is now a full-blown makeout session, eyes darkened, breaths unsteady, hands pulling. she just watches, bound to the floor. you watch her watch. and you want her to want it.

you pull away with a final tug on the girl’s bottom lip, feeding off the way abby’s eyes follow the action. someone wolf-whistles in the background, but, even flustered now, you can’t shake the undeniable tension between yourself and abby.

the rhythmic thumping of blood rushing through your skull acted rather as a barrier between your awareness and the continuing rounds. thankfully, you were left as a mere onlooker, free of any further unwanted attention.

abby had gone back to staring at her lap, you discovered, watching intently as she picked a stray hair off her jeans.

“hey anderson,” you called over, her reaction immediate— head jolting up.

her eyes relaxed to a glare once she realized you were the one addressing her, raising an eyebrow in question.

“i think it’s ‘bout your turn, yeah?”

“you fu-“

“solo un juego, abby,” manny cuts in.

with a huff, abby begrudgingly leans over to give the bottle a spin, tapping her fingers against the floor in anticipation.

the bottle stops. so does your heart, for just a second.

you look up. abby looks to owen. the fucking son of a bitch lends no help, smirking, excited that his perverted fantasies have come to life before his eyes.

“c’mon then,” you nod at her, leaning back on your wrists, almost in invitation.

she moves slowly, braid dangling by her shoulder as she scooches towards you, hands coming to a stop on the floor in front of you.

closer now, you can feel the heat radiating off her large figure onto your own, the light brush of her breaths intermingling with your own. yet— she makes no move to get any closer.

you loop a finger around her neckline and drag her in, teeth clashing from the aggression, noses bumping; it’s no fairytale kiss. but then your tongue licks into her open mouth, perhaps merely by muscle memory, or maybe because you secretly want a taste of more, and she fucking whimpers. so quiet, strangled, from the back of her throat, but you hear it nonetheless, and god, you feel it.

the switch up is almost immediate: abby pulling away faster than you can blink, back in her original spot before you know it, wiping at her mouth. but she was too late. you knew what she craved, and you were going to make sure she’d have to beg for it.

~

the party was in full swing now, majority of the room drunk off of wlf’s own brew, which meant everyone was completely fucked up.

you stumbled over to the serving area, leaning haphazardly over the bar to scan the room without falling over. your eyes caught onto a familiar blonde, seated quietly with a group composed of what you assumed to be her usual patrol friends. she’s seated next to owen, the fucker, who has his arm lazily swung around the skank sprawled on the other side of him. your eyes are glued to the visible scrunch between abby’s eyebrows, fingers itching to reach out and press it away.

“who’s the lucky girl you’re sinking your claws into tonight?”

your head swivels towards the voice, met with a concerned look from alex, wlf’s residential mixologist.

“…you good, babe?”

“fuck— yeah, just got a lit, a little dizzy for sec. the answer to, uh- to, your question is no one,” you hiccuped, grinning up at alex as you rested your head against the cold counter.

“uh-huh, sure. i’ll let you have your secrets. i won’t pry,” she quips.

you laugh, miming an imaginary lock over your lips before tossing the ‘key’ away. “what can i say? i’m a gentleman, alex, no, gentlewoman. i don’t kiss and te-“

you’re cut off by another voice approaching the counter, low and slurring, asking for a glass of straight whiskey.

you roll your head over, faced with the towering frame of none other than abby anderson. she’s closer than you expected her to be, causing you to stumble back a step, and then laugh at yourself, muttering under your breath, straight whiskey for the straight girl.

“i think you’ve had well enough, anderson. even with all the muscle on you, man, i don’t know how you got this hammered. i’ll get you some water, honey,” alex jokes.

abby sulks, spacing out as she begrudgingly sips on her water. you doubt she even notices your presence, using the accidental peace as time to really take in her side profile. she’s stunning, in her own, amazonian sort of way. especially now in the hazy golden light of the lounge, the sweaty blonde strands framing her face made her appear in rather close resemblance to a goddess of some type. and all you wanted was to worship her in that manner, treat her body as your temple and such. perhaps the alcohol really was getting to you.

“what’s got you all pouty, anderson? your little boyfriend not doing you any good?”

it’s so comical, the effect your presence has on abby. her head jerks your way at the first breath of your words, and her pinning gaze blows away any of the fog clouding either of your minds.

her demeanor hardens instantly, as she crosses her arms defensively. “fuck off,” is all she manages to spit out.

you take it as an invitation to continue. “like,” you scoff, “there’s no way he knows how to hit all the right spots. does he even try to? how’s his head game, abs?”

her look away speaks volumes.

“oh? god, what a dick.”

“he-“ she tries.

“-i could show you a good time,” you ramble, “i can assure you that i know how to hit all the right spots. your spots— i mean, only if you want me to.”

she gawks at you, her look half full of disbelief and half full of curiosity. and you can tell that you’ve got her hooked.

“i don’t need you,” she mutters, but a glance at her thighs pressed tight together says otherwise.

you smirk, placing your hand down that just so happens to land on her mid-thigh. her muscle jolts at your contact.

tentatively dragging your fingers higher, you speak lowly, stare locked, “you sure, baby?”

the wall comes crashing.

abby’s snatching your hand off her leg in a heartbeat and dragging you into the closest bathroom, shoving you against the door and pushing her lips against yours.

your tongue is dipping into her open mouth almost immediately, desperate to pull another one of her addicting whimpers out.

“shit,” abby curses in between gasps, before leaning back in to just consume more of you. her hands are searching for any part of you she can reach, grabbing at the meat at your hips, thighs, pressing your waist against hers with a groan.

the feel of your body against her own is so different from owens’, but so satisfying in a way she can’t wrap her head around. you fit into her frame like a puzzle piece, and your touches are needy and selfish, but they don’t feel offensive in the way that owen’s do.

you venture a hand under her shirt, tracing along the ridges of her toned stomach, and abby shudders, breaking your kiss to look down at your moving hand. she’s panting against your neck, heavier now, as you slide your hand up under her bra to cup her chest softly, rolling her hardened nipple between your fingers and watching hypnotically as she gasps into your skin.

with her head down at this angle, her neck is perfectly bared, and you can’t deny yourself a taste, can you? you’re sinking your teeth in before you realize it, soothing the marks with a wet lick over, only to tug the skin in between your teeth to suck at.

the quiet noises abby’s trying to muffle against your shoulder now are sending you into a frenzy, your hands now abandoning her breasts to pull her hips closer against yours.

abby nearly cries at the loss of your direct touches, but stops when your fingers return a place far more rewarding. you’ve unbuttoned her jeans now, your hand cupping her over her boxers teasingly, digits pressing over the damp spot in the fabric.

“bet you’ve never been this wet for owen,” you laugh, running a finger over her soaked core.

“don’t bring him up right now,” she pants in return, hips keening to your touch as she grabs your face to press into a sloppy kiss.

you push her boxers down eagerly, teasing two fingers by her leaking entrance to gather her slick.

god, abby gasps, and it seems to be the winning word of the night when she repeats it as she watches you stuff those same two fingers into your own mouth, and again when you stuff them straight into her pussy.

her pretty eyes are rolling back into her skull farther with every thrust against her gummy walls. “look at me while i fuck you dumb on my fingers, abs, look at me,” you beg.

“i c-can’t,” she whines, blushing a deep red and burrowing her face into your shoulder.

you slow your pumps, using your free hand to grab her by the braid and force her look at you. “awh,” you coo, pouting mockingly at her gaped mouth, “cute.”

your fingers buried as deep into her as physically possible, you curl them to hit that sensitive spot you genuinely believe has never even been touched once. and with the way abby lets out her loudest moan yet, you cannot believe otherwise.

“there it is,” you murmur, massaging your fingertips agonizingly slow inside of her, “see what you’re missing out on?”

her only response is a strangled whimper. baby blue eyes big and pleading as they threaten to roll back with every slight movement.

mhm, you goad her on, “that’s your g-spot, baby, feels real good, huh?”

she nods her head vigorously, quiet mhmmhmhm’s trailing out from her bitten lips.

“now if your little boyfriend’s dick is too small to reach it, i guess he can’t help it,” you laugh. “shame, you make such pretty noises when i touch you here,” you let out an exaggerated sigh, picking up your pace abruptly to slam into her spot over and over.

abby’s nearly gone cross-eyed, tossing her head back now as her pussy throbs almost rhythmically with every thrust. she’s never felt so filled to the brim, so overwhelmed with pleasure, and she’s too blissed out to even care about the stupid fucking smirk you’ve got plastered on your face.

“but his mini- dick is no excuse for not touching you here,” you continue, letting loose of her hair to finally touch her poor, neglected, pink clit, rubbing circles harshly into the button.

abby’s heart nearly jumps out of her chest. she’s moaning nonstop and swearing like a fucking sailor, the combination of your actions almost too much for her to physically bear. after a particularly loud oh god, fuck-please, you have no choice but to stuff abby’s mouth full with the bottom of her shirt. and fuck, was that the right move; the way her ab muscles flex and tighten as she nears her release, glistening with sweat, is enough to make you let out a groan of your own.

“‘m- close,” abby cries around the fabric, hips rocking with your motions as she begins to ride out her high.

“there you go anderson, you got it,” you mutter, circling her swollen clit faster now as you fuck into her g-spot repeatedly.

mmmmph is all you can make out, as abby’s walls clamp down around your curled fingers and she digs her nails into your sides, eyes squeezing shut.

her jerking movements eventually slow along with your own, half lidded eyes staring as you slip your cum-coated fingers into your mouth, sucking them clean. the moistened fabric falls from abby’s open jaw as she attempts to catch her breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

before you know it, she’s tugging up her soaked boxers and jeans, shoving past you as she buttons them up and promptly bolts out of that bathroom.

well, that was one way to deal with the tension.

she’ll come running back to you before she knows it.

yikes! i just read that over and yikes! lol uh! sorry guys i’m out of practice!! we love abby anderson though and pray that she gets over her internalized homophobia. she’s too sexy for allat.

send me more reqs!! not that i need any more but send ‘em!

[randomshyperson]

hello, i saw you were doing little drabbles and was wondering if you had the time for --- wanda + hand holding + 47 (i think? whichever one is "holding hands so the other can't run away")

no problem if you can't or don't want to! have a lovely day (or nite whenever u see this)

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Drabbles

prompt: holding onto the other’s hand so they can’t run away | words: 672 | warnings: angst, mentions of miscommunication, mutual pining (kinda of), also nothing bad ever happened to wanda during Infinity War idk what you're talking about.

challenge masterlist | general masterlist

-&-

The battle was out of control.

So many stupid decisions and fights had brought you here, and even with all the training on staying calm, you could feel the fear threatening to take over your decisions.

The barrier was finally broken and instead of grabbing a weapon, you grabbed the hand of the witch who had just gotten up from the couch next to you.

"Stop that." She snapped immediately but didn't fight against the grip, her eyes searching yours. Her free hand found your cheek, caressing your skin as you were doing with her palm. "You know I need to go out there."

The sound of the battle was muffled in that room, what you heard was the metallic crack of the mind stone being dismantled in Vision's head a few meters away.

Shuri, even focused on the task, stole a look in your direction, uncertain whether to witness this moment or not.

You opened your mouth to contradict Wanda, but you didn't know exactly what to say to her. And she smiled tearfully, caressing your face.

"You stay, protect the girl and the stone. Our friends need us."

But your grip doesn't loosen, and your eyes are desperately looking at her. Full of tears.

You've fought before, you've fought a lot. And yet, something about this day, this mad titan coming from space, gives you the feeling that the Avengers won't win this time.

"Please." You manage breathlessly. Although firm, your touch doesn't hurt her. Wanda comes closer to kiss the corner of your mouth, and you almost forgive her for being in some short of situationship with Vision while you two have something deep and unresolved going on. "I can't lose you, Wanda."

The raw confession makes Shuri leave the room, even if only for a moment. Wanda sighs, pulling at your grip so that your hand fits better on hers.

"You won't lose me."

"You don't know that." You retort emotionally, but she's starting to lose her patience, especially since the battle has gotten bad enough that you've started hearing explosions. The team needs her, more than ever. "Please-"

"They need me there-"

"I need you."

She sighs, taken by surprise before taking a deep breath to regain control of her own emotions. This is not the time or place to have this kind of conversation, this kind of confession.

Her gaze turns serious, final. Your grip loosens.

"Remember the captain's orders, okay? As soon as that stone is out, destroy it."

She pulls your grip and frees herself. You grab her wrist this time, and pull her towards you, close enough for her to gasp when she feels your breath against her cheek.

"You know damn well I don't care about him. I'd destroy that stupid stone while he's still has it, and I would run away with you, in a heartbeat. Never looking back."

Wanda swallows, her gaze dropping to your mouth for a moment as if she’s considering it, if only for a second. And then, her expression turns cold, and she looks you in the eye.

“You had the chance to do it, and yet, here we are.” She accuses bitterly, and you let go, hesitation in your features. Wanda sighs, lowering her hand and taking a few steps away from you. She takes one last look at Vision unconscious on the table, and at the door where Shuri is coming back from, before giving you one last look. And warning; “I’m going to give you one last chance to make things right between us. When this is over, we’re going to sit down and talk like adults.”

You feel some of the weight lift from your shoulders. Talk. That sounds good. It’s more than you’ve earned after not showing up at that airport, after not choosing her or any side when the team fought, after making the mistake of screwing up your chances and practically handing her over to the android next to you.

Nodding in agreement, you offer her a small smile, and Wanda heads off toward the fight.

[secretl1fe0fm3]

have you underneath all of my beliefs ~ eva x fem!reader

summary: you find yourself on a wellness retreat, where you meet eva, the presumed leader of the female empowerment group. as the days pass, her interest in you grows, and she’s determined to uncover every secret you keep, no matter what it takes.

warnings: smut (with plot), soft dom!eva, sub!reader, dirty talk, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, praise kink, aftercare if you squint

an: the long awaited eva fic is finally here!!!! i had so much fun writing this one, and i hope yall enjoy :,) she could manipulate me ANY DAY. (lmk if anyone is interested in a part 2, i have some ideas hehe)

18+ minors dni!!!

2k+ words

You hadn’t expected to stay this long.

The first day was filled with polite smiles, herbal teas, and long moments of uncomfortable silence as women from all walks of life tried to untangle themselves from the grasp of their inner demons. You kept your distance while still participating, not wanting to share much about your haunted past.

But Eva noticed you.

At first, it was subtle. A glance from across the communal fire. A brush of her hand against yours when she passed you a blanket or a cup of tea. But each day, her presence grew stronger. She didn’t speak often in group sessions, only doing so to lead them, but when she did, the others listened. Everything seemed to revolve around her, everyone looking up to her for guidance.

You’d catch her watching you during morning breathwork. Her eyes followed the way your chest rose and fell, studying every twitch in your expression. During meals, she always found a way to sit near you, never directly across, never too obvious, but always near. When you shared, which was a rarity, she listened with an intensity that felt almost invasive. Like she could see every unspoken truth inside you, waiting for you to bare more of yourself to her.

———

You returned to your room after the evening group fire, still feeling the weight of Eva’s gaze on you. She hadn’t said a word to you tonight, but she didn’t need to, she got her message across.

Your room was quiet when you stepped inside, the soft sounds of the woods humming outside your window. You moved to pull back your blanket, and that’s when you saw a folded piece of thick paper sat right in the middle of your pillow.

Your name was written on the front in soft, cursive handwriting. You picked it up and unfolded it with shaky fingers, reading the words over and over.

Come to the attic after dark. I want to talk. You’ve been holding something in. I want to help you let it out. -Eva

Your fingers stayed curled around the paper, gripping it tight, absentmindedly crinkling it a little.

You weren’t sure how long you stood there, staring at the note, but you already knew it wasn’t up for debate, you had to face your fears this time.

———

The house was dark, hushed in the way it only got after everyone had gone to bed. You moved carefully, bare feet brushing over the wood floors, trying not to make a sound.

The note was still tucked in your hand.

Upstairs, a light flickered from the attic doorway. You hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, then slowly made your way up. The steps creaked softly under your weight. When you reached the top, the door was already open.

Eva sat in a chair, legs crossed, one hand resting against her cheek, her other holding a mug that steamed gently. Her robe was loose, the floral pattern falling off one of her shoulders. She looked up at you as you stood in the doorway, uncertainty etched all over your face.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” she said softly, voice low. “But I hoped you would.”

You stepped inside, unsure whether or not to speak. The door shut behind you with a gentle click, and Eva set her mug down.

“You can sit,” she said, nodding toward the cushion across from her. “Or stand. Whichever feels more honest.”

You hesitated, then lowered yourself onto a cushion, heart beating a little too fast. The stained-glass window emanated colored light across the room, casting strange shapes on the wooden floor.

Eva smiled, watching you.

“I like when people come in nervous,” she said, her voice almost teasing. “It means there’s something worth digging into.”

You swallowed, fiddling with your fingers. “You said you wanted to talk.”

“I did,” she nodded. “But only if you’re ready.”

Her tone was warm, inviting you to slowly open up, but you remained silent as your eyes studied her.

“I’ve been watching you,” Eva continued, leaning forward just a little. “You keep your distance during the group sessions. You give just enough to look open, but you’re not. Not really.”

You shifted slightly under her gaze. “That’s not true.”

“No?” Her eyes lit up, like you’d said exactly what she wanted. “Then tell me something real.”

You hesitated, lips parting, but nothing came out.

Eva’s smile deepened at your silence this time. She uncrossed her legs and stood, walking toward you with slow, measured steps. She knelt in front of you, not quite touching yet, but close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off her body.

“I can feel it on you,” she whispered. “Whatever it is you’re hiding. It weighs heavy.”

You looked away, and her fingers brushed under your chin, coaxing your gaze back to her.

“I want it,” Eva murmured. “All of it. I want you to give it to me. And I want you to want to give it to me.”

There was something in the way she said it, perfectly persuasive. Her thumb stroked along your jaw, like she was trying to coax a confession out of you.

“I know how to hold secrets,” she said. “I know how to take pain and turn it into something beautiful. But I need you to trust me.”

You blinked, your voice coming out quieter than you meant. “Why me?”

Her eyes didn’t leave yours, flicking down to your lips before quickly returning to your stare.

“Because you haven’t let yourself open up yet,” she said simply. “And I want to be the one who does that for you.”

Her hand slipped lower, resting over your chest, pressing gently over your heart, feeling the steady beats under her palm.

“Can I?” she asked, voice a whisper now. “Will you let me?”

The room had gone still at her question, the only sounds were your breathing, and hers. A slow, steady rhythm, like she knew how this night would end long before you stepped through the door.

Eva’s hand still rested over your chest, her palm rising and falling with every breath you tried to keep steady. You were trembling slightly, her presence leaving a heavy weight in the air.

“I can feel how much you want to let go,” she said, voice soft but sure. “You’ve been holding it in for so long, haven’t you?”

Your eyes burned and you didn’t know why, but you nodded.

“Good girl,” Eva whispered. “That’s the first truth. Now let me take care of you.”

You didn’t answer as your body leaned into hers instinctively, and that was all the permission she needed.

Eva kissed you deep, one hand cradling the back of your neck, the other sliding down your side, tracing your curves. Her lips were warm and soft against yours as she kissed you like she was memorizing the way you taste, and the sounds you made.

Her hand slipped under your shirt, her fingers felt hot against your bare skin. She traced along your ribs, your stomach, until her touch reached the waistband of your pants. She paused there, pulling away momentarily, her eyes locked on yours

“I want you to let me in,” she whispered. “Don’t hold back with me.”

You gave her a small, shaky but eager nod. She smiled as her lips met yours again, the kiss deeper than the previous one. She eased her hand beneath the fabric, her touch featherlight, but deliberate. Eva pushed your panties aside before she stroked slowly along your wet folds, her fingers sliding through your slit with ease.

“You’re already trembling,” she murmured, her voice low and soft. “You’ve been needing this, haven’t you?”

You whimpered, biting your lip.

Eva moved her fingers in slow, careful circles against your clit. Her lips stayed close to yours, placing soft kisses over your mouth, your cheek, and your jaw as you spread your legs a bit wider, wordlessly inviting her to go further.

She pushed two fingers inside you, deep and slow. The stretch made you gasp, and she held still for a moment, letting you adjust to the feeling.

“Just like that,” she whispered. “You’re doing so well.”

She began to move her fingers, thrusting in and out of your heat, her thumb gliding against your clit in a steady rhythm. Your hips bucked up towards the touch, chasing the pressure as desperate moans fell from your lips.

“Stay with me,” Eva murmured, pushing your hip down with her free hand. “I want to feel you fall apart.”

Your muscles tightened, heat coiling deep inside you. Her thrusts sped up, but she didn’t rush you. She watched you slowly unravel, her voice anchoring you in quiet affirmations between kisses.

You’re safe. I’ve got you. Let it happen.

Your orgasm crashed over you without much warning, clenching down around her fingers as you threw your head back, a low but loud moan filling the quiet room. Eva held you through it, her fingers still moving just enough to help draw your climax out of you. You clung to her floral robe, your cheek against her shoulder, your body trembling in her lap.

But she didn’t stop.

Eva shifted you, gently laying you back against the cushions on the floor. She pressed soft kisses along your thighs, over your stomach, then met your gaze again as her fingers found your wet core once more.

“I know you can give me more,” she whispered. “But only if it feels good. Only if you want to.”

You were already nodding before you even realized, before your brain caught up to your body.

You didn’t have words anymore, just ache and need swirling low in your belly as she leaned over you. She gave you a quiet nod in return and leaned in, kissing your shoulder as her fingers pressed against your soaked cunt.

She easily slipped her two fingers inside of you again with a practiced curl that made your hips jerk. Your mouth opened in a sharp gasp.

“You can take it,” Eva whispered, lips brushing the corner of your mouth. “You need this. Don’t fight it.”

Eva stroked your clit in a lazy, circular rhythm, never faltering. Your body tensed immediately, already so close it hurt. You grabbed at her wrist to ground yourself.

The pressure built fast, almost too fast. Your body was still overstimulated from the first orgasm, and every stroke of her fingers now felt overwhelming. Your thighs tried to close around her hand, and she used her free arm to gently pin one down.

“Shh,” Eva cooed, breath warm against your cheek. “It’s okay. Let it happen. I’ve got you.”

Her fingers curled inside you, pressing against your sensitive sweet spot with every thrust. Your muscles tensed as your breath started turning shallow and quick, tears welling up in your eyes from the pleasurable overstimulation.

Your body stiffened, back arching painfully as your mouth opened in a silent cry as your second orgasm tore through you. It was white hot and too much, crashing over you in thick waves, dragging every sound out of your throat.

Eva held you steady as you came undone again. Her fingers didn’t stop moving, not until your body started to twitch, thighs jerking from the intensity, breath coming in soft sobs.

“There you are,” she whispered. “That’s it. Give it to me. Just like that.”

Your legs trembled uncontrollably, your hands gripping her arms as the aftershocks hit you hard. Your body was soaked and shivering as she slowly pulled her fingers out of your spent heat.

Eva gathered you into her arms, pulling you into her lap. Her touch gentle and soothing. She pulled a soft blanket over your body and held you close, rocking you slightly.

You felt weightless and empty in the best way, like something you didn’t know you were carrying had finally slipped free.

Eva brushed your hair back from your damp forehead and kissed you softly.

“You did so well,” she whispered. “You let go. I’m so proud of you.”

A small content smile formed on your lips as you tucked your face into her neck. You weren’t sure where to go from here, but you knew you didn’t want to leave.

my masterlist

[honeybeefae]

You're Mine (Eris Vanserra x Reader)

Summary// After leaving Eris behind to fulfill your parents' desire for marriage, knowing the two of you could never be, you did your best to move on. It had been five years, and you were finally starting to settle into your life with your husband when a late-night visitor brought back feelings you thought you had long since buried. 

(This idea has burrowed its way into my head and won’t leave anytime soon, so I’m dragging you all into this with me. I hope you like it <3 It's been awhile since I've wrote anything so if you have any critiques or opinions, please let me know!)

WARNINGS: Smut, Fertility Issues, Verbal Abuse (Spouse), Physical Abuse (Spouse) (A slap but nothing more), Possessive!Eris, Jealous!Eris, Cheating, Breeding Kink, Spanking

Five Years Ago

“Mother, please!” You beg, tears streaking down your hot cheeks as she gives you a look full of pity. It was a useless cause to try to convince your father against this arrangement, but your mother… she used to be a dreamer like you. She once thought of running away with a prince, of living happily ever after, so why wouldn’t she give you the same chance?

“Darling, please, collect yourself.” She urges, grabbing your hands and pulling you towards her. “Pierre will be here any moment with his family. They cannot see you like this.”

“They don’t have to! You could sneak me out the back, let me run away with-” You begin only to flinch when she grabs your face roughly, her eyes shining with a strange mixture of anger and agony. 

“With you, Y/N? With Eris?” She hisses, eyebrows furrowing together. “He is the heir to the Court. He will never choose you. He cannot. He will go with whichever maiden secures more political power, and that is not you.”

Your lower lip trembles as her words cut through you like hot steel. They settle in your soul, trying to burn out any hope you might have, and yet you persist. 

“No, Mother, you don’t understand. I love him. He loves me. We’ve been courting for months, dancing together and strolling through the gardens. Hells, he gave me this!” You gesture to the ruby necklace resting above your collarbone, wrapped in a gold band that resembles a fox’s tail. “Everyone has seen us together. His family, my family, does that mean nothing?”

She stares at you for a moment, her mouth turning downwards as her fury fades into sorrow. You swallow, trying to get the lump in your throat to disappear as the silence stretches on, but it refuses. 

“My darling girl,” She coos, her hands now cupping your cheeks. “One’s first love is something special, an experience worth remembering, but it is one that is never meant to last. He has his duties, as do you. It was never meant to be.”

The realization of the situation hits you in waves of denial, anger, and agony. It makes your head swim, and your stomach lurch as you try desperately to find anything to keep you afloat. 

“What if he does choose me, though? What if his parents see me as he does? Someone who makes him smile and laugh, who treats him well. If you could just let me speak with him one more time, keep Pierre and his father busy, I only need an hour.” You try to bargain with her, placing your hands over her own. She goes to respond, your hope hanging by a thread, only for your father’s voice to rise above the two of you.

“He has moved on, Y/N.” He sighs, clearly exasperated by your antics. “Beron has told us about Eris’s betrothed. It’s been arranged since birth. It is time for you to do the same.”

“But if he knew, why would he fall in love with me? I know what I saw, I know what I felt.” You press, wrapping your arms around yourself as your father’s jaw clenches. “He wouldn’t do that to me.”

“You don’t think he would?” His scowl deepens as he glances at your mother over your shoulder before fishing for something in his coat pocket, ignoring his wife as she begins to protest. “Read this.”

“What is it?” You ask.

“Just read it.” He pushes the parchment into your hand, rolling his eyes.

Your fingers tremble as you glance at the letter, noticing Eris’s penmanship immediately. The words seem to blur together towards the end, but you realize it isn’t due to his writing but your tears. One of them splashes on the paper, staining it immediately as his voice echoes in your mind.

I regret to inform you of the ending of our courtship, effective immediately. Please know this is through not fault of your own. You were a wonderful experience. I should not have led you on, but I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. Even though I am the least deserving of it. 

Yours,

Eris Vanserra

A loud sound echoed off the walls, and it wasn’t until your knees hit the floor that you realized it had come from you. You felt the world collapsing in, your dreams fading with each heartbeat as your worst fear came true. Your parents watched, one with sympathy and one with indifference, as you came to grips with reality. 

The silence after was choking you as the paper lay taunting you, his signature ingrained in your brain as a loud knock was heard from the front. Soft hands gingerly picked you up as your father’s footsteps led to the door, his voice booming as he greeted Pierre.

“Come now, Y/N,” She shushes you, brushing your tears away with a mother’s softness. “I know it hurts, but in time, it will fade, and you will find happiness with Pierre and your future family.”

“I cannot imagine feeling anything other than this, Mama.” You murmur, numbness starting to spread throughout your body as she smiles sadly and kisses your forehead.

“You will, sweet girl.” She assures you, pinching your cheeks to bring some color back as Pierre draws closer. 

“How do you know?” Your gaze raises to meet hers, searching.

She chuckles, though you know it is without humor, watching as she seems to drift far away for a moment before the sounds of your father's throat clearing behind you brings her back. 

Her arms pull you into a tight hug as she whispers into your ear, “Because I did.”

Present Day

From your wedding day to now, you have been desperately searching for the happiness your mom said would come. You threw everything into your relationship, forcing Eris into the darkest crevices of your heart so that you could move on. Pierre wasn’t an awful man. He was kind and generous, always concerned about your feelings and ensuring you were cared for. 

He knew about your past with Eris and never pushed you but soothed you like a balm to your soul. Your love for Pierre was different, but it was there; you just needed something more. However, you knew better than to dream of it. You could be happy with him, will be happy with him. 

Eris had made it very clear that he did not intend to return for you. He hadn’t even had the courage to come to your wedding nor send you any well wishes. You had seen him since, of course, but he always did his best to avoid you. If you did happen to catch his gaze during a dinner or ball, his eyes were always full of anger. 

It was in your best interest to forget all about him. 

You were torn from your thoughts as the front door opened, your husband poking his head around to look for you. A soft smile pulls at your lips effortlessly, rising up to greet him, only to stall when you see how angry he is. 

“Pierre, what is it?” You ask, forehead creasing as he all but slams a letter he had been holding onto the dining table.

“The new high lord,” He scowls, jaw clenching. “He is asking myself and the other merchants to travel across Prythian to secure new deals or else forfeit our titles.”

New high lord?

“Beron is dead?” You whisper, grasping the edge of the table. “How did he…who did…was it…?”

“Eris, yes, the treasonous snake,” Pierre grunts, raising his eyes to you. “It apparently happened overnight, and he is already throwing everything out. I knew he was a bastard, but to-”

“He is not a bastard,” You say before you can catch yourself, your mind screaming at you for rushing to his defense. You owe him nothing—no loyalty, no love, nothing. So why did you speak?

The air in the room seemed to change as he cocks his head, his eyes darkening dangerously. You feel the hairs on your neck raise as you step back, trying to put distance between you. However, Pierre doesn’t hesitate to follow you as the letter is now crumpled in his fist.

“I knew it.” He snaps, nostrils flaring as he grabs your arm and yanks you to him. You let out a small yelp, trying to push against him, but he doesn’t yield. “I’ve given you everything you could ever want. I’ve built you this home, this life when I could’ve treated you like filth.”

“Pierre, please, let go,” Your voice is a whimper as his grasp tightens. “You’re hurting me.”

“Me? Hurting you?” His laugh echoes off the walls, one of his hands running hastily through his hair. “Don’t act like you don’t deserve it. I’ve put up with this teenage moping for five fucking years. I’ve played the part of the gentleman, the family man, and you still can’t get over him. Pathetic doesn’t even begin to cover what you are.”

Tears fall down your face as you sob, finally gaining the strength to rip your arm away as he turns and punches a hole into the wall beside him. You cannot stop yourself from trembling as his shoulders shake with fury, his breath coming in short pants.

“Do you know what they all tell me? Our friends and family?” Pierre asks, closing his eyes. “They tell me how sorry they are for me. How much they pity me. They’ve even suggested taking a whore on the side, so at least that way I could secure an heir.”

The last sentence strikes deep, one of your hands resting on your lower stomach as he gives you a mocking laugh. You had been trying to have a child for a while now. Under the care of a midwife, you had been drinking the teas, reducing your stress, and month after month, you failed. Pierre had been there for you throughout it, promising you that it was not your fault, and for him now to throw it back in your face…it made you sick. 

“Y-you told me that it was okay, that these things take time. Going into this marriage, you knew what I had been through and who my former lover was, and you said it was fine.” You hate how your voice trembles as you keep your eyes on the floor. “I thought you understood me, that you could see I was finally starting to heal, but was it all a lie? Have I been sleeping next to someone who I do not know?”

He watches you momentarily, taking in how meek you look and the tears that now stain your face. Footsteps fill the silence and stop once you see his feet, a soft hand coming to cup your chin and force you to look up.

Pierre was there in body but not in mind. The eyes that once held so much comfort were now empty, the smile now a scowl, and his touch burning rather than soothing. He turned your face from side to side, mesmerizing your beauty before smirking.

“I guess that’s two men who’ve used you now, huh?”

You don’t register the slap you gave him until you see his pupils dilate, your eyes widening in fear as your palm begins to burn from the contact. He snarls at you, and before you can apologize or scream, you aren’t sure which one, he backhands you and sends you spiraling to the floor. 

“I’ll be back in the morning, don’t wait up.” He calls over his shoulder, straightening his jacket before he walks out the door without even a glance at your crumpled body.

It takes longer than you’d like to admit to collect yourself off the floor, your face red-hot even though you know you have already healed. He hit you. He yelled at you, belittled you, and then slapped you as if it were nothing. A wolf in sheep's clothing. 

Your hands dig into the wood of the table as you pull yourself up, hating how weak you feel as you cry. This wouldn't have happened if you had kept your mouth shut. Why did you even say anything? After all this time, why did you feel you still needed to speak up for the man who deserted you?

“Fuck!” You scream as your sadness turns to rage, grabbing a nearby vase and hurling it at the wall. It instantly shatters and clatters to the floor, flower petals scattering everywhere with the glass shards. 

It doesn’t make you feel better. So you throw another vase and another, and then a portrait until the room looks like a tornado ripped through it. But nothing is working to fill the hole in your chest that was just violently ripped open once again. 

A clock nearby chimes out twelve times, and you blink as you realize how much time has passed. Your adrenaline leaves your body quickly as exhaustion takes place, and your eyes glare at the front door one last time before you start heading up the stairs.

However, as your foot hits the first step, a loud knocking startles you. At first, you think it’s Pierre, drunk and probably without a key, but then you hear a voice. A voice that has haunted your dreams for five years.

“Y/N? Y/N, open the door. I know you are in there.” 

It can’t be…

You tiptoe to the door, your heart racing as you stare down at the knob. What should you do? Why was he here? What did he want? Should you even let him in? The consequences could be deadly, especially after what he had done just last night to his own father, but your heart was winning over your head right now.

“Please, my love, let me in.”

Your hand grasps the knob and turns it before you can stop yourself, the door opening to reveal Eris.

He looks the same, damn him. His red hair was tied back in a half-up style, the rest falling over his slender shoulders covered in a thick, dark green coat. Eris’s eyes, the color of molten amber, met yours with a ferocity that made your breath catch. Your stomach fills with butterflies as the night air caresses your skin, whispering long-forgotten memories that send your heart fluttering. 

“Eris…” you whisper, your voice tight with emotion. Whatever spell had taken over the two of you broke as you said his name. His hands came up to grasp your face as he pulled you in and kissed you, lips molding to yours as if they had never told you goodbye. 

And, cauldron help you, you kiss him back just as fiercely. You had thought about seeing him again more often than you care to admit, about how you would scream at him for what he did to you or prove to him you were better off without him. But once again, your heart craves what your mind desperately tries to discard.

It’s only when your back hits the wall of the foyer that you pull away, gasping for air as you shove him back. He blinks, dumbfounded, and goes for you again, but you shake your head and slap his hands away, gaze hot as years of resentment flood your veins.

“How dare you come into my home and kiss me like that after all you did.” You seethe, teeth clenching as he regards you like a caged predator. “You can’t just show up and do that! You can’t come in here and ruin my marriage, my life like you have any ownership of me.”

“I don’t think I was the one to ruin your marriage, little fox.” Eris replies smoothly, standing straight and giving a pointed look behind you to the mess of a dining room. 

“Don’t call me that.” You snarl, wrapping your arms around your body for comfort. “You need to leave. Now.”

“I won’t,” He states, looking you over. “I’ve defeated my father. I’m rebuilding the court and our reputation, gutting it from the inside out. I’m here to collect the last thing I need.”

Your brain goes fuzzy as he stretches out his hand, waiting for you to fall into his arms as if the past were not there. As if his letter and necklace weren’t still tucked away in a drawer by your bed. No matter how badly you missed and yearned for him, you couldn’t forgive him that easily.

“You led me on for years,” You say softly, your voice numb as you take another step back. “You courted me as if you cared. You made me believe we were real, that we would be together forever. Do you think I could just forgive and forget that after you left me with only a letter for an explanation?”

“I thought you were smarter than that.” Eris sighs and clenches his jaw, running a hand down his face as he closes the front door. 

“Excuse me? Get the-” 

“I didn’t write that letter, Y/N.” He interrupts you, coming to stand in front of you in just two short steps. “My father forced me. And yours, for that matter. I would never let you go. It was only under threat of your own harm that I chose to obey, but I swore to myself that as soon as I took control, I would come find you.”

The angry retort you had building dies in your throat, your head tilting to the side as if you hadn’t heard him correctly. 

“You…you didn’t mean what you wrote?” Your voice has a hint of hope, like the last spark of a fire, but you can’t help it. If he was telling the truth, and you still weren’t entirely convinced he was, it meant he had been waiting for you all these years. 

He grabs your face again, but it’s soft and caring this time, his thumb brushing across your cheek and collecting a tear you didn’t know had escaped. You look into his eyes, finding nothing but honesty, which only worsens it. 

“It hurt that you think I would treat you that way, that I could just throw everything we had away…” Eris whispers, tilting your chin up so you can’t look away. “I’m not your husband. I take care of what is mine. Forever. ”

The mention of him makes you wince and somewhat come back to your senses, glancing towards the clock and realizing he could be back at any moment. If he caught you with Eris, there would be no telling what he would do. Eris could take care of himself; he was a High Lord now after all, but you were vulnerable.

“Pierre…he could be home any minute. Eris, you can’t be here. You need to leave.” You frown, trying to move past him, only to gasp when his hand moves down to your neck and stills you. The hold isn’t tight, but you freeze, wide eyes looking up at him in worry. “Eris, if he finds you here with me-”

“Did you not hear what I said, little fox?” He asks mockingly, bowing his head so his lips can brush against your ear. “I take care of what is mine. And you are mine.”

Eris accentuates his words with a roll of his hips, his half-hard cock pressing against your lower half teasingly. You don’t stop the whimper that sneaks past your lips or the way your neck turns so he can mouth over your pulse point. 

“I’ve waited years for this moment, to see you again and take you home. I’ve watched as that pathetic excuse for a man dotes on you and brags about how pretty you sound in bed.” He growls, grabbing your hips and lifting you up effortlessly as you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. “The only thing that kept me sane was knowing you weren’t moaning from him like you did for me, that he can’t fill you up like your needy little pussy begs for.” 

“Please…” You whine, though you aren’t entirely sure what you are asking for. His touch was like fire against your cool skin, setting you aflame in a way you hadn’t felt in years. 

One of his hands snakes between the two of you and quickly finds your panties, his lips curling back as he feels the heat of your cunt. You swear you hear him purr as he begins to furiously bite and suck on your neck and collarbone, marking you. 

“Tell me what you need.” Eris commands, pulling back to look into your eyes.

Words fail you momentarily as you stare at each other, your heart threatening to explode as he refuses to drop his gaze. There were so many consequences to this decision, no matter what you choose, and so many things that need to be said before you can logically proceed.

But when the pad of his thumb presses against your clit and circles it slowly, the corner of his mouth tilting up to smirk, you know logic will not win tonight. 

“You, Eris,” You moan, trying to press further onto his hand for more friction. “You’re all I’ve ever needed.”

You don’t have time to scream as he squeezes you tightly and carries you up the stairs, your body bouncing so that your lower half hits his cock with each step. He groans and looks around momentarily before kicking open your bedroom door. He then throws you onto the bed and starts to undo his belt, all while keeping those burning amber eyes on you.

“Strip. Now.” He orders, voice raspy as you hastily follow his instructions, your fingers fumbling with the laces of your corset. Eris is already naked by the time you have it halfway undone, his pale skin glowing in the moonlight as he stalks over to you and grabs both sides of your top. 

“I hope you weren’t too fond of this.” Eris hums, giving no warning as he rips it in two.  You shiver as the cool air licks at your skin, your nipples pebbling while he licks his lips in anticipation. “I always thought you looked better bare anyways.”

Heat runs down your body at the comment, your thighs clenching, immediately catching his eye. You try to rise up on your knees to kiss him, but he is quick to pin you down, straddling your waist as his cock rests heavily over your cunt. 

“Let me touch you, please,” You don’t even recognize your own voice as you beg for him. It had been so long since you had felt this needy for someone. “I need something, anything, just please!”

Before you can babble anymore, his lips collide with yours, claiming you possessively as two of his fingers prod at your soaking pussy. He bites down on your bottom lip, and at the same time, he shoves his fingers inside, giving you no prep as he swallows your cries. 

“I know, baby, I know,” He coos into your ear, moving to nibble on your earlobe. “We can make love next time, but right now, right now I need to fuck your pretty little brain out to make up for lost time.”

Your back arches as he curls his fingers, finding your spot with ease and teasing you as he kisses down your neck and to your breasts. He sucks your left nipple into his mouth, capturing it between his teeth and tugging until you moan. His cock is leaking against your thigh as he ruts against you. 

Rough sex wasn’t new to you, though it had been a while. Pierre was always gentle, taking his time, and while Eris had his moments, he was quite fond of making you beg. However, when fantasizing about this, you always imagine Eris cherishing the moment. This was raw and feral.

“Eris, I’m c-close…” You groan, rolling your hips so he can get even deeper. Your walls flutter around his thick fingers, squeezing them, but right before you can fall over the edge, he pulls them out roughly. “No!”

“The only way you are cumming tonight is around this cock.” He grunts, flipping you over so that you are lying on your stomach before dragging your hips up. Both of his hands squeeze your ass before he lines himself up to your hole, rubbing his length up and down to coat himself in your slick.

“Ohhh fuck…” You moan as the head catches on your clit, your entire cunt throbbing in anticipation. “Fuck me.”

“Not yet, little fox. I want you to tell me how badly you want it.” Eris says lowly, grasping his cock and barely pressing into you before pulling away. “Tell me how much you missed me, how much you thought about me while your husband fucked you in this bed.”

Your nails dig so hard into the mattress you are sure you’ll rip it as you screw your eyes shut, already so sensitive from his teasing. It felt so wrong to speak the thoughts you have been burying for so long, to admit that you never got over the High Lord behind you. 

All of your inhibitions get thrown out the window, though, as he lands a harsh smack on your ass, his fingers pinching your clit in annoyance. 

“Don’t pretend like you haven’t thought about this, about me, Y/N. That whenever your husband would roll over at night after a mediocre fuck you wouldn’t rub that needy clit while wishing it was me.” He hisses, one of his hands grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking until your neck is craned up. “Give yourself to me, let it go.”

“Yes, okay, yes, I haven’t stopped thinking about you!” You sob, every nerve in your body on edge as he grins in approval. “Every time I had sex, every night in the bath, I couldn’t stop picturing your hands. Your chest. Your cock.”

Eris rewards your confession with what you had been craving, thrusting his entire length in one fluid movement as your pussy burns from the stretch. 

“More. Give me more.” He demands, pulling almost all the way out before snapping his hips forward.

“I-” You swallow, your mind starting to fuzz with the ecstasy of having him back inside you. “I would close my eyes and pretend it was you. I wanted it to be you. He could never compare to you, could never make me feel this good.”

Your head drops down as he lets go of your hair in favor of grabbing your hips, hypnotized by the way your cunt swallowed him whole. His hair was starting to stick to his forehead as he truly fucked you. There was no gentleness, no tendrils of love, just pure ownership and passion.

And cauldron damn you did you love it.

“Gods damn it,” Eris swears, moving one of his hands underneath you to rest on your abdomen so he could feel just how deep inside you he was. “Touch yourself, Y/N. I want you to cum on my cock as I fill you up.”

There was a distant panic in the back of your head at the thought of him cumming inside you. You weren’t on any special tea to prevent pregnancy. In fact, you were on something to encourage it. 

“Eris, wait-” You try to protest, your words dying in your throat as he starts to rub your clit for you. His hands are calloused from years of use, giving you the friction that you need to cum within minutes. “Eris, I’m not on any birth control. If you-”

“What, you think I don’t want to knock you up?” He chuckles, voice rough as he increases the speed of both his fingers and thrusts. “Oh, Y/N, did you already forget you’re mine? I came here to claim you and breed you, little fox.”

“Oh my gods,” You whimper, the image only making you draw closer to your finish as he bends over to get right next to your ear. 

“You’re going to take all of my cum and thank me for it. I’m going to do what your husband couldn’t, right here in his bed for him to smell when he comes home.” Eris sneers, a tingle going up his spine as he feels his balls tighten with the need to release. “I’ll have you barefoot and pregnant for me before he can even come get you. You’re fucking mine.”

“Yours, Eris!” You repeat, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you clench around him. He gives one more circle on your bud, and you are gone, lost to a mind-numbing orgasm that has him throwing his head back and roaring. 

Every muscle in your body tightens and releases as you greedily milk his own cum into your womb, your screams echoing off the bedroom walls. You don’t even register Eris biting your shoulder, the pain mixing dangerously with the pleasure as small rivulets of blood run down your back. 

You feel your knees give out as you collapse onto the bed, lungs begging for air while Eris slowly pulls out of you. He is silent, and you have just enough strength to look back to see him watching his speed leak out of your gaping hole, his fingers quick to collect it and stuff it back inside you.

“Eris…” You whisper, your eyes are heavy as he gingerly lifts you up and cradles you in his arms. “Is this…did you really come back for me?”

He lets out a small huff of air in humor as he nods, kissing your forehead and smoothing away your hair. Exhausted, you lean into the touch, and he seems to hold you closer. “I’ll always come back for you, little fox.” 

[thehomophobe]

How To Fluster Them 😳

A Guide To See How To Fluster Your Cybernetic Sweetheart. These guides are in no particular order so choose whichever you like.

Freddy 🐻: 

1. Surprise gifts: Gifts from fans are always appreciated; they put their heart into it when crafting little crochet plushies or keychains or drawings of him. But when you create something; even if it's a crappy looking drawing, Freddy would blush at the sight. Notice how it says surprise gifts, so you must catch the android completely off guard when you gift him. Those are the perfect fluster moments.

2. Second-Hand Embarrassment: Freddy doesn't know too much about humans and human behavior despite being an A.I. But even with that said, he still learning social cues and human nature so don't chastise him over it. However, if you notify him about anything that seemed a little offputting, Freddy would become flustered over it. A simple, yet quiet, apology may present a sense of childlike guilt like a five-year-old apology for saying something out of pocket, but inside he is a little anxious. Try to calm him down by holding his hand or his shoulder and rub it affectionately.

 Chica 🐔:

1. Catch Her (In the act of doing anything): Caught her eating out of your trash again? Or maybe wearing your clothes? Perhaps sleeping with one of your plushies? Whatever silly little thing she did, if you catch her off guard or mention it while casually cuddling together, that'll surely ruffle her feathers...

Er...metaphorically...

2. Surprise Gifts: Just like Freddy, if you surprise her with a gift, you'll definitely fluster her. Honestly, she'll be easier fluster with a gift than Freddy. Recommend surprising her with food from a restaurant or a bistro that she always wanted to go to.

Monty 🐊:

1. Flirting (Back): He flirts with you on a daily basis, to the point where you can't tell when he is or isn't flirting. But once you respond back--twice as hard---you won him over. He'll be a blushing mess, god damn where'd you get that from? (Him obviously)

2. Physical Affection: Run your fingertips across any part of his body, Under his chin, up his arms, across his chest. He's so down bad for you. A hum facsimile to a purr would emitted from him. But if you wanted maximum domesticity, crawl into his lap and kiss him anywhere. We recommend anywhere on the face to get the best fluster.

Roxy 🐺:

1. Words of Affirmation/Genuine Compliments: Compliments are key; give her one, but make it candid and sincere. She's gonna be thinking about what you said all day. All week depending on what you said. We recommend not making any sexual compliments though, they won't hit as hard as heartfelt ones.

2. Physical Affection: Massage her. You'll get a blush from her, even if you can't particularity see it. Comb through her hair, no please do it. We recommend that hair-grooming can result in flustring. Only do this for about 10-30 seconds, be prepared for her snapping at you to back off.

Sun ☀:

1. Words of Affirmation/Genuine Compliments: While not as starved for plaudits as Roxanne, be complimented on his talents would definitely result in flustering. Would recommend compliments on: acrobatics, artistic ability/creativity, singing voice, appearance (i.e. calling him handsome, cute and/or adorable), how good he is with small children. These all resulted in 100% flusteredness.

2. Physical Affection: Holding hands, brushing shoulders, bumping hips, any sense of gentle touches trigger blush for the android. An small interview with Sun noted that you make him feel "all sparking and buzzing on the inside" similar to freshly lit fireworks. Would recommend cradling his face for ultimate fluster and completely domesticity.

Moon 🌑: 

1. Words of Affirmation/Genuine Compliments: Mainly the same as his brother, yet somewhat easier to fluster as many of our research has resulted in. It appears complimenting his looks and singing voice result in 92% flusteredness. The 8% being snootiness/agitation. A smaller interview with the android had stated you give him the butterflies in his stomach when this is done. We highly recommend it.

2. Physical Affection: Once again like his brother, holding hands, cuddles, and cradling his face all result in blushing. You make him feel weak. In a good way. In a staticky, heart melting way. Just hold him close like how he holds you close. If he tries to look away keep your eye contact, tell him his eyes are beautiful and refocus his vision.

[dollfacefantasy]

Since your request are open :) and I’m literally a slut for Wolverine can you feed us some sfw and some nsfw alphabet head canon for our dilf??? I’m literally screaming ( without an s) for himmmmmm😩

eeeeee yes!!! of course i can, thanks for the ask bb <3 i'm gonna split these into two so the post won't be too long i wrote these with X2 in mind cause he's my favorite, but imagine whichever version calls to you. mdni (18+) !!

logan howlett x fem!reader nsfw alphabet ♡

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Logan is good with aftercare. Like the man fucks you into oblivion but then he'll clean you up and grab you some water afterwards. He talks to you too. Tells you how good you did and how pretty you looked for him. He's touchy, not overly clingy, but he likes how you curl up to his side and rest your head on him. He'll hold you too and rub your back.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Your pussy. Like he's obsessed. Stares at it before he eats you out, just running his thumb up and down your slit. Loves to toy with your clit and hear you whine. Always tells you how "she's" crying for him. "She" loves him so much, squeezes him so tight.

On himself, I think it'd be his abs. He knows he's hot shit. He can see how you look at them, and it strokes his ego so much. He has his shirt off a lot when it's just the two of you, and he acts so innocent about it. Loves to tease you when he catches you staring.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He loves cumming inside you. He can't explain why, but it's just this deep, innate satisfaction he gets when he fills you up. Also, on a separate note, he licks his fingers clean when he makes you cum all over them. Does not let a single drop go to waste.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He'll whine if you pull his hair. It'll be the most pathetic, needy sound you've ever heard in your entire life. It'll be utterly humiliating for him, but that just makes him fuck you harder so it's worth it.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Ok ok. Hear me out. Logan wants everyone to think he's a slut, but in reality, I don't think he is. I think he's had a decent amount of experience, but it's more so his dedication to the person he's with that makes him a good lover. He does what pleases you not just what he's found to work on others.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Basic, but his favorite is missionary. He wants to be able to have a clear view of your face while he's making you fall apart. He likes marking up your neck too which he can easily do in this position. That's not to say he won't mix it up and do other positions, but his favorite is always gonna be the classic.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Overall, he's serious. He loves to tease, but in the heat of the moment, it's only to make you whine or beg. Laughter is not the sound he's aiming for when he's balls deep in you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He's got BUSH. A huge bush. Listen. This man has all that hair on his head. Hairy forearms, hairy chest, hairy abs. He has a massive bush down there too. And that's beautiful.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Depends. He can be pretty gentle and romantic if he chooses. He can also be cocky and just run on pure lust in the moment. Most of the time, it's the latter. He fucks with the intention of pleasure. But if you've had a hard day or he's feeling vulnerable himself, the sex is much more soft. Lots of kisses, his face buried in your neck, whispering how much he needs you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He limits his jerking off to the shower. He doesn't wanna deal with the mess, and if he's that horny, he'll just come find you. Though when he does jerk off, he can get into it. Grunting, groaning, mumbling your name. Cause of course, he's thinking of you while he does it. Thinking of how cute you looked when you bent over to pick up something you dropped. Recalling the soft purr in your voice when you said his name yesterday. Imagining how good it would feel if your cunt was wrapped around him instead of his fist.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He doesn't know it yet, but this man is into pet play. He's not gonna dive right in with the ears and tail. It starts small. He calls you 'pup' sometimes without thinking too much about it. He nearly cums in his pants watching you hump his thigh like you're in heat. He's super possessive so seeing you in a collar for him would drive him up the wall.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Bedroom cause he doesn't want anyone else walking in and interrupting. Even though he jerks off in the shower, he doesn't like to fuck in there. One time the two of you were getting down in there and he slipped and it sounded like a group of metal pipes falling. It was truly tragic. Totally humiliating. Never again. You're not even allowed to speak of the incident. From then on, he keeps your escapades solely between the walls of your bedroom, but it's not always on the bed. He'll bounce you on his lap while sitting in the chair you guys have in the corner, bend you over the dresser, or maybe press you against the window.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Logan's a natural tease, so if you try teasing him back, that really revs his engine. It's just so cute that you think you can outdo him. He'll just have to show you otherwise and fuck you till the only words you can speak are his name and "please more."

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Won't do anything with the claws. He has enough anxiety about waking up from a nightmare and impaling you by accident. Anything reminding him of that possibility has his dick soft in seconds.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Logan is a lover boy through and through, so that man would have no problem eating you out. He enjoys making you feel so good, and he loves having to hold you in place by your thighs cause you're squirming around so much. He also loves having his hair pulled, so do that and he'll grind himself against the mattress a few times.

As for receiving, Logan thinks it's so cute when you offer to blow him. He's never gonna say no. He loves watching you go to work on him, bobbing your head with such dedication and making yourself gag when you try to take too much.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

90% of the time he's fast, but that doesn't always mean rough; though he can do that too. You just feel so so good, it's hard for him to take his time. He can if he's in the mood or is tired and just wants something lazy. But usually he's bucking into without holding back.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He has no problem with quickies. If you're living at the mansion, you gotta seize the opportunity when it presents itself. As established, he's fast anyways. He will get you and himself there in a matter of minutes. Plus, it presents the bonus of knowing his cum is leaking out of you for the rest of the day.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

If you came to Logan with something you wanted to try in bed, he'd most likely be down. There isn't much that's going to be a hard no for him. Even if he's not super into it personally, he'd still be willing to play with it if it was something that got you going. Plus the fact that you asked at all shows you trust him which means a lot to him.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

In his prime, he can last for a while and go multiple rounds. He's got that uncharted regenerative capability. He can get hard again pretty fast, and he will put that ability to use if you're feeling needy. He'll tease you about being insatiable even though he wants it just as much.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Does not own any toys. He doesn't feel the need. If you wanted to try using toys in the bedroom, he would, but he's never going to suggest that on his own. He prefers just pleasuring you without aid.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Logan is nothing if not a tease. Since the day you met him, he can't seem to go too long without trying to get a reaction out of you. And that extends to the bedroom. He loves edging you and then teasing you for how you whine. Gets you near tears by overstimulating you and then coos at you "What's wrong, sweetheart? Doesn't it feel good?"

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's not loud, but he's vocal. He growls and grunts right next to your ear, letting you hear every little sound he makes. He talks you through it too. "Ohhh, look at that face, that's my baby. Feels so good, doesn't it? That's my girl."

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

One of the hottest things Logan's seen is when he caught you having a dream about him. The way your moans were all soft and hazy with sleep and your thighs were pressing against each other as you squirmed. It got him all riled up knowing he was on your mind even when you were unconscious.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He's got a big cock. It's a good length, and it's pretty thick. There's a pretty vein that goes up the shaft. His balls are heavy too. Nice and big to go with his dick.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Yearner is Logan's middle name. He pined for you, and now that he has you, he's not gonna waste that. He's got a high sex drive and you guys are doing it most days of the week at least once.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He takes a while to fall asleep afterwards. He just likes to make sure you've settled. He'll watch you sleep for a little bit and be alone with his thoughts before finally conking out.

[pit-and-the-pen]

Hi I had a fic request for really any of bat boys, whichever you feel like! My idea was that the mating bond had only recently snapped into place for both them and the reader. They’re taking things slow and getting to know each other before they accept it.

Anywho, the reader is unknowingly projecting her feelings down the bond all day/week, whether she’s excited over a book, irritated cause she’s hangry, or just downright horny lol. Thought it would be fun to see how the bag boy would react to these things happening at random points throughout the day and whatnot.

This started out as just head cannons and turned into a full Az fic. Hope you like it and sorry for the wait!

WC: 2.7k

Warnings: suggestive ( reference to masturbation and sex)

Little Gifts

Azriel never expected to get a mate. He had long given up on the idea, content with watching his brother find the loves of their lives. That was until he met you. You were new in Velaris, having moved from the summer court. He was making his usual trip to the small bakery in town to pick up Feyre’s favorite pastries, a small favor for Rhys who didn’t have time to do so. Little did he know how much he would be thanking Rhys for the task he had rolled his eyes at. It took one look across the shop for him to feel the mating bond snap into place. He asked you on a date that very day. You had blushed, mumbling out something about not expecting the shadowsinger to show any interest in you but agreed nonetheless

The date had been wonderful in Azriel’s eyes. You were sweet and kind, and had him slowly breaking out of his shell by the end of the night. It took all of three dates for the bond to snap for you, But the two of you had agreed to take things slowly. Velaris was still so new that you had wanted to find your own way before accepting the bond between the two of you.

Azeriel was more than willing to let you have all the time you needed. He would never forgive himself if he pushed you into accepting the mating bond before you were ready. Regardless of the fact that every moment he spent with you he could feel himself falling harder and harder for you. It didn’t help that he was constantly getting little glimpses of your emotions at random times of the day. Something that was unknown to you from the way you never talked about it. Azriel assumed since you haven't accepted the bond yet that it wouldn’t feel as strong with his emotions as it did for you. So he never told you, afraid to lose that little part of you that he had come to look forward to.

-----

Something was tugging at Azriel’s chest. He knew right away it was coming from you but that didn’t stop the small twinge of panic that overcame him when he felt your distress. Shadows instantly shooting out across the house searching for you. They reported back quickly, Library. Crying in the library. He walked as quickly as he could, fighting the urge to sprint to you. The door to the library was cracked open and he heard the fire crackling in the corner of the room and the tell tale sniffle that had led him toward you. Azriel walked as calmly as he could until he was standing beside you. He crouched down until he was eye level with you. You peaked over your book and jumped a little at the sight of your mate in front of you.

He reached out a tentative hand to wipe a tear from your cheek and he was rewarded with the slight coloring of your cheeks.

“You’re upset.”

“I…It’s just my book.” You held up the paperback in your hand to prove your point. Azriel felt something in his chest relax. His shoulders dropped slightly.

“I thought I saw your shadows around.” A small smile creeped onto your face. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

“Don’t be. I just want to keep you safe.”

Azriel stood up to walk out of the room when you wrapped your hand around his wrist. He spun around to look at you.

“Would you stay with me?” Once again he watched blood rush to your cheeks. A tinge of embarrassment was sent down the bond. Azriel smiled so wide it made his cheeks hurt.

“Of course.” His shadows zipped to grab his paperwork that had been discarded on his deskHe sat down by the end, letting you continue to sprawl out on the couch. You didn’t hesitate to lift your legs and place them on his lap. The two of you sat in silence. Him reading over his reports, you wrapped in your own book. Azriel let out a content sigh and tried his best to focus on the words in front of him. He lasted for all of three pages before he started tracing patterns on your legs. You both sat in the library for hours until Azriel heard your stomach growl and offered you a hand, pulling you to the kitchen.

----------

Azriel didn’t know what to do. Everyone had gone to Rita’s to blow off some steam from a particularly rough high lords meeting. The one that they had dismissed for the day with a promise to reconvene in a few days because of the arguments from today. Mor had dragged you onto the dance floor almost immediately after she all but shoved some strong smelling drink down your throat.Rhys and Feyre bowed out after a drink or two, needing to get Nyx to bed. Nesta and Cassian were so close together right now that Azriel knew it was only a matter of time before they left as well. That left Azriel sitting by himself in their booth. He knew he should go join you, every fiber of his being told him to. But he wanted you to be able to have time with Mor, didn’t want to be the overbearing mate that didn't allow you to have space. So he sat and watched you. Eyes trailing up and down your body as you moved gracefully, hands in your hair, head thrown back in delight. Azriel was more than happy to just be in the same room to witness that type of joy on your face. He was so caught up in you that he didn’t even notice someone approaching until an unfamiliar body was slipping into the booth beside him. He hoped that just ignoring the female sitting next to him would be enough of a deterrent for whatever she was going to say, but she just gave him a glossy lipped smile.

“Now, why is someone as handsome as you sitting all by yourself?” She purred, Azriel could practically taste the seduction in the air. The way her hands started trailing across the table to get closer to Azriel’s gloved hands. He quickly pulled them away, putting them on his lap. He didn’t respond. Just kept looking out at his mate.

“Oh, the silent broody type. It’s fine. You don’t need to talk for what I want to do with you.” She gave a fake giggle and Azriel tried to put some space between the two of them when he felt a push of anger so strong it made him gasp. The brunette sitting next to him only laughed again, thinking his reaction was in response to her words. She started raising a hand, straight towards his wings he realized in horror when a hand shot out to grab her wrist. One moment the female was sitting and the next she was being hauled up by her wrist.

“Get away from my mate.” He heard you all but growl. He could have sensed your anger without the bond currently thrumming away in his chest. Pulsing fast like a second heartbeat.

The female in front of you had the decency to look ashamed for all of two seconds.

“YOu should keep him a little closer if you don’t want others looking.” And with one more long stare at Azriel she turned on her heel and walked away. You looked like you were fighting the urge to jump her from behind as she stalked out of sight. Azriel stood up and wrapped his arms around you. He noticed the way you were trembling slightly.

“Are you okay?” He asked into the top of your head. You scoffed, anger still radiating off of you.

“I should be asking you that.”

“I’m old, this is far from the first time someone has tried to make an unwanted advance.” That apparently was not the right thing to say. He swore your skin was heating up as the anger flared up even more, becoming pure outrage.

“She almost touched your wings.”

“I’m-”

“I swear to the mother if you say you’re used to it I’m going to explode.”

And Azriel believed her. He really did. He pulled away slightly to look at your face, trying to calm some of that raging fire in your blood.

He barely pulled back before your hands were tangling into the front of his shirt, pulling him to your lips. He was so shocked at first, matching the shock he felt through the bond, that he just stood there. But then you trailed a hand up his arm, tangling your fingers in his hair and he started kissing you back. Your lips were soft despite the searing kiss. His hands ghosted down to your waist and he pulled you flush against his body. The motion drew a small whine from your throat that had every part of his body stiffening. He felt it then, that crash of excitement through the bond. You were happy to be touching him, kissing him. He pulled away, trying to get his bearings before he hauled you over his shoulder and winnowed out of the small bar. When he looked at your face he saw a similar emotion echoed in your eyes. Your cheeks were flushed and lips were slightly swollen. Slightly damp with his spit.

He had to force himself to take another step back. Putting more space between the two of you felt wrong and that wash of disappointment through his chest almost made him laugh. Instead he reached a hand out and tucked a finger under your chin, pulling your eyes to meet his.

“When I finally get to touch you, it’s not going to be because you’re trying to prove a point sweetheart. As sweet as the notion is.” You smiled at him and held out your hand, pulling him onto the dance floor.

------

You looked like pure sin. The black dress was covered in reflective glitter, turning blue whenever you moved. His shade of blue he noted with a rush of pride. Your dress was a twin to Nestas, hers being red to match her mate. It hugged every single inch of you, showing off the parts that Azriel had only dreamed of seeing so far. The two of you had been toeing a dangerous line since the kiss you shared a few days prior. Azriel would be lying to himself if he said it hasn't been replaying nonstop in his head. The way you had melted into him, the small noise from the back of your throat. He took a deep steadying breath trying his best to quell the desire he felt from looking at you. He looked back to you and caught your eyes roaming over him in return. When you got back to his face you didn’t look the slightest bit ashamed. Instead you sent him a smirk that had him clenching his fists to stop him from dragging you back to his room like he should have done the other night. No, he forced himself to look away from you, breaking whatever spell he was caught in.

The High Lords meeting was just as much of a mess as it was the other day. No progress was made, voices raising over each other in effort to get their thoughts heard. You were sitting with your arms crossed, utterly fuming as your voice was drowned out for the third time.

“If I wanted to listen to someone who knows absolutely nothing, I would listen to the rest of my court.” The source of the voice was indistinguishable over the chaos in the room but it was obvious it was aimed at you. Azriel felt the embarrassment pulse through the bond. He was on his feet before he realized it, hands slamming down on the table.

“Watch your mouth.” His words cut through the squabbling. All eyes in the room turned to him, your own wide and unblinking. He noted the slight flush to your cheeks, the way it seemed like you were holding your breath as you looked at him.“You’re all High Lords. Start.Acting.Like.It.” He spit out the words, a calm wave pushed through the bond. That’s when he felt your hand gently stroking over his. He sighed deeply and sat back down.

A sharp jab at his mind had him hiding a flinch. Your eyes jumped to him again, eyebrows pulling tight together in concern. He just squeezed your hand, the one that hadn’t let go of his as he settled back into his chair. Rhys’ voice filled his mind. Care to explain that? He pushed him out, not bothering to respond to his brother's prodding. He just tried to focus on that thread of comfort, tinged with something he tried to ignore. You shifted slightly in your seat, your dress bunching in a motion he instantly noted as you rubbed your thighs together. He sucked in a shaky breath, the lust he felt earlier hitting him in full force. He was desperately resisting the urge to put his hand on your leg. Resisting the urge to drag you out of the damned room.

The rest of the meeting was painful, for a new reason this time. He spent the next few hours acutely aware of every little motion you made. Every squirm, every shift had him straightening in his seat. It would be one thing if it was only him but the feelings you were pushing through the bond were absolutely torture. He was seconds away from leaning down and whispering in your ear when someone clears their throat loudly. Rhys.

“I think we’ve actually made some good progress today.” They had? “It might be time to quit while we’re ahead. Same time next month?” Murmurs of agreement filled the room and people started rising to turn to whatever they had planned for the rest of the night. Azriel turned to you but you were scrambling to your feet, looking anywhere but him, he noted. You quickly gathered the ends of your skirt and all but ran out of the room. Leaving Azriel with his hands slightly extended, still reaching for you.

“Scare her off?” Cassian slapped a playful hand on Azriel’s shoulder that had him fighting not to roll his eyes. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe he did. You seemed so eager to get away from him. Maybe he had scared you when he raised his voice. Spoke over you in a way you didn’t appreciate. Ariel turned away from his brother, ready to race to find you to apologize when he felt it. That rush of electricity that made every part of him stiffen. He could practically taste the arousal that was flowing through the bond. His heartbeat sped up and he was suddenly very aware that he was standing besides Cassian.

Ariel didn’t say a word as he walked as calmly as he could back to his room. He now understood why you had left in such a hurry and a frisson of pride ran through him. While he may not be psychically touching you, it was reassuring to know he made his mate this riled up. He was thankful he had made it back to his room when he felt that first wave of pure pleasure. His mind started to wonder how you must look right now. How pretty you oiled sound, if your face would scrunch up or if you would keep your beautiful eyes fixed on him the entire time. He reached his hand down to adjust himself, now painfully hard in his pants. But he wanted to soak in your pleasure, waves after wave being sent down the bond. You must be close if his racing heartbeat was anything to go by.

deep down he knows he should shut off his side of the bond. Give you your private moment but he couldn’t help the little reach of his own arousal, he sent just a hint of it down the bond. It was like the world stood still as he waited for your reaction. He couldn’t fight the smile that creeped onto his face as he felt your answer. Were you planning on joining me? Azriel didn’t hesitate to send his reply. I’m more than happy to finish the job sweetheart. Nothing else was said as he could feel your anticipation down the bond and followed that tug deep in his chest to deliver on his promise

[sonotpattismith]

savior complex

pairing: satoru gojo x reader word count: 9.6k content: manga spoilers, fluff in the beginning, angst, if gojo had survived, depression, feelings of worthlessness, hurt w/ comfort, smut, 18+ inspired by: would you fall in love with me again from epic the musical (my SHAYLAAA)

Gojo wasn’t sure that he’d had to try so hard at anything in his life— not as hard as he tried for you. 

It took weeks after that first day that you’d transferred into Jujutsu High during his third year to even get you to look at him. And sure, he knew that his flirting was rusty given the fact that he’d… never done it, but he also knew he was a handsome guy, paired with his untouchable strength as a sorcerer (pun intended), and of course his sizable wealth didn’t hurt either— he figured he was a catch. 

Then you came along, with your fierce personality and your killer smile and your tendency to completely walk past him each time he tried to get your attention. It was embarrassing— the amount of times he had been left in your dust, a cocky grin slowly falling from his face as he dropped whichever technique it was that he was trying to impress you with that day, his friends barely holding back their laughter at the peacock type display Gojo seemed so confident in. 

He was clueless as to what he was doing wrong. Did he stink? You didn’t seem as… uninclined to interact when it was Suguru asking you how you were adjusting to a new school. Trying as hard as he could not to look as similar to a perturbed toddler as he certainly felt, he even tried inserting himself into your conversations sometimes. It often ended horribly awkward for him, your sentence usually trailing off and your eyes giving him a tentative once over before you would continue your story— definitely not as enthused as you had been prior to his interruption though. 

“Do I smell?” Satoru asked with an expression of stone cold seriousness one afternoon to an exasperated Suguru, who had already had a long day as it was without his best friend’s nonsense adding onto it. The black-haired man swiveled his head around to gaze tiredly at him, allowing his face to speak for him. “No, I’m serious. Sniff me, tell me— please.” 

“Get off of me.” Suguru grunted as he shoved at the boy who was currently damn near straddling his waist while shoving his exposed armpit into his friend’s face. “Why am I nose deep in your pits right now, Satoru?”

“Because I don’t know what else is wrong with me.” 

“I could think of a few—”

“It’s like I don’t even exist!” Gojo pointedly interrupted that jab before tossing himself back on Geto’s bed. “I’ve done everything. I’ve taken over missions for her, I bought her that weird ass keychain she was looking at when we all went to Kyoto— I even tried doing that thing where I blocked the rain with my infinity. She pulled out an umbrella, Suguru. If I wasn’t so embarrassed I would’ve laughed my ass off.”

“Satoru—”

“I’m talking perfect comedic timing. I thought she couldn’t get hotter and now she’s funny—”

“Have you tried getting your head out of your ass?” Suguru finally raised his voice to cut through his incessant rambling.

 The six eyes blinked at him a few times from behind his rounded glasses, an expression of petulance slowly overtaking his features. Crossing his arms over his chest, he looked defiantly in the other direction.

“You didn’t have to yell—”

But he was once again cut off, this time not by his aggravated friend, but the heavy thud and clatter from the next room over. Both boys’ heads snapped to look at one another with wide eyes. It was silent for a moment. 

“Isn’t that…” Gojo’s question trailed off when the boy beside him nodded affirmatively with an equally concerned expression— your dorm. 

In an instant, both boys were flying out of their lazed spots on the bed, fighting to squeeze through the door at the same time. It was Satoru who first pounded his fist on your door.

“Are you okay?” He shouted as Suguru finally stumbled behind him. After a moment of silence, he tried sliding the door open, but, as expected, it was locked. Pounding his fist three more times against it, he began yelling. “Hey! I’m coming in!”

He probably could have used his technique for a less… destructive route, however your lack of response was making his mind muddle with horrendous possibilities. Leaning back, one swift kick had the offending door crashing in, and both boys were quickly hopping through. You were laying in a heap on the rugged floor by your desk, a handful of your supplies strewn around you.

“Get Shoko.” Satoru commanded blindly, sliding to his knees before you to check if you were still breathing. Just as his fingers brushed against your neck though, and Suguru was halfway out the door, you stirred from your sudden coma-like state. 

Your brows furrowed, and your eyes were bleary when they opened as you slowly moved to sit up. At once, the boy in front of you was pushing you back down by the shoulders. 

“Don’t move until Shoko comes to see you.” 

“Shoko? No, no, I’m fine.” You sluggishly brushed off his hands before carefully standing up. A sigh of irritation left you as he shot his arms out to steady you should you fall. Sure, you knew he was only trying to help, but he wasn’t exactly your favorite person, and you were slightly (severely) embarrassed that he’d found you in such a state. 

“Fine?” He laughed dryly with a shake of his head. “Sweetheart, you and I have two very different definitions of fine.”

Biting back a scowl at the pet name, you bent down to begin picking up the things you’d dropped on your way to the ground. Scoffing in disbelief, he placed his hands on your shoulders to push you down to sit at your desk chair. 

“Will you sit down? You just passed out—”

“I said I’m fine. You’re not my father, and you’re not my boyfriend. So you can cut the savior crap with me.” You snapped, and the regret was almost instant the second the last syllable fell from your lips. 

It was hard not to get irritated with him though. Satoru and his perfect life and untouchable powers and abundance of wealth that he seemed so sure everyone would drop to their knees for. After having fought tooth and nail to prove to your family that exploring your cursed technique would be worthwhile, it felt like a slap in the face for him to be constantly boasting about how easily everything came to him. 

“Yeah? Thank god for that. I’ll make sure to call your father or your boyfriend next time you decide to collapse instead of showing any sort of concern myself like a decent fucking person.”

You weren’t sure you had ever seen him actually riled up, always with a bright (albeit obnoxious) smile on his face as he tried so desperately to get everyone else as giddy as he constantly seemed to be. A pang of guilt struck you for having been the reason Gojo finally frowned. Mentally cursing yourself, you tucked your legs against your chest, chin resting on your knees as you chewed pensively on your bottom lip. He didn’t storm out as you were sure he would have, but his back was turned to you now as he stared at the door awaiting Shoko’s arrival.

“I just… I forget to eat sometimes when I’ve got alot going on.” You explained quietly, eyes cast down to your desk. From your peripheral, you saw him turn around to face you once again. “And I won’t remember until I pass out.” 

It was silent for an uncomfortable minute before a strangled laugh threatened to escape the boy’s mouth. Your head shot up to glare at him in question, exasperated at his hot and cold behavior. Upon noting your irritation, he covered his mouth with his hands as if it would stop you from hearing the cackles that shook his frame. 

“You know what— fuck you, Gojo.” 

“No! No, I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you— I swear!” Though he was barely able to get his frantic explanation out due to his continuous giggles. He desperately tried to get himself together as you turned away from him with burning cheeks. “I-I’m laughing because… Suguru is pulling Shoko out of class as we speak to check on you, and I broke your door down, and you… just needed a burger.”

Satoru cursed himself to sleep that night as the scene replayed in his mind of you finally having opened up to him, and he pathetically wasted the opportunity by… laughing at you. Slamming his head repeatedly against his pillow, he thought perhaps you were just out of his league at this point, as he couldn’t for the life of him seem to get anything right with you. 

He tried desperately to catch you alone the next week or so, but it seemed something else always had your attention. Whether it be your being sent on a mission, or spending time with Shoko (who knew Satoru had been begging to have a minute alone with you), or holed up in your room, headphones pressed snuggly over your ears as you hunched over your desk. 

After the collapsing fiasco, you had been leaving your door slightly ajar for fear that it may be broken down again should you have another episode. The white-haired man couldn’t count how many times he’d strolled by the door under the guise of seeing Suguru who was just one room over. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could play that one off, because his friend was beginning to grow impatient with the way he’d slide into his room multiple times a day with nothing to say, standing there for a few minutes with his hands in his pockets so it seemed like he’d actually had some business there. 

“Will you please just talk to her? You’re driving me insane.” Geto groaned out, just having been woken up from a nap by one of Satoru’s unexpected drop ins. “This is getting pathetic, Satoru.”

“I would if she didn’t look so busy all the damn time.” He grumbled, his forehead knocking against the door in aggravation. 

His own words played back in his head, and they had him quickly straightening his posture, an unreadable expression on his face. Had Suguru been more conscious at the moment, perhaps he would have questioned his sudden mood shift. The black-haired boy was already slipping back into his leaden slumber though, allowing Gojo to quickly slip back out of the room without a second glance.

It was an embarrassing amount of time later when he returned to that hallway, though he wouldn’t know the difference because he’d never had to make an utter mess of the kitchen just to make himself— or anyone for that matter— lunch. Still, oblivious to just how unnecessarily chaotic he had been in the process, Satoru was standing beside your desk expectantly until you caught his imposing form in your peripheral. Pulling down your headphones, you looked up at him with confusion etched all over your tired face. 

“Eat something.” Was the only explanation he gave, shoving a plate of… interestingly shaped onigiri toward you. You blinked down at the messy plate, your eyes trailing up to the hand attached to it that still had remnants of rice sticking to their fingers. Satoru pursed his lips at your silence, undoubtedly taking it as the same refusal you’d been giving his time and attention for months. “You’ve been in here all day studying. Eat something before you pass out again.”

But your silence wasn’t born out of the usual annoyance the white-haired man typically sparked in you. Instead, it was a stunned type of speechlessness, too touched and taken aback by what you thought was uncharacteristic thoughtfulness from the boy you were sure only thought about himself. 

Gulping down the gentle lump in your throat, you slowly accepted the plate from him, eyes fixed on the lumps of rice staring back at you. From your peripheral, you watched him nod before resignatingly turning around to leave and let you eat in peace. 

“Gojo?” He swiveled around frantically at the hesitant call of his name. There was a shy smile on your face as you looked up from the plate at him, tugging the headphones from your neck. “Aren’t you gonna stay?”  

It was clear in the way he shifted his weight antsily between his feet and stopped the widening of his already unnaturally large eyes that he was trying with everything in him not to look too excited. Pretending to check the time on a watch that wasn’t present on his wrist, he nodded with feigned nonchalance. 

“Uh… yeah, I can sit with you for a minute.”

“Just a minute?” You quipped with a raised brow.

“Or longer— no rush, y’know?” He quickly corrected as he yanked desperately at the bean bag in the corner of your room to sit beside you. The plush cushion was dragged so close to your desk chair that you wouldn’t be able to roll it away from him if you tried. 

You smiled knowingly at him, holding out the plate for him to take one of the rice balls.

“Those are for you.” Satoru shook his head, pushing the plate back toward you. 

“What would I do without you?” You teased, though there was a poorly concealed sincerity behind your fond eyes that had his heart beating out of his chest. With an amused smile, you shook your head at him. “Gojo, look, I appreciate the sentiment, but you made these the size of baseballs. Take one.”

A furious blush overtook his features at your words. It was admittedly quite refreshing to see the typically haughty sorcerer actually embarrassed, and it made him seem more human to you despite the lightyears of differences that seemed to separate you two. Sinking into his seat, his knees were nearly touching his chest thanks to the combination of the low seat and his freakishly long legs. 

“I’ve never really made anything before.” He confessed through a sheepish murmur as he finally picked up one of his messy creations. “Guess cooking isn’t one of my countless innate talents.”

“Are you telling me the strongest sorcerer has a flaw?” You gasped dramatically, revelling in the way he narrowed his striking eyes at you from behind his glasses in feigned offense. They had slipped down his nose, revealing those long, white lashes that would have any woman green with envy. 

“Can’t have it all, can I?” That infuriatingly charming smirk of his attempted to catch you off guard, but you fought past the urge to melt for him just as everyone else did so willingly. It was taking all of his own willpower to not squirm in anticipation under your gaze, what with the way you seemed to study him so closely. 

“Well, that would imply you’ve got everything else.” 

“Don’t I?”

“How about some shame? Humility? Social aware—”

“Would you please just eat?”

Though Satoru’s damn near shameful attempt at onigiri wasn’t exactly gonna win him any culinary awards anytime soon, it certainly won him something even better— your long-awaited attention. That next day in class, he had all but walked past you and Shoko, who were huddled beside each other discussing the reversed curse technique that you had been desperately trying to learn more about. 

He figured, as you always had in the past, that you didn’t want him budding into your conversations. You caught his towering figure in your peripheral, that stark, white hair traceable in even the largest of crowds. It made your words trail mid-sentence, and you smiled apologetically at your friend before shifting around to call out to him. The typically cool-demeanored boy nearly tripped over his own feet when you asked him to join you two to give his opinion on the matter. 

Shoko’s eyes rolled, a poorly concealed smirk of amusement poking up around her lit cigarette as he raced over, pushing his friend not-so-subtly aside with his shoulder in order to take the spot next to you. 

It seemed as though he knew that each time you graced him with your attention, he had to make sure he made it worth your while, and he began spouting off on a shockingly eloquent rant about the subject at hand. You hadn’t been aware that he was actually… quite intelligent under all that bravado and foolishness. In fact, you were quickly learning, as you watched him turn red in the face from the speed at which he was info-dumping, that Satoru was kind of a giant nerd.

This newfound side of him that you’d been a fool not to allow him the chance to show to you, made you actually start to understand why everyone seemed to be so fond of him. Aside from his boyish charm and knockout face, he was an avid intellectual— a trait he always seemed to be bursting at the seams to share with anyone who would listen to him. 

The two of you traded books and tips, and he tried to reel back his innate cockiness each time he was able to teach you something you didn’t know, though you were quickly beginning to understand that haughtiness was simply part of the Satoru Gojo package. Alongside his surprising thoughtfulness and undeniable ability to make you crack a smile even in your lowest of moods, you decided that you could let his occasional arrogance slide. 

Despite all your best attempts to maintain your nonchalance at the man who wore the title of the strongest like the boldest of tattoos across his forehead, no levels of his infuriating infinity could even keep you away from falling right into Satoru’s orbit. Even the heavens above knew that nothing would keep him from pulling you right in either. 

That was why even all these years later, no one in this world could have convinced you that the same boy who fought tooth and nail for your affection as a mere teenager would have abandoned you so carelessly now. 

“Would you please just eat?” 

Those painstakingly familiar words were now falling from the lips of Megumi Fushiguro, who, alongside his fellow students, seemed to be the only evidence of the white-haired man you had had contact with in the days following your fiance’s battle with the King of Curses. The ring on your left hand only served to mock you the longer this charade went on. 

You looked up from the glimmering stone to glare haphazardly up at the raven-haired boy before you. He was clutching a tray of somen noodles within his scarred hands, his face firm with exasperation despite the disheartened glint in his dark eyes. Ignoring the furious growls in your stomach at the sight of the dish, you glanced to the side. 

“It’s been three days, Megumi.” You stated monotonously, but the tears that brimmed in your waterline betrayed you. “If he died, then just tell me. I can handle—”

“He doesn’t want to see you. He left.” The boy repeated for what must have been the tenth time since breaking the news to you. 

Itadori and Kugisaki trailed just outside the entrance of the common area where you had taken up residence in protest of Gojo’s sudden disappearance. Fushiguro had always been closer to you than the others had, what with your having been there when his benefactor took him in. The other two student’s weren’t sure they could handle that broken look in your eyes as well as their aloof counterpart could. 

“He wouldn’t have left like this.” You insisted through gritted teeth, swiping furiously at the traitorous tears that raced down your sunken cheeks. “Tell him if he wants to leave me that he can come say it to my face. Until then, take your food and go come up with a better excuse.” 

The shadow-user sighed desolately at your continued refusal. He only wished he could tell you that he wanted nothing more than for his mentor to man up and come face you himself. It was killing him to see you waste away like this with the hopes that it would draw Gojo out from wherever it was he was hiding. You had refused to leave that stiff couch, refused to eat, refused to accept the lies your fiance had told them to give you to explain his absence. 

While it infuriated him to no end, Megumi could also, for once, understand the white-haired man’s ever-confusing decisions. Despite that part of him that felt he would have likely done the same thing, the boy knew deep down that you would be able to handle this situation far better than what Gojo was giving you credit for.

Setting the tray down on the table in front of you, Megumi nodded to his friends to leave you be once again. It was now his turn to report back to the man of the hour, hoping that something would get through to him if he heard how long it had been since you’d moved an inch. 

Your form of protest was skillfully thought out, because you were right— it was killing Satoru to know that you were wasting away by yourself in that desolate common room. After all these years, it would have been foolish of him to assume that you wouldn’t know the best ways to get under his skin. Perhaps he should have had them tell you he was dead, though he was selfishly worried about the permanent consequences that lie would have. That, and he had a feeling that somehow you two were far too soul-tied for you to not be able to tell if he’d truly left this earth or not.

The supposed strongest was trying desperately to stay resolute in his decision, because if there was one thing he knew for certain, it was that he no longer deserved you. After everything he’d done, everything he hadn’t been strong enough to do, Satoru couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping beside you each night knowing what he was once capable of, now that he was no longer. 

What would you think of him? Even if you did accept him as he was now, would it only be out of pitiful obligation? He wasn’t sure he could stomach the idea of you shifting your life to accommodate him— not when he had made it his life’s mission since you two were teenagers to assure you never had to lift a finger if it wasn’t what you truly wanted to do. 

Satoru would hardly be able to blame you. When he got down on one knee, you had agreed to marry a version of him that no longer existed— one that was an unstoppable force, that could protect and please you without so much as breaking a sweat. This version of himself that he was now being forced to come to terms with was worthless, only a shell of his former self that you had fallen in love with. 

The stubbornness that he had grown to love since you first turned your cheek to him all those years ago was only infuriating him now. It was making it that much harder to leave you behind as he knew was best for you when you were reminding him with each passing day how well you knew him, and he wasn’t sure anyone had ever understood him on such a level— and no one ever would again. 

After nearly a week of this back and forth, with your only leaving your post to shower and barely accepting food, Satoru wasn’t sure if he’d be able to wait out your stubborn protest as he thought would be his only option. Each day, he’d tell himself that you’d cave eventually— you’d give up and go back home. You would move on and live your life until you forgot about him, safe from the burden of who he’d become. Each day though, you proved him wrong. 

The lights of the common room had already dimmed for the night, the only illumination coming from the gentle rays of the moon’s glow as it creeped in through the windows. Winter was taking its toll on the campus, especially the room you’d stubbornly decided to stay put in for the past week or so. At least if you had been at home, the comfort of your heater promised protection from the building cold. 

Despite how much your body trembled under the solace of the blanket Megumi had brought for you, you knew that home wouldn’t be nearly as comforting as the trick of nostalgia was telling you— not without Satoru there to share that warmth. 

Curling in on yourself, you stared blankly at the low table in front of you where another tray of food had been left untouched. Truthfully, a part of you wondered how much longer you could keep this protest up, only the occasional pack of soda crackers fortifying you as you waited out Satoru’s absence. The more stubborn side of you said you’d wither away here on this unforgiving couch if it meant you at least went down trying. 

The soft patter of snow falling against the windows lulled your stinging eyes shut. Even your dreams had been desperately trying to make sense of your fiance’s uncharacteristic abandonment. Nightmares plagued you most nights, Satoru being at the forefront of each one; they all ended in his horrendous death— because death was the only logical explanation you could conjure up for him leaving you behind so mercilessly. 

Tonight’s cinematic retelling of the endless possibilities of his final fate had you awakening with a start. No matter how many nights now that you had spent reliving the same grief over and over again, no amount of repitition could stop the way the tears that should have run out by now would pour from your eyes first thing each morning. 

The moon was still watching over you when you decided to pull yourself from your latest nightmare. Panting out through strained sobs, the blanket slipped down your shoulders upon your abrupt descent into a sitting position. It didn’t take you long to realize that you weren’t alone tonight, despite the criminally early hour it must have been. 

Your wide, burning eyes blinked a few times at the man standing before you as though he might vanish back into the depths of your imagination should you clear your bleary eyes enough. He remained firmly in his place, silent as death as you processed the scene you had woken up to. 

He figured you might yell at him, hit him with all the force of a scorned woman, tell him off for having disappeared, but you only assessed him quietly. With narrowed eyes, you took in the way his hair had grown out slightly past his normal length, covering his forehead in a manner that almost seemed intentional. His dark-rimmed glasses covered up the eyes that you had been longing to see for so long, almost mocking you as your own reflection stared back at you through the lenses. 

Satoru— he was standing right before you, shoulders rising and falling, but silent, and uncharacteristically so. You’d be able to pick him out of a crowd, you were sure of it, but there was something so different about him now as he stared down at you. The tendrils of cursed energy that were typically flowing out of him in overwhelming waves no longer filled the air around you. They once blanketed you in their demanding presence, but now the air surrounding you was lighter, his energy a stark difference to the one you had grown used to.

Slowly, you stood from the couch, the frigid touch of the wood floors permeating the thick layer of your socks and sending a shiver down your spine. Your eyes never left his concealed ones as you rose to stand just a hair’s breadth away from him. His Adam's apple bobbed at your sudden proximity, and it was taking all of his already frail energy to not wrap you in his arms to chase away the cold that dared to bite at your frame. 

 The man flinched back notably as your hand reached up for his glasses, but it didn’t deter you from carefully pulling them off of his face. He closed his eyes though, desperately resolute in his attempt to conceal the truth from you. 

“Look at me.” 

Your simple demand nearly broke his resolve after so long of longing to hear that melodic voice of yours again. Clenching his jaw, he slowly allowed his eyes to open, unsure of why he thought you wouldn’t be able to tell that something was different about him.

And different it was.

Satoru’s once other-worldly, glittering eyes that shone with the promise of his earth-shattering abilities were now dulled— still that breathtaking blue that you had come to love, however the absence of the trait he prided himself so devoutly on was evident, even in the dim moonlight. 

You watched as he tried to keep his face neutral, but that fierce insecurity that was so rare to see on him was breaking through his changed eyes. There was no explanation needed— you understood now with stunning clarity why he had tried to stay away. 

He must have taken your silence for horror, his lips pulling into a firm line as he leaned down to grab the tray of food he had come here with the intention of delivering to you himself. The carefully prepared meal was shoved forward.

“Eat.” 

His firm order shook you from your trance, and you were now beginning to notice the countless scars lining his face and arms that hadn’t been there when you kissed him goodbye that dreaded morning before the battle. Blinking back the mist in your eyes, you sniffled and shook your head at him, squaring your shoulders in a fierce display of determination.

“I want to eat at home.” You explained through calculated eye contact. “Take me home, Satoru.” 

It was becoming increasingly difficult to conceal the pain it was igniting in him to refuse you. Painting a scowl onto his features, he pressed the tray against your chest.

“I didn’t change my mind.” He insisted unyieldingly, hoping the contempt he was feigning was convincing. “I’m leaving, I don’t want to be with you anymore. Now— eat.” 

His words were undoubtedly a slap in the face, evident in the way you flinched back subtly. Gulping down the lump in your throat, your eyes trailed down his visibly tired frame once again. His arms were trembling ever so slightly with the weight of the tray in his hands, and you were now noticing the matching scars circling both his arms. 

“You don’t want to be with me anymore?” You repeated, though your question came out more like a statement, and it took him a moment before he reminded himself to offer a solid nod in confirmation.

 With a solemn nod of your own, you took the tray from him to place it back on the table before tugging the engagement ring off of your finger. His face contorted gut-wrenchingly at the sight, barely able to register what you were doing as you lifted his hand to place the ring in the center of it. Your expression remained fiercely neutral as you held out your own palm to him. He only blinked down at you, a misty haze clouding his gaze. 

“Give me your ring.” You demanded simply. 

It had been glaring at you since you first opened your eyes and saw him, glimmering under the faint glow of the moon. The promise ring you had given him in exchange for the one he gifted you on your third anniversary together— it was still sat proudly on his left-hand’s ring finger, awaiting to be replaced by a wedding band just as he’d replaced yours with an engagement ring only a few months ago. 

He swallowed thickly at your request, but you only shook your outstretched palm at him in expectation. Looking down at his left hand, his thumb absentmindedly rolled over the silver band, feeling the indents of you two’s initials carved into the metal under his fingertip. Despite his best efforts to control his expression, his bottom lip trembled at the implications of what he was about to do. Your heart cracked as you watched the tears pool in his eyes. Dropping his head, he allowed his hair to curtain over his eyes as the salty streams began pouring down his cheeks. 

“Don’t do this to me.” He whispered desolately with a shake of his head. A heavy sigh fell from your lips, drooping your shoulders in the process.

“Then put that ring back on my finger and take me home, Toru.”

“And then what?” Satoru exclaimed, finally looking up at you through the blur of his frustrated tears. The abrupt motion shifted his rustled hair, revealing a sliver of the thick scar running across his forehead. “I’m not the same man you agreed to marry.”

“Don’t be ridiculous—”

“Look at me!” His furious command had you flinching back ever-so-slightly. “I can barely stand on my own two feet without running out of breath. I’m weak— I lost damn near everything, and I’m not the same Satoru anymore, okay?”

“Then I will walk with you every fucking day until you get better. I never loved you because you were strong, so I don’t give a shit if you’re weak now, Satoru. And don’t you dare stand there and tell me you lost everything because I am still here, and no amount of scars are going to make me leave.” 

An agonized sob shook his frame, and he was quickly stumbling forward to sink onto the couch with a wince. Tears of your own began slipping down your face as you moved to sit beside him. He buried his face into his hands, your engagement ring still hanging on the tip of his pinky finger. 

“I don’t have anything left to give you.” His pained whisper struck you in the chest. 

Leaning forward, you carefully wrapped your arm around his bicep. There was an attempted subtly in the way you ran your fingertips delicately over the new scar circling the muscle, and you tried not to cry out as your mind put two and two together of what could have possibly happened to warrant such symmetrical marks across his body. As you tucked your chin onto his shoulder, he finally peered over at you. You offered him a wistful smile even through your tears.

“When have I ever asked anything more of you than to stay with me?” 

Just like all those years ago in your dorm room, Satoru couldn’t bear to deny you— not when you asked him so sweetly with those wide, hopeful eyes of yours. He slipped your ring back onto its rightful place and pressed a lingering kiss to the stone. The wetness of his tears dripped onto your hand, but you couldn’t possibly think of a better feeling after having gone so long without him. 

It wasn’t until you two finally made it back to your shared home that night that he realized that in the haste of his giving into you once again, he had all but forgotten about why it was so important to him that he stay away. 

“Why don’t you take a hot shower? You’re still shaking, you wimp.” Satoru tried to sound lightheaded, poking fun at you like was once so common for him, but nothing about this new arrangement would ever be common again. 

You glanced over your shoulder from the sink, where you had busied yourself cleaning the bowls you two had just eaten from. It admittedly took longer than you had expected to finish eating, as your fiancé kept pushing more food onto your plate to make up for the hunger strike he was still grumbling about that you went on. 

Turning back to place the final dish on the drying rack, you smiled fondly. 

“That depends, are you gonna come help warm me up?” 

Your teasing offer made the smile slowly slip from his face, though you wouldn’t see it with your back turned to him. He looked down at himself— the scars that now littered his body and how difficult even the most mundane of tasks had become for him in his gruelling recovery. The gentle hum of question that escaped you at his sudden silence reminded him that you were still expecting a response. 

“Well, I—”

“C’mon, I’ll meet you there.” Your airy invitation cut off whatever excuse he was about to make, and he couldn’t help but wonder if you knew exactly what he was thinking as you made your way to your shared bedroom, ruffling at his already tousled hair on the way. He remained idly at the table, staring down at himself hesitantly as the soft patters of the running shower reached his ears. 

It had been quite some time since you two were last intimate— what with his being sealed and the immediate need for his services following his release. Sex had never been an area of insecurity for Satoru. After all, he was strong and confident, and he never once had to doubt your attraction toward him. Now though, his stamina wasn’t the same, and his body sure as hell didn’t look as aesthetically pleasing as it had the last time he’d bared himself to you.

Carefully standing from his seat, he stretched out his stiff muscles before practically dragging his feet toward the room he once couldn’t wait to get you alone in. The bathroom had already steamed up considerably from the scorching water you always liked boiling yourself in. The apprehensive man hovered in the doorway, lips parting at the sight of your heavenly silhouette through the fogged, glass shower door. 

“Toru?” You called out upon hearing the door creak open a bit further.

 Cracking the shower open, you poked your head through with an anticipatory smile, but it quickly fell upon seeing the sullen expression on his face and the way his fingers twisted in uncertainty into the hem of his shirt. 

“It’s just me, babe.” You offered gently, and he responded with a barely noticeable nod. 

“Yeah, just… give me a minute. I’ll be right there.”

He was grateful that you were gracious enough to recognize his need for your patience as you nodded in understanding and slipped back into the shower. Glancing up at the ceiling in hopes that he wouldn’t catch his own reflection in the mirror, he carefully lifted his shirt over his head, wincing faintly at the stretch. His bottoms were soon joining the discarded top on the marble floor. The mirror in his peripheral taunted him, and he kept his gaze cast down as he slowly made his way to the shower. 

You smiled upon hearing the door slide open behind you, biting your cheek in anticipation of his warm hands sliding around your middle— because Lord knows your fiance was never known for his ability to keep his hands to himself. Those wandering hands never came though, and you gradually peered over your shoulder. 

He was standing just outside the shower stream, arms hovering hesitantly at his sides. The expression on his face appeared angry— not at you though, almost as though there was a self-inflicted war waging in his mind as he awaited your reaction. You blinked the continuously running water from your eyes as you turned fully around to face him. After a moment of careful, reassuring eye contact, you allowed your eyes to drift down over his tense frame.

There were a myriad of the tiniest slashes running across nearly every inch of him. Even more striking though, was the thick, jagged scar circling the entire circumference of his waist. The lump in the back of your throat made it nearly impossible to swallow down the tears threatening to spill out. Still, you did so for his sake, because the cautionary glint in his eyes told you he was waiting for your disapproval. 

The tips of your fingers reached out to graze the area carefully, knowing that despite how much the RCT must have sped along the healing process, it likely still felt fresh. He shivered under the featherlight touch of your fingertips. Your glistening body drew closer to him, and he wasn’t sure whether his insecurity would be stronger than his lust for you as your breasts grazed his chest. 

With a fond hum, your hands drifted up his chest to circle around his neck. He tried to conceal his grunt of effort as he leaned down to your level in order to kiss you properly. Nearly slipping as you lifted yourself on your tiptoes to help him, his hands immediately shot forward to steady you shakily. 

With all the doubts running through his mind, he expected you to huff in frustration, to pull away from him as he certainly wouldn’t blame you for doing. You only smiled witsfully against his dewy lips though, the bridge of your nose brushing against his as you whispered sincerely. 

“I missed you.” 

Still, Satoru wasn’t sure that his long awaited presence would ever be enough. 

After some time, you agreed to go back to work at the school, especially since Gojo was nowhere near prepared to get back into the swing of things. Though no one dared speak it into existence, everyone had already silently accepted the fact that he’d likely never be able to take on missions like he once did. More hands off teaching— sure, though it felt like a slap in the face compared to what he once was capable of. 

It wasn’t as though this was something new you were needing to jump into now. No, you had begun working as soon as you graduated just as he had. The difference was, you worked with the understanding that you really didn’t need to be doing it, and your partner always made sure you knew that you could quit at any time under the safety of his sizable wealth. Now though, there was a significant need for more help with the students in Gojo’s absence, and it was eating him alive that you now felt responsible for picking up that slack despite your insistence that you wanted to help.

Satoru had no clue anymore just what it was that he was providing you in this relationship. 

“Baby, they’ll be fine.” He pleaded for the upteenth time, unable to bear the thought of you breaking your own back while he stays at home— utterly useless. “They can wait a little longer until I come back.”

You smiled with a shake of your head, slathering on some of that lotion you always wore before bed that never failed to drive him crazy. 

“I’ve been home for the past week. You’re not sick of seeing me?” 

He scoffed as though personally offended by your accusation. Shifting forward to replace your hands with his own, he kissed your shoulder as his hands continued to work the cream into your thighs from behind. The tiniest sparks of hope ignited in him when you sighed quietly under your breath, your head gently falling back against his bare chest at the sensation of the devastatingly familiar ridges on his fingertips against your skin. 

Being intimate with you again was something he was pointedly avoiding— too ashamed of his own body to feel remotely confident enough to engage in it, and far too worried the new stress on this body would make for a comparably disappointing experience than what you were used to. Even so, he could see it on your face and feel it in your wanton sighs just how much you had missed him, and it was becoming harder and harder for him to act as though he didn’t miss it too. 

“I’ll never get sick of you.” Satoru breathed sincerely against your cheek, his thumbs digging desolately into the fat of your inner thighs. They parted in anticipation at his languid motions, allowing his hand to slip up the loose leg of your silken sleep shorts. 

“Promise?” You teased breathlessly, fisting the fabric of his sweatpants as his fingers creeped up your fluttering core. 

“With everything in me.” Though he wasn’t sure just how much that entailed anymore. 

Maybe, he thought as he dipped two fingers into your awaiting heat, if he could at least make love to you he wouldn’t feel like a complete waste of space— like there was still something he could give you even if it meant pushing the limits of his already fragile body. His arm began to ache in tandem with his steady rhythm, but you were whimpering so sweetly into his ear as though he still deserved to hear it. 

Leaning down, Satoru captured your lips in a frenzied attempt to swallow up all the pent up energy spilling from your plush lips. In his lust-clouded mind, he thought maybe it would heal him, breathe life back into his sore muscles and tingling nerve endings that taunted him with every curl of his fingers against your sweet walls. Your mouth parted involuntarily against his in a blissed cry, and it was enough to convince him that— maybe he did still have it in him. 

Offering a forlorn moan of his own, your fiancé frantically parted from you to push you back down against the mattress, each scarred over stitch across his torso screaming in protest, but he had something to prove now as he allowed his sweatpants to fall to the floor. 

Your half lidded eyes drank him in greedily, relieved to see that despite his carefully calculated restraint throughout the past few days, he still wanted you just as much as you had been craving him. Slipping your shorts down easily, neither of you seemed patient enough to waste anymore time after so long without one another. 

Satoru climbed back onto the bed, hoping you didn’t notice his wince of effort on the way. It seemed he was in the clear though, and your graceful fingers slipped up his nape and tangled into his freshly cut hair. Though he wasn’t too keen on the idea of going to a barbershop just yet— what with the peculiar scar running across his forehead, he had agreed to sit on the closed toilet lid just a few nights prior as you stood between his spread legs and carefully trimmed the wisps of white hair that had grown past his wide eyes. 

You were so grateful that you did, because now your view of those messianic eyes was unobstructed and knocking the air straight from your lungs as they always had the unique power of doing. With a heart that felt as though it was turning to mush under his zealous gaze, your impatient hands circled his hips carefully to pull his already lined up length into you. 

“God— I missed you so much.” He gasped, though he could barely get his words out through the desperate kisses he was pressing against any inch of you he could reach. You moaned in relief, tears threatening to pool in your eyes at the intensity of the long-awaited connection. “I’ll never leave you again— I swear. I’m sorry, I love you. Fuck, you feel—”

You cut him off with a sloppily aimed kiss, a fond smile breaking through your lips as you realized that of course, if his near death was going to leave him with one thing, it was going to be his rapid-fire tongue. Satoru only whined against your mouth, forgoing his previous caution and shifting his hips forward to roll into you. His stamina was already dwindling by the second, emphasized by the growing tenderness in his torso, but he’d be damned if he wouldn’t see you through your much deserved climax. 

“You okay, Toru?” You panted against his lips, taking note of the way his fist trembled against the sheets beside your head. 

“‘M perfect— don’t worry about me.” He lied, dipping down to nip at your collarbone in hopes of distracting you from the clear discomfort racing through his bones. “You’re perfect, keep making those pretty noises for me, yeah?”

It was enough to placate you for just a second longer, unable to deny him as the pitched moans continued flowing from your lips. Your pliancy spurred him on, making him feel far more confident than he should have in his current state as he ran a heated hand down your body to hook it behind your thigh. It wasn’t until he lifted it over his shoulder to snap his hips up in that way he was so used to making you melt, that a strangled curse fell through his gritted teeth. 

“Satoru—”

“I’m fine, please.” Your fiance quickly implored even through the pained scrunch of his striking features. His hand fell from your thigh to cup your face, squishing your cheeks between his frenzied fingers as it was clear the once blissed expression on your face was falling in place of frantic concern. 

“You’re not—”

“I am. C’mon, let me take care of you—”

“Satoru, get off.” 

The continued plea that was preparing to escape him got caught unceremoniously in his throat at your command. Gulping down the bile that threatened to rise up his throat, his blown out eyes searched your face while he slowly inched away from you. Shuffling up onto your elbows, you carefully pushed him onto his back, falling safely against the mountain of feathery pillows. 

His face remained solemn as you crawled over him, and though he had never been one to deny the sight of you on top of him, with the silken skin of your thighs glistening in the moonlight that flowed in through the windows and the flimsy sleeves of your tank top slid halfway down your arm— the fact still remained that it was because he couldn’t do it. The very body hindering him betrayed him as his jaw dropped at the bittersweet feeling of you sinking down onto him. 

It shouldn’t have mattered. Your face still mirrored the very bliss it reflected when he had you beneath him, but every roll of your supple hips that inched him closer to his release felt like a slash to his already mutilated chest. How could you still look at him with such admiration, and who the fuck was he if not the strongest anymore?

That night, you slept soundly beside him, curled carefully into his side with all the peace of someone who’d just made love to a partner they’d long believed dead. It drew a smooth tranquility over each crease and furrow that once dared to disturb your delicate face, your lips parted crookedly due to your cheek’s positioning against his chest. 

Dawn creeped closer and closer with the looming threat of what he’d soon be forced to accept while sleep drifted farther from his reach. His eyes burned as they stared down at your slumbering figure for hours on end, willing himself to be able to see every atom that worked in angelic harmony to make up his love the way his six eyes once allowed him the privilege of. He only grew more restless as the mundanity of his pupils only graced him with the surface level of your fathomless allure. 

Blinking away the haze that had glazed over his tired eyes, Satoru looked away from you for the first time in hours to glance at the time on the clock. It wouldn’t be long before your wretched alarm would be waking you to get ready and shoulder the burden that was once his alone. With a huff of vexation, he carefully maneuvered himself out from under you, replacing himself with the body pillow you always used in his absence. 

A strained wince escaped him as he stood quietly from the bed, yet no amount of stretching seemed to soothe what he feared would be an everpresent ache. Willing himself through it, he used his foot to scoop his discarded sweatpants up in order to avoid bending down and reminding himself of his deficits.

The lights of the kitchen nearly blinded his sleepless irises when he flicked them on, and he groaned while attempting to adjust to the sudden onslaught. His shoulders fell slowly as he looked around the kitchen in uncertainty, opening up various cabinets until he found the small collection of bento boxes the two of you had accumulated over the years. 

Gojo chewed at his bottom lip in concentration, rummaging through nearly every utensil drawer and refrigerator shelf in his pursuit. It was actually a damn miracle he didn’t wake you up in his chaotic gathering of tools and ingredients— what with each grunt of effort as he squatted and reached above his head in search of a specific pot or seasoning. 

Despite his best efforts to take it easy, his mounting frustration only grew with each tremor of his hand as he attempted to cut up the leftover salmon you two had eatent the night before into tiny chunks. With a shake of his head, he tightened his grip around the base of the knife in determination, praying to whichever god had forsaken him that he could just do this one thing for you. 

In typical Gojo fashion, there was a trail of chaos being left in his wake— bonito flakes spilled about the counter and used utensils strewn all around him by the time he was finally finishing up what would have been a simple project if at the hands of anyone else. He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of your alarm going off in the next room, and it had him speeding up his movements in a frantic attempt to get everything organized before you stepped out. 

“Toru?” Your voice was still laced with sleep by the time your gentle footsteps were making their way out into the kitchen. 

Washing off the remaining bits of sticky rice clinging to his fingers, he swiveled around to face you. Your eyes widened a bit upon seeing the flush of effort still staining his face, but he smiled tiredly at you nonetheless, a subtle timidness behind his eyes that you hadn’t seen on him in so long. Stepping forward slowly, you eyed him carefully as he wiped his trembling hands on his already stained sweatpants. 

“You sleep okay?” He mumbled into the crown of your head as he pulled you into his chest, careful not to mess up the style you had placed it in for work. 

“Yeah,” You answered hesitantly, pressing a kiss to his chest before pulling away from him and adjusting your bag over your shoulder. “What are you doing up so early?”

Averting his gaze from you bashfully, he turned around to grab the neatly folded bag to present to you, weighed down by the brim-stuffed bento box he had placed in it. Staring down at it to avoid looking in your eyes, he pursed his lips awkwardly as though embarrassed by his attempt at packing you a lunch. 

“They’ll probably be up your ass all day since they’ve been short.” Satoru began, his fingers drumming quietly against the bag with a small shrug of his shoulders. “Don’t need you passing out on me.”

His attempted chuckle at his half-hearted joke came out hesitantly as he watched you blink owlishly down at the bag outstretched to you in offering. You slowly took the bag from him, a small smile tugging at the corners of your glossed lips. He reached up to scratch at the nape of his neck in uncertainty. 

“It’s just some rice balls, but I can probably go out today and get some—”

You cut him off, reaching up onto your tip-toes to press an appreciative kiss to his jaw. 

“What would I do without you?” Your love-sick smile caught him by surprise, a dumb-struck expression falling onto his flushed face. 

Before he could stammer out a response (not that his short-circuiting mind would be capable of coherent speech right now), you pressed one more, longing kiss to his lips before promising to see him later that night and rushing out the door. 

Satoru stared absently at the door that had just closed behind you as a gradual understanding flooded his consciousness. Perhaps it was just because it had been so long since he felt the need to fight for your approval, or maybe it was that he simply never learned his lesson, no matter how much you had worked to engrain it into him over all these years. It was hardly fair to blame him though, given that all the love he’d ever been shown had those six eyes of his trailing not too far behind. 

But you— you had never batted an eye at his status, or his money, and certainly not his powers. All those years ago it had only taken some horribly disfigured rice balls for you to fall for him, stubbornly never too impressed by his technique or silver tongue. 

It was a few, lovingly crafted onigiri that helped you recognize his place in your life, and it was the very thing that, even all these years later, was helping him recognize it as well.

a/n: inner theater kid effectively placated thank u

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[bonnie-the-butcher]

Rip Tide | Chapter II

[ MDNI ] [ word count: 6.978 ] [ Masterlist ] 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Canonverse/Canon-Divergent; Dark! Content; NSFW; Strong Language; Cheating; Drug Use; OVERDOSE; Some shades of Munchausen syndrome from dear old Rafe; Manipulation; Toxic, obsessive behaviour; Stalking; Violence; DUBCON/NONCON; My writing is really pretentious and English is not my first language, so please feel free to call me out in whichever grammar mistakes you might find find.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | You and JJ have always been in each other's orbit. He's your brother’s best friend, the guy you've known your entire life. He was kind, protective, familiar. You never meant for the two of you to start hooking up. And you never meant for it to last so long. But when this boy you thought you'd come to know like the back of your hand turns out to be no better than the men he'd warned you about, you find yourself in the sights of the guy he hates most, regardless of wether you want that or not.

Likes, asks reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. This chapter is a little heavier than the previous one. Please read the warnings and proceed accordingly. You can skip this chapter or skip the story altogether if this is a trigger for you. PUT YOUR MENTAL HEALTH FIRST.

You press your hands against your ears and close your eyes, willing yourself to wake up from whatever nightmare dimension you’d just been thrown in. You do the whole routine: pinch your arm, think of math problems, look at the time, but to no avail. Every time you open your eyes, there you are, in Rafe Cameron’s Range Rover, heading God knows where to a party you were most definitely gonna regret going to.

Barry doesn't share in your dread. He holds you against his chest, bursting out in laughter every so often as he points out different ways the pogues had humiliated themselves thanks to you. And Rafe, king kook, the man who your brother had sworn to kill more than once, steers the car, all but crying in laughter. Every now and then you’d feel him glancing over at you, lips quirking in a strange smile.

You were fucked.

Completely and utterly fucked.

You gazed at the car door longingly, pondering what your odds would be if you just got it over with, and jumped out of the moving vehicle straight into the road. But your daydreams were interrupted as your best friend pushed you softly, turning to you with that shit-eating grin:

– Quit acting like you’re going to your execution, sweetheart. You know damn well you enjoyed every minute of that as much as we did. – You couldn’t tell if he was being serious or just trying to get you angry, and honestly, you didn’t know which was worse. – Damn. Just the look on his face when you jumped in. Shit was a kodak moment.

– I’m gonna be on my deathbed, still laughing at the thought of JJ falling face-first into the ground. – Rafe added, breathless with joy, the words stained by his ear-to-ear smile.

Barry did a double take: – He fell?!

– Bro, you didn’t see it?! – the blonde’s cackling resounded around the car. – It was fucking priceless!

– Sweetheart, please tell me you have security cameras!

– Why would she, man? Who��d wanna rob that dump? – You were taking a deep breath, planning not to be offended, but Barry laughed just then.

– I swear to God, Barry, if I hear your trailer trash ass laugh at my house one more time, I will choke you in this passenger seat.

– Oh, believe me, I don’t want no beef with your house. Someone might say beetlejuice three times while I’m near and God knows what will happen, then.

You’re disappointed more than anything to hear Rafe laugh so hard at that half-baked joke. – Haunted house, really? Is that what you’re going with? If you’re gonna humiliate me, at least make it funny.

– Sweetheart, I don’t know why you thought that was a joke. It’s a warning. Your house is haunted. You need to get out of there.

– I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were living at the Four Seasons.

Rafe snorts, a mix between a laugh and a scoff:

– No offense, but Barry’s place actually looks like the Four Seasons when you compare it to your house.

– Rafe.

– I’m just saying! I’d be as miserable as your brother is if I had to spend a fucking second there, let alone my entire life. Like, I wouldn’t be surprised if I woke up and a gremlin was at the foot of my bed, telling me to leave.

Barry didn’t miss a beat: – What are you talking about man, what would JJ be doing at the foot of your bed?!

– Shining my shoe, probably.

You scoff, unamused:

– You guys are so funny, you know? I’m laughing sooo much.

– Lighten up, sweetheart. You’re acting like this shit is the end of the world.

– Oh, but it’s not. It’s not the end of the world, Barry, the world is fine. It’s just the end of my life. What time is it now? Quarter to seven? In eight hours I’m gonna be stepping out of this Range Rover, and when I walk into my house John’s gonna hit me over the head with a shovel and bury me out in the backyard!

– Not the backyard! – Rafe mocks.

– Yeah, sweetheart. Just cause you’re hause looks haunted, doesn’t mean that you have to do it.

You chuckle slightly, wiping your hand over your face. The absurdity of it all is starting to sink in. You don't want to laugh, you really don't, but you can't help it. Because maybe—just maybe—you’ve resigned yourself to this entire shitshow of a night. – Fuck you, Barry.

The chuckles come out in spurts, unexpected, but loud enough for them to catch it. Barry grins, leaning in closer. He pulls your hair away from your face with a grin, pointing at the smile on your lips as if he’d found a gold mine.

– There it is, sweetheart. I knew you had it in you.

Rafe catches your eye as he looks over, a gleam of amusement in his gaze. You can’t help but roll your eyes.

– Oh yeah, – You mumble – I’m definitely losing my mind. That’s gotta be it.

– No, no, no. Your little surfer rat friends were the ones driving you crazy. We’re helping you out, that’s what we’re doing.

Rafe’s voice is almost too smug for how proud he sounds.

You snort, both annoyed and entertained. – My savior! – You deadpan. – Whatever would I do if you weren’t there to rescue me from the claws of my evil older brother?

Rafe chuckles, leaning in a little closer, like he’s enjoying the way you’re playing along.

– I don’t know, get rat fever or some shit? Whatever it is that they’re passing around to each other all day. – he says, his voice almost too smooth, as you and Barry both recoil in disgust of the picture he’s painted. – But hey, at least you'd still have your looks. That’s gotta count for something.

You shoot him with a side-eye, laughing at the absurdity.

– Aren’t you a charmer? Tell me, Rafe, do you threaten every girl you talk to with the possibility of dying from disease or am I just that special?

His smirk widens, and he shakes his head. – Your guess, beautiful.

Barry cuts in:

– You better not flirt with her too much, Country Club. JJ might come after you.

Your smile couldn’t fade any quicker if you tried. – Let’s not talk about that.

– Oh we’re talking about it, alright. You’ve got a brand new guard dog, and you don’t even say shit to me? Y’know I could use someone to keep the merchandise safe.

– Chill out, Pablo Escobar. Nobody’s trying to steal your stash.

Barry shrugs, leaning back in the seat as he rolls his eyes. – You say that now, but I wouldn’t be surprised if your brother and his little rat pack are plotting some Mission Impossible shit to break into my place.

– Please. – You scoff, crossing your arms. – They’d probably trip over their own feet trying to climb your fence.

Rafe snickers, tapping the steering wheel. – That’s if they could even find your place, man. You practically need a treasure map just to figure out where the hell you live.

Barry flips him off lazily, but you can’t help but laugh.

Then the realization hits you. – Wait, where is this party, again? – you ask, glancing between the two.

– Don’t worry, you’ll like it there.

– Oh, I will. It’s my last day on earth. That’s not what I’m worried about.

– Country Club here’s the navigator tonight. I’m just the moral support.

Rafe smirks but for once doesn’t take his eyes off the road. – Moral support, my ass. You just didn’t want to waste gas getting your own car.

– You know gas ain’t cheap, man. Not all of us are rolling in daddy’s money.

– Right, – Rafe drawls. – But you’ve got no problem freeloading off me.

– Call it historical reparation. – Barry counters with a grin, and you roll your eyes.

– Seriously, where are we going?

– Figure Eight.

Your stomach drops. – You’re kidding.

– Didn’t I already tell you that? – Barry quips, and you glance down at your outfit: your dad’s old marina shirt, a pair of cut-out shorts, and sneakers that had definitely seen better days.

– I can’t go dressed like this. – You gesture at yourself, already imagining the judgmental stares you’d get.

– You look fine. – He pauses, sitting back so he can have a better look at you. – Shit, sweetheart, you look more than fine.

His compliment throws you, so you laugh it off. – Shut up, Barry.

Rafe smirks, his eyes flicking over you in a way that makes you immediately self-conscious. – Take off your shirt. It’ll look nicer like that.

Your mouth falls open, heat rushing to your face as Barry bursts out laughing. – Chill, Country Club!

– Jesus Christ! – you exclaim, glaring at him, but the cocky grin on his face doesn’t waver. Caught off guard, you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind, trying to diffuse the tension: – The party’s at a nudist beach? Is that it?

Barry’s laughter grows louder, though his eyes flicker down to your chest. His grin sharpens, and for a split second, you catch him licking his lips, the idea amusing him a little too much. – That’d be a damn good party.

– Now I kinda wish it was. – Rafe murmurs, barely under his breath.

The air in the car feels heavier suddenly, like all the joking had edged into something else. Barry’s laughter fades into the background as your heart skips a beat. You clear your throat, forcing out a chuckle. – Right. Well, hate to disappoint, but I think I’ll keep my shirt on, thanks. Turn around here, Rafe. – You point to a dirt path to the right.

– Why? – He hums, though he’s already turning, and his hand brushes your leg for a little too long as he reaches to shift the gears.

– It’s a shortcut to Barry’s. I’ve got some clothes there.

– When did you ever leave clothes at my place?

– Oh no, I didn’t leave them. Your hookups did. Half of my closet comes from your conquests.

Barry gives you a long hum, raising a brow, yet still grinning. – So that’s where my “lost and found” is going.

You steer Rafe in the right direction, looking straight ahead in an attempt to avoid his eyes. – You should really change it to just “lost”, y’know? I’m the only one who finds it, it’s not like they come back.

Barry flips you off, tsking under his breath as the car rolls to a stop before his trailer.

You step out, grateful for the fresh air despite the faint smell of salt and weed lingering around Barry’s place. The house isn’t much to look at, but it’s not a complete wreck either, and the little things you left around through the years to make it seem less like a shithole sure did the job.

– I’ll be quick, – you announce, already heading for the door. – Don’t get too comfortable.

– Take your time, sweetheart.

You nod, pushing your way inside. The air is stale but familiar, and you head straight for Barry’s room. The “lost and found” drawer is where you remember it, stuffed with random clothes that have no rhyme or reason. You sift through the mess, trying to avoid touching the more questionable items—like the endless pairs of mismatched underwear—until your fingers brush against something soft and smooth.

The skirt’s fabric is lightweight, almost slippery against your skin, and you can’t help but pause to run your thumb over it. It’s simple but pretty, and you decide it’ll do. Holding it up, you eye it over briefly before tucking it under your arm along with a cute top you find nearby, on his nightstand.

You can faintly hear Barry and Rafe talking outside. Their voices are muffled, and you can’t make out the words, but it's not hard to guess what they’re doing. Barry cuts up quickly, the sound of a random old credit card banging against the glass table outside echoing around the small place. You shake your head, making your way to the bathroom.

You set the clothes on the sink and catch your reflection in the mirror. The reflection staring back at you wasn't unfamiliar, bruises weren’t exactly a rarity in your life, but the one forming around your arm gave you pause. The faint black and blue watercolor stops you cold, a dark smudge against your skin.

You knew it would happen, of course. John’s grip earlier hadn’t exactly been gentle. But seeing it there stirs something inside you—guilt, anger, a mixture of both.

You touch it lightly, wincing at the tenderness. Great. You can bet that if you asked John what that stupid fight you just had was about, he'd be able to give you a play by play, but as soon as he saw this thing on arm —this thing that he'd done— he’d be asking who did it, why didn't you say anything and for how long it had been there.

The thought of your brother sends a sigh out of you. And your mind reels back the bad memories, the memories about how things used to be.

You wanted to believe that his sudden shift toward caring was a good thing, a sign that maybe your relationship could finally improve. But if this mark on your arm was proof of anything, it told you that this protectiveness he'd suddenly pivoted to wasn't going to end great, and leaving like you did tonight only added another crack to that already fragile foundation.

You dread the moment you have to return. Not because of the eventual screaming and fighting, or the possibility of new bruises to accompany his chorus of complaints, but because of the look he'll have on his face right before he realizes you’re back. —The worry, the anxiety of not knowing if you would return.— You know that look better than anyone, because you could feel it on your face every time you looked at the river bank where your father once docked his boat.

Your heart tugs painfully at the thought of his worry, despite knowing it would turn to rage as soon as he saw your face, and you reached for your back pocket, trying to think of something to text him, when the scene flashes in your mind again: His hands wrestling the phone out of your hand, the joyless smile on his face as he held it over your head, beckoning you to grab it.

Your ears aren't burning, but you can bet he's calling you all sorts of names right now.

You'd be surprised if he hasn't thrown your phone in the river. You wince at that thought, knowing you don't have the money for another one. There's barely enough cash for groceries as it is.

But you sigh, resigned, pushing the thought away as you reach for the borrowed clothes. The skirt’s fabric is cool and smooth under your fingers, the kind of material that whispered against the skin. You eye it for a moment, wondering what something so nice was doing buried in the back of Barry's drawer. It's rare you ever have anything nice for yourself.

You’re mid-thought, slipping on the skirt, when the door suddenly swings open. You freeze, your heart jumping to your throat as Rafe steps in. He stops in his tracks, his blown-out eyes widening for a split second before he smirks.

– Oh, – he drawls, standing in the doorway holding tight to the door frame as a crooked smile splits his face. – My bad. Didn’t know you were in here.

– Rafe, get out! – You snap, grabbing the top to cover yourself.

He doesn’t move right away, though. He chuckles, glancing down, and leans in. His hand brushes your bra strap, and you push him away. – You could just go like that, you know. Saves time.

– Out. Now.

– That tattoo is pretty. – He mumbles, you look down at the ink for a split second, and push him away again.

– OUT.

He finally turns, hands over his head in mock surrender. His movements sluggish as he steps away. You slam the door closed, wishing you could shut the door on this memory forever, and pressing your hands into your eyes, cheeks burning against the heel of your palms.

Maybe it was because you’d been humiliated so many times tonight that your body just can't process another hit, but you sit in that moment as if it had burned you. You stare at yourself in the mirror, running your hands under cold water, trying to shake off the shame that still burns under your skin.

You take a deep breath, then another, then push the door open, stepping back into the thick, hazy air of the house. Barry was right there, leaning against the wall with a cigarette tucked behind his ear. He meets you with a wolf-whistle, giving you a slow once-over before grinning – No idea who that skirt belonged to, but I know for damn sure it looks better on you than it did on her.

You scoff and roll your eyes, as the awkwardness that comes from flattery flutters up to your face, but before you can say anything, another voice cuts in.

– Looked better when you weren’t wearing it.

Rafe’s voice is thick, sluggish. You turn, meeting his gaze for a moment that seems to last a lifetime. His eyes are dilated, lidded, for a split second it seems like he’s struggling to keep them open, but you glimpse at that bright, almost radioactive blue while he smirks up at you, and a wave of feelings washes over. He runs a sweaty hand through his damp hair, blinking like the lights were too bright, like he was a second away from melting into the floor.

Barry’s expression shifts, amusement flattening into something sharper, something just shy of irritation. He doesn’t look mad, not really, but he isn’t entertained either.

– Alright, that was funny at first, man, but now you’re starting to piss me off.

Rafe only laughs, breathy and uneven. His shoulders curl inward slightly, his hand pressing flat against his chest.

The sound isn’t right. Every breath he takes feels off, like his body has forgotten how to regulate itself.

– Rafe?

Barry’s voice was firm. No answer.

You were closer, closer than Barry, and that meant you could see it first. The way his face twitched. The way his body swayed.

– Rafe.

Nothing. Your stomach turned.

You glanced at Barry, but he was already looking at you, his jaw tight.

– He isn't well. – You’re not pleased by the obviousness of your statement, but you double down. – Rafe, what’s going on?

The second the words left your mouth, Rafe faltered. His knees buckle, and before you could think, before you could process, he collapses into you, his weight knocking the breath from your lungs.

– Shit. Shit. Hey, hey—Rafe, look at me.

You gripped his face, shaking him slightly, trying to get his eyes to focus. He mumbled something, but it was nothing, just a string of syllables with no meaning, no coherence.

Then Barry was there, looming over the both of you. His eyes weren’t wide with shock or fear. They were narrow, jaw clenched tight. He stood there for a second, just watching, just breathing. And then suddenly, he lunged forward, grabbing Rafe by the collar and shaking him.

– What the fuck did you take? – Rafe didn’t answer, barely even reacted. Barry’s grip tightened. – Do you hear me, you fucking crackhead?! What the fuck did you take?!

You barely registered the pounding in your skull as you snapped:

– What’s happening?!

Barry didn’t look at you. His attention was locked on Rafe, his grip unrelenting.

– What’s happening is that Rafe’s a fucking moron, that’s what’s fucking happening!

Your pulse roared in your ears. Barry shook him again.

– What did you take, Cameron?!

Rafe inhaled sharply, he makes a couple sounds, just as incoherent as before. His hands fist the fabric of your skirt, eyes fluttering between you and Barry, lips moving soundlessly until he exhaled one word, slurred and barely audible:

– Xanax.

That didn’t calm Barry. If anything, it made him angrier. He shoved Rafe back, sending you both to the ground, dragging his hands through his hair in a frenzy.

– FUCK!

The word came like an explosion. Whatever was in his hand went flying, shattering against the wall. You flinched before you could stop yourself, clutching Rafe tighter, your nails digging into his clammy skin.

– Don’t die, don’t die, don’t die— You didn’t even realize you were saying it out loud until Barry’s pacing snapped you out of it. – We need to do something! W-what do we do? – Your voice was thin, cracked around the edges. Your head was spinning. You were scrambling through every piece of information you’d ever heard, anything, anything – Naloxone—should we try naloxone? Or—should we try to get him to puke?

Barry cut you off.

– That’s not gonna do shit! The pills are already in his system, the coke’s already snorted! We can’t get that shit out of him!

– Then what? What do we do?!

– I don’t fucking know!

He turned away again, pacing, cursing, shaking his head like he was trying to shake the whole night off of him.

And that’s when it happened. That moment. That split second where everything should’ve gone numb, where your brain should’ve shut down, checked out, but it didn’t.

You felt everything.

Rafe’s breath, uneven and wrong. His half-open eyes, staring through you. His body trembling, like every nerve ending in him was screaming in agony.

You couldn’t breathe.

Barry suddenly spun on his heel and rushed inside.

– Where are you going?! Barry. Barry! Talk to me! Where the fuck are you going?!

He didn’t answer.

You nearly got up to follow, but then—

– Mmh—

Rafe groaned, weak, so fragile it made something in you snap.

You couldn’t leave him. Not like this.

Barry came back seconds later, shoving something into your hands. A plastic bag filled with some kind of powder.

– W-what is this?!

He didn’t answer immediately, rushing back with a water bottle, pushing that into your hands, too.

– Activated charcoal. Dump half the bag in there and shake it.

Your hands trembled, eyes darting between the bag and Rafe, between Barry and the door.

– And then what?!

Barry wasn’t looking at you. He was searching for something, grabbing his helmet.

– Then you give it to him. Make sure he drinks it. Don’t let him puke it up. Not for a while, at least.

– What-what are you doing?! – Your voice was sharp, frantic. Barry avoided your gaze, snapping his helmet on. – Barry! You can’t do this to me right now! You can’t just leave me here again! I’m gonna end up killing him!

He exhaled sharply.

– I have to go.

– Go?! You can’t fucking go! I don’t know what to do, you can’t just leave me here!

He didn’t meet your eyes. He just shook his head, looking everywhere but at Rafe, the walls, his hands, the floor. His gaze shifted almost desperately, and when he spoke, you caught a sort of shakiness in his voice that he couldn’t mask as anger. – Just do what I said.

– Barry, please— Barry!

You reached for him, but before you could, Rafe curled into you, his fingers weakly gripping your wrist.

You were stuck.

Stuck between your best friend, who was abandoning you, and Rafe Cameron, who might actually fucking die in your arms.

Tears blurred your vision, but you forced them back. Your hands trembled as you tore the bag open, powder spilling onto your fingers, onto Rafe’s skin.

His breathing was getting worse.

Your own breath hitched, but you forced yourself to move. Shaking, you dumped the powder into the water, mixing it as best as you could.

– You’re gonna be okay.

Your voice wavered as you lifted the bottle to his lips.

– You’re gonna be fine, Rafe.

You tilted it gently, coaxing him to drink.

– Everything’s gonna be okay.

The words felt like a lie.

Rafe barely managed to swallow, his fingers weakly gripping your sleeve.

He's still clinging to you, breathless and half-conscious, his shoulders relaxing, the shaking slowly going away.

The hours got away from you.

Sat there on the floor with Rafe in your arms, you were frozen. Shell-shocked. At some point, your hand had drifted down to his chest, and you left it there, shaking over him, almost lulled by the erratic beating of his heart.

He didn’t move much either.

You shook him a couple times, feeling the panic spike inside you again, and only then he opened his eyes, gaze lingering on your crying face for what felt like centuries, until he curled up closer, and that radioactive blue you’d come to be so familiar with over the night disappearing behind his eyelids again.

You’re not sure how much time has passed when he suddenly shoots up, so suddenly that, for a second, you don’t even react. His body jerks away from you, retching.

Rafe scrambles to his feet, managing to take maybe two or three steps into the grass before he falls to his knees again. He heaves violently, and your stomach clenches at the sound of it, at the sharp gag that follows. He pitches forward, one arm barely catching him on the floor before he spews his guts onto the grass beneath him.

You should move. You should move.

But you can’t.

You’re just sitting there, watching him.

The vomit is grey, almost completely liquid. His whole body shudders, fingers twitching against the soil. For a moment, you swear he looks smaller, weaker.

Not Rafe Cameron. Not the boy that smirks like he owns the whole world. Just a person. Some kid that almost died in your arms.

Your instincts take over as you see him falter again, rushing forward, steadying him before he can fall face-first into his own sick. Your hands shake as they find his head, holding him upright, keeping him there.

But he doesn’t stay put for long. Rafe lets himself fall back into you as he gasps and groans, his hand wrapped around your wrist. – Thank you. – He whispers. You hate the words, hate being the object of gratitude, but you’re quiet for a moment as he catches his breath.

You’re still holding his head, brushing his hair off his face. – You’re fine. You’re gonna be okay. – Your sympathetic platitudes sound more sincere now that you’re more certain he won’t just drop dead, but the noises he makes, the groaning, the mumbling. Rafe splutters painfully, his eyes screwed shut.

You try not to breathe as he presses himself into your arms again, as firm as jelly. – Ugh. Shit.

– How are you feeling?

He breathes in deep. His hair brushes against your neck as he lays back into your chest, eyes still tightly closed despite the fact you two had been sitting on that dark porch for hours. – My head… – The suggestion of pain is all he can manage to verbalize, so you don’t push him any further.

– I’ll go get you some water. Just sit still, okay? – You shift, only moving slightly, but he stops you before you can even stand. – Rafe.

– Don’t. Don’t do that.

– I’ll be right back.

– Don’t lea—don’t leave me here. – It hurts to hear it. Hurts to see the hollowness in his face as he begs, hanging onto you like a lifeline.

You soften your voice. – I'll be right back, I promise.

– I don—I don't want water. I'm fine.

– You’re clearly not fine, just let me— The kook pulls you back, back into him, back onto the ground. A flash of his paper-white teeth meets your eye, and the chuckle he lets out rumbles against your skin, warm and breathy. – This isn't funny, Rafe.

– Wanna bet?

– Just stop it. Stop it, man! Look at you! You're a mess! You almost died!

– Didn't though.

You roll your eyes before you can help it. – Are you kidding? You better be kidding.

– I am alive, – He takes a hold of your hand, sitting idly on his shoulder, and pulls it to his chest, where it had been before. His heart thumps steadily under your touch, though it isn't exactly normal. – See? It's a miracle! It's aliiiive!

He giggles stupidly, his smile somewhat tainted by the pounding in his head.

– You're hilarious. Now can I please get up?

– Don’t want you to.

– No. You need me to. Is your ass gonna walk to the kitchen? You can't even stand up.

– Baby, I'm fine.

You disregard the random nickname, though the smile he gives you sends a shiver down your spine. – You don't know that, Rafe. – The smile on his face shifts from mocking to mischief as he raises a brow, and you can feel your own face fall when the realization finally dawns on you. – You… You do know. Are— Are you INSANE?! Why the fuck would you do that, Rafe?! You almost died!

He exhales, still smiling. – It’s not like that, okay? I just got the doses mixed up.

– Mi— You stop yourself short, facepalming. – Mixed up?! You should never mix those two things in the first place! A stimulant and a retardant, at the SAME TIME? No shit your body shut down, what else did you expect to happen?!

– It was just the dose, okay? It feels nice if you do it right.

– It feels nice? – You stagger. – “It feels nice”? You've done this before?

The words don’t register. Not at first. Your brain scrambles to process what he just said.

It feels nice if you do it right.

The way he says it, so casual, so indifferent, makes your stomach turn. Like he wasn’t completely limp in your arms a moment ago, like he wasn’t this close to crossing a line he could never come back from. Like this was just another Saturday night for him.

You blink. You swallow. You try to will down the rising irritation in your chest.

And Rafe? Rafe just leans back against you, impossibly lax, as if the weight of his own mortality hasn’t even touched him.

He laughs again, quieter this time, his breath warm against your skin.

The bastard doesn't even have the grace to answer you, he just chuckles softly, as if he’s talking to a child, as if he hadn't just brushed so close against death you could still smell it on him.

– You— Your voice catches. You shake your head, pressing your fingers to your temple, trying to force some kind of logic into the moment. – You almost died, Rafe!

– Didn’t though. – He murmurs.

The smugness in his voice is unbearable. You feel like shaking him, like splitting his head open to see if the memory was there at all, to see if the sudden hit at his nervous system hadn’t thrown him into some realm of delusion.

– Don’t. Don’t do this shit. It wasn’t funny the first you said it, and it sure as hell isn’t funny now.

– Baby, look. You’re overreacting, it’s okay. I’m okay.

Your brain does not register the words after “overreacting”. You feel like you’re short-circuiting, like this whole moment is some stupid comedy skit where the world has gone crazy and you’re the butt of the joke for not catching on.

– Jesus Christ. – You whisper. – I should’ve let you fall on your face. I should have. Maybe that would’ve knocked some fucking sense into you.

Rafe tilts his head back just enough to look at you, grinning, like this was some great joke you’re both in on. – Shit, maybe. – He chuckles. – You didn’t, though. You wouldn’t.

The worst part?

He’s right.

You wouldn’t. Of course you wouldn’t.

You sit there, staring at him, at the lazy smirk on his lips, at the complete and utter lack of concern in his eyes. It’s like watching someone sleepwalk through a minefield, completely unaware of how close they came to blowing themselves apart. Worse, completely unfazed by it.

Your hands flex against your thighs. A bitter thought creeps in—why does it always have to be you? Why do you always end up cleaning up the mess for people who don’t even care if they survive it?

First Barry. Now Rafe.

It’s not a new pattern. You’ve seen this play out before.

Barry did those kinds of stupid things exactly for the same reasons —To feel good, even if it’s just for a minute, even if this momentary pleasantness can only happen at the doom of everything else.— The sad thing is that both of them think people can’t see through that. That need to do crazy, wild, reckless things that they think are just fun and games, knowing things can —and most likely will— go wrong, just so that the people around them, those people that did nothing but ignore them, and neglect them, would look their way.

And though they usually never did, someone was always there to fix it for them.

Rafe’s someone was his father. Barry’s someone was you.

You think of the way Sarah speaks about Ward. Like he’s hung the moon up in the sky, and it sounds exactly like how John spoke of him. How he thought of him. How he still does. You've worked for the Camerons a couple times. You knew Ward. You know how he treated his son.

Still, every time Rafe got in enough of a fight with your brother’s friends that they ended up at the Station, there was Ward, to make it all go away.

You think of Barry when you were kids, the way he used to flinch whenever someone mentioned his father, the way he refused to go home until he absolutely had to. His mom was gone, his dad was an asshole, and the rest of his family was too busy pretending he didn’t exist to care what happened to him. You weren’t much different. The two of you were just a couple of kids that no one was really looking for, drifting through life, trying to figure out where the hell you were supposed to go. It made sense that you stuck together.

But Barry leaves you behind all the time.

And though you hate to give John the right to say “I told you so”, you know tonight isn’t an exception. It’s just another reminder.

He’d always been careless, reckless in a different way—never planning for tomorrow, always looking for the next easy out. And even as kids, whenever the two of you got into trouble, you were always the one who cleaned up the mess. You were the one who had to make sure he wasn’t living off the food he stole from house parties, who patched him up when he got in fights, who made sure he didn’t get himself killed.

When you met, you’d both been desperate for something, anything, to fill the void. For Barry, it was drugs and trouble. For you, it was Barry.

It wasn’t the first time, and you know it won’t be the last. He always leaves you holding the bag, trying to figure out how to cut the wire before the bomb goes out. Its painful, because you know he has it hard, harder than you. And maybe that’s why he does this to you all the time. He’s older than you, he’s been alone for longer. So when push comes to shove, he always makes sure he’s okay first.

And though you know he isn’t trying to screw you over, or at least so you hope, that doesn’t make it any easier. And maybe—maybe—this resentment you’re feeling has been there for longer than you realized.

The thought is ugly. But it’s there.

Rafe shifts against you, pulling you out of your spiraling thoughts. You blink, refocusing, and find his eyes on you, the exhaustion weighing heavy in them, but still glinting with that same unreadable amusement.

– What are you thinking about? – He’s looking at you now, head tilted slightly, still sprawled against the floor like he has all the time in the world.

You shake your head. – Nothing. I’m getting you some water.

You try to pull away, but Rafe holds on, his grip tightening just enough to keep you in place. His fingers latch onto your leg, curling around your ankle, and he tugs—not hard, but enough that you stumble slightly. – You’re thinking about something. C’mon, you can tell me.

– Yeah I can. You won't be conscious for long enough to remember it.

– Great. So tell me.

– You need the water, Cameron. Just let me go.

– What I need is for you to stop worrying so much. – His voice is slurred, thick with whatever is still running through his system, but there’s amusement there too. Like this is funny to him. – I can keep a secret, y’know? Promise your asshole brother and his little cult won’t find out.

– Let go of me, Rafe. – You glare down at him, but he just grins, pulling again, enough to make you step back.

– Nah, stay. You’re warm.

– I’m gonna be real fucking cold in a second if you don’t let go.

That makes him laugh. A deep, rough sound that rattles through his chest. – Just tell me what you’re thinking about.

– I’m thinking about how you’re an idiot. And how I’m apparently the only person in this conversation who cares if you live or die.

– You care about me? That’s cute.

– Don’t flatter yourself. – You shoot back. – Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t choke on your own vomit. Or dive straight into it. – You frown, pulling him away from the wretch. – Get on the couch. The ground is filthy.

Rafe’s happy to let you pull him around, as he does nothing to help but throw an arm over the cushions and lay back. – You’re good at it, though. Taking care of people. You’ve got, like, a vibe.

– A vibe? – You echo, lips twisting into a smile despite yourself. – What vibe is that?

He shrugs, smirk widening. – A hot vibe.

– You’re unbelievable.

– And yet, here you are. – He laughs. – Putting up with it. You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you liked me.

– Yeah, well, it’s a good thing you do then. – You scoff, shaking off his hands. But he’s still chuckling as you step inside the trailer, and his laughter follows you all the way in.

Barry’s trailer is a mess, as expected. Clothes draped over furniture, an ashtray overflowing on the coffee table, empty beer bottles scattered around.

When you pull the fridge open, a wave of cold air rushes out. Only then you realize how hot it is out, the damp, humid climate clinging to your skin even as you stand there. The shelves are mostly bare, save for a few instant ramen cups and a pack of American cheese that might not even be good anymore. The only thing that seems fully stocked is the beer.

Figures.

You grab a bottle of water and head back outside. Rafe hasn’t moved much. He’s managed to drag himself into a slightly more upright position, but he still looks like he could pass out.

– C’mon, – you sigh, reaching for him. – Let’s get you up.

He doesn’t argue, but he doesn’t exactly help either. He’s heavy, leaning against you like dead weight, and it takes everything in you to lift him onto the couch. You drop down beside him, handing him the bottle.

– Drink.

He takes it, twisting the cap off with shaky fingers before bringing it to his lips.

Rafe takes a long sip, then looks up at you, eyes glinting. – What do I get if I finish it?

– Hydration.

He chuckles slightly, that glint in his eye growing brighter as his smirk widens. – No gold star, no nothing? That’s not right. I’m being a very good boy right now. And what? I don’t even get a sticker?

– Tell you what, you finish this bottle and I won’t tell the teacher you misbehaved, how ‘bout that?

You watch as he drinks, throat bobbing with each swallow, before he finally lowers it, exhaling deeply. Rafe hums, his lips twitching up. – Where’s my gold star?

You scoff, leaning back. – I'll show you where it is.

He doesn’t respond right away. Just watches you. The silence stretches for a beat too long, and something in his expression shifts—something unreadable, something you don’t have the energy to try and decipher.

You clear your throat. – Can you stand?

He shifts, testing his weight as he pushes up from the couch. You stay close, hands hovering, ready to catch him if he goes down again. He wobbles, but he stays up.

– Keys, – you say, holding out your hand.

He raises a brow. – Already looking to split the assets? We’re not even married yet.

You roll your eyes, fingers curling impatiently. – Rafe. – With an exaggerated sigh, he digs into his pocket and hands you the keys. – I’m taking you home.

He doesn’t argue. Just takes your wrist, turning it slightly so he can glance at your watch.

– Almost ten, – he murmurs. – Everyone’ll be asleep by the time we get there. – He pauses, glancing up at you with a lazy smirk. – Won’t be the first time I’ve snuck a girl into the house.

You ignore him, looping an arm around his waist as you guide him toward the car. He leans into you more than he needs to, his body pressing into your side as you help him into the passenger seat. You’re careful with him, though there's a part of you that is confused at how he seems to be okay one minute, and completely helpless the next.

The drive isn’t long, but it feels longer.

Your fingers tap against the steering wheel as you approach his driveway, nerves prickling under your skin. You don’t need someone seeing you. You don’t need this getting back to John B.

You park, cutting the engine, already looking at the windows, searching for movement. Rafe lets out a small laugh. – Relax. – He grins. – No one's watching.