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shellshocklove · 6 months

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wet nights | joel miller

pairing/AU: bfd!joel miller x female!reader – no outbreak

summary: getting beer spilled down your dress at your best friend sarah’s birthday party might not have been so bad– not when her dad can help you clean up.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! reader is 25 and joel is 47, reader is described as wearing a dress, swearing, use of pet names, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, exhibitionism, praise with a dash of degradation kink, one small touch of your clit, soft dom!joel, use of sir, cum play, no use of y/n

a/n: mom said it was my turn to write bfd!joel lol. basically this is just me wanting to write joel getting his cock and balls sucked bc it's what he deserves 😌 as always thank you to @dustydaddyyy for reading through this for me! and happy reading <3

main masterlist / ao3

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

Nodding your head to the beat of the music you gulped down a cooling sip of beer. The bar was stuffed to the brim tonight for Sarah’s birthday. Every chair and booth occupied, large groups huddled together against the walls, and a growing crowd of brave, seemingly deep enough down their drinks, dancers moved across the makeshift dance floor. Leaning against the bar right at the end, you were shielded from the continuous line of people looking for a drink to sate their thirst on this hot summer night.

You’d missed Sarah since graduation. She’d moved back to Austin to be closer to her father – a man you had still to meet even after all these years of knowing Sarah. You’d met in undergrad where you’d had a couple of overlapping classes the first year. She’d been one of those people where you’d just clicked, like a hand in a glove, you two just fit together.

Now you had moved to Austin. It wasn’t exactly planned, but you’d applied to a postgraduate program at the University of Texas, not necessarily thinking you’d get in– but then you had. Sarah had been ecstatic when you’d told her. You hadn’t seen her in person in over a year, but you couldn’t wait to live in the same city as your best friend again.

But first, her 25th birthday party.

Tonight would be your first night out as a new Austinite. Sarah had invited all her closest friends and family to her favorite bar to celebrate. You’d dreaded it a little, you weren’t gonna lie. That nagging anxiety had bubbled under your skin all week at the prospect of being the only one at the party who didn’t know anyone already. Sarah had told you not to worry though when you’d voiced your concern to her a few days ago – she’d introduce you to everyone – nothing to worry about, and she’d been right.

All Sarah’s friends had been extremely friendly and nice, and you’d been taken under their wing immediately. Quickly, your anxiety had melted away, condensing into nothing as you’d started to have a good time.

It was deep into the summer, and Austin had shown itself from its hotter side the last few days. Inside the bar everything ran hot, even with the AC on blast and with the amount of people who’d made their way inside in the last hour, looking for a good time on a Saturday night, it never stood a chance.

Trying to cool off you’d excused yourself from your new group of friends to order yourself a cold beer. One of the ACs blew cold air directly towards the bar, keeping the frantic bartenders cool as they pushed out order after order of drinks. You watched them from where you stood perfectly in the wind of the AC, glass raised to your lips when you felt a hard bump against your shoulder.

“Fuck,” you cursed as your full glass of beer spilled all down your front, staining your white summer dress.

“Shit– sorry, sweetheart.” You didn’t have time to react as your beer was lifted out of your wet hand and placed on the rough wood of the bar.

Looking up from your ruined dress you took in your beer thief as he reached across the bar for some napkins. He was older, forties maybe, maybe older if you were to take the sprinkle of salt and pepper in his hair into consideration, but he was gorgeous. A strong jaw and sculptured nose. Clad in a t-shirt and a dark pair of jeans, you thought he looked casual– not like he belonged to the rest of the birthday party. The material of his t-shirt strained against his bicep as he leaned back from over the bar – a stack of napkins now in his hand. Standing to his full height before you, you noticed just how broad he was, and it made a drop of desire pool in your core.

The man’s previous frantic movements came to a halt as he took you in for the first time; his dark brown eyes rolling down your body and leaving a trail of heat. His fist full of napkins stalled when his eyes landed on your dress, quickly diverting them with a loud clearing of his throat.

“Um– here,” he said, voice strained as he handed you the napkins.

Pulling your eyebrows together in a frown, you looked down at yourself again. The fabric was completely soaked through, and you felt a prickling heat tickle your cheeks as you realized you now looked like a walking ad for a wet t-shirt competition.

“Oh shit,” you muttered, taking the napkins from the man as you tried your best to cover yourself.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart– bumpin’ into ya like that.”

Pressing the napkins to your dress you shook your head at him, “It’s fine– eh,” you looked up from your body.

“Joel,” he introduced himself.

“It’s fine, Joel. It was an accident. I’ll just go to the restroom and try to get the stain out,” you said with a grimace, and reached for more napkins.

“Let me help ya,” he offered as he placed a friendly hand on your elbow.

As Joel guided you through the crowd towards the toilets, hand hovering at a polite distance behind your back, he continued to apologize.

“I feel terrible– let me at least pay for it if it ends up needin’ replacin’.”

Inside the bar’s toilets, you jumped up on the stone countertop lining the wall, turning the closest sink on.

“It’s okay,” you repeated as you busied yourself with trying to clean yourself up, “This isn’t the first time I’ve gotten beer spilled all over me,” you said with a teasing laugh, trying to lighten the mood a little.

Standing beside you with his hip leaning against the stone and a knee popped, Joel huffed out a strained laugh, a laugh somewhere between embarrassment and relief.

“Yeah?” He questioned, eyes falling to your working hands.

“Tell you this much– I’ve had plenty of wet nights.”

A sound escaped Joel at your words, one he quickly tried to cover up with a cough, and you realize your innuendo a second too late. When you looked up from your hands, eyes wide, you noticed that Joel’s cheeks had flushed slightly, like he was embarrassed that he’d even caught onto the innuendo you hadn’t meant to make.

“Oh! No, not like that–” you rushed, tone slightly mortified as your eyes met his, trying very hard not to stutter through the rest of your sentence, “I–uh... I only meant that I uh–... I‘ve had plenty of situations in which I’ve gotten wet–”

At this sentence, Joel raised his eyebrows in a look that seemed half-surprised, half-amused, and your stomach dropped even further into your ass in embarrassment.

“–with water!” you clarified quickly, before you scrunched up your nose in embarrassment, closing your eyes as you huffed out a laughing sigh, “There’s no way I’m getting out of this gracefully, is there?”

You heard Joel’s chuckle to your side, deep and syrupy, like the stuff you’d liked to pour over your pancakes in buckets when you were a kid.

“You’d have gotten away with it if you hadn’t started explainin’, I think,” Joel told you, his tone joking, and you chuckled bashfully, nodding before you looked up at him.

There was a moment in which you exchanged a look, before you felt the smile break over your face and you dissolved into embarrassed laughter, shaking your head as Joel laughed, too.

“Off to a great start,” you muttered in between chuckles, “First week in Austin and I’m already making passes at handsome strangers in bar bathrooms.”

“I never said I was complainin’,” Joel said jokingly, and you let out a chuckle, “First week in Austin, hm?”

“Yeah,” you said with a nod, “Here for a postgrad.”

“Smart and beautiful,” he mused, “Reckon I should spill beers more often if this is what I get in return.”

Delicate wings fluttered in your tummy at his words as a feeling of excitement filled your chest. Looking up at him with a raised teasing eyebrow you said, “Not sure spilling beer on someone is the tried and tested formula.”

“Well, that depends, really,” Joel answered back in a teasingly contemplating voice, “‘s it workin’ on you?”

Your stomach dropped slightly at his words, and when your eyes moved to meet his, he was looking at you with a look that made your insides burn.

“Maybe,” you told him with a teasing smile pulling at the corners of your mouth.

You were never usually this bold, but there was something in the way he was looking at you and the syrup-y tone of his voice. You could tell he knew what he was doing, knew exactly what to say, and you wanted more. Biting down on your bottom lip coquettishly, you leaned backwards on your arms, giving Joel a full view of the soaked front of your dress, and more specifically, everything he could see underneath.

“And what works on you, Joel?”

You watched with some satisfaction as Joel's eyes ran over the length of your chest, before he quickly redirected them to your eyes.

“You’re making it very hard to be a gentleman here, sweetheart,” he almost whispered, his eyes as dark as the Austin summer night sky. You gave a noncommitted shrug as a teasing smile tugged at your lips. Then, you leaned forward so that you were closer to him, feet dangling slightly.

“I never asked you to be,” you told him, your voice low but not quite a whisper as you looked up at him through your lashes.

Behind your rib cage your heart quickened with excitement as Joel’s darkening gaze bored into yours, and you knew you him right where you wanted him. His eyes danced over your face for a moment, before they flickered down to your lips. It almost made you stop breathing for a second, the tension in the air between you so thick you could cut it with a knife. There was just something about this man, something about Joel – and in this moment you wanted him more than you’d ever wanted anyone before.

Maybe it should’ve scared you, the speed at which you’d fallen under his spell (or was it the other way around?), but right now, with Joel’s darkening eyes staring into yours, you couldn't bring yourself to feel any fear. You could only look at him, could only feel his breath fanning over your lips and the intensity of his gaze on your face.

“You’re trouble, aren’t ya?” Joel’s voice was low, not quite a whisper, but full of deep bass.

You felt the expanse of his hand fall on your bare knee, rough and calloused over where your sundress had ridden up.

“Nothing you can’t handle.” You batted your eyelashes semi-innocently, spreading your thighs slightly, which made Joel’s mouth twitch in amusement.

“’s that so, darlin’?” He asked, taking his place between your legs, your face now only inches from his as he looked down at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Mhm,” you nodded slightly, your hand falling over his to guide it slowly up your thigh, “Don’t you wanna find out?”

As Joel’s index finger made contact with the side seam of your underwear, he closed the space between you and pressed his lips against yours. The hairs of his mustache tickled your cupid’s bow as he dove deeper, lips rolling over yours. You sat up slightly when his other hand wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer to him, your core rubbing up against his growing bulge. You whimpered against his lips at the contact, and Joel inhaled it, consuming every breathy moan and whimper.

His hand slid slowly downwards to your ass where he gave it a nice squeeze, pulling you even closer when your legs came up to wrap around his waist. He licked at your lower lip hungrily, and you opened yourself up to him to allow him to deepen the kiss. It was hot, and suffocating, and all-consuming, all at the same time. He was a great kisser, probably the best you’d kissed. His lips moved expertly over yours, soft and firm at the same time as he guided you through it.

The grip on your ass tightened again and soon you were half-way to hanging off the counter as he rocked his front steadily against your core, where your arousal had started to pool. The kisses turned needier then, shorter and desperate between quiet whines. You could feel the shape of him against you, hard and thick, and big. A wave of tickling arousal washed over you as you imagined yourself on your knees before him, the weight and taste of him on your tongue. He was so fucking hot, and you wanted him so fucking badly.

“Can I suck your cock?” you panted through frantic kisses.

Joel pulled back slightly, head tipped back to find your eyes.

“You wanna suck my cock?” he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice. You only nodded, head tipping slowly with the bite of your lip.

Joel tsk-ed, “Dirty girl,” he said and rocked his hard bulge against your core, which earned him a moan. It made a wicked grin spread across his face, like he’d just proved a point.

His hands left your body as he slowly stepped backwards – that same cocky grin adorning his features as he nodded towards one of the stalls. Jumping off the countertop, you almost tripped over your feet to follow him inside.

“Relax, baby– ain’t no need to get on your knees until after we’re inside,” he teased, holding the door open for you, bicep bulging against the fabric of his t-shirt. Fuck, he looked so hot.

“Ha-ha,” you fake-laughed at him with a teasing roll of your eyes as you stepped past him and into the bathroom stall. When the door clicked behind him, followed by the unmistakable sound of the lock turning, you felt a pair of strong hands land on your hips as he pressed his body against your back.

“I’m only teasin’,” he reassured you in your ear, his breath fanning over the shell and sending a tingle down your spine. Turning around in his hold, your own teasing smile spread across your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Yeah?” you queried with the raise of an eyebrow, “Well two can play that game, sir” you teased as you slowly sunk to your knees, missing the way Joel reacted to the title you’d assigned him.

From above Joel watched you, body relaxed and composed like he wasn’t about to get his dick sucked, but the lust in his eyes gave him away. Your teeth caught on your bottom lip as you fumbled with his belt, the sound of metal clinking bouncing off the tiles as you focused on popping the button on his jeans and pulling the zipper down. You couldn’t take your eyes off the shape of him hidden behind the denim, and it made your mouth water, your thighs squeezing together. You were mesmerized as you let your pointer finger run over the covered length of him, the cotton fabric of his boxer briefs soft under your fingertips.

For a moment, you couldn’t believe what you were about to do – suck a man you’d just met less than an hour ago off in the bathroom stall of some dingy bar? But then again, something excited you about it.

Maybe it was Joel? Or maybe it was the thrill of it all– of maybe getting caught?

“Go on, darlin’, it’s okay– be a good girl n’ take it out f’me,” Joel ordered from above, his voice dropping an octave. You looked up at him, caught the way he studied you, gauging your every move and reaction.

Then something shifted in his eyes, a flash of insecurity making its presence known, “Or don’t– we can stop f’you want– if you ain’t feelin’ it anymore.”

You shook your head before he’d even finished his sentence. God, no! You sure as hell didn’t want to stop.

“I wanna keep going, Joel,” you smiled, your fingers hooking into the elastic band of his boxer briefs.

A genuine smile bloomed across his face then, his rough hand coming down to cup your chin, “That’s good, baby,” he said, swiping his thumb slowly over your skin, before he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Know you’ll be good f’me, won’t you?” he whispered against your lips, drawing a breathy whine from you at the praise.

“Yes,” you sighed, almost breathless as he kissed you again quickly before he murmured against your lips, “Yes, you will, darlin’– you’re gonna choke on my cock ‘n thank me for it, won’t ya?”

He was driving you mad with all these questions. In just a few minutes, this man had turned you inside out, pushed every button to turn you on– you were practically swimming in your panties, your mind clouded in hazy arousal.

You didn’t know what to do, and not thinking clearly, you chased his lips.

“Nuh-uh,” Joel chuckled, pulling away slightly, “lemme hear you say it, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you sighed again, “thank you for giving me your cock.”

“Thank you for giving me your cock, what?”

This manwas relentless.

“Thank you for giving me your cock, sir?” you tried, teeth nibbling on your bottom lip.

Pleased, a satisfied grin pulled at Joel’s lips. He rewarded you with a quick kiss before he pulled away, standing to his full height again.

You couldn’t wait any longer, you needed to touch him. Hooking your fingers into the elastic band of his boxer briefs again, you slowly pulled them down, revealing inch by inch of the base of his fat cock.

He was big, and the sight made your mouth water, but what excited you the most was the weight of his heavy balls.

“Fuck,” you whispered, eyes wide with fascination.

His hand found the back of your neck in a grounding hold as he guided you closer, your lips bumping against his tip. “Give it a kiss, baby… just like that,” he praised as you did exactly what he wanted, placing a kiss to his cock the same way you’d kissed his lips.

Over you, you could hear Joel release a content breathy chuckle, “That’s so good, baby, such a good girl.”

Egged on by his praises, you shifted a little on your knees, steadying your hands on his thighs as you pooled a blob of spit in your mouth that you let drip down the head. Joel watched you intensely as you used your dominant hand to slowly work the spit over his length, earning yourself a strained grunt. He grew even harder in your hand as you familiarized yourself with the weight and size of him in your hand.

“Wanna taste it, sir,” you said and placed another soft kiss to the head, swiping your tongue over the slit to taste the precum that had started to pearl.

“Yeah?” he taunted, almost degrading, “You wanna taste my cock that badly?”

“Y-yes,” you whined, looking up at him through your lashes.

Joel watched you for a beat before he tapped at the hand wrapped around him, shooing it away as he fisted himself. “Open wide then, honey, ‘f you want it that bad,” he said, slapping his cock against the side of your face.

Your mouth dropped open in an instance as Joel stuffed his cock inside your mouth slowly. You opened up as wide as you possibly could, relaxing your jaw to accommodate the size of him in your mouth. It was a wide stretch, and the tip touched the back of your throat far too soon, making you gag around the head.

He pulled back to let you breathe for a moment, before he sunk back down your throat again, a large and grounding hand resting at the back of your head. The second time you were more prepared to take him, holding him in your throat for a few moments longer before you started to gag. Over you, Joel let out a strained grunt; the noise sending a bolt of arousal straight to your core.

After that, Joel let you take the lead.

You started out slow, taking the head into your mouth as you let your spit-covered fingers glide over his shaft in an experimental tug. Under your fist, a slick sound echoed off the tiles with every jerk of his cock. You made sure his cock was thoroughly coated in your spit as you set a steady rhythm. You let your tongue glide over the underside of his tip, his hips bucking when you dipped your tongue into the slit.

It was sloppy, and wet, and the noises coming from your throat were entirely too obscene as you started bobbing your head, taking him down your throat.

“That’s a good girl,” Joel praised you, helping guide his cock down your throat with the hand resting at the back of your head. “You love suckin’ cock, don’t you? Love havin’ a big cock fill up that tight throat?”

Suddenly, you heard the muted music coming from the bar grow louder before dying again at the sound of the door slamming shut. You stilled your movements in panic as you heard someone slip into the stall to your right. Your eyes met Joel as you slipped his cock out your mouth, but to your surprise he looked far from concerned about the new audience.

Stretching his neck he turned his head in the direction of the occupied stall, while he wrapped his fist around the base of his cock. Even in his hands it looked big, and you started to wonder how you’d ever managed to fit it down your throat. A beat passed before he turned his head to look at you again, a wicked grin coating his lips as he bobbed his cock in your face, rubbing the head over your closed lips before he slapped it lightly against your cheek.

“Open up,” he mouthed with another light slap to your cheek. His actions made a tingle of arousal spread throughout your body, and you realized in shock how much the thought of getting caught turned you on.

You did as Joel said and opened your mouth for him to feed you his cock again. He watched you very closely this time, letting you ease yourself down his cock at your own pace, trying your best to be quiet. When the very tip of your nose made contact with the thatch of coarse dark hair at the base and your lips were snug around his cock, Joel couldn’t help himself. The grounding hand at the back of your head held you down as he shoved himself as deep as he possibly could down your throat, his balls bouncing against your chin at the movement.

To your right you heard the unmistakable sound of a toilet being flushed and a lock being twisted. Your eyes welled up with tears, your vision fogging over as you tried your best to fight against your gag reflex. Over you, Joel watched you with a proud smirk on his lips. When the sound of the sink turning on echoed through the restroom, you allowed a whimpering gag to escape you as you squeezed your eyes shut.

It shouldn’t have turned you on as much as it did, but the thrill of getting caught choking on an older man’s cock, a man who was essentially a stranger, made you wonder if you could come untouched. You were so close already, just a flick of your clit would send you off the edge of bliss.

Your eyes were about to roll back into your head when Joel finally pulled back. You gasped violently for air at the exact moment the door opened, filling the toilets with loud music for a moment before you and Joel were locked away again in your own little world. Like you were on autopilot, your hand slipped between your thighs to find your clit, and soon you were withering with your orgasm.

“Oh, there you go, honey, come all over those fingers f’me, just like that,” you heard Joel say, though the force of your orgasm made it seem like he was far away, like your ears were filled with cotton.

When you finally calmed down, you steadied yourself with a tug at Joel’s jeans – the fabric rough under your fingertips. Over you Joel fisted his cock as he watched you with a wild look in his eyes.

“Goddamn, baby, you’re so fuckin’ hot comin’ like that just from gettin’ your throat fucked.”

“Thank you, sir,” you managed to let out, your voice strained and hoarse.

Realizing he must’ve been close, you sat up straighter on your knees, ready to pull him off the edge too. Leaning forward, you stuck out your tongue, licking a fat strip up the seam of his balls to the underside of his shaft. His cock jumped in his hand as Joel let out a breathy laugh.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he muttered, “Look me in the eyes honey– look me in the eyes when you lick my balls.” Joel jerked his cock above your face as you continued to lick at his heavy balls – your eyes locked with his.

“Look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he choked out through groans, “Suck on ‘em, baby, suck on my balls.”

Blinking up at him you tried your best to fit one of them in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and sucking greedily and lapping at the skin, before you moved on to treat the other with the same amount of love.

Joel’s mouth dropped open in a gape, his breath coming out quicker and more staggered. He squeezed himself harder at the base with each jerk before skating his thumb over the swollen head, massaging it.

“Fuck,” he panted, “I’m gonna come, baby, I’m gonna fuckin’ come.”

Popping his balls from your mouth you hurriedly sat up in front of him, the tip off his cock brushing over the plump of your bottom lip with every thug of his cock.

“Please, sir,” you begged, “Please, come in my mouth.”

Joel wasn’t one to deny your request, especially not when you were sat so pretty in front of him with your tongue sticking out.

A second later, Joel shoved his cock in your mouth and came – balls drawn tight as he shot his load down your throat. The force of it made you gag a little at first, the restriction around his sensitive cock only making him come harder. He groaned above you as you sucked him dry, before he pulled back when it was too much, and caught his breath.

“Say Ah,” he said, a gentle but firm hand cupping your jaw. The squeeze of his fingers made your mouth drop open to reveal the cum coated on your tongue and where it pooled at the back of your throat. “Don’t swallow– Let me see, darlin’.”

Your smile fought against his grip. Sticking your tongue out the best you could, you let him see the state he’d left you in; chin coated in saliva, tears starting to dry on your cheeks, mouth puffy and fucked, and marked in this stranger’s cum.

“Pretty as a picture,” he tutted before he let go of your jaw, and with a pat to your cheek finally gave you permission to swallow.

After that it was like the spell had broken between you. Joel helped you to your feet, both of you giggling when your legs wobbled like a foal unsteady on its feet. He held you upright with a strong hand to your waist, while the other one traveled up the length of your body to cup your face, and bring it closer to place a slow and sensual kiss to your lips.

“Would you believe me if I told you I’d never done anything like that before?” You asked him a moment later as he helped you clean your face by the sink.

Joel gave you a look in the mirror.

“You don’t?” you exclaimed.

Joel gave you an infuriatingly casual shrug, “It ain’t your first time suckin’ dick that’s for sure,” he teased with a pinch to your side which made you jump.

Giving him a playful shove, you said, “I’m not lying! I’ve never had a one-night stand.”

“Well, the night’s still young,” Joel joked, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and dipping his head to place a soft kiss to the column of your neck.

You leaned into his touch, feeling the soft grip of his hands on your body, and the soft presses of his kisses as you watched the two of you in the mirror. You found that you liked the reflection looking back at you, and if you were lucky, you hoped he liked it too; maybe enough to want to see you again.

“I can’t go back out there like this,” you said after a moment.

Your dress had finally dried, but so had the beer – staining it yellow.

Joel lifted his head from your neck to rest his chin on your shoulder as his eyes scanned your body in the mirror.

“I have a flannel in my truck I can borrow you?”

“More layers in this heat?” you questioned, already sweating at the thought.

A wide grin spread across Joel’s face, full of mischief, “I guess I’ll just have to take ‘em off of you later, then.”

Turning around in his hold, you wrapped your hands around his neck, your fingers toying with the hair curling at his neck as you met his eyes. “That doesn’t sound so bad,” you whispered, painfully aware of the wet stain of arousal soiling your panties and sticking to your cunt.

“No, it doesn’t,” Joel hummed, his eyes crinkling as he smiled.

“Wanna get out of here?” you asked and brushed your lips over his.

A moment later Joel guided you out the restrooms with a protective hand resting at the small of your back. Weaving through the crowd, you’d made your way almost to the exit when you heard a shout of your name over the music.

“There you are!” Sarah shouted again as she moved through the crowd towards you and Joel, arms reached out to the sky.

“Oh! And you’ve finally met my dad!”

i hope this was okay and that someone liked this? as always feedback as a comment, in the tags, as an ask or reply is very much appreciated, and they make me super happy! <3 i'm very curious to hear your thoughts about this! <3

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us smut #tlou fanfiction #tlou smut #bfd!joel miller #dom!joel miller #pedro pascal #*writing

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myfictionaldreams · 5 months

Text

Light in the Darkness // Feyre/Rhysand x Fem!Reader

Summary: It wasn't just Rhys who had been caught in Amrantha's damnatation. For nearly 50 years, you'd suffered with him, in her bed. After years of enduring agony, it becomes almost impossible to resist seeking refuge in the platonic refuge of your High Lord and High Lady. However, after one night of drunken indulgence, you're left wondering if everything you've built to protect yourself is now shattered.

Requested by: ~ ☺ -- thank you so so much for all your support and the request! I absolutely loved writing more acotar/sjm!

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, past rape/non-con elements, trauma, PTSD, nightmares, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, friends to lovers, friends with benefits, flirting, kissing, drinking, threesome (f/f/m), sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, anxiety, happy ending

Words: 9.4k (lol oops)

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

Some aspects of life can be predicted. Happiness, sadness, heartbreak, grief. Death. Every ounce of blessings that had graced your life had repercussions and hardships, something that was always centred around the balance of the world. With good comes the bad.

Years upon years had been filled with joy, laughter, and safety with your friends and family. Naturally, being drawn into the inner circle of the Night Court would bring its hardships, but it would be nothing that your friends or your family could get you out of. From outsiders, you were ranked low within the group, not even having a title to the job you provided; however, you often liked to refer to yourself as Rhysand's conscience.

Where Amren would help make significant decisions for the Night Court as the second in command, you'd be there to offer further guidance daily. Every meeting, every decision, every single day, you would be at Rhysand's side, making sure he didn't make brash decisions and, furthermore, protecting his sanity when, on some days, the weight of the world pressed down on him.

Not only did you save Rhys with your words, but as a high fae, you were blessed by the Cauldron with healing and body manipulation powers. The healing was self-explanatory as to why it could help; there were times you'd been able to bring a soul back, even from the point of death. However, such as life, with life comes pain. A power you used so infrequently due to the distress that you'd often forgotten that it was something you could do. Only on a handful of occasions have you needed to use it against an enemy they begged for death in seconds. It was a strain on your mental health to use this, and with Rhys having his own powers, along with his shadowsinger, there weren't many reasons for you to even be needed for this.

Rhysand would never expect or ask you to use this power, increasing your adoration for him tenfold. To say the two of you were close was a complete understatement. When you both live and breathe the same day-to-day life, the form of friendship is bound to shift into something more. Rhys made you feel safe; the scent of night and Jasmine that accompanied him always wrapped around you like a warm hug.

There was no one you trusted more than him, and when the two of you stumbled into bed years ago, it only helped you discover more of yourself, especially with your powers. Pleasure. You could bestow pleasure onto a person with a single thought. Have their knees wobbling, eyes glazing over and back arching as they orgasmed in a single second. It made your nights with the High Lord all the more entertaining.

Even with the closeness the two of you shared, there was still the label of friendship. You loved Rhysand, and he loved you, but the two of you were still keeping back, aware of the possibilities of mates, and until any bond arrived, the friendship would continue with the thrill of pleasure.

As your role to be by his side continued, this was the unfortunate or devastating mistake of how you were in attendance at the ball that Amarantha had created. All it took was a gathering of high lords and a drink of the magically spiked wine, and the world of Pyrthian would be forever changed. The magic within the High Lords was leashed, and no one was safe from the wrath of the Red-Haired Devil.

You could have driven yourself mad with hindsight, regretting not listening to your gut feeling of not trusting Amarantha. Only the knowledge of being able to keep the rest of your family and friends safe in Velaris was the only blessing, even if it meant a life of agony for 50 years.

Amarantha, in all of her cruel ways, personally picked the High Lord of the Night Court with her need for revenge for Rhys' father, killing her closest ally - Tamlin's father. Rhys had always had a formal villainous reputation amongst the other courts, but now, this is further shadowed by the different courts as Amarantha uses him. To hurt others, break them in a split second, and furthermore, keep him leashed to her bed. He was simply her whore and nothing more to the others throughout Pyrthian. This mighty High Lord, probably the most powerful High Lord there had ever been, had been degraded and dehumanised to nothing.

Nevertheless, where Rhysand stayed, you were by his side.

Rhysand had protected Velaris, the rest of his friends and family that remained at home, keeping them locked away from Amarantha using his Daemati skills, but could not save them.

The first few weeks of the new reign of the Red Devil, you'd been chained in a cell with only darkness and the drip of the waters running down the walls to keep you company. You'd even convinced yourself she had forgotten about you, willing to let you rot away. However, you were forced to kneel before her, and Rhys stood by her side.

There was never a second where you'd blame Rhys for what happened. In fact, over the 50 years, he had saved you in more ways than you could ever repay him for.

You were forced by Amarantha to admit why Rhys kept you so close by. The healing, the pain, the pleasure. Everything spilt from your lips with a single snap of her fingers. Rhysand was her whore, and you were downgraded to being her Harlot, except there was no exchange between sex and money, only sex and not being killed.

Rhy was forced to control minds and occasionally cause pain before death. You were just there to deal unimaginable pain until death, and then both crawl into Amaranthas bed and pleasure her until she promptly sleeps, wakes and starts the process again.

As the years trailed by, the only sight that would keep you going was the flickerings of stars that would light in the depths of Rhysand's eyes when the two of you were briefly alone for mere seconds.

Amarantha kept a tight leash on the two of you. When in her bedroom, you and Rhys were never allowed to touch, and most frequently, you were forced to kneel next to the bed and watch or tie to the bed with the Red Devil straddling your waist with Rhys pleasuring her from behind. You would watch and watch, and then her fingers would snap, and you were forced to make her orgasm, over and over, even with Rhys having spent hours pleasuring her.

These moments were where Rhys would provide support. Even though your eyes had to remain on Amarantha, Rhys would slip through your mental shiels and make you feel numb whilst remaining mentally close so that you didn't feel alone. Often, you would wake without any recollection of the previous night's antics, all thanks to your High Lord, and you wished and begged to the Cauldron that one day you could repay him for keeping you from slipping into the depressive pit that you would never be able to return from.

Then, at the risk of his life, Rhys admitted to having dreams. 47 years, the two of you had been trapped, and he'd been lost to the Red Devil, but hope came to him with glimpses of a woman's life. Hope. It had to be hope, and even though you could only see foggy images that Rhys would share of this person, the two of you would hope that this was a sign of someone who was bringing salvation.

Nearly 50 years had passed, and Rhysand finally admitted to meeting her whilst visiting the Spring Court, falling for the callings coming his way to draw him closer to her. Nothing came as easy as an overnight saviour, but at least you had a name. Feyre. Sweet Feyre. A human girl who had nearly stolen Tamlin's heart arrived under the mountain to declare her love for him and stand up to the Red Devil.

So young and yet defiant. Despite the pain, the torture and helplessness, she never back down. Something in your heart called to her. Maybe it wasn't right to put so much pressure on her to save Pyrthian, but even if it meant you had to take your last breath, you would try anything within your power to save this woman.

Superficial wounds you couldn't heal, but the pain you were quick to vanish as she was kept in her cell between the trials. Moreover, you were more than aware that Rhys was doing just as much to keep her from losing her sanity by having her close to his side, forgetting the world as she drank faerie wine.

The fateful day came, and so many events spiralled into utter chaos. After the final trial, Feyre figures out the riddle but still dies in Amaranthas's hand. Tamlin finally finds courage and slaughters the Red Devil and the High Lords, gathering to bring Feyre back to life as High Fae.

Freedom was unforgettable, and leaving the depths of Under the Mountain was something you'd only dreamed of, but there was now the weight of Rhys' mating bond snapping into place that had the next chapter in your lives beginning.

There was no time to be happy for your High Lord as the King of Hybern began his war whilst simultaneously trying to prove to Feyre that she was safe within the Night Court and away from Tamlin and that you were thanking Rhys and Mor for stealing her from the dreadful place.

Years continue to fly by. Wars, fights, numerous deaths, including Rhys for a moment and finally, FINALLY, the Night court could be at rest and for once indeed be happy with their High Lord and Lady protecting the lands with the inner circle close by.

Having been in turmoil for so long, adjusting to returning home, being surrounded by friends, and trying to remember what it was like to be genuinely safe was more difficult than anticipated.

It was almost like having to try and learn how to live again. What hobbies would truly distract you? What job could you do from day to day as it wasn't necessarily for you to be on Rhysands' side now with Feyre there to aid in the decision-making? There was also the destruction of having survivor guilt and horrific nightmares that had you afraid of the sun slipping behind the mountains every day and night, replacing the light. No amount of talking, counselling or breathing exercises could remind you that Amarantha was truly dead and that everything was fine.

This was how you began to depend on your High Lord and Lady. Both of whom were closer to you than it seemed to be anyone else. Most days would be spent around either of them, whether to help with court business or simply sitting next to them as they continued their lives.

You had realised long ago that you were mostly in love with Rhys and Feyre and depended on them more than others. They never made you feel guilty for this. Neither seemed to mind and often would seek you out if you were starting to feel guilty and keep them safe; they needed comfort and support just as much as you did.

The damage and trauma from Under the Mountain also fleeted from just your mind. You couldn't train with any of the others; even the slightest touch against your skin would trigger red nightmares. You were unsure if it was the saviour complex you'd built around Feyre or Rhys, but you'd only allow them through your hard outer shell.

"Come back to me. Come back to Velaris. You're safe; I'm here; take a deep breath with me" Feyre's soothing voice drifted through your tense consciousness as she blew out a long breath so you could hear the steadiness of her slow breaths. The sweetness of her scent, lilac and pear, then licked through the wind across the skin of your cheek as she knelt in front of you, grasping your hand firmly and helping to ground you.

Your eyelids fluttered first, testing the movements as your mind and body began to return from the horrors within. The rich blueness of Feyre's concerned eyes is what you forced on first, then the rise and fall of her chest as you attempted to copy the movements. It was the first draw of breath that you realised just how long you'd been holding your breath as your lungs burned and your head spun.

The air of Velaris tasted sweet, or maybe it was the lingering taste of Feyre in the air as the ache in the centre of your chest eased and you became more present. The trembling throughout your body continued, no matter how many times Fey's thumb brushed against the back of your hand.

"You're always safe here, with me. It's just us together. Look outside; the sun is still shining, and there's no darkness here". Feyre continued to gently soothe you with her elegant voice.

You'd always found it so ironic that a place called the Night Court, the power to bring forth shadows and darkness from its High Lady and Lord, was actually the brightest and most beautiful home. Free. Unlike how it was Under the Mountain.

Tension struck your spine as your thoughts drifted back to the nightmarish place. Feyre's grip on your hand loosened as she shifted closer to cup both hands around your face, forcing your eyes on her again.

"Don't go back there, stay with me. Talk to me, I want to hear your pretty voice, Honey". It was both the use of her nickname for you and the warmth of her fingers on your face that brought you back from the dizzying nightmares.

Opening your mouth to follow your instructions, you were unsure what to say at first, worried that all that would dribble out would be frightened whimpers, but then a little fleck of something at the corner of Feyre's eyelid caught your eye as your fingers hovered above the area.

"You have a freckle right here that I've never noticed before", you say in a whisper before clearing your voice and smiling at your High Lady.

Feyre matches your grin, showing her teeth whilst doing so and tilting her face so that you're not cupping her face just as she was yours. "Do I? I've never noticed before. Guess I'll have to add it to my portraits".

Your index finger stroked over the freckle as your thoughts spoke before you could probably think as you admitted, "It's beautiful". Usually, only her mate caused the pinkness to blush across her cheeks as she tried to duck and hide her face, the golden hair half drawn into a ponytail now curtaining her away.

Instinctively, you brushed the offending pieces behind her pointed ears, giving you a clearer view of the beauty of Feyre Archeron-Moonbeam. As her sky-stained eyes flicked back up to yours, she coyly softened her smile. And you're a big old flirt; she uses her daemati skills as her lips remain still so that only you can hear.

Only for you, my High Lady, you respond similarly. However, the flirtatious talk was then interrupted by a third, more silky, deep voice joined as the scent of Jasmine and the crispness of night wrapped around you in a warm hug.

I object. I, too, think you're a big old flirt to me, too. It could be my handsome good looks and effortless charm. The intense eye contact with Feyre snapped as you both turned toward the doorway where Rhys now casually leaned against the doorframe, his hands in the pockets of his black trousers and not a single hair out of place. The hypnotic violet eyes wandered over Feyre's form first before doing the same with you before the tension eased in his shoulders.

Scoffing as you and Feyre stood, releasing each other's faces and turning towards him entirely, you spoke the following words aloud. "Excuse me, Almighty High Lord. I think you'll find that you're older than me and a much bigger flirt".

Feyre laughs as she naturally falls into his side, their arms wrapping around each other's waists and his lips dipping to kiss her tenderly across the forehead before focusing his attention on you with a wicked grin.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Love. I only flirt with my darling Feyre". His mate gently slaps a hand against his chest. As you all know, that was one of the biggest lies to slip from his lips. Rhys simply grabs her tattoo-covered hand and kisses the knuckles before venturing further into the room, only stopping when toe-to-toe with you.

Your neck ached as you stared up at him, admiring the twinkle of stars in his eyes as he asked, Do you want to talk about it?

You knew he was referring to your momentary lapse in consciousness moments ago. Losing the courage to maintain eye contact, you look across Velaris, noticing how the sun reflected and sparkled against the water flowing in the Sidra.

Suddenly having no energy, your shoulder shrugs nonchalantly, even though you knew the man before you could read you better than any other. "Not really".

Warm, calloused fingers grip your chin, turning your face back towards Rhys as you find that Feyre is now by your side, her fingers interlocking with yours, both touching you, the only two to have done so since being Under the Mountain, even if they were innocent touches.

"You can always come to us, day or night. You know that, right? Just call out for us, and we will come", Rhys reassures carefully, his eyebrows drawn together with concern.

Glancing between the mated pair, you try to ignore the burning behind your eyes from the threatening tears as you squeeze the hand holding yours and smile up at Rhys. "What would I ever do without my favourite High Lady and Lord".

Rhys grins down at you, keeping his hold on your chin as he leans down to kiss your cheek, remaining there for a second longer than socially acceptable as you suck in a quick breath as Feyre copies the kiss on the opposite cheek. The two of them move away at the same time as you struggle to control your pounding heart and ignore the desperate throb that warmed your core from being between them both.

It was always like this with the three of you. The longing touches by both of them. The ones that would fuel the dreams would leave you feeling regret for thinking of your friends in such a way, even if it distracted you from your dark thoughts.

To everyone else, it seemed that you were all close. Still, when the three of you were alone, something constantly shifted, and as much as you tried to remember they were mates and nothing further would ever happen, the lasting effects of the increased pulse and arousal remained. Even though you would never act on these feelings, they made you feel alive and safe.

You noticed it then, the shadows that creep into their eyes as their nostrils flare, smelling your dampening arousal. Like always, you take a step back and try to regain control over your actions, masking your emotions with humour.

"You two are naughty. Do you often kiss your friends like that".

Feyre's giggle only adds to your body's reaction as she links her arm through yours and shrugs her shoulder, "I don't know what you're referring to. We were just being supportive", her tone was laced with sarcasm.

Rolling your eyes, your arm taps the arm holding yours, "Of course you were". Leaning into her side, the two of you glance up at Rhysand, who is silently watching the interactions. Eventually, his eyes flicked to Feyres, who tilted her head with a knowing smile. Looking between the two, you sigh dramatically, "I hate when you both talk like that. It's like you're showing off that you can speak mind to mind. Some would call it rude to talk like that without including your company".

Rhys finally smirks as you notice the sweet and seedy tang that now invaded your scents, mixing with the smell of your arousal quickly; you take a step back from them, assuming they're both flirting mind to mind as you can now smell how horny they both were.

"Alright, well, now I know what you're both thinking. I'm going to take that as my opportunity to leave, " you explain whilst walking towards the exit like you usually did when the mated pair became obsessed with the other in similar situations. However, a shadow wraps around your wrist and halts your movements, so you must turn back and watch as Rhys' arm secures Feyre's shoulder.

"How do you know what we are thinking about?" Rhys asks casually.

Once more, you roll your eyes in exasperation, "because I can smell it, and you are both anything but subtle".

"Hmm", he contemplates for a second. "And what exactly do you think we're dreaming about?"

Your tongue suddenly lay heavy in your mouth as you look confused between them both, noting that Feyre's cheeks are once more flushed with embarrassment, or was it arousal?

"Is this a fun game for you both? I'm not sure I'm interested in guessing what you two do behind closed doors". A lie, but they don't need to know this as those thoughts had been fueling your quiet nights between your sheets.

The High Lord and Lady's eyes both lower to watch as your thighs squeeze together to ease the worsening ache there, not realising how noticeable your movements had been as you cough to recapture their attention back to your face.

"Maybe I should have phrased my question differently", Rhys begins to say as he licks his lips. "Who exactly do you think we are dreaming about?"

Your frown deepens with the confusion that only seems to worsen with each word Rhys says. Feyre takes control of the conversation as she steps forward and out of Rhys' hold until she is in front of you, looking like the beautiful High Lady that she is. Her shoulders rolled back, her head held high, and the confidence only added to the pulsing and fire between your legs.

Carefully, you watch every single flicker of emotion and movement from Feyre. From the way her lips part to take in a deep breath, the subtle hardening of her nipples beneath the thin blue shirt she wore, to the way her pupils expand to match the sweet scent in the air. "I, for one, was not and am not thinking of Rhysand", she speaks in a lower undertone than usual, not flinching from your unending stare.

It was your turn to open your mouth, licking the dryness while attempting to think of some kind of response, but it seemed that your mind was void of all conventional thoughts. So much so that the arrival of Morrigan as she winnowed into the room had the three of you flinching and jumping to face the new arrival.

The tall blonde's nose wrinkled as she glanced between her cousin and his mate, "By the Cauldron, will you two leave the poor girl alone with your nasty thoughts? It smells like a Pleasure house in here", Mor claims as she flicks her luscious hair over her shoulder.

You take a step back, thankful that Mor only thought the thick smell was from Feyre and Rhys and not you as well.

"Morrigan, a pleasure as always, dear cousin", Rhys drawls as he casually picks off some invisible lint from his shoulder. This sight has you smiling, knowing he was covering his discomfort with the movement.

Mor flicked her gaze over Rhys before dressing each of you with enthusiasm, clasping her hands together, "So tonight I've convinced the others to come to Ritas, and I need you three to also join to have the complete team there".

"I'll be there, " you say quickly, deciding you need something more substantial to drink after this conversation.

"Us too", Feyre answered as she glanced over her shoulder towards you with a not-so-subtle wink.

Hours later, after the sun had set and your anxiety had risen for a moment, you were now encompassed in the inhibitions of the alcohol humming through your veins. Ritas was as busy as always, and being surrounded by friends, good music and even better drinks, you were very much in your element of happiness.

Despite your friends being gathered around the table you always resided at or in the centre of the dancefloor, you were happy in your little corner of heaven in Ritas, where you could sway on the spot without worrying about feeling strangers' bodies knocking into yours.

The conversation continued to play over in your mind as you felt the coolness of the sweat dripping down the middle of your spine. As much as you love Mor, you could have cursed her to prison for interrupting before discovering who Feyre and Rhys were referring to because even though your heart screamed that it was about you, your mind tried to convince you otherwise. There was no way that your mated friends were turned on by you.

You're drawn away from your thoughts as a slender arm slides around your neck, and the sweet smell of Feyre wraps around you, replacing the salty sweat from the room. Her grin matches yours as she tips her head back, swaying her hips in time with yours as your fingers clasp to the thin material of her peach dress around her waist, pulling her closer.

From the way she laughed, you knew she was just as drunk as you but nevertheless still as beautiful as ever, even with the way her golden hair stuck to her face with the sweat and the glassy sheen over her eyes. You were happy to see her letting go and fully relaxing; she deserved it more than most.

You weren't sure which of you tightened your hold of the other, but now your faces are pressed together, her lips hovering next to your ear so that you could hear her say, "We didn't finish the conversation earlier".

Your feet somehow become tangled with hers as you both lose your footing, but a steady hand from behind keeps you both upright as Rhys' chest presses against your back. One of his hands remains on your waist, his thumb brushing in a circle, and the other reaches around your side to grip Feyre, pulling her even closer against your chest until your breasts are squished against hers.

"Wh-What conversation?" you pretend to forget, the rest of Ritas drowning away in the background.

"Don't play coy with us; I can smell your arousal already", Rhys growls into your other ear. You forget to breathe momentarily, so Rhys's tone calms, "Easy, breathe for us, it's ok. This will always remain a safe space". You appreciated his comfort, but for a moment, all you could think about was the way his lips caressed the shell of your ear.

I think you're beautiful, Honey. Feyre speaks dreamily mind to mind as she pulls away to look deep into your mind mesmerisingly. Her delicate fingers stroke down your cheek as her eyes flick between yours and the lips you're biting. I want you. She states this with such confidence and not an ounce of alcohol slurring her words that your knees wobble.

"I want you too", you finally whisper to her, unsure if the alcohol was giving you courage or making silly decisions on your behalf.

"And you know that Rhys wants you too; nothing about that has changed", Feyre continues as you glance over your shoulder to look up at Rhys as he kisses the side of your head. You nod, understanding that she was referring to your past with him.

"I think we should find somewhere more private, don't you?" Feyre continues as you agree with her.

One second, you're in Ritas, and the next, you're in the comforting bedroom in the townhouse of Feyre and Rhys. The instant calmness of the loud music faded, and the delicate touch of the wind as it floated through the open archway to the balcony. Sighing at the coolness as it kissed against the exposed skin of your arms, you let it distract you from the chaos erupting in your heart and mind.

Rhys moved away first, and before you turned to see what he was doing, Feyre stepped back and grabbed your hand. The two of you laughed wholeheartedly while stumbling over to their gigantic bed.

You both collapse into the centre, laughing at nothing as the springs cause you both to bounce before settling and wrapping your arms around each other.

Rhys leans against the bedpost at the base of the bed, smiling down at the two of you, especially as Feyre lifts her feet and wiggles them in his direction. "Come on, High Lord. Look busy", she giggles as Rhys smirks, moving to sit on the edge of the bed and dragging her feet into his lap. Carefully, he unbuckled the straps of her heels, dropped the shoes onto the floor and carefully kissed the top of her knee as the dress she wore now pooled midthigh no that she was lying down, and then his sights were set on you.

With long strides, he's around the other side of the bed, now closest to you, and begins to remove your shoes as well, but then your feet remain over his thighs, and the reality of the situation finally dawns on you. Like he had with Feyre, his eyes never leave yours as you forget to breathe altogether, and he kisses your knee delicately.

Feyre raised to lean on her fist so that she could look down at you as your gaze turned from one to the other.

"You'll tell us if it's too much, I mean", she asks, appearing more sober as you, too, notice the liquid courage seems to have disappeared from your system as you nod in agreement at her. She smiles as Rhys' fingers caress from your ankle up to your calf. "I've never kissed a female before", she admits as the hand she isn't leaning on reaches across to run her fingers down the side of your face.

"I think you'd enjoy it", you say, sounding breathless, becoming lost in the desire that darkens her usually bright eyes. You're encouraged to continue as her fingers continue to explore your face and linger on your lips. "Kissing a man is nice and dominant, rough. But with females, they're soft, sweet, gentle but demanding if needed."

Feyre bites her lower lip as she glances at Rhys for a split second before turning her attention back down to you. "I want to kiss you", admits eternally.

"I don't think your mate would appreciate me touching what's he", you say, trying to remain as level-headed as possible, knowing that the mind between mates should not be interfered with.

Feyre's eyes gleam with mischief as she looks down at her mate, who has remained silent so far. "My mate wants to kiss you too", she confirms.

"More than you could know", Rhys then speaks, his tone taunt and deep, like he is trying to hold back, but it is all the confirmation you need.

Reaching up to your High lady, you cup her jaw and pull her close, meeting her halfway as your lips connect. The two of you forget to breathe momentarily, simply remaining in place and allowing each of your emotions to escalate before your movements finally catch up to your pounding heart.

Your lips press more firmly, moving against hers until they relax and open, giving you the perfect position to tease your tongue between her lips. You both moan, especially now that you can taste her, feel her loosening and falling more into the kiss, finding the courage to push your head back onto the bed and become more demanding.

Your fingers slip through her hair as you greedily try to taste the other. She was sweet, oh so fucking sweet you could have drowned in her and thanked the Cauldron for giving you the opportunity. Her full lips are cushioned against yours until you're both starving of oxygen and needing to pull back to breathe.

A second, this lasted before her face wasn't above yours anymore, and your High Lord was leaning over your body, his hand now cupping the entire side of your face as he kissed you with greed. The sensation of nostalgia hit, the taste that you'd grown fond of over the years of intimacy before Feyre crashed through your senses. Yet, there was something new and exciting with this kiss, even as you continued to stroke through his mate's hair and hold her to your side as Rhysand bruised your lips, his tongue entering your mouth for a brief second as you moaned.

Then he's pulling back, and you're welcomed to the beautiful sight of Feyre and Rhys desperately kissing. You'd seen them kiss more times than you could count, but being this close, having each of them still clutching onto your body in some way.

Feyre was the first to ease away, tilting her head slightly so that Rhysands lips could move to the slop of her neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses until reaching the strap of her dress on her shoulder and easing it down. Coping his movement, you, too, moved the strap off of her other shoulder and the material pooled below her ribs, exposing her breasts to you. There wasn't a second wasted before you moved to lick one of her perked nipples as Rhys nibbled on the other.

The soft moan from Feyre lit a fire in your belly as you continued to taste the sweetness of her skin, but then your head was moved back as Feyre demanded your mouth with hers once more.

With your back pressed against the bed, Feyre attempts to move over you but then halts herself, "I don't know what I'm doing" Feyre giggles.

Grinning up at her innocence, you admire the way that her eyes are half-lidded and swollen lips are pulled between her teeth as Rhys continues to caress her nipples and breasts with his mouth and hands.

Tucking a stray curl of golden hair behind her ear, you explain, "Touch me like you'd touch yourself. Do you touch yourself?" you ask, clarifying. The apples of her cheeks had already risen from the alcohol and kissing, but now they deepened in the shade as she said yes. Rhys growls against her chest at the thought of her touching herself and then begins to remove her dress further down her body until she's naked. You see, seeing that she'd gone without underwear and reached to touch her now slightly sensitive nipples.

Once more, you admire how she hitches a breath at the touch. She still seems hesitant as her fingers draw your dress's edge against your collarbones. Rhys, also sensing her nerves, lies on the other side of you, resting his head on his fist as he wraps his large hand around Feyre's small one.

"Here, let ms show you, Darling", he explains lowly, and you notice that he's now topless, the muscles flexing with his movements and bat wings flared out behind him, hovering in the air.

You and Feyre watch as Rhys moves her hand over your chest, cupping your breast over your dress and squeezing firmly. You can't help but rub your thighs together as the low pleasure builds in your already aroused body, the air thick with seedy scents from all three of you.

Rhys then catches your eye, winking cheekily with a handsome smirk. Within a blink of an eye, all clothes that remained on his or your body disappeared, and now Feyre's hand was pressed directly against your skin.

Your back arches slightly into the touch, pushing your breast into her hand, and then it's your turn to gasp as Rhys moves her fingers to pinch your nipple fiery, tugging it away from your body and then pressing a thumb against the aching area.

It was a sight you adored watching as Feyre tentatively began to learn how to touch your body. There was so much you wanted to do to both of them, and as much as you wanted to give Feyre a chance to move lower, you didn't like the attention just on you. It was challenging to decide whether to touch him or her, but as it was Feyre's first time with a girl, you wanted to see if she enjoyed your face between her legs.

"Feyre, can I be on top of you?" you ask her with a surprisingly pitched voice.

She grins as her eyes glow ever brighter as she rolls onto her back, "You don't have to ask".

Returning her smile, you slip around Rhys and straddle Feyre's waist, leaning down to kiss her hungrily for a few seconds before moving backwards, lower down her body. "I want to taste you". Your words pressed against her skin as your mouth journeyed south, kissing the peaks of her breasts down her sternum and toned stomach. Her breaths were coming out in quick huffs as she squirmed on the bed, legs spreading as your body fit between them, your face pressing against the softness of her thighs.

Feyre's arousal was evidenced by the wetness that now caressed your cheek as you nuzzled yourself closer, resting your weight on your chest and arse perked in the air as you felt the High Lord move behind you. Blowing cool air over Feyre's beautiful cunt, you loved how responsive she already was as she shivered and gripped tightly to the sheet beneath her, looking down her body at you.

Whilst holding her eye contact, you finally lowered your mouth to her, tongue sweeping over her labia and tasting her salty but uniquely beautiful juices. The High Lady's gasp was like music to your ears, especially as you pressed more firmly, dipping beneath and stroking over her clit and feeling it throb against your tongue. "You taste so fucking good".

Rhys, who was licking his lips at the sight, began to hover over both of you, kissing down your spine, causing goosebumps to rush to the surface of your skin. He, too, began to use his tongue to pleasure as he knelt behind you, flicking his tongue into your cunt and pushing in. You groan, and in turn, Feyre does, too.

"I've missed this", Rhys admits from behind as he circles your hole with his fingers, carefully easing a single digit within. This was the first time you'd been penetrated by anything in over 50 years. Amarantha had often tortured you with your arousal, making sure you were never given anything to ease the ache, but then after her demise, even when you touched yourself, you were so sensitive it would only take clitoris to play for you to orgasm.

Your back arches, pressing your breasts further into the bed and arse harder into Rhys' face as he rocks his finger in and out before adding another and beginning to curl his fingers until your whimpering into his mate's cunt. Warmth flushed over your face as you realised just how quickly you were close to orgasm, so you moved with more enthusiasm as you sucked on her clit and then pressed your tongue firmly against it. Then, for the first time in 50 years, you used your powers because you wanted to, not because you were being forced to.

Rhys and Feyre both moan loudly enough that the bed trembles. You'd caused the sensation for him that his cock was now being wrapped tightly down someone's throat and Feyre to fill full internally, with someone caressing the sensitive nerves within her cunt, both nipples being sucked on by an invisible force.

"What was that?" she cries out as she closes her eyes, her hips now rotating on their own accord as she chases her high. You could have made her orgasm with your powers but didn't want to overwhelm her immediately, so you settled in softly as you continue to circle her clit.

Not stopping to answer her question, you match the sensations you're going through and then as Rhys' thumb pressed against your clit and the hurricane of an orgasm pulsed through your cunt and abdomen, you made sure that both mates also came at the same time.

Rhys grunted, one hand coming to rest on your hip and squeezing the flesh as he humped against the bed, staining the sheets with his seed, and Feyre coated your mouth with her arousal, her thighs almost crushing you in the process, but you would have died happy right there.

While still trying to catch her breath, Feyre suddenly announces loudly, "Sit on my face". You and Rhys' face snap up to look at her, laughing at the crudeness of her words that aren't usually that forward. She appears sheepish for once, asking, "What? Did I say it wrong?"

"Not at all", you begin whilst crawling up her body until you're face to face. "Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

With Rhys' steady hands on your hips, you moved to kneel on either side of your High Lady's face, looking down your body at her excited expression. Still reluctant, it takes Feyre's tattoed fingers to wrap around your thighs and pull your body down before her mouth is on your intimate area. You weren't sure who moaned louder, you or Feyre, as she started by licking and tasting between your folds before building more enthusiasm and dipping the tip of her tongue into your pussy.

"You're doing so good", you praise whilst holding one hand on the headboard of the bed and the other slipping into Feyre's hair. Glancing over your shoulder, you admire Rhys, who was on his knees watching the two of you, his hand wrapped around his surprisingly already hard cock. He looked almost godly in this position, the tattoos of the mountains on his knees gleaming at you for more than one reason, his wings spread wide behind him. "Look busy, High Lord; I think our beautiful High Lady's cunt is looking lonely down there".

"It would be my honour, Love", Rhys agrees, moving closer and easing his mates legs over his thighs as he lowers the tip of his cock over her clit, teasing her for a second before entering her. You could feel the rush of air against your pussy as she gasps, rotating her hips as she rocks against Rhys.

You match the movements, rolling your hips against her face as her nose knocks against your bundle of nerves and her tongue moves ever deeper. Everything felt so good; your body was alive with emotions and buzzing nerves. You could have died happy right there, especially as your face is then tilted back and Rhys' mouth is on yours, kissing whilst fucking his mate.

Even with his tongue down your throat, you wish you could praise Feyre; she makes you feel so good, even though it is her first time doing this. And Rhys, he always knew how to leave you breathless and begging for more.

You weren't even prepared as your orgasm rocked you very well. Rhys had to half hold you up as your body trembled, cunt squeezing and pulling around Feyre's tongue until the sensations lessons at you collapsed next to the pair, trying to catch your breath.

Then you watched, with awe and amazement, as Rhys fucked Feyre, their fingers all over each other, grasping and holding as both of them eased closer to their peak. But even then, when both were breathless and arching their backs, you were still being grabbed and included with kisses and touches until all three were motionless in the middle of the bed.

To say you were exhausted was an understatement, having not had two orgasms in quick successions in so long, and the thrill of emotions was enough to have you falling asleep almost immediately. Not before you're checked in by both of them, Rhys wraps an arm around your waist, and Feyre's head rests against your chest.

"Are you ok? I mean - was that alright for you?" she whispers, sounding just as exhausted as you.

"It was perfect", you respond before closing your eyes and falling asleep.

Waking up was not the blissful peace you'd hoped it would be. The thrill of the alcohol had completely gone from your body, and all that remained was a heavy sickness of guilt in your stomach. Last night was beyond perfect. Everything you could have wanted and more, but reality was your worst enemy.

Feyre and Rhys were mates, not only this but your High Lord and Lady. A fun night of relieving tensions for them meant so much more for you; emotions that had attempted to lay dormant were now screaming in your mind that you'd made one of the worst mistakes yet. They wouldn't want you. They couldn't have you anyway. No matter how deep the feelings ran, there was no such thing as a mates pair having a third join.

When the pair would wake, you knew it would be full of awkwardness and 'let's never do this again'. So, with great difficulty, you began to untangle yourself from the duo, careful not to wake either of them as you climbed out of bed.

It wouldn't happen again, and the sooner you realised this and came to terms with it, the easier the pain in your heart could ease. Grabbing your dress that was folded on a nearby chair, you slipped it on and, with your shoes in hand, left without glancing back at the sleeping couple.

You had a room in their house, much like the rest of the inner circle, but there was no way you could remain in the same room as them for a day, at least so, after changing into more comfortable clothes and hiding under a coat, you left to go to your own home.

It was on the other side of Velaris, and on the walk there, with the sun slowly beginning to rise and wake up the other occupants of your home town, you had time to overthink every single touch and moan from last night. Eventually, you arrived at your abandoned apartment, having hardly slept here since your nightmares were so crippling that you needed to stay near Rhys and Feyre at all times.

You attempted to distract yourself by scrubbing your skin raw, trying to remove the scents of both of them away, but when that didn't work, you moved to deep cleaning your home, which now had a thick layer of dust and cobwebs across the surfaces. This was until you could collapse with exhaustion into your cold bed.

The nightmares were there, so violently, in fact, that you were startled awake because you couldn't breathe. Your mouth opened to scream for Rhys to save you but stopped, biting on your tongue until blood coated your mouth. Scrubbing a heavy hand down your face as you caught your breath and eased the ache in your chest, you glanced out of the window, seeing the sun high in the sky, meaning it hadn't been that long since you'd fallen asleep.

Your stomach gave a hungry growl as you sighed, collapsing back onto your pillow, staring aimlessly towards your ceiling.

I was going to give you one more hour of rest before coming to find you, but it seems you've beaten me to it. Rhys' voice echoed in your mind in a deep drawl that had a fluttering of pain seep into your chest as you remembered last night. Deciding to do something you've never done before, you tried to ignore him, turning over and pulling your bed sheet over your head and shutting down your mental shields, but he simply pushed them aside with his talons.

Why are you there and not at home?

Without thinking, you snapped back sassily, This is my home.

He didn't comment on your tone as he continued to ask. Why did you leave?

I needed to shower. You answered simply, knowing it was a useless excuse.

We could have showered together. Rhys purred back, and even his tone was your core warming. Unsure of what to reply with, you decide remaining silent was your best option, so he filled the silence with more questions. I don't want to intrude on your personal space but don't block us out. Last night was-.

I know. You cut off his sentence, not wanting to hear his rejections. It's fine. I'll just speak to you later, Rhysand.

Rhysand? When do you ever call me that? He sounded more urgent with his questions, so you try even harder with your mental shields until a thick wall separates the two of you, and his words are finally silenced. Your emotions finally snap as you sob until you can't breathe.

You remained in this position for the rest of the day. Your hunger is now dormant with the sickness in your chest. The tears would dry and then start again as you feel the ghost of their lips against your skin with the memories that continued to spiral through your mind over and over again. Eventually, the sunset, and you were left with the shadows from the fae lights to keep you company.

Deciding the bedroom only made you feel worse; you move into the living room, sit on the couch, and stare at the wall.

At one point, you could feel the stroke of gentle fingers against your mental shields, but you kept them in place, deciding it was best to ignore Feyre as well. However, a firm knock came on your door late into the night. You wanted nothing more than to ignore it, to leave whoever was there to think you were asleep, but as the knock came again, you decided to just get it over and done with, already knowing who was there.

Opening the door, you're greeted by Feyre and Rhys, holding a plate of your favourite food and both smiling gently towards you, their eyes searching over your body to check you're well but noticing how red and bloodshot the whites of your eyes were.

"A peace offering": Feyre offers the place towards you, but you don't take it; you step out of the way and allow them to enter your home. Moving further into the room, you returned to the corner of the couch, avoiding their eye contact as you tucked your knees beneath you and hugged a pillow to your chest.

Feyre places the plate on the small table before you and sits to your right, while Rhys sits opposite in the armchair.

"I've never actually been here before. It's cute." Feyre continues trying to cheer you up somehow, but you ignore her.

"I'm sorry", you finally painfully say, wanting to get it over and done with.

"Sorry?" Rhys asks in confusion, leaning forward until he rests his elbows on his knees. "For what?"

You couldn't help but flinch, turning your shoulders in to appear smaller. "For last night. For overstepping in your relationship. I shouldn't have let my emotions dictate my actions. I've- I've just been so lonely, and I trust you both more than anyone, but you're mates, and I know what's happened is unforgivable and-".

A delicate hand covers your mouth, stopping your flow of words as Feyre leans forward with fire lighting her eyes, eyebrows set furrowed. "Would you stop trying to say how me and Rhys feel, please? Because I think you'll find you're incredibly wrong with every single thing that you say". Her hand begins to lower, and you open your mouth to battle what she has said, so she quickly keeps her hand over your mouth. "Nope! No talking, just listen. We don't regret anything about last night".

Without using your mouth, you roll your eyes, but that only earns you a squeeze against your cheeks. Rhys then begins to talk, "She's not lying. There isn't an ounce of regret in my body" his eyes remain steady as he stares at you.

"Yes, Rhys and I are mates, and the thought of someone touching what's mine fills me with murderous rage, but when I watched the two of you touch and kiss, I felt anything but negativity. You've not just been anyone to me; you're special to both of us. More than you could ever know."

"You saved my life under the mountain. Without you, I wouldn't have survived her", Rhys admitted, referring to the one person you hated more than the King of Hybern. At seeing your relaxed state, Feyre finally loses her hand from your face as you stare at the deep, raw emotions on Rhys' face, the sharpness as his jaw tensed.

"You saved me too", Feyre continues as you look towards her now. "In those dark dungeons when you would visit to keep me company or healy my body and mind, there's no way I would have survived it all".

She takes your hand, squeezing your fingers as she talks. "You haven't just been a friend to us. Even now that I and Rhy are mates, I feel this longing to be near you. I often thought maybe we are meant to have more than one mate because the way I feel for you isn't just lust".

Your breath was out heavily, not realising you'd been holding your breath as they both spoke, a lightness filling your heart and mind. "I thought you both would come to regret what we did. That my emotions were just one way because you saved me more times than I could ever begin to list. You're my closest friends; save me from the dark each night, but after what we did, I thought I'd overstepped the boundary, and you wouldn't want to see me again".

"Well then, you don't know me then, do you? Because I don't back down from what I want, and I meant what I said when I said I wanted you," Feyre responds passionately as your gaze flicks from her eyes to her lips before Rhys inches forward until kneeling beside you both, his hand resting over yours and Feyres joined hands.

"This may be difficult to understand. Yes, we are mates, but you have always meant something close to me, and I've known for a long time that Feyre feels similarly. I want you, Love, like I want Feyre. The thought of not being able to have you or someone else's hands on you makes me want to strike everyone down" he pauses to take a deep, steadying breath as he rolls his neck to ease the tension and anger that burst from him as his jealous emotions overtake him. "If you don't want to be with us, we'd understand and return to how we have always been. But we can't lose you, even as a friend".

You scoff, unable to hold back your reaction, as you sit up with a burst of energy, looking between them. "Of course, I want you both! I thought it was obvious. There's no way I'm letting either of you go" Your fingers tighten in their hold as you finally smile. Rhys and Feyre sigh in relief. "I don't understand how this is going to work, though, between the three of us. How do we even explain this to the others?"

Rhys shrugs his shoulders, "It's not for them to get. This will be understood with time, but let's concentrate on each other, being together and learning this new dynamic. It's not anything to rush, just that we each understand that we have each other".

Life came with its highs and lows. Even at its lowest, the smudging of hope could draw you out and lead you on a whole new path. All those years ago, never would you have thought you could be with two of the most remarkable people of all of Pyrthian, but by the Cauldron, you were going to hold onto them so tight and never let them go.

#feyre archeron #feyre x reader #feyre x rhysand #feysand #feysand x reader #feyre archerson smut #feysand smut #feysand one shot #rhysand #rhysand x reader #rhysand smut #acotar #acotar smut #acotar one shot #rhysand one shot #mine*

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armageddidnt · 1 year

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Welcome to My Collection of Random Thoughts during my nth* rewatch of Good Omens Season 2

*only amazon prime knows the exact number at this point but I’m fairly certain it’s in the double digits

Episode 1: Gabriel’s fly lurking in the box when Aziraphale first takes it inside 👀

Crowley’s promise of “two minutes” basically means that he’s been homeless and living in his car for the past 4 years strictly so that he can be within 2 driving minutes of Aziraphale at all times in case his angel needs him I’m not crying you are

So here I think the key word is “fragile,” Crowley knows they are ostensibly safe from their respective sides but that could change at any moment so he’s basically spent the last 4 years in anxiety-ridden terror hovering as close to Aziraphale as he can to try and protect him from heaven, hell, and anyone else that would want to bring him harm after all that business they pulled in season 1 with stopping Armageddon

Episode 2: I just happened to pause the episode while Aziraphale is lying to the angels about his miracle and LOL Michael really outdid himself here (Sheen, not the Archangel)

Gabriel trying to swat flies and almost smashing the repository of every single one of his memories

I’m cAckling

So if Good Omens exists in Good Omens, does that mean Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett exist in Good Omens?? Do you think they based their Aziraphale and Crowley characters on Aziraphale and Crowley??

Episode 3: So I’m trying to find any hints or foreshadowing of the Gabriel Beelzebub thing bc tbh I did kind of feel like it came out of nowhere which is really the only issue I have with them. I found this one scene where Beelzebub almost ?? seems to be concerned about Gabriel ?? But it’s blink and you miss it and there could be lots of other reasons why Beelzebub doesn’t want to fail in locating Gabriel (pressure from/leverage over heaven, etc) so idk

More Foreshadowing Fly content 🪰

Episode 4: So here we’ve seen that Shax can just appear inside the Bentley bc she did it earlier to talk to Crowley. Shax only pretended to be a hitchhiker so she could be invited in because Azirpahale was driving so technically she needed permission to cross the threshold of an angel 👀

This scene will never not destroy me the 1941 flashback is the absolute sOFTEST thing ever to happen on this show

We really need more context here I need to see the Crowley-Furfur Monkey Rides

Episode 5: ahahaha thank you google translate for absolutely destroying my sanity this evening

POP goes the Ziraphale

Okay I know you can’t hear it in the gif but just before Nina takes Maggie’s hand, there’s a very quiet miracle noise, like Azirpahale literally MADE Nina dance with Maggie, he said I’m writing a Mina Jane-Austen-Ball-AU and my otp will KISS godDAMMIT

Azirpahale seems lowkey kind of manic this whole scene tho, he’s controlling literally everyone to force Nina and Maggie together and whenever Crowley says anything that pokes holes in Aziraphale’s Magical Jane Austen Ball Fairytale, Aziraphale just straight up denies it. He wants Nina and Maggie to dance and he wants him and Crowley to dance and he refuses to acknowledge anything beyond that.

Is this just Shax insulting Crowley for how much of a nuisance he’s been or a reference to his former status as an angel ???

They’re both completely dismissive of each other when they’re trying to say something important and that’s the main issue they’ve been having this entire season tbh

Episode 6: I think it’s funny that Crowley describes the angels as bees here because in the book, Neil/Terry describe humans the same way. Guess we have more in common than we thought huh?

So the metatron was the one who originally decided Gabriel would be memory wiped and not sent to hell, and he was also the one that decided not to sound an alarm about Gabriel for some reason and said ‘just go find him yourself’ instead. The metatron has definitely got his own agenda and you can bet he doesn’t want Aziraphale up there in heaven because he’s a “leader” and he’s “honest” like that’s exactly what Gabriel was and look where it got him 👀

There’s just something I can’t quite put my finger on about the metatron bringing Aziraphale a coffee from “give me coffee or give me death” and then asking Aziraphale if he’s going to take the coffee he’s giving him…

I have not seen a single person talk about this since s2 came out but Nina literally calls Maggie “angel” because that’s the term of endearment they hear Crowley using for Aziraphale !!!! I’m still going fERAL over this and I can’t believe no one else is eitHER

Something about this part of The Final Fifteen compared to this scene from the first episode is so representative of the entire season. Azirpahale keeps saying “my way or get out” and Crowley finally hits a wall and can follow Aziraphale no further. So he does just that. He goes.

I’m sure a lot of us by now have seen this post that brings up how Aziraphale literally pushes the remains of Crowley into his mouth and swallows and it’s the only thing I see when I watch this now

We still don’t know for certain if Crowley queued up this song to play on their way to the Ritz or if the Bentley started playing it all on its own and it’s driving me insane

Basically how I am doing after my Truly-Alarming-Number-th watch of this traumatizing episode/season. WELP hope you enjoyed this garbage dump of my thoughts and feelings time to go cry for a bit again BYE

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens season 2 #my season 2 rewatch aka: I Went Insane #i am unwell #I haven't slept properly in 44 days and counting #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #angel #demon #armageddidnt-blog #armageddidnt-gifset #armageddidnt-screaming #armageddidnt-pain #good omens 2x06

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mouseymilkovich · 2 months

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angst/fluff for “argument” from the prompt list with carmy maybe while he’s dating claire and reader is distancing herself from their friendship because she feels like a third wheel and like she can’t stand seeing them together even though she wants him to be happy and carmy is just a ball of anxiety and doesn’t know how to express his feelings to reader. feel free to do whatever idk how to really put my thoughts into words with this one lol

oh boy. be prepared everyone this shit is about to HURT

77. Argument ; from 100 one word prompts

A/N: sorry this is all angst and no fluff- also no hate to Claire!! i'm not rlly a fan of her but i don't hate her (i just thought she was boring)

come request something → 💌 100 follower special

"I haven't seen you in like two weeks."

You knew Carmy was right when he said that to you. You'd just run into each other at the grocery store, and it was sufficiently awkward. Ever since he'd started dating Claire, you felt like a third wheel, and you decided it'd be best just to distance yourself. He was your best friend, but you were also in love with him... you wanted him to be happy, but in the same breath, it crushed you to see him happy with someone else.

"I've just... been busy..." You muttered softly. But you were such a bad liar, and he knew that.

"Bullshit. Why've you been avoiding me?" He asked, frowning at you.

You sighed, trying to avoid his eyes boring into you. "I... I haven't been avoiding you exactly..."

"Bullshit." Carmy hissed at you again.

"Okay, fine. I've been fucking distancing myself because you spend all your time with Claire. I felt like a third wheel and... you just... seem happier with her."

He looked a little surprised at your confession. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!"

You winced a little bit. "I... Carmy... we shouldn't do this here, we're in the middle of the fucking grocery store..."

"I don't care. This is the first time I've seen you in two fucking weeks. Do you know what it's been like? Not having you to fuckin' lean on while we've been working on The Bear, not being able to ask your opinion on shit?" His voice cracked a bit, it made you wince again.

"Well, it hasn't exactly been a walk in the park for me either, Carm... distancing myself from you is the... fucking hardest thing I've ever had to do." You frowned. "I don't like feeling like a third wheel though, and you're basically always with Claire unless she's at work."

"Fuckin'... she's my girlfriend, okay? What do you want me to do? Choose? Cus 'm not gonna fuckin' do that." He huffed, arms folding over his chest.

The way he emphasized girlfriend... it hurt. It stung, actually.

"I'm not making you choose. I made the choice." You said quietly before you brushed right past Carmy to go check-out with what you had.

You could hear him call after you, but you kept walking, eyes watering. Fuck.

#mouse writes #💌 100 follower special #malewife [carmy]#carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x y/n #carmen berzatto x y/n #carmy berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto imagine

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1-49 · 1 month

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burnt orange, #CC5500

╰► A Smoky Night, or an evening that smoulders forever

pairing: jaehyun × f!reader

❝ A burnt orange aura reveals high ambition and a strong desire for change, driven by practicality. Individuals with this shade may display a touch of selfishness, pride, or aggression. Its brown tones introduce a negative energy aspect, indicating potential challenges, lack of energy, or feeling stuck.

tags: this my fav type of angst. tense energy laced with pain with an undercurrent in flirting lol. wc. 10k

jaehyun’s too fine & unreadable. lots of messy signals and an overall fogged atmosphere. think both of them are toxic in their individual style lmao.. pining. implied fevered moments.

Whichever burns brighter ─── the orange flame rising from the evening lamp in the corner , or the view through the windows as the sun sets over the horizon ── you dont know. Each affects your feelings, but primarily it ’s the way it all reflects on him. The warm glow that has accumulated in his harsh eyes from both simply signifies that the journey is coming to an end. The day is almost over, and so are you two.

────── Slanderous comments were made, and accusations were traded. There is now nothing left to cling to. The only truth beneath all of Jaehyun’s painfully continuous smoothing and touching of his baseball cap, which he seems to be pulling in despite the fact that it’s already on his head, is his intense anxiety and uneasiness.

There is no longer any chance to salvage this; everything is in terminal decline, so there is no point in saying you’re sorry or taking back what you both said. Moreover, this should be easy to conclude because if there is anything you have learned from him, it’s how to develop stronger character.

... But the truth is very different from your wish that it is simple.

& you hate the truth! You hate finding yourself in this predicament. You hate that there’s no turning around. But the worst part of it all is that you hate that you lo—

His eternally soft hair, which has grown slightly, peeks out from under the cap, concealing the majority of his nape. An intimate place that was once kissed, bruised, and then kissed again—but now, his hair is just pushing you away from all of that.

Even his neck is contributing to the sand pile of memories because his oversized, washed brown shirt is too loose around the collar. His silver oli ball chain necklace, which you used to roll around your finger and play with endlessly, now sits glumly in the hollows of his collarbones. That this person was once a close person to you, it’s now a fever dream.

“Please—please stop talking! You-you’re only making this worse!”

“So…”

Giving room for the raging argument to subside, Jaehyun rubs his jaw, debating what to say next. “...so that’s it? We-we are really doing this? Cause we’ve been here before, an—”

You let out a groan of frustration at his pathetic attempt to stop him from talking more. Of course, it’s easy for him to say that, you think, holding that forsaken question under your breath once again as though you want this, as though it’s simple. The way he poses it too, while wearing nothing but skepticism on his face as if he didn’t see this coming after so many meaningless arguments, angers you even more. He’s beautiful, but at times like this, all you want to do is slap all of that beauty straight out of his face.

But perhaps that’s exactly what’s bothering you—your obsession with his nonchalanc-y, which you used to find sexy, now seems to be eating away at your feelings. Stoic expression, a face, and a clenched jaw is all that’s meeting you, so maybe, finding him attractive during these fights does make you crazy.

You take a moment to gather your thoughts before answering, realizing that you’re never going to get anywhere by dragging your eyes along every contour on his delicious face anyway. Surely, it has kept you running back to him. A moment of weakness. And for some stupid unknown reason, he has always tasted even better after every fight. How? But also no! Not this time. You promise!

“What do you want from me, Jaehyun!? Since there’s no telling where we’re going, and it’s been like this for months! I think you’ve been under the impression that I’d wait forever, holding on- and on to what you’ve never said and never will. But I’m not trying to do this anymore! I am seriously not! I’m sick of getting only half of you. I’m done playing open cards. I’m done! Whatever this is… it’s-it’s over.”

Jaehyun scowls at you and ceases his pacing in the middle of the room.

There! Finally, a sign of disturbance. Though you two have been together long enough for you to learn through his impassiveness and all those small, tangible details that guard his innate tender, it’s still difficult to shake an emotion out of him—a real, deep-seated emotion that takes your ‘situationship’ into account.

Simultaneously, perhaps that will help explain why he ‘might even have’ a reason to dislike you, given that you were the only one who witnessed him at his most vulnerable. The only person who truly knows him; nevertheless, he has been growing increasingly aloof lately, so maybe that’s not something he’s into anymore. Maybe all he’s doing is just returning to his former self, the one who existed before the shattered shell you met. And maybe at last he has put his every piece back together and realized that sensitivity is the devil’s bitch and that in this ring, he’s a dog on his own.

Right… Too many ‘maybes’, but he doesn’t give you much to go on for you to consider any other options anyway.

Instead, he smoothes the cap over his head for the forty-ninth time, then flips it back so the bill is in front of his eyes and covers them slightly. Like this, his jawline adopts an even more defined shape. His lips...

The aura of mystery he exudes boots right back in. Given the esoteric shadow cast over his cheekbones, he seems even more prepared to walk out of the door at any moment. Or else you can anticipate more of his wicked smiles, lies, and games if he chooses to stay.

Ironically, he really knows how to wear the cap’s logo, which befits his unserious dead humor. ‘Hysteric’ remains blasted on his head in Times New Roman, but there’s not a trace of hysteria in his character at the moment, as much as you’d like him to have.

Though you wish he were, because if he were, it’d mean he still finds significance in this and that he’s prepared to fight. But that’s not the case at all right now; his voice is as calm and collected as ever, lacking any incline.

Bizarrely enough, the thing that, sort of, falls under that statement are, in fact, your nerves. They rave as you watch him. They fry at the edges. You start to sound even more irate as you think he’s not losing anything, while you seem to be the only one.

Though the words are loaded like a gun, you don’t want to come across as foolish or desperate. But as he offers you no other option, you believe that to be the only picture you paint at this point. And you don’t care if it’s an ugly one.

You’re also having a hard time with your thoughts because they seem to go on forever and it takes you a long time to organize them into something to say. So you just take a moment to ignore him and turn your head away from him, giving the fight another breath, but once you’re ready to go again, he’s somehow closer to you. Significantly closer to you, and only you know how dangerous that is.

You go on, continuing to rant, but all you can seem to focus on are his lips and how they shape with each little thing he says. He’s really of little words in deep tones if you must say so, and—

Well-Fuck! You are caught touring his lips again!!

You’ve no idea how he manages to keep them so balmed and dreamy at all times. Tangerine dusk pours through the windows and contrasts with the same shade of the lamp, making his lips look like melted wax, beckoning you. So sticky, sweet icing-coated, enticing you to lick... Oh, he’s making you sick.

You wave your head, shaking the nasties that have accumulated. Jaehyun doesn’t move an inch. If anything, the fucker knows!

He then makes a move toward you, only this time you’re unsure of whether to regard these steps as your victories or defeats.

As you go on, you find yourself stumbling over your words more and more, observing him removing his cap off of his head once again and running his fingers through his hair, just like he has done countless times before, except this time he doesn’t put it back; instead, he throws it down on the sofa.

Needless to say, there’s something innately dangerous, something deeply unbalanced and maniacal in the way he tilts his head to one side and slowly brushes his hair back as his jet strands catch inside the gaps of his knuckles. Their drag… The glare he gives you... Working his eyes out in the most possible way to make a wreak out of you... He has to, how could he not? You’re a delight to enjoy.

A rabid. The charm of his masculinity surges up as he watches you from the tilted angle. Something deep inside of him transfers esoterically inside your soul. You want him to get deeper into your anger, realizing you’re both just as toxic.

You should tell him to walk away! That he has ruined the evening! That—

But then… he’s looking at you like this... with the absolute right amount of fucked up...

and maybe that’s why you can’t escape,

and maybe that’s exactly why he can’t escape either, as he knows how much you love this.

It’s sick. Absolutely. Entirely. As it backfires all over again; as it all burns up and the orange bathes in the dull black of his eyes. No doubt, he’s your top choice trouble.

But-But you’ve had enough of that cup! You’ve had enough of trouble! You don’t want more! You—

You won’t be shaken. He won’t have an effect on you this time.

Step by step, you move away from him in an attempt to create a space that he keeps closing. You’re conscious of the fact that your eyes dart all over the place and are never focused on his, which gives away the fact that you aren’t really serious about ending this, but you manage nonetheless.

“Sure,” There’s poison in your voice as you begin your closing argument, oblivious to the fact that it’d become just another rant and soften from its vicious substance.

“I-I was lonely when I met you, but so were you! I knew you were lonely too. And it worked... Rather somehow…”

Hesitating, you cast a sidelong glance at your feet, as though trying to remember something, but in the end, failing.

“I don’t know. Maybe we talked more?” Posing the questions to yourself, you pout. “Or? Maybe not? I don’t know. I really don’t know!”

Even though you’re feeling extremely tense, rattled, and frail in your own skin, you look up to him as you proceed. What more is he capable of doing? He’s nothing but a pretty face—It’s your preferred perception. What’s currently more believable. The simpler way out. That he’s not at all complex; and is just as blunt and empty as he wants to make the impression. That the few words birthed from his soft, pouty, supple, unkissed sunkissed lips are nothing but futile, meaningless, and devoid.

However, there appears to be a deep crease developing between his eyebrows, so perhaps your impression of him is inaccurate(?) You aren’t sure why, but all of a sudden you get scared at the possibility that it could mean something. Hell! Looking at him drains you immensely. But-but you-you have t—

“Our fights have stripped us of all our beauty… I’m just left watching you drift farther away.”

As his brows knit, so do yours. You’re debating whether or not to acknowledge your emotions, but in the end, you do.

“To be honest, it’s hurting me. But regardless how ugly the experience is, it’s made me realize how much you mean to me. But still… I know that’s not an excuse to stay with you. I tried to play it cool at first because we were never really stable, but— Not anymore!”

“I don’t know... I feel like there’s nothing I can do anymore. And yes! We’ve already had this conversation. It seems that you particularly like bringing up that fact... Except nothing has been fixed since the last time we fought, J. I wouldn’t be so proud to mention it. It’s merely there to serve as a reminder that we are constantly failing. You say it as though there’s some reason we shouldn’t end this right now, and I’m not sure why you’d even bring that up. I really don’t... We’re no fit for each other.”

Your tone rises at ‘That’s the truth!’ implying that you’re still not prepared to think about it and that you don’t want to accept it, for it to only become more painfully sad and subdued in the following affirming, “That’s the truth…”

You hesitate a moment more before saying the next thing, as it feels like daggers are stabbing into your heart, but you do it nonetheless. Breathing also becomes more difficult as your chest begins to feel constricted, but you force yourself to swallow the fear ball stuck in your throat. Feverous, a shiver of cold runs up your spine as you watch him with your final words. “We failed to save each other. I you… you me.”

With his teeth ground down, Jaehyun rolls his eyes. Your words just feel like a smack. It’s like your attitude has just now put him in a bad mood as if you’re trying your best to leave a permanent crease in between his brows.

You know he’d rather be numb than angry, but the feeling boils within him. You feel that he’s on the verge of just snapping, but he won’t do it outright. In a way, you almost kind of admire that ability of his—to be so patient, as he secretly harbors passive-aggressive tendencies.

Catching a glimpse, you notice his nails scrape through layers of palm flesh as his fingers ball into fists. He continues to clench and unclench them as though he’s encouraging blood flow, but there’s more to the action than that.

And as though he’s suddenly transformed into an animal, he moves his jaw a bit before locking it and pressing his teeth into a dense snarl.

Maybe it aches; maybe he’s in excruciating pain, but he doesn’t show it. The skin collapses in his cheeks, leaving them sunken. His face has the power to kill. It’s deadly... Sexy.

You’re expecting to hear some mean words from him too; and they’re possibly waiting on his lips, hanging in the air between you two like a thread waiting to be cut.

And so, he finally speaks up. “You’re so easy to give up,” his voice as deeply warm as it can get—contradictory in and of itself, just like he is.

The word choice?? It catches you off guard. Even shocks you. Suddenly? Abruptly and seriously? Just like that!? Of all the words and expressions conceivable, and after you’ve been berating him for so long, all you get back is that? Really!? You find them so unbelievably funny that you can’t help but smirk miserably and accept their presumed grim sarcasm.

Asking rhetorically, you follow their ironic trajectory, “So easy to give up!?” playing it off cynically at first until you’re no longer able to. Then, as you continue, your voice grows huskier; he actually provides the reason for you to do so, encouraging you to take things seriously when he won’t.

“How am I so easy to give up!? Tell me! Tell me, do I give up easily? Or-uh-do I hold on too long, Jaehyun!? Cause I gave us—This… enough time and realized what I want will never be enough… I need to take care of myself.”

Saying, “You are selfish,” he takes another step. His eyebrow arches subconsciously as he says the word, which is also repulsively beautifully formed by his lips. But what does it mean? What does he mean!??

“Wow,” you’re left sneering and scoffing in disbelief. “And can you blame me!? For wanting to protect myself? For wishing better for myself!? Because you—” In the heat, you even step over a boundary as you take a step towards him too, pointing and pressing your index finger at his chest. “You are so distant! You hardly express what you feel. I can’t get through to you. It’s like I have you but I don’t-really…” Almost as if it had finally drowned in sorrow, your voice becomes faint and gentle. “I’m tired, Jay.”

Your eyes say the same thing, there’s a sudden despair in them. A vision that perpetually sinks. Eyes of ‘the conquered.’ Glossy. Your tears are asking for permission as you say, “You-you are like something I can’t really have... And-and every time we have this conversation, you-you love to-to change it,” you feel your lips quiver. “To-to stop it. To—”

“Stop!” Jaehyun interrupts your delirious thoughts as he takes the last step and closes any gap that may exist between you two.

“Don’t!” You shout back at whatever move, aim, or objective he may have. But remain still, resolute, and maintain your ground. Not yet waving the white, even though he’s so close—so excessively, painfully close—that he’s able to feel the quivering waves coming from your body. So awfully close that his scent is gnawing at your nose. It’s insistent, just like his perpetually clenched jawline. His jawbone might shatter from such thightness.

The stimulation all comes in spasms. Your walls crumble on themselves, gripping, tightening, constricting... Your body begins to prepare for a fit of sobbing. Hot. Quaver. Fever. Literally, you writhe in agony under his intimidating breath that seeps beneath your skin and sinks its daggered claws within. However, you gasp for air as your own breath slips from your fingertips.

Whispery, “I wish I—I could be true…” intimately, “to you, Jeong…” vulnerably, “I really do… But it’s plain to see I’m not the one.”

Silence.

A profound sense of loss spreads through the room and meditates on the lifeless air. Despite the body closeness, there’s a lingering emptiness that feels like the quiet of a hall on a cold winter night.

The sun fades to shadows, chasing the sunset away. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, bluish-dark inks the sky. Duplicates of the two of you on the walls due to the lamp’s remaining orange. The only thing left after such a confession is that the ground appears really lovely and that you ought to concentrate on it till he separates and walks away.

It nearly stops your heart when Jaehyun’s pensive, icy fingers circle around your chin and lift your face to pull you closer.

His slightly black mullet trickles along his earlobes. With a furious look, he rolls his lower lip between his teeth. In thought, though, there’s still resoluteness residing on his face at which you want to scream, ‘SAY SOMETHING TO ME.’

But why? Why would you want more, knowing it’d only prove a disaster and cause more misery?

Thus, you grab his wrist angrily, forcing him to stop controlling your face and eyes so you can only focus on his. You’ve also had the best teacher in him because he has always been so competitive. Two can therefore grit their teeth at each other.

There’s also a lot of resistance initially due to his strength. You both lose a little bit of balance as he counter-grips your wrist, and you briefly rustle as your bodies come into contact. What matters is that his hand does, in the end, get ripped away from your chin.

With his empty hands by his sides, Jaehyun gently blinks multiple times, and all of a sudden, everything changes—the energy, the atmosphere... him… you.

His lips flat into a bread-shaped smile, causing lovley holes to sink at his cheeks. You hear nothing but a cry of help through his tiny, adorable smile, which may indicate that he refuses to offer a piece of his heart because he doesn’t think it’ll be kept unbroken. His almond eyes liquid with anxiety as you expect his voice to soften again and tell you another pretty lie.

Lacking specificity, you ask sharply, “How do you do that?” squinting cynically because you find it incredible. What you’re referring to, though, is the way he transitions between such extreme emotions in such a tranquil, almost graceful, manner. It astounds you. You’d never see him in total distress. He won’t show it.

A little perplexed, Jaehyun asks, “Do what?”

There’s no way that he’s oblivious to it, so you feel compelled to lash out once more, but all you do is shake your head a little and roll your eyes, which is the equivalent of ‘nevermind.’ This way, you restrain yourself from repeating the same things over and over. Besides, what would be their point?

A second moment of silence ensues.

To release some of his tension, Jaehyun lifts his chin and purses his lips, adjusting the loose collar of his shirt, and continues in the same manner, bending his neck side to side while hooking his fingers to his chain necklace and moving it around.

Not knowing so, or rather so, he’s easily creating very frustrating hypnotism, teasing you in with each twist of his finger around his necklace. His veins are throbbing and protruding, and his tense neck cords are drawing the majority of your attention. His bare neck seems to be begging you to desert your lips on the scent of his perfume. At the same time, if your fingers had a chance, they’d also trace the familiar lines of his collars…..

Yikes! You seem to be clinging again, so Jaehyun bites his smile a couple of times and drags his tongue across his teeth before beaming widely. You shake your head but are unable to resist the invitation to smile yourself when his puffy eyes curve up. His flirty dimples seek your thumbs. This motherfucker…

Altering between hotness and sweetness should be considered a crime. Jail time is due for him. No way are you flirting back.

There seems to be an addiction to space, so proximity is key. But if he gets any closer with this newfound, unfair energy, you fear that you won’t be able to let him go.

In fact, Jaehyun does just that. Being quite competitive, he’d not want to finish second in a game where the person who keeps reaching closer wins.

Naturally, time slows down on itself. And yet more is said now—in the space, between the breaths, and after all those mean words. Could it be that you are becoming a fan of the hushness he so preaches?

His brow lifts again, but this time it’s more like a test, with his slightly blown-out, intrigued eye asking, ‘Why is it so hard for you to believe that I like you?’ It’s playful, but it manipulates you by raising doubts in your mind, making you wonder if he really means, ‘Do I like you?’

Feeling a little roused on the inside, you look at him with the same intensity that he does, and really the only thing separating you two at this moment is your willingness to reach out.

In spur, eyes, lips, and notions are all involved in the play. Jaehyun’s sensuality is just accelerating on top of your angsts. And every playful bite of his lips telepathically leads you in soft-spoken: Open your eyes; Open the keys; Open the mind. Just senses pleading with you to open them. Sight and smell are relatively easy to cross off the list, but taste and touch are a tad bit more tricky.

Lingering just at the tip of your nose, the weight of his perfume raptures you even more so now than previously. It feels as though you’re allowing him to reclaim control over you by allowing his magic to work.

And it does, elevating you to an unexplainable height. If perfume can offer a little sense of who somebody is, his attests to the warmth of his character. Pricey but never pretentious, you assume there seems to be a depth behind his tendency to favor musky scents. As they settle into the skin of each person differently, they have a unique, layered appeal. This intricacy speaks to Jaehyun in a way that’s similar to him and the various facets that comprise his identity. He’s the mild heat of spring—subtle but all at once intense.

That, plus the fact that you’re tipping more to your toes, more to his nose. Again, balance becomes a wavy thing as you’re beginning to lose to the chemical waves.

You overheat, and there’s this ecstatic tingling in your toes—this burning sensation!!

Cooling you down, the wooden floor feels surprisingly nice and cold under your feet. Melting. His lips are steering your emotions, making you loathe the remaining distance between you. And finally, finally, losing yourself- as you descend into the depths of his eyes.

Jaehyun is just smoothly succeeding in wrapping himself around you like the night...

Your crazed heart makes your chest dance to such a heavy rhythm. Your breaths are shallow, and your eyes are—

Pretty malicious, Jaehyun reaches out and slowly runs his knuckles down your cheek as to worsen it all.

With an even more seductive tone and a teasing smile, he asks softly. “What’s the deal, baby?”

Oh god...

A long, trembling sigh escapes you.

He knows! He knows he has to do so little... As if the electric vibrations weren’t already enough, he causes more!! Ghoosbumps begin to form houses along your skin. A powerful, uncomfy warmth ascends from your throat and becomes embedded in your cheeks. Well, this is what happens when a person’s voice becomes your favorite auditory hallucination.

A deep, velvety tone, a voice that belongs in a museum. Best when he’s used it to read you. Valentine warm after he’s led you in a song. Carnal, and in shady hues when he whispers. Such a wild thing, how your thoughts won’t stop romanticizing it. It’s all that you want to hear—as if everything ever stemmed from these id-driven impulses—is to ask for only his voice… Only his voice! And you CAN be greedy…

Once he nuzzles your nose and presses his tample against yours, your body sinks. Your closed eyes are a final measure of restrain as his breath mingles with yours. Thoughts race past like speeding cars. How in the world are you supposed to stop them? Your mouth gets clumsy in the end, it betrays you.

“I-I shouldn’t want you.” You blurt.

Jaehyun smiles in front of your lips and confirms in a flirty, “No-pe.” Just steering your comment in the direction of something good... Because yes, you should—

As you lie, your eyes open. “I really shouldn’t shouldn’t want you!”

Which makes his smile widen even more. His whiskers creasing invisible lines in his cheeks. An artist, indeed... On sinister thought, an angel’s grin.

To say you don’t love him is a lie. To say you love him is an understatement. To say you love him, you can’t. To say you love him now, you arn’t allowed to. It’s basically hell.

You’re doomed. You’re screwed with this magical person standing in front of you.

Yes! Exactly! HOW DOES HE DO THAT?

“How can something so wrong feel so right, then?” He tases in a low voice, dragging his nose across your cheek like a scar. It’s irrelevant if he’s referring to ‘this’ thing or himself. The final point is, he does things to you, and he knows it.

You groan a soft “Jaehyun,” with a mixture of protest and pleasure.

Contrarily, Jaehyun puts his hands around your waist and begins climbing. His lips start to brush under your ear and against your neck.

Shit-SHIT-

Are you going to fall all the way into his hands, or what?

What the devil kind of communication are you supposed to give? What does he expect you to answer? He’s the most bitter sweet, sweetness, heaven sent—

“You are... so...bad,” you drag as his lips rediscover the most delicate spots on your neck, and his muffled hums and moans accompany each kiss.

He acts to support the statement that was meant to be the general response to your question, so it gets a little derived and distorted with what he does, and you find yourself tossing your head back.

He ascends back up, rubbing a nasty “Yeah?” in your face and planting a smiley-boyish kiss to the side of your cheek next to your ear. His damp, choked breath on your skin; his whisper filling your ear; his smoky energy... “So are you, babe.”

FUCK. Awful! Foul. But your body listens. Your wants are left twisting up in knots, and you know only one thing will unlace...

But your mouth...

Your mouth can’t stop sabotaging and pointing out the nonexistent problems, which almost always become problems later on. This might get you the ‘big mouth’ rep but there’s a lot of good coming out that just gets interlaced with some bad. So, yes. True. You’re bad. But so are you both.

There’s a fireside of warmth he has aroused inside you and your lips are almost touching, but but—

“That’s… That’s why the outline of this is wrong.”

—you’re a little stubborn... so if he thinks your brain can take a backseat and let you be so easygoing, then he’s got it wrong. It’ll take longer.

Jaehyun’s fingertips, though, continue to trace along the length of your arm, calling you his with every line while his nose lightly rubs against yours, prompting you to—

“Is it?” he asks.

But maybe that’s what gets him. The ‘longer’. The far more difficult route to the goal. The much larger build-up. Love that bites. Love like war... Sometimes necessary quiet like love in a hunt. Love like the end of the world.

They warned you about him…

You breathe out the air you’ve been holding in your lungs and slip away from him. Depressed by his lukewarm replies, you respond coolly, “Of course, that’s how you’d answer.”

Sincerely, you want to stop; you want to be able to raise your chin, extend your chest, lift your shoulders and project strength, but the situation is so sad that all of its burdens fall upon you, causing you to slouch and feel its full weight once more.

For a hot minute, your tongue stays tied around your throat, as if it were forming an unbreakable noose around your neck. You two exist in this quiet, as all that keeps coming to mind is how beautifully his dark hair frames his face.

And after living in it briefly, you ask quietly, “What happened to you? What happened to us, Jaeh—”

He cuts in, “Oh, come on!” pointing a finger at you disapprovingly and raising his voice a bit, if not for the first time. “Don’t minimize us!”

However, as he goes on, his mouth mirrors his anguish, almost taking on a very faint, repulsive, sick look as he blurts out the words. It moves in disgust, but it hardly opens at all. Like he’s repelled by what he’s hearing or because he’s speaking back in a similarly offensive way(?)

“It’s rather insulting and beneath your design... To drive me away... When-when I’m not.”

The comment so easily revolts you back that just—

“I don’t have to drive you away, Jaehyun! You are away by definition... You are so away, you’re unavailable!”

Fuck!

You pause when the bobbling sensation inside of you rips at your throat, burning your eyes and causing tears to well up like water in a den but other than that you try to hold onto whatever crumb of strength you have left and continue. What does it matter if a hot tear rolls down your cheek and bruises it like a sharp diamond edge?

“I wait for you... I-I fucking watch for you, Jaehyun. The look on your face controls every feeling I have. I can’t fucking breathe because I’m waiting for you. It’s sick! It’s making me sick. I’m sick by it! I’m—I’m sick while all you do is cut my wrists so there’s no love for me- to- reac—”

Love???

Struck that the word left your mouth, you shut your eyes. Stupid! But then again, what did you expect? It can only surface in circumstances this excruciating. And no one has ever said the word up until now. It has never existed in the dictionary you share.

And you may blame your fuzzy vision on the tears that have welled up, or you can blame the small space separating you, but neither of these arguments can discount the fact that the word also takes Jaehyun by surprise and is left doing something to him too.

It’s impossible to miss the red that quickly built up in his ears—it’s not been there all evening. It looks so out of place against his ivory skin. Though nuanced, the action is very telling in itself. Something so intense and visceral that even his mind is powerless to stop it. The slightest clue that only you and he understand its significance and how unsettlingly intimate it is.

Or maybe you’re projecting again? Maybe you just want it to mean something(?) Maybeee… May—

You—You shouldn’t have used that word so carelessly! You—

In truth, you feel crushed by its weight. You feel like you’re ripped bare in the middle of the room and you can’t dress up your feelings again. But there’s also this bizarre solace in the fact that you don’t have to anymore. As the tears begin, your voice, cadence, and delivery are all off. As if they haven’t been already... But you can’t stop now; you’re inside the flux.

“Offer me a promise. Some people carry them in their back pockets, Jaehyun, why can’t you? Can’t you just make one?” Imagine how ironic it’s that you look down to the side pockets of his cargo pants, hoping he’ll pull them from there. But zero. Zip. Zilch. Nada. As you go, you’re ugly and desperate. “Even-Even if it doesn’t get fulfilled. Even if it’s just a lie. Please, please just-just say something.”

Jaehyun rubs his temple before combing his hair back, at last giving in to this hour-long argument.

“You know I don’t do that. I have never! I’ve never given false promises and I’ve never lied, even though you enjoy using that against me.”

You know it carries a lot when he calls your name, “.........., this victim blaming has become so casual that—that I somehow always become the spectacle.”

With each painful heartbeat, those pitiful butterflies that occupy the pit of your stomach evolve into bees that sting. The room keeps closing on you as you cry one of the hottest tears you have ever cried, which, to put it simply, causes you to lose the plot. Your words begin to drag on and on, as if you’re barely sewing them together.

“See, you-you can’t… You aren’t willing. No, it’s pretending that you care. You don’t! And we’ve promised to fix—and-and we haven—”

Right now, everything is flying over your head, and it’s too much to try and process whether by getting closer to you again he’s trying to tell you that he’s won the argument or.......

but he does. Jaehyun closes your distance from each other.

You keep your eyes at your feet when his tone softens to one of tenderness again, like the aggressive one isn’t his choice and will never be his choice. It’s only you who can’t make the distinction if he’s speaking with pangs just now or just plain—

“You don’t trust me. You’ve never, in fact.”

“I don’t? … I haven’t?”

You suppress a sob, but your body makes it obvious. But you decide to lift your head and confront him; this is what he’s made of you… A mess—from the ‘home’ he’s constructed around himself. What hurts you is every brick he placed there for protection.

You try again, completely torn. Even your voice is defeated. Long-suffering and tender, “How have I not, Jaehyun? How have I not?”

That leaves you staring into the deep brown abyss. His eyes have become very glossy; perhaps he’s tired. Streaks of moonlight gold and fragments of stolen sunsets appear every time the corner light strikes them ‘just right.’ For a moment, you’re grateful that you have a warm place to return to…

However, one minute you’re on fire, the next you’re burned. That’s just how it works. Initially, you believe it to be the dead petals from the dried rose that have fallen onto your candle next to it and caught fire, but it’s actually the entire thing. This entire thing stinks. It stings.

You dab away the tears in your eyes and smother out the flame, which is cutting off the air and the charring stench is making you ill. Whatever, anyway, on a long enough timeline, you’re bound to get burned; everybody is flammable.

You take a deep swallow and then say what’s already been on your mind for most of the evening.

“I won’t say anything more... I-I think… you should walk away. You ruined the evening.”

…Right. Enough playing house with each other’s feelings.

Be that as it may, all of the ‘distance’ between you and him can be summed up in a single word that right now just so happens to be on your tongue. It’d also be easier if one of you could say it, but it’s hard to swallow pride when you’re prideful on both sides.

At first, the way he squints and rolls his tongue suggests that your words have surprised him. But somewhat, gravity shifts quietly, gently. Something heavy, almost out of balance, is in his dark eyes. You think they’re absorbing as they walk from yours down to your lips and back to your eyes again, and perhaps for the last time. Like as if he’s penetrating your doubt with his last seductive stare, the one that touches you without touching.

Breathing in moisture from abstract feelings, love on fire, and mischief well-hung onto his lips, Jaehyun asks softly, “You want me to leave?”

Your gut is in knots as you rip off a breathy, “You don’t want to stay.”

………

He gives you a deeply mistrusting look and then his thumbs dig into your cheeks as he yanks you tight towards him.

Not even time for you to—BLANK—you’re in clutches of uncontrollable desire; your heart lunches into your throat. It feels like a ship crashing as your lips meet.

Your impulsory senses too betray every right you spent the entire night fighting for, as your hands rise to his face, grasping it firmly to do the exact same thing Jaehyun is doing to you: keep him in place for you.

Except for his velvety lips, nothing about the kiss is gentle. Yanking, pulling, and gasping. And the more you hold him in, the more your hands become careless and he makes you bleed as your palms nearly cut at the sharpest, softest edges of his jaw. You’re cut up, down, and in between.

His tongue thrusts its way inside your mouth, savagely sucking away the transparent nectar that has just about begun to mingle. Fervor and tingling sensations shoot from up your spine and into your head and back down your chest as you moan at the heavy, wet sighs that come from his mouth. The spiraling of your energies is causing your noses to crash constantly.

Continuous, continuous crashing. He’s a type you want to fully devour simply because he’s too ambitious to just let you get on top of him. It’s a dog-eat-dog right now. Just this insistent, indecent sound of lipsmacking, him cramming his feelings in through the gaps when they allow, his scorching cheeks under your palms, and him crushing you with energy.

And Jaehyun hardly ever initiates kisses like this on his own. He’s often siding with soft, caressing kisses and daisy touches. So perhaps you do bring out the worst in him? Maybe you do mistake his gentleness for a lack of trust after all. Considering that your attitude during these arguments usually results in this pattern of kissing.

Still, you’d be pleased to learn just how much he likes them too. How much he enjoys a little dominance race for it only to get so disproportionate and borderline that, by the end, surprisingly, somehow both of you come out same. Just... you’d be surprised to know how much, at his worst, he wants to triumph through passive control but secretly needs more of those who confront and challenge this behavior in him. And that’s either soothing each other’s fire or adding more. And while neither of these are evidence of perfection, love also lacks perfection. So it’s why he’s constantly gatekeeping; it’s safer this way and more easier.

But here’s you—who constantly likes to demand these rawest gatekeeps out of him—that are his love, feelings, and vulnerability, and those are things that can be unnervingly frail and fracturable, so no wonder you terrify him.

Things that ought to be handled with care. Which leads you both to the issue of a lack of mutual trust. While your ingrained insecurity makes you not trust him because he’s not cooperating, his ingrained doubt that you can handle those things with care makes him not trust you. Ultimately, the situation stems from a case of miscommunicated love and belief, which allows uncertainty to creep in.

But with the way you fight him in this kiss—in all such kisses, in fact, it’s as if you’re installing faith that you mean to get to the bottom of him,

just as he’s doing the same to you, with the force with which he’s kissing you

But occasionally—sometimes it might be too late. Possibly too late if you don’t—

You moan, “Jaehyun,” hot, dazed, and frenzied, but trying to let him know it’s gotten so much as your hands stray from his stunning face and move to his chest in an attempt to push him. The kiss is but a bruising power struggle between you, with neither emerging victorious. It feels like a struggle for a final touch—your love on a battlefield. And the gore of it engulfs you as you’re drowning and sinking deeper.

It’s a kiss that isn’t like the ones either of you’d eventually forget. It’s a bite, greedy, and all too real. And it seems to he’s forgotten how to stop. It carries on and on until you find yourself submerged in his hands as he sinks you to the sofa with his grip on your waist.

At a sudden, violent fall, the couch gives way to a horrifying screech, and that’s about the only moment he pulls back for you both to catch a breath. In any case, you’re the most you’ve ever been under his possession—in his arms…

Yeah? And what about his waist… being strangled between your knees and in your mercy?

Right... Silence.

Sat-up Jaehyun is pressing up against yours and his hands are pulling you closer still. However, the loss of balance slightly gives you a tad bit of a domineering look since, from this position, you look down at him, which is what both of you are all about—a hot mess of a dynamic. Something unanalysable.

Opening your eyes to confront Jaehyun’s after what just happened is an obvious fright.

Certainly, it’d be yet another serial reminder that you’ve completed a full circle and are back at square one, failing yourself. But, as soon as you open your eyes, and you do open your eyes, all that helps give you the impression that now you two are coming in a full cycle is him and his dumbass dimples. Like, ‘Yes, We are so back!’

Yes… they’re very much sooo back. For someone who indeed makes it hard for you to make out if there’s velvet beneath all of that Rock or all rock under that velvety beauty, the majority of the time his dimples do blow away his cover. Their means is to say that he’s one tender being; more so, not everyone is blessed with dimples; this’s not to say that only special people have them, but it’s a fact of life. And he’s been entrusted to carry this gift, and he’s special, and you know this… and—is just—

That he’s made to contradict; it’s just a side quest of the whole scheme. His eyes seem to shimmer with a fleck of flame, one that feels inextinguishable but all the same kittenish and playful. Of course, you can expect him to get naughtier and act more roguish after a kiss like that. It’s as though someone has finally let him in like a cat through a door.

In case your heart wasn’t in a coma before, it is now.

There’s a faint rose on his cheeks, but what’s of explosive color are again his ears. Needless to say, you can also expect him not to want to address that, as it’s yet another cute, sinister way his body is designed to fail his mysterious self.

In the kiss, you were pretty much the worst enemy he has ever had, and now he’s back to being cute and wagging his tail around you. His angel-filled eyes and sinfully intoxicating, sweet lips effortlessly elicit a smile from you, which means he has overpowered your thirsty lips. Except now you do live along the coast surface of his exploited lips, even past them and inside, and that one fact is doing everything it’s supposed to do, turning you hot and bothered.

The kiss in itself has a strong, lingering aftertaste, just like his scent, and your fingers, nose, waist, and even your knees are the places where you can still feel him. Practically every area of your body has a throbbing pulse—one behind each ear, one on the left side of your neck, one on your right wrist, near veins, inner thighs, arch of your left foot, under your jaw... too many places… You feel like dying. Fuck…

It’s as though the kiss carried his potency, which now floats from neuron to neuron getting lost in your space until it’s drawn you into an empty corner; And you remain there, as sick in the head as you are for him, with your body being hotter than fire for him. You’re losing you again, piece by piece and second by second exactly the way he knew you would.

For a moment his lips slightly part as if he were going to speak, but he stays silent. You too. Even if you were able to form a thought, it’d be buried in your throat, making it impossible for you to say anything. Rather, you allow this corrupted sensuality to speak for itself as it transmits between your tied bodies.

Your hand trembles a little as you let your fingers approach his face. And when they do land, it’s like touching morning dew; he’s as light as a summer mist.

Feeling his skin, your eyes follow your fingers with precision as you take in every detail for the thousandth time, like a first time. His silken hair is in disharmony from the makeout so you go to fix that before moving your thumb along his brow to smooth out the mess there too. A plethora of bristly hairs, give or take, submit to your touch. And you look at them as though under a microscope, like a geek with a slight brow fetish, wishing to lick them. You’re obsessed with his eyebrows; if essence is everywhere, it’s also overwhelmingly there too.

But it’s true that you rather concentrate on anything tiny than give Jaehyun your undivided attention… All while he’s watching you and letting you do as you please. Though a heinous smirk does start to flicker across his lips, shifting from one corner to the other, and as soon as you finish adjusting his brow and perhaps are ready to proceed to something else, Jaehyun grabs your wrist, robbing you of your next action.

Bringing your hand lower, and adopting a much comfier, in truth, arrogant position by tilting his head back and resting it on the sofa, he separates your same ‘so generous thumb’, and slowly takes it inside his mouth.

Heyyyyyyyyyyy—No warning, no fucking not—

You hiss, ready with your “F-” to cuss but bite and swallow the rest of it. Way louder ‘Fuck!Fuck!Fuck!’ stay rippling in your head though, as he takes the finger deeper and deeper and his eyes and lips share the same smile, and

This m—

The man is too motherfucking happy to stop! That’s what it is. Causing you to frown and tie your brows fucking forever...

As he coats your thumb in wet, your mouth feels incredibly parched. With every successive push forward to pull you back again, his cheek muscles contract, tense, relax, and hollow out, sucking you in.

Your vision gradually goes haywire, like sugar that has just begun to boil from clear to burnt. With every sensual fluff of his lashes, your heart caramelizes to a deep, rich brown. Between every pull, spit slides, feeling slimy on your skin and sticking like candy. You’re all soft inside, melted and gooey.

Pleasure mounts, and your body is fighting an awful war to stay strong but really it’s giving in. You swear he can feel every nuance of this self-conflict, down to the smallest tingle with each wrap of his tongue round your thumb. All the way down to your pounding heart and bouncing thoughts; All the way—

If it’s of consequence, you know that there’s a hard mental play going on, but now aren’t even in the right frame of mind to consider how much of one.

Not when his other pair of digits slip beneath your shirt. Not when they trail down your spine like he’s trying to break it, pushing you into an arch. Not when—

You finally manage to drag out your finger from his mouth, sighing and pouting as you say, “J,” ready with something more to say but eventually it gets ripped off your head like anything else.

Is this beautiful aware of the number of heartbreaks he has caused you?

No—No, can’t! Can’t be thinking about th—you shove aside that thought also and start lowering onto his face and feel his arm wrap tightly around you just below your ribcage, arching you even more into him. Your shirt gets caught in the same way as a theater curtain riding up, exposing more of your skin and he’s the only one seated for the show. A private poetry.

His fingers graze each hollow space in your ribs, and the rest of the fabrics in between conceive a roughness that drives your skin into tears. The brain-twister is this: Are you tough and resistant, like the denim you wear?

Hmph, definitely not! That success you scripted, though, is over…

Motion generates friction; friction generates heat... your head is filled with smoke. There’s nothing you could possibly use in your head. All it’s made up there now is of abominable thoughts and smoke.

Clinging to his lips by only a few millimeters, you refuse him or yourself to let them come into contact still. Rather let yourself feel his breath on your face and get bruised up because of it. A pain of pleasuring in the company of pain. Yes, this is your self-inflicting prison. This prolonged, delayed intimacy, this sick turn-on... It’s just his rock falling into your heart again, like an ice cube that scuttles past grasping hands and obnoxiously skates into a whisky glass, making a splash out of you.

Regardless of how crazy or subdued the evening gets, it’s all fucked eventually. It’s fucking messy. However, that’s just the way life is—he’s the only one who has ever told you, ‘It’s okay to be messy, baby… I’m on your side.’

Fucking irony…

Dimly lit, the room is a depressing sight. Little red wine specks cover the couch, appearing to have fallen apart like the holes in some of his shirts. A silver zippo next to an empty ashtray that’s always left with just dust in it. Smudges stain the coffee table, and a pool of melancholy is created at the base of the candle, marking another stain as wax oozes and seeps down the sides. Its honeysuckle scent is so invasive, spreading like a disease in slow motion.

You’re worn down completely and irrevocably. Throwing your head back, a sigh rips from the pit of your stomach. The sound of your ribs snapping in half is like the cozy crackling sound of his record player, taking you back to the vinyl he played for you two weeks ago.

Warm. Pressing at the dip where your collarbones meet, his moist lips feel warm against your skin. And he’s taking his time this time around; his tongue is tamed along your collar line, if not overly lazy. It clings fragilely to your throat, choking you until breathing starts to feel more like a chore than a necessity—until you’re drowning from the carbon dioxide that’s swimming in your veins.

You pull away for a second just to sail back into the black oily sea of his eyes, saving the sight for later in the week when it’s going to get tough. You both secretly tie to stave off the night for as long as possible but time is a human construct and will spill its numbers on the floor.

Petty, his fingernails dig into your waist on each side, and the tiny, pointy scrapes that pierce your flesh, accidentally trigger your inner underdog.

Mad! You’re not just mad, you’re furious. Angry at having to let him go. Selfish to lose him. You been knew… But, dear god, how are you to do you without him? How are you to subsist without measuring the cosmos in his hands every night before going to bed? And how are you to wake up without his warmth next to you every morning? Or rather that was the idea of you two(?) A dream you’ve constructed…

You seem pretty sincere in your uncertainty about what lies ahead for the two of you in the long run. What’s worse, you’re aggressive with it, agressive in your once again glossy eyes and directing them at him to harm him emotionally, physically... psychologically. Then again Jaehyun is repressing his anger internally and handling it as usual. Will deal with it later. He’s so polite with it. Elegant. Or as much as the circumstances permit.

Lightning strikes lightning again, and your entire body starts to tremble as if you’re under a high tide that the ocean has saved for this exact moment. This power he has over you... you call it love. One day, you’ll blink and he’ll be back. And you’ll be sure to wait for that day just like a moon in the sky that waits for nightfall. Is that foolish? It doesn’t concern you because nothing’s fair in love and war anyway. You loved him then, you love him now and you’ll love him forever. But the fact you have to store such lightning in a jar right now is a load of crap.

You dig your finger into his cheeks and lift his jaw in force, causing a slight twitch in your wrist that soon becomes a boiling fit of lust. With a tight jaw and a raised voice, you ask, “What next!!?”

A receipt, please!?

-Double entendres.

A fleet of insinuations.

What’s next for you two? Where are you headed? But truthfully… For rea—

Smiling lazily in your palm, Jaehyun rolls his lower lip in confidence, and then, all of a sudden, you’re holding bread with scrumptious, detailed dips on both sides.

Feeling a sense of accomplishment in advance of what he’s going to say, his eyes remain fixed on you as he hooks his fingers into the black hair tie that’s been lonesomely hanging around your wrist all this time. Your hand is then gradually forced away from his face so he can take it as he yanks sensually and slowly at it. Dark, luscious flirtation loads every agonizing drag. There’s a crazy calm in his eyes.

‘What’s next?’

The timbre in his voice is enough to smoke you.

Smirking, “Anything I want.”

A silencer that makes a whisper of the gunshot. A gun which no hunter has it at all… Yeah, there’s not a gun whose sound sounds kind, but there is—

his voice, he

Your face goes momentarily expressionless, and your nostrils flare at the comment. Not only do you not believe what you’re hearing, but you find him puzzling to the point of offense. You give a mild shake, press your lips to your nose in annoyance, and reach over the left side of the couch to retrieve the ‘Hysteric’ cap he tossed earlier, intending to really smack it of his face.

But when you do swing it, blurting, “Sometimes, I hate both of us,” Jaehyun lets out an adorable laugh and clutching your wrist in time.

Warming your cheeks, the sun shines straight in your face. His laugh is everything good in this world. In his puffy-eyed smile, comfort springs eternally, much like light. This man alone starts spring.

He teasingly remarks, “Sometimes…” meaning… not alw—

His hands reach over your shoulders and he pulls you in again, gathering your hair at the back for ‘no other’ reason than to use that hair tie...

In the newly created intimacy, his eyes dart over every feature of your face as if he’s soaking it all in like the last golden hours of summer, and in gratitude, his smile gently strokes over each of these details with attractive happiness. He’s a generous artist, and you know this too… Is just—

Quickly, your noses start to collide with every failed attempt he makes to deal with the hair because the more he tries, the more he—

Lip-cuts over cheeks and incessant whines of ‘I can do it. No, you— I can!’s muffled behind ears like long-kept secrets.

“Just give up,” you smile.

“Nuh-uh…” he fights as he tries and tries, “I can’t,” and sporting a damped smile in the bends of your neck.

To get you where he wants you, every one of his failed ‘hair tie’ attempts is the most phony innocence ever imagined. His lips leave a trail of light, giggly kisses along the ridge of your shoulder, compelling your own hands to work their way up his shoulders, into his nape, and then into his hair.

Eventually, his hands become less firm and give up, causing his fingers to thread down your hair, yet he still assures you, “Mmmmh… I can do it...

… For real, though.”

It aches the way he does that! His low voice whispers… Marking you for disaster. A feral panic. The urges his voice alone has conjured up in you long to break free.

Tracing his eyes connect the dots between your goosebumps, your eyes, and your brain, strips you of your body. He’s touching every nerve ending, every inch, and every brainwave. Intimacy is a weird state to be in—too much of it and it ruthlessly takes out everything but the moment.

The calmness that follows an anxious fury.

The holy restoration of what remains untainted.

You are connected—you and him. Now. Just now, in the history of time itself...

And if you’re going to kiss him next, it has to unpeel. It needs to undress. It has to lay bare every feeling he fears and strip any hard shell he wears. It has to burn from muscle to bone. A tongue that maps out any doubt, lets it stick to it, and then crushes it under its weight. Exhaust every bad memory. Even so powerful to kill every terrible remembrance. His defenses have to go. They could crawl beneath the sofa and hide there like defeated demons.

Sure, art is hiding behind one pretense or another, but surely it can’t be for all times?

Hidden feelings, like hidden things, can’t stay hidden, for finding them is where all the whole beauty lies.

You know Jaehyun loves watching you watch him. But sometimes, that’s really difficult.

You’re at your last grasp for air but still manage to do that; reaching through your hair to his still-tangled hand, you bring it to your lips and gently plant a long kiss on the veiny outer palm.

The unusualness of it; your eyes on his; your mouth there lingering...

Although Jaehyun’s expression suggests it’s something he didn’t expect, it’d be mild to say he’s shocked. When he doesn’t smile for the first time, you want to smile because you find the confusion in his running, empathetic eyes adorable.

It came with no warning. He had no idea it’d tingle and rush to his center as it does.

Feeling with your other hand on his chest, the ‘silent word of truth’ races his heartbeat.

Let’s stop the complications. Let’s do that...

No more wrong, no more selfish, no more too stubborn to keep it a secret…

Let’s

You’re left stroking the space between his thumb and index finger, and in your eyes, this far into the night, your love is the only act of violence. The way he actually robs you of yourself should be studied. Your ‘whole purpose of earlier’ seems to be being yanked out of you and placed neatly in the ‘For later’ compartment.

Jaehyun’s looking at you, aroused in the right place, your head—The smoke’s not cleared, and guess what—he loves to go there,

… But perhaps you have your own sneaky way of doing the same…

After the hand kiss, his eyes are narrow... wary, like when he can’t read something from a distance. As if he’s in a slump. Spacing out… Comprehending… Perhaps he’s too late to realize...

To help him ‘see’ better, you brush the strands out of his way. Along with the way you subtly rip the corner of your lip, it makes it sound a little shady when you softly ask, “What is it?”

He smiles shyly as he says, “Coome oon,” dragging the word a little and even breaking eye contact, looking downward.

Huh, what is it? Is his shirt print suddenly so interesting!??

Just like he won’t sometimes, you won’t elaborate now either. Not saying anything, the time has come when you get to raise an eyebrow. Getting back his attention, you run a finger down his shirt, feeling the fabric give away to some hard, toned abs. They serve him nothing now...

He’s visibly altered, something you can clearly fucking see.

‘What is it?’ —

The question hangs over him, forcing a deep, deep breath out of him. He then takes hold of your face. His fingertips tap firmly, like an anchor to the sea, landing the skin behind your ear. You can’t be moved by anything other than him. Just-

him.

Flowers sprout from his palm immediately. Their vines snake their way up your legs. And those sweet notes in his voice!?

Nothing quite compares...

“I know you know...”

“Know what… Yun-o?”

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silkscream · 9 months

Text

resurrection

yuuta okkotsu x reader

ੈ✩ wc: 1.5k

ੈ✩ tags: smut (18+, ageless + blank blogs will be blocked), yandere!yuuta (ish), obsession, death (yuuta literally brings you back to life), best friends to lovers, dubcon just to be safe (ur both so out of it lol), angst, not edited we die like men

ੈ✩ a/n: idk where this came from ok. runs away

you hadn’t prepared for death.

it was foolish of you. the prospect of it crossed your mind from the moment you stepped foot into jujutsu tech, yet it didn’t truly seep into your brain until your last few breaths. you were too busy wrapped up in the world of sorcery, naive and easily excited. you didn’t know how to be selfish.

evidently, neither did yuuta.

this is why you wake up in his arms, heart nearly hammering out of your chest from adrenaline. a corpse reborn.

you assumed death wouldn’t be so gory, that you’d go out in a blink and be welcomed with darkness. you never thought there would be a possibility for you to come back. it feels more like purgatory than reality, to be honest. and yet, the feeling of cold hands on you is more real than anything else — the touch makes your insides churn. your skin hot.

he shakes as he says your name. a pleading thing.

your mind swims with fog. your guardian angel is awfully pretty. pale, delicate skin with a split lip. black, shaggy hair hanging down over his dark blue eyes. long, slender fingers that grasp you with urgency. you blink twice and the angel is made in the image of your best friend.

“y-yuuta?”

“you— you’re okay,” he sobs. his teardrops fall onto your cheek.

“i’m okay,” you repeat.

you’re surprised when he kisses you square on the mouth, feverish in his movements, desperate in the insistence of his tongue past your lips. you stay like this for a bit — mindless and wrapped up in him. tasting copper and mint. he releases you when he hears you whine.

“yuuta—”

“fuck, i’m sorry. i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay,” you whisper. you hang your head on his shoulder with eyes closed. the stench of blood surrounds you. the spills of cadavers that aren’t able to curse anyone anymore.

“i love you so much. couldn’t let you leave me. i’m sorry.”

“you’re apologizing for bringing me back to life?”

his eyes are wide like a deer running from a gunshot. you’ve never seen him like this. yuuta was often a ball of anxiety, but his strength always made up for it. at the moment, his fear makes him look younger.

“i didn’t want to hurt you. i could’ve… killed you if i didn’t do it right.”

“wasn’t i already dead?”

he swallows the lump in his throat, nodding. face full of dread. everything about him is so delicate despite his strength. everything about him is lithe, tender. you feel guilty for not dying.

“i’m sorry,” you stammer, despite knowing you don’t have anything to apologize for, even with your stupid guilt plaguing you. your train of thought runs off its tracks. the only constant is the boy in front of you.

“i love you too, yuuta.”

the way he stares at you is terrifying in a way that you can’t put into words. you still haven’t grasped reality in a way that makes sense since waking up in his arms, which continue to tighten around you. there’s lust in his eyes — like he wants to devour you. you know you’d let him, but your disorientation holds you back.

your best friend brought you back to life, and waking up in his arms feels like heaven. for some reason, it also feels like a courtroom. you think that the devil must be lurking around the corner awaiting your judgment.

yuuta must sense your fear because he kisses you again, more gently this time. your apprehension dissipates, melts into nothing as you revel in the touch of his hands roaming your body. despite being blood-stained, heavy with dread, you feel light and bare with him. you want to be bare with him.

“don’t ever leave me again,” he presses with a hard gaze. as if your dying was your fault. (later, you'll blame yourself.)

“i won’t,” you whisper.

“you know i’d do anything for you, right?”

“really?”

“yeah. anything you want.”

“why’s that?” you blink at him slowly, still out of it slightly. his warmth brings you back to reality in doses.

“because i think you deserve it.”

you’re lost in him. consumed in all of him — from the softness of his hair underneath your fingertips to the feeling of his breath on your cheek. it sends butterflies to your core, makes you delirious in your post-death state. he’s all you know right now.

“what do you think i deserve, yuuta?”

he gnaws on his bottom lip, tries to regulate his breathing. yuuta is definitely not thinking about you on his lap right now. of course not.

“don’t ask me that when you already know the answer,” he rasps. “don’t even — i can’t even put it into words. everything. everything good in this world.”

it’s you who kisses him first this time, hard enough that he loses his balance and doesn’t bother to maintain an upward stance. instead, he lets you straddle him, his back falling onto the ground as your hair falls from your face and tickles his forehead. you lap up his sighs with your mouth and your tongue. the groan that reverberates from his throat excites you.

you’re reckless. a grind of your hips has him panting and you want to tear him up. maybe you’ve been fooled and this really is the afterlife.

but no, everything about yuuta beneath you is so fucking real. his breath. his calloused fingertips trailing along the bruised flesh underneath your torn shirt.

it doesn’t matter, you think to yourself. whether you’re drunk on the strongest liquor or if you’ve ascended to heaven after a gruesome death, you think that god has a soft spot for you. it's the only way you could indulge in this kind of softness, isn't it?

yuuta pulls away from your mouth, a centimeter in distance from you, just to mewl your name.

heaven. you’re convinced it’s heaven. you had died and no one saved you, you think, but your best friend is there to greet you before you settle into your grave. in this case, you'd be fine with your death.

“need you, yuuta,” you whine. “need you so bad.”

your guardian angel would do anything for you, wouldn’t he? he’d spoken his vows to you just moments before, and he intends to follow through with them. but not until he taunts you in the slightest bit.

“what do you need, baby? hm?”

you groan, grazing your fingernails into the flesh underneath his shirt. squeezing at the muscle. pleading. you don’t register what comes out of your mouth. something like a prayer, of wanting him inside, of him fucking you back to earth. in your dreamlike state, you don’t care. as long as the proximity between you and your angel is close in distance, skin to skin. you’d live inside him if you could.

(he had thought the same of you since the moment he met you.)

time slows. you blink a few times, eyelashes fluttering until you’re met with the deepest warmth you could ever feel. a collision of nerves.

yuuta buries himself inside you and you cry out to the universe. he drinks up your moans with his wet mouth, arms clutching your body tightly so that you can’t move.

although he’d brought you back to life, he thinks he could die just from the feeling of being inside you. your warmth could lay him to rest, with blissful peace on all sides.

you — his best friend, his lover, his executioner.

and him — your best friend, your lover, your deity. the one who brought you back to the living.

he hushes sweet nothings into your neck as he cradles you. successions of i love you, i love you, i love you—

and you come undone. it’s the first time tonight you truly feel like you’ve come back to life. power surges through your veins as your eyes awaken to the sheer attention that the earth demands of you.

you inhale once, then exhale, and your eyes meet midnight ocean blues blinking back at you. this is when you feel alive again. maybe the most alive you’ve ever felt in your short life.

“yuuta,” you breathe.

“i’ve got you, baby,” he coos, wrapping you in his clothing. wrapping you in his arms. “let’s go home.”

when you wake up in yuuta’s bed the next morning, it all feels like a bad nightmare that only haunted you in your sleep. yet the evidence is all there — bruises on your sides, dried blood on your thighs.

(it was the violent curse that killed you, for sure, but you have flashbacks of yuuta and wonder how strong his hands actually are.)

“yuuta,” you whine.

“baby,” he responds, his voice groggy. “it’s so early, isn’t it?”

“maybe.”

”we can celebrate your new life in a few hours. promise.”

“what if i die again within that time frame?” you pout, curling into him. he lets you, meshes your body into his side.

“i wouldn’t let that happen,” he rasps, kissing your temple. “you’re not allowed to die again. and if you do, i might curse you. and you know how that goes.”

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #okkotsu yuuta x reader #okkotsu yuuta x you #yuuta x reader #yuuta x you #yuta okkotsu #yuuta okkotsu #yuuta smut #yuuta okkotsu smut #yandere #too many tags so little time... Bye

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marigoldendragon · 3 months

Text

Was thinking about who in the twst cast would be a sobbing mess at their wedding

Riddle. No. He'd be fluctuating between super happy and trying to maintain some decorum, and end up red faced half the time, but I dont think he'd cry.

Trey. Pretty emotionally stable guy. He'd probably get misty eyed if he felt it but otherwise no.

Cater. Yeah. Not like, super ugly crying (he needs to look good in his wedding photos) but I think he'd shed a few tears.

Ace. Yes. He'd be all cocky about it right up until the vows, then he'd start balling.

Deuce. Yes. I think he'd be fine until either his mum or his spouse started crying, then he'd break.

Leona. No, he'd just be a smug bastard the whole day. Not saying he wouldn't love his spouse, he'd just be insufferable about how great they are.

Ruggie. I think he could swing either way. Like he's had a hard life so he'd know how to not show venerability, but if it was a smaller more intimate ceremony where he'd feel safe to cry I think he would.

Jack. No. But his tail would be a blur the entire day.

Azul. Absolutely. Man craves affection. Getting married? He'd be a MESS.

Jade. No. Mr playing at being a butler would be the perfect gentlemen the entire time.

Floyd. No. He would be bouncing off the walls though.

Kalim. Absolutely. He has no qualms about showing his emotions he would let loose on the day.

Jamil. Yes. He'd hate that he's crying in front of people, but someone choosing HIM?? He would not be able to hold it in.

Vil. As fun as it is to imagine getting married is what breaks Vil's mask, no. He's a professional, he's not going to ruin his makeup.

Rook. Yes. One look at his spouse in their wedding attire and he'd be on one knee spouting poetry about their beauty, tears running down his face.

Epel. Yup. He'd probably not be happy about it, but he does cry a lot in the main story. Sorry Epel XD

Idia. Yes, but probably more from being just kind of generally overwhelmed by the whole thing. Like his anxiety gets the better of him once or twice.

Ortho. No? I would assume once he's lived some more life and gotten adult body upgrades he'd probably want to find romance. Maybe he'd make and install a crying unit just so he can experience it?

Malleus. No. But I think it would hit him AFTER the wedding. Like he's at home with his new spouse, looks over at them and it just kind of hits him. Starts ugly crying.

Silver. Hmmmm no. He's a pretty serious guy, and I think he'd get misty eyed, maybe a tear or two, but I don't think he'd be the sort to really cry that hard.

Sebek. Yes lol. He'd try so hard to be the serious mature husband but man cannot control his emotions. He'd have tears running like a faucet all day (and denying it all the time).

Lilia. No, he'd be all big beaming smiles. His sons' weddings however... he'd be a waterfall of tears the entire day. An absolute wreck of a man he'd be so proud.

Feel free to add any thoughts. There's a few characters I'm not super knowledgeable on, happy to read any counterarguments/extra thoughts people have :D

#twst #twisted wonderland #just some thoughts I had #I'm not tagging every chracter

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bobachaiii · 3 months

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Sorry not a trolls post but I need to start posting my other art on here LOL here’s my anxietysona

Nostalgia and Joy would be my mains and Anxiety is Nostalgia’s cat and she knits all the time and throws her ball of yarn to distract Anxiety when she’s getting too active on the console.

She’s a cringe furry because I’m a cringe furry :)

#inside out 2 #anxiety #anxiety inside out #inside out anxiety #inside out fandom #inside out fanart

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samkerrworshipper · 1 year

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safe and sound | leah williamson x reader

themes of suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts, self harm, depression, anxiety, angst, 4000 words

sorry this is messy asf and not spell checked whatsoever cause i’m uploading this at 1am lol but got this from a request and felt like i had to finish it before i start the lucy smut that i’m starting so here it is my loves xoxo

I blamed myself for getting myself into this position. Maybe if I’d been a better friend or a better player or maybe just if I hadn;t of woken up on the left side of the bed this morning. Maybe it would all be different if we hadn’t just won a home Euros, maybe I wouldn’t feel the same pressure from the media, maybe I wouldn’t have felt so goddamn anxious to go anywhere. Maybe if I hadn't transferred from Barca I’d feel safer, maybe if I wasn’t so focused on my career I would have seen the warning signs. I hadn’t though, hadn’t seen the way that I felt so fucking tired after every session, even the easier ones. Hadn’t noticed the fact that I wasn’t sleeping anymore and that I was always checking social media to see what people were saying about my most recent game. I hadn’t noticed that I was picking at my nail beds again until they were a bloody mess. Hadn’t noticed that the accidental nicks along my legs from my razor had slowly become less accidental. Hadn’t noticed how absolutely broken I had been from the inside out until I was sitting on top of my apartment car garage contemplating everything.

The sun was setting slowly, the yellows and pinks and oranges all mixing like a starburst tie dye across the sky. It was incredible, something I’d never really seen in London, it felt symbolic. Maybe if I hadn't been choking down my feelings for so long I wouldn’t have been looking at the concrete 30ms below me and finding comfort in it. Finding comfort in the poetic way that it spoke to me, that it made me feel a little bit more at peace. Solid, grey, concrete. Nothing special about it but there was also something so special about it. A gust of wind would probably be enough to send me plummeting onto it, my brains and blood spilling out all over it. It would never look the same after that, never be quite so mundane and normal. The bloodstain would be hard to get out, the deep maroon seeping into the stone and staining it within a matter of minutes. I thought about the headlines for a few seconds, I’d probably make the front page of about every newspaper in the nation, ‘Y/n Y/l/n, Lionesses star striker, dead at 24 due to suicide’, it sent shivers down my spine, the good kind of shivers that made you feel at peace.

I’d never really let myself get further than that, never left myself alone long enough to think of a plan, actually think about much further than sitting here. Now though I felt more alone than ever, I shouldn’t have ever left Barca, shouldn’t have left my family there. It had seemed like the right decision coming to England, to play for Arsenal, to play at home again. Now though I couldn’t have regretted my decision more, I mean I was pretty much calling Lucy or Alexia everyday telling them how desperate I was to come home, balling my eyes out to them on the phone about how much I missed our team in Spain. I was technically only on loan for a season, just to find my footing, but now I was certain that I stood no chance of surviving the whole season. The girls are lovely, Jonas was lovely, I was playing alongside the woman I loved but everything about it felt so wrong. Maybe it was the weather, or maybe it was the location but it all was just so wrong and I couldn’t tell you why. I woke up every morning, went to training, came home, ate, tried to sleep and then repeated it all. It was a strenuously depressing pattern that never ended. It was the same, day in, day out. I didn’t have my found family anymore, just myself and my girlfriend who was too occupied with being Arsenal and England’s captain to have much time for me anymore. I didn’t really blame her, she was a busy woman, and she had such a good pure heart that she used to do so much good.

Sometimes it was overwhelming to me how much she was willing to give, to other people, to anything. She put her whole heart into everything and it was something I envied so much in her. Her willingness to give up anything for the people she cared about was insane to me. She cared so deeply about everyone around her and it was truly astounding but it did leave me feeling neglected occasionally when she was busy helping out someone or busy dedicating her time to a project that needed her more than I did. I didn’t like to be needy, so maybe even though I’d been struggling for a few weeks I hadn’t flagged it with Leah.

She’d caught on somewhere along the way, stopping me one morning to check in, I’d shaken her off with a smile telling her I was just a little bit burn out with the Euro’s and changing to Arsenal, I could tell she hadn’t believed me but she also knew that I didn’t respond well to being pushed, normally she would wait me out, wait until I came crawling to her to talk but this time it felt different, like maybe this was the end. Maybe this time I wasn’t going to get around to talking to Leah, maybe this time I didn’t want her to help me, maybe I just wanted to be done with trying to be better, trying to be okay when I wasn’t. Maybe this ledge was the end of my story, maybe it was destined to be.

“Hey honey.”

The sudden voice behind me was almost enough to send me over the ledge, my knuckles turning white from clutching onto the edge. I flinched as the source of the voice climbed up onto the ledge and sat down beside me.

“Beautiful sunset, how was your day?”

It was such a mundane question and the simplicity of the statement was enough to bring me down to earth enough to realise that there were tears falling down my face and my whole body was shaking slightly.

“Reminds me of the ones in Barca. It was alright.”

Leah nodded at me, keeping her own eyes on the horizon, the sun had almost fully gone down but there were parts of it still peeking out.

“I went and saw Keira and Jill, Keira was in town to visit Millie and some of the other girls, she said she missed you, that you’d been missing her and Luce’s calls for about a week now.”

My hands were almost numb from the death grip that I had on the ledge that we were sitting on. She had distanced herself enough that we weren’t touching but close enough that I could feel her presence.

“It kept slipping my mind to call them back.”

It was all excuses, things that I was telling Leah to avoid the conversation.

“Fair enough, they’re both just worried about you, I’m worried about you sweetheart. Did you end up going for coffee with Katie this morning?”

I knew she was asking me the questions as a distraction technique, new she’d been taught it from Lucy when I’d moved here, the same stuff Lucy had been taught from my therapist. I knew that subconsciously but for some reason it worked every single time, without fail.

“Felt sick.”

“She called me, said you’d bailed last minute and asked me to check in with you for her, to tell you that you guys would have to reschedule. What did you eat for lunch?”

I could feel my legs kicking out against the solid concrete below my feet, I was averting Leah’s eye contact with everything that I could, keeping my eyes on my feet or the sky that was gradually getting darker.

“Felt sick, wasn’t hungry. Why are you here? I thought you had that dinner thing with Alex.”

It was the first question that I’d asked in the conversation, my curiosity taking over slightly.

“I came to check in with you, you weren’t answering my texts or calls and I was worried you were sick, so I came to check in before heading off to Alex’s, it’s unlike you to not be on your phone.”

I nodded, it was a fairly good explanation and it made sense but it also annoyed me so much because Leah showing up here was fucking with everything.

“You can go to Alex’s, I feel fine.”

“I love you, you know that right?”

Leah’s words hung heavy in the space between us.

“I know Lee.”

I rubbed at the tears that were drying up on my face with the sleeve of my hoodie, I was still trembling slightly but my tears had come to a slow.

“If anything ever happened to you I’d be beside myself.”

I felt my two front teeth falling to my lip, clutching it between my teeth and biting down on it.

“Lee, I’m fine.”

“No you’re not angel, and there’s nothing wrong with that, it’s okay for you to not be doing okay. We wouldn’t be sitting here if everything was fine, how about we get down from here, yeah? We can head down to your apartment, or my house if you want. We’ll go see the dogs, we can talk if you want, or we can call your therapist, or Ale, or we can just cuddle in bed, whatever you need.”

I shook my head almost immediately.

“Leah I need you to leave me alone, please, just leave, go home, go hang out with Alex, just leave me.”

“I can’t do that sweetheart and you know it, and if you can’t get down from here then you know that I won’t hesitate to call 999 if it's what I have to do to keep you safe. I love you Y/n, but I will not love you to death. So you can either get down from here by yourself or with my help, or with the help of a policeman, those are your options.”

It was the stern Leah that was now coming out now, the Leah that came out when she needed to help a teammate who was struggling but wouldn’t admit it, the Leah who was relentless and would do anything to protect the people she loved.

“I can’t do this anymore, I can’t fucking deal with this anymore.”

That was when I broke, tears and sobs cascading from my eyes and mouth.

“I know sweetheart, and I am so sorry that I didn’t realise that it had gotten this bad, I am so sorry for that. Let me make it up to you, let me take you home and I can take time off, we can both take time off, travel, whatever you need. Y/n/n, I can’t not do life without you, so let’s get down from here, let’s work this out at home.”

I was at a crossroads, on one hand I was very much so aware of the fact that I could jump right now, that Leah couldn’t stop that, I also knew that I wouldn’t do it with Leah here, the guilt of making her watch it would eat at me too much. So eventually, I was going to have to get down but for right now I couldn't, I needed to hold on to this for a little bit before having to get down and face reality.

“I’m not going to jump, I just need a few more minutes here.”

“I don’t know if I trust you right now honey, no offence, but I’m looking out for you.”

I nodded, it was fair judgement, I probably wouldn’t trust me either in her position.

“You can hold onto me if it helps, I just need some time here.”

Leah conceded to me, but wrapped her arm securely around my waist, moving herself so she was flush against me and holding me tightly against her body.

“How was Keira?”

“She was good, misses you, her and Lucy are good, I think Keira is getting the sense that Lucy might be tiptoeing around proposing. Apparently she’s been very secretive and antsy, typical Lucy fashion, I told her I knew nothing. Jill made me promise that we’d meet up with her, she says she misses my better half. I picked up Scout from the groomers, you should see the hair cut they gave her, just pure fluff. I went to the grocers, the fancy one that you love so much down the road, picked up all of your favourite stuff, even the stupidly expensive soup that you like. If you want we can go back to mine and you can eat it while we talk.”

She was trying to coax me away, with the promise of soup, which sounded so stupid but she knew me so well that it made me laugh a little bit.

“Can I have the soup without talking?”

“You can drink the soup first but we have to talk and you know it, whether you realise it or not it’s for the better.”

I nodded into Leah’s side, she was right, she was always right. She was so wise for her age and sometimes it felt like instead of being two years older than me she was 20.

“Let’s head home, yeah?”

I pursed my lips, still contemplating my options.

“You’re going to make me anyways, right?”

“Yeah babygirl, it’s for the best.”

I nodded at Leah, accepting defeat.

“Can you help me?”

Leah nodded at me almost immediately, getting herself down and then reaching up for me. She lifted me off of the ledge and pulled me down onto the ground beside her. The first thing she did was drape her jacket around my shivering form. She didn’t say anything else, she just immediately started walking, dragging me along towards her car and gracefully fastening the passenger seat belt around me before climbing into the driver's seat and started to drive.

The car ride was silent, I was a shivering, crying, mess. Leah was keeping up her strong facade, clearly not prepared to give me any sympathy. It wasn’t her way, she was a tough love kind of person. She gave it to you how it was and that was that. I loved her for that, I didn’t like people who bull shitted you with false sympathies and sweetness, I was a realist and so was Leah.

The drive to her house was reasonably short, she lived about a ten minute drive from my apartment or a half an hour walk. It was convenient, especially when one of us needed a little bit of space but we also wanted to be within reach of the other. When we did make it back to her house I was kind of feeling inexplicably numb, my thoughts eating at my brain and body and leaving me feeling frozen in time. Leah unbuckled me from my seat and helped me up, helped me walk through her front door before getting me seated on her couch with our dogs before walking into the kitchen to get that soup that she’d promised me.

When she did finish warming up the soup I was melting into the couch practically, our dogs, Scout and Saidee had apparently gotten the message that I needed them, so both of them were draped on top of me, it was what I needed. Leah returned with a bowl of soup and placed it down on our coffee table before sliding in next to me on the couch.

“I’d give the soup a few minutes to cool down, how about we talk until then?”

I didn’t want to talk, but it didn’t seem like I had a choice.

“What do you want to talk about?”

“How long have you been feeling not okay?”

It was a rough question, but not something that I hadn’t been expecting.

“Honestly, a few weeks, since my move here. I love you and I love being with you but being here isn’t easy for me and I’m struggling to settle in.”

Leah nodded, I knew it wasn’t going to be easy for her to hear, that’s probably why I’d avoided telling her for as long as possible. Arsenal was her family, Arsenal ran in her blood and I knew that there was a chance she’d take it personally that I hadn’t been finding it easy to settle in.

“Okay, I wish you’d told me earlier but that’s okay. Change isn’t easy, I can’t blame you for struggling. Obviously, I love having you here but if it’s not meant to be then it’s not meant to be. I’m sorry if I haven’t been focusing on you enough, I know that I’ve been so occupied with everything else but that isn’t a good enough reason for me to have been neglecting you. I have to ask this question, were you going to kill yourself tonight?”

I took a deep breath through my nose, no one is ever prepared for that question, it’s not something anybody wants to hear or talk about ever.

“Look, I’m not quite sure. I wasn’t really thinking, if you hadn't showed up, maybe. I don’t know Leah, I just know that I was feeling so fucking out of control and when I fele out of control I stop thinking.”

Leah just pursed her lips, it was clear that she didn’t know exactly what to say, or she was trying to put what she was thinking into words.

“Okay, that’s okay. Obviously it’s not okay, but that’s okay. We have options here, you have options. Let’s book an appointment with your therapist tomorrow, firstly. Secondly I think you and I should maybe sit down and have a proper conversation about your mental health, just so that I can become more educated on it and I can be more aware of these kinds of situations, because I want to be. I love you y/n and I want to be here to support you fully, but if I’m going to do that I need to understand how I can love you but also look after you and help you, because I want to.”

I was anxiously patting our dogs stomach, as I thought about how the fuck I was going to talk to Leah about this.

“I’ve had fucked up mental health since I was a kid, it fluctuates, you know that I get panic attacks and spouts of depression. Sometimes it worsens, Lucy can give you more details, honestly I don’t think I’m the best at explaining it. Sometimes I get really low, I’ve had my fair share of suicidal thoughts and self harm over the years, I’ve never gone through with anything and honestly my mental health has been really good over the year or so, that was why I didn’t flag it with you, and I’m sorry I didn’t. I am so sorry that you had to see me like that, I’m sorry that your fucking worrying about me.”

Leah’s arm wove its way around my waist, bringing me flush against her and it felt so right in that moment.

“Y/n, look at me.”

It was the first time that I’d looked her in the eyes the whole night and it kind of hurt in some bizarre way staring into her brown eyes. They were full of so much emotion, so much feeling and pain in them.

“You should not be sorry for having human emotion. I’m sorry for not seeing the warning signs, for not being around enough to see the signs. I’m still learning, I’m trying to be better for you, so let’s just agree that neither of us are perfect. This is new to me, but I’m going to try my fucking hardest for you, whatever you need. We’re going to make you feel happier, put that smile back on your face that made me fall in love with you, if it’s the last thing I do. Maybe we take a break if that’s what you need, or we explore other options, anything to make you feel happier, anything for my girl.”

#woso #leah williamson #lionesses #woso community #arsenal wfc #leah williamson x reader #katie mccabe #lucy bronze #marry me rn

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