#for the first time in decades i feel like i can just be myself around him without needing to think about who that self needs to be to be | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tonycries · 8 months ago

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The Initiation - G.S.

Synopsis. From now onwards, you’re the madam of the Gojo clan - and your clan leader husband is going to prove it to everyone.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, clan leader! Gojo, EXHIBÍTIONÍSM, initiations, aphrodísiacs, wedding nights, oraI (fem + male), face-sítting, p talking, BRÉEDING, creampíes, matíng presses, first times (Gojo), use of “my wife” and “ma’am”, spítting, cúmplay, MARATHON S, overstím, Gojo is FÉRAL (and slightly ínsane), the elders are awful, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 8.0k

A/N. This was NOT supposed to be this long but yk what I’m not mad.

“I vow to love. I vow to heal. I vow to stand by my wife with a respect not deserved of even myself.” Every single elder at the shrine shivers when their clan leader’s blazing gaze narrows. Gojo Satoru. Death, himself, in his hauntingly beautiful form. “And I vow that everyone here - everyone - will know that.”

---

“A-an initiation?”

The sweet older women surrounding you don’t look even the tiniest ounce as confused as you feel right about now. They hum a low tune, bustling around you in a whirlwind of hands that tug and pull at your decadent robes.

“Ah, it’s just a long-held Gojo tradition, madam-” Madam - the word seemed so strange still. “-and the young master will make sure to take good care of you.”

“But-”

“Very good care.”

Maybe it was the way the fussing crowd around you burst into titters, maybe it was the way your silky yukata was left ever-so-slightly open - in a way you were sure the elders would cry scandal at. But, somehow, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something different to this clan initiation.

Something more.

And it’s something that plagues your mind over and over even by the time your make-up is finally perfected, and your reception robes brushed down for non-existent dust.

“Beautiful.” your attendants breathe, gracing you with a synchronized bow so low that it almost looked painful. And with a few more appreciative nods, they’re guiding you out of the sweetly-perfumed dressing room, wordlessly leading you into the uproarious traditional meeting hall.

“You’re not following?” you turn to ask, once you had almost one foot stepped cautiously into the room.

At this, the woman stood at the very middle of your entourage flushes. A bright, blinding red that matches the way her lips sputter helplessly, “I- I’m honored, madam. But this is er- as far as I can go.”

Strange.

And with that, the sliding mahogany doors shut.

Despite what you may think about the council of elders, you had to begrudgingly admit that they’d decorated the chamber lavishly. Fit for a king - or, more likely, fit for the new leaders of the household, after your marriage today.

Dimly-lit with lanterns, and already heady with the smell of expensive sake, your eyes dart around the seated upon seated of clan leaders, elders, and prominent officials you couldn’t even name. All positioned around a long table encircling a strangely raised platform in the middle - as if a stage - it seemed that everyone and anyone was here to assess the new Madam of the Gojo household.

To watch. To wait.

And at the head of it all - your husband.

Gojo Satoru was known by none to be a soft man, not even by those foolish enough to claim themselves close to him. More accurately fabled as the most vicious young clan leader in history; an angel of death that you’d be lucky to so much as even snatch a glimpse of before you never can once more.

Yet, the way he beams once his summer blue eyes lock on yours made him seem like anything but.

“Ah- my wife. My wife is here.” Gojo’s deep baritone sounded so reverent - out-of-breath, like he’d been whispering those very words to himself like a mantra all night. In the middle of it all, you hadn’t even noticed the way the hall had quieted deafeningly - not until his words echo throughout your ears. Rich blue yukata rippling when he’s patting softly at his chair, and you notice with a jolt that there’s no seat next to him.

Damn elders.

“Hah? Elder Tanaka really did it!”

“You know I never wanted the riffraff to sit at the table- not a place for-”

“Well what else? A madam should be as a madam is.”

You’re gritting your teeth, making determined strides past all the withering stares and hushed whispers. Stepping closer and closer up to your shifting husband-

“Take-”

And then you sit.

Plopping yourself down unceremoniously onto the clan leader’s lap - from behind you, you’re hearing Gojo suck in a feverish breath. Panting. You’re washed over with his piney, syrupy sweet scent when his strong forearms immediately wrap around your waist to steady yourself comfortably onto his large, manspread lap.

And in front of you, you stare defiantly back into every wizened snarl shot your way. If looks could kill, then this would be a massacre.

It takes him a few gulps to regain his senses - hell, it takes you a few more. And Gojo was so warm, practically burning when he whispers in a rasping voice against your ear, “I was going to tell you to take my seat but…whatever my wife wants, hm?”

“The look on their faces,” you try to hold back what would be deemed an utterly unlady-like smirk. Back pressing up against every hardened curve and ridge down Gojo’s washboard abs through his clothes. “But, I-I’m sorry if-”

His arms around you tighten. “Why would you ever be sorry?”

CLAP! CLAP!

“The reception shall now commence.”

Perhaps it was to stop your quiet muttering, but soon enough your vision is promptly being filled with delicacies that make your mouth water.

“I would advise you not to drink the sake, pretty.” Gojo waves off an attendant that offers another chair, starting to sift around the steaming contents of his own plate. And despite how you seemed to be the main scrutiny tonight, you let him feed you tiny bites, anyway - all for the haughty council to scoff at. Their master being so happily used by his wife “Seems we’ve been gifted with something special to drink for the initiation tonight.”

Something about his tone was strained. It makes you bat your lashes up at him in a way that has Gojo adjusting his lower robes with a gulp. “Something special? Is it poisoned?”

He chuckles out, “No- even worse-” Lowering. And you jolt when his gleamingly sharp canines sink into your earlobe. Dangerous. “-one sip of that for both of us and I’ll be showing this scum here exactly how you’re mine.”

Oh.

Shit, your spine sits ramrod straight at that purring little undercurrent in his tone - the implications. And just that slight jostle of your hips makes Gojo urgently dig one set of his slender fingers into your waist. It makes him hunch over, it makes him gasp, “O-or we might not even need that sake, heh-”

Eyes drifting to the platform, “I want to, though.”

And for just a second, the entire meeting hall stills.

Every figure around the table barely even bothering to hide their blatant staring right now, some covering their gaping mouths - because the infamous leader of the Gojo clan was smiling.

Smiling. A humorless, crazed little smile directed at you. “Then…” Barely drifting an inch even when his own free digits clasp around a tiny sake bowl, he cheers his sake cup with yours. Echoing over the twinkling clink! “-whatever my wife wants.”

And yet, you feel nothing out of the ordinary in the first few minutes - nothing but those billowing stares and Gojo’s warm proximity to you. Huffing out tiny bouts of laughter that tickle the crook of your neck, and your face burns at the stray peck or two he’s leaving down your exposed skin.

Not even in the first hour.

Or the second, and you’re half-wondering whether this initiation was nothing but a hoax.

But veering into the third-

It happens.

Something snaps.

“S-Satoru?” you breathe out unsteadily when he’s suddenly growing quiet. Head craning to take in just how pretty Gojo looked right about now - robes hanging off his sculpted deltoids. A sweet strawberry blush taking over his high cheekbones, his collarbones, down further. “Are you okay?”

Of course, he wasn’t. Right now, Gojo Satoru felt so ruined he thinks he could faint.

“Shit-” Gojo hisses from above you, snowy brows knitting together. You can’t even react before his muscular thighs bounce ever-so-slightly, shifting you just a degree higher on his lap. Just enough for him to seat you prettily by the edge of something big. Curved. Rock-hard. “Shit- shit shit- m’- m’feeling so-”

Gojo’s chopsticks clatter onto the tatami mats with a soft thud! And those fingers find themselves latching onto you.

You, you, you - burning down the curves of your waist, sliding up your trembly thighs and just below where your robes were hiking up. He couldn’t get enough.

“Sa-toru-” your words come out wobbly. Clutching at the slight opening of your yukata to drag in a useless attempt to drink in some cooler air. You felt like you were melting, and so were your words now. “Toru, I feel so-”

“What did you say?”

It takes you a few syrupy moments to even realize that it’s your husband speaking - because Gojo’s voice was several octaves higher than usual. Husky, like he was on the verge of shattering into a million pieces. Spitting a pained, “What did you say, honey?”

You bat your teary lashes - shit, when did you even get so stimulated - up at the thoroughly drunken elders that were sneaking peeks at the two of you.

Just for a split-second - barely enough to catch anything.

But enough for Gojo to curl the thick pads of his fingers around your throat, pulling in a roughened tug to have your back hugged even more flush against him. “Hey hey hey- look at me, pretty. Look at your husband.” Flexing his powerful back muscles in a drool-worthy way, bowing over in two to practically shove you into the cool surface of the table when he puffs up against your ear. “S-say that again?”

You’re pinned on top of the mahogany with his full body weight - and you can barely breath, barely even think before uttering out. “T-Toru?”

And that makes Gojo Satoru shiver.

Entire body wracking so violently, his nose buries into the tender column of your neck. Not just breathing you in - basking in you.

Muffling out, “Again.”

“Toru.”

“Again.”

“Toru–”

It makes the strongest snap his glassy, cerulean eyes almost-comically open in a flash - winking his droopy gaze through molasses once, twice at the platform right in front of him.

And Gojo’s barely even in control of his limbs when the mountains of his palms glide hurriedly underneath your thighs. In only a split-second, you’re carried in his arms in the easiest princess carry - but Gojo doesn’t stop there.

No, he doesn’t simply walk out of the room like you’d expected him to - he does the complete opposite.

Every widened eye in the room can only watch as the clan leader steps swiftly upon the now cleared-out table and onto the raised platform in only two treads. Splaying you out gently onto the firm tatami, you’re gazing up at a heaving Gojo.

Because despite the rich dinner tonight, Gojo was starving.

The soft yolky glow of the lanterns overhead illuminates that greedy glint in his eyes - the way that his lips glisten with the slightest trail of translucent drool at the very ends of his parted, rosy pink lips.

He’s never looked more ruined.

“Please.”

And it’s all but whimpered out into your mouth - pathetic and raw.

You’re gasping sharp heavals of air when his candied lips attack yours, and through that delicious thumping between your legs that you could feel in even your ears - you hear the gasps. With a sweet, sweet whine you’re blinking your eyes open enough, “Th-they’re watching.”

“Oh.” But Gojo’s more worried about losing contact with the heaven that was your lips, chasing after to press wet peck after French peck. “S’what? You wan’ me to kill them all?”

The room drops a few chilling degrees in temperature for everyone but the two of you.

He could - he would. If you hadn’t shaken your pretty head frantically, that is, not quite ready for a bloodbath on your wedding night. Yet, you needed him so bad.

“Then- m’only gonna show them who ya belong to- who I belong to.” Calloused, rounded tips of his fingers bearing down your yukata, Gojo’s slipping in one of his cold digits between your robe to snap! snickering at your low keen. “And you’ve made it so oh- easy f’me to.”

He was so greedy.

Stealing little spying looks down at the way your legs were splayed out, Gojo utters out a guttural, “Open- open up f’me, my wife. Show them how wet your husband’s made ya.”

And shit, you didn’t know whether it was that sake acting out on behalf of your limbs, or whether it was the way that you were so needy right now. But you could feel your thighs jittering open as soon as those humming syllables were out of Gojo’s mouth.

“S-so embarrassing-” you whine, one hand swiping away your thin layers to show him that glistening wet plump of your pussy. Drenched. Seeping through the useless fabric of your panties to wink up at him- and oh, that makes Gojo groan.

It makes him throw his head back with a hiss - for only a split-second, as if he couldn’t take it. Before drunkenly shifting back to your pretty cunt no matter what.

“Oh, shit.”

THUD!

The body of the one such rowdy clan heir that’d dared speak up right now hits the ground faster than your eyes hit their target.

Fuck, you didn’t even see Gojo pull out one of his famed daggers from beneath his sleeves - but the thought of what more might hide underneath made your thighs clench.

And Gojo notices - of course, he did. Why the fuck wouldn’t he?

“F-fuck. What a naughty pussy gettin’ drenched from just that.” he shrills - before bursting out in a bout of laughter. Laughter, humorless and feral. “Gonna be the death of me- f-fuck- you’re gonna-” For a second, you feel your skin burn in embarrassment, and your legs cross. Only for his eyes to glow a burning blue in disagreement, tutting out a low, “Tell me- hah- tell me what you want.” He’s burning up with every slow kiss down the edge of your mouth, thumbing open your glossy maw further to wrap his lips around your tongue and suck. “Anything- I’ll get ya anything.”

You’re pretty sure that everyone is gaping at the worshiped leader of the Gojo clan on his knees and begging.

But you didn’t care - not when his solid index was drawing a slow line down the middle of your sopping slit. Bucking your hip up into an arch off the platform that makes Gojo’s achy cock twitch, and the aphrodisiac rush back to him with full force. Mewling, “Wan’ y-you, Toru-”

Eyes twinkling, “Me what, honey? The madam’s gonna hafta use m-more hah- big girl words than that.”

You want him.

You need him now.

“So mean.” you’re huffing and puffing, yet Gojo only grins at the way he can feel your sloppily wet lips down there kiss him even wetter. Dribbling a soaking sheen down to his wrist, “Want you t-to touch me- p-”

You don’t get to say that magical word “please” because Gojo Satoru would never have you say it.

He’s plunging out his long digits to hold up to the attractively dim lighting - yet, they’re already dazzling with the slick coating from your pre-soaked cunt. And he’s looking at a few elders right in their downturned bows as Gojo sticks his long, tender tongue out and licks. “W-whatever the madam wants. Dontcha think, elder Tanaka?”

You were the madam, and you’d be treated as such.

And shit, what that old man’s response was - whether he even responded - Gojo doesn’t give a shit.

Because just one ounce of your sweet, sweet juices on Gojo’s tongue shoots his eyes rolling to the back of his head. Hips bucking up with a low moan, a few slurring swears falling from his lips when he feels his achy cock gush-

“Need you-” he’s gasping wetly, shuffling urgently down the expanse of the platform. Moves frantic - needy. Down, down, down until you feel his hot pants down at your cunt. “Need to- wanna- gimme a lil’ peck, m’kay?”

The syrupy ends of his sentence are slurped up down a long glide of the very edges of Gojo’s tastebuds down your swollen folds. Through your panties.

Barely even shifting them even an inch to the side when he lets your glissading juices down his tongue, drawing a sultry circle. He’s letting his eyes droop half-closed, murmuring a little growl at the very back of his throat. “Just one more-” Gojo’s voice cracks, two sets of nails pressing crescents down into your thighs with just how hard he pulls. Kisses. “-and me more-” And another. “J-jus’ one more- oh-” Another.

And you’re barely even realizing it before Gojo’s latching his pretty lips with yours, squelching wet noises ringing in your ears and throughout all four corners of the room.

“Th-tha’s” you manage to scoff, fingers threading into his cloudy locks and pulling. But not even that’s enough to get Gojo to part even a millimeter, in-fact he’s pushing himself even more nose-deep, rolling his tongue down your slit - like he’s trying to push through your panties. “-more than one.”

And fuck - he titters out a pussydrunk giggle down into the edges of your sloppy hole. Teasing tongue dipping just barely to circle around the very edge and then-

“Can you blame me?” Gojo smiles with his rubbed-raw lips. So fucked-out that you hear yourself gasp. Your slick was already drip! drip! dripping down his curved chin, smearing a wet gloss that sits all prettily on his features. “M’gettin’ practice to do this fer the rest of our lives.”

And everyone could see just how addicted the clan leader was.

Everyone.

Slack-jawed and moving like he was mindlessly drawn to your pretty cunt, you’re being faced with a wet drawl of his lips down your sodden folds. Pressing the pointed tip of his nose against your plump clit he’s breathing you in all filthily.

“Could get used ta th-this-” he spits. Once. And then literally, salivating down a wet glob right inside your snug cunt that makes you shiver. “-heh, fuck that- s’too heavenly to. I need-”

And then you’re flipped.

So fast - so sudden that you barely even register what’s happening before you’ve got Gojo Satoru smushed onto the tatami platform. Bleary eyes gazing up at you and fixating right onto your pretty face, your hips sat shamelessly on his face.

“Toru what-”

“T-take those- off f’me, honey- please-” He couldn’t even bear to specify right now. You looked so unfairly pretty on top of him like that, even prettier when your soft, luxury robes are hitting the floor. Well, everything except those panties-

“Toru, those are gonna rip-” you yelp when you feel the stinging clench of his teeth biting down the plush of your thighs. Resting onto the sopping wet fabric of your underwear, it smears down a wet glide at his cheek. “-they’re so expensive.”

RIP!

Gojo spits back the tatters of your flimsy excuse of panties beside him - and then another saturated wad of saliva up into your cunt. “Have ya forgot that you’re the ah- madam now?” He’s snickering, curved fingertips swatting a wet smack! onto your ass, cold wedding band branding. “-jus’ use my black card ta buy the whole fuckin’ store. Dip into the hah- council’s funds fer all I care.”

And for those shocked elders snapping their eyes up - they’re met with the most obscene sight of Gojo’s gleaming tongue spreading your puffy pussy lips wide and proudly open.

“Shit-” he’s bursting out in whiny keens. Spitting and sloshing the wet waves of every pearlescent slick that beads of you - and there’s so much of it. “Gonna get my face s-so soaked heh-” So much that Gojo was utterly ready to feed with his sliding tongue, swirling past your wet rim of muscle and fucking up into you languidly. “-didn’t even need a fuck- ch-chair, anyway.”

Your cunt sloshes all around his tongue, dragging up and down up and down up and- Thoroughly done teasing out your hole pliant, he’s dragging his lips up to suck around your peaked clit - before pinching it in a light bite.

“Oh!” you yelp. Searing a grip into his scalp, “S-so mean-”

“Mhm— m’your big, bad mean husband- fuck-” Such syrupy, desperate whines that Gojo really can’t help but babble - over and over. “-that sake…feels like m’burning- m’dying-” He can’t stop, won’t stop, roughly attaching a hand onto the globes of your ass to help you ride. “-n’ m’fuckin’ addicted- so won’t ya toy with this hah- p-pretty pussy a lil’ n’ get even wetter for me? Please?”

God, it’s so subconscious the way that your fingers toy over your clit - tight, pressurized circles just the way you like it.

“Like this?”

“Ohhh, yeah, wifey- let it all down m’tongue-” And Gojo’s in a hypnotic trance at how much more of your honeyed glosses of precum that soak and travel down his tongue. It works. Even more. More and more. Maddeningly.

Until he just can’t fucking take it-

“S-stop that f’me. None of that t-touchin’ anymore oh-” he gruffs out, throat dry. “Let me-” Fucking jealous of you that he’s pushing his fucking sanity to gritting through his teeth. Gojo meanly slaps away your hand before taking it over with his own. Absolutely no warning before feeding your drooling pussy with inch after inch of his fingers.

Two at a time.

Three.

Your gooey depths are clinging to him so tight, taking him like a fuckin’ champ when they’re curling at the very knuckles to press deeply. “Oh yeah- makes me w-wonder jus’ how nicely you’ll take my fuckin’ cock, too, hm?”

You’re barely able to even babble out a few incoherent moans before the very tips of his digits brush up against the bulging bullseye of your g-spot. Hard.

“There-” you gasp. You all but cry. “R-right there, Toru-”

Swat!

“I love you, honey- oh, I love you- but right now…” Gojo’s petering his voice away, too in a heady trance with the sight of that rapidly thumping pulse at your cunt to focus on stringing any sentences together right now. And he’s licking back into your snugly-filled entrance, squeezing past the jostlie of his thickened digits to doubly penetrate you. “...jus’ wanna hear this c-cute cunt speak.”

It’s like Gojo couldn’t decide where he wanted to be next - licking up every wet dredge of your juices smearing down his wrist, hollowing his cheeks out when he sucks on your neglected clit, or drawing out the prettiest moans when he joins back in to fuck your quivering hole ragged.

Every movement bruising - claiming.

They’re cold inside your toasty walls. Reaching mushy nooks and crannies inside you that you didn’t even know were possible, rolling his tongue into your tight channel to drape your gummy walls with a sheen of his spit. His six-inch fingers pressing harsh against your sweet spots, you could scream-

“Oh she’s real talkative- s-so cute-” But your swashing cunt was doing all the talking for you, wringing out drippingly wet slurps and squelches that Gojo nods along drunkenly to. Maybe it was the aphrodisiac, maybe it was the way he was squeezed oh-so-tightly between your thighs - a lightheaded way to go that Gojo definitely wouldn’t mind. Because he was agreeing. “Mhm- I agree- hah- oh, I agree with ya, cutie-” Thick, white lashes bat innocently up at you, “-my wife would look s-so pretty when she cums, hm?”

And he’s right.

Drunken.

Because when you do, the sight is so pretty that Gojo himself thinks that he could cum right there and right now in his boxers - the only thing holding him back being the stabbing need to cum inside you more than anything.

Your thighs are desperately attempting to close around his ravenous head, greedily slurping up every bit of your juices. Every bead, every splatter, every slow gush with your mess of an orgasm.

“D-didn’t even ngh- see it-” you whimper, wave after wave of white-hot pleasure flashing behind your eyes and making your spine arch in such a slutty way. “-didn’t even think I’d- oh-”

“S’quite alright-” he’s murmuring wetly. Head lolling all the way back to let you fuck your high on Gojo’s pretty face, convulsing cunt slobbering a translucent pathway all down the middle of his face. “Heheh- could never get mad- c-could never- oh fuck- use me.”

You’re gasping over distantly shocked mutters, “W-what?”

“Use me-” Gojo’s crying out, hips rutting up into the air like an animal. And he’s dangling helplessly onto the curve of your hips, jostling you desperately to fasten your vice-like grip on his hair. To ride him faster. To use him. “M’begging, my wife- fuck- let em’ see- let these fuckers see the way you u-use me.”

Voice breaking pathetically, eyes fighting not to scrunch shut, gasping and gulping for you to grind your dribbling pussy in smooth, sultry gyrations down rougher across his mouth.

And when you do, Gojo thinks he could faint.

He’s letting out a rasping ah! ah! ah! curdle at the very back of his throat with every jolt of your hips, with every push of your cunt down his mouth that has him gasping for air. Every drawn circle making his fat head swell even girthier. It’s everything he’s ever wanted.

It’s everything he could ever think about even when your high evolves into mere tingles, when the twitches of your legs slow down, and you find yourself lifting ever-so-slightly off of Gojo’s red, red flushed face.

He looks so wrecked underneath - happily, so.

Flashing a brilliant smile that was dripping with all the coatings of your sloshing wet slick towards that little audience that you’d even forgotten you had. “Heh, next time my madam wants a hah- s-seat, she’ll have one. One way or the other.”

“T-Toru–” you’re whining, clamoring off to seat yourself down on his painfully hard lap. “-think they got the ngh- point.”

But, oh, the very moment your glossed pussy lips were meeting the thick bump of Gojo’s angry head through his clothes, you feel the syrupy rush of the aphrodisiac boil through your veins once more. You couldn’t even imagine how Gojo felt right now without even cumming once.

Slotting over to resound a damp schwf! of skin on fabric. Barely giving you a moment to even recollect before you need him. You want to ruin him.

Purring lowly, “Toru…”

And the strongest gulps - Gojo Satoru gulps - a shiver thrumming down his hulking body and onto his gushing cock. It twitches up in a sodden little perk underneath you, and Gojo’s fingers attach themselves to your waist. “Y-yes, ma’am?”

“Really wanna taste you-” your lips drag across his and he keens with a slow suck on your bottom lip. “-wanna see if the r-rest of you is just as sweet?”

“Fuck!” You bounce up precariously when Gojo bucks up wildly, like he’d rip through his wedding robes and fuck you right now if he could. “Such filth from such a s-sweet mouth- ya really are gonna be the fuckin’ death of me.”

And to hear the most notorious clan leader admit shamelessly like this. To hastily untie his yukata and let it fall to the side, hear him break out in a sullen whimper when you kiss your way down his toned body, down, down, down his bulging pecs, his heaving abs, all the way to those soaked tufts of white at his pelvis-

“D-don’t tease-”

Gojo just gasps at the hit of cool air when you’re shuffling down his stickily wet boxers in a fluid, sudden pull. Head throwing back before meeting your own widened ones - he was so big.

You don’t think you’d ever get used to the sight, to the way that his swelling hot girth expands up a few sizes fatter at the hot puff of your feverish breath. Thumping veins prominent and blushing strawberry pink in flavor. Reddened and bulbous tip already slick with a gleam of precum, and one swipe with your thumb makes him gush out in a stringy gush of more and more-

“Shit-”

Gojo’s letting his pathetically drooling lips sag open, eyes widening when your deft digits circle around that creamy white ring down Gojo’s length - down his underwear.

He didn’t even realize.

Curling his fingers around his thick base to glide over your lips like he was painting it in a pretty white lipstain. Letting your open lips drool and make a syrupy mess with his excess ribbons of cum. “Fuck- look what you do to me-”

You’re gasping with the realization that Gojo Satoru had cum in his pants from just eating your pretty pussy out - and it makes you grin.

Pressing a sweet, sweet peck onto one remnant of his thick dredges of his slightly salty seed, it makes him rut at each of your kittenish peck after peck on his weepy head. Circular and hot. “Ya are sweet.”

And then you can’t speak anymore - because Gojo didn’t want you to speak anymore. Doesn’t think he could manage it without his hefty balls clenching dangerously once more - it was his first time, after all.

“Handle- ah, handle me delicately, m’kay? Never done this b-before-” Biting down on his swollen lower lip when he’s watching your mouth stretch. Bulging out through your cheeks with the solid inches he was feeding you - throbbing length disappearing into your plushy mouth.

Gojo’s so ridiculously big when the rotund ends of his cock kiss wetly against the very back of your throat. Branding a bittersweet bruise. You were sure that had it not been for just how needy you were with the sake, it would have been physically impossible to milk the entirety of his fucking soul out of him like the way you were right now.

“O-oh-” he gasps - he pants. Chest caving it at how swelteringly hot you were inside, hugging around his sensitive cock so hard that Gojo sees stars. “Is- is this what it feels like?”

You’ve never seen the great Gojo Satoru’s voice shiver just this way, you’ve never seen him so broken. Bouncing off the elders that see their precious leader this defiled.

Thighs juddering up and flexing in a way that makes you salivate to lock around your neck. He’s practically headlocking you - whimpering out tiny pleas as if you could answer. “Can’t believe you’ve been holding out- can’t ah- A lil’ deeper- please? Please I know you can-” Shifting his hips up in a slow gyration of back and forths until your tongue was flattening to slide over every vein down his underside. Twirling over particularly sensitive spots at the jagged crevices that make Gojo whine. “-aww, tha’s right. My good girl- my good fuckin’ wife.”

He’s never felt like this before.

And when you hollow out your cheeks and suck - oh, it has him hunching over rapidly. Shoving your nose up against that neat white happy trail, you’re breathing in his addictively masculine musk.

Moaning out a throaty, “Mmpf-”

“Shhh shh sh-” Gojo massages his finger down your neck, sneaking greedy feels for the outline of his thick cock down your throat. “Jus’ take it- fuck fuck fuck- don’ hafta do anything else, lemme take care of it, pretty.”

He didn’t even know what - he didn’t know how.

But fuck-

You swirl your tongue over and underneath the sensitive bump of his slit, lathering it in a slow glissade of your salivating tongue that makes him jump. And he feels like he’s already seeing cloud nine and the pearly gates itself by the time you steady yourself into sultry, sucking bobs.

Dancing a hand up to rub over his tight, cum-filled balls - and maybe it was the aphrodisiac, maybe it was just him - but it felt like he was about to burst already.

He was going to.

A slight hiss - not from you, not from him - manages to emanate its way into his melty mind, and Gojo’s finding it in himself to let his head throw back with a sudden laugh. Glassy eyes barely even focusing on the jaw-dropped figures around the table, “Y-your madam’s hgnh- taking me so well, isn’t she?” Head tilting drunkenly back at you, “Wontcha say she’s doin’ a damn good job-”

Only a few mutters - a few scoffs.

And Gojo’s finding his digits twirling tightly to latch onto your scalp, hissing through clenched teeth. “Say it.”

A unanimous, humiliating “yes” echoes from all sides of the platform.

And one from your wrecked husband right in front of you - “Yes- hahah-” he giggles. Brushing over the splattered mix of precum and cum that drips down the side of your thoroughly open mouth when you suck all his fat inches. Popping it into his mouth to taste. “-doin’ so well f’me I think- hngh- think I might-”

Of course, at this, you’re speeding up your greedy bounces. Fucking Gojo so heavenly with his mouth that he thinks he’s memorized every curve and twist of your tongue, every single tastebud-

“Naughty girl-” You’re being gifted with another smack! on your ass, and he’s having to haul you off of his reddened, angry cock with a tightened grip around your throat. With one, two slow pumps right in front of your face. And then up, up, up enough for him to hum into your mouth in an attacking French kiss. “-I like that.”

Gojo’s bulging biceps ripple when he seats you all prettily on his lap - just like earlier on tonight. Except, this time, you were facing him - and feeding your drooling cunt all angry inch by inch of his rock-hard cock.

“O-open up those hngh- pretty legs.” he murmurs in a heaving hot breath into your ear. Eyes blaring down at the way your squirmy legs were adjusting and readjusting around slender hips. “Open ‘em and t-take me-”

The way you do makes him gape, makes him gasp, makes him impatiently wrap two arms around the small of your back to fuck up past that tight little ring of resistence and into your walls depravedly.

Just hitting the very back of your spongy cervix with the upwards curved tip of his head before gushing out thick, wet splatters of cum. The gripping cling of your cunt too good, the way you were sucking him up still fresh.

And perhaps because of the aphrodisiac, but he was cumming so much.

Such voluminous loads of seed that dump out into your gooey insides, it sloshes all around him and makes such squelches that reaches his ears. Drooling through the very edges of your sopping wet slit-

“S-see what happens?” Gojo’s whimpering in a way that a clan leader decidedly was not known for. Being the strongest, too. Driving a thumb along your bulging slit, he’s taking the opportunity to smear your pussy lips even wider to swallow more of him. To plug his cum back in. To show off. “See how ah- see what you do to me? Let everyone see-”

And Gojo sounded so desperate, gasping out little utterances and praises into your mouth while he’s shoveling his swollen cock upwards into you. Taking the lewd advantages of years of combat to pummel every recoiling wall of yours with punishing, pressurized thrusts.

“Wh-what do I do to ya, Toru?” you hum curiously, half-delirious.

“Drive me fuck- insane, tha’s what-” he’s hissing, sparks behind his eyes. Swiping down to where he could feel the drilling nudge of his weepy cock, pressing down- hard. He’s mushing over the sensitive slit of his cock accidentally, “Oh- makes me wanna do this forever-” He’s nosing down the crook of your neck now, hiding away that innocent blush of his. “-to fuck you, make love to you, to breed you.”

You sputter out a sudden clench that has Gojo falling back down onto his elbows. Back hitting the tatami mats, your hands hitting his cushiony pecs. “Y-you wan’ to breed me? Hngh- you w-want an heir, Toru?”

An heir - an heir.

An heir, an heir, an heir. God, it’s thundering throughout his mind and syrupy slowly turning into just about all he can think about.

“M-me? Want an heir?” He’s shuddering out, massive palms splaying out on the two globes of your ass to stretch your taut pussy further down his cock. “What makes you think- oh- what-” Until your perky lips were kissing his heated pelvis, your pulsing clit scratching deliciously down his tufts of white. And at this very second, peering up at you through hooded eyes, gaze half-curtained with his hair, drunken - all that Gojo can imagine is how pretty you are. And how much prettier you’d be as a mama. “C-can I get you hngh- p-pregnant- please, ma’am?”

Mere seconds of his thrumming shaft stretching you open pass as he looks dazedly to the side, “After all- s’what th-this initiation is for, right?”

And then you feel like you’re being spearheaded all the way to your lungs with all of Gojo’s girth.

“Toru-” you whine, nails dragging little red lines down his broad neck and all over his shoulders. “-deeper. More please- it feels so-”

“More?” Gojo chuckles, hysterical. “You want m-more?”

He’s barely even answering his own question - let alone allowing you to answer.

Because Gojo’s taking this as the cue to restrain your two wrists behind your back with one of his own, forcing you to whine and shudder out little sobs when your thighs strain to meet his jackhammering cadence.

Ass stinging at the bruising slap! of his sharp hip bones, the way his heated cunt was swirling around your sweet spots so right. It felt like you were burning from the inside out-

“Ah ah-” Gojo tuts, snapping you out of your woozy reverie. Free hand coming to knock away one of your trembly palms snaking down to your neglected clit - when did you even start that? “Can’t ask me for m-more n’ do this. Move that hand so I can f-fuck you proper, honey-”

You barely even have the time to whine about it before he’s spitting a streaming waterfall of saliva onto his fingers, pinching at your clit.

“Heh, don’t think I f-forgot about ya-” You whine at the way he was drawing dizzying circles, the cool burn of his matching wedding band. “Th-they say ya needa have the hngh- mother cum, too, ta make kids.”

Plural.

“K-kids?” you muse.

“Mhm-” he’s nodding like he doesn’t even realize. “How about- six-”

Maybe from the shock, maybe from the way that he was filthily spearing against your g-spot so good, you collapse readily onto your elbows. Feeling every slick and slide of Gojo’s abs rubbing up against you.

Each singular thrash into your cervix has Gojo’s babbles running more nonsensical - more pussydrunk. “Thinkin’ wh-whatever ya want- hngh- to fill ya up- Have you all r-round and ha- glowing.” Like it pained for him to even say, like it hurt with every sloppily wet thwack! of his heavy balls on your ass. “Have you be m-my madam- the mother of my kids- hngh- all with your pretty eyes-” he’s sobbing now. Swirling around his rounded tip till it hits sweets spots you didn’t even know you had. “-n’ my hair and hah- your personality- c-can’t imagine fighting over them for ya- wh-what do you think, cutie?”

But as soon as you’re cracking your mouth open to fervently agree - at least, as much as your hazy mind could at this point, Gojo’s raising his right hand to palm over it.

With a drunken smirk, “M’askin’ her, my wife- dontcha w-worry-” Nuzzling your cheek, “-haven’t forgotten about the mother of my kids.”

And the saccharine-sweet sloshing is enough to ring throughout Gojo’s ears like his favorite melody - and he’s memorized every note. Pumping out more and more spurts of hot precum to stain your insides and dribble uproariously. Sleazing a grin your way, “Almost there- almost- but first-”

Every single elder he’s glaring upon jumps when Gojo graces them with one of his looks - even as barely-lucid and fucked-out as he was. He leers, “How about it? Heh, wanted a-an heir so bad n’ now you’re gonna get it. Happy now?”

As expected, no answer.

But Gojo didn’t need one anyway - not when your ringing slurps as you swallow up his cock thunder across his ears. “O-oh, she’s tellin’ me something-”

“Wh-what is she sayin’, Toru-” you whine, lips wobbling uncontrollably in much the same way that your pussy folds were right now.

“She’s sayin—” Gojo’s voice takes on a whimpering lilt, and he has absolutely no idea how you haven’t noticed that determined clenching of your gummy walls, the breathless pants of yours. So he only smiles, teeth sinking playfully into your ear lobe, “-that my gorgeous wife’s about to cum.”

Stars flurrying behind your lids, your toes curl and hips slam with enough force to rock the platform rickety.

But if you didn’t notice your high - then Gojo certainly didn’t notice his, either.

Too caught-up, too busy rutting up in solid strides into your dripping cunt to notice that he was splattering your squeezing walls to be sopping wet with oozes of cum. There are so many gushes of it that Gojo feels dizzy, he feels like he’s about to break.

“Wait- wait wait m’cumming again-” he gasps. Pinching your clit with two fingers to feel the way that jittery convulsion has Gojo’s potent seed coating his cock a glistening white. Something marshmallow creamy that makes him swallow. “D-didn’t even know I could hngh- c-cum again-”

Didn’t know if he even wanted to but- but of course, he did.

He’s hissing at the dredges of wispy white that drip from between your slit, the very sight itself tipping Gojo over to sprinkle out a few more velvety ribbons that knock at your womb.

“Heheh- think this t-took?” Those mere words feel so sinful on his tongue, and Gojo’s ears flush a ruby red. But he can’t find himself stopping when he plugs out of your snug cunt, whimpering at the sensitive cling of your cunt as if she didn’t want to part ways. “Whoops-”

You whine at the warmly wet gush of your still-convulsing cunt, “Don’t think it t-took if you’re pulling out-”

SLAM!

You don’t know who’s actually gasping - the elders, Gojo, or you. Still reeling from the way you’re immediately flipped over onto all fours, cheeks smushed against the tatami mat so hard that Gojo wonders whether it’ll leave a mark for tomorrow.

Assuming the two of you get out of this alive, that is.

“Let them see-” he’s hissing, cupping your pussy to leave a few wet smacks that smear your abundance of his cum down onto the platform. So much of it. “-let them see how th-their heir is made since they wanna hah- see so badly.”

And god, the sight was supposed to taunt those in the fucking audience - but it has Gojo’s slick-sheening cock twitching up in interest once more. Barely even knowing what he’s doing before spreading open your pussy lips with one swipe of his bawling tip, and then inside-

“You d-didn’t think we were done, ngh, did you, my wife?”

As if you could ever be done with him.

Pound after pound.

Gojo was so painfully hard right now he felt like he was going to explode - and he wanted- no, needed to be deeper than he ever has inside of you.

Which is what found him placing an unapologetic foot on top of your head, the slight jostle in angle making him swoon in a probing push against the very ends of your cervix. And every shaky thrust too hard made you feel like he was going to fuck an heir right into your awaiting womb.

“M’sorry-” he gasps, tearily. Wet splatters of the salty substance hitting the side of your shoulder as Gojo bends - and folds and folds you pliantly right along with him. “Don’t mean to- hngh- didn’t- fuck but I need it so badly- s-so deeply- don’t think I’ve bred this cute cunt ‘nough.”

Pushing you down with his utterly full bodyweight, you’re pinned to the platform. For every eye to see the snapping, creamy strings that connect his glossy cock to your overfilled cunt. It sprinkles across your ass and down your legs, and he’s eyeing down at the glossy pool of mess sticking between your two sweat-sheened bodies from before.

So badly.

It’s so much - too much.

Placing kiss after gliding kiss of his syrupy precum down the very bottom of your pussy, whining at the slight recoil that has him pushing back from the elastic depths of your cunt. Such a splitting stretch that bullies you wordless.

And it could’ve been hours - it could’ve been minutes until all that you can manage is a tiny huff that leaves your pouty lips with every wet squelch, and only makes his fat cock bludgeon even harder. He’s fucking you thoroughly, almost as if he hates you.

Yet, sounding so badly apologetic that you can’t help but crack a smile - at least, as much as you could when your sweet insides were being ravaged by him. “S’all f-for an heir, isn’t it, Toru–?”

God- and then he’s cumming.

Embarrassingly, almost-painfully - but still so needily.

It’s splattering and overfilling you so much that you feel your elastic walls pull taut at the sheer inflation, making you strangle out a sudden moan. Splat! splat! splattering a thin sheen down your inner thighs, the wet pumps have him fucking it even harsher to coat your spongy womb with his cum, knocking- begging for any sort of entrance.

Messy. So fucking messy that you feel your skin burn.

He can’t help it - oh, he can’t control himself when he’s pulling out for just a split-second to shuffle downwards and press his face right into your sopping folds. Latching his spit-slicked lips around your sensitive nub of a clit. Humming, sucking-

And through it all - you can just barely make out Gojo’s voice. Raw, broken. “D-don’t think it took…don’t think my h-heir took.”

“...”

It slowly evolves into Gojo’s own personal little manga - the very same that he gasps out over and over into your open mouth on the third round. Just a few more tears, a few more of his sloppy strokes in a prone bone that his aching body can barely even hold up.

Now well past the aphrodisiacs, and the allotted time for your initiation. But your audience was still seated, and the fatigue setting into both of you as you both cum with strangled cries - and Gojo’s stream of sweltering hot seed now noticeably wispier than usual.

But still - still it wasn’t enough.

And by the fourth round, you’re wondering how the hell it was that neither of you had broken any bones, yet. Especially considering the sloppy full nelson that your greedy husband had somehow managed to wrangle you into.

Slipping and sliding across one another in a way that had Gojo crying out in frustration, drool dripping down the side of his lips - all he really wanted to do was stuff his angry cock into you again.

The fifth and sixth rounds start before the previous one had even ended, you think. And you’re riding on a constant wave of high while Gojo’s weepy cock sobs out a few more spurts of seed all throughout.

Teeth clacking against your own in a mess of a kiss, voice dragging in tiny breaks at the very end of his throat. Gojo doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the rounded divot at the end of his overstimulated cock shivers out nothing.

And Gojo knows he should be cumming - he feels like he should be cumming.

But all his poor, half-softening cock can do is let out a gush of nothingness. Big, fat tears glistening down Gojo’s cheeks when he cums dry in the meanest mating press possible for both your tired bodies. Yet, still fucking you like he was with his cum again and again-

“You all-” Everyone jumps at the sudden, hoarse voice coming from the leader, having resigned himself to mere whimpers of your name and “heirs” by now. And the elders can’t even hold his droopy, barely-there gaze. Dangerous. “Bow. Bow to your new madam.”

A/N. Hope you all have a lovelyyy day.

Plagiarism not authorized.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #tonywrites

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truerhearts · 16 days ago

Text

ASTARION is acting different.

he's quieter around camp now. less of those sharp-tongued quips that usually flow so easily. he catches himself staring at her when she's not looking, then quickly glances away like he's been caught doing something wrong.

his feeding has become reverent instead of ravenous. he hesitates now, asks if she’s sure, presses a soft kiss to the pulse before he bites.

he seeks her approval in ways that have nothing to do with seduction. when he makes decisions, his eyes find hers first. her good opinion has become as essential as blood.

and now during fights, he’s reckless with his own safety now, throwing himself between her and harm without thinking. “i can handle myself, you know,” she’d say, crossing her arms.

“i know darling…” he trails off, staring at his hands. he doesn't understand why he did it either. the thought of that blade finding her skin had sent him into a panic he couldn't name.

she doesn't know why, of course. he barely knows himself. but he has a hunch, and it terrifies him.

he doesn't know when it started—somewhere between her asking "did you rest well?" and the way she bandages his wounds tenderly—but now when she looks at him, really looks at him, his dead heart does this stupid fluttering thing.

when she brushes against him, her warmth doesn't just touch his skin. it goes deeper. settles in places he'd forgotten existed, places that ache with want that has nothing to do with feeding or fucking or getting what he needs to survive.

maybe it's because she cares. actually cares, not the fake concern people use when they want something. she shows it in the small things: "you seem tired today." "i saved you some of the good wine." "the stars are beautiful tonight, aren't they?"

to someone who hasn't experienced genuine affection in two hundred years, these little moments feel like everything.

the nights when her tent flap opens for him now, everything is different. he moves differently. less performance, less of that practiced charm he's perfected over decades. he's gentler with her, almost hesitant. his hands linger on her face before he kisses her, and she looks at him like he's something precious instead of dangerous.

he takes his time now. when he peels away her clothes, he does it slow, reverent. each kiss tastes like honey and guilt because he knows—fuck, he knows—that he started this as a lie.

the pleasure is overwhelming now. more intense than anything he's felt in centuries because it's real. when she arches beneath him, when she whispers his name like a prayer, it threatens to break him completely. he's louder now, lets himself feel everything instead of just doing what was necessary to play the part.

but with every touch, every breath, the guilt eats at him. this isn't the calculated seduction he'd planned. this isn't using her for protection. this is something else entirely, something that feels too much like love and too much like betrayal.

she trusts him. opens herself to him completely, and he built this on a lie.

after, when they're tangled together, he holds her tighter than he should. she fits against him perfectly, her head on his chest where his heart should be beating if he were still alive. if he were still worthy of this.

"what's wrong?" she asks, voice soft. her fingers trace patterns on his skin, and there's concern in her voice. she’s noticing.

"nothing," he lies. his fingers find her hair, thread through it like the motion might calm the storm in his chest.

"you're different tonight. quieter."

different. if she only knew. if she only knew the man she's falling for was built on deception. that every tender moment between them started as manipulation.

"i'm just thinking," he says.

she doesn't push, she never does. just settles deeper against him, breathing slowing as sleep pulls her under.

he stays awake long after she's asleep, studying her face in the candlelight. the way her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks. her lips, slightly parted. the complete vulnerability written in every line of her body.

she trusts him enough to sleep in his arms, and the weight of it is crushing. how naïve. she doesn't know he'd originally planned to use her. doesn't know every sweet word in those early days had been calculated, how it was all for his benefit.

but somewhere along the way, the performance became real.

two centuries of survival instincts stand off with something newer, invasive almost. something that makes his chest ache. something that whispers maybe he could be worthy of the love he sees in her eyes.

the realization hits him like dawn breaking as he lay with her, now noticing he stayed all night. feeling the rhythm of her breathing as she slept in his arms, how warm she was against his cool skin. how she trusts him.

he loves her.

the thought should terrify him. instead, it settles into his bones like coming home. he loves her. not just her body, not just what she can do for him, but her. her kindness. her strength that never comes at the cost of gentleness. her trust that she gives freely, even to broken things like him.

he loves her, and he's completely fucked.

#bg3 x reader #astarion x reader #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #astarion #astarion angst #astarion fanfic #astarion ancunin

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heesdreamer · 22 days ago

Text

BETTER THAN I KNOW MYSELF

PAIRING ➩ jungkook x reader

WC ➩ 13k

SUMMARY ➩ grappling with what it means to be helplessly inlove with your best friend

AUTHORS NOTE ➩ Been an army since 2014 and been writing jungkook for about that long too and this is my first time actually posting for him somehow. Hope you enjoy!

Most of your friendships didn’t feel like such a frail connection, they didn’t quite make you tiptoe around certain phrases and bite your tongue when you felt like you were saying too much of something consequential.

Albeit, most of your friendships were not with Jeon Jungkook.

That happened to be singular and one of a kind in a way that left you tossing and turning throughout the night and fixing your hair for a few extra heavy seconds before you left to meet up for a casual coffee.

You struggled with explaining how your friendship started to most people because you could almost feel the cliche surrounding your words and you felt their annoyed eyerolls they were keeping locked behind their polite nods and smiles. It naturally felt like you were bragging even when you weren’t.

It was ideal to have met your closest friend so early on, never missing a single birthday party and forming your personalities side by side in a way that led to you being in perfect sync despite being such opposites in most ways.

You had friends you had met a decade ago that would still get jealous of the length and depth of your friendship with Jungkook and you always met their groans and sighs with a soft shrug and a helpless smile, genuinely helpless.

They didn’t quite understand the hidden burden that came with having a connection so deep with somebody who was borderline perfect, the expectation and rituals that used to excite you now bringing you a heavy exhaustion.

Jungkook thrived off of being a social battery and he always had a dozen different clubs, activities, and performances for you attend through school and they only seemed to grow as he did. Now you were his partner for important dinners and weddings of mutual friends that hadn’t talked to you in years but not Jungkook, never Jungkook, because no one could ever forget about him.

You had grown truly accustomed to being his side kick and blending into the background unnoticed otherwise but occasionally it got to you and tonight happened to be one of those nights.

Taehyung was celebrating his 27th birthday and this was a social event that you actually had not been dreading, considering how close you were personally to him. He was not just Jungkook’s friend that tolerated your presence and you actually felt emotional watching him blow out his candles and squeeze his eyes shut during an exaggerated wish.

“What did you wish for Tae?” Your voice was quiet when you found him half an hour after the cake had been cut and the drinks had been served, waiting for everyone to be tipsy and distracted before you made your own individual birthday greeting.

“I’m not 17 anymore Y/N and you can’t trick me into saying it this time. We all know it doesn’t come true if you do.” He had a tendency to lightly banter in a way you were envious of, always knowing what to say in rebuttal to teasing and jokes while you would freeze up and stutter through an awkward reply.

You had slid into the booth he was in the back corner of the diner you all frequented, otherwise empty except for a trio of older women at the counter who didn’t at all look like they minded the way your group was scattered about and having various loud conversations.

“If you can’t tell me your wish can you atleast tell me why you are hiding over here at your own birthday party?” You raised an eyebrow and leaned onto your hand so you could watch him closely, less serious than your face might have showcased you as. “Some would say it is the event of the year.”

He laughed a little at your dramatic wording and serious tone before shaking his head and sipping his drink. “Those people would probably be geniuses.” You had expected him to banter with you over getting at all genuine but you still watched him silently in hopes he would say more. “Just grappling with the number on the cake a little.”

You understood what he was getting at as soon as he said and you nodded while you sighed and leaned back in the booth seat.

He was older than you by two years but turning 25 a few months ago had felt like somebody put a heavy ball and chain around your neck and threw it overboard the deck of a rickety boat, leaving you to fight the weight of it or fall over the side too.

Taehyung was a lively soul and while he had matured greatly in the last five years, he definitely still had a boyish energy to him that you always admired. He seemed almost embarrassed about it now and it made your stomach turn a little.

“Sometimes I still wake up in a sweat thinking I forgot to study for an exam.” Your tone had gotten lighter to try and make him feel better while also letting him know you understood where he was coming from.

He glanced at you from the side of his eye and smiled the same smile he’d given you since you were teenagers, your heart warmed when he leaned his body over to bump his shoulder against yours and you knew the conversation was over before it ever really began.

His eyes left you in favor of scanning over your other friends from different walks of life all mingling and yours stayed on the same person your gaze was always on in a crowded room.

“There’s one thing that hasn’t changed.” His tone was teasing and you rolled your eyes although keeping them on Jungkook.

Taehyung was one of the only people that seemed to realize the way you felt about your best friend and suddenly you were glad he wasn’t the type to get serious with people, not knowing what you would do if that information got to the wrong person.

You weren’t exactly pining and losing your mind trying to wrestle with your feelings towards somebody who strictly saw you in a platonic way but it also was not simple. You had already spent years grieving any chance of a relationship with Jungkook and you were barely an adult when you accepted nothing would ever happen.

Now you were just stuck with a lifetime of affection stuffed into a locked part of your heart that rattled violently everytime he smiled at you or looked in your direction.

It was a good thing you were the more emotionally reserved one of the two of you because he rarely questioned the times you were short and cold with him in an attempt to save atleast a fraction of your broken heart.

Jungkook was, in your biased eyes, perfect.

And you didn’t mean that in an unrealistic way that celebrated the fact he could do no wrong and he was the most pure soul to ever exist because that certainly wasn’t the case but he was perfect to you. With all of his flaws and messy edges, you still couldn’t find a single thing about him you disliked.

You saw beauty in his loud awkward laugh and his short temper and you had fallen inlove with the fact he was always a few minutes late to things and never seemed to have a matching pair of socks on.

It was almost more annoying because you were otherwise a pretty overly cynical person, quick to evaluate and judge in the most matter of fact way.

He must have felt two sets of eyes on him because suddenly he was looking in your direction and you felt that damned box start to rattle again. His already doe like gaze was widening even more and he broke into a boyish smile that almost made you outwardly sigh, charismatically excusing himself from the conversation he was having in favor of making his way over to you.

Taehyung silently slid out of the booth in a way that could only be meddling and you sent his back a glare.

“Where’s he going?” Jungkook’s tone was soft when he finally reached you and he flopped down beside you, close enough that your sides were pressed together and you could smell the

faint scent of alcohol rolling off of him.

“He needed a smoke.” You had considered lying and saying he had diahrea just to get back at him for ditching you but you remembered your conversation about aging and decided against it.

Jungkook hummed in agreement like he figured it made sense and you hated how much more relaxed you felt now that you had him next to you. It wasn’t necessarily stemming from the fact you were harboring feelings for the boy but moreso because he just felt like your other half, you better half according to you and most likely other people.

“Are you having a good time?” He was turning his head to be able to watch your face as you answered, a habit of his that he picked up around middle school when he realized you didn’t care much for social events. “We can head back whenever you want, I’ll walk you home.”

“I’ll finish my drink and then we can say our goodbyes.” You took a hefty sip after answering, ignoring his first question in a way that let him know your mood anyways.

He didn’t say anything for a few long seconds that caused you to raise an eyebrow and sit up a bit so you could turn to look at him without your faces being overly close, your face scrunching in confusion when you saw the ridiculous fond smile he was sporting now as he started to laugh at your casual response.

“What?” You glared at him playfully as he get chuckling and you put your drink down in favor or pushing against his chest. “What did I say wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing.” He was raising his hands in mock surrender but laughing even harder, only stopping to catch his breath when an uncharacteristic pout formed on your face. You internally blamed the alcohol for causing it and he kissed his teeth in apology, cupping your cheek. “Just the way you said it was funny, I’ve never seen you so eager to ditch a party.”

You were back to rolling your eyes at him and pulling his hand away from your face but keeping your grip on his wrist for a few seconds even when it was back down in his lap. He kept the goofy smile on his face although more subtle now and you watched him for a few seconds that made you squirm awkwardly in your seat.

“Say bye for me?” You cleared your throat and moved to stand up as he nodded, knowing the drill.

It was alot easier for him to go and individually say the goodbyes, tagging your name onto the end as you slipped out of the door and went to wait for him.

You were pleased to find Taehyung had actually gone outside to smoke and you smiled at him, pulling him into a hug that was reserved for your closest friends and laughing into his shoulder when he started to sway your bodies back and forth.

“I’m glad you came, thanks for indulging me.” He kept you tightly in his grip as he spoke and you recognized a vulnerability in his voice that you didn’t hear often.

Clearly this birthday was casting a certain type of melancholy over your friend and you squeezed him harder, rubbing up and down his shoulder blades in an almost maternal way.

“I will always attend your overly social birthday parties Tae.” You hoped you sounded as sincere as you felt despite your joking tone and luckily it seemed to work judging by the way he lightly lifted you up for a second before putting you back down and pulling out of the hug.

“Interrupting?” Jungkook’s voice was behind you and you turned to watch him approach with a raised eyebrow and a friendly smile as he pulled Taehyung into a similar embrace, wishing him happy birthday under his breath and patting his back roughly.

“Always, I was just about to propose.” Taehyung was easily playing into his joke as he winked at you over Jungkook’s shoulder and you rolled your eyes even though you had a bright smile on your face, feeling suddenly struck by both fondness and the vodka you had in your cup.

Jungkook weirdly didn’t reply to his flity comment and you almost found that funnier, watching the way he slightly stumbled away from the hug and realizing he might be a bit more buzzed than you had initially taken him for.

The two of you paid him one more sincere goodbye before you were turning away from the diner and starting your walk back to your apartment, only a handful of blocks away. You actually wished it was further, enjoying nothing more than a late night walk with Jungkook through the quiet city.

He seemed to be in his own head and you snuck your arm between his and his chest, forcing him to link elbows with you as you walked together. It wasn’t unusual for you to be connected physically in some way or another especially late at night and a few drinks but you felt the box rattle again and almost regretted it.

You both stayed quiet for most of the walk but you didn’t mind the silence, your social battery drained even though you didn’t exactly count him as something that did that to you. He was the only person you could spend weeks straight with and not feel like you were crawling out of your skin, an exception in more ways than one.

“Do you think Taehyung has a crush on you?” His voice cutting through the night air felt sharp and disoriented and you almost stopped walking from the shock of his sudden question, pace faltering slightly as you looked up at the side of his face.

He kept his gaze locked on the sidewalk infront of you and you weren’t sure if it was because he felt awkward or because he was drunk and had to apply extra effort into not tripping. Awkwardness was not a thing he typically seemed to experience so you hoped it was the latter and you were just applying your habit of overanaylzying useless tidbits of information.

“Is that a joke?” You know it wasn’t but you certainly felt like it could be one considering how ridiculous it was. “Did he say something like that?”

“No, well atleast not to me.” He emphasized the final word like it was more important and your head tilted in confusion. “Just thinking about the little comments he makes sometimes.”

You didn’t disagree that Taehyung could come across as flirty but that was just his persona and how he was with most people, closeness and gender be damned. You were used to it and you knew Jungkook was too so you weren’t sure where this thought process was stemming from.

“That’s just Taehyung.” You shrugged your shoulders and felt his arm tense where it was intertwined with yours, like he had thought for a second you were pulling away and wanted to stop you.

Jungkook didn’t respond and the silence now made you uncomfortable instead of the peaceful air it had held a few minutes ago. You didn’t know if it was possible for him to be mad at you, something you really hadn’t experienced much, but you wondered if this was what it looked like on his end of things.

“I mean maybe.. would that be so ridiculous?” You posed the question with a sincere want to know but a childish and selfish nudge was wondering if there was any part of him that would care. “Someone like him having a crush on me?”

“Someone like him?” He seemed almost offended at the way you had phrased it and you rolled your eyes at his tone, overbearing and protective like he had been in highschool whenever you got asked out by a boy.

“I just meant that he’s so extroverted.” You shrug again as you start to feel more awkward, never really discussing this topic with him.

The two of you had very little boundaries when it came to what you talked about between each other but you had never really gone out with somebody long enough to bring them up to him and you made a point of shutting down talks of the girls he hooked up with.

You played it off like you were disgusted at the idea of hearing about his girls to try and hide the fact your entire body felt like it was going to shrivel up and die whenever he brought somebody to a party or introduced you to one of his girlfriends that never lasted more than a month or two.

Jungkook was actually weirdly romantic for a guy who had only cared about sports and liquor growing up but for some reason he never could keep anybody around for long, although never seeming too upset when it eventually fizzled out.

Thankfully you were finally arriving to your apartment building and you watched as Jungkook typed in the code, leading you inside and silently informing you he planned to stay with you tonight. It was more often than not that he ended up at your place or vice versa so you didn’t need direct confirmation to understand his line of thought.

“Sure he’s well liked but so are you.” He broke the silence again and you outwardly groaned at the resurrection of the tired topic.

“I am hardly anything especially not well liked.” You rolled your eyes and you know he could see it even if you weren’t looking at him, stepping into the elevator and holding the door open with your foot so he could step inside.

You’d untangled your arms in favor of pressing the buttons required to get to your floor but Jungkook didn’t seem to notice, standing close enough that your shoulder was against his bicep and you could feel every inhale he took.

“I hate when you say things like that.” He was mumbling under his breath but you heard it clear enough, stomach clenching as the rattling returned again.

You didn’t respond to him, mostly because you didn’t know what else to say about such a ridiculous topic and you felt a wave of relief when the elevator came to a shaky stop before releasing you into the familiar hallway.

He stood there silently, leaning against the wall on his side and watching you closely as you fumbled through your purse for your keys. You didn’t need to look at him to know he had that soft smile on his face and a fond look in his eyes, taking a breath when you finally felt the metal on your fingertips.

It was a instant comfort to enter your apartment even though you had only left a few hours ago and you suddenly felt glad that he had come up with you, chest tightening preemptively at the reminder he would have to leave at some point.

Jungkook and you had lived together right after highschool, moving out of your small town half an hour away together and feeling the rush of the big city you had only taken daytrips to. He had sworn since he was thirteen and wearing thick eyeliner that he was meant for bigger things in bigger places and you had decided that following him around was better than staying behind alone.

Although you doubted he would have let you stay back in your home town anyways, a slight relief considering how ridiculous you felt when you occasionally remembered you had only moved for him.

You’d felt all the emotions when you moved, the sadness of leaving behind a simple life that you had finally started to appreciate and the excitement of getting to start over somewhere with so much life and possibility.

There was finally a chance for you to be your own person, to fit into the mold in your own special way.

Then Jungkook had thrown a housewarming party and you listened to everybody all night congratulate him on his new place.

There was almost a chorus of praises on ‘his furniture choices’, ‘his choice of neighborhood’, even the gasp from an old highschool friend that struck a particular nerve ‘Oh Jungkook what a beautiful place you have’.

You stood there in your living room, full of things you had brought from home and things you had spent hours thirfting while Jungkook trailed behind you looking bored, and watched yourself be erased from your new life before you even got a chance to appear in it.

Two years ago you had decided to move into your own separate places and your own internal battle was not on the list of reasons why, infact it was the hardest decision you had ever made. There was nothing easy about it for both of you but you found yourself becoming roomates instead of best friends and suddenly it was a chore to hang out and you stopped seeking eachother out for comfort, the constant presence almost exhausting.

The final straw came in the form of your office relocating a few blocks over and the few blocks made all the difference.

You had both spent the night with tears in your eyes, passing a bottle back and forth and cuddling on the couch as you recounted the best and worst times of your time in the shared space.

Jungkook had decided to renew his lease there individually and he stood there with a conflicted expression as you packed up the stuff you deemed yours. You had wondered if he even realized how much you left behind so he didn’t feel like the space was suddenly empty but you knew that he had because Jungkook always noticed everything you did for him.

It had ended up being exactly what your friendship needed and you had grown closer together in the last two years than your entire lifetime of a friendship but sometimes you missed the unity that came with living together.

He had multiple drawers of clothes in your apartment and you still came over a handful of times a week to cook meals in his but there was a difference.

Like the way he was slightly lingering in your bedroom doorway like he wasn’t sure he was supposed to come in just yet.

You gave him a look and a raised eyebrow as you sat on the edge of your bed and began to unlace your boots, the green light he needed to come in and flop down on your blankets like he owned them.

He was unusually silent as you stood up to go into your closest and change into something comfortable, bringing a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie to toss at him as you emerged. He was propped up on your pillows and eyeing you with a thoughtful look that made you sigh and cross your arms where you stood at the end of the bedframe.

“Just spit it out already.” Your tone was sharp because you could tell whatever he wanted to say wasn’t going to be something you liked hearing but he smiled gently at the sound of it, not capable of being intimidated by your attitude.

“I don’t think you should date Taehyung.” He said it in a rush like he knew you’d shut him down and you groaned loudly, grabbing a throw pillow and chucking it in his direction. “Just hear me out okay! I think it would be weird for the friend group.”

“That’s ridiculous. Not that either of us are even considering dating but if we were, he’s my bestfiriend, how weird could that be?” You circled around to join him on the mattress and you almost frowned when you saw the look on his handsome face.

His eyebrows were furrowed in childish upset and his bottom lip was pouting subtly, just enough for your gaze to circle down to it.

“I’m your best friend.” He raised a hand like he was appalled at your wording and you spit out a laugh at the ridiculous of that interjection.

“You know what I mean Jungkook. You have like a hundred best friends.” You leaned onto your side, propping your head up on your palm and yawning softly as you watched his expression morph again.

He was shaking his head and whatever styling gel he had in his hair for the party was long gone by now, leaving it fluffy and falling into his face whenever he moved. He was dramatically laying down in the same position as you so he could look intensely into your eye, his slightly wide while yours were crinkled in a silent laugh.

“I have a hundred people who think I’m their best friend, you are my only actual best friend.” He sounded extremely serious about a very childish topic and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing in his face.

Jungkook was always baffled at the fact you did not realized just how cool you came across to people, even your closest friend groups.

He had made a very strong attempt at the mysterious and edgy guy thing in high school, only wearing dark clothes and spending an hour every morning on a single dash of eyeliner but he could not keep his mouth quiet to save his life and absolutely nobody who met him for more than a handful of seconds would consider him any type of mystery.

You had a naturally closed off demeanor but a strong sense of style and energy that he had never seen somebody even purposefully replicate, which made it even cooler than it just came naturally to you.

Most people at parties would ask him about you in an attempt to get closer but he knew better than to spill your business to anybody who asked and he also felt a little lucky that he got to know you so intimately.

The phrase ‘a guy like him’ had bugged him since you said it and now he figured you must have totally lost it to be calling Taehyung your best friend. Sure the guy had been around since high school and he definitely was alot closer to you than any average joe but he was still just Taehyung.

“You can be such a sap sometimes.” You couldn’t help the smile on your face and he matched it, pleased he had gotten such a reaction out of you especially since he could tell you were not enjoying his topic of conversation.

“Only for you.” He shot you a cheesy wink and you rolled your eyes in hopes he would be too busy laughing to be able to hear the box rattling obnoxiously in your chest.

You were glad he didn’t say anything else about it after that and you quickly pushed any thought of Taehyung and a potential crush to the very back of your mind. You didn’t have time to think about any of that, not when you could barely stand to see the sight of your best friend and that annoyingly perfect twinkle in his eye.

You were rolling onto your back with an exaggerated groan that let him know you were too tired to keep up with the small talk, grateful that he had stayed for the company but not quite for the sake of entertainment.

Jungkook could read you like a book and he sat up so he could pull the lamp string and turn it off, throwing the covers over both of you and settling back against the pillows that, more often than not, smelled like his shampoo.

You could see the irony in the fact that you were hopelessly internally pining over the same man who slept in your bed like it was his own and treated you like you were his number one priority constantly but that was just Jungkook. You considered yourself lucky that you were the main source of his affection but he would treat a stranger like they were family and you knew he didn’t think twice about pulling you against his chest and throwing his arm over you.

You let him get comfortable as you urged yourself to sleep, ignoring the persistent rattling.

-----

The sight of Jeon Jungkook in the morning was truly a dangerous thing for a heart as fragile as yours so you kept your eyes sharply on the mirror once you noticed him start to rustle around behind you in the reflection.

You had been awake for hours and already cleaned up the kitchen, showered and gotten ready by the time he began to stir. Your gaze was naturally drifting to the right as you saw his bed head perk up from the mess of blankets, eyes squinting like he was trying to remember where he was.

“Why are you up so early?” His devastating morning voice was making your lips turn up just enough for you to feel foolish, shaking it off so you could continue with your mascara.

“It’s almost noon.” Your reply was flat and detached in a way that told him you were focused, interrupted by a groan from behind you as he stretched his arms above his head and tried to wake himself up more. “There’s pain killers on your table.”

You stopped your precise movements so you could watch his expression morph with interest, leaning over to his assigned bedside table and quickly tossing the three small pills in his mouth to fight any possible sign of a hangover.

He had the same habit of taking off his shirt in the middle of the night since you were teens and it had bugged you as much then as it did now. You almost smacked against your heart to shut the rattling up but instead you took a deep breath and averted your gaze as he stood from the bed, finishing up your eye makeup and moving to put your hair up.

The magnet that seemed to always draw him to you was making it so he was slowly moving in your direction, stopping behind you and watching you in the mirror and you fiddled with a few stubborn pieces of hair.

“I like when you wear it like that.” His voice was gentle and nostalgic and you once again found yourself meeting his eyes in the reflection, bobby pin between your teeth as you affectionately furrowed your eyebrows.

You almost told him that you knew that and that’s why you did it so you were thankful for the object keeping your mouth occupied at the moment and stopping you from admitting such a silly thing.

“Where are you going?” He sounded half curious and half worried that he had potentially forgotten plans you had made together. He waited patiently as you tucked away a piece and took the pin out of your mouth, silently passing it to him as he gently took it and nudged it into the back of your updo.

“Some work thing with Taehyung.” You hoped he had mostly forgotten about the conversation from last night even though you knew he was not the type to forget and he was not even that drunk.

You locked eyes again and his hands froze in your hair like he was caught off guard and thinking of what to say. You stayed still, both so you didn’t mess up your hard work and so he didn’t lose his train of thought.

Eventually he was humming thoughtfully and his hands were moving again to tuck away pieces as he looked down. “An artsy thing then?”

You were nodding your head even though you were not exactly sure what it was going to be. Taehyung was somewhat all over with his work as a freelance artist and it was only a few years ago that he started to make actual money from his paintings and sculptures, being noticed during one of his busking events by a woman who worked at a gallery.

It was honestly borderlining on lucrative so you felt a bit touched that he had invited you, possibly spurred on by your semi deep conversation the night before.

“Well I hope you have as much fun as you can without me around.” He was finishing up with your hair with a satisfied soft clap and you smiled at him in the mirror before turning around, thankful he had dropped the weird demeanor and returned to his usual goofy character.

You were gifting him a quick kiss goodbye on the cheek and a reminder to lock up before he left, grabbing your purse and heading out the door so you were not late.

The train ride to the gallery had activated the anxious butterflies in your stomach and you found yourself thinking more actively about the little things Jungkook did and the things he had been saying lately.

It was just beginning to drive you to insanity when you reached your stop and you were happily rushing out onto the platform and ascending the stairs out onto the noisy street, searching intersection signs and shop names as you looked for the unfamiliar place.

You weren’t sure Taehyung had ever invited one of your friends to his place of work so you felt a bit bumptious at the ask, smiling to yourself when you finally saw the fancy sign above the building with large windows.

Your friend put his cigarette out against the brick as soon as he saw you and you were beyond grateful he had waited outside for you, knowing it would have taken alot for you to walk in on your own and actively look for him.

“You look perfect.” His compliment was genuine in a way that made you want to do a twirl just to show off and you grinned brightly at him, turning your face in acceptance as he went to kiss both of your cheeks in a uniquely Taehyung way.

“I wasn’t sure what to wear, I’ve never been to an art show.” Your voice was soft as you nervously glanced at the building, realizing now how many people were scattered around inside.

“There isn’t a dress code but if there was then you would have nailed it.” He had a hand on your back as he moved you both inside and you were a bit fascinated by this professional side of him, much more intense and pointed than you were used to from your childish friend.

There was no surprise that you had a pleasant time considering the mix of good company and atmosphere. You fully understood the appeal to this type of setting after an hour of quiet conversations and halfway awkward greetings from people who seemed to just as anti social as you.

Even Taehyung was unusually tame and reserved, matching the energy of the buyers and viewers around him while still coming off beyond charming and poised. It was almost magical to watch him work casual small talks into somebody buying his work or commissioning their own custom piece.

“You’re good at this.” You had taken a moment to break away from the now mingling crowd and you sent the compliment his way in a hushed whisper.

He gave you a look that told you he already knew that but you could tell he was still thankful somebody was there to witness and confirm it. You watched him take a hefty sip of his wine and you raised an eyebrow at the sudden nervous look on his face, following his wandering gaze over to the front door where a handful of people had just entered.

“Why did you invite me and not somebody else?” You weren’t sure why you figured that line of questioning would get some answers out of him regarding his behavior recently but it seemed to work considering he turned to you with a heavier gaze.

“Somebody else wouldn’t have understood any of this.” He was vague enough to leave you confused until his eyes moved back over to the newcomers, lingering on one just long enough for your mouth to part slightly in realization.

Taehyung had never publicly dated somebody in your entire decade of friendship and while he was more androgynous in his style and personality, he also hadn’t come out to any of you with a particular label.

The way he was looking at the man standing in the corner silently was enough for you to understand what exactly he might have been hesitant to showcase to your other friends. None of them would have judged him from your knowledge but you imagined he didn’t want the lighthearted teasing from your male friends or the insistent meddling from the extroverted girls.

“He’s gorgeous.” Your eyes stayed on the man, similar to your friends and you heard him let out words of agreement accompanied by a longing sigh you were all too familiar with. “Have you spoken to him?”

“He owns a gallery downtown with his sister.” He was quick to respond and you got the feeling he had been waiting to talk to somebody about this for a long time. “I did a show there and we got dinner afterwards, it was mainly business.”

You were nodding softly as he spoke on and on about the pretty man who was now laughing softly with an older woman and you suddenly wanted to laugh when you remembered your conversation with Jungkook last night, realizing just how wrong he was.

You wanted so badly to tell him about it but later that evening Taehyung had softly gripped your forearm and asked you sincerely to keep this a secret, his tone the most serious you had ever heard it.

The entire train ride home your head was buzzing with both pride for your friend and the urge to do something more with your own life, almost feeling envious of his passion for both art and romance.

There was a part of you that wanted to get home as fast as you could so you could start to figure out what direction to take your life at the ripe age of 25 and the other half was considering taking the subway past your stop just to see where you would end up.

You were sensible enough to head back to your apartment with the knowledge the sun was quickly setting but your feet faltered when you saw a familiar frame sitting on the steps outside your building.

“Did you lock yourself out?” You practically jogged the rest of the way over to Jungkook, concerned he had spent the entire day outside of your apartment but you felt a wave of reassurance when you realized he was wearing clothes you definitely didn’t keep in your small drawer for him.

He was dressed nice or atleast as nice as you had seen him get in a while, ironed shirt tucked into a good grown up pair of pants with a leather belt. You watched him semi suspiciously when he pulled a small bouquet of flowers out from behind his belt and presented them to you.

“Oh god, what did you do?” Your eyes widened in a slightly panicked manner and he glared at you harmlessly, thrusting the flowers in your direction and only smiling once you took them from him and sniffed them curiously.

“First off, very rude to assume I did something wrong.” He was stepping off of the steps so he was closer to you and you eyed him and his unusual outfit. “Second, can’t I just get you flowers?”

“They are very pretty Jungkook, thank you.” You felt guilty for your initial approach even though you knew he wasn’t actually offended and didn’t mind your teasing. You lowered the flowers away from your face so you could give his outfit another long scan that told him you wanted a better explanation.

“You looked nice earlier and it made me realize it had been awhile since we had gone out together.” He was shrugging like it was the most obvious thing in the world and your eyebrows furrowed.

His casual compliment was not lost on you and you felt that stupid chest rattling so hard you almost tipped over in your heels, shifting on your feet to remain steady as he watched you closely. You were sure your hair was messier now and your back was slightly hurting from standing all day at the event but you were not able to deny him on a regular occasion let alone when he applied effort into something for you.

“We’ve never ‘gone out together’ Jungkook.” Your tone was teasing as you wobbled a bit. “We just end up places.”

You weren’t exactly lying, despite your hundreds of lunch outings and adventures around the city, they had never been planned and never been mature enough for you to consider it a night out.

Jungkook seemed to be allergic to a stable job and luckily he was charismatic to be constantly pulling money from half a dozen half committed hustles. You had been barely above an intern when you first moved here and lived together so most of your meals consisted of quick serve ramen places and cheap street food just to stop the rumbling in your stomachs.

“What, Taehyung is the only guy who can take you to a nice outing?” He was smiling teasingly as he said it like he felt like he had figured you out and your mouth parted, almost forgetting you were not supposed to tell him what you had been told earlier.

Instead you pushed a hand against his chest and rolled your eyes, allowing the box to rattle when he was laughing boyishly and grabbing your wrist so he could tug you with him as he stumbled backwards, linking your arms together as he began to walk.

You didn’t bother asking him where you were going and you weren’t even sure he actually knew, letting your feet fall in unison with him as you allowed yourself to pretend you weren’t exhausted so you could indulge him.

Selfishly, it was mostly for you and the opportunity to pretend you and Jungkook were just a normal pair who were heading out for a typical date night and not two best friends who had a little too much time on their hands.

Jungkook was telling you all about his day and the story that came along with how he got your flowers, exaggerated like always as he tried to entertain you. It worked as you laughed along with him and his sound effects and hand motions, listening to him as you walked together.

He shocked you by leading you back to the subway entrance and you glanced at him suspiciously, the two of you typically sticking with your local spots whenever you got dinner together.

“What are you up to Jeon Jungkook?” Your voice was low and mimicking an interrogation as the wind from the approaching train sent your loose hairs flying around your face.

His was in a similar state as he stood infront of you to block you most of the gust, fluffy locks falling forward above his eyes and making him frown as he reached up to push it back. You laughed at him and how ridiculous it looked and he sent a glare your way although you avoided it by boarding the now stopped subway car.

He was right behind you when you turned to face him in the packed space, leaning against one of the free support poles and smiling when you saw the infectious one he had. His hand was above your head so he could hold the metal as the train lurched forward and you tried to ignore the way he caged you in made your head spin.

“So I don’t actually have a plan.” He had to lean closer to you to be heard over the rattling of the car and the stackiy robotic voice over the speaker making announcements.

You couldn’t help imagining what the two of you looked like to the various strangers around you, both dressed nicely and standing closer than the space called for. Your flowers were clutched tightly in your hands and you knew exactly what anyone who saw your eyes as you stared at him would see, anyone except for the recipient.

“I figured you were winging it.” You shrugged softly and huffed out a laugh when he was scrunching his face up in offense, free hand over his heart like you had hurt his feelings with your correct assumption. “As long as you feed me I am happy.”

“Taehyung didn’t provide food on your date?” His eyes were curious but you could sense something else that you couldn’t put your foot on, pushing his shoulder.

“Will you cut that out?” You tried to sound firm enough that he would get you were actually uncomfortable without ruining the positive energy of the night. “It’s not like that.”

He raised an eyebrow down at you like he didn’t believe a word you said but he thankfully didn’t push any further for now even though you imagined it would be brought back up eventually considering how persistently annoying he was being regarding it.

Jungkook was taking your hand in his as the train stopped a few minutes later and you let him drag you out of the busy station with a sigh, weaving your way through the post work pre dinner crowd as you stayed behind his large frame with your arms dangling between you.

It was easy to fall inlove with him for the thousandth time as he glanced behind his shoulder routinely to make sure you were keeping up despite his tight grip on you already ensuring that, his wide eyes so patient and affectionate it almost made you want to throw up.

There was something about him against the landscape of a city at dusk that was completely devastating to your fragile heart and you had to look away before the rattling box full on exploded.

The two of you were making easy conversation as you walked together and you were overly aware of the fact he had no removed his hand from yours, most likely due to the heavy foot traffic around you but it pained you nonetheless and your skin felt like it was burning.

You were laughing so hard your stomach hurt and he was smiling at you like it was his singular goal and you barely realized you had been walking for so long until he was stopping infront of a deli and telling you to wait outside for him.

You stood there with a stupid smile on your face and your flowers in hand, tricking yourself for just a moment that this was something more than what it was.

“Those are pretty.” A voice from beside you pulled you from your dazed train of thought and you glanced at the man ruffling through the newspaper stand, pausing his movements to gesture towards your bouquet when you gave him a confused look.

“Oh.” Your mouth parted in surprise and your cheeks turned pink at the unexpected small talk. “Thank you, I think so too.”

You cleared your throat awkwardly and shuffled on your feet, glancing through the dirty glass to see if you could catch sight of Jungkook inside without making it too obvious that you felt ready to run away just to avoid an easy going conversation.

“From a boyfriend?” His eyebrow was raised and you shook your head instinctively with a soft shocked laugh at the realization he was potentially flirting with you. “Good to know, I’m Hoseok.”

His hand was jutting out towards you and your eyes widened, shifting the bouquet between your forearm and chest so you could shake it. It was weirdly formal in an endearing way and you mirrored your name back to him in a soft whisper that made his eyes crinkle like he thought you were cute.

“I have to go but..” He paused and glanced at his watch with a sigh that made your head cock paitently. “Is it too forward to say I think you are beautiful and I would love to get your number so this interaction isn’t so brief?”

You felt like you had somehow entered a different dimension today, one where you wear clothes that had been in the back of your closet for years and go to art galleries before a handsome stranger flirts with you outside of a corner store.

Your mouth is just opening to respond to him, not quite sure yet if you are going to agree or make up some excuse that you hope he doesn’t see through, before the soft chiming bell of the door is ringing above you and Jungkook is wandering back out with two bags in his hands.

He is smiling when he sees you and then it fades when he sees your company, eyes narrowing a bit before he glances back at you and moves to stand by your side, hand on your lower back.

“Ready to go?” His voice is stiffer than you were used to and you dumbly nod as you give Hoseok an apologetic look to which he gives you a polite understanding smile as he lifts his hand in a quick wave goodbye before going to cross the street.

Jungkook moves you forward down the street with his hand still on your back, an unfamiliar touch in this type of circumstance. You and him were no strangers to a touchy friendship but his hold felt almost pointed and you felt confusion swirling in your chest.

“What was that?” Your voice was hushed and you looked briefly at the side of his face as you walked together, his side profile showcasing no emotion you could understand or read. He was looking straight ahead and shrugging softly.

“You look uncomfortable.” He said it simply like it was an easy given answer but you knew him well enough to know he didn’t really believe what he was saying.

“I did? I didn’t feel uncomfortable.” You were pushing it further than you typically would but you were a bit annoyed with how unusual he was being lately. Not annoyed in any way that mattered considering his hand on your back was still lighting your stomach on fire and you were deluding yourself into believing there was another reason for his interruption.

He shrugs again like he isn’t sure what to say and you drop it, walking closely together as he silently leads you to a small park near one of the cities waterfront points.

You watch his large frame as he reaches into one of his paper bags and pulls out a small plaid blanket, throwing it down on the soft grass before he looks at you and gestures for you to sit. He seems awkward now and you give him a soft smile to let him know you aren’t upset and he can relax.

“I pretty much just cleared them out.” He laughs a little as he joins you on the small blanket, close enough that your legs are pushed together and you watch with excitement as he pulls out various food items from the bags.

He ends it with a small single serving of cake in a plastic box and two drinks that remind you of the cheap liquor you used to sneak from your parents in high school. He presents with a small exaggerated noise and both of his hands stretching out to frame the display.

“Wow just wow.” You’re teasing him by raising your voice a bit and covering your mouth in mock gratitude, giggling as you pretend to wipe a tear from your eye. “This is just above and beyond Jeon Jungkook. How did you know I loved bodega salads?”

His grin is bright like he hadn’t expected you to play along with his theatrics and he waves you off casually like it was no big deal.

You are still laughing as he opens the containers and hands you things to try but you are genuinely a little taken back by the gesture, giving yourself a second to take in the view of the water with the city directly behind it. The sun had set by now and the lake seemed endless, wind blowing your hair over your shoulder as you looked back at him.

He was already watching you and you raised an eyebrow in question, not getting a response as he looked back down at the food.

“I think this is better than any dinner I’ve had since we moved here.” Your voice is soft as you finally speak, taking small pieces of things from his side of the blanket and tossing them into your mouth.

“Are you making fun of me?” He looks at you suspiciously and you laugh a little at the skepitcal tone he has, shaking your head and watching him fondly. “Then I think I agree with you.”

You stayed like that for atleast another hour and a half, eating the food slower than you usually would to keep yourselves there longer and you once again let yourself forget that this meant nothing at all.

It was easy to pretend when he was pulling out his small digital camera and taking candids of you as you laughed and told him to cut it out, easy to imagine when he was making you sit in the soft grass while he cleaned up your picnic, and devastatingly simple to feel like you were inlove in a different way when he was making you get on his back instead of walking back to the subway in your heels.

“Did you have a good time?” He sounded unlike himself when you finally got there, managing to get a seat now that most people had gotten home from work. You were leaning your head on his shoulder and watching your muddied reflections in the dirty and scratched window across from you.

Jungkook never sounded unsure or insecure, especially not when it came to something regarding you and your friendship and your stomach tightened at the realization he might actually be looking for the reassurance you were so typically seeking from him.

“Silly question.” You had a tired smile on your face that he couldn’t see but you figured he would be able to hear it surrounding your gentle words.

“Indulge me?” He pushed for specifics and you only then realized he was very serious about this, picking your head up so you could look him in the eyes.

He easily met your gaze like he always did and the intensity was a bit much for you to handle although you weren’t capable of looking away just yet.

There was a large part of you that knew exactly what to say, exactly what would be an easy answer that would both satisfy his random need for verbal feedback and also keep your ridiculous secret hidden for atleast another night more.

A much tinier and more pathetic piece was begging you to push just a little bit more, say something that would make him cross any singular line. You didn’t need him to step out of your fairytales and profess his desire for you but maybe just enough of a hook to keep you from feeling so pathetic and almost conniving.

You knew he would probably take personal offense if you told him that you felt that way about yourself but you almost couldn’t help it, knowing there was something more than friendship in this for you. It felt almost evil to keep something like that from him even though you could almost picture how gentle and amazing his rejection would be.

He would probably lecture you about how it’s not you and it’s him and he would give you a look so pitiful that it would make you sick.

“What was this Jungkook?”

The stupid part of you wins and you want to blame it on the low alcohol bevarage you had chugged in an attempt to quiet your stupid box down but you knew there wasn’t a single moment in life you were more sober than you were now and you were just plainly outrageously deluded.

“I don’t know what you mean.” He says it softly with an edge of confusion but you see it.

As the train pulls to a stop at a station that isn’t yours, you see the telltale sign that he lying to you. His expressive eyes are almost wide and he is trying his best to act casual but you had spent almost a decade telling similar lines and your mind starts to spin.

“Yes you do.” Your voice is firmer now and you sit up a little bit on the smooth seats, turned sideways so you are facing him while he still has to turn his head to look at you fully. “I think you really do.”

He doesn’t say anything and you are not stupid enough to say the words outloud, to accuse him of the exact crime you are guilty of would have consequences you can’t even begin to think about and you almost look away if it wasn’t for that look in his eyes.

You want to pry and pull it out of him, reach deep into his chest and see if you had gotten it all wrong or if he had a box of his own somewhere in there.

It lurches again as it begins to move and he sways with it, eyes shutting for a second as he turns to face forward and get away from your intense and almost knowing gaze.

“Let’s not do this.” His voice is tight and pained now and you had heard it a million ways but never like this, never like he is scared of what is going to come out.

“Do what, what am I doing?” You are genuinely puzzled and you’re almost frantic to keep him talking about this. “What are we doing?”

He takes awhile to not speak again and you almost think he is going to sit like that until the train stops again, leaving you in the non silence and weight of the things he will not say. His eyes open and they are colder when they look at you again and it’s in a way that knocks the breath out of you.

They are not angry but they are detached and such a vast difference from the adoring expression he normally gives you and now you wonder again what you look like to other people riding home late after a long day. Maybe two strangers in a disagreement or a couple bickering about trivial things, something much simpler than what it actually is.

You suddenly feel like you’re going to vomit when you realized how similar his frustrated is to the one you’d been feeling since before you even had your drivers license. It is far too familiar and you turn in your seat so you are facing forward again and your hand comes to your mouth, either to catch the puke or your next words.

“How long have you known?” You wince as you say it and you hate that he is the one looking at you now, eyes boring into the side of your face as you fight to not look at your reflections.

Your question is vague enough to avoid putting it into the verbal world of existence but if your thoughts are correct then he knows exactly what you are referring to.

How long have you known I was inlove with you, how long have I been failing at deceiving you, how many years did you know our friendship was a big fat scam on my end and how long have you tried not to detest me for it?

“Maybe forever? I don’t know.” He sounds exhausted and his pitch raises a bit as his hands jut into the air before landing back on his legs with a smack that almost makes you jump.

Your mouth parts in surprise, both at his answer and the tone he says it in. You’re standing up before the train has a chance to stop fully and you aren’t sure if you’re stumbling because of the way it pulls or because you genuinely feel like you are about to be sick if you have to sit here for another second and listen to him sound so upset about this.

Your feet tangle together as you rush out of the station and you know he is close behind you because he always is but you can’t bring yourself to look at him anymore.

The universe must be laughing at you for finally getting your camera because the clear skies of the night are gone and it’s beginning to sprinkle now, making your walk to the next block over much faster as you nearly run towards your apartment.

“Y/N.” His voice is loud behind you and your body whips around on instinct, not able to ignore him in any circumstance but especially not when he sounds so wounded. “It.. it doesn’t have to be a big deal, you won’t hurt my feelings if you just pretend this didn’t happen. We don’t need to change things.”

He almost sounds like he is pleading for you to forgive him and the irony of that hits you hard.

You aren’t even sure what he is really asking for you to do here, is he suggesting you go back to pretending (quite awfully apparently) you aren’t inlove with him or is he saying he doesn’t quite mind if you are. You can’t decide which answer hurts you more and you glare at him for being so selfless and kind.

“What part of this makes you think this won’t change things?” You have venom in your voice now and you watch his face flinch just enough for you to feel terrible.

You aren’t sure why you are suddenly so angry at him or why you just want to scream and leave him standing in the light rain that is slowly picking up like its mocking your emotional state.

It is not his fault he is so easy to love and that he can read you so easily, of course the boy who can tell when you are upset or hungry or tired off of a quick glance would know the feeling that never leaves your mind and heart no matter how hard you try.

He didn’t even do anything wrong in his attempts to fix what you had broken, willing to take any course to keep your friendship the same because he thinks it is what you want. You decide you are angry that that is his solution because it is all he can give you, friendship, and you are more fucked up than you realized for being upset at him for that.

“I’m sorry.” His voice sounds hurt and pleading still and he takes quick steps towards you that make you want to sob but you won’t, not here and not with him staring at you like that.

“I am.” You shake your head and sigh, suddenly feeling very cliche and stupid for yelling at each other in the rain like some shitty cheesy romcom. You easily slip your hand into his and pull him in the direction of your apartment, hoping he is willing to stay with you despite the potential awkwardness and isn’t planning to run away as soon as he gets you home safe.

He squeezes your hand in his and you close your eyes just as tight, wishing he would be a little less sweet just for a few moments.

You don’t think he is capable of being cold to anybody, especially not you, but it makes it all the more painful to know you don’t deserve it.

You are back to heavy silence as you enter your apartment and you glance at his hoodie from last night still draped over your arm chair, looking away and kicking off your heels that are collecting water inside of them as it drips off of your clothes.

The urge to change into something dry and warm is surging your entire being but instead you head into the kitchen and you hear him take slow hesitant steps before he is sighing and going in the direction of your bedroom. You grip your counter and close your eyes to stop from asking him what he was going to say.

Instead you busy yourself with the stove and a familiar recipe that makes you sigh in premature relief just from the scent alone.

Jungkook eventually returns and follows the smell to find you setting too warm mugs down on the coffee table in the living room, dressed in a large shirt and the same sweatpants from last night. His hair is damp from the rain and falling over his forehead in a painful way and you awkwardly glance at him.

Any other day you would warn him that it is too hot to drink before going to change too but now you just watch him as he shifts awkwardly before sitting down slowly on the carpet infront of the table. You clear your throat and walk down the hallway, moving on autopilot as you pull off the wet clothes and replace them with pajamas.

You are back in the living room with him before you even process your feet moving and you listen to him sip the hot chocolate before wincing at the scolding liquid and placing the mug down.

“It’s hot you know.” Your teasing remark is meant to break the tension and bring a sense of normalcy back into the heavy room but it comes out forced and awkward and he barely manages to pull a chuckle out.

You sit next to him with a sigh and pull your sleeves over your hands so you can nurse his hot mug, blowing on it gently and ignoring your steaming one next to it.

It’s a habit you had always had but he was looking at you like it was his first time realizing you did that and it was another nail in the coffin of change. Things were going to be different now no matter what he said or how hard you tried to avoid it.

“I really am sorry.” His voice was soft and a whisper that struck you harder than anything he could have shouted. You gave him a sad smile and nodded your head in understanding. “Do you want to talk about it or are you tired?”

“We can talk.” You shrugged like it was a casual choice but you weren’t sure what the alternative was. You had anxiety thrumming in your chest that he might leave before you were ready and talking about it kept him here for atleast a few more sentences, atleast until your mugs were empty.

Your agreement didn’t kick start him into any type of conversation and it fell silent again outside of your soft breathing on the mug and the rain pattering against your window.

“Are you upset about how I feel?” He finally spoke again and you paused your blowing in favor of watching him, setting the glass down on the table and giving him your full attention. The distraction wasn’t working anyways and you felt sick again.

You shook your head because you didn’t trust yourself to speak and he looked more pained at your silence, eyes low and wounded. Your suddenly felt watery and you knew you would truly have to dig a hole for yourself if you cried, the last thing you wanted to do was to make him feel bad about any of this.

“You can’t help it.” You internally winced at the way your words shook and cracked, very telling signs of somebody who was about to pathetically sob. “But I can’t either.”

He looked equal parts confused and accepting of this answer and you got the urge to just lay it all out in the open since everything was already falling apart in a way you could not control.

“I thought I was doing a better job at hiding it and I’m sorry if I made you feel weird or like I didn’t value our friendship because that isn’t true at all, it means the world to me. I am just an idiot and I-I don’t even know what else to say other than I am so sorry Jungkook.” You are speaking so fast you feel dizzy at the pace and you are suddenly facing him again so you can be positive the words reach their destination.

You had practiced a hundred times how to tell him how you felt and none of those scenarios ended up sounding like this, a jumbled and desperate plea to be forgiven.

His mouth had parted halfway through your speech like he was wanting to interrupt you and you wanted to run out of your own house when you saw his eyes widen in surprise, maybe at the realization of just how fucked up you actually were.

The room fell silent again and this time it was tortuous, your soft breaths from speaking so quickly being the only thing you could focus on.

“I’m confused.”

His voice cut through the air and you almost wanted to scream, knowing you could not repeat any of that again. You gave him an intense stare as you tried to figure out where exactly you had lost him in your spiel and his eyebrows furrowered at your look.

“I thought you were mad at me for liking you.” He was pointing between the two of you as you spoke and suddenly the box was rattling so hard you weren’t sure if it was just an imaginary metaphor anymore.

“What?” It came out loud and aggressive but he didn’t react, sitting up a little straighter and watching you with an almost frustrated expression.

“Do you have a crush on me?” He was pointing at his chest again and you wanted to smack his hand away.

You weren’t sure how to answer that because it was honestly the most ridiculous thing you had heard outloud all night and there quite a few contenders. You were dumbfounded both by the fact he had to ask what you thought he realized forever ago and also because the idea of having a mere crush almost made you laugh.

A crush was not what you had but you dumbly nodded your head, settling for accepting the vague notion that you had some sort of romantic feelings for him.

His hands were covering his face and he let out a groan so loud you flinched. His noise turned into something that you thought was a sob until you realized he was laughing at you, almost hysterically laughing so hard that he was leaning over onto his knees before rocking backwards again.

The tears that were sitting on your waterline were falling freely now and you were frozen in shock at the fact he was actually laughing at you.

You had never felt so hurt in your entire life and you were even more blindsided that your sweet best friend was apparently capable of this kind of cruelty. The idea of him being upset or disappointment in your firm confirmation was way more appealing than him finding you straight up comedic.

“You should go.” You had never uttered those words to him before and you had hoped they came off as fiery and angry as you felt under the devastation but instead it was said in an unchareristic choked sob that had his hands immediately flying off of his face.

His eyes were wide and guilty as he took in the expression you had and your wet cheeks and he was shuffling forward to cup your face.

“Oh shit, fuck.” He was wiping your teary trails as fast as they came and staring at you with remorse, only making you cry harder. “Wait don’t cry.”

“You’re laughing at me.” You sounded childish and whiny but you didn’t know what else to be in this situation, too comfortable to be truly cruel to him despite the want to be. How can he be so hurtful and then hold you like he wasn’t responsible for your extreme reaction?

“What? No I’m not.” He was shaking his head and his face was creasing with confusion like it was the most ridiculous thing you could have said. “I’m laughing at us, at how stupid we are.”

You were exhausted from this entire night and you had no response to give him despite your confusion and want for him to explain what could possibly be so fucking funny about all of this stupidty. You sat there silently crying and staring at him as he sighed like he only just realized he needed to speak what he was thinking and was finding it burdensome.

“You have to know that I like you too Y/N.” He was whispering it like he was still trying to keep it a secret and that damned box flew open, sending its lock and chains flying around your chest in a million sharp pieces. “You’re the last person in the world to figure it out apparently.”

You had absolutely zero idea what to say to that or how to even begin to process the level of misunderstanding and blurred communication that had happened in just a few hours. His apologies on the way home and guilty expression suddenly made alot more sense considering he wasn’t sorry about breaking your heart and instead apologicetic he had made you break his.

“I thought you were messing with me until I saw you were crying and, god you don’t like to mess with people anyways. I really fucked this all up didn’t I.” It was his turn to ramble now and you watched him with a quivering lip and soft sniffles as you stopped crying slowly.

“You’re not rejecting me?” You’d be caught dead before talking in this tone around anyone else but he wasn’t just anyone and his eyes softened like you were the cutest thing in the world to him.

“I may be stupid but I’m not that big of an idiot.” He was laughing a little at himself or maybe the idea of ever rejecting you and now it was your turn to groan. “I thought you were inlove with Taehyung.”

“Taehyung’s gay.” You were blurting it out from the frustration of the situation and you covered your face like he had a few seconds ago.

His mouth was parted in surprise when you gathered the courage to look at him again and you almost laughed, mouth barely turning up from the ridiculousness of everything transpiring.

“That actually makes a lot of sense.” His slow reply made you burst into delirious giggles and he smiled at your reaction.

It seemed like the hard part of the conversation was finally over and you leaned on your side against the footrest of the couch, sighing softly.

“We have to be the two stupidest people alive.”

“You’re not stupid.” He was shaking his head and there it was again, that familiar offended tone he always had when you insulted yourself.

You suddenly felt like you must be because it was increasingly obvious to you that he must feel some sort of positive non platonic way towards you. The look in his eye was so apparent now that you weren’t sure how you ever missed it before, so stuck in your own attempts to disguise your own gaze.

“I don’t know what to do now or what this means.” You’re staring straight ahead but not really looking at anything as your mind spins and reels. It all is starting to feel a bit far from reality and you let out a humorless disbeliving laugh. “I mean you are you and I’m..”

You trail off but he knows exactly where you were going with that statement and that same annoyance he radiated when you made the comment about Taehyung was back tenfold. His glare was on you but you knew it was directed towards that mean insecure voice inside you and not anything else.

“Maybe you are stupid because you really have no idea what happens to a room when you walk into it.” He looks angrier than you’d ever seen him but it’s the type of anger that comes when he tastes a particularly delicious bite of food or sees a cute dog on tiktok, nothing like the face he has whenever his dad calls or when a job falls through.

Everything about what he is saying makes no sense to you and you suddenly have the urge to crawl into your bed and sleep this off, hoping you can wake up tomorrow either ten steps backwards or four years in the future.

There is a lengthy silence where the two of you just stare at eachother and you keep waiting for it to feel wrong or feel like you made a grave mistake that you can’t take back but your heart seems to recall who you are sitting with much faster than your brain.

You can’t think of a time where you had ever felt wrong when you were in the same space as Jungkook and the uncertainty of the future and what this conversation means for your connection and friendship has nothing on the tie between you that flows with every look and nervous smile.

Loving him was as easy as any breath you could take and you looked away with silence in your warmed chest as you took another sip of your hot chocolate.

#jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook fic #jungkook au #jungkook bts #jeon jungkook #taehyung #bts army #bts smut #bts #bts fanfic #bts jungkook #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #Spotify

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fastandcarlos · 9 months ago

Text

A Decade Of Love : ̗̀➛ Charles LeClerc

summary: as you and charles celebrate ten years together, take a look at a snapshot of your social media for each one of those years

pairing: charles x childhood sweetheart!reader

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

2015

liked by georgerussell63, charles_leclerc and 4,859 others

ynusername: turns out dating a racing car driver doesn’t stop him being a sickeningly sweet boyfriend too 💕🥺

797 comments

username1: I can’t get over how much of a sweetheart charles is 😭

charles_leclerc: you’re not supposed to expose this side of me to the rest of the world ❤️

username2: the little note on the coffee cup, I can’t-

pierregasly: I refuse to believe that charles managed to make a meal that delicious 🙂‍↔️

username3: now that is a man who suits racing gear!!

georgerussell63: this screams like an apology for ignoring you for the entire weekend whilst racing 🤷🏻‍♂️

ynusername: @/georgerussell63 not a single damn text 😭

username4: why do I get the feeling we’re going to be seeing these two in many racing paddocks in the future??

arthur_leclerc: can you have a word please? he’s not this nice to me 💔

ynusername: @/arthur_leclerc isn’t that the job of a brother?? 😂

username5: officially decided that I need to find myself a charles leclerc to love me 😂

alex_albon: stop showing off how lovely your boyfriend is 🙄

username6: wishing I had a guy to bring me breakfast in bed too…

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

2016

liked by alex_albon, nyckdevries and 37,953 others

charles_leclerc: the most chaotic year…gp3 series 🏆 ferrari academy ✅ haas test driver 🏎️…so excited to see what the future holds now!

3,969 comments

username7: can’t believe the progress you’ve made this year charles, we’re so proud of you!!

alex_albon: now you’re just showing off with all these achievements 😂👏🏻

username8: a season that most could only dream of 👏🏻

ynusername: could not be prouder of you…only upwards from here 🥳

charles_leclerc: @/ynusername thank you for constantly dealing with me stressing this year 😂❤️

username9: ferrari are the luckiest team in the world to have you ❤️🏎️

nyckdevries: an honour to share the track with you this year ☺️

username10: counting down the days until we inevitably see you in f1 now… 🤞🏻

scuderiaferrari: we’re so excited to have you on board charles, congratulations on a brilliant season!

username11: I hope you’ve got a bigger trophy cabinet at home 😂

pierregasly: I’m so proud to see you achieving your dreams brother!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

2017

liked by landonorris, ynusername and 68,492 others

charles_leclerc: such an incredible season, so proud to be the formula 2 champion. thank you to the amazing team who have supported me this year and all my family and friends for making so many sacrifices for me too ❤️🏎️

15,942 comments

username12: speechless, so unbelievably proud of you charles ❤️

pierregasly: can’t wait to see you show them how it’s done next year 🥺

username13: shut up the face on the first photo melts me…

ynusername: you never fail to blow me away with how talented you are 💕💕

username14: such an insane driver, f1 has no idea what’s about to hit it 🏎️

arthur_leclerc: okay, I’ll admit it, it’s pretty cool being able to say that you’re my brother 🙄

charles_leclerc: @/arthur_leclerc I knew you loved me really

arthur_leclerc: @/charles_leclerc let’s not get ahead of ourselves here 😂

username15: one incredible season, enjoy your rest as you deserve it 😘

alex_albon: such a joy to share the track with you again this year, good luck for next year buddy 🏆

charles_leclerc: @/alex_albon ik you’ll be there to join me soon enough!

username16: will f2 ever see a more dominant champion in its existence than you?? (no is the answer btw)

landonorris: at least you’re going one of us might have a chance next year 😂

username17: still not over how amazing this season has been, I can’t stop crying 😭

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

2018

liked by arthur_leclerc, lancestroll and 13,960 others

ynusername: spend half my time lost around the paddock 😂 but I’m so proud to watch you achieve your dreams charles (even if I can only wave to you from the other side of the garage!!)

3,078 comments

username18: I can’t believe the guy I supported in go karts all those years ago is in f1 🥹

arthur_leclerc: we can be lost together soon enough 😂

username19: yn you must be so proud of your man!

maxverstappen1: it’s been so nice to see you again recently and catch up after all these years!!

username20: thank you for being by his side for all these years ❤️

charles_leclerc: I love having you here with me for so many races, thank you for always supporting me 💞

ynusername: @/charles_leclerc i wouldn’t have it any other way ☺️

username21: girl I feel you, I went to one f1 race and spent most of it staring at a map 😂

pierregasly: I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve found you lost this year 😝

ynusername: @/pierregasly no one prepares you for how much busier f1 is compared to f2…

username22: it must be amazing to get to see f1 up close and personal like this

landonorris: I won’t be coming to you for directions when I join next year then 😂

ynusername: @/landonorris got no idea where mclaren is half the time anyway 🙈

username23: I bet charles is just happy to have you there, we all know how much he adores you!!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

2019

liked by lewishamilton, scuderiaferrari and 289,694 others

charles_leclerc: dreamt of this moment for so long, officially an f1 winner, don’t think I’ll ever tire of hearing that 🏎️🏆

59,491 comments

ynusername: I’ve just about managed to pull myself together 😂 so proud of you my love 💓

charles_leclerc: @/ynusername thank you for always cheering me on even when I’ve doubted myself ☺️

username24: we’re all so proud of you charles, we knew you could do it!!

maxverstappen1: good job my friend, we’ve talked about this for so long and now it’s finally come true 🏆

username25: fyi I will not get over this for a very long time 🎉

sebastianvettel: congratulations partner, the first of many for sure 🍻

username26: I’m not sorry for how emotional I’ve been all day about this win

alex_albon: knowing how hard you’ve worked, there’s no one more deserving of this 👏🏻

username27: is there a more deserving man in f1? no, I think not.

scuderiaferrari: we couldn’t be prouder to have you on our team charles 🏎️

charles_leclerc: @/scuderiaferrari thank you to the whole team here and at home for all their hard work ❤️

username28: your dad would be so proud of you today charles ❤️

username29: I’ll remind you that you’re an f1 race winner everyday forever 🫶🏻

landonorris: thank goodness there were no “inchidents” in the race to ruin things 😂

charles_leclerc: @/landonorris 🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

2020

liked by arthur_leclerc, pierregasly and 429,707 others

charles_leclerc: missing all the fam right now, and wishing I could get back behind the wheel - lucky for yn tho as she’s stuck with me 😂🫶🏻

69,402 comments

scuderiaferrari: we all can’t wait to be back and enjoying race weekends too ❤️🏎️

username30: how is it fair for a family to look as good as these guys??

ynusername: it’s cute that you think I’m lucky with your ass annoying me constantly 😂

charles_leclerc: @/ynusername I can expose your habits too if that’s a challenge???

ynusername: @/charles_leclerc I’m sorry I love living with you sweetie 🥺

username31: so pleased you and yn have each other during these uncertain times 🫶🏻

username32: can’t wait to see you hopefully back around the track once everything is safe again

arthur_leclerc: I miss you guys so much, hopefully not too much longer until we’re reunited ❤️

username33: please make sure you stay safe charles 🙏🏻

username34: I bet poor yn is being driven insane living with charles 24/7 😂

pierregasly: offended that I wasn’t included in this post…

charles_leclerc: @/pierregasly dedicated post just to you incoming…

username35: idk how much longer I can cope without f1 in my life 😭

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

2021

liked by carmenmmundt, sebastianvettel and 97,592 others

ynusername: drove me all the way out to the middle of nowhere to ask me to marry him, easiest yes of my life 🥺🥂

26,942 comments

carmenmmundt: stfu I’m so unbelievably happy for you both ❤️❤️❤️

username36: I cannot begin to tell you how happy this post makes me!!!

carlossainz55: might’ve just shed a tear when I saw this post 🥲

charles_leclerc: no one else I’d want to spend the rest of my life with, I love you darling 💞

username37: he finally did it my faves are engaged ahhhhh

username38: is it acceptable to cry over someone else’s engagement btw???

landonorris: wedding of the century pending…⏳

arthur_leclerc: couldn’t be happier to finally be welcoming a sister into the family 🫶🏻

ynusername: @/arthur_leclerc and just so you know you’re definitely in my top two when it comes to brothers in law 😂

alex_albon: congratulations you two, lily and I could not be happier for you ✨

username39: wish I was a fly on the wall during the conversations as to who best man is gonna be 😂

pierregasly: he’s talked about doing this for so long, glad he’s finally done it 😍

username40: all my manifesting has finally paid off 🙏🏻

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

2022

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris and 1,593,068 others

charles_leclerc: taking us back to the place a year ago when I asked my best friend to marry me, still the best decision of my life 💞🌊

104,856 comments

username41: charles is such an old school romantic I love it

ynusername: still just as special as it was the first time around 🤍

maxverstappen1: please tell me you didn’t actually let charles be the one in charge of that boat 🤦🏻‍♂️

ynusername: @/maxverstappen1 I promise it was somehow returned in one piece

username42: and he still looks as happy as he did a year ago too 🥺

pierregasly: offended that you somehow think you’re his best friend 🤯

arthur_leclerc: @/pierregasly me too, cause obviously that’s my role and not yours 😉

georgerussell63: he’s just a hopeless romantic isn’t he 😅

username43: not all the boys just rinsing charles for being in love lmao

landonorris: if anyone wants an example of a soft fiancé…here you go!

carlossainz55: I’m just here cause I’m enjoying watching charles get wrecked in the comments 😂

username34: 🍿🍿🍿

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

2023

liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo and 294,608 others

ynusername: best day of my life 💍💒

48,492 comments

carmenmmundt: thank you for inviting george and I to be part of your special day 💕

username35: these photos are the definition of STUNNING ✨

danielricciardo: please tell me charles managed to make it home in one piece??

ynusername: @/danielricciardo he’s currently crying about how hungover he is 😂

alex_albon: couldn’t be happier for two of my favourite people in the entire world ❤️

username36: can we pause for a second cause charles has officially taken my breath away

sebastianvettel: congratulations, you look absolutely beautiful yn!!

charles_leclerc: I love you, can’t wait for forever with you 🥂

username37: I always knew charles would look good in a suit but damn I was not prepared for this

lewishamilton: arguably the best wedding I’ve ever been to, such a lovely day 🫶🏻

username38: I can’t wait to see the rest of the photos after seeing these!!

landonorris: I think I’ve just about stopped crying now 😭

kellypiquet: without shadow of a doubt the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen 🤍

username39: don’t think I’m gonna be over these for a long time…

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

2024

liked by carlossainz55, arthur_leclerc and 2,605,638 others

charles_leclerc: don’t think this will sink in for a while, thank you to everyone who supported me in monaco this weekend!! so proud to finally win my home race, now to celebrate in style 🎉🏎️

285,047 comments

username40: all the hard work has finally paid off…king of monaco ❤️

ynusername: don’t think I’ve ever been prouder of you in 10 years, lifelong dream accomplished 💞👑

charles_leclerc: @/ynusername you’re the best, couldn’t have got here without you ❤️

carlossainz55: couldn’t be happier for you, I know just how much this means to you!

username41: we’re all so proud of you charles, congratulations on an incredible win

arthur_leclerc: after so many near misses, it just makes this all the more sweeter brother 🏎️🏁

username42: no one prepares you for the emotion of charles winning monaco wtf 😭😭

pierregasly: the one you’ve always dreamt of, so glad it came true!!

maxverstappen1: enjoy the celebrations tonight, you so deserve this!

username43: my heart is still racing, feel like im in some sort of dream…

landonorris: don’t think that smile will be leaving your face for a while 😂

charles_leclerc: @/landonorris just me trying to fight back the tears 🥹

username44: no one can take this moment from you charles, soak it all in 🍾

scuederiaferrari: the whole team could not be prouder of you, congratulations charles ❤️🏎️

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

˗ˏˋ 𝐌��𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

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earthtooz · 1 year ago

Text

in which: a moment of impulsivity has ratio knocking on your door at 3 am with a grand confession.

There is a great cloud of curiosity that surrounds Dr. Ratio.

His intelligence is far beyond the average person’s comprehension, mind working at insurmountable speeds to reach conclusions and answers that no others have come to before. Mediocrity and Ratio could never stand to be in the same room, intelligence and reputation as an academic preceding him.

When people find out that you have been in a long-term relationship with the scholar, you can almost see the question mark above their heads. How did you meet? When did you start dating? How did you start dating? How do you put up with him? (You always answer that with ‘I’m still trying to find out myself’. He always rolls his eyes when you say that, but it’s nothing a kiss to the cheek can’t solve.)

Only your closest friends know the story of how you started dating, but it’s always one you love recounting, much to the dismay of Veritas.

For the decades that he has lived for, there have been few moments he regrets, always critically scrutinising every move six steps before he makes them. No one has ever seen him messy, uncertain, or dishevelled- except you.

Towards the end of your university years, with an urgent final assignment due soon, you’re rudely awoken one night by frantic knocks on your dorm’s door. You notice the clock reads 3 am, and since the knocks only got louder by the second, you throw your covers off with a groan.

Who could be at your door at 3 am? Perhaps a drunk dormmate who forgot their keys? Or someone knocking thinking it was their room?

Looking through the peephole, you’re stunned to see a certain violet-haired friend on the other side, trouble etched deeply into his features. His hair was messy, falling haphazardly around his face, and his usual accessory of a laurel wreath was discarded, flamboyant outfit discarded for something more comfortable.

It’s clear that he’s troubled by something, but you have half a mind to leave him outside until he goes away (that’s what he’d do to you, or so you think).

Opening the door, you begin by scolding him. “You better have a good reason to show up at this godforsaken time or otherwise-”

“-I’m in love with you.”

Perhaps if it were a normal hour of the day, and if you hadn’t just been rudely awaken from your sleep, you would have processed his words faster. Instead, you blink at him once, twice, three times, fatigue weighing heavily on your features as you struggled to keep your eyes open.

“What?” You murmur, shaking your head as if that would clear up the mental blockage.

“I’m in love with you,” he repeats, firmer this time.

You grab his wrist and drag him inside your dorm, blinded by the harshness of the hallway lights illuminating the outline of his figure. Turning on the softer light on your desk, you take a seat on the edge of your bed, gazing down at your hands. Veritas, however, stays near your door, annoyingly muscular arms flexed over his chest.

“I have so many questions,” you grumble, rubbing your eyes. “Why are you awake? You’re always asleep by 11 to get your ass up at 6 to exercise, or whatever.”

“Are you avoiding the main point, or just stupid?” He grabs you by the shoulders and shakes. “I love you.”

“Excuse me! You were banging bullets on my dorm room, I’m disorientated right now, not stupid- what?”

It’s almost like his statement from earlier only pierces through your brain now with the way you freeze, eyes morphing into something akin to disbelief and shock. He sees all the changes in your expression in the dimness of the room, nervously biting his cheek with every subtle shift.

“Did… I hear that right?” You whisper after what feels like an eternity. “You love me?”

He nods. “For a few years now.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Am I not doing so in this very moment?”

Tonight has been nothing but agitating for him. First, he was kept awake by the pounding of his heart and the burning desire to see you, significantly delaying his sleep until Veritas decided to cast all caution into the wind, running to your dorm all the way on the other side of the University. Now, he is trying to pour his heart onto your hands, all because of a moment of impulsivity and bull-headed stubbornness, and a secret he cannot keep to himself any longer.

He may be stubborn (as are all geniuses), but Veritas is never impulsive. All truths will come to light eventually, no matter how hard he tries to hide them.

“While I accept that my feelings may not be reciprocated, can you at least say something rather than stare at me blankly?” There’s an unfamiliar look of concern in his eyes, contrasting the usual pride and arrogance he always wears.

What happened to the Veritas Ratio you know? Who is this man by your feet?

“No- that’s not. I… I love you too, I have for a while now, but everything about this is… just… unbelievable.”

“Why?”

“You’re aeons out of my league, Veritas. I never once considered you would return my feelings.”

He stifles back a laugh, dropping his large hands off your shoulders and clutching the mattress on either side of you. You won’t forget about the way the sheets crumple beneath his grip, or the way his head hangs, bangs tickling your legs.

Bravely, you raise a hand to his hair, running through it. Seemed like he could use the comfort.

“You make me too damn nervous,” he breathes, a hand coming to clutch at his chest.

“Never thought I’d live to see the day you admit you get nervous.”

“Why’s that?”

“The only thing bigger than your brain is your ego.”

His confession, and everything about that night, was unorthodox, never predicting that you’d end the day curled up next to Veritas, or the long relationship that would follow.

#guys omfg act shocked that im writing more dr ratio #earthtooz: honkai star rail #dr ratio x reader #veritas ratio x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #ratio x reader #dr ratio fluff

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prythianpages · 3 months ago

Text

Down To You | Eris x Reader

Eris x Reader | The more Eris lets you in, the more he finds himself being pushed and pulled into feelings he's scared to accept.

a/n: We're going back in time for this one ahhh. I know that Eris's POV the night of the breakup was the one that had won the poll. I had that one 40% done but then I listened to Paramore's I Caught Myself & thought why not add a bit more context first? And also add some fluff (if you squint lol) This is roughly around 2K words.

warnings: angst, some fluff, brief implied smut/suggestive content, reader is pregnant/ hidden pregnancy trope

Eris had always been careful about the people he let in.

He was careful with his composure, his secrets, his lovers. Oh, especially, his lovers. His last one had been a pretty female, another noblewoman forced into a loveless marriage with a male thrice her age. She was graceful enough in public and very discreet with personal matters, which is why Eris chose her. He liked that about her.

Her personality though…It absolutely grated him. She was boring and irritating. Sometimes, he even wondered if he hated her. But that had been good. It was safe. There was no danger of losing himself in someone like her. She was predictable and most importantly, easy to walk away from.

Now you? You were none of those things.

You, with your bright eyes—still full of life and hope. That smile that made his chest ache. You were hypnotic, whether you meant to be or not. Some kind of magic you claimed you didn’t possess, though Eris swore he felt the pull of it in his very bones.

He should’ve known the moment he saw you on the dance floor. You moved like the music was yours alone to command. Everyone else had faded into the background. You enchanted the room, unaware or uncaring of how many stares you drew, including his.

Still, he told himself it was harmless. Just one dance.

Then you took his hand, and somehow—step for step, spin for spin—you matched his rhythm like no one else ever had. By the end of it, he was out of breath. From both the dance and you and he needed more.

Just one taste.

You ended up in his bed that night and he devoured you with a hunger he hadn't felt in decades. Something in him—something old and locked away—began to unravel that night. He shouldn’t have let it. Should’ve ignored the ache, should’ve pushed you away after he had his way with you. Instead, he let you fall asleep, tangled in his sheets and his scent, the sweet sounds he’d coaxed from you still lingering in his head.

It wasn’t supposed to feel like this. You weren’t supposed to mean anything. And when you woke up, just an hour later, you surprised him further. Just as you slipped your dress back and so casually admitted it had been your first time.

He’d sat up so fast he nearly knocked you with his shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me??”

You blinked up at him. “Would you have still invited me to your bed if you knew?”

His gaze, unintentionally, dropped to your mouth. Gods, that mouth. The way it curved, the way it had driven him mad no more than an hour ago. When his eyes met yours again, he found mischief sparkling there.

“I would’ve been much more gentle,” he murmured.

A beat of silence.

You let out a small exhale. Still flushed, you grinned and said, “Well, you can show me next time.”

Next time.

That was the beginning–the beginning of his downfall.

He hadn't realized how dangerous those two words were until next time turned into come over, and come over became stay the night.

Until your presence bled into every corner of his life—his bedroom, then yours. Until secret walks through the Autumn woods and stolen moments in shadowed corners of the Forest house became frequent.

Eris should’ve known he was doomed when he first brought you to the cabin, his secret haven.

You filled it with the sharp tang of burnt herbs your first day. You had stood by the stove with your brows furrowed, waving at the smoke like it had personally offended you. The kettle hissed, a trail of smoke coming from its spout. The herbs you’d added to it were definitely charred and no good.

Eris leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, an unmistakable glint of amusement in his amber eyes. “For someone who claims to love tea more than anything, you’re remarkably bad at making it.”

You whipped around to face him, cheeks flushed from the heat. Perhaps, embarrassment too. “I’ve never done this myself before!”

He smirked. “So what you’re telling me is, you—the noble lady who demands two spoonfuls of honey, a splash of milk, and leaves steeped for exactly five minutes—doesn’t even know how to turn on a stove.”

You squinted at him, pointing the wooden spoon in your hand like a weapon. “I wasn’t trained in stove operation. I was trained in courtly etiquette, embroidery, and how to pour tea, not brew it.”

“Guess you can’t learn everything from a book, after all, hmm?”

A cheeky jab, referring to your tendency to study those book of yours like sacred texts, especially those smutty romance novels. He liked stirring reactions from you, finding them rather endearing.

You huffed and set the spoon down, officially unarmed, and Eris couldn’t help it. He reached over for the spice jars, not paying mind to which one he grabbed, casually tossing a pinch of it in your direction.

You gasped, nose scrunching up in the most adorable way, blinking fast as you tried to process what had just happened. You let out a cough before shooting him a glare.

“You’re an asshole,” you wheezed, swiping at your nose, though the small curve of your lips betrayed you.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Eris replied, stepping forward just as your hand inched toward the spice jar. He beat you to it, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you so close that it rendered your arms useless.

Brown flecks of powder still dusted your mouth, your nose. His gaze dipped to your lips, then to your watchful eyes before coming back down. Your lips parted, just slightly. And he leaned in to kiss you.

Cinnamon, it had been cinnamon he had thrown your way. He chased the sweetness of you and the spice, a hand reaching for the nape of your neck to deepen the kiss. But the smell of smoke had you pulling away and gasping, “the kettle!”

More smoke curled from the spout in a menacing little cloud. Eris cursed and turned off the stove, using his magic to clear the air out.

“Congratulations, my fair lady, you almost burned down my cabin.”

“You must have given me the wrong instructions!” you accused, pointing dramatically at him, and Eris fought the urge to laugh.

“I told you to turn the knob. That’s all you had to do.”

“That’s exactly what I did,” you insisted. “I have witnesses.”

He raised a brow, following the motion of your hands toward the hounds. Two had opted to lounge inside, snoring softly on the kitchen floor. One of them must’ve sensed your gazes on her for she lifted her head and turned to look at you. With a small huff, the hound rose and made her way to you, nudging your hand with her nose.

Of course. Even the hounds liked you.

He should’ve known then too. His hounds had taken to you immediately. He hadn’t expected that. They didn’t usually warm to strangers, mirroring the same reservations as him. But with you…

“Remind me again,” you said, turning back to the counter to clean up some of your mess. “Why you dragged me to the middle of nowhere?”

“Thought I’d teach you how to cook,” Eris replied casually. In truth, he just wanted to spend more time with you without the dangers that lurked in the forest house. “Can’t have that future husband of yours starving when your staff is out because his lovely wife only knows how to pour tea.”

You paused, a spoon halfway to the sink. “Excuse me?”

“What?” he said innocently, as if he hadn’t just shamed you for being incompetent in the kitchen.(As if he hadn’t secretly sabotaged every noble suitor who came to you, hoping you’d stay unattached a little longer.) “You’ve got a dream, don’t you? Pretty little estate. Charming, respectable husband. Six little monsters running around—”

“I never said anything about six.”

“So just the four then?” he grinned, finding your reaction amusing. “Or maybe three. A nice, odd number. With stupid, little matching names, no doubt.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here you are. Let yourself be ‘dragged’ here too.”

“Whatever,” you huffed. Then, you looked around the kitchen. “But what are we supposed to cook?”

“Fish.”

“I don’t see any fish.”

“We’re going to go catch them.”

You blinked. “Catch? With what?”

Eris’s grin widened. “Oh, you’re going to absolutely hate it.”

But you didn’t. Or if you did, you were stubborn enough to pretend otherwise, just to prove him wrong. He wouldn’t have put it past you.

There was a grimace at first as you waded into the river beside him, the cold water lapping around you. You muttered something about how ladies don’t belong in streams, how your mother would faint dead away if she saw you now. Your words faltered when Eris rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. His lips twitched, clearly catching the way your gaze lingered a moment too long.

Then came a sudden squeal as your foot landed on something squishy beneath the surface. Your hands shot out, gripping Eris’s bicep. He was almost certain you’d turn right back around. But as you steadied yourself, you slowly let go of his arm and waited patiently for instructions.

Eris showed you first. The same way he’d taught his brothers once, crouching low and catching a fish effortlessly. Then, whether by beginner’s luck or some favor from the Cauldron, you caught one too.

And promptly squealed again, louder this time, as it flailed violently in your hands and smacked Eris squarely across the face.

You froze in horror, your hands instinctively flying to your mouth, then quickly dropping when the smell of fish hit you.

And you laughed.

The kind of laugh that tipped your head slightly back and made your eyes shine.

He should’ve been annoyed. He remembers clocking Lucien when something similar had occurred during his lesson. All he could do was stare at you as the sunlight danced along your cheeks. Your hair had come undone, your skirts muddied. All elegance had been abandoned and still, somehow, you were the most radiant thing he’d ever seen.

He almost thought it, then.

Almost.

But he caught himself.

Because he couldn’t feel that way about you.

“Are you going soft now, brother?” Jayce asked, pulling Eris out of his troubling thoughts and back into the present.

Jayce stood casually in the doorway, a smug tilt playing on his mouth. Eris immediately regretted not locking the door to his study. He was seated at his desk, a freshly signed trial document still resting in front of him, the case of a commoner caught stealing bread. Stealing was not tolerated at all in Autumn but for once, he leaned into empathy and went easy. It was a time of war, after all.

Of course Jayce noticed. He noticed everything Eris did these days, like he was waiting for him to slip. That hunger for power simmered in Jayce’s eyes, barely masked beneath the smirk he wore so often.

“It was fair,” Eris replied, tone clipped as he refused to elaborate further.

Jayce hummed like he didn’t believe a word. Though, Eris knew it wasn’t the commoner’s light sentence that had him lingering. “You’ve been smiling more. Must be some pretty little thing warming your bed at night.”

Eris’s hand curled tighter against his pen. Such a small, subtle reaction. He hoped he could brush it off as an annoyance. Jayce was the most infuriating of his brothers. Yet, Jayce’s eyes gleamed in satisfaction.

“Careful, brother,” he said softly. “You know how dangerous it can be to become attached. Some people learn the hard way… like our dearest baby brother.”

He’d said it like a brother giving advice. But Eris knew better and he hated it.

He hated everything. He hated the way he felt something he wasn’t supposed to feel. The way his heart can’t help but skip a beat when you enter a room, the way his hounds now wait at the door for you.

Or at least he was trying to hate it, how quickly you carved yourself a place in his world.

a/n: The last scene between Eris & Jayce happens years after the start of your relationship btw. The power of Paramore has been fueling these past updates. I've been off these past 3 days & all I've been literally doing is writing. It's been nice lol. I'm eager to get to the scenes/parts that I've been playing out in my mind since the beginning of this series.

Also, hope it was somewhat clear that the husband Eris referred to was not himself. At this point, he's close enough to reader to know her dreams and hopes (of her finding a nice husband to settle down with, starting a family, etc) and teases her about it. He does not think of himself in her future, even though he's been lowkey sabotaging it bc he's in denial of his feelings.

series taglist: @kodafics , @shinyghosteclipse, @marrass, @posierosie, @solanaaaaaaa

@tele86, @bubybubsters, @k-homosapien, @mariaxliliana, @kathren1sky-blog

@anainkandpaper, @icey--stars, @moonlovefairy, @hellohauntedturnstudent, @lucia-valentinaa,

@wrenisrad, @smol-grandpa, @sleepylunarwolf, @63angel, @anuttellaa

@anon1227 @paleidiot @thatacotargirl, @queenoffeysand , @slut4acotar @awkardnerd

@blueroseava , @lovetia , @historygeekqueen , @idk1027 ,@naturakaashi

@blightyblinders , @wolvesnravens , @galaxystern08 , @faeofthemoonandstars , @antisocial-architect

@elisha-chloe, @cwallace02sblog, @randomramblesfanfiction, @moonlitlavenders

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444 @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human @mrsjna, @adventure-awaits15, @lorosette

@alwayshave-faith, @xadenswhore, @kodafics

#eris x reader #eris x you #eris x y/n #eris vanserra fanfiction #eris angst #acotar fanfiction #the mark eris left behind

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mouthfulloftoothpasterry · 5 months ago

Text

A Cure

Summary: very cute and very horny firefighter Harry x author wife 🥹

Warnings: unprotected sex, very horny husband and wife, humiliation, all that jazz AND slight voyeurism if you squint!

Wc: 6.4k

The sound of knuckles rapping against her office door pulls Y/n out of her trance. She blinks her eyes after minutes of them sitting unfocused on her white laptop screen full of words she's not sure make any sense to her anymore, or maybe they didn't in the first place.

After another minute she hears the knocking again, rubbing her strained eyes. “Are you in there, baby? Or am I embarrassing myself.” Her husband's voice booms from the other side of the door, he really isn't that loud at all but it's probably because the only sound she has heard for the past couple hours are the sniffles and sobs as she reads her publishers emails she's been avoiding for at least five days.

Y/n clears her throat, standing up. “Yeah, Hi, sorry.” Her voice is barely above a whisper when her husband comes into view. He stands tall above her, his strong arms wrapping around her shoulders. He looks down at her with a large smile carved into his face, pearly whites and dimples only an angel could make.

“How is writing going?” She lets out a puff of air before returning the smile

Y/n is currently working on her second novel after her debut was a big success, catching the attention of readers everywhere on social media; it soon became a number one best seller. Following the success, she's been pulled in every direction and spread too thin as her team pressures her to get this second novel out as soon as possible so she stays relevant and readers stay buzzing about her.

“It's going…” he gives her a soft frown, pressing a gentle kiss to her pouted mouth. “Well, I'm about to head out for work.” She nods, relaxing into his delicate touch as he runs his nose against her brow bone. “So soon?” He huffs a laugh, pulling his arm away from her to look at the watch on his wrist. “Well, considering I'm about to be late…” she grabs his wrist, looking at the time. 11:30, already?!

“Oh my god! I didn't even realize it, sorry I've just been knee deep in emails and I've got about twenty different documents going at a time and-” He cuts her off with a kiss, his big hands coming to cup at her cheeks. Y/n lets out a sigh of satisfaction, sinking into him deeper as her shaky hands come to clutch at his forearms, as if she's pulling him back to stay so they can spend the whole day like this.

He pulls away with reluctance, another laugh leaving his lips as her mouth follows his. “I've got to go fight fires, baby. Kinda my whole job.” She has what feels like a permanent frown on her face, but nods nonetheless. “I'll be back soon, my baby. I love you.” She smiles, watching him slowly back away while he squeezes her hand. “I love you too, H.”

📜⋆.ೃ🎞࿔*:･🕰-'♡'-

Y/n sits at her desk, sipping on another random energy drink so she can keep her eyes open to write maybe one sentence that will actually make it into her book.

Her first book came easy. After over a decade of only dreaming of getting a book deal and becoming a huge author it finally came true at twenty six. She wrote the novel about her own life, swapping the names and dramatizing some situations for entertainment- but all in all it was exactly her and Harry's love story. A classic second chance romance, highschool sweethearts who break up during college because long distance is too hard, then once the male main character comes back to town they see each other after two years and instantly fall back in love. Happily ever after and all that.

It's true, for most of her life with Harry it has been a fairytale, and that's exactly why her book has been such a big success. Everyone fell in love with Brooks as she had with Harry. The cute, shy, overly kind, highschooler turned mushy, soft, sexy, firefighter husband was an easy drawn in as readers described it as the “love story of a century”.

She decided not to continue with Brooks and Summer’s love story because it had been told from start to finish, highschool to marriage. Now, she's focused on a new couple, struggling with names at first, now their story, family, their emotional backstories, everything. The only thing she was confidently writing was the cameos from Brooks and Summer since they were all friends in this series she was trying to create.

She's got the names, Ruby and Noah, but she has no clue what the fuck they are doing. She's looking forward to writing about their ski trip, where she's going to make Ruby and Noah hook up after summer's constant nagging that Ruby should give him a try. Enemies to lovers this time around.

She loves writing trips, she's not sure why. Maybe because as her characters have a get away it seems her mind does as well. She gets to pour everything into imagery while she describes the snowy trees and the beautiful big cabin they stay in for a week.

Maybe that's what she needs to crack this writer's block, a nice getaway. But unfortunately, that's not possible with Harry's job right now. They are short staffed on firefighters and even the teen volunteers aren't doing much to compensate for the lack of employment.

Y/n’s head falls back against her chair, groaning and slapping her hand on her keyboard. She looks over at her scribbled notes on the random legal pad she found in her desk drawer. As much as she had planned for this winter getaway, she couldn't find it in herself to write it. She's been painfully getting through writing the drive up to the cabin through the past couple days and she isn't even halfway done.

This particular scene is supposed to be big for Ruby and Noah, Ruby finds out more about Noah's childhood and she begins to feel differently about him. She finally makes sense of why he's so standoffish and reserved, all these years she thought he was just a selfish dick.

Y/n groans, crumbling up the paper and throwing it across the room because she can't bear to look at the plans she so excitedly wrote down a few nights ago when she's now in one of her worst blocks of her writing career. It's worse than when she forgot about a five thousand word essay in college and had to hurry up and write something two hours before due.

“Maybe I'll just take a walk.” She sighs out, lifting from her numb legs and finally exiting her dark office. She pads down the stairs, sliding on shoes and pulling a light coat over her clothes.

Her eyes take a moment to adjust to the sunshine after hours of staring at the artificial blue light her computer gives off. She breathes in the crisp early afternoon air. Hopefully this works.

📜⋆.ೃ🎞࿔*:･🕰-'♡'-

The walk didn't help much, it definitely cleared her mind like walks usually do- but that worsened her case if anything because now she can't think of a single thing to write while they drive up to that stupid cabin.

Might as well get some chores out of the way, she thinks, as she fills up a water bottle after living off coffee and energy drinks. She walks out of the kitchen and back up the stairs where she opens the door to her and Harry's bedroom. She opens the closet door, looking at the mound of laundry they both have piled up, better get to it. She groans as she lifts their shared laundry basket, it's overflowing and has now piled onto the floor. Harry helps out as much as he can but with his crazy work schedule and y/n being locked in her office all day they don't get as much done as they would like.

She tosses clothes into the washer, pouring detergent in and closing the lid to start the load. In the meanwhile, she goes back to their room and pulls a big load of clean laundry onto her bed.

She begins folding them and tossing them into piles, one for pajamas, bras, boxers, and so on. She walks to the big closet to grab a stack of hangers, tossing shirts and dresses and pants over the hangers and placing them on the rod one by one.

She shoves her hand onto the dwindling pile of clothes, a lace material rubbing against her finger tips. She pulls at it, revealing the tiny babydoll she had worn for Harry one long night… almost two months ago. She sighs, hanging it up on one of the nicer hangers out of the random collection of mismatched ones they've collected over the years.

She bites her lips, staring at the pretty fabric. Her and Harry both have quite high sex drives, maybe because they are still in the early years of their marriage, maybe that's just how they are despite everyone saying they would get bored of each other especially because they were each other's first everything.

But between them being short staffed and Y/n getting swept up in the marketing and press of her book, they haven't had that much time for each other. She's lucky she has a touchy feely husband, because that's what comforts her. She needs to be in her husband's arms to feel better again. And since it's been so crazy, she hasn't gotten more than a lingering kiss for weeks and weeks.

She hangs the garment back up, ignoring the nagging feeling as she continues her chores.

Once the laundry pile is all folded she switches out the now clean laundry into the dryer and starts another load, plopping on the couch until Harry gets home.

📜⋆.ೃ🎞࿔*:･🕰-'♡'-

“I'm home!” Y/n hears Harry shout through the house, perking up and dusting off the t-shirt she has over her little matching bra and panties set. She closes her laptop, she was sitting on the couch, trying to write as a distraction until her husband came home. “Hi,” Harry softly sings, a big cheesy smile on his face as he finally spots his wife after hours of working. She rises, stretching up and wrapping her arms around his neck. He hums, giving her a squeeze and rubbing up and down her back.

“I missed my baby while I was away.” He mumbles, kissing the side of her head over and over. She smiles, inhaling his smoky smell that has grown to be comforting. It's him. A deeply sweet- almost fruity scent mixed with the ash and smoke of fires. “I missed you, H.” She whispers, pulling away and leaning in to kiss him. Her hand rests on his chest, opening her mouth slightly to slide her tongue against his.

She can feel his lips curling into a grin, his hands slide down, lifting her up and into his arms. “You missed me something special, Hm?” She nods then pushes her hands into his hair. “Take me upstairs, H.” He does as told, starting to slowly and carefully walk them toward the staircase.

A ring ruins the moment, making Harry sigh, sitting her down. Y/n sighs, wiping the side of her mouth. “Fuck,” He sighs, shaking his head as he looks down at his phone. “H?” He looks back up, his heart breaking as he looks at his wife. “Baby….” she frowns, trying to push back the urge to cry. “It's work. I'm sorry. I've got to go be a firefighter.” He softly smiles, attempting to lighten the mood.

It doesn't help though. She wraps her arms around herself, feeling stupid and childish that she's so emotional over her husband having to leave her to go fight a fire and potentially save lives. “I'm sorry, baby. I have to go.” His hand pulls away from her, waving before he walks out of the door.

She swallows the lump in her throat, walking up the stairs alone and straight into the bedroom. She pulls off the matching set she wore to surprise Harry, tossing it into the empty laundry basket. She pulls on normal pajamas, just a big shirt and a random pair of pajama shorts before washing her face and brushing her teeth.

She gets in bed, preparing to wait up and make sure Harry is alright before falling asleep.

📜⋆.ೃ🎞࿔*:･🕰-'♡'-

Working from home is pretty lonely. Harry can be up and out of the door as early as four in the morning and sometimes gets calls all throughout the night. She got pretty used to being alone once Harry became a firefighter, and she even liked it. Being alone with her thoughts was great for her writing. She reminisced on the early days of her relationship, laughing at all the awkward stages and feeling emotional at how far they've come from the goofy teenagers they once were.

“I'm writing as fast as I can! It's not going to be good if it's not organic.” Y/n stresses over the phone, trying to push down the lump in her throat that strains her words. “Yes, Y/n, but we need to get a publish date on this book and get the ball rolling.” She groans, feeling tempted to throw her phone next to the discarded ball of paper from yesterday- but she knows that's a bit dramatic.

She hangs up, too frustrated to talk- or think about this goddamn book. She needs her husband, she needs his touch. A hug, a kiss, anything from him right now would ease her anxiety.

Time to start stress baking.

For as long as she can remember baking has been an outlet for Y/n- she's not sure why. Taking the horrible thoughts of the day and the physical anxiety and turning it into something yummy that puts a smile on everyone's face was fulfilling. She even put her own little recipes at the end of each chapter dependent on whatever Summer had made for Brooks- which was once again very much based on her and Harry.

White chocolate cranberry scones, chocolate cake, lavender lemon loaf, she is bound to be busy with all the different recipe cards laid out in front of her on their kitchen island.

She sifts the flour, bowls covering the table with a load of dishes already going in the dishwasher. The timer from the oven goes off, pulling her away from her distraction of yet another sweet treat. She pushes her hair out of her face, opening the oven and adding it to the collection of pastries that are making her house smell so good. Thank god she's got hungry firefighters to feed. She scribbles a note on the white board that's magnetized to the fridge to remind her to box up some of everything for Harry to bring in.

She's the fire chief's wife, she's has to keep them fed.

After what feels like days of baking, she's finally done. Two different cookies, two different loaves of bread, scones, and a cake.

Y/n flops down on the couch, turning on some trashy TV to keep her mind anywhere but that book she's supposed to be writing.

She gets about halfway through a forty five minute episode before she gets a glimpse of the time. She shoots up, starting on dinner knowing that her husband will arrive home anytime. He seems just as stressed out as she is about work, he just doesn't let it show as much, so she wants to make his life easier when she can.

Dinner didn't take long, she just whipped up something easy and quick for them. She flops back down on the couch, keeping the food on low so it will stay warm.

“Hi, baby.” Harry smiles, tossing his keys onto the table and coming to flop down next to her on the couch. He wraps his arms around her, cuddling into her. “What smells so good?” He sniffs at her neck as if she's covered in perfume, making her laugh and push away his touch even though she craves it more than anything right now. “Lots of random baked goods.” She softly laughs, pressing a kiss to his lips. He gives her an empathetic smile. “stressed, huh?” She shrugs, sitting up and he quickly follows.

“I made dinner too.” He thanks her. Kissing the back of her hand and trailing them up her arm. “How about after dinner we finish what we started the other night… maybe it will help you unwind?” She feels her stomach tighten. She wants to say no, take me right now before you're whisked away again, but she doesn't. She nods, closing her eyes and sinking into his touch before it's taken away.

He kisses her head, standing up and pulling her with him. “Let's get you fed and ready for me, huh? Can't have you losing energy half way through.” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head with a smile on her face.

They eat dinner together, sitting at the island together instead of the proper dining table. They make small talk, catching each other up about their day, Harry telling her all about two kittens that were stuck in a tree that he had to rescue bright and early this morning. “So that's why you crawled out of bed at four in the morning?” Harry nods, standing up and pushing their bowls aside. “Yeah, but now we’re going to head back to bed.” He smiles, holding a hand out for her, which she takes.

Harry leans in, slotting his lips with his wife's. Another ring sounds through the silence of their kiss. Harry groans loudly into her mouth, obviously irritated. “I swear to god-” he yanks his phone from where it was sitting on the table. “What?!” He spits to the other person on the line, obviously frustrated. “Fuck.” He nods once more to the caller before hanging up. “I'm sorry, baby. A restaurant downtown is completely engulfed in flames, I have to go now.” She nods, trying to bite back her frown.

She loves that Harry is a firefighter, it's sexy and has made him build up the strong physique that holds her and protects her. She loves that he does so much for the city and has saved so many lives and homes, but as he's out saving others' homes it feels like he's abandoning theirs. He's home basically just to sleep, and nothing else. Their relationship is still strong, and their love will never fade, but not having quality time is taking a toll on both of them mentally.

“I promise, baby. I'll be home as soon as possible.” He rushes out of the house, running towards the door.

Y/n is once again left in the house all alone.

📜⋆.ೃ🎞࿔*:･🕰-'♡'-

Y/n is woken up with a gentle shake, slowly blinking her blurry eyes open. “What time is it?” She slurs, sitting up when she knocks her open, timed out laptop off of her chest. Harry quickly catches it, softly laughing and placing it on the coffee table. “It's only been an hour since I left. You fell asleep while writing, baby.” He rubs her back, placing a kiss to the side of her head.

“Oh shit!” She shoots up, grabbing her laptop. “That is due at midnight, I need to send it to my editor!” Harry stops her from running up to her office, hooking an arm around her. “Hey, hey. Slow down, baby.” She huffs, sitting next to him on the couch.

“Are you still struggling to finish this chapter?” He kisses her head again, brushing her hair out of her face. She nods, feeling the anxiety build up in her body at the thought of not getting this chapter done in time. “Yes. It's so frustrating,I just feel defeated. Like I need… a cure?”

Harry taps on his bottom lip with his pointer finger while he's thinking. “A cure?”

Y/n nods, “a cure.”

“Well, go try to finish writing so your editor doesn't get mad at you. If you need any help or words of encouragement I'll be in our room.” She nods, rising up from the couch, collecting her laptop in her arms before kissing her husband. He smiles when she pulls away, giving her ass a small smack.

“Go get to it, baby.”

She walks up the steps, still sleepy as she sits back in her desk chair and cracks her screen back open. She gets to typing, putting any coherent thought down to try to make it make sense, she can always have her editor put it into better formed sentences that flow better with the rest of the story.

It's a little past 1:30 when she finally gets into bed, crawling in next to her shirtless husband.

Harry groans, wrapping both his arms around her while he keeps his eyes closed- too sleepy to actually open them. She cuddles into him, finally relaxing after what seems like days of tense muscles and mental gymnastics. “Did you find your cure?” She shakes her head, “no cure yet. But I got it done.”

He whispers a cheer, squeezing her. “Good job, baby. I knew you'd do it. Now go to sleep, we'll celebrate tomorrow.” She giggles into his neck, wrapping a leg around him.

“Celebrate?” He nods, basically snoring. “I'll finally fuck you, promise, baby.”

📜⋆.ೃ🎞࿔*:･🕰-'♡'-

“Guess what the fire chief got called in for?” Harry asks, walking into the house surprisingly early. Y/n spins around in her chair, her eyebrows shooting up. “You're home, H!” He nods, walking over to her. “What did you get called in for?” He stays silent for a beat to dramatize and leave her in suspense.

“A fourteen year old kid got his head stuck in a fence. And they called me, the fire chief, to get him out.” Y/n laughs, almost choking on her water. “So,” Harry starts, grabbing her water from her hand and taking a sip of it. “I said don't call me, don't bother me, I'm taking the day off to spend with my wife.” She smiles, scanning him up and down.

He's still in his red suspenders, fire pants, and the navy blue shirt that hugs his pecs and biceps more than should be allowed for everyday firefighting. His hair is crazy, pushed back with a strand flopping in his eyes. His skin is covered in black ash and soot, and he smells of fire but it only heats her skin.

His pointer finger curls to lift her chin up, his thumb softly resting under her bottom lip. He slots his lips with hers, making her whimper with need. Her hand clutches at the short sleeve of his shirt, feeling his toned muscles under it. “Hop up” he lifts her into his strong arms, walking them up to their bedroom.

He slams open the door, throwing her on the bed. They both laugh loudly, her arms reaching out for him again. He knees the bed, on his hands and knees while he hovers over her. Neither of them care that he's covered in black ash on their light duvet.

His hand slides up her t-shirt, smiling at the feeling of her warm skin even though he knew she was braless. “Take this fuckin’ thing off.” He half-jokes, pulling at the bottom of her shirt and lifting it over her head. Harry pulls his suspenders down, yanking off his tight shirt. Y/n hated to see the shirt go, but she loves saying goodbye. Her hands slide down his chest and onto his chiseled abs. “Keep the rest on.” Harry's eyebrow raises, his mouth slightly popped open.

“Keep it on?” She nods, then slides a suspender back up his arm.

Harry smiles, unbuttoning his pants and pulling his hard cock out. It slaps against his belly, making Y/n's mouth water. He yanks at her pants, making her shuffle down the bed. They both laugh as he pulls her pants down, giggles flying through the room as her pants fly through the air.

He takes in her naked body, his eyes dragging down her almost like she's his prey. Suddenly she feels shy under her husband's heavy gaze, pulling her arms in to cover herself. “Don't. You. Fucking. Dare.” He practically growls, yanking her arms away. He opens her legs, his hand sliding over cunt.

“I'm going to absolutely devour you. I'm not going to stop until you're shaking.” She smiles, wrapping her legs around him.

Harry grabs his cock, lining it up with her. “Are you wet enough, baby?” He asks, his hand slipping down for a moment to touch her pussy. “Oh,” an evil grin forms on his face. “You're dripping, huh?” Her face heats up, looking away because she knows she'll be too embarrassed to look him in his eye.

Harry softly but quickly pulls her face back toward him, opening her jaw with his thumb and spitting into her mouth.

She pulls him in with her legs, moaning. He lines himself up with her, finally pushing it. Y/n cries out at the feeling of him finally being inside of her after so long, it only eggs Harry on.

His constant thrusting shuffles her up and down the bed, and he loves every second of watching her tits bounce while his cock is stuffed deep inside of her. “Fuck, H” she gasps, reaching out for his arm to somewhat stabilize herself. “Feels good, baby?” He slips his thumb inside of her mouth, watching her perfect pouty lips wrap around him. She frantically nods, breathless and already shaking from the feeling of her husband's big, thick, bare cock inside of her.

“H, fuck, I don't know if I'm going t-” he cuts her off, smashing his mouth into her. She can hear how wet she is as the sound of wet squelching and heavy pants fill the room. It's enough to turn her cheeks red hot again, trying to ignore it. “Do you hear how fucking wet you are?” Harry says, biting at her neck. All chances of her not being humiliated are thrown out of the door the second Harry opens his dirty mouth. She almost forgot how embarrassingly filthy he can talk.

“Tell me, baby, do you hear how wet you are? Your pussy is dripping all over the sheets, you're making an absolute mess of me.”

She ignores his mouth, trying to keep some of her dignity.

“Tell me right now, or I'll stop fucking you.” She whines, gasping as he hits her special little spot. Her eyes roll to the back of her head and her back arches as he sends electricity from her head to her toes. “I'll stop right now.” His hips come to a vault, and suddenly she's sobbing out her answer. “Yes, fuck, H. I'm so wet. I'm so fucking wet and it's all for you.” She falls into a chant of “it's all for you, all for you H” until he starts fucking her again now that he's gotten exactly what he wants.

“So wet, and tight, and warm for me, baby. I think your pussy was made just for me.” She nods, she's so cock drunk she thinks she might sign all her rights away if asked. “Cause my dick fits perfectly in you, it hits all those special little spots that puts that little pout on your lips.”

She gasps, gripping his arm tighter as she gets closer. “Yeah, you're going to cum? Cum on my cock, it's okay. You can cum baby, I know it's been so long.”

She moans a mantra of his name over and over again as she finally orgasms, feeling like a weight has been lifted off of her.

Harry cums shortly after her, moaning in her ear and telling her how good she makes him feel.

He flops down next to her after he carefully pulls out, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close. “You okay? I didn't go too rough?” She shakes her head, resting it on his bicep. He presses a soft peck to her lips then gently rubs her cheek with his thumb. “No, H. It was perfect.” He smiles, glancing away like he didn't just say the dirtiest things she's ever said to her. “I'm sorry we haven't had a lot of time to be together. I hate being so busy.” She nods, “it's okay, H. I know you can't help it.” He bites at the inside of his bottom lip, sighing.

He moves his head closer to hers, closing his eyes and rubbing his nose against hers. “I love you.” She smiles, sliding her hand down his arm and threading their fingers together. “I love you too, babe.”

He sits up, on his knees. “What are you doing?” He grabs her legs, tossing them onto his shoulders. He kisses her ankle, “I didn't forget about my promise. I want your legs shaking. I'll carry you around everywhere tomorrow.” She giggles as he stretches her legs out, bending to suck and lick at her nipples.

She pushes him away, making him laugh. “Not gonna let your husband get a little frisky?” She rolls her eyes with a smile, “I've been letting you get frisky since we were sixteen, I've had enough.” He scoffs, sliding inside of her again.

He presses kisses over her leg, using his over hand to press into her lower belly. She gasps, grabbing his wrist. “Am I too big?” She attempts to roll her eyes at his cockiness but is cut off with a moan when he presses into her again.

Harry starts thrusting in and out of her, painfully slow. All of his touches are amplified, she can feel every vein on him. “Fuck, babe,” she hardly manages to get a word out of her mouth as her hips wiggle. She's inconsolable as she lets out sobs, her back arching and hips rolling against his.

She clenches around him, sending a chill rolling down his back. “Fuck, baby. Do that again.” She clenched around him, spasming around him as he perfectly rolls his hips. Thank god he knows how to use all that.

She whimpers his name, begging for him to give her anything he can. A blissed out smile frames Harry's face, his pearly white teeth peaking out while he bites his lips to silence his grunts and groans. She pulls him in even closer with her legs and he bottoms out inside of her. He gasps her name, his hand clenching at her calf.

“Don't hide, H. I want to hear how good you feel.” His mouth falls open at her words, his hazy eyes falling closed in pleasure. He shudders, letting out a shaky breath. “F-fuck, baby.” She clenches around him once again, holding it as he pushes back inside of her.

“You f-feel like heaven, you're so fucking perfect. So perfect.” He moans, his mouth open while he thrusts in and out of her. He whines, making Y/n want to bite a pillow and scream into it from the noises her husband is making. “I fucking love this pussy, baby. Tell me whose it is.” Her back arches, letting out a pleasured sigh as she grips the sheets. “It's your pussy, H. You're the only one who gets to cum it in.” He smiles, nodding.

They both cum at the same time, their moans blending as they cry each other's names.

Harry finally lets his fire pants drop, kicking them off the bed once he's calmed down.

“I'm hiring more people as soon as possible. There's no way I went so long without you.” She laughs as he kisses her, both of them laying together in their post-sex bliss. She fidgets with his wedding ring, her head on his chest. “Yeah, I miss having you around the house.” Harry nods, squeezing one of her fingers. “Me too.”

They both relax into the bed, staying silent and enjoying each other's company.

“Round three in the shower?”

📜⋆.ೃ🎞࿔*:･🕰-'♡'-

Y/n looks over at her office door which is now open, her sleepy husband stands in the doorway, the only thing he's wearing is low hanging pajama pants. He rubs at his sleepy eyes, his hair going in every different direction. “Why are you awake?” She softly laughs at his question, looking at the time on her laptop. “H, it's almost 11AM.” His sleepy eyes go wide for a split second before they return to their tired half-open state.

“Well, you should be in bed with me.” He creeps over to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders while she sits in her office chair. “I'm writing?” He dramatically gasps, pressing a kiss to her neck. “You're writing?” She nods, continuing to type even as he kisses her.

“Did inspiration strike?” She nods, smiling. “Last night kind of inspired me. I think it's exactly what I needed.” Harry raises one eyebrow, his fingertips coming to pull the laptop closer to him. “Can I read it?” She nods, letting him pull it into his arms, watching him scroll back up to the start of the chapter.

After last night she finally had the inspiration strike to write Ruby and Noah hooking up at the ski getaway. This will be the peak in her book, now that they are together the rest will be a breeze to write.

She watches as his pajama pants slowly grow, making her hands shake with anticipation. “Holy fuck. You wrote that based on last night?” She smiles, blushing and nodding.

“That was your cure, huh?”

She didn't think about it that way. “I finally got my cure.”

Harry sinks down onto his knees, sliding his hands up her thighs, under the shirt of his she was wearing to bed. He hooks his fingers into her panties, dragging them down. “Now I need my cure.” He whispers, sliding her panties down her legs and into the pocket of his pajama pants. “I've got a big problem,” he looks down, cupping his large bulge. “And you're the only cure for it.”

He parts her legs, smiling at the sight of her wet cunt.

“Oh god, baby. How long have you been like this?” He pouts up at her, touching her with delicate fingers. “So long, H. I've been thinking about you since I got up.” She whines, pushing her shirt back so it doesn't block his view.

He lets out a sympathetic whine for her, his eyebrows pinching together with a worried expression. “My poor girl, I've got to take care of you now. You woke up with a throbbing pussy thinking of me, Hm?” She nods, carefully watching his every move.

Her breath shudders as her eyes follow his head sinking down to between her legs. Her eyes go wide, feeling his tongue slide into her. She whimpers, closing her eyes at the feeling of his warm tongue sliding up and down her cunt.

“No, no. Go ahead and write. It's the only thing that cures your writer's block.” She gulps, her hands shaking as she goes back to writing with her husband's head between her legs. She slowly types onto her document as he licks her up and down. She tries to keep her eyes open, typing whatever comes to her mind- which she's more than sure will be a jumbled mess for her to fix later. “H, please babe.” He shakes his head. “Your publisher will be mad if you don't write it.” He licks her clit, pulling it into his mouth to suck at it.

Her hand falls to the top of his head, threading her fingers through his hair. He shakes his head again, grabbing her hand and placing it back on her keys.

She moans, rolling her hips. She's fully given up on writing, her head fallen back as he continues to eat her pussy.

“Baby,” he laughs, kissing her thigh. “Well, I can't be mad. I guess you deserve it after working so hard.” He lifts up to kiss her, laughing at her failed attempt to write like he previously ordered her to.

He sinks back down between her legs, flicking his tongue against her clit. She groans, arching her back and whimpering. She throws a leg over his shoulder and he instantly wraps his arm around it. “You taste so good.” His mouth is loud against her, making lewd noises as he sucks, licks, and flicks his tongue against her skin.

“You always taste so good, baby.” He groans against her, losing himself in the smell, feeling, and taste of her. He moans against her over and over again, sliding his tongue deep in her to taste her wetness straight from the source. He loves how wet he can get her, how just the thought of him gets her so worked up she spends the whole morning with a wet, throbbing cunt until he takes matters into his own hands.

He often fantasizes about catching her touching herself- just because he knows her writing is always based on their experience and when she is writing a particularly spicy scene she tends to get worked up.

He can imagine silently creeping into her office to catch her with her legs open and her small hand down her panties trying to satisfy herself when they both know it's his hands she's craving.

She falls to pieces above him, her chest rapidly falling and rising while her mouth drops open to praise him and all the pleasure he's giving her. “You can cum, baby. It's okay.” He closes his eyes, enjoying the last few moments of her on his tongue. He loves the silky feeling of her, how warm and soft she is.

“H, I'm cumming!” She moans, gripping at his hair while she rolls her hips trying to get herself there. Seconds later she cums all over his mouth, leaving him to clean her up.

He wipes his mouth, sucking his fingers off before he yanks her down to give her a messy tongue kiss to let her taste herself.

She tries to catch her breath, giggling now that she's come back down. “Do you feel better now?” She nods, kissing him again.

“Just needed your husband to take care of you, huh?” She nods once again, wrapping her arms and legs around him as he wraps his big, strong arms around her. “Now go sit back there in case I need you again.” He agrees to it with a large smile on his face, walking back to the much bigger and comfier chair she normally uses for reading.

He’s always been the cure.

A/N: WOWOWOW!! beside a small 1k word blurb this is my return to writing after almost a year and a half! I thought about making an Author y/n one random day in the shower and with a little help from my beautiful, amazing, creative best friend @ziallslvr firefighter Harry and author Y/n was born 🥹!!!!

I feel so passionate about these two! They are my sweet babies❤️ This specific Y/n is straight from my heart, and might be a little self indulgent! I hope you all love her as much as I do ❤️

PLEASEEEEEE!!! IF YOU LIKED THIS REBLOG AND SHARE YOUR THOUGHT WITH ME :D

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heyyoufriendthere · 4 days ago

Text

Nobody asked, but hey. I’m unreasonably sure of myself when it comes to comic book opinions.

Aunt May doesn’t know Peter Parker is Spider-Man.

I mean, she does NOW, but for a good majority of Peter’s career from the sixties up? Hell no. I know it’s cute whenever she’s dying to get that scene where she’s “always known,” and fandom LOVES a “it’s SO obvious when you think about it” moment for when they want to dump on the medium, but no. May Parker doesn’t know he’s Spider-Man and- more importantly- she DOES NOT want to know, and I like it that way.

“Why?” I hear you ask. “She’s been basically his mom since he was a little freaky marvel baby! Who on earth knows him better than her? How on earth couldn’t she have figured out her beat to shit nephew wasn’t Spider-Man when he’s basically just leaving his blood and costume all over his room?”

1. Because as feel good as it is, the Parker household isn’t sunshine and roses. May and Peter shut themselves off for years after Ben died. They love each other to death, but they don’t communicate. He's either shut away in his room, cracking jokes or off running around doing god knows what.

She's talking around him. Walking on eggshells. They both blame themselves, and it took decades for them to admit that to each other. Peter let the robber go, May chased him off because they got into an argument.

This shared guilt manifests in them both desperately wanting to take care of each other.

First, Peter throws himself into being both the Spider-Man, AND, more importantly, the breadwinner. The boy is broke. You know it, I know it, it's one of the single most iconic and relatable things about him. He gets weird about it. He's ALWAYS worried about it. I hear he might even have a money-worrying disease.

Money or the lack thereof has always been important to the mythos, even before Ben's death, but before Ben dies it manifested in things like Peter wanting a car or motorcycle the family couldn't afford and doing a wrestling gig. After Ben dies, his priorities shift.

He treats Aunt May like she’s made of glass (to be fair, she kinda is. Early Spider-Man has that woman fainting or having a heart attack every other week. Her constitution is held up by tissues, the US Healthcare system and Anna Watson’s unbreakable back muscles.)

Now, on top of being a near full time super hero, he's also saddled himself with the responsibility of taking care of the only parental figure he's got left in life while also trying to juggle both school and spending time with a friend group whose bank accounts aren't worried about when Jonah's feeling particular chipper about paying his employees.

Now he's trying to cover May's medical bills. Now he's trying to cover the rent. Now he's more worried about leaving May alone to live with Anna when his burgeoning friendship with Harry Osborn and the Coffee Bean Gang has netted him a free, all expenses paid apartment.

Meanwhile.

May's doing the exact goddamn thing. Richard and Mary dying the way they did kicked off the Parker family habit of keeping secrets, and Ben dying kicked her s-mothering into overdrive. She starts doting on him in a way that makes him feel like a child (modern depictions will try to convince you he was an itty bitty baby boy when he got his powers. They're lying. He was out of high school like 30 issues after Amazing Spider-Man #1.)

She's pawning her jewelry. She's trying to set him up with Mary Jane because she knows what's best for him (he needs someone fun and energetic because he's so quiet, and it's certainly not going to be that awful Betty Brant who will keep him on his toes).

Her entire idea of their relationship is that he's functionally helpless and she needs to take care of him. She’s not getting younger! Practically has one foot in the grave! That’s why she needs to put on an act to show him that everything is fine.

Richard and Mary are dead. Ben is dead. She's barely functioning on her and Ben's savings, the things she can sell and the money Peter's bringing in from his photography work. But it’s fine! Everything is fine and life will be just a bit brighter with a nice schmear on the bagel.

(Shout out to JM DeMattheis for showing up in the 90's to inject some fucking LIFE into Aunt May. Look at that quirked eyebrow. What a legend. Never read his Doctor Fate run, it will give you hives.)

2. Because, contrary to popular belief, Peter’s VERY good at hiding his identity and gaslighting his friends and family, especially when you combine his G(aslight)G(atekeep)G(Girlboss) skills with the good old Parker luck and its passive debuff to everyone's collective sanity.

Is this not the face of a woman doing okay in her relationship with New York's Friendly Neighborhood dirtbag?

I blame the Ultimate Spider-Man cartoon (he's fine with Shield immediately revealing his identity to a group of teen heroes? Absolutely the fuck not.) and the continuing woobification of comic books for how much this idea that Peter's inherently bad at keeping his identity secret comes up, because it's backbreaking work Peter doing to pull the wool over all of their eyes.

Why is he late? His job. Why is he never around? His job. What could his excuse be this time? Aunt May had her bi-weekly heart attack. Why is he beat to hell and back? He got hurt in the middle of getting pictures of Spider-Man. Why won't he ask for help? Why do none of his friends find this suspicious?

Part of it's because he didn't have friends in High School except for Betty and Liz Allen. He was an angry loner too stuck up his own ass about how smart he was to take the NUMEROUS opportunities presented to him to actually engage with his peers except to fight with Flash, (don't let modern depictions fool you either. Flash Thompson and Peter Parker weren't Bully and Bullied, they were enemies. They gave as good as they got. That's also, not coincidentally, why Gwen and Harry's first impressions of him in college were that he was rude little jackass).

So by the time he's in college and finally has a social life, literally everyone is used to him being a flake.

Which isn't to say that's the only way he's keeping his secret.

Here's the first of a few attempts to tell people exactly who he is.

Peter has a habit of telling his friends the truth they need to hear you see. Sometimes when he's delirious, sometimes when he's not, like here at Gwen's birthday party.

Or here when he's finally resolved himself to stop ruining his girlfriend Debbie's life after numerous therapy sessions about how she knows he's Spider-Man.

But that'll never be the end of it! He can't just out himself to the people he loves! No! He just made Gwen cry! Think about what this would do to May! So he does things like going to Hobie Brown to help him sucker the gang back into blissful ignorance.

Or walking back his reveals the second someone doesn't take them seriously.

After all, if it's fixed her and she doesn't suspect a thing, why bother telling her the truth? Yeesh. She goes on to write a book about it, it’s very funny.

But you get my point. Peter gets both very good at keeping his identity secret and is very wary of actually telling anyone over the years, to the point that just about the only people who knew leading up to the Civil War reveal were Mary Jane (don't you love a friendly neighborhood retcon?), the Fantastic 4, off again/on again dead or dying Harry/Norman Osborn, and Black Cat.

Otherwise it’s just people with superpowers or extenuating circumstances ENTIRELY out of his control that find out, like when he gets ambushed by Serial Sniffers like Wolverine and Daredevil. Or when he gets outed by his gooey ex Venom after it oozed onto Eddie Brock. Or the occasional psychic like Cyclop’s and Jean Grey's time/dimension adrift fail-son Nate Grey.

But this is a post about Peter and Aunt May, so let's get back to that before I run wild and free on another tangent.

3. Aunt May has had so many opportunities to know his secret. She finds his costume in his room!

She's literally seen a whole doll made of web fluid in his bed! She faints immediately of course, it was the sixties, but what does he do? Does he say, "Oh Aunt May, I'm so sorry I've been lying to you for awhile, I'm actually Spider-Man"? No! Of course he doesn't! He lies about why the hell there was a webbing doll in his fucking bed!

But why does she believe him?

Because it all comes back to this.

If Aunt May knows three things, it's that Aunt May knows her nephew.

Aunt May knows reality.

And Aunt May knows that she HATES Spider-Man.

Wait what?

Yeah! Aunt May hates Spider-Man, go figure. That rotten motherfucker is the cause of so much grief in her life. Why is Peter getting hurt? He's taking pictures of Spider-Man. Who's always causing trouble in the Daily Bugle? Spider-Man. She's set to marry Otto Octavius, and who shows up to ruin it? Spider-Man. George Stacy died, orphaning Gwen?! Spider-Man! GWEN DIED? SPIDER-MAN, SPIDER-MAN, SPIDER-FUCKING-MAN!

She hates him so much that she pulls a gun on him. She fires it! There's a BKOW effect and everything!

Let that sink in. Not only is this the only time Aunt May has ever used a gun in the main continuity, but it's pointed at him. In her purse you'll find petty cash, some important documents, her change purse, a cooking utensil or two, and Aunt May's Glock For Spider-Man.

To me, Aunt May not knowing and not wanting to know is an important part of the character because her not being able to square these two things she knows are true in the same round hole makes her even more compelling. Peter Parker is her frail nephew who she loves more than anything in the world and Spider-Man is singlehandedly the largest, most destructive cause of stress for the Parkers. If her finding out isn't a shock, if it isn't negative, then something is wrong with the reveal.

Because you can't tell me that this woman finally coming to terms with the fact that Peter Parker is Spider-Man is going to be a peaceful affair. That she'd know and just be waiting for him to tell her.

This is a woman who hates and loves with a passion. Peter is her son and she's going to do what any good mother would do if they found out their kid is actively putting himself in harms way and lying about it to their face. Fic culture and games like Insomniac's Spider-Man, LOVE to smooth over all of her edges. She's the perfect, prim, caring Aunt May with infinite patience and a penchant for dramatic reveals. Can she be sad? Sure. Happy? Always. Worried about her nephew? No problem. Sometimes she can even be disappointed.

But angry? Not the perfect mother? No we can't have that, what about our feel good narrative? God forbid if she occasionally bites Peter the way he bites everyone around him! That would sully the message!

I don't know. I've spent the past five hours typing this up and finding my various images. Section 2 had to be cut way down because I can't hop across 12 more runs looking for the way he let Harry get trucked off to a mental hospital or how he burned Norman's goblin suits to keep him from relapsing from his amnesia and revealing his identity.

Long story short. Let May kill a man. Let her have a reaction less tepid than gasping out how proud she is of Peter. It's what makes those moments when she starts harassing Jonah and the Bugle feel so much better. It's why it's so cathartic to see them finally reconcile. Smooth Aunt May has never and will never hit the same.

#Spider-Man #aunt may #marvel 616 #peter parker #marvel comics #your friend speaks

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myvoiddreams · 11 months ago

Text

Fragments of Starlight

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: With the impending war, Y/N is captured by Hybern's general. As they struggle to protect those they care about, they reflect on their unrequited feelings for Azriel and their insecurities within the Night Court.

Word Count: 4,585

Warnings: ANGST, violence, torture, dark themes

A/N: This is my first time ever writing anything like this. I am a true sucker for angst. This is meant to go along with some of the events of ACOWAR, but of course, it’s different. Please don’t come at me for not following it’s exact story line. ALSO, I know that Azriel or Feyre would NEVER, but it’s just for the heartache okay!!

Part 2, Part 3

------

Now

All of it, it was all going to shit. I don’t know how my ears weren’t bleeding at the sheer amount of noise coming from the chaos around me. So much screaming, but was it Hybern’s forces, or our own? Everything was ringing, my head throbbing along with it. It was almost as if my breaths were not reaching my lungs. I was on the ground, all fours underneath me as I tried and tried to get myself to my feet. Everything was sore, it was like my muscles were not working. I stretched for the source of the aching on my temple and what I found was the warm, wet consistency of fresh blood.

My family, where is my family? Panic drenched me like a bucket of ice water.

With a groan, I grabbed my sword that lay beside me and turned to face the sky, now sitting at least. The sky, it was so blue. It almost felt like a disgusting joke to see something so beautiful, as dead bodies lay at my feet. Hybern’s forces were surrounding me, there was no escaping this.

I grit my teeth as I stand, my blade in hand. Dizziness rolls off me in waves, so much so that nausea is found coursing through my veins. I don’t get very far up before I’m slammed back down to the earth. My face hits the dirt as all the air leaves my lungs, leaving nothing but the taste of the earth and blood in my mouth. There is someone standing on my back, applying enough pressure I’m sure I’ll have a broken rib or two.

“Don’t go too far, sweetheart. We are just getting started with you.” A cry of pain leaves my lips as one of Hybern’s generals continues to crush my ribcage. The nausea and ringing in my head is too much. Then, with another blow to my head, everything is dark.

---

Before

“Oh, come on now sweet cheeks! You can do better than that. Az and I trained you myself!” Cassian’s voice was oh so annoying as he pinned me to my back. Sweat was gleaming across both of us as we spent the morning training. I was panting as my mind continued to reel.

Life had gotten tense with the Inner Circle recently. Not only was Prythian on the cusp of war with Hybern, but now we had to juggle the two newly made Fae that were the Archeron sisters.

I honestly felt bad for them. They did not ask for this life. I can only image what it would be like to go through life having your humanity ripped from you. Now knowing that you are going to be around for centuries instead of decades. And I felt bad for Feyre, who never wanted to see her sister’s dragged into this.

Usually, Azriel would be here with Cassian and me. Usually. It seemed as though Azriel had been getting far in over his head with the middle Archeron sister as of late. I would be lying if I said it didn’t bother me. But, I would never admit that fact out loud. Elain was half here and half not. Whenever she did speak, she’d just spew some crap that didn’t make any sense. But, that didn’t stop Azriel from spending any time he was not preparing for the war, with her.

Azriel. My heart seized at just the mention of his name. I had known the Shadowsinger for centuries. I stood by his side as he faced his own inner turmoil about Rhys being taken from us right under our feet. I stood by him even before that as I watched Windhaven and Devlon try to take was little he had away from him. Really, I had stood by everyone in this Inner Circle. But Azriel, Az was different. This too I would never admit out loud.

It took me holding him one night, after he had dreamt of his hands being lit aflame again, that it snapped. In all his vulnerability, it just, snapped. Az and I had shared a connection, a friendship, and I had loved him far long before the mating bond clicked in place. It only felt right that it was him. But, it hasn’t snapped for him.

It hurt, every single day, it hurt. And to watch him try so hard to make whatever it was happen with Elain, who was mated to someone else, made me feel worthless. This too, was not his fault. How was he supposed to know when I refused to breathe a word of it. Honestly, it might be a good thing, the distance. It hurts, but Azriel deserves happiness. I don’t know if I’m the one who can give him that.

“Damnit Cass!” I grunted as I fought back from his restraint.

“You are letting yourself get sloppy, Y/N. No room for that on the battlefield.” His face was smug. I felt some embarrassment creep up my neck and find its way on my cheeks.

“I know, I know.” I huffed. “Just let me up already.” I gave up on fighting back. Recently I found myself lacking the energy I used to have. I used to be full, driven, but I have found myself distant lately.

“Look, are you sure you’re okay, Y/N? You have not had your head in the game recently.” He stood and held a hand out to me. Cassian only wanted to check on me, it was nice really. I just wasn’t used to it. I had been the one the members of this court had always leaned their heads on. There just seemed to be no room for the others to do the same for me. So, I never asked them to. I wasn’t going to start now.

“I’m fine Cass, just tired.” I retorted.

“Aren’t we all sweet cheeks.” He said as he patted my back.

---

Now

Fire is crackling somewhere near me, but I can’t feel its warmth. I feel myself chained up. My arms were far above my head, hanging me from a support post. My feet had been stripped of their shoes, and now chains wrapped around my ankles. My body hurt, breathing hurt, and my head hurt. I was sure that this hellhole was only going to make it worse.

“Ah, there she is. Glad to see you actual awoke, we were starting to get worried.” Spoke the same general who broke my ribs.

I kept my mouth shut, only glaring at the direction of the voice. My vision was still blurry, and where I hope there was only one of him, I saw three.

The entrance flap of the tent open and closed to reveal another male. This one, I recognized. The King of Hybern himself.

“If it isn’t Y/N of the Night Court. I have to say, my men did a fine job bringing you in here for me. Wouldn’t you say so?” His voice was gruff. “Now that you’re here, we some questions we need answered, and I suggest you do answer them, dear. I’m sure you don’t want to find out what will happen if you don’t cooperate.”

I lazily lifted my head toward the King and sneered. “Try me.” I bit back, my voice laced with venom.

“Oh, I was afraid you’d say something of those sorts.” The king waved in another male, he was in head to toe in black. Something similar to what I’d see our very own Shadowsinger wear. Only this male was no where near the build of Az, but damn, did he look pissed.

The male pulled out a small dagger that was sheathed on their waist and made his way closer to me. I couldn’t help but let a little laugh escape my lips, “Size does matter you know,” I quipped. I know this man was here to interrogate me, but I could not let these people know how truly vulnerable I felt.

“Oh? I beg to differ.” The male stated as he plunged the dagger into the flesh of my calf.

---

Before

Rhys wanted to have a family dinner tonight. It would be the first one in quite a long time. With everything going on, who was to blame anyone? I couldn’t say I was looking forward to it though. I used to love the time I could spend with my family, but now, it wasn’t the same. Not when my family was no longer the same.

Rhys had Feyre, who don’t get me wrong, I love, and I love to see Rhys have the mate he has always deserved. But, with the additions of the Acheron sisters came with something strained. Cass hasn’t said anything, but I see the way he looks at Nesta. Nesta, who wants absolutely nothing to do with him, or any of us for that matter. Mor and Amren hadn’t been around as of late. Both were too busy preparing for this inevitable war. Mor with being an emissary and Amren with working out some logistics of the Cauldron.

And Az. Azriel was no longer seeking me out. No longer spending time in the training ring or the library with me. Instead, he was with Elain.

And then, there was me. Before this family all I was, was alone. Finding this family had saved me in more aspects than one, but I can feel it shifting under my feet, about to give way and take me with the edge of it.

This though, is something I would never speak about. There is enough going on as it is. No one needs to be burdened about me, my unreciprocated feelings for the Shadowsinger, or my silly feelings of insecurity. I’m a friend to the court, a warrior, sometimes an advisor, but, I am nothing compared to the rest of them. I simply do not hold enough importance, and that is something I must live with. Something I am terrified they will realize as well.

I was the last to make it to the table. Cauldron, even Elain is here. And next to Elain was Az. Hazel eyed, messy haired, Az. We caught each other’s eyes. I couldn’t help but let a smile creep up onto my face in greeting, and he smiled back.

I took my seat next to Cass and Amren and looked at the table around me. Even though war was around the corner, it felt good to gather as if nothing was wrong. Conservation started buzzing, everyone started eating, and I drifted off to a place that wouldn’t hurt me.

—-

Now

Sweat is dripping off me in beads. My body is littered with cuts and bruises. But, I didn’t say a word. Not a single word about the size of our armies, not a word about what Rhys and the others had planned, not a word about our allies. Not a word. And I was paying for it.

Gods. They had left me here, giving me a break from the beatings and the torture. Whatever the used must have been laced with faebane because I have never felt this weak. This out of control of myself. I wasn’t healing, and I was still losing blood. At this rate, it wasn’t looking good. I was still hanging from my arms, I’m sure at this point I had a shoulder out of it’s socket. A rustling began again at the entrance of the tent.

“Back for more?” I croaked. My throat was completely dry from the screaming. But, when I got my eyes open enough to see what the cause of the noise was, my heart stopped dead in it’s tracks.

Elain.

---

Before

I retreated from dinner early. As pitiful as it sounds, I couldn’t be around it. I couldn’t stand to see Azriel with her any longer. Not when I knew he was the one who was slowly healing her and ruining me.

Knocking at my bedroom door pulled me from my thoughts and I was looking into a book, not really reading it. “Come in,” I shouted.

The site of Azriel caught me off guard. Once upon a time, it was normal for him to seek me out from my room. Now, it simply wasn’t. I couldn’t help but tense.

“Oh! Az!” I put my book down and stood. “How are you doing?” I smiled up at him.

“You would know if you hadn’t left dinner so early.” He looked down at me, frowning and crossing his arms. It was rare that Az was upset with me.

“Look, I’m sorry, I’m tired after training today.” I gave him a sad smile, not wanting him to push the issue further. “But please, tell me what I missed.”

This somehow made his shadows start to swirl around him and he huffed. “I was telling everyone how much progress Elain had made. She’s having actual conversations now.” He smiled at it, proud.

I tried not to show any hurt on my face. I have no right for this to hurt me. He was helping someone, and I had to be pitiful enough that I was jealous.

“That’s amazing Az, you’ve helped her a lot.” I let another smile grace my face. Before I knew what I was saying it was falling out of my lips, “But, you do realize that she is mated, right?”

Azriel’s demeanor shifted. His shadows became agitated, “Elain is a friend. She is going through a lot, and she needs support.” He sighed, “Plus, I think that cauldron could be wrong.” That sentence alone was enough to rip whatever was left in me to shreds. Why couldn’t he see me?

I had to take a deep breath to keep the silver lining in my eyes in place. “Az, when in your life have you ever seen the cauldron be wrong? Why would it start being wrong now?”

“Look, maybe you’ll understand one day, but it’s wrong about her and Lucien.” He crossed his arms now.

“It sounds like you want to it be wrong. Whether it is, or not.”

Azriel was growing frustrated. His eyebrow ticked and he huffed, “Can you blame me for wanting something more?”

“She is mated Azriel. Off limits.” I tried to stress him. “I don’t want to see you hurt if it doesn’t turn out the way you want.” I sighed. “I wouldn’t want my mate ripped away from me, I’m sure Lucien doesn’t either.” He doesn’t even realize that I’m talking about him. Not a single clue.

“Ripped away? Look Y/N, just because you’re alone, does not mean I have to be. Why are you making this about you?” He nearly snarled at me. Snarled. “I have finally found another purpose other than this war. I have found something, someone, to spend my time with and enjoy.”

His words hit me like an arrow to the chest. Alone. Maybe they all did see me, and they just didn’t care. Why couldn’t I be enough for him? Why hadn’t in all the time and cherished memories we have together be enough. We had held each other in hardship. We had trained together. We had grown together. We had spent countless Starfalls together. We had shared so many laughs and touches. Why wasn’t what we had enough for him?

The weight of Azriel’s words hung in the air, heavy silence settling between us. My heart ached with the sting of his remark, and I fought to keep any of my remaining composure.

I deflated, “Az,” I tried to sigh as he cut me off again.

“Well, maybe if you weren’t so insecure, you’d see that I’m just trying to help someone who’s been through a lot. You’re jealous and it’s clouding your judgment.” He stared at me, and I had to look away. I didn’t realize it but I began to shake. I couldn’t tell if it was from rage, or from the way my heart cracked as he spoke.

“I think you should go Az.” My voice began to break, and I could tell that my walls were going to come down. Not once had I ever asked him to leave.

His own eyes softened, and he reached for me, “Wait.”

He tried to continue but I cut him off, “Leave, Azriel.” I turned to face away from him. I gathered my arms together. I couldn’t let him see the tears that were rolling down my face, I wouldn’t.

He pulled his arm back to himself and hesitated, seeing the pain he was causing me. Without another word, he turned and left, the door closing behind with a heavy finality.

---

Now

Elain. What the fuck was she doing here?

Seeing her tore me from my stupor. She acted as if she was in a trance, half there. I was really panicking now. I could take this torture and pain, Elain, I don’t think she would last. I could hardly pull at my restraints at this point.

“Elain! Elain!” I screamed at her, trying to get her attention. One of the males that was hauling her in, left her side and strolled to mine. Next thing I knew I was tasting my own blood in my mouth as his fist met with my face. As the blood welled up in my mouth, I felt rage hit me. I spat at him. His face now coated with the bloody saliva that he caused me.

He wiped his hand over his face, ridding it of its bloody covering. I snarled at him as he drew a blade. Good. This way the focus would stay on me and not Elain. He brought the blade to my face, slicing a thin mark down my cheek. “If you wanted more, you could’ve just asked.” He trailed the blade down my neck, and now to my collar bone, all the while slicing lightly as he went. He brought his lips to my ear and his hand grabbed my face, “I have so much more than just blades and fists in store for you, girl.”

It was almost too hard to stomach. I didn’t want to know what he was alluding to. Elain, do this for Elain. I told myself. I kept silent and he pushed me away, returning to the other male who was already putting Elain into restraints.

Why is she here? Why is she not fighting back?

As they finished with her restraints, Hybern himself walked back into the tent.

“Cauldron be damned, if it’s not also Feyre’s cauldron made sister.” Hybern chuffed, “We are truly going to have such a fun time together.” He chuckled as he looked between Elain and I.

He nodded at his men and they both reach for their knives. One for me. One for Elain.

“Wait!” I blurted as I saw the man move toward Elaine, “Please, leave her unharmed.”

“Hmm,” hummed Hybern, “Now, tell me pretty thing, why would I do that?”

“She’s a Seer. Please, you must leave her unharmed or she will be no use to anyone. She will not come out of any trance if she is harmed.” I didn’t know if what I was blabbing was true. I only knew that I needed to protect Elain, for she could not protect herself.

Hybern nodded again at the male who was at Elain’s side. The male sheathed his blade and I let out a silent sigh.

“You on the other hand,” Hybern turned his attention back on me, “I have some questions about pretty Elain.” A wicked smile reached the lips of the male in front of me, as he lifted his blade threatening. “You, dear Y/N, best answer them.”

The male reached for my shirt and tore it in half. Now leaving my chest and abdomen exposed to the air, only a warrior’s wrap covering my breasts. I gasped at the bite of the air reaching my skin. My abdomen was littered with black and blue bruising from the beatings. The faebane in my system slowing any kind of healing.

I turned my face to a stone grimace. I could do this. I told myself. If nobody comes for you, then surely someone will come for Elain.

That truth hurt almost as much as the torture that I was being put through.

---

Before

It had been about a week since I’d seen Azriel. The bond that used to hum in my chest felt vacant. Rhysand had sent me and Cassian to one of the Illyrian war bands that were positioned in case of an attack.

It was a single flaming arrow that was sent into a tent that set everything into utter chaos. Cassian was in the middle of a meeting with some of the other commanders, and I was in the training ring.

Hybern’s forces hit us as if we were nothing but an anthill in their way.

I don’t know where Cassian was as I fought and fought, until I was brought down.

---

Now

I was hardly holding on. I had no energy to cry out anymore. No energy to even lift my own head up. My abdomen and back was near ribbons after that male drove his blade into me again and again.

Elain had seemed to snap in and out of it. When she was somewhat coherent, she would only cry. I felt bad for her, but I had done what I could do protect her. There wasn’t a single scratch on her.

At thinking of Elain my mind drifted to Azriel. I wonder if he’s looking for me, if not, her.

The inner circle had to know that something was wrong at this point. I only hope that Cassian was also okay after we were ambushed. I’m sure if he wasn’t, he’d be right next to me also receiving the beatings I was.

Blood dripped down my back, creating a small pool under me. I truly didn’t know how much longer I would last. I had never felt weaker in my life.

I should’ve told him that night. Anguish was suffocating me. I found myself retracing everything I did as of late. The way I stole myself away from my family because I was being nothing but pitiful. The way they started to treat me differently. The way one no one would come to me anymore, and I would not go to them. No wonder they have left you here. You are nothing to them. My mind bit at me.

What truly bothered me was the downfall of mine as Azriel’s friendship. He was the one person I could always truly count on. If I had fallen in training, if I had drank too much, if some stupid male had broke my heart, it was always Azriel that had caught me, and me him. It’s why I fell in love with him long before the bond snapped its place into my heart. And now I was going to die without him ever knowing. I was simply going to fade away as my blood pooled underneath me.

It's better this way. I told myself. Elain is unharmed, and I will fade before anyone knows of this bond. The war will be won and Az will be able to move on with someone he finds joy in.

I couldn’t help but let tears run down my face. I wanted to scream, to find some way out, but with the faebane running through me, I was simply too weak.

---

I woke to the sound of rustling at the entrance of the tent. The rustling led to Elain, and I could hear her restraints being messed with. I nearly couldn’t pry my eyes open at the sound. Maybe they would finally take me from my misery. I silently hoped. That’s when I heard a quiet gasp. I looked up to see.. Feyre? And behind her, the one messing with Elain’s chains, Azriel.

My heart lurched to a stop. They had come to help, we were going to get out.

“Azriel..” Feyre quietly said as he brought Elain into his arms.

“What.” He nearly hissed at her. That’s when he looked up and truly saw me.

“Az.. Feyre..” I choked on my words. Help was here. I was going to get out of here. To make it. Finally something positive bloomed in my chest in place of where that hole had found itself.

Azriel set Elain back down and rushed to my side. He put a hand to my cheek, “Y/N, we couldn’t find you anywhere. Cass, he said you were missing after the battle.” His touch sent shivers down my beaten spine.

My restraints still bore heavily into my wrists where I was strung up. Then, there was rustling and yelling coming from outside of the tent.

“Help me down, please.” My voice was raw and pleading.

The yelling was getting closer and closer.

“Az, we have to leave, now.” Feyre said, trying to scoop Elain into her arms.

Azriel’s hand left my cheek, and panic flared into his eyes as he took in my state.

Hybern’s soldiers were coming, realizing something was wrong. Azriel looked between Elain and I, backing up from where I was strung up. He was backing away from me. Why was he backing away from me?

My own panic started to settle deep inside of me, long squashing any hope that had found it’s place.

“Azriel… please,” I coughed quietly. Dread was setting deeply inside of me. They didn’t plan on saving two. They came here for Elain, not me.

A sob found it’s way onto my lips as he picked Elain from Feyre’s arms. Feyre herself looking torn, her eyes expressing so much anguish.

“We will come back Y/N. I promise.” Azriel’s words were yet another punch to the gut.

I couldn’t help but let the sobs I had been holding onto for so long bubble out of me.

“Please don’t leave me here.” I cried, no longer caring for the quietness. They both stiffened at the sound of my voice. “Please,” I was gasping for air as this point, “If you’re not going to take me, then at least put me down.”

Their eyes widened at my statement, but I couldn’t hold for much longer. I needed this pain to end. This suffering to be over with.

“We will be back. I will come straight back.” Azriel hushly stated. His eyes, those beautiful hazel eyes were boring into me. They were trying to convince me he was telling the truth, but I knew better. I knew that they were only getting into the camp once successfully.

They chose Elain. They were going to leave me behind.

“Just kill me, please kill me…” I sobbed, “Please if you are going to leave me behind, then just kill me.”

Feyre was crying now, and Azriel. I knew, that even though he was choosing Elain, Elain to save, and Elain to love, he still wouldn’t harm me.

“I’m so sorry Y/N.” Feyre bubbled out of her crying lips as she quickly left the tent under her cloak.

Azriel and I made eye contact again through my sobbing, through the tears that were leaving my eyes in force. “I will be right back. I will come back for you.” And then, he was gone. With Elain in his arms.

I broke, truly broke. No weapon could hurt me as much as the sight of who I loved most, my mate, leaving me here, strung up and bleeding out.

#azriel x reader #acotar x reader #acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #Acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #azriel acotar #acotar fanfic #azriel angst #angst #Azriel x reader angst

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teaboot · 11 months ago

Note

how are you both bisexual and asexual. are you also both autistic and neurotypical? are you both trans and cis too? please help me out here

okay so first off I don't think you meant this to come off as confrontational, so in the future please do keep in mind that these are highly personal questions. I don't actually owe anyone this information

So, sexual attraction and romantic attraction are different things. Someone who is asexual may desire a romantic relationship with someone, while someone who is aromantic may desire a sexual relationship with someone.

Alternatively, someone who is AroAce may desire strong, intimate connections that have nothing to do with sex OR romance.

So someone who is romantically attracted to all genders but sexually attracted to nobody may be more accurately described as "Biromantic / Panromantic Asexual", but that's a bit of a mouthful and uses terminology and concepts a lot of people don't get so they may just say they're ace and bi.

I've known for a long time that I'm asexual, that one was relatively easy. Romantic attraction, I've found, is harder to evaluate because "deep, intimate friendship" and "romance" have a lot of overlap and are difficult to distinguish.

For a long time, I thought, "I feel the same level of attraction to all genders, so I must be bi or pan". It just so happens that that level of sexual attraction was zero.

(Apparently this is a fairly common experience.)

Also, not entirely what you asked, but recently I've come to the realization that I may be Aromantic as well as Asexual- I may just experience aesthetic attraction to all genders, which is a third thing, in which you can see someone and go "Ohhhhhhh my god you're so fuckin cool and pretty I'm dying" but not actually really wanna do anything about it.

And since I may be aesthetically attracted to all genders, romantically attracted to like 5 people ever, and sexually attracted to nobody, I could go around saying, "Yeah I'm an asexual demiromantic with panaesthetic attraction", confusing half the people I talk to and sounding like a queer zoomer in a conservative political cartoon, I could also just say, "yeah I'm ace and bi" or "I'm queer" and keep the rest to myself.

Also, while I openly use he/him pronouns now and for the last couple years, growing up I thought for about a decade that I was Genderfluid and I'm still pretty attached to the Genderqueer identity, so trans and cis isn't really the reach you may think it is.

So, yeah. Autistic, Asexual, Bi, Trans.

But I've found that my personal identity is less like a business card and more like a witness statement.

Any wordier than you need to be, and you start giving the opposition room to poke holes.

"Queer", though. Queer is good

#Long post #Fine to reblog

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yuurivoice · 11 days ago

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Man what the fuck do you mean we are getting into another goddamn war in the middle east over nukes our own intelligence can't seem to agree on the existence of? What in the Now That's What I Call 2000's kind of bullshit is this???

There are clear and obvious consequences and concerns here, but something that strikes me is how the timing of this is set to galvanize the angry young men in the States who are poor and unable to find their role in the workforce and will be preyed upon by recruiters to go play soldier when they're better fit to be a goddamn electrician but you don't get a signing bonus for going into a trade like you do when signing up to go get shot at.

They've been fed so much bullshit, and a war will help solidify their half baked beliefs about the world because they'll be looking at it through range finders and scopes.

Muhammad Ali had a particular quote about a certain word no Viet Cong ever called him. That quote made so much goddamn sense to me, I was a kid at the time when I first heard it. But damn. We really are about to send off some kids to war while their kin are liable to get kidnapped by ICE, shit, they'll cook up a "service for citizenship" process and act like it's a fucking gift.

Tired of brown folks getting demonized, displaced, and slaughtered. Tired of watching the ignorant think any of these recent events make them exempt or safe from fascism. Heartbroken to see how cold and hard-hearted the average American can be. It's painful to see propaganda work over time. To see the anti-authoritarian homies from two decades ago succumb to boot licking and cult of personality politics.

Had to come back at 5am to finish writing this because I wrote myself to sleep around midnight trying to make sense of it all. And the thing is, hate doesn't make sense. Somewhere along the way, some insidious thing tipped the scales and people became incurious and fearful instead of inquisitive and hungry to learn.

How are we supposed to win back the minds of people who are so entrenched in their hate that they can cheer for atrocities and injustices? How could any of those who have been wronged set aside their righteous anger and fury long enough to be bothered trying to flip the point of view of someone who could be so cruel? That is too much to ask.

There's no way this is the endgame, right? That humanity becomes so calloused and hateful that we choke ourselves on petty differences and ignorance as our planet dies out while we suffocate in the blaze of it all. Have we failed so often for so long that it'll only be in our last gasps that we realize how foolish we've become?

It feels unhelpful to wonder these things out loud, but on the other hand, maybe it's a comfort for others to see that anyone can be bothered to wonder these things at all at this point.

If we have passed the event horizon and it's just a matter of time, the best we can do is try to support those who need it and love each other. Feed the connections to those who bring you joy and laughter. Embrace loving people, and even if shit gets really, really grim...trust that love endures. It will outlast and overcome hate every time. Even if it's a naive, childish sentiment, that's where I'm putting what little faith I have to spare. When some strange creature seeks to understand what happened to us when we are all long gone, I hope they see that in the ashes they'll find the bones of those who chose to embrace one another as the darkness approached. Let them gaze in wonder at the human capacity to love.

Take care of yourselves. 💖

#yuurivoice #cw current events #cw war #cw american politics #i know theres typos all through the bitch #but im sleep and hitting posy #post*#see lmfao

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withleeknow · 8 months ago

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lost cause.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, kinda angsty idk?; unedited bc we live just to suffer, erhm i don't think there's a lot of warnings here, open to interpretation if oc is depressed 🤔; basically “it's rotten work,” “not to me. not if it’s you,” + that one scene in nobody wants this (if you’ve watched the show you’ll know what i’m talking about) word count: 0.6k listen to 🎧: risk - gracie abrams

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / masterlist / ko-fi

“i think i’m starting to hate myself again.”

your voice is casual when you say it, indifferent, nonchalant, as if you’re merely bringing up the weather or reading from a shopping list. you’re used to it by now — the fact that it comes and goes, that if there are highs then there must be lows too. that sometimes, there are no good days, just better ones.

you know minho hasn’t fallen asleep because you still feel him playing with your hair while you lay on his chest, his index finger twisting a lock around before letting it fall over your back. he doesn’t falter, not even once. no change in his calming breathing, no sign that he’s all too surprised by your sudden announcement. you suppose he’s used to it as much as you are.

he’s quiet for a while, like the night outside the comfort of your bedroom. the weather forecast warned you of thunderstorms, but everything remained still and safe. there wasn’t even a spark of lightning to be found.

when minho finally speaks, only a simple “okay,” comes out, followed by a question. “then i’ll love you more to make up for it. how much time do you need? couple weeks?”

you shake your head. “longer,” you say.

“couple months?”

a beat of silence. another shake. “longer.”

“couple years?” he asks. no hesitation. “couple decades?”

minho can’t see you from this position, but you can hear the sound of his heart. he’s steady and secure and you’re nothing more than a fickle flame that’s always on the verge of going out.

“you can’t handle it,” you tell him. “better to quit while you’re ahead.”

it would be so easy, wouldn’t it? for him to pack up before he realizes somewhere down the line that he’s wasted his time and effort on a lost cause?

“i know what you’re doing, by the way. stop that.”

you pretend to ask, “what am i doing?”

before you know it, he’s already managed to flip the both of you over. he’s hovering over you with his forearms on either side of your head, effectively caging you in, chest to chest, and his hips pressed flush against yours.

“i told you i’m not going anywhere,” minho says, brushing some hair away from your face. “stop trying to get me to leave.”

you blink. he’s so close and oh so warm, so beautiful as he stares down at you, so patient and kind when you’re telling him that you need him to love the parts that even you can’t bring yourself to love.

your hands settle on his shoulders. “don’t blame me when you regret it.”

“i won’t regret it. not if it’s you.”

then he’s kissing you, soft and slow, and that’s when you finally hear the first roar of thunder that should’ve arrived hours ago. he kisses you like he was made for you — or you for him, you’re not really sure, but it can’t possibly matter that much.

“so?” minho prompts after he’s pulled away, “how long?”

his eyes are sparkling and you’re still a little dazed. lightheaded but you know that you’ll always love him the most, know that you’re pushing it, know that you’re asking for what many would never be willing to give. “what if i say i’ll need you for the rest of my life?”

his lips curl into a tender smile, one that he presses to your mouth once again. you taste devotion in the kiss, in the way one of his hands crosses the short distance to hold your face so delicately it makes your heart hurt.

“i’ll love you more for the rest of our lives then.”

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crueltyserpent · 9 months ago

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When she introduces us, she’s either my girlfriend or my mom. She’s neither of course, she killed my mom and my girlfriend so long ago at this point. Sometimes I think she chooses whichever she thinks will make me more uncomfortable; it’s not like whoever she introduces us to will live long enough for their thoughts on it to matter. If I were to choose a name for what I am, I would probably go with captive. Victim also comes to mind, but it’s hard to feel like I’m the most victimized person in the room when she’s cutting off the fingers of a naked woman one by one. At least she’s not making me eat them this time. The “here comes the airplane” bit with raw human flesh isn’t nearly as funny as she thinks it is.

If I guess why she keeps me around, why I’m not dead in a ditch somewhere like every other poor bitch who get’s her attention, I’d guess it’s because simply torturing attractive women to death every other day doesn’t fully sate her appetite for cruelty. Sure, her ability to wring physical pain out of a stranger is staggering, but there’s a special type of satisfaction she gets from the form of psychological torture that is only possible to inflict on someone she keeps close for an extended period of time. I don’t know if she chose me because something about me was uniquely appealing to hurt or she just liked how my dick felt inside her, but at this point I’m fairly confident she’s sunk too much work into messing with my head to casually replace me.

The woman bleeding out on the floor is the owner of the Air BNB we’re staying at, a chipper blonde thirtysomething who was now karmically paying for the fact that nothing in her life had ever gone wrong before. I used to vomit seeing a girl taken apart like this. Now it’s boring enough that I can sit on the bed reading a romance novel while barley acknowledging the poor cunt’s slowly decreasing number of body parts. This is an easy one, relatively speaking. I don’t really have enough emotional energy left to feel bad for well to do women a decade older than me who’d never give me so much as a smile if I weren’t a customer.

I call myself a captive, but it’s not like I couldn’t walk out of the room if I wanted to, physically speaking. She wouldn’t stop me, she’d continue her ruthless execution and not even remark on me leaving. I was never bound (except for sex), never locked in a room, always free to go where I wanted. It had just been incredibly clear to me that if I ever made an attempt to do something she disapproved of, she could make my life so much worse than it already was as her unwilling partner in crime. One time she had left me alone for three months, letting me think I was free, only to return and kill every single person I had met and liked to any degree. I was trapped with her because she had created a situation where helping her murder people every few days was the decision I could make with the lowest innocent body count. And it meant that sometimes women like this died instead of the cute queer girls my age who used to blow me in alleys. Seeing someone I might have been friends with in a different life die was a whole different story to something like this.

I turn the page, working my way through a particularly arbitrary love triangle as I hear the death rattle. I don’t remark on it, but I’m not at all surprised when my bloodstained captor sits at the foot of the bed, looking at me with those hungry eyes. Don’t get me wrong, this woman is evil, the worst person I could even imagine who I would do anything to be free of.

She’s also probably the hottest person I’ve ever met. She was the first woman ever to be hot enough to make me cheat on my girlfriend, in what was either the greatest mistake of my life or the sole decision that kept me alive, depending on what would have happened if I turned her down. Her nude body sprayed with fresh blood is a powerful sight, and her toothed smile makes me shiver as blood rushes between my legs.

“Anything spicy happening in your book, honey?” She asked in a soft, motherly tone, her hands moving to undo my belt buckle. I hate how much her sexy mom routine works on me. It’s humiliatingly effective. I should be anywhere else right now, doing anything else, doing anyone else, but as she rides me, her other victims blood dripping off her chest over my face, I can’t do anything but whimper in enjoyment.

#my writing

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uhhhj13iguess · 3 months ago

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prepare yourself

avenger!peter parker x avenger! reader

summary: peter loses you on a mission, and it's worse than he could've imagined

wc: 3.5k

cw: body gore! mdni! i wanted to experiment with writing body horror, so it gets very graphic when detailing injuries/mutilation. there's no description of the actual events happening, just a lot of wording around the body designed to hopefully make you feel a bit squeamish!

if anyone wants, i'd love to do a part two with the medical-side juxtaposition as well, and give a sweet lil peter ending to turn this angst into fluff i fucking did and forgot to tag it! here it is!

masterlist and taglist!

peter shot one last web towards the wall, concluding his mural of men webbed along the hallway outside the security room. he gave himself a proud smile, admiring his work.

"you're telling me these guys are hydra? for a decades-long terrorist organization, they sure don't know how to train their front line very well."

you snickered beside him, sliding another bloodied man along the tiled floor to where you'd piled the others.

"i don't get why tony has us on security watch, this is light work. why even have me train under nat if i can't use my skills in practice? i wanna get my hands dirty, i wanna know what they aren't telling us." you kicked the foot of the man below you, turning to peter and giving him a frown. he offered you a knowing smile in return.

"yeah, i get what you mean. come on, lets just get in there and disable the security measures. then we can go back to the jet and try that chocolate i bought at the sokovian 7-eleven."

you grinned at him, heart swelling at the thought of some alone time with peter before the rest of the team was done.

"alright. you head in, i'm going to do one more sweep of the first floor while you're in there."

peter felt his senses go off for a second, a weird feeling in his chest. "i don't know, maybe we shouldn't split up."

you gave him a look. "what, you don't think i can handle myself? come on, you know we've cleared this floor already. plus, you've got like, three buttons to hit and we're home free, it won't be that long."

"yeah, but—"

"but nothing, spidey. come on, work your tech magic and meet me out here."

he let out a breath, shaking off whatever bad feeling was sitting in his stomach. "yeah, you're probably right. one sec,"

peter ducked into the security room, a dissonant beep ringing through the air as he held the keycard to the lock. the light flashed green and let him in. he laughed, "thanks bad guys!"

he heard you chuckle from down the hall as he made his way into the room, a smile on his face. he would never admit it to you, but he liked that you two were handed the short stick on missions. you were in and out, leaving time alone before the rest of the team came back, and he relished those moments more than any chance of glory.

he reached the switchboard, glancing at the monitors as he saw the rest of the team on the cameras making their rounds on various floors. "god we're so badass."

(y/n) was right: it was a matter of exactly three commands before he had the systems disabled. he heard tony through his comms,

"thanks, kid. now, do us all a favor and get yourself to the jet. this shouldn't take long."

peter smiled to himself, a feeling of accomplishment coursing through him. did he press literally there buttons? yes. but he pressed three buttons as an avenger. man, that would never grow old.

he heard commotion from down the hall and called out towards you. "alright (y/n), we've had our fun. stop messing with them and let's fuck up some chocolate, shall we?"

he was met with silence, his chest feeling tight again. "(y/n)?"

he took one step out of the room before his head was met with a metal fist, the CRACK of his own skull ringing through his ears before he lost consciousness.

tony jerked back as his hand repulsor let out a blast, sending the guy on steve's back to the ground with a heavy thud.

"mr. stark, both peter and (y/n) have gone unconscious." FRIDAY echoed through the suit. his blood ran cold.

"what?"

"both of them are in the building and their vitals are stable, however, they've both just lost consciousness within one minute of each other."

he felt his breathing pick up, his heartbeat commanding in his chest. he looked to steve and nat. "you guys good?"

nat threw a nasty headbutt, sending the agent in front of her collapsing to the ground. "go, tony."

he flew out without another word.

"FRIDAY, get me their most recent location."

"head to the security room, sir. take a left now."

tony reached the room in a matter of a minute, missiles out and on guard. he announced himself before storming the room, standing down once met with peter on the ground, no one else around him. he rushed out of his suit and to his side, shaking the boy relentlessly.

"kid, come on. wake up."

a few more desperate shakes and peter was gasping for air, fists flying and ready to fight.

"woah woah woah, hey— you're alright, you're okay. same sides, just me."

peter stalled his movements, taking a deep breath and allowing himself to grab ahold of his surroundings. he sat up slowly before immediately regretting it. man, did his head hurt.

"kid, you alright? you're bleeding. take of the mask, i need to see it." tony reached towards him, only to be swatted at.

"mr. stark, someone'll see!"

"kid, the floor is clear. i'm pretty sure you're responsible for that. jesus, how hard did you hit your head?" he pressed the spider emblem on peter's chest, revealing his blood-stained curls.

"pete, what the hell happened? for fucks sake, we need to get you out of here. FRIDAY, admister morphine."

"what? no, mr. stark don't— OW! mr. stark, what the hell??"

"kid, you're going to thank me in ten minutes. where's (y/n)?"

peter felt his mouth go dry. "w-what do you mean 'where's (y/n)''?"

tony's face fell. "shit. okay kid, let's get you to the jet. sam?" he called into his comms.

"yeah tony, what's up?"

"get down here, i need you to get eyes on (y/n)."

peter shot up instantly, his mask climbing back up his face. "no, mr. stark, really. i'm fine. i can feel it healing already, honest. i have to find (y/n)."

"we aren't having a discussion on this."

"you're right, we're not."

peter took off, flying down the hallway and out of sight before tony could even get back in his suit.

"karen, show me heat signatures."

the team searched for a while, leaving no one in their way untouched. the fight to find you was growing tireless, and the more time that passed without a trace of you led to more panic spreading amongst the team — peter worst of all.

he'd grown feral in his search for you, bloodying any body he encountered.

"kid, we should head back to the jet. we need to gameplan this." tony rang through his suit.

"no. mr stark, her tracker is still in the compound and she's close enough to read vitals on."

"pete, we—"

"she's in pain, mr. stark. i'm not leaving this building without her."

peter continued to search for hours, detailing every single room in the building. he spent the most time in the room your tracker had led him to, but helpless as he couldn't find you anywhere nearby. he had screamed your name for the majority of the search, his throat raw as his own healing couldn't even keep up with his efforts. he felt the blood warm on the back of his throat, accompanying the warm flood of tears down his cheeks.

"this is all my fault." he let out a horse whimper, bouncing his head up against the brick wall in front of him.

he felt hopeless. he felt like the world was crashing around him, a wretched feeling in his chest ripping him apart from the inside. this was all his fault, he didn't—

the bricks against his forehead ground against one another before shifting backwards, causing peter to jerk his head up. he stared wide eyed to a portion of the wall having fallen back as though on hinges, a long hallway now standing in front of him.

"a secret door. you're kidding." he breathed to himself. "mr. stark?"

"yeah, kid?" tony rang through.

"i found a door hidden in the wall right where (y/n)'s location is. i'm going in."

"i'll be there in 30 seconds."

peter sighed to himself before stepping his foot over the threshold and down the concrete-lined hallway.

"this would've been way cooler 5 hours ago."

tony landed in the room, eyes on the hole in the wall as he made his way down. he spotted peter ahead of him, not quite to the room at the other end.

"mr. stark, i have (y/n)'s heat signature in the room about twenty yards ahead. she's alive, but her vital signs are unstable. i'll prepare the jet for medical intervention." FRIDAY alerted.

tony gave a deep sigh as he approached peter, a hand falling on his chest and preventing him from walking any further.

"mr. stark, what are you— we have to go, sir!"

"kid, just wait a second. i need you to be prepared for anything, okay? they had (y/n) for almost five hours, and you know what we came here for originally. just, prepare yourself."

peter scowled, a look of of uncertainty overtaking his features as though he was at war with himself. he met tony's gaze. "this is all my fault."

"hey, pete. you know that's not true. you're lucky we aren't finding you in this room too."

peter took a shakey inhale, turning back to the opening of the cold room before them. "i'll feel lucky when i have her out of here."

and with that, peter ran. he navigated the room, desperately following your heat signature as tony focused on the agents and scientists in the room. he hoped peter was entirely focused on getting to you because he sure as hell wasn't following the "no-kill" rule this time around.

with everyone else taken care of, peter ran to the other end of the room where karen had traced you. and while tony had done his best, there was nothing peter could've done to prepare himself for what he saw.

you were on the concrete floor, clothes ripped and shivering from the frigid temperature of the room. your eyes were closed as you flinched from the noises around you, but it wasn't your demeanor that stopped him dead in his tracks.

there you laid, at complete mercy of those around you. thick tubes entered your body through your arms and chest, a viscous, black sludge coursing into you. it leaked out around the edges, your torn skin wet from not only the liquid but from the amount of blood lost as well.

the tubes protruded two from each forearm and one on either side of your collarbones, each breath stretching the skin around them and causing more tearing on your chest. peter could see the outline of the tubing in your arms, your skin bulging as the tubes fished themselves up to your biceps. the sight made him lightheaded, beginning to panic as he fought to believe what his eyes were showing him.

the scent of everything brought tears to his eyes, a sickly sweet smell in the air as your body fought hard to reject everything that was happening. it was foul, a putrid scent similar to that of rotten fruit flooding his nose and raising bile in his throat. had it been from the stench alone, peter would've thought you'd been dead for hours.

he took a step closer to you and there was a crunch underneath his right foot. he lifted it and looked down, confusion coating his features. and then, there was nothing but terror.

he leaned down to pick up a tooth, skimming the area to notice another few molars scattered around your limp body. his eyes met with the bloodied pair of pillars on the ground, giving new and nightmarish reasoning to your blood-soaked mouth. peter looked back up to you and felt his knees give out.

he crawled closer, not daring to touch you to make anything worse. now, he got a better look at your face, and he almost wished he hadn't.

blood pooled down your chin and dripped onto your chest, notably from the missing teeth and whatever else they'd done to you that peter couldn't see evidence of. you let out a cough, but it came out more as a gag, blood filling your mouth at a higher rate than your body could handle. you choked, new waves of red liquid spilling from your lips and splattering across your torso as you fought to breathe.

somehow it wasn't your mouth that made peter feel faint, however. it was your eyes.

your eyelids had been crudely sewn shut, crusted over and bloody. your soft lids were torn to shreds, the flesh ripped raw — no doubt from unconscious efforts to open your eyes.

you let out a ragged breath. "hello? w-who's there?"

peter watched your eyes move underneath the lids frantically, the movement only proving his assumption correct as he watched the skin pull against the thread, flesh tearing apart at the struggle.

"hey hey hey, stop moving, please. calm down, it's just me. it's peter,"

he couldn't help the quiver in his voice, his body betraying him as tears flooded down his cheeks under the mask.

"i'm going to get you out of here, okay? i-i just need you to trust me, okay? i'm gonna get you out of here, i promise."

you nodded, the minimal movement enough to elicit a sharp cry from deep in your throat. peter winced, placing a hand on your head and running his fingers through your hair, careful not to get too close to your eyes.

"pete, i-i, please, i don't..."

karen's voice pierced through his mask, drowing out your pleas. "peter, we're losing her. you need to get her to the jet immediately."

he couldn't breathe. his vision was going dark around the edges, panic overtaking him as his eyes racked over your body, desperately hoping this was all just a horrible nightmare. at some point, the rest of the team had joined in on the fight, the sounds of gunshots and violence fading to the background as a ringing pierced his ears. he didn't know what to do, he didn't—

"p-peter? are you still there?" your trembling voice drew him out of his haze. he watched again as you fought to open your eyes, face controting in pain as you pulled against the thread. he grabbed your hand in his, giving it the faintest squeeze.

"hey, hey i'm sorry, i'm right here. please stop moving your eyes, try to relax them for me. i'm so sorry, (y/n), i'm so sorry." the last part a whisper.

you turned your head towards his voice, tears slipping through the loops in the thread. it rewet the blood crusted around your eyes, the tears running down your cheeks a pinkish-red.

"they told me i saw too much."

peter felt his stomach turn at your words, intrusive thoughts of them holding you down and stitching your eyes shut plaguing his mind.

"i'm so sorry, i...

"peter, you need to act quickly. start by removing the tubes from her arms." karen rang through his suit again.

he shook off the thought, bringing his attention back to you. "i need to get these tubes out, okay?"

you choked out an "okay", more blood spilling from your lips as you spoke.

"don't talk, okay? i'm going to get you out of here. just stay awake for me, please. i'm just gonna..." he placed his hand on one of the tubes, nauseous at their size in his hand.

he held tight, the movement alone from his grasp being enough to earn a whine from you, incoherent pleas to stop escaping your lips.

he felt panic bubble in his throat again. "karen, please. how do i do this, i... i don't... i don't know what i'm doing."

"it doesn't seem as though the tubes in her arms are intertwined with anything. the best course of action may be to pull as quickly as possible,"

peter could taste the bile in the back of his mouth.

"the tubing is about two feet long, peter. you're going to want to pull quickly and pull a lot further out than you think."

he took a deep breath, summoning all the willpower he had left. "okay, i'm going to take these out, alright? i need you to brave for me, this isn't going to feel great."

you choked out another "okay" as peter tightened his grasp on the tubing. he gave himself a mental countdown, closing his eyes and pulling as hard and as quickly as he could.

the sounds that filled his ears made him wish to never hear again. you let out a blood-curdling scream that forced an echo through the concrete room, the rasp in your voice telling peter you'd been crying out like this for hours. it broke his heart to hear you in so much pain, but somehow your deafening anguish wasn't the worst part.

he could hear as the tubing left your body. the squelching noises of the plastic running through your flesh burned to his memory, one he knew would haunt him at night. you let out another roar as the tubing left your body and peter opened his eyes, immediately looking at the now-open wound in your forearm. he no longer had to worry about the noises haunting him.

the tubing had left a gaping hole in your arm, a dark red mixture of various liquids splattering out of you. he was quick to throw a web on it, stopping the flow for now. he looked at you, tears blurring his vision.

"i'm sorry," he cried, out, nearly choking on his own sobs. "i need to keep going, i'm so sorry."

he grabbed the next one, wasting no time pulling as hard as he could. this time, however, he made the mistake of keeping his eyes open. he watched as the tubing moved from under your skin as though a snake was slithering inside of you, the bulging in your arms pulsing and raising as peter moved. the tubing hit the ground with a thud, and the next thing you could hear was peter dry heaving.

he continued with the other arm, apologies on his lips as though he was pleading for his own life. they were drowned out by your screams, the rasp in your tone growing stronger each time as you lost your ability to speak. you could feel your throat ripping apart as you cried, even more blood running down to your stomach than before. you heard the sounds of peter's webshooters and felt two more cool sensations on your left arm.

"okay, we just need to get the ones in your chest, okay? we're almost done, (y/n), i promise,"

he took a step back to examine the two tubes left before a voice cut through his ears.

"peter, you can't pull on these two, they're too close to her heart. you're going to need to sever them and leave them in so they can be taken out surgically."

the thought brought another gag to his throat. he nodded silently, reaching down to the boot on your left foot where he knew you always had a back up dagger hidden. he let out a sigh of relief as he felt the metal against his masked fingers, pulling out the knife and bringing it towards your chest. he noticed as your ragged breathing picked up.

"peter? w-what are you doing with that? what's going on, please?"

"it's okay. i have to leave these ones in here, okay? i'm going to cut them and then we're going to go," he held a firm hand on one of the tubes.

"you're going to feel some pressure, okay? you're going to feel me cutting it, and it's going—"

"—peter, she's losing consciousness. you need to make the cuts now."

"okay! okay, i— fuck, okay."

peter began to saw at the tubing, the back-and-forth movement ripping at the skin around the edges. it pulled, blood and dark liquid splashing out on your bare clavicle and turning everything he saw red. he braced for your scream, but felt even more panicked when he didn't hear one.

"hey hey, hey please no. please, stay with me, please i'm trying. just please stay alive."

he finished off the final tube, again using his webbing to seal the open ends and prevent anything else from going in (or coming out). he wrapped his arms around your limp frame, beginning to lift you. his whole body shook, the weight of the situation sitting on him like nothing he'd ever felt before. he let out a cry that hurt his chest, using everything he had left to get back to his feet.

he had you. he had you, and everything was going to be fine, he just needed to—

"kid, grab on!" tony yelled as he flew past, signaling peter to web himself onto his suit. he did so, holding you tight in his arms as tony flew them outside and towards the jet.

they landed outside, his arms shaking violently as he rushed you over to bruce who was waiting at the glider entrance.

"please, help her. please, you have to help her."

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