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#and yet he still sits there feeling comforted and loved
chuluoyi · 2 days
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✎ throughout heaven and earth
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- gojo satoru x reader
a sudden mission. a curse beyond your grade. all hell breaks loose when gojo realizes that there are hidden machinations behind the incident that befalls you
genre: feral!gojo, injured!reader, hurt/comfort, exponential fluff !
note: we need a gojo who will go ballistic against the higher-ups for dragging you in their mess :) refer to this for the reader's CT, and this loosely takes place after the events in heaven's fury, and the epilogue is based on this very brilliant idea :))
a part of gojo's love entries
series masterlist | oneshot masterlist
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Something isn’t right.
You should’ve known it was strange when they assigned you with a sudden mission with little to no briefing. You should’ve gone through with your gut feeling and informed Satoru about it.
Because if you did... now you wouldn’t be running for your life like this, frantically dodging the hacks and slashes of this chainsaw-like cursed spirit that was evidently not a Grade 2 as what you were told.
“Ah!” you yelped as the sharp ends of its body struck your shoulder, leaving you bleeding openly. This was no small wound—it was deep enough to make you stagger.
You had to do something about this because merely avoiding wouldn’t save your life. You had to come back in one piece. You have to— for your baby and Satoru.
What if I can’t? The sheer thought made you tremble. Your baby boy was still so little and he needed you more than anyone, and Satoru...
God, you couldn’t bear to leave him alone. Not again. He couldn't handle losing someone again, not after all he had already lost.
You gripped your whip—your cursed weapon—tightly amidst your bleeding hand. You had barely enough cursed energy for a domain expansion that guaranteed a sure-hit effect. You have one shot. This was all or nothing.
But you weren’t sure if it would work, because you were on the verge of exhaustion, and this was a special grade curse. Your domain expansion was definitely not as refined as the Satoru’s, and this monster was an enemy of his class.
“Satoru...” your voice came out in a sob. You were terribly scared, and honestly you were entitled to. You weren’t even sure you would survive this at all, and all you could think now was your husband’s silly grin and how much you loved him.
And right afterwards, you saw the cursed spirit lunging at you, and with everything left that you had, you screamed—
“Domain Expansion: Transcendent Veil!”
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“Gojo-sensei, p-please come back... Nee-san is...!”
Satoru was in Kyoto when he received that call from Megumi— and that moment shattered his world as he knew it.
“Megumi, what is it?”
“She w-was sent on a mission... but then it's a special grade— a-and... she... she e-exorcised it b-but—!”
He teleported without second thought to Tokyo. His mind was blank, the only sound he could hear was his own violent heartbeats, and his fists were clenched so tightly.
“The cursed spirit got her too… It made a cut on her neck.”
His most precious wife... the one person he must protect at all cost, was now possibly—
“Megumi.” He saw him sitting on the hallway of the headquarters’ hospital the with his son on his lap—you had asked him to look after your baby—and the boy looked up to him.
“Gojo-sensei...” Megumi appeared shaken, and seeing that, Satoru immediately took his child from his hands, pulling the little kid into his embrace.
“Go back home, I’ll stay here.”
In all his life, Megumi had never seen Gojo Satoru as calm as he was now. He looked fearsome, as if he was in the battlefield.
“Ichiji.” Satoru turned to the other man rigidly standing next to Megumi, causing him to stiffen up even more. He didn’t say anything further as he pat his little son’s back, and yet Ichiji knew all the same what he wanted from him.
“It’s from… the higher ups, Gojo-san.” Ichiji gulped as he said it. “Y/N-san was suddenly called in yesterday night, and she was told it was an urgent mission.”
“Who called her?”
“It was…”
When Ichiji told him the name, suddenly Satoru barked a snort, and his lips curled into a manic grin. It was a menacing sight for both Ichiji and Megumi, as he looked almost unhinged if not for his secure grip on his son.
But contrary to what they were thinking, what filled Satoru at that moment was pure, unadulterated fury. A righteous sense of being crossed—because, how fucking dare they?
Those higher ups first pressed him to execute Yuji, and when he paid them no mind… now they staged this atrocity against you, most definitely to serve as a warning to him.
“Ichiji, tell them that I’ll pay a visit tomorrow. And drive Megumi home tonight.”
He would make his point loud and clear. He would show them how wrong it was to ever test him. But…
The plan barely satisfied him. They hurt you. His heart finally lurched as he processed the fact… when he heard his baby’s soft whimper against his shoulder.
. . .
You sustained serious injuries, but finally, you were out of critical condition.
When Satoru was allowed to see you, you were still connected to many monitors and breathing machine. He brought your baby too inside, and upon clearly seeing both of them, suddenly your eyes welled up with tears.
“Hey…” his hand gripped yours reassuringly. You sniffled when the strain of your broken ribs made you almost cry out in pain, and Satoru immediately calmed you down.
“Sweets— hey, don’t cry, yeah? You did good.” He pressed a soft kiss on the back of your hand. “You did freaking good. You’re okay now. You’re going to recover, yeah?”
You gave him a tearful little nod, feeling so grateful that you could see him again. And unbeknownst to you, seeing you like this broke his heart too.
“Mwa...” your baby, cradled in your husband’s arms, suddenly stretched his tiny hands towards you, and Satoru handed him over for you to hold.
With the little strength you possessed, you reached out to stroke his soft cheeks. Your son... the thought of how close you came to death brought another tear rolling down your cheek.
All sort of thoughts went through Satoru’s head at the sight. His wife, the mother of his son, who is proud of him for everything he does—
—and their sorry asses dared to hurt you.
Suddenly all he saw was red.
And he swore he would make it right to you. Soon.
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“Ah, Satoru-kun… to what I owe the pleasure?”
“…I’ve heard that it was you who assigned that special grade mission to my wife, correct?”
“Oh, that. First of all, I must apologize for my... oversight. We were misinformed... Our scouts made a mistake while filling the files.”
Satoru was trying not to lose his composure first thing after coming here. Really.
But the knowing tone of the elderly Jujutsu Commander only fueled his rage, growing stronger the longer he stood behind this stupid paper divider.
“So it’s a mistake, huh?” he repeated in a satire manner. “Then do you know that my wife has just gotten out of her maternity leave this week?”
The man behind the divider chuckled quietly. “Satoru-kun… I know the sentiment. Of course you’ll be worried, and it did end in a rather… unfortunate incident. However, jujutsu sorcerers are bound to their duty, and your wife cannot rely too heavily on her status as a member of the Gojo clan to be excluded from—”
Fuck it. He had no patience any longer.
“Seems like I need to be a lot rougher, after all.”
Suddenly the room crackled with electricity and the Jujutsu Commander gasped at the sense of foreboding he felt. “Gojo, you can’t—!”
“Heh, but I can.” He let out the most satisfied laugh before opening his palm and chanting in a lower voice: “Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue.”
In a matter of seconds, the audience chamber of jujutsu headquarters turned into a pile of destruction. The commander barely made it out the deadly vacuum vortex with a shriek.
“Ah! N-no! Get a-away from me!” Satoru stared down at him coldly through his unobstructed heavenly eyes, as he pitifully tried to crawl away. He took one step towards him, stomped on his hand ruthlessly—causing the man to scream, before he got down to his level.
“N-no! Please, s-spare me...!”
“This is my first and last warning to you.” It was beyond terrifying, to see those six eyes in this close proximity. But even more dreadful was the tight chokehold on his throat—
“If you ever try to pull this idiotic stunt again on my wife, know that I can and I will snap your neck.” Satoru’s face split into a sinister grin as he tapped the man’s nape, before he crushed the bone on his hand with a crack and made him howl. “Remember that, yeah?”
. . . that day, none in jujutsu headquarters dared to spread any word about Gojo Satoru’s outrageous conduct, even when it was an attack against their own highest ranking leader.
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“Satoru, you don’t have to, really—”
“Nuh, uh! I’ve promised you I’ll nurse you back to health!”
Unaware of anything and everything, you thought that your loving husband was a silly jester trying to make you feel better. On the fifth day of your stay in hospital, you were well enough to eat solid food, and Satoru insisted on spoon feeding you the fruits he cut himself.
“Good girl,” he praised with a wholly playful smile as you chewed on the watermelon. You looked at him with a mock frown, pursing your lips.
“You’re making me look like a kid.”
“You are, in fact, my second kid, so I have all rights to baby you.”
You let out a giggle, but then suddenly your throat felt like it was closing in and you coughed. Instinctively, you reached for your neck— your fingers tracing the scar there.
You still could remember the sense of paralyzing fear you felt as soon as your neck was cut. The heavy bleeding that followed, the way the world blacking out around you…
“Sweets…?” Satoru put down the plate and got a grip on your trembling figure. He gently pushed your chin up to meet his eyes. “Hey, look at me. Look at me, hmm?”
Your frantic eyes locked onto his, and your rapid breathing steadied. Your clammy hand reached out to touch his face... before you lunged forward, throwing your arms around him.
“Sweetheart…” Satoru hugged you back in return, sighing against the nape on your neck, as he planted a soft kiss there.
You tried your best not to cry but it was hard not to while remembering everything.
“I-I was so scared…”
“Mhm.”
“I-I kept thinking… w-what if I c-can’t see you… or baby again…? I… I s-still want to do a lot of… things… w-with you…”
The way you shook in his arms like a fragile leaf made something inside him burn. He was supposed to provide you with security, give you a life far removed from curses—
Having left that warning against the higher-ups wasn’t enough, he should’ve made him beg for his life more—
“Listen to me,” Satoru said as he broke the hug, the deep frown in his grave expression made you almost sob. He gently wiped your overflowing tears with the pads of his thumbs.
“Stop thinking that. You’re alright. You’re going to get better. You and me—we are going to raise our son together.”
You took in each of his words fully, even as your lips quivered.
“And mark my words…” Right in this moment, you thought that your husband was most dashing as he gave you his promises—as his blue eyes glimmered under the light. “They won’t ever lay their hands on you ever again. Not while I’m here. Not ever. I already made sure of that.”
You were curious about what he did, but you chose not to press further when Satoru leaned in suddenly and brushed his lips against yours in a soft kiss, melting your heart into mush.
When he pulled away, it was his usual teasing grin on his handsome face. “Now, I only have one duty left— that is to get my cute wife back on her feet. So, be a good little wifey and have lots of fruits and sleep, okay?”
You giggled freely this time, feeling tremendously safe and loved, and instead of answering, you chose to peck his lips instead— hoping that he’d know that you trusted him with your whole life.
. . .
“By the way… Satoru, where’s our baby?” you missed your pumpkin, and while being with your funny husband lifted your spirits, you wanted to cuddle him too.
He chuckled in response. “Ah! Since Megumi is on an assignment, I left him with Ichiji earlier! Don’t worry, I’ll come pick him up soon, ‘kay?”
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Epilogue
“I’m going out for a bit, and if you ever make him upset or cry… I can and I will sense it! So Ichiji—do your best!”
“Bwa…”
“Eeek!”
Ichiji stared at Baby Gojo with literal sweat on his forehead, as the little being curiously looked up at him.
By all means, this baby was adorable. Even more so when his father dressed him in a shark onesie. It was a peculiar choice—just like any of Gojo’s choices were—but it sure made the baby look even more endearing.
But the thing is… he didn’t feel secure enough to hold him! Especially when he didn’t know if Gojo’s claim of telepathic connection with his son was true or not!
Amidst his thoughts, suddenly Ichiji felt a soft touch on his arm and immediately turned to find the little munchkin putting his little hand on him and staring at him with such pureness unbefitting of Gojo Satoru’s son.
How can this baby be a stark contrast to his father? Ichiji was almost tempted to snuggle him, but he knew better.
“O-oh… d-don’t touch me…”
And as he retracted his hand back, the baby suddenly widened his eyes, feeling betrayed apparently, as his little lips wobbled and face scrunched up, so ready to burst into tears—
“Hic…”
“—!! Nooo! Don’t cry! Your father will fry me! Eeek!!”
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bellasprettywords · 3 days
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A different way to say I love you (Spencer Reid x Reader)
As always, this is not proofread because of who I am as a person
My masterlist
Warnings: Little mentions of alcohol and overall fluff
Word count: 1,037 (ish because there are emojis)
y/n – your name
Gender-neutral reader
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The first time Spencer Reid told you he loved you, he didn’t do it with words…
It was Penelope’s birthday and the whole gang went out clubbing. You were a little more drunk than you normally would’ve liked considering you were out with your bosses, and your best friend who at the same time was the man you loved: Spencer Reid. Spencer was on y/n watch duty, considering he has always been protective of you, that he didn’t drink much, and that public settings like clubs made him on edge.
“We should get going, sweetie” you heard Spencer whisper in your ear
“I don’t wanna go yeeeet, I feel like daaancing” you said standing from the barstool and pulling Spencer’s arm into the dancefloor
“Woah woah, I’m not much of a dancer” he said nervously
“Just relax, let me lead you” you said as you placed his hands on your waist and danced wrapped around the arms of the man you loved from a distance. After a couple of hours, you were beat, so finally agreed to Spencer’s suggestion and accepted to share a cab with your best friend.
The two of you were in the back of the taxi, your head leaning on your best friend’s shoulder and you could perfectly smell the intoxication scent of wood, musk, and a little of alcohol that more than one person had spilled over Spencer at the club. You were holding hands, which wasn’t weird, as you pretty much had gotten Spence used to physical touch, and since he had become comfortable with it, the two of you were always touching some part of each other
“Is everything okay?” Spencer asked, tilting his head so he could get a better looked at you
“Yeah, I’m just a little tired” you said giving Spencer a small smile, there was something conforming about being there, next to each other, just softly caressing each other, without saying anything. At that moment, you felt Spencer squeezing your hand softly three times.
Spencer helped you up to your apartment, you were still tipsy from the night out, and he wanted to make sure you got safely to bed. Stumbling, Spencer opened the door of your apartment, and helped you in
“Let’s get you to bed, sweetie” Spencer said chucking at the sight of you walking through your furniture, trying not to stumble
“Thank you for taking such good care of me” you said, gifting Spencer a lazy smile
“Come on, we have to tuck you in” Spencer said leading you into your room, the same room he had been at least a thousand times, at the end of the day, being your best friend meant constantly coming over
“Wait, I have to get on my jammies” you said pulling away from Spencer
“Alright, I’m going to leave you for a while, so you can get changed” he said, leaving your room, closing the door behind him, and feeling his cheeks getting red and hot at the thought of you changing.
You were taking off your pants, when you stumbled and fell to the side of your bed; and with the sound of the stumble, Reid entered your room swiftly, helping you up
“Are you okay?” Spencer looked concerned, scanning your body trying to make sure you were alright after the stumble
“I’m fine, you shouldn’t worry too much, mighty Doctor Reid” you said, burying your face into Spencer’s neck and chuckling at the situation. Spencer was now sitting on your bed, with your pantless body plastered over his, at this moment, you were just inches from his lips, and you could feel his eyes, scanning your face, and body
“Come on, let me help you get changed” Spencer said gulping loudly, feeling his cheeks burning up
“Fine, you can help me, but no peaking” you said and both of you shared a laugh, as Spencer helped you get into your pjs
“I’m going to head out” Spencer said standing next to the door frame of your bedroom
“Don’t leave just yet, lay down with me for a little while” you pleaded Spencer making room on your bed for him
“I’ll stay, but only for a little while, I have to get back home” he said, taking off his shoes and getting into bed with you. You could feel Spencer’s arms around you, caressing you and making you feel safe
“Can I ask you something?” you said, turning to him so you could face him
“Of course, anything for you” he replied fixing a strand of your hair
“Why do you squeeze my hand three times? It’s not the first time I feel you doing it” you asked, and you felt Spencer’s hand reach to you
“It means: I. Love. You” Spencer said, squeezing your hand one time per word
“In that case: I. Love. You. Too” you replied, squeezing Spencer’s hand four times
✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨
Life was great for Doctor Spencer Reid lately, his social abilities had increased, you were finally a couple after quite a while of pining over each other, and he was finally feeling like he fit in somewhere. Nonetheless, anxiety was an immense part of Spencer Reid’s life. Especially because working at the BAU, his genius mind would constantly speed, and sometimes, without even realizing it, he would spiral into horrific scenarios. Sure,
You were on a briefing. JJ and Hotch were explaining the details of the new case you’d work on, and you could tell something was off with Spencer. When cases involved children, he’d get overly anxious, and as you were holding hands, you could feel his palms getting sweatier and sweatier. You didn’t want to give away the fact that Spencer was struggling with coping as the case was being revising, so you did the one thing you knew would make him feel better:
You squeezed his hand three times; and when you felt him squeezing your hand four times in return, you searched for Spencer’s eyes, and once you found them, you gave him a reassuring smile, just to let him know everything would be okay.
The meeting ended and Spencer and you left the room together, to prepare your bags as Hotch called wheels on 30 minutes. Spencer and you were picking your stuff from your adjacent desks when you heard him saying:
“I always hoped I would be lucky enough to find someone who I could say “I love you”, even when words are too much”
"I love you too, Spence" you said, placing a soft kiss on your boyfriend's lips before departing
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mssainz · 1 day
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PART 6 | AFTER FIVE YEARS
Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Reader
Summary: Carlos Sainz finally met his son he had with her ex-wife, Y/N.
Warning: Typos
AN: Please don't mind the time stamps
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You choose a casual and comfortable outfit for the day: a white tee, beige trousers, and a white cardigan, and finish it off by spraying Chanel Paris Deauville on your neck and wrist.
“Mama, where are you going?” Asks Cael, who is lying on your bed, watching you get ready.
You sit on the edge of the bed and stroke your son's hair. “Remember what you told Mama yesterday when we were having pancakes? You said you wanted to see Papa and watch his race. So, Mama is going to see Papa today and ask if you can watch his race,” you gently explain.
“Really Mama? You'll meet Papa?” Cael sits up, flashing a vibrant smile.
“Yes, my love. I can't bring you because Papa and I need to talk first. But someone who misses you is coming to take care of you,” you say, placing Cael on your lap and planting a kiss on his plump cheeks. He gives you a confused face, wondering who's been missing him.
“You wanna take a guess?” you ask, smiling at your son who is trying to figure it out.
“Is it Uncle Charles, Mama?” Cael guesses.
“Oh, how did you know?” you ask, surprised that he got it right.
“He always misses me. He says so even though we often meet, Mama,” Cael says, causing you to laugh.
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As you two are playing in your bedroom, the doorbell rings. It's Charles.
“Hey buddy!” Charles immediately lifts Cael, ignoring you who opened the door for him.
“Hello to you too Charles,” you said sarcastically.
“Hello, Y/N” he said, greeting you too late.
“Thanks for coming, Charles,” you say, while he's busy kissing your son.
“But stop smooshing your face on my son's face. It’s a bit too much,” you add.
“Can't help it, he is so cute,” Charles replies.
“I'll go now, please take care of him,” you say, kissing your son goodbye. And before you can even open the door, Charles yells something.
“Don't forget to bring a condom!”
“Shut up, Charles” you said while flashing your middle finger to him.
“Uncle Charles, what's a condom?” Cael asked him.
“Uhm, it's a balloon bud. So you won't have another sibling when they get back.” Charles grins at Cael who is confused about how a balloon prevents him from having a baby brother or sister.
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When you arrive at the restaurant, Carlos is already there waiting for you. He greets you with a smile as you approach his table. The atmosphere feels lighter than the last time you two met.
Maybe it's just the sunlight that makes everything seem brighter.
“Did you already order?” you immediately ask as you sit down.
“Uhm, not yet,” Carlos replies. You call out for the waiter to order.
As you scan the menu, Carlos interjects, “You want your usual?” Surprised, you nod and let him order for you.
“One creamy mushroom pesto for her, please, and one tomato pasta for me,” he orders.
So he still remembers what I like. Interesting.
“Thank you for coming, Y/N. I'm sorry about..” Carlos starts.
“Let's not talk about it Carlos. I'm good, we're good. Things like that happen,” you interrupt. Carlos can tell that you're still upset about what he said but you want to move past it.
“We came here to Madrid because Cael has been asking for you. He badly wants to meet you.”
“I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner about our son because, well, things happened between us,” you say, lowering your gaze to the table.
“I understand, Y/N. Like you said, things happen,” Carlos replies.
“He knows you, Carlos. He knows what you do. He knows that you're his father. You just have to meet him,” you say, meeting his gaze and offering a small smile.
“Thank you, Y/N.”
The pastas arrive and you both start to eat.
“I'm so excited to finally introduce myself to him. But I'm also kinda nervous,” Carlos admits.
“You don't have to worry about it, Carlos. Your son really loves you,” you reassure him.
“Can you tell me about Cael? Like when he was born? What does he like? How is he?” Carlos asks shyly. He wants to get to know his son and catch up on the four years he's missed.
“Well, Cael was born on March 15. He's really cute, looks just like you,” you begin.
“So you're telling me I'm cute?” Carlos teases, interrupting you. You give him a stern look before continuing.
“Ugh, I hate your smile,” you say, rolling your eyes at him.
The audacity of this man, really.
“He loves cars, I think more than you do. He's also very smart and observant. Our son is very empathetic,” you continue.
“Really?”
“Yeah, you'll be amazed when you finally get to know him,” you assure him.
“How about you? How are you?” he asks.
“You have nothing to do with me, let's keep it that way,” you say, putting up an immediate barrier. You can only allow Carlos to be part of your son's life, but not yours. He caused too much damage in the past, and you won't allow further heartbreak.
I've had enough, Carlos.
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After an hour or two, you and Carlos drive to your place. You're silent the whole time, thinking about how happy Cael will be to finally meet his father.
Before you can even get out of the car, Carlos takes a deep breath.
“Hey, look at me, Carlos. Don't worry, okay? Everything will be fine,” you say, absentmindedly cupping his face.
“Sorry,” you apologize, removing your hands from his face.
“It's okay,” Carlos says, amidst the awkwardness.
Once inside, you find Charles playing with Cael in the living room. Cael immediately runs to you when he sees you.
You enter first while Carlos waits outside for your signal.
“Hey, how was it?” Charles asks, referring to your meeting with Carlos.
“He's outside,” you mouth, while holding your son.
“Okay, my job is done. I'll go now, Y/n. You two take care.” Charles fist bumps with Cael before leaving. He sees Carlos standing at the door and wishes him luck.
“Cael, honey. Do you remember Uncle Chili?” Cael nods at you.
“You mentioned that he looks like Papa, right? Actually, he doesn't just look like Papa. He is Papa,” you explain.
“Really Mama? So Uncle Chili is my Papa?” Cael's face lights up. You nod and open the door.
“Hey bud,” Carlos greets Cael.
“PAPA!” Cael immediately runs to Carlos. Their embrace is warm and heartfelt, much like the first time they met.
“Thank you,” Carlos mouths to you in between their hugs and tears of joy begin to fall from his eyes.
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AN: Here's the next part guys. Carlos finally met Cael, for real this time. Let me know your reactions hehe. Comment down if you want to be added to the taglist. I hope you like it. Thank youuu!
TAGLIST:
@seasonswinter @charizznorizz @itsjustkhaos @celesteablack @timmychalametsstuff @viennakarma @i-love-ptv @evie-119 @somepeoplemaybe @amberpanda99 @gotthatname @karlossainz @khaylin27 @hc-dutch @avengers-assemble123456 @likedbygaslyy @xoscar03 @yukiotadako @barcelonaloverf1life @heyheyheyggg @sunny44 @mxdi0 @casperlikej @ironmaiden1313 @biitch-with-wifi @elia-the-bibliophile @nataliazzzz @bernelflo @lillunna @loloekie @jinimon-tr @glai1023-blog @not-nyasa @jolixtreesunn @changetyre @thatsusbitch @distancedss @miarabanana @voidsfics @jasminesacademia @glow-ish @ccallistata @carpediem241108 @thearchieves @kenzeyeballs @formula1simp @dessxoxsworld @hoeforsirius @norwayxo
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bunny-yan · 2 days
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I feel like “Theodore” would suit the yan!Duke! Just my humble suggestion, I feel like the name holds a certain melancholy to it which is so fitting for his character, sophisticated yet distant. ☺️
TW: power imbalance, suggests noncon, minors DNI
“Theo,” you whispered. 
He felt your hand gently rub his shoulder to wake him, though his eyes were already open. He was pulling you into his arms, eliciting a laugh as you told him to stop. 
He asked you to wake him from the short nap you requested he take since he’d been bent over his desk for the last couple of days, unmoving and looking increasingly exhausted with each passing glance you took as you so happened to pass by his office. 
He was stubborn, but he could never say no if he peered too close into your eyes, into that warm concern that threatened to engulf him, swallow him whole. And he would let it. There would be no struggle for escape, and he’d silently beg that you had no intention of letting him go. 
It was much warmer than he’d thought it be, than he ever imagined when you held him. You shared it with him for years and yet he still experienced it as if it was the first time when your arms would wrap around him, offering peace. 
Comfort. 
It was a better high that possessed greater depths than he could ever hope to achieve. 
“Theo,” you whispered as if you were sharing the greatest secret. 
He loved his name on your lips. 
“I hate to wake you, but it’s time to get up.”
Closing his eyes, he pulled you closer, a strange aching in his chest. 
An uneasy feeling bubbled and grew the more he questioned it. He didn’t want to let you go. 
He wanted his lungs to fill with this warmth, this ecstasy of happiness that would wear off and leave him craving more. 
No. 
He didn’t want to get up. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want-
“Theo?”
“Duke Theodore.” that familiar voice said. 
Cold and harsh, it raked across his skin as his eyes snapped open. They drifted from the ceiling to where you were standing, body rigid and tight at the end of the bed to the two of you shared. 
Or, used to. 
You hadn’t stepped foot in this room since his King brother visited. 
It was as if your positions switched. 
The days you used to try and convince him to quit his work early, the two of you would cocoon yourselves in these sheets, knowing nothing was more significant than those moments. The two of you would talk or sit in silence, simply enjoying the comfort of each other’s company. 
Most nights his lips would find yours, drinking in your laughter and pulling you closer as your smile shifted to something longing, something unfamiliar these days. 
On the nights sleep found you before he did, he’d retreat to his own quarters, not wanting to disturb your rest, the only exception being if he wasn’t able to get a glimpse of you all day. 
Theodore would seek you out as if he was in a drug-induced haze, a heavy feeling in his chest that could only be relieved by your presence, on the really bad nights, by your touch. 
He felt awful when he climbed into bed next to you, wondering if you’d scorn him for pulling you away from wherever you went when you slept. But you alleviated all of his fears when you murmured his pet name, sleep-filled eyes smiling at him. Beckoning him closer, you’d wrap him in your arms and whisper against his skin that you missed him. 
It sent shivers down his spine. 
The gaping cavity in his chest ceased to ache. 
He wasn’t sure if he was still grateful for the love you shared. If he hated you now that you had taken it away, ripped it from him like everything else he’d come to learn was never his. 
He couldn’t deny the devastating hope he felt every time he came to the doors of the bedroom you shared, a hope in and of itself that you’d answer his silent expectation that you’d be on the other side. He’d open the door and greet him with that familiar smile and outstretched arms that he could collapse into. 
But it was empty.
You slept in your personal bedroom. 
Without your express permission, it wasn’t a place he was welcome and he didn’t dare imagine you waiting for him in his own chambers. 
He hated when memories of the younger version of you would surface in his mind. 
Nervous but bright-eyed, somehow, you had bypassed the maids who would’ve explained that you weren’t allowed into his private chambers without a prior appointment. 
Your marriage was arranged and he could only imagine how you felt about being forced into an engagement with a complete stranger. Theodore was content to leave you to your own devices, no stranger to having distance in his relationships, but you sought him out, going so far as to climb into his bed, looking embarrassed as you undressed. 
It was such a pleasant surprise that he made sure to inform the maids not to stop you if you came directly to his chambers and continued in his neglect to inform you of that specific clause in your marriage contract. 
You didn’t know then and you still had no idea of the innocent secret he kept. 
He could enter your room and you would have no idea that he had no right to be there, but he couldn’t bear to see the distaste in your expression as your gaze landed on him. So he only visited at night when he was sure you were asleep. 
Standing on the side of your bed, he longed for the closeness you once shared. He stood so close he could’ve reached out to brush your hand across your cheek, hoping to alleviate whatever caused you to wear such a tortured expression. He felt such urgency to pull you from whatever it was, but his fears won these days. Not wanting to risk your expression worsening when your eyes opened. 
He stood close, not at an uncomfortable distance like you were at now, close enough that he had to physically resist the urge to take your hand in his and squeeze until you won whatever unconscious battle you were fighting. 
Theodore sat up, watching as your folded hands, pressed tighter into your body. He felt like a child, caught with their hands in a cookie jar as you narrowed your eyes on him. Sleeping in this room the two of you were meant to share did little to hide his desires. 
Clearing your throat, you crossed your arms as a comforting gesture, telling yourself that you were fine. Despite having avoided this bedroom like the plague since the night it happened. 
“The maids told me that they had difficulties waking you.”
He thought back to the dream he was pulled away from, mourning the fuzzy edges as it began to fade from his mind. 
It was no wonder. 
“I’ve woken you up, so I’ll be taking my leave now.”
Turning, you continued, “I’d appreciate it if you could give this responsibility to the butler in the future.”
A line meant to further separate you. 
Before he could stop himself, he asked, “When can I expect your presence in this bedroom?”
He watched as your jaw clenched before you turned to face him once you mastered your emotions. 
“If it is up to me, you’ll never have the pleasure of my company again.”
He bit the inside of his cheek, his gaze wavering. 
You frowned. He’d never looked at you like that before. 
“It’s a part of your matrimonial-”
“Duty. You love to remind me.” 
Any guilt you felt disappeared as you considered what he was asking of you. 
You hated this room. 
It took what felt like hours just to work up the courage to walk in. 
You were sleeping, unable to stay awake as you waited for your husband to finish talking with the King. He seemed tense and you wanted to ask him about what was on his mind. 
You’d woken up cold, to the feeling of hands slipping underneath the shirt you were wearing. You blinked the fuzzy haze away murmuring the name you called him, before your heart stuttered in your chest and your blood ran cold at the sight of harsh golden eyes. 
You couldn’t understand why you ever thought they looked alike. 
“You call him Theo? How cute.”
When you could force air into your lungs and you could finally listen to your brain yelling at you to move, you scooted backward, using the blanket as a flimsy shield. 
“Your Highness,” you began, breathless as you struggled to find an appropriate response in this incomprehensible situation. “I apologize if the maids directed you to the wrong bedroom, but your chambers are located on the third floor.”
You didn’t like that smile that remained plastered on his face as he watched you. 
“I’m aware of where my quarters reside.”
Then why was he here? Why was he standing over you while you slept? Why were his hands-
“I’m not sure I understand Your Highness.”
He remained quiet. 
Swallowing to bring moisture back to your throat, you asked, “Does Theodore know you’re here?” 
It was a weak attempt to move the conversation along, but asking after your husband seemed like the best thing to do at the time. 
He smiled, expression bordering malignancy as he answered with two words. Two words you didn’t expect to rattle you as much as they did. 
“He does.”
The King began pulling at the cloth at the edge of his fingers, removing his gloves lazily. 
“From what I understand, this bedroom directly connects to both your private chambers, so I suspect little Theodore has sought refuge in the library on the far side of this manor or outside on the training grounds. I can’t imagine him wanting to be close for this.”
The paired condescension and amusement were almost enough to distract you from your overlying question. 
For what? is what you wanted to ask, but your throat lost its moisture at the sight of the King beginning to undress, quickly painting a picture you were trying not to accept. You’d heard about his promiscuity, with nobles, some of which were married, but not like this. 
“One thing you have to understand about my brother is that despite his acts of bravery or his stone-cold appearance, it is all the bravado of a coward.”
He removed his coat to begin unbuttoning the shirt underneath. The fear that gripped your insides allowed you to find your voice. 
“Your Highness,” you licked your lips, feeling your body seize with alarm, but trying to maintain a modem of calmness so your voice wouldn’t sound so stilted. So alarmed the more exposed his chest became. “I apologize if there is any perceived rudeness in my question, but why are you getting undressed?”
He laughed. 
Slow, grating laughter that made goosebumps appear on your skin. 
“I can’t very well make love fully dressed, can I?”
Your heart sank, but you didn’t dare to comprehend his answer to your foolish question. You were rooted in place. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t move. 
His words refused to register in your mind. 
Any moisture you attempted to retain had dried, making any sound you tried to emit, little more than a voiceless whimper. 
This was the King. 
What could you say to refuse? Were you even allowed to? The constant dread was beginning to grow, your heartbeat loud in your ears the more exposed he became. 
Theo. 
Theodore. Where was Theodore? 
There was no way he would be okay with something like this happening. He would say something to defend your honor. The King was his brother. 
But the King said he knew. Was he lying? Were his words a mere falsehood to placate you into silence? It couldn’t be true. 
“Your Highness, please wait a moment,” you said, your voice hitching as the bed dipped from the unfamiliar weight. It snapped you out of your frantic deliberation. “I don’t think this is right. Please allow me to speak to my husband.”
“Be silent.” The King ordered. You were too panicked to hear the strain in his voice. 
Irritation was present on his features as he stripped himself of his shirt and began to reach for yours.
“My word is law. Your feelings matter none in what is about to happen and there is no use seeking out your husband because he has already consented to this arrangement.” 
His words struck a new sense of fear in your heart, but you couldn’t help it as your hands shot to his wrists to prevent him from exposing you any further. 
With narrowed eyes, he said, “I’m not interested in making this a contest of strength. You will lose.”
You looked into his eyes, a lump forming at his gaze that was unashamed in its indifference. 
“If you insist on making this difficult, I am more than willing to pay your Baron father a visit with the Royal Guard.”
The night was a blur after that.
A truly unforgettable experience. 
You weighed the livelihoods of your parents, your younger and older siblings against a crack in your soul, and you still failed to come to an answer that you felt you could live with. 
Somehow, Theodore couldn’t understand this. You didn’t think he ever would as he demanded the same act in the same room regardless of how it made you feel. 
Maybe they were alike after all. 
“If the Duke desires to push this issue then please schedule the appointed time for the end of the month in order to give me enough time to prepare myself.”
He grit his teeth. It was a slap in the face. His hidden pleas for affection were met with professional indifference, that of which he had never experienced before. 
Not from you, at least. 
“I wish-”
The words caught in his throat as your cold eyes met his. 
I want things to go back to how they were. I want you to love me like you used to. I miss the way you used to look at me.
The longer he remained silent, the deeper that emotion that couldn’t quite seen to name became. 
“By your leave,” you said, not wanting to feel inclined to feel sorry for him, knowing the guilt would creep back in if you stayed any longer. 
After another moment of silence, you tried not to make it look as if you were running to get away. 
You didn’t want to picture the regretful longing on his face. 
It gave you yet another reason to never want to set foot in this room again. 
189 notes · View notes
thecreelhouse · 2 days
Text
pray, but heaven won’t let you back
Paring: vampire!Steve Harrington x fem!Reader
Summary: Since the night Steve lost control, he’s been pushing away, afraid to hurt you again. You’ll do anything to convince him you still trust him, even giving into the bloodlust he’s tried to avoid. || fic inspired by this post.
WC: 3k
CW/Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, language, vampire nonsense/lore, blood play & blood sucking/feeding (nothing gory but still be cautious if you’re squeamish), mutual masturbation, dirty talk, lots of fluff and aftercare at the end
this is a modern vampire AU! can (kinda) be read as a standalone, but it’s a follow up to love’s the death of peace of mind and the bitter and the sweet.
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A/N: i will never get sick of vampire!steve, so here’s another lil fic based off this post i saw earlier lmao. song title & lyrics are from worship - ari abdul. enjoy babes <3
pretty when you say my name like that / feel your lips trace down my neck / darlin', don't say nothin', just breathe pretty when you're looking up like that / pray but Heaven won't let you back / good on your knees
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
It took one close call to push both you and Steve to question if you were right for one another. One slip up, where his lust for your blood called to him louder than usual; louder than your moans he earned through a skilled tongue you never grew tired of.
It took one close call for Steve to become rigid, self discipline at its height in your relationship.
It took one close call to set your desire in stone; you wanted Steve to turn you, wanted to join him in an eternity of a life you once believed wasn’t real. 
Blood play wasn’t foreign before that night, but it was always controlled, always with moderation and care. Now that Steve lost control, even only for a minute, he didn’t trust himself with you. He began growing distant, physically and emotionally, and it was burrowing under your skin, deeper and deeper as time carried on.
Steve still loved you, and though you could tell because of his avoidant behavior, it hurt. It was for your sake, your safety, and he made that clear; yet you were becoming lonely and agitated without his touch.
Even beyond lust, you just wanted him to hold you, and you wanted to hold him. You missed the way he’d play pretend, acting irritated when you’d kiss him one too many times on the cheek in a day. You longed for the way either of you would roll over in your sleep, searching for the other subconsciously. You felt like a stranger to him, a ghost in the walls of the home you shared with him.
Maybe you were foolish to believe this love could last; this all started with a Halloween party hookup, after all. Just another pathetic mortal that fell prey to a vampire’s charm.
You’re getting ready to go out with some friends when something breaks Steve, just enough for him to see he’s losing you, letting you slip through his fingers that once held you tightly with possession and protection.
Sitting at the vanity, the warmth of the lights lining mirror feels good on your skin. It’s not that you avoid the daylight for Steve’s sake; the lore of vampires burning up in the sunlight was nothing more than a myth. The sun does, however, irritate the fuck out of most vampires, still too bright, but bothersome in a sensory overload sort of way more than threatening. But since the night Steve lost control, and you began losing him, you rarely left bed these days.
You deserved to feel the warmth, any warmth, after receiving a cold shoulder from Steve for awhile now. You’ve lost track of the days he began to back away, but it’s far too long despite the specifics.
While you’re fixing your makeup, wrapped in a long, silky, dusty rose robe, Steve walks in; he’s surprised to find you not only up and out of bed, but all dolled up, too.
“H- hey, love.” He goes to lean against the doorframe, but miscalculates how close he is to the frame, falling into it instead. You stifle a laugh, watching his figure fumble in your peripheral vision as you dust blush along your cheeks.
“Hi.”
He holds his breath while crossing his arms over his chest, waiting for a follow up with an expectant smile; it falls flat when you continue to ignore him.  
“So… going somewhere?”
You still won’t look at him, another response multitasked as you work on your eye makeup. “Uh-huh.”
Steve’s eyes catch on the deep red, silky dress you have waiting for a night out, hung up on the door by its hanger. “Th- you’re going out in that?” He remembers gifting it to you for the holidays, joking he could never let you out of his sight if you wore it in public; he trusted you, but surely not any men around you. 
Now, you’re planning on wearing it for the first time while out with your friends, and not him. Jealousy bubbles up within him.
“Your observational skills are great, Steve.” Your response is so harsh; even you feel bad for giving the frost right back to him. 
“Thought you’d save it for one of our date nights,” He grumbles, like a child. You finally glance over at him, eyes narrowing as they meet his.
“What, do I need your permission to wear it?”
“No, don’t twist my words.”
“Steve, this is the most you’ve talked to me in weeks.” You leave the vanity to change into your dress. With a quick tug of the tie of your robe, it slinks to the floor. Your back is to him, missing the way his jaw slacks to the floor at the sight of your lingerie set: a red, lacy set that hugs your curves deliciously; another gift from him, one without reason. “What, are you jealous? I’m done moping around and waiting for your attention.”
Steve loved showering you in gifts, especially in his favorite color— how typical of a vampire to love the color red; though you tried insisting you needed nothing more but him, he couldn’t help himself from spoiling you.
A groan slips out of him as two things push to the front of his mind:
He’s painfully aroused, tenting in his tight pants, in need of relief. 
That, and the bloodlust he’s been fighting since that close call is back, full force.
One minute, you’re reaching for the dress to change into, the next, he’s shoving you against the nearest wall. You gasp as he pins your arms above your head with one large hand easily holding both of your wrists. 
“Steve—“
“Might wanna text your friends, let ‘em know you’re running late.” He rolls his hips into yours roughly, earning the first pleasing sound from you tonight; you whimper and pout as his other hand grabs you by the chin, grip hard. “Oh, princess, am I throwing your night off?”
You can’t bring yourself to answer while his hand leaves your face, wasting no time to grope your chest with a cruel touch. You arch into his grip and mewl, eyes fluttering shut as he kicks your legs apart before slotting a leg against your core. Instinctively, you grind onto his thigh, heat already sticky through the lacy fabric you wear.
“Might not make it there at all, huh?” He’s mocking you, taunting you, and you’re infuriated. You’re pissed he’s pulling this after weeks of being distant, and you’re really pissed at yourself for instantly melting under his touch. 
Pushing through the haze of desire, you glare at him. “Steve, enough.”
“Oh, c’mon, since when are you not into—“
“I said enough.”
You’re trying to steady your breaths as you hold a cold stare with him; his features falter, hands releasing you before stepping back. 
“I’m sorry,” Any and all confidence is thrown out the window as he shrinks under your vexed gaze. “I- I— I’ve just— fuck. I fucked up, alright?”
You’re nowhere near as strong as him, yet when you push him back with your hand on his chest, he stumbles back. You push him again, and again, and once more, until the backs of his legs hit the bed, throwing his balance off. He falls back onto the mattress, panting lightly as his stare is fixated on you above him.
“You can’t do this shit, Steve. You can’t touch me when you want then leave me alone like nothing matters. I told you I’m not afraid of you, I trust you.”
“Yeah, and I cracked any trust by losing control—“
“Steve, this is who you are!” You reach out, cradling his head in your hands on either side of his face. He can’t resist leaning into your touch, guilt playing up on his features. “I’ve accepted that from the start. I’ve accepted the risk since the first night together. What I didn’t accept or agree to was being treated like a total stranger by the one I love most.”
“I know. I know. I just wanted to keep you safe. All I want is for you to be safe, and happy. All I want is for you to feel loved, and I hurt you instead. I’m sorry.” He sounds so pained, nuzzling into your palm while he grabs your arm, pushing your hand against his face harder.
Aside from the last few weeks, there have never been moments where you felt shoved away, or less than Steve. And now, it’s only happening because he thought it would protect you. Just the honest admission alone shows you he meant well, even if he hurt you. It wasn’t intentional, just like the night he lost control. He knows he hurt you, but it was never intentional.
You can tell Steve is fighting the instinctual hunger for your blood; his eyes are dark with desire, but teetering on the edge of falling into that deep red shade that could only signal trouble. His grip on your arm shakes as he restrains himself from overpowering you again.
You try to keep him with you, asking softly, “Make it up to me?”
“H- how? I’ll do anything, anything you want, love.” His breaths run shallow as you straddle his lap, hands snaking around to the back of his head; you gently push his face towards your neck, but he leans back. “I— okay, anything but— honey, I can’t.”
“You want to.”
“Doesn’t m- mean I should.” Steve is so conflicted; he wants this, he needs you. You want him, you need him, too. But it’s a risk with the odds against him.
“I’m giving you the green light, Steve.” You kiss his forehead, then his cheek, leading to his lips. Before you kiss them, you murmur, “I trust you.” 
He closes the gap with a frantic kiss, one arm slinking around your hips to your back, the other exploring your body clumsily. He catches your bottom lip between his teeth, fangs scraping along the skin. You yelp, and Steve stops.
“Love, we— this is—“ His gaze sinks deeper into that shade of red you once knew as a signal for danger, but you trust him. You know him. You know he’d never take it too far, not to a level where you couldn’t handle it. “You’re not— I’m not ready to turn you yet—“
“I didn’t expect that. I wouldn’t complain, but I promise that’s not what I’m asking for right now.” You roll your hips onto his bulge, strained under the tight fabric of his pants still. “I’m just asking you to trust me. Trust me, to trust you.”
Steve searches your gaze for any doubt, any signs of faltering or second guessing; there’s only certainty and adoration. You nod softly, encouraging him once more.
In a flash, you’re thrown to the pillows at the top of the bed, landing on them with a surprised laugh. Steve crawls above you, with a warm smile of his own, despite the red in his gaze. 
“You’ll stop me if—“
“Yes, yeah, just—“
He cuts you off with a rough kiss, fangs poking at your lips before he kisses along your jawline, trailing to your neck. When he reaches the crook of your neck, he sucks softly, earning airy moans from you while you grab him by his shirt. He laughs breathily into your skin, tickling you.
“Starting to think you like this more than I do,” He teases after pulling off your neck, spit with a hint of red dripping from the corner of his mouth. You nod with a dazed giggle, a sound he’s missed so, so dearly since pushing away. “I’m so sorry, love.” He ducks into your neck again, murmuring in between kisses, “You’re my everything.”
Stealing the spotlight from your answer, he tests the waters by sinking his fangs into your neck, ever so slightly. You gasp, arching up into him.
“Sensitive little thing,” He teases, kitten licking at the few drops of blood on your skin. He delves back in, sinking his fangs a little deeper. A sharp, pained gasp leaves your lips, and it’s almost enough to make him stop, but it dissolves into a satisfied moan. “What’d you think was gonna happen tonight? You’d find someone else?”
Here comes the possessive attitude you always crave. 
“N- no, don’t want anyone else but you.”
He’s lapping at the blood now, sucking intermittently as it flows out. He’s in such a heady daze, beginning to whimper into your skin.
“S’what I thought, princess.” He sucks stronger this time, groaning into you as he feeds. “Fuck, y’taste so goddamn good, love.”
You’re reaching the dizzy, intoxicating thrill achieved only when Steve takes you like this. The only sensation that has ever come close is when he chokes you, plays with your air and blood flows, but it’s never the same as when he feeds off your blood.
Giggly and growing lightheaded, the pain has become full pleasure to you at this point. “You ever cum from sucking blood?” The question is silly, to you, but not to Steve. He lets out a guttural moan, mouth still on your skin. The teamwork of his fangs in your neck, his lips sucking blood out, and his tongue soothing over the wounds make you whine and writhe underneath him. 
“Every time y’let me drink yours— f- fuck—“
You didn’t even notice his pants were finally down, halfway, at least; he’s fisting his cock, precum spilling onto you from his rosy, swollen tip while he continues to work at your neck. The noises he makes are pornographic at this point. You reach around to hold him, hand to the back of his head, cradling him close.
“Touch yourself, love.”
Obeying, your other hand slides down between the two of you, fingers finally meeting your clit. You lazily rub in circles, eyes fluttering shut with a blissed out smile. “Steve…”
“This turns you on just as much as it does for me, huh?” You always gonna be fucked out every time I drink from you?”
You nod, head in the clouds; the two of your hands continue to bump against one another every so often, setting off little grunts and whimpers. “Uh-huh…”
“Imagine h- how wrecked you’ll be when I…” His hips stutter as he continues jerking off. “… when I turn you. Might like sucking blood more than y’like sucking my cock.”
You gasp at his words, nodding wildly as he pulls back, looking down at you with devotion and desire.
“You doin’ okay, love?” Steve asks, shuddering, close to his high. “Can I- I- m’so close…”
You hum with a dopey smile, “Here,” is all you can manage to say as you pull your bra down, exposing your chest. Steve only lasts a second longer before he finally reaches his high, spilling onto your tits as he moans lowly, echoing against the walls. The sight of him coming undone above you, the feeling of his spend against your skin, the intoxication of losing blood, it’s all more than enough to follow him with your own climax. 
Moaning for only a moment, Steve pushes forward, crashing his lips into yours, melding together with the metallic taste of your blood on your tongue. When he pulls back, you’re left panting sleepily, fucked out despite only getting off from your own touch and his fangs in your neck.
“Love, you know it’ll be hard to turn you knowing I’d have to give this up, right?” You reach up to him, gently touching his face. He takes your hand in his, kissing the back of your knuckles softly.
“S’okay, we can wait a lil’ longer.” You watch the shade of red in his eyes settle into the calm, muted red they usually are. Before you can praise him for being successful in holding himself under control, he kisses you quickly.
“Stay here, gonna get some stuff to clean up,” He does exactly that, returning with towels to clean off with and a first aid kit. He hands over a water bottle to you, careful not to make you spill it as he runs his tongue softly along the wounds, healing them with ease as he’s done plenty of times before. The first aid kit is kind of useless by now, but he still properly cleans around the newly healed wounds.
When Steve finishes, he gently lifts your head up toward his, searching for any signs of distress. “How’re you feeling?”
“Sleepy.”
He nods, “No tingling or weird feelings like last time, right?”
“Right,” You smile, curling up next to him with a content sigh. “Can we take a bubble bath?”
“You’re half asleep,” Shaking his head, he chuckles, “I don’t want you to drown.”
“Says the guy who just stabbed my neck with his teeth.”
“Yeah, you’re fine. The sass is back.” Then he remembers, you had plans. “Hey, did you get to tell your friends you weren’t coming? Sorry for stealing your night, love.”
“I didn’t have plans, just was hoping that’d get your attention finally,” You snuggle even closer, resting your head on his chest. Meanwhile, he scoffs out a laugh as he finds out you tricked him. He couldn’t even be mad, though, because it worked. Breaking his thoughts, you mutter, “You did it, y’know.”
Steve’s brows furrow, “What’d I do?” He’s lost, assuming you’re babbling sleepily.
“Your eyes changed back. You didn’t lose control.” You’re falling into slumber fast. “I meant it when I said I trust you, Steve.”
He kisses the top of your head, arms holding you close. “I trust you, love. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”
You’re down for the count, only able to murmur back, “Love you, Steve.” He watches as your breaths fall low and steady, finding safety and comfort while the two of you are back where you belong— in each other’s arms.
Steve’s nowhere near ready to turn you, but when the time comes, he’s certain it’s part of both of your futures, intertwined into one. He knows now the two of you are meant to spend eternity together.
Until then, he’ll cherish this complicated love between human and vampire; he’ll cherish you as you are now, before that becomes a mere memory once he brings you over to his side of life.
Eyes growing heavy, Steve whispers to you, now fast asleep, “I love you, too. ‘Til the end of time.”
121 notes · View notes
imfinereallyy · 18 hours
Text
five minutes ago I freaked my mutuals out with a horror ficlet, so now here is some comfort to ease the fear.
Steve wakes up in a startle, hand clutched to his chest. He takes long, deep breaths to calm his racing heartbeat.
He feels something move next to him, and glances down to see his boyfriend slowly arouse from his slumber.
“Baby?” Eddie’s voice is thick with sleep.
“Sorry, Eds. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Eddie rubs his eyes and blinks a few times to clear his vision. He stares at Steve for a moment before giving him a sleepy smile. “It’s okay. Can’t sleep when you can’t either, anyway.”
Steve can’t help but give a soft smile back, “That doesn’t make any sense love.”
Eddie shrugs, but his smile never falters. Instead, he gently grabs Steve by the arm, his cold hands cool Steve’s blazing skin, and pulls him down into his chest.
Steve snuggles into his chest, as Eddie’s hands make his way into his hair.
“Wanna talk about it?” Eddie’s finger delicately untangle Steve’s knots.
Steve traces letters onto Eddie’s chest. “Russians this time.”
Eddie nods, because he knows. He knows those are the bad nights, the worst nights. “Want me to kiss it better?”
Steve pauses the motions on Eddie’s chest before starting back up again. God, he loves this man. He doesn’t know how Eddie does it; he knows him so well even after all this time. Knows that now isn’t good for talking about it, maybe later it will be, but now is no good.
Steve nods and tilts his chin up.
Eddie takes the silent invitation, lips softly touching Steve’s.
It eases the ache inside Steve, as Eddie’s chapped lips move slowly against his own. These are Steve’s favorite kisses, the ones that feel so gently yet passionate. The ones that say you're mine and we have time.
Eddie breaks the kiss but doesn’t move very far, forehead leaning against Steve’s. “I love you too.”
“Hhmmm?” Steve questions confused.
Eddie grabs Steve’s hand, the one that is still making letters on his chest. Steve hasn’t realized till now he was still doing it.
Closing his fingers around Steve’s, Eddie brings their conjoined hands up for a kiss. “You spelled I love you on my chest. And I vowed always to say it back. You should never go a second without knowing your love is shared back.”
Steve melts, eyes fluttering shut at Eddie’s kind words.
He brushes his nose against Eddie’s before moving in for a brief peck. “Tell me again.”
Eddie doesn’t hesitate, “I love you.” He breathes into Steve.
“I love you.” A peck to the cheek.
“I love you.” A squeeze to his hand.
“I love you.” A brush of the lip.
Steve’s eyes open, and Eddie’s kind eyes stare back. They sit silently for a moment, enjoying only each other's company.
It’s Steve who finally breaks the silence, “I love you too.”
Eddie’s eyes flutter at the words as he brings Steve back to his chest.
Eddie’s hands still brush gently through his hair while Steve’s fingers still trace against his skin. Steve keeps his ear to Eddie’s chest, listening to Eddie’s heartbeat as a lullaby. Eventually, sleep takes them both.
Steve dreams of nothing but of the man he loves.
⋆。°✩₊☾₊✩°。⋆ ⋆。°✩₊☾₊✩°。⋆ ⋆
for all my mutuals but especially @sourw0lfs ⋆˙⟡♡ who is in my walls and @devondespresso ₊˚⊹♡
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ssparksflyy · 20 hours
Note
hi hi!!
i love ur writing sm can i req a luke x aphrodite reader where the reader is insecure from a scar she got on a quest and luke comforts her?
btw no pressure or anything! i know how stressful requests can be <33
ask and thou shall receive ༉‧₊˚.
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⋅˚₊‧ ୨ stars around our scars ୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅
pairing: luke castellan x daughter of aphrodite!reader warning(s): me being really shitty at describing where scars are, me not knowing how to treat cuts, swearing word count: 1.1k an: i feel like this sounds so pick me but i only ever curl my lashes cause my mommy mother dearest wont let me do anything else yet so idk how 2 use concealer or nothin nd i hope this doesnt sound too stupid 😭
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you took a step back as you finished ( your attempt to ) covering up the scar sitting diagonally on the left side of your forehead. it was just barely above your eyebrow, running down to the top of your ear. you hated the stupid thing. you hated how you could've avoided getting it in the first place if you'd just moved quicker. maybe you might've been able to move quicker if you trained harder and longer, instead of fooling around. if you just tried harder.
you exhaled in frustration as you grabbed your concealer, ready to put another layer on the ugly thing. you'd spent hours yesterday trying to find a hairstyle that would cover up the scar, but it always managed to peak out a little, sending you into a meltdown. emotionally, you'd been so fragile after your quest, a singular wrong move managing to bring you to tears.
you reached for your concealer, placing some on top of your scar and grabbing your brush, quickly trying to hide the wretched thing. when you realized it wasnt working, you could feel the tears brimming in your eyes, the familiar overwhelming feeling slowly creeping in. you reached for the bottle again without looking in a hurry, your eyes fixated on your reflection in the mirror, watching as tears threatened to fall. your hand missed the bottle and instead sent it flying off the bathroom sink's counter, hitting the floor with a shatter. you gasped as you quickly fell to your knees, trying to pick up the glass from the floor.
somebody knocked on the door, "you okay in the angel?", you heard their voice say from the other side of the bathroom door. was that luke? it had to be luke. when had he gotten here?
"y-yea! im okay!", you shouted back. you could hear your voice shaking, and you knew he could too.
you quickly began picking up pieces of glass off of the floor, tears now falling from your eyes as you grunted in anger every time a piece of your hair would fall into your face and blocked your vision. a large piece fell in your face when you balled up for fist that had glass in it without thinking. you quickly yelped out in pain, small shards of glass lying in your palm.
you heard the bathroom door open swiftly, quickly looking up to see luke standing in the door frame. he let out a small gasp when he saw your hand, quickly moving over to you.
"shit- here, here, cmere baby" he said, holding your other hand and guiding you back up to the sink.
he turned the faucet on and stuck his hand in the water, making sure it wasn't too hot, but still warm. after just a few seconds, he grabbed your other hand gently, holding it by your wrist, careful not to touch the palm of your hand until he could see the cuts.
"is this too hot?" he asked, putting just your fingers under the water.
you shook your head, wiping away your tears. your hand was aching, but luke's touch alone was enough to help calm you down a little.
he moved the rest of your hand under the water, grabbing soap to help clean the cut. he seemed to know exactly what to do, and you just let him take care of you.
once he finished cleaning the cuts, he asked you to sit atop of the bathtub as he crouched down to search for your cabin's first aid kit. when he found the bedazzled thing, he was quick to rummage through it in search for tweezers. he found a pair and sat next to you on the bathtub, taking your injured hand and holding it in his left hand as he began picking out the pieces of glass with the tweezers in his right.
you sat in comfortable silence as luke continued to take out small pieces of glass, making sure he got every last bit out. you wanted to talk to him, to thank him for what he was doing, but you felt embarrassed in a way. embarrassed that this had happened and luke was the one to take care of you, again. if only you'd paid more attention. again.
when he finished pulling out the glass, he reached over to the first aid kit again, putting the tweeers back and this time pulling out a bandage roll.
"what happened? i mean, i know you dropped something but like why?" he asked, as he slowly began to wrap the bandages around your palm.
"i wasn't paying attention, as always." you said, muttering the last part.
he looked up at you, his brows furrowed in confusion, "as always? what do you mean?"
"well i mean i got this dumb scar on my head because i wasn't paying attention, now this? one day i'll get myself killed because i'm not paying attention" you said bitterly.
he finished bandaging your hand and turned it over to press a kiss on your knuckles, "everybody makes mistakes. so what if you weren't paying attention? i don't know a single person at camp who hasn't gotten hurt because they weren't paying attention- including myself. it's normal angel, no need to beat yourself up for it."
"still doesn't get rid of this stupid scar" you muttered.
he paused, studying the scar on your forehead, just now noticing the very obvious layer of makeup on it. his eyes wandered over to the shattered bottle on the floor.
"is that what this is about?" he asked, pointing over to the mess on the floor, "your scar?"
you looked away and nodded your head slowly.
"im... im not pretty anymore." you said, tears beginning to form.
luke almost laughed out of shock, "what? where did you ever get that idea??"
"oh come on, luke! ive got this huge mark across my forehead, youre seriously telling me thats pretty?" you exclaimed.
"angel, in no way does that scar take away from your beauty at all. youre still the same gorgeous girl you were before." he said, moving closer to you.
he pressed a soft kiss on it, "and besides- i think it makes you look tough."
you smiled, "really?"
"mhm, like yea you like ribbons and bows and frilly things, but at the same time it says you can drop kick a bear" he replied.
your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his comparison but couldn't help laughing.
"what? no bear?" he asked.
you just rolled your eyes and kissed him.
࿐ ࿔*:・゚
little did he know, just the sight of the identical scar on his left cheek would be enough to almost send him running back to you after his betrayal.
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an two: why was that all build up 🧍bro tell me why i had NO TIME TO WRITE THIS. i kept falling asleep nd schol nd shit 😭 im soso sorry ubt i hope you enjoyed and have a good day/night!
peace from manhattan,
percy jackson ♡
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apheleion · 10 hours
Text
you take care of hotch after a rough case. tags: blood, slight angst, hurt/comfort, pet names (honey) requests for hotch are open!
You’re not sure what time of night it is when you feel the feather light touch of lips pressed to your temple.
“Aaron?”
“Just me, honey. Go back to sleep,” he murmurs.
Your eyes flutter open and you sit up despite his words, yawning. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” You twist to turn on the lamp that sits upon your nightstand, but Aaron takes hold of your wrist gently. “Honey—”
You wrench your hand out of his grasp and manage to turn it on. “Why are you being so—” A gasp leaves your lips as you lay your eyes on his face. “Oh my god, what happened? You… you’re still bleeding.”
He shakes his head. “It’s nothing, I promise. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“You’re kidding, right?” you scoff. “You know I’m always gonna worry about you. Let me clean you up.”
“I can take care of it—”
“Aaron Hotchner, so help me god—”
“Okay, okay,” he relents, sighing.
You throw the covers off and step out of bed. After taking his hand, you lead him into the bathroom and have him sit on the toilet. Once you have the first aid kit, you let it sit open on the counter next to you and stand between his legs.
“What happened?” you ask, voice wobbling slightly as you reach a hand out to cup his face.
“It was nothing. Really. Just got a few punches thrown at me, that’s all.”
You swallow around the lump in your throat as you gently wash the blood from his face. “It looks like more than that.”
“Honey, I’m okay.”
“I know you are,” you say, biting back a sob as tears spring to your eyes.
“Look at me.” You can’t, because you know if you do that you’ll break down, and that’s the last thing he needs after a case like this. “Please.”
The moment your gaze meets his, a few tears trail down your cheeks. “I’m sorry,” you say, letting out a wet laugh. “You’re the one that’s hurt and I’m crying. What a great wife I am.”
“You have absolutely nothing to apologize for,” Aaron tells you, voice firm yet soft. “I should be the one that’s sorry.”
“For what? Doing your job?” you ask, sniffling. “I knew what I signed up for when I married you, Aaron.”
“I know you did ,” he sighs, shoulders slumping forward slightly.
Silence blankets the bathroom as you finish cleaning him up. Once you’re done, you put everything back in the first aid kit, zipping it up and stepping out from between his legs to tuck it into the cabinet.
You walk back over to stand in front of him and take his face in his hands. He gives you one of his rare smiles, the dimple that you love so much making an appearance at the corner of his mouth.
“Thank you,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand. “And not just for cleaning me up.”
You thread your fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands gently. Aaron wraps his arms around your waist, leaning forward to press his face into your stomach. Your stomach flips.
“I know,” you whisper.
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vodika-vibes · 1 day
Note
Hey I was wondering if you could write a crosshair x reader where they have a lazy morning maybe with batcher too.
Lazy Morning
Summary: You decide to sleep in on your day off. It leads to a very relaxing day with the love of your life.
Pairing: TBB Crosshair x F!Reader
Word Count: 1087
Warnings: None
Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly
A/N: I started writing this ages ago and then put it on pause, before continuing it today and I have no idea where I was originally going with the story, so I'm sorry if the vibes changes midstory. The only problem now is that I want to lounge by the pool. Alas, there is no pool.
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It’s early, though not so early that the sun isn’t high in the sky, and you groan in annoyance when the bright morning sun hits your face, waking you from your very nice sleep.
Wait.
You’re fairly certain that you shut the curtain before you fell asleep last night.
You crack open a singular eye just as something large and heavy lands on the bed, and then you yelp as the solid mass of muscle flops next to you. “Batcher-?”
The lurca hound releases a happy little noise and buries her head under your pillows and blankets. 
You groan and roll onto your back, flinging your arm over your eyes, “Crosshair? Why is your dog in my bed?”
“I’m fairly certain it’s our bed, angel.” Crosshair replies from somewhere on the other side of the room, near the door. He’s probably the one who opened the curtain too.
“You don’t live here, leech.” You counter without any heat in your voice.
“Rude, and I went through all of the trouble of making caf and breakfast for you. But, since you aren’t interested-”
“I hate you. What did you make?” You ask as you slowly sit up and squint at the man leaning against the door frame, “And how’d you get in anyway?”
“I made a quiche-” You shoot him a look, and he rolls his eyes, “Believe it or not, I am capable of following instructions from a recipe.”
“Yeah, but normally people start with, like, pancakes. They don’t tend to jump to quiches.” You reply as you swing your legs off the bed and stretch your arms over your head, “And you didn’t answer how you got in the house.”
“I picked the lock.”
“Cross!”
“Hey, you don’t want me to pick the lock, then give me a key.”
“Ugh, I haven’t had a copy made yet. I’m working on it.” You pad over to him, yawning widely, and then you thump your head against his chest, “Why’re you and Batcher over here anyway.”
“My brothers are annoying.” Crosshair replies as he sets his hand between your shoulder blades, “I needed some quiet.”
“Mm,” You slide your arms around his waist, “And you decided to make breakfast for me while enjoying the quiet?”
You feel him shrug, “You deserve to be spoiled. Maybe.” He says, his hand sliding up to rest lightly at the back of your neck. 
“Maybe?” You ask with a laugh.
“I do have a reputation, kitten.”
“Yeah, yeah. I remember.” You rub your nose against his chest, allowing the sharp scent of Crosshair to fill your lungs, and then you pull back slightly, “Thank you for making breakfast, I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome,” He lightly rubs the back of your neck with his thumb, a small, slightly crooked, smile on his lips. “It still needs to cook for a bit, so you have time enough to shower and wake up.”
You hum thoughtfully, “Yeah, I might do that.” You lean in to brush your lips against his jaw, only to giggle as he ducks his head to kiss you properly. You lightly trail your fingers against his jawline, “Good morning, Crosshair.”
“Mm, it is a good morning now,” He murmurs, before he drops one more kiss against your lips, “Go take your shower, I’m going back to the kitchen. Batcher, off!” The dog whines but jumps off your bed, dragging your comforter with her.
You sigh, and Crosshair chuckles, “I’ll handle it, kitten. I’m planning on spending the day lounging by your pool, so maybe grab a swimsuit.”
“You just want to watch me parade around for you in a bikini.”
“Yeah, of course.”
You huff, though there’s no heat, and you lightly kiss him one more time before you meander over to your dresser to dig out your swimsuit, “Why do you want to use the pool when we live on an island?”
“Uh, there are people at the beach, and there aren’t people here. Besides, you’re the one who owns a pool in spite of living on a tropical island.”
You scowl at him as you pull out your bathing suit, “I didn’t build the pool, the house came with it.”
“You still bought it.”
“Inherited it.”
“Same difference.” He walks over to you and tugs your bikini out of your hands, before pulling a different one out of your dresser, “Wear this one.”
“...this is white.”
“I know what I’m about, kitten.”
“You’re such a man sometimes,” You take the bikini though and turn towards the bathroom, “I’ll be down shortly.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Fifteen minutes later, you step into the kitchen, clad in the white bikini and a sarong hung low around your hips. Crosshair offers you an appreciative whistle, before he tosses a ball out the back door for Batcher to chase.
“Prettier than a sunset,” He praises, a small smirk on his lips.
“Only because I’m wearing this thing,” You counter as you walk over to him and lightly pluck his toothpick out of his mouth.
“You could take it off, I won’t complain.” He drawls with an appreciative drag of his eyes down your body.
You point at him with his toothpick, “Pervert.”
“Guilty as charged.” He pushes your hand away and stands so he’s able to catch your lips in a kiss, “I opened the umbrella and put your breakfast on the table outside already. I also put out towels for us, as well as the sunblock.”
“Well, you have everything in hand, don’t you?”
“All that’s left to finish the perfect morning, is you sprawled out in the sun.” Crosshair replies.
You laugh softly, “Well then, who am I to deny you?” His arms snake around your waist and he tugs at the knot holding the sarong in place.
“You’re not going to need this, kitten. It’ll just get dirty.”
“And I’m sure it has nothing to do with wanting to see my legs.”
“Of course not.”
“Uh-huh.” You slide your hands up his chest and then wrap your arms around his neck, “It’s a good thing that I actually like your attention.”
“Oh, how much do you like my attention?” Crosshair asks as he bumps his forehead against yours.
“Enough that I’m considering inviting you to spend the night.”
He chuckles, “Well then, I’d better behave so you don’t change your mind.”
And you laugh one more time, before you pull him down into a kiss, leaning your weight against him. He’s right about one thing, this is definitely the perfect morning.
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catopoliscat · 6 hours
Text
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nail day / fem!reader/atsuya kusakabe.
you always had a way of catching atsuya off-guard in your relationship. you decide to take things to a whole new level with just your nails, and then atsuya's doing things he never thought he would be doing, in places he never thought he'd be doing them.
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tags: nsfw. 18+. fem!reader. afab!reader. established relationship (you've been together a few months). ‘get your nails painted the colour of his tip’. canon!verse. atsuya gives me heavy boomer energy ngl. sexting. semi-public sex (kind of, solo masturbation). mentions of edging (reader). shades of dom!reader but feels more like more sexually-open!reader lmao. shades of insecure kuskabe. man has feelings but don’t tell him. toge, maki and panda cameo at the start because i love them. no use of y/n or any other placeholders. ever.
wc: 6.9k
a/n: a masterclass in how to stretch a 2k concept into nearly 7k for no reason ft. an overlooked side character, blegh
mdni.
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The ‘ding’, though faint, rings out through the quiet walls of the classroom, disturbing the languid, tranquil air. 
Atsuya purses his lips around his lollipop, eyes slowly opening. He’s reluctant to move his body from its semi-comfortable position—feet propped up on the edge of the worn desk in front of him, hands behind his head. It was a favourite of his during the warmer hours of the afternoon on a slower work day, like today. From his spot, the soft sun filters in through the windows just right, warming his body and making him just the right amount of relaxed. 
He doesn’t have to look at the clock above the dated chalkboard to know what time it was, his body told him that. Just another twenty minutes and then it was home-sweet-home. 
Swinging his eyes lazily across his cluttered desk, he spots his phone amidst the ungraded papers and documents. The screen is lit up, lighting up the cracks on the glass he is still yet to replace. He can make out the faint outline of a text message, from you no doubt, but once again, he’s reluctant to move to check it just yet. 
Astuya rolls his tongue around the sweet in his mouth once, then twice. The stick rolls from the left side of his mouth to the right. 
His eyes flick up to his students across from him, his gaze moving across each one. Panda’s head rests in his large fist (paw?), his beady black eyes slowly blinking, clearly still trying to stay awake although his teacher was almost napping mere moments ago. Toge was reclined in his chair, feet kicked out across the aisle, fiddling with his phone underneath the desk where he presumed Atsuya couldn’t see it (he could, and he could definitely recognise the sound of Candy Crush when he heard it). His eyes finally meet Maki’s where she sits, arms folded, spear resting against her desk like a faithful dog. 
She holds Atsuya’s gaze with a strength a sixteen-year-old shouldn’t have, something searching in her gaze. After a few moments of uncomfortable eye contact (at least on Atsuya’s behalf), she raises an eyebrow at him, the thin arch peeking above the rim of her glasses. 
The ‘ding’ rings out again. 
“Are you going to answer that?” she finally says. Panda jolts in his seat, straightening up, looking across the classroom as if expecting someone to come running in. Toge’s eyes do not move from his lap, ‘delicious!’ echoing through the classroom a second later. 
“Get back to work,” Atsuya grumbles, shooting Maki a withering look before reaching for his phone anyway, pulling it toward his eyes. 
pain in my ass sent you a photo. 
He squints, just about making out the small icon of the photo in the corner of the notification. It looks like your hand. 
Oh yeah, he thinks to himself, nail day. Even when you were away on a mission, you always seemed to make time for it. 
Atsuya flicks his gaze across his students again and sees three sets of eyes trained on him despite his earlier order. Seems like he was the most interesting thing in this classroom right now. 
Ignoring the expectant look of his students, he unlocks his phone with a swipe of his thumb. He pulls up the text thread with you, presses on the photo and low and behold, there’s your hand, nails adorned with a fresh new colour. A pretty kind of dark pink.
Atsuya exhales a gush of air through his nose, admiring the contour of your hand for a moment. You hadn’t sent a message with it, and for a moment he’s tempted just to leave a thumbs up on the picture and call it a day. After all, what the hell did he know about manicures? Your nails looked nice, he guessed, but you always looked nice, even without them.
But then he remembers the lecture you had given him about his ‘lacklustre’ responses once and he hesitates. Despite having a sister, he still didn’t get women. At all. And it showed sometimes. Sometimes.  
He clears his throat and glances across at his students. “Woman sends you a nail picture, what do you say? Go.” 
Maki raises an eyebrow at him again, her expression the definition of the question ‘really, idiot?’
Panda perks up a little though, scratching at his chin. “Something complimentary, maybe? How about… ’looks very nice?’” 
Atsuya nods, pursing his lips around the lollipop in his mouth for a moment. It sounded good to him, at least. 
Toge shakes his head, a small, negatory ‘fish flakes’ falling from his lips. Atsuya frowns at him for putting doubt in his mind—and for the fact that the speech-user didn’t give him any sort of clue as to what he should say instead.
“Is this really necessary?” Maki drawls at last, kicking one heel over the other, “She’s your girlfriend.” 
A beat of silence passes in the classroom. 
“Give me a good response and I’ll let you leave now.” 
Maki holds his stare for a moment longer, before pushing back her chair with a loud scrape. She walks over to Atsuya’s desk and holds out her hand, even that small movement is somehow aggressive. 
Atsuya hesitates for a second, glancing down at the girl's slightly calloused palm. His eyes flick to the message thread after, scrolling up a little, making sure there wasn’t anything… obscene, before handing her the phone. 
He watches as she types something, both thumbs moving faster than Atsuya could ever manage before he hears the little familiar ‘woosh’ of a message being sent. She hands him back the phone a moment later. 
She folds her arms across her chest again. “Well?”
Atsuya raises a finger, looking down at the message. 
Gorgeous as always. I love that colour on you. 
He keeps his finger raised as he stares down at the message, watching as the small ‘read 2:37 pm’ pops up underneath his forged text. 
A little heart pops up a second later, and Atusya clicks his fingers before jabbing his thumb in the direction of the classroom door. His students waste little time in grabbing their things and filing out of the classroom, the door shutting a moment later. 
Wow, who knew you could be so adorable, Cutiekabe? 
Atsuya smiles, a touch smugly, to himself. He briefly contemplates how weird it would be if he got his students to write more of his texts to you. They clearly understood something he didn’t. 
what can I say? I try
He slumps back in his seat a little more, pleased with himself. His pride quickly melts away, however, when you reply again. 
So, who was it? Maki or Toge? 
Atsuya mutters a small ‘shit’ around his lollipop, before pulling it from between his lips with a pop. He should have known better. You had always been freakishly… aware of things. 
… what gave it away? 
The correct grammar.idiot 
Dumping his phone in his lap with a sigh, Atsuya scratches the back of his neck, wondering how he can try and salvage the situation. He knew you weren’t mad-mad, but still. It wasn’t exactly a good look for him—and he knew he wouldn’t hear the end of this for a good long while. A grown man having a sixteen-year-old write his message because he was useless with genuine affection and emotion? Embarrassing. 
The phone dings again, and he picks it back up, shoving his lollipop back into his mouth. 
Do you like them though? The colour’s special.Really special.
Raising an eyebrow, he scrolls up back to the hand photo to see what he just missed. Was pink your favourite colour? He couldn’t remember. He didn’t think so… but now he was doubting again. He had already messed up once, and now he was on a fast track to digging himself a deeper grave. 
i like them  a lot its a real nice pink
Atsuya cringes at his choice of words and wishes he could unsend the message, but he knows you’ve already seen it. 
You should. You look at the same shade every day, you know. 
…?
“…the fuck did I miss?” he mutters to himself, frowning down at the screen. 
It’s the colour of your tip, Kusakabe. 
He raises an eyebrow at his phone as his thumbs tap out another reply. 
the tip of my what? 
It takes Atsuya three heartbeats before he realises what you’re saying.
He almost drops his phone in his haste to scroll back up to the photo, his feet sliding off the desk as he leans forward in his seat. That pinkish shade on the tips of your nails glares back at him, and his eyes grow wider and wider by the second. Only now you’ve pointed it out, the shade is really fucking familiar, and it’s all he can see now. 
His lips part, the lollipop falling from his mouth and onto the floor. 
The tip of his dick. You got your nails painted the same colour as his fucking dick. 
ur kiddingreally? why
There’s a pause before he sends another stream of messages. 
is this some trend thing? or a prank?seems fucking weirdu couldn’t have done my eyes or something? anything that wasn’t to do with my actual dick???
It’s as if he can hear the echo of your laughter in the room with him right now, even though he knows you’re a few hundred miles away. In his mind's eye, he can make out the crease of your eyes and cheeks as you take in his borderline shocked and repulsed expression. 
Atsuya knew you were younger than him, though only a little—but sometimes it felt as if you two were worlds apart when it came to things like this. He didn’t know how you kept up with it all. Especially if the main trends of today were getting your nails painted dick-colours. 
What, you don’t like it, baby? It’s like I have you with me wherever I go, now.Or your dick, anyway.  
He rolls his eyes, your teasing tone heard loud and clear. He briefly contemplates letting the message hang, let you bask in your own foolishness while he heads back to the apartment—though he had been spending more time at the school lately. Home felt a little weird without you there, as much as he loathed to think about it. 
Another ding. 
It’s gonna be so much more fun touching myself later. 
And just like that, Atsuya feels his whole world grind to a halt with just a few words. In a flash of smoke, all thoughts of his dick shade (was it really that pink though?) disappear out of the window, replaced instead with an image that comes as clearly to him as his own reflection. 
You, sprawled out on some dusted futon in a rundown hotel, naked and flushed—thighs parted, pussy glistening and wet, ready for him; clit swollen underneath those pretty pink fingertips and—
Atsuya’s head whips over his shoulder left and right, clutching his phone a little tighter to himself, despite the classroom being blissfully empty. Still, he’s cautious—as he should be while at work. In a fucking school no less. 
goddamn womanare u trying to kill me? im still at work
Atsuya’s hand drifts down, adjusting himself as discreetly as he can manage. He’s not fully hard, but his cock is definitely sitting a little heavier in his slacks just from the mere thought of your words alone. You always had that affect on him. 
Well, that, and two weeks (15 days to be exact) without you was starting to drive him insane. His hand could only do so much—even with your panties wrapped around them. 
Atsuya curses, trying (and failing) not to think about that as he feels himself swell a little fuller. Luckily, another ding registers before he can dwell on what he’s more than likely going to do as soon as he gets home. 
Why? I bet you sent the kids out ages ago. 
He purses his lips. There was that freaky-woman-sixth-sense you seemed to have. That, or he was just that predictable. 
still!!!u know what u do to me…u really gonna do that tho?
Atsuya pauses, his thumbs stilling a moment, before he continues on. 
send pics if u do 
He hesitates again, his face pulling into some sort of grimace. 
i really fucking miss you
Cringing a little, he locks his phone before you can reply, shoving it into his pocket and standing from his desk. He couldn’t deal with anything else right now, not while he was at work. Not with Satoru hanging around too. 
The last thing he wanted in the world was for that white-haired fool to see him walking around with a goddamn boner. 
Packing up his things in an even more harried and rushed way than usual, papers half-spilling out of his briefcase, he throws on his coat before heading out the door. All he had to do was pick up a few things from the store for dinner and then he was home free and he could… indulge.
Although the idea of another night fucking up into his fist imagining it was your hand around him wasn’t ideal, it would do for now. Maybe you really would send a few pictures to help him along. Hell, at this point he’d use that damn hand picture. 
Continuing down the hallway, his mind a million miles away, he tells himself he won’t check his phone until he gets back home just in case you do. It was safer that way. You were… unpredictable sometimes. Especially when it came to sex.  
“Not until I get back home,” he mutters under his breath as he strides down the hallway. 
He tells himself that, anyway. 
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What Atsuya Kusakabe tells himself and what he actually does are sometimes two separate things. 
Standing in a small supermarket an hour later, looking at the different packages of instant ramen (God, you’d moan at him if you knew he was eating ready meals instead of something sustainable, but what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you), he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. 
His eyes move from the rows of brightly-coloured plastic packaging down to the square lump in his slacks. He chews on his bottom lip indecisively for a moment, telling himself it was probably just you goading him for actually admitting he liked having you close—and not the pictures he had already spent an entire train journey fantasising about. 
Atsuya swallows, ignoring the vibration as he pulls a random ramen packet from the shelf and dumps it in the basket on his arm. 
He’s standing in the beer and wine aisle when his phone vibrates again, reminding him about the notification. His eye twitches, but once again, he ignores it—dumping a four-pack of cheap beer into his basket alongside his cheap meal. 
Again, his phone vibrates in the fresh-food aisle (he doesn’t pick anything up, just passing through on the way to the candy), and again, he ignores it. 
Three more times it chimes, in quick succession, as he picks up a lollipop. His fingers twitch around the stick as he stares at the packaging—strawberry and sakura-flavoured! 
Flushed pink colour, stick included. 
Atsuya swallows, throwing the lollipop back on the pile quickly and instead grabs a watermelon-flavoured one. Bright green. 
His phone vibrates once more on his way to the checkout, and Atsuya’s resolve breaks like a taut wire. Impatience finally wins out. 
As he digs his hand into his pocket, fishing out his phone, he tells himself it’s because he cares. After all, you rarely texted him this much. What if you had run into trouble? Maybe you were asking for help? Burying the voice that tells him that if that were the case, then you’d at least call him—he swipes open his phone— 
—and then he nearly drops the damn thing on the floor. 
Phone opening straight back up on the message thread, he’s greeted by several photos of you—fully naked, spread out across sheets, just like in his earlier fantasy… but fucking better because this was real. Right in front of him. So close, yet so far. 
Atsuya slams the screen against his chest so fucking quickly it makes a loud thump, and an older woman further down the aisle sends him a strange look. He offers a strained smile in return as he turns his back to her, his heartbeat thumping against his ribs. 
Close the damn thread, Kusakabe, he tells himself, wait until you get back home. 
What he tells himself and what he does, however… 
Atsuya walks quickly, quicker than he ever did at work, until he disappears down an emptier aisle, heat prickling at the back of his neck. His footsteps draw to a stop right next to some laundry detergent, and with a quick look left and right, he peels his phone from his chest like a bloodied bandage, slowly, as if scared of the damage underneath. 
He takes another peek at the images, and sure enough, there you still are. It might not have been some rundown motel or futon (thank fuck), but the white sheets underneath make the familiar flush of your skin practically glow. The first few images are of your face and chest, smiling up at the camera above you all sweet and saccharine like you have no idea what the fuck that look does to him. His eyes trail over your face, your lashes and the curve of your lips, before slowly dragging downward, down your neck and across your collarbone, until his eyes lock onto your breasts. 
You’ve got one hand squeezing one of the mounds, freshly done fingernails digging into the plump flesh just enough to leave indents. The pink of your nails shines in the low light, and his mind snaps to the thought of his cock between your tits, sliding between the valley slick with spit and pre-cum as you looked up at him from underneath your lashes. It was something he hadn’t done yet but fuck if he hadn’t thought about it. Dreamt about it sometimes too.
“…oh fuck,” Atsuya mutters under his breath, glancing around him once more to make sure he was still alone. He was, but this was dangerous—he knew it. He became distinctly aware of the potential of cameras around, scoping out for thieves and delinquents. All it would take was one dedicated employee who was paying attention to see a grown man lusting at pictures of a naked woman on his phone in the middle of a fucking store. 
Was it… wrong that Atsuya kind of liked that idea? Not the thought of anyone else seeing you like this, fuck no, but… the thought of someone seeing that this was the person he got to go home to every day. The woman he called his own. The woman he got to see like this in the flesh. The woman he got to touch, feel, fuck. He’s always been proud to show you off in his own way, but this was a whole new level. 
Atsuya’s really glad he adjusted himself earlier, but fuck if the growing thickness in his slacks wasn’t uncomfortable. And embarrassing. 
Glancing down at the photos again, he releases a shuddering breath. The POV of the pictures taken above makes Atsuya feel like he’s there, right above you, hips between your thighs like he fucking should be—not about to pay up on some groceries and go home alone to an empty apartment that still smelled like you. 
Another picture comes through, this time of between your thighs, and Atsuya has to suck in his bottom lip to stop from groaning aloud. 
Those pretty folds of yours, already glistening with arousal; underwear hanging off the soft thigh of one leg… the sight is fucking sinful. Your middle finger is already buried deep inside you all the way to the knuckle, the rest of your fingers splayed out around. 
That fucking shade of pink is staring at him once again, reminding him of your choice, your reasoning, and Atsuya finally gets the prank, the trend, whatever it is. He fucking gets it now. 
As his grip on his phone tightens, threatening to bend the already damaged plastic underneath his fingers, another message comes through. 
I miss you too, ‘kabe. See how much? Two fingers deep and all I can think about is your cock instead. 
Atsuya’s mind spins, clouded with lust and thoughts of you and you only. He feels like he might sway on his feet as the full force of his need and longing seems to hit him square in the chest, sending him dizzy. 
Oh, how he missed you. He missed you so fucking much. 
He leans up against the shelves, some of the boxes of powdered detergent rustling underneath him, but he pays it little attention. His eyes are locked on those photos, and the reminder that you missed him just as fucking much as he missed you. 
Are you hard for me too? 
Atsuya’s quick to adjust the basket hanging off of his arm as he brings both hands up to his phone. 
u have no fucking ideaur so goddamn sexy you know that??i’m hard as a goddamn rock right now
Show me. 
Atsuya’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead in surprise. He glances over his shoulders once more and sees a young couple walk past the aisle and onto the next one, giggling about something. 
i canti’m in a storenot in the mood for getting arrested for public indecency
Oh?Opening my nudes out in public? Dirty old man. 
Atsuya can’t bring himself to disagree with you, although the use of ‘old’ does sting a little. 
Do they have toilets? Go there. I want to see you. 
Oh, now you were playing with fire. Opening your messages in public full-well expecting what was in them was reckless enough, but if this was heading where Atsuya thought it was—and it probably was if his resolve was all that was holding him back—then this was downright idiotic. Dumb. Stupid. Gojo-coded. 
And yet the sound of his shoes against the tiles rings out across the store anyway as he marches toward the public bathrooms, the half-filled basket abandoned on the floor.  
He swings open the door of the male bathrooms a touch more forcefully than necessary, quickly scoping out the space. It’s clean, thankfully, although the scent of bleach and other cleaning chemicals hangs heavy in the air. Hardly the sexiest place, but it’s empty—though that’s always in danger of changing. 
Striding past the sinks and urinals, he heads toward one of the stalls, pushing open the door and stepping inside before shutting it once more—and locking it too. He rests his back against the door with a sigh as he swipes open the camera app on his phone. 
The fluorescent lighting isn’t the best, but it’s all he has to work with as he takes a slightly shaky picture of the swell in his dark trousers. His cock sits thick and proud against his zipper, the outline of it abundantly clear. 
He sends it to you without a message and without a second thought, staring down at the screen intently as he sees those familiar three dots immediately pop up. 
Fuck, you really are hard. Just for me? 
Atsuya scoffs out loud, though the sound is weaker than usual. 
who else???u think I’d send pics like this to anyone else? in a public bathroom??u drive me goddamn crazy
So cute.Take it out. I want to see it properly. 
Atsuya freezes for a moment. Although getting your dick out in a public bathroom wasn’t exactly new, this was… different. For him, anyway. Sexting, sending nudes, let alone in a public place… he wasn’t exactly well-versed in this type of thing. It had always seemed a little young for him. None of his previous partners had done anything like this. 
But he had no idea whether this was a regular thing with your past partners though… 
…and the thought of that alone has his one hand fiddling with this button on his slacks, trying to tug it free of the hole. He just about manages, though his zipper requires a little more finesse, but eventually, that gives too.
He heaves a small sigh of relief as the constriction on his aching cock finally lessens, and inching his trousers and boxers down just enough, he lets it spring free. He shivers slightly as the cool, stagnant air of the bathroom hits his overheated skin, the flushed head (pink, pink, pink) shining up at him. 
With a slightly shaking hand, he wraps his free hand around the base of his cock, twitching at the minute stimulation. He snaps another picture and sends it once more.
see what you do to me? god I wish u were herethe things I’d do to you right noweven in this fucking bathroom
Your reply is almost instantaneous. 
Touch yourself and tell me. 
His eyebrows shoot up his forehead. He wonders if that would be too far for him right now considering his environment. He wonders how the hell he’s even meant to type one-handed. He can barely do it with two. 
A second later, you’re answering his questions for him as he sees his phone light up in his hand, displaying your caller ID. A picture of you and him on one of your first dates stares back at him, the pair of you smiling together in a dimly lit booth, his arm around your waist, your head on his shoulder. You look so happy to be there. Atsuya still looks faintly surprised you turned up. 
It’s one of Atsuya’s favourite photos. His students had teased him for it when he had set it as his lock screen, so he had changed it back to default and set it as your caller ID instead. It’s how they had found out you and him were even a thing. He still remembers feeling smug at his student’s surprised faces… before the questions had started. You and her?! Is she okay in the head or…? 
Atsuya stares down at the vibrating phone in his hand, looking at your soft smile staring back at him. It’s a romantic picture. Doesn’t quite fit the vibe of what he’s about to partake in at all. 
He answers the call, holding it up to his ear. He’s immediately greeted by your breathy purr, dispelling all doubts or hesitancy like wind on sand. 
“Hey, baby,” he hears you say down the line. “You have no idea how fucking wet I am for you right now.” 
Atsuya groans, his head hitting the cool door behind him with a dull thunk. 
“Fuck, don’t say it like that,” he groans, before wedging his bottom lip between his teeth.
“Why not? It’s the truth.” 
Atsuya doesn’t doubt your words, because he can fucking hear it. Behind muted moans and breathy sighs, he can hear the sound of your fingers plunging in and out of your heat, the wet squelch so audible it’s lewd. His cock twitches at the sound, and he scrunches his eyes closed.
In his mind's eye, he can almost see himself with you, between your legs, thrusting into you like his life depended on it. Though your fingers are slower than what he’d do if he was there right now, he lines his imagination up with the audio queue you’ve given, and another guttural groan seeps past his bitten lip. 
“Come on, baby, talk to me,” he distantly hears you purr into the receiver. “Are you stroking your cock for me? Just like I would?” 
Atsuya spits a curse as his free hand curls around his shaft on instinct, giving the base a small squeeze before he drags his hand up to the flushed tip. He repeats the motion a few times, practically milking himself, trying to mimic those irritating fucking teasing motions you always worked him up with. 
Not as if he needs much working up though, not now. 
“Yeah,” he exhales shakily. “Fuck, ‘s pretty fucking s-sensitive right now.” 
He hears a breathy chuckle in response to his words. “Aw, too worked up?” 
“Pent-up, more like,” he replies, fighting back another groan as he feels himself leak. He quickly collects it with his fingers, smearing it down his shaft and lubricating the way. 
“Been saving yourself for me, ‘suya?” 
Atsuya huffs a breath that’s almost like a chuckle. “N-Nah, not really, ngh—“ His hips buck up into his palm as he grazes over the sensitive tip. “Just ‘s not the same without you.” 
You coo down the line in response but the sound abruptly cuts off, replaced by a breathy moan instead. Fuck, those were amongst his favourite sounds of yours—almost as much as when you’d moan his— 
“Fuck, Atsuya,” you moan, and his cock practically jumps in his fist. He hears the sound of your fingers working faster, and his eyes roll back underneath his closed lids. 
He widens his stance and leans back further against the door, his hips jutting outward as he quickens his pace to match yours. He can feel his loosened slacks dropping lower on his thighs with every buck of his hips, his untucked shirt ghosting across his lower abdomen. His mind is trying to scream at him that this isn’t the place to be letting go like this, but it’s been so long without you, without hearing you, without touching you that he feels like God himself could break down the bathroom door and he wouldn’t care. Not while you were moaning his name like that. 
“God I miss you so fucking much,” Atsuya groans, his voice thick and choked. He works his fist a little faster over his cock, focusing on the tip mostly—just like you would when you really wanted him to make some noise. “Are you close? God, tell me you’re fucking close.” 
The urge to say ‘please’ is on the tip of his tongue but he just about resists for now—but his pride was quickly melting down into pure, unadulterated desperation as he felt his balls draw tighter and his stomach clench harder. He thinks this might be the quickest he’s ever cum. 
“Mm, I’m so close,” you reply in a semi-strained whisper. “I’ve been close for days.” 
Atsuya’s hand stutters on his cock, his eyes slowly blinking open. “…days?” 
There’s a pause before you answer, and he can already picture the way your brow arches pointedly. “You should know me better by now, ‘suya,” you chuckle. “I don’t mind edging myself now and then, especially when I’m away from you. It’ll just make it all the more better when I finally do see you.” 
Atsuya’s breathing is still ragged as he stares at the far wall of the toilet stall, his brows pinched in slight confusion. He realises that those wet noises on the other end have stopped too.
“You haven’t… cum since you left?” 
“Of course not,” you chuckle. “You think I want to cum around anything other than your cock?” 
Goddamn, does Atsuya’s cock throb something fierce at that. His breath hitches in his throat, his eyes widening at the wall. He immediately stops moving his hand, pinching his fingers around the base instead in the hopes of stopping the climax that just snuck up on him like a tornado in the dark. 
Your words, fucking hot as they were, put Atsuya in a little predicament though. Whilst he liked (actually loved) the idea that you were waiting just for him… did you… expect the same of him? Was this just all a little fun? Because he was hard as a rock right now, throbbing in his own palm, and all he could think about was how close he was and how this climax was probably going to knock the breath from him. Not the little ports-in-the-storms he’d been having since you had left fifteen days ago.
“Did you stop?” 
Atsuya blinks, feeling strangely awkward like some teenage boy on his first date all over again—exactly how he had felt on his first date with you, seeing you all dressed up for the first time, just for him. 
He becomes distinctly aware of how loud his breathing is, how it carries against the cold tiles around him. “Yeah… I mean, did you want…” 
“Don’t stop,” you say, saving him the agony of asking. “Just because I like edging myself doesn’t mean I expect the same of you.” He hears the rustling of sheets on the other side as you change positions. “Keep going, baby, let me hear how much you want me—and I’ll return the favour and then some when I get back.” 
Words fail him for a moment, because all he can think about is how much he wants to kiss you right now, to cover your body, head to toe, in kisses that he hopes portray his gratitude for you better than his words ever could. For once, he wants to leave his cock neglected and bury his face in your cunt until you’re screaming out, clawing at his scalp as he shows you just how much he fucking loves y-
Slowly, his hand starts moving again; slow, languid pumps from base to tip. His eyelids flutter, a half-choked moan pushing out from the bottom of the chest.
“I don’t deserve you,” he mumbles, his words thick and laced with something not even he knows. “You’re so fucking sexy, everything I want.” 
“Mm, you’re always so sweet when you get worked up,” you purr into the phone, the words so breathy that Atsuya swears he can feel the heat against his ear. “Keep going. What would you do if I were there, right in front of you? Would I be on my knees?” 
Atsuya’s eyes roll as his lids shut, his chin jutting up toward the ceiling as he picks up the pace on his cock. He can picture it so fucking clearly that the stagnant air of the bathroom fades away. The image of you on your knees, looking up at him from underneath those lashes of yours… you’d swipe your tongue over your bottom lip just to tease him, and it’d work every damn time. 
He nods his head in eager, stuttered movements, as if you could actually see him. “On your knees, on your back—ngh!—I don’t fucking care,” he groans. 
Through his haze of lust, he knows what you’re trying to do, what you always tried to get him to do. Dirty-talk. It wasn’t his forte, you usually took the lead with that (he much preferred actually fucking you rather than talking about it… that and his imagination wasn’t exactly the best), but you seemed to lap up whatever pathetic attempt he usually tried to give you. 
Swallowing thickly, he clears his throat once. “Y-you’d be naked, just for me,” he mutters, his eyes fluttering open again as he gains a little confidence. “You’d use your mouth just how I like, y-yeah?” His grip around his shaft tightens, his pace quickening a touch more. His breathing grows ragged, harsh puffs slipping past his bitten lips. “F-fuck, you always look so goddamn sexy when you look up at me with my cock in your mouth.” 
A resonant hum greets him in response. “Oh, yeah? What else do you like?”  
“The way your tits bounce as I fuck you, s-shit.” Something scarily close to a whimper coils at the back of Atsuya’s throat as he feels himself nearing that precipice again. His thighs tense up and tremble, most of his weight supported by the stall door behind him now. “W-When you, mmf, dig your nails into my b-back like you’re trying to fucking kill me—oh fuck—“ 
Atsuya’s hand is working almost fervently now, the slick sounds mingling with his harsh breaths and low voice. He’s loud, far too fucking loud for a public bathroom, but he’s so close, so worked up that it barely becomes a concern anymore. If he focuses, he can smell your perfume instead of cleaning chemicals, feel the heat of your body against his instead of the cool door against his back—feel the heat of your pussy hugging his cock so tightly it’s like you’re begging him to fill you up with every stroke— 
“I’m close,” he rushes out, his tone almost panicked as he feels the intense prickles working up the base of his spine. His skin feels like it’s burning, the hairs on the back of his neck standing to attention like there’s a storm coming. He knows this climax is going to be intense—intense in a way that only you can ever work from him, even if you weren’t actually here. 
“Waiting for my permission?” you giggle, and Atsuya wants to snap at you but he can’t, not right now because… well, he is. He just wants to hear you say it, that you want it. That you want him. 
“F-fuck, don’t joke right now I c-can’t hold i—“ 
“Cum for me, Atsuya.” 
And just like that, Atsuya lurches over the edge so fierce it sucks all the air from his lungs. 
A sharp gasp catches in his throat as his cock pulses in his hand, ropes of his essence shooting from the tip so suddenly it makes his back arch. A loud, guttural groan bursts from his lips, his hips stuttering, expression pinched into something almost pained as he cums harder than he can ever remember before. Thick, pearlescent ribbons land across his fingers, shirt and tie, some even hitting his collar too. Pitchy curses leave his lips in a symphony, his vision swimming. 
Distantly, over the pounding in his skull and the blood rushing in his ears, he can hear you coo praises down the line as he continues draining himself of every drop he has, stiff grunts accompanying each stroke. His hand only stops when the sensation becomes far too much to bear, and he lets his hand fall from his cock back to his side with a ragged sigh.
His body slumps against the stall door, his eyes hooded as he tries to catch his breath. He can’t even bring himself to look down at the state he’s in, not right now—not while his head was swimming with endorphins and he finally felt sated for once. 
Fuck that warm, sunny spot at his desk. That had nothing on this. 
“Fuck, I wish I was there to see that,” you finally say after a moment of silence. “Feel good?” 
“…you have no idea, babe,” he murmurs, a small, lazy smile tugging at the side of his lips. “God I needed that.” 
You chuckle again. “Sounds like it, babe. I’m surprised the whole store didn’t come running to see what that groan was.” 
Atsuya can’t help but chuckle in response, though his smile is a touch embarrassed. He makes a mental note that he should probably avoid this store in future. It was going to be awkward enough leaving. 
And he still had to get something for dinner. He’d probably order takeout. 
Fuck it, it was worth it. 
Going to raise a hand to his clammy brow, he swiftly pauses, the sight of his soaked fingers making him curse. His eyes finally flick from his hand to his stained shirt after, the mess causing him to grimace, almost repulsed. “Fuck, it’s everywhere,” he grumbles, wedging his phone in the crook between his ear and shoulder as goes to grab some tissues. 
This, of course, makes you practically howl with laughter into the receiver—but Atsuya can’t bring himself to be pissy. Not when he hears you like this, not after you just talked him through an orgasm so explosive his legs are still trembling. 
Not while you were… well, you. 
As Atsuya does his best to wipe himself down and pull his trousers back up, your laughter eventually dies down. “Now I really wish I had been there to see that… just a pity it wasn’t inside me.” 
Atsuya pauses as he curses under his breath, his oversensitive cock twitching in his repsonse. “You and your goddamn mouth,” he mutters, dumping the soiled tissues in the toilet and flushing. “You’re the whole reason I’m in this toilet, you know.”
“Hey, you chose to open those photos in public, perv.”
He doesn’t argue with that. Though he would never admit it aloud, lest he give you the pleasure, he was weak for you. More than even he was aware of–and time away from you was only proving that.
“When are you coming back?” 
“Tomorrow morning,” you reply easily, making Atsuya wonder just how the hell you were so relaxed after supposedly edging yourself for days. “The cursed spirit was dead before twelve today. Got my nails done afterwards as a little treat.” 
Atsuya shakes his head with a snort as he steps out of the stall finally, making his way over to the sink as he continues to try and fix the damage he caused. He places his phone gently on the counter. “You’re strange, you know that?” 
You hum in agreement, and he can already envision the way your lips pull to the side in that little smile he loves so much. “You love it.” 
Atsuya washes his hand in the sink, glancing up to catch his reflection in the mirror. His face is still a little flushed, his clothes still dishevelled—he’ll definitely have to throw out his tie probably—but he realises he looks… 
…happy. 
“Yeah,” Atsuya mumbles, shaking his hands in the sink. “Yeah, I do.” 
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masterlist.
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Silent Treatment
Word count: 941
Warnings: angst, lack of communication within a relationship, that's about it? Anyways silent treatment is bad communicate with those you love this is purely for fiction purposes don't do this in real relationships.
An: wrote this on my freewrite for a word sprint whole heavily sick on the couch (still am🤧) so if there are any major spelling or formatting errors blame my Samsung and the tumblr app.
Pairing: Simon Riley x Fem!Reader
If there's one thing Simon Riley can't stand it's the silent treatment.
He's used to anger. Knows it well and knows his own. Something nasty and rotten that boils inside of him, festering until he can extract it from his veins through the catharsis of violence under the command of his captain or splitting his knuckles open in an empty gym late in the night.
A man who spent his childhood fed insults and violence at the hand of his father has no qualms with a belly full of rage.
But oh, your silence all but starves him.
It isn't passive aggressive avoidance. There's no tight lipped smile as you insist everything is fine when the truth is standing before you both, because that'd give him plausible deniability. There'd still be that surface level communication no matter how empty it rang.
You offer him something so much worse.
Absolutely nothing.
At first, he's content to roll his eyes and let you stew. You want to act like a petulant little child? Fine by him. You can't beat Ghost at a game of solitude, he'll win every fucking time, sweetheart.
But then you slip by him in the hall, turning your shoulder to avoid his own brawny frame when before you would reach your hand out by just a millimeter so your fingertips would graze his own if only for a second.
By Christ, you might as well have backhanded him.
It makes him feel something ugly knotted deep in his chest. His body begins to itch down to the very bone when days past and you've yet to speak or for fuck's sake acknowledge him in anyway.
It's stupid and immature and childish.
YOU are stupid and immature and childish.
He's content to simply sit in his own silence and be done with it. He's left men and women for less than a passive aggressive attempt at an apology.
But while you slide into your stoic silence like a hot bath after an exhausting day, Simon singes his skin down to the bone on his. 
Perhaps it's ironic. That a man called "Ghost" is so uncomfortable with his own silence being gifted back to him that he turns to mild annoyances to gain a reaction from you.
Knocking your shoulder as you pass by one another, looming over you to grab something off of a shelf, entirely invading your personal space when it's unnecessary to press his body to yours in some hope of a twitch, a sigh, anything for you to show him that you're still in there aside from a closed mouth and empty eyes.
He'll find himself scratching at his scalp until the skin is raw and his fingers are tinted red.
Scream at him. Insult him. Hit him. Use him. All that is familiar territory.
Anything but silence.
When you return back to your apartment and find the entire place overwhelmed with the stench of cigarettes, he hopes it's the catalyst. That was your cardinal rule afterall, no smoking inside. One he could only get away with after he's fucked you to exhaustion and you're too comfortable to lift your head from his chest to scold him for indulging his self-destrictive habits in your own bed.
The pack is three quarters finished by the time you get home, the fag between his fingers is all but crushed flat as he watches you slip off your shoes and take soft steps towards him until you stand between his knees.
A myriad of comments sit behind his teeth, ready to be spit in your face. Wanting to ask if youre done with your childish charade and gotten it all out of your system, or maybe you've finally cracked because youre so lonely you can't help but come to him for a proper fuck because nobody will make you feel like he does.
But he says none of it. Simon Riley simply waits, and stares at you with tired eyes like a discarded shelter dog.
"I'm tired, Simon."
Your voice, my God had he missed it so much, sounds almost raw to his ears. A rasp to it that makes him wonder if you'd been crying.
Beneath the guilt, a sick part of him, just big enough to whisper above his conscience, feels a satisfaction in knowing he matters enough for you to shed tears in his name.
"I know."
"I don't like this. I don't like feeling like-" your words die in your throat as your face begins to scrunch up, forcing the whine in the back of your mouth to halt so you can uphold the facade of strength and resilience you told yourself you would on the car ride over here.
But then you look down and see the tired eyes of the man you don't know what to call to you and feel yourself wanting nothing more than to crumble in his arms.
“I know.”
A scarred hand gently grasps your thigh, slowly guiding you closer until you fold into his lap. Your own hands rise to cup his face, savoring the way he leans into your touch.
"We can't keep doing this."
"I know."
Despite his lack of words, you hear him perfectly.
You know he'll say sorry. He knows you'll say it as well. He'll tell you he's going to try and you'll accept it.
He knows he'll fuck it up again. As do you.
But now, as you tuck your face into the crook of his shoulder and pretend to not feel him shake and tremble in your arms, he vows to himself to make sure he never drives you to silence again.
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whorediaries-09 · 1 day
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say it's unforgivable
pairing- sirius black x auror!reader warning(s)- hurt/comfort. a/n- heads up, maa and papa refer to james' mum and dad :)
little train. series masterlist.
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the moment he gets up from the metal chair, he realizes he's doomed. his heart aches. he has nowhere to go. with maa and papa dead he's stuck, stranded upon the lonely crevice of life. as the minutes pass by, he stands, watching as the others leave. dumbledore sits still, physically calm.
'is there anything you need to say dumbledore?' he watches as the old man slowly creeps from the chair, descending near him. he stands before sirius, his icy blue eyes hovering over his ragged form.
'the man you are sirius, i expect you'll go and try to track down harry?' he asks him, his voice low. 'i save you trouble, harry is within the safe realms of his aunt and uncle.'
'aunt and uncle?'
'lily's sister and husband.'
'WHAT!'
'calm down, he's safe. that's the only way to keep him safe. the blood connection between petunia and lily. petunia knows about this, always has known about this. she's promised to not hurt harry and keep him within safe and secure conditions until he turns into an adult.'
'i don't care dumbledore. i need to see harry potter. he's my godson, i am his legal guardian. not petunia, not her husband.'
'i know.' dumbledore's eyes twinkle for a few moments before he runs his bony hands through his long beard.
'you can join hogwarts as an assistant healer. with all the incidences you had with remus lupin, i'm sure you've got a trick or two up your sleeve.' sirius gulps.
'what?'
'you can see harry in 5 years when he joins hogwarts.'
'no. i need to see my godson now.'
'you will, when you get yourself together. take some time off for yourself sirius.'
'i don't care. i need to see him and check whether he's okay. i need to know. i don't trust petunia with how she treated lily. i need to make sure he's okay. the last time i trusted you albus, i was thrown into prison and my freedom was stolen away from me. not again will i let this happen. i'm leaving, albus.'
*-
he sits beside the coffee counter, shimmying through newspapers. ever since he'd been released, the press was after him. not wanting more attention than he'd already gotten, he decided he'd keep to the muggle world for the time being. that meant being closer to spotting harry and staying away from attention.
for the time he'd been in the wizarding world, within the creepy turns of diagon alley, hagrid had returned him his motorbike. he'd hugged the giant man, thanking him. within the span, he'd also found his mother had died a year back, leaving him to be the heir of the noble house of black. when he'd been left alone with the information of his death mother, he left a pang of joy in his heart, followed by guilt.
he loved his mother, but his mother never did. it wasn't his fault, but he couldn't help but love her. or perhaps it was pity he felt for her, for she had been through the same as him. but it was him who felt the need to break free from the abuse. he hated he had to make her feel like a failed mother. while he felt guilty for feeling joy for losing her, he certainly didn't miss her. no, he was the one who got away.
he crushes the butt of the smoked cigarette, ready to explore the city of london after years of being shrouded in darkness. the need to escape from the darkness still gathers him into a haze of melancholy. he wanted to feel the cold air ripping through his locks, nipping at his skin. he wanted to see the city lights pass by as he fulfilled the need of fresh air filling up his flesh. he may not have yet found a place to stay, but he didn't feel the need to be confined within four walls.
the bell chimes again. a thursday evening didn't see many customers, the cafe deprived of hustle, resulting in a quiet cafe. the bell caught his attention, so he turned his head, watching at the door. his heart skipped a few beats, as a familiar face walked into the cafe. it was his savior.
'a salted caramel latte and a butter cookie, please,' you said to the barista, passing down the bills to fulfil the payment. he walked up to you, his heart bleeding with gratitude.
'hi,' he said, catching your attention. you brushed strands of hair behind your ear, smiling at him.
'hi, mr. black.' he knitted his brows together.
'psst! don't call me that, call me sirius.' he bent down, leaning into your ear, 'i'm out of azkaban solely because of you.' you smiled at him picking up your latte and cookie that the barista slipped across the counter.
'trust me, mr. - sirius i stand for justice.' he crumpled his fingers together, putting his hand into his pockets.
'i agree with you. uhm... fancy a walk perhaps?' he asked. your eyes brandished slowly over his features, your mind seemingly reeling with questions.
'i never thought the sirius black would walk. didn't you drive a motorbike?' he grinned, his eyes lighting up. this was the first time he'd felt the joy after so many years- he allowed himself to relish it, because there was no darkness to shroud his joy into melancholy.
'i do drive one. how did you know?' pushing open the door of the cafe, you walked into the fresh night air, as he followed you. taking a sip of your latte you replied vaguely,
'that, sirius is for me to know, and you to guess.' he grinned, seemingly enjoying your teasing behavior.
'so, you don't fancy a walk,' he stated, putting his hands into his pockets. your eyes raked over him, taking in his starkly contrasting appearance from the day you'd last seen him. within the glow of the streetlight, his high cheek bones and razor sharp jaw underneath porcelain skin rubbed with a soft stubble reflected upon his features. he was wearing a black t-shirt paired with beige slacks. he had cleaned up well within the few days. the air had already been of great favor to him.
'don't you have anyone waiting for you, sirius?' his gray eyes stared into yours before he whispered a quiet no.
'are you sure sirius? or are you too eager within your emotions of gratitude?'
'i hate how you can read through me so easily, sweetheart. but you're partly incorrect, i actually have been sitting alone here, shimmying over the things i've missed.' he moved closer to you.
'i don't think you should spent time alone, sirius. you need other people's company. human's are driven by the presence of other humans, you should be reminded of your roots, of your presence of mind. you'll go insane if you sit alone, secluded.'
'and here you are declining me a walk with you. you're human aren't you? we can interact. either ways, i've asked remus to meet me tomorrow. he says yes.' you laughed, the sound echoing amongst the cars and motorbikes which honked along the streets of london.
'so, what do you say?'
'i'm sure i could also do with a little bit of company,' you replied. your voice was low and soft, like a cool breeze amongst the salty waves of the sea. he smiled at you, wrinkles of a chronicle scarring beside his eyes. he moved closer, standing by you.
'so where shall we go?'
'where ever the city takes us.'
the city reeked of driving him crazy. till it was one hell of a drug, so he could use it up.
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original idea posted by - @lilwnet
taglist - @reggieisfit @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @jamespottergf @eternallybipanicking @fictional-magic @iamgayforyourmom1510
taglist (for series) - @urbansaint
(if you want to be tagged please send a request through my inbox.)
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quillkiller · 1 day
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pleasepleaseplease elaborate on bartylus as orpheus and eurydice variants please if you want
mil!!!!! you sent this to me 2 minutes before my shift started….. i was losing my mind…. they’ve been in my head ever since…. i just got home thank god !!!!!!
anyway. so i have this au/wip which is loosly (very loose!!) based on the eurydice and orpheus myth but also set in canon. i have a tag for it ’fic: don’t look back’ <3
here’s a little snippet:
”Barty,”
It comes out as a breath, as an exhale— but it almost shatters him. If he wasn’t on his knees already he knows they would buckle. Knows he would fall down at Regulus’ feet. He almost looks.
so regulus still goes to the cave, and he still dies. he doesn’t go out of the kindness of his heart, but because he’s tired and he did it all wrong and he can’t win and he just wants it to be over. he goes because he misses his brother and he wants his brother to live. he doesn’t care about the rest of it, the war, the two sides, voldy or dumbledore or the prophecy. he wants out and he’ll never get his brother back so he’ll do this one thing to (hopefully) save his brother even if sirius will never know <3 after that he’s done. he goes to the cave knowing he’s going to die and he wants to. he yearns for the dark and the quiet !!!! he’s 17 and he thinks he’s lived way too long and he just wants out now
he leaves barty a letter. it’s vague but barty figures it out. they spend one last night together because regulus is selfish and greedy and want him just one more night. they used to fumble around back at hogwarts. they were each others firsts and they trusted each other but they were never together. not actually. just stumbling into each others beds, shakey hand jobs, clumsy blowjobs, sloppy kisses. they didnt really talk about it either but not in an awkward way, they just didnt really need to. it was about comfort and love and boyhood and fear and safety and they’re just. so special to me. not dating, not best friends, but a secret third thing. just so completely intertwined but so different from each other.
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- virginia woolf. this is the bartylus dynamic to me. like. everything was awful, their homes, their circumstances, their surroundings, their expecations. but they were also just boys. everythings awful but sometimes they’d sit in the slytherin common room and they’d make each other laugh. sirius left but barty is waiting for him at kings cross with a grin :,)
anyway. it all sort of stopped after they both took the dark mark. they still had each others backs and they’re always best friends and intertwined!! but i guess there’s just too much else to think about now ahdhdjajfjkd. but reg comes to barty the night before he leaves for the cave and they properly spend the night together. its messy and miserable and lovely and it feels like a goodbye. reg leaves before barty wakes up the next morning.
barty!!!!!!!! goes mad. mad with regret and anger and desperation and love and hatred and every other emotion under the sun. he wants him back and he will get him back. barty is smart, was top of his class, is a quick learner in all things magic. i don’t know how long it takes, if its months or years, but barty is on a rampage and he’s seeing red and he’s not sleeping and he’s not at all himself. he sees reg as a ghost, talks to him, he’s haunted. he aquires several forbidden books from shady sources about magic that has long since been banned. he will bring regulus back if it’s the last thing he does. eventually he finds either a spell or some magic ritual (haven’t figured it out yet) that existed back in the 1700s but has been banned almost immediately due to people just. coming back wrong. miserable and wailing. barty’s not seeing that though. he’s just seeing that he can bring him back. so he learns everything there is to know about the spell/ritual and then sets out to go to the cave. months or years later, i still haven’t decided. i think it would be a little sexy if it was a couple years after reg died.
that’s where the eurydice & orpheus myth comes in. basically barty isn’t allowed to look at regulus until they both get out of the place where he died. but it also differs because regulus so desperately wants him to look. regulus is miserable when he’s brought back. miserable and young and confused and angry.
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by paul tran is and always will be rab when he enters the cave!!
so reg is trying to seduce barty to please look at him. please look at me. and barty wants to more than anything. the first time he finally takes a breath since regs death is when he finally brings him back. the relief overwhelming. and it lasts for 0.01 seconds because regulus doesn’t want to live. he’s so angry and he’s sobbing and wants to go back. but barty doesn’t want him to. and he’s telling regulus it’s going to be okay and they’ll be okay and he’ll protect him and take care of him. but regulus doesn’t care. and barty is desperate:/
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sadly barty is greedy. and weak. and it’s been years and it’s desperate and he can’t remember the shade of blueish gray regs eyes were. and regs pleading hurts. and barty just wants him. he just wants him and wants to keep him and he was never ready to lose him and he isn’t ready now. but it all boils down to the fact that barty is equally impulsive as he is strategic. he spent years (?) trying to figure out a way to being regulus back and more of his friends died during that time. he’s done what he set out to do. so he looks. because reg is asking him to and because barty isn’t strong enough not to look at what he wants
and yeah.
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bo0zey · 2 years
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every time my dad yells even if he’s just “raising” his voice to call one of my brothers over to him i flinch and my heart rate speeds up n my stomach drops n churns n i feel sick n if i think abt it too much like i am now my eyes sting just slightly like something inside me wants to cry from fear even tho i’m many many feet away safe inside my room alone w the door shut i still feel so so unsafe and it takes many many minutes and moments for me to calm down again i really hate this reaction i’m 22 years old why am i still responding like this trigger as if i’m a child i’m an adult he can’t yell at me anymore in fact he’s not even yelling AT me he’s yelling at someone else but still i jump n i feel my pulse pounding in my ears n temples i wish i would just stop being such a baby i wish i was stronger i don’t want to be afraid of people anymore
#‘im not yelling i raised my voice’ that’s what i heard my entire childhood growing up he even said it to me a few weeks ago when we#got into a heated argument and he kept pushing and pushing me and trying to gaslight and manipulate me and accusing me and i remember#thinking just before i snapped ‘im not a little girl anymore i can yell back’ and so i did and we yelled back and forth a few exchanges#until HE started to backdown a little like did he realize too that i’m an adult now and if he wants to scream and yell i can too???#we were outside im sure all our neighbors could hear us i was embarrassed but seething#if he wasn’t gonna be embarrassed then i wouldn’t either#sometimes i am so disgusted by my father and the way he treats the people he claims to love he makes me so angry and disgusted#but then he has this hold on me??? as soon as he starts to cry/get choked up then immediately all my rage n disgust seep out of my body#from the core of my heart to the tips of my fingers those emotions bleed out of me and dissipate into the air and i’m left feeling guilty#instant guilt and for WHAT???? for making HIM upset???? after all the times he’s made me breakdown and hurt myself bc no one would comfortme#and still yet everytime i feel the need to comfort him and downplay my emotions and i KNOW he’s manipulating me it’s so OBVIOUS but i#i fucking Can’t Not protect him i can’t let him sit there in that hurt guilt shame WHATever it is#and the reason i’m torn and feel like this is bc i genuinely think he believes what he’s saying and isn’t purposely TRYING to manipulate me#but he doesn’t realize how MANIPULATIVE and SELFISH he truly is he’s Delusional and has ZERO emotional intelligence 000000000000000000000000#so how can i be angry when i know he doesn’t understand he’s just too stupid to understand he’s like a child the child doesn’t understand#they don’t understand complex emotions#i don’t understand why daddy makes me cry and stares at me with cold enraged eyes but when he cries i fold everytime#it’s so gross of me how weak i am disgusting who could ever love someone so pathetic#ramblings#tw childhood trauma#tw trauma
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youremyonlyhope · 1 year
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#the urge to buy a last minute ticket to starkid's jingle ball that is literally sunday aka tomorrow since it's past midnight#is very strong right now since some posts of people's experiences at the first show are coming in#and it's making me nostalgic#i wasn't planning to go because i don't yet feel comfortable going to concerts#i barely feel comfortable seeing theatre but at least everyone's just sitting there#rather than standing up and singing along and maybe jumping and dancing too#feels too risky#but also. starkid. my loves.#but also. money. and covid. and the flu. and rsv. and general colds.#i'll decide by tomorrow. there's still tickets available. i almost hope it sells out so the universe decides for me.#right now it's like 75% i will not go because covid and lots of people and money. but 25% i wanna see my starkids.#it's funny because last week i was thinking back to my mindset when i saw starkid concerts as a teenager#(because space tour at the same venue was 11 years ago last week and my facebook memories were INTENSE)#(i really just posted like 10 times a day for at least 3 days after the concert STILL freaking out about it. oh 15 year old Hope)#and i was like 'yeah i've calmed down since then. i'm not the girl who will lose her voice at a starkid concert.'#but seeing the few pictures i was like 'aww... starkid concerts... nostalgia...' but like... i've seen them live 4+ times#and yet. i have a feeling Darren's gonna show up. because i noticed that it is coincidentally one of the dates he's not doing his solo show#so that's another reason towards going. but also. do i want to be around people? not really.#hmmmmmm#it's funny that Britney Coleman going on for Bobbie in Company was what made me go back to seeing live theatre again#and now starkid may be what gets me to see concerts again. if you want me to do something it has to be starkid related apparently.
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drill-teeth-art · 1 year
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Wow! Here’s something incredibly personal.
This is Good Bi Gender. A comic I made to express some feelings I have about my gender. I don’t really have that much else to say about it. Here it is.
[Image Description: A digital comic made with sharp, angular abstract lines and only the colors white, blue, pink, and black. The featured character is all white, except for facial features and hair colors, which changes from panel to panel. The comic reads: Cover Panel: The text "Good Bi Gender", the words colored with the trans flag. It shows a glitchy person's face, half pink and half blue. Panel 1: White text reads: "Hello. My name is apparently irrelevant. And my pronouns are he/him and she/her. But you can't call me she/her. And here's why." Someone with a half-pink and half-blue shirt looks to the side. One eye is covered with hair, and the other eye is pink while the iris is blue.
Panel 2: The character sits happily, imagining facial hair and a masculine voice. "I don't want top surgery. I love my chest. And I dream about being on testosterone someday soon." The character looks at a phone, frowning. The phone shows the male symbol with an "X" through it. Text next to it reads: “People don't seem to think that the features I dream of are very pretty though... Or they think even worse of them than that…”
Panel 3: The character’s features are all pink, and sits in a blank frame. The character reaches over to a blue frame, frowning. “I don't like the animosity. I really despise it.” A photo of the character shows an all-blue frame and blue hair, with pink outlines and facial features. “To be a boy... I aspire to be one. I aspire to be masculine in all its handsomeness. All its prettiness.” Panel 4: The character sits in an all blue panel, but reaches back out to the pink panel. “And I'm still a girl too. I was so excited to have both. To love both. To have handsome femininity. Beautiful masculinity.” The frames break and connect, and pink and blue swirl together. The character smiles in between the frames, with one pink eye and one blue eye. “So excited. And yet I get asked…”
Panel 5: Two hands hold out two different pills to the character, one blue and one pink. They ask “Male? or Female?” using the male and female symbols.The character, facial features an array of pink and blue, looks between the two hands, distressed. “It's both! I'm both! They're not opposites. Not narrow boxes. I say I'm both despite the insistence that I can't be. And I know what I look like. I know I look like a girl to most. I know that if I say people can call me she, that's all I will get from most. Because it's "easier". It "makes more sense". To have my masculinity, I am often forced to be unflinching in it and it alone. To never use she. Because if I don't, I will never get to have he.” [The words "she" and "he" are italicized.] Panel 6: Text reads: “I'm still very happy to be so comfortable in my identity. To know, despite all that, that I am indeed a boy and a girl and both. But you know. Telling people to only use he/him for me. Guarding my masculinity all just to have it. All at the expense of the part of me who is happily and unashamedly a girl.” The character cries from one pink eye, the other hidden. The character holds a pink girl in a sea of blue, the girl crying out. In the midst of the blue, text reads: “Well, it fucking breaks her heart.” End ID]
Edit: @starberry-skies wrote an ID for the comic, so I added it to the og post with its permission!
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