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chososdiscordkitten · 3 months

Text

Good Boy.

MDNI

Pairing: Sub!Choso x GN!reader Content: SOFT DOM!reader, no plot, just filth, watching porn together (?), use of a vibrator, no penetrative sex, hand job, lube, PRAISE, conditioning(?), readers a lil mean, use of good boy, pup.........ect. multiple orgasms,...power play...., light Bondage (leather cuffs), use of mommy is HINTED, a sprinkle of Sadism, male squirting (?), AFTERCARE!!! Word Count: 4.4k

(a.n) I just about went insane writing this. and I over indulged- a lil too much in this one. (／≧ω＼)

What he sounds like: twt link

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You and Choso had started this routine before sex- wanting him to fully explore what he liked and what he didn’t like. When there was time, you put your laptop between you and him, fully clothed- and watched porn. Not for any other purpose but for research. You found it easier to show him certain kinks and acts rather than explain it with your words. Oftentimes leaving you both with furrowed eyebrows and tilted heads not knowing how people find interest in what was being shown.

At first this little act before sex was awkward- sure. Oftentimes squirming next to each other when you both found something intriguing, flashing your eyes over to him to see if he saw attraction in it as well. But with time, this became more like studying- preferring to watch it together than watching it alone. Finding humor when there'd be horrible acting, sometimes repeating the corny scripts while making out for a laugh.

But tonight, you had clicked on one video. It was 10 minutes long, but the first few seconds caught both of your attention. On the screen of your laptop, a man laid on his back. Cock in the air as an exploratory hand came onto screen, carefully grasping onto the base to hold it still. The head of a vibrator coming onto the screen, you side eyed Choso- seeing his adam's apple bob harshly. Looking back to the screen when you heard a quiet whirr start to come from the vibrator. Inhaling when you saw the vibrator circle the tip of the man's cock.

Usually around the 5 minute mark one of you would speak up- saying a comment to indicate if it was a yes or a no. But you both watched in silence as the man on the screen came, over and over again from the vibrations forced on his tip. When the video neared its end, you clicked pause on the screen, looking over at Choso who was trying to cover the growing bulge in his sweats. “You-” he started, looking into your eyes with parted lips and blushed cheeks.

“You have one of those… Don't you?” he asked, breath caught in his chest as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth. You nodded your head, making him inhale sharply.

“Do you-” your breath hitched, ears burning red from the question forming on the tip of your tongue. “Want me to do that- to you?” the corner of your lips curled into a smile.

Seeing him shyly blush ‘yes’ at your question. You hummed quietly, reaching your hand over and closing the laptop.

Pressing a kiss to his forehead, leaning down to his ear and feeling him squirm beneath you. “Take your clothes off.” You urged quietly with a smile, placing a small kiss to the shell of his ear before leaning over the edge of the bed, hand trying to reach the box that held what you were looking for.

Hearing hasty shuffling as you reached into the box, a triumphant ‘aha’ leaving your lips as you turned around to see Choso in his briefs. You thought of chastising him for it- but instead you used it to your advantage.

You hummed contently, placing the wireless wand onto the sheets. Looking over his body, making him writhe by feeling your heavy gaze. Taking an inhale, placing your hand to his chest lightly, tracing it down to his torso. Leaning down- noses brushing against each other as you smiled.

“God you're a treasure.” you hummed against his lips, hand trailing down his abs and grazing the band of his bothersome briefs. Choso hummed at your praise, cock dribbling in his bottoms as your fingertips threatened to push past the band.

Pressing an opened mouth kiss to his expectant lips, smiling against him as the palm of your hand brushed against his clothed cock. Pulling away from him and smiling as you caressed him slowly through the thin fabric of his briefs.

“You're already this hard for me?” you hummed contently. Hearing a shuddering exhale leave his lips as the corner of his lip perked up,

“Mhm, just for you.” he exhaled, pressing his lips up to yours with a groan vibrating against you, tongue slipping past your lips with an over excited whimper.

Pulling away from his lips with a playful tsk, placing your other hand on his bare chest. Holding him down lightly as you looked down at him, nodding your head ‘no’ with a smile.

“Impatient aren't you?” You teased, brushing your thumb over the forming wet spot on his briefs. A small huff leaving his lips at the gentle sensation, bucking up into your hand as you smiled. Choso furrowed his eyebrows, reaching for your wrist.

“Hurry-” he huffed making you smile at him sinisterly.

“The best part is in the anticipation-” you lectured, trying to pull your wrist from his grasp only for him to tighten it- Pulling you close to him again, breathing the same air as a smile crept onto his gasping lips.

“I disagree.” he hummed, making you quicken the small circles you were making on his clothed tip. Causing him to gasp, releasing your wrist and planting it back onto his chest.

“I think you're just too eager Cho~” you hummed, seeing him close his eyes as you pulled your hand from his briefs. Taking the hand on his chest and going to pull his cock from the strained briefs.

Making him purse his lips with a sharp inhale, cock standing at attention, ‘just for you’ as he said. Crying silent tears as you smiled, taking the tip of your pointer finger, looking from his pained cock to his expression that tried hiding how excited he was.

“I'll make you a deal.” you cooed, hearing a choked whine leave Choso’s lips as your finger made light circles on his tip. Leaning down and pressing your lips to his ear, “Be a good boy and I'll be extra nice to you-” you whispered in his ear, making him shut his eyes.

“How's that sound hm?” you asked, already knowing his answer from his soft pants.

“I'm always good-” he gulped, feeling your tongue lick a long stripe on the shell of his ear, you smiled with a huff against him.

“That's what I'm hoping for.” you hummed, pulling your finger from his tip and trailing it down his shaft. Making a light trail of his precum down the skin. Feeling his cock twitch against your fingertip.

Trailing gentle kisses from his ear to the side of his neck. Softly wrapping your hand around the base of his cock, making him let out a struggled whimper.

Choso’s hips involuntarily bucked up to your hand when you tighten your grip, “Be good.” You hummed against his collar bones, soft goosebumps forming on his arms.

“I’m-” he huffed, feeling your hand halt its movements, “I’m trying-” he defended with a whine, making you let out a soft giggle, looking at his hands unknowing where to grip, clutching tightly on the sheets as you continued dragging your hand up his shaft as slow as you could. Hoping he'd lose his patience and you'd get to punish him if you kept going.

Feeling the sleeve of your shirt start to bother your slow movements, you pull away from Choso quickly. Making him let out a defeated whine in your absence, slipping your top off and seeing his eyes crack open, scanning your bare chest.

Mentally asking you to take your bottoms off too and forget this tedious scene. Only for his lips to part in amazement as you pulled your cupped hand to your mouth, gathering the saliva you could and spitting it onto your palm, reaching down to his cock and grasping it in your hand.

Taking a quicker pace as you stroked him, looking down at his desperate expression. A small smile forming on your lips at how worked up Choso got from a few touches, closing his lips tightly.

Trying his best to contain the whimpers that made an embarrassing blush form on his ears. Furrowing your eyebrows at his denial of letting you hear his pretty sounds, you licked your lips before quickening your hand, rolling your palm around his cockhead as he inhaled sharply.

A small tsk leaving your tongue “Lemme hear you pretty boy~” you cooed, making his nose crinkle at the pet name. With a small gasp you felt his cock pulse in your hand, knowing how much he liked your praises.

With one more roll over from your palm, he let out a strangled moan from deep in his chest. Making you grin at his obedience, cracking his eyes and looking up at you, mouthing a soundless- ‘can I cum?’ as your hand sped up.

You smiled, looking into Choso’s big eyes, struggling to hold himself at that edge waiting for you to say the words- his bottom lip pouting as you watched him writhe. Needing to hear the words you had conditioned him to hear anytime he wanted to cum.

His hands balled into fists with the sheets clutched between them, cock twitching from ignoring his question. You smiled seeing his hips start to shudder from your grasp, “Go ahead.” you smiled with a huff, hearing him let out a soft whine at your words, your hand stroking his shaft faster. Choso’s eyes fluttered shut- hips lifting from the sheets as his body trembled in your hands. “There you go~” you hummed. With one hearty groan, his tip started dribbling small pumps of thick cream colored tears. His chest panting softly, feeling your thumb caress his frenulum. “Wait-” he gasped, taking his hands from the sheets and going to stop your wrist from continuing. Looking up at your unimpressed expression, “Just-” he huffed, shaky hands holding onto your halted wrist. “Just one second-” closing his eyes and relaxing back into the pillows. Trying to catch his breath as you pulled your hand from his cock.

Hearing him settle his breathing, and look up to you. Smearing an overly sweet smile onto your lips as you looked at him, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his temple. “If you can't keep your hands to yourself I'll tie you up.” You smiled, making his eyes flutter closed, mumbling a quiet ‘okay.’ in defeat.

Guiding him to sit up a little more, cock twitching as it awaited your hand again. “Where do you want me?” you asked sweetly, giving him a single thing to control. Choso looked at you with soft eyes, blinking them back to the discarded wand you had left on your side of the bed. “Up here- with me.” he whispered, not wanting to sound demanding, knitted eyebrows knowing you'd be crueler if you couldn't see his face up close. You hummed a quiet response, taking your free hand and pushing a few strands of hair from his forehead.

“One more with my hand then i'll use the wand, kay?” you cooed against his skin, looking at him sweetly as he nodded.

With a small sigh from Choso’s parted lips, you pressed your hand to his cock again, starting slowly to drag this out as much as you could. Wrapping your other arm around his head, laying your palm flat on his temple as you stroked his cock with the other. Smiling as you felt his head ease onto your chest with a sigh.

His eyes closed as he felt your gentle hand twist over his cockhead, with a shudder he parted his lips, “F-feels so so good-” Choso moaned with a hic, making warmth pool in your tummy. He placed his palm onto your knee and pressed his fingers against your skin.

Planting a light kiss to his ear, “I know sweet boy, I know~” you crooned, making a tingle rush to his cheeks. Slightly twisting your wrist on the upturn as his hand started gripping harder into your skin.

A throaty whine left his lips as you quickened your pace, making sure not to work his tip too much so he wouldn't start squirming. “You wanna cum for me again baby?” you hummed, seeing his blushed chest start to heave and his cock pump out a fresh string of precum at your words.

A choked ‘Mhm-’ from his lips as you tightened your grip on his shaft, a few firm strokes on his cock was all it took for the tips of Choso’s fingers to turn white against your skin.

Making sure to keep his head nuzzled close to your chest as he let out a drawn out groan, “I’m- I’m close-” he muttered in the shape of a whimper, you huffed a breath against his ear with a smile.

“Go on then~” you premissed, watching intently as your hand twisted around his tip- with a shuddering inhale his abdomen flexed. Exhaling as his hot seed cried from his reddening tip.

Your hand unwilling to halt its movements as Choso tried his best to keep his hands to himself. Though there wasn't as much of it as the first time- his seed was still thick, burning with adoration as you kept your pace on his shaft. Back arched and spasming, shameless moans and whines pulled from his chest as you thumbed the edge of his tip.

Pulling your hand from his jumping cock with a content hum, looking at his expression with an endearing smile. Pressing a tender kiss to his damp forehead, hearing him let out a hum at your softness.

Slowly shifting from his side, Choso slumped against the wall as you shifted to rest your bottom on the back of your calves. Holding the wand in hand as you scanned the sight before you. Trembling lips as he caught his breath, beautiful blushed cheeks and trailing droplets of sweat. You hummed contently at how you left him from just two orgasms, excited to see how he'd take being over-stimulated.

“Ready pup?” you hummed, making Choso’s eyes flutter open and his cock to ooze a clear tear at the name. Only nodding his head up and down limply with an inhale. The feigned sweet smile plastered on your face let Choso know that your patience was wearing thin. He saw it in your depraved eyes.

He gulped harshly when he heard the low vibrations from the wand, holding it in your hand. Placing the palm that was previously on his cock back onto his shaft.

With a wince from his lips you gave him a few shallow pumps, inching the silicone wand closer and closer to his member. Pressing it lightly onto his base to start, earning a small huff from his lips at the light sensation. Trailing it up the bottom of his oozing cock slowly, your lips parting in a small ‘o’ at how pretty the wand looked pushed up against his cock.

“It’s not so bad now is it?” you crooned, Choso looked at your entertained expression with a pout.

Flashing your eyes to look at him as you rolled the edge of the wand head against his tip, mouthing the words again, ‘Is it?’ making Choso bob his head up and down, “Use your words.” your tone dropped into a demand.

“No- no.” he breathed, feeling you trail the wand back down his shaft slowly, “It's-” he huffed, “It’s actually nice-” he gave you a half smile. Placing his hand back onto your knee and caressing it gently with his thumb.

Holding your thumb on the button that accelerated the speed, seeing his eyes blink shut softly at the gentle vibration. With no warning you clicked the button. Hearing a louder whirr from the wand in your hand. Choso involuntarily bucked his hips up, making the toy brush against the v formed beneath his cock head.

A choked whimper fled from his throat, easing his hips down in hopes to relax. Not wanting to see if you were being serious when you said you'd tie him up.

Balling his hands into fists to keep from pushing the toy away, but Choso’s hips didn’t listen to his own thoughts. Biting his bottom lip with hot tears brimming in his eyes, trying his very best to focus on not cumming so soon- but all it took was a breathless “Doin’ so good for me-” with an upturn of your voice, not being able to see it but he knew you were smiling.

Thick trembling thighs as you held the edge of the wand to his purpling tip, this time he didn't even show signs that he was close.

Without warning his cock spurt out a good 3 pumps of clearer cum- lips parting in a silent whine as his hips aimlessly bucked up, knuckles turning white from how hard he was digging his fingers into his palms. Moving the wand in small circles on his tip.

Choso’s fists threatened to unball and pull the toy from his oozing cock. He cracked his eyes open, feeling the hand that you planted at his base to keep his cock still applying pressure. He looked at you in hopes his whimpers would be enough to convince you to pull the toy from his tip.

They weren't.

He knew it the second you flashed your stern eyes to his face. Knowing his fists were close to unballing, “I don't want to have to tell you again Choso.” you clarified in an unforgiving tone, all but reading what he was thinking.

Choso closed his lips, a hum with the sound of an ‘m’ threatening to form the pet name he only used to win you over.

He inhaled sharply as you pressed the toy firmer onto his tip. Eyes clenched tightly as he pinched his eyebrows together, with a frustrated whine his hands extended, pushing your wrist away from his cock without thinking.

Cracking his eyes open not feeling the vibrations torture his cock anymore.

Trembling lips stuttering to find the words to say- seeing the last of the patience you held for him dissolve in your eyes.

“M’sorry!” he huffed, releasing your wrist. “M’sorry I won't do- won't do it again-” he swore, worried eyes scanning your expression. You looked at him- forming sweet smile on your lips giving him hope that you'd forgive him- “I'll be good from now on-” he huffed, “I promise.”

But the darkness in your eyes showed him you were serious about what you threatened earlier. Placing the toy callously on the bed, not caring if it dirtied the sheets.

Leaning over to his face, taking the hand that held the toy to his warm cheek, thumb brushing away the tear that fell from his eye. “S’okay,” you assured quietly, pressing a quick kiss to his plump lips. “It's okay.” Shifting your knees back, standing from the bed calmly as his eyes followed you. Reaching into a drawer, calmly searching for the tool you've been itching to use. Choso gulped watching the aura around you turn dark, hearing the clink of metal in your hands as you turned around.

Worried eyes looking at the black leather cuffs in your hands. If you weren't a lil sadistic, you would've put them on him since the start, knowing he has grabby hands and a tendency to squirm.

You kneeled back on the bed, looking at him softly, your expression a firm contrast to the aura you had around you. Choso swallowed harshly, accepting the punishment you inflicted on him.

“Take your briefs off.” you demanded, and he did as you asked. Not wanting to push you further.

Back flush against the wall, cock leaking from the sight of you holding those cuffs like a crazed person. Choso looked away from you, shaming himself as he reached his wrists out to you. Obedient as he was- this was needed.

Choso held out soft fists as his wrists rubbed against each other. “Awe-” you let out a tsk, “Don’t pout Choso-” you cooed, buckling a wrist into the snug cuffs, making him avert his eyes from your quick working hands.

Tugging the strap to make sure he wouldn't be able to remove them, the short chain making you grin. With a forceful tug you pulled him close to your face, “Your cock is telling me how much you like this.” You whispered, making his blush deepen and his pupils to dilate even further.

Shimmying out of your own bottoms that had been bothering you since the start, his eyes followed your movements. Trying to figure out what followed next. When he met your gaze, he dropped his head, looking down at the mess of his leaky cock that betrayed him by telling you how he really felt.

You looked over at the discarded wand, knowing this wand business would be fruitless. Looking at his cock for a solid second as you thought of how to fully overstimulate him.

Choso didn't like that you were taking a second to think. He didn't want to imagine what you were conjuring up in that pretty little head on your shoulders. With a smug smile you reached into your nightstand, reaching the small bottle of lube that you knew would do the trick.

Holding it in your hand as you kneeled above his thighs, looking down to his fearsome expression that made the sadist part of your brain itch.

“You love me Choso?” you smiled, eyes soft as you coaxed a soft huff from his chest.

“With everything I have.” He looked up at you with sparkling eyes, pouting lip showing you just how much he meant it. Easing down his thighs as your bottom pressed against them.

Now straddling his lower thighs, to fix that little squirming problem. Straightening your back as you cracked open the lid of the lube, “You're always so sweet to me.” you smiled, Choso’s eyes followed your hands, squeezing a plentiful amount of the slippery substance onto your cupped hand.

Choso made sure to listen to your tone, “Even if I'm a little mean to you,” a toothy grin on your lips, almost in disbelief.

His hands were placed softly on his tummy, the short chain clinking as he tried to hold his hands back.

Pressing your slick hand onto his cock, seeing him squirm from the sudden sopping liquid that leaked down his shaft, he let out an appeased huff from his chest. Feeling your hand give him a few gripping strokes, “You like me even if I'm mean?” your tone sounded pleased with the state you put him in.

The question sounded irrelevant to him, if he could think straight he would've asked himself ‘how is that even a question?’ but at the moment Choso trying to focus on the wet squelches that invaded his ears.

You gave his shaft a few firm strokes, waiting for him to answer. “Yes-” he breathed, “I lo-” your palm brushed over his tip quickly making him let out a high pitched whimper, “I love y-you even if-” he tried his very best to form the unfiltered sentences that oozed straight from his heart.

“Even if your m-mean.” He finished, making you let out a pitied ‘awee.’ slowly tightening your grip on his lathered cock as his moans became clearer.

“My sweet boy.” you enunciated the pet name he all but cried for. “I think you like when I'm a little mean.” you whispered, brushing the ridges of your cupped fingers over his tip as the cuffs clinked at his lowering wrists.

His thighs trembled beneath you, his shivering lips that spewed out whimpers and whines mouthed one thing that made your cheeks tingle, ‘I do-’ and with those two words, you felt merciful, no longer wanting to tease him, you cupped the head of his cock, loud squelches coming from your hand as you swished your palm on his cockhead.

He did a good job in keeping his hands to himself, inching them further up his chest as various throaty groans left his lips.

“There you go~” You smiled, “Good boy.” you cooed, Choso’s bottom lip quivered. Threatening to curl into a smile at your praise, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

Pride swelling in his chest knowing you were pleased with his restraint.

A whine huffed out of his mouth when you quickened your palm, the warmth from your ass making it very hard to concentrate.

His shoulders shuddered, mouth opening with a jagged exhale. “F-fuck-�� he practically forced from his throat, throwing his head back as you worked his poor tip.

The corner of your lips curling into a cruel smile as his back started arching. Hips trying their best to not move below you. Only for your hand to refuse his soft pleads, unknowing what he himself was asking for. ‘pleasepleaseplease’ The back of his head tilted onto the soft pillows, mouth hung open in a silent moan as his lower body started bucking up.

“S’okay sweet boy-” You cooed, knowing he was waiting to hear the special words, “Cum.” you spewed, seeing his pearly teeth tug his bottom lip between them and squeeze.

“Cum for me Choso.” You huffed with an entertained smile, making his cock to twitch in your palm. With a loud groan his cock gave you a few spurts of clear liquid.

Sloshing against the copious amount of lube you had purposefully used. Your hand was persistent- not even working him through his orgasm. If anything, immediately pushing him to the next one.

He muttered various pleads of ‘wait-’ and a slew of jumbled words, but you could only make out one, ‘please.’ If you thought he could take it- you’d tease him with a sly ‘That doesn't sound like a safe word.’

Only for those pleas to go into one ear and out the other, smiling happily at his chest heaving and his hips trying. Trying to escape your ruthless hand, the other planted on his lower abdomen firmly, ready to push off any attempts at pulling your hand away again.

You admired your work with an adoring smile, seeing the tears spill from his closed eyes and his hips moving recklessly. Face scrunched together as he used every effort to not call you the name that was on the tip of his tongue.

Working your fingers to the ridge of his cockhead, not wanting him to get used to the circles you made on his tip. Your thumb moving up and down gently on his frenulum. Giving him a brief second to catch his breath.

Only for your trailing thumb to reach over and rub harsh circles on his tip. His body started spasming, not being able to feel it- but his shut eyes and bucking hips told you he reached that pinnacle once more, kindly gifting you another with knitted eyebrows.

Turning your fist over his tip, wrist flipped over as you slowly pumped him. Choso’s knees bent quickly, pushing your ass up along with them, now inches away from his expression.

Being able to feel the heat radiating from his searing skin soak into yours, “If you wanted a kiss you just had to ask~” you hummed, firming your grip on his tip, leaning in and pressing your parted lips to his. The lube descending down his shaft, making a mess of his emptying balls and the sheets below him.

Giving his all trying to kiss you back, tongue in his mouth slotting against yours sloppily as you hummed. His whimpers spilling onto your tongue as he took heavy breaths from his nose. Pulling away from him as your palm cupped around his tip once more, looking up close at the expression you fought tooth and nail to see.

You couldn't help but smile, “Just one more-” you demanded, “I know you can do it for me.” your tone was more urging, making him buck his hips up- almost simulating he was fucking into you.

His bound hands started reaching for your wrist weakly, so very close to the point you were getting him to.

Only for his bound shaky hands to press atop the hand you held on his tummy, assuring you that what you were doing wasn't a cruel punishment.

With one throaty groan, his wet eyelashes opened, looking into your eyes as he inhaled a heavy breath. His cock twitching violently in your palm, feeling the last orgasm he could muster drip out of his overworked tip into your slowing hand.

Panting softly as you pressed your lips to his again, being able to feel his heartbeat pumping against your chest, planting a gentle kiss to the side of his lips.

His eyes fluttering shut as your hand pulled from his cock, trailing kisses on the side of his face, placing a lasting one on his side burn. “You did so well-” you smiled softly, earning a mindless hum from his closed lips.

“M’so proud of you Choso.” you cooed into his ear, making goosebumps form on his arms from the praise.

Straightening your back and looking down to the mess you made of him, hazy eyes looking back up at you, his skin dropping in temperature little by little. Shifting off of his limp thighs and untucking a clean edge of the sheets, placing it on him as he eased himself up to sit up.

“How're you feeling, hm?” making sure to keep a soft tone, his lips curled into a warm smile, nodding his head weakly “M’okay.” you hummed at his response. Leaning over slightly and placing a kiss onto his forehead, seeing him ease back into the wall with a blissful expression. “Hands please.” you smiled, seeing his cheeks blush at the reminder of the cuffs. Hesitatingly he raised his wrists, watching your hands slowly undo the silver buckles. Scanning his wrists and seeing there weren't any marks. In the moment he expected to see light indents but his skin was as untouched as you meant it to be. “I'll get you some water okay?” You whispered, placing the cuffs onto the sheets with the discarded wand and easing off the bed with a spring in your step as Choso mumbled a small ‘okay’.

Stopping at the bathroom quickly, plugging the bathtub drain and turning the knobs, pouring a tiny bit of foaming soap into the water, sitting on the ledge as you checked the temperature. Humming quietly as you walked into the kitchen and filled a glass of water. Walking back to the bedroom and seeing Choso waiting for you patiently, eyes lighting up when you walked through the door. Seeing his easing hand reach out to you, sitting on the edge of the bed as his hands clasped the glass and drank slowly.

Watching him intently, “Hows a bath sound?” You hummed, glimmering eyes blinking to look at you. Holding the glass in his hand as he leaned in to kiss you, welcoming him with soft hands on his shoulders.

Batting his eyes open to look at you gently, “Sounds really good.” he murmured, placing the glass on his nightstand as you eased off the edge of the bed.

Holding his hand as his wobbly legs stepped off of the bed, making sure to hold his hand tightly as he took an exploratory step, assuring himself he could walk.

A few stumbling steps before you reached the cold tile of the bathroom, hand in hand as you eased him into the tub. Seeing the bubbles engulf his lower half, crouching next to the white porcelain as you looked at his blissful expression.

“M’gonna clean up okay? I'll be quick.” you muttered, scanning his peaceful expression as his eyes closed, ‘mhm’ he hummed as he eased his shoulders into the rising water.

You tried to be quick, stripping the bed and throwing a few stray blankets from the closet onto it. Sitting bare on the bed as you cleaned the tools you were thankful for. Making sure to put them where they went before slipping off your panties and walking back into the bathroom, Choso looked like the epitome of peace.

Turning off the knobs of the bath and looking down at him, seeing him crack his eyes open and smile. Tilting your head and raising your eyebrows to get him to scooch forward, for him to comply. Stepping into the warm water and easing down behind him, feeling the ends of his wet hair press into your chest with a sigh.

Pressing your damp hand to his temple and a kiss to the back of his head, “I love you too.” you smiled, placing your hand onto the edge of the tub, only for his hand to follow. Caging the top of your knuckles with his as he clutched onto you tightly. Basking in the warm silence that hung in the air.

the cigarette I lit as a reward once I finished this was insane.

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kingkatsuki · 1 year

Note

Imagining Mitsuki trying to play matchmaker

And maybe she’s done that before, thrown girls at her son hoping he’ll hit it off with one of them and give her grandchildren. But it just royally pisses him off and he wants nothing to do with any of them. Then maybe she gives up for a while

But booooyyyyy oh boy, if you’ve caught his eye and she notices? She may not have introduced you, but she’ll make it happen. Just trying to help him out ya know?

She’d have to be as subtle about it as possible though. I could see him pushing you away just to spite her, even if he was head over heels for you.

I got a little carried away talking about this, but I just love the idea of Mitsuki meaning well, but never quite getting it right.

Warnings: Mitsuki tries to play matchmaker.

Word Count: 1.6k.

It isn’t that Mitsuki wants to force him into a relationship, she means well. She doesn’t like the thought of him coming home to an empty apartment each night, especially because she’s one of the few people who know about his night terrors. She’s been on the receiving end of many a call at four in the morning where he’s calling to make sure everything’s okay, or hearing him as a young man screaming in the night when he wakes up from another one of those nightmares. And although she’s taught him well, never needing to learn to cook, clean or use a washing machine— some companionship can’t hurt.

There was a time that Mitsuki thought that Bakugou wasn’t searching for love— that he’d already found it. His cheeks turning a violent red when she’d suggested that he was dating Kirishima, immediately reassuring him that she wouldn’t love him any less and that she’s happy he’s found someone as Bakugou tried to set her straight.

It isn’t that she ignores Bakugou when he says he’s not looking. She’s just worried, and maybe she’s right. Maybe he is lonely, and could use someone to help fill that void between work and sleep.

A mother can always tell, after all.

But Mitsuki’s methods can be a little unorthodox. Masaru tries to tell her not to meddle, that their son will find love when he wants to. On his terms, when he’s good and ready. But now he’s pushing thirty, not even a tabloid based rumour about a girlfriend and she starts to get antsy.

The window for grandchildren is slowly closing, and the hope is diminishing so of course she has to take matters into her own hands. It’s for Bakugou’s benefit, it’s like she’s doing him a favour.

At first Mitsuki is trying to set him up with someone based on attributes, wealth, success, career goals. Even though it’s difficult trying to find someone as motivated and strong as her son, she knows there are thousands upon thousands of women out there that would love to date him.

And poor Bakugou would prefer to be doing anything else with his time, sitting in his boxers playing video games and sipping a beer sounds far better than a twelve course dinner with portions so small he’s got to cook at home after. Especially with women he could care less about, listening to them drone on at him about their meaningless lives while he picks at his hors d'oeuvre two courses in.

No matter how perfect these women seem on paper, how compatible they are based on personality tests and star signs the dates never work out.

When this tactic doesn’t work, Mitsuki still won’t give up. Working in the fashion industry for as long as she has means she’s got a phone book full of gorgeous women. Personalities may not match up, but however bias it may sound she knows her son is an attractive man. So it’s easy to scroll through her contacts to find an array of women who would jump at the chance of a date with the Number Two Hero (also another benefit she slips in to conversation).

Bakugou tugs at the black tie around his neck as he stands awkwardly in the corner of another one of his mothers networking parties. Wondering how at 29 he’s still subjected to this kind of misery, thinking this would have stopped well into his teenage years. Groaning internally when he can see her out of the corner of his eye dragging a pretty young woman towards him. He knows the drill, knows exactly what that old hag is up to as she gives him a warning glare that only he can see. Turning to the poor girl with a faux sincere smile as she introduces her to him, her hand tightening around his forearm in warning as he offers his hand out to the poor girl.

But as quickly as Mitsuki arrived she’s gone, pretending to wave at someone in the crowd as she excuses herself and leaves Bakugou standing alone with this woman. Listening to her begin to rattle off ad campaigns or endorsements she’s been involved in like he gives a fuck, and talking about how many offers she’s received for her next one. It’s all he can do not to tell her that he doesn’t care and walk off as he notices that old hag watching from across the room as he throws back his whiskey and excuses himself to the bar. At least there’s enough alcohol to drown out the pain and suffering his mother is currently inflicting on him.

Mitsuki’s quick to join him, wine glass in hand, as she asks what he thinks and gushes about how pretty and perfect she is.

“Yeah? So why don’t you date ‘er then?” Bakugou scoffs as his mother rolls her eyes and he can tell if there were fewer people in the room she would’ve hit him upside the head by now.

It’s exhausting.

Groaning as he collapses into bed to find one new text message from the girl he’d been introduced to hours earlier. Knowing that his interfering mother had clearly given his phone number out— again.

But when perfect matches, and pretty faces don’t work Mitsuki changes tactic. After that, it’s just anyone.

Bakugou could be saying thank you to a girl in a coffee shop whilst he’s out running errands and Mitsuki is asking if she wants to go on a date with her son— she already had a boyfriend. Or the kind waitress at lunch who gave him a little extra spice in his ramen— she wasn’t interested in men. And even one time where Bakugou stopped to let a lady onto the train before him— she ended up posting about it all over social media before he’d even arranged the first date.

Deep down, there’s never anyone Bakugou truly wants. Dates are done out of obligation, and spending a few hours taking someone out for food or drinks means his mother is off his back for a few weeks or a few months depending on how well he can hide the immediate break up.

It’s a few months later when Bakugou realises the true lengths of how far his mother is willing to go to get him married off. He’s given a short, curt answer about his last break up. A “relationship” that Mitsuki thinks lasted for six months, but really there wasn’t even a third date. He’s out for drinks with the guys after work when Mina shoves her phone in his face, drunkenly squealing about how she didn’t realise he was trying to date people right now. And Bakugou didn’t realise himself— grabbing the phone from her as he assessed the profile. Thinking it was just another scam account trying to con lonely, desperate women out of their money, but he notices it. Pictures uploaded to the profile that only his mother has access to, key words that she’s used on many occasions to describe him.

That old hag. He groans, passing the phone back to Mina as he steps out of the bar to call his mother. Hearing the disappointment in her tone when he says he’s not interested. She doesn’t even try to hide the fact she made the profile, telling him there’s hundreds of women replying to his page. That he can have his pick of any of them if he wants to— but it just doesn’t feel right?

Until there’s you.

And there’s almost something about you that makes Mitsuki not try, because however much she loves and adores her son you’re almost too good for him? You exude happiness, positivity and love. And Bakugou is well, Bakugou.

And somehow you get together and you just work? Like there’s some sort of gravitational pull navigating you into each others orbit. And everything is just easy.

It’s not like expensive dinners, formalities and pretense. It’s comfortable, safe, warm. When Bakugou finds his place with you, he wonders how he ever spent so many years alone. Now he can’t ever imagine life without you, and Mitsuki is shocked when he appears at the door with you for the first time. Because for the first time, her son looks genuinely happy.

The most positive thing about it is now she no longer has to try and play matchmaker for Bakugou, the hard work is finally over. And now she has far more things she can annoy him with instead— like grandchildren and marriage.

And although she may hate to admit it, she’s happy that her son could pick a better match for himself than she ever could. No matter how much she insists that if she’d met you first she would’ve immediately set you two up on a date.

Bakugou finally found his own happiness in you.

But just because she no longer has to play matchmaker, doesn’t mean she won’t try to organise your wedding, your first home, your first child. And you better be prepared for her slightly unorthodox methods for that too— as she buys you pretty lingerie for birthdays, Christmas, Valentines—

“You can’t buy my wife lingerie for valentines, you old hag!”

“Maybe if you’d marry her she’d actually be your wife, you little brat. You should be grateful I’m trying to help.”

And oysters being the main course when she invites you over for dinner—

“They’re a natural aphrodisiac, you know”

“You can’t talk about sex so openly when we’re eating, you old hag. Jesus—”

Most family dinners include Masaru offering you a large glass of wine in the kitchen as you watch your spouses argue together.

But deep down Bakugou is just grateful that you stick around even though Mitsuki is almost a third wheel in your relationship. But you make the perfect team, and together you can handle anything— even his mother.

#soft bakugou

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phoenixyfriend · 19 days

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Somewhere out there is an essay about superhero movies where villains co-opt, misuse, or even just misunderstand the language of the left to push methods and goals that are incompatible with the actual theory of the left, but that sound Right And Good to viewers who aren't thinking it through entirely. And the essay is not just about how they compare to each other, but how they are a litmus test for viewers to know how susceptible they are to propaganda.

Co-opt: Most obvious example and the inspiration for this post is the Riddler in Batman (2020, the one with RPatt). The Riddler recites leftist rhetoric about corruption, wealth hoarding, and redistribution, but his actual actions and goals are unrelated. He's an accelerationist who's more interested in tearing down a system that didn't benefit HIM than in actually rectifying the problems, and who cares if a few kids get traumatized or even killed along the way?

Misuse: Easy mode, this one's Thanos. He talks about ensuring there's enough for everyone to eat, but like. Bro.

Misunderstand: Erik Killmonger, who has the benefit of both some incredibly legitimate grievances and a pretty face, but also kind of fails at the idea of intersectionality, proportionality, or Start With Words Before You Escalate. He's the easiest to sympathize with, because he has some really good points and ultimately does appear to be legitimately pursuing those goals... but he's also a misogynist, jumped to international terrorism before "call up my cousin who doesn't know I exist," and there's something in there about the role played by his time in the US military, which gave him emotional trauma, head trauma, and a sincere belief in the validity of US-style insurgency operations based on hostile takeovers of inconvenient countries. He's charming and pretty and sincere... he's just also, in many ways, wrong. And the parts where he's right makes it easy to try to ignore the bits where he's wrong if you're predisposed to like him and prefer some absolutism.

Anyway, yeah, there are definitely other examples, but the ones that were suggested to me didn't quite vibe with the base idea (Mysterio and Vulture both had disgruntled union moments in the MCU, but they left those roots so quickly that I don't think the concept of using leftist rhetoric as cover/justification for the crimes really applies since, they very quickly shift gears into revenge and greed respectively).

Someone's probably done this better orz.

#mcu #dc #marvel cinematic universe #batman 2022 #the riddler #Edward Nashton #thanos #black panther #erik killmonger #phoenix posts #meta #rhetoric #propaganda

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httpsserene · 6 months

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Heyy, i was wondering if you could do an Toto wolff x reader. I was thinking kitchen sex?? Like Toto getting turned on because he found out that reader was trying to make him his beloved pumpernickel bread for breakfast. I’ve been seeing tiktoks of Toto and his love for pumpernickel bread, and was just wondering if you could write abt it, though it’s TOTALLY ok if you don’t. Sorry if this was a little messy, this is my first time rqsting something. ♥️

𝐭𝐨𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐰/𝐭. 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟𝐟

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: you make toto his favorite bread. he’s going to thank you for this surprise properly. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. explicit. implied age gap. kitchen sex. rambling about bread. unprotected sex. vaginal sex. morning sex. reader and toto are married. beta-read. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2.2k words 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: toto wolff x fem!black!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿��𝗰𝗸: can't take my eyes off of you (i love you baby) • lauryn hill

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: can you tell i did way to much research on the types of pumpernickel bread? no, well, i don’t care 🙂 i WAS NOT familiar with toto wolff and pumpernickel bread so a quick youtube search opened my eyes to it and uh what can i say, this was born. ALSO: i feel like i’ve self-diagnosed myself; i am ashamed to admit that my kink might be somebody making me their wife…because why can’t i go one fic without making the reader be referenced to as a wife (m sorry i crave love). i honestly feel like it could be better, but y’know i hope i did your request justice (sorry it took me so long, ktober beat my ass). anon! i hope you see this, and i hope all the toto wolff lovers enjoy !!!

the yellow dish gloves on your hands protect your brown skin from most of the heat of the scalding tap water. the sound of your hums airily reverberate within the high ceilings of your open-plan kitchen as you clean the expensive dishes you’ve dirtied. you’ve taken off your wedding ring and placed it on top of your phone in the middle of the island to avoid any possibility of it falling down the drain or getting damaged.

you woke up a little after dawn, quickly shutting off your alarm to avoid waking up your husband; it’s the off season for him, you won’t wake him up at insane hours when he’s not needed to work. sneaking out of bed was a battle of its own—there were several close calls as you struggled to slip out of the tight hold of the austrian man. it took seven minutes for you to escape his warm embrace, but you made it through by thinking of the surprise you were going to cook up for Toto—or bake up for him. it’s no secret to anybody that the mercedes team principal loves pumpernickel bread, and that he’s very particular about how he likes it. of course, there’s no way you would be able to make the traditional german pumpernickel bread before he woke up—it takes fourteen hours to cook and it needs to rest for an entire day to allow it to form properly into its crunchy, cookie-like consistency. so, you decided to make the simplified recipe that only takes roughly an hour and a half to bake and prepare, while the original takes its time cooking. your husband will have to be happy with the more loaf-like treat until his preferred bread is ready. you’ve never been more thankful to have two ovens.

everything went well. both breads are prepped and baking away at their respective temperatures, and you’re carefully attempting to clean up the mess you’ve made in the process. you may not have been quiet enough based on the footsteps you hear heading your way. Toto pauses in the doorway and you smile, not needing to turn around to see the baffled expression on his face. you turn the faucet off and grab the cloth resting on the oven handle to dry your hands, “good morning, bär. slept well?” you teased gently with a small smile in Toto’s direction. you take an appraising glance of his form; he’s only wearing this pair of pajama pants covered in the mercedes logo (George gifted him those when the team did secret santa last year; Toto said he’d never wear them), leaving his toned torso exposed for your viewing pleasure, sleep lines from his pillow are still faint along his left cheek, and his hair is ruffled like he’s been running his hands through it. your husband nods half-heartedly, and blinks in confusion as he takes in the sight of you in the kitchen.

you're wearing one of his white button-up shirts—half of the buttons are fastened, the sleeves are rolled up and cuffed right above your elbow. you aren’t wearing a bra based on the way he can see how your nipples are pebbled through the shirt, and he assumes you’re only wearing underwear based on your bare legs. your feet are warmed by a pair of black, fuzzy house slippers, the bottom of the shirt rests along the middle of your thighs, and the collar is shifted to the side exposing your collarbone. your hair is free, allowed to rest however it wants to on this winter morning. he starts, making to finally enter the space of the kitchen and give you a proper morning greeting, but notices a smudge of flour along your jawline. and then he sees the baking utensils gathered in the sink, and a rich aroma starts to permeate the air. it smells slightly like coffee and slightly like dark chocolate—it’s sweet. then, it dawned on Toto, you’re baking pumpernickel bread. for him. his heart flutters; you usually sleep as late into the morning as possible, but today, you woke up at an insane hour just to make him his favorite bread from scratch. you’ve always teased him for how difficult he acts about his breakfast treat yet you sacrificed hours of sleep to please him. Toto’s mushy mindset is broken, as you cock your head at him, wondering why he hasn’t responded to you, and the collar of his your shirt shifts and falls to expose the top of your chest. mmm, yes, he should thank you properly.

you don’t even have time to register toto crossing the space between you, before your lips are interlocked in a passionate kiss. a shocked squeal is muffled against toto’s lips, as his large hands hold your waist steady, and your own hand flies up to hold his head. your other hand rises to tap at his chest frantically, as you begin to run out of air, and toto pulls away with an amused chuckle. dazedly, your hand on his chest pulls back to touch your lips, like you needed further verification that he just kissed you.

Toto smirks, “good morning, schatz.”

you nod unsteadily, “yes—g-good morning.”

your husband laughs louder at your stutter, and tugs you into his chest for a proper hug, rubbing at the nape of your neck with a heavy hand. the two of you stand tangled in the middle of the kitchen, uncaring of how many seconds fly by, and your eyes flutter shut at the relaxing motion of Toto’s massaging hands.

“i’m going to fuck you on the island, now, “ Toto informs you kindly.

you startle, pulling your head back to stare up at him with wide eyes. his gaze is serious, and you can’t help how your cheeks warm under his attention.

“well…” you murmur, “i’m not going to say no.”

from there, it’s all a rushed haze. you go from having two feet firmly planted on the tiled floor to being lifted and placed on the marble island as toto speeds through unbuttoning your collared shirt. you try to shrug it off, but Toto halts your motions firmly telling you to leave it on. you hum absently and pull him into a kiss. Toto moans into your mouth, and the sound has your hips bucking forwarding to grind against the bulge in his pants. his hands reaches for your left hip and assists you in grinding against him, and a sigh of pleasure parts your lips. the austrian eagerly slips his tongue into your mouth, and he tastes a bit of sugar from whatever you snacked on while making his bread. oddly, that causes more of his blood to rush south and he breaks the kiss to lean back and tug your panties off.

you simultaneously pull his pajama pants down, and squirm happily at the fact that he slept without boxers. Toto gently guides you to lie back on the countertop, and coos softly when you shiver from the cold surface; he’ll warm you up soon. he pulls your panties off from where they were dangling around your right ankle and drops them to the floor, kicking them to the side along with his pants. tugging you forward, your ass rests on the edge of the counter and he leans down to press kisses on your throat.

moaning highly, you crane your neck to expose its full length to his mercy. your right hand tangles in his hair to guide him exactly where you want, your left hand holds at his shoulder for support, with your nails digging into the meat of his muscles. Toto pauses, and pulls back to grab your left hand. a broken whine falls from your lips, and you buck your hips upward searching for friction, the slide of his cock along your folds feels delicious. his knees buckle at the sensation, and he forces your hips back down with his free hand, as he pulls your left hand in front of him to look at it.

“where’s your ring, liebling?” Toto asks, warm eyes focused on your bare ring finger. you laugh disbelievingly, amused and surprised at the fact that he managed to feel the absence of your wedding ring, and pull your hand out of his grasp smoothly. you reach behind you and pluck your ring from its spot on top of your phone, and slide it back on your finger. brandishing your ringed-hand in his eyeline, you impatiently try and buck your hips upward to no avail, his one-handed hold on you is unbreakable.

“okay! fuck me—now, please,” you demand desperately.

Toto hushes you, and holds your left hand steady. he stares into your eyes as he presses a kiss on the wedding ring he bestowed you with. your cheeks burn hot, and you roll your eyes as if your heart didn’t liquify at the show of devotion. your husband guides himself to your entrance, and pushes in carefully—thankful he fucked you open last night. you whimper softly, tender and sore, but you nod frantically to encourage Toto to push further in. he groans throatily as he bottoms out, throwing his head back in pleasure, and your moan harmonizes at the feeling of fullness. the stretch burns slightly, but you’re more focused on achieving an orgasm than the space he caves out in your walls.

you squeeze your knees around his waist, and grind up on him to encourage him to move. Toto grabs your left leg, bringing it to rest over his shoulder, while your right leg remains resting on his waist, both fuzzy slippers falling from your feet at the movement. it has him sliding slightly deeper inside you, and a spark of pleasure races up your spine. Toto begins to thrust, setting a quick pace from the get go. he fucked you open eight hours ago and the tightness of your cunt has him considering that he didn’t fuck you well enough. the bruises in the shape of his hands on your hips suggest differently. it’s ridiculous, how lost the two you get in each other’s bodies. your moans are punched out of you with every thrust, his cock dragging against your most pleasurable spot every time he sinks in you. Toto should be embarrassed at how quickly this is ending, but your sounds are too erotic for there to be any other outcome.

he lays his hand on your navel, gently adding pressure over where he’s reaching inside of you, while his thumb circles rapidly over your clit. your back arches sharply as you screech from the unexpected flare of pleasure, raking your nails down his back in thin red lines as you cum at the added stimulation. it’s a multitude of sensations and emotions that had you hurtling over the edge quicker than you thought possible, and Toto has no choice but to follow you into the abyss, unable to hold back his orgasm at the unbearably hot and wet grasp of your cunt. your husband rocks into you through the afterglow, pausing only when you start to whimper in too much, and not feeling good. staring up at toto with a blissed-out smile and half-lidded eyes, you sigh sweetly as he slips out and leans down to kiss you again. the press of his lips is syrupy sweet and you find yourself getting lost under the feeling of him pouring his love and devotion into you—even though you don’t need the reminder—and the timer you’ve set on your phone blares jarringly causing you and toto to jump apart, startled.

“what the fuck,” Toto deadpans as you scramble around to turn off the alarm.

you sigh in relief once the aggravating sound is silenced, and nudge at Toto’s hip with your foot, “well—don’t just stand there! get the bread out before it burns!”

the austrian huffs exaggeratedly, like it’s such a chore, and pulls on the oven mitts to take out the pumpernickel bread adaptation after you direct him to the proper oven, not wanting him to disturb the traditional bread baking. the sight of the known headphone-smashing, hothead mercedes team principal completely naked spare for a pair of oven mitts is amusing, enough that you can’t quiet your snort, uncaring of how Toto glares at you. he places the baking tin on the cooling rack you set to the side, and hums happily at the aroma—even though it’s a far cry from the usual bread he prefers. like the oaf he is, Toto reaches to pull a piece of the fresh pumpernickel to eat, but with lightning quick speed you reach over and slap his hand away before he defiles the bread.

“aht aht! what do you think you're doing? it needs at least forty-five minutes to cool before you can take a slice,” you scold the grown man.

Toto pouts (astounding, honestly), and then he brightens considerably, a sleazy smirk spreading across his lips, “ah? we have time for a second round then, maybe three…” you laugh hysterically, ignoring the way your stomach flips pleasingly at the suggestion, and slide off the counter, buttoning up your collared shirt, and you bend down to pick up the discarded pieces of clothing lying on the floor, “there’s no way you manage to get hard twice in forty-five minutes, old man–” Toto balks at your words–he’s really not old, or at least not that old, “–however, it’s enough time to finish washing the dishes you distracted me from doing.”

taglist: @saintslewi@cherry2stems@lorarri@inloveallthetime@mindless-rock@biancathecool@barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz

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undercoverpena · 1 year

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i'm with you

simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader an: can be read as a standalone, but does nicely accompany 'keep you close'. alludes to 18+ content, more angst, feelings, and emotions. usual, jo shit. summary: he knows how he feels, he knows how she feels. yet he fucks it up all the same. word count: 3.7k

simon 'ghost' riley masterlist

It’s a shithole.

The safe house is barely standing. It’s a teetering, broken mess which is almost blending with trees.

“It’s a safe shit hole. We’ll get evac to you at sunlight.”

That’s all Price had said before silence met Ghost’s ears. His tone sympathetic, but stern. The reminder of his words when they left base still swirling around some distant space in his mind: Sort it, Simon. Or I will.

Not that he had a fucking clue how to.

The damage is seemingly already done. He’s aware it’s his fault. He’s aware he’s a being a fucking cunt and that he’s fucking things up.

In his defence, he’s not entirely sure how to be anything but.

He’s stoic and distant. It’s who he is. With or without the mask.

He’s let few in, few past the many walls and layers he’s built over the years. It frightened him he’d wanted to tear them all down when he realised that she fit perfectly between the crook of his arm and chest.

“I’ll scope it out,” Mouse says, walking away from him before he can protest.

His eyes watch her form, running his tongue over the front of his teeth as he reminds himself to unclench his fists. He preferred her talking his ear off. He misses her telling him useless facts about nothing and anything.

Fuck, he just misses her.

He misses how it was before he made her sleep in his bed, before he handed her the fuckin’ scrunchie and kissed her. He misses how he didn’t feel conflicted before he’d felt how soft her thighs were, how delicious she tasted and how sinfully poetic her moaning his name was.

“Sir.”

He’s thankful the mask is covering his fucking face as he smirks instantly. She likely knows it, just from the way she’s stood, all cocky like she’s got the fucking keys to the castle. But, as he reaches the door, he sees that same stern look—the one blended with ice and fire simultaneously, like a flamin’ tequila shot which’ll burn him from the inside out.

He’d suspected the safe house would be worse on the inside.

As bad as he suspected it to be, he didn’t expect the electricity to be out. He didn’t expect the leak in the cupboard he supposed was a bedroom, and for it to be directly above the moth-infected mattress and poorly-made metal-frame bed.

Not that he’d sleep.

He highly suspects she isn’t about to either.

In another moment, he’s sure she’d be making light of the situation. Likely flirting, something she used to do more of before she was taken from him. When her heart was lighter, her fears never realised.

I’ll let you be the big spoon, Simon.

He conjures her voice with such ease he has to look around to check she hasn’t actually spoken. No. She’s still ignoring him, in her own personal hell-ish way, where she manages to both acknowledge and ignore him all at once. A skill he thought he was alone in mastering.

He doesn’t comment when Mouse drags a chair to the door, hooking the back of it under the handle. He wants to comment that the chair will do fuck all to stop us being killed. That one measly push, and it's likely the whole fucking cabin will come down.

But, he doesn’t.

Quickly suspecting the act makes her feel better. Noticing the slight tremble to her fingers, the way she keeps trying to busy herself, looking from window to window, door to ceiling. He tries not to look, to make things worse—not that he’s sure he can—however, the sound of her helmet unclipping makes his neck snap. Watching her ungloved fingers hook it onto the chair. Those same fingers that stroked his arm when she lay on his chest, the same ones he clutched between his when he knew her dreams had taken her.

Then, all he saw was her back.

Her frame looking smaller than she has done since the day in the med bay.

He studies her a lot. More than he’ll ever admit.

Whenever his eyes aren’t on what is needed, he allows them to find her. Seeking her out, like he is now. All eyes tracing her back, wondering if he can find the places he’d bruised when he filled her and stole her gasp. When he’d slowly rocked inside of her, gripping her sides as he pressed his forehead against hers.

Then he sees it: the damn scrunchie.

He both loathes it and misses it.

Having wished he’d never returned it, even if it meant he gained the memory of her lips on his. When she’d been full of desperation and need, fingers so soft against his stubbly, rugged skin.

The trade had been worth it, even if it had changed everything.

Even if he’d awoken feeling lighter than he had in a long-time, almost content. He’d let his eyes roll over her features, capturing them all to mind until she’d stirred and he’d half-pretended to do the same. Knowing, deep down, the moment had to end—that things wouldn’t, and couldn’t, be the same.

How could they be? His heart beat too quickly when she was around, his stomach almost bruised from how it fell to his feet whenever he thought she’d been hurt. He couldn’t control himself, barely think, barely functioned when she wasn’t in plain view.

It would ruin something, a mission, a stakeout. Something.

Because she’d gotten under his skin.

Mouse had scurried herself into another place she shouldn’t have, even if he’d been the one to let her in. Practically throw open the doors and be damned with the walls.

When he thought about it, it made no sense. Not the feelings which simmered, bubbled and exploded within him, not the way everything seemed to brighten when her eyes landed on him. Not that fact that he had needed her to sleep, he had needed her to rest—not as her lieutenant, but as something else entirely.

Now, she’s purposefully keeping her distance. Her hand rubbing her side, her foot kicking open cupboard doors, stepping back in case something which wasn’t welcome comes out.

“You hurt?”

Silence. But her body freezes, tenses. Slowly, in time, her head shakes, her eyes unwilling to look over her shoulder to him. Even if he’s pleading internally for her to do so.

“Words, Mouse.”

She huffs, shooting him a glare over her shoulder. “No, sir.”

He expects it—the tone. Almost braced for it.

Ghost doesn’t expect the pacing which follows, the way she switches from silently moving around the cabin to needing to move more purposefully.

Three steps forward, three back.

Once he’d been sure no one had followed, he began the fire.

He found blankets, not bad ones, considering the rest of the place.

There even more important since the warmth from the flames barely touches all of the corners of the room, his back against the dusty armchair he refuses to sit in as he watches her continue to pace.

She had paused for a brief moment, having searched the decrepit kitchen until she found beans, handing him a can and a half-rusting fork and began pacing once again. Her teeth nip at her bottom lip, her eyes unfocused on anything but where she moves them for a step.

He’s not sure what it means.

Half-wishing Johnny was here to translate. He understands her, has been let in too. Not in the same way—never in the fucking same way. But, he’d be able to answer, even tell him the reasons she chose shapes over lines.

Occasionally, she stabs her beans with the fork—the only other sound than the cracking of the fire and her boots.

He won’t admit it, but he likes the sounds of her boots on the safe house floor. How it echoes through the shit wooden walls and across the shit wooden floor. It’s as close to communicating with him as she’s gotten since the team had split up, and she’d no longer felt it necessary to respond through radio. He’d have been content to listen to it for longer, but watching her in the corner of his eyes was beginning to make him dizzy.

“Mouse. Sit down.”

Mouse pauses, not lifting her eyes. Seemingly thinking, deciding. Knowing her, she’s weighing up whether it’s worth ignoring his demand or not. Eventually, moving to the fire, sitting down, glaring into her own tin can.

And it’s tense.

Her silent treatment is more palpable now she’s sat in front of him, all red-nosed and anger-filled eyes.

“You cold?”

“No.”

He lowers his chin, purposefully ensuring his voice isn’t as sharp, as bruttish as it has been. “Mouse. Are you cold?”

The look she gives him wounds him. It’s all pitiful, pleading and mixed with tight lips. One which screams for him to let it go.

It’s worsened by the fact he can tell she’s holding back everything inside of her, not wanting a single shiver to show, a whimper or displeased groan at how she couldn’t warm herself.

“Yes, Simon. I’m fucking cold.”

Something both curls and unfurls in him at once at the sound of his name.

The way she spits his name stains the air, making it buzz around him. It punctures and breathes life into the tension, making it double, triple. It’s stifling, mixing with burning wood and damp as he grits his jaw.

“Come here.”

“So you can avoid me again?”

There it is.

Her words were even accompanied by his least favourite expression: the angered glare.

“I said—“

She groans, loud, purposeful. Slightly edging forward along the dusty floor, shooting him a glare which he supposes should mean “happy, now?”—but he’s not fucking happy, not even close to it.

He weighs up his options, considering both the fallout and the payoff before he grabs her ankle and pulls. He’s surprised at the lack of resistance, her body sliding with ease across the short distance until she is closer, almost entirely between his legs.

“Fuck sake…” she whispers, deep under her breath.

Rolling her head on her neck, letting her eyes land on the fire and her grip remain iron-like on the can.

“You gonna ignore me all night?”

“Yes.”

He rolls his eyes, placing the can down on the floor as he stares at the fire too. He watches them dance, the flames. Almost losing himself in it before he hears her can be placed down too.

Heavier, more filled than his.

A swirl of worry rose in him, wrapping itself around important organs and sensibility as she let her face turn, letting him see her.

“I hate beans.”

“Course you do,” he replies, studying her.

He lets his eyes fall over her, from her bent knees to her face, back down to her boots pressed against the floor.

If he could, he’d leave this place and find her something. Bring her back greasy food, and a milkshake. Hell, he’d even find her a plate of curry and rice from that place she always talks about near her home.

Not realising until now his hand is still on her ankle, something she’s too becoming aware of as she wiggles it—attempting to free herself from him.

“Why are you doing this?” Why did you let me in, to freeze me out, Simon.

The words, both said and unsaid, dance to him, all broken and sad as soon as they leave her lips.

I don’t know.

That’s the honest answer. He’s not sure why he let her leave that morning without explaining what he was thinking. He’s not sure why he just stared when she asked him a question—a simple, normal fucking question. Ghost isn’t even about a lot right now, other than he misses her.

And she must sense it, the shift.

She must understand him, and see his thoughts all of a sudden as if they were being painted onto the walls.

Because truthfully, he feels better when she’s close and feels almost whole. He could almost let himself imagine watching mundane television with her, doing a food shop at a supermarket with too many choices. He can also imagine ruining her over and over again. Desperately needing her fingers to snake through his hair as he takes her apart with just his tongue. Never wanting another mouth to wrap around his cock ever again, finding her the most terrifyingly intoxicating thing he’s ever met in his entire life.

Her arms push her up, quickly distancing herself from him.

“Mouse…”

Shaking her head, taking strides to the pathetic kitchen as his chest tightens, knowing he should move; it feels harder to breathe as he watches her, especially when she leans over the poorly made counter—back to him.

Don’t leave.

Don’t leave me.

The same words which he thought of when she’d fallen asleep against him, her ear close to his heart. Not wanting her, and yet wanting every single part of her all at once in some confusing turn of events.

Because he’d never banked on her agreeing to come back with him.

Not even just to sleep.

He’d not planned or expected to hand her the scrunchie, and her kiss him. He hadn’t banked on it being the key to unlocking everything he’s been carefully stuffing down inside of him, desperately trying to lock it all away so he doesn’t ruin things, so he doesn’t change things.

She turns, all so suddenly.

Again, as though hearing him, and the look she gives him—fuck, it would have floored him if he wasn’t already sat down. It knocks the wind from his sails, the cockiness from his confidence. He almost feels stripped back, no mask, no uniform.

And, it commands him to stand up.

An order that he gladly answers as her eyes scream, now or never, Simon. Last fucking chance.

He stands, striding, closing the gap in half the steps it had taken her—stopping just short of her. Allowing her one more moment to glare at him, to inject her eyes into his skin, to feel anger, to feel hate towards him before he makes sure he takes every last bit of it away.

If she was brave enough to ask, he’d tell her his favourite part of her is her eyes.

Not the thighs she thinks he adores, not the smile he finds lights a room.

Right now, he’s got a front-row seat to watching them thaw. Slowly, bit by bit, waiting until the right time before he swallows, hand hovering over her jaw.

It’s hard not to struggle for breath when he stares into them when he loses himself in the shades that make up her eyes. The thousands of mini-expressions they show, let him in, just enough to read her.

He half wishes the wind was howling or the house creeks. Because Mouse doesn’t speak, the silence is so thick he’s adamant she can hear how quickly his heart is beating. As though she thinks the entire moment is fragile, and at risk of shattering.

Ghost knows why that is. He let her think that.

He’d let it be that way.

He’d acted coldly, filling her mind with thoughts of him regretting it. But he didn’t. If anything, he felt as though he’d been resuscitated, while not knowing he’d been dead. That in one night she’d ruined him, and all she did was count sheep.

“Lift my mask.”

His words leave his lips softly, less gruff than he’s used to speaking. He’s sure it’s the reason she holds his stare for a beat, likely focusing on every expression dancing in his eyes.

Mouse had told him, in her half-lucid, sleep-filled way, he said more with his eyes than he thought. Those words had swirled around his mind all night and ever since. Always wondering if they’re doing it, just like he is right now.

He hopes they are. Hopes she can see how much he needs her to lift the mask, how much he needs her to do so he knows he can kiss her. Because words are not his strength, but action is.

How can he make her forgive him if he can’t kiss his apologies into her lips, into her skin? He’d get onto his knees for her, if needed, but he needs her to lift his mask first. Silently commanding her to do so as her hands slightly shake, moving tentatively to the fabric at his neck.

But she does lift it.

Fingers lightly pulling it free from his neck, the fabric pulling at the tiny hairs and over his stubble. A cold finger and thumb slide either side, brushing his skin, leaving scorch marks he hopes burn forever as he watches her eyes.

Showing her he’s okay with it, all of it. If he could get the words out, he’d tell her as much. That the first day when she didn’t cower from him, when she stared him straight in the eyes, nodded and called him sir, he’d been fucked. When she was taken, stolen from him, he’d almost lost it—a gnawing inside of him which only stifled when he knew she was back safe.

He doesn’t think she’ll ever understand the effect on him, likely never believing him.

The cold, six-foot-something soldier who has more hidden and confidential in his file than information has fallen.

Fallen so far he doesn’t care he’s without any means of being saved, if she decides to not catch him.

She’d never understand it, the effect she had on him. Likely suspecting he’s not capable of it, just because he’s silent, because he’s practical. But he feels, just not on the surface. And sometimes, that’s a bigger burden to carry.

Nails drag over his stubble, the fabric lifting, rolling over the hair at the back of his neck. It almost makes him shudder—catching the scent of the sweat on her body mixing with her shampoo. A scent he can’t rid from his pillow, not that he wants to.

It’s only as the mask clears his nostrils does he realise how much he loathes this place, hates the smell of it and the sight of it. But it’s a small blessing. A quietness in the middle of nothingness where this moment can exist.

And then her fingers stop, letting the mask sit just above the base of his nose, resting on the bridge.

“Lift the mask.”

She swallows. Her eyes flicking down before meeting his, sliding it up the last bit—freeing the skin around his eyes and his forehead. The cool air dancing over perspiration.

It’s intimate, so much so that he’s not sure if Mouse knows she’s holding her breath as he cups her jaw and cheek. He makes his touch feathery, and gentle. Soft and slow as he slowly tilts her head up, watching her eyes focus on him as she allows her arms to fall back to her sides. It’s cautious all of it. Not his or her usual quick, determined, and efficient movements.

He wonders if Mouse can tell his cheeks are on fire, whether she knows his stomach is doing flips as he strokes her cheek.

And then she sighs. “It’s because you’re my lieutenant.”

His mind silences.

Empties.

Her eyebrows rise, waiting before she smirks. “Words, sir.”

“Yes.”

Because he is her lieutenant. Her superior.

It’s fraternisation. Prohibited. Even if Price isn’t fucking bothered, even if Soap told him to find her. Some part of him knows it's more than wrong—knows it can put her at risk, from others, from higher-ups… from enemies.

And then he feels it.

Her catching him.

Small hands on his waist, holding him tightly. His free hand moving up to the back of her head, fingers sliding over her neck, up her hair, before he pulls, feeling bobbled silk-covered ghosts.

“Mouse…”

She stiffens as if waiting for him to move, but he doesn’t. Not this time. Not now.

Even if he should. Even if it would make sense too.

Instead, his lips descend until they find hers gently, almost experimentally—fearful she’ll pull away.

She doesn’t.

Instead, holding him more firmly, more determined at his waist. He feels her pull, tug at him to move closer, as his tongue presses against her lips before things turn more desperate, hungry, and needy.

She makes the blood rush through his veins and silences his heartbeat from his ears. That’s when his apologies really begin—when they begin searing themselves against her lips, then her jaw, and then her neck.

His hand clutches the scrunchie to her lower spine, keeping her flush to him, showing in all the ways he can that this is what he wants. Not distance, not space or avoidance—as much as his behaviour has said otherwise.

Ghost slides his hand down and around her thighs until he lifts her onto the counter—the one which groans at the intrusion of someone who dares use it for something other than letting it sit there—nudging her thighs apart, sliding as comfortably as he can between them as he grips her waist, feels her skin on his.

He doesn’t mind that their lips part, her breaths mingling with his. He gets to watch her eyes, all wild and full of something he can’t describe.

He lets her hand brush over his cheek, smudging the black from around his eyes into her nails, and he whispers her name—so careful with it, like it’s something he could break.

“Do that ever again—” Don’t ever hurt me.

“Never.” I couldn’t. I’m sorry.

She waits for a beat, before nodding.

He wants to lift her, move her somewhere more comfortable, although he’s not sure where that’ll be. The floor is their best bet, he could pull her flush against him all night, turn her legs to jelly, and let his palm slide down her stomach until she’s gasping his name and he feels how slick she is on his fingers.

“No. Not here. I'm worried the walls'll come down.”

Rolling his eyes, he snorts, burying his head into her neck, silently agreeing.

His fingers drawing soft circles on her waist, not sure how to tell her he's happy with this. He's just wanted this. To hold her. Breathe her in and have the chance to explain.

“Simon…”

He pauses, both his hand and his thoughts. Lifting his head, sliding a hand over her cheek, feeling her curl into, just like she did in his bed.

“...I feel the same…”

Good. That's good.

"So... don't let me fall. don't let this continue, if you're not going to catch me. If you're going to leave. If you'll ignore me—"

"Stop."

It's sharp, leaving his tongue gruffer than he'd hoped.

The words, the ones he wants to say sitting on the tip, sat right at the edge of his lips, unwilling to fall through into the air. So, his lips answer her in the only way he knows how. Not sure how else to show her he'd catch her. He'd catch her every single fucking time.

Always.

#simon ghost riley #simon 'ghost' riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #ghost riley #ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley angst #ghost cod #ghost cod mw2 #ghost x reader #cod x reader #simon ghost

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aloesarchives · 2 months

Text

Toji Fushiguro General/Relationship Headcanons #1

TW/Warnings: Profanity, Domesticity, AFAB/Female Reader, the talks of starting a family, little bit of married life (LMK if anything else needs to be tagged)

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

Pronouns: She/Her (Usage of female gendered terms like Sweet Girl, Woman, Princess)

Word Count: 6.6k words

So these head canons exist for all versions of Toji that I write. However, these are more based around Modern/Non-Sorcerer Au and my personal ‘Toji Lives’ Au. But these are also stand alone because they are some general stuff I think about for Toji in general and his relationship with reader. I’m doing a separate head canons where it’s mainly family/domestic fluff with Megumi and Tsumiki. Maybe making more parts if I have more head canons.

Also, I'm starting to plan out the parts for my Toji x Reader/Megumi x Reader mini series. I'll release a google form for those who are interested in the mini series and another one for the continuations of my Suguru x Reader/Satoru x Reader one-shot. So stay tune for any updates in the upcoming weeks!

!!Not proofread and unedited!! 2/22/24 11:26 pm CST

One thing’s more certain, when you first met Toji, you didn’t fall in love right away. Your relationship with Toji was something gradual, building up over time as you kept running into him.

One of your most notable encounters happened in the grocery store you always go to and see him at. Your fridge was getting empty as per usual so you came today to fully stock it. As you were nearing the end of your trip, you stopped by the meat section to grab some meat for tonight’s dinner. Normally, you prefer your local butcher’s but they were on vacation so this would have to do. As you were going to reach for one, another hand reached for the same one, a much larger hand. You quickly retracted and apologized to the individual when you saw Toji smirking at you. The two of you talked for a bit before your eyes wandered towards his basket. It had barely anything in it, to you at least. There were some canned drinks, minimal vegetables, a bag of chips, like a loaf of bread.

“Are you picking some things for your pantry, Toji?”

“Nah, this is my food.”

“For today?”

“For this week.”

You stand there absolutely stunned. By the looks of his nonchalant expression, he was not joking. You didn’t want to ask him if this is how much he can afford to not make him feel embarrassed. So you invited him to your place for dinner and to cook for him. Toji's insistence on declining was strong, but your persistence for him to eat was even stronger. Adding Toji’s grocery and paying for everything. Toji carries the groceries to your place and you both enjoy a warm filling meal for him. The man had never eaten so good before he fell asleep on your sofa right after. The next day, he woke up around 10 am to the sound of you washing dishes. He sees breakfast for two on the table and a large bag sitting on the counter. You tell him to join you and you both enjoy your breakfast. While cleaning up, Toji asks what’s the big bag for and you said it’s for him. You cooked him a week worth of food because you knew he didn't have time or energy. So you handed it to him as he’s leaving, telling him to come back anytime for a good meal. As soon as your front door closes, he’s just standing there trying to understand what just happened. His heart is swelling at your gesture, his face ablaze with a heavy blush, wondering why he is feeling this way for you. And Toji makes the horrific realization that he’s falling for you and it won’t stop there.

Most likely you have to initiate the first hangout because the man is clueless when it comes to interactions, specifically with women in a non-flirtatious/transactional way. He started to like you because you weren’t handsy with him or led the conversation to something else. You were interesting because your interactions were real with no other intentions besides talking to him. You’ll admit he’s hot but won’t say it out loud because you don’t want to say something uncomfortable or overstep your boundaries.

Your hangouts consist of eating at those family-owned restaurants or hidden gems, the food’s good with a good price. Walking around or in a park, maybe hiking if you’re even interested. He doesn’t have money to take you out properly but you aren’t someone who’s into high-end or fancy places because they’re a waste of money in your opinion. You find inexpensive ways to spend time with Toji and it’s fun for you because you don’t have to worry about his expectations because he’s having fun too.

The more he sees and spends time with you, the more he values your company. He starts smiling more and is in a better mood than all his years alive. He definitely isn’t energetic but he isn’t as robotic as he used to be before meeting you. Shui notices this but doesn’t say anything to Toji because he thought he was overthinking things. But when Toji asks him how do you know you’re in love, Shui thought Toji legit went insane. Toji doesn’t want to talk about it but he doesn’t know who the hell to ask so Shui is his closest bet. He asks Toji who got him acting up and Toji shows him a picture of you and he asks Toji if he kidnapped you because he didn’t know he could pull an absolute unit of a woman. And Toji replies “I don’t know man, I don’t even know myself.” Shui is lowkey happy Toji has you. He is fully aware Toji doesn’t have the best background but it’s clear as day you being around him is changing him for the better, undoubtingly saving him.

Toji doesn’t have the best living conditions, he lives by himself in a rundown studio apartment that only had a basic kitchen, a bathroom, and main space that doubled as the living and bedroom. He barely had anything in his apartment other than a futon, a closet, and a table. Got some trash lying around because he doesn’t bother to pick it up. Apartment smells like the back of the house kitchen at a restaurant mixed with the boys locker room in high school. You offered to help clean up. Trash bags full of trash and used cleaning wipes, laundry done and fresh, every surface wiped clean. By the time it was done, his apartment looked brand new. You wouldn’t be surprised that it was trashed again but at least it was clean for once. After your help, Toji becomes a little conscious of his space and cleans it. But this turns into him not using that space because he’s always at your place.

Toji has a habit of ghosting/disappearing without notice. You’re seeing him at the supermarket, next he’ll be gone for like a month or so. Since you really don’t have his phone number, you can’t contact him but it’s not like you two were friends let alone dating at this point. You say it is what it is until one stormy night you heard a hard knock on the door. The next thing you see is Toji, two duffel bags, a cut above his eyebrow while being soaked. You shoved him inside, gave him a towel while patching him, drying his clothes while he changed in your guest bedroom.

Toji lives with you and split the house chores. But since you’re technically the one with a consistent income and job, you mostly are away from the house and Toji is 90% at home. You do grocery shopping or errands before and after work while Toji holds down the fort. It's been a rough few weeks with him but there was progress. And it was good progress.

You find out pretty fast how Toji’s terrible spending habits and crippling gambling addiction. Luckily for you, you have your own bank account so you don’t have to worry about the man stealing your money. However, you do force Toji to give his paycheck from his inconsistent but very high paying jobs. Literally one of his checks had a value of $30 Million Yen! You cashed it in your account so fast and paid all your bills and groceries off for a minimum of 3 months. It never struck why Toji doesn’t see that as much money but you come to learn that his clan is a prominent one with a substantial amount of wealth so that amount doesn’t surprise him. But still, you told him you’re permanently in charge of the finances because you don’t trust him handling any money. Strangely enough, he doesn’t protest at your rule and now whenever he’s done with a job, he instantly gives his cheek to you. You do give Toji some personal spending cash besides for food and necessities, then eventually a card that’s attached to your bank account. But it’s not a joint account but a card that has access to your account. His card has a spending limit to the equivalent of 67.7k yen(roughly $475 dollars) every month. He CAN withdraw money but you are notified through your bank’s notifications when, where, and how much. Even though you two are balling because of his cheeks, you don’t get carried away with the spending because life in the city is too fucking expensive and you need all the money you can get. Plus, you don’t want to raise any suspicion because you’re pretty sure Toji’s money is blood money or from the black-market and you don’t want to draw a lot of attention for your own safety.

Toji only knew how to cook the basics but nothing over the top or fancy. But once he starts living with you, he starts learning how to cook and for all things under the sun it’s fucking immaculate. Toji’s cooking just tests better to the point you assign him on cooking duties since he cooks better and faster than you. Your co-workers are always envious every time they see your lunch. It’s something different everyday but it’s delicious and filling but not the kind that makes you lethargic. It’s so fucking good that you two don’t eat out as much because his cooking has evolved to peak gourmet. Lowkey is happy you like his cooking and it gives him motivation to continue his work if it puts you in a good mood.

Which brings up another point. I believe Toji is capable of gaining multiple useful skills, it’s just he’s unmotivated. Like he could be good at changing tires, plumbing, handy-man work, cooking, any installation, anything under the sun, but he chooses not to because he doesn’t feel obligated to do so. But it all changes when he starts living with you. Man becomes a jack of all trades and he basically makes life easier because you have him fix/do what needs to be done all the while you’re saving money. He’s a fast learner too. Pretty much once he does it the first time and it works without breaking/doesn’t turn out like shit, it’s locked in his head and knows how to fucking do it.

Initially, Toji is lazy because he is a go with the flow type of guy that doesn’t concern himself with appearances. If it’s livable, not rotting, and doesn’t smell rancid, he’s not going to touch it or bother picking it up. That’s why his apartment was a mess because he’s able to live in those conditions because they’re his own, that's not a thorn in his side. Like he’ll leave his clothes by but not near the hamper because he’ll eventually pick them up when it’s laundry day(you end up picking it up but you started to trip over them while in the bathroom). But you establish a routine for Toji to follow. He doesn’t have to follow it exactly but you said there should be at least 4 main components to it. Literally forcing Toji to pick up habits so he’ll be more productive and conscious of his time.

Took some time but he eventually attaches to it because it mostly revolves around your schedule. It got to a point where he would be waking you up for your work, getting you your morning drink and a decent breakfast, getting your work bag with your lunch inside, all the while getting you out on time. If not, 5 minutes early so you can be on time for work. I can imagine him saying stuff along the lines of:

“Shakes your shoulders firmly (Y/N), Wake the hell up. You slept through your alarm and it fucking woke me up. You gotta get out of the door in 30 minutes or you’re going to be stuck in traffic, dumbass.”

“Oi (Y/N), it’s 6:00 am. You have 15 minutes to get your ass up and get ready for your work. Before 6:20, you better have your work clothes on when you come into the kitchen because I already made your breakfast.”

“I’m trying to get you out of the door early so you can catch the early train and beat the morning rush. Here’s your lunch and your work bag. Make sure you have everything because I’m not going to bring it to your work if you ask me to.” (He does anyway)

“Hey, it’s going to rain hard later so here’s your umbrella cause I don’t you to fucking sick knowing how you get careless with yourself some times. Pain in my ass…”

So you kinda tamed Toji, this wandering stray cat that was 6’2 and built like a concrete pillar. But you didn’t make it your whole personality trait because 1.) you think it’s pretty fucked up to think helping Toji/people like him is more of a project than genuine compassion. 2.) And you roll your eyes when people say you ‘“fixed” Toji. You just say “Um, no? No I didn’t, Toji picked himself up and changed because he decided to. Not because I FIXED him or him changing isn’t my doing because you be surprised by the amount of people that stay the same because they chose to.” Another reason why Toji fell for you is because you see Toji as a whole human with flaws, you humanized him. You don’t parade him around like some sort of object, you acknowledge his presence and it makes him fall in love with you even more.

Definitely have arguments for sure early on that were rougher compared to being together for a while. Again, this is mostly due to him growing up and being treated as sub-human. He’s vocal not because he chooses not to communicate. But because he doesn’t know how, especially with you, his safe person and your home being his safe space. He was used to being neglected, dismissed or straight up abused altogether. But now that he’s living with you, he’s trying to dismantle his old mindset while learning how to communicate/vocalize his thoughts. He feels he’s unworthy of you because you have an immense amount of patience and understanding for him. Sure, there are your flaws but so does he and he knows living with someone like him is harder than anything else. So he’s appreciative of your efforts and faith in him.

He knows he has a loud voice and is careful when he loses his temper. Obviously for noise complaints but also for because it can be startling and scare you. God, one time you both almost got into a yelling match because of something miniscule and irrelevant but it transformed into something deeper that you didn’t know why you two were fighting about it in the first place. But the way he snapped at you and you unconsciously flinched at him, his heart felt heavy and cracking. He never saw you scared before but the thought of him being one of your fears terrified him immensely. He softens himself and deflates his body to show the surrender of his pride. He ACTUALLY genuinely apologies to you and opens his arms out so you could hug him.

Most of the arguments are just you being frustrated with him. Mostly this was early on with his lack of routine and productive habits, like him not picking up his clothes and leaving his cups everywhere. But Toji is one of those passive guys where he doesn’t like arguing with you and wants to end it asap. Even if he’s not in the wrong, he’ll just admit and apologize to you so you aren’t mad at him anymore. He doesn’t like it when you’re mad at him. Sometimes it can escalate to heated ones but those happen rarely and only exist when something snowballs. He may give an attitude here and there but you mostly know that’s him being himself and he doesn’t mean it.

Your relationship didn’t have a definitive label but the lines are blurred between the two of you. You two hug and hold hands sometimes but it’s more than platonic but not enough for love either. Through large and tight crowds, Toji lets you hold onto his arm , has his hand firmly pressed on the small of your back, or holds your hand tightly as he makes his way through. It’s common for you two to be passed out on the couch together or on the floor after watching a movie or a show. Or how he leans his head on yours when on the train, even carrying you home if you fell asleep and doesn’t have the heart to wake you up because you're tired from work. What you have with Toji is nice and comfortable but you do end up loving him because he makes your life warm and worth living. You just don’t know if he’ll feel the same. Oh but he does, he fucking does. But he doesn’t know how to say the three magical words because he never heard them at all when he was growing up. Let alone someone saying it to him.

You definitely say I love you first before him. Because let’s be honest, this man never knew what the hell ‘love’ or true love is. This man grew up in a traditional family that prioritized status, reputation, influence, and anything under that umbrella for traditionalism. So love was never an important aspect of his clan. So for you to show him the true wonders of love and its ups and downs, he’s overwhelmed and a little ashamed because he’s trying to adjust and get used to this feeling. He isn’t a fairly vocal man but he’ll forever be grateful for your patience, kindness, compassion, and understanding towards someone like him. He freezes when he hears you say it to him with such tenderness and warmth only you could give him. You know he’s not ready to say it back but you couldn’t help but tell him because it needed to be put out there for both him and you. You told him he doesn’t have to say it if he’s not ready or doesn’t feel the same. But you also said that you truly only care for and love him only.

But when he said “I Love You” to you, you knew he meant it with all his heart. You could remember it clearly because it was storming with heavy rains. Flash flood warnings are being sent out and weather channels are telling citizens to stay indoors and not leave their homes. Toji has been trying to call you for the past hour but you never picked up. His anxiety was rising, fearing you were stuck or possibly hurt. He says fuck it and grabs his jacket to go out when you open the door just as he was about to leave. Your clothes were wet but not soaked but you held your shoes in your hand while dropping your umbrella and bag on the floor. You tried to explain to Toji that your phone died at work before you could ever call him. There was a flooded street and so you had to take your shoes off to not get them ruined. You did grab him some food though beforehand but that didn’t matter to him when he saw that you were safe and unharmed. He hugged so tightly through your wet clothes when he said the fabled words to you.

“Goddammit, I fucking love you, (Y/N). I was so fucking worried about you. I thought you were in trouble or something, Sweet girl. . .”

You started to cry when you heard him say that you kissed him on the lips by impulse. You thought you fucked up and try to apologize only for him to return your kiss with his only while you hold his face and his hands on your waist. Fuck it was beautiful.

Pretty much after that, you both were in the trenches of love with each other. Fuck it’s so tooth-rotting to see it that Shui jokes and teases the hell out of Toji because that man changes his whole demeanor when you call him. He calls him out on how his voice changes from its usual monotone gruffness to low but soft. Toji tells Shui, “I’m a changed man.”

People are so jealous of you two. How the hell did Toji bag you!? The most ethereal, beautiful, compassionate, kind, funny, and respectable woman?! And how lucky did you get finding such a fine specimen of a man?!

Toji’s pronouns are literally HE/HIM because Toji is HIM while you’re the IT girl with the one of your pronouns being SHE/HER because you are HER FOR REAL ON GOD.

You two are the IT couple, I don’t make the fucking rules. There’s you being the best version of yourself and you unapologetically. Then there’s Toji who’s hot AS FUCK and following his favorite girl around because you’re the only girl for him, BEST GIRL. He is just there but with you nevertheless.

You’re the couple people make those cool edits of, I’m not even joking.

Knows how to drive both automatic and manual but as an automatic cause because of you. You are on permanent passenger princess duty because this man is your chauffeur until he dies or has no legs. Drives with one hand on the wheel and the other is either on the gearshift, your hand, or your thigh. Looks hot every time he turns or reverses because his biceps show themselves and it’s dangerous for you because it makes you feral.

IDK if it’s just me but Toji seems like the guy to buy a whole rotisserie chicken just for himself. He’ll buy one for you, of course. But one of those bad boys is his because he’s not sharing! After a workout or work, he’ll eat it with no signs of meat left on the bones. They’re so clean he even eats the cartilage.

Toji seems like one of those individuals that looks full grown when he’s younger like in his early 20’s and just stops aging altogether. Not like his entire appearance stays the same, it's just his genetic game is so strong and good people believe he's like 25 when he’s actually in his mid to late 40’s. You and him are like cheese and wine. Both perfectly paired together, and the aging is unnoticeable but you both taste divine.

His closet is the most basic and uncomplicated. T-shirts, undershirts, sweaters, hoodies, joggers, sweatpants, maybe one pair of black cargo pants but that’s about it. He always wears sweaters or hoodies when he’s out because he lowkey doesn’t like to be stared at unless it’s you. He knows his compression shirts would make people drool so he opts out of showing up in them unless it’s super hot or he’s too lazy to cover up. Toji definitely would wear those oversized Uniqlo t-shirts for men. He has the black, dark green, and dark blue ones. Fucking never leaves the house with his fucking sandals or black kung-fu slippers. You buy a pair of black Air Force 1’s, Vintage Black Arizona Grip Birkenstocks, and some Doc Martin black leather boots(1460 Smooth Leather Lace Up Boots). You had to up his shoe game because there is no way you’re letting him only have two pairs that are very worn out.

People think he isn’t all that because he’s chill and uncaring most of the time. In reality, Toji knows how to tap into his inner dawg like a switch. He’s really good at hiding it and not making it obvious. But like then snap! He summons his inner dawg and menacing aura. You could be talking to someone unaware that is staring them down. You smile at him and his aura changes so fast as he smiles at you in return. But as soon as you turn away to continue talking to the person, the menacing aura just returns. His aura is so intimidating and menace-like that people genuinely grow anxious and fearful. So much so that they could piss/shit themselves or even throw up if they didn’t have a strong will.

Personally, Toji is more of a German Shepherd boyfriend than a black cat boyfriend. IDK, it just makes sense to me. Like he talks and isn’t hostile to people he knows like you and Shui, literally the only two people in his life that he’s close with. But everyone else, he either hates them or doesn’t give a single care in the world.

I also personally think Toji isn’t stupid and he's actually intelligent. I think his past issues and how he was treated is the reason he seems like an incompetent person. But really, he’s pretty smart. I know this doesn’t involve the canon but the fact Toji knew which weapons to use on Satoru, beating Suguru with an inch of his life but not killing because he knows what Suguru’s technique can do if he does, and the whole plan with the bounty on Riko was pretty genius. Look, I’m not trying to vouch for him for what he did. But you can’t help but admit what Toji did was impressive. He worked smarter, not harder compared to other people. Especially letting the curse user do all the work for him while he gets to deal with the easy part and go in for the kill. The man came prepared to get the job done. I mean I would too if there was $30 million yen on the line. Sure, he’ll forget to pick up on some social cues. But once the man locks in, he'll be the most observant and perspective person in the room and he’ll learn something about someone just by their body language and simple mannerisms.

Not sure if this is confirmed or not by Gege but I read someone where that Toji is into philosophical conversations. But I can see because, again, he’s intelligent and has seen/learned a lot of stuff from his hits/jobs. Toji isn’t one of those smartasses that you experience in those advanced classes. He’ll earnestly speak his mind if you ask and what you have to see. He always finds it interesting hearing things from your point of view and I feel like this is one of the ways you two grew close to one another.

You two got married because you just popped the question to him and said yes. You two didn’t have rings at the time but he did buy you the one you wanted but the band had some black on it. His was a solid black wedding band to match yours. Up close, it looks pretty cool. He bought the rings because he asked Shui for any hits/“jobs” that were available on such short notice after you two got married. A week later, Shui notices it and asks him if he finally tied the knot with you. Toji just nods.

Took your last name then both of you decided to add another last name, deciding on Fushiguro. King shit right here. Not afraid or ashamed he took your last name as a middle finger to his clan.

This isn’t a Toji head canon but I can see Shui being a bro and giving Toji consistently well-paying hits/“jobs” because he knows how much you mean to Toji and Toji has to provide for you too. You both would be sleeping and Toji hears a notification go off and knows Shui sent him a job that will be done by tomorrow afternoon.

Routine wise, nothing changes between the two of you. However, Toji is more open and affectionate with you. Especially with nicknames, he rarely uses your real name at home. God, when he calls your names of endearment, you’re going to fucking explode from how deep and gentle voice gets calling out to you.

He also loves hugging you from behind and having you in his arms. Definitely gives good hugs, they give the right amount of squeeze but are so warm and protective. Is more daring with his kisses, would steal a kiss whenever he gets the chance.

Toji is the type to sleep the closest to the bedroom door. Doesn’t matter where the door is, your body is always in front of him. Just in case something happens, he can/will protect you and he can use his body as a shield to protect you.

Unironically a good listener, legit has a good hearing canonly in reality. He just carries his resting nonchalant face all the time. He could be focused on something or not looking your way, but Toji is listening to you speak and will recite your words right back at you if you think he is. This also helps if you’re someone who tends to forget things or need reminders. He’ll tell you what you were supposed to do 5 minutes ago word for word if you ask him.

Sleeps in his boxers only. Might sleep in a shirt and sweatpants when it’s colder. But Toji’s body mass produces enough heat to be a furnace that you both only sleep with one blanket. He’s always warm. If you get cold hands, fear not because they’ll be warm in five seconds if you place them on Toji’s abs.

Fairly possessive to an extent. It’s usually blended in with protectiveness because one can bleed into another. Like he’ll let you to your own devices but isn’t going to whine if you have guy friends. Toji can read between the lines, he has really good social cues. But he’ll straight up tell you he doesn’t like your male friends/co-workers if they are interested in you romantically. You’re his girl, he wants people to know it. But he would literally kill for you and bring the Heavens to their knees just to keep you safe and protected. Would literally take the fall for you in anything, you can’t change my mind on that. Toji: “Your honor, my girl did nothing wrong. It was self-defense.”

Toji has self-esteem issues for sure. You could have anyone in the whole world, anyone in this lifetime. But you choose him, and always chose him. The amount of times Toji had to get/do something while you wait for him only to come back to see a random-ass guy talking and trying to get your number. His heart would squeeze at the scene because he wouldn’t blame you for going for someone better. But when he sees you say “Sorry to break it to you, but I’m with my boyfriend and he should be back any second now.” Seeing your eyes scan for him and the way your face lights up seeing him made his heart inflate, making the squeeze disappear. You speed walk to Toji, ignoring the dude, and hug his arm tightly. Toji kisses your head as he walks with you not before throwing the dude a shit-eating grin his way. After that, Toji knows you’re loyal to him and that’s a fact.

But if we’re going to be honest, none of us would leave Toji if he treated us well and deservingly. Plus he’s strong and has the body that even the Gods are jealous of, how are we gonna fumble a bag like that? Ngl, if I meet Toji in real life, I’d run in the other direction fucking scared b/c I’m not fantasy me and fantasy me is better.

Nicknames for you consist of Doll, Babe/Baby , Honey or Hun, Dear, Sweet Girl, Sweet Thing, Princess.

Toji is the type of man to say “Wear whatever the fuck you want, Doll. I can fight” and says it with his chest with no questions asked because it’s true. Toji got that win streak with zero losses under his belt. But then again, no guy will try to hit on you when they see Toji giving them the ultimate stare down when they try to do something funny.

Once gut punched someone so hard they were sent flying while throwing up what they ate for the day because they tried to make a physical move on you and Toji’s instincts just took over.

Toji definitely brawls and fights. He could get jumped by like 10 dudes and send all of them to the hospital completely unscathed. But his beatings get more aggressive if he is with you. Like if you two are out and some guy tries to hit on you and uses his group to intimidate him, you give Toji the approving nod and he’s just giving all of the most devious combos to ever grace this plant while you're sipping on your drink watching it all unfold.

Also, Toji isn’t letting things slide when you’re uncomfortable, annoyed, or God forbid, scared. One time, you told Toji you were going to get food for both of you at your favorite local restaurant/bakery/cafe. But you were gone longer than expected so he went to find you and saw you talking to a guy. He was confused at first because you usually tell them off or leave automatically. It wasn’t until he got closer when he saw the severity of the situation. To any passerby, it’s two people but then up close you can see the guy’s friend right behind him, backing him up and purposely corning you so their pressure would make you say yes but you held your ground. But you were lowkey scared because they trapped you in an abandoned lot that was hidden from the public eye. So when Toji saw how your body shrunk and clutching your bag of food to your chest, that was his green light to go in. Toji grabs the guy’s throat, his hand being big enough to get a good grip. His eyes are cold and daunting, telling the guy, “You must have shit for brains because she clearly isn’t interested in you. It’s not cool to corner a woman with your bitch-less friends.” That’s his only warning to them before he boxes all of them. Took him 2 minutes max and he’s pulling you along with your food in his other hand.

Toji also would be more than okay if you ask him to pick you up or drop you off from work. You both have a car but it’s cheaper and more convenient to take public transportation. Like he’ll walk with you to work and leave once you’re inside. Once you’re off, you see him outside waiting for you. Your co-workers you vibe with wonder who’s the handsome guy that is always waiting for you and you say that’s your husband. They’re gawking at him and say you’re so lucky.

Hates him when people tell him what to do but will follow every command you give him. You’re the only one who can boss him around and he’s actually happy to oblige. Responds with “Yes, Sweet girl”, “Anything else, Honey?”, or “Of course, Dear/Babe/Baby”.

Toji is the type of man to follow you anywhere and do anything with you as long as it makes you happy. The type of man to be like “It is what it is, I’m not gonna complain”.

His body is made from the amount of work he has to do for his occupation. He doesn’t need to go to the gym because he gets a full pump by doing push ups alone at home. Does pull ups in the doorway, has a heavy barbell and dumbbells set in your home because you allowed him thinking it would make him productive. Literally puts body builders and any gym goers to shame. His strong body is built by his job alone and his body’s innate ability to gain muscles and keep a low but healthy fat percentage.

Doesn’t drink because he has a very high alcohol tolerance and also he can’t get drunk too. So if you’re not into drinking, he can always keep you company and will back people off if they pressure you into drinking even though you declined. He can see the amusement in drinking culture but he doesn’t drink himself because he hates being under the influence. He won’t mind if you do and he’s more than willing to pick you up from a night out of friends. Not a fan of bars but will go if you ask him to, your drinks are always protected.

Thinks he can rizz you up but it’s you who has the most powerful rizz out of the two.

If you’re having a bad day or just having a mental/emotional breakdown, Toji will try his best to comfort you. If you want him to hold you, he will hold in a loving and protective embrace. Definitely say things like, “You’re going okay, Baby”, “I’m here, Honey. I gotchu”, or “You’re with me, Doll. I won't let anything happen to you.” Not really good with advice but Toji always listens to what you have to say. He will get you anything you need or make you any food you’re craving at the moment. The man would literally go on a last minute grocery run to make you your favorite food to make you feel better. It makes him feel at ease when your mood lightens up or you smile at him.

Not a picky eater but eats the same types of foods because Toji doesn’t get sick of them that easily and he doesn’t have to think too hard on what to eat. But he will make something different everyday for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for you. He would judge you for eating the same food over and over again but not him because he eats just so to satiate his hunger.

He’s your infinite garbage disposal. You’re full or don’t want to finish your food, Toji will eat it for you. His hunger can be satisfied but his body has a large capacity until it reaches full. He never knew what it was like to be full.

Toji is always the big spoon. Maybe some nights he likes to be held by you but he’s the big spoon no matter what. Probably because he desperately needs to feel your presence in the dream world and protect your physical body. More of a back sleeper than a side sleeper but can sleep in either position. Sleeping positions consist of his arm around you and you’re tucked into his side while using his shoulder as a pillow, sleeping on his chest/on top of him, or back hugging you where his massive body engulfs your own. He loves being close to you when sleeping and hates when you’re not in his arms.

Most likely Toji will have nightmares because he feels like he doesn’t deserve you. If not, feel his life he has with you is even real. Sometimes the dark void is there with shadows looming closer to consume him the more he continues to think like that. It’s not until he wakes up to see your sleeping face and gently caresses it is when he realizes this is life was real, you are real and right in front of him. He smiles like a fool before kissing your forehead and holding you close.

Never has thought about his future because he didn’t think he would live this long, or have a domestic life. But now that he has you and is married, he constantly thinks about the future, your future together. He couldn’t imagine a future without you, it’s not possible for him. He imagines having a family with you and hopes you share the same idea as him.

I know these are wild and don't make sense for his character but let me dream, okay?! I've been simping for this man since October 2020, I've been waiting for this, lol. Anyway, thanks for the support!💙❤️

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incognit0slut · 7 months

Text

Right Kind of Wrong (14)

She ever thought she would be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Spencer and the team face a setback in the investigation. wc: 4.6k

Series Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide, mentions of SA

a/n: This one is a beast. I don't usually write multiple scenes in one part but it seems fitting here.

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

SPENCER HATED DRIVING. The feeling of confinement, the cacophony of honking horns, and the ceaseless traffic had always grated on his nerves. Yet his line of work often required him to be the one behind the wheel, and usually, he didn't mind, but now the car's interior seemed to close in on him as if mocking his discomfort.

He wondered whether his detest for driving paled in comparison to the regret consuming him. Or was this anger? Was this anger coursing through his body that had him feeling more uncomfortable than he usually was?

He could feel his knuckles turn white as he clenched the wheel. The anger burned hot within him, directed both outwardly at the situation he had thrust into and inwardly at himself for allowing it to happen. He couldn't understand how he allowed his urge to consume him, leading to actions that inflicted pain upon her.

It was consensual on my part.

If that was true, then why was there regret gnawing him? Why was he still angry at himself? Spencer always prided on self-control, that he could resist any urges and avoid causing any harm. But tonight he had shattered that belief. He had let his defenses crumble and now he had to deal with being the one who painted those bruises on her skin.

The shrill ring of his phone sliced through the heavy silence inside the car, momentarily diverting his thoughts. He glanced at the caller ID on the dashboard's console, seeing a familiar name flash on the screen. With a hesitant sigh, he pressed the answer button.

"Where the hell have you been?" Garcia's voice filled the space, her frustration was palpable even through the speaker.

He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter and cleared his throat before responding, "I got caught up in something."

She let out a sound of frustration. "You can't just disappear like that, Reid, we've been trying to get hold of you."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry," he said, his voice filled with genuine regret. "What's the update?"

"Oliver Walsh is nowhere to be found," a third voice cut in, who Spencer caught on as Hotch's. It seemed they were in the same room. "Morgan and Prentiss are checking his house."

"They found anything yet?"

"There were countless photographs of our witness—candid shots, close-ups, and even pictures taken from a distance."

His chest tightened, his jaw clenched, and his teeth ground together as the anger surged through him. He felt a hot flush rise in his cheeks, his face contorting with the intensity of his emotions. It was as if a fire had ignited within him, each flickering flame fueled by his frustration.

But beneath all that, he could hear the uncertainty in Hotch's voice, the contrast between his usual commanding presence and the hesitant tone in his words.

"What is it?" Spencer asked cautiously.

"The pictures were taken professionally." There was a pause. "There isn't a dark room in his house or any sign that he possesses camera equipment."

There was a momentary silence on the line, broken only by the sound of the road beneath his tires and the occasional distant siren. Spencer took a deep breath. "Do you think he hired someone?"

"Based on his victims, he seems to prefer working alone."

"He could have a hideout," he suggested, his grip on the steering wheel tightened as he navigated through the quiet streets. "Criminals often use secret spaces. It gives them a sense of control over their environment where they feel safe from prying eyes."

Hotch hummed a sound of approval. "Hideout location often has a sentimental value. Garcia, find any places that might be mentioned in his files."

Spencer's ears picked up the distinct clatter of keyboards in the background.

"There's a church where his family used to go to... but it's still open to the public so no... oh, the house he grew up in? No, it was sold a few years ago—wait, I found something." Garcia paused, allowing a brief silence to settle in as the sound of keys clicking continued. "There's an old article mentioning an abandoned warehouse that he and his group of friends used to frequent during their youth, a secluded spot for underage alcohol consumption."

"Where's the location?"

"Give me a minute." Garcia typed away, her fingers dancing across the keyboard, summoning information that surprisingly only took her twenty seconds to retrieve the location. Spencer counted the exact time. "It's not far from here."

Then suddenly, she let out a sudden shriek. "Hotch!" There were footsteps in the background followed by fingers frantically flying across the keyboard. A sound of frustration left her lips not long afterward. "Damn it!"

"What happened?" Spencer asked in an alert. "Did you find something?"

"I-I've been trying to tap his phone, you know, trying to locate him in case he decided to turn it on, and I got a signal before it disappeared again."

Spencer asked, "Can you retrieve the last coordination it located?" At the same time, Hotch cut in with, "Can you trace it back?"

"Hold your horses, boys." With a series of rapid keystrokes, Garcia initiated a deep scan on her laptop. The seconds seemed to stretch as the scanning progress bar advanced before a notification popped up on the screen. The location data had been recovered.

"Oh my god." Her eyes zeroed in on the coordinates, and she quickly cross-referenced them with a map application to get a visual of the area. "It's six miles away from the warehouse."

Hotch wasted no time after receiving the information. "Reid, check the location. I'll coordinate with the tactical unit and dispatch a team of officers to assess the area. JJ and I will meet you there."

"I'm on it."

"I sent you the coordinate," Garcia mentioned, the same time his phone pinged with an alert.

"Don't do anything until we get there," Hotch reminded him. "And Reid?"

He hummed a reply, notifying that he was listening.

"I need you to stay focused."

His eyes flickered over the console. As much as he didn't want to admit it, Hotch's reminder struck a nerve. His words, though well-intentioned, were a stark reminder of the fine line he was walking between his personal struggles and his professional responsibilities. He sat there, and the call quickly cut off before he could even reply.

The noise of the bustling street faded into the background as his thoughts began to spiral, repeating his mentor's words, his expectations of him weighing heavily on his shoulders. Spencer shook his head, trying to ground himself. The case was important, and he couldn't afford to let his personal struggles jeopardize his work.

He slowly took a steadying breath, forcing himself to compartmentalize, a skill he had honed over years of dealing with high-stress situations, and silently drove toward the coordinate Garcia had sent over.

Y/n hated crying. She despised the way her throat tightened, constricting her voice as if it were trying to strangle the tears before they could escape. The way her chest heaved with each silent sob. Her hatred for the involuntary quiver of her lip and the trembling of her hands was as potent as it was irrational.

The irony wasn't lost on her, when her boss was found lifeless on the floor that day, she had stood strong, her eyes dry, absorbing the shock without a single tear. Yet, here she was, broken by the rejection of a man who had once held a fragment of her heart. It was baffling, the way he had become the chink in her armor, the one who could shatter her composure.

But could she even call that rejection? To be rejected there surely had to be some form of confession and she was one hundred percent sure she hadn't conveyed anything that indicated her affection for him... right?

Use me in any way you like.

She groaned into her pillow. To be fair, that wasn't a confession. And to be fair, he did exactly what she asked for—It just happened that it ended the exact opposite of what she expected.

With swollen eyes and a heavy heart, she finally pushed herself out of bed. The room was shrouded in darkness, with only the faint glow of streetlights seeping through her curtains. As she rose from her tangled sheets, she felt the weight of her emotions as her thoughts went haywire.

She couldn't stand being alone at the moment. Her own thoughts seemed too loud, too suffocating. It felt like the walls were closing in, and every moment alone was just another reminder of how lonely she felt now.

That was why she reached for her phone and dialed Sandy's number, that was why she properly got dressed as she waited for her to arrive, and that was why she quickly rushed over to her front door when she heard the constant knocking. But as the door swung open, an unexpected sight froze her in her tracks.

Standing there with Sandy was Eric wearing a bemused expression. Her mind whirled with a mix of emotions–surprise, confusion, and a hint of embarrassment. She hadn't expected her to bring someone else, and now they were all standing at her doorstep, an unusual trio in the midst of an unanticipated gathering.

Sandy, sensing the tension in the air, was quick to speak up. "Oh, um... I brought company?"

"You brought Eric," she replied, her voice wavering slightly as she tried to mask her surprise.

Eric, ever the easygoing coworker, greeted her with a friendly nod and lifted the plastic bag in his hand. "And I brought Chinese. Hope you don't mind me tagging along."

For a moment, she hesitated, struggling to find her footing. It wasn't that she didn't like him, he was one of her good friends at work, which meant something because most of the men she worked with were chauvinistic, sexist pigs. But she did plan on having an emergency Margarita Night with her friend when she made the call. Although she couldn't find herself to send him away—not when he was looking at her expectantly—so she managed a hesitant smile and stepped aside.

"Come on in then." She tugged the door open. "The more the merrier, I guess."

Eric's eyes studied her distraught face as he walked in. "You okay? You look..."

"Bad?"

"I wouldn't say bad."

"I bet you wouldn't say good either."

He frowned as if trying to choose the right words. "You look stressed," he decided to say. "Everything alright?"

She paused, torn between opening up about her feelings and maintaining a sense of privacy. But in the end, she chose honesty, if only to ease the awkwardness of the situation. "Not really. I don't want to talk about it though." She motioned them into her living room. "What were you guys doing together anyway?"

"Eric has been stopping by at everyone's place in search of Oliver," Sandy responded, already making herself comfortable on the couch. "My place was his recent quest."

Y/n turned to Eric. "You still haven't heard from him?"

He shook his head, a mix of concern and frustration etched on his face. "No, not a word. That's why I decided to put in a missing person's report."

"What?" Sandy chimed in. "When?"

"This afternoon." He settled onto a nearby chair and turned his attention towards Y/n. "I met with Dr. Reid. You remember him, right?"

Remember him? They were here because of him in the first place. "Yeah, I remember him." She then shook her head, dismissing her personal feelings for the time being, and refocusing on the conversation. "You think Oliver's gone missing?"

Eric's concern was palpable as he replied, "His phone is off, his family is unreachable, and his house is empty. I'm starting to get worried."

Sandy's brows furrowed with concern as she leaned forward. "That doesn't sound like Oliver. He wouldn't just disappear without a word."

"That's what I've been trying to say."

She glanced between the two and listened as they continued to discuss the possibilities of his whereabouts. But as they did, Y/n couldn't help but feel that something was off, that there was an air of strangeness and suspicion surrounding his sudden vanishing act.

Her thoughts wandered to the peculiar way Oliver had always been interested in her, and her mind couldn't help but draw a parallel to her own situation, where a serial killer seemed to have an odd fascination with her. The pieces of the puzzle seemed to align themselves in her mind, forming a picture that was both unnerving and hard to accept. It sounded almost silly, like a twisted plot from a suspenseful thriller. It was all too surreal to be true.

She quickly shook her head, trying to dispel the disturbing thoughts, clinging to the hope that her mind was simply playing tricks on her. Because Oliver, her good friend Oliver, wouldn't do something as sinister as murder... right?

Spencer arrived an hour later. A single, isolated warehouse stood in stark contrast to the surrounding desolation, tucked away in a remote corner of the district. He parked his car discreetly before stepping out of the vehicle, his footsteps making a soft crunch on the gravel beneath his feet.

His breath hung in the crisp night air as he scanned the area meticulously, the slightest detail not escaping his analytical gaze. The warehouse stood against the backdrop of a vast, starlit sky, its silhouette imposing and enigmatic. Dim light spilled out from the high windows, casting long shadows that danced eerily on the surrounding ground.

Suddenly, the distant rumble of an approaching engine reached his ears. He turned sharply and was greeted by a convoy of vehicles making their way toward the warehouse. As they drew closer, he recognized the familiar silhouette of his unit chief behind the wheel and JJ seated right beside him.

The vehicles came to a stop, and the officers quickly disembarked, their footsteps echoing in the cavernous space. Hotch approached him, his expression grave but determined. "We need to split into teams. Reid, you take point with me. JJ, coordinate with the other officers and enter from the side."

With a nod from him, the officers sprang into action, fanning out to explore the warehouse thoroughly. Spencer and Hotch approached the building cautiously with a flashlight in one of their hands and their weapons in the other.

The front entrance was partially obscured by a tangle of overgrown weeds and graffiti-covered walls. Spencer stepped closer toward it, his footsteps echoing louder in the silence. He hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He had faced countless crime scenes and dangerous situations, but there was something about this abandoned warehouse that seemed eerie.

His mind immediately kicked into gear as he followed Hotch into the building. They stealthily moved from one corner to another, examining the objects that had been left behind in this desolate place. Piles of old crates were stacked haphazardly, their contents long removed or forgotten.

They came across a set of stairs that led to an upper level, and without a word, they ascended, their footsteps echoing on the metal steps. Upstairs, the darkness seemed even more suffocating, and the sense of isolation heightened. His flashlight landed on a stack of old files on the floor, their pages yellowed with age. He picked one up and flipped through it, but it appeared to be nothing more than old inventory records.

"There's nothing in here," he whispered. "We should check the other side—"

"Hotch! Reid! Over here!"

JJ's urgent voice alerted them and they both descended the stairs, her voice reverberated through the cavernous space. Spencer stepped into the room down the hall, his flashlight illuminating the scene before him. His steps then faltered, the sight that greeted him sent a shockwave of alarm through his already heightened senses. They had found him. Their suspected Unsub was right where they had predicted.

But he was lying in a pool of blood.

Oliver's unconscious form was a stark contrast against the cold, concrete floor. JJ was already at his side, checking his pulse and issuing urgent commands into her intercom for paramedic assistance. "Stab wounds," she announced to the room. "He's still breathing."

His mind raced as he took in the situation. How had Walsh ended up in this state? Who had inflicted the stab wound? And what had brought him to this remote area?

But his attention was soon drawn to the second startling discovery—the writing on the wall. His flashlight revealed a message scrawled in front of them, seemingly written with blood. He took a step closer, examining the writing carefully. The texture and consistency of the blood suggested it had been written recently.

Proverbs 14:8

Hotch, who entered the room with the rest of the team, observed the scene with a steely resolve. He instructed the officers to secure the area and preserve any potential evidence as paramedics rushed inside. His eyes scanned around him and he noticed Spencer's intense scrutiny of the message on the wall.

Spencer recited the verse as he heard footsteps approaching him from behind. "The wisdom of the prudent is to give thought to their ways, but the folly of fools is deception."

"Any idea what it means?" Hotch asked, his tone reflecting the gravity of the situation.

Spencer furrowed his brow, his mind racing through possible scenarios. "It's a message to us. The verse underscores the idea that wisdom involves careful consideration of one's actions and beliefs..." And then his voice slowly trailed off. "...while deception can lead to foolishness."

The words hung in the air, its implications weighing heavily on his mind. It was a declaration, a challenge, and a warning all at once. His mind raced to make sense of the situation. Who had written this message? Was this a desperate act from Walsh himself, or was there another player in this dangerous game they had been entangled in?

His stomach dropped.

That was it.

"It's a trap."

His mind then processed the surreal scene before him—the injured suspect, the message scrawled in blood—it was increasingly clear that this wasn't a straightforward apprehension; it was a carefully orchestrated plan, and they were mere pawns in a dangerous game. And as the realization began to grip him, his anxiety surged. There was only one thought in his mind.

With trembling fingers, Spencer pulled out his phone and dialed the number he had kept in his phone but never seemed to use. The seconds felt like an eternity as he anxiously waited for her to pick up. His mind raced with a thousand scenarios, each one more alarming than the last. Hotch stepped closer as he noticed the dread in his eyes.

"Reid."

There was only silence on the other end of the line. She wasn't answering. The fear that had gripped him intensified, and a knot of dread formed in his stomach. He tried again. There was still no answer. His hands began to tremble uncontrollably as he clutched his phone, the device suddenly feeling like an anchor pulling him deeper into a sea of fear.

"Reid."

As panic began to surge, he dialed Officer Anderson's number next. His trembling fingers pressed the buttons, and he held the phone to his ear, there was no response—no ringing, no voicemail, just a disheartening silence. His panic intensified. His chest tightened, and each gasping breath felt insufficient, leaving him feeling suffocated and—

"Reid!"

He exchanged a glance with Hotch. "I-I can't reach her," he said, sounding defeated. His palms grew clammy as he tried to regain control while he leaned against a nearby wall, attempting to steady himself.

JJ stood up and approached him. "Reid, take deep breaths," she urged, her voice calm and reassuring.

Spencer tried to steady his breathing, but his lungs felt constricted, and the air refused to fill them properly. He felt lightheaded, disconnected from reality, as waves of panic washed over him. JJ placed a steadying hand on his shoulder.

"Focus on your breathing," she said, her voice calm and reassuring. "In and out."

But the words struggled to penetrate the fog of panic that had enveloped his mind. His thoughts spiraled into a chaotic mess of fear and helplessness. The walls of the warehouse seemed to close in on him, and he gasped for air.

JJ guided him to a nearby crate. He complied, allowing himself to sit down as his trembling hands found the edge of the crate, fingers gripping tightly as he tried to steady himself. She crouched in front of him, her eyes meeting his.

"Spence, look at me. We're going to find her, but I need you to breathe, okay?" His gaze met hers, and he nodded, albeit shakily. He knew that he couldn't let his panic consume him, not when there was a chance of her being in danger, not when there was a possibility of her being taken away—he quickly shook his head.

The warehouse's oppressive atmosphere seemed to recede as he concentrated on his breath. Spencer became acutely aware of the controlled chaos unfolding around him. Hotch's firm and authoritative voice as he started to make calls, the flashlights dancing over the walls, and the low murmur of voices filling the space. He closed his eyes briefly, attempting to center himself.

But as he waited to regain his composure, the minutes felt like hours, and the fear of losing her weighed heavily on his mind.

Please, let her be safe.

"Y/n!" Sandy's voice called from the other room, prompting her to emerge from the bathroom. "Your phone keeps ringing."

"Can you check who it's from?"

Sandy checked the caller ID and responded, "Unknown caller."

She let out a dismissive sigh and started to head back into the room. "It's probably just spam."

But then, Sandy's voice broke the silence again, this time with a question that hung in the air like a heavy cloud. "This might sound crazy, but do you think Oliver has anything to do with Jamison's death?" Her breath hitched at the unexpected question. She turned to face her friend as she continued, "Just think about it, Oliver went missing right after the murder. Don't you think that's a little suspicious?"

Eric's frown deepened, and he interjected, "Don't say that. He could be in danger for all we know."

"I forgot you're protective over him." Sandy turned toward Y/n, who stood in the middle of the room, caught between their exchange. "Did you know Eric and Oliver grew up together?"

Her frown deepened as she processed her words. "You did?" She asked Eric, her tone marked by surprise.

He shrugged, his casual demeanor unchanged. "We weren't exactly friends. We just grew up in the same community."

She continued to express her curiosity. "Why haven't I heard of this?"

"Because it's not important? Like I said, we weren't even friends."

Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of surprise mixed with a tinge of confusion. "I've known you both for what, two—almost three years now, and neither of you mentioned this?"

Eric dismissed her concern with a simple explanation. "It's not really a secret, though. We just don't talk about it." He then glanced over at Sandy. "I mean, she knows."

"It's really not an interesting topic," her friend agreed. "Why does it matter?"

She found herself grappling with that very question. Why did it matter? Why was this information tugging at her concern more than it probably should? She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something about this felt unsettling, like a piece of the puzzle that didn't quite fit, and it left her with an unsettling sense of curiosity.

In the end, she decided to let it go, at least for now. She shook her head, dismissing her lingering thoughts. "I... never mind."

She dismissed the topic and left the two to talk as she entered the kitchen, her steps echoing in the quiet space. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the dim overhead light, casting elongated shadows across the countertops.

With a sigh, she made her way to the refrigerator, its white exterior gleaming faintly in the light. As she pulled the door open, a cold gust of air rushed out, ruffling her hair. She bent down and stared into its content. While her unanswered phone calls continued to chime softly in the background, her eyes scanned along the stacks of drink lined across the shelf.

"Do you guys want a refill?" She called out, her voice breaking the silence that had settled in the room.

She waited for a response, only to be met by silence.

"Eric! Sandy! Do you want a refill?"

There was still no answer.

"...Guys?"

It was then she realized the gentle sound of conversation from the other room had stopped, replaced by an eerie quiet that seemed to envelop the entire house. The only sound that persisted was the soft, persistent ringing of her phone in the background. Slowly, she began to stand, her movements deliberate and cautious.

She froze in place, her heart pounding loudly in her chest as she heard a sudden sound of something heavy hitting the floor. It echoed through the room, breaking the eerie silence that had enveloped the house.

But it wasn't the thud itself that startled her, it was the deafening silence that followed, as if the very world had gone mute. The absence of any other sound, the stillness that hung in the air, was unnerving. It felt like the calm before a storm, the hush that precedes a revelation, and every instinct in her body screamed at her to be cautious.

Her breathing became shallow, and she strained her ears, hoping to catch any sound that might offer an explanation. "Sandy?" She took a step forward. "Eric?"

She slowly merged from the kitchen, her cautious steps carried her down the narrow hallway that led to the living room. The silence pressed down on her felt like a heavy weight, broken only by the occasional creak of the floorboards beneath her.

A sense of unease settled over her as she stepped into the living room. At first glance, everything seemed eerily normal. The furniture was in its usual place, the soft glow of the lamps still casted a warm hue across the room. Yet, amidst this apparent calm, her eyes landed on a sight that sent a shock of fear coursing through her veins.

A gasp caught in her throat, because there, on the floor, lay Sandy's unconscious form, her body sprawled in an unnatural position. The room seemed to close in around her as she rushed forward, but before she could even move, she felt a sudden, oppressive presence behind her.

A heavy arm closed around her waist in a tight grip, and another hand pressed firmly against her mouth, muffling any cries of surprise or fear. She struggled, her heart pounding in her chest, as she was pulled backward, away from Sandy's prone figure.

"Hey, hey, don't move." A hushed and urgent voice whispered in her ear. She froze, her heart still pounding, her eyes wide with fear. "Shhh, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you."

It was in that terrifying moment that she realized a cloth was held over her mouth, and with a gasp, she inadvertently inhaled something that left her world spinning. The room seemed to blur and distort, shadows swirling into a chaotic dance as her body went limp.

The last thing she recalled was the persistent sound of her phone ringing before everything went black.

>> NEXT PART

taglist #1

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nmyphomania · 6 months

Text

╰┈➤ ❝ [Kinktober Day 19: Title Kink]

Summary: God, you couldn’t help yourself to not love how the way Sir sounds dripping off of your tongue.

Warning(s): F! Reader, use of ‘sir’, title kink, wall pinning, semi-public sex?, choking, thigh humping, not proofread

WC: 0.7k+

•𑁍•

Of course your husband who just so happened to be the firelord, who also just so happened to be commander in chief of all military units looked flawless in his freshly tailored uniform. It was sleek, withholding a tremendously detailed threading, orthodox colors in mascot for the familiar royal hues, and so on. His hair was completely strung down rather informally, most likely due to personal preference, Zuko always looked amazing but this. God, your eyes never wanted to tear away from the sight of him conversing with an admiral.

Unconsciously, your mind fixated on the title ‘Sir’, usually spoken with dignity, holding importance behind the word. It wasn’t inherently sexual, no way it’d be if he was simply giving out orders to various sea troops and it’s them showing respect with the formalities in return. Sure, receiving the title on the occasions when called for bestowed Zuko of his significance, would it make him hot against the front of his breeches…?

No?

Yet, when it fell loosely from her mouth, with said woman up against a wall, panties down in a bunch around her ankles and her bra barely covering concealing the spill of her breasts; it became vastly different to how he reacted to the name. At first, it’d hardly crossed his mind as her voice came out hoarse and breathy.

He busied his hands to pin her own palms above her head at his height, and she practically rode her tender pussy back and forth on his pant leg. She tugged her bottom lip to bite down on, restraining any obscene noises to fall from her lips into the interior of his private office. After all, she did have to keep well and quiet due to two advisors who were ordered to stay outside his office to answer any underlying questions during his closing hours.

“Stay quiet f’me okay? You don’t want anyone to catch us do you?”

He jerked his clothed thigh up to intensify the delicious friction up on your core. You couldn’t hold back another desperate plea, throat running dry as your body tensed up in an unexpected reaction.

“Yes, sir.”

He’s so close and the room grew hotter each passing second with the impromptu quickie, those very words that passed from your pair of soft lips didn’t even come into much thought as you were so drunk on humping yourself to completion on his knee. Zuko’s breath seemingly stopped altogether at the gravity of your whisper, his mind pondered at how could he ever find attraction to the petty title overused in his duties involving high importance.

Sending very blatant signals that caused his dick to visibly twitch, pulsing undeniably behind his fly. Eyelids retracting backward to reveal your low eyes filled to the brim with faux innocence, she grinded down needily with the movement of her rolling hips to allow the warmth pooling in the base of her stomach slowly add on from all of the sensations. They circled, kneading around her weeping clit to rub perfectly over the firm material of his pants, it drove the both of you to the peak of insanity.

Zuko hesitated ever so slightly, a smooth smile stretching over his lips, “Say…say that again.”

You were prompted in compliance from the sudden loss of his leg from between your burning thighs.

“Sir? D’you like it when I call you tha...”

Breaking down over to nuzzle deeply into your neck, the sound of him groaning from unfiltered want eased his body to push yours to rest completely over the surface of his office walls. One of his larger hands went to snake the frame of your porcelain neck, left knee moving to massage in more intricately leaving your words to ghost over your lips at the reconnection.

Trails of your own warm juices surged down alongside your inner thighs, whining ‘Sir’ after ‘Sir’ just to fuck with him. In all honesty, he was just about ready to bend you over his desk and give you a reason to call him that in a hell of a louder voice. But, he had to keep those ideas for next time you two can actually be alone.

“Why are you fucking like this?”

And to answer that question, he absolutely loved it when you called him ‘Sir’.

•𑁍•

Tags:

#kinktober 2023 #zuko x reader #atla zuko #avatar the last airbender #fanfic #fire lord zuko #zuko smut #zuko x y/n #zuko x you #atla #[𝐧𝐦𝐲𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐚®]

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cheolhub · 1 year

Text

SOFTIE — CHOI SOOBIN ࿐

summary. soobin can’t be mean to you no matter how hard he tries.

wc. 1.87k (oops)

warnings. super soft dom!soob, brief mention of spankings, lots of teasing, heavy praise, heavy use of pet names (princess, baby, good girl), unprotected s3x, creamp!e, slight (?) size kink (it’s soobin…), lots and lots of (sloppy) kissing :,) — MINORS DNI 18+

note. this was supposed to be 500 words lol… BASED ON A REQUEST !!! idk if this is any good, i wrote it at 2am lololol, ur feedback and likes/reblogs are really appreciated !!! mwah ily all (IF U SAW ME REPOST THIS 7 TIMES, NO U DIDNT)

he tried. he really did. he tried to be the mean boyfriend who knew how to punish and ravish you like an animal. truly, from the bottom of his heart, he did try.

but then you turned your head to look at him over your shoulder and he saw your face. that pretty little pout and those fucking tears and he slowly felt the facade fade. he wants so badly to be a big, bad, mean dom, but the grip you have on him makes it hard. really hard. it makes his cock really, really hard, too.

in all honesty, soobin gets off on your pleasure. it makes his brain fog when you moan out his name so sweet and it makes his stomach churn when you beg for more, “please, ‘binnie! just a lil faster—right there!” it makes his orgasm hit so hard when you cum all over him, clamping around him like a vice.

it’s all the reason why he can’t lay another smack on the flesh of your ass. he can see the substantial handprints he’s left on both cheeks and he just can’t bear to see you like this.

you turn your head to look at him again, tears staining your face and whisper, “‘binnie,” you can barely whimper out. “‘s okay, i-i can take it, i’ve been bad.”

you’re gonna be the death of him, he decides. he shakes his head softly, rolling you onto your back. he looks at you in awe. like he’s never seen anything as beautiful as you– his pretty little gem. his plush lips press against your teary face. he wants to cover every inch of you in kisses and you can’t withstand without letting out a giggle due to his sudden change in behavior.

and to him, it sounds so pretty, much like the sound of music– he much rather prefers it over the sound of your pained screams and cries.

“‘m sorry,” he murmurs once his lips finally inch towards your lips. “didn’t mean to hurt you,”

you hum softly, basking in the sweet feeling of his lips. “soobin, you didn’t, promise,” your lips stretch into a wide smile and your eyes flutter closed. “i’m the one who should apologize… didn’t mean to make you mad, ‘m sorry, baby,”

he melts at the familiar pet name, smiling to himself. his lips finally find yours, slotting into one another and you both sigh. it’s sweet and innocent and full of love. well, it was at first.

with every minute that passes while he’s hovering over your body, the deeper and more eager the kiss gets. before he can fully comprehend, you’re tangling your fingers into his beautiful, blonde locks, tugging at them urgently.

“hey, soobin?” you pant against his lips. you don’t wait for his response, hotly asking, “can we still…?”

he pulls back from you, looking at you with a tiny grin, “you want it?”

“mhm,” you nod, pussy growing wetter and soaking your panties at the sight of his already-swollen lips and disheveled hair.

“hmm, can you ask me nicely?” you know he’s teasing, but you still whine nonetheless.

you frown, begging in that voice he loves so much, “can you please fuck me, ‘binnie? wanna be good and take it all.”

he groans as his mind reels, “ah… you’re so cute.” he sits up and discards the clothes that separates the two of you, nearly moaning when he notices your arousal dripping for your pretty, pretty cunt. “‘n so wet for me.”

“all for you,” you tell him breathily.

“good girl.” he praises and you can’t help the shiver that runs through your body. you arch your back a bit and soobin giggles at the satisfying reaction. “that’s right. my good girl, always so good for me, aren’t you?”

his words have your eyes threatening to roll back as you slowly lose your mind. “fuck, baby, please… can’t take it, n-need your cock,” you whimper as you nod mindlessly at his question. “please lemme have it… ‘m gonna go crazy.”

soobin knows why he prefers this– prefers rewarding you rather than shoving your head into a pillow and fucking you from behind like a punishment. he loves watching you unravel for him. his sweet, shy girl begging for his cock. begging him to fuck you and make you feel good. he doesn’t like being mean, doesn’t like not letting you talk, doesn’t like to punish you for something as silly as being desprate for him while he’s busy.

his breath hitches. “tell me what to do, princess.” he whispers, hand grabbing his length, stroking up and down.

you watch him with wide eyes, envious of his hand. “p-put it in…” you say, meekly– as if you’ve never asked for his cock before. (you have about a hundred times now, but the shyness never really goes away.)

“put what in?” he teases once more, but he can tell you’re on the verge of breaking down, so he knows to tone it down.

“your… your cock, put it in me. please…” you plead, voice cracking.

soobin loves you, every part of you. he loves your personality, your sensitive body, and he loves how needy you get. he’s not one to think with his cock, but your voice just does it for him. the way there’s so much need and desperation laced in your pleads and begs make him feel alive. it makes him feel beyond lucky that he’s the only one who gets to have you like this.

which is another reason why he can’t be mean. you deserve the princess treatment. yeah, he teases you a bit, but that’s only because he knows you love it. he would bend and break for you– he loves doing whatever you want him to do.

so when he pushes the bulbous head of his cock into your weeping cunt, he can’t resist the loud moan that erupts in his throat. you’re quick to sob out his name and clamp around him at the not-so-sudden invasion. he pushes himself inside you more and more til he’s nestled deep in your cunt.

you can feel the slightly painful stretch send shockwaves through your body and you hate to admit that you like the pain, but you can’t help it. the delicious and addictive stretch of the cock you know and love makes you delirious. that’s why you give him the cue to move as soon as he bottoms out.

“so full,” you mumble. “move, please, wan’ you to fuck me.”

he raises an eyebrow as if he’s asking if you’re sure and you nod incessantly. the anticipation has your stomach in knots, hands moving to grip at his broad shoulders.

soobin does an experimental thrust for safety measures and when he hears your moan of pleasure and a gush of sticky arousal coating his dick, he knows you mean it.

he takes your waist in his hands, squeezing gently as he begins to move his hips. he starts off slow but with every thrust, his pace gets more harsh, more precise until he has you right where he wants you. or maybe right where you want him.

“o-oh!” you gasp when his tip hits all the sensitive spots inside of you. he’s so big that he doesn’t even have to try to make you feel good and the thought of it has your toes curling. you can’t even begin to imagine what it looks like when his hips meet your pelvis– your messy cunt taking in his fat cock, swallowing him whole. the idea makes you tighten around him once more, crying out, “ah! fuck, b-baby! please!”

“yeah, princess?” he moans breathily and his speed doesn’t falter. if anything, you feel like he’s fucking you harder. faster. deeper. “what is it? what do you need?”

your body feels hot, like you’re burning red and close to exploding. you can feel his tip now kissing your cervix, and you let out a throaty moan, nails digging into his shoulders. you pull him into you, “k-kiss me please.” you whine.

soobin twitches inside you, hips stuttering a bit, but he obliges (obviously) pressing his lips to yours once more for a sloppy kiss. you both moan into each other's mouths. it’s needy, hungry, amateurish– but you’re both careless. his tongue is in your mouth, and you love it but he thinks he loves it more.

you’re so in love with how the speed of his thrusts increase. the tell-tale signs that he’s growing desperate to make you feel good and make you cum just so he can fill you up.

the only sounds that can be heard in your shared room now are the ones of your skin meeting, the smacking of your lips and the high-pitched moans and whines coming from you and soobin (though, his moans are deeper and hotter).

you break from the kiss to warn him, “‘bin-binnie… ‘m gonna cum,” you nearly sob, body heaving under him, both out of breath from the kiss and because the tightrope in your tummy is close to completely unraveling.

“go on and do it for me, angel.” he whispers, putting his lips back on yours.

your eyes roll at that as your back arches off the once crisp white sheets of your bed. you moan loudly into his mouth before your body completely convulses under his. you clench around him and your pussy tries to push him out, but his cock keeps working its way back into you, allowing you to ride out your orgasm.

soobin is a mess on top of a mess. he’s trying to keep it together as your cum gushes all over his dick, but it’s so hard (like him). his thrusts are becoming uncoordinated and thoughtless as he fucks you with haste.

“m-my good fucking girl,” he grunts, parting from your lips to hear your cute whines and shuddered breaths as you come down from your euphoric state. “god, i’m gonna cum, baby.”

you let out a cracked moan at his affirmation, “p-please… in me,” you pant again, clenching around him weakly at the familiar idea of feeling his cum. “oh, soobin, please cum inside me.”

there you go again with your pleads and your angelic voice. you make him crazy and he knows there isn’t a single thing in the world he wouldn’t do for you. when you ask beg him to cum, he does so in an instant. his hips press against your pelvis and he stills completely. his cock twitches in your pulsing cunt and he shoots ribbons of warm seed inside of you.

he moans loudly when he releases, your name mixed with a string of swears and incoherent words. you fight the urge to smile lazily as you watch him in all of his contorted glory, eyelids heavy out of exhaustion– he’s so fucking beautiful.

you hum in content at his warmth inside of you and as soon as he moves to pull out, you wrap your legs around him tightly.

“stay with me just like this,” you murmur, arms wrapping around his neck to give him a bear hug.

he smiles, head nuzzling into your neck as he presses soft pecks to the skin. “whatever you want, princess.” he whispers.

#soobin smut #soobin x reader #txt smut #soobin oneshot

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virtualreader · 9 months

Text

broken hearts and healing souls – part 2

deanwinchesterxfem!reader

summary: a few days after the unexpected events that took place on the night of your biggest argument, Dean has a nightmare. And both of you are forced to face the feelings you had pushed aside.

word count: 2,1k.

warnings: nightmares, mentions of anger, kiss, regretful Dean.

part 1

a/n: you've been asking quite a lot for a second part for this fic, so here it is. I'm not entirely satisfied with the ending, but I still hope you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. also, as the part 1 was based on a song, i opted to base part 2 in another one — I’ll be good - James Young.

Another hunt, another city, and yet another sleazy motel room. But you and Dean still hadn't exchanged more than the essentially necessary words.

Ever since that night when you kissed, Dean had been ignoring you with perfectly applied silent treatment, as if you had turned into a ghost. Not that it was totally bad, a part of you preferred not facing the real issue.

Bringing the matter up would be like tearing off a scar, like reopening a wound that had never even closed. Blood would ooze from the raw, exposed skin, once again, and the pain would return, and it would hurt the same way it did when hearing those words escape his mouth: ‘this was a mistake’.

However, another part of you, though small yet present, longed for things to return to normal. To joke around with Dean again, like the time when he had made a hilarious impersonation of the local parish priest, and you had laughed until your stomach hurt. To get ingenuously mad with him for teasing you just because you were younger than he was. Damn, if you could go back in time you would have simply avoided that first argument altogether.

You stared at the ceiling, moisture stains here and there and the paint that once covered it, flaking off, revealing the rough surface underneath. Perhaps it had once been a grand and luxurious space, filled with beautiful furnishings and ornate decorations. But now, it was a shadow of its former self, a tired and worn-out shell of a room.

You should have known better. Hell, you did know better. You just didn't want to acknowledge the fact that he had no romantic feelings towards you and never could. You had become a part of the Winchesters' family a long time ago and grew up with them. Chances were Dean considered you his little sister. How could he be romantically involved with you?

I thought I saw the devil this morning Looking in the mirror, drop of rum on my tongue With the warning to help me see myself clearer

The quietness of the room was only interrupted by the occasional sound of a distant car passing by outside and the desultory barking of a dog nearby. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

“What’s gotten into you guys?” had asked Sam the morning after the event, after noticing Dean’s unusual and dismissive behavior.

“None of your business, Sammy.” Dean had replied, not meeting your eyes.

You had tried to talk to Dean several times, but he would always find an excuse to leave the room or change the subject. It was like he was avoiding you, and it hurt more than you cared to admit.

Dean had always been like an older brother to you. You shared so many memories together, from hunting supernatural creatures to simply hanging out and joking around. But maybe, deep down, you wished for something more than just a sibling bond.

Trying to ignore the feeling of emptiness in your chest was hard if not impossible. It was like a piece of you was missing, and you couldn't find a way to fill the void. Knowing this would be the end result, you would never have kissed him.

You may have felt fortunate to find a motel with two available rooms, but your luck ran out when Sam claimed the one with a single bed for himself. So you were forced to share a room with Dean.

I never meant to start a fire I never meant to make you bleed I'll be a better man today

You let out a sigh, feeling frustrated and lonely. You didn't want things to be like this between you and Dean, but you didn't know how to fix it. You knew that you needed to talk to him, to tell him how you felt and try to work things out. But you were scared of what might happen if you did.

You heard a muffled sound coming from the other side of the room. You turned your head to see Dean tossing and turning in his sleep, his face contorted in pain. It was obvious that he was having a nightmare.

With a hand, you tossed the bedsheets along with the flowery comforter away, uncovering your body. You rolled your legs off of the bed and slowly yet surely moved to a sitting position. You tilted your head slightly and tried to take a glimpse of what was going on in the adjoining bed, but failed pathetically due to the scarce lightning.

Feeling concerned, you reached out blindly for the light switch. After a moment of fumbling, you found it and turned it on. The wall-mounted lamp flickered to life, casting a warm, dim light throughout the room. Dean's grimacing expression was now clearly visible, and you hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do next.

“No! No, no!” he growled low, his teeth gritted. “No! Y/n!”

That you were not foreseeing.

You were taken aback by his outburst, not expecting it at all. What could he be dreaming about that would elicit such a strong reaction?

I'll be good, I'll be good And I'll love the world, like I should Yeah, I'll be good, I'll be good For all of the times that I never could

Dean was sweating profusely. His breathing was shallow and ragged, and he was muttering incoherently. Waking him up seemed like an idea. Sure, you were mulish, but you were not some heartless monster.

You reached out and gently shook Dean's shoulder, trying to wake him up from his nightmare.

"Dean," you whispered, hoping that your voice would be enough to pull him out of his dreams. “Dean, wake up.”

He did not respond, and just as you were about to try again, he hastily sat up, his eyes wide, and his breathing heavy.

"Y/n?" he asked, his voice shaking. "Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me," you replied, relieved to see him awake and alert. "Are you okay? You were having a nightmare."

Dean ran a hand through his hair, looking around the room as if he was trying to orient himself.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said finally, his voice still shaking a little. "It was just a bad dream."

Silence took over the place. You stared at Dean, and Dean stared at you, both waiting for the other to speak first. The tension was thick enough to be cut with a knife, and the eerie environment did nothing but add to it.

"Wanna talk about it?" you asked, sensing that there was more to his nightmare than he was letting on.

Dean hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering over to you before returning to the floor. You could sense that he was struggling to find the right words to say, and as the silence stretched on, you began to feel a growing sense of unease.

My past has tasted bitter for years now So I wield an iron fist Grace is just weakness Or so I've been told I've been cold, I've been merciless

"It was about you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, and you felt your heart skip a beat.

The confession caught you off guard. You were surprised to hear such a heartfelt admission from him.

“Me?” You could feel your pulse quickening as you waited for him to continue.

"Yeah. I dreamed that the demon got to you," Dean continued, his voice still trembling. "That I couldn't protect you. And then...then you were gone."

You felt a lump form in your throat at Dean's words, and you instinctively reached out to place a hand on his arm. Yet, you kept a reasonable distance between the two of you, unsure of how this could alter your current situation. Unsure of whether it could bridge the seemingly unfathomable gap that separated your wounded souls.

"Dean, I'm right here," you said softly. "I'm not going anywhere."

But the blood on my hands scares me to death Maybe I'm waking up today

The mattress dipped while you sat facing Dean.

"I know that," Dean replied, his eyes meeting yours for the first time since he woke up. "But...I don't know. It's like I can't shake this feeling that something's going to happen to you."

You could see the fear and uncertainty etched into Dean's features, and you knew that he was struggling with his emotions. It was hard for him to admit that he was scared, especially when it came to you.

But you also knew that you couldn't keep ignoring the elephant in the room. You needed to talk to Dean about what had happened between you, or you would never be able to move forward.

"Dean," you said, your voice steady but firm.

He looked away, his jaw tight and his hands clenched into fists.

"I messed up,” he uttered, deciding to address the matter before you had a chance to gather your thoughts. “I didn’t want us to end up like this.”

"I know," you said softly, your heart aching at the sound of his voice. "But we can't keep avoiding each other like this. We need to talk.”

Dean let out a sigh and his shoulders slumped, his entire demeanor reflecting the weight of the situation. Dean had always been good at avoiding his feelings, pushing them aside in favor of the mission. But this time, he couldn't do that. You both knew that it was time to stop tip-toeing around the issue and get to the heart of the matter.

"I was scared," he admitted. "Scared of losing you. Hell, I still am. That’s why I didn’t want you to go on hunts anymore."

Dean's voice was low and steady, but there was an underlying intensity to it that betrayed the depth of his emotions. He was laying it all on the line, baring his soul in a way that he had never done before.

I'll be good, I'll be good And I'll love the world, like I should (oh-oh-oh) I'll be good, I'll be good (I'll be good, I'll be good)

Afraid he would retract on opening up to you, you did not dare say anything, instead you fixated your gaze on his glossy, green eyes, encouraging him to continue. He took your hand in his, and his eyes softened.

“I don't think about you as a kid. It's just that…when you love something, you protect it.”

Dean's words hung in the air, the weight of them almost palpable. He looked at you, waiting for a response, his heart pounding in his chest.

The walls around Dean's heart, which had once been so solid and towering, had finally come crumbling down, leaving him vulnerable and exposed. It was clear that there was no going back from this point, as Dean had decided to tear down his emotional barriers and reveal his true self. The honesty and openness that he was displaying left you feeling speechless, as if you were witnessing something truly special and rare.

“Please, y/n. Say something,” he said with his voice at the verge of breaking, when you did not say anything.

“You love me?”

“I can’t pretend anymore. You are everything, everything.” Dean finally confessed, his grip on your hand tightening.

For all of the light that I shut out For all of the innocent things that I doubt For all of the bruises I've caused in the tears For all of the things that I've done All these years, no, yeah For all the sparks that I stomped out For all of the perfect things that I doubt

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. But this time, they weren't tears of sadness; they were tears of joy. You had wanted to hear those words for so long – even if it was not a straightfoward 'I love you' –, but you had never dared to hope that they would be true.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner," Dean uttered. "The idea of losing you, of ruining what we had, terrified me. You were always like a sister to us, and when I first felt something more for you, I didn't want to admit it. But I can't keep pretending that I don't feel this way.”

I'll be good, I'll be good And I'll love the world, like I should Yeah, I'll be good, I'll be good For all of the times I never could

“Dean, I-I…” you tried to say, yet, the words got caught in your throat, the upheaval of the moment hindering your ability to vocalise something coherent.

Delicately, he reached out and carefully tucked a strand of your hair that had come loose behind your ear. His fingers lightly brushed against your skin as he cupped your cheek in his hand, his thumb tracing circles on your skin.

Dean looked at you for a long moment, his eyes softening as he took in your presence. You could sense the shift in his demeanor as the distress that had been etched in his features not five minutes before, had now completely vanished. His eyes seemed to sparkle with a new sense of calmness and peace.

Warmth blossomed in your chest, sparks igniting as Dean leaned in close, lips brushing together, tentatively, for the first time that night, though not the last.

His fingers danced through your hair, caressing the back of your head with the sweetest touch. His lips parted slightly, allowing your tongue to slide inside his mouth, and a hint of cinnamon and vodka mingled together, creating a unique and intoxicating combination that lingered on your taste buds.

Oh, oh-oh Oh, oh Oh, oh-oh For all of the times I never could

“I love you too, Dean.” you whispered in his ear, momentarily pulling away.

And, as you held each other, melting into the kiss, you both knew there was no going back to the way things were before.

@losa12308 – as you requested, I'm tagging you in part 2 (I'm actually thinking of making a taglist)

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchest x reader fluff #dean winchester smut #dean winchester angst #sam and dean #dean winchester x female!reader #supernaturalxreader #dean x y/n #dean x reader #dean x you #supernatural fanfiction #hbo supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural #supernatural x reader #spnfandom #spn

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crueisummer · 10 months

Text

𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 | 𝓒𝓛16

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

chapter summary: You surprise Charles at a race, and he wins and asks you to be his girlfriend.

playlist: ♫ gorgeous ♪ delicate ♬ i think he knows ♡ you are in love

author's note: Part 3!! I had a lot of ideas coming in with this one that's why it took so long xD Hope you guys like it! In my imagination, Max DNF and Charles won in Austria LOOOOOL jk. Anyway, thank you so much for all the support <;3

word count: 3.1k

disclaimer: All characters and events in this story, even those based on real people, are entirely fictional.

𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬

01:35 ━━━━●───── 02:53 ⇆ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻ ılıılıılıılıılıılı ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮

While sitting on the couch in your living room, engrossed in writing a song with a guitar on your lap and a notebook in front of you, your concentration was interrupted by the FaceTime ringtone. Glancing at your MacBook on the coffee table, you saw Charles' name and immediately answered the call, greeted by his gorgeous face.

"Hello, cheri," Charles greeted you as you set aside your guitar. He settled onto the bed, his head bouncing with a smile, and you couldn't help but laugh. Observing his wet hair and the towel around his neck, you deduced that he had just finished showering after receiving your text about being available for a FaceTime call.

"Aww, is my baby tired?" You teasingly remarked, knowing he preferred terms of endearment over his name.

"Very," he replied with closed eyes, his smile still present.

"I watched the qualifying today, and you did amazingly! P2!" You exclaimed with enthusiasm, as if you were the first one telling him his position, even though he was well aware.

"Merci, bébé. I was thinking of you while racing," he winked at you.

"No, you weren't," you playfully rolled your eyes, aware of his flirtatious nature, yet blushing at his words. Adding, "What time is it there?"

"It's about 9:30 pm here."

"3:30 here."

"Were you writing?" He inquired, noticing the guitar beside you.

"Yeah, just a bit. I've only figured out the guitar part for now," you shrugged.

"Can I hear it?"

"Sure." You reached for the guitar and played the chords for him.

"That sounds amazing. I'm sure you'll come up with the lyrics soon. You're like a genius," he complimented.

"Charles, please. You're going to inflate my ego," you jokingly responded, strumming the guitar. Suddenly, memories of the night you and Charles first met flooded your mind, and the lyrics began to form. Setting the guitar down on the couch, you quickly grabbed your notebook and pen, eager to jot down the lyrics.

"See? You're already writing it down," he smirked at you, shaking his head, secretly thinking, You are so talented.

As you caught up with each other, you suggested that Charles turn off the lights in his room, leaving only the lamp on, and make himself comfortable. About thirty minutes later, he was starting to doze off. Whispering a soft "good night" to him, he responded with a gentle smile and mumbled it back. You watched him sleep, waiting for him to enter a deep slumber before ending the call, recalling how last time you had accidentally woken him up by ending the call too soon.

Now, gazing at his peaceful expression, you wished he could always be like this. He had confided in you about the pressure he was currently facing—falling behind in points compared to last year, ranking 6th in the driver standings, and the heightened attention on him as they returned to Austria, where he had won the previous year—all while aiming to secure a podium win that would mark Ferrari's 800th. Last week, he finished P4 and was disappointed not to make it to the podium, and all you could do was offer comfort over the phone since you were in New York.

It had been two months since you and Charles had met, and you both agreed to take things slow. As part of that decision, you chose not to accompany him to the races. However, when he finished P4 last week, you couldn't help but wish you could be there to hug and support him.

"Please be here," Charles whispered, surprising you. He seemed to be sleeping already. Is he sleep-talking?

You responded softly, "Hmm, Charles? What did you say?"

"Here," He whispered again, and that single word was all it took for you to grab your phone and message your manager that you were heading to Austria. Once you were certain Charles had fallen into a deep sleep, you ended the FaceTime call and made the necessary arrangements. You packed your suitcase, booked a private jet and pilot, secured accommodation and transportation in Austria, all timed to coincide with Charles' arrival at the paddock.

Upon your arrival, Kika and Pierre joined you, handing over the VIP pass. The media immediately began taking photos, unsure of your identity but capturing the moment just in case you were someone significant. Your attire—a black tank top and skirt, a red Ferrari leather jacket, red Jordans, black sunglasses and Charles' Ferrari cap—made it evident that you were there to support a certain Ferrari driver.

"Charles says he's in the motorhome. He's asking why I'm asking where he is," Pierre said, looking up at the two of you, waiting for your response.

"Hmm, if you tell him you have a surprise, he might suspect something, and we don't want that," Kika contemplated aloud.

"Um, just tell him you need him to sign something," you suggested, pointing to the cap you were wearing.

"Wait, are you two official?" Pierre asked you.

“No, not yet.” You smiled sheepishly at them as they expressed their surprise.

“Wow. I bet he’ll ask you to be his girlfriend before the day ends,” Kika said confidently. “I would bet all my money on it.”

“I know he's been planning it for a while, but the surprise might be the cherry on top,” Pierre added, while Kika linked her arm with his and rested her head on his shoulder.

You laughed at their reaction as Pierre led the way to the Ferrari motorhome. You pondered silently, realizing that it didn't really matter whether you were officially a couple or not yet. Charles had been patient, waiting for you to feel comfortable with him, and you both agreed to take things slow. But lately, you couldn't help but feel that both of you were ready for a committed relationship. So, why continue waiting?

A few employees were present, but there were no fans or media in sight. Kika took out her phone to record the moment, and Pierre called Charles, instructing him to come outside. With Pierre on your left and Kika on your right, you stood nervously in the middle, removing your sunglasses and cap to make it easier for Charles to recognize you. You waited for about a minute until three figures wearing red emerged from the building. Charles was the first one out, scanning the surroundings, and when his eyes met yours, his face lit up.

"Y/N?"

"Surprise!"

Grinning, you rushed toward him, and he reciprocated by opening his arms, embracing you tightly. Laughter filled the air as Charles stood there, slightly confused but delighted, while you savored his scent and held onto him. In your imagination, you had envisioned this surprise and his reaction countless times, but nothing compared to the reality of hugging him.

The three people around you laughed and gushed at the sight, and eventually, you pulled away slightly, keeping your arm loosely wrapped around his as you smiled and greeted him with a simple "Hi."

"What? How? When I fell asleep last night, you were still in New York!" He exclaimed, his eyes widening with astonishment. His confusion was undeniably adorable.

"Yeah, but you were sleep-talking, practically begging me to come here!" You replied, creating some distance between you and Charles, placing your hand on your hip. He didn't appreciate the space and closed the gap, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, kissing the side of your head, as you faced your three friends, who were playfully teasing Charles.

"He begged you to come here!?" Carlos shouted in amusement.

"Just say you're happy she's here!" Pierre exclaimed.

“Wait, you guys are in a call while sleeping?” Arthur teased.

"For crying out loud, just kiss her already so I can turn this off!" Everyone turned their attention to Kika, who was still recording the entire interaction. Except for Charles, who gently placed his hand on your chin, guiding your face to look at him. As you turned to meet his gaze, his lips were already in close proximity to yours. He closed the gap between you and gave you a brief but tender kiss before pulling away.

Shortly after, Kika and Pierre bid their farewells, and you hugged and thanked them. Charles then introduced you to Carlos and Arthur.

"Ahh, so this is the famous 'Y/N' that Charles has been talking so much about!" Carlos remarked, smiling as you both stepped back.

You giggled and playfully asked, "Oh really? What has he been saying about me?"

"He's always bringing you up in conversations! Saying things like 'Did you know Y/N is like this...'" Arthur began, imitating Charles as the four of you shared a lighthearted moment.

"Shut up, mate! Go! Don’t you two have to be somewhere?" Charles exclaimed, playfully shooing Carlos and Arthur away. They pretended to be offended but waved goodbye as they left. Charles then took your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours, and led you into the motorhome.

Curiosity filled Charles' expression as he guided you through the motorhome. "Seriously, how did you get here? Wha-?" he began to ask, but you interrupted with laughter, explaining most of it.

As he showed you the different rooms, you waved and greeted the staff. The motorhome had offices where people were working, tables and chairs in the middle, and stairs at the back. Charles led you up the stairs, pointing out the kitchen, and at the top of the stairs was the second floor, where his driver's room was located.

His room was small, with a closet on the left, a small desk beside it, and his bed on the right. You sat on his bed while he closed the door behind you. Commenting on the size, you remarked, "Well, this is bigger than what you described."

"Still, I don't like hanging around here," he chuckled, joining you on the bed. You looked at him, and he couldn't help but smile. "I still can't believe you're here. Did I actually sleep talk last night?"

“Yes! You whispered, ‘be here’ twice and I don’t know, it felt right for me to get here as soon as I can,” you explained and shrugged at the end. Charles' smile didn't fade.

"Can I kiss you now?" he asked softly, and you nodded in response. His lips were warm and soft as they met yours. They parted slightly, allowing your tongues to intertwine. The gentle tickle of his breath beneath your nose, his fingers gently combing through your hair—every sensation was heightened as you breathed each other in.

Charles firmly grasped your hips, urging you to settle onto his lap as he shifted back on the bed. Your bodies pressed against each other with passion, breathing heavily as your lips locked together. The taste of your shared breath lingered, accompanied by the feel of your combined heartbeats. With a slight fumble, he managed to remove your jacket, and his lips trailed a series of small kisses along your neck, leaving a trail of pleasure in their wake.

"Charles, you're going to leave a mark," you whispered breathlessly, reveling in the intense sensations evoked by his kisses.

"That's exactly what I want, my love," he replied in a rough, raspy voice. You entangled your hands in his hair and tugged gently, prompting him to withdraw and admire his handiwork. He looked at you, breathless, your lips reddened and swollen, your hair tousled, and a vivid red mark adorning the left side of your neck—a visible symbol of his possession.

Charles was about to speak when his phone suddenly began vibrating in his pocket. He reached for it and leaned against the headboard of the bed. Finally feeling your fatigue from the long flight, you put your head on Charles' chest and wrapped an arm around his stomach, closing your eyes and finding comfort in the rise and fall of his chest against you. You were almost asleep when you heard Charles bidding the caller goodbye.

"Babe, I have to go to the parade now. Do you want to stay here and take a nap?" Charles asked, running his fingers through your hair as you nodded.

"Okay, I'll be back in 30 minutes tops," Charles says, making a move to leave. At first, you resist, but knowing he'll get in trouble if he's late, you let him go. He kisses you on the forehead goodbye, and you're already fast asleep before he's out of the room.

"Y/N, amour. Wake up," Charles says, planting kisses on your face and arm to gently wake you up. You stir and open your eyes, and he smiles at you. "Sorry to wake you up, but you're going to watch me win now."

You laugh at his cockiness and ask him if you have time to freshen up. He nods, and you stand in front of him, finishing up your lip gloss. He tries to lean in for a kiss, but you stop him, reminding him of your lip gloss. He groans and kisses your forehead instead. Holding your hand, he leads you outside the motorhome.

"I'm going to be busy now. Will you be fine with Arthur?" he asks, taking a sip of water while his hand remains intertwined with yours. You nod, assuring him you'll be okay.

"Are you sure? You can ask Kika to sit here with you, though," he suggests, concerned about your comfort.

"Charles, don't worry. I'm a grown woman. I think I can handle spending time with new people," you laugh, teasing him. "Besides, I'm pretty sure Kika would want to stay and support Pierre."

Once everything is settled, the two of you enter the garage. Charles greets everyone while holding your hand, and you wave at them. He shows you to your seat next to Arthur. Charles introduces you to Joris and Andrea, who are sitting beside Arthur, and then he leaves for a brief team meeting.

As you observe the garage, Joris asks if this is your first F1 race.

“First race and first-time surprising Charles.” You smile at him, and he tells you he’s going to show you something. He tilts his camera to you, and you see a photo of Charles at his apartment, smiling while looking at his phone.

“He was texting you, by the way.” He says and you blush, asking him to send you a copy of the picture. He nods and adds, “You know, I’ve never seen him smile like that.”

“Bullshit. You probably say that to all the girls he brings here.” You joke and chuckle at him.

He raises his arms and says, “Hey, I don’t have any reason to say that to you in the first place. So, trust me when I say that he’s never looked at a girl like that, ever.”

Arthur then chimes in, saying he's never seen Charles talk about someone so much, especially to his mother.

Your eyes widen. He told his mother about me? You try not to show any emotion as you ask Arthur, “What has he said about me?”

“I’m pretty sure all good things. I know she doesn’t like to judge before meeting someone, so she’s been asking Charles to invite you for dinner, but he said the two of you are taking things slow, and I think she really liked that.” Arthur smiles at you.

“Charles hasn’t had a good track record when it comes to dating, and Maman tries not to interfere; but you know.” Arthur adds and nods his head, and you did too. Charles previously told you about his two previous relationships and how fucked up everything started and ended.

You're interrupted when Charles approaches your group. He takes you to the side for a moment of privacy. He informs you that he has to go to the grid and asks if you're sure you'll be fine.

“Charles, I’m fine, okay? Now, good luck out there.” You smile at him and pat his chest.

“That’s it?” He says frowning. He turns to his side and taps his cheek. You laugh at him and gently held his jaw, tilting his face to kiss him gently on the lips.

When you pulled away, you whisper to his ear, trying to copy his accent, “Good luck, amour.”

He grins like a kid and replies, “I have my good luck charm right here.”

During the race, you wear a headset to listen to the communication between Charles and his engineer. Arthur explains the race terminology to you, and you enjoy watching the pit stops. When Charles briefly takes the lead and Carlos follows in second place, everyone in the garage celebrates, and you join in. Not realizing the film crew on the garage and zooming in on you celebrating until you saw in one of the screens. You stopped jumping and blushed, realizing there were cameras here and that you’ve been made by the media.

As Charles crosses the finish line first, Arthur and the others grab you and run from the garage to the barricades. Charles parks his car, stands on it, and raises his fists in triumph. The lot of you cheer for your driver. He removes his helmet and balaclava and was just about to hug you when you grab his cheek and kiss him passionately on the lips. You felt him get taken aback but he kisses back instantly. The crowd around you cheers, and Charles pulls away and smiles at you. He goes on to shake hands with Arthur and others before preparing for his interview.

After a few minutes, they step up on the podium, and you watch as Charles gets handed the trophy and he raises it. He looks around and locks eyes with you. He winks, and you make a heart gesture with your hands. He laughs and shakes his head.

You're glad you came to surprise him, knowing in your heart that you're ready for the next step in your relationship. While you had agreed to take things slow, you knew he had been patiently waiting for a sign that you were ready to start a new relationship.

As night fell and you found yourselves on the balcony of your hotel room, gazing at the starry sky, a feeling of familiarity washed over you. Charles lovingly wrapped his arm around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder as you look back at the day and think that your spontaneous decision to support him at the race was a clear indication of your feelings, and he knows it.

Finally, Charles finally asked the question he had been longing to ask all day, "Will you be my girlfriend?"

A smile adorned your face as you turned to face him, his arms still embracing you. Without hesitation, you kissed him and replied, "Yes."

taglist: @notleclerc @elegantnighttragedy @buendiabebeta @i-have-no-idea-of-who-i-am @fangirlika @akahalloween31

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sansundertale14x1 · 2 months

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why NauseAxe_404 loves your writing so much…

based on this silly tweet, I’m gonna use ‘Nick’ for this- for ease of writing (and for my poor poor hands.)

no pronouns but ‘you’- little post cuz I haven’t written in a while.- use of the in-game website: "Dumblr", no it's not a typo;-; Proshippers DNI

word count: 878

content warning: brief explanations of canon violence, creepy stalker-ish behavior (NOTHING SEXUAL ATTACHED), Nick being a weirdo honestly.

vvv that isn't my art, and this entire writing is a fanfic for a game " Monster x Mediator" made by HeadLocker! I really recommend playing the game or watching the gameplay, cuz it's really fantastic!

Story under cut :3

Nick’s in love with your writing…(if you already couldn’t tell), but it’s difficult for you to understand why.

Usually, when you'd open up your laptop, it was after a tough shift at your crap job and you just wanted to do something to fill in the time after dinner and before bed. It was always on the shorter side, 100 words each, and was normally just a quick and crappy self-insert fic to satisfy your creative urges from doing a boring-ass job all day. You never really thought your tiny one-shots would attract any attention, but the man you've been staying with proves otherwise.

"NauseAxe_404" is what he called himself, but you've just been calling him 'Nick' for now. He had been reading your old Dumblr blog for who knows how long, and he's taken a major interest in your little shitposts...So much, so that he had taken the time to print out every single one of your posts and personal information pinned to his room's walls. It's extremely creepy...but also sort of charming?

For the last few days or so, you've been held in Nick's hotel room, practically glued to a desk with a typewriter...slowly making your way through a 100-paged fic that he specifically requested of you. Though you technically could stand up and leave...you'd really prefer for your skull to stay in one piece...and not have a bullet put through your temple.

Nick has been staring at you almost the entire time...which only certified in your mind that he is not human. Every time you turn to see if he's still there...like an unmoving fortress, he always is. It's been a solid 8+ hours of you sitting there and writing...and your stomach starts to emit loud sounds of hunger. You pray he didn't hear that, and continue to type away at the dated machine. However, to your dismay, his deep voice chimes in.

"...What page are you on...?"

Nick asks, seemingly trying to speak quietly for you, but his naturally booming voice isn't giving you any favors.

"...uhm..."

You take a moment to review what you have done...it doesn't look like much but it feels like it took AGES to write out...

"About...10? It's not a-"

"That's wonderful, Superstar!"

He cuts you off just as you begin to speak.

Of course, he's going to be ecstatic. You can't fathom why he seems to be so hopelessly in love with whatever you slap on the paper. You're curious..so you begin to speak.

"...uhm...Nick...why do you..take interest in my writing?"

You softly speak, trying to be careful with your words...you can't afford to overstimulate this man.

For a chatty guy...Nick was oddly silent at the ask of this question…or at least for a few seconds.

“I was trying to find a way to ease the boredom and loneliness of this fucking hotel, so…huff…I joined Dumblr and started to search for writing…that was…huff….purposeful…and that could fix me..”

No way in hell your crackfics could change this man...He must've come out of the womb like that. (or...however the hell he was made..)

"...I came across your first post years ago..huff...and fell in love with the way you wrote your love interest....huff...I knew you were talking about me when I wrote all those comments~"

You never looked at comments due to embarrassment...and you honestly didn't think anyone would even care to comment in the first place.

"....you weren't responding to me...huff...so I might've found everything about you in the meantime...huff...just so I could notice you in a crowd...I always will~"

Okay, now it's getting creepy. You hope that by just turning back around and continuing to write maybe he'd shut up...You guess it's sorta your fault for striking up a conversation with the creep.

"All the other writers don't know shit about writing...huff...1k word counts...huff...long and complicated stories that don't make any fucking sense..."

There goes the rambles. You stop typing for a moment to process what the hell he just said. He either is really balls-deep into this fantasy of you being a perfect human...or he's just trying to fluff you up so you'll continue writing for him. He's really delusional, that's it. It's seriously hard to believe your crap was life-changing for Nick.

“Simplicity is the most important part…huff…not describing some stupid walk sequence for 3 sentences…huff…it’s a waste of space..”

"....maybe you just like simpler writing...?"

You softly reply, yet again praying that you didn't accidentally strike a chord with this guy. He stares you down, and even if you aren't looking back at him, you can still feel the burning of his eyes on the back of your head.

"That's possible."

Oh, it's highly probable. He gets so emotional over the tiniest bit of anything, so...He just doesn't need too many words to evoke a reaction...It checks out because you also like to write a straight-to-the-point sorta piece.

"but don't let your mind wander for...huff...too long...my superstar...you've got at least 90+ pages to go~"

Shit, he was right...time to get back to work.

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canisalbus · 4 months

Note

Just wanted to tell you that your recent art of Machete looking after Vasco while he's sick reminded me of Nights at the Villa by Gogol. Only a small fragment of it survived, probably because it's straight up author's diary about falling in love for the first time with a man who is already dying. It's such a beautiful little piece and your art really reminded me of it's vibes. Anyway, I'm mentally ill about russian literature and I love your dogs <3

The longing and lamenting quite something, poor guy.

It's not very long so I'm just going to put the whole thing under the cut ->

They were sweet and tormenting, those sleepless nights. He sat, ill, in the armchair. I was with him. Sleep dared not touch my eyes. Silently and involuntarily, it seems, it respected the sanctity of my vigil. Its was so sweet to sit near him, to look at him. For two nights already we have been saying "thou" to each other. How much closer he has become to me since then! He sat there just as before, meek, quiet, and resigned. Good God! With what joy, with what happiness I would have taken his illness upon myself! And if my death could restore him to health, with what readiness I would have rushed toward it!

I did not stay with him last night. I had finally decided to stay home and sleep. Oh, how base, how vile that night and my despicable sleep were! I slept poorly, even though I had been without sleep for almost a week. I was tormented by the thought of him. I kept imagining him, imploring and reproachful. I saw him with the eyes of my soul. I hastened to come early to him and felt like a criminal as I went. From his bed he saw me. He smiled with his usual angel's smile. He offered his hand. He pressed mine lovingly.

"Traitor." he said, "You betrayed me." "My angel," I said, "Forgive me. I myself suffered with your suffering. I was in torment all night. My rest brought me no repose. Forgive me!" My meek one! He pressed my hand. How fully rewarded I was for the suffering that the stupidly spent night had brought me!

"My head is weary," he said. I began to fan him with a laurel branch. "Ah, how fresh and good," he said. His words were then… what were they? What would I have not given, what earthly goods, those despicable, those vile, those disgusting goods… no, they are not worth mentioning. You into whose hands will fall -if they will fall- those incoherent, fleebe lines, pallid expressions of my emotions, you will understand me. Otherwise they will not fall into your hands. You will understand how repulsive the entire heap of treasures and honors is that attracts those wooden dolls which are called people. Oh, with what joy, with what anger I could have trampled underfoot and squashed everything that is bestowed by the mighty scepter of the Tsar of the North, if I only knew that this would buy a smile that indicated the slightest relief in his face.

"Why did you prepare such a bad month of May for me?" He said to me, awakening in his armchair and hearing the wind beyond the window-panes that wafted the aroma of the blossoming wild jasmine and white acacia, which mingled with the whirling rose petals.

At ten o'clock I went down to see him. I had left him there hours before to get some rest, to prepare [something] to him, to afford him some variety, so my arrival would give him more pleasure. I went down to him at ten o'clock. He had been alone for more than one hour. His visitors had long since left. The dejection of boredom showed on his face. He saw me. Waved his hand slightly.

"My savior." He said to me. They still sound in my ears, those words. "My angel! Did you miss me?" "Oh, how I missed you." He replied. I kissed him on the shoulder. He offered his cheek. We kissed; he was still pressing my hand.

He did not like going to bed and hardly ever did. He preferred his armchair and the sitting position. That night the doctor ordered him to rest. He stood up reluctantly and, leaning on my shoulder, moved to his bed. My darling! He weary glance, his brightly colored jacket, his slow steps- I can see it all, it is all before my eyes. He whispered in my ear, leaning on my shoulder and glancing at the bed: "Now I'm a ruined man."

"We will remain in bed for only half an hour," I said to him, "and then we'll go back to your armchair".

I watched you, my precious, tender flower! All the time when you were sleeping or merely dozing in you bed or armchair, I followed your movements and your moments, bound to you by some incomprehensible force.

How strangely new my life was then and, at the same time, I discerned in it a repetition of something distant, something that once actually was. But it seems hard to give an idea of it: there returned to me a fresh, fleeting fragment of my youth, that time when a youthful soul seeks fraternal friendship with those of one's age, a decidedly juvenile friendship, full of sweet, almost infantile trifles and mutual show of tokens of tender attachment; the time when it is sweet to gaze into each other's eyes, when your entire being is ready to offer sacrifices, which are usually not even necessary. And all those feelings, sweet, youthful, fresh - alas! Inhabitants of a vanishing world - all these feelings returned to me. Good Lord! What for? I watched you, my precious, tender flower. Did this fresh breath of youth waft upon me only so that I might suddenly and irrevocably sink into even greater and more deadening coldness of feelings, so that I might become all at once older by a decade, so that I might see my vanishing life with even greater despair and hopelessness? Thus does a dying fire send its flames up into the air, so that it might illuminate with its flickering the somber walls and then disappear forever.

#its was so sweet to sit near him #to look at him #for two nights already we have been saying “thou” to each other #answered #alphaori #the pet name game is strong #my angel #my meek one #my savior #my darling #my precious tender flower

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thisblogisaboutabook · 12 days

Text

Bad Idea Right? - Part 9

Eris x Reader/Azriel’s Daughter

What are friends for if not for meddling? A certain daughter of spring and her heir apparent lover scheme to bring a stubborn Shadowsinger and her Autumn High Lord mate back together.

A/n: remember when I said this would be the final part? I was wrong. Sorry! Don’t hate me. There will be at least one more chapter and an epilogue.

Part 8 Series Masterlist

Warnings: language, sexual innuendos, alcohol

In hindsight, perhaps I was a bit dramatic. But in my defense, what the fuck??

The High Lord of the Autumn Court is my mate?

And he’s known since the moment he met me?

I am a fool, truly. There’s no other explanation. Perhaps I may not be as perceptive as my father or nosey little sister but I’m pretty damned adept in reading a room.

Yet I’d been fucking my mate for two years with zero clue. No wonder my damned shadows enjoy playing with him so much. But to be fair, who wouldn’t? I mean look at him. The muscles, graceful stature, those auburn locks of hair, that arrogant smirk that I want nothing more than to kiss right off his stupid, gorgeous face.

And in the face of the truth, I fled. Like a coward.

“Sissy?” Azalea’s concerned voice interrupts my spiral of self-loathing.

Her little hand squeezes mine. “Ice cream makes me feel better when I’m sad.”

“That sounds wonderful, Azzie.”

With that, my mother gave a soft smile and strode to the kitchen to retrieve my favorite strawberry flavor from the ice box.

I looked down to my sister to find her brows drawn together and lips pursed, wings sagging just a bit. “What’s going on, Azalea?”

“I told Eris that what he did was bad but sissy, I don’t think he’s bad. But you were so sad.”

Oh.

“Oh Azalea, I’m sorry. I appreciate you and your loyalty. I’m lucky to have such a kind little sister and you know what? I bet Eris would prefer for you to stick up for me instead of ignoring my feelings. Because you’re right, he is not bad. He’s not a bad male at all.”

“Then why are you so sad?” question shone in her eyes as she waited for a response.

“I’m upset because I believed that he liked me for me - but now that I know he knew I was his mate from the moment we met, it makes me feel like he only likes me because of a bond that neither of us have control over.”

The winged little girl pondered before replying, “He can still love you for who you are even with a bond. I didn’t have control over being your sister, but I like you a lot. I wouldn’t want anyone else to be my sister.”

Her words stopped me in my tracks. Since when was my little sister so wise beyond her years? Yet still - it stings. It stings for there to have been so many secrets and perhaps he had good reason to hide it. Hell, maybe he didn’t even want me beyond the most base level of a mating bond. The sex was incredible. Yet, he was the one who took me on a date tonight. Still came around despite my father’s ominous presence. An ugly voice inside of me whispered that it was all to gain a political foothold, yet the more rational side of me could feel that it wasn’t truth.

A bang on the door interrupted my thoughts.

Azzie’s wings rustle, little legs bounding across the room in search of the unexpected intrusion, her hazel eyes peering out the foyer window. My heart fluttered briefly - could it be him? What would I say?

The racing sensation in my chest faltered as my shadows briefed me of the visitor’s identity.

“Azzie, can you go ask mom to scoop an extra bowl of ice cream?”

She didn’t miss a beat as her little feet took off into the kitchen where she animatedly informed our mother of the visitor at our doorstep.

Another knock and a shout of “Open up the door, bitch! I know you’re in there.” had me letting out a flustered breath and scurrying to allow the nuisance entry into my home, greeting her with “How do you even know where I live?”

“Well,” Layla let out an exasperated sigh, taking a step into the fae-light illuminated foyer. “For one, it’s nice to see you again too. Second, Daemati boyfriend, remember?” Pointing a finger to her head with an incredulous expression, she continued. “Third, you didn’t see me fleeing when my tits were out in front of your entire family. THANKS for that.”

Shame flooded my features but she cut off any attempt at an apology for leaving her in the uncomfortable predicament with Nyx. “Eh, I like to think of myself as a bit of an exhibitionist. I just never imagined my first foray into such endeavors would involve the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. ANYWAY-“ the blonde gave me a pointed look, summoning two bottles of wine from a pocket realm. “I brought vino for our troubles.”

Twenty minutes later and we’d all soothed our wounds with ice cream and Azalea peppering Layla with questions about anything and everything she could think of.

I could have fallen through the floor when she gleefully informed Layla that she did indeed try to stop us before barging in upon her and Nyx’s more private affairs. Layla only laughed and flashed me a vulgar gesture when Azalea wasn’t looking.

Azalea eventually dozed off somewhere between Layla and I’s second and third bottle of wine when she jumped up with a shriek. “Oh my gods! What’s the name of that bar you lot love so much? Rose’s?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Rita’s?”

“Yes! That’s the one. Let’s go! Girls night out.”

“Layla, why don’t we go somewhere the Inner Circle doesn’t frequent? Somewhere a bit more youthful?”

With a dismissive wave she shush’d me. “No way. Let’s be tourists. Wouldn’t anyone visiting want to go to THE spot that the Court’s upper echelon frequent? Let’s go dazzle the citizens of Velaris with our sexy moves. I’ll let you grind against me if you’re good.”

I laughed at my friend’s peculiar method of cheering me up but honestly, a night out to let loose before facing the rocky road ahead sounded like just what I needed.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

———

Rita’s was more packed than usual as an attendant led Layla and I back to the Inner Circle’s standard table, we snaked through the crowded floor, brushing shoulders with the ocasional dancing patron when I overheard a voice muttering about the “sexy High Lord” she’d bumped into at the bar.

I reached to grab Layla’s attention but it was too late as I looked up to find her cozied up to Nyx with my uncles, my father, and my- “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Looking past my friend with her shit-eating grin, I see the gorgeous face of my mate.

————————

Eris

He stood dejected in the basement of the gallery, trying to process what had just gone down.

Never did he imagine this was how the night would turn out. Under normal circumstances, he would be traveling back to his court to look into the father of the two Day Court denizens who’d tried holding him hostage but Helion would look further into it and send word. He was not in a place to fairly handle such a situation given that the thought of them laying a hand on his mate made him burn with rage.

So he stood there, taking steadying breaths about to leave when a low whistle rang out behind him and a large hand clapped his back. “Ouch. Not the ideal way to reveal a mating bond.”

Eris scoffed, readying an unbecoming retort when Cassian continued, “Been there. It’s not easy but you two will work it out. Beer helps. Care to grab a drink at Rita’s while Nyx and Rhys work their shit out? Probably not the best for you and Azriel to be alone together at the moment anyway.”

To his credit- Azriel only let out a semi-annoyed huff and rolled his eyes.

What the fuck was this evening becoming? Mating bond unveiled and now getting drinks with a male who had every right to loathe him.

But Eris didn’t have it in him to deny the offer. So with that, he found himself at Rita’s with the Night Court general.

“I’m just saying that these Archerons, they’re lovely and great but… they’re headstrong.” He put two palms up in the air. “Now before you jump to conclusions, it’s not a BAD thing. The gods know Nesta has handed my ass to me when I’ve needed it many times over the years but sometimes…. Sometimes you’ve just got to give them time to come around.”

Eris could have reminded Cassian that most females would need time to come around to such a reveal but… the male was making an effort and Eris had nobody else to talk to about such a situation.

He supposed he could have tracked down Lucien but the matter felt a bit too sensitive to address at the moment given the rejected bond between he and Elain and the very obvious fact that Eris’ mate was the result of that rejected bond.

“Hey- I’m here making an effort. At least try to appear like you’re not tuning me out.” Cassian waved a hand before him.

“Apologies.” Eris smirked, refusing to let the male see him too down and out. “Just processing everything.”

“Well, finish the rest of this beer and we can order some of that autumnal shit you all prefer in your court for the next round. Unless you’re too prissy and have some fancy shit you High Lord’s prefer.”

Eris recognized the bait for what it was, given that he knew Cassian would be the first to indulge in Rhysand’s top shelf liquors.

Eris lifted the foaming mug to his mouth and downed the entire beer before placing it back down on the counter. “Another Illyrian draft is just fine.”

The large male beside him let out a hum that almost seemed like approval. “Maybe you’re not such a cunt after all, High Lord.”

“Yeah, well keep that between us.”

Cassian held up two fingers as the bar keep gave him a nod and Cassian pointed to a table in the corner.

No sooner than they’d seated themselves did Rhysand and Nyx enter the establishment, a hesitant Azriel behind them.

“Sorry.” Cassian shrugged. “Rhys sent word a couple minutes ago. Figured we could all use a round after this evening.”

Rhys looking a bit disheveled in comparison to that usual air of arrogance he exuded, giving a cocky grin as eyes within the establishment fell upon him. His son on the other hand still appeared a bit out of sorts given the inconvenient revelation of he and the daughter of Spring to his entire family.

The Shadowsinger only gave a curt nod in greeting, expression remaining stony.

Through a boisterous laugh the general teased, “Welcome to the shit show.”

The tension at the table was palpable, Azriel glaring daggers through Eris, Nyx very clearly communicating mind to mind with someone, Rhys slowly losing his resolve in maintaining his collected facade. Cassian, ever the instigator, broke the silence. “So, mates, huh?”

Azriel’s cold gaze averted from the Autumn High Lord to the General, promising violence. “Hey-“ Cassian raised his palms again. “It’s not so bad. She could have been mated to Tamlin.”

Had it not been for the mating bond chafing his ass, Eris could have laughed but he only bristled at the thought of his mate with any other male.

“Ouch!” Cassian yelped as the violet-eyed High Lord kicked him under the table.

“Oh come on! None of us handled our mating bonds perfectly, and I know damn well that any of you would be enjoying this mess if roles were reversed. You’re just pissy, I remember very clearly the shit you gave me when this fucker,”pointing a calloused finger to Eris with a cheeky grin, “proposed to Nesta!”

Eris really wanted to fall through the floor at this point. “But she was my mate, and look at us now? Remember those days at the dining table, Az?”

Shadows whirled violently around the Spymaster. “You’re not obligated to speak every little thought that pops into your mind.”

Though it was clear the Shadowsinger was deathly serious, Cassian only waived him off and Nyx burst out laughing, egging his Uncle on.

“Mating bonds aren’t everything.” Azriel growled out, “You’re not entitled to her. She’s her own person and can choose what her heart wants.”

Eris raised an eyebrow at the implication. He was well aware that he played the bastard role well but he would never-

“Are you implying, Shadowsinger, that I would not let your precious daughter choose? And believe me, I’m well aware of the atrocities and the merits that can come from a rejected mating bind. I remember the physical and emotional pain inflicted upon my brother when his own bond was rejected, the uncontrollable waves of grief that still sometimes roll through him.” Azriel sat, stone faced at the reminder that his wife was not his mate. Eris didn’t give him time to react, continuing.

“But I’m also well aware that if not for that pain and that rejected bond, I would be without my beloved nephew, or my curious new friend who thinks of even the smallest of denizens of your court matter - who treats me like I’m just a person and not the arrogant prick the rest of the world views me as.”

Eris placed a broad palm to his own chest, clutching as if in physical pain as the next words left his lips. “And do you not think, Shadowsinger, that I don’t recognize the fucking treasure that came from that rejected bond? The irony that my brother’s rejected bond resulted in the greatest gift of my life? And while I’d love to covet that treasure, care for her, let her shine for all of those to see - to know that she’s mine - it’s not my choice. It’s hers. If she wants to shine with someone else? Gods, it will hurt like hel, but I’ll remember her with nothing but love in my heart. She wants to stay on her own, making her own way in the world? I’ll stand back and cheer for her. I think you’re well aware that NOBODY chooses for your daughter but her.”

Azriel remained stone faced, a hand resting to the handle of the foaming mug of mead before him. Cassian let out a huff. Nyx smirked and Rhysand only looked at Eris with something that almost appeared to be respect.

Azriel finally shook his head, raising the mug in Eris’ direction. “Then that’s all I can ask for.”

All eyes at the table darted to him in shock. The famed, merciless spymaster standing down.

Eris only lifted his own mug in return and that was that.

The next hour went by as smoothly as possible, the table ordering several rounds of drinks. Eris nearly pissed himself when the shock of a caress against his mental shields caught his attention, Nyxs’ amused voice only stating, “You can thank me later.”

Eris’ brows drew together, puzzled by what on earth he’d have to thank the heir for, as a blonde female fell into the seat beside the male. A familiar scent wafting into his nostrils.

His mate.

Gods, she looked fucking fantastic and Eris knew right away he’d have to glamour the involuntary scent of arousal wafting from him at the sight of her ethereal face, those fucking hips that he wanted to hug as tightly as that little dress did - his inhibited state not helping the situation whatsoever. She only glared at him, as she stood beside the table, sweet voice dripping with irritation,

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

She crossed her arms across her chest. Gods, she was trying to kill him. Her arms pushing up her immaculate breasts. Was he salivating? This had to be a dream. Or a nightmare if her father caught wind of just how the sight of her was affecting him.

But most of all, he only felt love and adoration as he stared at the prickly female glaring daggers through him. Truth-Teller would certainly feel less violent against his skin than the sharp gaze piercing into his heart.

“I didn’t know, I swear.” Eris pleaded.

“Right. I’m leaving.” She huffed.

“Oh no you fucking don’t” the blonde female interjected. “You’re not just going to ice him out. It’ll hurt you worse than any words ever could. You two need to TALK.”

Nyx looked to the female with pride.

“I’m not finished with YOU.” Y/N hissed with rage to her friend.

“Oh I have no doubt.” The female - Layla - fired back. “But first you’re going to work things out with your mate.”

With an irritated look to her friend, she grabbed Eris by the wrist with a reluctant “Come on, we’re LEAVING.”

Eris threw a grateful look to Nyx and Layla, standing with no resistance to the grasp his mate had on his wrist. Azriel grunted and began to stand, but Rhys threw an arm out, keeping him seated. And to Eris’ surprise, the Shadowsinger remained.

Cool air and the aroma of spices from the surrounding establishments greeted the pair, an otherwise perfect evening to drape his arm over her shoulder and whisper sweet nothings into her pointed ear as they passed the shops, but she only tapped her foot with impatience. “Well?? Winnow me to your apartment and let’s get this over with.”

Eris stepped forward, caressing her wrist in a lovers grasp, sensuous smirk forming on his lips. Fire in his blood or no, chill bumps rose up her olive skin, nipples pebbling beneath her dress.

“As you wish.” And winnowed her straight to the foot of his bed. He’d let her lead from there but if there was one thing he knew about his mate, she firmly believed all was fair in fucking and fighting. It was all in her hands how the night would go.

————————————————

A/n: Thank you everyone for your patience with this chapter! Life has been hectic (seasonal illnesses, end of the fiscal quarter, traveling sports, mental health struggles, etc) and my brain was just not cooperating with this chapter. After writing a few one shots I was able to get back into the proper headspace but found I was still struggling to transfer this chapter from my brain into print. I eventually realized I wasn’t ready for the story to end quite yet so with that being said this is NOT the final chapter. I hope you all don’t hate me for saying it was before changing my mind but it’s important to give the story the satisfying ending that it deserves. 🥰

ACOTAR general: @lilah-asteria

Eris general: @angiedsv

Series tags: @b0xerdancer @myheartfollower @ang-taylorsversion @acotarobsessed @uniquecolorwizard @justasillylittlegoofyguy @thelov3lybookworm @starryhiraeth @5moremin @azrielsmate3 @coolepowersthings @isa1b2h3 @inloveallthetime @julesofvolterra @deeshag @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @courtofbatboydreams @yourmumsdumptruck @nebarious @glitterypirateduck @mybestfriendmademe @acourtof-wingspan @paleidiot @anae-naea-zacheria @fandomarchiveilyd @bloodicka @12358

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