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#just be aware it may not get filled right away
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Day 1: Maedhros
He looked at his brothers, ragged silver and black hair carelessly splayed over their muddied, torn cloaks and tunics, no retinue in sight and only one horse between them. Still they held their chins with a haughty tilt and glared disdainfully at him from the moment they were summoned to his study. Still they did not apologise nor express any regret whatsoever over Finrod’s death, over their scheming for the kingdom of the only one of their cousins who would have taken them in at their lowest -well perhaps no longer their lowest.
They had most likely shown Finrod just as little deference and gratitude as they were showing him right now, for they’d known Finrod would no more turn a faction including the not yet grown Celebrimbor away than Maedhros could find it within himself to reject his brothers once and for all. They knew that though the Lord of Himring was not known for empty threats or being more talk than action, in this case whatever he would say, however he may profess his disgust and fury, however much he may wish to never cast his eyes upon them again, it would all be bluster of no material consequence.
However their relationship fractured he would not turn them away, could not sever it entirely and discard it like it was nothing. They knew it from the way he had kept the same rooms free for them from their last visit half a century ago, from the hint of concern when he heard the strain on Curufin’s throat, the seemingly dismissive way he asked him to lower his collar so he could inspect it to verify their account of events. He heard them out, filling in the gaps where they glossed over facts from his knowledge of them and previous reports, and it was no less disastrous than he’d feared.
This was the kind of story that would spring to mind at the words Sons of Feanor, a trusting kingdom betrayed and overthrown, a heroic king dead to his own kin’s spite, lust for power and fruitless oath, a good Sindarin princess lusted after as a bride and held captive against her will. They would be the villains of every song and tale told to warn Sindarin children to behave, the bad example echoed through history of the horrific depths a soul can fall to when driven only by greed, pride and obsession.
Celegorm and Curufin were intelligent enough to know that, to know how this would destroy so much of what he had been working towards this whole age. Throughout it they glared right back at him unashamedly, ready to meet whatever raging he may give them head on, aware that it would be meaningless. There was a trace of something else in the set certainty of their faces though.
They knew the chaos they had just set in motion, they knew that the consequences would be dire for all of them as a whole; they had come here for another reason than to get his rebuke over and done with so they could progress with reorganisation. Somewhere buried deep inside the things they held as certainty, they’d always liked certainty, alongside that the oath must be fulfilled and their father could never have been wrong about a single thing in his life because if he was then maybe he had been wrong about this and their entire lives had been sacrificed for nothing- well they needed certainty may be a better way of putting it; they still believed that he could make it all go away.
They would never say it, never acknowledge it because when examined too closely it would shatter into a thousand pieces, refuted time and time again from the moment at the docks when their father had dismissed his attempt at avoiding further escalation offhand and he could only stand aside and watch; not fall into line and help, not rail against him and attempt to halt it, just watch from a few feet away. From the moment he had walked into a trap, the moment they had sat by the bedside of the wreck Thangoridrim had left him and seen with their own eyes that he had brought to utter helplessness, complete despair.
Yet still he could see somewhere in their faces beneath the proud defiance, a child bringing a broken toy to their parent saying with unconvincing sorrow, I’m sorry I broke it- it was an accident- please fix it now.
He was reminded of the first time he had realised he could not solve some things however much he tried. That some things were to broken to be mended. ‘I cannot do this with you anymore Feanaro, you self important, arrogant, spiteful excuse for a husband! I don’t know why you think I should stand for this any longer, I really don’t-’ Ammë’s yelling had carried up the staircases, vibrating off every surface, joined frequently by Atya’s furious offence.
He could practically see her hands up about her head, the glint in her eye, the way her frizzy red curls would frame her face; he’d seen them fight enough to picture it very well from where he lay in his bed several floors above them and resolved himself not to pull his pillow over his ears to drown them out as he had when they had begun to do so, it felt like centuries ago but must only have been a few years- they’d never argued like this when he’d been a child.
Then things had begun to shatter. He froze in shock, wondered for a moment if he should intervene in case something went completely, horribly wrong but he couldn’t move from where he was curled up tight underneath the blankets, slightly muffling the crashing but only slightly. It was so loud, like thunder, crashing relentlessly below. It shouldn’t have surprised him that despite his chambers being nearest to the staircase Curufin had heard it from down the hall; his door creaked open on its hinges and little feet thudded across the carpet until he felt the quilt being pulled back and a cold little body sliding in next to him.
He drew the child in to his chest and tried to steady his breathing so it was not obvious that he had begun to sob; if Curufin noticed he was much too busy sobbing himself to mention it. The front of his nightshirt was quickly soaked through by the child as he tried to soothe him to unusually little effect. When Curufin’s breath evened out as he fell asleep curled into him, both of them still hiding under the covers for the illusion of a barrier between them and the chaos still ongoing downstairs.
He’d just stroked his hair and held him, as he finally begun to let his body tremble with quiet tears. Ammë’s eyes had been stormy and bloodshot at breakfast the next morning, her hair still wild and unbraided. She had not quite managed to sweep up all the fragments of a statue he recognised as being of Atya, an eye still poked out from under the table. Its subject was not present at meals for the next week. This was the first time he had known that there was no point hoping that it would get better, that they would work things out.
There was no fixing this. Perhaps there was no fixing any of it and there never had been; it may have been futile from the beginning. Or maybe it hadn’t been and he had just failed and would keep failing. It was so very hard to hope that one day his efforts would be enough to come to good; he tried because there was nothing else but he wasn’t sure he quite found it in himself to hope anymore. He wondered if perhaps his brothers had only stopped pretending to be something they weren’t and that was the only difference between them.
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awearywritersworld · 8 months
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tell me you don't want me
gojo satoru x reader summary: gojo adds falling in love with his dead best friend's little sister to the list of things that keep him up at night w/c: 1.8k tags/warnings: angst to fluff. gojo takes care of reader when they have a migraine. they watch shark week together, so shark haters beware. arguing, but nothing super harsh. protective!gojo. reader is referred to as a sister but there are no pronouns. gojo is around 27, reader 23. curse words. no out right smut, but a heavily suggestive ending so lets say 18+ a/n: i've been writing purely fluff for gojo, so it seems about time to return to my angst/fluff roots. today's epi made me had me feeling some type of way. may write a part two to this? idk lemme know what you think! masterlist check out my latest work for gojo here
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after you arrived at jujutsu high as a first year, everyone wore the same expression when they looked at you, their eyes full of pity and apprehension. you really couldn't blame them though. after what happened with suguru, you were left a shell of yourself, paranoid that you were destined to the same fate as your older brother.
however, the boy that suguru called his best friend held something different in his gaze whenever his eyes fell on you. understanding, maybe? gojo knew that if there was anyone in the world who missed suguru as much as he did, it had to be you.
for most of the year, the two of you really only talked in passing, dancing around a discussion neither of you were brave enough to initiate. then your brother's birthday rolled around and you found yourself drenched in rain, sneaking into the boys' dormitory to knock on gojo satoru's door.
he wasn't surprised to find you standing there.
"that idiot always refused to let me celebrate his birthday," you blurted out, damp hair sticking to your forehead.
he laughed. it was just a breath, but it was still genuine. "right? he couldn't stand being fussed over for one day."
and as you both stood there, rain pattering against the window, you felt months of unspoken tension melt away. "well, come in. i bought cake."
after that day, gojo took on the roll of your older brother and he really leaned into it. flicking your forehead to annoy you, threatening anyone he thought had a crush on you, giving you advice whenever he deemed you needed it.
you weren't sure if he was aware, even after all these years, that he'd saved you— pulled you away from the brink. you became like the little sister he never had, while he tried his best to fill the hole suguru had left in your heart.
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gojo spends more time in your apartment than his own, so it's no surprise when he barges in one afternoon, singing out your name (rather terribly, one might add).
"i have a migraine, 'toru," you groan from the couch, pulling the blanket up over your head as the bright light from behind his figure worsens your discomfort. all of your blinds are shut, the curtains pulled together. "can you please close the door?"
he hums, stepping inside and pulling the door shut quietly. "you seem to be getting them a lot lately."
"probably because i spend so much time with you," you whine facetiously.
he gasps, hand clutching at his heart. "i come all the way here to visit you, only to be ridiculed. my devastation is untellable."
after grabbing a washcloth from the linen closet, he pads over to the kitchen sink. you peer at him from under the blanket as he runs it under cold water, noting how the veins in his forearms become more prominent once he wrings it out.
you're laying across the entirety of the couch, but you scoot away from the edge and he situates himself in the space beside your hip, his body facing you. the corner of his mouth is turned down, evidence of the worry swirling in his chest. he presses the back of his fingers to your forehead before folding the cloth neatly and laying it there.
"you should mention the migraines to shoko," he suggests earnestly.
"they just flare up sometimes, you know that. it's really not a big deal."
"yeah, maybe.. but i still worry about you."
you can't help but notice how close he is and while it feels casual, it also feels... intimate? the cold cloth does bring some relief to your head, though you'd have preferred it if his hand had remained there instead.
"have you eaten?" he questions after a moment, pulling you from your thoughts.
"not yet."
"then i'll go pick up some food," he offers, rising to his feet. "do you need anything else-"
"no," you say a little too quickly, your fingers wrapping around his wrist. "i mean.. can you just stay?"
he suddenly looks very smug. "oh, what's this? are you sure spending more time with me won't make your head feel worse?"
you attempt to roll your eyes but the movement sends a sharp pain through your skull, causing you to grumble. "don't make me hurt you satoru. i was joking."
"i know," he smirks, decently self satisfied. "but you do have to eat, so-"
"there's leftover egg drop in the fridge, can you just warm that up for me please?"
"'course! anything for you, (y/n)-chan!"
his tone makes it sound as if he's teasing you, but he knows it's the truth. he's painfully aware that there isn't a thing you could ask of him that he'd deny. he tries not to think about that though, because he can't bring himself to admit what it all means.
once your soup is ready, he joins you on the couch. you move to sit up and while that makes plenty of room for him, he still lifts your legs, sitting so that they lay across his lap. one of his hands is resting on your shin, the other on your knee.
"shark week?" he suggests as you reach for the remote.
you nod eagerly. "yes."
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the two of you have never fought before.
well, maybe that's not entirely true. it isn't uncommon for the both of you to argue over video games, the latest chapter of a manga, or other things of that nature. but you and gojo have never had a genuine disagreement.
that is, until you mention wanting to challenge a decision made by the higher ups. he's well aware of how they deal with people they deem troublesome, so he can't help the vexation that bubbles up in his chest at your words.
"absolutely not," he tells you. his voice is low, not one hint of amusement to be found.
the tone leaves you narrowing your eyes, and you sound a bit misbelieving when you ask, "what do you mean 'absolutely not'?"
after everything that happened with geto, the higher ups have been wary of you. honestly, they're probably just looking for an excuse to pull another stunt like the detention center and he can't risk that. he can't risk losing you.
rather than express any part of that sentiment, however, he just goes all stone faced and vague. it's weird, so naturally it's followed by a bit of back and forth that goes nowhere, the conversation growing unreasonably volatile with each passing second.
why can't you just listen to him? why can't you give him the benefit of the doubt? he's earned that by now, hasn't he?
"i don't understand!" you hiss, your chest heaving with indignation. "why are you acting like this?"
because i love you. because i need you. because you mean more to me than everything else in this world put together.
he can't possibly say that though.. can't lay his shame bare for you to see.. can't bring himself to admit the feelings he has for you.
he's in love with dead best friend's little sister and it's wrong. it keeps him up at night. claws away at his self respect.
"i'll take care of it," he promises, sounding a bit defeated. "just please stay out of it."
"quit treating me like i'm a child, satoru. you're not my father."
your assertion makes the air in the room shift, and the feeling that forms in the pit of gojo's stomach is not unlike a cord being pulled too taut before snapping.
"so what am i then, huh? what am i to you?" he interrogates, taking a step toward you.
his eyes burn with intensity and the conviction in his voice is dizzying, especially since it's meant only for you. he immediately notices the way you stiffen, suddenly unable to meet his eye.
he swallows thickly, any restraint he has left ebbing away once he hears your small, nervous voice. "'toru, w... what do you-"
you're cut off when he takes another step in your direction, your back meeting with the wall after you attempt to maintain the space between the both of you.
one of his palms presses to the wall beside your head, though the other remains at his side. he doesn't want to trap you there, not when he still doesn't have a clear idea of how you're feeling.
his breath fans across your face, your mind struggling to process what was happening. you whisper his name, unsure of how else to respond.
"i want you." he nearly chokes on the words, the pain of admitting them evident in his voice. "want you more than anything."
and he does. he wants you more than the sleep he never gets. more than he wants to honor suguru. more than he wants to be a good man.
his head dips down, your breath catching in your throat when his lips find the spot on your jaw just below your ear.
"please, tell me to stop," he begs, sending a shiver down your spine.
your hands move to his chest, the rise and fall of it uneven and sporadic. god, you make him so fucking weak it's almost pathetic.
his lips shift to your cheek, closer to your mouth, and his hand reaches up to cradle the other side of your face. he sounds irrevocably desperate now, "tell me you don't want me."
your heart's beating so loudly in your ear drums, you can hardly hear yourself speak. "satoru, please."
"please what?" he asks, and for a moment you're unsure of the answer.
you try to open your mouth once more, but the words are lodged in your throat. confusion and frustration rattle around in your head, making it difficult to string together your thoughts. finally you just give in, grabbing his face between your hands and pulling his lips against your own.
he let's out a strangled noise, some unknowable mix of pleasure and relief. his hands land on your hips at once, greedily pulling your body against his own.
his lips are chapped, but they're perfect in the way they move against yours. the kiss isn't clumsy, nor is it unsure. it's ardent and comfortable, as if it's the most natural thing in the world.
you pull away first, each of you holding the other's gaze. you're both hazy eyed, your mouths curved into giddy, lovesick grins.
gojo doesn't hesitate when you glance down at his lips, your words easing that bitter self loathing he'd been enduring for longer than he cares to admit. "if you want me... then make me yours."
taglist: @torusmochi @moonmalice
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dilf-lover99 · 1 year
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And I Love Her | J.P.
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Pairing: James Potter x Female Reader
Summary: The 3 times James tries to get the girl and the 1 time he finally does. Or In which James Potter is hopelessly in love with his best friend.
Warnings: so. much. pining., idiots to lovers, miscommunication(s), a dash of angst, some heavy kissing, james potter being the literal definition of boyfriendism
Word Count: 4.8k
a/n: hi ! james potter won the poll and i am so completely okay with it. i really intended for this to be angst but he's just SO boyfriend. this may be my favorite thing i've ever written and i really hope you enjoy it too ! p.s. i missed u guys lots and i'm so grateful you've stuck around after months of crickets from me. love u love u love u<3
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(y/n).
Depending on who you asked, it was only a name. The name of a classmate, or a friend, or yourself, but only a name nonetheless.
Unless you asked James Potter.
It wasn’t only a name. Not to him. To James, it was everything.
Because it was your name.
Your name that hastened his heartbeat with every mention.
Your name that sent a salient stream of blood rushing to his cheeks, tinting them a lucent shade of scarlet.
Your name that, once mentioned, seemed to follow him everywhere, as though the wind itself would begin whispering it, rustling alongside the branches of the whomping willow tree before floating its way over to his ears, sounding sweeter than any melody he’d ever heard before.
To state it simply, James Potter was irrevocably, inconceivably, in love with you.
But saying it that way didn’t seem like enough.
He didn’t just love you with his heart, for his heart could stop beating. And he didn’t only love you with his mind, for his memories could fail him one day. James Potter loved you with the entirety of his soul, with every fibre making up his being. Of that, he was certain.
What he wasn’t certain of however, was how to bare his infatuated soul to you.
After all, how exactly does one tell his best friend he’s besotted with her?
He tried the gentle approach first. 
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The train back to Hogwarts was filling up quickly. Stories of his peers’ summer holidays flow obstreperously through the air as James’ eyes remain glued to the door of him and his friends’ usual compartment.
“Ease off it with the evil eye, Prongs. She’ll be here.” Sirius’ teasing voice breaks James away from his thoughts, which were unsurprisingly fixated on you.
He doesn’t bother denying it, well aware he’s been staring daggers at the door since he stepped foot off platform 9 ¾, anxiously awaiting your appearance after spending the entire summer holiday apart from you.
“Leave him be, Pads. He misses her.” Remus interjects kindly, not lifting his eyes from the well-worn pages of whichever book he’s decided to burrow his attention into for the ride back to Hogwarts.
“Well he can join the bloody club then, can’t he?” Sirius starts, intent on ignoring Remus’ suggestion, “I’ve just about fallen for her myself after spending my entire holiday listening to this git recite his bloody sonnets for her,” he continues with a not-so flattering mimicry of a lovesick James, “It is the east! And (y/n) is the sun. O Romeo!” He throws himself dramatically to the floor on his knees, clasping his hands above his heart.
Peter watches the spectacle with a grin, covering up his chuckle with a cough after James sends him a look of warning. Before James can defend himself against Sirius’ melodrama, the door to their compartment slides open, revealing a beautiful and slightly out of breath you.
And suddenly you’re not the only one who’s out of breath.
You’ve gotten even prettier over the summer, somehow. If somebody had asked James before, if he thought you could possibly have gotten any more beautiful, he’d’ve laughed in their face, telling them tales of how your beauty could put Aphrodite to shame. But now? Now his heart was beating so violently in his chest he was almost certain it was attempting to escape, trying to take its rightful place upon your sleeve.
“Sorry I’m late, I nearly broke my neck out there!” You stop briefly to catch your breath, the jog on your way over winding you more than you’d care to admit. “Someone ought to tell those first-years there’s enough seats on here for the lot of us. I’ve just been walloped by a bloody eleven year old! Cheeky little-” You cease your rambling amidst your confusion at the sight before you, Sirius on his knees at James’ feet.
“Have I interrupted something? Perhaps a proposal of sorts?” You jest, your amusement growing at the wide eyed look on James’ face as he scrambles to stand, coming to greet you properly with a hug that doesn’t last nearly as long as you wish it would.
“No!” He protests instantly, amidst wrapping you in the soft embrace.
“Cor, I’ve missed you.” He mumbles after pulling away, leaving a hand on your back as he gently guides you to your seat beside him, hesitant to do so, as once you’re sat he’ll no longer have an excuse to touch you.
“I missed you more!” Your enthusiasm brings him optimism, there’s a chance she means it the way you do, he thinks, there’s a chance-
“And what of me?” Sirius and his bloody interjections. James has half a mind to lock him out of the ruddy compartment and leave him to fend for himself amongst the overzealous first-years.
“I’m sorry, have we met?” You feign confusion, though not very well, James can see the brilliant smile forming leisurely upon your lips. What I would do to those lips, his thoughts are running rampant after a summer spent away from your presence, too caught up to hear the jokes you and Sirius are trading back and forth, and that laugh! His internal monologue continues, ’s like a proper bloody song. Just ask her, right now. If she says no you can play it off as a joke. It might sting a bit, but surely it’d be better than keeping it all locked away.
“Will you go to Hogsmeade with me? Just us two? We’ll have a lovely time, I swear it.”
He knows what he was hoping you’d say, something along the lines of ‘Yes, James, I’d love to!’ but he wasn’t expecting it.
He also wasn’t expecting your given response.
“That’s a wonderful idea, Jamie, thank you! D’you see that, Sirius? A helpful suggestion. You ought to try one of those sometime.” You’re back to chatting with Sirius and Remus as Peter leans over to James, whispering an explanation to his visibly confused friend.
James had caught you mid-complaint about how you’d forgotten to bring the dittany leaves you need to make the special healing chocolates you gift Remus after a particularly bad full moon. After Sirius’ not-so-helpful suggestion to try substituting them with pot leaves, you gladly welcomed the chance to pop over to Hogsmeade with James and buy some more.
You’d mistaken his date proposal for a shopping trip.
Marvellous.
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This is going to be the year that James tells you how he feels. He’ll make sure of it.
If for no other reason than this was your seventh and final year at Hogwarts together. His stomach churned at the mere idea of allowing you to slip through his fingers for good; you acting as the coarse sand to his adamant hourglass. He wouldn’t have it.
So he’d try again.
In the few weeks since you’ve returned to Hogwarts, your time’s been consumed by studying for your N.E.W.T.s. You’re also determined to acquire a spot in the internship programme at St. Mungo’s. The sheer amount of time you’ve spent there with your boys over the last few years has more than prepared you for a future as a healer if you end up enjoying the work.
“Alright, who was the first witch to extract floo powder?” James has spent the last hour and a half quizzing you on all matters Herbology, if it were anyone else he’d’ve been bored to slumber by now. But it wasn’t anyone else, it was you.
The two of you were sat outside together on a blanket, taking full advantage of the uncharacteristically sunny day. James is leaned comfortably back against a tree as you sit across from him, simultaneously taking notes and answering each of his questions without pause.
“Ignatia Wildsmith. Ravenclaw. Come ‘ead James, I’ve told you to stop going easy on me! Every seventh-year applying will know all of these.” Bloody lucky I love her so much, James thinks to himself, I thought that was a hard one.
He’d like to laugh your nerves away, crack a few jokes and tell you that you may be going a bit overboard. You’re going to get the internship, and not just because you’re brilliant and perfectly qualified, but also because your Herbology professor had written a glowing recommendation letter singing your praises.
But he can’t find it in himself to mess around when you’ve got that adorable little wrinkle between your eyebrows displaying your worry, and your lips have turned down into a delectably kissable pout. It takes nearly everything in him not to brush it away with his own lips. 
“(y/n),” He starts, wetting his lips with his tongue as he desperately attempts to keep his thoughts from overtaking his voice, “It’s going to be alright, I promise. You’re more than ready for this. Why don’t we try taking a little break?” His heart feels as though it’s leapt into his throat when you glance at him and send a delicate smile of gratitude.
“I’m sorry, Jamie. We’ve been at this for hours, you must be exhausted of me by now.” You smile, more cheerful this time as you realize a break is precisely what you need.
James can’t contain the laugh that escapes him.
Exhausted? Of you? 
The absurdity of thinking he could ever grow tired of you was an inherently laughable concept to him.
He’s nearly clutching his stomach when he finally manages to compose himself, making heart-stopping eye contact with his equally amused and puzzled best friend.
“Are you mad?” James’ dimpled smile sets a kaleidoscope of butterflies aflutter in your stomach, “I’d spend all my hours with you if I could.” He means it with every atom that makes up his being, he’s meant it for years but now he’s actually saying it to you.
Your smile grows wider with each word he speaks, your own thoughts matching the underlying sentiment of his articulation more than he could ever know.
“I-” He pauses, inhaling deeply and squeezing his eyes shut tightly in an effort to maintain his courage, “I love you.” You did it, he thinks to himself proudly, you actually bloody did it, Prongs! He exhales shakily, reinitiating eye contact with you as a small smile begins to blossom on his tender lips.
“James,” Your voice holds an underlying tone of sadness that causes an adorable crinkle of confusion to settle between James’ eyebrows, “I love you too.” You smile tightly, almost as though it’s causing you discomfort to do so.
“You do?” James is more perplexed now than he had been when you’d explained to him in painstaking detail the intricate relationships between each member of Fleetwood Mac the first time the two of you listened to Rumours together.
“Of course I do,” Your smile stretches intimately, the somber quality of your voice never wavering, “You’re my best mate, after all.”
Best mate? James thinks, is that really all she sees?
Had he not been so caught up in his own racing thoughts, he may have picked up on yours. He may have realized that his situation was holding a gargantuan mirror up to your own, casting a perfect reflection of the feelings within.
Best mates, you internally chastise yourself, that’s all he sees.
A proper bloody mirror.
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“It was completely humiliating, Pads. She might as well’ve called me her bloody brother.” James has been yammering on about what happened that day for the past three weeks. Three weeks. Sirius is going positively mad, somehow having become James’ sounding board to rehash his complaints every time he remembers the encounter.
“I mean, how am I supposed to tell the girl I’d like to spend the rest of my life with her now?” James is pacing back and forth agitatedly at the foot of Sirius’ bed, as the aforementioned boy lays back uninterestedly, wishing his duvet would come to life and swallow him whole in an effort to escape the worlds most redundant conversation.
“She’d probably tell you that sounds lovely. Make you her future child’s godparent.” Sirius jokes dryly.
James abandons his invisible footpath, a wave of panic comically widening his warm hazel eyes substantially.
“She what?”
“For Merlin’s sake, Prongs! I can’t take any more of this,” Sirius sits up agitatedly, now far beyond his capacity for James’ lovesick commentaries, “Just go tell her. Right now.”
“Are you mad? Have you not just heard everything I’ve said?” James would normally find humour in Sirius’ lackadaisical attitude, but confessing his feelings for you was an entirely serious matter with no margin for error.
“Oh I’ve heard it, Prongs. For the past three weeks. And the entire bloody summer. And every single year before that.” He moves to stand in front of James, his agitation fading into sincerity, “I know how you feel, Prongs. But does she?” James swallows thickly as Sirius continues, “I don’t mean just telling her you love her, I mean telling her how you love her. As more than a friend. Maybe she feels the same way.”
James takes his time considering Sirius’ words. He’s tried to tell you, clearly, but he assumed that you’d only seen him as a friend. But what if you hadn’t? What if Sirius is right, and you told him you loved him as a friend because you’d assumed that’s what he’d meant when he said it?
“I’m a proper git, aren’t I?” James concludes aloud.
“Most certainly, Prongsy. It’s why I keep you around,” Sirius’ playful mood returns swiftly, “Makes me feel better about myself.” 
You’re talking softly with Remus in the library, voices low enough not to disrupt your peers but just detectable enough for James to catch your words when he finds you, internally preparing his declaration of unwavering devotion for you.
“You’re not going out with him, are you?” Remus’ hushed voice holds a curious tone.
“Of course not, Rem.” You smile softly, “Could you honestly imagine that? Him and I dating?”
James’ eyebrows furrow together in confusion, he presses himself slightly against a nearby bookshelf in an attempt to hear your conversation more clearly.
“No, I guess not,” Remus chuckles faintly, “It would certainly make things awkward if they didn’t work out. Being friends and all.” 
“No kidding.” You chuckle good-naturedly. 
James feels like a bag of cement has been poured down his throat, constricting his lungs and settling into a block of concrete in the pit of his stomach.
Sirius had been wrong. You didn’t love James as more than a friend, in fact, you’d practically laughed at the thought of it. In his hasty escape from the scene of the melancholic crime, James neglected to hear the rest of your conversation with Remus.
“He’s a lovely lad, truly,” You smile genuinely, “Any girl would be lucky to call Amos Diggory her boyfriend. We’re just better as friends is all.” You trail off, leaving out the part where your heart already belongs to another shared friend of yours and Remus’.
It’s not like it was ever going to happen anyway. Your love for James Potter was entirely unreciprocated.
Wasn’t it?
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James is avoiding you.
As painful as it is to spend each never-ending moment of spare time away from you, James can only think of how much more agonizing it would be to spend those moments with you.
To fix his loving gaze on your sparkling eyes, only to find them filled with affections one would hold only for a friend.
To accomplish the feat of bringing a luminous smile to your delicate lips, only to remember those lips would never brush tenderly against his own.
To be so close to the girl he loves, only to be denied her heart in equal measure.
It’s easier, in a sense, to push you away.
It’s only temporary, just until he can stomach the thought of spending the rest of his life as your best mate and nothing more.
But it’s been weeks, and the idea still makes his head feel like it’s underwater, like he’s fighting to reach the surface but his leg’s been caught on a viciously determined blade of seaweed.
Still, he’s convinced himself that this is his best course of action.
Unbeknownst to James, however, you’ve been going stark raving mad.
You’ve hardly spoken to him in weeks. When you think about it, you’ve barely even seen him, save for a few quick glimpses in your classes and across the dining tables in the Great Hall.
You’ve tried to talk to him, clearly something is bothering him. Maybe you’ve said or done something to upset him without realizing it. But he’d brushed you off before you could even get out the words ‘are you alright?’
You’d asked Remus, Sirius, and Peter about it, each of them giving you vague semblances of justification that fell entirely flat, a few “He’s just busy with quidditch”s and a couple of “Must be studying today”s. You’ve grown tired of the excuses and you’re determined to get to the bottom of it yourself.
You’re leaning picturesquely against the wall outside of the lad’s changing room when James finally sees you again. His curly hair is spilling droplets of water from the shower he’s just taken, successfully washing away the evidence of his quidditch practice.
You’re beautiful. That’s all he can think as he finally allows himself to take you in fully for the first time in weeks. He feels like he’s been holding his breath since he saw you last and now he can finally exhale, a sense of euphoria filling his chest as his lungs deflate mercifully.
“Hi.” You state gently, a delicate smile painted daintily across your lips.
“Hi.” James echoes once he’s relearned the inhale-exhale repetition of breathing again.
“I waited for you,” You start after a brief silence, “Which- You can see that, obviously.” You chuckle a ebullient breath that causes a small smile to form on James’ face, Merlin, I’ve missed that, he thinks as you continue. “I just, um- I thought maybe we could talk?” You’re fiddling with your fingers, a nervous habit of yours that James has long since memorized by now.
He instantly reaches for your hands, tenderly taking one in his own and carefully intertwining your fingers together with his. The action is like second nature, he hardly thinks twice about it.
You smile visibly at the act of comfort, if he’s upset with you and that’s the reason he’s been avoiding you, it makes your heart skip a beat that he’s putting it all aside to calm you down when you’re anxious.
“About what?” He tries, though you both know that’s not going to work.
“Nice,” You smile teasingly, “Want to give it a real go this time?”
James swallows something akin to a lump in his throat, averting his resplendent hazel gaze from your eyes to land somewhere along the floor as he overthinks which approach he should take.
He could try honesty. Yes, he thinks, because that would go over proper well. I’m avoiding you cause I’ve been gutted since I heard you’re not in love with me. Surely she’ll find that real mature, Prongs.
He could also try lying his arse off. And that would work, he sarcastically chastises silently, Me? Oh nothing’s wrong at all. Just tired, y’know? Practice and homework and the like. As if she’s ever believed a lie you’ve told her before.
He finally chances resuming eye contact with you, heartbeat hastening expeditiously as his hazel orbs lock onto your patently awaiting eyes. You should be looking far more frustrated, James wouldn’t blame you if you were. You have every right to be upset, and yet you’re not.
Instead, you’re you. 
You, who’s calmly awaiting a response, fingers still gently intertwined with James’. 
You, who’s looking at him with soft, sparkling eyes, eyes that are silently promising him no matter what he says, everything is going to be alright.
You, the girl he loves more than anything in the world.
“You.” He states after an implicit eternity.
“Me?” Your features mix together to create a perfectly darling display of confusion that, even despite the circumstances, causes a modest smile to tug upwards at the corners of James’ mouth.
“I’ve been avoiding you.” He conveys, sounding as though he’s just revealed to you a hidden secret you’d’ve never otherwise been able to uncover.
You can’t contain the short laugh that escapes you, a smile taking its rightful place on your face. “Yeah, ‘m not exactly Sherlock Holmes, but I managed to put that one together.”
James can’t subdue the traces of guilt that seep onto his face.
“I was hoping maybe we could talk about why. If I’ve done something to upset you-”
“No!” James cuts you off, “No, love, you haven’t done anything. Nothing you could control anyway.” His voice is less than half of its usual volume at the last sentence he utters.
Your face is back to holding that adorably confused expression that James so desperately yearns to kiss away.
“I have to admit, Jamie, I’ve got no idea what you’re on about.”
James sighs, finally releasing the hand that’s been holding comfortably on to your own and running it through his leisurely drying hair. He releases a sigh of distress and squeezes his eyes shut firmly in an attempt to figure out the best way to explain himself.
“If you’re not upset with me, then why have you been avoiding me?” You’re trying to put it together on your own as James is proving to be no help, “Wait a mo! Is this some kind of prank or something?” You smile, though you’re not entirely certain you’re correct yet, “Are you trying to get back at me for dying your knickers pink? Because that was an accident!” 
James can’t help but smile at your incorrect deduction. Merlin she’s adorable he thinks, how am I supposed to tell her now?
“Yes!” James concludes untruthfully, “You got me. Just a prank. Might’ve gone a bit too far with it though. Sorry ‘bout that, love.”
He brings you into a hug and, after going weeks without it, it feels like home.
You feel like home.
You’re hugging James, after having just gone weeks without it. And you just know. 
You have to tell him.
You have to tell him, right now, that you’re in love with him.
And so you do.
“I love you.” You state breathlessly, pulling away from the warm solace of his embrace and looking bravely into his glimmering hazel eyes.
James nods his head mechanically, as if he’s agreeing to your suggestion on what to have for dinner and not taking in the confession of eternal love you’ve just spouted.
“Yes, I love you too,” He smiles a tight, strained smile, “Mate.” He punctuates his final word by bumping his fist gently into your shoulder.
Oh, you think, I’m going to have to spell it out for him, aren’t I?
“No, James. I love you,” You take a step closer to him, not breaking eye contact despite the nerves that are jostling around your insides like a violent sea in a raging storm, taking a deep breath before exhaling somewhat expeditiously, you continue, “Like- Like, I’m in love with you.”
The first thing James feels in that moment are his eyes widening emphatically behind his round-rimmed glasses, his dark lashes making direct contact with the top of his eyelids. He’s certain he must have heard you wrong, that or he’s understood you wrong.
The second thing he feels is hope. What if he hadn’t understood you wrong?
The third thing he feels is his heart, beating faster than it ever has before, so fast he thinks it might be ready to do him in for good. Surely a heart shouldn’t be beating that fast.
“You’re in love? With me?” James speaks disbelievingly, though he’s unable to hide the traces of optimism he’s feeling as a modest smile begins to form on his face.
You nod your head assuredly, a genial smile of your own starting at the sight of his, “Yes, I’m in love with you. Madly, in fact.”
You’ve spent months, years even, deliberating on how you would tell James, if you would tell James. You’d spent countless hours wondering how he would react and what would happen after all was said and done.
You’d planned to tell him all about that. About how long you’ve felt this way, when it started and why it’s taken you so long to tell him, how you were too afraid of risking your best friend should anything have gone wrong.
What you hadn’t planned on was what happened the second you got the last word out.
James eagerly presses his plush lips onto your own, savouring the long overdue sensation of your mouth against his. He tenderly brushes your bottom lip with his tongue once he feels you respond to the kiss with equal fervour. Enthusiastically, you grant his tongue access into your mouth, pulling him closer to you by the roots of his damp hair.
James lets out a low groan at the contact, pulling you flush against his body by your waist, his hands hungrily gripping onto you for dear life as, somehow, the kiss deepens even further.
When the need for oxygen outweighs your mutual need for each others lips, you reluctantly part the slightest of distances, foreheads resting tenderly against one another.
“I’m in love you too. So bloody madly.” James whispers contentedly with a lovesick grin. 
You’re each donning smiles brighter than you can ever recall before.
The moment you’ve caught your breath you’re back at it again in full force, gripping at each others clothes and tangling nimble fingers through the other’s hair. James pulls back when your beaming smile makes it a little harder for him to kiss you, returning a smile just as wide that compels you to pull him back in for another kiss, or two, or three.
When the two of you finally feel satiated enough, James pulls back again, a noticeably farther distance. He’s still smiling but it isn’t quite as bright as it was a moment ago.
“What was all that about in the library, then? With Moony?” He asks you the question that’s been clawing at his insides for the last few weeks.
You pause, visibly confused as you shuffle through the files of your memories until you land on one a few weeks ago with Remus in the library. The two of you were discussing a friend who’d asked you on a date. You’d declined as politely as you could, valuing his friendship but knowing your heart had long since been beating for James.
“What about it?” You smile confusedly.
“Well, you were talking about me, weren’t you?” James looks down to the floor, expression now almost devoid of the happiness that had previously overtaken every inch of his face.
“What?” You laugh briefly before it registers, not just his words, but the reason he’s been avoiding you for the last few weeks.
“Wait- James!” You tilt your head into his line of vision, gently cradling his face with your hand as you turn his head to face you fully, “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me? You thought.. Oh, Merlin.”
You pull him into a hug, holding him tight enough to convey just how wrong he’s been.
“I was talking about Amos Diggory.” You state with a gentle exhale, something between a laugh and a sigh, pulling back you rest your arms at your sides. “He asked me to dinner.”
James doesn’t hide the relief that courses through his body, despite the slight scoff of jealousy he lets out at your final sentence.
“But,” You wrap your arms back around him in reassurance, looking up into his eyes that are once again sparkling with happiness, “I’ve been a tad busy, being in love with my best friend and all. So I told him no. Obviously.”
“Right, obviously.” James replies with a cheeky smile that makes your heart skip a beat.
“You’re a git, you know.” You roll your eyes, the action a mixture of lovesickness and frustration. “You could’ve just asked me then. Instead of hiding in the books like a proper stalker. And then avoiding me. For weeks,” You’re smiling, but you know you’re still getting your point across, “You git.” You punctuate your final word with a gentle swat to James’ chest, smiling adoringly when he grabs that hand and brings it up to his lips, placing a tender kiss to it before dropping your intertwined hands back at your side.
“I know,” He admits apologetically, “I’m sorry.” He’s smiling breathtakingly, “Still love me?”
You can’t find it in yourself to be upset with him, because in some roundabout way, it’s what led you to this moment right now, where you can reach over and kiss him if you want to.
And you want to. 
Pulling him into you by the fabric of his shirt, you plant another kiss upon James’ lips. The passion and tenderness in the kiss meld together just as perfectly as your lips do.
“Yes.” You mumble happily when your mouths finally break apart. “Always.”
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lovinpelova · 1 month
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you've been missed | j. fleming
summary; jessie feels a bit more lonely than usual, so she makes sure you get home earlier. [SMUT]
🎵 planez - jeremih
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jessie hates being clingy. she hates feeling like she's smothering you with her presence and certainly doesn't want to annoy you, although you assure her you love her when she's clingy she still refuses to let herself go in fear of causing an argument. this morning she had a day off and you didn't, arsenal having a different schedule to chelsea meant that you would wake up to her lips scattered across your neck and hips mindlessly grinding into yours, as soon as her hands guided your legs to spread open wider for her and your arms pulled her closer an alarm went off signalling you had to get ready for training. as much as you didn't want to leave already due to jessie being alone all day, you definitely didn't want to go now that jessie was whining into your ear begging you not to go.
with difficulty you gave her one final kiss and ignored her pleads for you to stay, gently pushing her off you and laughing at the exaggerated groan she let out as you started to get ready for the day. before you headed out to your car you quickly ran back into your bedroom where jessie was laying, watching her eyes light up with expectation and feeling a smile against your lips when you kissed her, only to be met with another groan when you pulled away and said goodbye. as soon as you got to arsenal training grounds your phone went off with a notification from jessie.
jeff🫶🏼
missing you madly already princess :(
can't wait for you to get home
you made quick work of responding to her, fully aware that she texted you fifteen minutes after you left because she knew you'd be at training by now.
you
i'll be home before you know it baby <3
training had been light from the beginning, a warmup followed by some sprints and agility exercises meant you wouldn't be as tired as if you were in the gym on weights, jonas assigning you all partners during a water break and running you through the next drill he'd decided on. you were paired up with vic thankfully, the midfielder being one of your closest friends due to being the same age and playing in the same position, so you completed the drill with ease whilst gossiping about all the latest drama you wanted to fill each other in on.
before you knew it training was over two and a half hours later, the time now being just past midday after your cooldown was completed. you walked back to the changing rooms with leah, lotte and alessia talking about how you were gutted the arnold clark cup was cancelled this year due to the nations league finals, all of you being international teammates since you were young meaning you had a special bond. you'd played up in the youth groups a couple times so you had met leah before alessia and lotte decided to move to north carolina with lois, so when the word came out arsenal was interested in you she was the first person to persuade you into joining.
you packed up your things and grabbed your phone, saying goodbye to the girls whilst walking towards your car and checking through the notifications you'd recieved. scrolling through them all you were unbothered as you sat in the drivers seat of your car, looking to see if jessie had texted you again and to your luck she had - many times. you smiled to yourself at the thought of what she may have texted you, saying how much she missed you and couldn't wait for you to get home again, normally sending you pictures of the food she'd make for herself and claiming she wished you were there to share it with her but your smile dropped when you read through them. you looked around the parking lot to see if anyone was nearby and able to look at your phone, knowing no one would go to that level of snooping but being careful anyways due to the obvious nature of jessies messages.
jeff🫶🏼
missing you so badly babygirl
can't stop thinking about you and what we'd be doing right now if your alarm didn't interrupt us
been wanting you so much all morning since you left
*video attachment*
wish you were here princess. can't wait for you to get home.
you quickly checked your bluetooth to see if you were connected to your car and turned it off just in case, pressing play on the video that gave you no indication as to what it was due to the black screen that was on the cover. once the video loaded your jaw dropped slightly and your eyes were glued to the screen, watching in awe of what you were seeing and feeling shamefully turned on. she had sent it five minutes ago, so there was no doubt she was still doing it at that current moment without you there to witness it.
jessie was recording herself shirtless lying down on your shared bed from a low angle, revealing the strap she often wore as she spat into her hand and began rubbing it over the strap for lubrication, making sure you could see when she'd push it down further to hit against her clit as she moaned lowly at the friction. she looked down at the camera with her bottom lip between her teeth and hooded eyes, speeding up her hands movements to jerk off the strap at a wild pace as she threw her head back and let out an audible groan, cursing in pleasure whilst your eyes trailed to her biceps and hand. you couldn't tear your eyes away from the veins that bulged out, only being pulled out of your daydream by jessie saying your name.
"y/n,"
she whimpered out as your thighs clenched together, loving the way she sounded so desperate. her moans picked up in frequency and volume alongside the speed of her hand, going at an inhumane rate whilst her hips began to buck up the same way they would if you were riding her, your imagination going wild at the thought of her fucking up into you and pulling your hips down to slam into hers as she grunted in effort. you closed your eyes for a moment to calm yourself down, unsuccessful in doing so when you opened them again and heard her moans growing wilder with her hips now bucking animalistically into her hand.
"fuck babygirl i'm gonna cum! just like that, keep goin'! gonna cum all inside of you- fuck!"
her thighs and abs flexed as her hips paused mid-air, hand stuck around the base of the strap whilst she let out the most filthy moans you'd ever heard, hips beginning to move again in deep thrusts as she rode out her high for your viewing pleasure. whilst she was gaining her breath back she looked down at the camera with a smirk, cutting the video off after winking cheekily obviously knowing it would have riled you up. she wasn't wrong either, you threw your phone onto the passenger seat and quickly began driving home, the fifteen minutes feeling like fifteen hours until you finally got to your house.
you basically ran out the car and left everything but your keys behind, locking it whilst hurriedly opening the front door and kicking your shoes off as you shut it behind you, immediately perking your ears up at the sound of jessie moaning out your name. storming through the house and opening your bedroom door to see your girlfriend still doing what she was in the video, only this time with her eyes on yours as she smiled widely at the sight of you back home. her hand stopped its movements whilst you straddled her, pulling her into a heated kiss with your hands tugging at her hair, pulling her head back as she gasped at the roughness of it.
"you're so dirty."
"can you blame me when i've got a girlfriend as hot as you?"
the canadian rolled you over onto your back and started grinding her hips into yours, relishing in the moan you let out before tugging off your shirt hurriedly.
"i was gonna fuck you so good this morning, and then your stupid fucking alarm went off."
she mumbled into your neck whilst biting at your pulse point, desperately moving her hips as she whined and tugged your training shorts down, your underwear following as you wrapped your legs around her waist to pull her closer. she dipped a finger into your heat as her lips made their mark on your chest, the canadian too eager to remove your bra right now as she groaned at the feeling of you finally underneath her.
"fuck, missed this pretty pussy."
she mumbled whilst looking down at her finger moving in and out of you slowly, jaw hanging open with desire written over her face once she heard you softly moan her name. the midfielder bit her lip as she carefully pushed in another finger to stretch you out carefully, your nails digging into her shoulders whilst her body arched into yours at the pain.
"jess, need you. want more."
you pulled her into a deep kiss as she smirked against your lips, a couple more thrusts from her fingers following.
"alright baby, just be patient. you know i always have to stretch you out before you get my cock. don't wanna hurt you."
"want it now jessie, please."
you begged whilst looking into her eyes desperately, ignoring the sly smirk she still wore and whining at the loss of her fingers. the canadian watched you close your eyes as she grabbed the strap and teased the head through your arousal, soaking it before she slapped it against your clit playfully to pull a needy moan from you, nails digging into the back of her neck whilst you pulled her in for another kiss.
"nuh-uh, i wanna see how good i fill you up baby. go on, look."
she urged you on and smiled cockily when you looked down between your legs, herself doing the same as she pushed the strap into you, breathing growing heavier whilst her eyes remained fixated on how you adjusted to her size with your legs spreading open wider for her.
"fuck baby,"
she whined, pushing her hips forward until she was bottomed out inside of you and relishing in the groan you let out at her size.
"too big for you?"
jessie teased, knowing you could take it but were still adjusting due to how eagerly she'd moved to be fully inside of you.
"look so pretty babygirl. can't wait to make you cum on my cock- god."
"jessie- move baby, i need you to fuck me."
the canadian groaned at your words and pulled her hips back until only the tip was inside of you, pushing back in slowly to watch the obscene way you stretched around her thick strap with a shameless moan. your nails dug into her back with your legs tightening around her waist, her thrusts picking up in force and speed to make your body shift with each movement as the headboard began hitting against the wall, the woman fucking you so wildly she was moving the entire bed with her hips alone.
the sound of jessie grunting into your ear as she mercilessly pounded into you was driving you mad, an occasional whimper making a fresh wave of arousal course through your body. you couldn't control your moans and they began to grow pornographic, jessie smiling proudly at the sounds you were letting out once she realised she was fucking you so good you were no longer able to hold back.
"fuck babe, missed you so much. need you so bad, want you to cum on my cock please please please."
the midfielder mindlessly babbled into your ear, moaning uncontrollably alongside the myriad of whimpers she was letting out, her eyes looking down to see where you were connected and how you were beginning to clench your thighs once you were getting close. she trailed a hand down to your heat and gathered some of your wetness, rubbing it over your clit frantically with her lip between her teeth in concentration, eyebrows furrowed and hips pounding into you as she moaned desperately alongside you.
she let out high-pitched moans with her head thrown back and jaw hung wide open with her eyes shut tightly, whimpers through heavy breathing with her bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she looked down at where you were connected, whines following whenever you'd moan out her name or dig your nails into her back further. you arched your body into hers with a desperate moan, jessie immediately getting the message and pushing your sports bra up so it rested above your breasts. she adjusted herself to be kneeling with your legs swung over her thighs, pulling your body up so you were chest to chest as her lips latched onto one of your breasts and free hand went to the other, leaving careless marks all over whilst she rubbed your needy clit and moaned against your skin.
"come on princess, please. need you to cum for me, please babygirl. need it now."
"jess i'm cumming baby- god that feels so good don't stop i'm gonna cum jessie!"
"that's it baby, ride my cock just like that. make yourself cum all over me, that's a good girl. oh fuck i need it so bad y/n/n you gotta cum for me baby."
you began bouncing up and down so you were pushing her strap further into yourself with each upwards thrust of her hips, your teeth sinking into her shoulder deeply as you moaned out her name and let your release wash over you. your body spasmed in her hold as she whimpered and relaxed at the feeling of you finally coming undone around her, pushing you onto your back so she could roll her hips into yours with deep thrusts as she began to moan needily into your ear. you whined at how sensitive you were and gripped her bicep tightly, watching the way sweat began to drip down her face whilst she looked down at where she was thrusting into you with her jaw hung open, hands gripping your hips possessively before she threw her head back with her eyes squeezed shut and moaned out your name after a couple more deep thrusts before gritting her teeth together in pure ecstasy.
"fuck baby, i'm cumming! yeah just like that babygirl, make me cum like that princess- holy fuck! fucking love this pussy, wanna fuck it all day god."
you watched her ride out her high with a lustful gaze, loving the way she completely lost control of herself as she finally got the release she'd been needing all day. after a while you both caught your breaths back and jessie pulled out of you carefully, throwing the strap carelessly to the side after taking it off so she could deal with it later.
"you missed me that much?"
you teased, jessie smacking your shoulder lightly as you smiled and pushed your body into her side with her arm pulling you closer, her lips kissing the top of your head gently.
"you have no idea how much i missed you today."
"i think i have a small idea on how much you missed me."
you smiled when jessie rewarded your joke with a low chuckle, arms tightening around your waist to pull you on top of her as she leaned in for a soft kiss, sighing in comfort when she felt your hands rake through her hair gently as you lulled each other to sleep with your touch.
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flametrashira · 2 months
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Please write more L stories. His neck was made to be kissed, sucked and bitten
Hellooo friend, as soon as I finish writing about my number 1 stinky bastard, Muzan, I will be working on an L story. And you're so right though so I'll just leave you with this little drabble and hopefully it'll help fill the gap.
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SFW. Mildly suggestive. Just a lot of kissing and feeling kinda horny.
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Kissing L.
Recently, L has discovered a new way to relieve tension, namely cuddling and expressing his fondness by making out with you. It's pretty early in your relationship and you haven't gone much further than kissing and a little touching while still clothed, but boy, does he ever give that his all.
He groans against your lips as his fingertips trace the curve of your ear and down to your jaw, enjoying the way he can get your breath to catch with a touch. His tongue caresses yours, every explorative touch eliciting more sounds of pleasure; muffled moans, adoring sighs. He could do this for hours, lips tingling, heart thrumming, his body warm against yours in the sanctuary of your arms. Every unsolved case and vexing problem that was plaguing him before is almost completely forgotten
He's just enamored with you, fascinated by you. You're complex in so many ways and simple in others; an enigmatic but familiar comfort. All of this feels so easy and natural, instinctive, yet so new and exciting, He feels good from the top of his head to the curling tips of his toes, and he's quite certain that nothing can even hope to compete with the pleasure he gets from kissing you.
He's enjoying it so much he almost protests when your lips break away from his, dark eyes pleading with you to come back to him, fingertips pinching the fabric of your sleeve. But he only has to suffer the loss of your kiss for a moment, before your lips are trailing down the angle of his jaw.
"Oh... that feels nice," he says, his voice low and soft. He lifts his chin a little, leaning into your kiss, inadvertently exposing the long, toned column of his neck to you. Kissing your lips is wonderful, but to have you kiss his skin feels intimate in a completely new way, one which, while pleasant, he's still processing.
But the moment he feels your mouth on his throat he's a goner, his body tingling unlike anything else he's ever felt before. His eyes are wide, his lips parted around a silent cry. The tingles he gets from kissing you all pool beneath his navel, making his cheeks darken and his breaths grow shallow. He's barely even aware of the way he subconsciously tilts his hips toward yours. Logical thought is as distant a possibility as flight.
"Ohh... that is... I can't..."
"Is this okay?" you ask, your voice barely a whisper, breath warm and fluttery against his sensitive skin.
"Yes," he says bluntly, arching his neck, pressing it to your lips, unable to resist the sensation for more than a few seconds. "Though perhaps I should tell you, you are arousing me. I'm incredibly turned on."
Your lips curve into a grin against his neck as you resume your kisses, and his follow suit, albeit briefly. A fresh wave of tingles dart even lower than his navel as you graze your teeth against his throat, and his smile is interrupted by a blissful, fragmented moan.
He may be the best at unraveling mysteries, but you are, he's quickly discovering, unmatched when it comes to unraveling him.
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rxsehearts · 6 months
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𝙆𝙄𝙉𝙆𝙏𝙊𝘽𝙀𝙍 𝘿𝘼𝙔 𝙎𝙄𝙓. 𝙈𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙐𝙍𝘽𝘼𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉
#rook hunt x fem!reader : rook finds himself thinking of you a lot, and even if it’s wrong he can’t help but masturbate to the thought of you, even going out of his way to buy panties that resembled your’s. he ends up going a few rounds just by envisioning your thoughts and your reactions.
mdni. cws: adult content, masturbation, self-edging, rook hunt (mentions of stalking, creepiness) mentions of wounds, (unspecified). reader doesn’t actually show up, but is the center of all his thoughts. more under the cut. nav, kinktober m.list.
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to say that the local huntsman of pomefiore admired beauty would be an understatement. not only did he pursue his adoration for the beauty he sees, but he doesn’t hold back no matter how creepy or disturbed others may get. he knows this is wrong, yet this is a perfectly natural bodily concept, to masturbate when you are hard, aroused, and horny for the one you love. yet a part of him felt a bit dirty for the way he yearned over you, he wondered whether you’d condemn him for touching himself to the thought of his cock filling your cunt completely.
his fingers twisted around the panties, a pair he bought discreetly from an online website you frequented, and one he knew he would see you in one day. he knew the type of fabric you liked, the type that clung to your skin perfectly, the type of style, even the type of color you used the most. he wasn’t trying to be a pervert, but he was quite aware, nothing you did escaped him.
he could envision the way your face would distort, your eyes rolling backwards as he’d thrust right into your sopping cunt, clenching down on his girthy cock as he filled you up to the brim. he could hear you screaming his name, reaching a high your own fingers could never take you to, nor could anyone else as he knew you best. the way you’d drool all over his cock, the way your breasts would be covered in red marks, swollen from him suckling on your nipples as though it were his favorite thing. his hand ends up stroking himself harder and rougher as he envisions the way you’d yelp out and claw at his neck, back, tug on his locks as you cry out how close you are to cumming.
the panties were soft like silk, smearing with his precum all over them. a once nice and fancy cloth covered in sticky splotches as they heat up from friction twisting in all sorts of directions as sometimes his grip would loosen just to edge an orgasm slowly. he fastens his pace for a moment, roughly stroking himself as he envisioned more and more, feeling his cock twitching and hot for release before pulling away to calm his high down. he didn’t want things to be over, yet.
he took to thinking about how you’d react finding him like this, jerking himself off to the thought of you, as your name falls off his lips like honey. his breath hitches as he releases a moan, calling out your name as he shuts his eyes, cock twitching in hand as he stains the panties and holds them there for a minute, making sure they soak in his cum. if he were to cum in your regular underwear, would you wear them and keep a dirty secret, that you walked around the school wearing his cum? he pulls back, a flushed red face as he pants, looking at the fabric in his fingers. proof of how much he loves and constantly thinks of the ramshackle prefect, who was oblivious to his feelings currently.
he swore to himself he’d confess more directly next time, making sure that you were very aware that he was confessing, and not just praising you as he did with his subjects of beauty. he also couldn’t help but think of other things that reminded him of you, like his framed photos of you behind his wall, or the drawings he’d finished of you. he wondered if he should try masturbating while looking at or jerking off in front of one of those, the white sticky liquid staining your face, almost like the real one. he brings the panties to his face, getting a closer view to inspect every detail as his dick twitches, once again feeling himself harden up by his thoughts and dreams. with his cum as lube, he has no issue stroking himself once again.
“ngh… mon trickster,” he moans, loudly. he didn’t really care if anyone within pomefiore were to hear, as everyone was well aware how much he liked you. it may be hard for outsiders to notice, but his stalking tendencies with you tenfold, as much as he knew of vil he did with you. from even your regular breathing pattern, he memorized it and wrote that all down in his journal, writing a poem. he was convinced you’d return his feelings, he could tell by your body language after all. your body, those lips, those eyes, that touch of your’s which sent pleasurable jolts down his spine as his eyes rolled back, panties sliding around his cock as he fisted it.
would you also be masturbating to him right now? he knew you had to have sexual urges, you had to of been horny, you must of relieved yourself too, so was it to his image? did you use those photos you had of you and him together, or the secret ones you attempting to discreetly take during class? were you thinking of his body’s physique like the time you were flushed, his shirt ripped from a hint as he stumbled upon you as you helped clean his wound by his chest, he’ll admit that he purposefully did that, but you didn’t know. were you also desperately edging yourself or did you prefer to have your pleasure immediately? whatever you preferred, he could adjust himself to and for.
his eyes shut tightly once again, groaning louder as he falls back onto his bed, the photo of you on his wall hanging above watching as he released, ropes of cum staining his fingers, the panties, and his bedsheets as they flowed from his cock down to its base, onto the sheets as he laid back, one sticky hand running through his sweaty blond locks but he could not care less as he sure this was the meaning of beauty. to love someone so much you’d forgo all care about physical appearance in the moment in order to please them, or to prove you love them, which he did as your name fell from his lips once again.
grabbing a soft tissue, he cleans himself off and slips on his pomefiore robe, his fingers grazing his chest over the area you’d cared for just a few weeks prior, but unlike before it didn’t hurt, he merely wanted to remember the precious memory of your hands on him. his piercing green eyes looked over from his bedroom door to his cock, deciding he can probably go one more round within the time he has before taking a shower. he knows it’s wrong to masturbate to you three times before going to see you in person, but he really, really, just loves you a lot.
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tagging: @candlewitch-cryptic, @witherfag. really surprised how many people enjoyed glory hole! this was a bit shorter as i needed a break after finishing glory hole, which had me crying at my knees after looking up bad dragon dildos, did not help because i ended up creating my own headcanon for dragon dick, and other things like lion cock. sending luck to all rook club card wanters!
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©rxsehearts. dn repost, translate, or plagiarize.
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the-travelling-witch · 10 months
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𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑
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summary: working in a coffee shop means you always meet a wide variety of personalities; but why, out of all options, did you have to go and take an interest in the mysterious guy with an attitude problem?
pairing: piercer! scara x gn barista! reader
warnings: uhh needles (obviously), cursing like once, reader has questionable nicknaming skills (they're worse than paimon's)
modern au series || genshin impact masterlist
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It was a typical Monday morning in the coffee shop you were working at, most customers seemingly dragging themselves in after rolling out of bed with the occasional energy ball as an exception. The aroma of roasted coffee beans filled your nose as you worked on several orders and people entered or left the store at a steady rate.
Once rush hour was pretty much over, the doorbell chimed again to reveal a guy with a dark and choppy bob cut you were sure not many people could pull off. The black clothes draped over his silhouette were deliberately torn at some places and a black mask covered the rest of his face except for striking indigo eyes and two gleaming dermal piercings peeking out from under the fabric on his right cheek. 
“Good morning, what would you like to order?” you greeted, the expected smile already on your lips.
Without so much as a greeting, he said in a monotone voice, “A large black coffee to go.”
Wow, quite the attitude but then again, it was Monday morning and you had seen worse. So, not thinking too much about it, you continued as normal. “May I ask for your name?”
“Huh?”
“To write on your cup, so we can call you when your order is ready to be picked up,” you patiently explained.
In a tone that suggested the guy was bored out of his mind, he merely drawled a “Just write whatever” and went back to scrolling on his phone.
It was a good thing you weren’t holding a cup yet or you might have crumbled it. So much for giving him the benefit of the doubt. Your eyes narrowed as your smile and voice took on an almost unnoticeable edge. “Sure thing,” you replied in a sweet tone before telling him his total. 
A few minutes passed after you gave the guy’s order to your coworker who sniggered as you handed them the receipt. While taking more orders, you were keenly aware of that indigo-eyed jerk’s presence lingering by one of the windows, back leaning against the wall and ringed fingers reflecting the morning sun. 
Setting a cup down on the counter, your coworker called out “A large black coffee to go for ‘Whatever’!” 
At the unusual call, a few other customers turned to see what was happening and the guy himself seemed taken aback for a short second before collecting himself. As he walked up to the counter, he threw you an unimpressed glare which you returned with an innocent shrug. 
Despite his grumpy attitude, the guy kept coming back for the next couple of weeks to the point where you could pinpoint the exact time he’d walk through that door, always ordering a large black coffee. He’d yet to give you his name, so when you went to prepare his coffee ahead of time, you continued to write ‘Whatever’ on it. 
It might have been your imagination, but you thought Bob-Cut seemed to mellow out more too as he kept coming back and you built somewhat of a routine. He’d actually use words like ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ which you didn’t think possible the first time you met him. And, much to your chagrin, you had to admit the nonchalant attitude paired with his style and accessories suited him really well and you sometimes had trouble tearing your gaze away from deep pools of lapis. Not that you’d ever make it known to his face though.
Slowly but surely, you started looking forward to seeing him everyday too. Remembering you’d get to see the mysterious - yet cute- guy walk in again made you positively giddy with excitement as you got ready in the morning. 
Yet this particular day your enthusiasm was stumped as the prepared cup of black coffee sat lonely behind the counter, waiting to be picked up. But he never came, no matter how often you expectantly looked up as the bell jingled. Your coworker patted you on the back encouragingly and you dragged yourself through your shift, a sunken feeling settling in your chest.
The next day, no coffee sat premade on the counter while you worked on orders. With your back turned to the door you almost didn’t notice it swing open. A gruff ‘Morning’ made your eyes light up before you composed yourself and turned to face the strongest resting bitch face ever.
“Good morning, what would you like to order?” You smiled, deciding to play coy although you already knew the answer.
And that was actually the look he gave you; eyes narrowed unimpressed and brow twitching upwards. “Seriously, I don’t come in for a day and you've already forgotten me. That’s a bit harsh, no?”
“Well you never know,” you shrugged playfully. “Maybe you had a change of heart as your coffee was all alone yesterday.”
“Yeah, sorry about that,” he mumbled, averting his eyes. He had nothing to apologise for in your opinion but it was cute anyway. “A client cancelled their appointment on short notice and my coworkers had all the other clients handled, so I didn’t come to the studio in the morning.”
The guy must’ve caught on to the curiosity visible on your face because he followed it up with “I’m a piercer and tattoo artist.”
“Oh wow, really?” you said, remembering your own plans to get a new piercing somewhen soon. Since your last piercer had closed their shop, you had kind of pushed that thought to the back of your mind though. Suddenly you were very much aware again of the ink peeking over the neck of his shirt and the piercings gleaming in the shop light “Where do you work?”
“In the studio down the road. If you don’t believe me, you should drop by,” he challenged defensively, although you didn’t doubt him at all. Realising what he just said, his eyes widened in the first big show of emotion you’d seen from him and you thought you could see a faint rosy tint where his mask ended. “No, I mean– Forget I said anything!”
For the rest of the interaction, the guy kept his head down, bangs obscuring his eyes which never quite met yours. It was cute seeing someone who acted so aloof usually be all shy and bashful and you tugged the info about his workplace away for later. To be precise, for the coming weekend. 
On your day off, you found yourself in front of the glass door of a tattoo shop. The pleasant scent of flowers from the shop next to it filled the air as you took a deep breath before you pulled the handle towards you. You chastised yourself for being giddy and letting your hopes get the better of you; for all you know, he might not even work today. Or what if he really didn’t want you here?
Your nerves were forgotten when you entered the studio. Along the walls of the modern entrance area hung a variety of different sketches, distinct both in style and motif. From fine-line flowers to precise geometrics to calligraphy and Japanese style tattoos, you wondered just how many coworkers Bob-Cut had and which sketches were his as you studied the signatures.
“Hi there, how can I help you?” You spun around to face an auburn haired man who had appeared behind the counter, his olive eyes twinkling at your reaction. 
“Oh uhm, I wanted to get a new piercing. That’s fine without a scheduled appointment, right?” 
“Sure, thing. Just fill out these documents here and tell me what piercing you want and I’ll hook you up with someone who’s not working right now,” he smiled brightly, yet you had the strange sense that mischief was bubbling just underneath the surface.
“Actually,” you couldn’t believe you were about to say this out loud, “is there a piercer working here with an indigo bob cut and two piercings on his cheek?”
“Oh?” And there it was, that teasing lilt in his voice which raised the hairs in the back of your neck. “Yo, ‘mouchie, there’s a cutie here to see you!”
A mere few seconds after his shout reverberated down the short hallway behind the desk, steps could be heard as a familiar raspy voice answered. “If you call me that again, I’ll fucking ki– What are YOU doing here?!”
“Oh, so you really do know each other,” Olive-Eyes snickered.
Deciding to ignore him, you tilted your head at the accusatory finger still pointed in your direction. “You invited me, remember?”
“I told you to forget it!”
“Well, too bad you’re not my boss and I can do what I want,” you snipped. “Besides, I wanted a new piercing anyway, so I decided to come here. Where’s the problem with that?”
The sound of your bickering lured in two more onlookers, a guy with dark blue hair tied into two braids to frame his face and one guy with his teal hair tied into a messy ponytail, who was staring down at his phone as if it was way more interesting than his colleagues. 
“What am I hearing? Scara inviting someone over?” The braid-guy sing songed. He mimicked wiping a tear from his eye dramatically. “That I can still witness the day… They grow up so fast.”
“Go to hell, all of you,” ‘Scara’ seethed.
“Alright, see you there.” Teal-Bangs didn’t even look up from his phone, the quip rolling off his tongue as naturally as breathing.
“Wow, even Xiao is bullying you now,” Olive-Eyes chimed in.
Dual-Braids laughed, slinging an arm around Bob-Cut’s shoulders and you feared he might bite it off given the glare he was sending his coworker. “You should really stop hitting him with the newspaper, you know?”
“Uh, guys…?” you interjected before they could start squabbling again. “About that piercing…?”
“Oh right!” The auburn-haired man took the documents from you and gave you a wide smile. “As I said, a piercer who’s free will take care of that aaaaaand would you look at that! Scara happens to be free, so he’ll have the honour of giving you a cool new accessory!”
“Hey, I-” Your coffee shop acquaintance tried to protest but Heizou was already ushering you in his direction.
“Now, go have fun, you two,” he teased. “But not too much, okay? 
That was how you found yourself standing in a neat piercing room, bright white light illuminating the equipment stashed there. There was a sigh behind you and ‘Scara’ crossed the room. 
“They’re such nuisances,” he mumbled before he fixed his indigo eyes on you. Without his black mask on, you could see that besides the two dermal piercings on his right cheek he also had a nostril on the left side of his nose. As he spoke up again, a silver ball sitting on his tongue reflected the crisp light. “You’re okay with that? I mean, me being your piercer and all. Heizou didn’t give you much of a choice but just know that you can back out if you’re uncomfortable.”
“No, it’s fine by me, if you’re okay with it too,” you sincerely replied. “I mean you were pressured into it just as much.”
“I’m used to their antics though.” After a brief moment of gazing at each other, he cleared his throat and gestured for you to take a seat. “So, what kind of piercing do you want?”
You watched him pull on a pair of black latex gloves and only when he looked back at you did the question register in your brain. “A helix, here,” you said, pointing at your ear.
“Sure thing.” Rolling closer on a chair, he marked the spot you indicated and handed you a mirror. “Like that?”
When you gave your approval, he went back to the desk to prepare the necessary equipment and sterilised it. The silence prompted you to ask the question that has been burning on your tongue for a while now. “So your name is Scara?”
“Scaramouche is my artist name, I’m going by that,” he replied. “But Scara is fine.”
You didn’t have much time to wonder about the implications of using an artist name because a moment later, Scara appeared in front of you again. Needle in hand, his eyes came level with yours again. Up close, you could make out all the tiny specks of amethyst caught in the light and his scent invaded your senses.
“You ready?” he asked quietly, his low voice preserving the delicate atmosphere your proximity created. When you nodded, he gave you a small smirk, demeanour entirely changed from how you’d gotten to know him. “Alright, this is going to hurt a little but the pain will be brief. I need you to hold still through it, can you do that for me?”
Not trusting your voice, you nodded again as you swallowed. Latex met the side of your jaw in a ghost of a touch as Scara gently tilted your head the way he needed it. All nerve endings in your skin lit up as liquid fire spread from the tips of his fingers through your veins, the strange intimacy getting to you more than you could have prepared for.
You felt the Scara’s exhale brush your cheek as he positioned the needle and your warbled thoughts caught up with the situation the moment he pushed it through. But only when the jewellery followed did you flinch.
“There we go, the worst part is done,” he soothed. Giving the mirror back to you, he left you to admire his work as he got up. The calm call of your name pulled you from your own reflection as Scara held out a glass of water to you.
“Thanks,” you smiled before pausing. “Wait, did I even tell you my name?”
“Read it on your file,” he replied nonchalantly as you gave him an unimpressed glance.
“I’m sure that falls under poor etiquette,” you playfully chastised him.
“So? The outcome is the same, isn’t it?” he shrugged, yet you couldn’t help but find it endearing. “You good to go? C’mon, I’ll show you the way out.”
As you wrapped up the payment and Scara went over all the mandatory steps in taking care of your new piercing, you were well aware of the doors opening and the people peeping into your conversation. So much for privacy.
“Well then, that’s that.” The metal of his tongue piercing held your attention until Scara brushed some of his hair behind his ear, revealing a few piercings of his own. Among them was a helix which mirrored yours in placement. “Get home safe, yeah?”
“I will, thanks.” Your smile was filled with genuine gratitude. As you pushed through the glass door, you turned back to wave. “See you tomorrow!”
Maybe it was your imagination but as you left you thought there was an actual smile gracing his sharp features.
The next day, your spirits were high as they could be. Not only were you excited to show off your new accessory, you’d also been on cloud nine since leaving the piercing studio, butterflies stirring in your stomach every time you thought back to how he touched you. Perhaps what you were about to do was a little bold but you’d be damned if you didn’t shoot your shot.
As expected, Scara came in at the same time as every morning and you’d just finished brewing his coffee. He too seemed to be in a better mood than usual as he walked up to the counter. While you typed in his order, you made a bit of small talk over how your piercing was healing.
“It’s all good,” you laughed and showed the jewellery to him. “Almost like my piercer knew what he was doing.”
“You better believe that,” he countered. However, you didn’t miss the way his eyes seemingly lit up and crinkled at the edges, as they did when he smirked, when his gaze fell onto the piercing he put on you. His reaction gave you a boost of confidence for what you were about to do.
Handing him his cup, you wished him a great day and watched as he went to leave before stopping dead in his tracks. No doubt he discovered the little ‘If you ever feel like going for a coffee while I’m not working ♡ (and don’t whatever me!)’ you had scribbled onto the cup holder, followed by your phone number. You gave him a wink when he searched your eyes and watched him pull out his phone. A few seconds later your phone pinged.
Unknown number: whatever Unknown number: are you free this week?
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© the-travelling-witch 2023 - do not repost, translate, copy or edit
if you like my content, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated ♡
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biscuitsngravie · 4 months
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"not yet."
cw: stsg x reader, fem!reader, smut, piv sex, fingering, come inside its fun inside, established relationship, edging, voyeurism
wc: 1876
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How long has it been? You couldn’t tell. Every drag of Gojo’s cock against your gummy walls feels tortuously pleasurable, causing you to intermittently spasm around him, eliciting a gasp or curse each time. His hips barely move in what can be called strokes as they stutter with each attempt. You can’t bear to look at him, your own mind fuzzy with archaic math equations that you fill it with to focus on Geto’s words and not how close you are. 
“That’s right… keep fucking her just like that….” Geto purrs from the comfort of his chair to the right of the bed. He watches and sees everything, the way you grip the sheets, how your toes curl, and how you can’t seem to care about the drool beginning to leak out the side of your mouth. He’s equally as attentive to Gojo with each break in his stride, and how his strokes are getting more and more uneven. He watches as once fluffy bangs stick to his forehead, donned with a sheen of sweat that’s dripping down his chin and onto you. 
Neither of you can see the sight, though, both wrapped up in the crevices of your own minds, only responding to the sound of Geto’s voice as you await instructions. It was simple at first, him watching you two make out in the living room with slight amusement, always infatuated with the desperation at which you devour each other. He gave a small suggestion, “Maybe we should take this to the bedroom?” Nothing more, nothing less, but you two easily complied, too caught up in the throbbing between you to notice that his “suggestions,” started sounding more and more like commands.
“Don’t take it off yet, I like her tits in that bra.”
“So eager for dick, are we? Can’t you wait ‘till he at least takes his shirt off?”
“Put it in nice and slow… yeah, just like that.”
“Don’t come.”
The last comment solidified what this really was: a game. You two, so incredibly hungry for every part of each other (and Geto when he humbly obliged), fucking as needily and frequently as rabbits; you two who couldn’t bear to hold back at any occasion. Until Geto said so. 
Every time you felt that coil tighten, your soul and body begging for release, it was snapped away by the gentlest utters of “Not yet.” Gojo was on the edge himself, though he was more inclined to verbally share his distaste.
“Fuck, Suguru! Come on! Can’t you just fu—” 
One. It took one look from Geto to silence Gojo’s incessant yelling, and he’s been silently cursing to himself ever since, groaning with each stolen release, just as shamelessly as you. 
So here you are, stuck in mating press for Geto’s satisfaction as you try to avoid eye contact with Gojo who’s doing the same, both knowing neither of you would be strong enough to resist your bodies’ requests if it happened. Much to the dissatisfaction of the ringmaster who was prompt to correct his monkeys. 
Geto sits fully clothed in the chair, painfully aware of the way you two shut your eyes or have them dance around the room. At first he hummed with a hint of amusement, mirth dripping from his voice as he demanded suggested that Gojo go deeper. Deeper. But now it’s become too mind numbingly boring to no longer see you teeter near the edge, but avoid it all together. So who is he but an instigator when he comments, “Ahh, Satoru… look at how good she takes it. Tiny little pussy can’t help but swallow your cock, huh?”
Gojo may be the strongest, but he’s weak when it comes to you, and even weaker when it comes to this. He knows it’s a trap. He knows it, but a peek couldn’t hurt, right? Every nerve ending in him feels as though it jolts when he looks down to see your puffy lips around him, swollen and sore from all the teasing from earlier, helplessly and willingly framing the way he impales you over and over. It’s so messy, the wetness of your combined juices staining your pelvises, sticky and frothy as they form a ring around the base of his dick. 
If it weren’t for his balls being so unbelievably heavy and agonizingly full, he’d have sworn he came already, white painted over your thighs and dripping down the crack of your ass and onto the bed. His own heart jumps as he momentarily fantasizes what it’d look like to fill you up with as you come, wondering if it would even have room to stay in, or gush out and sink into the duvet. His body shudders with need that’s stronger than any desire and he almost collapses on top of you, holding himself mere inches away by bracing himself on his forearms.
The action causes you to squeeze around him when he unintentionally slams further into you, teasing your cervix. You can’t help but wrap your legs around his waist, letting yourself relish in the way he ruts into you like a dog, squeezing his dick with every entry and unabashedly chasing your high as you become delirious. Your clit aches for attention, the throbbing is becoming unbearable as you just want something, anything, more.
“F-fuck… baby let up, will ya?” Gojo’s voice shakes as he attempts a lighthearted laugh to hide his wavering resolve. “Squeezin’ me like that, gonna make me—”
“That’s right, milk that cock,” Geto coos, encouraging you to clamp down even more. As soon as you do, Gojo loses his balance and almost falls on you again, hovering his head over the crook of your neck. You can feel him panting, his hot breath uneven as he whines down to a halt, begging you with husky whispers of “pleasepleaseplease” with no real request. You cradle him in your arms, trying and failing not to dig crescents into his back. 
Neither of you hear Geto approach as your awareness of his presence is only made known when thick fingers grab you both by the roots of your hair. He scoffs at the way you whine as he pulls Gojo away from you so that you can focus your attention on him. His face almost appears neutral if it weren’t for the way the glint of mischief in his eye was replaced by a darkened annoyance. “No one told you to stop,” he says in a whisper that’s roughened and tinged with a hint of a growl. “Now fuck like you mean it before you piss me off.”
He roughly drops the both of you before walking back to his chair, pleased to hear the proper sounds of skin on skin as Gojo slams into you with a purpose, his balls slapping against your ass. Geto takes a shudder breath as he sits, adjusting the boner in his pants ever so slightly, but hissing at the way it burns against his thigh. Not yet. 
Your hiccups replace broken moans as Gojo takes the leg farthest from Geto — as not to obstruct his view — and slings it over his shoulder, pushing himself deeper into your sopping cunt. He presses down on your stomach to feel the bulge that pushes against his hand with each thrust, moving your other leg back onto the bed to ensure Geto has nothing else to say regarding you two’s performance. 
Your eyes are sure to fall out the back of your head with the way they roll over. If it’s possible to split a human in half with a dick, you’re sure this is how it would start as your greedy little cunt is repeatedly bullied by Gojo’s cock, stretching around him like that’s what it was made for. 
Geto watches the sight with a smirk that dares grow into a smile as he gets up to roll a blunt, telling Gojo, “Touch her clit,” as he licks it closed. He doesn’t miss the way you jump and let out a wanton moan yelling his name. Even with Gojo’s cock in you, you can only yell for him. Cute. 
He takes his lighter out and takes a puff, letting the smoke sit in him and warm his chest before blowing it out off to the side. 
“Come.”
If it weren’t for the constant edging, one or both of you could’ve survived two, maybe even three more strokes, but you almost instantly at the command. No, at the allowance. With your combined orgasms, a bigger mess is made between you two. Even with Gojo bottoming out into you, extra cum is forcing its way out around his dick and onto the blankets beneath you. In your state, you’d swear that you can feel Gojo’s dick kicking with every pulse as he continuously paints your walls with an all too heavy load. 
With your clit finally getting the attention its been aching for, the combined deprivation of your high causes you to squirt and spill all over him. You can hear Geto whistling off to the side but can’t seem to care, rolling your hips with Gojo as you chase your orgasm to its completion, your body tensing before it relaxes. Your chest feels hot internally, but you shiver from the sweat around you as the chill of the air is finally starting to set in. You’re wrapped in Gojo’s warmth and arms only for a moment before Geto comes over and separates you two. 
You hiss at the way pulls Gojo out of you, forcing Gojo to sit up even though he whines in complaint. His blunt long forgotten in the ashtray, he looks between the two of you, humming at the sight. A small breath through his nose expressing his delight is released when two fingers fit inside you easily. He slaps your hand away when you tiredly complain about it being “too soon.” Pressing his thumb to your clit, he watches as your hips twitch and buck as Gojo’s cum drips around his digits. 
You curse your body for succumbing to his touch, willing it to fight back as he curls his fingers in you. Your breath hitches when you can feel him adding a third. Goosebumps prickle your skin as your nerves stand on end, the overstimulation simultaneously willing you to pull away but begging you to give in. Your arms are like lead as they uselessly hang at your sides. 
You don’t even see the way Geto grabs Gojo with his other hand, but you hear pathetic whines as Gojo jumps from the touch. Geto does nothing but tut him into silence. 
“I checked the time you know,” he says almost to himself as all he gets in response is broken forms of his name, “and you two didn’t even get close to making the hour like you promised. But… I am a kind man after all.”
A twist of his wrist and a press of his thumb have you two crying out.
“So I let you come early. And you will come. Again.” he relishes in the way you two cry out, for mercy, for god, for him. “And again and again and again,” he hums lightly, “and you won’t stop until I say so.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
taglist: @yasminessims @littlemochabunni @blkkizzat @ryomens-vixen @honeeslust
might hold a poll for what i should write next but idk yet, lmk what yall think!
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amourcheol · 8 months
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paris (teaser)
❝You and Jeonghan, jazz-filled corners, hidden history, and the city of love.❞
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historical! au | exes to lovers! au | angst, fluff, smut | approx. 45k words (teaser wc. 1.4k words)
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s u m m a r y : disgraced by hollywood for the last time, you, a once superstar-turned-alcoholic, escape to the city of love to seek sanctuary from the ruthless tabloids. your sanctuary comes in the form of film noir superstar yoon jeonghan, the enigmatic man who taught you the art of acting, lust and love before your fame. when he asks to meet you once, just like old times, you cannot refuse. what is meant to be a simple date turns into a path of passion, pain and everything that comes with fooling around with your ex in the jazz-filled corners of paris.
c o n t e n t s : actor! mc, actor! jeonghan, mc is incredibly bitter and makes bad decisions, agent! seungkwan who is tired of fixing them, jeonghan is the suavest, sultriest mf, mentions of parisian landmarks in this fic, also a bit of french peppered throughout, greek mythology art references, tons of fluff which is also layered with angst, this will be very hurt-comfort, hella ansgty but will have a happy ending mature warnings -> alcohol consumption and abuse, smoking, this is basically sexual tension with plot, slightly drunk making out, oral sex (f. receiving) unprotected sex (refer point to bad decisions), very soft angsty sex, body worshipping, petnames (chérie, mon ange, darling, angel), overall emotional rollercoaster, more tba!
p l a y l i s t : here!
t a g l i s t : @hyuckworld​ @sysymei @alaypsy23 @belladaises @jjeongddol @sparklyshuji @forcoups @ilovesungjun @wonwoo24 @scandal-in-bohemia @hopefulchick @superbbananananana @onedumbho3 @fragmentof-indifference @cuntycheol @rubywonu @if-i-like-i-reblog @yoonzinoooo @jungwoos-luvr @crookedwolfruins @leclercloverbot​ @alexai (let me know if y’all want to be tagged!)
a u t h o r ’ s  n o t e : after three years ... four rewritings later... she may finally see the light ... i am releasing the teaser now but will post the fic when i’m back from holiday! i hope you all enjoy the lil extract <3
read this fic here!
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SHIT. YOU COULD NOT DO THIS TODAY.
Suddenly, you wished he was a mere figment of your imagination, because then he would not have to see you in your drunken, disordered state, looking for art that was not there, looking for the past in the present.
But then he began to move.
This very real presence walked closer to you, and you felt your entire body constricting, because Yoon Jeonghan was in front of you, the greatest star in the world was approaching you, the man of your distant memories was coming too close.
“Wait,” he then said, and your throat was closing up, you were blinking rapidly, chest growing heavy, and you needed him to get away. He came closer, and you knew then and there you were going to die on the cold floor of the Louvre, marble eyes on you—
And then your own gaze was glistening, and when he noticed it became harder to contain yourself. “_____, are you all right?”
“Yes!” you got out, but then you proved yourself wrong when a few tears slipped out, staining your cheeks.
The man wasted no time, closing the last space between the two of you as he reached out. Instantly, you repelled from his touch, almost flinching from his surprise. “No!” you rasped out, bringing out your own hands to create distance, taking a step back. “No, you don’t need to do that…I’m fine.” 
You breathed sharply through your nose. “I am fine.”
Hastily you turned to the empty space where he last was, before you followed him like a madwoman around the hall. He watched you, your back almost to him. “What…what are you…” you paused, trying to normalise your shaking voice. “What are you doing here?”
You could feel his inquisitive stare upon you. “I could ask you the same thing.”
That question was not being answered. “I asked you first.”
Because you could not see him, you were not aware of his reaction. Still, it was enough for him to answer, “Well, in the Louvre, or in Paris?”
You gritted your teeth at that. “I think everyone knows why you’re in Paris at the moment.”
“Do they, now?”
You could not help it.
Casting a momentary glance at him, you were taken aback to find his gaze upon you. “Are you aware, at least?” he asked you.
Despite his simple questions, your impending headache, you had to clamp down on your remarks. “Of course I’m aware,” you muttered. “The papers are all over the press tours you’ve been doing.”
A perfectly groomed brow arched at your comment. “I’m surprised you follow the papers at the moment.” 
You knew exactly what he meant. “One must keep check of the stories they gossip about,” you only said, focusing back on the empty space. “Those journalists cannot be trusted.”
“Hmm…” you heard shuffling amongst his clothes—no doubt crossing his arms. “I have read the stories.”
A scoff. “I suppose you believe them, don’t you?”
He noted the cruelty in your response. The actor did not take it to heart.
“I have always believed in the stories you told me, chérie.”
This time, curiosity controlled your movement.
Curiosity had you turning back, forcing you to observe his expression, catch his lie. 
But you found no deception.
No, there was only sincerity—pure as the moonlight shining on the two of you.
Chérie.
The last time someone had called you such a sweet name was too long ago.
How ironic, that it was the same man beside you who had bestowed you this very endearment.
A shuddered breath left you. 
You could not do this now.
You were going to say as much when Jeonghan interrupted you.
“Were you looking for something in here?”
Your furrowed brows had him humming. “I thought as much.” Gently, he jerked his head beyond your figure. “Strangely enough, I was looking for it as well.”
Confused, you glanced back at the empty space, where that certain, mysterious sculpture was supposed to be. “That is why I came to the Louvre,” you heard him say.
There was still suspicion laced in your features. “How do you know that we are thinking of the same piece?”
That ghost of a smile crept up again. “You act as if you don’t remember.”
Your sigh was a little sheepish. “I do,” you said, reminiscing on the memories. “But the name…”
No matter how hard you endeavoured, your memory of the sculpture was too hazy for your half-drunk mind. 
You searched him for an answer. “I’m sure you have not forgotten.”
“No…I have not.”
You waited. His silence had you insisting, “Well?”
When you saw a slight glimmer in his whimsical gaze, you knew that he had something else in mind. The implications had you biting your lower lip, anxiety blooming.
The nerves grew when Jeonghan spoke.
“I will tell you if you see me tomorrow.”
You blinked back.
“There’s an exhibition opening here tomorrow afternoon,” he continued, taking a step towards you, careful not to startle you again. “It’s centred on the sculpture we both wanted to see, but it’s been moved to another hall.”
He confused you a great amount. “How do you know that?”
His stare went beyond you, to the wall. “It says on the plaque.”
Sure enough—when you looked back, there was the notice. Because your French was adequate at best, you did not understand it fully. You simply had to trust his linguistic abilities.
That you could do—you were aware of Jeonghan’s fluency in the language of love. 
He cocked his head, a few strays cascading the side of his face. “You and I could see it there.”
The offer had shaken you. “Why?”
“Why?”
You knitted your brows suspiciously. “Why do you want to go with me?”
The film noir star watched you then, you shuffling uncomfortably under his scrutiny. God, you forgot how intense his eyes were—in fairness, you had not been the subject of his stares for a few years. 
He locked his gloved hands behind his back. “Because you need a break, _____. From everything.”
He offered you a smile. “Let me be the one to give you that. If only for the day.”
You could have crumbled before him.
It was at this stage you cursed yourself for being in such a state. Perhaps if you were sober, you would have carried on this conversation in a more respectable manner, taken more caution.
It was incredibly difficult, composing yourself around the man.
“I can’t…” you inhaled sharply, trying to form the words. “I cannot do midday…too many people, you know…staring, judging…”
“Ah.” He nodded, parting his mouth in thought. “Then tomorrow night?”
Stretching your mouth, unsure, he assured, “They will not follow you here at this hour.”
“How are you so sure of that?”
This time, he sighed, surprised at your anxiousness. “I see you’ve not changed, then.”
You narrowed your gaze. “What is that supposed to mean?”
But the actor did not seem like he was going to elaborate. 
He instead took another step towards you, a mere two feet left. 
“Do you trust me?”
You tilted your head back. 
What kind of question was that?
Do you trust me?
You did not trust anyone. Not after this whole debacle back home, when almost all your friends within the industry had contributed to your downfall. Hollywood was filled with traitors, the worst being the people who haunted the journey of your disgrace at every moment.
It was impossible to place any ounce of faith in another.
As you watched his eyes settle on you, you noticed an emotion you had not witnessed in forever.
Tenderness.
Tenderness with no ulterior motive—gentle acceptance, as if he recognised your position. As if he recognised your change, the apprehensive nature of your questions, your pauses. It physically hurt being stained with such compassion, when you had been begging for it from the world all those weeks ago.
It hurt, having someone who understood you.
You, however, should not have been surprised.
Yoon Jeonghan had always been like this. Especially when you both were together.
You could have smiled. 
What a time that was.
As if he could read your mind, the film noir star began, “You remember, don’t you? That I’ve never let you down?”
You decided to let yourself slip—you could always blame it on the alcohol. 
“What time do you want me here tomorrow?”
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fanpageknight · 6 months
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Branded
Posted:09/27/23
Title: Branded
Yandere Mihawk x Gn reader
Summary: What you assumed to be a one nightstand turns out to be a lifetime sentence.
Author's note:
Word Count: 2309
OPLA Story List/ Master List/ Requests Here
Warnings: yandere, NSFW, language
🔞18+ page due to dark and adult themes. Minors will be blocked 🔞
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His golden soul-staring eyes felt hypnotic the first time you met him. You remember how hard you blushed when he kissed your hand to introduce himself. "My name is Dracule Mihawk, and you, my dear?" The bar holds its breath upon hearing the name, but you were too naive to notice. "Y/n l/n." He smiles already, fully aware of who you are. "What an alluring name. May I buy you a drink?", "I don't see why not." He smiles. "Excellent~." He holds your eyes while speaking to the scared bartender. "Bartender.", "u-um. Y-yes, sir?" You don't note the man's shaking demeanor. "Put all of this fine young lady's/lad's drinks on my tab." You raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? I can pay for those myself." Mihawk's hand finds yours on the counter. "I have no doubt you can provide for yourself, but please allow me the honor~" Drink after drink he bought you. "Nothing is too much for you, my dear, ~" He insisted. You used to beat yourself up over saying yes, but you were quick to realize that even if you had told him no, it still would have ended all same way.
Convinced it was just one night, you let him charm and ravish you like a dark antagonist from a gothic romance novel. Mihawk made love to you so good that it plunged your mind into a more intoxicated state than any drink could provide. The next day, you woke up in a luscious bed on his pirate ship, and his mark branded on your ass. "What the hell?" You ask your hungover reflection, staring at the fresh burn mark. "Do you like it?" You jump at his voice. "No, I don't! What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Quickly you pull the covers off the bed to shield your nude form as he watches from the doorway. "Do you just getting people drunk just so can brand them after a cheap fuck?!" You shout at him. His face showed no remorse. "If I recall correctly, you agreed to a few drinks. Not only that, but you were also very enthralled with my idea of spending the night together~" Your face was turning red from anger and embarrassment. "So that gives you the right to brand me?!" His cock twitches, remembering how you groaned into the pillow from the pain. Mihawk pushes himself off the door frame to stock towards you. "You should be thankful. I planned on putting it somewhere a lot more..." You take a few steps back when his fingers brush against your exposed neck. "Visible~" His eyes meet yours while he takes one last step forward, your chests almost touching. "But I'm a gentleman and put it where it was requested~" Your eyes bulged out of your head. Did you really ask him to brand your ass? "I-I didn't. I-I wouldn't - " Your eyes drift to the ground, trying to recall the night prior. Mihawk wants to moan at your expression of shame and confusion. "Yet you did, but don't blame yourself too much. You were going to be branded either way." Your tear-filled eyes look at his. "This way is just more...intimate-" His hand moves to stroke your cheek but gets slapped away. "Get off me!" Mihawk doesn't stop you from pushing past him. "You're insane!" Fearing for your safety, you drop the sheet to frantically dress yourself halfway. "I'm gonna go home and report you to the Marines!" Before you can storm out. Mihawk blocks the doorway. "Move!" You shout. "I will~, but first it is only fair that I warn you that if you leave now, I will come after you. I will hunt you down and drag you back here because you, my dear..." You cling to the other half of your clothes hanging in your arms. "You belong to me now... and I always get what I want~" His threat hangs in the air for a moment before he steps out of your way. He lifts an eyebrow when you stand there staring at him. "You're insane..." You repeat, making sure to hit your shoulder against his hard on your way out.
Insane but he spoke the truth. The marines of your town laughed you off when you reported what happened. "Dracule Mihawk? Yeah, right! Why the hell would a pirate warlord waste his time chasing after some nobody like you?" Your blood turns cold. "Did... Did you just say-" The marine cuts you off. "A pirate warlord? Oh, come on, don't tell me you've never heard of him? If a man like that was really after you, then you're as good as dead." Those words rang in your ears. Trying to resume your everyday life proved to be impossible. Everywhere you look, your vision tricks you into seeing him. Those haunting gold eyes, staring... waiting. So you skipped town... then the next and the next. The sun's deadly rays illuminates you out of the shadows to feed you your fate. To each town, the more he reveals himself. Yet he never chased you when you ran. Mihawk would just watch as you got more and more desperate for help. An erotic chill runs down his spine, "and to think... I haven't even laid a hand on you yet~"
Sun-burning eyes fill with hunger in the moonlight. His prey lays asleep in front of him, in a bed foreign to them. Mihawk allows himself to sit next to you on the bed while his knuckles brush over your exposed skin.
Bu hu hu
They are coming for you
I can see three pirates on the ocean
Mihawk's song starts as a mumbled. Your face squashed into the pillow, peacefully unaware of his presence.
Bu hu hu
They are coming for you
I can see three pirates on the ocean
The first one lost his eye
The second lost his sense
The third one will show no emotion
His voice becomes a smooth whisper. It wasn't often Mihawk got calm moments. He wanted you to share more of them with you. Even if he knew it would take you a while to adjust to your new life with him.
Yo ho ho
We are coming for you
We are pirates of the ocean
Yo ho ho
We are coming for you
There's no place to hide
You will die tonight
Death to the tiny lifeboat you have been clinging to. Mihawk was here for you now. The eye of the storm was calling you home.
Yo ho ho
We are coming for you
We are pirates of the ocean
Yo ho ho
We are coming for you
There's no place to hide
You will die tonight
He gently lowered the sheet to reveal your arm. His seemly cold fingers danced across the warmth of your skin, exploring.
Go kiss your jewelery farewell, my dear
Go hide you blaggard there's no use to fight
Doubloons and pesos will all go. I fear
So leave this place while the day is bright
They aim to pillage, and the cross is here
They leave no swags as they set sail
No time to morn, so save your tears
For the dead men leave no tale
As he sang, he carefully pulled your sheets down. You stur as his strong arms gingerly lift your sleeping frame.
Yo ho ho
We are coming for you
We are pirates of the ocean
Yo ho ho
We are coming for you
There's no place to hide
You will die tonight
The singing vibrates in his chest, keeping your sleeping body happy while he sings the lullaby out the door. The moonlight fills the town with a cooly lit pathway to the seashore.
If you are wealthy, they will find you first
They smell their way to a coffer of gold
If you have rum, they will quench their thirst
And leave no quarter, that's what I'm told
I hear the shanty from across the sea
I hear the cannons they are close, my lad
So flee my heartie. Here's no place to be
And say goodbye to mom and dad~
The next morning, you were back at square one. Once more, you awaken to salty sea air, a swaying pirate bed, and no memory of how you got there. Luckily this time around, there were no new markings. After crying yourself awake, you mindlessly find your way to the deck. Nothing but a watery grave surrounded you. Blue sky stretches far, desperate to touch her ocean lover. You look over the edge straight down. The depth beneath your floating prison sent an eery chill down your spine. Trying to calm yourself from the terrifying situation, you close your eyes and let your face greet the sun. "What did I do to deserve this?" You ask yourself. "Nothing, my dear -" Your body violently jumps at the sudden voice. "Why the hell do you always have to sneak up on me?!" Mihawk chuckles at your reaction, which also catches you off guard. He's... laughing? "Apologies. It's in my nature, I suppose." He seemed much more relaxed. "...I should put a bell on you." You mumbled, looking back out to the ocean. "Put a hundred. You still wouldn't hear me." Mihawk lends on the rallying, observing the view with you. He knew you wanted to ask a thousand questions, so he waited patiently, letting you take your time. You think about the night you met him. The lights of the bar sharpened his more daring features. However, now that you see him in the warm glow of the sun, he has a dishy look to him. "Have I wronged you in some way?" You questioned. "If you had, you wouldn't be around to wonder it." That night, he had spent it pleasuring you to the high heavens. Even if you were half past drunk, your body remembers the emotions he quite literally craved into you. "Am I a sex slave?" Your voice shows your fear, remembering his threats of ownership over you or the marines revealing him to be a warlord. Mihawk pulls his eyes from the ocean. "I may be a pirate warlord, but by no means am I a behemoth." Mihawk stands at full height. "Then why... why am I here?" Delicate fingers lift your chin telling you to look at him. "Because I love you, my dear. I am unsure as to why or how. For I have never cared so much about something outside of myself... and I'll be damn if that one thing is taken from me." You gulped at the sudden seriousness of his tone. "I do not require you to reciprocate such strong emotions, if any. However, I do request your obedience."
It was understood that he wasn't 'Requesting' anything. He's telling you to obey. His thumb brushes against your bottom lip. "Let it be known, I have been very generous up to this point. For your sake, I hope you got everything out of your system because from now on there will be no more running. Such actions will lead to sufficient consequences... Am I understood?" Mihawk can see the fear brewing in your eyes once more. "Yes..." You say against his thumb. "Good~" He pulls you in slowly for a tender kiss. His hand moves from your chin to your hair while his other arm snakes around your waist. The kiss turns more passionate as he holds you closer. "Mhm~" you moaned, and the kiss started to melt your fear. Mihawk tongue dominates yours. His arm slips down to possessively grab your branded ass. "I would very much like to see how my mark has been healing~" He can see the hesitation on your face. "Oh, come now, don't be so shy. I don't bite~" Without a second to reply, he manhands you to lend over the rallying. Shocked you do your best to brace yourself. "What are -" Your shout turns into silence by shook, when he yanks down your pants. "Stay still. Let me have a look~" Mihawk was on his knees behind you. He didn't pull your underwear down but instead moved it to the side. Revealing the pink brand on your ass. You bite your tongue hard, staring out at the ocean. "Mhm~" He moans at the sight. "Healing quite nicely. All pretty and red~" His thumb brushes next to it. Your face matched the same redness. "I bet it's still tender~" He pounders, letting his thumb glide over it. You hiss at the sharp pain. Mihawk's low chuckles send shivers down your spine. "Excellent~" You gasp when you feel Mihawk's full lips tenderly kiss the sensitive mark. A strong hand finds its way around your leg. Continuing to kiss not only the mark but the skin around it, he squeezes your plush thigh. You couldn't help but feel lost on how to respond. "Finally mine~" He mumbled against your ass. The kiss turned into Mihawk, leaving hickeys and bites across your thigh and ass. Cleary, his previous state was a lie. Passionate about taking in the feeling of your flesh or your hips jolting forward in pain, he groans. With one last pop, his mouth lets go of you as he stands. Stopping himself before getting too excited. Shyly You look over your shoulder at him. "That's quite enough for now. I'll ravish you plenty more later on. For now, I must get you fed. You have a long few days." Like a gentleman, he fixes your underwear and pulls your pants back up. "I've got a wide variety of food choices." He holds out his arm for you, beginning to tell you about breakfast. Mihawk's voice drowns out as your mind focuses on the wet kisses left behind on your ass to create a feeling of erotic imprisonment that will last a lifetime.
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Text
The Farmer's Daughter 6
Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Characters: Walter Marshall
Summary: You notice a peculiar change in a family friend. (short!reader, sorry size kink is out)
Part of the Backwoods AU
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
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You stand at the counter, waiting on the pharmacist to fill the script. Walter stands close, perusing the shelves beneath the pick-up window. You doubt he’s in the market for cough drops or nasal spray but there isn’t much to distract you.
You check the list as you slide your bag to the crook of your elbow. You chew your lip and think. While you’re here…
“Um, I’ll be right back, okay?” You say to him. He arches a brow curiously at you. You offer a soft smile, “just gotta grab something before I forget.”
He nods and paces back and forth, hands behind his back. You head down the center aisle and dip down the next. It’s close to the middle of the month and you’re running low. You search for the familiar package. Usually you get it at the grocer so you’re not familiar with the arrangement here.
You find your brand and stare up at it on the top shelf. Of course. You get on your toes and reach, grasping the shelf for balance as you teeter. Another hand snatches up the package you vie for and you turn in embarrassment as the tall blond man holds out the feminine pads.
“There you are, little one,” Thor proclaims.
You take the pads and lower your eyes to the floor, “thanks.”
“Not to worry,” he assures, “I used to fetch the very same for my sister. No need to be ashamed of your womanly needs.”
“Um, well, sure,” you giggle nervously, “I appreciate it.”
You wave the package then stop yourself and push it behind your back. You shrug and gnaw on your lip, “I… I’m just waiting for a prescription, so I should…”
“Heard about your dad,” he says, “sorry to hear it. You’ll give him my regards.”
“Yeah,” you eke out, “sure will, thanks again.”
You spin and trot away. How awkward was that. Thor’s always friendly but the last thing you need is him picking out your pads. Oh, you should’ve thought of that before you decided to add to the list.
As you look up, you find Walter waiting at the end of the aisle, watching you as you keep the package hidden behind you.
“Oh, hey,” you greet him, “got what I need.”
“Here,” he holds out the small paper bag with the pharmacy’s logo, “everything alright?”
“Sure,” you answer, trying to shake off the tingle in your cheeks.
“What did Odinson want?”
“Just asking about dad,” you shrug.
“Mm,” he grumbles.
You take the bag and move it to conceal the label on the pads. Walter’s eyes flick down at the movement but he doesn’t say anything. He raises his gaze to look over your head. You turn to watch Thor as he gives a half-wave with three fingers and struts away.
“Anyway, I’ll just pay for my stuff and meet you outside?” You face Walter again.
He’s quiet as he glares down the aisle. He’s like a statue. You’re not even sure he heard you.
“Walt?” You squeak.
He winces and looks down at you, “I didn’t know you were friends with him.”
“I’m… Everyone knows Thor,” you chime.
He shifts on his feet as his jaw ticks, “I’ll be outside.”
You sidle out of his way as he steps past you. You step back up to the counter as Bessie smiles at you. You hand over the package and dig in your purse. You pay without chattering as she offers the same condolences as everyone else you’ve run into. 
You ask for a bag and flip out, exhausted already. It’s supposed to be an escape but the stares and the soft tones just remind you of what you’re running away from. Walter stands by his truck as he waits for you. He stills himself as you approach.
“Everything okay?” He asks.
“Yep,” you reply meekly, “onto the grocery store.”
He bows his head in acquiescence. You could walk the block down to the store you suppose but you’re not thinking that far ahead. You just want to be gone.
He follows you around to the passenger’s side, again opening the door before you can. You toss the bag on the seat and reach for the interior of the door. Before you can haul yourself up, he has you around the waist, lifting you up onto the metal step. You let out a strained squeak and grasp onto the seat before sliding into it.
His hands graze off of you and he hovers, just for a moment, before he shuts the door. You look down as he lumbers around in your peripheral. You hug yourself, touching your sides where he gripped you. He touches you a lot.
You sit up as he climbs in the other side and shake off the thought. He’s just being helpful. After all he’s done, you owe him a million thanks.
He starts the engine and pulls away from the curb. He drives silently down the road and you sink down into the seat as familiar faces pace by, strolling down the pavement. Why did you think this was a good idea?”
He rolls into the dirt lot behind the grocery store and you’re quick to jump out before he can reach you. Your purse drops onto the ground as you stagger. He shuts the door before you can as he grunts.
“Careful,” he warns as he grabs your arm and pulls you straight.
“I’m good,” you snatch up your purse and lift your ankle to roll out the kink in your achilles. 
You cross the lot as he trails behind you, a towering shadow at your heels. You enter the front doors and wave to Alison, the cashier on first shift. She greets you with a grin and flips the page of the magazine opened before her till.
Walter lurks behind you as you take out the list again. You don’t need too much. You go to the stack of basket and he snakes around you to claim one first.
“Got it,” he says.
“Thanks,” you murmur and smooth out the creases in the list.
“Honeydew,” he says, “right?”
You glance up at him then over at the rows of produce. You nod and turn away, heading for the mountain of melons. Again, he’s close behind you. Like a big, grumpy dog. The thought makes you laugh and you peek over at him. You could definitely see him growling like one.
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semisgroupie · 1 year
Text
SINS OF THE FLESH
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priest!nanami kento x fem. reader x priest!toji fushiguro
wc: 3.0k
warnings: sacrilegious, virginity loss, threesome (mmf), oral sex (m! and f!receiving), corruption kink, manipulation, blasphemy, lots of religious undertones, unprotected sex, creampie, Toji and nanami are so filthy here (it’s so sexy), reader is very naive and innocent (perfect prey), reciting of prayers during sexual acts, praise, slight manhandling
synopsis: it’s not a sin if you lose your virginity to two hot priests in a church right?
a/n: this is for my what’s done in the dark collab! and a lil belated birthday gift to myself!!
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“Through him, with him, in him, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, all glory and honor is yours, almighty Father, forever and ever.”
A unified Amen filled the entire room then people stood to line up, waiting to receive the small wafer and a sip of the wine dubbed the blood of Christ. You helped the elderly man seated next to you stand then walked behind him to join the line. You looked around at the familiar faces and sighed happily to yourself before making eye contact with the two men wearing cassocks, Father Kento and Father Toji.
You have always been involved with the church, your earliest memories were filled with the church. So, it was only natural for you to start attending your local church when you moved. That was when you first met Father Kento, he greeted you with open arms and a warm smile. It was easy for you to adjust to the new environment and then about a few months later a new priest in training joined the church, Father Toji. It was interesting to see how the two men interacted with each other when they were seemingly polar opposites. But what you weren’t aware of was what the two men had in common.
An insatiable urge to corrupt an innocent parishioner and both men had their eyes on you.
You were the perfect church girl and they knew how to get you right in their bed and between them. They knew you were the type to save yourself until marriage but that doesn’t mean they couldn’t drift you away from your original, innocent plans. Especially if they convinced you that, that’s what God wanted for you.
Being priests they had the gift of gab. That only meant it wouldn’t take much to convince someone as trusting as you to do what they needed you to do.
Each man stood at either end of the table, Nanami held the chalice with the wine inside and Toji started giving out the wafers. Each person went one after another and received their own blessing and finally it was your turn. You stood in front of Father Nanami and he brought the chalice to your lips and you took a small sip before pulling back. “Thank you Father Kento.” He smiled and leaned in, “you know you haven’t been to confession in almost a month, after mass you’ll go with me and Father Toji, okay?”
You nodded at his words and offered him another smile before moving to Father Toji. You watched how he placed the sacramental bread in others hands so they can place it into their mouths but when it was your turn, he ignored your cupped hands and tapped the wafer against your lips. “Open up, you know the deal.” He let out a low chuckle as you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out slightly. Fuck you looked perfect like that, so innocent, so malleable, he could just take you in front of all the other parishioners but he had to be patient. He placed the small wafer on your tongue and pulled his hand back, “thank you Father Toji.” He nodded and watched as you got up and walked back to your seat.
The mass continued and everything happened so quickly. Both men couldn’t keep their thoughts straight, for you have infiltrated them so easily.
“May almighty God bless you, the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.” Toji lifted his hand to the crowd and moved it in the shape of a cross as Nanami started the ending of mass. Another unified Amen filled the room and Nanami finished with the concluding words, “The Mass is ended, go in peace to love and serve the Lord.”
“Thanks be to God.” Everyone started getting up and thanked the two men for a wonderful mass while you stood behind. There was no real reason why you hadn’t gone to confession, there was nothing you had to confess. You hadn’t sinned, well maybe some things here and there but nothing that would warrant a confession. You moved your hands down to play with the hem of your dress as you consumed yourself in your thoughts.
Both men approached you and stood at either side of you while you continued to toy with your dress. Toji leaned down to your ear and placed a hand on your shoulder, “come now sweetheart. We’ll be doing things a little different today, you’ll be confession to both Father Kento and myself.” You jumped a little at the deep rumble of his voice and nodded at his words, too naive and trusting for your own good.
He held out his hand to you and you took it without hesitation. He continued to hold onto it while Nanami followed behind you both, itching to get his hands on you. The walk was filled with light small talk as the men led you to a more private area, their quarters.
You looked around the room and turned to look at them, slightly dumbfounded. “Why are we here? Don’t we normally do our confessions in the confessional booth?” God, you looked so cute. A slight pout on your lips as you looked up at the two men while your hands went back to the hem of your dress. Toji spoke first and placed a hand on your shoulder, “yes but it’s currently being fixed, so we just decided to take you here if that’s okay with you?”
You looked up at the raven haired male and nodded, your gaze drifting momentarily to his scar before meeting his eyes. “Good, now sit.” Nanami pulled out two chairs and put them back to back, he led you to sit down on one while Toji sat on the other. “What about you, Father Kento? Don’t you need a seat?”
He shook his head and smiled at you, “Father Toji is the one you’re confessing to, I’m just here to make sure everything goes smoothly.” He sat down on the desk in front of you and nodded his head, “go on and start.”
You sucked in a small breath and started, “bless me, Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was two weeks ago. These are my sins, I have succumbed to a sin of the flesh.” Heat rose to your cheeks and burned through your whole body as the sin you committed left your lips in a soft tone to reach the ears of the two deviants you were in a room with before reaching God’s ears. Both men perked up and raised an eyebrow. “Sweetheart, please elaborate further on that. God cannot forgive you for your sin if you don’t explain it in its entirety.” You played with the hem of your dress more as Toji’s raspy voice reverberated throughout the room.
“I have touched myself in a sinful way, Father.” You kept your eyes down at your hands, if the world swallowed you whole in this moment you would be thankful. Toji turned his head to look at Nanami and nodded. Nanami stood up and took a few steps over to you and knelt down. He placed one of his hands on your knee while the other went on top of your fidgeting hands. “Darling, you can’t just stop in the middle of a confession. Do you mind if I help you?” You tore your gaze away from your dress and met his warm eyes, you nodded slowly and he smiled. He moved his hand from your hands and moved it to the other knee. You watched closely as he started pushing them apart and you instinctively tried to keep your legs closed. The issue is, he was much stronger than you so he easily overpowered you and kept your legs spread.
“Don’t you want God to forgive you for your sins? If you don’t let me do this then God can’t forgive you and you can’t truly repent.” Your eyes widened at his words and you shook your head, “no, Father Kento I want to be forgiven, I want to repent for my sins!” He had to bite back a smirk and Toji moved so he could watch over your shoulder, you felt his hot breath at your ear and you turned your head quickly to face him.
“Just trust us. We’re just doing what God wants us to do okay?” He cooed softly at you and you nodded, both men knew it would be easy to get you to submit to their will but this was just easier than they expected. Toji hooked two fingers under your chin and lifted your head up as he leaned in close, “have you ever kissed a man before?” Your cheeks burned as you peered into his eyes and you shook your head, “no, Father Toji.”
“Good girl.” With that he closed the remaining gap between you both and kissed you softly, you whimpered against his lips and gripped the arms of the chair you were sitting in tightly. His lips against yours felt like nothing you’ve imagined before and as he deepened the kiss you felt the same burning in your belly whenever you touched yourself.
Now that you were distracted, Nanami lifted up your dress so it scrunched up at your hips and let out a low groan at the sight of your panties, white to represent your innocence that was soon to be tainted by the two men you were with. He moved one hand up your thigh and started rubbing gentle circles on your clit over your panties. You instantly arched your back and gasped against Toji’s lips, “so reactive, little angel.” Nanami mumbled before pressing his thumb against the growing wet spot on your panties and then hooked two fingers under them and pulled them to the side.
Your pussy looked perfect, your swollen clit and your pretty virgin hole clenched around nothing. He adjusted his position and leaned in close, taking in a deep breath. Fuck, you even smelled sweet. He pressed gentle kisses along your lower lips and kissed your clit. You gripped the arms of the chair tighter and whined against Toji’s lips once Nanami took your pussy into his mouth. Toji broke the kiss and looked down at Nanami, chuckling at how disheveled you looked. Your kiss swollen lips were parted ever so slightly and your eyes drifted between the two men.
Toji disrobed and your eyes widened as you saw his muscles once he took his cassock and shirt off. They flexed and tensed with the most subtle movements and you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him. Then your eyes traveled down his body and saw his bulge, he seemed like he was about to burst through his pants. “Enjoying the view, sweetheart? Tell me, when you touch yourself do you think about me and Father Kento? Because I have a little confession for you,” he leaned in close to your ear while you moaned and whined due to Nanami’s tongue exploring your pussy like a man who hasn’t had a drink in days. “Father Kento and I have had filthy thoughts about you, thoughts that would make even the devil blush.” Your heart skipped a beat at his words, there’s no way they could be true, right?
These men are supposed to be the definition of holiness, they’re not supposed to succumb to sin. They’re held at a higher tier due to their devotion to faith, you look up to priests and the clergy as an example of how you’re supposed to live your life. But to know that they’re just as depraved as you are excites you.
You moved one hand down from the arm of the chair to Nanami’s hair and messed up the perfectly styled golden locks as he suckled on your clit. Your mouth fell agape as he continued his actions and Toji took advantage of the position you were in. He gripped your chin and turned your head so you could face him but this time he was completely undressed, revealing his throbbing cock. Your mind started racing but the big question that circled around in your haze filled mind was how would he be able to fit it inside your mouth? There was no way you could open your mouth that wide but you couldn’t dwell on the question for long. He moved one of his large hands behind your head and pushed you closer until the tip laid along your tongue. “You just need to suction your mouth like you’re sucking on one of those cherry lollipops you love to have right after mass and I’ll do the rest of the work.”
So you did exactly as he said, you wrapped your lips around the bulbous head and he started moving his hips, thrusting shallowly to let you adjust to his size but the way you were whimpering and moaning around his cock made it extremely difficult to go slow. Nanami moved one hand from your knee and brought it to your entrance, now coated in his saliva and your juices and slipped one finger inside you. The feeling was overwhelming, he pumped his finger slowly then started picking up the pace as he sucked on your clit harder. Just as he picked up the pace of his finger, Toji picked up the pace of his hips. Guttural and borderline animalistic groans left his scarred lips as he forced you to take his cock entirely down your throat. You gagged each time his balls touched your chin and tears freely spilled down your face but it just turned you on even more.
Nanami’s cock throbbed as he looked up at you, you were taking a cock that was entirely too big for you almost with ease and he just had to have you. He slipped a second finger inside you and started pumping them quickly, the squelching of your pussy almost felt too loud and your legs started shaking at the rough pace. Before you knew it, the coil inside your belly snapped and your pussy clenched around his fingers tightly as your orgasm washed over you. Toji pulled out of your mouth so you could catch your breath and Nanami pulled away from you. “Let’s bring her to the bed and put her on all fours.” Nanami spoke as he undressed and Toji scooped you up from the chair with ease and brought you to the cot in the room, he put you on your hands and knees and sat down in front of you, his cock still standing proud while the tip leaked even more precum.
Once Nanami was fully undressed he joined you two on the cot and moved behind you. He pressed his cock against your slit and dragged it through your folds to collect the mix of his spit and your juices on it. “Just take a deep breath, this will hurt but it’ll feel good very soon.” With that he lined up with your entrance and started slowly pushing in, “oh Christ, if this is what heaven feels like then I never want to leave.” He groaned and continued pushing in slowly, tears pricked at your eyes and you stretched your arms out to hold onto Toji’s thighs. “You poor thing,” Toji cooed and moved one hand to caress your cheek and wiped at your eyes, “you’re doing so good, just doing what the Lord needs of you.”
His hips slowly started to move faster and snapped against yours. Toji guided his cock back into your mouth and started thrusting up, both men using you. Nanami gripped your hips tighter and leaned down, “remember you still need to repent for your sins. So I need you to repeat after me, this is Corinthians 7:10.” He snapped his hips into yours while Toji buried his cock in the back of your throat. “Father, when I sin, help me to not dwell in a worldly sort of sorrow that would lead to my death” he smirked as you tried to repeat the prayer while Toji’s cock was still in your mouth. “Grant me godly sorrow and the ability to recognize it.” He gave you another moment to try to repeat his words before continuing, “May it result in repentance that leads to deliverance and leaves no regret. Amen.” You repeated the final words of the prayer and let out a muffled Amen around Toji’s cock and the raven haired male groaned.
Both men started to move in sync, each time Nanami bottomed out so did Toji. Everything they did was mind numbing and all you could do was moan and hold onto Toji’s thighs. You knew you wouldn’t be able to hold off your orgasm much longer, it was already quickly approaching. The way Nanami’s cock explored your walls was like his cock was made to be inside you. Nanami gripped your hips tighter and threw his head back as you clenched around his cock tighter. He angled his hips and hit that spongy spot inside, instantly making you cum. You let out a muffled cry around Toji’s cock as your orgasm took over you. Both men groaned and Nanami’s orgasm washed over him first, he pressed his hips firmly against yours as he coated your virgin walls with cum then Toji held your head down as he came deep down your throat.
You dug your nails into his thighs and he pulled you off once he was done. You panted and looked up at him as your tongue stuck out slightly, some remnants of his cum coated the pink muscle. You swallowed and Nanami slowly pulled out of you, allowing you to slump against the cot completely. “Thank you Father Toji, thank you Father Kento.” Your voice was raspy from the face fucking you received and both men pressed a kiss to your temple.
“You did very well but there is still more you need to do to be fully forgiven. What do you say about having confessions like these every week after mass and after Bible study?” Toji spoke and gently caressed your cheek while Nanami covered your body with a blanket. You looked up at both men with half lidded eyes and nodded, “if that’s what God wants from me then I’ll do it.”
Nanami and Toji sported the same smirk and nodded. “You’re the perfect child of God, now get some rest.” Nanami whispered and pressed a kiss to your cheek.
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chasingpj · 1 year
Text
𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐞
"Hi, my name's Nico!"
pairing: platonic!nico di angelo x older sister reader
summary: you found your pugsley addams
warnings: brief mention of injury, grieving a family member
category: one-shot but not really
a/n: this is probably awful but do i need to fulfil my big sister urge to protect our beloved nico? yes. yes i do. i got this idea listening to Here With Me by d4vd, if you want something to listen while reading <3
“Hi, my name is Nico!”
Tousled dark brown hair, big brown eyes, a toothless grin, and a squeaky voice. Strangely, he doesn’t cower at your eyes, sizing him up. Either he doesn’t care or he’s clueless to your judgment. You're sure it’s the latter. 
How could this tiny boy, with too much life in his eyes, and too much excitement in his voice be a child of Hades? Considering your father’s exciting track record with children, this wasn’t what you were expecting when Chiron mentioned you had a brother moving in soon.
He’s just so… lively. 
The blinding daylight outside poured through your agape curtains and it surrounded his small frame like a giant halo. 
The sight was violent.
It gave you a headache. 
“What’s your name?” He waits antsy for your answer and you debate on even giving him one. 
Father told you he didn’t have any living children besides you. Considering the boy in front of you, it was a lie, or he had forgotten about him. Either way, you plan on arguing about it later. 
How dare he give you a roommate. Let alone a roommate barely in the double digits. This boy could have a tantrum today, and you didn’t sign up for babysitting.
“My side.” Your fingers point to the left of the cabin which is furnished with a bed, shelves, a desk, and a nightstand you got shipped to camp. “Your side.” 
Lazily, you point to the right. The lone bunk bed that initially occupied the space is tucked there, ready for the roommate you never thought would arrive. 
After three years, you had debated on getting rid of it, maybe donating it to the Hermes cabin. Gods know they need it but you guess keeping it was the right choice. 
“Inside voice only. No laughing, no whining, no groaning, no screaming, and especially, no crying.” 
The boy’s face falters into a slight frown. Your unblinking, emotionless face had settled into his awareness. For the first time since he’s arrived, he looks down at his feet. “Okay.” 
Your vision follows his movements as the boy retreats to his side of the room. His suitcase drags across the floor, making a wretched sound and it shoots irritation straight into your chest. 
Harsh words threaten to spill from your lips but they get caught at the back of your throat.
At least he’s compliant, you consider. Better bubbly and compliant than bubbly and stubborn. 
★・・・・・・★
“Psst.”
Did you imagine it? The sound was so faint and quick, you weren’t sure if it even happened. 
Voices in passing weren’t foreign to you. The occasional energy likes to linger around. 
If it was that, you refused to spare a single movement to signal you heard anything at all. A bothersome ghost wasn’t really in your plans tonight. 
There wasn’t a twitch in your face or a pause in your breathing that gave you away. And as you do every night, you remain laid on your back, hands lightly folded and rested in the middle of your stomach. 
“PSST.” 
Great. 
The second time was filled with so much urgency you couldn’t conclude it as a trick of the ear. Suddenly, you’re filled with dread. And it wasn’t from the possibility that when opening your eyes, you may find an entity looming over you. Honestly, you wished that’s what you were expecting. At least then, you’d be more interested. 
But no, you knew the sound came from no one other than the pest who sleeps across the room. Even now, you are fully aware of his small presence beside your bed. 
You had to give him credit. At no point did you hear him approach.
A silent stride just like yours? Maybe you actually are related. 
“What?”
Nico tenses up, his hand flings back to his side. He was just questioning if you were even alive, judging from your barely rising chest. Not sure what to do after your lack of response, he thought giving you a little poke would get a reaction but from your tone just now, he was glad he didn’t get to test that out. “T-the statue…” Nico didn’t dare look over, gaze set on your blank face. “What about it?” “It blinked.” 
Nico rubs his sweaty palms on his pajama pants, feeling the looming presence of Hades's statue. 
The past few nights, while lying in his bed, he kept returning to the same conclusion. He couldn’t be the only one who thought sleeping in a room with a giant statue was kinda creepy. 
Sure, it was just stone, but at times, it felt like it was looking at him. He thought he was just imagining it at first. Bianca did say he had a habit of spooking himself out but it didn’t stop him from sleeping with the sheets over his head. 
Tonight, however, amongst the deliriousness of waking up, he made the mistake of looking over. His vision was hazy, but he was sure of what he saw. The statue had blinked. Clean and quick as if it was supposed to do that. It was more than he’s ever seen you blink, and he’s been with you for almost a week. 
“It does that sometimes.”  
“What?” Nico’s voice was laced with so much emotion you could imagine what face he was making. Behind your eyelids, you envisioned the scared face Mr. D made you identify recently in therapy. It was so comedic to you, you almost smiled. 
“Go back to sleep.” A whine immediately leaves Nico’s lips, and your hand moves up, arm bent at the elbow, your pointer finger in the air. “No whining.” “But—” “Still whining,” you point out, and Nico remains quiet for a moment. Taking consideration of his silent movements earlier, you assumed he retreated to bed, but as he cleared his throat, you wished you could roll your eyes with them closed. 
“I’m scared.”  
“And what do you want me to do about that?” 
“I don’t know. When I’m scared, my sister—” 
“I’m not your sister.” 
Nico frowns but remains in his spot unmoving. As the seconds passed, your awareness of his presence started to irk you.
“Ugh.” 
The tired glare on your face makes Nico cower, and you sling your legs to the side. Another sigh leaves you and you march over to his side of the room. He waits as you rip the fitted sheet from the top bunk and throw it over the statue. 
“There. Happy? He can’t stare at you if he can’t see you.” 
“Now it just looks like a ghost,” Nico shifts, fear still on his face.
There’s a smack as your palm meets your forehead. A child of Hades scared of a ghost? You were about to tell him to get used to it but before you can nag him an idea graces your mind. 
Quickly, you walk over to your desk, hands searching for a black marker. Once in your grasp, you drag a chair to the stone and stand on it. 
Two circles for the eyes and one smiling open mouth. 
Moving away to see your drawings, you decide it was a refreshing sight compared to the usually stoic face of the god. 
“Better?” you ask, tone still bored as you cap the marker.
Nico’s eyes light up, a smile growing wide on his face. Who would be scared of a happy ghost? He nods brightly, and you make your way down, eyes rolling at the entire situation. “Go to sleep,” you command, and Nico nods, more willing than he was a few minutes ago. As you both return to the covers, the boy glances across the room one more time. “Good night,” he calls, and you stare at him for a moment. 
He always says it despite you never saying it back. Under your gaze, he waits expectantly, but it never returns. Just as every night, you lie down without a word. 
★・・・・・・★
Capture the flag isn’t your cup of tea. 
In the summers, you never participated. The bright sun, the humidity, it all made you want to claw your skin off. 
Usually, you get out of it but Mr. D pointed out there was no reason not to participate since most of what you hate about it isn’t a problem this time of year. One comment from him and Chiron takes it upon himself to ensure you attend. 
You hated it. 
Forced to strategize with Thalia and Percy, you are reminded the weather wasn’t the only thing you despised. It was dealing with everyone else too.
"I'll take the offense," Thalia volunteered. "You take defense."
"Oh." Percy hesitated. "Don't you think with your shield and all, you'd be better defense?"
"Well, I was thinking it would make better offense," Thalia said. "Besides, you've had more
practice at defense. What do you think, Y/n?” 
Your gaze flickers between the two waiting expectantly for your opinion. 
The tension between them has been something else since they’ve come back from retrieving Nico and losing Annabeth in the process. It’s not like there wasn’t any tension before but right now, you can smell the power struggle and it stinks. 
“I don’t care. Argue amongst yourselves.” 
With that, you turn on your heels, looking for the boy who surprisingly isn’t standing behind you like a shadow. Your eyes search the crowd for a few seconds until you spot what looks like a pile of floating armor next to the Stoll’s. 
A small sigh leaves your lips. Whoever gave him that definitely is setting him up and judging by the poorly contained laughs of the Stoll’s, you can guess who’s rooting for Nico’s downfall. 
The boy, painfully unaware of this, just beams at you, too excited for the game ahead. Lazily, you make your way towards him and immediately, he’s bouncing happily, his mouth ready to bombard you with questions. 
Your palm rises before he could and he freezes, obeying your silent command. “You need to tighten that.” 
He looks down at himself, his helmet swinging down into his eyes and he struggles to pull it away. “Which part?” 
“All of it,” you snap. The sadness that flashes in his eyes shouldn’t have affected you but you straightened up, closing your eyes to recollect yourself. “We’ll get you better armor afterward.” 
Nico nods, gaze softening as you adjust the straps of his armor. You tug on them as much as you can, jerking the boy left to right with the movement. 
Once every strap couldn’t be tightened anymore, you step back to take a look. It didn’t do much but at least his plate is snug against his chest.
“Okay kid, stay out of the way and be careful with that thing.” Nico looks down at his sword, which is probably too heavy for him. “We need to get you another weapon too. Gods, who did your orientation?” 
Nico points over at the Stoll’s who are occupied with other campers. Sending a glare in their direction you huff, “Of course.” 
"Heroes!" Chiron calls, swiftly getting everyone’s attention. "You know the rules! The creek is the boundary line. Blue team—Camp Half-Blood—shall take the west woods. Hunters of Artemis—red team—shall take the east woods. I will serve as referee and battlefield medic. No intentional maiming, please! All magic items are allowed. To your positions!"
“Do I get magic items!?” Nico screeches causing you to cringe. Whipping your gaze in his direction, he cowers sheepishly, his eyes filled with hesitant apology.  “No. Remember what I said. Stay—” “Stay out of the way and be careful with my sword.” Nico finishes your sentence and he smiles at the evident distaste in your expression. 
Your eyes flicker along his frame. “And don’t get hurt.” 
★・・・・・・★
Nico, to no one’s surprise, got hurt. 
Honestly, you couldn’t be upset at him, it’s not his fault he got caught in a spell cast. 
A certain Circe camper did a fine job at missing her every target, leaving Nico standing in the outfield like a giant bullseye. The force alone sent him back a few feet and he slid across the field like a rag doll for a few more feet afterward.
As he lay there limp in shock, you genuinely thought he died. Before you could wield the ground to swallow up his attacker, he groaned and stumbled back on his feet. 
Lucky for her, disappointing for you. You haven’t gotten around to doing that trick in a while. 
“Well, you definitely have blunt force trauma injuries, everywhere,” Fletcher says, removing his hands from Nico’s abdomen. The boy reclined in the cot flinches at the bruises already forming along his ribs. 
It looked pretty bad. So much so that you decided it would be cruel to tell him to stop crying.
“But you don’t have internal bleeding in your lungs so at least you won’t drown in your own life source.” 
Despite the smile Fletcher flashes at Nico, it doesn’t affect the look of horror on his face. 
“Nothing Ambrosia and Nectar can’t fix. You’ll be fine in a couple of days.” Fletcher helps the small boy sit up in the cot. He passes him a small cup of Nectar and orders him to drink up while he gets what he needs for the sling Nico’s arm will be in for a little bit. 
A sniffle leaves the boy as he observes the drink he’s left with. “What does it taste like?” “It depends on the person,” you sit back in your chair. “Usually tastes like something nostalgic, a favorite food or drink. You won’t know until you try it.” 
Nico nods, hesitantly taking a sip. As the flavors settle on his tongue, his eyes progressively widen. Next thing you know, he’s swallowing it like he hasn’t had a meal in days. 
“It tastes like the almond cookies they had at the Lotus Casino!” 
You nod in response, having some memory of Nico telling you about the Casino he and his sister lived at for a while. He’s told you plenty about it, you just weren’t listening most of the time. 
“I liked those the most because it reminded me of the cookies my mom would buy us.” 
Nico looks down at the cup, his smile faltering by the second. There’s a shadow clouding over his orbs and you quirk an eyebrow. The sadness overtaking his features looked strange. Sure you’ve seen him upset but you knew enough to recognize this expression as anguish. 
“What is it?” Your words came out more monotone than you intended. Shifting in your seat, you wondered why you even asked. Vulnerability wasn’t really something you sought after. It puts a bad taste in your mouth. 
“I was just wondering if Bianca would taste the same thing… but she never ate the cookies with me.” 
A hum leaves your lips. You don’t know much about that sister of his but you knew two things: first, you were here while he was hurt and she wasn’t. Second, her absence made Nico upset. 
“I understand.” Your vision is set on the small window beside you. Set on the fields of campers ahead, you ignore Nico’s burning stare. “I don’t like the taste of my nectar or ambrosia.” “Why?” “The flavors remind me too much of things I want to forget. Your sister probably didn’t eat those cookies for the same reason. It’s too much. Too many things tied to the things you like the most.” 
Nico’s silent, staring at the paper cup in his hands as if he was searching for something. 
“Nico, there’s one thing you need to know.” He averts his gaze over to you. “You’ll make friends, you’ll have lovers, you’ll have family but at the end of the day, the only person you truly have is yourself.” 
The boy shifts in his place, eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t let people steal parts of yourself from you. They’re going to disappoint you, expect it, and don’t be sad about it.” 
Silence followed somber and stuffy silence. For once, you were glad Fletcher returned in all of his child of Apollo gleam. He was better at cheering Nico up than you were, that’s for sure. 
★・・・・・・★
“What do you mean ‘He’s gone?’” Percy slowly retreats from your advances. Twice already, he’s stared at the glowing eyes of a child of Hades and the second time was even more intimidating. 
“He just disappeared,” Percy stutters out. “It looked like shadows took him, and then he was gone.” 
Schist. You didn’t even know the little rat could shadow travel. By now, he could be anywhere. You’ve been on him about training, but he still had that childish clumsiness to him. His chances of survival would be out of pure luck. 
A groan leaves your lips, knowing you’d have to go find him. If it were anyone else, you would have let them be, but this unfamiliar urgency in your chest wouldn’t allow it. You had to find and drag him back by his ear if you had to. 
Your eyes roll at the son of Poseidon, and you turn on your heels without a word. So much drama because of that sister of his. 
Rushing down the stairs of the pavilion, you conjure the shadows to form a portal that’ll lead you straight into the forest. 
Di Angelo, you better be alive when I find you. 
★・・・・・・★
How does a 10-year-old with short legs get so much distance? 
After hours of searching and instigating some fights with monsters, he was nowhere to be found. Concluding that, maybe, hopefully, he found his way out of the forest, you have to settle with waiting for him to return. If he returns.
Tired legs take you up the porch steps and you shrug off your coat the moment you step through the door. As the warmth graces your chilled skin, a floorboard creaks.
“Nico?” 
“Y/n?” Your name comes out of his mouth like a desperate plea as he reveals himself out of the shadows. With rosy, tear-stained cheeks, and watery eyes, Nico bolts in your direction, and for a moment, you think he’s going to attack you. 
It would be a bold move. Though, with his speed, he could get a good hit but he ended up doing something much worse. 
He hugged you. 
His small frame flings into you, short arms grasping your waist as if his life depended on it. 
“Percy broke his promise,” he cries, hot tears running down his cheeks and dampening your shirt. “Bianca,” he shutters. “He told me she died.” His frame shivers harder, the action almost too violent for his frame. You weren’t sure how but his grip tightened, “What am I going to do?” Get over it. 
The hostile thought was a knee-jerk reaction. Your mouth was about to relay the message but you stopped yourself, the words getting caught in your throat. 
The logical answer didn’t feel right. Why didn’t it feel right? 
Suddenly you’re aware of the sunken feeling in your chest. Its foreign nature made it hard to distinguish whether it hurt or if it was discomfort. 
This is odd.
Nico cries and cries, and by now, the clothing of your shirt is sticking damp to your skin. The longer you stood there, stuck on what to say next, you felt an urgency as if your response was timed. 
Rarely were you lost for words. Actually, you can’t recall a time when you have but right now you stood with your mouth open like a fish out of water. “You stay here,” you say abruptly. Nico pulls away, eyes glistening in the ray of moonlight seeping into the room. He’s so small. 
Not that he’s not small on any other day. His narrow shoulders droop and turn into themselves from the weight of the news. He looked fragile, searching for something other than his grief and he’s searching for it in you. 
It wasn’t often someone came to confide in you. Your advice was always too abrasive, and cold, and never did you have the urge to give something different. 
That’s what made this moment so strange. As Nico waits expectantly, you can’t find it in yourself to disregard him. 
“You stay here,” you repeat, the words delivered before your brain could process them.“And you train, and make friends, and find your own way around life.” Nico frowns, sleeve wiping his nose. Amongst his sadness, something flickers in his eyes. “Stay here with you?” With you. 
You couldn’t begin to decipher what that question made you feel. Forget the question, its delivery was hopeful and that surprised you the most. 
The feelings were almost overwhelming and before it completely flooded your senses, you shoved it to the side.
“Who else?” You clear your throat in an effort to get yourself together. “Is there anyone else who lives here besides me? Does the statue count too?” The question was genuine but something about it made Nico crack a smile.
“Anyways, you’ll see her again.” You shrug, stepping out of his loose embrace. 
“I will?” “We’re the children of the dead. We can just find her.” Find her so I can kill her again.
Nico sniffles, the sound snapping you out of your thoughts. 
“Stop crying,” you blurt out, and the boy blinks, face pink. “Crying doesn’t fix anything,” is all you say before returning to your side of the room. 
Nico swallows, trying to suppress the tears. 
You were right. Crying doesn’t fix anything but even though it was true, his emotions were all too much for him. Sniffling softly and wiping his face with his sleeve, he retreats to bed. “Good night,” he says, voice quivering. 
Nico crawls into the covers, the fatigue hitting him the moment he rests against the spring mattress. Unexpecting, he wraps himself up, eyes shut tight in hopes he’ll be asleep soon. “Good night.” 
Nico’s eyebrows furrow. He finds some strength to lift his head just enough for you to be in his line of vision. Blinking in surprise, he swears he saw a smile on your face. It wasn’t teasing, or happy. It was comforting, as slight as it was. It wasn’t much but to Nico, it made him feel like he’d be okay. 
Without another word, you slid into your covers and went to sleep. 
★・・・・・・★
“Where’s the brat?” With crossed arms and a look of determination, you stood authoritatively at the double doors of your father’s dining room. 
The god sits at the very end of the grand table, skeleton butlers wait on either end of the room to serve him. On the polished mahogany wood, the bulbs of the many crystal chandeliers lined up across the ceiling reflect like ornaments. As Hades wipes the sides of his lips with a cloth napkin, the side of his mouth quirks as he catches Nico peeking behind your back like a child behind a mother’s skirt.
Since when have you been maternal? 
“I’m sorry, who?” Your father asks with fake confusion. The smile on his face already gave you a headache. You weren’t here to play games, you meant business. 
“You know who.”
Hades clears his throat and his eyes flicker over to Nico. Quickly, the small boy retreats nervously, eyes set on your back. “I don’t know where your sister is, boy.” 
“I don’t believe you,” you cut in. Nico wasn’t going to speak, the boy practically shivering in his father’s presence. Even as he refrains from confrontation, he’s in awe at your comfort towards the god. 
“There’s dead people in and out of this place. You think I would know?” Hades asks and a hum leaves your lips.
“I would think you’d at least keep track of your kids but if you’re going to be this useless to me, I’ll find her myself.” 
“Wait.” 
You halt turning on your heels and raise an eyebrow. There was a moment of disbelief, your father helping and not making everything so difficult for you, for once? You wonder who could have possibly granted this miracle. 
“She’s somewhere down here,” Hades says and you wish your expression could get straighter. “Wow, I would have never figured that out. Thanks.” Grabbing Nico’s sleeve, you begin dragging him out of the room. 
“She’s not in the meadows, I checked. I don’t think her life has been judged either but Charon said he rowed her in. I can feel she’s close.” 
You sigh. Finding her is proving to be more of a challenge than you thought. By now, you would think she’d be judged and categorized wherever the judges saw fit. However, from the dead ends, you’ve stumbled upon so far, you consider that she doesn’t want to be found. As annoying as it is, the chance to prove you can find her was enough to get you to keep going, “Noted,” you mumble, already deciding where you will look next. “Close the door on your way out!” “No.”
★・・・・・・★
“Okay, listen here…” You move a little closer, eyeing the name tag on the frightened guard. “Atrius. Have you seen Bianca? She looks like this kid.” Pointing at Nico, the ghost peers over your shoulder. 
“No, I haven’t seen her.” As definitive as that statement was, he didn’t sound so definitive. His bones clinked together as he shivered in your presence. 
“I don’t like when people lie to me.” You stare into his empty eye sockets. One moment passes and then two and then three and still he hasn’t budged. Irritation buzzed at the back of your skull. You had the time but none of the patience to play hide and seek. 
Nico stands a short way behind you, partially concerned for your victim. He wasn’t sure what you were going to do if you didn’t get what you wanted. The skeleton flashed him a look and even with no skin on his face, he could tell it was pleading. 
“Help me!” He was saying without a word. 
The boy doesn’t move from his spot though, instead looking away sheepishly. Pleading or not, he looked scary. That and Nico really wants to find his sister. “I’m not lying!” He insists and it annoys you even more. Quickly, in one movement, you grab his leg and tug so hard it comes straight out the socket. Tossing it to the side, your eyes don’t leave him as he yelps, falling straight to the ground. “Tell me where she is, or I’m tossing both of your legs into Tarturus. Last chance.” 
Atrius wails at your threat, the sound was so hysteric you almost missed his confession. “She’s hiding in Lady Persephone’s garden, amongst the pomegranate trees!” 
Nico flinches when you whip around. Already he was unsettled by your interrogation methods but nothing prepared him for your face.
You were smiling. Your eyes looked lit up. 
Not gracing him a look, you walked right past him. From his surprise, his brain never gave his body the signal to move. Instead, he averts his attention to a distraught Atrius whose more than relieved he finally got you out of his bones. 
Right as he’s about to look away, Nico jumps in his skin as the skeleton looks right at him once again. It was only then did he find the courage to move. Walking backward, he smiles sheepishly. “Um… thank you,” Nico’s tone is apologetic. Across the courtyard laid Atrius’s leg and the boy takes a step in that direction but is halted by the sound of his name. “You’re coming or not?” You ask him, foot tapping with impatience. 
Not wanting to keep you waiting, Nico forgets about retrieving the guard's limb. “Sorry about your leg!” He shouts behind him, hoping the apology was soothing enough as he joins your side. 
The young boy stares at the back of your sneakers as you make your way through the underworld. Already he’s seen some things that spooked him out too much. This was like walking through a horror maze for him. 
For you though, he notices you’re more comfortable around here than you did at camp. Your usually confident stride had purpose and authority. He wonders if he’ll ever walk through here the same way you do one day. A part of him hopes he does.
“Alright.” Nico halts, almost bumping right into you as you stop in your tracks. “We walk through here silently. Watch where you’re stepping, if you crush one of Persephone’s plants, I can’t help you.” 
The boy’s face contorted with fear. “What do you mean you can’t help me?” He couldn’t decipher the look you flashed in his direction but it sent your message well enough. Don’t step on one of her flowers and you won’t find out. 
Nico’s small nod is enough to get you moving. With silent and slow steps, you walk along the paved pathway toward the cluster of trees in the back. 
It hadn’t settled into Nico’s awareness that his sister was hiding. You could tell. He was still hopeful and excited to see her and you can imagine if he knew, he wouldn’t be happy about it. 
You’re not happy about it, that’s for sure. What even was her problem? If there was anything Nico deserved, it was to see her before she gets sent to the meadows or decides to reincarnate. 
Once you approach the trees, you shuffle through them. You’re thankful Nico’s naturally taken the role of your shadow because he mimics your sneaking, staying out of sight with you. 
He probably thinks your caution is due to Persephone arriving at any minute. You feel this strange tightness in your chest, he really has no idea you’re trying to sneak up on his sister so she doesn’t have the chance to run.
Right as the thought passes, you catch sight of something moving in the trees. Locks of brown hair wisp through them and the pulse in your neck picks up. It seems you’re not going to avoid a chase. 
Nico barely had time to catch up as you bolt through a straight diagonal through the trees. You admire her audacity to try and get away. The smile that stretches across your face is from amusement alone. 
As Bianca makes a sharp right, you gather the shadows at the tree's stumps and will them to consume your body. Nico blinks and suddenly you’re gone. His quick steps come to a stop as he looks around, trying to catch any sight of you. Then he hears a cry of pain and he moves fast in that direction. 
The only thing on his mind was the possibility you got hurt. Even if you were in your father’s territory, were there still monsters that could attack you? Even worse, what if you stepped on Lady Persephone’s plants? If you can’t help him in the scenario he did, what was he gonna do? 
His pace quickens as he hears another cry and finally, he bursts through a wall of vines. 
Still clouded by his concern, his brain barely processes what he stumbled upon. There you were, fingers grasping tight at his sister’s ear. Bianca groans and struggles in your pinching grasp and you look up at Nico with a gleam, like a fisherman who just got his catch of the day. “Got her.” 
“Nico?”
Bianca freezes at the sight of her brother. There’s a silence that follows and you’re surprised Nico didn’t immediately bombard her with questions. 
The girl straightens up once you let go of her and as your arm returns to your side, you catch the tears brimming Nico’s waterline.
Yeah, this is when you clock out. Your work here is done. 
“I’ll… wait for you over there,” you point through the trees and at the meadow of flowers that wasn’t too far. It’s enough distance to be an earshot away. 
Nico nods, his eyes unmoving from his sister. 
Once you’ve shadow traveled to your spot, you didn’t dare look in their direction. With your eyes planted on the flowers, you wait for Nico to return. 
The boy didn’t take too long which left you lost for words. He didn’t look happy when he met you in the garden. His eyes held a feeling a part of you understood. 
“I want to go home.” He frowns. 
Home. You didn’t even consider camp a home and you’ve been there for three years. 
“Okay.” Your voice was right above a whisper. 
Whatever happened back there was the end for him, the last time he would see her. Knowing how that felt, you waited. Just a moment, maybe two. If Nico had any reservations or second thoughts, you gave him time. When nothing came, you hoped whatever happened, he’ll find peace in it. 
The shadow gathered slowly, first at your feet then at your legs and soon the two of you were traveling through blurred shadows and harsh winds.
★・・・・・・★
“Who did this?” You weren’t sure if the streaks of water on Nico’s face were from his eyes or the toilet water soaked in his hair. 
The boy sniffles, cheeks and nose flushed from his embarrassment. After the incident, he rushed back to the Hades Cabin to wallow in self-pity but his assumption you wouldn’t be there was wrong. He didn’t want to admit what happened, scared he would disappoint you for clearly losing this battle.
His mouth opens to answer but nothing comes out. He considers lying but as you raise an eyebrow, he grows too anxious to come up with one. 
“Nico,” you say his name firmly and the frown on his face deepens. “It was Clarisse and her siblings, they-” he gurgles out through his watery whines and you sigh. “They…, I-” 
“Breathe.” You kneel to his height and take a deep breath, waiting for him to follow. He does, his chest filling with air and he releases it shakily. 
“They surrounded me in the bathroom and Clarisse shoved my face in the toilet.” 
His lip quivers as he recalls the memory. Nico’s eyes flicker across your hardening features and you rise from your spot. “Go clean up,” you demand, already heading to the door. 
“What are you gonna do?” “I’m going to fix it.” 
★・・・・・・★
Gravel crunches under your shoes, without a single weapon you persist into the camp’s arena. Clangs of swords and grunts could be heard from outside of the entrance and as you made your way through the doors, there were the Ares’s campers sweating and panting from their already hard day of training. 
Clarisse stands there authoritatively, the swing of the grand door grabbing her attention and the snug look on her face had set off a slight rage in your chest. 
You were ready to wipe it off. If only she knew what she had coming. “Did Nico tell on us?” One of her brothers asks mockingly, your presence already known to the entire group. They stood, waiting for a fight as they make no effort to sheath their swords. 
A smile almost graces your lips before you could even execute your plan.
“His big sister is fighting his battles for him.” They laugh and joke at your brother’s expense and something snaps in your mind. 
The ground suddenly sinks into itself, and Clarisse and her siblings stumble to the side in confusion. Before they realized what was happening, there was no chance to run. 
A sinkhole, perfectly round and deep enough to trap them forms right under their feet. They roll and drop to the bottom, coughing at the gravel waterfall surrounding them. 
You hear their shouts and complaints and you make your way to the edge. Looking down at them, you ignore their demands to be let out.
“No one messes with my little brother.” 
As if on cue, there’s a screech in the distance and it immediately fills their expressions with dread. A lopsided smirk appears on your lips and soon the shadows of massive wings appear overhead. 
You whisper a demand to attack in ancient greek and the harpies swoop down with a call like a battle cry. There’s a collective panic of your victims and a laugh leaves you, watching as they spear their swords in the air at every charge towards them. 
Calmly leaving the chaos you’ve caused behind, you find an audience. Unaware of their bewildered expressions, not because of the scene but at the joyful smile on your face, you hoped you’ve sent a message.
Be nice my brother or else.
masterlists
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che444 · 5 months
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Being (the “I am” state)
(Long post)
I think the most common instance I see in the community when interacting with asks and reading different struggles we all have/have had during our journey, is that people don’t just let themselves be.
A lot of us believe(d) that we have to work hard for everything, and we take that and apply it to manifestation. Maybe you feel it is too easy to just provide to yourself in imagination, you think there must be something else you have to do, that it can’t be that easy. Well, my love, I see you, I hear you, and I have been you. But, I am glad to inform you that when you reach this beautiful garden of truth and learning yourself and how this world works, that it is in fact, that easy.
As children, we played so freely in our imagination, even when we did not have the best days. We were always enthralled with our wildest dreams, excited by the mere glimmer of something new, even if we may have lost the ability to return to that sanctity as life become complicated, and imagination was thrown away for the sharp and harsh situations that life may have thrown at us. But I assure you, that you never lose the ability to imagine, it is never gone for good, maybe put to the side but never lost.
Imagine states being in a big shopping mall. You can try on any state you want, you can fill your cart up with fancy coats and dolce bags if you embody being rich (I am rich, I am financial free, I am always receiving gifts), you can fill your cart with heart patterned sweaters and lovely smelling candles if you are focusing on manifesting love or self love (I am loved, I am chosen, I am beautiful), and if you are trying to embody the state of being unloved you can fill your cart with no happy ending romance books and candles that smell like cat piss and back way alleys after it rains (I am unloved, I am not appreciated). Best deal is, it’s all on the house, all you have to do is pay in your mentality and accept this state as your own.
Now, let’s say you get to the register and you realize you don’t have enough mental bucks to spend on feeling rich today, let’s say life has been going crazy and you can only lay in bed, you feel overwhelmed by everything and you can’t raise your vibes right now.
Well, you’re in luck!
There is a layaway where you can store any state you plan to return to, even if you just need to wallow for a bit. The person at the register doesn’t look angry or upset, the look at you with the same witty smile, and hand you slippers, comfy socks, and a complimentary box of chocolates! You get your receipt and it lists all of what you have on layaway, waiting for you at any time! You can leave confidently knowing that you still have them, they just have to be picked up when you’re ready!
Now let’s break this down:
Clothes and different items you can place in your cart = the state you are wanting to be in
employee at the register = your subconscious, you
Layaway = an infinite amount of states that are always accessible to you because everything is you, they never go away, they are just not being made aware of to come into fruition
The register = the point of deciding, from the moment you make that transaction and put on your new clothes, you are now occupying that state, and the unfolding begins.
My love, those parts of you that you may feel like you have lost due to the harshities of this world are never gone, you just had to put them down because all you had the energy to focus on at that time was what you had to get done (working to make ends meet, dealing with a tumultuous relationship, having mental health issues) and that is okay. It may feel like you need to apply that survival mode to get these good things too. But no my love, you do not. You have been doing this since you were a child, your gift is limitless and always exists inside of you. Use your beautiful and boundless imagination internally to give yourself what you want externally.
When you are down, when you are sad, when you feel like you cannot hold yourself to a new state, work through your current one, do not run away, do not ignore it, do not fight against it to be perfect. You are already perfect and you always will be, Angel. Imagine yourself on a throne, as a famous movie star, go into the depths of your imagination and soar, feel the essence of what is like to be your true self. That doesn’t require you to lift a finger, so be gentle with yourself. No one is angry that you didn’t stay in the state today, you are not a failure, you are learning, and time is not your god, you are god.
when you feel as though you cannot do it today, don’t, but when you can, return to yourself as a child, and bask in your boundless imagination, treat yourself to bliss and never stop and your 3D will have no choice but to give it to you. All you gotta do is go shopping, and that mall is always there for you sweetheart. It is never too late to shop for a new look, you can change it at any time.
I love you, from my gracious heart to yours,
Luv, che 🌷
P.S
PUT THE 369 method DOWN, GET SOME SLEEP AND WATCH A COMFORT SHOW! 💕
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bump1nthen1ght · 6 months
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A Very Monstrous Kinktober: Day 6 (Dub-Con)
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Kink: Dubious Consent
Pairing: Merman x Fem!Reader
Other Kinks: Yandere, Creampie
Warnings: Mind Control (Siren's Song), Kidnapping, Aforementioned Dubious Consent
Word Count: 1011 Words
Kinktober Masterlist
Drake has been to many beautiful places in his life. He’s been amongst a pod of whales, new mothers and calves heading back to their home. He’s been up close with vast coral reefs, in between ancient sea turtles and giant pods of fish. He’s even swam through the crashing waves of a hurricane, enjoying the foam and turning water around him.
But right now, there's no place Drake would rather be than in between your legs.
Your thighs feel so plush against his lips, the skin almost like tissue paper against his sharp teeth. The urge to bite down is strong, to hear your gasps and taste the sweet blood that pulses underneath. But he doesn’t want your first time together to be a painful one, as much as he’d love to mark and claim all over your body. No, instead he just dives in and sucks at your cunt, delicious flavors exploding on his tongue. Just the scent makes his dick bulge against his sheath, aching from the lack of touch.
You moan so pretty when his tongue shoves deep inside you, prodding at your walls, his nose nuzzled into your clit. He pets at your hip, forcing himself to pull away from your pussy.
“How does that feel, love?”
“Feels…good.” You slur, voice heavy and delirious.
Drake looks up, wishing he could see your eyes at their normal color. Under the calming trance of his song, they’ve clouded over and lost all their shine. It’s a shame, but you had been putting up such a fight, resisting your body’s calling too much. Drake is sure with time you’ll accept his love, his partnership, and he can see those beautiful eyes while making love.
For now though, it's better you stay half-aware and submissive. Your pussy will stretch much easier, taking his larger merman-cock with more pleasure than pain. Its a mercy, really.
Speaking of, as delicious as your cunt is, Drake is impatient to be inside you. Grabbing onto the rock below, he pulls his heavy body and tail out of the water. His face now lines up with yours, allowing him to give gentle kisses to your cheek and neck. The song you're under doesn’t give you enough coordination to kiss back, but you still nuzzle into the affection anyway. So cute.
“I’m going to fuck you now, my darling. Is that okay?”
You nod, shoving your face into the crook of his heck, relishing in his soft skin.
“Yes…I want your cock.” Your voice is still slow, partially convinced of what you need. It's so adorable, Drake coos. It's a wonder he didn’t snatch you up sooner.
Drake arms tremble with excitement as he lines his cockhead up with your slit, your wet pussy feeling so good against it. Finally, finally he’s going to mate you, claim you, breed you. After longing and lusting for so long, Drake feels like he’s in Nirvana.
His moan echoes as he finally enters you, taking time to slowly fill you all the way to his base. His nails dig into the rock below, leaving white claw marks in their wake. When your walls clench around him, embracing the intrusion, his hips spasm and he fears he may come undone too soon. But Drake bites his lip, sucking in the blood he draws, and fights it. He’s waited so long. He must savor this.
Drakes uses one arm to throw your leg around his hip, using the leverage to begun thrusting his cock at a steady rhythm. He lets himself be wanton and loud with his moans, all alone in this secluded cave off the shore. Even your tiny whines and panting bounces off this wall, music to his ears.
“Goddesses, you feel divine.”
Drake keens, snapping his hips against yours. He can feel his tip hit the deepest spot inside you, chasing the way you tighten around him when he does. The slick sound of his scales against your ass reminds him of your tasty pussy juices, how he’ll get to drink them up every morning and every night now that he has you. His cock twitches inside you, dripping with his own pre cum. Maybe he’ll suck on your pussy after he climaxes, tasting the mix of your juices together, tasting the affirmation of your love. That makes his cock twitch even more.
Drake meets you in a passionate kiss, devouring all your little noises. His tongue forces its way inside, unbothered by your minimal effort in kissing him back.
Your nails dig into his back, leaving minimal damage. Drake relishes in the feeling.
“I’m close.” You whimper, eyes clenched shut.
“Yes, yes, cum on my cock.” Drake pants, eyes wild with passion. “I want to feel your love, I want to taste you.”
You whine as Drake pulls his shaft out to the tip, leaving you empty and on the edge for a tantalizing 3 seconds. He’s soaking in this view, your chest flushed with a blush, sweat beading down your neck. He wishes this could last forever
“Absolutely perfect.”
Before you can whine and beg for it, Drake shoves his cock deep inside you, finally chasing that high. Your legs wrap around the base of his tail and shake as your orgasm washes over you, milking his cock. His climax comes soon after, making sure to fill up your womb with his seed as he spends himself.
Even soft, the heat of your cunt feels perfect around him. But Drake knows he may crush you if he lays his whole body on top of yours, so he slips out and lays by your side. Cum drips out of your cunt, which Drake makes sure to finger back inside. Your eyes, still hazy, close shut as you rest against his side. Your breathing becomes steady, falling into a gentle sleep as your exhausted body comes off the high of his siren song. Drake strokes a hand alongside your cheek, so blessed to know that your visage will greet him every night from now on.
Yes, Absolutely Perfect
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acourtofwhatthefuck · 11 months
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Our Home (Azriel x Reader)
Hiiii. This one has long been in the works. It's the follow-up part to this little one I did called "Why Are You Still Here?"
Hope you enjoy!
Warnings: Some alcohol use. Angst. Discussions surrounding mental health. Suggestion of infidelity.
✧: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚
You were not where you wanted to be. And you did not know where you fit anymore.
Solace had once been the home you’d made your own. It had once been the warmth and security of your mate’s arms. A life. A belonging.
It was never supposed to be dark, dingy taverns and drinking yourself to oblivion. You were aware of your hypocrisy — that you were now no better than Azriel, himself, had been.
But you didn’t know what else to do. How else to keep patching over the wound that was opening you up from the inside.
Three days and nights away from Azriel felt like three centuries. Three days and nights spent on Amren’s couch, your ears barely catching the way she groused at you about making things up with your mate — and getting out of her hair. You knew that she only had your best interests at heart; a swarm of concern wrapped up in sharp, barbed words and orders. 
Stop sulking, girl, and speak to your mate. Wallowing on the couch and taking up my space doesn’t do either of you any good. If he knocks on my door and asks to speak to you again, I’m letting him in this time. Stupid, foolish children in love.
You knew that she was right. You’d asked Az to give you a few days…and for what? So you could get yourself into a clear enough headspace to talk to him.
So, no, the wisest choice had not been to end up in a bar on the other side of town — but here you were. If Azriel could spend months upon months pushing you away, indulging in self-serving vices…so could you.
You whiled away the hours on refills of whiskey and off-kilter music and the presence of numerous males coming up to you and offering to buy you another drink — all of which you politely turned away. You weren’t there for attention, or to feel wanted…the mere thought of looking at somebody other than your mate—
It took you right back to the possibility that Azriel may have done just that. That he’d come stumbling home after hours of unexplained absence, stinking to the high heavens of booze and cloying perfume. You wanted — needed — to believe that there was some other, reasonable explanation. That there was no way the male tied to your soul would fall into the arms of somebody else.
But the truth was that you just did not know anymore. He’d successfully pushed you away enough to fill you with doubt.
The feeling was far worse than any battle wound. Far more excruciating than the critical injury you’d received during the war with Hybern. This pain was like a sickness, spreading through you, slicing at you, becoming you. This pain could tear you apart, limb from limb.
“The same again, please.” You rasped, sliding your empty glass towards the pretty barmaid. She eyed you cautiously before fulfilling your request. The amber liquid didn’t burn quite as much this time. 
But it seemed that no amount of alcohol was giving you the desired effect. Drink after drink after drink, and you still didn’t feel it seeping into your bones and blood and carrying you off to a place that wasn’t as painful. You may as well have been pouring the drinks straight onto the floor, rather than down your throat.
Still, you remained sitting at that same spot at the bar, nursing your drink and studying the nicks and callouses of your weapon-worn hands as your heavy thoughts bombarded you. Where would you sleep tonight? You were sure Amren would growl at you if you turned up at her door again. You could go to the River House, but you didn’t want to cause any disruption or upset for Nyx. And it seemed that both the House of Wind and the Town House were a no-go — that Az could be staying at either. Something told you that he was unlikely to be at the house you shared together, but…you didn’t want to go there, either.
Perhaps you would just drink yourself so stupid that you’d eventually curl up on a bench and fall asleep without feeling the cold.
The cold. It swept in, encasing you from behind as somebody entered the tavern, their heavy footsteps carrying across the wooden floor. You paid them no mind, not interested in the various other punters around you. You hunched over your drink, tracing your finger over the rim of the glass, and you didn’t bother to look up even when the stool was pulled out beside you.
“Before you say anything,” you murmured, too used, now, to the sleazy routine of the males around you, “no, you cannot buy me a drink.” 
“Good.” Azriel’s voice came quietly from beside you. “I don’t think it’d be wise for you to have another.”
That voice — deep and smooth and rich. A voice that had spoken countless I love yous, that had breathed quiet laughs at your shared, inside jokes, that had moaned your name in peace and pleasure. A voice that had always been a comfort to you.
It now twisted your stomach. Filled you with a sickening anxiety. You no longer knew what words would be spoken in that voice. You weren’t sure you were ready for them.
Your body tense, you slowly turned your head to meet your mate’s eyes. The look that sat on his face, in his hazel stare…it was one of beautiful agony. Of stunning, twisted devastation.
A flawless face marred by pain.
Azriel studied you, and you couldn’t help wondering what he saw on your face. Besides your cheeks being flushed from the alcohol, and your eyes red-raw from days of weeping. Whatever he found there…it made him flinch.
“What are you doing here?” You willed your voice to sound strong, but it was weak. Pathetic. 
“I followed your scent from Amren’s apartment to here.” He swallowed. “And given that this was where we had our first drink together…”
You looked around. Pretended that such a thought hadn’t dawned on you, even though that exact spot in the corner was where you and Azriel had sat for hours that first night, drinking and talking and laughing. 
You’d known, by the time that he’d walked you home, that you were going to spend the rest of your existence with him.
Or so you’d thought. You weren’t so sure, now.
“Finish your drink.” Azriel nodded to your glass. “We’re going home.”
You snorted, turning back to your glass. The liquid sloshed as you lifted it to your lips. “That’s not been home for a long while. It’s just…bricks and mortar and pain.”
He paused. “That’s not true.”
“Is it not, Azriel? You can’t seem to stand spending any time there, either—”
“I want to talk to you about all of this, Y/N.” He stared at you seriously. Pleadingly. “Just…not here. Please.”
Because Azriel was a staunchly private person.
And maybe he didn’t love you anymore. The thought — though complete agony — was entirely possible.
But he wouldn’t end your relationship in the same place it had begun. 
So you drained your glass, savouring the feeling of the liquid sliding down your throat. And then you set it down on the bar, and turned to face him.
“Where is your coat?” He studied the thin tunic and breeches that did nothing to keep out the cold.
You shrugged a shoulder. “Left it at Amren’s, I guess.” 
“It’s freezing outside.”
“Oh, now you care—”
The clearing of a throat stopped you both in your tracks. You glanced at the young barmaid who stared between the two of you uncomfortably. She had the same look that most people adopted in Azriel’s presence — awe and fear at their High Lord’s spymaster.
“I’m sorry, but,” she cleared her throat again, straightening out her shoulders, “if you two are going to have a domestic, I’m going to have to ask you to take it outside…”
Beside you, Azriel’s cheeks pinkened. “We’re not.” He said brusquely. “We’re leaving.”
Before you could offer your own response, he was tugging you from the barstool and draping his heavy jacket around your shoulders. It swamped you a ridiculous amount, and when he actually stopped in front of you to fasten the buttons, you scowled and stepped out of reach.
“I’m not a child.” You said. “Let’s just…go.”
It was hard to not feel like a child as you meandered your way to the door in that preposterously large coat, the arms swinging and the material swallowing you up. Azriel remained a step behind, following you out into the icy night air. You walked a few paces in a still silence, only stopping to face him when you were well out of earshot of the bar. 
“So.” It was instinctive — the way you wrapped his jacket around yourself. Not something you were wholly aware of doing. Though you were certainly aware of the way you very pointedly sniffed it, looking for some trace of that sweet scent you’d smelled before. But…nothing. “Which house do you want to finish with me in? Ours? The Town House? The House of Wind? We could go to the River House, but I don’t think Rhys or Feyre would appreciate the performance—-”
“Is that what you think?” Azriel cut you off, the pain on his face moulding into something stiller. Icier. “That I’m finishing our relationship?”
You shrugged. And you hated — utterly hated — being so confrontational. This wasn’t you. And some small part of it could be blamed on the alcohol, yes, but…mostly…mostly, you were just at your wit’s end.
After months of trying to reach him calmly, compassionately. Months and months of trying to talk to him gently, to get him to open up to you. It had gotten you nowhere.
You felt your only option, now, was to shuck off that soft, soothing exterior, and go hard. Go real. 
“I don’t know what to think,” you retorted. “You don’t speak to me anymore — besides the occasional grunt. And given that I’m not a gods-damned mind-reader—”
“I am not finishing things with you.” Azriel snapped — so loud, so harsh, so unlike him, that you stopped in your tracks. “Not now, and not ever.”
You stared at him, already feeling your hard demeanour slipping. The words — though a small relief — were hard to believe. Hard to believe, when he’d given you no indication for a long, long time that he even wanted you anymore.
You shrugged weakly, begging your eyes not to tear up. “But what kind of relationship is this, Az? Months and months of silence. Of coldness. What am I supposed to think?”
“...I’ve handled things so badly. But I’d like a chance to explain.”
Perhaps it was the muted pleading in his eyes, the hunching of his shoulders. How he looked the smallest he ever had. Or perhaps it was just because he was your mate…whatever the reason, you found yourself relenting. You swallowed, crossing your arms over your chest and silently nodding towards a bench that overlooked the river. Az dipped his chin in acknowledgement of the request and promptly followed suit. 
You sat, leaving distance between the two of you. Az tucked his wings in as tight as he possibly could; uncomfortable for him, you knew, but he was respectful of the fact that you wanted space. A small glimmer of the Azriel you’d always known and loved.
He seemed to suck in a slow breath, twisting his scarred hands around each other. You could feel the nerves that rolled off of him in waves. This – speaking and baring his soul — was perhaps harder for him than outright combat. 
You cleared your throat. “Before you start…I need to ask you something.”
Hazel eyes turned to study you. Azriel gave a small nod. 
“I have to know if you…” The words tasted sour and wrong in your mouth. In your whole body, in fact. You were sure a shiver shot through you as you blurted in one breath, “I just need to know if you fucked somebody else.”
Azriel paused — and then blinked at you.
Gaped at you, like the suggestion in and of itself was utterly absurd.
As if he hadn’t come home stinking of perfume. As if he hadn’t lied about his whereabouts when you’d asked. As if you were wrong to so much as think it, let alone voice it.
He shook his head, still blinking. “What?”
“Perhaps you were too drunk that night to remember.” Your lips pressed into a thin line. “You disappeared on me for hours, Az, like you always seem to these days. Then you come home smelling of perfume and lie to me that you’d been with Mor when I knew you couldn’t have been. So tell me. Honestly. Did you fuck someone who isn’t me?”
“Of course I didn’t. I would never do that to you. Do you know how sick it makes me feel, just thinking of being with someone other than you?”
He couldn’t possibly have a clue how much you needed to hear that. But they were just words. He’d done nothing to back them up for so, so long.
Your eyes filled with tears as you stared at him. “But you can’t seem to stand being with me, either.”
His own eyes shuttered — as though he was trying to block out your words. He slumped back on the bench, wings awkward and limp around him. You could see his chest heaving, hear his heavy breathing. 
“I don’t—” His voice cracked. “I’m no good with words. I’m no good with…with talking.”
“But I can’t take the silence or the loneliness anymore. Azriel, please—”
“I was with someone that night.”
He blurted the words in such a rush, you almost didn’t catch them. His hands squeezed into fists at his sides, as though the mere feeling of speaking so earnestly was like peeling his skin off.
You fell so, so still. Stared at him. Your stomach plummeted, twisted, and your voice didn’t sound like yours as you croaked out, “who?” 
“That night, I…I was with Madja.”
It was all you could do to stare at him. And as Madja’s face floated through your mind — the old, withered, beloved healer of Velaris…you could do nothing but stare. 
“Is that supposed to be funny?” You demanded.
Az stared down at his hands. “Of course not. A little while ago, I started regularly visiting Madja.”
“...Why? Are you injured?” Your eyes immediately searched him for anything you might have missed. And yet — nothing. 
He shook his head. “Physically, I’m fine, but…in here?” He tapped a finger to his forehead. Moved that finger down to sit over his heart. “And here? I’m…I’m not. I’m not fine.”
Those cold, hard walls you’d thrown up to get you through this conversation…you felt them falter a little. You swallowed, studying your mate. “I don’t understand, Az…”
Finally — finally — he angled his body towards yours. Faced you. And the raw emotion that lay in his eyes…you almost couldn’t bear it. It could cut you. Cut you into pieces and scatter you to the wind. 
Tears were clouding his vision, muddying that hazel into a watery run of colour. He blinked, his lips quivering as those tears spilled over and ran down his cheeks. It was second nature for you to reach out and wipe them away, but he stopped you in your tracks. Allowed his tears to run free as he held onto your hand like he may never get another chance. 
“When I try to sleep at night,” his voice cracked. “When I close my eyes — do you know what I see?”
You swallowed down your own emotion, shaking your head. You’d known of him sleeping fitfully, of course — if he bothered to sleep in the same bed as you at all. But you’d never been overly aware of it.
He blinked another wave of tears away. “I see you in that healer’s tent after the war, covered in blood. I hear—” He cut himself off, voice once again hitching with his emotion. “I hear your screams of pain. Your cries. I hear you begging someone — anyone — to make it go away. I see your face turning far too pale. And I hear, over and over and over again, the moment that Madja told me there was a chance you wouldn’t make it.”
You were unable to stop your own tears forming again. You squeezed his hand, face creasing with pain. “Azriel—”
“It haunts me.” He whispered. “Because what you and I have…I never thought I’d have this. I never thought I’d find my mate. I never thought I’d be able to have such happiness. So when Madja told me there was a chance she wouldn’t be able to save you…I didn’t know what I was going to do. I didn’t know how I was going to go on.”
“But she did save me, Az.” You scooted closer. “She did.”
“I just…I came so close to losing you. To losing the love of my life. It sent me spiralling into this mindset of being scared all the damn time. Every time you left the house, or I had to go on a mission…I was losing my mind with it, Y/N. And I was so terrified of ever feeling that way again that it seemed so much easier to push you away. I was too selfish to let you go completely. I thought if I could just…have you at arm’s length…at least until I sorted myself out…” 
You stared forward. Everything seemed to click into place as you rasped, “which was why you distanced yourself from me.”
Az nodded. And he was unable to stop the sob that broke from him. “But I just ended up hurting you. And I’m so sorry.”
You couldn’t bear a second longer of it — of seeing him so crushed, so defeated. And even though you, too, were a crying mess, you found the strength to slide into his lap. To wrap your arms around him and allow him to rest his head on your shoulder.
“You should have just told me how you were feeling.” You whispered, stroking his hair. His body heaved beneath you as he cried, raw and unguarded. “I would have listened. I would have helped. I love you.”
“And I love you.” He shook. “More than I could possibly put into words. But I was so scared of losing you. And ironically, in my efforts to avoid that…I’ve come so, so close to it happening.”
You shook your head. Lifted his until he was looking at you. And it was like that, his face inches from yours, that you promised him the same thing you’d promised long ago. “You will never lose me. Ever. You are my mate, and I am yours. We love each other, when we’re happy and fine, and when we’re not. This is our life, Azriel. We can’t avoid living it in some pointless bid to outrun death.”
For a moment, he just…studied you. As if your words cleared months and months of accumulated fog and cobwebs, and helped him to see what was right in front of him. That you were right in front of him.
You had survived the war. So had he. 
The two of you deserved to live — together. 
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am. A little while ago, I started to visit Madja for help with these feelings. I knew I couldn’t go on like this.” He explained. “But I don’t — I swear to you, I never went near anybody else. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.”
And you knew that. Gods, you knew it. You almost felt foolish for even thinking it, but…you supposed, like him, you’d gotten so far inside your head, you didn’t know the way out.
One thing did linger in the back of your mind, though. Torturing you a little. You swallowed, wiping Az’s cheeks free of tears as you asked, “what of the perfume you smelled of?” 
Again, his eyes shuttered. He bowed his head slightly to touch yours. “Check my jacket pocket.”
Frowning, you paused. And then slid your hands into both pockets of the jacket you still wore. It was in the front left one that your hand enclosed around what felt like a small, glass vial. You plucked it out, tilting your head. 
“Smell it.” Az instructed softly.
Your eyes met his. And slowly, you pulled the stopper out of the vial and lifted it to your nose. 
The smell hit you immediately. That same smell — undoubtedly — that had clung to his clothes that night. A little too sweet for your liking, slightly floral…you grimaced, stoppering the little bottle once more. “What is it?” You asked. 
“Madja has been helping me to open up…to get better at voicing my thoughts and feelings.” Azriel explained quietly. “And along with that, she made me this tonic. It has soothing properties that help me slip into a state of mind ready for a more peaceful sleep. That night you smelt it on me…it was the first time she’d given it to me. I’d applied it right before I’d entered the house, because I wanted to see how well I would sleep. If I could truly get past my nightmares.”
It was your turn for your eyes to shutter then. Guilt swarmed you, brash and unwelcome. “And I ruined your sleep by starting a fight and storming out.”
Azriel’s face turned serious. “You had every right to confront me the way you did that night. I should have told you sooner what was going on. That I was seeking help. I should have avoided hurting both of us like this.”
You sighed softly, tugging him closer once more. Your strange, complicated mate…the male you loved happily and proudly.
He’d been hurting. Struggling. You should have known.
But then…you’d been hurting and struggling, too. The aftermath of war wasn’t easy for anyone. It wasn’t a case of slipping back into your old life before you’d almost perished on that battlefield. 
You’d both become chewed up and spat out by your own respective grief from that time. And instead of communicating…you’d both taken your eye off the ball. Allowed deep feelings to fester. 
Never again. Never again would you allow this to happen.
“I think we’re all a little broken from the war, Az.” You brushed his hair from his face, staring at him earnestly. “But now that we know what we’re dealing with…we can heal. Together.”
His eyes threatened to well up again. And before you could see the tears form, he was leaning forward and planting a firm kiss against your lips. “I’m so sorry.” He apologised a third time. 
“Shh. No more of that.” You whispered, rocking him. “From this moment on, we move forward.” 
His arms held you tightly against him, warmth seeping into you. You didn’t know how long you sat there for, in each other’s arms, but as a breeze whipped over you, you felt your home calling. Coaxing the two of you back.
“Let’s go home, my love.” You kissed Azriel’s forehead.
He stared at you through wet lashes. “...To our home?”
Not Amren’s apartment. Not the River House or the Town House or the House of Wind.
“Yes.” You laced your fingers through his. “To our home.”
✧: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚ azriel tag list:
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