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moon7jay · 4 months

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Taste (l.hs)

Warnings : cum eating, smut, heeseung is a munch, pure filth

Wc : 2.8k

"Let me push my face between your legs baby, this is torture"

your cheeks flushed red in embarrassment at your boyfriend's incessant whining.

Heeseung had been going at it for days. It started with the both of you making out for the very first time with your tongues and the moment he sucked your tongue into his mouth, he was groaning

"fuck you taste so good, bet you taste even sweeter down there baby" he had whispered, hands caressing your thighs desperately as if wanting to dive in between them right then and there.

You had shied away from his touch back then and refused. Too conscious of yourself. But you didn't have a clue that your boyfriend was going to be so dedicated to his cause cuz it had been literal days and you were hoping he would forget about it but here he was. Begging you to let him taste you, yet again.

You ignored him and continued to make your coffee, hoping he would catch the hint and drop it

"How long do u want me to jerk off to your panties? "

the spoon fell from your hands and clattered in the sink loudly, your mouth gaping wide open at his blunt and vulgar words. You turned around to face him, your ears burning red, mouth floundering for words as you processed the new information.

He watched your flustered form and chuckled, raising an amused eyebrow while he approached you slowly, trapping you against the kitchen counter, his bigger frame covering yours

"What? you think I'm joking? " He asked and you stayed quiet. Too stunned to speak.

It wasn't that you and heeseung hadn't done anything at all in the physical department. If kissing was something then you had done a lot of it. He would grope your chest and sometimes suck on your titties for hours, other times he would suck on your toes, always leaving an uncomfortable feeling between your legs.

That was all tho, that was all you both had done together when it came to intimacy. That's why learning that your boyfriend jerked off to you was something you hadn't thought about even in your wildest dreams.

He leaned his body closer to yours, face inches from your red and flustered one

"Have to lick on them multiple times just to get a speck of your taste baby" He whispered and your face was on fire, the tingling in between your legs making you squirm

"H-heeseung" You whispered, hands coming up to push him away while you looked anywhere but his face, too shy and embarrassed.

He was having none of it tho, big hands coming up to grab your jaw and forcing you to look at him. His eyes were darker than you had ever seen before, the intensity making a shiver run down your spine

"Help a man out yeah? you Just need to open your pretty legs and let me taste that pussy" He groaned

A gasp escaped your lips when you felt him grabbing your hips and hoisting your body up on the counter, settling in between your legs

"wanna tongue fuck you" he panted, running his hands up and down your exposed thighs, your shorts riding up from his rough movements. The way he was groping your body along with his filthy words had your head reeling. Your breath was becoming heavy and you felt wet. You were definitely wet down there. The delicious tingling intensifying in between your legs.

Your small fist hit against his chest once to gain his attention and his eyes were instantly on your face

"w-what if it's not pretty o-or doesn't smell nice" You questioned, finally letting your anxiety out in the open.

Heeseung leaned into you to kiss along your neck making you squirm, a whine building up in your throat at being touched so wontonly

"trust me baby I know you have the prettiest fucking pussy and you smell like fucking heaven, just had my nose buried in your pink lace a few hours ago in the shower" he mumbled and you gasped out loud at his words, trying to push him away

"heeseung what the fuck?? I wore it last night! It was unwashed!"

He grinned and groped your ass, pulling you closer to himself and at the edge of the counter "yeah baby I know, that extra flavor made me cum so fucking hard" He whispered over your lips before pulling you into a dirty kiss. His tongue tasting your hot mouth lewdly.

You felt mortified, suddenly overcome by an embarrassing heat filling up your lower region at his dirty confession and even though you wanted to protest and push him away, the feeling of his hands groping your body so desperately had you giving in

"o-okay just... I don't know what I'm supposed to do? " you confessed, embarassed and shy under his probing gaze.

Instantly he was gathering you up in his arms, bridal style , making you squeal

"what are you doing!"

But it seemed like he had stopped listening after you said okay. The only word that mattered.

It took his long ass legs a few strides to reach your bedroom and throw you onto the bed making you bounce slightly

You watched in awe as he hurriedly took off his pants, palming himself over his boxers, the bulge was big and visible making your mouth water and thighs clench.

"Just lay back and make pretty noises for me while I feast yeah? That's all you gotta do" he groaned, squeezing his bulge a little too tight

"fuck, even the thought of having you in my mouth is getting me so fucking excited" He panted.

The next thing you know, he was climbing on the bed to settle between your legs, parting them harshly, his heavy breaths falling on your inner thighs, hands impatiently tugging on your shorts, pulling them down your smooth legs.

Once they were off, it was just your panties separating his hungry mouth and your pussy. His eyes were hooded as he watched how soaked your core was, how wet and messy it was in anticipation of his tongue.

He ran an inquisitive finger over your slit from above your panties, just to get a feel of you and see how sensitive you really were

You gasped and moaned at his prodding finger touching you through your clothed core, watching how a shit eating grin took over his face upon feeling the height of your desire, his fingers drenched in your juices.

He was instantly pulling back and taking his fingers into his mouth, eyes falling shut and a moan ripping through his chest at your taste, hips bucking on their own. Fuck yeah. He needed to get his tongue down there before he exploded.

The sound of your panties being ripped apart had you squirming and moaning his name, legs falling open in invitation, you were beyond worked up now

His eyes bore into your bare pussy, tongue coming out to lick on his lower lip as he crawled closer to your fuck hole

You were embarassed, the way he was looking at your exposed sex making your ears turn red, what was he thinking?

His eyes flicked from your pussy to your red face a few times and he cursed

"So fucking sexy baby gonna make this pussy cum on my tongue so fucking hard" He growled and dived straight between your legs, his lips capturing your clit, sucking harshly on it

Your legs closed around his head at the sudden sensation and you screamed. It was too much, the stimulation on your sensitive clit was too much but you didn't want him to stop, the feeling of his mouth felt unfamiliar but needed. You needed it.

He groaned , rubbing his tongue over your swollen clit in eight figures, small cries leaving your lips at his desperation, hands coming down to tangle in his hairs, pulling him into you

"oh myy-" You squealed when he was moving down and penetrating your pussy with his tongue, flickering it inside your cunt.

His fingers dug into your thighs to open them further and get deeper into your folds, moving his tongue back and forth, slithering it inside your walls, slurping your juices

You thrashed and moaned, his name falling from your lips like a mantra but nothing could stop him now, his face was squished against your cunt, nose pressed firmly against your clit, rubbing back and forth on it to provide additional stimulation

It was too much, you could feel the familiar knot in your stomach.

You pulled his head closer to your pussy and he moaned, sending vibrations through you, the juices were now leaking at an embarrassing amount from your cunt

"fuck baby give it to me, taste so fucking good wanna taste your fucking cum" he panted pulling away, replacing his tongue with his fingers as he watched the way your back arched upon the intrusion on his long fingers inside your needy core

Your noises were becoming incoherent, eyes droopy and rolling back in your head upon feeling the way his fingers were fucking your pussy

"such a needy fucking cunt, so fucking creamy baby" he groaned and took your clit into his mouth again.

The combined assault of his tongue and fingers pushed you closer to your edge, hips thrusting up into his mouth, unaware of the way Heeseung's hips were grinding into the sheets to find some relief for his weeping cock.

He spit on your pussy and slurped on your juices again, rolling his tongue to mix your juices with his saliva, spread it around your gaping hole and sucking all of the mess back into his mouth, moaning into your folds.

He moved his fingers in and out rapidly, making a scream rip through your chest

"p-please please please"

"Yeah baby? fucking cum on my face let me taste that cum, come on fucking cum" he groaned, eyes fixed on your face and hips rutting against the bed to chase his own high

"Oh my g- Your voice cut into a high pitched pornographic moan as the knot in your stomach snapped and you came all over his mouth and fingers, hips bucking into his eager mouth.

Heeseung dived shamelessly into your juices to slurp and suck in your cum, groaning and rutting faster into the bed, cursing and panting in desire.

You were still riding your high when he was getting up urgently, pulling his boxers down and jerking his cock off on your pussy, his warm cum splattered all over your abused hole

"fuck yeah, shit baby so good" he moaned, his eyes rolling back, emptying his balls on your pussy, rubbing himself raw, letting hot lust and pleasure wash over his body. His face was wet from your pussy juices, the sight being so hot you had to bite your lower lip to stop yourself from moaning.

When both of your breathing calmed down, he looked back at your pussy and groaned at the sight of his cum all over your stomach, hole and thighs.

He was diving down again to collect his cum mixed with your juices on his tongue and crawling up your body to pull you into a messy kiss. Exchanging your bodily fluids and tasting each other's cum lewdly, sucking on each other's tongue, groaning in carnal lust

The combined taste of each other in your mouths was so nasty it was starting to get you both hot again, his hips subtly grinding against your pussy while you wrapped your hands around his neck to pull him further into your mouth, not getting enough of his taste

"M-More" You moaned into his mouth and he cursed, reaching down with his fingers and collecting more of the splattered cum on your stomach and pussy, pushing the fingers into your Hungry mouth, watching with lust filled eyes how you sucked on them like a whore

"I wanna put my dick inside" he pants and you nod aggressively, moaning around his fingers at the mere thought of having him in you

"Yeah? your pussy is craving it too isn't it? hungry for sex? " He asked grinding his hips into your core, his bare cock rubbing into your bare pussy, coating itself in warm pussy juices

You nodded and wrapped your legs around his waist, showing him your eagerness for sex, bucking your hips up

"Fuck this , gonna pound your cunt" he cursed and thrusted inside your awaiting hole in one go, a sharp scream falling from your lips while his mouth fell open in a silent moan of relief and satisfaction

His brows furrowed and he started thrusting into your wet gummy walls without waiting for you to adjust. You cried in pleasure and pain, his size too big that it was tearing through your womb but the way his cockhead was nudging against your cervix had your eyes rolling back in pleasure

"fuck baby, fuck" he panted above you, his body sweaty, shirt hanging haphazardly over his frame, the only focus being your tight pussy gripping his cock.

His eyes bore into yours, faces inches apart while his balls slapped against your ass, hips snapping mercilessly, in and out. In and out.

The juices were squelching, you could feel your orgasm at the tip of your tongue and by the way his hips were stuttering, you knew he could too, your bodies running on pure lust and desire for sex. The heat reaching a fever pitch.

Your groins snapped against each other lewdly, your mouths open, wanting to kiss but everything felt so good you both couldn't help but moan into each other's mouth instead, not kissing but not wanting to pull away

"Mhmnnk fuuck gonna cum so much in this cunt" he groaned into your mouth huskily, his sweat dripping down onto your face.

Your nails dug into his neck, hips bucking up continuously and rapidly, meeting his every thrust halfway, chasing and chasing that high until both of you were moaning into each other's mouths, cumming together, making a mess all over the bed, hips still moving to ride out the primal feeling for longer.

Pleasurable sighs of satisfaction left your lips when he grinded into your heat again, his dick still hard inside of you

His spent body fell on yours and he buried his face in the crook of your neck, hips moving in you a few more times before he was pulling out of you and laying on your side, panting heavily.

You looked down and saw how hard his dick still was, nibbling on your bottom lip worriedly, did you not satisfy him?

"fuck" his voice pulled you out of your trance and you watched in awe as he took his cock into his palm and started jerking himself off

You sat up on your elbow and just watched, feeling hot, eyes running over his sweaty body and how his stomach clenched when he thrusted into his fist

"keep watching how I beat my meat for you baby, just keeping fucking watching I'm so close" He groaned and you looked at his face. His eyes were hooded and ran all over you with wanton desire as he bucked into his fist, the sight so hot it was making you light headed

"god you drive me crazy, gonna cum so hard again, gonna cum so much, gonna fucking-he moaned, his neck stretching back, his adam's apple bobbing harshly as his hips stilled and spasmed, hot white cum squirting out of his cock, covering his stomach and palms while he jerked himself off to completion. His dick slowly deflating.

He panted harshly and you rubbed his bicep to help him calm his breathing. You couldn't believe you had just had sex with your boyfriend for the very first time and it was so fucking hot. You had taken a total of 3 dicks in your whole life and to say that heeseung's dick was the only one to introduce you to pleasure would be an understatement.

As his breathing calmed down, he looked at you and grinned, pulling you closer to his body, caressing your sides softly "how was that?" He asked and you blushed, feeling shy all of a sudden

"So good hee" You mumbled and he chuckled, finding you adorable

"Yeah? wanna do it again? " he asked and you gasped, hitting his chest

"We just had sex, won't it be too much?" You asked, unsure.

He chuckled and fisted his dick, which was suspiciously getting hard again, hissing in overstimulation

"There's no such thing as too much sex baby, we do it whenever we want, as many fucking times as we want, as long as we fucking want" he whispered and turned you over, capturing your lips into his mouth, ready to take you again.

a/n : I'm going to disappear after posting this cuz I have exams this whole month, reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

#enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard headcanons #enhypen smut #enhypen #enhypen hard hours #enha #heeseung smut #lee heeseung #lee heesung x reader #lee heeseung smut #heeseung x reader #heeseung #heeseung hard hours #heesung enhypen

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hpimagines · 3 months

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Theodore Nott, Loves to worship you.

( Worship kink? Honestly idk this is just something I randomly wrote )

I don’t care what anyone says, Theodore Nott is the master worshiper. He would kiss the ground you walked on if it made you happy; Don’t get me wrong he’s still the dominant asshole you love, just in a more extreme way.

Foreplay would be wild. Kissing you from head to toe, literally. He doesn’t care if it’s seen as weird or filthy, all he knows is he loves every inch of you. Master worshiper.

“Sei così sexy, mi ecciti così tanto” (you’re so sexy, you turn me on so much) , “Fuck, I fucking love you”, “You take it good pretty girl, my slut” “Voglio solo rovinare il tuo bel viso” (I just want to ruin your beautiful face)

He makes you try on dresses in front of him, giving you every compliment possible, wether you understood them or not; Then buys them specifically to get shitfaced and have angry sex, because why the hell would you wear it to a party. It was a routine, one you loved. He bought it, you looked hot, he got jealous, and you, well you got fucked.

Mix of Praise and degration, “You look too fucking good in this dress, never should’ve been seen by anyone else, troia.” Whispering against your ear, yet practically growling, Pushing you against the wall just to rip off your new dress, wasting his money in the process, yet gaining so much.

I could make a part two if you’d like, though i’m not sure what exactly it’d be, anyways, hope you enjoyed this short lil thing <33

#fanfic #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter smut #slytherin boys #harry potter reader insert #smut #harrypotterboys #draco malfoy #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x you #theodore nott x you #theo nott x reader #theo nott smut #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott

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miryum · 5 months

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A Green and Silver Ring (Mattheo Riddle x Reader)

An arranged marriage between you and Mattheo, one that might lead to something beautiful

Word Count: 10.3k

I know I haven't posted in a long time but I have a plan trust the process. Also, this is me coming out and saying that I love Mattheo Riddle and he's amazing

Warnings: Swearing, bad and manipulative parenting from both Mattheo and reader’s parents, a lot of misogyny (a bit from Mattheo but he gets better by a lot and it’s not that bad), arguments, Tom isn’t Mattheo’s brother and Tom is a creep, arranged marriage, one bed trope, enemies to lovers, greek mythology reference, talk of kids, needing kids to carry on family lines, and kids. Mistress is the feminine term for master (so reader isn’t Mattheo’s side piece when I refer to her as mistress), old timey talk a bit, reader is a bookworm

From the desk of Ginevra

My dearest friend,

My parents have informed me of your engagement. I was ecstatic, yet surprised, when I heard the news. I was of the assumption that your parents were allowing you to choose your husband as your family line is secure in your brother and his wife. Yet, once I learned who your husband-to-be is, I was trepidatious.

My thoughts are with you, my darling friend, and I pray for you to write to me the moment you get my letter.

I hate to break the news, but you and your fiancé are the talk of high society. Never before have two such families been intertwined. Even I have had to scold my brothers for their gossip. They seem to forget that our families are close friends.

I do not ask why your parents have made such a decision. I know they are intelligent adults and surely must have a motive, but I admit that I am blind in that regard. Your engagement seems sudden and unwarranted to me. When questioned, my mother sighed and said I would understand when I grew older. My mother continues to baffle me. I have borne two children and a third on the way! If I am not mature now, I better gain some knowledge quickly.

Always remember that I am by your side. If you ever need anything, my door is always open to you. I am sure Harry will agree.

I love you, my friend.

Ginny

From the office of Lorenzo

Miss. L/n,

I believe we’ve never been formally introduced. I’m saddened to say that this letter is as formal as we’ll get - at least until your wedding. I am sure you must be taciturn and mercurial as of now. My father has told me much about you and I believe we’ll make excellent friends and confidants in our hectic world.

You’re to be my new half-sister, aren’t you? My relatives and friends are petulant to meet you.

Before any rumours (either about myself or your fiancé) hit your ears, I’ll put a rest to them. Bellatrix, your fiancé’s mother, had an affair with my father. They produced me and in return, I have the privilege of being your fiancé’s half-brother.

Being a bastard child, I’m no stranger to being ostracised and ridiculed. To be blunt, I’m sure that you will be ostracised alongside me and I believe that is one reason we can connect.

For rumours of my half-brother, I simply say this: do not fear him. He relishes in the consternation he places in other people, yet when he heard he was to marry you, I saw panic in his eyes like no other. It seems the tables have turned. He is hesitant to be wed, but you are not the problem. He simply doesn’t want to have the responsibility of another’s life on his. Your fiancé is used to belittling people - not supporting them as a husband should.

Any questions you have about your fiancé and my half-brother (whom in case I didn’t make clear, are one and the same), refer to me without any qualms. I am eager to meet you and hopefully make your transition into the Riddle family smoother.

I am well aware you have also lived your life in the upper echelons of society. But, as I’m sure you know, there are multiple circles in our complicated community. The L/ns, the Weasleys, and the Potters, for example, have grown their fortunes truthfully and innocently. They have earned the respect of their people and those whom they employ. The Riddles, Blacks, and Berkshires, on the other hand, have climbed the ranks in unconventional means and by skipping a few rungs on the ladder. They thrive and make their living on the terror and duress they cause those under them.

I’m looking forward to making your acquaintance.

Lorenzo Berkshire

P.S. I hope I haven’t scared you off.

From the office of L/n

Daughter,

You’ll be pleased to hear the engagement has gone through. Your mother and I met your fiancé last night. He seems like a nice man. He will be able to provide for you. His family is influential.

We will return home late tomorrow evening. You will depart for Riddle Estate in a week. Begin packing.

Your father

From the desk of Ginevra

Y/n,

You worry me with your lack of communication. Usually, you can’t wait to gossip with me. We have such fun at dinners and balls, yet with the most important aspect of yourself, you don’t respond. I’m simply worried, my friend. Are you alright? I can envision you curled in your bed, not letting anyone, even your nursemaid, into your room. Please do not let your impending marriage affect your state of health. It will turn out alright. Everyone I know (even me!) had apprehensions about their marriage. And with everyone I know, it turned out alright.

Misters Sirius and Remus visited Harry and I the day before last. They came to see James and Albus, but I know there was a hidden reason as well. They know of our friendship and came to ask if the rumours are true. As much as my husband adores them, Sirius in particular can be prone to gossip. The pair tittered and tsked when I told them of your fiancé. Sirius wishes to distance himself from his family, and I know he has pre-existing thoughts of the Black family, and by extension, the Riddles.

Sometimes I take a moment to gaze at the family tree upon my drawing room wall. It is full of interconnected lines and squiggles that sometimes, it makes my head hurt! The web of family ties is complicated and if we’re not somehow related already, I know that we will be once your marriage takes place. It seems the Black family spreads its roots into the Weasley family and the Riddle family- the latter of which you’ll soon be synonymous with.

Give yourself some grace. Your fiancé falls far from the tree; I am sure of it.

Please write to me. I need to make sure my closest friend is doing well.

Best wishes,

Ginny

P.S. Hermione wishes to inform you that, from what she’s heard, your Mr. Riddle is quite attractive. I have yet to hear any of the rumours myself, but at least your husband will be pleasing to the eye. Perhaps it will make the marriage more bearable.

***

Mattheo strode leisurely through Riddle Manor. It was one of the many estates his family owned, and it was soon to be officially his. Just as soon as he married the L/n girl.

The manor was spacious, which Mattheo couldn’t help but detest. How was he and a wife supposed to fill this void of empty rooms and dark halls? He knew servants and cooks would move in, but they wouldn’t occupy the dozens of upper rooms that were vacated.

For a brief moment, Mattheo couldn’t help but envision a set of children running around the halls. One of the children would run up to him, shouting, “Papa! Papa!” Mattheo would scoop the child up, grinning, and would carry them to their room. The room would be bright and cheerful, and maybe, just maybe, you would be sitting on a settee, cradling a newborn or helping an older child with their school work.

But for now, the room was dark and uninviting and he had yet to meet his future wife. He had seen a portrait of the L/n family and while they were in lavish, colourful clothing, Mr. and Mrs. L/n seemed cold and stoic - just like his parents. The children, an older son and younger daughter (whom he presumed to be you), seemed kinder and by their body language, Mattheo could tell that the two siblings were close.

Mattheo slowly made his way down the hall. There were three wings of the manor; two were residential and the other was designed for taking guests. The East Wing - in which he and Miss. L/n would stay - was also fit with an office for him. He was expected to take over half of the family business once he got married. The West Wing would remain empty for now, sans for a large library and the furniture in the bedrooms.

The boy knew that his bride was to arrive later that day. She would stay at Riddle Estate until the end of the week. Just three short days before they were to be wed in name. Mattheo would move into Riddle Manor tonight, giving servants time to wipe the dust off of tables, shine the silverware, and fluff the pillows.

Mattheo walked the halls of his new home. His mind was devoid of any thoughts. Perhaps it was simply because he was always numb. Even when he heard of his engagement, Mattheo didn’t make a fuss. He didn’t remember thinking anything. Nothing such as ‘Oh, I can’t wait to meet her!’ or even, ‘I can’t believe mother and father are arranging my marriage! She better be obedient.’

No, Mattheo had thought nothing of the sort. He had spent his childhood quietly observing his father and mother, noticing the amount of fear they could inflict on people just by silence. You didn’t have to be loud and dramatic to be powerful. You simply couldn’t be afraid to follow up on your promises - however deadly they were.

The only question Mattheo had asked when Bellatrix informed him of his engagement was, “and what do we gain from the L/n’s?”

Bellatrix had shot him an callous and apathetic look. “Do not ask questions you needn’t the answers to, boy.”

Mattheo had glowered, but shut his mouth.

As he neared the foyer, Mattheo couldn’t help but think how marriage was a component in all aspects of his life. When he got married to the L/n girl, he would inherit a portion of his father’s estates, company, and wealth. Mattheo chucked to himself. Maybe he should’ve gotten married sooner.

***

“Pray tell, why weren’t you here when she arrived?” Bellatrix snarled as she gripped Mattheo’s arm. Her nails dug into his suit as she dragged him towards the drawing room.

“I was busy,” Mattheo replied harshly. Love was not a thing that came instinctively to his family.

“Doing what? Planning your suidide?” Bellatrix scoffed. “I would march to the Underworld and choke Hades to bring you back.” Mattheo glanced down at his mother, hesitantly surprised. But he knew better than to raise his hopes and dreams. “We need this contract with the L/n’s,” Bellatrix continued and Mattheo’s jaw ticked. Of course. She didn’t love him; she never had. Her son was purely business. He should’ve known better.

“Maybe if you would tell me what the L/n’s provide for us,” Mattheo pulled Bellatrix back before she threw open the door to where you were. “Then I would be more complacent.”

Bellatrix sneered. “You think you’re smart, boy. You think you have everything figured out in that pretty little head of yours. But remember: you’re nothing without the Riddle family name backing you up.” She paused and licked her lips. “But if you must know,” Bellatrix sighed, giving into Mattheo. “The L/n’s just came into some very… lucrative land that we could gain from if you marry Miss. Y/n L/n.”

Mattheo’s eyes flickered to the drawing room door. After a moment, he asked, “is that her name? Y/n?”

Bellatrix stared at him, aghast. “You didn’t bother to learn her name?!” She scoffed. “With a son like you…”

She pushed open the drawing room doors and Mattheo trudged after her, muttering, “at least I know her name now.”

You had been waiting for seven minutes and thirty nine seconds in the drawing room of Riddle Estate, the trackage of time dependent on the old grandfather clock standing ominously in the corner. Its pendulum swung back and forth continuously as its second hand ticked by. Mrs. Riddle had left seven minutes and thirty nine seconds ago to fetch her son.

While the room was perfectly clean, not a speck of dust on even the highest chandelier, it was still a cold and morose room, yet oddly epochal. The wood was the darkest mahogany you had ever seen and the lights cast odd shadows on the dark green wallpaper that had inlays of gold.

Your teacup that you were trying to hold steady was filled with a sad excuse for tea. There was a ring of gold around the mouth of the teacup. On the table beside you, a notch that looked as if someone dug a knife into the surface caught your attention. It was the little things like this that you noticed when you had nothing else to do. Your mind was trying to distract you.

The door then swung open and there stood your fiancé, his stare daring you to oppose him.

“Uh,” you stood, your teacup and saucer still in hand. You quickly placed them on the table, right over the knife nick. “Y/n L/n,” you introduced yourself. You bowed your head in an informal curtsy.

Mattheo’s eyes flickered over your face. “Mattheo Riddle,” he said coldly. His voice was practically velvet. You didn’t mean to look him up and down, but you couldn’t help it. He was to be your husband, after all.

Mattheo’s hair coiled at the end and his eyes were just as dark as his curls. His nose had a scarred cut on it that looked as if it was just beginning to heal. Your fiancés cheekbones were practically sculpted from marble and for a moment, you believed that the gods had simply breathed life into a statue. Did this make you Pygmalion and Mattheo Galatea?

If it weren’t for their lethal eyes and stern posture, perhaps more would be friendly to the Riddles.

Mattheo spoke, “you’re to be my fiancée.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.” You had the urge to add ‘sir’ at the end, but you bit your tongue.

Bellatrix hissed something to Mattheo and thrust a small object into his hands. Mattheo rolled his eyes and stalked towards you. “My family ring,” he grumbled. He held out an intricate silver ring with three bands interweaving. A green jewel cut into a thin diamond shape sat steadily in the middle. “It has been in the Riddle family for generations. It’s tradition to pass it down to the wife of the firstborn son. And now that is you…”

He trailed off and handed the ring to you, it laying flat on his palm. You took it from him, trying to minimise contact with Mattheo. You nodded in thanks and slid it into your ring finger.

It seemed too concrete to fathom.

Mattheo stared at the ring on your finger. A muscle jumped in his jaw. “My… wife,” he murmured halfheartedly.

***

Three weeks had passed since the wedding and it was as if you had never gotten married in the first place. Yes, it was unsettling to wake up in a bed that wasn’t your own next to a man that you were supposed to call your own. But other than necessary, Mattheo had hardly uttered a word to you.

In the three weeks you had stayed there, you had seen Mattheo a total of twenty eight times, including mornings and nights when you were forced to sleep in the same bed.

Your mornings, afternoons, and nights were all incredibly boring. You took long meals, pushing your food around. Sometimes you just sat by the window and watched the wind blow bits of grass and dirt past the window. The servants were still extracting the dust between the couch cushions and you tried to stay out of the way, but it only made you feel more isolated.

Mattheo was holed up in his office day in and day out. He had now inherited a large portion of his father’s company and Mattheo was determined to uphold the honour bestowed upon him. He had drafted contracts, sold and bought land, and even hosted a few dinner parties for his associates.

You detested the dinner parties. Thankfully, Mattheo had yet to invite you to one - hell, he had yet to speak to you about the dinner parties. You had learned of the first dinner party when you had wandered downstairs one late evening because you were thirsty. You had stared at the group of strangers, all dressed in elegance, as they stared back at you in your night clothes. Not saying a word, you had sighed and returned upstairs.

You hadn’t been eager for the marriage, but wouldn't it befit Mattheo to show some affection? Or at least acknowledge your presence?

While you had continuously tried to get your husband to open up to you, his answers had been short and venomous.

It had been a long, monotonous day for you. You had returned to the master bedroom about two hours earlier than you normally would have if you were at home.

With the wealth that you came from, the opulence was sure to be evident, but you had underestimated the Riddle family’s prestige. When Mattheo had first shown you your shared bedroom, you had to allow a flicker of surprise break through your facade. The bedroom was larger than any room in your old home and had a large bed in the middle. The lamps on the bedside table were always dimly lit and the design of the room was the same as the rest of the house - dark and bereft of love and care.

Your hair had been brushed enough, but you kept brushing simply for something to do while Mattheo finished up in the bathroom. Mattheo walked out of the ensuite with a towel wrapped around his waist. His curls were plastered to his forehead and a bead of water ran down his sternum.

Your eyes flickered to his figure through the mirror, taking in the dips and curves of Mattheo’s muscles as he silently got ready for bed. You tore your gaze away, berating yourself.

You built up your courage and tried to think of a conversation starter. You commented, “my parents wrote to me today.” After no reply from Mattheo, you continued, “they asked me when we would give them grandchildren.” You set your hairbrush down and stared at Mattheo through the mirror, looking for some sort of reaction.

Mattheo hummed noncommittally and put on some sleep pants. He used his towel to begin drying his hair. “It would be behoove us to produce some heirs,” he spoke. His tone was dismissive, as if children were nothing more than an obligation or duty to fulfil.

“Right,” you muttered, knowing that an uninterested reaction was all you were going to get out of him.

You stood and moved towards the bed. “Goodnight,” you whispered, turning off the bedside lamp and tucking yourself into bed. Mattheo was still putting on his nightclothes and had yet to get into bed.

As you turned off the light and got into bed, Mattheo finished drying himself off and slid into his own pyjamas. He sat down beside you, but didn't bother turning off his own lamp. Instead, he laid against the headboard, reading a book. "Goodnight," he finally mumbled, not even looking at you.

You curled into your blanket. After a moment, you asked quietly, “what book are you reading?”

He looked at you over the top of his book. "None of your business," he replied curtly.

You simply uttered, “okay.”

Mattheo felt an unwanted and unusual feeling root itself deep in his stomach. He scoffed and said sarcastically, "fine. Go ahead and keep asking questions all night long if it amuses you so." He opened his book again and pretended to read.

A longing and lonely pang resonated in your chest at his harsh words. You didn’t respond and instead turned your face into your pillow. You had known that your marriage was to be loveless, but it still hurt at every unspoken word. Perhaps, if you had been five years younger when you married Mattheo, your spirit would still be alive with the juvenile belief that you could stand up to him.

Mattheo huffed and his gaze turned up to stare at the wall ahead of him. “If you’re so miserable, then why don’t you just leave?” he snapped, not even bothering to hide his bitterness. “I am sure your family would simply love to have you back.” He flipped another page in his book, not even bothering to look at the printed words.

“I never said I was miserable,” you answered quietly, even though Mattheo knew it wasn’t true. Perhaps, though, you believed it to be true. You took a steadying breath, closing your eyes.

Your husband smirked and leaned against the headboard. “What do you call your attitude, then? Why are you so downtrodden and defeated? Surely, you can’t blame me for being frustrated by it.” He knew that he should be taking account of making you feel this way, but he still tried to justify his behaviour.

“Goodnight,” you reiterated.

Mattheo sighed dramatically. “Whatever,” he grunted. He closed his book, threw it on the nightstand, and turned off his lamp. The room was encased in darkness except for the dim moonlight coming through the window. He shifted towards the edge of the bed, making sure a noticeable gap was between the two of you.

He thought back to your conversation. “Why don’t you just leave?”

It was too late now to apologise.

***

Mattheo let the door swing shut behind him, returning to Riddle Manor after an outing with friends. He glanced around, waiting for a servant to take his coat, but no one answered. An eyebrow cocked, Mattheo slowly walked up the stairs, hearing you instruct the servants on something, every other sentence of yours either containing, ‘please’ or ‘thank you’. Up on the landing, he found you directing a servant who was pulling a rack of your clothing. “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded. “Have you lost your damn mind? Are you trying to send a message or something?”

“You’ve made it perfectly clear that you have no interest in me, so I’m trying to make this marriage as civilised as possible,” you said diplomatically. “I believe that if I move to the West Wing and leave you in the East Wing, it will benefit our marriage.”

“What exactly do you hope to accomplish with this piteous attempt at attention?” he asked rhetorically. “Do you think it’ll make me want you more?” He stuck his tongue in his cheek, grinning incredulously. “You’re delusional if you think that’s even remotely possible.” He stepped closer to you, towering over you with anger in his eyes. “This is not some game, L/n. This is marriage. You’re stuck with me whether you like it or not.”

“I’m aware that we’re married, Riddle,” you retorted. “And don’t refer to me by L/n anymore. I am now a Riddle - just like you. However, I am not going to live in a state of constant sorrow and dejection. Having a wing of the mansion to myself may help.”

Mattheo’s jaw tightened as he stared at you, irritated by your resistance. “Fine,” he growled. “But don’t expect me to come running after you when you decide you want attention. You’re on your own now.” He turned away from you and walked into his now solo bedroom. “Just remember - this is your choice.”

You felt your anger inflate. “I thought you would like this!” Your voice rose and you tugged a hand through your hair. It was the first time in your marriage that you had fought back. “I have done everything I can to please you, yet nothing is enough for you!” Your voice turned desperate. “What do you want from me?”

He stopped in his tracks, turning around with surprise and disgust on his face. “Dammit, Y/n! Don’t yell at me like that!” His voice thundered, stepping towards you. “I never asked for any of this! I didn’t ask for a wife or for you to try so hard to please me! All of this is ridiculous.” His hand slashed through the air to make a point. “All I want is some space. Space to figure out what the hell I want. But let’s make one thing clear: I don’t care about you.”

“Am I not giving you space?” Your fists clenched at your sides. “I am moving out of the bedroom and out of your way. Yet, you erupt at me and get angry over nothing! You send me mixed messages and I don’t know what to do.”

Mattheo took a breath, trying to regain control over his emotions. “I am not erupting! Lord, you are so sensitive!” he snapped, running a hand over his face. “Can’t you listen for once? I am not sending you mixed signals. I am trying to figure out my place in this unorthodox situation we’re in.”

After a beat of silence, you asked firmly, “did you talk about me?” After seeing a flicker of confusion on his face, you clarified, “when you were out with your friends, did you talk about me? Did you rant about how annoying I was? Did you complain about marriage?”

His lips parted before taking a breath. “Yes, I talked about you,” he admitted begrudgingly. “I complained about how frustrating I find you and how frustrated I am with my parents for arranging this senseless marriage.”

“What did they say?” you insisted. “Did they sympathise? Did they laugh at me? Did they add fuel to your fire by commenting about how… how ‘needy’ and ‘sensitive’ I am?”

Mattheo made a low sound in his chest and rubbed his temples, frustrated by your persistence. “They agreed with me, yes. A few believed that you are too emotionally attached and sentimental. Others chalked it up to the pains of an average marriage.”

Your anger flared up and you said, “Let me tell you this: I never wanted marriage either. But I at least tried. I tried to be a nice and loving wife and a kind human.” You turned on your heel, marching out of the bedroom and towards the West Wing.

Mattheo watched you go, an unwanted feeling of guilt washing over him. He sighed and walked over to the window. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “Why is everything so damn complicated?”

For the next couple of weeks, you stayed true to your word. You avoided Mattheo and his office and stayed in your wing of the mansion. After a week or two, you decided to explore the mansion, stumbling upon a magnificent library. You inhaled in veneration when someone cleared their throat. Mattheo stood behind you, raising an brow. After a silence, you said recalcitrantly, “you never told me that Riddle Manor had a library.”

He smirked at your thinly veiled hatred, amused despite himself. “Well, now you know,” he said dryly. “It’s a perk of living in a Riddle household.” He walked over to a bookshelf and began browsing for a book he required for a contract that was being drafting. He showed no sign of embarrassment or discomfort at your presence. “You may use it whenever you want. But don’t expect me to join a book club or anything juvenile.”

“I would never dream of it,” you said sarcastically. You step further into the library and can’t help but gape at the vastness. You trailed your fingers over the book spines, breathing in the smell of old books. You crouched down to examine a series of poetry titles. “I can read any of these?” you asked hesitantly.

He nodded and leaned against the shelf behind him, crossing his arms over his chest. “Feel free to read whatever you would like. They’re here for the entire household. Well, the servants don’t have time to read books, so in a Riddle household, the parents and children use the library the most.” Your hand faltered over the titles. “If you find something that catches your eye, go ahead and take it. I won’t stop you.” There was a hint of curiosity in his voice, as if he wished to know what topics and books piqued your interest. You hummed quietly, not fully acknowledging his words. You were already picking up a book and leafing through it. Mattheo watched you for a moment, his eyes softening briefly.

Everyday, you returned to the library. It was an escape from the walls of your room and the walls that Mattheo had put up around his heart.

Eventually, the servants recognised your routine and began to start a fire in the fireplace to keep you warm. They moved a loveseat in front of the fire that you gratefully used. You devoured the poetry collection, including Shakespeare and Edgar Allen Poe, and started on the classics. Every once in a while, Mattheo would come into the library, but he wouldn’t talk. He simply took a book and returned to his study. Sometimes, you wondered if he remembered you lived in the mansion with him.

Mattheo found himself frequenting the library more often, looking for books he had never needed before. A swell of pride filled him whenever he saw you by the fire, knowing that something in his home brought you such comfort. He still refused to speak to you, maintaining distance and ignoring your existence, but he found himself increasingly drawn to your presence.

One day, on a whim, he decided to take a risk and left a stack of his favourite books on the table next to your chair. That afternoon, you found the stack of books. You smiled despite yourself, though you didn't make any comment to Mattheo. You picked up the first book, sat down in the chair, and began to read.

A week later, Mattheo was hosting a dinner party for his associates. He didn’t say a word about it to you, though you heard the servants preparing for it. You decided not to go, opting to stay in your safe haven of the library.

After an hour or so of faint music, you heard the door to the library squeak open and your head whipped up. You saw one of Mattheo’s friends, Tom, enter and look around. He spotted you and his lips curled up into a smirk. “So you’re the wife we’ve heard so much about?”

Your stomach clenched and you replied, “I guess so.”

Tom’s smirk grew wider as he took in your terse response, enjoying your obvious discomfort. He approached you with a lecherous gaze in his eyes before asking, “and how do you find life as Mrs. Riddle? Are you enjoying your… arrangement?” His words dripped with sarcasm, not believing for a moment that you and Mattheo were married for love.

You stared at him. “It has its perks,” you said simply.

Tom laughed derisively at your response, not convinced by your nonchalance. “And what are those perks?” he asked, moving closer to you. “Extravagant gifts? Luxurious vacations? Or simply the privilege of being married to such a powerful man?”

You squared your shoulders. “I am powerful without a man,” you said sharply. “I do not need a man to determine my worth and prowess.”

Tom scoffed. “Really? How exactly did you become powerful on your own?” he asked, challenging you. “I find it hard to believe that you could ever achieve anything significant without the backing of a powerful husband behind you.” He leaned in closer, grinning.

You closed your book with a snap. “The L/n family,” you said, talking of your maiden lineage, “has had control over many estates and affairs for decades. Without Mattheo Riddle, I would’ve inherited half of it, second only to my brother. I would’ve had four auspicious companies at my ready disposal, capable of doing most anything. So, yes, sir, I would have been momentous without him.”

Tom’s smirk faded as he recognised your family name. He remained undeterred, however, stating, “that explains why your husband was so eager to marry you. He must see you as a valuable asset to his business empire.”

As you opened your mouth to retort, the door banged open and Mattheo strode into the library.

Mattheo had noticed Tom’s absence from his party, but when it became too long to be excused as a restroom break, Mattheo had asked his brother, Enzo, if he had seen where he had gone. Enzo had smiled a small smile and whispered, “Tom went to the library. Where your darling wife stays hidden.”

Mattheo saw red.

He barged into the library, a deadly, lethal, and borderline possessive look deep in his eyes. When he saw Tom flanking you, Mattheo’s expression darkened and his hands clenched into a ready fist. “What the hell are you doing here?” Mattheo demanded, his voice low and dangerous. “This is a private wing of my home - not some place for you to bother my wife.”

Mattheo moved closer to you, placing himself between you and Tom as if to protect you from further harm.

Tom quickly stepped back and placed a confident demeanour on his face. “I was simply having a conversation with your lovely wife here,” Tom gritted his teeth.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, showing clearly that Tom was lying and intruding. You saw Mattheo’s eyes flicker down to you, his eyes softening reassuringly before snapping back to Tom, malice in his gaze.

“Don’t lie to me,” Mattheo snapped at Tom. “There’s no need for any sort of interaction or conversation with my wife unless I am present.” Mattheo placed a hand on the top of your chair, his fingers gripping it and his bicep flexing slightly to warn Tom.

Tom’s eyes flicked with something you hadn’t seen before: fear. Fear commonly associated with the Riddle name. He adjusted his collar and straightened his posture. “Of course, Mr. Riddle,” he said bitterly.

You raised a brow. “I think it’s time for you to go now,” you said, your face stoic. Tom bowed his head slightly before exiting the library. You didn’t look up to meet Mattheo’s eye. You murmured, “you didn’t have to do that. I had it covered.”

Mattheo watched Tom until he completely left the room before turning to look down on you. His voice was threatening, “you may have been able to handle Tom, but I won’t tolerate anyone disrespecting or harassing you while you’re under my roof. Consider this a warning - if anyone tries to cross you again, they will regret it.”

“Perhaps you should tell your coworkers that. Not me,” you replied.

Mattheo’s expression was cold. “Fine. I will,” he growled. “I will not sit idly by and allow anyone to disrespect my wife.” He let go of your chair and adjusted the cuffs of his suit. As if in a business meeting, he said, “And consider this another warning: if you continue to act so stubbornly, I won’t hesitate to remind you of your place in this marriage.”

“My place in this marriage is your wife!” you cried out, finally standing up. “Your equal! Something you seem to forget until it’s convenient for you. Or until another man threatens your… your property! I doubt you see me any differently than this house or your assets.”

Mattheo grabbed onto your arm tightly, pulling you close and leaning down so his face was inches from yours. “Do not ever speak to me like that. You are not my equal - you are my wife and I decide what is best for both of us. If you cannot accept that, then you should reconsider your place in this marriage.” He released your arm and turned away from you, striding towards the door. “I suggest you reflect on your behaviour,” he added icily, leaving the room without looking back.

After he left the library, you let out a scream of frustration. You shoved the pile of books that Mattheo had carefully curated to the floor. They tumbled down, book after book, covers opening and pages bending. Tears pricked at your eyes as you examined the scene.

You slumped into your chair, the fire in front of your crackling softly, emitting a calming warmth.

Eventually, you fell asleep in the chair, tear stains on your cheeks. In the morning, you woke to the serene morning light filtering into the room - a vast contrast to your mood. The fire had dissolved into crackling embers. Tucked on top of you was a thick blanket and the stack of books that you had pushed over had been re-piled and stood majestically atop the table.

You sighed, knowing you should thank the servants for taking care of you and cleaning up.

After you walked to the kitchen, your footfalls heavy, you thanked the servants, who were finishing preparing breakfast. They exchanged glances and one piped up, “Ma’am, while we appreciate the sentiment, we didn’t do that. We weren’t aware that you were still in the library. We believed you had retired to bed before the social last night.” They paused and then added, “however, Mr. Riddle didn’t go to bed. He was in his study until morning light.”

“Oh,” was all you could say. You bid them an awkward goodbye before entering the dining hall.

Mattheo was already seated at the head of the table, his expression exhausted and distant. He didn’t acknowledge you when you approached, focusing instead on the uneaten plate of food in front of him.

You sat down opposite him and muttered, “the servants informed me that you blanketed me last night and cleaned up the books.” You hesitated and finally said, “thank you.”

Mattheo looked up briefly, his expression unreadable, but he didn’t respond directly. “It was necessary,” he said simply. “You should not be cold and uncomfortable in your own home.” He doesn’t make any effort to engage in conversation beyond that. Something was weighing heavily on his mind and he seemed preoccupied by it.

You hummed in response. Eventually, you stood and whispered to your husband before walking out, “you are not as cold as you want to seem. You needn’t keep the facade up with me.”

Mattheo looked up briefly before returning to his food. His expression relaxed, but he didn’t respond.

***

Later that day, Mattheo sat in his study as he always did. A knock came from the door and he glanced at the clock. It was a bit early for lunch to be delivered, but he announced, “come in.”

The door creaked open and your head peeked into the room. Mattheo’s brows furrowed - not with malice, but with scrutiny. You entered and sat in one of the two seats next to his fireplace. Silently, you cracked open a book you had brought and began to read.

Mattheo watched you intently, his gaze never wavering as he took in every detail of your face. He tried to find any acrimonious intent behind your actions, but you looked so peaceful. He found himself noticing the details of your face and your beauty as the fire cast warm highlights on your eyes. “What are you doing?” he asked eventually, his voice holding an armour of needed suspicion.

“Reading,” you said simply.

Mattheo frowned, not convinced by your answer. Why would you read in his study after the way he had been treating you? He leaned back in his chair, his work forgotten. “Isn’t there something more important that you could be occupying your time with?” he challenged.

“Not particularly,” you responded. “You’re in charge of the companies and estates. I have nothing to do. I thought I would accompany you. You must get lonely in a study by yourself.”

Mattheo narrowed his eyes, but ultimately nodded slowly. “Alright,” he agreed after a moment. “But don’t think I will stop working simply because my wife is here.” His posture grew taut as he began looking over documents again. “This is still my office and I expect you to behave accordingly.”

“I’m simply reading,” you murmured, a smile inching its way up your lips.

Henceforth, a routine was established. Every morning, you would knock on Mattheo’s study door, usually an hour or so after he began working. There was rarely conversation, the silence being broken by Mattheo’s scratch of a quill or you turning pages, occasionally being disrupted by the loud crack of a log in the fire.

One day, you had finished your book (it was an excellent book, one from the pile Mattheo had recommended) and stood to go retrieve another one. At the sound of your footsteps leaving his office, Mattheo’s head darted up and he suddenly asked, “where are you going?”

You paused and turned back to him. “I’m to get a new book. Unfortunately, as wonderful as this one was, it had an ending like all books do.”

Mattheo frowned and a hint of vulnerability broke through his exterior. “Get a servant to do it,” he offered.

“Well, I don’t know which one I want,” you counted, raising a brow in a smirk.

He huffed and shook his head, returning his eyes to his documents. He grumbled, “I will commission the servants to build you a small bookshelf for my office. You can keep your books there.” You stood, watching him for a moment, admiring him until his gaze snapped up. “Well, go get your book,” he said sharply. “… but hurry back,” he added in a mumble.

You finally smiled at him before exiting and Mattheo gazed at the place you once stood, trying to memorise how your lips curled up and your eyes crinkled when you smiled.

He rather liked it when you smiled.

***

“Are you alright?”

You sniffed and laughed. “Yes, yes. I’m being foolish.” You wiped some tears from your eyes. “My book is very good.”

Mattheo chuckled lowly. “And what made you cry, hm?”

“A daughter and father interaction,” you replied quietly.

“Was the father cruel to the daughter?” Mattheo laughed tersely, shaking his head at his documents. “Are your feelings not strong enough to withstand their wrath?”

You frowned at Mattheo, setting the book down. “No,” you corrected slowly. “The father was being kind to his daughter. He was supporting her and loving her; as a father should.” There was a pause as Mattheo looked up at you. “I know that the Riddles are a harsher family - I’ve known ever since I knew I was to marry you. But… but are you alright?”

You felt absurd asking the question. Yet, when Mattheo couldn’t meet your eye, a wistful sadness blanketing the room, you felt as if you should’ve asked the simple question weeks earlier.

For a moment, he said nothing. Then Mattheo turned in his chair so his back was facing you. "I'm fine," he finally answered, his voice rough and strained. "I am used to dealing with it, I suppose." Despite his insistence that he didn't need anyone's pity or concern, your words seem to have affected him more deeply than he wanted to admit.

“May I ask a question?” you asked softly.

Mattheo hesitated for a moment before nodding, his eyes never leaving the window as he spoke. "Ask away," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He then cleared his throat and said, "but I won’t give a warm and fuzzy answer."

There was a pregnant pause in the air as you gathered your courage up and suddenly thrust your fears upon your husband. “If we ever have children, which we’re somewhat expected to,” you added hurriedly. “I don’t want them to grow up in a household where they feel as if they have to vie for love or attention. And I don’t want me to be the only one giving them attention.” Mattheo turned his head so his face was angled toward you, but his eyes could still stray to the window if need be. “If we have kids, can you promise that you’ll love them? Even if you don’t love me?”

Even though your voice was steady, Mattheo knew of the vulnerability deeply rooted within you.

He nodded cautiously, his expression serious. "I promise," he said firmly. "I may not love you, but I will love our children unconditionally. They will never have to compete for my affection or feel neglected. I may not be a fond father, but I will provide for them and protect them as best I can." A protectiveness filled his veins just at the thought of something happening to his future children.

You nodded once, a sad smile on your face. “Perhaps we’ll have a big family. Enough children to start a sports team.” You smiled at the thought, laughing lightly.

Mattheo smiled, despite himself, imagining a large brood of children running around the manor. It was an oddly appealing idea, even if he wouldn't admit it out loud. "We'll see," he said noncommittally. "I'd rather have lots of sons; they'll carry on the family name and ensure my legacy continues." He turned back around and attempted to focus on his work.

“And daughters too.” You frowned, staring at your husband, even if he wouldn’t spare you a glance. “Daughters can carry on the family name just as well as sons.” A muscle in your jaw ticked.

Mattheo scowled at your defiance, his eyes narrowing slightly. Why hadn’t you just fallen into line? "Fine, daughters too," he reluctantly agrees. "But make no mistake, they will be raised to be strong and capable like their brothers. The Riddle name demands nothing less."

“And the sons can be soft and caring and sensitive,” you said firmly, crossing your arms. “I thought we agreed that they wouldn’t have to vie for affection. I thought we agreed that they wouldn’t have needless competition in their life. I don’t want them to grow up… like, well… you.” You finally uttered the words that had been hanging off your tongue dangerously.

Mattheo’s expression hardened as he clenched his fist tightly. "Fine!" he snapped. "They can be whatever the hell you want them to be! But don't expect me to sit back and watch while they become weaklings and failures. We need to teach them to be strong and ruthless like I am." He stood up abruptly, knocking over his chair in the process.

You jump up after him, crossing towards him. You whirled to a stop in front of him, jabbing a finger towards his chest. “Listen here, Riddle. Just because someone is kind and vulnerable doesn’t mean they’re weak!” You growled, “and just because you grew up like that, does not mean that’s the type of household I am going to have.”

Mattheo stepped forward and his hand flew up to grip your wrist. His eyes blazed with anger, but then something changed in his expression and he took a step back, looking surprised at his own reaction. "You're right," he admitted begrudgingly. "I shouldn't have assumed that being vulnerable meant being weak." He ran a hand through his hair, looking embarrassed, yet resolute in his decision. "But don't expect me to be a pushover either. I'll still teach them to be strong and independent."

“Strong and independent are good qualities,” you conceded. “Both for the boys and girls.”

"Agreed," he said. Mattheo straightened his cuffs and cleared his throat. "Our children will be taught to be strong and independent, regardless of gender. They will know that they are loved and valued by both of us, equally." He held out his hand to you, indicating that the argument was over - for now at least. "Deal?"

“Deal.” You shook his hand defiantly. It was a business deal, but a good deal at least.

Mattheo exhaled and brushed past you. “I’m to a meeting,” he informed you. It was a simple comment , one that was an offhand remark, but to you, Mattheo had just let you into his life. It was something he had never done before. Even if it was just a response to where he was off to, it was a window into his life. A life that now may have enough room to hold you.

Mattheo paused when he reached the door. “I never knew the way I grew up was wrong until I saw other families. I saw the parents bending down to listen to their children instead of hushing them. I saw parents comforting their children after scraped knees, not pushing them to the kitchen for some rubbing alcohol. I saw parents beaming when their child could plunk out the simplest of tunes on the piano. No one else got berated for being out of rhythm or playing a D instead of an E. I never saw another child get slapped by their parents or scolded as harshly as I was. It was around then I realised that something was wrong. But what was I to do about it?”

Words dried in your throat. You wanted to cry at his words, but you felt dried out. How could someone treat their child like that? It explained so much…

Your husband was a fragile man, you were just realising. And he was trying to pick up the pieces and present them to you in the only way he knew how.

"The stars remind me of you,” he said quietly, the change in conversation sudden. “I mean that in the best possible way.” His voice was the softest and most tender as you had ever heard it. You hoped he would keep speaking the melodies that made your heart sing in tune.

“How so?” you asked, afraid to break the plane of existence that you and Mattheo were carefully standing on.

"They are so beautiful, yet so far away. I may see them, but I can never touch them."

***

The servants didn’t know what to do. The master and mistress, Mr. and Mrs. Riddle, seemed to be at a ceasefire. The cooks lamented at how they had seemed to be doing so well. The maids thought they were destined to doom from the start. The butlers gossiped about Mr. Riddle’s letters to a Mr. Tom, terminating their long-term partnership. The scullery maid still had hope that the husband and wife would come to their senses and live a happy life.

It perplexed the servants when the mistress requested to move her belongings back into the master bedroom and the master looked on, a soft smile on his lips. It confused the servants when the Mr and Mrs began taking meals together and talking in hushed tones late into the night. And it bamboozled the servants when, one summer afternoon, the Lord of the household stood from his desk, cautiously moved to his Lady that was reading by the open window, and asked her to accompany him on a walk. She had accepted.

There was to be a dinner party, this time hosted at Mr. Draco Malfoy’s manor, that Mr. Riddle was expected to attend. Per usual, the master didn’t invite the mistress, but she was content to stay home. A maid briefly heard the madam whisper to her husband, “hurry home, please? I don’t like it when you’re away.” The maid had scurried away before she could hear the reply.

Mattheo returned home that night, just before the sun was setting. He climbed the steps, unbuttoning his cuffs and loosening his tie. The soft glow of light was still shining under your shared bedroom - something he still hadn’t gotten used to - and Mattheo couldn’t help but smile.

“Why are you still up?” he asked quietly when he entered the room.

“You promised to be home early and I wanted to see you before I go to bed,” you reminded him, a small book in your hands.

“Right, right.” Mattheo chuckled and shook his head, slinging off his tie and jacket.

“How was the dinner?”

Mattheo hummed noncommittally. “Not the worst. A couple of my good friends, Theo and Pansy, were there to help alleviate the pain of socialising. But… I found something odd happening.”

“And what was that, husband?” Mattheo took a moment to relish in the way that word curled off your tongue effortlessly.

“I found myself wishing you were there. Nay,” he quickly corrected himself. “I wished I was here with you.”

“Oh?” Your eyes flickered up towards Mattheo, a slight blush coming to your cheeks. “Why… what do you mean by that?”

Mattheo began to unbutton his shirt and moved towards his closet. “Well,” he admitted, mumbling to himself. “I simply mean that instead of having to socialise with people who are too tightly wound and whose only intent is to take my money,” he chucked his belt into his closet and rolled up his sleeves, “I would rather be at home with my darling wife.”

A smile inched up your lips. “Really? Tell me more about this darling wife of yours.”

Mattheo hummed, stepping towards the bed. He crawled down on the bed, leaning on his forearms to lean up towards you. “My wife… I’ve come to care deeply about her. She is a beautiful, elegant woman, one who has a fiery tongue about her and an intelligent brain that even I cannot rival. She always seems to get her way, even when I try to fight back. It’s as if my wife has a command over me that I have willingly submitted to. And I am not ashamed to say so.” He lightly caressed your arm, sending a trail of goosebumps up your skin.

“You must be careful, Mattheo,” you uttered. “That sounds an awful lot like love.”

Mattheo brought his eyes up to meet yours, the sting of tears building up behind them. His voice cracked as he said, “that’s the first time you’ve called me by my name, Y/n.”

Your lips parted in shock. “I- I didn’t realise. I’m sorry-”

“Don’t you dare apologise,” Mattheo demanded before reaching up to pull you into a kiss.

His lips were soft and meaningful against yours, hungrily trying to gather every ounce of love from you. His kisses were feverish at first, his strong hand coming up to cup your jawline, his fingers just teasing behind your ear, before his lips slowed. Mattheo was a starved man and he wouldn’t let anyone take away his only solace. He shifted so he could be closer to you, gently taking the book from your hands as you surrendered yourself to him. Your hands found his silk shirt, gripping it in your fists. He placed the book on the nightstand and moved so he was hovering over you, never once letting a second go by without feeling your skin against his.

Mattheo slowly, achingly pulled away from you and his eyes fluttered open to meet yours. “My darling, my love, my life,” he murmured, dragging a knuckle down your cheek. “I apologise for everything I have ever done or said that made you feel inferior. I would be happy to kneel for you in front of my associates and family members - just to show them how much power you have over me.” He took a breath before persisting, “I was foolish. I was incompetent. I didn’t realise how much love I held for you. It is, and always will be, only you. I will promise you this: you will be the only woman I ever touch, the only voice I ever want to hear, the only skin I will ever caress, and the only eyes I ever want to see. I will wake and fall, every morning and night, thinking of you. You are the other half of my heart, for it is you who I love. I will place the galaxies and stars in the night sky for you. If you are ever unhappy, my love, I will not rest until I see you smile again. If you are ever mad, my love, I shall smite whatever upsets you, even if it is I. And I would die a happy man if you could give me only an ounce of what I give you.”

Your breath shook and you swore Mattheo had injected ambrosia into your veins for you were sure your blood was singing with the love that was filling your soul. “I wrote a letter to your mother today,” you offered quietly, as if your mere words could ever compare to the love poem Mattheo had just gifted to you. “And I thanked her.” Mattheo’s eyes flashed with confusion. You continued, “I thanked her for birthing such a wonderful husband and for raising him. I know you u wish to renounce your family, but as of now, I want to thank them with all my heart. Mattheo, I love you.”

“And I you,” Mattheo whispered, bringing his forehead down to rest on yours. His nose bumped against your cheek and he couldn’t contain his grin anymore. “How did I ever get so lucky?” he mumbled.

You laughed lightly. “Luck? Fate?”

Mattheo shook his head and his nose brushed light curves over your skin. “No, my wife. Simply love. Pure, unconditional love.”

***

The house was bright, the curtains pulled as far open as they could be. Some servants scuttled around, holding laundry or preparing for dinner. Meanwhile, Mattheo strode leisurely through the halls, smiling lovingly as his nephews chased each other through the halls. “What do I say, boys?” he called after them.

“Have fun, be safe, and don’t get caught!” they yelled back before running around a corner.

Enzo jogged after them and grumbled to Mattheo, “it’s not your duty to rule them up.”

“As their favourite uncle, yes, it is.”

“Your wife is in Andromeda’s room,” Enzo told his brother before sprinting off after his sons. Enzo wasn’t usually at Riddle Manor, but today was a special day. It was Orion’s birthday.

Mattheo chuckled to himself before Orion raced up the steps, panting. “Papa! Papa!”

Mattheo grinned widely and scooped Orion up. “Are you alright, hm? What’ve you been up to?”

“Aunt Pansy’s carriage just pulled up!” Orion bounced in Mattheo’s arms, beaming.

“And you’re not even dressed,” Mattheo stared at Orion, pretending to be stunned. “Where’s your mother, Ori?”

“She’s helping Andy get dressed,” Orion announced. Mattheo nodded and carried his son to his daughter’s room. “Mum!” Orion cried out, seeing Y/n standing behind Andromeda, knotting her hair into a braid.

“Oh, my darling,” Y/n tied Andy’s hair up before crossing to Mattheo and taking Orion from his arms. “Are you excited for your birthday?”

Orion hummed excitedly and wiggled down from Y/n’s arms. He darted to Andromeda and wrapped himself around her in a tight hug. Andromeda grumbled, but allowed him to cling to her as she finished her hair and rouge.

Mattheo took Y/n’s hand and pulled her back toward him, nudging his nose against hers. “Look at that,” he murmured, reaching down to play with the silver and green ring on your finger. “Mine.” He pressed a kiss to your temple. Slowly, as to not arouse suspicion from your children, he backed you up and caged you against the wall in his arms. “Seven years with you and two beautiful children to show for it.”

“Hey, mum? Where’s my- eugh!” Andromeda turned around and reeled back from the scene in front of her. “For the love of Salazar, please get a room!”

“We are in a room.” Mattheo smirked, glancing up from the crook of your neck.

“Aren’t you two, if I'm doing my calculations correctly, nearing thirty years old?” Andromeda tsked and rolled her eyes.��

“You believe that simply because we’re getting older, I’m going to stop loving your mother?” Mattheo chuckled before pressing a light kiss to your jawline.

You shivered and tucked your face into your husband’s chest. “Matty, spare the poor children,” you chastised lightly. “What do you need, darling?” you turned towards Andromeda.

“You used to call me that,” Mattheo whined. He stepped back from you, letting you out of his embrace.

Andromeda sighed and asked, “where is my white shawl? It’ll go well with the dress I’m planning to wear to Orion’s party.”

“Why does it matter what you wear to Orion’s party?” Mattheo asked, puzzled.

“Because Albus Potter is going to be here,” you said as if it were obvious.

“Harry Potter’s son?” Mattheo asked incredulously. “That scumbag?”

Both you and Andromeda ignored Mattheo and Orion left the room at the sound of Aunt Pansy entering the foyer and shouting out for her favourite nephew.

“Your shawl should be in the library,” you answered. “Ori was using it as a blanket yesterday.”

Andromeda sighed and turned towards the door. “He needs to stop taking my things. Just last week he stole my candelabra so he could read in the dark. Perhaps you should accelerate his schooling. He’s getting bored, you know.”

“We’ll raise our own son, thank you, Andromeda,” Mattheo raised a brow. Andy huffed and and flicked her dress out behind her dramatically, exiting the room. Mattheo turned to you and said, “they get that from you. The love of reading.”

“Yes, but they get their flair for the dramatics from you. And lest us not forget, you keep fuelling our love of literature by buying more books and expanding our library,” you countered.

Mattheo hummed. “‘Tis true. But how could I live without spoiling my wife and children?” He whirled you around in his arms and pressed a long kiss to your lips. “Speaking of children, what would you think of expanding our family?”

You let out a laugh. “You simply like the act of making a bigger family.”

“I love my children too,” Mattheo defended.

You reached up and brushed some of his hair away from his face. “Yes you do,” you smiled up at him. “You love your family very much.”

“Always.”

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still-a-morosexual-help · 1 year

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Fucking hell Nightbringer really gave me everything huh god

Henry 1.0 origin story

Cerberus origin story

Satan's cat thing origin story

"Goldie in Freezer" origin story

Levi's Ruri-chan obsession origin story

Mammon being scared of ghosts/horror origin story

More in depth version of Solomon & Asmo's first meeting/pact origin story

A painful reason for why Asmo's room looks like that

What the tsl characters would have been like irl (the absolute worst wtf simeon)

Mammon's issues finally discussed in depth

Mammon being extremely ride or die for Lucifer

Almost instant Mammon & MC friendship

Mammon being just so amazed by MC and also insanely supportive of them

Mammon being willing to do anything for his brothers, being more sure of himself, almost instantly following Lucifer's orders and making the others do so as well

Levi's issues discussed in depth.

Levi straight up saying he was depressed and still is

Levi's friendship with MC!

Levi & Lucifer's relationship!!!!!

Levi being shy and scared and just so 😖

Things being bad in the Celestial Realm even before they left

Asmo's issues being discussed in depth

Asmo very explicitly having body dysmorphia

The brothers being much more supportive and loving of each other

Lucifer being visibly scared of losing another family member and being insanely overprotective because of it

The brothers being slowly overtaken by their sins (something that was always a part of them but also something they could control as angels) and losing control of themselves

The brothers gaining new magic

Satan being a fucking mess

Satan not really fitting in and all of them being really awkward around him

Satan's issues being discussed in depth

Belphie's issues being discussed in depth

Belphie expressing passive suicidal ideation

Belphie talking about how he needs someone to blame for what happened to Lilith so he can process it/make sense of it even if that someone is himself

Lucifer's issues being touched on from from different perspectives/angles

Diavolo's issues being hinted at

Simeon's issues being vaguely discussed

More about Lilith! (remember my post about how lilith definitely wasn't a sweet little angel because there's no way the universe would let lucifer catch a break? I was right!!! She was as much a little shit as the rest of her family!)

More about the demon king! (He wanted to stop the war too🥺 also a whole line of previous demon kings!)

More about god/how angels work (all angels are brothers & sisters but not technically family the way lucifer & his siblings are!)

ADAM!?!?!?!?!?

Solomon & MC's Sorcerer & Apprentice relationship seen in full detail!

MC being absolutely amazing

MC being competent and powerful and dangerous and resourceful and confident and the brothers realising all that but them also being funny and snarky and chaotic and outgoing and homesick and caring

References to present (s1-s4) brothers (& how they'll tear solomon apart if he doesn't bring MC back)

NIGHTBRINGER!? BARBATOS!!!??? but past barbatos doesn't seem to know anything about MC and present barbatos is helping solomon bring MC back....so who...?

References to Noble demons and conservative demons and devildom politics

Angel - Demon prejudice /racism from both sides explicitly shown

The brothers being war criminals and how the devildom sheltering them nearly re-started the war between the two realms

None of them being able to identify MC as a human (it takes Diavolo a long time + Lucifer straight up denies it when MC tells him), Adam & Nightbringer saying MC has the "power of angels", MC's favourite manga being one where the youngest child out of 7 is described as being angelic (*cough*lilith*cough*), Diavolo, even after knowing MC is a human, going "what are you"..... me softly chanting: nephilim!mc nephilim!mc nephilim!mc

The lessons flow better? It doesn't feel like one arc is squished into two lessons and then you must immediately jump into another different arc. It feels like it's all just happening in a connected sequence?

Better pacing in my opinion. It doesn't feel rushed.... like the part where satan discovers cats and then later is seen still sitting next to the cat and watching it? It feels appropriately spaced out

MC's relationships with everyone doesn't feel isolated. Like earlier there'd be a lesson or two dedicated to one character and we won't see much of the other characters during it. Now it feels like everyone is there interacting with everything in a normal, natural way. Yes there are lessons dedicated to getting to know one brother but the others are there, interacting with each other and MC during that time as well

The emotions & relationships are discussed/written in a way that feels very real and believable that it becomes actually really moving (s1-s4 also did this well but in nightbringer because of arcs/scenes/relationships not being isolated, of things flowing better and having a better pacing, of them outright discussing their issues it has a greater impact - yes I cried more than once shut up)

In the end, Nighbringer is darker than og OM! but not in the "grrr gonna kill you" way. It's "darker" because they address more serious topics in depth

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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 6 months

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First Lady || Young President!Coriolanus Snow x reader

GIF by @unknown divider by @firefly-graphics

Summary: Coriolanus Snow is a man of his word, he once spoke to you about making you Panem’s First Lady, and he intends to do that.

Warnings: just Snow being a softie

Wc: 1,134

Coriolanus Snow Masterlist

Flashback

“You will be Panem’s First Lady, my love. That is a promise.” Coriolanus whispers into your ear. Your naked bodies were pressed up against one another, his hands caressing your hip as you smile at his words.

“Y/n, First Lady of Panem. It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” You giggle as he laughs. God you loved hearing his laugh. “It does, I think you are destined to become First Lady, birth our children and create a family” He grins, pulling you closer to him as this would be the final last moments before he would be banished from Capitol.

Snow had a plan. He was going to do whatever it took to return and become President. And that was exactly what he did.

End of flashback

There he was. Coriolanus Snow was back. Coryo was back. A single tear dropped from your eye as you finally set eyes on him for the first time for what felt like an eternity. “Y/n..” His eyes finally meet yours as he runs to you. You both embrace so tightly as if the other was going to slip away.

“You’re back.” You whisper as he pulls you closer. “I promised you I would make you First Lady of Panem, and I sorta need to be here in order for me to do that” He jokes as you both chuckle. You pull back and take a look at him. His hair was different, his blonde locks were no longer there, instead he sported a buzz cut.

He gained more muscle, you could tell by how his arms felt around your frame. His uniform also seemed the tiniest bit tight on his body. “How are you? I thought about what you were doing every second of the day,” His hand pulls you closer to him by the waist as you both make it out of the station.

“Everything paid off, my love.” You pause and look at him. Snow dug his hand in his pocket and pulled out a ring. “If I intend on making you First Lady, I should probably marry you huh?” He grins widely as he kneels on one knee. Tears brimmed your eyes as he spoke the words you had been waiting for since the day you two met. “Will you marry me?”

Timeskip

At the age of 23, Coriolanus Snow became President of Panem, and you, his wife, became First Lady of Panem. It was everything you could have ever dreamed and hoped for. “President Snow, and his wife, Y/n, First Lady of Panem!” The crowds roared in excitement as they all clapped for the newly wed couple, the couple who would run the nation.

You were loved by all as First Lady. You were a natural at it, proving Snow’s point that you were destined to be First Lady. After an exhausting day of fulfilling public duties, you finally lay in bed. The other side of the bed dipped as Snow lay in bed beside you. His body moved closer to yours as you snuggled against the warmth of his body.

“What do you think about starting a family?” Coriolanus whispered in the shell of your ear as you pause. You turn around meeting his gaze with a smile. “I love that idea,” You whisper as he grins, kissing you hard as you both make love to one another.

Another timeskip soz

“Coryo!” You excitedly call out as you fasten your steps towards Snow’s office, the nanny, with your daughter was following along aswell. “My darlings!” He lifts his head up at the sight of both of you with a grin. “I have such great news,” You couldn’t contain yourself, your face ached smiling so much.

Coriolanus lifts an eyebrow as he follows your movements as you walk around the desk. He moves his chair back letting you sit on his lap. “What good news has made you this happy y/n?” He chuckles, looking to the nanny who smiles.

You take his hand and place it on your stomach. His eyes automatically lit up as you nod, “I’m expecting again!” You squeal, wrapping your arms around his neck as he stays still for a second, processing it all in his head. From his lack of response and stillness, you pull back, “Aren’t you happy?” You furrow your eyebrows.

“No! No. No of course not, It’s just happening again so soon after you birthed Auggie,” You turn to Auggie in the Nannie’s arms before beckoning her to give her to you. “I’m ready for another one,” You kiss Auggie’s chubby cheek before looking at Snow, “Are you?” She gazes at him with a look he cannot explain.

Coriolanus smiles at you, thinking how lucky he is to have such a strong willed person like yourself. “I’m always ready to grow our family” Snow smiles, kissing Auggie on the cheek as the baby girl babbles.

The crowd cheered at the sight of you arriving at the Hospital. Camera’s focused on you as you wave a smile. Coriolanus quickly came up beside you, lending you his arm as you gratefully take it. You were heavily pregnant and ready to deliver the baby, with Snow by your side.

“And we are here live with President Snow, and the First Lady who is about to deliver their second child! How are we feeling?” Lucretius Flickerman beams as he holds the mic near your face. “Slightly nervous,” You chuckle as Snow rubs your arm. “My wife is a strong woman, I believe she will bless the nation with a healthy son or daughter” Coriolanus grins before they are whisked inside the hospital. The two of you give a final wave to the crowd and almost immediately you go into labour.

Snow and you walked out the hospital, your newborn son in your arms as you two year old daughter hold her father’s hands. Camera’s flickered as they took pictures of the family who ran the nation. You looked radiant as ever after delivering your son. The crowds were calling out their congratulations to you as you even sign your autograph to some of them.

Even after gruelling hours of labour, whenever you saw the people of Panem, it never failed to make you 100 times happier. When you got into the car, you rest your head against snow’s firm chest. “Are you okay my love?” He softly says, careful to not wake up your son. “I feel like the luckiest woman in the world. Thank you, Coryo. Thank you for doing everything you’ve done to us and our family we created.”

You softly spoke, your hands intertwined as your rub your thumb against his, a sign of your affection. “You feel like the luckiest woman? I feel like the luckiest man, darling.”

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #hunger games #tom blyth #soft!coriolanussnow #the hunger games fanfiction #coriolanus snow fanfiction #first lady #president snow

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calder · 3 months

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In every mainline Fallout game except for New Vegas, players can earn the loyalty of a dog known as “Dogmeat.” As part of the main quest of Fallout 4, Dogmeat assists in tracking down the antagonist, even if the player has never encountered him before. When you leave Kellogg’s home, Nick simply starts talking about Dogmeat as if he’s a known quantity.

Perhaps related to this quirk of the world, Dogmeat is first named in this game when the clairvoyant Mama Murphy recognizes him and addresses him by name. The game’s UI calls him “DOG” until he is recognized by Valentine or Murphy. It seems clear that this german shepherd is somehow an independent agent with a good reputation, or something.

Dogmeat does not have a loyalty quest associated with him, which is how the player would earn the other companions’ perks. However, upon finding Astoundingly Awesome Tales #9 within the Institute, Dogmeat becomes more resistant to damage. While this isn’t coherent or conclusive evidence of Dogmeat being a synth, it’s plainly prompting the audience to consider that idea. In light of these factors, his origins have been fiercely debated among the community.

The skeptics and “hard sci-fi” fans out there would have you believe that he’s merely a famous stray dog who solves crimes. But I believe there's something more remarkable at work.

There's a section in the Fallout 2 instruction book called the Vault Dweller's Memoirs, where the player character of the first game recounts what canonically happened. Due to Fallout’s famously terrible companion AI, if you travelled to Mariposa with Dogmeat, he would consistently run into the force fields and get vaporized. So, in the Memoirs, we learn that this is exactly what became of Dogmeat Prime, in canon. He loyally sprinted into a wall of solid light, and disappeared. What if our buddy simply awoke in a new, confusing place?

In Fallout 2, Dogmeat must be found at the Cafe of Broken Dreams, which is explicitly a liminal space. It appears randomly to travellers in the desert. The NPCs within are frozen in time, such as a young version of President Tandi, who mentions that Ian went to “the Abbey,” an area cut from the game. To gain Dogmeat’s trust, the Chosen One must equip the Vault Dweller’s V-13 jumpsuit, which Dogmeat recognizes as belonging to his dead master. You can also attack him to spawn Mad Max, who claims ownership of the dog. Max fits the description of Dogmeat's original owner given in Fallout.

There’s also the “puppies” perk in Fallout 3, which enables you to restore Dogmeat, in the event of his death. “Dogmeat’s puppy” inherits his base and ref ids. In other words, they ARE the same NPC, just renamed. So, the way this actually articulates is that whenever Dogmeat dies in combat, you can find him waiting for you back at Vault 101. In practice, it’s almost Bombadilian.

Lastly, please consider the following developer context.

In June of 2021, the dog who performed Dogmeat’s motion capture and voice for Fallout 4 passed away. A statue of her was placed outside of every Vault in the China-exclusive sequel to Fallout Shelter. She still watches over each player.

River's owner, developer Joel Burgess, honored her in a brief thread about her involvement in the game, and shared much about his thought process and design goals while leading the character’s development. The Dogmeat project changed course early on, after Mr. Joel saw a new member of the art team gathering references of snarling German Shepherds. This motivated him to bring River into the studio, so the artists and developers could spend time with her.

He wanted to steer the team away from viewing Dogmeat as a weapon, and towards viewing him as a friend. Everything special about Dogmeat was inspired by River. For example, whenever you travel with Dogmeat, he’s constantly running ahead of you to scout for danger, then turning to wait for you. This was inspired by River’s consistent behavior on long walks. The only way they were able to motivate River to bark for recordings was by separating her from Joel while he waited in the next room. Reading the thread, it’s very clear that he hoped Dogmeat would make players feel safe, encouraging them to explore, and to wonder. In his closing thoughts, he said the following:

-Joel Burgess

Mr. Joel felt it was important to express that the ambiguity of Dogmeat’s origin in Fallout 4 was deliberately built into his presentation. He also felt it was important that you know Dogmeat loves you. Dogmeat was designed, on every level, to reflect the audience’s inspirations, and to empower their curiosity.

The true lore of Dogmeat is a rorschach test. The only “right” answer is to pursue whatever captures your imagination.

#dogmeat #v13 #meta #companions #animal death t

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sunarc · 5 months

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Do or Drink

Synopsis: You never expected a simple game between your new roommates would lead to you on your hands and knees begging for them

Cw: Afab reader, reader is referred to as she/her, exhibitionism, geto and gojo have sex, reader listens to them having sex, masturbation, a little degradation, cum swallowing, overstimulation, breeding, oral(m and f receiving), alcohol, 5.9k words

Satoru x reader x Suguru

“Today drained me” Gojo let out a deep sigh as he entered the apartment and plopped down on the couch.

You were finally moving in with your best friends. After months of searching for an apartment they offered you the guest bedroom in their apartment. You were quick to accept the offer seeing as the search was getting long and tiring.

“All you did was hold the door open” you scuffed watching him spread out and get comfortable.

“And you let it close before we could even get in” Geto said as he placed another box labeled kitchen on the table.

Gojo turned away with a pout “ My arm got tired”

Geto leaned down to kiss his pout from his lips.

“It’s alright my lazy boy, dinner is on you though” he laughed giving him another kiss.

You laughed watching the two go back and forth. This was something normal for the three of you. You would usually come over to hang out with the two and watch as they went back and forth between bickering and showering each other in loving kisses. The dynamic worked so easily for the three of you only now you wouldn’t have to leave early, you’d already be home.

You turned, staring at the mess of boxes. Your smile slowly dropped at the realization that you now had to unpack.

“Don’t worry we’ll help with the unpacking” Geto walked up behind you and slung an arm over your shoulder. It was as if he could read your mind.

Unpacking was hectic. Geto and Gojo bantered for majority of the time. You smiled softly listening to the two. You would now get the chance to wake up and listen to the two call each other silly insults that you knew neither meant. Gojo sighed doing very little apart from standing over your shoulder to sigh about how tired he was. Geto did most of the work seeing as you stopped occasionally to sneak snacks with Gojo. The room was filled with laughter as you all unpacked. By the time Gojo ordered pizza you had determined enough boxes were unpacked to truly relax.

“That was so much” you exclaimed as you took a bite out of your pizza.

“The two of you barely did anything” Geto rolled his eyes as he placed beer on the table for all of you to drink. “I’m surprised your even hungry after all those snack breaks”

“You could have joined us Sugu” Gojo said as if the statement was obvious.

You hummed an agreement too busy chewing to fully focus on the conversation. You continued eating and drinking a couple beers in the process until Gojo’s voice broke through your peace.

“Okay” he clapped to gain your attention. Geto sighed deeply knowing that nothing good would come after his loud attention grabber.

“I propose a drinking game to celebrate y/n moving in”

You and Geto shared a surprised look.

“That’s actually not a bad idea” you said with genuine surprise covering your faces.

“That’s a first” Geto whispered.

Gojo pushed Geto playfully as he got up to prepare the game. You turned to Geto knowing that nothing good would come from this game. Gojo called for the two of you to join him in the living room with a singsong voice.

“You’re too excited that scares me” you laughed as you sat down across from him taking one of the beers he brought out to drink.

“Does fun scare you” he asked as he laid out the cards.

You gave him a bored look scuffing at his childish comment. Being around Gojo brought out your child like wonder while Geto seemed to balance you with maturity.

“Whats the game?” Geto asked as he sat down and leaned against the wall.

Gojo stood up to dramatically announce the game.

“The game my friend and my beautiful lover,” he said making kissy faces at Geto “ is do or drink”

His dramatic nature made you laugh. He sat down across from you on the floor next to Geto. The game was quite simple. You were given a dare and if you chose not to do the dare you had to drink. You were nervous to say the least. Games like this usually lead to drunk bodies fumbling around doing drunk things. Laughter filled the room as the three of you went back and forth between doing wild dares and drinking when a dare too crazy was asked.

“Suck the banana! Suck the banana” Gojo chanted.

You were given a dare to perform oral on a banana. You were a laughing mess, way past tipsy. You licked the tip of the banana in a sultry way. Your tongue swiveled around the banana as your eyes locked with the two men sitting in front of you. They were starring at you with an intense gaze. You slid the banana into your mouth amazed at yourself when you didn’t gag. You push the banana deep humming as it touches the back of your throat. Their eyes were wide watching you. Something about being seen doing something so lewd sent a heartbeat to your core. You pushed your legs together forcing friction between your legs. You pulled the banana free from your mouth slowly. You stuck your tongue out and licked the tip one final time before you looked up at the blushing faces that were staring at you.

“Somebody has a lot of practice in that field” Gojo whispered before clapping at your performance.

You laughed as you took a bow feeling ease with their validation. The game continued and you felt your body getting heavier. Any remaining shyness was gone. The game seemed to go on for hours with empty bottles of beer scattering the floor and game cards littered next to them.

“It’s your turn” Gojo spoke pointing to you.

You picked up a car and read it silently. Your eyes grew wide and immediately flew to the eyes staring waiting for you to read the card out loud.

“I don’t know if I should do this” you said quietly with a nervous smile.

“Ooo is someone scared?” Gojo taunted you

You rolled your eyes and turned away.

“I’m not scared!” you slurred your rebuttal “I have to kiss the person to my left” your words grew quiet towards the end of your sentence.

All eyes landed on Gojo who was smirking staring at you. Your eyes landed on Geto who seemed to be thinking hard.

“I think you should do it” Geto spoke up leaning back smirking.

Your eyes almost popped out with surprise at his statement. Kissing Gojo was the last thing you thought you would be doing tonight. You sat , thinking maybe you should just drink but you were far too drunk to drink anymore. You sucked on a banana in front of the two, what harm would a simple kiss do. You crawled over to Gojo who sat smirking waiting for you. Geto’s eyes followed your movements watching with an intense gaze. You reached Gojo and placed a hand on his cheek. Your lips pressed against his with a small peck before you pulled away. You looked at Gojo who still had his eyes closed.

“Ah come one you can do better than that.” You turned to see Geto watching with his head sitting in his hand with an almost bored look.

You turned back to Gojo whose eyes were now on you with a patient look. You let out a nervous sigh before you pressed your lips against his. His lips were soft and so easy to fall into. Your lips moved against his and you found your body pressing into him.His hand smoothed down your side to your hip and squeezed softly. You let out a soft hum at the feeling of his hand against your skin. The kiss deepened and you began to get more into it. Your lips parted and he took his chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. You sucked on his tongue earning a soft moan from him. His other hand came up to grab the back of your neck pulling you deeper into him. You felt yourself being surrounded by Gojo’s essence. He tasted sweet and you were craving more. You had almost forgot about the eyes that watched the two of you kiss with an intense gaze. Geto sat up with a smirk appearing on his lips. His tongue slid across his bottom lip and a tent began to grow in his pants. Your tongue danced against Gojo’s fighting for dominance. Gojo was determined to win this battle. A string of moans fell past both your lips as the kiss became more intense. Gojo was the first to pull away. You followed after his lips completely forgetting where you were. You opened your eyes quickly at the realization. You brought your hand up to your mouth almost lost in a daze. The kiss was more than what you thought it would be. You felt yourself feeling warm all over. Your core was aching to be touched. You never thought a kiss with Gojo of all people would make you feel such a way.

“I think thats a great way to end the game” you laughed nervously as you stumble to stand up. You picked up your empty bottles to throw them away. The walk to your felt like walking through a hallway that could not stop moving. Your mind was covered in thoughts of gojo’s lips and the smirk that covered Geto’s face when it was all done. You sat on your bed with your fingers pressed against your lips. Gojo’s ideas were never ideas that anyone should trust.

You sat laid in bed waiting for the room to cease movement when pouding from the other side of the room came flooding through the walls. The one thing about living with Geto and Gojo was that the walls were as thin as paper. Your thoughts were cut off by a low deep groan coming through the wall. You sat up wondering if you were mistaking the noises you were hearing. There was a creaking of a bed and what seemed like a soft whimper coming from behind the wall. You placed your hand over your mouth now completely sure of the noise you were hearing. Your new roommates were fucking in the room next door. You could hear them as if you were in the room with them. A small voice came through the wall groaning about how tight his hole was. You felt embarrassed at the fact you were hearing this. You were even more embarrassed at how wet the sounds were making you. Your mind drifted off to the though of Geto dripping with sweat thrusting into his partner moaning about how he couldn’t get enough.

“Shh no no no” you slapped your head as an attempt to erase the lewd thoughts from your mind.

These were your best friends, your roommates, nothing more than that. It was wrong of you to think of them in such a way. It was even more wrong to touch yourself to those thoughts and noises. You couldn’t help yourself maybe too overcome by the alcohol. You hands moved on their own accord slipping into your underwear to circle around your clit. Each moan you heard from the other room left you desiring more. Any embarrassment was gone with the need to arrive at your orgasm at the same time as the two on the other side of the wall. No one would have to know about how you slipped your fingers inside of yourself and fucked yourself to Gojo’s needy moans. Little to your knowledge Geto’s ears could hear everything that went on in the house. No one needed to know but he knew.

Living with the two was hectic but it was something you couldn’t deny made you feel happy. The week that you had been staying there felt like a month. You were already getting used to the two bickering like children, the constant movie nights that Gojo would suggest and even the delicious breakfast Geto made. Your time staying with the two was full of good moments. They two loved having you. It was like a sleepover that never ended as Gojo continuously called it.

You sat in your room with music playing as finishing unpacking the rest of your things. Moving was a lot and you found yourself busy half the time to the point where you weren’t able to finish all of your unpacking. You unloaded box after box and began putting up your decorations. You smiled looking around, the room was finally coming together. The lights that you draped against the walls just needed batteries, the one thing you did not have. You walked out the room to the room next door, entering it without knocking. Your eyes grew wide at the sight before you. Gojo was turned away from you completely naked bouncing on Geto’s cock. Geto sat facing the door lips pressed against Gojo’s ear nibbling softly. Gojo’s moans paired with Geto’s grunts were filling the room. Geto’s eyes locked with you and you felt frozen in place. His hand gripped the fat of Gojo’s ass guiding him up and down on his cock.

“Mmh you like how it feels getting filled with my cock don’t you” Geto groaned eyes stilled locked with yours.

“Such a needy thing” it was as if the words were meant for you “You need my cock don’t you, you need to be stuffed to the brim huh” The words were whispered into Gojo’s ear but seemed to crawl towards you. His hand came down onto Gojo’s ass roughly and your eyes seemed to follow the recoil.

You shut the door quickly before finally finding the will to move. It was as if Geto had you in a trance. You walked to your room, the scene replaying in your head like a broken record. You were almost ashamed at how they had such an effect on you. This wasn’t the first time you were completely losing yourself for the two. You never felt this way before you moved in so why now. Your mind replayed the way Gojo held his head back riding Geto calling his name with silk like moans. Geto’s piercing gaze seemed to trap you where you stood and for some reason you didn’t mind. You were feeling pent up. You hadn’t had sex in ages and seeing those two getting each other off seemed to worsen how you were feeling. You took deep breathes attempting to regain your composure but the sounds of Geto groaning Gojo’s name through the door wouldn't let you catch a break.

“Ugh you guys are gonna be the death of me” you whispered the words as you walked to your room.

You could go without the batteries for now.

The next day felt drawn out. You had nothing planned for the day and packing was all done. You laid in bed sighing boredly. You were close to taking a nap until you heard Gojo’s voice calling your name dragging out each syllable. You sat up and dragged your feet to their room this time knocking before daring to enter.

“Come in” Gojo called

You opened the door to them sitting on the bed passing a bottle of alcohol.

“Since when do you knock” Geto smirked

You bit your lips remembering the night before.

“Sorry…about that” the words felt horrifying coming from you. You wanted to hide away from embarrassment.

“Did you enjoy the show ?” Gojo’s teasing voice broke past your thoughts.

Your voice was caught in your throat. If you were embarrassed before you wanted to melt into a puddle now. This was nothing new for them to tease you but it felt like you were standing in front of a crowded arena with thousands of beady eyes watching you.

“Is this what you called me for” you asked rolling your eyes.

Geto laughed at the way the two of you went back and forth.

“No, we want you to join us sit” he patted the spot beside him on the bed. Their faces were covered in tipsy smiles.You sat down and Geto handed you the bottle. You took a sip only to grimace at the bitter taste

“You guys trying to kill me?” you choked out gagging at the taste.

The two laughed at your reaction before Geto snatched the bottle and drank it as if it were juice.

“It was his idea to drink this mess but I wanted you to join me in this torture” Gojo said

He was never really much of a drinker apart from a beer or two here and there. One sip of alcohol could have him falling over like a giraffe. You took the bottle wanting to catch up to them.

“Im bored let’s do something” Gojo let out a dramatic sigh as he laid back spreading himself out on the bed. His long legs dangled off the bed while the other laid across your lap.

“Let’s play a drinking game” Geto proposed “I mean we’re already drinking might as well have some fun with it”

You bit your lip remembering the last time you guys playing a game. The feeling of gojo’s lips pressed against yours seemed to flood your memory.

“Uh I-” you started only to be cut off by Gojo whining.

“Ugh don’t be like that it’ll be fun, promise” he sat up with his face close to yours

“You might even get to kiss me again” his eyes darted down to your lips “I know how much you liked it”

You pushed him away rolling your eyes

“You wish. Lets just play”

Cards were laid out on the bed messily. You were laughing watching Geto draw a tramp stamp on Gojo as a dare.

“What is it?” Gojo asked trying to turn his head to see but failing to do so.

Geto pushed his face back and continued drawing.

“Be patient” he groaned.

His tongue was poking out as he focused on the drawing.

“That’s actually really good” you were shocked staring at his masterpiece.

“You know I wanted to be a tattoo artist for a while” Geto said as he finished the final touches.

“And done” he sat up and let gojo look in the mirror.

Gojo turned smiling brightly before pulling Geto into a hug yelling about how cute it was.

“It’s a butterfly” he yelled “And it matches my eyes” he leaned over to give Geto a kiss. You smiled at the two admiring their love.

“Alright you love birds it’s my turn” you loudly proclaimed.

You picked up a card and your eyes blew wide as you read it. It seemed to be an ongoing theme of your getting ridiculous cards for the night.

“Well don’t leave us hanging read it out loud” Geto’s voice cut through your thoughts.

“Strip ”

A chorus of O’s played through the room. How is it that you manage to get cards that always end in you doing something you would never usually do. You let out a heavy sigh.

“Hey how about we make it fair , if you strip we’ll do it too. Right Sugu?” Gojo turned to Geto who was silently nodding his head with a small smile plastered on his face. You looked at the two nervously. You stood up and slowly pulled your sweats down revealing lacy underwear that you had forgotten you were wearing. The boys eyes were locked on your slow movements. Your skin looked so soft and pretty with the pink panties you were. You lifted your shirt to reveal a matching bra to which the boys leaned forward intrigued by the sight.

“Oh my oh my” Gojo whispered a smirk daring to appear.

“Well take it off you two, you said I wouldn’t have to be alone” you said covering yourself suddenly feeling embarrassed under their gaze.

They simultaneously began stripping down to their underwear. You never really paid attention the the two but their bodies were obnoxiously toned. You couldn’t help the way you stared with your jaw low practically hypnotized by the sight.

“You’re drooling love. Take a picture if you want.” Geto teased

You grumbled at the comment

“Please you’re not all that” you knew you were lying. The two were like gods, face and body, but you would never admit that to them.

The game continued and the bottle of alcohol that was being shared was half way empty. Clumsy hands passed the bottle around as laughter filled the room. Your low lidded eyes watched the two bodies across from you giggle and press soft kisses to each others forehead. Any other person would have felt like a third wheel intruding in on a private moment but this was such a natural occurrence that it felt normal.

“Okay who’s turn” you slurred feeling the alcohol slowly creeping up on you.

Gojo took a sip from the bottle and placed it on the dresser next to him before loudly shouting it was his turn. He picked up a card and smiled brightly.

“Kiss the prettiest person in the room” he smirked looking up and you and Geto.

Geto shook his head and grabbed Gojo’s jaw pulling him in.

“This isn’t perks of being a wallflower” he pressed his lips against Gojo’s in a delicate kiss.

The kiss was short but you could tell the two wanted more.

“Ah come on you can do better than that” you spoke up mocking Geto from when you were dared to kiss Gojo.

Geto smirked knowing exactly what you were referring to. He gripped the back of Gojo’s neck and pulled him in for a deeper kiss. The kiss was hungry. It was as if the two were desperately waiting for this moment. Gojo’s hands massaged Geto’s skin as he leaned forward to deepen the kiss. His hands moved up Geto’s thighs earning him a soft moan from the other.

Your eyes were wide as you watched the pair. It was as if they had completely forgotten that you were in the room. You couldn’t seem to move. Your eyes were stuck in a trance watching the way Gojo’s hands moved up Geto’s legs. He was so close to the growing bulge in his underwear and you couldn’t help but silently hope that he took it a bit further. They pulled apart and you were brought out of your trance. You looked around the room suddenly finding interest in the walls and ceiling.

“It’s okay if you like to watch but it’d be so much better if you joined” Gojo’s voice was low as he stared at you with lust filled eyes. You stared at the two feeling hesitant but slowly crawled over to them. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care about the game cards only thinking of the two boys waiting for you. You kissed Gojo softly. His lips were just as soft as you remembered . It was hard to pull aways from him but Geto’s voice grabbed your attention.

“My lips are just as soft as his” he smirked at Gojo “Probably even better” He pulled you in for a kiss. His lips tasted like cherry. You craved the two of them. You pushed deeper into the kiss and wrapped your arm around his shoulder. Something had taken over you removing any nervous thought in your head. Gojo’s hand massaged your thighs making you feel warm all over. Between Gojo’s hands touching you inching closer to your core but never really touching you there and Geto’s lips dancing in sync against yours you were becoming more and more desperate for them. You pulled away from the kiss to catch your breath. Gojo took this as his chance to pull you into his lap with his chest pressed against your back. His lips found their way to your shoulder while his hands played with the lacy material of your underwear. Geto pressed his lips against yours while Gojo’s lips sucked licked your neck in a repeated pattern. Gojo’s hands moved to your chest massaging gently. You moaned at the attention they were giving. Geto pulled away meeting your low lidded eyes.

“You willing to go this far darling?” his hand rested on your thigh,fingertips close to your core.

You stared at him and nodded your head slowly.

“Mm no no no we need to hear you say it, use your words” his voice grew lower “I know you can do it”

Your heart felt like it might burst from your chest.

“Yes” you whimpered

The two shared a dark look before Geto yanked you up from Gojo’s lap. He was able to maneuver you as if you were a doll. He had you on your hands and knees facing Gojo while he massaged the fat of your ass. He leaned down and pressed his lips against your ear.

“You know the traffic light system right” Geto’s voice flew through your ear, you almost forget to answer.

You nodded your head eagerly.

“What did I say about those words?”

You whined at his response. Your thoughts were all over the place. Geto’s hand gently massaged your ass leaving you desperate to be touched.

“G-green means keep going, Yellow means slow down and Red means stop” you voice was shaking as you said the words. You were overcome with a mix of emotions.

Geto hummed satisfied with your answer.

“Good girl, now open wide, we’re gonna stuff this pretty little mouth of yours.” Geto gripped onto your hair while Gojo pulled his cock free stroking it.

“Look at that, she’s fucking drooling for your cock baby” Geto’s voice was a teasing tone “You gonna give it to her? I think she should beg for it don’t you”

Gojo looked down at you biting his lip. His blue eyes stared deep into yours with an expecting gaze.

“Ple-please” you stuttered out “Please I want your cock so bad” Your eyes watched his hand stroke himself with a look of hunger. You wanted it to be your mouth getting him off.

“Aw, she’s so desperate Sugu” Gojo held the tip of his cock against your lips rubbing the precum over them.

“You can have me baby, only because you sound so pretty when you beg”

He pushed his cock between your lips groaning at how warm your mouth was. His hands moved to the sides of your head as he found a steady pace. His cock stretched your mouth out so perfectly. He fucked himself deeper into your mouth groaning when he reached the back of your throat.

“Fuck your mouth is so perfect” he let out a deep sigh.

Geto moved behind you and slid your panties down. His hands moved to spread your asscheeks giving him a perfect view of how your hole clenched around nothing. His tongue licked a long strip between your folds earning him a muffled moan.

“Fuck it feels so good when you moan around my cock” Gojo groaned “Keep doing that keep-fuck keep licking her pussy for me please” His moans turned into soft whimpered as his thrust picked up speed. Geto’s tongue lapped at your cunt messily eating you out. Between Gojo’s rapid thrust and Geto lapping at your pussy as if it was his last meal you were falling apart for them. Your muffled moans cause Gojo’s eyes to roll back. His moans fill the room matching your muffled ones.

“Shit you’re gonna make me cum” he groaned

Geto pulled away from your cunt breathing heavily eyes heavy with lust.

“She taste fucking amazing. You want a taste baby?” he leaned over to Gojo kissing him deeply. Geto’s hand wrapped around Gojo’s throat while he shoved his tongue into his mouth. The kiss was messy and you loved every second of it. You bobbed your head on Gojo’s cock desperate to hear his moans again. Geto pulled away and looked at Gojo

“You taste just as good”

Geto leaned behind you and kissed the fat of your ass. His hand came down smacking your ass cheek roughly. You jolted from the sudden spank whimpering as a result.

“Oh you like that dont you” he sat up and let his fingers massage between your folds. “You’re such a nasty girl letting us do whatever we want to you like this”

He slipped to fingers inside of you smiling at the way you arched you back at the feeling.

“I bet you were just dreaming about this” his fingers moved at at steady pace fucking into you.

“Oh I know she has” Gojo let out a laugh “She’s probably been fucking that sloppy pussy at the thought of our cocks.”

Geto groans at gojo’s words.

“So fucking filthy, thinking about your best friends like this” Geto’s fingers felt so thick filling you up.

Your thoughts were caught between Gojo fucking your mouth full of his cock, the filthy words that were spilling past their lips and the way Geto’s fingers filled you so deliciously. You felt yourself on the verge losing your mind without even having them fill you up. You rocked back and forth on Geto’s fingers chasing after your own orgasm.

“Look at how desperate she is fucking herself on your fingers sugu” Gojo held your head in his hands while he thrusting into your mouth as his eyes stared at how you grinned down on Geto’s fingers with an incredious look.

“She so fucking needy her pussy is drooling on my fingers” Geto’s tongue slithered across his bottom lip.

His hand held onto your hip while his fingers picked up speed at a brutal pace. The sounds of your cunt filled the room like music to their ears.

“You gotta cum on my fingers before you get this sloppy hole filled you understand” Geto’s voice was a low growl.

Your legs shook with anticipation. You were desperately chasing after an orgasm. You felt pure bliss feeling his fingers reach spots you could never reach.

“Aw you’re close aren’t you. Go ahead, cum on my fingers. Cum on my fingers so we can stuff this wet hole full with our cocks.”

His words sent you over the edge. You felt your juices dripping down your legs as Geto continued thrusting his fingers into you fucking you through your orgasm. Your choked moans could be heard even with Gojo continuing his brutal pace of fucking your throat.

“Ah your shaking so much. You think she can handle a cock Sugu?”

Geto smirked looking down at how your hole clenched around his fingers sucking him in.

“I think she can handle two” he smirked at Gojo.

Gojo pulled his cock free from your mouth hissing at the sudden release. You sucked in a deep breath still reeling in from your orgasm.

“What’s your color love?” Gojo’s voice was soft.

“Green” your voice was raspy.

The two smiled at each other. Gojo kneeled down bringing you in for a deep kiss.

“I want her mouth you can take her pussy” Geto said as he pulled his fingers out of you.

You let out a soft whimper. You needed to be filled.

“Please I need you to fuck me” you whimpered looking up at Gojo.

“I didn’t know you were such a needy thing” Gojo chuckled “don’t worry I’ll fill this pussy with all my cum okay”

He walked around to position himself at your entrance. Geto stood behind him and wrapped his arm around him to stroke his cock.

“How bad do you want his cock?” Geto asked while his hand stoked Gojo at an achingly slow pace.

You arched your back to put your ass in the air.

“I need it so bad.” You begged “ please fuck me please I need you to fill me up”

You never knew yourself to beg but you were desperate for their cum in the moment.

Gojo head lulled back onto Geto’s shoulder hearing your pleads. He thrusted into Geto’s hand as his whimpers filled the room.

“Please let me fuck her pussy, I need it so bad.” He whined in Geto’s ear.

“Aww you need her pussy that bad baby, well let me help.”

He moved Gojo’s tip to your entrance and slowly pushed his hips into you. Gojo let out a low groan while his eyes rolled back at the feeling of your warmth wrapping around you. Geto’s hands moved Gojo’s hips guiding his cock in and out of you. Both your and Gojo’s moans filled the room. Your legs were shaking from how thick and long he was.

“Does her pussy feel good baby” his voice was silky as he whispered the words in Gojo’s ear. Gojo was panting, nodding his head.

“S-so good” he was drowning in euphoria at the feeling of his cock sliding against your walls.

Geto moved to your mouth. He grabbed your chin making you meet his eyes.

“Open up for me baby”

He placed the tip of his cock at your mouth and slowly pushed himself deeper into your mouth. The two of them began thrusting in and out of your holes. Your body jolted back Ned forth between the two of them . Geto’s hand gripped your hair and moved your head along his cock groaning at how your throat squeezed around him.

“Fuck, you didn’t tell me her mouth was this good” he groaned.

Gojo chuckled “her pussy feels so much better.”

They talked as if you were in the room. Their thrust were synchronized as they fucked you. You felt yourself losing your mind at having both holes filled. Your body felt weak. You knew your were coming close to another orgasm. Your legs trembled as Gojo’s cock pressed against the perfect spot. Your moans were choked,caught in your throat with Geto’s pace of fucking your mouth. You were completely gone with the only thing running through your mind being their cum drooling out of both your holes.

Gojo’s pace was slowly growing reckless. His hips stuttered as they fucked into you. His moans were turning into whimpers. Geto was trying to keep his composure but his groans turned into deep growls as he neared his orgasm.

“S-shit I’m about to cum you close baby?” Geto’s voice cracked

“So close oh fuck I’m so close” he whimpered “ Her pussy is practically sucking me in I know your close cum with us sweetheart, make a mess on my cock please”

You didn’t realize you had it in you to cum so much. Your orgasm flooded over you like a wave. You had never felt so out of body before. They followed close after you groaning and moaning as they each fucked your holes full of cum. Heavy breathing filled the room as their thrust slowly came to a stop. Geto pulled out of your mouth eyes locked in at how his cum dropped down your chin. His finger scooped it up and placed it on your tongue. You sucked without even thinking as if it came natural to you. Gojo pulled out smiling brightly at the way his cum drooled from your hole. Heavy breathing filled the room. You slumped down onto the bed turning on your back to face the ceiling.

“We should play this game more often,” Gojo said cheerfully.

You laughed nodding your head in agreement. Geto looked at Gojo both of them seeming to share the same menacing look.

“I think Satoru should clean you up.” He leaned down to peck a kiss to your forehead. “It wouldn’t be fair for us to just leave you full of cum.” He turned to Gojo who was already leaning at your entrance, eyes hungry. He walked over to kneel next to him

“Maybe I should help him, just to make sure he does the job right.”

You looked at your two best friends sitting eagerly between your legs.

“Just sit back we’ll take care of you”

#angelshubnetwork #getou smut #gojo smut #getou x reader #gojo x reader #satosugu #geto x gojo #satosugu smut #getou suguru #getou #getou suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto smut #gojo saturo x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu kaisen smut

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queenie-the-court-jester · 2 months

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HII, saw your post on wanting asks, well here 🫶 I love talking so, and specifically on playboy yandere!! I'm a sucker for angst and yanderes falling into insanity honestly, so let me ramble a bit

- imagine if reader graduates highschool and gets an overseas scholarships!! They also convince their family to move together with them so Kameron can't hurt or use them to blackmail reader. So with only a break up text saying like "bye manwhore 😍😍", blocking and deleting all their social media, I wonder how long and how far would he take to get reader back again? Would he inherit his parent's riches, hire some private investigatiors to find reader and find the country they're living in, expand his business over to their country in order to gain power to trap his darling. And I wonder how deranged his reaction would be to reader's text and be like no way, they're joking right, and runs to their house and whatever usual spots they're at normally, and just break down into insanity. would he try to use substitutes for reader to maintain his sanity or go fully devoid of emotions and start working hard to gain power and influence to find reader again!! I'm also curious how he would process his darling leaving him, would he become delusional first, saying they got kidnapped or something, or some ex or fling of his hurt reader, and then proceed to anger, depression, grief and then finally accept the reality!!

Ok that's a lot of rambling 😭😭 hope it's okay. I rlly enjoyed that fic, was rent FREE in my mind for a whole day

you know luci, you just gave me an idea. So have a part TWO of THIS DUMBASS HOE 🤝

Yandere playboy x reader

Tw: mentions of murder, kameron being delulu, yandere and obsessive behavior

💋kameron was having another breakdown. Sobbing pathetically on the floor of your old bedroom. Just how did you run away? And on such short notice too!? Didn't his love mean anything to you!? WHY DID YOU ABANDON HIM?

💋a million thoughts swirled through his head, until he finally got one that just... stuck. He had to get you back. No matter how long it takes. Getting up and dusting himself off, he kicked the front door open and quickly left the empty house

💋it was a shame really. The once sane and popular boy was struggling to keep his image. So he got help. Not professional as in therapists and medication. Just hiring other students to cover for him Incase he slipped up. all while snooping through the head teachers computer to see if they had any notes on where you might have gone. He almost got caught a few times

"shit that was close.. i can't believe these idiots leave their passwords just anywhere"

💋he knew he shouldn't be back at the school, especially since he graduated but he needs all the information he can get. Eventually moving onto private investigators and online stalking through multiple other accounts. He'd try anything just to see what his darling was doing without him. Were you enjoying making him suffer? You're so cruel..

💋hiring other people to befriend you and lower your guard, gathering any Information they can

💋 kameron who spent a while convincing his parents to let him take hold of the company. He had a degree, a bright mind, responsibility. He's perfect for the job! Oh if only they knew where his 60% was going.. funding multiple businesses across the world in exchange for keeping a careful eye. Making him quite the celebrity

💋look darling! He's on the news-! ...oh right you're not here.. one evening, while working in his office, a new secretary comes in to introduce themselves. They look just like you! He could only stare in shock.

"my love..? Is that you!?"

"..who?"

💋turns out it was just a doppelganger. But with enough time he'd delude himself into thinking it was you. Courting them with the same flowers, chocolates and jewelry he'd given you. It worked like a charm! Now you were back In their arms again. They felt whole..

💋he married your lookalike a year later, the poor fool being too naive and oblivious to think. He was happy for awhile.. or until one of his P.I's came in to show him they found you. His reality started to break.

💋no.. how could he do this to you. Replacing you with some cheap street whore. That night, when they went to bed, he gave them a cup of water and smiled sweetly. Watching as their face went red and they started to cough for air after gulping it down. Clawing at the sheets and staring at him with wide fearful eyes. Begging him to help them

"...slut."

💋 burrying the body in his backyard, he paid people with underground connections to cover for him while he was away. Claiming they suddenly vanished, having run away with a small fortune. How idiotic are people, to actually believe him..

💋kameron disguised himself and went straight for the country you decided to flee too. 5 years apart from you.. he had no idea how he managed to live so long without his beloved, but it was all worth it. Because now you'll be back where you belong. In his arms.

💋you were busy working at your job, running a small business was no joke but atleast the people in the area were friendly. So you didn't notice the suited figure Infront of your cash register

"thank you, please come again-"

💋you froze, looking up at the terrifyingly familiar face. He stared back at you with only glee and love

"hello my darling~ you've been on a naughty streak for a while Haven't you? That's okay, I'll just set you straight when we go back home."

💋big burly men all blocked you from escaping by guarding the doors. Dragging all the other customers out so you both could have your moment. Now you could never leaver leave him. Ever.

#yandere x reader #yandere x darling #queenie writes #queenie ocs #ocs #yandere #yandere male #yandere male x reader #male yandere #male yandere x reader #Yandere oc x reader #Oc x reader #Oc #Kameron the playboy #yandere headcanons

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taurder · 10 months

Note

Taur hear me out. Ok hobie/spider punk said he doesn't believe in consistency, how about dom male reader who keep changing the thrust from violently fast to painfully slow? And hobie doesnt belive in labels. So dom male reader feminised him. - 🐗 anon-

top!dom!reader x sub!hobie brown.

contains: feminization, edging, hobie wearing eyeliner, begging, anal, dirty talk.

note: i fucking love edging and overtism stuff, i adore your ideas sm don't ever stop sending them.

"no, no, not again! please!" hobie whined loudly, eyes opening again as your hips suddenly stopped smacking against his ass. he was up in the bed with his legs spread open, one of them hooked in your shoulder and the other hanging at the edge of the mattress, his body slightly turned to a side and his arms secured behind his back. "keep going, luv..." you cut his pleading by sliding painfully slow out of his abused and generously lubed hole, taking another whine out of his mouth.

this had been going on for a while, and just by seeing the state in which he was one could tell. his chest was going up and down rapidly, and his face showed how much he was struggling. a few tears have been going down his temples and adding that to the way he had been grinding his face into the sheets from time to time it had messed up his eyeliner. there were stains of the black make-up in the bed as well, but in your eyes his face looked delightful like this.

"i just want to take my time with my girl" you started thrusting back in, slow, allowing him to feel every inch of your cock that entered his body. he moaned, throwing his head up and arching his lower back. "that's it, let me fill your pussy" his dick spurted more pre cum somehow even if it was already shiny with plenty, throbbing painfully hard for the lack of attention. he had been close for a while now.

you pushed until your ballsack was right against his ass, and you could hear his whimpers along with his pleading words asking for more. you repeated the process three more times, getting completely out, barely letting your tip touch his greedy hole before thrusting home once again, taking your time and enjoying watching him shiver and beg. "i can't– i don't– fuckfuckfuck!" he cried out as soon as you changed your pace without warning, fucking him fast while holding his hips, watching his eyes go up and his dick bounce with the force of your thrusts.

the sounds the fast fucking made were your favorite, plus the constant moaning of your name. you were insulted and thanked in the same half choked sentence more than once. "cumming, i'm gonna cum so hard agghhh–mmghh" you stopped again, right inside of him as he once again pressed half his face into the sheets, cursing out as his dick just let out another amout of pre. "you're taking the piss on me" he looked at you with wet eyes, eyeliner beyond ruined and mouth fresh with some saliva on it.

you leaned down, forcing his leg to go up, showing you how flexible he was as you pressed a kiss in his mouth, simple but loving, and even if he was a little pissed he returned it, earning movement from you again. in this new position you started fucking him, deep, right into his prostate and feeling between both your stomachs his wet dick. "i thought you would like this" you murmured, feeling how he exhaled. "you don't like consistency, do you? so i'm doing exactly the opposite of that, baby girl"

he moaned into your mouth for the nickname, moving to meet your thrusts that were starting to go a bit faster. "i'm sorry i ruined your make-up in the process, but you still look handsome like this" you reached between your bodies wih your hand, pressing his length against his own belly, making sure he could also feel the bulge your cock made in him. "you feel me? i love being this deep into you" hobie mumbled your name, pleading to be able to cum.

"i know, i know. you can wait a little more, right? i want to mess you up more" you stopped to let him think, watching his eyes blink to gain a little more consciousness, breathing a few seconds and moaning when he could feel your dick twitching inside of him. he nodded and whispered a confirmation and it was all you needed to resume your vicious thrusting.

he was so good to you, loud and compliant even if he cursed your name every time you changed your pacing, his heart fluttering every time you praised his looks, calling him gorgeous, pretty; describing how greedy his ass was, how full of your seed his cunt was going to be. he loved every time your mouth would spit any kind of filth, and when he finally came his vision went white, body going slack in exhaustion as he yelled your name one final time.

you cleaned him properly after several minutes of letting him relax and come to his senses and he didn't help you out in the slightest. "i'm absolutely knackered, you did this so you clean it up" he had mumbled out, eyes closed and a satisfied grin in his face when you teased him about it. you didn't argue, but you did laugh softly when mid cleaning you hear him snore.

#taur's answered #top male reader #gn reader #sub character #atsv x you #hobie brown x reader #sub hobie brown #hobie brown x male reader #spider punk x reader #sub spider punk #spider punk x male reader #top reader x character #male reader #atsv x reader #sub atsv #🐗 anon

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longing-for-the-past-times · 9 months

Text

The four times you fell asleep on Ghost and the one time Ghost fell asleep on you - three.

simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

word count: 4,057

synopsis: you get wasted in a pub and Ghost has to take care of you.

warnings: mentions of drinking, occasional swearing, tooth-rotting fluff, Ghost being a softie

notes: I had a lot of fun writing this. Here are the main videos that inspired some scenes (potential spoiler alert): one, two

reader's callsign is Bambi (she/her)

find it on ao3 part one part two part three part four part five

masterlist

three.

The traditional post-mission gathering at the pub was in full swing in the late hours of the night, despite it being a Tuesday evening. The atmosphere was almost cosy and relaxed if you were to overlook the three people on the karaoke stage and the way their out-of-sync voices resounded throughout the room.

Seated at one of the tables with a glass of sparkling water, Captain Price exchanged a distressed look with Ghost, who was nursing a shot of Kentucky Bourbon. It was the captain's turn to drive so alcoholic drinks were out of the equation for him.

So he had to spend the entire night watching you, Gaz and Soap getting wasted and trying every form of entertainment the pub offered. You'd started slow with a game of darts, the loser having to drink a shot of whatever the winner decided. As the night progressed you went on to the pool table, had a break to tell stories and debate the key moments of the mission and eventually ended up at the karaoke bar, drunkenly singing to whatever songs were popular at the moment.

You were currently wedged between Gaz and Soap, leaning against each other for support, swaying and gesturing with exaggerated expressions when a new song would come on. You had lost track of the quantity of alcohol you consumed a while ago, yet everything seemed brighter and more colourful than before, so you didn't mind. You didn't know most of the songs that were playing at the karaoke bar, but that did not stop you from singing along, even if your voice was slightly out of tune. What you knew is that you were happy, perhaps happier than ever and, out of a sudden, you felt the need to express that in the loudest way possible, by taking Soap’s phone from his hands and picking the next song.

Surprised by your sudden move, Soap chuckled and gestured to the bartender to prepare three more drinks, even though he had his arm sloppily thrown around your shoulder, and was fighting a tough battle with gravitation. On your right side, Gaz was sloppily reaching towards the microphones, almost tripping over an imaginary wire. You caught him in the last second, grabbing a seat and forcing him to stay put as the first notes of the song echoed through the pub. A surge of drunken determination rushed through your veins as you took one of the microphones and turned towards the table Ghost and Price were seated at, wobbling slightly in the process.

“Captain, Lieutenant - I just… I just wanted to say this is for you. To Price - always being the helicopter, yet cool dad of the group!”. The drunken cheers of Soap’s and Gaz’s quickly accompanied your words, none of them realising how quiet the room had got. Everyone else left in the pub at that hour seemed to put whatever they were doing on hold and watch the inebriated toast with interest.

“And to Ghost!”, you went on unaware of the mood shift, your voice gaining momentum with each word, “who is always taking care of us during missions and let me fall asleep on him once! Cheers!”

Shaking his head in an attempt to hide the grin dancing on his lips, Price raised his glass and beckoned Ghost to do so too. At that moment, Simon was glad he was wearing the balaclava - he could feel an uncharacteristic blush spread across his face, not to mention that he could not control the visible twitching of his lips. The public seemed to be satisfied with the makeshift speech as a round of applause rippled through the crowd, but stopped as suddenly as it began. A familiar tune began to play in the background, and Simon almost pinched his forehead in frustration and disbelief when he saw the drunken determination and the over-confident grin plastered on your face: he had seen that expression before, it meant you were up to no good. His fears were instantly confirmed when the opening chords of Whitney Houston’s “I Will Always Love You” filled the space, being quickly accompanied by the shouts and whistles coming from the crowd.

You, Gaz and Soap began swaying to the rhythm of the music, humming along to the first part of the song. Ghost was actually impressed that you made it sound nice, keeping your voices low and soft and singing in sync for once. He turned his head to Price, not surprised to see the older man had reached for his phone and was filming the trio like a proud father on recital day.

That is until the part of the choreo came. And literal chaos ensued, as the three of you began screaming because that was definitely not singing, the high notes, even stopping to gasp for air every once in a while.

"I hope life treats you kind And I hope you have all you've dreamed of And I wish you joy and happiness But above all this, I'm wishing you love!"

He did not know when he made eye contact with you, but Simon found himself trapped inside your E/C eyes. The bourbon tasted sweet on his lips, but it did not compare to the joyful and carefree expression you wore on your face as you tried to keep up with the lyrics of the song, occasionally stumbling across Johnny and Kyle who were just as inebriated and dedicated to the artistic moment as you were. The familiar feeling of warmth and comfort was once again blooming in his chest, and for the first time, he decided to let it grow and see where it would take him.

---

You hadn't meant to lock eyes with Simon, definitely not when you were singing a romantic song you handpicked for the occasion. Yet your judgement was clouded by all the alcohol you'd consumed up to that point and now you couldn't tear your eyes away from his chocolate ones. And from his soft blonde eyelashes that made your heart flutter every time you saw them- making you even stutter on the lyrics of the song that you kept close to your heart. At one point you weren't even aware of the words leaving your mouth, just going along with Gaz and Soap, the two literally putting their hearts into the song.

That was until the second part of the choreo came. And you were so into it that you all fell down on your knees, pathetically crying and shrieking the high-pitched notes that Whitney Houston handled with ease.

Simon did not even know why the three of you bothered to come to training and shooting practices. In moments like that, your voices were lethal weapons alone.

And when the song came to an end, the crowd politely applauded you, secretly glad that it was over. Price was careful to save the video twice so as not to lose it, the proud and amused expression on his face not faltering once:

"I think it's high time we took them home, don't you think?", he asked Simon in an unusual cheery mode, downing his glass of sparkling water.

Ghost could only nod as his eyes were trained on your swaying figure. You were leaning against Gaz, a drunken smile on your face as you downed the drink the bartender slid to you with a wink. For a moment, Simon was too caught up in studying the way your eyes crinkled at the corners to notice them widen in an instant as you brought up a hand to your mouth. His jaw tightened when he realised you were stumbling towards the bathroom, probably sick from one too many a drink, and subtly gestured to Price that he'd get you and meet him at the car, before heading towards the bathroom himself.

However, he slowed down in his steps when he realised he wasn't the only one headed in that direction; the bartender had already beaten him to it. Ghost stopped dead in his tracks, his fists involuntarily clenching as he noticed the man standing near the entrance to the ladies' room, wearing an almost expectant expression, his gaze directed towards the toilets. The sound of you throwing up was the only thing that could be heard against the muffled background sound of the pub, followed eventually by the rush of flushing water.

Washing your hands and face, you took a look at your pale face in the mirror, closing your eyes in defeat. It was definitely time to call it a night and find a ride home or crash on someone's couch, and you accepted the thought as you made your way out of the restroom. Yet you didn't manage to go far as a man you vaguely recognized as the bartender stopped in front of you, hands crossed over his chest in what was supposed to be a masculine stance. You internally scoffed at his posture; you have seen it all during the years you've spent in the military.

"Hey!", he eventually said, a light smile on his face. "Hello! Do you mind, I would like to go back to my friends?", you briefly asked, already trying to sneak past him.

But the man was insistent and stepped in the same direction, making you stop once more.

"Look, I just wanted to say I really enjoyed the show you put on tonight!". You raised a single eyebrow, a poker look on your face. "You and your friends, I mean!", he quickly added, blushing slightly. "And I was just wondering if you would like to stay for a drink after my shift is over and, you know, perhaps go to my place afterwards and…" Rolling your eyes in frustration, you let out an impatient sigh and tried to go past him again, only to be stopped by a firm grip on your arm.

"Look, you should really think about it-" "I wouldn't do that if I were you. She may be drunk, but she can still kick your ass in at least six different ways."

Drunk as you were, you couldn't hide the grin that spread quickly across your face as you took in the imposing figure of the Lieutenant, his skull balaclava lending him a threatening air in the dim light of the hallway. The bartender swiftly let you go, his eyes darting between you two as you staggered towards Ghost, too busy to fully take him in to take note of the hand that was softly placed on the small of your back.

"Oh, mate, I think this is a misunderstanding! I was just… but who the hell are you actually? Do you know him, darling?"

You grimaced at the unjustified use of the endearment, a plain expression of distaste replacing the previous smile. You swayed slightly, having to lean against Ghost as you mumbled something unintelligible about the toast. An unexpected wave of fatigue hit you out of nowhere, making you nestle your head against his chest, your arms weakly wrapping around his shoulders.

"I'm tired, I wanna go home, Ghost!", you murmured gently into his shirt, the vibrations of your voice sending a quiver down his spine. Yet if Ghost was affected by the unexpected display of clinginess, he did not let it show. Instead, he made a quick job of scooping you into his arms, your head nestling in the crook of his neck. Letting out a satisfied sigh, you closed your eyes and unconsciously nuzzled your cheek against the soft material of the balaclava, breathing in the scent of his cologne, your hands still clinging onto his shoulders in a koala-like grip.

For a fleeting moment, he became utterly oblivious to his surroundings, his mind consumed by the moment, struggling to make sense of the situation in which both of you had found yourselves. He didn't exactly freeze, but his brain didn't work properly either as the feeling of your breaths against his balaclava sent an electrifying jolt through him. You may have just washed your face and the perfume you wore must have faded during the night, but the subtle smell of your shampoo lingered, sweet enough to leave an impression that he knew would stay with him for the days to come. When he eventually realised you weren't alone, that the bartender was still loitering by the restroom's entrance, Ghost shrugged, remembering your previous words:

"You should have listened to the toast, mate!"

---

Carrying you to Price's pickup trunk proved to be no easy feat for Simon; he was too distracted by the hold you had on him, both literally and figuratively. It was as if his mind had turned to jelly and he could not distinguish dream from reality. And at that moment, he experienced the sensation of living within a pleasant dream, you being in his arms just as he often yearned for when trying to fall asleep in the solitude of his room.

If Price was surprised by the state you found yourself in, he showed no signs. He had just managed to secure Soap in the passenger seat, while Gaz was passed out in the back, head leaning against the window, an empty look on his face.

"I'm sorry Simon but you'll have to sit in the middle tonight", the captain chuckled under his breath as he was watching Ghost put two and two together while you were still clinging to him as if your life depended on it.

He would not be able to get in the car while also preserving the position you found yourself in, yet he did not want to give it up. For a passing instant, he actually thought of walking to your place- a weak attempt at trying to make the moment last longer. But he could feel Price's badly concealed smirk like the heat of the sun in July and he had to fight, actually fight the groan that threatened to leave him as he nudged you with his shoulder.

"Wake up, Bambi! We've got to get you home, come on!" His words reached your ears as a distant sound and instead, you chose to relish in the vibrations that resonated against your skin, letting out a small hum of approval.

"Ok means okay, come on!" "Mhm, sure…" "Y/N…" "Simon…"

Clinging on him like a koala had no visible effect on him, but you saying his name, his real name, made Ghost freeze and set his dark eyes on you. He could not control the cocktail of feelings swimming in his orbs, ranging from surprise to pure adoration, and the thought of hiding them did not even cross his mind at that moment.

Until you were both showered in a sudden burst of light, quickly followed by a camera shutter. Behind the Polaroid camera, Price did not even bother to hide his satisfied expression as he watched the picture develop with a soft whirring sound.

You, on the other hand, instantly jumped from Ghost's arms, the flash of the camera making you look like a deer caught in the headlights. You were still inebriated, as the world was spinning much more than it should have, but the drowsiness from earlier had evaporated in an instant. Shaking his head in disbelief and muttering something along the lines of "fucking hell", Ghost did not even bother to answer Soap's cheers. He just squeezed into the backseat of Price's car, seating himself next to Gaz and trying his best to ensure you would not hit your head and get in safely. And the giddy smile he got as a response was worth it.

Price was the last to get in the car. As he positioned himself behind the wheel, Ghost couldn't help but wonder where he'd hidden the Polaroid camera and the picture. Knowing the older man, he could only hope the instant shot would not be displayed in the lounging room, alongside other just as embarrassing moments.

Not that he had something against you or the picture.

He just thought that the moment was rather special, even intimate to him and that it should not be shared with all other SAS operators who spent their time in the lounging room when on base.

"You three did quite a show out there!", Price half-turned towards Soap and the backseat riders, a comic expression on his face.

"Thanks, dad!", you replied in an awfully cheery tone, swaying slightly from one side to another. You kept humming to yourself, not taking note of the awkward silence that had settled in the car.

"Bambi, did you just call Price 'dad'?", Soap asked from the front seat, his shit-eating grin being reflected in the rearview mirror.

"Do you see me as a father figure, Y/N?", Price quipped in, smiling softly at your confused expression. Simon did not even dare to glance in your direction - he knew the doe eyes were making a comeback and he was definitely not inebriated enough to handle them.

"I certainly do!"

Gaz's voice was muffled as his cheek was currently squished against the window. But the message got across and you reached across Ghost to pat his shoulder, aggressively nodding in compliance.

"And this is why", you began by raising a finger in the air as if to strengthen your point, "you are my brother, Gaz!".

Your drunken determination was almost comical to watch, but it topped when you squealed in excitement:

"Let me give you a kiss!"

"No, you won't! I'm definitely not getting caught up in the middle of this!"

Ghost's answer, more of a growl actually, was instantly followed by Soap's booming laughter as the Scot was trying to turn and face the backseat, extending a grabby hand towards you:

"I'm happily accepting your kisses if you'll let me, bonnie!", he slurred half of the sentence, his head comfortably propped on the headrest as he puckered his lips in your direction.

"No one's getting any kisses!"

----

"Come on, careful, there's a step there!" "I wanna go home…" "We are almost there, Bambi. Now, do you have your key?" "Yeah, it should be in my pocket. Let me… let me look for it…"

Murmuring to yourself, you fished the keychain and held it before your eyes, a small chuckle escaping your lips as the keys kept jingling. The tiredness from the pub was making a comeback and Ghost had to carry you inside after he managed to open the door while also balancing your swaying silhouette.

"Oh, this couch looks good!", you muttered to yourself, letting yourself fall on it.

But instead of touching the plush pillows, you felt two strong arms sneaking around your waist and keeping you partially suspended in the air. You opened your mouth to protest, but before you were aware of it, you were headed in the direction of your bedroom, a warm hand placed on the small of your back.

"You should change into something more comfortable…", Ghost muttered, frowning when you started shaking your head and slurring: "I'll do it in the morning."

He already felt like he was prying, being inside your home, in the privacy of your bedroom, so he did not push the topic and instead, knelt down and removed your sneakers.

"You should at least clean your face." He pressed on the issue, all too aware of your fixation with skincare and how you would complain to anyone on the base about the latest breakout on your face. "Mhm.." "Mhm means yes, Bambi!", he groaned in frustration as he bent down to scoop you in his arms again and carried you to the bathroom, where he laid you on the fitted furniture so that your faces were at the same level.

Ghost was no stranger to makeup removal techniques - he had his fair share of experiences he had gone through when learning what worked best for the black paint he used to smudge the area around his eyes. But he began to grow tired as well, and being in your house took him way out of his comfort zone, so he resumed reaching for a pack of makeup wipes, instead of looking for a cleansing balm or micellar water. His touch was gentle against your face, his fingers applying the suitable amount of pressure needed to get rid of any traces of eyeshadow and whatnot. There was a faint tremor in his hand when he reached your lips, but the remnants of lipstick had to be removed too.

He was not prepared for the sudden shiver that raced down his spine the moment his fingertips brushed against your lips. His breath hitched, his heart skipping a beat as he continued to delicately trace the outline of your lips, the warm and comforting sensation he'd felt before, making a return. For a moment, the room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you locked at the moment, Ghost's eyes fervently searching for yours, as he rested a gloved hand against your face.

Letting out a soft sigh, you closed your eyes and leaned into his touch.

"Don't fall asleep on me…", Ghost hummed under his breath, involuntarily rubbing his thumb against your cheek. His gentle touch was a far cry from the deadly one that had become second nature on the battlefield.

"I trust you'll catch me", you whispered back, a delicate smile on your face.

And he did. With a tender grin under his balaclava, Ghost lifted you into his arms once more, cradling you like the treasure you were. Your head rested against his chest as he carried you back to your bedroom, each step filled with a quiet intimacy, completely new to him.

He entered the dark room, gently lying you down on the soft sheets, almost amazed at how quickly you passed out, again. Yes, you may have been wasted, completely inebriated, but you also trusted him to let him take care of you in your state.

Even if the action was foreign to him, Ghost tucked you in as best as he could, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. His internal conflict was a raging storm, but he eventually let the few shots of bourbon get to his head. With shaky gestures, he peeled the mask up to his nose and brought his lips to your forehead in a chaste kiss. His warm breath lingered over your face for a couple of seconds before he quietly exited the room, leaving you in a peaceful slumber.

---

Bonus scene

Sitting by himself at the small table in the kitchen, Simon lifted the balaclava up to his nose and breathed in the scent of Earl Grey, a satisfied sigh leaving his lips. He could see the tendrils of steam rolling out of the freshly brewed mug, the late autumn morning sun filtering through the blinds and bathing the room in warmth and light.

After every single evening spent celebrating in the pub, you, Gaz and Soap had to take the day off and volunteer yourselves for the night watch. Ghost had grown so accustomed to the usual agitation, whether it was Gaz jogging in the kitchen for a snack, Soap casually napping in the lounging room, or you, asking everyone where they had hidden the cookies, and he was finding it weird to spend the day in relative silence and peace.

And he was so lost in his thoughts, replaying the events of the previous night in his head, that he failed to notice the private who was lingering in the doorway and looking at him with a mixture of fear and admiration. It wasn't until he reached for the milk, that he took note of his presence and gave him a questioning look. "Captain Price asked me to deliver this personally to you, sir!" The private placed a white envelope on the table, saluted and quickly left the room. Simon had no time to analyze the interaction as his eyes settled on the letter.

Only it was not a letter, but a photograph. And after double checking, he was alone in the room, Simon actually let out a small chuckle as he held the polaroid in the sunlight, his eyes softening at the sight of you cradled in his arms, nuzzling your head against his chest.

taglist: @neoarchipelago, @thecorruptedlovely, @mitchlow, @fieldsofbats, @thaprilks, @stars-andfreckles, @that-napa-know-how, @preistinajamjar

#cod ghost #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #call of duty imagine #ghost mw2 #ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #task force 141 #ghost fluff #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley fluff #simon ghost x you

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florencemtrash · 3 months

Text

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Ten

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Mentions of cannon-typical violence. Azriel and Y/n have a late night conversation. Fluff and other stuff.

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

“Gwyn says hi by the way.”

Azriel choked on his coffee, bitter flavor rising in his throat. Nesta sauntered into the kitchen, cool eyes glaring at the back of his head. Your familiar silhouette was nowhere to be found.

Not here. His shadows whispered. With Rhys.

“Calm down you idiot.” Nesta’s voice dripped with unrestrained contempt as she poured herself a cup and sat. His tan skin glistened with sweat after his morning training session, inky tattoos splashing across his bare chest and trailing over his shoulders, down his back, and up to his neck. In the cloudy afternoon light it was difficult to tell where his shadows ended and where his tattoos began.

“Y/n’s not here. You’ll have to walk around half-naked some other time.”

Azriel winced. “That isn’t what—”

Nesta brushed him off with a wave of her hand, eyes narrowing over her mug. Azriel felt like a bug pinned down under a microscope. A crushed butterfly about to hang.

“How is Gwyn doing?” he asked gingerly, casually.

“She’s fine. Believe it or not, the world did not end when you broke up with her.”

Again he flinched. “I’m sorry, Nes,” he whispered rather pathetically.

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to. But you already know that.”

There seemed to be no shortage of people he needed to apologize to: Elain, Mor, Emerie, Gwyn, even Lucien — especially Lucien. His cheeks burned to think of the absolute mess of things he’d made. Feyre had been the quickest to forgive him for the debacle with Elain and Gwyn. But as Cassian had mentioned at dinner, there was a reason everyone was staying away from the River House, and the reason was him.

Two years ago he’d challenged Lucien Vanserra to a blood duel for Elain’s hand. It had felt so right at the time, so obvious: three sisters for three brothers. But it was only when their deaths had loomed over her head with shocking reality that Elain realized what a horrible mistake she’d made. The mistake they’d made together.

“Call it off,” she’d commanded him, blocking Lucien’s bloody, heaving body. The son of Autumn’s sword had been kicked away, scraping across the rock with an eerie scream and disappearing over the cliff edge. But Elain had stayed, soft brown eyes begging, “Do this and I will never forgive you. What we did… it wasn’t right. It was a mistake.”

A mistake, she’d called it. Years of silent longing and bare bone brushes of their hands in dark hallways. All a mistake. Those words had haunted him. They’d chased him into Gwyn’s kind arms where he once again mistook the friendship he felt towards her as love and broke her heart in the process. Add that to his lackluster response to Mor’s coming out and… well he had a lot of work ahead of him.

He hoped he would be forgiven in time, but that didn’t mean he’d twiddle his thumbs until that day came. He scoured Prythian’s publishers for new releases of adventure, mystery, and romance books — the raunchier the better — and they showed up every month at Cagniv Library like clockwork. The priestesses still thought it was part of a trade bargain with the Day Court. He’d sent Elain and Lucien plenty of letters and gifts, but either they weren’t being opened or they weren’t bothering to respond. He wouldn’t blame them either way. As for Mor and Emerie, they were gone with the wind, too busy infiltrating lands and enjoying an extended honeymoon on the continent to bother with him.

That cold stillness in Nesta’s eyes transformed into pity. It was hard not to be reminded of her own failures when she looked at him. Seeing him angry. Watching him crawl into the darkest corners of himself and burn every bridge he crossed had been a shock to Nesta’s system. A plunge into freezing waters that brought pain and clarity.

She sighed, rubbing her temples. “Just give them time, Az. They’ll come around. If they did it for me, they’ll do it for you.” “I think our situations are rather different.”

“I don’t.”

“You didn’t try to kill anyone.”

She grimaced. “I came close.”

He stayed silent for a long while. He washed his cup. He dried it. He put it in the cupboard.

“Can you—can you please not tell Y/n?” he begged. His voice was small and quiet. He’d been a fool in the past and made terrible decisions in the name of love. Mor, Elain, and Gwyn. They’d all lived more in his mind than in his heart — people he could never fully grasp, and therefore never lose. They’d been safe. Easy.

It didn’t feel that way with you. You felt solid and warm, even if he’d only touched you once. You felt more real to him than anyone else. You felt like someone he could actually have. Which meant he could lose you before you’d even become his to lose.

“You can’t keep her in the dark forever. Not about your history, not about the bond. If you’re going to learn anything from your brothers, learn that.”

“I know,” he whispered. “I just want to get it right this time.” He had to get it right this time. “I want her to fall in love with me because she wants me, not out of some sense of obligation. I want…” I want to be worthy of her.

Nesta shook her head, a laugh escaping despite her best attempts to stifle it. Azriel looked at her like she’d gone mad.

She giggled again. “It’s funny. For a male as handsome and desirable as you, you have the worst fucking luck with women. The Mother must have a twisted sense of humor.”

Maybe she did. But Azriel was still enough of a romantic to hope that he had learned from his mistakes, and that his bad luck would end with you.

You shoved the notebook off Rhysand’s desk, loose papers flying out like uncoordinated doves.

“I told you notetaking was a futile effort.” The High Lord didn’t even look at you, too busy searching for invisible dirt beneath his manicured fingernails.

You groaned and dropped your head against the book he’d handed you two hours before.

Rhysand had to smile at your frustration. It was a wholly different experience teaching you magic compared to teaching Feyre. With Feyre, her greatest barrier had been her lack of knowledge (and her hatred of him at the time). She’d been thrust into the world of fae without preparation, but it had left her malleable and adaptable. It was like teaching a newborn how to walk — a mind that could absorb more because it knew so little.

But you knew too much. You could spout off magical theory at the drop of a hat. You were a pedagogical master with a thousand mnemonics to your name. You were the first to wake in all of Velaris, making your way to the Library before bodies could fill the streets, and you only returned when the crowds had either turned in for the night or gone out to drink until daybreak. You swallowed every history book on the Night Court, Clairvoyants, daemati, and death gods until you felt untethered from the earth — until your mind began to float outside your body, buzzing with thoughts that never went away.

But none of that mattered. Your power was an immovable object that couldn’t be controlled by logic or studying.

You shoved against that power now.

“Good,” Rhysand nodded, leaning against the window, “You’re getting better at it.”

He lingered in your mind, hovering over the depths of your emotions and memories like a bird ready to break water. It had taken some time before you felt comfortable with the intrusion. Your first lesson together, Rhysand’s presence in your mind had made it impossible to focus. Panic had seized your mind and your body until you could do nothing more than brace your hands and feet against the chair’s leather upholstery. You could have sworn you saw a head of silver hair to your left. The gentle pitter patter of rain had sounded like dripping blood.

It wasn’t like that anymore. Henna had left you with a useful skill — you could wind your consciousness around Rhysand and keep him there, suspended in that indescribable space where your thoughts lay so he could do no more damage than you permitted him.

Through your mind he felt the narrowing of your power. You imagined it like a blanket wrapped around your body, suffocating but familiar. It was this power that laced your skin and made contact with others so hard. You imagined the fabric shortening, creeping up your arms and legs, curling around your torso and squeezing like a snake. Inch by inch you tightened it around you, burying it within your chest instead of carrying it openly like a wound.

You held a music book between your hands — Nyx’s to be exact. The little Lordling showcased a certain aptitude for the piano his father could only dream of, and being as young and protected as he was, the worst kind of emotion imbued within its pages was agitation. You could hear one of the ballads written within it as clearly as if Nyx was sitting beside you plucking out the melody.

Tighter. Tighter. Tighter. You swallowed your power. Pulled what was outside inwards. Slowly but surely the music faded away until the book was as all books should be — silent.

Sweat beaded your brow. This was the most difficult part — not tuning out the music, but keeping the volume at zero.

Rhysand checked his watch. Waited. Checked it again.

You lasted thirty minutes before your power burst out along your skin once more like a thousand prickling needles. You shuddered, half-disappointed, half-grateful that you could hear the melody again.

Rhysand clapped his hands, slow and proud. The grandfather clock in the corner of the room was dangerously close to five bells. Rhysand nodded.

“Perfect timing. We’re done for today.”

“I can go for longer,” you pleaded.

“I know you can.” Rhysand pushed off the wall, polished leather boots gleaming. He was wearing his Illyrian leathers this time, the scent of wind still clinging to his skin after a visit to the northern war camps.

Old Illyria lasted thousands of years. The clans used to flow up and down the Steppes, following the tundrabeast that lay claim to those mountainous regions and were said to speak for their god Ramiel — Starbreaker, Night Herder — after whom the mountain is named. They don’t move with the cold winds anymore, even if they’ve kept their names: Ironcrest, Bloodborn, Windhaven, Seawhip, Hawkseed, Timberbane, and a dozen others. And they don’t make sacrifices, although the Blood Rite might be a close—

Rhysand rapped his knuckles on the desk to grab your attention and splayed his fingers wide. “I also know that the moment I dismiss you, you’ll scamper off to the Library to work until you can’t see straight.”

You shifted in your seat. “I like it there.”

“That’s besides the point. If you keep going at this pace you’ll burn out. Then you won’t be able to help anyone. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Your eyes widened ever so slightly. You hadn’t thought he’d noticed. “I know what it feels like to burn out and it’s not going to happen anytime soon. I promise.”

Rhysand suppressed the urgent need to roll his eyes as you gathered your things and walked out the door. “And here I thought I worked too much,” he muttered beneath his breath.

You carried Henna’s journal tucked within your new Librarian robes — black with ivory detailing and wide sleeves that narrowed at the wrists. You kept a hand on it during late nights at the Library. You ate with it propped open, black splotches swimming across the page like worms. You slept with it beneath your pillow.

But alas, it would seem the book was going to make you work to wring meaning out of every odd symbol.

You were muttering to yourself as you walked back and forth in front of the fireplace. You’d effectively commandeered one of the reading rooms on the seventh floor, leaving the library only when required for Rhysand’s lessons. Helion’s most recent letter lay open on the table with Cherp’s resting just beneath it. A map hung crooked on the wall, four athenaeums circled in bleeding red ink alongside a list of books that had gone missing — the ones that people knew about at least.

The Alcove, Ares House, Folkmen’s Bard, and most recently, Argot’s.

Three Librarians dead. Their throats slit. Blood dribbling down their burgundy robes as they’d sat hunched over their desks. The week before it had been two from Ares House caught swaying from the third floor balcony.

No one has any idea how it happened. The wards were never set off. Nothing in the Library was disrupted. I tell you this only because you deserve to know what’s happened to your people. Continue your training. Continue your research. Do whatever you need to do. But leave the court business to me, dear. I’ll write to you again when I can.

~ Helion

“It doesn’t make sense,” you mumbled, drumming your fingers against your hip where the book remained silent. “None of this makes sense.”

You’d used every ounce of Rhysand’s training on the book. You’d imagined your power sliding over it like water, fire, needles shooting through cowhide, a hammerstrike, every metaphor imaginable. You’d glared at it with an intensity that would have disintegrated a lesser object.

When that failed, you had moved onto solving the murders and thefts at your father’s court. You couldn’t content yourself with sitting in one of the cushy, high-backed chairs in Rhysand’s office sipping imported tea in porcelain cups while athenaeums were on lockdown.

The pattern was shockingly simple — Koschei was going after books that could be traced back to him. Books that might give his enemies the upper hand: folktales alluding to him and his siblings, translated texts from old Bauldish that might have proved useful in deciphering Henna’s book, secondary accounts of the age before High Lords ruled.

If you were Koschei you’d go after Godswoods next — the collection of athenaeums dedicated to religion. Then on to The Gallows — the athenaeum on death and dying. The two were intricately tied to one another, but people tended to write books on dying before coming up with explanations for what comes after. You’d spent a great deal of time there following your mother’s death, and you could picture it now — solemn black bookshelves looping around a circular room that tapered up into a point like a blade pointed to the sky.

You finished writing your letter to Helion, along with the list of books you wanted pulled from the archives. Cagniv Library may have been a glowing beacon in the Night Court, and a place of sanctuary for the priestesses, but it was nothing like you were used to.

You held the paper out in front of you, Helion’s glimmering pen tucked behind your sharp ears, and blew. The black letters lifted off the page and faded away like a breath in cold air. The message was already writing itself back into existence in Helion’s office.

“It doesn’t make sense.”

You scribbled out another note, this one for yourself with another pen. You ripped it to pieces and fed it to the fire.

What was Koschei looking for now? Was he still looking for the book that now rested against your hip, or had he turned to some other prize? And why kill the Librarians and set all of Day Court on high alert?

Henna had been careful. She’d stayed hidden until she was forced to tear down the Alcove to get the book. Whoever was causing the killings now was either a showman or a fool. They left bodies hanging from rafters. They carved smiles into throats. They let the Librarians know what they were stealing whether they meant to or not. They left patterns scattered among wreckage for someone like you to figure out.

It all felt… juvenile for lack of a better word. Someone young. Someone who wanted to prove themselves in a loud way. Someone whose ego hadn’t been tested yet and wasn’t listening to Koschei’s commands in their entirety.

Azriel.

You couldn’t help but think of him.

Azriel was nothing like that.

He wasn’t loud. He didn’t vy for attention. He didn’t seek the light in a room. His confidence was quiet and true. His kindness took the shape of the shadows that lingered by your ankles. It took the shape of the robes you wore now. He was the only one who’d seen them at The Alcove. He was the only one who could have requested the court seamstress to make a copy and leave it hanging in your closet.

No. Azriel was nothing like that.

Azriel’s eyes lit up like embers when you slid through the front door, weary but bright-eyed and cradling your journals against your chest. The shadows he’d left behind with you slithered across the floor like mist.

She’s been in the Library all day. Working. The shadows whispered in his ear. She thought about you.

Azriel smiled. He’d thought about you as well. “I was wondering where you’d gone.”

You gasped, closing the door louder than you intended. You’d developed a talent for sneaking in and out of the River House unnoticed to the point where Cassian considered hiding bells in your pockets. Nyx had tried to do it as a joke, but you’d caught him giggling too loudly in your bedroom.

You brightened immediately, a broad smile appearing on your face. Azriel felt his heart leap, then quiet as he caught the scent of parchment paper.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow?” You whispered, tip-toeing through the dimly lit hallway to where Azriel was in the sitting room. You sank into the couch with a groan. The hardwood desks at the Library had not been kind to you.

He shrugged and brushed back his wind-thickened hair, shifting to face you better. A crumb-coated plate lay on the table and he still wore his leathers. He must have just arrived home.

“I flew as quick as I could. I wanted to be home.” With you.

He’d gotten so used to the feeling of you sleeping across the hallway that he’d flown the last three days without sleep. It was worth it to see you again. From the looks of it, you’d not fared well in his absence either. Your eyes had that glassy, half-there sheen: a perfect mixture of exhaustion and mind-crackling clarity.

“And how were the Mortal Lands?” You tucked your knees beneath you and leaned against your hand, fighting the sleep that seemed to grapple for you now that Azriel was home. His wings were spread wide and you resisted the urge to close the last few inches between you and the talon that glimmered in the faelight like obsidian glass.

You’d never been that far south. You’d never had reason to. But Azriel flew far and wide. The Continent was now Mor’s domain, but the secret goings of Prythian and the Mortal Lands belonged to him and him alone. The Spymaster of the Night Court. The Shadowsinger.

Azriel shook his head. “Quiet. Koschei hasn’t touched them yet as far as I can tell, and the Mortal Queens don’t care. They seem to think that they can handle Koschei because he’s agreed to bargains with them in the past.”

You made a noise of disapproval. “Like they handled Hybern? The only reason they’re still standing is because fae fought their war.”

The scattering of human armies that had arrived on that battlefield had belonged to no crown. They’d either fought for the bloodlust or the money. You could respect them for that.

Azriel tipped his head to the side, following the curling of his shadows around his shoulders. “But they are still standing. They don’t know what we sacrificed to keep them safe. That’s the problem with humans. They forget too quickly and get complacent”

“It would seem we have the opposite problem. We can’t help but remember everything,” you said, with no small amount of bitterness.

He wanted to keep you talking. He wanted your thoughts. Wanted to fall asleep to the sound of your voice after three weeks of silence. You weren’t aware of it, but the bond had felt thin the further he’d traveled away from you. Like a tightrope stretched to its snapping point. Now that he was back, and you were here, his heart didn’t feel like such a strenuous burden.

He smiled. “I think that’s just you. I know plenty of fae who are forgetful and empty-minded.” He leaned back, stretching his wings out to the side, and winced. They were whipped raw and tender from the flight.

Without thinking you got up and moved to the fireplace, feeding wood to the flames until it crackled happily. There was a reason Cassian and Azriel loved to bath their wings in sunlight every chance they got. The heat helped the soreness and eased the wind’s rough edge.

It also drove color into your cheeks and set your hair alight in a soft golden haze. You were a marvel. An angel with a halo to match and Azriel drank in the sight.

“Like who?”

“Cassian.”

You smirked and chucked the last of the wood into the flame’s gaping mouth.

Cass was far from empty-minded, but after decades of being feared as the Lord of Bloodshed he was grateful that people loved him enough to be just a little mean. He gave and received friendly blows like kisses on the cheek and smiled all the wider for it. To threaten his life was the same as saying I love you. It must be why the Mother had made Nesta his mate. She said I love you to him all hours of the day.

Azriel asked you what you were thinking, and when you told him he felt some of that pain slide off his shoulders like rain. He threw his head back and laughed until his chest started to hurt again and you thought about how rare that sound must be, and how much you loved it.

“How are the others? Rhysand told me Feyre’s sister is down there along with your friends.”

Azriel sobered up quickly and cleared his throat. “Yes. Elain, Lucien, Jurian, and Vassa.”

His voice caught on two names: Elain and Lucien, and it didn't escape your notice. He sounded... nervous.

“And? Are they alright?”

He rolled his shoulders and looked out the window to the inky black sky. Vassa would be sleeping now in her human form, and if she was lucky, she’d wake up in the morning still within the manor’s grey stone walls. Safe. Home.

He shook his head gravely. “They’re nothing short of terrified. Koschei has Vassa under a spell that would normally keep her tied to his lake. He let her go during the war against Hybern and he’s been allowing her to stay, but… everyone’s just holding their breath and trying to prepare for the day he’ll take her back.”

You shivered and wrapped one of the spare blankets around your shoulders. You couldn’t imagine a life where every waking moment held the risk of being torn away from everything you held dear. The anticipation would have broken you more than the act itself.

“I’ve heard of her. The firebird.” You murmured softly. You imagined a creature with glowing eyes, blue-red feathers streaking behind like ribbons set on fire. Azriel narrowed his eyes in confusion, and you explained, “Ares House records all wartime information. I read the reports. We’re very thorough.”

Azriel smiled. “I would expect nothing less.”

Silence passed in comfort, and you couldn’t stop thinking about Vassa.

“Do you think they’d be able to stop it if Koschei did make her go back?”

“I don’t know, Y/n.” And it was driving him mad to have Koschei hanging around like a forgotten word at the end of his tongue.

“I hate this,” you spat out, “The not knowing. I hate it.”

Azriel stared at you, hazel eyes silently begging you to continue. Shadows curled around your body, gently tugging you closer to him until your knees were a whisper away from touching.

You both sighed softly into the quiet air. Even the River House seemed to be at rest for the night. The usual background hum of cooking and cleaning were absent. It was just you and the Shadowsinger.

“How are things going? With the book?”

You slipped your hand through the slit in your robes and pulled it out. The gold chain rustled, glowing faintly from your touch.

“It’s going.” You shoved the book back out of sight. You couldn’t even stand to look at it after the hours you’d spent agonizing over its pages. “Rhysand’s been teaching me to contain my power better. I can actually touch some things now.”

But not him. Still not him. And it was killing you.

Azriel gave another one of his small smiles. The ones that never failed to make the world a smaller, more manageable place. “That’s good.”

“I just… this may sound silly but, I’m not used to things being this hard. With my powers a lot of things just sort of came naturally for me. But now people are dying and I’m just sitting here on this very expensive couch and I can’t do the thing I was brought here to do and I… I don’t like feeling this useless.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Azriel murmured. He closed the space between you even more, shadows hovering over your face in silent permission. When you didn’t pull away they brushed back the strands of hair that had fallen over your face with a cool, silky touch.

Azriel was all calm darkness and you imagined that if you reached out to touch his chest your hand might just slip through him like he wasn’t there at all. He seemed too good to be real.

But he was real, and he was sitting close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath fan your cheeks.

“You’re not useless. Never believe that. Not even for a second. And even if you were useless, it wouldn’t matter. You’re worth more than the things you can do, remember?”

“I remember.” Your voice was quiet and thick.

You rested your cheek in the crook of your arm as you gazed at him wearily.

Azriel kept his hands out in the open, one hand reaching across the couch cushions before stopping mere inches away from yours. His shadows closed the remaining distance, slipping in between your fingers to mimic Azriel’s touch.

“Did you uncover any more secrets of mine while I was gone?” Azriel asked as your eyelids began to droop.

“I confess I forgot to look. But maybe now that you’re here, I’ll start again,” you mumbled into the encroaching dark.

“I look forward to it,” were the last words that filtered through your ears before you fell asleep to the untranslatable whispers of shadows.

Nyx bounded down the stairs, leaping the last six steps before landing soundlessly on the floor with a soft bend of his knees — just like Azriel had taught him. Feyre gave a proud nod before ruffling his ebony hair and Rhysand beamed.

Let me. Feyre adjusted the wrappings around Rhys’s chest that kept Velaria’s plump body swaddled and comfortable. Her pink lips opened in a yawn that had both mates sighing.

“Uncle Az!” Nyx raced forward towards the sitting room and then froze, mouth opened in a surprised oh.

Azriel slept like the dead on the floor, chest rising and falling with the beat of his gentle breath. You lay stretched out on the couch, one arm propped beneath your head and the other dangling over your waist and off the cushions. Your fingers swayed an inch above Azriel’s chest, shadows swimming over his torso and creeping up your arms so that even in sleep you were connected to one another.

Feyre gasped softly at the picture. The sunlight blanketing the both of you in peach fuzz. The faint uptick of Azriel’s lips and the smoothness of his brow. The way you looked like you were bleeding into him. The black of his shadows and your robes.

Rhysand rubbed Nyx’s shoulder and kissed Feyre’s cheek.

Let them sleep, Nyx. We’ll get breakfast at Huth’s today.

Nyx let his parents lead him towards the door without protest. He’d never seen Uncle Az sleep so soundly in his life.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

Yeah... this slow burn is burning... but I just love it so much and I love writing all the sweet little moments they have and their conversations with one another and I hope you're enjoying it as well.

#azriel x reader #azriel x reader slowburn #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #everyone deserves a person who'll help them relax enough to fall asleep #late night conversations and barely there touches and longing and asdfbaefnaks #AZRIEL FREAKING MADE HER NEW ROBES SO SHE WOULD FEEL MORE COMFORTABLE #He's trying to grow and do right by his exes so he will feel more worthy of Y/n and I just ugh #i'm giving him Mr. Darcy energy I don't give a shit

693 notes · View notes

hellfire--cult · 9 months

Text

Edit of Eddie: Sofiiel

Stripper!Eddie x Shy!Fem!Reader

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 (end)

WC: 11.1k

⚠️ +18 MDNI, Stripper!Eddie, nervousness, fluff, self doubt, flirting, soft touches, mentions of vomit, skin on skin contact, kissing, kissing with tongue, pining, sexual tension, angst, anxiousness, self-deprecating thoughts, low self-esteem, panic attack hinting, nausea, dizziness, miscommunication

Plot: You thought you were cursed with your shyness, but after one embarrassing night, you decide it's time to change, and you believe someone might be able to help with that.

Summary: The morning after came, the need for a talk is there, a new realization, new found feelings... as well as the gears going back to the starting line.

A/N: I am sorry.

You can always support me by hitting the reblog button with tags, and I always enjoy reading your comments!

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PART 7

The sound of a bird chirping caught your ear as you slowly gained your senses back, a soft whine staying in your throat as you rustled slightly in your place. There was so much warmth, making you sigh in complete happiness, as the body next to you held you even closer, his soft snores hitting the top of your head, the smell of his cologne that still lingered–

Body holding you close?

Your eyes snapped open like plates, being met with a bare chest in front of you as it slowly raised up and then back down, tattoos splattered on his skin, tattoos you recognized now. Your heart picked up a pace as you slowly, without moving too much, pulled your head off his chest to finally look up. Your breath was caught in your throat, a squeal wanting to come out as you saw Eddie’s sleeping face, his hair all over the pillow.

Your mouth fell open as you moved your legs slightly, feeling the soreness that now resides in between them. You needed to move away from him because you had to collect yourself. You had to think. You had to process whatever happened yesterday and you were beginning to breathe heavily and you really didn’t want to wake him up, not yet.

You closed your mouth, trying to hold your breaths in as much as you could as you slowly started to wiggle out of his grasp, earning a scrunch of his nose and a groan. You tensed up when you moved, but he rolled off you in his sleep, laying on the other side of the bed with a soft sigh. You held your hand to your chest, feeling it almost ripping out from it with every thump. Your belly was turning, almost painfully as you raised yourself from his arm that was wrapped around you seconds ago, and probably was numb from being under your body the whole night.

You stared at his bare chest, your blankets covering until they met on his hips, and that’s when you realized you were stark naked, looking down at your body that– Oh god… You had hickies. You almost squealed but you threw a hand over your mouth, holding the noise in. You really had to go and collect yourself, because you needed to go through the events from yesterday and try to calm yourself before he wakes up because you two would definitely have a talk.

And that was the problem, about what?

You slowly took the blankets off your legs and swung them to the side, and you winced slightly at the soreness on your inner thighs. It’s been way too long since you… Since you had sex. Shit, you had sex. You slept with Eddie, your friend Eddie. Just because of a split second of horniness. You stood up before you screamed and looked around to find something that didn’t require you to open your closet in order to not make any noise.

You gulped as you grabbed onto your white cotton panties that you had taken out yesterday but decided on the black set. Where’s the bra? You can’t find it, and the only things you have are the black dress from yesterday, which is a no, a pair of gym shorts that you use for bed, and an oversized white shirt. Those two will have to do, at least for now, so you could run away from the room as soon as possible.

You grabbed onto the garments and threw them on carefully in order to not stumble and trip and probably make a fool out of yourself in front of the guy you slept with a few hours ago. You felt your face burn at that while you pulled the shirt over your head and your breathing was coming out in heavy amounts from your mouth and you quickly tiptoed out of the room, and closed the door behind you making as little noise as possible.

You let the breath that was in your lungs finally leave your body as you stepped away from your door as if it were on fire. Okay, you were alone now, Eddie is naked in your room, in your bed, because you two slept together yesterday night. Your hands ran over your face and pulled your hair back, gripping your scalp tightly, feeling your intestines just twisting all about, heart in your throat and the flow of your blood very loud in your ears.

You started pacing back and forth, taking deep breaths as you started to think. What did this all mean? You acted out of instinct, out of urges. What were you? An animal? But Eddie didn’t seem to mind, he actually went in for more with you, didn’t he? You made all the moves of course, which you still don’t know how or why you did that, but you did and he followed.

But what now? What is going to happen now? You crossed the line, this isn’t just a friendship anymore, friends don’t fuck eachother, at least, not your normal type of friendships don’t. How are you going to explain yourself? What if he asks why you did what you did yesterday? What are you going to tell him? ‘Hey, I realized that I am heavily attracted to you.’

Sure, that is true, but what would that mean between the two of you? What are his feelings about this and… how did he feel yesterday? Were you enough? Were you good? He seemed to enjoy himself, but you didn’t really do much, so did he like it? Did he really want to do that with you?

“Fuck…” You were biting on your thumb’s skin next to your fingernail again. You really don’t know what is going on, you really have no idea how to move from this. This is the first time you actually felt good while having sex, and you really never in your life experienced what he did to you yesterday. Your eyes widened as you stood in place, eyes widening as another curse left your lips.

The burning in your belly was back.

How was this not enough? You went all the way with him, with a man you are actually attracted to, so why are you still yearning for more? It made no sense, and how your body reacts to the memory of him in between your legs is absolutely ridiculous. You looked at the door once, licking your bottom lip as your mind became slightly hazy again.

Maybe you can act normally? Just, go back into his arms in bed, see where that takes you, see him as he wakes up and smiles at you, and you two would probably talk about the fries from yesterday night and how you didn’t get actual dinner. He would ask for some pancakes again, and then you would gladly make them.

He would like that right? Waking up with breakfast? You can do that, just normally, like the other day you were at his home. Everything was normal after that, and everything can be normal after last night. You can do this. It’s going to be completely fine, you just don’t have to think too much about it, and maybe he won’t either. You took a deep breath in and walked towards your kitchen to start on preparing some coffee and then start grabbing the ingredients for your chocolate chip pancakes.

You were taking deep breaths, trying to concentrate on your cooking. Eggs, milk, flour, chocolate chips in. You froze. You put the chocolate chips into the batter. Just how he likes it. Stop thinking. Stop thinking. Stop thinking. Your guts turned again as you kept stirring the batter, over and over again, the gears in your head making you dizzy as the thoughts started reappearing again.

He is going to wake up soon, what are you going to say? Act normal, that’s what you settled on, but now you don’t remember what normal is. How is normal after this? What is normal about any of this? It’s not. It’s definitely not normal to sleep with your friend. Are you going to keep being friends? Oh, what if he doesn't even want to be friends? How are you going to be able to handle that?

The smell of coffee snapped you out again and you looked down at the batter, letting a breath come out of your lips to finally put the pan on the stove. You grabbed onto one of your plates as you started cooking the pancakes, trying to just focus on making them the perfect shape, cooking them just right, letting the air be filled with the sweet smell–

“Shit darling, that smells good.”

You froze on your fourth pancake, with the spatula underneath it about to turn it over. Your heart was in your throat now, maybe your ears, you didn’t know, but there was a sharp noise ringing in your eardrums, blocking any sounds coming from around you, including Eddie’s steps that were being taken towards you.

He was now behind you, you could feel his presence on your back, your chest heaving up and down as you stared down, not noticing that the pancake was starting to burn already. You couldn’t move, you didn’t want to look at him, you didn’t know what to say, how to act, how to move, and your body simply grew into a cold sweat, your hand trembling with the utensil still in your grasp.

Eddie has actually been awake the moment you made him roll over in the bed. He kept his eyes closed because his heart was in his throat, and he knew he had to give you time. He knew he had to leave you alone to gather your thoughts on what happened, and he couldn’t simply dive in and envelop you again, even if that was what he wanted the most. Once you were out of the room, he sat up too quickly and ran his hands through his hair as his eyes stared widely on the comforters of the bed.

He slept with you. The thing he didn’t believe to happen at all, happened, which was you showing him what you wanted to do with him. You had the guts that he didn’t have. You made the first moves, all of them, and his mind and self control completely shut off last night, but so did yours. He felt his south area beginning to harden again as he remembered last night, your body, your taste, and he didn’t even do head. He almost never did, but he was desperate for you last night, and he still is.

When you started losing yourself to your lust against him, he really thought he had gone to heaven at that very moment. He could have died a happy man yesterday after what happened, but then he wouldn’t get more. He wouldn’t be able to taste you again, to feel you again, to hold you again, and he wanted to, crazily so. He wasn’t going to let this be a one time thing, and he needed to tell you just that, but he knew you were processing yourself right now, after all, it was the first time you had acted out of impulse to your urges.

He held back a grin as he bit his bottom lip, dropping his hands on the bed. You let go with him, which meant, hopefully, that you reciprocated what he was feeling. You weren’t a friend, not anymore. He didn’t want you to be. He actually had decided, selfishly so, to not be your friend any longer almost a month ago. It had hit him like a train really, not even thinking that you would crawl under his skin the way you did, but the more time he spent with you, the more time you two talked about each other, and to be even interested in one another’s life stories, he knew he was a goner.

His head snapped towards the door as he heard you pacing around the living room and his gut turned with nervousness as his fingers trembled with the need of going and console you, to tell you what he was feeling, to tell you that everything is just fine, and he wishes he could tell you that everything is okay and that nothing changes… But he can no longer say that. There was no way he was letting you go this time, he wasn’t going to pretend to be normal, he wasn’t going to pretend like you didn’t kiss him fucking stupid last night, he wasn’t going to pretend like he didn’t have the best night of his life just a few hours ago.

Minutes later, his nose caught the smell of coffee, and then a sweet smell. Pancakes. You were making him pancakes. He smiled widely at that, because despite you probably having a breakdown, or being nervous right now, you still decided to make breakfast for him. He took a deep breath in, getting up from the bed to throw on his boxers and pants, looking over at his shirt. If he dresses himself, fully, he was afraid of you thinking that everything was done with, and it was anything but. Shirtless it is.

So now, he stands behind you, noticing how stiff you got, and the smell of burnt pancake filled his nostrils. His hand raised up to slowly graze over your wrist that was holding the spatula, and you almost jumped at the touch, but he held onto your wrist instantly, pulling it up so that the pancake would lift from the pan and throwing it on the plate next to the stove. He could almost hear your breathing from how hard it was, and truly, he was holding his own back in order to not make you any more nervous.

His eyes then darted towards the bowl with batter in it, and he almost looked away when he noticed you had put the chocolate chips inside it this time, instead of sprinkling them on top of the pancake while it was cooking. The corner of his lip turned upwards at the gesture, and his chest puffed up with pride and with hope but for now, he had to snap you back into reality, because you were still frozen in his hold.

“Angel… It’s just me.” Those three words that always seemed to calm you for some reason, those three words that simply made all your nerves go away, even if little. Knowing it was just Eddie, knowing he wasn’t there to judge you, or criticize you, or call you out, but just be there for you, with you. You took a big gulp while you gripped onto the spatula even harder.

“I–” No words were coming out. There was no way you could talk at this moment, because you actually didn’t know what to say, where to start, or how to even begin to describe what you were feeling or what you were thinking, but it seems you didn’t have to think too hard, because he was already blabbering, getting hold of the bowl with some batter left.

“See? It’s less messier when you already put the chocolate chips in.” You blink dumbly at his words, looking at the bowl. He tipped some in the pan, and his tongue stuck out from the corner of his mouth as he stuck his finger in the batter and dragged more chocolate chips into that specific pancake. That actually made you snap out.

“Don’t touch the batter with your fingers!” You exclaim at him as you wiggle the pan a bit to get all the edges with the mix. You heard him chuckle next to you as he set the bowl down.

“It needed more chocolate chips! That’s mine by the way.” He said pointing at the pancake that was already cooking and it was more chocolate than the mix. You rolled your eyes at his childishness. He stuck his finger inside his mouth, licking the batter off it.

“More chocolate chips next time, got it.” You said almost in a groan but he didn’t miss the ‘next time’ part. His mind went places. Waking up with you next to him, cuddling until midday, both of you not getting out of bed even if you needed to pee and only till your bellies grumbled that you two would get up to go make some pancakes together, laughter filling the kitchen as he shoves way too many chocolate chips in the mix and you yell at him for being too reckless.

“I’m feeling fancy for next time, maybe add some blueberries in it? Or, hear me out… marshmallows.” He says and you cringed at the sweetness of it all, but also a small giggle came out of your throat as you flipped the pancake on the pan.

“That’s a s'mores pancake… You can literally just have S’mores.” You say and you hear him chuckle next to you, as he walks towards the coffee pot, and sees that you had already prepared two empty cups to pour the liquid in. He filled his cup in black coffee, but yours only half. He walked towards your fridge to get your vanilla creamer out, and finally filled the rest of your coffee with it. You didn’t miss the gesture, a strong heat invading your belly and cheeks.

“It’s not the same! The S’mores have biscuits. Pancakes are fluffier, imagine how much fluffier they would be with marshmallows inside. Honestly, I think we’re onto something here sweetheart.” You flip the pancake onto the stack you had next to the stove and turn it off because you believed five pancakes were fine for the two of you. “Or maybe we can add some mint in them.”

That made your mouth drop open, your head snapping to your side to look at him with widened and disgusted eyes, but you froze again when you saw him. The back of his hip was resting on the counter as he looked at you with a smile to his face, one hand holding a mug, the other was handing you yours. You didn’t realize that you were talking normally to him until now. How did Eddie do it? Every single time?

“T-Thanks…” You say as you look down from his eyes but it was a bad idea. He was shirtless. Oh, the fucking flashbacks. Your whole body heated up at the memories of your nails going all over his skin, all over his chest, all over his arms. You took a large gulp out of your coffee and you clenched your eyes at the taste. It was the perfect measurement.

“I had to bring your despise for mint for you to look at me.” He lets out with a small chuckle, taking a sip of his own coffee. You blinked down at your cup, not really knowing where to go from here. Should you apologize? Should you tell him that he should forget about it? But why would you say something so hypocritical when you didn’t want to forget about it?

“I– I– just don’t know–” You tried to say out loud but your throat went dry at those few words, making you take more sips out of your mug, and he sighed, taking one last sip of his, putting his cup on the counter.

“Tell me what you’re thinking Angel. I need to know what you’re thinking.” And how do you even begin? You don’t even know what you feel, you don’t even know if it was right, if it was wrong, but the only thing you knew, is that you desired Eddie, that you were attracted to him in ways that not even god could define. But you won’t tell him that, because that’s when you would crawl into a hole and disappear from the world.

“I– I really don’t know– Yesterday… I never–” You blabbered, stuttered, and he was being patient as he looked at you, hands trembling with the cup in between them. He felt his chest about to explode but he still waited, wanting to hear you, to understand you, but he knew your mind was just a jumbled mess, he can hear it in the tremble on your voice and in the way your eyes were going back and forth as if looking for an answer somewhere.

He raised his hand up to place it on the cheek that was not facing him, and you immediately froze again. He leaned down and forward to press a soft kiss on the cheek facing him this time, and your body felt like it melted away, your bones going all soft and wiggly on you, a sigh escaping your lips at the touch of his lips on your skin. For some reason, this gesture made some of the black clouds move away from your mind, leaving some space for clarity, for you to slowly turn your head to face him again as he pulled away from you, his thumb caressing your cheek in gentle circles.

“Do you regret it? Because let me tell you darling, I sure as hell don’t.” Even if your heart wanted to burst into a million pieces from how hard it was beating, your eyes still widened at his words, surprise taking all over your features.

“Y-You don’t?” You asked with a hint of confusion in your tone as well. He licked his lips as his throat closed up on him, but he gulped it down so that he could keep talking. You were just too beautiful right now, looking up at him with those eyes that he adored.

“I did mean what I said yesterday.” He says and you tilt your head at that, trying to remember everything that was said at the bar, or when you walked your way to it with him, and he smiled at you, pulling his hand off your face, grabbing the mug out of your hands and placing it on the counter next to his. Your eyebrows knitted together at that, looking at the cup leaving your grasp.

“Why—” You began to ask, but when you looked back up at him, your mouth immediately closed, seeing the serious face he had on. It made your heart jump slightly as well as your stomach, not knowing how his smile turned into this serious look. His hand raised to pinch on the side of your shirt with his fingers and tugged you in front of him, almost making you stumble at the sudden jerk. He then pressed that same hand on your waist, firmly, while the other raised up to gently hold your cheek to make you look up at him.

“You have no idea for how long I’ve wanted last night to happen.” He says while looking down at you, his eyes searching for yours as a gasp was caught in your throat, your body heating up at his words and your head was about to look down, but he held you in place, shaking his head at you. “No, keep looking at me.”

“B-But I didn’t do— I didn’t do anything—” He shook his head again, your eyes trying to avoid his as you talked, now your chest thumping wildly, blood pumping everywhere in your body at a very accelerated pace, and you didn’t notice how your voice was trembling and how you were slowly beginning to shake in his grasp.

“I need you to calm down baby… It’s really just me.” He gave small circles on your cheek, which made your eyes look back at him, your mind going blank. He wanted last night to happen? He wanted to sleep with you? Many questions were going through your mind but only one was voiced out.

“We had sex.” His eyebrows raised up in surprise, a smile appearing on his lips, dimples showing off, but you were still completely bewildered as you blinked at him, your mind just trying to work overtime now for you. “You-You saw me naked, I saw you naked—”

“Pretty necessary for having sex Angel.” He says with a laugh this time, and that only made your brain simply burn off, steam coming off the top of your head. You gulped as his laughter slowly tuned down, the turning in your belly and the doubt in your mind now cooperating to formulate another question.

“Why— Why with me?” You managed to ask, and that made Eddie’s laugh completely turn off, only for you to continue. “I-I’m just… not—” And he knew who you were comparing yourself to. The clients in the club stood no chance against you, they really didn’t, but you didn’t believe that. He weighed his options, and he decided it would be better to show you.

“You’re not what?” His hand left your cheek to mimic his other one, pressing on your waist, now firmer than before, and he pulled your body flush into his, and your eyes widened up at him. He leaned down close to your ear, his breath hitting your skin, sending shivers down your spine as the fire in your belly ignited once more. “Feel what you do to me by just standing in your kitchen in an oversized white shirt.”

Against your belly was the same hardness you felt yesterday night on your hip. The one you felt rubbing itself against your center. The one you felt against your thigh when he climbed over towards you. And now, you didn’t have the dress on, your makeup was smudged and you cleaned it up with your fingers as much as you could, you probably smell like sweat… and he still wants you.

He couldn’t help himself, being close to your ear, to your skin, and his mouth instantly pressed a gentle kiss under your earlobe, a gasp coming out of your lips as the touch left your skin burning. You should ask him, you should talk to him, stop and try to think for a second, but that was the problem right now, you didn’t want to, and it seems that he didn’t either.

His kiss trailed down towards your neck, soft lips pressing against your pulse point, and your hands raised up shakily to hold onto his biceps, fingernails digging into his skin, and his own digits dug into your waist, trying to have a cable back to earth, but his self control was slipping away again the more he took your scent in, the more he tasted you again on his lips.

More. More. More.

Now that chant was on repeat in his mind as well, at the same time it was happening in yours. He was repeating your actions from yesterday, letting himself go, his mouth doing the work for him, not a single thought running in his head except for the need to hold you again, just running his lips on your skin again.

“I really mean it…” He mumbled in your neck, more kisses being left there as he kissed his way from one side to the other, making your head turn with soft breaths escaping your mouth which was making his brain simply scramble into nothing. “You have no idea for how long I’ve wanted you.”

His voice was low, and your belly was burning with need again, your hands slowly trailing over his biceps to rest one hand on his shoulder, the other around his neck, pulling him into you, making his kisses turn hungrier, not being able to hold it and sucking on your skin to mark you, to leave you the reminder that this happened between you both, for you to look at it at every hour today, and tomorrow, and he wishes that by the end of today he would be able to retrace his mark again and again, not letting it fade at all, even if weeks went by.

“Eds—” You softly mumble as a moan escapes your lips, your eyes half lidded as you bathe in his attention. You heard a soft groan against your skin, only for the warmth that was there to simply vanish as he pulled away from you. Before you could complain, before you could ask, before the gears in your brain could start working again, his lips found yours, making your nails grip onto his shoulder even tighter.

He was hungry, and it wasn’t for the pancakes, and he made it known by how he instantly started moving his lips against yours, rough, yet with deepness, with care, swallowing your breaths into his mouth, taking everything he could from you. You didn’t even had time to process what was happening, except for your desire to start talking for you as well, and your brain was simply processing the words ‘Fuck it’.

You started returning his kiss in the same manner, the hand on his neck going to his nape to pull him even deeper into you, your other hand sliding off his shoulder to rub against his bicep and he groaned into you, your touch making his gut turn in excitement, in nervousness, in need, just by you scratching your nails on his skin, not even on an erogenous zone. He sort of cursed you in his head for the way you made him feel like putty in just two seconds and with just one touch.

He ran his tongue over your bottom lip, and your mouth instantly invited him in, a moan of yours escaping into his as his tongue pressed against yours. You felt him even harder against your belly, making the heat in your center reappear at an alarming rate, almost too hot for you to handle. Now that you knew what he could do to you, this burning was even worse than before. It was much, much worse, but you didn’t hate it, you didn’t dislike it and you didn’t want to push it away.

His hands finally moved from your waist, and you gasped into the kiss as you felt his fingertips gliding underneath the hem of your shirt, pulling it up as he finally pressed his hand against your bare back, flushing you into him, and you shivered at how big his palm was against you, how hot it felt, but another gasp escaped you when you felt his other hand cup the round of one of your cheeks, now pressing you against his bottom half even harder.

He moaned in his throat and you melted at the sound, your tongue still dancing with his as his hands pressed against you, rubbed, groped, simply felt as if wanting to remember every part of your skin and body, on how your skin was soft yet warm under his palms. Your minds were filled with one another, not wanting to separate at all, and he needed you again, screw the pancakes, he can eat those later, right after he has you.

He had to guide you to your bedroom, you need to know how much he wants you still, how much he will want you after, and the days to come, and he is certain he is not going to ever get tired of you, not when you taste like this, when you feel like this, when you burn like this.

He pushed himself off the counter, ready to begin to guide you back to where you both woke up minutes ago. You were going to let him, your belly turning anxiously as you let yourself wanting him again, and maybe this time you can try to make him feel good too. You want to really make him feel good, just like he did yesterday and the other night. You were eager to learn what he liked, eager to hear him moan because of what you do to him, and you never in your life thought you would be eager to do something like that before.

The music of Master of Puppets suddenly filled the room and your eyes opened like plates.

You two pulled away, brows furrowed together as you both looked around to where it was coming from. Eddie finally spotted his jacket on the floor, just where he left it yesterday and he cursed under his breath. He had to let you go to actually answer the phone.

“Hang on sweetheart.” He gave you a small peck on the lips before letting go of your body, and you just stood there, frozen as you felt the cold hitting your skin again. What happened? How did you go from making pancakes to almost having sex with him once more? How did that happen in such a short lapse of time?

He grabbed his jacket from the floor, grimacing slightly at it because he just left a wet patch on the floor, not letting it dry properly so it was still kind of wet in some folds. He dug into his pocket for his phone, pulling it out to look at the caller ID. He blinked a few times at it and when he didn’t answer is when you turned your head to look at him.

“Eds…?” You called him out, almost breathlessly and he turned to look at you with a small smile on his face.

“I have to get this Angel, I’ll be back.” You watched him put the jacket on the counter to then go back into your room, closing the door behind him. Your breath finally left your lungs, the burning calming down slightly, but not quite. You gulped heavily as you licked your lips, and you knew they were red and plump from the kissing you just did. You couldn’t help but feel… Happy. That’s how you felt, a small smile appearing on your lips.

You didn’t mind your mind shutting off when it came to him, you really didn’t. But the uneasiness of not knowing what all of this meant came back, but not because he was not clarifying it with you. It was because you weren’t being clear with yourself. What did this all mean? Why were you like this? Was this really how simple attraction felt like?

Your ear picked up movement in your room, and you really didn’t want to eavesdrop, but you really couldn’t help yourself, and it only took two steps for you to listen to Eddie’s low voice through the door. Even when he wanted to speak in whispers he was loud.

“Yeah, I heard you… I forgot about today, but I can— Yeah…— Okay, see you later then–.”

You blinked at those words, brows knitting together in confusion. Who was he talking to? You heard more shuffling and you panicked, not wanting him to know you were listening to his conversation and you went back towards the pancakes, now cold and you pretended to prepare a plate for you to put one on when you heard the door open. Your blood pumped in your veins in a wildly manner as you turned to see Eddie with his turtleneck on, boots thumping on your floor as he mumbled curses under his breath.

“Are you alright?” It was the first question that popped in your head, because he didn’t look happy at all, and seeing him in his clothes again made your mood instantly drop, realizing that he was leaving.

“Yeah– Um… I have to go… Steve needs me to take him somewhere– Kind of forgot about it.” He says to you with a small smile to his face, almost forced and you stood still in your place, not really knowing what to do. He saw your hesitation, so he took the steps between the both of you, his hands cupping your face, leaning down to place a soft peck on your lips. Your breath hit his face as he pulled away, but lingered over your lips, and you couldn’t help but voice out the first question that came to mind.

“You really have to go?” And Eddie wanted to die right then and there. You didn’t want him to leave, but fuck, he had to go. His knees almost buckled at your voice yet, he nodded with a saddened look on his face.

“Yeah… But we’ll talk later okay? We really do need to talk… Right Angel?” Your eyes locked with his at those words, and your face flushed in a way that wasn’t because of embarrassment, but just pure adoration. You nodded, almost dumbly at his words, making a smile appear on his lips. He gave you a peck on your lips again, not really wanting to go without his dose and he has to quickly pull away before he gets distracted with you once again.

He pulled away from you and you felt your body completely warm now, not even cold, not even if he pulled away from you. He grabbed onto his jacket with one hand and walked towards the door, opening it to then look towards the counter. He rushed back to grab onto two full pancakes, shoving them in his mouth, the rest still sticking out, making your eyes go wide, afraid he’ll choke.

“Eddie!” He smiled at you with the pancakes between his teeth, winking at you before doing a little jog out of the door, closing it behind him, finally leaving you alone in your home.

Your hands immediately went towards your mouth, covering it to contain your screams, afraid that he was still out there. You were feeling so many things at one single moment. Nervousness, fear, happiness, indecisiveness, embarrassment, delight, and arousal. All of that was happening in one single moment which was making your heart rate pick up even more than before.

You were going to have a stroke by the end of the day, you knew that. And he wants to talk. What does he want to talk about? What are you supposed to talk about? What are you supposed to say? To feel? How do you even start the conversation with him? What is going to be your new normal? What did you want it to be?

You absentmindedly grabbed onto one pancake and took a bite out of it, only to spit it out onto the plate in disgust.

It was the burnt one.

He hasn’t spoken to you all day, and that made you anxious. It’s already 7 PM, and it’s his day off, so he should be available, right? You could message him, but what do you even want to say? Hi? How are you? How was your day?

There is no way you could be normal with this, you can’t act normal, not when you had to actually clean your room after yesterday’s night. Not when you discovered the ball of paper on the night table that wasn’t yours, only to open it up and find the used condom inside, and that made your memories just hit you like a car at great speed, almost knocking you over.

How can you act normal after that?

Your phone started ringing, the ringtone of The Shire started going off and your heart leaped, and you rushed from your room towards your kitchen where the noise was coming from, grabbing it from the counter, only for your face to frown into a disappointed one seeing it was Robin. That made you feel a little bit guilty, but you couldn’t help yourself. Not when you’ve been waiting all these hours for him to talk to you again. You slid the button to answer her, her face coming up on the screen, a big smile on her lips.

“Hi Rob–”

“SHE SAID YES!” That startled you, completely, almost throwing the phone to the floor. You blinked a few times as you regained the posture, as Robin’s blabbering kept going on the phone and you raised a hand towards your camera to stop her.

“Robs, Robs– I don’t understand a word you’re saying, where are you?” You frowned at seeing her on what appeared to be the mall, just walking while talking to you.

“Vickie said yes to my date!” She says excitedly and your chest warms up with joy, a smile spreads on your lips as you start bouncing in your place, and she mimics you, both of you looking completely dumb but you didn't care, nor did she.

"Holy shit!" You yell with her as you spin in your place and she laughs, a vibrant blush on her cheeks as she looks at you.

"I know!" She yells again and probably caught the attention of many people that were walking near her and you hear her say a small 'sorry' to someone, making you giggle.

"How did it happen?" You asked her, going to sit on your couch, excitement clear in your voice. She was still with a smile on her face, almost crazy looking, making you laugh at her face.

"She called me to ask me about something; I really don't even remember what it was, I think it was something about a recipe? Anyways, at the end of it I just– She just looked too pretty, you have no idea, and I blurted it out." You covered your mouth with your hand as shock washed over you. You never really imagined Robin to be straightforward, but it seems she bursted at the seams.

"Wow Robin… Why are you in the mall? When is it? Where are you both going?" The questions blurted out of your mouth like a machine gun, making Robin blush even more.

"We are going to the movies tonight, and I am getting something different than what I always wear, because I realized all my clothes look the fucking same, and maybe– Do I get her some roses? Chocolates? I’ve never been on a formal date, I don’t know how this works, I am losing my mind–”

“Robin, Jesus calm down, I bet that Vickie doesn’t care, she already said yes to a date, knowing it wasn’t a friendly outing.” You tell her and she seemed to calm down with that, giving you a soft nod as if in understanding.

“You are right… God, I just– I just like her so much…” You can see Robin’s dreamy eyes as she enters one of the stores, scanning all of the clothes that might be there, but your mind starts to wander. Robin didn’t know anything, not even that you kissed Eddie. Maybe she did because she’s friends with Steve, but she never really said anything about it… But–

“Robs?” You call out to her, heart thumping in your ears as you let your words come out of your mouth.

“Yeah?” She was still looking above the camera, and you could hear the hangers simply moving from side to side as she browsed. You cleared your throat and licked your lips, stammering a bit in your words as you tried to word your thoughts without giving yourself away.

“How do you even know it is not a simple attraction? What you feel for Vickie.” You say to her, biting on your tongue almost as the nerves in your belly started spiraling as she looked quizzically down at the phone.

“What?”

“I never experienced it, so– I mean, liking someone is simply being attracted to them, right?”

“Oh honey, no.” You sat frozen at that, blinking at the phone, your whole body just completely still on your couch as you processed her words. What? When you didn’t answer, she continued talking. “You start with attraction, then it develops into something else.”

Your heart picked up a pace again, and the hand holding the phone was growing quite the sweat. What did she mean by that? Why does it feel like she is saying something that you needed to hear? Why does it feel like she is caging you?

“And how do you even know that?” You manage to ask, and your mind for some reason is afraid of the answer. Afraid to finally come to terms with something you thought it was going to be impossible for you.

“Well, you are still attracted to them, but… You want to know about them, wake up with them by your side… I don’t know, I guess– When you are with them, and you can laugh afterwards, but still want them later on… You just want— More.”

Your eyes widened as plates at that, heart finally coming to a stop.

More. More. More.

“Oh god…” You let those words come out as a soft breath, Robin not really hearing you, too busy finding a shirt for her date, while you were having a complete breakdown on this discovery of yours. You found the word for your feelings. The word that scares you even at the deep of your gut. The word that you don’t even know if it’s reciprocated, and you are scared to even know if it is.

And now you came to realize that it’s not recent. It’s not something that happened after the first kiss even. Even when he hugged you, you always wanted more. When he held your hand, you always wanted more. When he laughed with you and you didn’t want it to ever stop, you just wanted more. It was never enough, it could never be enough, not when it came to him. You were screwed.

You fell for Eddie. Deeply.

Your body trembled with realization, with desperation to have him back with you because now that you know what name to put on your feelings, you just felt this incredible need of having him, shower him with affection, not even be nervous around him, you just needed to hold him again, kiss him again, touch him again, spend time with him again.

You were nervous, anxious even, but there was still hope in your heart, hope that he feels the same for you, hope that he wants you more than just friendship. He wants to talk to you about what happened yesterday, he wants to talk it out and now you know where you are headed. Now you know how to start the conversation. Now you know what to tell him.

“Hey, you there?” You hear Robin, making you snap completely out of your thoughts, blinking rapidly at the screen. Your friend had a small smirk on her lips, or you thought she had it, because it fell down as soon as you looked at the camera.

“Y-Yeah, I just– I remembered I have to um… get some ingredients for today’s dinner. I have nothing in my fridge.” You manage to blurt out the lie, but in your head you were already making plans, not being able to hold your words back, knowing where to go now.

“Oh, then if it’s that… Go to the grocery store… I’ll tell you everything after my date, okay?” Robin had a knowing smile on her face as she spoke to you and you really wanted to question her if she knew, but it was going to be a conversation that would take too long and you needed to run out of your apartment right at this very second.

“Yeah! I hope everything goes well Robs!” You say quickly, kind of feeling guilty for squashing over your friend’s success but it seems as if Robin didn’t really mind it, waving at you.

“Hopefully! Talk to you later!” And you said a soft ‘bye’ and hung up the call. You blinked a few times at the phone. Should you call him? Tell him– No, he has his day off. Your legs started working again as your breathing became erratic with emotion, with excitement, never in your life feeling this way before.

You finally know what everyone meant when they talked about crushes, and love. You never felt that excitement, never felt that interest, never really believed they were telling you the truth about it, but now you know it is, because your heart was exploding but in such a good way, in a perfect way that only Eddie managed to do.

Your feet took you to your room to throw on a pair of jeans, changing from your pajama pants, and then a random shirt, changing it from your oversized shirt that you were still wearing since the morning because it still held Eddie’s scent. His perfume stuck to the collar of the fabric and you whimpered when you took it off, but you had to be quick. You almost fell on your ass when you wiggled yourself forcefully into your sneakers.

You didn’t even grab your purse, just your phone and your car and house keys. You never ran so fast out of the complex and towards your car, with a smile plastered on your face all the while. When you sat yourself in front of the steering wheel, you couldn’t even believe what you were doing, what your feet were taking you, but you couldn’t hold it in anymore, just like last night.

Last night you finally exploded, wanting to finally feel him entirely, and the fact that you want, NEED more, is a sign that you have to talk it out, say that to him, say that you want more, be honest and let yourself go. Your keys got into the ignition hole, and you took a deep breath as you started your journey into the streets, your heart in your throat pumping quicker as you approached your destination.

You were probably insane, you were probably going to make a scene, and you didn’t even know how to word anything of what you were feeling properly, but you were sure you were going to say everything to him. You knew you had to. No matter how it comes out of your mouth, no matter what you have to do to get your words through, you will try and you will tell him that you like him, that you are falling for him, that you might even already have fallen to the deep end.

You parked right in front of his complex, and an old man was opening the main door to the lobby, making you rip yourself from the seatbelt and bolting out of your car, pressing the lock button over your shoulder as you reached the door, holding it open for the old man who thanked you as you anxiously waited for him to go through. Once he did, you ran towards the elevators, pressing the buttons desperately.

You looked at the numbers going down and you were chanting ‘come on, come on’ under your breath. Once the metal doors opened, you ran inside, quickly pressing his apartment’s button, almost to the point of breaking it. The door closed and you took many deep breaths in, but a smile was on your face as your ears rang from the excitement. You weren’t even thinking of the possibility of rejection, you just wanted this feeling to be known, for him to know, for him to understand.

The doors opened and you took a slow step out as you stared at his apartment door. Was this the right decision? Right now? Not even messaging him to tell him you were coming over? He had errands to run today, what if he is not home yet? But the light underneath the door frame told you otherwise, sparking your excitement once again. You walked towards the door, and took one last deep breath in. This was it.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

You waited, deep breaths coming out of your lips as you waited, rocking on the balls of your feet, back and forth, and that’s when you heard shuffling on the other side of the door, a sniffle, slippers sliding against the wooden floor, and a click of the lock was heard. When it opened, you found a very sick Steve Harrington in front of you, red nose and all, hair all over the place, his blue robe on his body and your eyes widened at the sight.

“Shit, Steve, are you okay?” You ask him and he was almost wobbly, greeting you with your name and nodding. He actually took so many tylenol and dayquil that his mind was just trying to survive at this point.

“Yeah, peachy, never felt greater in my life…” You winced at his sarcasm and he sniffled holding himself with his hand on the doorframe, his eyes completely droopy from the mucus that was on his sinus. “What brings you here, sweetness?” You straightened up again at his question, but you tilted your head in question this time, remembering that Eddie told you he had to take Steve somewhere… maybe the hospital?

“Oh, I just— I came to see Eddie.” Steve scoffed at that, and sniffled again.

“He is not here.” He says and you tilt your head in confusion again. Maybe he went to grab something to eat?

“Oh, I just assumed it’s his day off so…” You mentioned to him, and you were hoping you would get the information out of his mouth, a mouth that at this moment had no filter, and no rationality or perception.

“He must be with a client.” He says and you just blink up at him, and your mind for some reason was telling you that you should leave, that you should not hear any longer, that you have to run from there, but your feet never moved.

“A client?” You choke out, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible and Steve wobbles a bit, trying to focus on your face, but failing to do so. He waved his hand around as he explained himself.

“Yeah, his second job. He did tell you about it right?”

“The job… that…”

“Private meetings with clients. Mainly sex really.”

Your heart dropped at that, falling right into your stomach. You were staring at Steve as if he had just stabbed you with a sword, just impaling you without any kind of mercy, and the gears in your mind started working, but instead of moving forward, they went backwards. Your hands were starting to tremble, not wanting to believe what Steve was saying.

“That– Today?” You choke out, holding a sob in your throat as your knees start to give up on you. This couldn’t be happening, not right after the best night of your life, not after realizing what you felt for him, not after he said those things to you.

“Yeah, I mean, sometimes we do it for money, sometimes just for pleasure, so that’s why I don’t know when he’ll be back.” He blurts out and that’s when your world stopped.

He lied. He lied to you. He said he was going with Steve today, but Steve is too sick to even move… The call– The words you heard– You wanted to vomit, nausea washing over your stomach as the puzzle came together in your head, slowly, and when it finally clicked, when it all clicked.

And your eyes couldn’t look at Steve’s face any longer.

“O-Oh, y-yeah, he told me, I must have forgotten…” Your voice was small, your body shaking as your gaze couldn’t handle Steve’s neck, nor his chest, nor his legs, until you were entirely looking at the floor. Your body was shaking almost, and you had to run away. You had to leave. You were suffocating. You needed air.

“Do you want me to–” You didn’t even let him finish his sentence, taking a step back from him as his cologne invaded your sense of smell.

“No. He– He will make fun of my… poor memory… Um… Don’t tell him I came here, I’ll… just message him later.” Your voice became smaller and smaller at each word that came out of your lips, and Steve, poor Steve, was so out of it that he didn’t notice anything wrong.

“Okay, see you later Sweetness.” Your body almost gagged and jerked forward at the nickname, but you stayed put, still looking at the floor. Your mind was shutting down, you needed to leave.

“B-Bye.” You couldn’t even say his name as you turned around, walking back towards the elevator and pressing the button to go down, hearing the door closing before your metal doors shut together. Your eyes were still on the floor, not daring to look up as you tried, you really tried to make those last words disappear from your brain, but they were on repeat, and your body was numb.

You felt numb, automatic, going towards your car, and you don’t even remember starting it, you don’t remember how you even got to your complex, you don’t remember if you locked your car or not as you entered your apartment, your lost gaze just not centering on anything. You threw the keys on the counter, just simply dropping them somewhere as your feet slowly took you towards the bathroom.

He has a second job. He has a sex working job. And he has had it even before he met you, and he never quit it, and Steve said that he does it for pleasure sometimes. Was this one of the times? Right after last night with you? Maybe there was a mistake? Maybe that’s not what Eddie’s doing?

But he wasn’t home, and the fact was that he still has that job. He still does it because Steve said it as if it were a frequent thing. How many times have you messaged him or talked to him while he was with a client? Did he go to them after kissing you? Touching you? Sleeping with you? Were you not good? Were you not enough? Were you simple? Were you too complicated?

You took a deep breath in, trying to calm your heart, feeling it ripping at your chest, urging to come out of your body, to cry out, to yell into the sky and mourn. Your guts were twisting painfully, and you held your stomach just in case you had to turn around to empty your stomach out, because your world was spiraling all around you and it was making you dizzy.

Why didn’t he ever tell you about this job? Why wasn’t he honest with you from the very beginning? Maybe if he did you wouldn’t have fallen for him. Maybe if he did you would have been more cautious. Maybe if he did you wouldn’t feel like this, this sick, this dizzy, this broken. Why would he hide it from you?

You looked at your hands and saw that they were shaking at a very quick pace and you knew you were on the brink of a nervous breakdown, you could feel it. You held your chest as you tried to take deep breaths in and out again, trying to calm yourself down, trying to make everything make sense once again, trying to find a reasonable reason for everything, if there was any.

You turned to look at the sink, turning the faucet on and hunching downwards to finally wash your face, trying to make the cold water make you snap out of how bad your head was starting to hurt, how your throat felt like it was closing up at an alarming rate, and your oxygen felt like it was starting to run short. Your lungs were compressed inside your chest, making it slightly painful but nothing hurt more than your heart.

You straightened up with a heavy breath, a long pained huff, shakiness evident as you gripped onto the sink and finally, your eyes looked at your reflection. Every movement in your body stopped. Every tremble, every thought, every blood cell going through your veins, just everything froze as you stared at yourself… And the gears in your head started going backwards, even further, deeper, darker.

He lied to you. He lied to you. He lied to you.

You were never good enough, you were never going to compare, and somehow you always knew that, yet… He made you feel beautiful, confident in your clothes, confident in your makeup, confident in the way you spoke, in the way you expressed yourself, in the way you moved. He helped you. He helped you. Helped you.

HE SHAPED YOU.

“No…” You tried telling yourself as your body started rocking back and forth, not wanting to listen to your own brain, not wanting to hear the horrible things that it was saying about him because you were certain that he wasn’t evil. He wouldn’t do that to you, he wouldn’t do it, he didn’t seem capable of doing that. There was no evidence of him planning something like that.

But… He did say he always wanted to have you ‘like this’. Did he mean under him? Did he mean sexually? Did he mean… as if you were a conquest? A prize? You shook your head again, it couldn’t be. It couldn’t possibly be, not your Eddie, not your sweet and patient Eddie. Not the Eddie that made you feel like heaven yesterday, not the Eddie that made your life happier than it ever did before.

Yet, if he did go to that appointment with a private client today, did it mean he wanted to be with someone experienced? That he wanted to be with someone that knows what they’re doing? Someone prettier? Someone that actually makes him feel good? Someone that knows how to actually do that without asking? A regular?

HE GOT YOU. HE’S DONE.

No. No. No. It isn’t like that, it wasn’t a one time thing. It was never a one time thing. It shouldn’t have been a one time thing, you weren’t going to let your brain stain every memory you had of him, because in the end he was a great friend. A great friend who lied to you, a great friend that shaped you into what he liked, a great friend that you fell for.

You were trying to deny it, you were trying really hard, you can still talk to him, you can still ask him if it were true, but you knew it was, you knew that he was fucking other people, you knew that you weren’t special, you knew he didn’t feel the same as you did. Your mind was hazy now, dark patches blocking your eyesight as you felt the all too well burning sensation in them.

Your breathing started coming out of your mouth in huge gasps as you rocked back and forth, still looking at your reflection, looking at who you were now, looking at how different you are from before, looking at what you thought was what you actually wanted to look like… But what if it was never that? What if it was a plan all along? What if he saw it as a challenge? What if you were a challenge and he just wanted you perfect to his taste? This wasn’t you. This wasn’t you. This isn’t you.

HE MOLDED YOU.

A rough groan ripped from your throat as you pushed yourself away from the sink, tumbling out of the bathroom and rushing towards your kitchen, almost breaking a drawer out as you took your plastic bags out, your breathing heavy, angry, chest puffing out and down again, pain rushing all over your body like a sharp electric sting, hurting every place, every joint, every organ. Your feet ran towards your room as you looked all around, your eyes red from burning, your mind now in a dark cloud full of thunder.

You opened a plastic bag and rushed towards your vanity, putting your hand on the desk to start dragging every makeup product you bought for the past two months, grunts and pained whines escaping your throat as you pushed every mascara, lipstick, blush down into the bag.

You opened the drawers of it, now grabbing onto every piece of accessory you got, every little summer scarf he told you that looked good on you, every single thing he complimented you in was going into the bag. You can’t use that, you never used that, you didn’t know how to use any of this, so why keep lying, why keep being someone you are not for the sake of someone else?

You angrily pushed yourself off the vanity, making it rock back and forth and you stared now at your closet. You immediately grabbed another bag and you rushed towards it, flinging it open in a desperate move, getting hold of all the shirts he told you would look good in. All the jeans he helped you buy. All the sweaters he told you will look good on you in the winter.

Your tears were now running down your eyes as you threw each article of clothing into the bag, leaving behind your old stuff, your old shirts, your old jeans, your old pants, who you truly were, where you truly belonged. Secure, safe, and comfortable. You then flung the other side of the closet and your eyes widened when you saw all the jackets you never thought of buying before.

Everything was being taken off the hanger and thrown into a new bag, everything had to go, everything that reminded you of him had to go. Everything that smelled remotely like him, anything that held a memory of him had to go. All the skirts, one by one were being thrown into the bag, the shorts as well, and then the dresses. Things you never wore before in your life, the only time being your prom night.

You started ripping them out of your closet, throwing them all into a new bag, until you finally held onto one garment. A very specific one. You looked at it as you were about to throw it in, the purple color catching your eye as you straightened up to hold onto it with both of your hands. Tears came down your cheeks as you stared at the purple dress in your grasp.

Your first ever article of new clothing. The first time he complimented you. The first time he twirled you. The first time he took you in. The first time you felt confident in something you never wore before… And it was all fake. Everything was fake. He saw you as a hard conquest, and he got you, and even shaped you into what he wanted, making you desirable for him.

You sobbed harshly as you let your emotions finally rip from your chest, as you came down from your anger, from your thunder and all that was left was heavy rain. All that’s left is this pain in your chest of your first time feeling something you never thought you would feel, only to be ripped away seconds later. All that’s left… it’s this purple dress.

And you will still throw it into the bag.

End of part 7

A/N: I know it isn't as long as last one or the ones before, but next one is the last chapter, so... I hope I didn't hurt you all too much with this.

I hope you liked this chapter and always reblog your artists!

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