#granted it's not like i like him that much

[cupid-styles]

bodyguardrry x stripper!y/n?

pink pony club

in which harry is a bodyguard at the club y/n dances at

word count: 2.8k

content warnings: spicy content, minor violence, a small unwanted touching scene, smut (thigh riding, spitting, dirty talk, breast play, one "sir" mention, minor slapping......I think that's it gkdfjgkjd)

masterlist | talk to me

. . .

Harry doesn’t care much about his job.

He’s not all that interested in working night shifts that start at 8:30 p.m. and don’t end until 4 a.m. He’s not tempted by the constant flow of alcohol, the endless lines of powder that decorate the bartop and booth tables, and the half — and sometimes fully — naked girls that make their money by twirling around oiled up stripper poles and sweet-talking businessmen. 

His job as a bodyguard is simply a means to an end. A paycheck. A way to survive. 

Unless Y/N is working.

The second she started at Pink Pony Club, it felt as if his world brightened up. She emitted an effervescent pink hue everywhere she went, bathing Harry in it with her bright smile and sweet eyes. He’s always kept a special eye on her — while he didn’t care for the logistics of his job, he took the safety of the dancers seriously, and Y/N was no exception. In fact, maybe she was the exception. 

He was the only dancer he watched. She was the only one he spoke to. His pretty, shy, pink girl. 

When she took one-on-one dances in the Red Room, he was the guard she asked to accompany her. He never minded. No, he dropped everything to be there with her, even if it meant standing there stoically, watching as she grinded on the lap of a man that would tip her too little. 

If it were him, he would never take her perfect presence for granted. 

He would sit back and let her take her time. Shower her in every compliment his brain could churn out. He’d comply with the strict no touching rule, but god, if his hands wouldn’t tremble at his sides. He’d have to sit on them to stop himself from doing something stupid.

Sometimes, it’s what he wished those grimy men would do. Like this piece of shit, who’s been shelling out hundred after hundred dollar bills to keep Y/N locked away in the Red Room all night. It’s been hours and the guy can barely keep his head up straight. From Harry’s spot in front of the door, he can tell Y/N’s tired and in need of a break. And when the song comes to a crawling end, he’s ready to step in and tell the guy to get lost, but he’s already digging in his pocket for his wallet. Harry grits his teeth as he watches Y/N’s shoulders fall. 

“Another one,” the idiot mutters, stuffing three hundred dollars in the waistband of her panties. Y/N jerks away from his touch and the man stills, flashing her a confused expression. “What? I’ve paid you your entire yearly salary tonight and I can’t put some fuckin’ money in your panties?”

Harry’s fists ball up at his sides, already taking heavy strides towards them as Y/N’s mumbling out, “you’re not allowed to touch the girls.”

“Oh, give me a fuckin’ break,” he wails, sending a look of disbelief to Harry, as if he should agree with him. “This girl’s a cocktease!”

Harry snorts and Y/N shuffles off the man’s lap. He stands in front of her, creating a physical barrier between the two. 

“You heard her, you’re not allowed to touch any of the girls. Doesn’t matter how much money you’ve paid.” Harry says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Are you gonna get lost or are we gonna have a problem?”

The guy rolls his eyes. “You’re telling me you’re always here watching over this one and you’ve never once copped a feel? She’s out with her fuckin’ ass and tits out and you—”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish whatever disgusting sentence was coming out of his mouth because Harry’s already pulling him up by the shirt collar. The guy yelps as Harry’s strong grip yanks him off the couch and he scoffs, resisting the urge to spit in his face.

“Disgusting piece of shit.” he mutters, throwing him up against the maroon velvet wall. “You know that? You think you can fucking talk about her like she’s some kind of object?”

“She’s a stripper!” he exclaims, raising his hands up in mock defense. 

“I don’t fucking care,” Harry growls, “She could be an escort for all I care, but you don’t touch anyone without their fucking permission. Especially her. Do you fucking hear me?”

“Yeah, man, whatever! It’s all good, I promise!”

“Oh, it’s all good?” he mocks, keeping him pushed up against the wall with his hand up against his chest. His other arm cocks back and his hand forms a tight fist, his knuckles white as hot adrenaline courses through his veins. He’s ready to beat this guy until he’s unrecognizable — until he hears it. 

A small, quiet whimper of his name. 

Immediately, he turns around. Y/N stands behind him, looking small and helpless with glassy eyes. Again, she repeats his name. “Harry,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s not worth it, I don’t wanna lose my job. Just let him go.”

And just like that, he does.

He lowers his fist, his hand unfurls around the cheap fabric of his button-up, and he’s free to go, scrambling out of the Red Room before Harry has the chance to tell the other bodyguards to escort him out. But he doesn’t care. All he cares about is the teary eyed girl with trembling fingers. 

“Baby,” he breathes, fear surging through his chest as he wraps a tender arm around her waist. He sits onto the crushed velvet bench and pulls her into his lap, keeping a soothing hand placed at the small of her waist. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

She quickly shakes her head, allowing the tears to flow a bit more freely now. “I-I’m okay. Just scary.”

“I know,” he mumbles, biting his lip. “Was it— did I scare you?”

“No, no. I know you were just… trying to protect me.” she says softly, blinking her eyes at him.

“I was, sweetheart. I promise. I would never do anything to hurt or scare you.”

She nods. “I know.”

“How much longer do you have left of your shift? I can take you home. You shouldn’t be working when you’re upset.”

Y/N glances down at the watch around Harry’s wrist, nibbling on her bottom lip as she thinks. It’s already 2, which means the club closes in less than three hours.

“Just another hour. I can make it,” she replies as she straightens her posture in his grasp. “I’m just… I don’t think I’m ready to go back out there yet.”

“That’s fine. We can stay here as long as you’d like.” And he’d certainly knock out anyone who threatened to give her shit for it.

They sit in silence for a bit and Harry keeps a protective arm looped around her waist the entire time, drawing soft circles into her exposed hip. He feels relief at knowing that she doesn’t express discomfort at being in his arms and frankly, if it were up to him, she’d never leave them.

Harry’s torn from his thoughts when she runs her fingers over the expanse of tattoos that cover his arms. Glancing down, he watches as her manicured nails slowly float from the anchor on his wrist all the way up to the ship on his bicep. He swallows, staying impossibly still as she analyzes the ink. Eventually, she lands on the cursive A on his shoulder.

“Girlfriend?” she asks, peering up at him. He shakes his head.

“Mum,” he murmurs, “Do you have any tattoos?”

Y/N nods. “One.”

Harry’s tongue peeks out to moisten his lips as he maintains heavy-lidded eye contact with her. He’s seen nearly every bit of her skin and prickles form in his stomach, thinking about where her hidden tattoo could be. 

“What is it?”

Slowly, she shifts off of his lap to stand in front of him. Using deft fingertips to peel the waistband of her lacey lingerie down, she reveals a simple red rose inked into her skin, just above where her mound begins. Harry swallows harshly at the sight. 

“Do you like it?” 

Harry huffs out a laugh. “Gorgeous.” he mumbles.

“I was thinking about getting another one,” she breathes as she shimmies the fabric just a bit lower. She taps the small patch of skin across from the rose. “An H, maybe.”

“That would be a silly decision, sweetheart,” he says lowly, leaning back against the bench and spreading his legs a little wider. “You don’t want an initial for the guy who beats up idiot losers.”

“I do, though. I love knowing you’re there to protect me.” she replies. Briskly, she climbs back into his lap, this time straddling his waist and placing her knees on either side of him. As if on instinct, he wraps his arms around her to steady her, pressing one palm to the back of her thigh. 

“I’ll always be there to protect you,” he mumbles, chest tightening as she leans closer. Her lips are centimeters away and it makes his breath catch in his throat. His throat bobs as he swallows, angling his head ever so slightly to minimize the small gap between them, and then he whispers: “Stop me if it’s too much.”

“It’s not,” she’s so close to him that her breath ghosts over his plush lips, “Kiss me. Please.”

That’s all he needs to seal their lips, her shaky hands finding purchase at the back of his neck. It feels so special to have her hands on him as their lips meld; slowly at first, and then she’s straightening her back to push her chest forward, desperate to be closer, closer, closer. 

It feels like their only source of oxygen is coming from one another. Harry’s hands grip her ass firmly, squeezing the plump skin in his palms. He’s content with keeping things here at a steady PG-13 level until her wet mouth breaks away for just a moment, only long enough to murmur, “touch me, I need it.”

A groan oscillates from his throat as his hands travel down to her neck, her shoulders, her chest, and then finally her breasts. His hands find the covered peaks of her nipples and she inhales sharply, shuddering beneath his touch. He smirks as he settles on the right side of her chest, using his thumb to gently brush over her nipple. She straightens her spine and leans into the sensation as he slowly rubs it back and forth. 

"Always gonna keep you safe. You know that?” Harry mumbles into her mouth, licking at the seam of her lips. Her eyes squeeze shut and her thighs threaten to close around his wide, spread legs. “Uh-huh,” she nearly whines. He swallows as he watches her, noticing her quick descent into desperation. He gives her nipple a soft squeeze before quickly pausing to unhook her bra and toss it to the floor. He resumes his teasing just a moment later, leaning forward and attaching his lips to the hard bud. A quiet, shaky mewl falls from her swollen lips. He parts with a pop but only to spit messily onto the peak. She gasps when he takes her nipple into his mouth again, hissing as he bites the skin. It’s not hard or long enough to elicit any real pain, just a sweet sizzle in her stomach that makes her tug at the curled ends of his hair. He chuckles softly at her reaction before licking over the bite and tucking the bud back between his lips. Once he’s gotten his fix, he removes his hand from her breast and moves it up to her mouth. "Open." he commands. As if under a spell, her bottom lip drops open and Harry pushes two of his fingers inside, pressing them down against her tongue. "Dirty little mouth, hm?" He murmurs. She nods submissively and he grins, "Suck." She closes her lips, encasing his long fingers in her mouth as she begins to slowly bob up and down, taking them further. His fingertips make contact with her throat, eliciting a short gag as the muscles contract slightly around them. Quickly, he removes them. "Did I hurt you?" She shakes her head and reaches up to wipe away some of the drool that had escaped her mouth. "No. I like it." "Are you lying, baby?" He asks, moving her hair over her shoulder, "This isn't fun for me if you're just doing what you think I want." "I'm not lying, I promise. I like it." Harry's lips curl into a smirk. "Tell me what else you like, then." As she opens her mouth, he shifts his thigh between her legs, the muscles flexing firmly against her core. She gasps, though Harry pretends like he hadn't done anything, instead nodding at her shortly; an encouragement to follow his directions. "I like gagging on your fingers." She whines as he begins to move his thigh back and forth, just slow enough to create some friction between their bodies. "Yeah? What else do you like?" "You," she whimpers, gently rocking her hips against his jean-clad thigh, "When you keep me safe.” "Ah, my pretty baby likes feeling protected?” She nods as she begins to quicken my movements. He stills her hips but before she has a chance to whine about it, he mumbles out a "budge up, baby" so he can slip her panties off her legs. She resists the urge to hiss at the contact, her stomach tightening at the feeling of his thigh muscle against her. For a moment, he inspects the sodden underwear, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “You made quite the mess in these, baby. What got you so turned on?” She swallows harshly, her chest shaky. “Y-you. Seeing you threaten that guy for me.” He smirks but decides to leave it at that, feeling the desperate warmth radiating from her core. "Go 'head," he mumbles, leaning back. "Let me see you use me." She feels her hole contract at his words, mentally cringing as he chuckles. He feels how needy she is and he absolutely loves it. Slowly, she starts to grind against his thigh, holding in pathetic whimpers at the solid surface making contact with her clit. Harry tsks when he notices her roll her lips into her mouth. She looks down as he moves his hand towards her lower half, momentarily excited that he’ll pet at her the way she’s craving. The dream is short lived when he parts her pussy lips instead to look at the wet mess between them. "Don't hide your sounds," he scolds, pressing the pad of his fingertip to her clit, rolling it in small circles. "They're too pretty.”

She nods, prepared to continue her movements when she gasps out in surprise. Harry had delivered a swift slap to her clit — not painful enough to ask him to stop, but just enough to deliver a sizzling sensation to her core. "Tell me you'll moan for me." "I will, sir," she whines, rutting helplessly against his hand. He smirks and pinches the skin at her inner thigh before nodding again, a wordless order to continue. Hesitantly, she rocks her hips, building up a slow and intentional pace that hits her clit at the perfect angle. She’s dripping now, embarrassingly so, and making a mess both between their legs and on Harry's, but she’s too turned on to care. There’s something about knowing he’s watching her get off and doing exactly what he asks of her that sends her to another dimension. It’s not long before she feels a familiar tightening in her stomach. They’d built each other up and up and up, teasing one another until they could barely stand it, so she’s not surprised when her muscles started to clench, pathetic gasps falling from her swollen lips. "Is my good girl gonna cum?" Harry teases from beneath her. She nods jerkily, her nails digging into his stomach. "Let me see. Cum all over my leg, baby. Make a mess." Harry's dirty talk is finally what does her in. With a few more rocks of her hips, she’s in heaven, whimpering out calls of his name as she peaks. He holds her hips to keep me on his leg as she bounces helplessly through her orgasm, her eyes slowly blinking open to find a smirk on his face when she finally begins coming down. "You're heaven sent, y'know that?" he mumbles. Y/N laughs breathily as she shakes her head, her blushy gaze falling to his lap. He thumbs at her bottom lip and gently nudges her chin up. “Lemme take you home tonight,” he whispers, cupping her cheek in his palm, “I wanna take care of you.” She nods. “Yeah, okay. You’ll wait for me to finish my shift?” “Of course,” he murmurs as he presses his forehead against hers. “Always.”

#writing #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles one direction #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #hary styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #one direction #fine line #harry's house #bodyguardrry #i went through ridiculous things to post this #i hope you all like it lmao

[oh-theseus]

bloody stones

pairing: astarion x gn!reader, astarion x gn!tav summary: you nearly die and astarion still can't bring himself to be honest with you. word count: 4,018 a/n: first time trying to write for astarion (or just bg3 in general) & i'm not sure it came out how i wanted it to, BUT i hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless <333 i kind of wrote this to be like a background for a future thing i think... but no promises bc i am anything if not inconsistent 😭

warnings: descriptions of blood & injury, canon typical violence, mentions of past abuse. lmk if i should add more!

You were fairly certain you had never been as close to death as you currently were. Even while trapped inside of the nautiloid ship, you had felt like you would make it out. Granted, that might have been because you thought Lae’zel was going to kill you if you died, but still. Even then, on a ship that was actively crashing from hundreds of miles in the sky, you’d thought you’d make it out.

That hope is nowhere to be found as Z’rell drives her ax into your lower leg. You have been injured in battle dozens of times but this is the first time your injury has ever made you fall to your knees within three seconds of receiving it. There is next to no pain at first, but then she pulls her ax from your leg, and it feels like… well, like your leg was just split open.

Blood gushes down your leg, and you can’t stand up again, but by the grace of one of the gods, you manage to block her next attack. Her ax meets the blade of your sword with a loud clang that you can hear over the sounds of other blades clashing and spells being conjured. Anger blazes in Z’rell’s eyes and she surges her weapon further with as much strength as she can muster. You met her with the same effort, but you’re losing so much blood so fast. You’re not nearly as strong as she is.

A noise that is somewhere between a cry and a grunt falls from your lips. But you are certain this is it. You’ll die here. In Moonrise Towers with a parasite wiggling within your skull. You’ll die in a blighted land and your friends will go on without you. If they survive, that is. You can feel your arms wobbling, about to give out. Her ax will come down on your neck and you’ll sit here choking on your own blood until you die. Maybe she’ll dig the Illithid parasite out of your skull and consume it just as your Dream Guardian had urged you to do so many times before. You doubt Z’rell would have qualms about it though - if fact, she might just keep you alive while she digs around in your skull. She seems like the type.

But then there’s an arrow embedded in Z’rell’s neck. And now she’s the one choking on her blood, her weapon faltering. You don’t have time to be grateful, not when she’s determined to make a killing blow and take you out with her. It takes all of your effort to roll out of the way, her ax bouncing off of the bloody stone floor where your head had just been seconds previous. Your head is spinning from the movement, and your leg feels like dead weight, but you manage to draw your dagger and shove it deep into the disciples stomach.

Z’rell falls to her knees. Then forward, onto her face. Dead. 

Hands are underneath your arms, dragging you away from the rest of the battle before you even have time to process that you aren’t dead. You have half a mind to kick and struggle, but when you try to push the hands off of your body you stop your fighting. You know these hands.

“Astarion,” you choke out, tilting your head upwards to see him above you, carefully dragging you behind a turned over table. You can feel a trail of blood being left by your leg; for a moment you wonder if Astarion had smelled your blood before he saw it.

“Don’t talk,” Astarion scolds, propping your back against the table. Blood is splattered on his face and armor, his bow slung across his body. Your eyes shift to his quiver where only three arrows remain. If you weren’t so busy trying not to pass out from blood loss, you might have told him you were right when you’d told him this morning he needed more arrows. But you can hardly convince yourself to breathe, let alone make a joke.

Astarion’s face is twisted into an expression you don’t think you’ve ever seen him wear before. There is determination there as he examines your wound, cursing beneath his breath. There’s concern too. But something else dances in his crimson eyes that makes you tilt your head to the side curiously. 

Fear.

Astarion is scared. 

“How bad?” you force out, leaning your head back against the overturned table. Your eyes lock on the ceiling of Moonrise. This had been a temple once. Briefly, as you fight to keep your eyes open, you decide that it might’ve even been beautiful.

“Not terrible,” Astarion lies. You know it’s a lie, and he knows you know that, too. You might’ve looked at him, tried to assure him you would be okay if you believed it. But you’re not quite sure that you do, so you keep your eyes on the ceiling, listening to the sounds of battle slowing down behind you.

Astarion stops talking after that. Your silence and sudden interest in the ceiling is enough to make Astarion certain his heart will start beating again just so it can race in fear. But his hands are quick in grabbing a healing potion from your belt and helping you get it down. They’re faster still as he shuffles through his discarded back for cloth to press to your wound. 

Blood quickly soaks the white cloth and Astarion’s hands, but the vampire doesn’t mind. He can’t be bothered to think about how potent your blood smells, how easy it would be to just take some for himself. He is certain that if you’d been bleeding out in front of him like this when you first met that he would’ve taken every last drop of blood that he could get. But right now… Astarion wasn’t sure he had ever wanted to puke at the sight of blood more.

Astarion isn’t sure he’s ever felt a panic quite like this before. Perhaps when he’d woken up in a coffin six feet underground. Maybe when he’d realized he was a slave to an evil vampire lord. But other than that? No, Astarion had never felt fear like this. Fear that clutches him by the throat, makes his hands start to tremble. Fear that won’t let him focus on the battle coming to end. Not even to see if his companions - his friends - had survived. All he knows is you, your blood coating his hands, and terror coursing through his entire being.

He’s so consumed by his fear that he doesn’t notice you’ve finally passed out. Nor does he hear Shadowheart approach until she’s shoving Astarion away from you, her hands immediately coming to rest above the gash in your leg. She starts to mutter the words of a healing spell and even Astarion can tell that she’s completely spent, that she’s using her last bit of magic and strength to coax your skin back together.

“Wake them up,” Shadowheart hisses, her eyes still locked on your leg. “Wake them up now, Astarion!”

The near crack in Shadowheart’s voice stirs Astarion from his fear driven stupor. His hands are on your face immediately, your name falling from his lips once, twice. His fingers find the pulsepoint at your neck, and Astarion doesn’t dare to move until he feels it. It’s faint, but it is there.

But your eyes are still closed, and no matter how hard Astarion tries, you will not wake up. You’re still breathing, but it’s hard and labored, and Astarion is certain that if he looks away from you for even a moment you will be gone for good. He didn’t know much, but Astarion did know that a world without you was not one he was willing to return to.

By the grace of… something, Shadowheart manages to mend the skin of your leg. She’s exhausted and can hardly stand by the time she’s finished, but she does it. You’re still out cold, and Astarion is not sure whether to start crying or to find something else to kill to distract himself.

“It’s the blood loss,” Wyll assures him quickly, hauling Shadowheart up from the ground with her arm over his shoulders. “They’ll live. But we need to move them. Now.”

The Blade of Frontiers does not waste another moment, leading Shadowheart across the main floor of Moonrise Towers, down into the basement. Astarion doesn’t hesitate to do the same with you, his blood coated hands holding you so, so carefully.

When you wake up, you’re pretty sure you’re dead. You didn’t know what you expected the afterlife to hold, but it certainly was not a stone floor and the smell of mildew. For a second you think that maybe you could be somewhere else (somewhere where you are not dead) but you can’t think very clearly right now. All you can feel is a distant throbbing in your head and a bone deep cold. Your leg… You could feel your leg. That was good, considering the last thing you could recall before passing out was taking Z’rell’s ax to your shin.

And Astarion. You remembered his familiar grip, pulling you to safety. You remembered his crimson eyes, the fear you’d seen in them. But that was it. You didn’t remember passing out or how light you had felt while blood seeped from your leg. For a moment, it troubles you that you can’t remember. But if this was truly your eternal resting place… maybe it was a good thing you couldn’t remember. You’re not sure that it's really something you’d enjoy dwelling on for the rest of eternity.

You’re not sure how long you lay there. You don’t move your body, and your eyes keep falling closed every once in a while. You feel lightheaded, yet impossibly heavy at the same time. All you can bring yourself to do is stare at the ceiling. Maybe there is a god here, because you’re gifted the memory of doing the very same thing before passing out the first time. And this ceiling looks remarkably similar to the one in Moonrise Towers.

That voice, too. The one you can hear in the distance - almost as if they are shouting for you from the other room. The voice is so similar to…

“Astarion?” You breathe out, your eyes finally shifting away from the ceiling. They fall instead to the person beside you. At first, they’re just a jumble of white curls and red eyes. But then your vision clears and so does your hearing. Astarion’s repeating your name, asking if you can hear him. All you can do is nod. At least you know you’re alive, though. Or at least, you’re pretty sure. Your brain is still foggy. The lingering effects of blood loss? Or perhaps one too many healing potions?

You somehow manage to force yourself into a sitting position. Astarion’s right hand splays against your lower back carefully, his left one hovering in front of your body to catch you if you fold in on yourself. When you straighten your back, the room spins so fast you’re certain that Gale’s cast a spell to make it do that. Your hands grip Astarion’s left arm to keep from falling over.

“Easy, easy,” Astarion says softly. You’re not certain of many things right now, but you are certain that you have never heard Astarion use that tone before. One so gentle, so soft. Even when he’d told you of Cazador and the scar that tainted his back. 

“I’m okay,” you reply after a moment. Your hands still grip his arm but neither of you seem to mind it. “I’m okay, promise.” The sentiment is just as much for yourself as it is for Astarion.

Astarion only hums in reply. His eyes are flickering over your face. Like he’s taking you in for the first time - or perhaps even the last. His hand on your back is a welcome weight and the feeling of his forearm under your fingertips keeps you grounded. This is real. You are here.

You are alive.

“Holy shit,” you curse. Your eyes widen and your breathing slowly begins to pick up. You’d been so close to dying, to bleeding out in a cursed land so far from home. You’d never thought you’d be one to care so much about something like this, but the fear that you could’ve died is gripping you by the throat, pinning you beneath its clutches. 

Astarion notices this. Of course he notices. He notices everything about you. The way your eyes crinkle when you laugh. How you shift your weight from foot to foot when unsure about something. How your hands flex when you’re growing frustrated. So of course he notices your breathing picking up, your grip on his arms becoming just slightly tighter.

“You’re okay, you’re okay. You need to breathe, love.” He says your name softly then, still in that foreign tone of his. The hand at your back comes up to cup your face, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone. “Breathe,” his voice is firmer now, one you’re used to from him. Maybe it’s that tone of his that compels you to listen. Maybe it’s his hand cradling your face like you might slip away as soon as he lets you go. Or maybe it’s the fact that his eyes are still swimming with that fear you’d seen before you lost consciousness.

It takes a few moments, but you manage to even out your breathing. Those invisible claws at your neck retract, fading into the shadows of the room. The basement of Moonrise Towers, you realize. That was why the ceiling looked similar to the one upstairs. 

Everything returns to you then. The battle, Ketheric, the ax, the amount of blood you’d lost. Astarion’s arrow in Z’rell’s neck.

“You killed her,” you say, as if Astarion had not killed dozens of other enemies during your travels. “Nice aim.”

Astarion visibly deflates as soon as the joke leaves your lips. Your lips quirk into the smallest of smiles despite yourself. But then Astarion retracts his hand from your face, and that small smile falls away slowly. Astarion pretends not to notice it. You pretend like you don’t either; your attention shifts to your right leg, studying the skin exposed by the large tear in your pants. You make a mental note to find new pants.

Your hand trembles slightly as you remove it from Astarion’s arm and bring it down on your leg. Gingerly, you pull the ruined fabric back more and take in where the wound should have been. Instead, your skin looks near perfect. There is a thin scar from where Shadowheart’s healing had knitted the skin together but that is the only indication that your flesh had been torn apart that very same day.

“For a woman who worshiped the Lady of Loss, Shadowheart was rather good at keeping me - us from losing you.”

Your eyes shift to Astarion’s at his slip. You try to not let your face fall when he pulls his arm from beneath your other hand. He leans back in the chair that matches the table you’re laid out on top of, crossing his arms and screwing his face into that expression you’ve grown to recognize as a mask. A flash of hurt floods through you. Selfishly, you wonder how much more you will need to do to prove yourself before Astarion finally, finally trusts you.

“Shadowheart is a good healer,” you say instead of what you want to say. You want to comment on him being scared. You want to point out that he had literally saved your life. You want to tell him that that is not something you just do for someone you’re looking at with sheer indifference. “I think you’re the only one who doubts her.” Your own tone has changed. Despite the hurt in your heart, your tone is sharp.

“I do not doubt her, my dear. I don’t trust her. There is a difference,” Astarion replies with a wave of his hand. You don’t like this game. You hate this game. Why must he insist on playing it?

“Do you trust anyone, Astarion?”

If you were anyone else, Astarion would’ve had a quick retort. Or if you’d said it with anger in your voice. But you’re you and the question comes out with far less frustration than you had wanted it to. Instead, you sound sad. Hurt. And somehow, seeing you look like this is almost as bad as watching you bleed out. He predicts your next words before you say them, but he still winces at them all the same.

“Do you trust me?”

Your question hangs in the air between the two of you. Maybe it’s the lack of blood in your system that makes you say it. You never would have dared to ask something so vulnerable just a few feet from the rest of your companions normally. Maybe it’s the fact that you had almost died. Almost died with so many unsaid words swimming through your mind. Maybe that’s why you say it. Or maybe you’re just tired of not knowing what Astarion is truly thinking and feeling.

“You know I care for you,” Astarion replies after a moment. And you do know - how could you not when you’d seen his fear at the prospect of losing you with your own two eyes. How could you not know that he cared for you when he was so gentle every time he took your blood? How could you not know that he cared for you when he had sat beside you on sleepless nights? 

But that was not what your question was. 

“That’s not what I asked.” You intend to sound firm still. You fail, though, and you sound every bit as hurt and frustrated as you feel. “Why not?” Why didn’t he trust you? Or better, why did he not trust you enough? He trusted you enough to tell you about Cazador and what his former master had done to him. But he didn’t trust you enough to be honest about his emotions - especially his emotions towards you. Why? Why?

You watch as Astarion shifts in his seat. At first, you think he’s going to get up and walk away from you. Instead, he shifts forward, and his left hand finds yours. Your eyes fall to where your skin meets, they watch as Astarion holds your hand on top of his gently. His own attention is drawn to it, watching carefully as his other hand fidgets with your fingers.

“I thought you were going to die.”

His confession is soft, heartfelt. You might even be able to convince yourself he sounds like he might cry. But when he looks up to meet your eyes again, his crimson eyes are clear of tears. But there is pain there. Pain and torment and that fear. 

“I thought you were going to die and I would… And I would have to live with -” He gestures to himself with his hand that had been fidgeting with your fingers. “This.”

Your eyebrows knit together at his words, but you say nothing. You had long since learned that when Astarion was on the verge of opening up, it was best to let him get the words out on his own. Pressuring him had never gotten you anywhere. Well, except for right now. Every other time it had been entirely fruitless. 

“You have shown a kindness to me that I am unfamiliar with. With Cazador… His version of kindness was letting me eat instead of starving. But it always had a price. Always,” he can’t look at you anymore, instead looking intently at your hand in his. “Your kindness - I am learning - comes freely.”

“You are waiting for the other boot to drop,” You say, understanding what he is trying to tell you without directly saying it. When he nods, you swallow thickly. Words seem to fail you as you search desperately for the right thing to say. But there are no words that feel good enough.

Astarion also seems to be at a loss for words. Carefully, you place your hand not holding his under his chin and tilt his face upwards, so that your eyes meet once more. Your hand slides to cup his cheek, and your heart swells when you feel him press into your touch gently. 

“I am not him.”

Astarion’s eyes close at your words. He doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, doesn’t do anything except sit there for a long moment. So long that you think he isn’t going to reply. But then he turns his head, and he kisses the palm of your hand. Then where your hand meets your wrist. Then the inside of your wrist. As he places the third kiss to your skin, you let your hand fall away and watch as he picks it up with his free hand.

He doesn’t say it, but you know he understands. He knows you are not Cazador. And you don’t say it, but he knows you understand. You know he is trying. And neither of you say it, but both of you see those three words swimming in each other’s eyes. But you both know they’re there.

“Thank you,” you say after a long minute. “For not letting me die. Not that I expected you to, but…”

But you knew he wouldn’t have saved you a few weeks ago. 

“I mean it. Thank you.”

The fear in Astarion’s eyes finally melts away and that smirk of his falls onto his lips. But this was not his mask - no, this was his real joy. His real happiness at your not being dead and at being able to let a joke slip past his lips knowing you didn’t expect anything because of it.

“I can think of a few ways you could show that gratitude,” he says suggestively. A smile of your own spreads across your face, despite the color that floods it, too. Weakly, you shove his hands off of yours and roll your eyes at him. “You are welcome. I’ll save you a thousand times over if it means I get to see your smile once more.”

“Oh, don’t get soft on me now,” You say through your grin. But you’d like nothing more. A soft Astarion meant a healed one, a safe one. If that meant you were subjected to a few sappy lines here and there, you wouldn’t mind it.

“Hard to be soft with you around.”

“Astarion,” You hiss, realizing the joke you’ve walked yourself right into. For a second you debate getting off of the table and smacking him over the head, but when you shift your leg just slightly, that dizziness returns and has you gripping the edge of the table. 

Astarion is on his feet within a moment, noticing the change in you as soon as it happens. His hand has returned to your back, steadying you as the room starts to spin again. With your head a little clearer now, you recognize the feeling as similar to what you feel when Astarion drinks from you. With how strongly you’re feeling it… you don’t want to think about how much blood you must have lost.

“Rest. Please,” Astarion says in that soft voice again. And truly, who are you to deny him when he’s being so gentle? You let him coax you onto the table, onto the soft pile of fabrics you hadn’t realized had been under your head until just now. You want to stay conscious, to talk to Astarion more, but as soon as you’ve settled back down, you realize just how tired you are.

When you stir hours later, you’re tucked into your bedroll within your tent. And Astarion is sitting not far from you, reading. You don’t say anything as sleep overtakes you again, but you’re pretty certain you could get used to waking up to the sight of Astarion.

And Astarion’s pretty certain he wouldn’t mind it either.

you can join my taglist by clicking here!!

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion ancunin x tav #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #bg3 x reader #bg3 x tav #x reader #gn!reader #shadowheart #wyll

[fuckmyskywalker]

18+ smut, dead dove do not eat, hitman!Anakin, noncon/dubcon, mentions of murder, knife play, minor gun use.

Might do this a little series... we all know I don't do well with multi-parts. If anyone has done this au (hitman!Anakin) let me know! <3.

"Please, don't kill me— I'll... I'll do anything."

His hand twists the knife while you talk, as if he was toying with your future. Is a delicate situation; he decides if live... or die.

"I'll double the price, I can pay so much more than whoever hired you," Your voice is desperate, but Anakin cannot blame you. Your life is on the line, your clock is ticking.

Your hands are shaking and your lip is wobbling. Anakin lowers his weapon, letting you breathe for a moment— completely unaware of the gun on his belt— He came with a task, it was pretty simple but... deep down he imagined you'd try to bribe him, that's why he made enough noise to wake you up after he murdered your guards. His client already paid, and he did it upfront. Poor idiot.

But to be honest, now that he has you in front of him, dressed in a sheer nightgown, reeking of fear and uncertainty— Anakin notices how pretty you are.

"You'll pay three times the amount," He declares, his one and only offer before he draws a smile on your neck. "Unless you want daddy dearest to find you rooting on your lovely canopy." Dangerously, he circles your bed, standing next to you and smirking when he sees you scoot away. His single gloved hand reaches for his ski mask, lifting it over his head.

Your gasp is more than satisfying, more than anything money can buy— is the way your eyes widen at the sight of his blue orbs, his chiseled features and his blonde curls falling down his face. Oh, is like a spectacle he barely gets to experience. Normally he wouldn't grant such pleasure to his victims. Let them burn in hell without knowing who sent them there.

In a quick swift move, Anakin lifts the knife over his head, licking his lips when he sees you flinch and raise your arms in fear. You wait for the burning pain, for the sudden pierce of skin and the bloody mess— but it never arrives. Shaking, you open one eye, and even if your vision is blurred by frightened tears you manage to discern the sight of your freshly stabbed mattress.

"Money is not enough, sweetheart," Anakin coos, touching your face and caressing your cheeks. "I was supposed to take your life, but I'll have to take something else instead."

"What do you want from me?" You sob, lowering your hands. Deep down you know is pointless to fight. You are under the mercy of a clear psychopath. He brushes your tears and you wince, scared of the sudden act of kindness— it has to be fake. He is just toying with you.

"Don't be so shy, if you forget about yourself for a while you might enjoy it," His voice shouldn't be as attractive as it is, as sultry and alluring as it sounds. "You see that handle?" Anakin points with his chin at the knife piercing the expensive mattress. "You'll lift your cute nightgown and ride it. Imagine is a cock, I'm sure you've done it before. If I like how you do it, I'll let you ride my cock. If I like how it, then I'll let you live."

"You cannot possibly ask me to—"

Your words die in your throat the second he presses the gun against your temple. Replaced by a weak squeal, you close your eyes picturing the messy and bloody pieces of brain and flesh staining your precious wood floors.

"Yeah, I know you don't like to listen, princess. You either fuck me or die."

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya mumbles! #hitman!anakin #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker au #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin x you #anakin x reader #anakin smut

[bu-blegh-ost]

Something just occured to me. Circling through each beautiful moment in the campaign, I noticed a pattern. Gillion never initiates hugs. Every time, no matter if he is the one consoling or the one being consoled, he never is the first person to offer an embrace. And I think it says something.

When Jay wants to hug Gill, she always asks first. She opens her arms as an invitation and always gives him a clear sign that she wants to be close to him. And any time she offers, anytime Gillion gets permission, any time he feels like he is allowed one, he clings to her desperately and fully, starved for it, finding himself unable to let go too quickly, savoring it like he isn't sure when he is going to be allowed to have another.

Chip's hugs are unprompted and usually done with just as much desperation. They are completely controlled by emotion, and are a form of a language that Chip uses when love and appreciation cannot be expressed by words anymore. Chip never asks for hugs, he takes them. He needs them, so he is scared to ask like Jay does, cause asking means risking to be denied. It is safer to steal it. In contrast Jay is still asking cause she is still afraid of taking love for granted.

But they both, in the end, ask for hugs and comfort in their own ways. Gillion doesn't. He wants it, he needs it so often, but he never dares to ask for it. Cause he still treats love as a reward that he needs to earn, that he is not allowed to ask for, that can't be had, unless he does something that makes him worthy of being loved. Affection and love is a currency and Gill was taught that he needs to fight for it. That it's something he should never dare to request on his own.

How many times on their journey did he need to feel someone else's body close to his, but his lips were sealed, suffering in silence, thinking he Has not done well enough to be given the privalage of being comforted? How many aches and worries did he swallow down and burried deep inside? How many old wounds is he trying to fill with every single hug he receives, when someone else offers it to him? When he dares to take it, when he grips their clothes in an iron grip, trying to make the best out of it before it's gone? Cause who knows when someone allows him to have that again?

The only person Gill ever hugged first was Edyn, the first time in Allport. It was done with the same ferocity of a hurt child, of a little boy who Has been going through hell and his sister is his only remedy. The only person that always lets him have love for free. The only one he knows he can hug for sure. One who for so many years has been the only source of comfort.

The rest of the world is uncertain and even with Chip and Jay, Gill still strives to fulfill the unsaid cryteria of when he is worthy of their affection.

But I know that with enough reassurance and care, he will be able to ask for love himself and start treating his crew as people he can fall back on. And just so you know, the moment in which Gillion is the first one to hug Chip or Jay is going to make me cry like a little baby.

_______

Edit: more thoughts occured

Did you notice that Jay always seems to match Gill and Chip when it comes to hugging? She never asks Chip for hugs and takes them the same way Chip does, no matter if she is the one seeking or offering comfort. And the same goes with Gill. Regardless of whether she is the one in the need of comfort or she is the one comforting, she always verbally communicates a desire to hug first. Like she kinda feels that this is what Gillion needs from her to accept it.

So maybe Jay is actually always trying to search for the most effective way to get a hug, to increase her chances. She believes she has to, cause she cannot take love for granted anymore, not after Ava's death. She took her for granted and now she is gone. So now Jay struggles to freely express her own desires and instead clings to all the ways that she thinks guarantee her the affection she needs, an act of desperation in its own right. A silent plea for acceptance.

Each Captain on this ship treats each embrace as a treasure to savor and protect. It's a result of their past and their fears, but also a proof of unyielding love they have for each other. It's beautiful and one day the same love that they still dread to take, will heal them.

#jrwi riptide #just roll with it #jrwi #gillion jrwi #gillion tidestrider #chip jrwi #jay jrwi #jrwi spoilers #jay ferin

[amerricanartwork]

RW Headcanon: "Pebbsie Privilege"

Here’s a headcanon I’ve had in the works for a while, and now I finally want to share it! It's shorter than some of my others, but I hope you'll still find it amusing!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

So firstly (and I plan to expand on this more later) I headcanon Five Pebbles is someone who cares a lot about his appearance, though not in a prissy or snooty sense and more in a “likes being the smartest and most sophisticated one in the room” sense. That means, more so than the average person, he generally doesn’t like being teased, ignored, belittled, condescended to, or otherwise disrespected, and very understandably so if you ask me! But it also means there exists a very special ability when it comes to interacting with Five Pebbles that almost no characters have. 

It’s no more than the ability of someone to refer to Five Pebbles as “Pebbsie” while he’s in earshot without getting death-glares from him. Looks to the Moon, who first started using it, affectionately calls this ability “Pebbsie privilege”, and she ends up being one of the only characters who has it (besides Innocence, who in my portrayals eventually gets it too). Though even so, Pebbles originally got rather flustered when she called him that alone, much less in front of others, considering it's definitely a very cutesy nickname. In fact, poor Pebbles really didn’t like being called “Pebbsie” because one of his least favorite ways of being treated is like a child (which includes being thought of as "cute" in any way). This unfortunately happens to him a lot though since he’s part of the newest iterator generation and tends to have lots of uncommon ideas rarely taken seriously by the older models, and this treatment only amplified as he grew more stubborn and arrogant. 

To elaborate on the origin, Moon developed the nickname pretty much on an impulse — quite a rare thing for her to act on actually — of wanting to hearken more to her role as “Big Sis Moon” and show love to her little brother. Soon after she started using it though Pebbles would pull her into private chats and urge her to drop it to save his dignity. Not wanting to hurt her brother in any way, it didn’t take long before she apologized and stopped using it, and basically got her "Pebbsie privilege" revoked. In the current time she secretly still likes calling him that in her mind, but knowing how much he dislikes it she always feels pretty guilty afterwards, despite them being no more than thoughts at that point. While not a major issue in-and-of itself, this situation was actually a small step in worsening a long-time fear Moon has, though that’s a headcanon for another day…

On a (marginally) more positive note however, after Moon’s collapse and the worsening of Five Pebbles’s rot, along with him generally reminiscing about the things he used to have (as part of yet more character headcanons I’ll elaborate on some other time), he actually began to grow fond of the nickname more and more. Yet he also couldn’t also shake the growing heartache the memories brang, as he came to see it as a reminder of his sister’s never-ending love for him and the better times he now regretted taking for granted and trying so hard to escape. While I headcanon he handles it differently in Downpour’s canon, in the worm-off-the-string AU story I’ve got so far, Moon slowly regaining her “Pebbsie privilege” and Pebbles appreciating it and no longer taking it so seriously (though he still forbids its usage in public) could serve as a small, yet sweet indicator of character growth for both of them.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Aaaand another RW headcanon done! I wanna mention, though, now that I’ve got more of an idea for the aforementioned AU I really want to start posting more of my headcanons for the Local Group, since the character interactions, histories, and ultimate character growth is perhaps one of the most important elements of that story so far. I’ve spent at least a couple weeks creating almost 40 pages worth of character notes, and while this particular one started out as just a little side-headcanon, I ended up tying it into all of that. Hopefully I can start sharing the main parts of these headcanons soon!

#art #artwork #sketch #drawing #digital #digital art #fanart #rain world #headcanons #rw headcanons #iterator #rw iterator #five pebbles #FP #rw fp #looks to the moon #LttM #rw lttm #quetzalli draws #quetzalli headcanons

[hurthermore]

Mama, i agree with the other anaon WE CRAVE THE FLUFF !!! (No force tho ur such a Pookie for writing in Gen <33)

Signed, penguin anon :3

»»------► 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑

Pairing: 𝙷𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗!𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Warnings: 𝚂𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎, 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛

A/N: 𝙵𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚖𝚊 𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝙻𝙼𝙰𝙾, 𝙱𝚄𝚃 𝙵𝙸𝙽𝙴 𝙸 𝙶𝚄𝙴𝚂𝚂 𝙸 𝙲𝙰𝙽 𝙶𝙸𝚅𝙴 𝚈𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝚂𝙾𝙼𝙴 𝙵𝙻𝚄𝙵𝙵, 𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝? 𝙸𝚍𝚔 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚗 𝚒𝚐

He always knew you’d be the death of him; he knew it from the moment he set his sights on you. You, with your charming voice, your beautiful personality, your breathtaking looks that he could get lost in for days; and the way you murdered people alongside that? You were the embodiment of perfection to Alastor.

And even as you stood before him, your clothes heavily swaying along with the strong breeze, a breeze created by the crashing of waves below the very tall cliff you were edging towards, Alastor couldn’t seem to stop following you; like a man heeding the siren's call, he was fully entranced. 

But he knew why, why he followed you here as the sounds of a raging mob could be heard in the distance of the wooded area behind the two of you; a mob that had for some unknown reason, figured out the hobbies Alastor and yourself partook in. Yet the sounds of the angry people marching towards you both wasn’t something his mind would truly register; not as you finally reached the edge of that cliff, enticing him to follow in suit as your hair swept along with the breeze before you looked back at him.

You looked so melancholy as you looked in his eyes. The dried tears sunk into the skin of your cheeks made his heart clench in pain before he finally stood beside you. His hand reaching for your face as he wiped your tears away; a gesture he would always enact for you, even in death, he would be your shoulder to lean on, to cry on, to love on, only for you.

“I will always love you, Alastor. I cannot breathe, live, or merely exist without you.” Your voice sounded so soft, so sweet as you held onto his wrist. Your words echoing through him as he registered the romanticism behind them and why you spoke them, why the two of you even made your way here in the first place. If the mob, the authorities, got ahold of either of you, Alastor would be torn away from you for the rest of his living existence.

He didn’t wish to live without you either.

And he verbalised as such. His words laced with honesty and love as he spoke words of endearment to you, telling you of his love for you, and how even in death, he will remain by your side.

Even if there would be nothing after death, you would still belong to Alastor, just as he belonged to you.

“Then, let’s leave, together.” You requested, your expression, despite being on edge from the inevitability of death that would soon embrace you, looked so content, happy in a way as you stared at him. Your hand was held out for him, waiting for him to truly show you how much he meant those words by enacting a double suicide with you.

A suicide he would grant you.

Taking your hand in his, he pulled you into his chest before he kissed you deeply with a sense of meaning, loyalty and love. To feel you kiss him back as you both stood at the edge of the cliff, a sense of sadness doused him, knowing he would never kiss you again like this, never be able to embrace you like this, and to never be by your side again like this killed him. Ironically so.

He wanted to embrace you further, to consume you further, but as the sounds of the mob became louder and louder, he reluctantly pulled away from the kiss, still embracing you before glancing at the waves pounding below.

Holding you close to him, he looked into your eyes, giving you the genuine tight lipped smile that he always did, taking in every detail of your face, memorising it before death met the two of you.

“Together, darling.”

#alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #reader insert #hazbin hotel #x reader

[lixxpix]

we can't be friends - l.mh

genre: idol!minho x reader, lovers to exes to lovers

tw: angst, hurt, breaking up, erasing of memories (almost) , mutual pining, did i mention angst, reader is kinda depressed, like two kisses ig

status: delivered !

word count: 4.0k

author's note: aaaa omd it's finally done >< reblogs + likes are appreciated!!

lee minho. your muse, your life, your heart.

he broke your heart one stormy sunday night and you hated him as you watched him leave with tears in both of your eyes.

granted, he did break your heart for your own good, to save you from the dangers of being with him. but you didn't care, not when he was your universe, your world. you would gladly take a bullet for him.

just as he would take a bullet for you.

minho knew leaving would break you, just as much as it would break him, but he needed to do it. life as an idol was already dangerous enough with all the death threats and saesangs, but the moment 'fans' caught even the slightest whiff of you they would hunt you down and hurt you, and minho simply couldn't let that happen. he knew you wouldn't care about all the danger as long as you were with him, but he did. minho would never forgive himself if something happened to you all because he had given in to his innermost wants and kept you by his side.

so he left.

november 8th, 2019, 8.46 pm.

"i want to break up." he said, one sunday night. the rain was pouring outside, flashes of thunder and lightning ringing through the sky occasionally. in the quiet and comfort of your shared apartment, with the dim glow of lamps illuminating your features, in that moment, for a split second, minho wanted to stay. he wanted to pretend everything was alright, to have you stay by his side and be happy together, but he knew he shouldn't. the two of you were eating dinner, sitting at the small round dining table in your kitchen tucking into your homemade kimchi stew. god, he would miss your kimchi stew, he thought miserably. 

"what?" your world felt like it had stopped, your hand frozen in place as you slowly tilted your head to look at your boyfriend sitting across from you.

"i... want to break up." he repeated robotically.

"minho, where is this coming from? did i do something wrong? please... just talk to me," you begged, panic starting to flood your mind as tears threatened to spill over. you couldn't believe what he had just said. the both of you had been perfectly fine before, the both of you were happy, why was he doing this? were you not good enough for him? did he fall in love with someone else? the thought alone made you weak.

"i just... it's for the best. i'm putting you in danger every day, fans will hurt you if they find out i'm with you. i can't let that happen."

"i don't care if they try to hurt me, minho. as long as i'm with you, it’s- " you reached for his hand, and could feel your heart finally sinking to the bottom as you saw his face, screwed into an expression of hurt and resignation as he shook his head.

"just... don't forget me in the future, okay?" before you could say anything, minho was already out of his seat, grabbing his coat and his phone, already reaching for the front door.

"wait! minho-" you jumped out of your seat in alarm and desperation, clinging to his arm as he looked back at you with a pained expression. 

"please- we can work this out, just don't leave me," you pleaded, tears already cascading down your face. you must've looked a pathetic mess in that moment, sniffling and sobbing, yet minho still thought you were the most beautiful person to ever exist as he memorised your face for one last time.

finally, minho turned around, cupping your face in his hands. your hands reached up to hold his, as he memorised your every detail for the last time. minho's lips found their way to your forehead, then the corner of your eyes, then your lips as he kissed you tenderly for the last time as you sobbed in his arms.  

"i'm sorry." he whispered, before pushing you back as you cried out and stumbled backwards, opening the door, walking out of the apartment and out of your life.

december 25th, 2019, 11.28 pm. 

your diary.

i still think of you, you know. i still see your face in the windows of that cafe shop we used to go to whenever i pass by. i know you're not in there, and i'm hallucinating. i can't go in there anymore, not without thinking of you. i can't even watch the television anymore without having to see your face. listened to your new comeback. that song was about me, wasn't it? 

it's christmas now. i adopted some presents for you. you would love them, the three cats. i named them soongie, doongie, and dori. quite fitting, they're playful like you. they'll never meet their father. i still wore your hoodie, the green one i always wore every christmas. you used to wear my red hoodie, but i guess you won't be here to wear it anymore. it still smells like you. 

i still wonder why you left. was such a pathetic excuse as me potentially being hurt the only reason why you would leave me? you knew i didn't care if i was hurt, so long as i was with you. you still left. i hate you for that, but deep down i could never hate you. i still love you.

january 7th, 2020, 2.35 pm.

you strolled down the busy streets of seoul, a long oversized fluffy coat resting on your shoulders and your nose pink from the cold. a sigh of relief escaped your lips when you finally stepped foot into the cozy ambience of a random cafe alongside the road, the warm air blowing gently at you helping to relieve the coldness settling into your bones. ordering a latte and a small cake which were promptly delivered to your table, you settled down to scroll through the news.

new technology developed, scientists say new machinery can effectively target and erase memories of specific people and objects. is now being offered at multiple mental health clinics nationwide at a low cost, guaranteed 90% success rate. for sign-ups and further information, please contact...

you raised your eyebrows at the news, marvelling slightly at how advanced technology seemed to be developing at this rate. thinking nothing of it, you simply continued scrolling.

january 7th, 2020, 12.02 pm.

you sighed as you flopped onto your bed, tired from a day of work and countless emails sent. feeling a warm, soft head poke it's way under your arm, you smiled softly, hand reaching out to scratch doongie's head as he meowed in content. smiling softly, you felt two large lumps jump onto your bed and settle on you, soongie choosing to settle on your feet and dori choosing to burrow his way under you arm as you giggled. 

"soongie, you're so heavy," you laughing light-heartedly as your oldest cat let out a 'meow' of indignation at your words. 

minho would love the cats so much...

your smile drooped, feeling that warm familiar sensation pricking at your eyes again. 

god, how stupid. it had been two months already and you were still hung up on him. everywhere you went, you saw his face, on advertisments at the bus stop, billboards in the shopping districts, to even advertisments on youtube, and every single time your old memories with minho would surface and you would miss him again.

memories...

oh. the news of the memory erasure experiment.

would it hurt to try? you tried imagining forgetting minho. for him to just be another face on the billboard, a random k-pop idol to you. to forget you had ever even loved him and forget that he ever loved you. the pain would be gone. your heart would no longer ache each day, you would no longer think of him and he would no longer cloud your mind.

picking up your phone, your finger hovered above the 'call' button.

"hello? this is the seoul medical psychiatry clinic speaking. how may i help you?"

"i..." you paused, gnawing at your bottom lip.

"i would like to make an appointment."

january 19th, 2020, 1.28 pm.

"welcome! do you have a booked appointment?" the receptionist greeted cheerfully as you stepped into the reception and seating area of the clinic, a large box full of items in your hands. the hallways were filled with posters and quotes, the beanbags and seats painted in warm and soothing colours. 

"yes, doctor kim at 1.35pm." you answered, watching as the receptionist typed a few words into her computer.

"ah yes, under the name yoon y/n, right?" she clicked her tongue, "for... memory erasure?" she glanced at you with a look full of sympathy, as if you were some lost wounded puppy. 

"yes." you confirmed, lips pursing together slightly as you stared down at the box.

"good, and you've got your box of items already. do double check to make sure they are linked to that specific person only, we wouldn't want any erasure of other memories woth different people."

you swallowed the lump in your throat.

"yeah, i have." 

"great, we'll be calling for you later, the doctor will run you through the procedure and then the operation will commence. take a seat first," she gestured to the seating area. not long after, you heard your name.

"yoon y/n?" 

you hurriedly stood up, making your way towards the nurse and following her into the operation room. the operation room was white and cold, lacking any warmth and colour, filled with odd looking machinery and lab coats and tools. you were sat down on a chair, and your box of items given to the nurse who began taking them out one by one while another nurse attached a few wires to your skin to a machine on the right which measured your heart rate, a steady thump-thump-thump. the first nurse began to place your items in a row, scanning each one under a machine.

beep.

minho's green hoodie.

beep.

the snow globe the both of you had bought together at a winter festival.

beep.

polariods of you and him.

beep.

a cat plushie you had gifted him in celebration of his lastest comeback before he had left.

beep.

matching mugs the two of you had bought.

minho. everything, everywhere, everyone reminded you of minho. it felt like you were drowning, consumed by him.

"alright, i'll be placing the device on your head. the device will take you through individual memories of the person, but you will have to re-experience certain bigger core memories again as those take a longer time to process. if at any point should you feel distressed or want to stop, please press the red button beside you, and should you want to restore your memories we will reload them back into your brain. however, if you choose not to restore the memories, we will automatically delete them after 30 days." the doctor explained, showing you a strange contraption with two pulse points connecting to either side of your temple.

beside you, the heart rate measured by the machine started beeping faster.

you nodded. 

the cold, tingly terminals of the device connected with either side of your temples, the unfamiliar feeling odd and alienating. 

then all turned black.

"min! look, they have matching mugs! we should get them," you pointed excitedly to two mugs at a stall in a summer fair you and minho had just happened to pass by. you watched as your old self pointed to the mugs happily, "the world's best boyfriend" and "the world's best girlfriend" written on each mug respectively. "that's so cheesy," minho said, a grin on his face as he pulled you close to him by your waist. well, the old minho in your memories. it felt like a punch in the gut yet the cure to your pain as you stared at his face again in your re-lived memory, his oh-so-familar grin plastered on his stupidly handsome face. "yeah, but it's cute!" you exclaimed, turning to face minho. "pleaseeee," you begged, lips downturned in a pout and your eyes shining hopefully as you tugged on his arm. "fine," minho groans, eventually giving in into your request, feigning annoyace by rolling his eyes yet still smiling at your delighted expression. 

god, you missed him so much.

the memory shifted, warping into another blurry picture.

this time, it was another memory that faded in, a memory of you and him sitting in the living room unwrapping your christmas presents. minho tore open his box eagerly, laughing as he held up a green hoodie from his favorite brand gifted to him by you, coupled with some other things like perfume and a brand new wallet. "oops... might've gifted you an accidental matching hoodie by accident," he smiled sheepishly, as you opened your present, some jewelry with . "a red hoodie! now we can match," you snickered, pulling the soft hoodie over your head and slipping it on. "hey, we look like the christmas colours!" you laughed, pouncing on him and tackling him down to make him wear his one as he whined in protest. eventually you did managed to get him to put it on and pose for some pictures, albeit him being disgruntled but still giving in to you anyways.

a tear trickled down your face, landing on your lap as your hands on the chair tightened, gripping the armrests so hard your knuckles started turning white.

the memory started to fade away.

"min! the new comeback was so good, i watched the music video just now," you exclaimed, bounding up to him the moment he opened the front door to your shared apartment. "thanks baby," he smiled, leaning in for a quick peck but suddenly finding a soft plushie being thrust into his hands. it was a plush of a brown and white striped cat, soft to the touch and extremely squishable. "what's this for?" he raised eyebrow, cocking his head in confusion as he stared at you. "it's to celebrate your comeback, I figured i'd give you something to cuddle when i'm not around you," you smiled, "i named the cat mr sprinkles." "who names a plush toy mr sprinkles?" minho laughs, watching as you huff at him about how the name was cute and he was being mean. "thank you though, i appreciate it," he kissed you softly, smiling at the small act of love.

no, stop-

you started to whimper and thrash around.

fade to black again.

"min, look," minho turned to you as you were admiring the ornaments at a booth, the both of you coming across a christmas market and deciding to explore it. "it's a snow globe of us," you pointed out to a small snow globe, with a man and women as figurines in the center of the snow globe and fake snow swirling in the water around them. "it does look like us, doesn't it?" he hummed, pressing a soft kiss into your hair as you subconsciously leaned into him. "we should get it," he suggested, smiling at how your eyes lit up and how you pressed a kiss to his cheek. the two of you purchased the item, and then bought some hot chocolate to sip on to relieve the cold setting into your bones. "jagi-ah," minho called, prompting you to look up at him before gasping in surprise. the first snow of the season. "you know, they say the person you witness the first snow with will be with you for a long, long time." minho grinned, leaning down to kiss you tenderly before intertwining your hands. 

you didn't want to forget him, you realized, as you gasped for air, heartbeat skyrocketing as you tried to open your mouth to scream. no, you would never want to forget minho. you would rather cling onto those memories and deal with the pain forever than never having remembered him.

the memory faded.

you gasped in surprise as you ripped open the box, holding up a brand-new, shiny polariod camera wrapped in a gift box, its paper shreds used to cushion the camera hapazardly strewn about the floor.  minho watched you with a small smile on his face, eyes sparkling as he happily obliged to any pose you wanted to do with him, groaning half-heartedly but still laughing at the silly faces you made.

the memory started to fade again.

"STOP!" your finger found the red button, desperately pressing it in an attempt to get the machine to start working. all of a sudden, you were jolted back into your consciousness in the middle of the white sterile room again, heaving and gasping for air as you tried to adjust back to the surroundings. 

"are you okay? do you need to stop the operation?" the nurse asked, a concerned look on her face. beside you, the machine was beeping, a erratic rhythm.

beep. beep. beep. beep.

your hand reached up to fiddle with your necklace, looking left and right. you swallowed, a lump in your throat.

"yes."

----------

you stumbled out the clinic, hands clutching onto the box of items tightly as your eyes adjusted to the bright light of the sun. 

hands shaking, you pulled out your phone.

'my love,' the contact at the top of the screen read. you hadn't called him in months, ever since he had broken up with you. you has tried for a few weeks, but day after day of missed calls was heartbreaking.

you pressed the button.

one ring.

two rings.

three rings.

four rings...

"hello?"

a voice you hadn't heard for months. a voice you had only been hearing in your dreams.

"minho-" a strangled sob left your lips.

"please." you could only force out a choked plea, tears falling rapidly, stumbling onto a nearby bench. people started at you as they walked by, a woman breaking down in a random street in seoul oddly disconcerting.

"where are you? i'll come get you." the moment you heard the concern laced in his voice, your eyes brimmed with more unshed tears, stifling a sob that threatened to escape. in the background, you could hear the sound of things being knocked over, presumably minho rushing to get to you.

you told him your location in between shaky breaths, occasional hiccups interrupting your sentence. 

"just wait for me, ok? don't move anywhere," minho firmly instructed, voice soft and calming.

a few minutes passed, and he was nowhere to be found.

he would hate you for this, you realized. you didn't deserve him. he tried so hard to keep you safe, and how did you repay him? by almost erasing all memories of him. the thought of it just broke your heart even more, for if he knew what you had tried to do he would never want to have anything to do with you again.

"y/n!" you heard a voice yell, whipping around only to see minho running to you at full speed.  you had never been more glad to see him, your knees instantly buckling as you collapsed into his arms, crying into the crook of his neck as you clutched onto him like a lifeline. 

you didn't think you would ever get used to this feeling, you thought. his touch, warmth, his gentle strokes of your hair and whispered sweet nothings were like music to your ears, his hand coming up to rest on your back and his other coming up to gently stroke your hair as he swayed you back and forth. he had clearly just ran from dance practice, you realized, slightly sweaty and panting ever so slightly. 

"what's wrong, jagi?" he murmured, soft brown eyes searching your own red and teary ones.

"i- i didn't want to remember you because it was too painful, and then i tried to erase my memories of you, but i realized i didn't want to and i really, really, really fucking miss you and it hurts-" your rambling was cut off by a hiccup, lips quivering as you stared back into his eyes.

here comes the part where he realizes your a disgusting bitch and hates you forever, you thought miserably.

"shh, it's ok," minho pulled you closer, engulfing you in his warmth as his hand rose up to cup your cheek.

what?

he was supposed to hate you, not do... this. you literally tried to erase all memories of him, he should be angry and offended, so why...?

nonetheless, you would take what you could get in what you assumed to be your last moments with him, so instead you leaned into his touch, memorising his every detail again. his soft brown eyes framed with delicate lashes, sharp nose and jawline, the pink rosy tint to his cheeks as the winter wind whipped around you.

"i'm sorry," you begged, "just don't hate me."

"i never did, silly." minho laughed softly, a wistful smile gracing his lips.

"but you left me." you said, confused.

"i left you because i loved you. it was just for your own safety, i didn't care about anything else," minho explained, brows furrowing slightly.

oh.

minho stumbled backwards as you crashed into him with a force, nearly knocking him over as you crashed your lips onto his, hands threading through his soft silky hair and teeth knocking against his. it was a heated, messy kiss, teeth clashing and tears streaming down your face, yet minho didn't seem to mind as he deepened the kiss with a fervour, all seeming to pour out of him, pain and regret, relief and want. it is only when you seperate with a gasping breath of air that you finally see his swollen, reddened lips.

“i’ll figure something out, i’ll talk to the company, make a statement or something- i won’t let anyone get to you, i promise,” he rambled, a giddy smile on his face. right now, minho could care less about the repercussions, even if he had to move mountains just to be by your side and keep you safe at the same time. 

you giggled, an infectious laugh bubbling out of you. the both of you, crying in the middle of a street, hands intertwined and both a mess, yet you had never been happier with the person you truly loved. 

“we'll be alright now.” you whispered. it wasn’t just a statement but a promise, one to keep forever.

december 25th, 2020, 1.43 pm.

“min! come look!” you squealed in delight, eyes lighting up when you were finally done. minho glanced over, and sure enough, you were up to mischief again, the three cats dressed in ugly christmas sweaters with cartoonish designs on them and matching hats on their heads. doongie let out a ‘meow’ of indignation, protesting as minho roared with laughter to scoop him and his fellow cats up. laughter bubbling out of your lips, you quickly grabbed your phone to take a picture of minho and the three cats, his face lighting up in amusement as he watched them try to squirm out of his grasp. 

“i love you, you know that?” minho says that night, the two of you cuddled up on the couch with the cats, watching your favourite seasonal christmas movies together and snacking on popcorn.

“i don’t say it enough, partly because i’m not good at expressing myself, but i love you. your smile and personality and everything. just thought you should know.” the tips of his ears are red as he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

you smile, a red tint blossoming across your cheeks as you lean in to kiss him softly.

“i love you too min.” 

how did you ever get so lucky? you think, leaning in to rest your head on minho’s shoulder as you resumed watching the movie, one hand absentmindedly scratching dori’s head as he purrs in contentment. here, in the dim light of the cozy apartment with minho, love heavy in the air around you two and christmas lights twinkling merrily, you think you have everything you have ever wanted in life.

after all, it didn't really matter where you were, as long as minho was by your side.

taglist: @starseungs @missmajdastark @jazziwritesthings @layviyu @lailac13 @ana-marais98 @foxinthewild @dandelions-143 @rylea08 @linocz @minseongsworld @realrintaro @kkamismon12 @felinows @baribaaari

#angst #stray kids #fluff #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #skz minho #lee minho #skz #skz imagines #skz angst #sk #skz au #skz scenarios #str #stray kids imagines #stra #stray kids fanfic #st #minho #skz x #skz x you #stray kids x

[ginnysgraffiti]

jealousy, unprotected sex, violence, anger, cursing, fingering, 18+

&. PAUL ATREIDES x yn

could you blame yourself?

no, not really.

not the way you claimed it, at least.

you always placed so much trust and respect in the visions that paul witnessed in his dreams, for they usually concerned the holy war or future events not clear to his complete awareness yet.

however, you never expected something like this.

you couldn't say exactly if it was due to the fact that you and paul had established an increasingly stronger connection and intimacy, but you were sure that it was definitely because of other factors.

paul and his intuitions had been (disturbingly) accurate for weeks, and your boyfriend was even able to see your sexual needs in his visions.

you liked it, yes. it turned you on like hell, and you knew it had the exact effect on him.

you recognized paul's gaze when he had visions of that kind, you glimpsed it through his hungry eyes and you experienced it when his strong hands destroyed your body.

you lived with a certain constant tension, but your inner self knew that you just wanted that moment to come.

"shut that fuck up! take my cock like the slut you are!!" paul's hand slapped your butt, causing a bitter tear to fall from your face.

this excited him greatly and with his other arm he twisted your legs around his waist, making you arch your back to welcome his wet and warm dick as deeply as you could.

you didn't know if it was your fault, but paul was so furious he would have swallowed you alive.

"look at me in my eyes, damn it! or do you want me to call him, uh? to call your beloved feyd rautha and make him fuck you like i do!?"

"paul-"

yet another thrust of his hips brought your hip bones to clash painfully with each other.

you left a loud and pleading moan but his quick fingers choked you in time and reduced it to a pathetic strangled scream.

"who's the one who touches herself while feyd's name slips down her tongue?! her damn fucking tongue! uh?!"

"p-...paul it was just a-a...a vision-"

deadly move.

the bed creaked and for a moment you imagined the springs surrendering to its bloody rhythm.

your boyfriend grabbed your hair mercilessly, almost detaching them from the roots, while his cock was destroying your inner walls beyond limit.

you were crying, but you were just choking on your own moans and sobs, like a sinful child.

it was just a vision, in fact...but now he was going so rough and raw that crying more made you feel real slut.

your sight was still granted to you, even if your retinas were caged in tears as hot as spice.

you could see him, see your boyfriend taking your pussy with a heavenly expression on your face, perhaps the one you wore in his dirty visions.

his mouth was wide open with pleasure and his eyes closed with excitement. he moved his hips for his own burning pleasure, making you aching, sore and wet all in.

"I don't know what would turn me on more, maybe you really deserve to end up in his maniacal arms! you would regret it of course, but it would be too late to go back!!"

you wished somebody could hear you for your own sake.

the wet and sticky tip of his cock was roaming roughly inside you, but the initial pleasure had reduced you to an unbearable burning sensation. you could feel your chest confiding with every sob, but his hands would travel again, landing on your throat already full of purple, almost black bruises.

"you're so soaked, you little whore. you don't even deserve it, on my sheets!!" he groaned, his own anger causing every vein to pump on the smooth skin of his neck, making him there red with anger every time the jugular pumped before your eyes.

he grunted like an animal too proud for the zoo. he wanted to destroy you until you couldn't stand up anymore.

humiliation.

you could feel his tip reaching the deepest places. you knew that paul didn't care about protections in these extreme cases (even if it was the first time he was so out of it), thus implying that he would even risk pregnancy to satisfy his dick to the point of nausea.

"you hold on too well-"

you held the sheets for dear life when you felt him pushing away but replacing his sex with one of his agile fingers between your sores.

you gasped as he pecked at all the soft spots of yours. he knew too damn well you were too vulnerable and breakable when it came to his experienced hands.

at the same time you knew how much effort would be required of him to make you suffer precisely, hoping he would get tired.

"so fucking sensitive-"

he inserted another finger, moving at an exorbitant speed. you could feel your wetness even reaching his wrist.

ashamed again.

"p-paul-...i beg-"

he entered you using his thumb to reach your clit.

you moaned as he lapped at your walls, sliding his sizzling tongue into the heat.

he raised his lips sucking greedily, sliding two fingers in once more.

his grunts made everything wetter.

your body came moaning and shaking, your eyes rolling back.

you whimpered as you felt his cock filling you up, preventing you from coming any further.

"p-...paul, you know you're...the only one i love! a vision doesn't mean anything! i-...i- had always loved you, you're the boy of my life, the one who always had all his trust posted about me. so i ask you praying...believe me..."

your boyfriend moved one inch, hitting your weakest and most stimulated point.

you could feel a slight gag rising in your sore and dry throat as the last bit of lucidity left your body in a deep sleep.

[...]

when you wake up a strong pang pierced your forehead, making the room square and moving around you.

paul was curled up on you, not completely resting on you so that his weight didn't give you even more trouble regaining consciousness.

his white and puffy cheek was resting on your bare breasts, a hint of saliva at the sides of his red and swollen mouth.

you couldn't move so you didn't even try, until you felt something holding you back.

paul was lightly sleeping thanks to a bene gesserit relaxation technique, you could now sense that he was completely alert and attentive to your needs.

his delicate hand was hugging your wrist, listening to your heartbeat since you had probably passed out.

you knew that in the end, he loved you more than anything on that planet.

you were his duchess already.

#timothee chalamet #timothée chamalet #timothee chalamet smut #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee x y/n #timothée x you #dune part 2 #dune movie #dune #paul atreides #paul atreides x reader #paul atreides smut #paul atreides x you #&. PAUL ATREIDES #PAUL x reader

[wh1msic4alwasab1]

“𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐌𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡”♡‧₊˚

synopsis: first time giving head and the general is generous to offer you some help <3

tags: oral, first time, soft and praise filled

wrd cnt: 650+

a/n: rewrite/repost from first acc!

Imagine spending the day with Jing Yuan on his time off, what little hours he had, your general chose to spend with you.

You'll relive memories over drinks, laugh over embarrassing stories, and maybe you'll even uncover some secrets about him, intimate secrets only for you.

You open up to him, about whatever the evening spills; some innocent, and some not.

After some long due blabbering and breaking of the tension, you're in his bedroom and your tongue is being pushed against his in a fiery battle neither of you want to lose.

You told Jing Yuan all about your inexperience, but you told him even more about how much you wanted him, how much you’ve wanted him so for long.

You glance at the tent in his pants growing in between the slow and sensual make out going on between you two, and your hand finds its way under his clothes. He smirks against your lips.

"Y/n, I thought you told me you haven't done this before?" he recalls.

"You're right, but I want you in my mouth more."

You feel his cock pulse because of your words, slowly you kneel down; you fold up his shirt and kiss along his abs, trailing down to his thighs and leaving a small bite mark, now sitting in between his marked up thighs.

You removed his clothes and watch his hard cock spring up from his pants.

Just seeing it makes you want to swallow everything he gives you.

All of your worries melt as his hand caresses your head, as he helps you push your hair back.

"Open your mouth princess."

You do as your general commands, and he presses his thumb down onto your tongue, toying with it while never breaking his eye contact with you. You suck lightly on his thumb before he removes it, and slaps his fat cocktip on your tongue.

He gives you a small nod and you start with kitten licks, paying most attention to his throbbing head. You suck the precum that's already oozing out, and earn a groan from him in the process.

“Just like that-mhm…”

Your soft lips envelope his member, and his leg twitches due to the pleasure you grant him.

"Fuck…..what a naughty thing you are", he says in surprise.

His hand is now wrapped into your hair, and he's tilting you down, you'd be lying if you said that you didn't want him to fuck your face so hard, until all you could do was let the tears run off your face, but he's sweet with you.

"Let me help you love, do you feel me in your throat?"

You definitely could, which he understood from your lack of reply.

His cock felt even bigger in your mouth than in your hand, and you could feel yourself start to gag on his dick with how thick it was. You wanted him to cum down your throat, ruin you so bad, you didn't care anymore.

You start to bob your head weakly on his girth, moving along with his pace while gently twisting your hand around the base of his cock, you wince slightly.

"You can't take it baby? You're gonna have to." He says, as he speeds up his pace, ramming his cock into your throat with his hand laced behind your head.

He watches you struggle to take him and sees you rubbing your sore little pussy with your other hand, you were getting off to his dominance, from his cock in your mouth, aching him filling up your cunt.

Seeing you pleasure yourself from sucking him off drove Jing Yuan to the edge, soon you felt his cock grow hot, followed by thick loads of his cum coating your mouth.

"Swallow it all, not one drop comes out of your mouth or I'll fuck it back in, got it?

"Yes General", you say, kissing his tip and gaining a deep groan of satisfaction. words

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

#jo’s posts #hsr jing yuan #hsr smut #hsr #smut #honkai star rail #jing yuan x female reader #jing yuan x y/n #jing yuan smut #jing yuan x you #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan #jing yuan hsr

[littlexdeaths]

bye bye bye - e.m.

y2k eddie munson x girly reader

opposites attract masterlist

warnings: gareth is a dickhead, hope y’all like some cheesy fluff, eddie is a complete dork but we love him for it.

a/n: this is a repost of my first y2k eddie fic, with some much needed edits and additions. i will be working on editing and posting the rest of this series soon. i hope you enjoy 💕

word count: 1.5k

Today really hadn’t gone how you’d planned.

You had been hanging out with Eddie and his band mates, something you’d done quite often. Only this time you made the mistake of wearing your *NSYNC tour shirt.

It wasn’t a secret that you and Eddie had polar opposite tastes, it was apparent by just looking at you. You were all pink, bubblegum and boy bands. And your boyfriend was a leather clad, heavy metal enthusiast.

Despite these differences, you fit so well together.

And as they say— opposites attract.

But one of his friends was always more standoffish towards you because of it. While you were always nice to Gareth, he seemed annoyed anytime Eddie brought you around. But today that annoyance had seemingly reached its peak.

And all over a stupid t-shirt.

Eddie had gone to get you both a drink, leaving you in the living room with the three other males. They were discussing the newest Linkin Park album. Which oddly enough, was a band you actually enjoyed outside your normal realm of music.

You perked up at the mention of the album, as it had been the only thing Eddie had been playing since it was released. Feeling eager to see what they also thought of it.

“Oh come on man, you can't say Meteora is better than Hybrid Theory,” Jeff scoffs, shaking his head in response to Gareth’s admission as Eddie leaves the room.

The male rolls his eyes before tossing a piece of popcorn at Jeff’s head, “See that’s where you’re wrong dude, have you tried listening to the albums back to back?”

You take this as an opportunity to add in your two cents, trying to include yourself in the conversation despite your nerves.

“Well, personally I think both albums are great in their own—”

You are interrupted with a loud snort as Gareth rudely cuts you off, glancing down at your shirt before meeting your eyes.

“Why would we care about your opinion of it? All you listen to is boy band trash pop,” he sneers, rolling his eyes as he turns back to his friends.

It felt like someone had punched you in the gut, any other words became lodged in your throat. Jeff and Grant throw apologetic glances your way, but continue on with the conversation as if nothing had happened.

Eddie returns shortly after, completely oblivious to what had just transpired. He plops down next to you on the sofa and passes you a can of coke. Due to your solemn appearance, he knew something was wrong. He just didn’t know what.

A frown tugs at the corner of his mouth as he wraps an arm around your waist, tucking you into his side.

“Hey, you okay?” He asks softly, replying with a shrug of your shoulders.

You let your eyes fall to the open can of soda clutched in your fist. You didn’t want to talk about it, especially not in front of them. The last thing you wanted was to cause a scene, or to give Gareth the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

So you sat quietly through the next half hour, letting Eddie enjoy the time with his friends.

But he couldn’t seem to let it go, far too focused on what had caused this sudden shift in your mood. So he ended the hangout early, claiming to be too tired from work. But all of you knew the real reason, guilt filled your chest as he walked you out to his van.

They must think you’re a buzzkill too.

The questions started the moment the door shut behind him, badgering you the entire way back to your house. You easily dodged his line of questioning, claiming to be tired. But Eddie wasn’t having any of that, he could see right through you. He always could.

“Baby, come on. Talk to me please,” he pleaded as he followed you up the stairs to your bedroom.

You continued to ignore him as you sat on the bed with a sigh. You felt embarrassed, knowing such a silly comment shouldn’t bother you as much as it did. All you wanted was for his friends to like you, but it was made abundantly clear that they didn’t.

All because you favored pop music? It all felt so trivial, like they weren’t even willing to give you a real chance. It hurt your feelings more than you cared to admit.

But Eddie being the sweet, doting boyfriend that he was— wasn’t giving up that easily.

“Just tell me what happened, sweetheart.” He says, kneeling in front of you, palms resting on either side of your thighs.

“It’s stupid,” you mutter, avoiding his curious gaze.

“Nothing that upset you this much is stupid,” he counters as you let out a groan, dramatically falling back onto the mattress and covering your face.

You hear his exasperated sigh, feeling the weight of his chest against yours as he leans over you. Eddie carefully removes your hands from your face, looking down at you expectantly.

“Your friends don’t like me,” you utter softly.

He frowns, confusion settling on his features.

“Why do you say that?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes which causes his frown to deepen.

“Well, just look at me…” you trail off, gesturing to yourself. “And look at you.”

It’s his turn to sigh now, taking your hands as he guides you back into a sitting position. Eddie cups your cheeks in between his palms, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead.

“I know what you’re insinuating, but I promise that’s the furthest thing from the truth.” He reassures you, his dark eyes utterly sincere.

And as much as you want to believe him, there’s still a small part of you that wonders if maybe they are right. Maybe you’re too different. He must be able to read the apprehension lingering on your features, as one of determination crosses over his.

“I don’t know what they said to make you think that,” he pauses to press a kiss to the tip of your nose. “But I won’t hesitate to kick some ass, sweetheart.”

Despite the teasing lithe in his voice you know he’s serious, quickly shaking your head. The last thing you’d want is to cause more beef with his friends.

“It’s fine, Eds, I’m just too sensitive.” You give him a quick peck on the lips, “Let’s just drop it, yeah?”

You pull away to scoot further up the mattress, patting the spot beside you. But he shakes his head, remaining on the floor for a moment. His eyes dart contemplatively around the room, stopping on the shelf that held your extension CD collection.

A Cheshire-like grin tugs at his lips as he moves towards it, balancing on the balls of his feet. Your brows knit together in confusion as his ringed fingers graze over the plastic spines, stopping once he finds what he was looking for. Eddie pops the disc out of its case and into the clunky boombox before pressing play.

The beginning chords of Bye Bye Bye fill the once quiet space of your bedroom. Your boyfriend quickly jumps to his feet, spinning around to face you. He plants his feet on the carpet, head falling forward as his hands raise up in a marionette style.

Your eyes widen in realization as you crawl back towards the edge of your bed, suddenly intrigued. Eddie shoots a wink your way once he meets your gaze, beginning to sing along. His voice stood out amongst the others, the raspy quality brought a new edge to the track.

But he didn’t stop there.

You watched in amazement as he nailed all the choreography from the music video. You had no idea when he found the time to study all the moves. Between classes, work, hellfire and band practice he barely had time to think.

But knowing he took the time to do this, specifically for you— made your stomach flutter.

You can’t stop the smile from lighting up your features, giggling as your boyfriend continues to serenade you.

“I don’t want to be your fool, in this game for two…”

Eddie drops to his knees at your feet again, coaxing you onto the floor with him. He presses feather light kisses all over your face, the sensation causes you to giggle more. As hurt as you had been, the male always knew how to make you forget your problems.

At least for a little while.

“That’s my girl,” he mumbled, grinning down at you.

He’s a little out of breath from his impromptu dance routine, bangs lightly sticking to his forehead.

“You’re an absolute dork, Ed,” you giggle, ruffling his curls in a playful manner.

But the way he’s looking at you has your heart racing. His head dips, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss as the song comes to an end.

“Now, admit it,” he chuckles against your mouth, nudging his nose with yours. “I’m a much better dancer than that Dustin Timberlake.”

You laugh loudly, fondly shaking your head at him.

“It’s Justin, baby…”

#the freak writes 🫧 #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #y2k!eddie munson #y2k!eddie munson x girly reader #eddie munson x girly reader #my series: opposites attract 🫧 #early 2000s!eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Weiss: We need to get you something casual to wear. Even I don't just have dresses. I have skirts, and jeans and yoga pants.

Jaune: What's wrong with this shirt? It's cotton. It's comfortable.

Weiss: You don't have any other shoes just those heavy boots.

Jaune: What's wrong with my boots? They're comfortable and I know if I have to I can crush somebody's skull with them.

Weiss: Besides the fact they are on my new coffee table? Get some slippers, sandals, or tennis shoes and I'll let the shirt and pants go.

Jaune: I have jeans...

Weiss: One pair? I've seen your closet. Face it. You've gone all hunter with no relaxation.

Jaune: I sleep shirtless in gym shorts. Are you complaining about that? It's not typically something a loving wife tells their husband. 'Put on more clothes.'

Weiss: You also only have one pair of gym shorts. You're so military it would make a Spartan cringe. It's not like you don't have the money for clothes.

Jaune: I've been busy.

Weiss: But now you're not.

Ruby: Ooh! We should dress him up!

Jaune: What am I? A doll?

Weiss: It's settled then.

Jaune: Settled how? Since when are we putting things to a vote. That's not allowed. Everyone has to be onboard.

Ruby: Get democratized.

Weiss: What happened to your onesie? At least you had that. At least it existed even if I am glad you just sleep in gym shorts.

Ruby: Your chest is nice to sleep on. How is it soft and hard at the same time? But we aren't hoofing it around anima anymore and you're not clawing your way back to Vale. Let us dress you up.

Jaune: Again like a doll?

Ruby: Yeah. But you're our doll. Please? For me?

Jaune: *makes the mistake of looking into her eyes, gets up with a sigh*

Weiss: We don't mean right this minute. Good gods.

Jaune: *sits back down* You know where to find me.

Weiss: You have to teach me how to do that Ruby.

Jaune: You both do that to me. You looked at me, folded your arms, and told me to get a psychiatrist and I did.

Weiss: True. But there’s something special about the way Ruby says ‘please? For me?’ Isn’t there? She does it to me too. She’s like ‘I know you like this color of paint for the bedroom but I like this one. Won’t you agree to it? For me?

Ruby: *has this look of 'who? Me? I'm not familiar*

Jaune: As far as I’m concerned you both cheat hard and ruthlessly. How often do you walk around singing in the kitchen while you’re making coffee? You cheat. You both do. You both do it as much as you can get away with and that’s quite a lot. And what am I supposed to do? I’ve got nothing. I have neither defense or offense.

Weiss: How is doing things you love cheating? I happen to sing while I’m doing chores. That’s for me. If you happen to like it, then that is on you. I am talking about how Ruby actively uses her charms to get us both to do what she wants.

Jaune: And I’m just saying you’re not innocent. As soon as you found out it turns me on when you sing you started singing at me all the time.

Weiss: Okay. I did do that.

Jaune: Bangarang. And everyone in this house knows that Ruby just looks up at you with those big silver eyes and asks nicely and gets her wishes granted. Everyone knows that. Especially Ruby. She knows we can’t help ourselves and she knows that we know that she knows. But there’s nothing to be done. What am I going to do to get what I want?

Weiss: You don’t want anything though. You don’t really care what color the annex office gets painted. You hardly care what you eat for dinner. You could probably eat the same thing every day without complaint.

Jaune: That’s exactly what I used to do at Beacon until you moved in with me. I ate the same thing every single day. And you know what? I liked it.

Weiss: You’re schizophrenic. You have to stop with these mentally unwell behaviors. That’s a part of fighting back against your illness. It’s not enough to just take the meds.

Ruby: Yeah, that’s a sign of mental unwellness… You should eat different things…

Jaune: Exactly how long term am I supposed to be thinking here?

Weiss: *Smacks his chest gently with the back of her hand*

Ruby: *much less flirtatiously and aggressively hits the inside of his thigh*

Jaune: And you both abuse me.

Weiss: Oh shut up.

Ruby: Big baby.

#rwby #rwby incorrect quotes #jaune arc #weiss schnee #whiteknight #white knight #motion sickness #ruby rose #lancaster #war of roses #whiterose #white rose

[afortoru]

𝑴𝒚 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑰𝒔 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝑨𝒍𝒍 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒆

Summary: you express your love to him in this soft moment when you're both cuddled up on the bed.

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

Genre: smooch ball fluff

Warnings: you might fall in love...none lol

Word count: 925

A/n: wrote this when I was crying while missing him once, pretty much self indulgent....also a comeback fic ig <3

It's not easy....

It's not easy to love The Strongest but it sure was easy to love Satoru.

The way he holds you,longs for your touch when he comes back from a long mission,when he smiles softly playing with your hair strands while you're half asleep.You know he loves you,he never fails to keep raising the bar for himself. Sometimes it's the intimacy you share, sometimes when you both are coddled up in the quiet peaceful nights and sometimes it's just you two laying under a bright sunny sky in the winters. 

You know your man deserves the world. You'd do anything and everything for him,too much to say that you want to protect this precious being. 

But mostly it's him,he's always there. God,Satoru would turn the world upside down for you.His world brightens when a smile spreads across your face. 

It's 12 in the midnight right now.You rested your head on his chest feeling his heartbeat,your heartbeat. 

Satoru smiles gently,caressing your hair. Oh how much he longs for moments like this.

"Do you have work tomorrow?" You asked,breaking the silence.He looks down at you,wondering what made you ask it.

"Uh...not really since I just got some important work done.Why sweetcheeks?"

"Can you take a day off?"

Satoru smiles before nodding."Why, Missing me too much?",he teased with a light smirk across his face. 

"Yes.Hate it when you're not around."

Oh.... 

He loves when you show your dominance over his love,after all he's all yours.He loves it when you ask him to stay instead of telling him to go otherwise principal Yaga and the students would be mad at him. He wants you to pull him closer when he's about to get up from the bed at dawn to face the world. He longs for when you actually show your longing for him.

"Don't worry, I'd take a week off for as long as you want my lovely wife",he smiles cupping your cheeks. 

You lean forward,your chin pressed on his chest as you face him up. 

And when you notice his eyes,those beautiful crystal blue eyes deeper than the ocean you feel like there's his younger self behind those eyes wanting to be held closer,wanting to be loved without being demanding, wanting to be loved without being called out too clingy or childish,wanting to be loved as a human, as Satoru, as your Toru.

Your Toru….

You didn't realize when the tears brimmed into your eyes and came right down to your cheeks.Satoru's eyes widened...why are you crying,he's right here.Why'd you cry?

"Hey baby....look at me I'm here. I'm staying here forever,by your side.", he tries to convince you but you hide your face in his chest before looking up at him.You wipe your tears and smile lightly hitting the side of your head. 

"God I'm so stupidly in love with you,I'm not crying it's just....happy tears."

Satoru smiles softly before putting your hair strands behind your ears and cupping your face.

"I love you and we both are stupidly in love with each other, ok?",he said, making you chuckle as you nodded.

His heart swells with the amount of love you couldn't help but shower him with as he pulls you gently into an everlasting hug.

You know this is your love,that you and Satoru build through all the ups and downs. 

He looks at you like you're some blessing that was granted to him not knowing how much he needed it. 

“I love you too,Toru.Love you so much that I might say the corniest stuff right now so I'll shut up.” 

You both chuckled and you swear how much you love his voice, his soft chuckle is what your heartbeat sounds like. 

“Then say it…”,he bends his head down gently biting your soft cheeks.“...please I wanna hear it, sweet cheeks.”

You looked up at him smiling giddily.“I'll hide the sun if it bothers you,I'll stop the rain if you don't like it, I…I wanna take away your pain from the past and give you the happiest future.Just come back to me,I don't care about anything. Never hide your emotions from me, Toru…never please.Promise on our love, I'll fight the world for you.”

Why would you say something like this? How can Satoru love you more than he already does? 

He could hear the desperation in your voice, the longing which made his breath hitch.

“Baby…” he cups your cheeks into his palm and leaned closer to kiss you as you wrapped your hands around his head and caressed his hair, pulling him into a slow and passionate kiss.

The emotions he's feeling right now is overwhelming. He kissed you since he doesn't know how to respond. It's mostly him being so vocal like this but today you decided to switch roles and oh god, his head is spinning. If it wasn't for you holding him so close right now, feeling your soft touch on his skin he'll think this was all just a dream. But it's not, it's real.

Satoru could die a happy man in your arms, but he can't die now since he has to live for you. He'll come back to you, doesn't matter wherever he is. 

In this world where nothing is his, he's assured that you're his forever. His love is all his. 

Dividers by @rookthornesartistry

#gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x you #satoru x reader #jjk fic #jjk fluff #gojo x you #satoru x y/n #jujutsu kaisen

[nerd-is-my-noun]

I can’t help but wonder what this episode would have been if Grant hadn’t gotten COVID.

How much harder it wouldn’t have been to push him away from the podiums without fully knocking him to the ground.

How smug and insufferable he would have sounded spouting off those TMC factoids.

How he probably would’ve gotten bored with the bit after like the third time and just burst through the curtains hurling spaghetti at the contestants.

We can but imagine.

#game changer #dropout tv #sam reich #grant o'brien #zac oyama #déjà vu

[hwashitape]

ship discourse aside if you don't think Laios was genuinely touched by the things Kabru's said and done idk what to say except ask if you even read it completely and to the end…

#not to make this about ship discourse but #the general interpretation of Laios as being almost completely devoid of love for anything that isn't monsters #taking his love for Falin for granted #genuine trust and respect in his party #how hurt he was by the fight with Shuro #Thistle!!!! #the ENDING ITSELF!!!! #some people want Labru to be one-sided so badly as like a gotcha to cringe shippers it looks like you hate Laios instead #he's been hurt before and yet!!!! he is full of love #do you understand #he loved his sister so much he even left before she did #is that a man devoid of empathy… a man who only cares about monsters… #that's my boy and I love him #not art

[runawaymun]

Ask me about my not-yet-written-fics from this list

@linesofreturninggeese

Okay, so this is something I was talking over with @metatomatoes because I wanted Celebrimbor to survive so badly but like, I just could not see how it was possible, and then we got to talking and fucking around with Elvish biology and I think I can make it work.

this is all based on the foundation that Elrond and Celebrimbor were very close in the second age, and/or it piggybacks on the To Partake universe. Either way, they have an Osanwe bond. Not quite a marriage bond. It's a bit weaker than that, but a bond nonetheless.

there are human burn victims who have lost a tremendous amount of skin with medical care and survived, right?

and obviously the greatest risks here are blood loss, infection, and hypothermia

It's reasonable to me to assume that elves have pretty good blood clotting.

We also know from canon that they're better at regulating their temp than we are

If elves are pretty much immune to infection, we can knock that out.

With some sketchy research the general consensus is that a human IRL could, after being flayed, last 36 hours, or perhaps up to a week (if given fluids and semi cared for).

Reasonable to me to assume because Sauron is Sauron that he might continue to toy with Celebrimbor post-flaying, which means he has a vested interest in keeping him alive a bit longer.

Also reasonable to assume that elvish bodies can withstand quite a lot, considering Maedhros survived torture and being hung off a mountainside for a really long time while captured by Morgoth.

So, the final kicker here IIRC was @metatomatoes' idea - which is, what if elves are essentially able to drop into a stasis state? Like where everything slowly shuts down to minimal functions in order to survive extreme conditions? Explains a lot of things, really.

With that, what if rather than dying, Celebrimbor drops into stasis.

Stasis is no fun for Sauron :( Celebrimbor's not making fun noises anymore when he gets hurt.

So at this point Sauron has him shot full of arrows (assuming that he'll be dead soon) and hangs him up to taunt Elrond and Gil-Galad, per the canon events.

Everyone at this point is pretty confident that Celebrimbor is dead as a doornail,

EXCEPT ELROND.

Because he can absolutely feel through their Osanwe bond that there's something left there, and post-siege of Eregion when they finally recapture everything and pull Celebrimbor down, everyone is like "Elrond he's dead, we promise he's dead" and Elrond is like "I promise he's not!!!!!!!!! he's in stasis!!!!!!!!!!!!"

And Elrond by now has Vilya, which enhances his already incredibly strong healing.

Also I have already established within my own universe that Elrond is a bit of a necromancer, so long as someone is only mostly dead (re Princess Bride hehe).

SO, he manages to bring Celebrimbor back from the grave.

And granted, Celebrimbor is like, severely fucked up and perhaps does not even want to continue living, but Elrond is determined.

Once Celebrimbor has recovered (it is a long, slow road) he winds up just living with Elrond in Rivendell, possibly under an alias idk. But hey everyone talks about that weirdly good smith in Rivendell. Like uncannily good smith.

I like to imagine that he's the one who reforged Anduril :3

#torture cw #celebrimbor #elrond

[strwberri-milk]

April Showers

Rafayel x Reader || Fluff, Cuddling || 1 112 words

In which the two of you indulge in some cuddles in the rain.

You thought you were used to all of Rafayel’s little eccentricities by now. As much as you loved him you could never determine which ones were from his upbringing as a Lumerian, or the fact that he’s rich beyond your wildest imagination with the self control of a toddler on a sugar high.

He’d been quite adamant for the last little while that you not wander out too far on his beachfront property. You’d seen the construction crews coming and going for quite some time now so you assumed that he was in the middle of some new art installation as per usual. You knew not to question his inspiration for it came as easily as it went.

Today you’d turned up at his house despite the pouring rain, Rafayel’s frenzied texts begging for your attention once more. It’s standard procedure – he acts like he’s about to drown without you being near him and then is perfectly fine once you’re there. You never mind, you never did. You liked having his attention on you, knowing that it’s a hot commodity.

“Rafa?” you call out to the empty house.

It’s darker than usual. Even if he was working with his studio’s lights off, you’d be able to find some source of light near a wet canvas. Rafayel always made sure that his colours were as accurate as possible. You ignore the rise of anxiety in your chest at the lack of his response, deciding to up the ante.

“Babe? Honey? Sweetheart? Love of my life?”

Usually, the sweeter your nicknames were for him meant he’d come barrelling down the hallway and bowl you over with the weight of his body. Now, no matter how hard you listen you can’t even hear the sound of his breath, deciding to brave the weather and step outside to see if he was on the beach.

Strangely enough, it seems whatever construction was being done was finished. You thought that the trucks were missing from his driveway due to the weather but the pristine sand and building you didn’t recognise proved differently. Rafayel wasn’t an architect as far as you were concerned so you doubt that this was meant for an exhibition of his, cursing his inability to buy umbrellas and braving the torrential downpour to head towards the marble pillars.

As you approach, you can’t help but be taken aback by the precision carved into the surface. Even if he didn’t construct it with his own two hands you knew that it had his artistry all over it, delicate patterns and sculptures attached to the smooth stone by him. You’re so enraptured by the works of art that you barely notice the lump laying on the cushioned space of the sunken gazebo.

Rafayel lays in the newly built space, listening to the sound of the rain and awaiting his knight in shining armour to come keep him company. He jolts a little as you slide in next to him having not heard you finally arrive at his side. His smile is bright enough to part the clouds for a moment, pulling you into his side and pressing a kiss to your wet cheek.

“You’re drenched. How did that happen?” he asks, your breaths mingling in the shared space.

“You were missing. I had to come find you and unfortunately, I can’t control the weather. What is this anyway? I didn’t know you were one for backyard barbeque sessions,” you tease, putting a cold arm around his waist.

“It’s a gazebo. I designed it and had it built. Thankfully they finished it early so now I get to enjoy it in the rain.”

“You’re so weird. Nobody looks forward to sitting in the rain like you do,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

“I told you already,” he says hotly without any ill will. “It doesn’t rain in the ocean. I’ll never get sick of the way it sounds, how I’ll never be able to capture it on camera, the way it feels on my skin. Just admit that you take it for granted and move on.”

“I do not take it for granted. I’m allowed to be grumpy right now anyway – I’m all cold and wet!”

Rafayel does feel a little bad for not warning you and you know he does by the shedding of his cardigan before he slowly peels off your wet shirt. You don’t mind the gesture, letting him button the soft fabric around your upper body as he pulls you back into his chest. He reaches blindly until finally locating a dry towel hidden in a compartment near the two of you, drying off your hair and draping it over your legs with a soft apology.

“I forgot to tell you to bring an umbrella. I got so lost in the sound of the rain that would have fallen asleep were it not for you sneaking into here next to me.”

You can’t be mad at him anyway, not when his voice takes on that wistful tone and you see the lost look in his eyes. He liked to run circles around you, pretend that he’s an open book when really, you’d only begun to scratch the surface of the man he is, not the one he wanted you to see. It evokes a sense of melancholy in you, burying your face in his neck and losing yourself in his presence.

“It’s alright. I’m not actually all that mad at you,” you reassure regardless, finally feeling the chilling bite of the rain ebb away.

“It’s romantic. Laying here with you and listening to the rain. If I didn’t already, I totally would have fallen in love with you.”

His soft laughter makes your heart flutter. You look up to meet his lavender-blue eyes bright with mirth as he gently noses against your cheek.

“Well, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind the next time we’re arguing,” he says playfully.

Normally, storms would make you nervous. The only thing that made you capable of driving over in the first place was the knowledge that Rafayel would be here to help sooth your anxiety. The thunder and lightning did nothing to help your already anxious mind from going a mile a minute but here in his arms, none of that mattered.

You rest your ear on his chest, letting the sound of his heartbeat amongst the scattered rain soothe you into a well needed sleep. Rafayel looks down at you affectionately when he realises you’ve gone limp on him. His hand rests by your ear, pinky gently stroking your cheek as he presses a kiss on the top of your head.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #rafayel x reader #lads x reader #lads rafayel #rafayel love and deepspace