#i feel like you can hardly make any mistakes

[eggyrocks]

80 with kenma please :3

:3

500 follower special: #80 “How can you think I’m anything but hopelessly in love with you?”

kenma x gn reader, probably ooc kenma, insecurities, hurt/comfort, very light angst, not proofread written content masterlist

It's easy to love Kenma. It's harder to be loved by him.

They've learned over the years that he's not loud with his love. He shows it in little ways, unrecognizable unless you know him. He can sit with them for hours in complete silence, preferring their quiet company to being alone. He buys them small, frequent gifts, presenting each one to them without much fanfare. He lets them wear his hoodies. He's upfront and direct about his relationship status when interested fans question him about it. Kenma's attentive. Loyal. Dedicated.

But Kenma's not the grand gesture type. He doesn't vocalize his love often. He's not generous with physical touch. He likes to sleep soundly on his own side of the bed. He prefers relaxed nights in to extravagant dates. They know he loves them. He's told them so many times, in his own way.

And most of the time, these things don't really bother them. But sometimes, they start to add up, and even though they don't doubt that Kenma loves them, they start to feel like maybe he doesn't really like them.

It's been a long day. Work was difficult and long and taxing. Little things went wrong, and they added up. Small mistakes at work. Tripping on the train. Cracking their phone case. Kenma not responded to their string of texts. Burning their dinner. Cat puke. A headache. Kenma' silence.

It adds up.

And after they had cleaned up dinner and settled back down on the couch beside Kenma, he didn't acknowledge them. He didn't look up from the game in his hands.

And that was just sort of it for them.

They pulled their knees up into their chest, knotted their hands together, and let the thoughts run wild. Because Kenma's hardly spoken to them all day, and is it really that taxing for him to talk to his partner? Do they just not matter as much to him anymore?

It sort of feeds into itself, this sort of thinking. Sour thoughts spread and they can't stop the flow of emotion that makes their chest tighten and their eyes prick.

They press their face against the tops of their knees, trying to make themselves as small as they feel. And they're so caught up in the cyclical sort of thinking they don't notice when Kenma glances up at them from his game, or how the sight of them like that makes him abandon it at once.

So they don't expect it when his arms go tight around their curled up form, pulling them into his lap. "Tell me what's wrong," he says, voice hushed, not urgent but not uncaring.

All they can offer up in response is a shrug, not quite able to form the words. They focus on holding in their breaths, and keeping their eyes dry.

"Take your time," Kenma says, and does not move. He stays there, still and steady, cheek pressed to the top of their head.

A tear spills, and now they feel so stupid. Because of course he loves them, and they shouldn't be expecting more.

They inhale sharply, and try to steady their breathing before they speak once more. "It's dumb, and I know it's not true, but sometimes I can't help but feel like you don't like me," they admit, rushing through the end of their sentence once their voice starts to waver.

Kenma stills. “How can you think I’m anything but hopelessly in love with you?” he asks, and he doesn't say it with any particular passion or intensity. He's not mad or incensed. It's just a question Kenma doesn't know the answer to.

"I dunno," they mumble. "It doesn't bother me most of the time. But you're not an overly affectionate person, you don't always want to talk, and that's okay, I just," the strop, and exhale through their nose, "get insecure without that, sometimes."

It feels wrong to say it out loud, and when the words leave their tongue they almost wish they could take them back and reshape and rearrange them. Kenma doesn't move for a moment, but once he does, he lifts their hand and uses it to smooth out the top of their. "I'm sorry I made you feel that way," he says. "I can get stuck in my own head sometimes, I don't mean to make you feel neglected."

"It's okay, Kenma," they say, and it already feels like some of the weight's been relieved from their chest.

"No it's not," he's quick to counter. "And you don't have to feel bad for wanting affection from me. Especially when it's something I want to give you."

They sniffle, and lean up against him, head resting on his shoulder. "I love you," they tell him.

"I love you," he says, voice now firmer in the declaration, and he places a kiss on the top of their head. "And I like you a lot, too."

an: THESE ARE TAKING ME FOREVER IM SORRY also this one was bad lmafo im so sorry

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #hq x reader #hq x you #hq #kenma x reader #kenma x you #kenma x y/n #kenma kozume x reader #kenma kozume fluff #kenma fluff #kenma x reader fluff #kenma kozume x yn #500 follower special

[inuhalfdemon]

No One Can Know... (5/?)

Word Count: 2,526 Words

Rating: Mature (SMUT)

Chapter 5

"I want your love, and I want your revenge

You and me could write a bad romance

I want your love and all your lover's revenge

You and me could write a bad romance"

- Lady Gaga

_________________________________________________

“Better to come here now then.” 

Lucifer was right. Alastor had already put things off longer than was prudent for them and it might be best that tonight was not a night that they spent at the hotel. 

Maybe this was a mistake... He thought.

Not that Lucifer hadn’t proven that he was fully capable of handling Alastor; but would he be prepared for Alastor at his absolute worst?

Alastor had not been entirely honest with Lucifer; refraining from offering up the fact that he had chosen avoidance - had forcibly made himself celibate - for the past 7 years. This, of course, was creating a large problem to him now. He had hoped to pay the consequence of denying his body a natural need it required under...different circumstances; perhaps at some time when the stakes weren't set quite so high with very few options to consider.  

He had withheld this information knowing that Lucifer would inevitably want to know the reason why; and Alastor – quite simply – had no interest in discussing it.

Alastor was feeling uncomfortable. 

Two days had passed since his visit to Lucifer’s and he was very nearly fully into his rut now. He had stubbornly pushed off contacting the angel for as long as was possible but it was getting harder and harder to maintain his composure. 

During the daytime, he threw himself into tasks throughout the hotel; performing maintenance and small renovations where he could; helping Charlie in formulating a strong argument for redemption by researching terminology and definitions that would best accommodate her proposals; exchanging preliminary ideas with Vaggie on possible preparations for fortifying the hotel should the need require it; helping the other residents with small and meaningless chores or errands. He no longer slept and he spent the nights drinking and making efforts in dulling the edge to his urges.

Despite the distraction and despite him trying to deal with the arousals himself...he wasn't accomplishing much in assuaging his symptoms. Alastor's body was betraying him and he did not care for it. He felt overheated; a cold sweat constantly at his back. He had to take measures in concealing spontaneous erections and felt like every nerve on his body was a live wire just ready to ignite. His antlers were even weighing heavier on his head and he knew he couldn't ignore the implications of this much longer. 

When he got to Lucifer's, he felt a frazzled mess. Lucifer took one look at him and knew - despite all of the arrogant antics, despite all of the careful planning - Alastor was not handling his rut well. He was too...maniac and too on-edge. His ears too straight and twitchy, his eyes and smile too wide... 

"Have you eaten?" Lucifer asked him, inviting him inside. "You look like you could maybe use some food..." and maybe some sleep... 

"No, I have not...I -" He was trying to remember when he last ate...not today. "I suppose I should." 

"Shrimp and grits sound okay?" Lucifer asked him, walking toward the kitchen. 

Alastor paused; tilting his head. 

"I asked Charlie, alright." Lucifer told him. "I explained to her that you and I had important matters to discuss regarding information from Carmilla's extermination meetings she conducts with the Overlords tonight and I asked her what you might like to eat. She said you liked Cajun, so Cajun I made." 

Alastor just stared at him; giving him a hard look.

“Won’t your daughter be wondering at the strangeness of our…nightly meeting?” He asked.

“Hardly.” Lucifer told him turning and continuing down the corridor. “She knows that you’re nocturnal and that I’m an insomniac. Honestly; she’s just thrilled that we don’t have any foreseeable plans in murdering each other.”  

“I’d rather you didn’t go out of your way to make special accommodations for me.”

"I have an interest in knowing people, Alastor. I'm sure you've seen that trait in Charlie, as well. Don't be so surprised and don’t be so skeptical." 

Flicking one ear; Alastor followed him to the kitchen.

"Also, you might hate the dinner. Who knows. I never said I was a good cook." 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Following their meal, Lucifer noted that Alastor still seemed...out of sorts. They had engaged in quiet conversation that was pleasant enough but the man just seemed too...nervous and distant. Whatever expectations Lucifer had with tonight; this wasn't it.

Maybe this isn't the best solution... 

With the food gone and dishes put away; there was nothing left for it... 

"I don't know about you, but I could use a shower." Lucifer said; standing up to stretch. "Care to join me?" 

"A shower sounds....nice, actually." 

The bathroom was unlike anything Alastor had seen; dead or alive. It was incredibly spacious and immaculately kept... 

The shower was a large walk-in with multiple waterflow heads. Lucifer unabashedly stripped himself naked; setting his clothes aside. Walking across the tiles; he flipped on the knobs of two of the heads before stepping underneath the streaming water of one. 

Alastor paused; watching him. He expected Lucifer to start in on some form of leud comments...make an attempt at some or dirty talk; or hungrily – curiously even - watch him as he undressed; but the angel was paying him absolutely no mind. 

Sighing; Alastor slipped out of his suit jacket. 

Fully naked, he stepped into the shower with Lucifer; going to the second shower head that was beside him. Alastor stood underneath the jet; feeling the heated water soothe the static nervous energy he had stored in his body. He waited for Lucifer to turn toward him; to approach; to look at him and begin touching him but...he never did. Lucifer stood under his own steaming jet of water, eyes closed and head tilted as he showered; almost seemingly having forgotten that Alastor was even there. Alastor tweaked an ear, then closing his eyes he turned his face into the spray of water; feeling it thrum against his antlers, cascading across his lowered ears and through his hair. 

Lucifer watched Alastor from the corner of his eye. He had noted a hint of some sort of cologne when Alastor stepped into the shower with him but now...now that Alastor was under the water the smell was pungent. It was a heavy but earthy odor; something akin to the smell of pine trees and rain or the soft tones of a woodfire smoke. Lucifer breathed the scent in deeply; his pupils gently dilated, his heart rate jumped, and his mouth began to water...all at once he was suddenly very much aroused and he immediately realized that he was smelling and breathing in the concentrated pheromones of Alastor's musk. Lucifer couldn't help but stare at him now, feeling a powerful urge now to approach the red deer demon; to feel and to touch...to give and to take.

He saw the water washing across Alastor’s upturned face; ringlets, splashes and streams of it curling and twisting all down across his body. He briefly noted that Alastor was covered in scars; a sharp flickering of red and then he saw that Alastor also possessed a rather soft-and-delicate-looking deer tail. Lucifer wondered at the amount of secrets Alastor must be willing to sacrifice to see these deals he had made done…

Lucifer’s erection was openly jutting upwards but…he held back. Watching Alastor closely; he somehow knew that he wasn't ready to be touched yet. 

What hell it must be…he thought…to be someone who cared so little for physical intimacy - to have it forced upon them by their own biological need. Lucifer couldn't fathom it but he saw the discomfort; the detachment that Alastor was experiencing from it. It reminded Lucifer of one of his episodes that he had sometimes when he-

Wait. 

Hold on. 

Lucifer shook his head; blinking water from his eyes as he concentrated, looking much more closely at Alastor now.

Was Alastor...experiencing some episode of post-traumatic distress?

Lucifer focused; assessing all of the signs and he saw it, realizing…

“I’d rather not discuss it…”

Suddenly; all of it made sense.

Lucifer had wondered how Alastor – a sinner Cervidae demon that had been in Hell for as long as he had – had not yet come to terms with the matter of his occurring and re-occurring mating cycles. 

Something had to have happened…

Fuck…

Lucifer rubbed his face; of course, this had to be even more complicated.

He thought briefly again about what both Lilith and Alastor had said…about how Alastor had actually killed demons before when he –

Then, Lucifer remembered what he himself had told Alastor:

“…it wasn’t for the intentions that they had thought…”

Alastor was still standing under the shower head next to his; eyes closed, face tilted up, smile fixed to his face. His body was rigid; tension never leaving his body.

Lucifer sighed.

“Hey, Al…”

Alastor’s eyes opened; he turned his head, ears lifting, looking at Lucifer now – somehow expressionless despite the ever-present grin. 

“Come here; I-I’d like you to touch me.”

Alastor’s ears straightened; processing for a moment…

Then, reaching out – Alastor turned the knob to his shower head; turning off the spray of water. He went to Lucifer; stepping into the falling water and looking down at the angel. Reaching out again; he found the knob – turning it. Heat flared across Lucifer’s skin; turning his pale skin a rosy pink.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” Lucifer hissed.

Alastor huffed; a small smirk touching his face. Turning, he put his back to the streaming jet of hot water; facing Lucifer. Steam began to rapidly fill the shower; heat radiating around them.

Alastor waited; still anticipating Lucifer to reach out – touch him; grab him; grip him; smother him…

Lucifer lifted his hands; palms open and held to the side.

“Per our agreement…” He said, softly.

Alastor’s eyes widened; understanding.

“I won’t touch you.” Lucifer told him. “Not until you want me to.”

Alastor’s breathing changed; the base to his antlers were becoming more full, more points erupting and curling upward.

“Don’t hold back.” Lucifer told him.

Layers of tension left Alastor as he moved himself closer to Lucifer; his upper body leaning down and over the angel.

He took Lucifer’s face between clawed hands; tilting his head and pressing his mouth to his. Alastor kissed him and Lucifer kept his hands raised and away. Alastor pressed himself closer; completely blocking the spray of water coming from the shower head and Lucifer was grateful for the added heat that was filling the room in a foggy humid blanket.

Still kissing him; Alastor’s hands left the angel’s face and began exploring his body. Clawed fingers traced stimulating patterns all along Lucifer’s wet neck, chest, shoulders and stomach. Lucifer shuddered; groaning softly into Alastor’s mouth. Unlike Alastor; Lucifer craved to touch and craved being touched…now finding himself coming out of a rather lengthy dry spell – maybe not years worth, but still – his body was terribly touch deprived and every contact Alastor made with him was bracing to him. Keeping his hands away – he clenched his fists at the urge to reach out and touch Alastor.

Alastor pulled his head back; breaking the kiss. His fingers curled around Lucifer’s chin; his eyes wide and dilating.

“Put your hands on my shoulders.” He breathed.

Unclenching his fists; Lucifer did as he was instructed. Alastor waited for him to rest his hands on either side; pausing as if assessing himself - deciding whether he would find the contact acceptable.

Nodding; he leant back in – pressing his lips back again to Lucifer’s – his own clawed hands finding and gripping the smaller man’s waist; palms resting on each hip.

Lucifer let his hands rest – still - at Alastor’s shoulders; neither moving them to touch and explore Alastor like he ached to do nor to grip and pull him closer. Alastor gave a soft growl and Lucifer took it as an approving sound as the demon coaxed their mouths open; sliding his tongue between parted lips – he twisted and flicked it with and against Lucifer’s forked one.

More and more of the unease was leaving Alastor’s body…making room for a new kind of tension. Lucifer felt Alastor grip his hips tighter; his developing erection pressing into the King’s belly. Disengaging himself from Lucifer’s mouth; Alastor pressed his forehead to Lucifer’s; his breathing heavy.

“You may touch me now.” Alastor told him.

Slowly; Lucifer leaned in – touching his lips to Alastor’s collar bone and sliding his hands down across Alastor’s arms and his chest. Alastor groaned; sinking into the touch and Lucifer knew that he would no longer have to take such pangs to be so cautious. He nipped and licked at Alastor’s skin; his tongue tracing across the raised and jagged scars that crisscrossed his chest. Clawed fingers dragging soft red marks; everywhere they went.

Lifting a hand from a hip; Alastor found Lucifer’s length. He palmed and stroked the King; feeling the firming of muscle in his hand. Lucifer sucked in a breath; hands involuntarily gripping tightly at Alastor’s arms. Lucifer quickly released his sudden grip; but Alastor only chuckled lowly at the response he had elicited in him.

“Turn around, my King.” Alastor told him lowly.

Turning; Lucifer felt Alastor’s hands grip his shoulders – pulling him against him so that Lucifer could feel the sinner’s erection pressing sharply into his back. Alastor adjusted himself; then possessively wrapped an arm around Lucifer’s torso; holding him firmly to him as he leant himself over – reaching down to take the swollen and aching member into his grip again. He pressed himself tightly against the angel; his own fully erect penis sliding up and down Lucifer’s wet back as he moved his hips – pumping the King in his hand.

Lucifer bent himself back against Alastor; his hips quivering into jutting as he felt himself quickly approaching a climax. His clawed fingers dug into the wet and slick skin of Alastor’s forearm; wrapped tightly across his chest. Alastor’s face was pressed tightly into the side of Lucifer’s neck; growling and gasping as both their movements stimulated him into an ever-deepening arousal.

Alastor’s grip tightened and Lucifer knew he was lost. His hips jutted sharply; and he felt himself release into Alastor’s hand; cum slipping between fingers and washing away in the cascade of water around them. Alastor let him go; and Lucifer shakily stood – his back still to Alastor.

A soft flickering of the lights and a soft buzzing of something static made Lucifer turn. Alastor was standing behind him; his penis curved tightly upward, a hand covering his face – his eyes were wide, red and flaring crazily behind spread fingers. His smile maniac and stretched too wide. His ears were erratically twitching in sharp movements; the fur on them standing sharply on end. The lights began to strobe; going out briefly before flickering back in again. Shadows were creeping into corners; crawling across walls – slowly consuming the room. Alastor’s antlers where branching and stretching dramatically overhead; the points lengthening and twisting around themselves in a beautifully chilling way. Alastor’s musk pervaded the room; hanging heavy in the thickening steam that surrounded them.

“Somewhere else…” Alastor was saying; his widening eyes seeing nothing. “I’m…”

And the room went dark.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Did I lull you into a false sense of security....? Next Chapter, we're getting WILD!]

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fandom #alastor #fanfiction #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #my fanfic #no one can know... #no once can know... fanfic #hazbin lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne #alastor and lucifer #alastor x lucifer #lucifer x alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #radioapple #lucifer hazbin hotel #appleradio #the radio demon #demon alastor #alastor in rut #dark alastor

[springweaver]

Hello! I am finally finished with my wool dying antics (for now). Here are the results.

So I’ve been planing to make a day blanket for my bed for a while now, a project I’ve wanted to do for a variety of different reasons: - big rainbow c: - opportunity to use as much leftover wool as possible - opportunity to dye more wool

since my rigid heddle can only do 40cm max in width I was going to weave 4 strips and just sew them together. This meant that all my colors needed to be dividable by four. I then went through my stash to get everything usable and discovered that I already had 16 greens.

So I decided to take the easy way out and just dye until i had 16 of every color. (This means that I’ll probably have a whole bunch of leftovers, but ehh.) So after making a whole bunch of mini-skeins (around 15-20g each), I started with my 14 purples.

they came out really well! Although it’s really hard to mess purple up imo. It just has so much going on. Next were the 12 reds. 

Even though I really like them as well, they are a lot more subtle in their differences, and it shows up even less on camera. One batch was supposed to be a lot more pinkish, but looking at the photos now, i don’t even know which one. After some sleep(s), I tackled the 12 blues.

while the colors are very nice, that first batch is the only one I‘m genuinely unhappy with - it’s a lot greener that I wanted. So be careful if you ever try turquoises! I dyed the 6 yellows after this, and that was the reason why I didn’t try out a greenish yellow. Maybe another time. 

And the the last color: orange, of which I had to do 16, since I didn’t have any in my leftover box.

The oranges came out really well, although I forgot to take a picture of them on the drying rack. :( And that was that! I let them dry on the rack like that for a few days (or weeks, oops) then washed them, and hung them up again (but properly this time).

And here they are now!! Fully dry and back into little skeins, one of each batch for comparison.

And that’s it!! I am REALLY happy with how these turned out, and can’t wait to weave with them. Sadly, I still need to dye my warp threads, and also complete another bunch of projects which are much higher on the priority list (Christmas gifts I didn’t get done in time. Yes, I know its may. I’m working on it. Dx) But I will make a post for the blanket, when I start with that :) I hope you all have a nice day!!

#fr tho dying wool is soooo much fun u guys #i feel like you can hardly make any mistakes #you can only get something thats not quite what you're going for (looking at you turquoise) #but thats fine #since i dont have a smooth transition between green and yellow those are probs the end colors I'm gonna go with #and then it wont stand out as much #is that making sense? it makes sense in my brain #anyway I know its been some time since I posted any weaving which is because life has been evil lately #but its getting better #so. updates soon #hopefully #i die #dyeing #dyed wool #SpringWeaver

[personasintro]

Romance Is Not Dead | jjk

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; it’s valentine's day and you're single

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: brother's best friend!jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, angst (?)

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, mentions of sex (it's mentioned quite a lot), reader's brother is kinda dick, alcohol usage, men (that deserves a warning alright), drunk people (it's a party), angst (?) honestly I'm not sure if there's any angst but it's a story with a few realistic topics that are kinda sad if you think about it, it's not your average fluff story lol

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.7k+

a/n: happy valentine's day! mind you this was supposed to be a short drabble like around 2k lol, I had no proper idea of where this will go and somehow I ended up with quite a long story haha. but I'm happy I got more into writing, I wasn't expecting writing this much. if there are any mistakes, please ignore them hehe. I rushed to post it so I could make it on february 14th. I don't know what even is this story but i hope you enjoy it hahah don't forget to like and reblog ♡

“Argh! Who even invented Valentine's Day?”

The groan that leaves your mouth – or more like a loud complaint – rolls around the room, not stopping you from tossing your bag on the kitchen's table to show your annoyance more than actual anger.

“Hello to you too, sis.” Your brother throws a peace sign your way, not particularly fazed by the lack of greeting on your side.

From your peripheral vision you could easily tell they're right there. Your brother and his best friend have been best friends since high school, they go way back and somehow, they've managed to stay super close till now. It's quite admirable, you have to admit. You don't think you've ever seen or heard them fight. Overall, their friendship seems to be more relaxed in this sense than most girls' friendships.

Yes, that mostly happens between guys. They're not as dramatic or bitchy as some girls can be. God. None of your current friends are your friends from high school. You've parted ways eventually.

However, the amount of drama free that's clearly not present in their precious brotherhood is equalized with loud burps, unfiltered talks about girls and sex through male eyes. You would've mentioned farting but luckily, you haven't heard your brother's best friend to be that nasty in front of you. Which can't be said about your brother but well, that's a part of having a sibling – regardless of their gender.

It's quite cliché.

Your brother's older, therefore he's protective yet loves to embarrass you at any chance. He thinks he's all that and sometimes, it feels like he thinks he's your third parent. That's what's more annoying – perhaps even more than overrated Valentine's Day. 

“Did someone decline you on Valentine's Day?”

There he goes again.

Teasing you. It's a never-ending circle. Luckily, you've grown resistant to his pathetic attempts to embarrass you – especially when his friends are present. Yeah, your brother can be a dick and you're not afraid to tell him.

Though, you don't stick to the names and curses and instead turn it into something more powerful. 

Scoffing, you swipe your hair back and give him a look. “Please, look at me.”

“I am, that's why I asked.” 

You waste no time in grabbing one of the stupid empty cans he always has laying around and throw it at him. Did you mention he can be a pig sometimes?

Your aim has gotten way better throughout the years and when he curses at you once it hits the side of his head, you smile happily. His friend chuckles at the two of you, lifting the can that has fallen onto the floor and sets it on the table.

“Yeah, and that's why you chase every man that comes my way.” you comment, knowing well damn you're right. 

He frowns, “Those men can hardly be called men, sis.”

“Well, bro, I wouldn't know since you like to be the pain in my ass.” you smile at him tightly, seeing him looking before he goes back to playing one of his stupid video games. “Not that I have a man to look up to in the first place.”

They've been doing that a lot. Lame. 

His best friend's snort turns into a laughter that he barely gets to hold in. That makes you smile because you see it as a success in getting back at your brother. And perhaps your little crush you've had on him has something to do with it. But we don't talk about it.

Your brother glares at him but he's not affected, not even a bit. It's hard to put it into words or make any definition, but he's always been slightly more… intimidating? He has an aura around him that makes you appreciate even a little reaction from him. 

It's humorous. You've known him for years, merrily just from always seeing him next to your brother (because there were never other opportunities), yet it feels like you barely know anything about him. Even though he used to occupy your living room almost every day. And today doesn't feel much different. The only difference is that none of you live at your parents' house. 

“Who hurt you today?”

“Don't be a dick. I can be a bitch too.” you remind him sweetly, leaning forward against the kitchen counter and grab a grape that lays in a single bowl. Probably the only healthy thing he has in this kitchen. 

He flips you off and frowns once he doesn't win the game. Karma. “Anyway, are you gonna tell us why you came here so annoyed or you're gonna eat?”

“I can do both,” you shrug. “I just don't get the hype about Valentine's Day.”

“Oh, you asked who invented it? Probably a pair of groupies in love.”

You roll your eyes, “I don't think that's it.”

“It's about romance. It's romantic, sis.”

You snort, “And how would you know anything about romance?”

He chuckles cockily as if the next words he says is something to be proud about; “I don't. But the girl I fucked said something about it.”

“Ew!” you gag, stopping yourself from reaching for another grape. “You're gross sometimes.”

“You don't talk about sex with your friends? C'mon, it's normal.”

“Yeah, with my friends. Not in front of you.” you justify. 

“Jesus, we didn't have to hear that.” Your brother scolds you, clearly uncomfortable at the thought of you talking about sex. 

You sometimes make sex jokes in front of him just to mess with him. It's pretty funny and it never gets old. You don't do it often though, but perhaps you should. 

“I hear only you complaining.” you sign out, pointing out the obvious and for the first time since you've arrived, you give proper attention to his best friend. 

He's been awfully quiet. What's there for him to say anyway? You and your brother bicker most of the time, no matter how old you are. He's pretty much used to it by now. He just stuck to playing the game and other than cackling at your previous comment, he's been quiet. You hate that you're slightly annoyed by the lack of attention he gives you. Not that you're an attention seeker or desperate for his attention.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out he sees you as his best friend's little sister. Even though you're not as little as when he first met you. 

“JK is the last person who wants to hear your complaints.”

“Why don't you let JK speak for himself?” you question, a little edge to your tone as your brother huffs out, muttering something under his breath – obviously aimed at you.

“Chill out, you two.” he mutters, voice slightly deeper than you remember it even though the last time you've seen him was last month. It has a little rasp to it and you wish your eyes wouldn't glue to him automatically. 

He lays comfortably on the couch, man spreading with a game controller sitting in his lap while his big thumbs rest comfortably against the buttons. You might've mentioned you are not friends with people from a high school anymore, but you have friends. One who would kill for a moment to spend with your brother's best friend. Just to be in his close proximity.

Though, it's no secret he's not any better than most guys his age – including your own brother. In a weird way, you love your brother (even though you wouldn't probably ever say it out loud because he's a weirdo and he would just make fun of you), but you can easily tell he's not someone you would ever want to end up with. Personality and morally wise, of course. 

He surrounds himself with people with the same values, or the lack of. 

And perhaps, it's one of the reasons why you suddenly got annoyed because of today's day. February 14th. You're the type that simply brushes off any guy who comes your way that you don't have any interest in. There's no need for your brother. He's a dick and he chases the ones that might not be husband material, but they're hot and charming. You're not necessarily looking for a marriage. God. You're too young. You don't want to be the one that gets locked in a marriage with someone they just met. 

Definitely you don't want to get knocked up either. Fuck, they're so many scenarios that run inside your head. Ones you don't want to live in. 

Regardless of your current stance when it comes to your life and relationships, you're still romantic. All of your friends have dates today. Any other day or year, you wouldn't even think of it – but you've seen everything in the shape of a heart today. Not mentioning there's everyone kissing and hugging at every corner of the street. 

And you didn't get a discount on your cake because you were alone with no partner around. Who does that? That's discrimination!

Valentine's Day is overrated. Maybe you think that way because you're single. Have been for too long. And while you don't necessarily miss it, you kind of crave for someone's affection and touch. It's not even about sex. 

“Listen, we're having a party tonight. I wouldn't normally invite you–”

“Wow, thanks.”

He shoots you a glare again before he continues, “But seeing you so miserable, maybe you could come too.”

“Party? Is this another one of your gangbang parties?”

“I have never been a part of that, stop calling my parties that.”

“There are literally hundreds of people who are there to hook up.” you inform him.

He snickers, “That's like every party.”

You lift up your eyebrows, not quite believing him. It's like every party he hosts or is invited to. People his age make parties slightly less wild. Not that he's too old but still. He's acting and living too wild for his age. 

“I'm not hosting it.”

“Who is?”

“JK here.” His brother says, head motioning toward the man next to him. “I'm sure you don't mind that I'm inviting her.”

The said man looks at his brother, shrugging. “I don't.”

“Well?” Your brother looks back at you. “Are you coming?”

“Are you gonna chase everyone that comes my way? Y'know, my friends are all having dates and if I don't wanna spend tonight alone, I would rather have fun.”

“You're allowed to come. And yeah, probably I will.”

“You're a douche. I'm an adult, stop treating me like a child.”

Your brother sighs, already knowing what argument is about to come. It's about the same stuff every time. 

“I'm doing it for your own good. The people that are gonna be there, guys that are gonna be there are like us, sis.”

There's a certain softness behind his voice, though it still stays vigorous as if he's trying to get something through your thick head. You know all of that, though. You know he doesn't hang out with the best people. But they're just dicks. And they're thinking with dicks. But you can take care of yourself. Besides, he's going to be there as well. 

JK, or Jungkook like you refer to him in your head, briefly looks at you. But you spot it and stare at him as his eyes drift to your brother. “You can't protect her forever.”

“That's something an asshole would say.”

“I never said I'm not one. But let her have her fun.”

“You know what? Don't come. I don't want you there.” Your brother stands up and shoots you a glare before he walks away. 

God! He's such a dick!

JK chuckles and you realize you've been frowning this whole time. You hear the door slam close and you scoff. “He's such a child.”

You eye him with no embarrassment whatsoever, tracing all the tattoos he has gotten throughout the years. The white shirt fits his torso perfectly, even though it's oversized his muscles peak through. 

Your friend told you he's at the gym almost every day. It sure looks like that. 

He suddenly stands up and you straighten automatically, watching him make his way toward you but not before tossing the game controller on the couch. He stays on the other side of the table, reaching for one of the grapes while still staring at you. 

God. He's doing something purposely.

For the first time today, your confidence slightly falters but you do your best not to show it. You stare as he pops one of the grapes into his mouth and chews on it. 

“You're still invited. That's if you still wanna come.”

You blink, “But my brother–”

“Is like a child sometimes. You're gonna be fine there.”

Gulping, you mutter; “How are you so sure?”

He doesn't answer but there's a small smirk playing on his lips. “You would still come, wouldn't you? Just to piss him off.”

That causes you to let out a soft chuckle because yes, he's right about that. Your brother needs to understand you're not a child. “I would.”

“Alright, then come.”

You poke the inside of your cheek with your tongue and lift your brow, “I will.”

You will go to the party. Even if your brother would burn down the city.

One of the few things you've learned about your brother's best friend – Jungkook – is that he comes from a wealthy family. You know he got his own place in the city center, that alone tells you he's got money. Whether they come from his parents or by his own hard work is unknown to you. Either way, it's quite clear he's always been slightly privileged than most kids your age.

You've never been to his parents' house. There was never a reason for you to go there, plus, you're not your brother and he didn't exactly bring his little sister with him whenever he went somewhere. The only time he would have to spend time with you alone was when he had to babysit you. But you would always stay home and he would let you know how annoyed he is because of that.

A typical teenager who wanted to chase girls and experience his first hook-ups rather than having to babysit his little sister who was born with sharp tongue and big mouth. You're probably his karma for all the hearts he already managed to break. 

Anyway – you know JK's parents' house is settled up the hill, away from the city and in a rich area where all the big houses were built. You've never seen it, hence your first reaction when you spotted a huge gate and a house that looks more like a mixture between mansion rather than a small family house.

Before he parted ways a few hours ago when you last saw him, he gave you the address. Seems like you've arrived just in time. There are many people, outside and inside – everywhere. It looks like the college parties you get to see in movies but more upgraded.

The thing about you is that you would never go to a party alone. Even if two people you know are here. Well, your brother still doesn't know you're here and he's about to get pissed once he sees you. Suddenly, the idea to piss him off doesn't seem so alluring.

But this house – or mansion or whatever this building is called – is the only place that is not filled with heart balloons. They might be couples and strangers that are glued to each other, the romance is simply not present. It's nasty and explicit to a certain extent. 

A part of you is disgusted at how easy some people seem to be, letting themselves to be groped by strangers, but there's something alluring. Perhaps even more than doing this just to prove a point to your brother. 

You don't get a chance to look around the place, since it's crowded and you're trying not to get shoved into, you're looking for a bigger space and maybe something to drink. You make it into the main room it seems. A huge couch in the shape of U looks massive but it fits into the big room perfectly. There are people everywhere and there's not a single space on the couch. However, once you make it closer and spot a tiny space, it's all forgotten and your vision naturally travels to the couple sitting there. 

You would spot those tattoos everywhere.

Jungkook's there. And a woman sitting on his lap as you see them making out explicitly, tongues brushing against each other. Alright, a part of you envies the woman but looking around and seeing more of them staring in slight irritation and jealousy, you're not alone. You scrunch your nose at them not caring and just making out with each other in front of everyone. There's no way they don't know everyone's eyes are on them. The guys ignore them though. It's mostly women.

The one that sits on his lap and seems to be ready to jump his bones, is wearing a tiny top and mini skirt. You can see her panties and you feel embarrassed to witness the tiny piece of underwear. Well, she doesn't seem to care.

His hand is on her waist, gripping it tightly as he pulls away and mutters something into her lips. She giggles, all her attention focused on him. 

Despite knowing him for years, you've never seen him in this element. And maybe that's what your brother didn't want you to see. Not even Jungkook but everyone here. You've witnessed a few parties, but this one is completely on another level. It looks straight out of a movie and perhaps completely out of your comfort zone. 

But you don't leave. You stick in your spot and just stare at your brother's best friend flaunting his charm all around him, but mostly aimed at the woman on his lap. 

Since your brother that eventually came out of the bathroom told you to get out, you've decided to come after all and give him a taste of his own medicine. Maybe not exactly the same but that's why you chose one of your tight dresses. They're not special. Just a dress that almost every woman owns. But this one has thin straps and you don't get to wear a bra in it, that's how tight it is. It's the only clothing you're wearing, minus the panties of course. 

You look good. You know you do and that's why you chose this outfit particularly. You thought the heels are perhaps too much, but luckily you opted for them instead of your sneakers. Everyone seems to be dressed like they're in a club. Not even one outfit on a woman here looks completely comfortable. And they show more skin when they wear clothing. Not that you're judging. You're not the one to talk.

And you know this choice of clothing is not only a magnet for eyes, but for unwanted touches you were counting on eventually. It's sad but it's the truth. That's why you never come alone to these things. You always have your friends with you. You would kick asses for each other and overall, you feel more protected and safe. 

The hand that slaps your ass – that definitely looks good in this dress – causes you to turn and twist your face in anger. You spot a wasted man that smiles stupidly as if he did something cute. You shove him in the chest causing him to stumble into a few people who start to curse at him and complain.

“Touch me one more time and I will fucking kick your ass.” you spit at him. 

Your ass might look good but that's not an open invitation for strangers or anyone to touch you unwillingly. 

He gains his balance and his drunk features twist into anger. You see it. He's angry because you're not all over his dick because he touched you. First of all, he's not even hot. And he's wasted out of his mind. There's nothing hot about it. 

He doesn't make it too close because you push him again, causing him to fall this time.

“You bitch!” he yells, having a trouble to stand up and you cover your mouth to shield the giggle that makes it out. 

One of the guys that he stumbled into turns around, ready to curse. But as your eyes lock, all the amusement fades away and your eyes widen in a sudden fear. Shit.

It takes a moment for your brother to register that it's you – perhaps the exposed skin causes him to widen his eyes too before they twist into anger.

“What the fuck.”

“I was invited.” you automatically argue, yelping once he makes his way toward you and grabs you by your forearm. He kicks the bastard that still tries to stand up and starts leading you elsewhere. No, he's not leading you but dragging you with him.

It's not the initial reaction you had in mind. You wanted to smirk, to show him that you're here and there's nothing you can do about it. But that's out of the picture because in the end, you're just a little girl that maybe loves to piss off her brother, but once you truly piss him off you back away.

That realization causes your anger to come back and you dig your heels into the wooden floor, trying to get out of his hold. “Stop squeezing me like that!”

“Would you like to be squeezed by strangers?!” He yells over the music, both of you stopping next to a staircase.

It already happened, you wanted to say but decide to stay quiet.

He couldn't see what the stranger did to you. He only saw the man falling and stumbling into him. So the fact that he's this pissed off to see you here without even seeing what happened just minutes ago, makes you think he needs a psychiatrist. What would he do if he saw what happened?

“Maybe I want that!” you yell at him. “And there's nothing you can do about it!”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and tries to calm down. “What are you doing here.”

“I told you. I was invited.”

“I uninvited you.”

You scoff, “It's not your party, you moron.”

“JK invited you?”

“Yeah.” you shrug just to piss him off some more.

He stares at you for a moment, glaring but you glare back before he shakes his head and takes a deep breath. “Fine. But you're not leaving my side.”

You scoff but he grabs your shoulders tightly. 

“I mean it.”

“Stop touching me.” You slap his hands away, his touch fading away as you're about to open your mouth to curse at him some more.

Before you can do it, someone nudges him from the left side. Your brother is about to pounce but once he sees his best friend in the flesh, he stays down but not before he's reminded of what you told him. 

“What are you doing.” He questions your brother but he just scoffs in return.

“You invited her?”

Jungkook rolls his lip piercing as he shrugs, “I did.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“Me? You invited her first if I recall.” 

Your brother stares at his friend in disbelief before he glances at you. You shrug, lifting your brown. 

“You two are fucking unbelievable.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, probably thinking your brother is just dramatic. Which he is. While they're too busy arguing, you don't pay attention to anything that's being said. You shamelessly eye Jungkook, spotting how blurry his lips are from the make out session you witnessed a while ago. He's got a similar outfit like you've seen him during the day. The only difference is that he's wearing all black. 

“Listen you two, I will stay out of your sight, okay?”

“No fucking way!” Your brother argues while Jungkook sighs in exhaustion. 

“I'm just gonna have a few drinks and meet new people.”

“These people are not for you to meet or be friends with.”

“Who said anything about being friends?” you mutter, causing your brother to curse at you once more.

“No–” He stops you before you can interrupt him, “You invited her, so you will look after her.”

“Me?” JK frowns, disliking the idea. While you would be slightly offended by the lack of interest when it comes to you, you're also irritated that your brother here is acting the same. Only this time he's giving the responsibility to Jungkook. 

“Yes, you! You invited her, so you'll watch over her tonight. If anything happens to her, I will personally kill you,” 

God. He's so full of himself. If Jungkook wanted, he could knock him out with one punch. But you don't say it to hurt his male ego and boost Jungkook's one. It seems they're full of ego. 

“And I'm not joking.”

He brushes past you two and leaves angrily. To probably shove his tongue down to any first girl he sees. 

And from the looks of it Jungkook looks like he would rather much do the same. But then he looks at you, reminded of his current responsibility. You. 

“Listen–you don't have to look after me–I can handle my–”

“Are you okay?”

“What?”

He stares you down, not in the creepy way to stare at your body but almost looking for anything that could give him answers to his question.

“I've seen what happened.”

“You've seen it?” you breathe out, “I'm fine.”

“You sure?”

“I handled it.” you grit through your teeth.

“You did,” he agrees much to your surprise. “Or maybe you were just lucky.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” You trash with your hands, but he catches your wrist. Gently. But he has his hold on you and your breath catches in your throat. He pulls you closer.

“What if it was someone who wouldn't be so wasted? Hm?”

You gulp, glancing at his lips for a split second before you find his dark eyes on yours. “It happened with people around us. Someone would step in.”

He scoffs, “Don't count on it too much.”

“They would–”

“Some of them. Not all of them,” he informs you. 

You're reminded that he knows these parties. He knows how it's going. And while no one would mess with him personally, it doesn't mean everyone is as safe as him. Let alone any women. That much you've realized and you haven't even been here for a half an hour. 

“What if he waited until you're drunk to take you somewhere else?”

You breathe out shakily, “Stop.”

“What if he dragged you upstairs? And that's just the start of what he might've done.”

“Fucking stop.” you warn him with your eyes but he doesn't budge. 

He tames you like you're a fucking dog.

“Your brother's right. You're staying with me.”

“And staring at you making out all night?”

You shut your mouth as soon as your response gets out. Jungkook tilts his head tiniest bit to the side and the corner of his mouth lifts up. “You were watching.”

“It was hard not to. Everyone was watching.”

“That's not an excuse.”

You inch closer, licking your lips. “It wasn't supposed to be.”

He stares at your lips before his touch disappears and so its warmth does. “You're not leaving my side.”

You scoff but he glares at you which surprisingly shuts you up. 

“I can give you alcohol, you can have fun. But you're not leaving my side.”

“You're worse than my brother.” That's a stretch and you both know it, but you've never seen Jungkook acting like this. He never really cared. He never had to in the first place. That's what your brother was for. 

He inches closer, hovering over you like only his presence can. “I can be worse.”

And somehow, that sounds like a promise. Once he motions for you to follow him, you do like a lost poppy with gritted teeth and anger bubbling inside you. But you don't disobey. Perhaps it's the shock or the weird feeling in the pit of your stomach that makes you buzz with excitement. 

Fuck. 

It's not hard not to have a crush on someone like Jungkook. He's hot, he's confident but not in the way where he's full of himself. He has every reason to be confident.

And just like he promised, he has managed to give you drinks that surprisingly taste good. They're not too strong and something tells you he purposely picked those out for you. You don't complain. They don't cause you to make grimaces at every gulp and you can feel yourself relax. In the corner your brother watches you with glare, reminding you of something that should feel like punishment. 

Perhaps it does.

Jungkook has you seated next to him, back on the couch. The woman he made out with sits on the opposite side, sending daggers next to you. You roll your eyes very publicly, scoffing and making sure she sees you. 

“JK, can we go somewhere else?” You hear her annoying sweet voice, while Jungkook himself looks slightly irritated that he has you on his watch. “Upstairs?” she suggests.

“Sorry, love, can't.”

She huffs out, “Why? Because you're babysitting?”

You move sideways to face her, leaning through Jungkook as you glare at her. “Maybe he just doesn't want your tongue shoved in his mouth.”

Jungkook sighs, lifting his hand to your collarbones to move you back but you don't budge. 

“Oh yeah? He wants more than that.” she informs you. 

“God, you're so desperate.”

“Excuse me?!”

“Behave.” Jungkook warns you, pushing slightly harder and finally, you plop back onto your spot and fume with arms crossed. 

“Tell your bitch to behave.”

“Y/N.” Jungkook warns through his teeth. You stop, realizing that this is the first time he said your name. Still fuming, you give him a glare before standing up.

“What did you just call me?”

“Come on.” Jungkook stands up too before you can make things worse and he's going to be caught up in a girls fight. This is not the night he planned.

He doesn't drag you like your brother did. He still rests his hand against your back and leads you in a direction. You don't protest. You want to but anything's better than being in the blonde's presence one more second. 

When you realize you're standing next to your brother who's leaning against the wall, watching the two of you with a knowing and quite pleased smirk. 

“Dude. That's enough.”

“Are you having any issue with my sis, JK?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, “You made your point.”

“No, I don't think I have.”

“You two are annoying.” he sighs, closing his eyes.

“Excuse me? What have I done?” you exclaim, hand on your chest as he gives you a knowing look that shuts you up.

It's more than clear. Jungkook has brought you to your brother, so he could deal with you rather than he has to. It bruises your ego, but only slightly because you don't let any guy do any permanent damage. But you have to be honest. It's slightly embarrassing how he wants to shake you off. Clearly his plans for tonight have been different and watching the blondie still waiting for him patiently makes your night even worse, knowing what exactly he had planned. 

“You made me a huge cockblocker, bro.” you interrupt their bickering. It feels refreshing not to be the one bickering with your brother. 

Which reminds you that for the first time, you actually see them in some sort of argument even though it's not exactly a fight. Your brother as always is a pain in the ass and Jungkook's now experiencing it. You don't understand why Jungkook just doesn't let you go? Why did he insist on having you by his side at all times? 

Most likely, he doesn't want to piss off your brother.

Jungkook throws you yet another glare, but you brush him off pretty easily. “It's not about that.”

You give him a look which makes him groan.

“It's not just about that.”

And then they continue again. Your brother complains about your presence here, blames Jungkook rather than your own decision to come. He knows you. He knows you've done it to mess with him and it worked. But he expected better from Jungkook. 

You don't want to hear any second of it any longer. You don't wait for Jungkook's response, not even when you see his frown deepen and you know he's getting angrier by every word your brother spits in his face.

Using the tiny chance where they don't pay you any attention, you distance yourself from them. When you're in a safe distance and are not stopped by one of them, you make a run for it. Grabbing a wine bottle from someone's hold, ignoring them complaining, you make it upstairs and try to find a place where you can be alone. Before they find you.

You know once they notice you're not there, they'll be looking for you. Well, your brother will for sure. Even though he can be a dick, he's worried. But let him. That's what he gets for not letting you enjoy tonight. 

Passing by people who either mingle or make out, you try a few doors that are locked. Wise decision. Another reason why Jungkook seems to know how these parties go. It seems almost impossible to find a place where no one is. 

Just when you become tired and desperate, you make it to the quieter part of the house. It's weird because there are people everywhere. It's impossible to find somewhere quiet and empty. 

Luckily for you, you end up in a room that seems to be some sort of office. It's medium sized, definitely not one of the biggest rooms in this massive house, but still bigger than your kitchen and room together. 

It seems Jungkook has forgotten to lock this room. There's nothing special about it though. But he definitely doesn't want anyone to have sex on the wooden desk you pass by. There are a few shelves with books and a lamp, but other than that it's pretty empty. Oh, and there's a small couch. It looks expensive but it seems like they've brought it here just to put it somewhere. Not that it doesn't fit in here.

But it definitely doesn't look as expensive as the furniture you've managed to see in your short stay here. What has it been? Two hours? Two awful hours and no fun. 

Making it onto a small balcony, you sigh in relief when you find it open. It's facing the back of the house and your mouth drops when you see a fountain, pool and a garden in the distance. He's filthy rich. His parents are.

Sitting on the cold ground, you take a sip of the wine. Your features scrunch in disgust but you force yourself to drink. It's more from the whole annoyance and anger you've been feeling ever since you came here.

Maybe they were right.

This place is not for you.

You have no idea how long you end up sitting there. 

You just stare, hearing the blasting music in the distance and the chatter of people. You wonder if any neighbor called the police on him. But they're in the distance, probably they don't hear it as much.

There's a forest around you. There are no cars, no barking and no city noise. You wonder how this place feels like when there's no party. It must be calm and relaxing.

“Here you are.”

You hear it as soon as the balcony door slides open, ignoring the hint of annoyance in his voice as you take another gulp.

“You can't disappear like that!”

You chuckle, “Really? Watch me.”

“Your brother went crazy when you disappeared.”

“Sounds like a him problem.” you shrug.

“Are you drunk?”

You give him a look, a lazy smile making it onto your face.

“Where did you get that?”

“You know this is the most you've spoken to me since I've known you.” you take a note out loud.

He ignores you though. “You're gonna have one hell of a hangover tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a me problem, no?”

“God, you're such a brat,” he groans, “And get off the ground, you're gonna get sick.”

Snorting, you shake your head. “You're acting just like my brother.”

“You're irresponsible.”

That causes you to get a whiplash from how fast you glare at him. “I am not. Y'all act as if I can't do things on my own. Not only does my brother try to control me and watch over my shoulder every goddamn minute, you started doing it too!”

“He's worried about you.”

“Whatever,” you grumble, “Go back to blondie and leave me alone. Or snitch to my brother about my whereabouts, I'm sure he will get me out of here.”

He stays though. He doesn't move and doesn't speak for a moment. Instead, he sighs and sits next to you. 

“I wanted you to have fun.”

“Well, that didn't work, did it?”

“Look at you,” he chuckles, nudging lightly on your shoulder. “You seem to have fun on your own.”

“Yeah, spending Valentine's Day alone on the balcony of my brother's best friend is just so much fun.”

He laughs. He actually laughs and gives you an approving nod once he realizes you're right. “You're not alone anymore.”

You give him a look but before he can elaborate, he motions toward the bottle in your hand with his head. 

“Give me that.”

“No, this is the only fun I have.”

“C'mon, I will drink with you.”

Your surprise comes out before you give him a suspicious look. “You will?”

“Yeah.” he agrees and takes the bottle you hesitantly give him.

He takes a small sip, not a few gulps as you expect him to. “Is that all you got?”

“For tonight, yeah.”

“Why?” you question.

“I will take you home.”

You scoff, but then he continues. 

“After you decide you wanna go home.”

“Really?” Your surprise makes it out again. “You're not gonna kick me out?”

“I would never kick you out.” 

You make a face, “But my brother–”

“Your brother can be a dick sometimes.”

“Woah.”

“Don't act like you don't know it.”

“I do, but I'm just surprised you're the one saying it.”

He sets the bottle on the other side of him. It doesn't go unnoticed by you but you decide not to fight with him, especially once you feel the alcohol doing its job. 

“Well, I've seen it from his side and I gotta be honest, he's protective. Sometimes overly but he's not doing it because he hates you, y'know?”

“I know he doesn't hate me,” you inform him. “It's just annoying sometimes.”

“But now I've seen more of your side and he should just let you live.”

You nod in appreciation with lips pursed, “Wow, thank you.”

He smiles, “You still do a lot of stuff just to get back at him. You're not making it any easier, huh?”

You laugh, “It's my rebellion.” 

You sit there for a moment in complete silence. Jungkook stands up and leaves. You act as if you're not disappointed but before you can reach for the bottle that Jungkook has left here, the door slides open again and Jungkook wraps a blanket around you. 

“Don't look so surprised.”

“Wow, JK does something nice for a girl?”

“I can do a lot of nice things.”

“Is there a double-meaning or?” you trail off, causing him to laugh as he shakes his head.

“Not like that.”

Yeah, because you're his brother's best friend.

Not that you would ever want something with him. Only in your most secretive dreams but that's beside the point. Jungkook is not boyfriend material. You've seen it today more than ever. But you can't deny that he attracts you in the weirdest way possible. You have never experienced that with anyone. 

He's your type. When it comes to looks. And you're slightly ashamed to admit that some of his behavior attracts you. Basically, it's a red flag but what do they say? I'm color blind?

“How are you not freezing?”

It's February and you're sitting on a balcony. 

“I'm drunk.”

God, you're going to end up sick. Even your drunk self scolds you. 

“You wanna go home?”

“Not yet.”

He nods, not protesting as you both stare ahead. Your thoughts run wild, even in their slow pace because of alcohol flowing in your system.

“I was so annoyed because today's Valentine's Day,” you start, chuckling at yourself. “At first I thought I was just annoyed because everyone's in love and everything about today is about love. I do think it's overrated though.”

“I don't know, I never cared about it to be honest.”

You laugh, “Did you make today's party for all anti-romanticists?”

“No, I would've done it either way.” he chuckles. 

“Did you ever make something romantic for Valentine's Day?”

He makes a face, frowning but silently laughing amusingly at the thought of it. “No.”

“You know what? I think I was more annoyed that secretly maybe I crave for something romantic. Not necessarily a relationship.”

“Or maybe you just feel the pressure of today's ridiculous holiday and people around you.”

You snort, “You're just saying that because you're not in love.”

“Love's not for me. Not that kind at least.”

“And what kind?”

“I loved our family dog.”

You laugh, “That's different. I'm not talking about that.”

“I know you don't. Just sayin', love has all forms.” 

You hum, sighing before you start shivering. 

“Come on, let's go inside. You're freezing.”

“But–”

“We don't have to go home.”

“Or maybe I should. I'm getting tired. And I think I'm gonna throw up.”

“You were mixing hard liquor with wine. You will.” he agrees and once you nudge him, he laughs at you. “C'mon, you little brat. It's time to go home.”

As he makes sure you don't fall on the stairs, giving you the support you almost stumble when your brother makes his way toward you, breathless and relieved once he sees you.

“Where the hell have you been?! I've been looking for you everywhere. We've been looking for you! Why do you have the blanket?”

“Found her on the balcony.”

“What were you doing there?!” He screeches.

“Don't worry, I wasn't going to jump. But if I'm gonna have to keep up with your annoying ass for one more second, maybe I will.”

“You're drunk.” He scoffs.

“And honest.” you add.

“And where are you going?”

“I'm gonna take her home.” Jungkook answers, helping you with the last step as your brother stares with mouth wide open. 

“Like the hell you will! You were drinking.”

“I wasn't,” he responds. “Not since I was with her anyway.”

“Doesn't mean you don't have alcohol in you.”

“I don't. I'm fine.”

You didn't even realize he wasn't drinking anymore. God. You really can be a pain in the ass too. But that's your brother's doing though. He should've never ordered Jungkook to look after you. 

“You're the one who reeks of alcohol,” Jungkook informs him calmly, “Or you want someone else to take her?”

He shakes his head, still hesitant. He walks closer to you and wraps the blanket tighter around your form. “Are you gonna be fine?”

“Yeah, I trust Jungkook. Don't you?”

“I do.” He doesn't hesitate. 

He gives one final nod to Jungkook as he leads you out of the house. As you're walking out of it, you spot blondie with a group of what seems like her friends, glaring the shit out of you. You stick out your tongue when Jungkook's busy opening the door for you. The look on your face causes you to smirk.

Jungkook gets you inside his flashy car and you're kinda doomed that you're too drunk to look around and appreciate the expensive type of vehicle. You're drifting in and out of your consciousness. But you notice Jungkook stopping in front of a convenience store, informing you he'll be right back. And he is. It seems like he's been gone for a minute because you close your eyes, open them and he's already there.

The drive and walk to your home is quick. You get to walk on your own, much to your embarrassment there are no accidents of stumbling or falling. As soon as you make it past your doormat, you make it inside your bathroom and throw up in the sink. It's embarrassing once you hear Jungkook behind you, helping you with your hair. He doesn't say anything, just letting you throw up everything that's currently in your stomach. 

“I should take a shower.”

“Fuck that. Go lay down. I will lock the door.”

“Lock?”

“Your brother gave me his spare keys.”

“Oh.”

After a few minutes of bickering, you still insist on taking a shower. Jungkook sighs and lets you do your own thing, patiently waiting in the living room. Once you make it out in your pajamas that consist of your brother's huge t-shirt, you find him scrolling through his phone. 

“You gonna be fine?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You're seconds from passing out. You might've stumbled in the bath a few times but you hope he didn't hear that. 

You drag your feet to your bedroom and fall onto bed. You'll cover yourself later. As soon as you lay down, you ignore your spinning head and the disgusting taste of vomit that is still present, even though you've brushed and rinsed your teeth even in your drunken state.

The night is wild.

You throw up a few times, finding a prepared bucket beside your bed but unfortunately, you don't make it into it the first time. Once you wake up with a messy and aching head, you notice vomits on your floor and you cringe at yourself. Disgusting. 

You wake up around twelve, finally in a better state to leave your eyes open without having to vomit everywhere. You're about to reach for your phone, knowing you're going to have at least a dozen messages from your brother. But you stop yourself as you stare at things that weren't on your nightstand before.

There's a glass of water. A box of painkillers and a chocolate bar wrapped in a package filled with pink and red hearts. 

There's a note stuck to it. 

'Happy Valentine's Day, JK'

You stare, reading the note over and over again. 

And they say romance is dead.

#jungkook x reader #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #bts au #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #personasintro

[iceunhie]

JEALOUSY IS A FICKLE THING...

ft. al-haitham, ayato, wriothesley, lyney

warnings : gender neutral, jealousy, mentions of suggestive content on wriothesley's part, established relationship, you are wriothesley's spouse. erm slight dark content but it's okay it isn't implied, we need more men like them in the world

mhie's notes : i used the wheel randomizer for this i hope everyone's proud i write for anyone other than scara ijbol

al-haitham’s jealousy is muted; quiet and hardly noticeable, often non-existent unless you have the fortune of knowing him deeply enough (kaveh). make no mistake, al-haitham trusts you, he simply doesn’t trust those that make moves on you when he was clearly right there. when some bothersome person disrupts you both on a simple date, which is already a clear red warning sign, for the acting grand sage hardly has any time to spare; naturally, his reaction would be to put a complete stop to any and all the flirty remarks towards you with a flat tone.

it’s not the content of the words that make the person making a move on you leave, but the slight menacing edge to al-haitham’s voice, a sign that if they do intend to cross the line more than necessary, he won’t just be using his words.

most would back off after a simple talking-to, but in the case that person doesn’t cease their advance, you can best bet your lover is steering you away immediately. dendro archon forbid they touch you or make you uncomfortable in the slightest, though, or else al-haitham has no qualms contacting the matra or taking matters in his own hands, but this scenario hardly happens often, given his seamless ability to get to the heart of the conflict and uprooting it so that no problems arise.

he’d most likely opt to diffuse the situation by straight-up telling any admirer of yours that you were taken and most definitely not up for grabs.

“they are my lover. since you’re clearly crossing their preferred boundaries and seem ignorant of the fact, i’d advise you to stop making them feel any more uncomfortable.”

though it’s truly difficult to get al-haitham jealous due to the excellent control of his emotions, tempered by his rational thinking, the most you can see of it is how he seems to stay closer to you than usual and the simple but firm link of your fingers as you both continue on your days.

(but if you notice him putting a subtle hand on your waist as you both walk, do try not to comment on it, will you?)

for ayato… er, why have you even bothered? if one even has the nerve to flirt and court the yashiro commissioner’s own partner, then that’d make you either not inazuman, or simply an idiot. it’s no exaggeration, but a simple fact. ayato is by no means a jealous man, but he doesn’t like seeing those not worthy of you hover around you with such impure and unwelcome intentions, so he tells ayaka and thoma, but really, he just wants to call the shuumatsuban on any who dares to even look at you the wrong way.

he bides his time well, approaching your admirer with a genial smile and elegant composure and indulges in small talk, but there’s a chill in the air and the looming feeling of doom as well as his smile that seems to see through any and all actions. its terrifying, really.

it also doesn’t help that he’d be extremely touchy in these moments, seeking to link arms with you and yes, even going as far as to rest his head on your shoulder, a clear indication of exactly how close you two really are. after you introduce him as your lover, at this point, it’s likely that the person making a move on you would back off and run away immediately, for how could they even dare to compete when it’s the yashiro commissioner himself who they’re facing?

he’d gloat silently afterwards in the comfort of his own quarters though, the sight of your admirer cowering like a dog getting cornered by a wolf, ah, truly satisfying. though thoma would eventually tell him to tone down the ‘borderline evil chuckling.’

“my love, have you been well? hm? the change of topic? ah, well, as the saying goes; ‘out of sight, out of mind,’ yes? no need to think about those that’ll only bother you. now, come here, there’s a new hotpot ingredient i’d like you to try… haha, relax, it isn’t dango this time.”

another one with a terrifying reputation and terrifying influence to make even the most daring of your admirers quake in their boots. wriothesley is amused - he gets that there’s hardly any window for romance in such a dreary place like the fortress, but even going as far as to court the duke of meropide’s own spouse? really funny, honestly.

but after the initial wave of amusement, he does take this time to immediately show off his status as your husband, showing off the matching wedding rings and even having the well-deserved nerve to smile and continue on rambling about your marriage, which is clearly a very happy one, judging by the way he presses a lingering kiss to your cheek while maintaining clear eye contact towards the person.

you’d have to wrangle in your husband when you both sleep tonight though, because wriothesley has made it his personal mission for any and all those who wish to covet you to show them that you were his spouse, and no other held your heart or your affections. when morning rises the next day, you promptly leave with a very visible bruise on your neck, and an especially relaxed and happy duke at your heels. most would look away in embarrassment, including your admirers, so that’s that.

“hah, that'll show any of those who have way too much time on their hands to lay their hands off my spouse. what? too brutal? well, sweetheart, what did you expect?”

oh my god lyney. haiz this enigmatic magician… magicians are all about masterfully weaving lies and illusions in order to perform to the top standard, and it's no surprise lyney also uses such methods when dealing with any and all annoyances in your relationship. he can be perfectly fine on the outside, but he has always been good with keeping his more sinister and less than socially acceptable side in check.

in fact, chances are he’d probably charm away your admirer with his own tricks; a wink their way and honeyed suave words to ease their love-struck heart and in seconds your admirer is up and away, promising to leave.

this often gets you disgruntled and in awe of his ‘performance,’ but lyney will always stave off your complaints or questions with a rainbow rose or some other fancy trick of his up his sleeve and guide you away, person courting you forgotten. all according to plan….

in all honesty, lyney isn't as composed about it as he seems. lynette can see it at a glance after you two have separated after the encounter. it shows in the way he broods silently for some time, preferring to divert the attention of such a sore subject away and going about endlessly about what new gifts he might give you or what seat was best for viewing, read: what seat was closest to him, for that matter. her brother was truly such a pain in the neck, and lynette does thank you for making him happy, but really, at this rate, you'd drive him insane by how much sway you hold over him.

“and just a trick of the light here and-! ta-da! a rainbow rose, symbolizing just how much i do adore you, way more than any other! …so don't try to pay attention to them, okay? after all, you've already caught this magician’s eye and heart~”

he can still be pouty and extremely clingy after the encounter though, which carries on whenever he performs any of his shows, where lyney always, always makes one of his acts feature you, be it a simple guess your card trick or his favorite, the one act where he leads you to land up on stage and give him a kiss based on the card’s instructions, it's all to show just how wrong anyone else other than him would make you as elated as lyney does.

@ MHIIEEE 2023 : do not copy, repost or plagiarize my work.

btw can you tell i had fun writing for al-haitham despite the fact that i have never even been remotely interested in him in the entirety of the game

#mhie's spirals #astronetwrk #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #al haitham x reader #lyney x reader #wriothesley x reader #kamisato ayato x reader #ayato x reader #al haitham #lyney genshin

[primofate]

Kiss your Genshin best friend to see his reaction

Summary: You’ve been best friends for a whilenow, and you definitely have those little feelings of maybe wanting to be more but you just don’t know how to convey it. So you take a leap of faith, put a hand on his cheek, and give him a peck on the lips. Something you’ve never done before. Hey, actions speak louder than words, right...?

Characters: Aether, Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Bennett, Chongyun, Cyno,  Dainsleif, Diluc, Gorou, Itto, Kaeya, Kaveh, Kazuha, Lyney, Neuvillette, Razor, Scaramouche, Tartaglia, Thoma, Venti, Xiao, Xingqiu, Zhongli, gn!reader

Warnings: inspired by an old tiktok trend even though I don’t have tiktok cause it’s banned in my country, lol but it was also a request by an anon, not proofread

Aether

Stunned does not even describe the entirety of it

He’s speechless and staring at you for a good five seconds before his brain starts to work again

“Wait, what was--” touches his lips to try and recall if that really happened or if he was trippin’

“Wait, hold on,” starts laughing at you and grabs at your wrist.

Proceeds to stare at you for another 5 seconds to process the information overload.

“Would you...wanna try that again?” with a loopy yet unsure grin

Albedo

Blinks once and leans back, away from you.

The surprised expression only crosses his face for a second.

He’s trying to logically piece together things and not jump to conclusions cause that’s just not him.

“...Did you, make a mistake?” When you shake your head no he grabs your hand and pulls you closer up against him.

You’d think he’d be more subtle but he might have been waiting for that for just as long as you were.

“Just making sure...before I experiment on your lips again,” 

Alhaitham

has a blank look on his face. You can’t tell what he’s thinking (then again, you never can).

closes his book, leans forward to grab your hand and to pull you closer. He’s staring holes into you now.

“W-What?” You stutter, still feeling flustered by your own actions.

He makes you look at him by tilting your chin up, but gently, and his eyes narrow at you.

“...If you're against this, now's the time to speak up," as he leans closer just an inch from your lips, gauging your response, his breath hot on you.

But he doesn’t give you time to respond and gives you a kiss more passionate than you expected.

He got his answer when you kissed back.

Ayato

arm latches on around your waist before you can even pull back and turns the quick peck into a full kiss.

He doesn’t half-ass anything and is even bold enough to pepper kisses down your jaw. 

You’re a little overwhelmed at his response, not expecting it to be this positive.

“Hm?” chuckles. “I’m only giving you what you asked for. One is hardly enough, no?”

Bennett

Has the “?!?!” expression

Simply half confused half shocked

Frozen in both fear and nervousness.

Cannot help but replay the kiss a thousand times in his head before he stutters out

“Y-Y-Y/N?!” and doesn’t even know what to say

Goes red

“T-T-That was a kiss, right?” You nod and he goes even redder if possible

Can’t comprehend it and straight up asks you why you did it. Your attempt at being obvious has failed.

It’s not that he doesn’t like you, he simply just can’t believe it. 

Chongyun

just dies. pray for him.

A bit like Bennet but more of a “!!!!!!” reaction and immediately goes red without any prompting.

Has to turn away and calm himself though you can still see his red ears. 

You ask him a moment later if he’s okay

“F-F-Fine! I’m...extremely pleased!” Then turns around when he realizes what he said and waves his hands to try and explain. “I-I mean, you don’t have to do it again! I’m just--” 

Decides shutting up would be a better option and keeps his mouth closed while his eyes are tacked on to the ground.

Cyno

silently flustered. feels heat on his cheeks but just stares at you for a moment. Then turns away from you to gather his thoughts. The type of guy who looks tough but has “Y/N kissed me” running 800 times in his mind just to process it.

Coughs into his hand and clears his throat before turning back towards you. You’re starting to think you’re going to be rejected.

“Did you...Was that a mistake?” he just wants to be cautious.

You tell him it wasn’t and he feels embarrassed all over again.

This time just rubs his neck and looks at the ground before suggesting quietly “...We can try and make it longer next time,”

Dainsleif

At the first touch of your lips, not even 1 second in he recoils his head back and looks at you with eyes that are a fraction wider

It makes you think that he didn’t like it, since his averse reaction was so fast.

In reality he just doesn’t wanna cross a line that the two of you can’t undo but you take it the wrong way and apologize to him.

He snatches your wrist in a split second, “Don’t apologize. I just...” his eyes wander over to your lips and you see him gulp. 

“I just want to make sure this is what you really want...” he says this while learning forward, just waiting for you to be the one to connect the two of you again.

Diluc

Does not even realize that the moment you lean in he ALSO leans forward and welcomes your lips. 

Also does not realize that his hand has comfortably placed itself on your hip. 

Kiss lasts longer than you intended and when the two of you finally pull back there’s astonishment in his eyes, but the good kind. The type where he’s taken aback by how good and right that felt.

He doesn’t withdraw his hand on your hip but he does cough into his hand and avert his eyes for a moment.

“...That was...rather unexpected...No, I’m not displeased at all...” he explains himself, gets the courage to finally look at you again and breathes out a question, his lips look more luscious than usual but so do yours, in his perspective “May I...once again?”

Gorou

Tail freezes, ears perk up.

His eyes don’t even close and he’s stunned, hand half up about to cover his lips but he seemed to have malfunctioned.

“Y-Y-Y-You can’t just--!!”

There’s so many random things running through his mind:

Did you eat dango for a snack? Cause your lips sure tasted sweet.

How are they so soft? Sure he’s stared at you a couple of times but he didn’t think your lips would be THAT soft.

How is he still alive? He feels as if he’s been sent to heaven already.

Snaps out of all his thoughts by shaking his head, tries to keep a straight face. “W-Warn me next time!” 

but his tail is uncontrollably wagging.

Itto

Possibly the one with the most wide-eyed and dumbfounded reaction. 

Speechless but savors the taste of your lips.

When he finally comprehends what happens (took you some hand waving in front of his face), he grabs you by the waist and pulls you in for another one. Head dipping confidently, no questions asked and just goes for it.

“W-Wow! Uh...I mean! Didn’t know you were such a good kisser! W-Well. Actually! I can’t really be sure, we gotta try that again and see!”

Eager and oh so ready. Like he found a new hobby.

Will pounce on you if he has the chance.

Kaeya

Sees it coming before it even happens and welcomes it. It’s like he was practicing for it his whole life.

Immediately has his hand pressed against the back of your head to deepen the kiss and lean closer to you.

It definitely lasts for longer than you thought it would. 

He pulls back with a grin but doesn’t let you go.

His whisper sends shivers down your spine and he runs a finger under your chin to tip it up “You know this isn’t going to end with just one, right?”

Also the type that would pull you by the waist and he would fall back in bed while you topple on top of him. 

Kaveh

Will have a dumbfounded/shocked/?!?!?!?!/wth expression on his face for a good 10 seconds before he starts functioning again. At which point you’re just about ready to turn around and run away from him.

“Wait! Where are you going?! You can’t just run away after that!”

You retort back that you don’t even know what else to do or say since he’s just gone silent.

“Well--I’m just--What do you expect me to say when you suddenly kiss me like that?!” 

Is now covering his mouth but is also blushing and doesn’t know what to do.

“No! It’s not that I didn’t like it, I just...Does this mean what I think it means?” 

You counter back with “Well what do you think it means?”

low key the two of you just go back and forth for a while cause you both are just too damn embarrassed about it. 

Kazuha

It all seems so natural with this guy.

When he sees you coming in his hand rests on your cheek automatically and he receives the kiss gracefully. 

The kiss doesn’t deepen, but you feel that he has urged you to lengthen it a little.

When the two of you pull apart it’s not a sudden jerk back, it’s a slow and only slight slide away. 

He’s looking at you as if he’s seen the stars in the night sky for the very first time.

He doesn’t utter a word, but his look says it all and he dips down again for another kiss, just assuming that you’re alright with it.

Lyney

doesn’t let you pull away and makes the kiss longer. It’s like he was waiting for it to happen and was prepared. 

Has a grin when he pulls back, one arm round your waist, unwilling to let you go.

“Hah, thought you had me there didn’t you?” winks and conjures up a rainbow rose from somewhere and presents it to you.

“Oh but my dear Y/N, I’m always one step ahead of you, remember that,” he teases and dips in to whisper in your ear.

“That’s how I know that you want another kiss, am I right?”

Neuvillette

Is frozen when you kiss him, and frozen for a second more when you pull away but quickly gains his composure back.

“Y/N...” he starts, as if trying to piece his words carefully. “I can only hope that you’re aware... I don’t offer affection to just anyone...” 

There’s a brief silence and you tell him that you’re aware but he doesn’t seem to have processed your response and instead asks you another question.

“...Is it the same for you? Am I right to assume that this...kiss...isn’t because of just a sudden fleeting emotion...or a result of just impulse--”

You stop him midway and tell him it’s out of love. 

He seems to again be frozen in thought, until he slowly bridges the gap between the two of you.

“...In that case perhaps we should try that again...I could taste more of nervousness than anything else, Y/N. Maybe a second time will seal it,”

just wants to kiss you again. properly. 

Razor

Blinks. Processes. Blushes

Shy smile on his face but he’s a simple person who communicates better with actions so he kind of understands your intentions.

He moves forward to give you a quick peck on the cheek (that’s the only thing he’s brave enough for) as if returning the favor

then he turns around and pretends to be busy doing his own thing when in truth he has a flustered face on and is just trying to hide his giddiness from you.

Scaramouche

Grabs your wrists, both of them, and demands an answer. “The hell do you think you’re doing?”

He’s not scowling, but there’s a glare on his face and yet there’s a subtle shyness to it. Like you’ve offended him but he doesn’t want to show it.

“If you’re going to do that, you have to do it properly, you dumbass,”

Pulls on one of your wrists so that you’re nearly crashing towards him (just the way he likes it) and clumsily wraps his arms around you and kisses you. 

He pretends he knows what he’s doing but has no idea and it’s probably also his first kiss.

Tartaglia

The one that chases after your lips with a laugh.

You kiss, you pull away, but his lips are following yours as you pull backward and it’s just so funny that the two of you can’t help but giggle.

But he always gets what he wants so he cups your face in his hands and gives you a proper kiss. 

“Should’ve done it earlier, it’s hard just being your friend,” winks

Also one who will ask for another, and then another, and then another so you’ve gotta have your boundaries set, he’s so good at begging for more kisses too.

If he’s not satisfied and wants more, is also the type to trap you against a wall until you give him another.

Thoma

Has a gasp caught in his throat.

instinctively has his fingers on his lips

“Y/N was that...intentional?”

eyes wide in pleasant surprise and when you nod your head he breaks into a small charming laugh.

“I’m sorry, I made you wait. I’m a little embarrassed that you made the first move but...”

There’s a glow on his face and an unparalleled gentleness in his eyes when he brushes his thumb across your cheek. 

“this time, let me do it,” as he leans in for a fireworks behind your eyes kiss.

Venti

Blinks. Is surprised only for a split second then laughs. 

“Ahhh so that’s why you’re so jittery today!”

Would wrap his arms around your waist and pull you on his lap. 

“No need to be nervous kitten, I’ve been waiting a while too. Come on, just one won’t do!”

Ridiculously giddy and doesn’t hide it. Like a child who has found a new candy store.

At some point he will remind you that you were the one who made the first move. It’ll probably be one of his most favourite stories to tell.

Xiao

You caught him by surprise. 

He holds your hand but turns his head away to look at something else, trying to keep his blush covered. 

You keep moving to the side he’s turned to only for him to swing his head the opposite direction when you do so, still trying to hide.

“Quit--Quit moving around! I just--” growls under his breath that you won’t let him have his moment in peace.

Suddenly grabs you to plant a clumsy kiss on your lips again.

Then becomes embarrassed all over again.

Xingqiu

Surprised, but kind of in a neutral way. 

He’s always liked you and is comfortable with you so he’s delighted, but also outwardly calm about it.

“Hm...Shame. That was a little too quick,”

Inwardly he might be freaking out a little bit.

“I’m...not all that knowledgeable when it comes to these things. But I can assure you that I enjoyed it,”

Tugs at your hand to “hint” that he’d like to try again but probably will have a hard time conveying that he wants to try again using his words.

Zhongli

His lips part a little when it happens and he regains composure fairly quickly.

“Hm...” Will close his eyes to think about it but will also beckon you closer with an upward flick of his hand.

Takes your hand and kisses the back of it. It’s tender and patient and he looks up at you while he does so. 

“There’s no hurry...I’m the type of person who...” trails his hand up your arm, to your shoulder and traces your jawline. “Likes to savour things...”

His voice has the ability to make you tremble with some sort of excitement. “Now then...Let’s try that again,”

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#genshin impact drabble #genshin impact headcanons #xiao x reader #xiao #zhongli x reader #zhongli #thoma x reader #ayato x reader #itto x reader #kaeya x reader #diluc x reader #scaramouche x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #venti x reader #kazuha x reader #dainsleif x reader #albedo x reader #xingqiu x reader #bennett x reader #chongyun x reader #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #neuvvillette fluff #neuvillette x reader #lyney x reader

[neptuneh0rn]

morning reflections | fire lord!zuko x reader

(gif not mine)

warnings: fluff, one kiss, tears (very brief), advisors being mean :(, fire lord zuko ;)

summary: trying to get zuko out of bed leads to unexpected confessions.

word count: 0.6k

A/N: this is a very short drabble that's been sitting in my drafts for way too long, so enjoy! English is not my first language, so I apologize for any grammar/ spelling mistakes. feedback is appreciated.

“Honey, let go, we have a meeting with your advisors in 30 minutes.”

In answer, Zuko grumbled, tightening his arms around your waist and drawing you closer to his bare chest.

“Zuko,” you exclaimed, giggling, “we have to be there! You’re the fire lord, remember?”

“Exactly. I'm the fire lord, therefore I get to decide whether or not I attend I meeting,” he replied smugly, “and right now I’m deciding that I want to stay in bed with my beautiful wife.”

“Flattery isn't going to work, Zu. Don’t even try. Besides, your advisors have finally agreed to allow me to attend this one. I can't be late. That would hardly provide for a favourable first impression."

You had not been looking at Zuko's face when you said that, but you felt him stiffen at your words. All sense of playfulness eviscerates from the air.

"What," Zuko enunciates.

You shift your gaze back to his face, perplexed at his tone. "What?"

"What do you mean, 'my advisors are finally letting you attend this one'?"

"Oh," you replied sheepishly, "just forget I said that."

Zuko gave you a pointed look and sat up straight, resting on the headboard of the massive bed. You followed suit, suddenly taking an obstinate interest in his warm hands, fiddling with his fingers. He took one of his hands from yours and raised your chin with his index finger, urging you to make eye contact with him.

"You want to inform me," Zuko spoke softly, "or should I ask the advisors myself?"

"It's nothing," you started, "it's only that… every time I ask if I can attend the meetings, your advisors refuse. They tell me that these are not affairs that concern me."

Zuko always thought you didn't join meetings simply because you weren't interested in these affairs. His visage distorted into one of rage, and you felt compelled to calm him down, fearful of what he would do to his advisors.

"But it's truly not a problem! It makes no difference to me, honey. As a result, it should not concern you." You ran your hand along the nape of his neck, tenderly running your fingers along the hairs resting there.

"Why didn't you tell me? I could've handled it," Zuko inquired, his voice concerned.

"What would it look like if I came to you with all of my problems? I need to show your advisors that I'm capable of being the fire lady you deserve; that the fire nation deserves," You muttered solemnly. Your head bowed low as if you were ashamed to admit this.

Zuko's heart ached at your confession. How long had you been feeling like this? It's been a year since Zuko took you as his betrothed, and it angered him to just find out now.

"Sweetheart," Zuko started, taking your hand and placing a kiss on your knuckles, "you don't need to prove anything to anyone. You are already the fire lady that I deserve and that the fire nation needs. Your presence and input in these meetings are valuable to me, and I want you there by my side. I should have made that clear to my advisors from the start."

You looked up, tears forming in your eyes, "Really?"

"Of course," Zuko replied, wiping away a tear with his thumb, "I'll speak to my advisors and make sure that they understand your importance in these meetings."

You leaned in, pressing your lips to his, revelling in the softness of his lips. Zuko deepened the kiss, his arms wrapping around you tightly. You felt relieved that you no longer had to hide your frustration and disappointment about being excluded from important meetings.

"Thank you, Zuko," you whispered, "you always know how to make everything better."

Zuko chuckled, holding you close, "That's what I'm here for, my love."

likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

#zuko x reader #zuko imagine #zuko x y/n #avatar the last airbender #atla x reader #atla zuko #fire lord zuko #zuko fluff #fire lord!zuko x reader #atla x you #atla x y/n #a:tla

[forcemeanakin]

Make you feel better.

•WARNINGS: SMUT.  Vaginal sex (female top), unprotected sex, blowjob, handjob, degradation kink, spanking, dirty talk. Explicit mentions of injuries.

Pairing: TCW!Anakin Skywalker x female reader.

Summary: You are a nurse in the 501st squad and General Skywalker needs some assistance. Only you could help him feel better.

Word count: 4.8K. This started as a blurb, but I’m incapable of shutting up. I haven’t stood up from my chair since 10am, so enjoy.

A/N: I’m so so so so in love with this man, it’s sickening. Scenario inspired by Ahsoka ep.5!. NOT PROOFREAD!!, english is my second language, so please be gentle. If there are any mistakes, pls let me know in private so I can correct them, thanks :) Also I have a serious issue between differentiating “in” and “on” situations, so bare with me lmao

Also first one shot since like forever????

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As a war nurse, you are used to treating the nastiest of wounds, the bloodiest of cuts, the vilest of injuries. 

You have chosen your profession out of love and vocation. As cliche as it might be, the true desire of your heart was to help people feel better: The plan was to specialize as a pediatric nurse, even becoming a doctor one day. Working at a hospital, maybe have a private practice with that medic husband of yours you often dreamed about. 

All of that was erased the moment war erupted. 

Fresh out of nursing school, every single one of your classmates, including yourself, were drafted to report to duty as nurses on the frontlines. The assignment of troops was random, but as if fate had decided, you were put at the service of the 501st. Little did you know, the job was harder than you had ever imagined it would be; and the constant bombing and deceased people you had to observe had nothing to do with it.

It was the general of the squad that made your job more complicated than it had to be.

General Skywalker. 

Well, it wasn’t exactly him, but the persistent crush you had on him. 

Needless to say, it was extremely unprofessional to be daydreaming of the person who was technically your boss. Even more unethical to be full-on fantasizing about his dick size when you were supposed to be suturing injured clones. But dammit, was it hard. So hard to be so close to his pulling presence and yet so far from achieving anything real with the man. Not that you had tried. Public rejection would be even more embarrassing than crushing on him. 

Anakin Skywalker hardly recognized your existence. Between his duty as leader on the field, his responsibilities as Jedi off-hours and the reduced sleep time he could squeeze in between battles, he didn’t have time to remember the name of one of the nurses of his legion. Especially when he never went to the tents himself; the god of a man was indestructible. 

Fuck, was he hot.

Just watching him scream: “Forward!” every day, as he ran directly to conflict with bravery was enough to have you dripping. His whole General image was your own personal definition of lust; his armor, the tone in which he would deliver orders, the frown he would wear until he had defeated each and every single one of his enemies. The smile he would flash whenever they won over a battle. Luckily, it was often.

But you had this idea that, out all of the medical staff, you were his least favorite. Maybe it had something to do with how social you were: always distracting his soldiers with jokes as you cleaned their cuts so they wouldn’t think of the sting. Or maybe it had something to do with how emotional you could get during your shifts: always fighting with your colleagues so they would treat the troopers as people, not numbers. Even if he had created a culture of trust among his peers, you weren’t sure if he appreciated that you caused so much trouble within the medical wing. 

You had endured a year of stolen glances, salivating at the sight of him from afar and lonely nights with just your hand. Cheeks would blush so fast whenever he would catch you checking him out, and maybe you were drunk on the smell of medical alcohol, but you swore that you caught him checking you out too once.

But that was long forgotten the next day, when he came back to being his same old cold persona. You forgave that aspect of him: the atrocities he had committed in the name of the Republic weighed heavy on his shoulders, slouching his proud figure whenever he had to face the reality of his situation. 

The same you had to face everyday.

“Who’s available?!” Yelling was the official way of communicating over here. You were finishing up a bandage on a trooper that had lost his left leg, meaning that you had to answer the call of duty.

The Ryloth takeover was more hectic than the squad had ever anticipated. Soldiers falling left and right, some didn’t even make it to the medical bay, just straight to the pseudo-morgue that was built to then give them a final resting place. 

“I’m almost ready to take the next one!” You screamed over the noise from the ships flying over.

“Ms. Dana.” Someone called you by your last name from outside the medical tent. “General Skywalker’s tent in 5.”

That made you drop the jar of gauze.

No one has ever been there, you thought. 

Outside of his skippy padawan and uptight master, Anakin’s tent had always been off limits to the public. His sacred place to unwind in peace. The ways he must unwind after a long day of battle…

“Ms. Dana!” That woke you up from a very explicit image of Anakin jerking off the stress away. 

“C-coming!” You choked. Grabbing your personal kit, you ran to the destination that had your clit throbbing with anticipation. 

You would see the sheets he slept on, the place where he storaged all of his robes, the shower that saw him naked every day. Jealousy of an inanimate object took over you as quickly as it left, making you feel stupid for getting angry at a room.

You almost didn’t notice that the battle was over, the only remnants of it were the people being moved in gurneys, the clouds of dust and the beaten up ships. Your outfit was probably not the best to endure the hardness of the Ryloth landscape: a tight, white buttoned up dress with a stupid little hat on top of your head. You hated the son of a bitch, it was ridiculous as fuck, but necessary for recognition among all of the personnel working in camps.

Anakin will think it’s stupid too. 

He will think you are stupid. 

The self-degradation stopped once you reached the entrance of his tent. Gulping exaggeratedly, you were unsure if to knock, announce yourself or wait until he was annoyed enough to come out and see you standing there like an idiot. 

“Come in.” It was his voice who cruelly cut the silence, growling. 

With shaking legs, the green fabric that formed his personal chamber was removed from your eyesight and you were hit by the delicious smell of him. So manly, so musty. It smelled like his cologne all over and you wished you bottle that up to spray it on your own sheets. 

It was less rewarding to see him sitting on the edge of his bed with an exasperated stare, analyzing your figure with obnoxiousness. You even cut short your eye-fucking tour of his body when you met his tired eyes.  Have you taken too long to get here?

“So they sent you.” He sighed, deviating his gaze. The evident disgust at your presence made you slouch timidly. You were a good nurse. The best one in the camp, if you dare to say. “I told Rex I’m fine. I don’t need assistance, it’s just a bruise.” His tone was harder than his words, surprisingly. 

“Well, now that I’m here, might as well take a look at that, huh?” Fighting through the devastating embarrassment, you proceeded to walk over his bed to place your kit. Biting your lip, you feared to ask the next question. “Shall we get started?”

He was one step away from rolling his eyes. “Fine. Just do it quickly.”

“Got it, sir.” Weird. There was no chilly breeze, however, Anakin had just flinched. “Care to show me where the bruise is?” 

He hesitated for a bit, closing his eyes with frustration. You were about to ask again when he exhaled with annoyance. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“I would like to confirm that. Please, sir, the faster we do this, the faster I’m on my merry way.” You hated that he was desperate to kick you out, but apparently your compelling argument helped to accelerate the process. 

After seeing that he still felt fuzzy about checking the bruise, you decided to start somewhere else. “Let me get started with this cut over here. Looks pretty nasty.” 

You doubted if to take a seat, scared that it would be too close to him, but you needed the space to maneuver. Giving up to your internal fight, you sat down next to him and began by cleaning up the wound that escaped the fabric of his burgundy robe. 

“That’s nothing.” He mumbled under his breath, still not looking at you. 

Ignoring his attempt to diminish your work, you decided to also ignore your basic instinct to start a conversation to ease up the process. The internal alarms of survival were yelling at you not too. However, there was a moment where the alarms shut down, basically because every part of your brain shut down simultaneously and it was when you had to grip his bicep to make it stand still. Your fingers dug into the hard muscle, feeling how every little bit flexed under your fingertips, proving first-hand just how strong he was. 

“Done. Now I’m gonna clean the ones in your face.” You poured some alcohol into another cotton ball and turned to face him. 

Being face to face with Anakin Skywalker had been the most intimidating experience of your life and that hot as hell scar and mean frown didn’t make it easier. In fact, it had you clenching around nothing. You cleared your throat before slowly reaching out for his chin, pulling him to give you a better look of his dirty and exhausted aspect. 

He gasped the second the puffy ball made contact with a cut on his left cheekbone. You took that opportunity to bring him some comfort, despite your irregular breathing and overall tenseness. Rubbing your thumb along his jaw, you saw his pain decreased until the sting was gone. You moved to another cut on his forehead, repeating the process until you had treated most of them gone. When you swapped your current cotton ball with a new one so caught him looking down on your body. 

It’s this stupid uniform.

He sensed your eyes on him and quickly deviated them to focus on your irises. You gulped before continuing your beeline around his face, this time close to the scar you often fantasize about in bed.

“That one 's old. No need to worry about it.” He joked.

He joked.

Unable to form a coherent comeback, you limited yourself to give him a nasal laugh, demonstarting that you got it. 

“Thought you wouldn't be this silent. You’re more chatty with the clones.” He said, slightly tilting his head.

“I didn’t know you wanted me to talk.” You replied, this time with a little smile as a peace offering.

“What did you think I wanted?” He frowned, interrupting your cleaning.

“I thought you wanted me out as quickly as possible.” You stopped momentarily to accommodate his face once more into a position you could work with.

He let out a dry laugh. “It’s nothing personal. I just want to come back to work.” 

“You just came back from battle and want to keep working? Do you ever stop?” You joked back, feeling how the atmosphere inside the tent had changed. Feeling more comfortable, you switched your body a little, now your chests were aligned, just inches apart. 

“Hardly.” He clicked his tongue, gaze slightly dropping to give a quick sweep of your lips. 

“Well, you should rest. Relax. That’s an important part of recovery.” You advised him, finishing up the last cut. You took a cloth of your kit and used it to clean some of the dry blood and dirt off him. 

“Can’t stay still.” He shook his head.

“There are other ways to relax.” You shrugged your shoulders, taking that little pause to admire his beautiful demeanor. Those blue eyes could spell you into saying yes to basically anything. 

“Like?” He pushed, licking his lips as his intense gaze focused on making you feel smaller and smaller.

“Like…” You dirty minded bitch, think about something other than sex! 

Almost like he could hear your inner dialogue, he chuckled. 

“Like taking a walk or reading a book.” You finally came up with a pg-13 alternative to relaxing. 

“Could be.” He snickered. After his beautiful giggle dialed down, you felt the tension switching. Thicker. More intense. “More of a physical guy myself.”

Feeling the pull to his plump lips, you rushed to get out of the trouble zone. “Ready for me to see this world-famous bruise?” 

Your brain short circuited when he snapped his shoulder armor in one swift move and threw it on the floor. The next thing had you mentally panting and physically in shock: Anakin was removing his robes to expose his naked and bruised torso. The skin of his middle part would dip perfectly into breathtaking abs, not to mention the flexing of his arms became more evident to you without the stupid robe in your way. 

The reddened-purplish spot expanded all the way from the right side of his lower abdomen, all the way down the waistband of his pants. The silent gawking didn’t go unnoticed by him, a little smirk coming to greet your widened eyes. That woke you up enough to get moving.

“H-how-“ You took a moment to regain some composure. “How did this happen?”

“A droideka fell on me.” He muttered shortly, almost as if the portion of information brought shame to him.

“Alright, I’m gonna need to palpate the area to know if there’s any further damage.” You announced with more nerves than a medical professional should speak to their patients.

Because he was now standing up, sitting down didn’t give you the best height to disinfect some of the minor cuts that tainted his perfect tanned skin. 

“Sir, I’m going to need you to lay down for me, please.” Formalities came back as soon as you felt threatened by his overpowering presence again. 

“No.” He spat, furrowing his eyebrows. “I’d prefer to stand, if it’s possible. Please.”

“Sure.” After all, it was your job to make the process easier for him. On the other hand, that meant having to kneel in front of him. That caught him off guard and almost backed down when you reached out to feel the tampered skin. “Please tell me where it hurts.”

Your little fingers began to poke around the wounded area, massaging the zones where you knew a more serious injury could present itself. It didn’t go under your radar the way he would have goosebumps whenever you looked up to him or groped him more firmly. Repeating over and over: “How does it feel here?” you made your way all over the part of the bruise that was visible to the eye. 

“Good. It seems like no internal organs have been compromised.” You announced with a little smile. Now the part you dreaded -and kind of expected- was next. “Uhm, I’m going to need to check the rest of the bruise to make sure you didn’t break your hip, sir.”

“Anakin.” He spat.

“Pardon?” You blinked rapidly.

“Call me Anakin. It makes this… easier.” He cleared his throat.

“Okay, Anakin.” You nodded. How you said the next thing so calmly was still a mystery to you. “So, I know this part may be uncomfortable, but I’ll need to remove your pants out of the way. Probably your underwear as well, if I need to take a better look. Don’t worry, I’ve seen enough male anatomy for this to be routinary for me-”

In the middle of your speech, as you dropped your gaze to prepare yourself for dipping your fingers under his pants, something snapped your attention. 

The gigantic bulge right in front of your eye line.

How you had missed such a tent while you palpated his abdomen was another mystery to you. 

“Uhm- I-” You choked, unwilling to look up. “I-”

Anakin made no effort to try and hide his wood. But what was the point? It was already there. You had already noticed it. 

Mumbling, you decided to continue being professional. It was a normal response after all. “I’ll go ahead and lower your pants, sir- Anakin, sorry.” You corrected yourself, but it was too late.

You had already seen the reason why he made you call him Anakin: his dick twitched the second you said “sir”. Now that was interesting. 

Your hand pulled down the brown pants, lowering his black underwear at the same time, only revealing his right hip, leaving the bulge quietly covered. Anakin’s chest rose uncontrollably, flinching every now and then when your hand would get too close to his boner, or when your warm breath would fan his exposed hip. When you finally dared to meet his gaze, to let him know you were almost through with the exam, you were pleased with the view above you. 

Rose pink cheeks, bottom lip trapped in between his teeth, darkened gaze fixed on your cleavage. It was the equivalent of liquid courage in human form. 

“Does this hurt?” You felt up another portion, this time closer to his groin. When he murmured a weak “no”, you inched even closer. “And here?” Same response. 

When you got to a point where your pinky grazed the bulge and he gasped, you knew this was the point of no return. 

“And does this hurt?” You asked, slowly palming the thick shaft that was threatening to rupture his pants at any given second. 

Swallowing harshly, Anakin refused to speak up a word. Instead, he let you carry on with your devilious plan. 

“And this? Does it hurt, sir?” You wrapped your hand around the still clothed member, rubbing faster and harder. 

He limited himself to closing his eyes, moaning on the low as your hand gripped his swell cock with more pressure and more confidence. Your ego was so high up in the sky that you had the impulse to rub your lips against the fabric already stained with pre-cum. 

“Sir, can I finish up the exam?” Your wide doe eyes were quite the contrary of your filthy intentions. 

Once he nodded with hooded eyes, you fished his veiny cock from out of the confinements of his underwear and tugged it out for you to admire all of its glory. It sprung free, the tip pointing directly at you, like it knew. Involuntarily, your mouth opened in admiration to such a big and thick frame. Anakin’s sly smirk made another surprise appearance at your gawking.

You were acquainted with male genitalia. But not like this. Never like this. 

So huge. So intimidating. So mouth-watering. 

“It’s almost like you have never seen one. Not as huge as this one, right?” You shook your head, biting your lip as you took in the whole image. You needed a minute to wrap around the idea that he was carrying this weapon everywhere he went.

Your hands -yes, plural, because you needed both to handle such beast- pumped fast to grant him the deliberation he so desperately craved. Yanking his thick shaft in between your palms had you pooling all over your white panties, like a goddamn slut. His hips were thrusting at the rhythm you had set, fucking your fist like he pleased. Feeling how he tensed his abdomen, the climax was closed.

Taking a last leap of fate, you stopped the jerking off momentarily and clutched the fabric of his pants down with both hands, revealing his whole lower part to your delight. His thighs, oh, his muscular thighs always did unholy things to you and to have them right there for you to grip was making you rub your own thighs together. Foreseeing what was to come, you let your hair down, losing the stupid hat.  

Digging your nails on the hardness of his leg, you licked the tip of his shaft, testing the water. The little drop of pre-cum you managed to catch was salty and warm, so deliciously milky. Moaning, you opened your mouth to lazily envelop his tip, rubbing it without interest, just softly teasing him.

“Look at you. Who would say that you would be so unprofessional, sucking your commanding general’s cock? Huh?” Anakin mocked you from his proud stand. “Miss little giggling nurse turned out to be a filthy cockslut. Salivating at the sight of my dick.”

You moaned, still pampering the reddened head of his cock.

“I could.” He chuckled, his thumb coming to caress your jaw just like you did to him earlier. “You think I haven’t noticed the way you stare when I walk by the medical tent? How you practically undress me with your eyes? Such a desperate slut. Begging to be fuck just right. Acting like you're not thinking about hopping on this dick while working.”

After giving a last open mouthed kiss on the sensitive tip, you opened your mouth and presented your pink tongue to him, for which he rewarded you with a smiling expression. 

“You offer yourself to make me feel better?” He cocked an arrogant brow.

Nodding, you let out a small, high pitched whimper to hurry him up. 

“Hope you know what you’re doing, baby.”

 And with that, he grabbed a handful of your locks with his gloved limb and the other one he used to tug your chin further down, making room for the rest of his cock. In the blink of an eye, he was fucking your throat raw, having no mercy for you or the tears that spilled from our eyes when he would especially far down. He emphasized repeatedly how he had to train you to take all of him in, that you were not properly ready to take someone as big as him. He even said it with pity, making fun that you hadn’t been fucking with real men. 

But he was here now. And he was going to take care of you. 

Even if you lack the ability to relax your throat enough for you to take the whole 9 inch monstrosity that was violating your breathing canal, he was appreciative of the way you gagged around him and the noises you made whenever the tip would hit a wall. He even praised the movements of your tongue on his underside, rewarding you with a little slap on your cheek. Anakin laughed when he heard your horny moan at the harsh action. 

Suddenly, Anakin stopped bobbing your head up and down his length, causing the mess of saliva that was covering both you and him to dissolve into a mesly string connecting you two.

“Let me see how well your other hole makes me feel, baby. Up.” As your legs made an effort to stand without shaking, Anakin returned to his previous seating position, this time manspreading to let his cock breathe in all of its glory. Patting his lap, he called you in like a dog. “Here.”

Dying of shame at the wetness that dripped from your inner thighs, you spread yourself until both your knees were at each side of his hips. Anakin glanced at the leaking juices and fucking grinned the brightest smile. 

“So wet just for sucking dick.” His index and middle finger retrieved some of the spill, playing with your sensitive nub on their way. He tasted the juices himself, licking his fingers clean. He hummed in approval, ripping your panties apart to have more access and drink up more of your arousal. “Pretty little pussy. Do you think it’ll fit?” He asked you with a narcissistic loop side smile, as he sucked some more off his fingers. 

“I don’t know.” You answered honestly, shaking at the ministrations of his hands around your ass.

“It will.” He reassured you, pulling your skirt up and entangling it just above your hips. “You’ll make it fit.” He put his hands behind his back, on the bed, yielding control to you. “Now show me how bad you’ve been wanting this. Ride my dick.”

Using his strong shoulders for leverage, soon your slick pussy was sucking up his length. The first contact had you digging your nails on his shoulders, fighting through the pain of the stretch, this position only enlarging the already swollenness of his member. Gasping with an open mouth, you fought to push yourself even further down. Skin to skin, you were feeling all of him in: every curve, every wrinkle, every twitch. Even after remembering the condom, you opted for not mentioning it. There was no way you could say goodbye to feeling him bare.

Anakin pulled you in by the neck, drinking in the scream you let out when you bottomed out. His lips tasted better than anything you had ever tried, so sweet by nature and salty because of the sweat. You just wanted more and more; anything he was willing to give you.

“Faster.” Anakin demanded; clasping to your hips to bounce you harder on him, to remind you that this was about him, not you. 

Obeying like the sub you were, you humped him faster, adjusting yourself to surround his shoulders with your arms so you could pull his hair. You knew he liked it by the way he purred on your ear, embracing your waist tighter to manhandle you better. The hug you were both entrapped in ended with his big hands holding both your ass cheeks, groping them in such a disrespectful manner: splitting them open, squeezing them until it hurt, slapping without any sort of consideration. 

“Mhm, just like that, baby.” He praised blissed out, his hand cruelly smacking your already red and abused rear. “You do know how to ride dick. So good, taking me so well with this slutty pussy of yours.” 

Chasing your own pleasure, you gripped him harder and grinded on his wood, rubbing your clit with his pubic bone. You whimpered when you felt the delicious shock on your clit, which only incentivized you to rock your hips even faster. You were close, so close to coming undone, clenching him like a vice. 

“C’mon, you offer yourself to me, to use you as I seem fit.” Anakin pushed you back so you could see him clearly. “I want you to bounce, baby. Bounce those tight tits for me.” 

Anakin removed three buttons of your dress, enough for him to get drunk on the sight of your boobs pressed together and bouncing, but not all the way exposed. Like instructed, you bounced on his dick like it was your job to do so, enamored by the view of him hypnotized by your jumping breasts. Your nipples would shyly come to greet out of your white top, albeit Anakin wouldn’t have the full show because of the fabric that still caged them. 

Tired of the partial view, Anakin’s hands left your ass and traveled to their next destination: your full tits. Without removing another button, he took in the weight of your boobs inside of his palms and played with your meaty buds like he had never seen a pair before. The rough movements of his hands around the fat caused your dress to open a bit more, basically leaving you naked for him. 

“They’re more gorgeous than I ever anticipated.” He muttered, before enveloping a peak inside his mouth and lapping at it repeatedly. “Seeing you with this lame excuse of a uniform it’s harder than going to war, baby. Craving a taste of you and not being able to do anything about it, it’s torture. Pure torture.” He moaned in a ragged voice, sucking in the same nipple with closed eyes, savoring it. 

“You- you wanted me?” You cried, sliding in more frantically.

You were so close and he had it in his hands to make you come in that same instant. 

“Baby, I’ve been dreaming about filling this pussy to the brim the second you were drafted.” He exhaled with a smile. “I hate seeing you with the clones: gifting them smiles that should belong to me, parading this cleavage around when it should be for my eyes only, showing off this ass when only I should know the feeling of it inside my palms.”

“Anakin! I’m coming! I’m coming!” You announced, simultaneously feeling how his dick twitched inside of you. 

“Let me feel it, baby. Come all over my cock. Indulge me.” This time it was you who took the initiative to kiss him, thinking this would be your last chance to savour him before this was all over. 

You convulsed around his dick, just like he asked, tumbling over his shoulder to regain your breath. Anakin followed short after you, shuddering as he spilled over, biting your shoulder to muffle his groan. 

After the aftershocks dissipated and you regained consciousness, the shame of what had transpired hit you like a train. Fixing your dress to cover more of you, you wondered how long you should wait before saying something. Luckily, Anakin broke the ice first.

“Next time you should keep the hat. I like it.” He chuckled, making you giggle as well. 

Needless to say, you were now expected to be in his tent every night after he came back from battle, split open for him, ready to take in all of the frustration of the day and make him feel better.

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin #anakin skywalker #star wars #sw anakin #tcw anakin #ahsoka series #darth vader x you #darth vader x reader #darth vader

[prythianpages]

I Can't Pretend | Eris x Reader

summary: After your sudden disappearance, Eris takes it upon himself to find you. When he does, he breaks down and can no longer hide his feelings for you.

warning: angst, suggestiveness, smut (p in v, loss of virginity); this one is kind of a rollercoaster of emotions and the longest imagine of this series (at 6K words)

a/n: you can find the masterlist to this series here or read this as a stand alone imagine (: all you have to know is that reader is engaged to Eris's brother and in the part right before this one, reader and Sawyer got threatened by Beron. this piece here is brought to you by Tom Odell's Can't Pretend.

“There will be a bedding ceremony at your wedding.”

“You just marked your death sentence.”

Your body grows cold, muscles tensing once again. The tears running down your face feel endless as you stare at the door closing behind the High Lord. When it finally shuts, the sound feels like a sentence in itself, locking you into those promises. Bedding ceremony. Death sentence. The words repeat themselves over and over inside your head like a haunting melody. 

You’re going to be watched as you're forced to be intimate with Sawyer. Then, you’re going to die. You want to run…but where to?

A whimper drags you from your thoughts, directing your attention back to the male lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood. Your fate is sealed and cannot be helped. But you can at least help him.

You hardly recognize him as you kneel beside him and help him sit up. Blood trickles from his face and every exposed inch of his pale skin is littered with open wounds that make bile rise in your throat. You can also sense all the broken bones in his body, something urging you inside to mend them.

“Let me help you,” you whisper, unable to hide the tremor in your voice and your hands. Slowly, you bring your hands to his face, grimacing at the lack of warmth.

A choked, rattled sound escapes from Sawyer. He instinctively leans in to your touch, welcoming the surprising wave of relief that comes with it. It’s as if something deep inside you is calling to him, telling him that you can fix him.

“Did you…did you mean it?” He croaks out.

You don’t have to ask to know what he means. “Yes.”

Sawyer’s pained expression softens for a brief moment. “Sometimes…” he begins and as you blink away your tears, you catch the way he averts his gaze, focusing on the splatters of his own blood that taint the marble floor. “Sometimes, I wish the Cauldron had made me different too...”

“The Cauldron makes no mistakes,” you assure him, your voice steadying with every breath. “It doesn't matter who you love. All that matters is that you love strongly and freely. I sense you have a good heart…which I’m coming to find is a rare thing in a place like this.”

“I thought I was an asshole.” There’s a subtle hint of regret in his tone.

“Yes,” you say with a small exhale. “I’m afraid that you still are… An asshole with a good heart.”

And for the first time since you met him, a faint ghost of a smile graces Sawyer's lips as he looks back at you. 

You continue to help heal Sawyer, the same way you’ve done for others in the past. The cuts on his face close as your fingers brush against them, the swelling of his face goes down and the broken bones begin to mend. It’s like a miracle. There’s no trace of any injury left behind other than the blood that has not yet dried.

It’s strange for it to be quiet between you both. You’ve grown accustomed to the insults thrown your way in his presence and even the look of disgust that usually mars his features when looking at you. But all you see is the bewilderment in his face.

As the weight of silence threatens to consume you, you find yourself humming to deter the thoughts lingering in your mind. It’s a familiar melody, one your mother would gently sing whenever your injuries and the sickness that would often befall you begged for relief. Just as it did in those tender moments, the melody you hum washes over you, bringing an immediate sense of comfort. 

The warmth returns to your veins and Sawyer, too, senses the soothing energy as it radiates from your touch. His sharp aches dulls into a distant memory. “I didn’t know you were a healer,” he says quietly and then realizes how little he knows about you. He has an inkling that his older brother knows more. “Are you from Dawn Court?”

“My mother was. I think I inherited it from her side,” you reply, helping him to his feet.

As the two of you stand, the door slams open, causing you to involuntary flinch. To your relief, it is Lady Raelynn and not her fearsome husband. Her breaths are quick and shallow and eyes full of concern.

“Oh thank the Cauldron,” she breathes, rushing toward her son. She assesses him for injuries, not caring over the blood that stains her hands as she softly touches his face. “Let’s get you cleaned up. The healer is already waiting in my quarters and I’ve had my maid prepare some tea to soothe your ails.”

The way she speaks leaves an unsettling feeling in your stomach, as it gives away that situations such as this occur with such frequency. Lady Raelynn then turns to you, gaze dipping down toward your hands. They’re stained with Sawyer’s blood.  “The both of you,” she adds as emphasis.

Her hand reaches for yours but you take a step back, suddenly feeling sick. She had already included you in the disconcerting routine. The urge to run comes over you again as Beron’s words resurface in your mind. Is this what your life will become? A routine of suffering and torture until death harshly claims you.

“I’m okay,” you say, taking a deep breath. It’s a lie and you all know it but they don’t push you further. They share a glance filled with understanding, deepening your revulsion. You think you’re going to throw up. “I–I think I need to rest.”

“Of course,” Lady Raelynn nods, a deep frown settling upon her face. “Please allow one of my maids to escort you back to your room.”

**

Eris has grown to know fear over the centuries. It held him in its grip, bringing forth tears and whispering sweet nightmares into his ears until there was no trace of hope left behind. But this feeling surging through his veins and creeping into his heart is much, much worse. Like a fear he’s never known before.

You’re not in your room. You’re not in the gardens. You’re not in the library. 

All air has left his lungs and he feels like he can’t breathe until he finds you. There’s one more place within the Forest house he’s yet to check. He’s racing toward it, his pace reflecting the erratic rhythm of his heart. He knows he should tread carefully but you’re flooding him with your emotions through the bond, pushing away all rational thoughts from his mind. 

The doors to Lady Raelynn’s quarters slam open. His eyes are drinking in the room like a man deprived of water, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Y/n,” your name is spilling from his lips in a choked breath. “Where is she?”

His gaze lands upon Sawyer, who sits on the couch and then to his mother, who sits right next to him. You’re not here either. His heightened senses take in the bloody cloth in his mother’s hands–not your blood–and then, the somber expression on Sawyer’s face. Across from them, three teacups rest on the small table, the faint scent of chamomile wafting over to him.

Suddenly, Eris is livid. His gaze darkens and he’s rushing toward his younger brother. Hands roughly grasp onto the front of Sawyer’s shirt, forcing the younger male to rise to his feet. Flames tickle around his throat, tightening with every second.

“What did you do?” Eris seethes. It’s more of a demand than a question.

“Eris!”

“Answer me,” Eris nearly growls, his eyes mirroring the flames tightening around Sawyer’s neck. “Or I swear to the Cauldron, I’ll–”

“Eris!” His mother calls out again. 

This time, she’s successful. She steps in between her sons, a hand at Eris’s chest and she can feel the frantic beating of his heart. The flames around Sawyer’s throat loosen their grip but only a little.

“Your brother has endured enough blows today.”

“He looks perfectly fine to me,” Eris retorts, amber eyes taking note of the lack of injuries on him. Despite his mother’s words, he’s inclined to give him one. One that will remain and act as a reminder to never cross him. He already knows that whatever happened, was Sawyer’s fault.

“Yes,” Lady Raelynn begins, voice heavy with caution. She knows Eris will find out what happened one way or another and though it fills her with dread to be the harbinger of bad news, she rather her son hear it from her. “Because y/n healed him.”

The sound of your name brings Eris back down and the flames around Sawyer’s throat extinguish. He looks at his mother, silently urging her to go on.

“Your father caught the ear of the rumors circulating in court and well…well, he called for a bedding ceremony.”

Sawyer swallows thickly at the reminder. He casts his head down, overwhelmed by Eris’s heated gaze that is directly solely on him now. A realization hits him then and slowly, he lifts his head. “You care for her, don’t you? All this time…,” his voice trails off.

Eris falters. He shakes his head, a mix of horror and panic tainting his delicate features. “I told you–”

“Then you should know,” Sawyer interrupts him, lips pressing into a tight line before speaking again. “Father plans to kill her after the wedding.”

Flames erupt from Eris’s fingertips, itching to wrap around Sawyer’s throat once more. He warned his brother not to be a fool. To be more careful because this was not just a matter of life or death for Sawyer but for you as well. Eris just needed more time to help you and he fears Sawyer just deprived him of it.

A firm push from Lady Raelynn stops him from raising his hands. “Eris, your brother is not the enemy,” she reminds him, tone pleading with him to hear her. “Y/n is in her room. Go to her. She needs you.”

Eris's fiery temper flickers, dissolving into the familiar grip of anxiety that had driven him to this chamber. He takes a step back and Lady Raelynn’s hand drops back to her side. “She’s not in her room.”

It’s now Lady Raelynn’s turn to panic. “What do you mean she isn’t? My maid personally escorted her there. She even helped draw her a bath.”

“She’s gone.”

Sawyer lets a curse under his breath, a shiver running down his spine. “One more mishap,” he murmurs, fear swirling in his eyes. He falls onto the couch, sinking into the cushion with dread. “One more mishap and father warned…,” his eyebrows furrow, not being able to finish the threat Beron had made to the both of you and Eris feels his heart at his throat.

“She couldn’t have gone far.” Lady Raelynn speaks but it does nothing to reassure Eris.

“When I bring her back,” Eris says, voice steady with determination because he will find you. He takes another step back, toward the doors. One hand grasps for the knob while the other points a finger at Sawyer.  “Then, I’ll deal with you.”

Sawyer says nothing but Lady Raelynn nods, urging him to go. “We’ll cover for you,” she assures him. “Please be careful.”

Eris leaves without another word, the doors closing shut behind him. 

“He loves her.” Sawyer's words are tinged with sympathy and bitter amusement. A humorless chuckle escapes from him and he looks toward his mother. Her gaze remains fixed on the doors of her room, where Eris had left just moments ago, as she gives a silent prayer to the Cauldron.

“Are we cursed? To love those we cannot have?”

“I’m afraid you all have inherited it from me,” Lady Raelynn confesses softly, her voice carrying the weight of years of unspoken longing, clouding her eyes with regret and sorrow.  

**

Leaves crunch beneath Eris's boots as he makes his way toward the stables, the crisp autumn air biting at his cheeks. His face dons his usual mask but his heart is still racing. He would much rather take his hounds in his quest to find you but the risk of raising suspicion held him back. It’s not uncommon for him to ride during these hours of the day and it’d give him a better vantage on covering as much ground as he can as opposed to winnowing. 

The sound of a high-pitched whinny echoes through the air as Eris approaches, drawing his attention. His gaze settles upon the stablemen, their focus fixed upon a solitary stall.

“Lord Eris,” one of them greets, bowing his head in respect. “Do you wish to ride? I can ready your horse. Just give me a moment.”

Eris offers no response as he strides purposefully toward the stablemen, his curiosity piqued by the source of the anxious sounds. The stableman follows his gaze, his expression troubled. It’s your horse, Maximus. The white stallion throws his head back, pawing at the ground with such force that the dirt rises in swirling clouds.

“He’s been restless all morning, my Lord.”

“I’ll take him,” Eris finally speaks, his gaze lingering on the horse. From where he stands,he can sense the tension rippling through Maximus’s powerful frame. It reminds him of the way his hounds act when they sense something is wrong. “Perhaps, a ride will soothe him.”

The stableman’s eyes widen in alarm. “I would advise against it, Lord Eris. This one has a temper that only Lady Y/n can soothe. He’s bitten us before.”

Eris lets out a quiet amused huff, undeterred. “I’ll saddle him myself,” he says and it’s as if your horse understands for it tilts his head to look directly at Eris, a silent exchange passing between them.

The stableman simply nods, reluctantly handing the necessary equipment to prepare your horse. As Eris steps into the stall, Maximus steps back with a deep and heavy exhale. “It’s okay. I’m y/n’s…y/n’s friend,” Eris reassures though the word ‘friend’ rolls off his tongue awkwardly.

As he utters your name, Maximus's body relaxes slightly, mirroring the calm that had settled over Eris earlier in his mother’s quarters. He admires the way Maximus’s eyes soften slightly, betraying his deep love for you. Animals are the true definition of unconditional love, he thinks. However, there’s a flicker of doubt in the horse's eyes at the mention of the word "friend," as if he could sense something more. It makes Eris wonder if your horse can see past the glamor he meticulously placed over himself and you.

Maximus doesn’t move when Eris takes another step forward. He pats his neck softly, running his fingers down the silky white strands of Maximus’s mane. The white stallion’s head lowers and ears relax under the gentle touch.

“Can you take me to her?”

Maximus taps one of his hooves in response and Eris smiles.

**

Eris can feel your bond growing stronger and stronger as Maximus gallops, taking both of them deeper into Autumn’s forest. Around them, trees adorned with golden leaves blur into a whirl of color. The sound of thundering hooves fills the air. He pulls on the reins and the white stallion immediately obeys, coming to a gradual stop. 

“Stay here.” Eris commands as he dismounts.

Maximus lets out a noise in protest but does not fight when Eris secures him to a nearby tree. He looks around the forest, allowing his senses to guide him through the labyrinth of trees. He feels a sharp tug against his ribcage, prompting his head to turn right. How did he not think of it sooner?

Eris quietly makes his way toward the clearing ahead, where the meadow he often frequents is. The canopy of the tall oak trees filter the golden sunlight into a mesmerizing dance of light and shadow. A kaleidoscope of wildflowers blooms along the edges, their petals kissed by the wind. His senses sharpen with anticipation. It’s as if a taut string is pulling him inexorably closer to you. 

He’s flooded with relief when he finally spots you but it is short lived as he takes in your appearance. Relief is quickly replaced by a terrible sinking feeling that he feels in his very core.

The river is a distant murmur as you face it, your back to him. The shifting patterns of light and shadow play across your form, casting you in muted hues. You’re dressed in his clothes, the same ones he had given you when the two of you snuck out. The ruffled long sleeves do nothing to protect you from the biting Autumn winds and he frowns as you curl into yourself, arms wrapped tightly around your waist. You seem smaller somehow, more vulnerable. He’s already taking his coat off as he approaches you.

“Angel,” he calls out softly, placing his coat over your shoulders, but you don’t move. You don’t even react…are you even breathing?

Eris steps around you, his eyes pools of amber concern and as he comes to stand in front of you, his heart clenches. Your eyes are bloodshot and puffy. Tears stain your rosy cheeks, making his knees weak. Yet it's the emptiness in your gaze and the absence of radiance in your expression that shatters his heart. This court has broken you beyond repair. You, who always shined so bright, who lit up his world, were losing your spark. This is what he had been trying to prevent and he failed. 

His hands cup your face in a tender caress, internally wincing at the lack of warmth he feels. Drawing upon his powers, he channels heat into his hands. As the warmth envelops you, he watches as your distant gaze gradually returns to him.

A pained expression clouds his features, tears stinging at his own eyes. He knows the answer, recognizes it the more he looks at you. He knows because you wear the same expression he does after facing Beron’s temper. But he needs to hear it. His brows furrow, barely able to contain the anger that had been left simmering. Anger not directed at you but at his father. 

“Did he…did he hurt you?”

“I’m okay.” 

There’s a roughness to your voice he’s never heard before that kills him inside. You lean in to his touch, tilting your head slightly to the right. Consequently, the same cheek Beron had struck earlier. Eris frowns. There’s no mark on your pretty features, no trace of harm of any kind. Though, he knows better now. 

So he asks again. Differently and more carefully, this time. He’s trying very hard to tame the fire raging through his veins for your sake, worrying that he’d scare you if he allows you even the slightest glimpse of it.

“Did he touch you?”

You shift your head, attempting to escape his hold. But Eris doesn’t allow it and takes your silence as an answer. He swallows thickly. His father had laid his hands on you. Fiery tongues surge from the earth, swirling around you both and painting the air with bright hues of amber and scarlet. How dare he?  His father is going to pay for this, Eris will make sure of it. He’s going to return the pain Beron inflicted on you tenfold. He’s going to ki—

“I’m okay.” You try again and it’s as if you’re also trying to convince yourself.

Eris leans his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m so sorry, angel,” he murmurs, voice thick with longing and regret. He had been so careful about leaving Autumn since your arrival and the one time he has to leave it, is when you find yourself in trouble.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

“You’re here now.”

He feels the softness of your hand against one of his, prompting his eyes to open. His amber orbs glisten with a haunting luminosity as quiet tears escape them. “I put you in this situation,” he confesses quietly.

Confusion flashes onto your face, your eyes searching for answers and he feels his heart at his throat. “I arranged your marriage, knowing the life I would be damning you to. This is all my fault.”

“You couldn’t have known. You didn’t know me then and my father…this marriage would’ve happened any–”

“Don’t.” He interrupts you, inhaling sharply, voice strained with emotion. He doesn’t think you’d be defending him if you knew what he did to your father just hours ago.  “Don’t defend me. I don’t deserve it.” 

And then he reluctantly drops his hands, stepping away from you, needing to put some distance between you both.

“I don’t deserve you.” 

“Eris–” You take a step closer but he holds out a hand, flames erupting from the ground right between the both of you.

“No. You don’t understand, Angel. I’ve tried to fight it but I can’t contend. You’ve pierced through every defense of mine and now… I’m exhausted.I can’t pretend anymore.” Eris bows his head, flames dancing around him with heightened intensity. He collapses to his knees, surrendering to the turmoil within.

“You awaken sensations within me that I’ve never known. Sensations that both exhilarate and terrify me. If you–if you only knew the depths of my capabilities, the lengths I would go for you, the sacrifices I’ve already made...”

He can already imagine the heartbroken look on your face when you find out the truth. That he, your mate, the very being that should bring you nothing but joy and shower you in love brought harm upon your family. You’re one and only remaining family member. It did not matter if your father was a monster because either way, you adored him. Or rather, the idea of him. 

Eris should tell you the truths he learned. How your father poisoned you for years, treating you not as his daughter but as a mere experiment instead. He only read snippets here and there from the journal, read just enough to be sickened with the horrors purposely inflicted upon you. 

And Eris will tell you. He knows he needs to. But you’re breaking and he can feel you on the verge of shattering apart this very moment. If he tells you now, he fears–

“Eris.”

Your voice pulls him out of his racing thoughts and he winces. As if it physically pains him to hear the sweet way you say his name. “Don’t say my name like that, angel,” he nearly pleads. You don’t know what you do to him.

The flames pulse around him with the rhythm of his heart. He decides at that moment that you can hate him all you want after. As long as you’re alive, as long as your radiance returns to you, that’s all that matters. He just desperately needs you to be you again.

“Just tell me, angel, and I’ll do it,” Eris says, closing his eyes as he tries to steady his breath. “Tell me what to do to make you feel better? I can’t bear the sight of seeing you like this so please tell me.”

**

His words strike a nerve in you, the devotion in them unfamiliar to you. How cruel, you think, tears pooling at your eyes for an entirely different reason. You’re marrying the wrong Vanserra. You take a step forward, the flames of Eris’s fire threatening to swallow you whole.

 “You care for me?”

“Devastatingly so.”

Another step forward. Your heart hammers in your chest. The flames lick at your feet and you should fear them. But you don’t. Because it’s Eris and though you shouldn’t, you want him. Not Sawyer or anyone else. You want Eris. All of him. 

“You’d really do anything for me?”

Eris lets out a sound–a mixture of an exhale and laugh. It’s humorless and singed with disbelief as if he can’t believe you’re really asking him that after he just confessed it all to you. But you need to hear it again.

“I would traverse all over Prythian, surmount every obstacle, and brave the fiercest storms just to see the light of your smile. All you have to do is ask.”

And then you’re taking that last step, braving yourself against the searing heat that dances in the air to reach him. Because if you’re going to die, you need him to know. You need him to know the truth that lingers in your heart. 

That he’s your golden hour, painting your world in shades of warmth and love, but also your midnight hour, where secret desires and dreams are whispered under a canopy of stars and now…

Now, he’s everything in between. You’re every waking thought and the last before you sleep. You need him to know that you burn for him. Ardently. Your breath catches and Eris’s eyes snap open, widening as his fire reaches out to embrace you. 

But it doesn’t burn you. 

The two of you look at each other in awe before you’re falling to your knees in front of him, the flames enfolding around you in a tender caress. Neither of you say a word. Your hands reach out to cup his face, coaxing his gaze to you. He doesn’t stop you this time. Not even as you lean in and press your lips against his. He should pull away but he doesn’t. Instead, his lips move against yours, kissing the warmth right back into you, giving a piece of light from him to you.

You pull away, just enough to speak but still close enough to feel the warmth of his mouth. “And if I ask you to take me in a way only a lover could, what then?”

He looks at you with such an intensity it sets you alight but then he’s averting his gaze and there’s an ache in your chest.  “Please,” you whisper, eyes glistening with tears. 

You always dreamed of what your wedding would be like, who you would marry. A part of you always knew that it would be arranged. Still, you foolishly hoped that in light of the arrangement, love would blossom. That your husband would hold affection toward you and learn to love you. That on your first night together, he’d be gentle and caring.

But your dream was morphing into something darker. Your husband would never love you in the way you desire. He hated the very thought of you and though you caught a mere glimpse of the caring male underneath the harsh exterior earlier, it did nothing to soothe you. It can’t be Sawyer. 

The night you dreamed of was becoming a nightmare. The last thread of hope was hanging precariously, threatened by the sharp blade of anxiety and fear. You can’t lose the last part you hold dear to Sawyer. You can’t let Beron win. They don’t deserve to forever hold this over you.

You look at Eris, your last thread of hope. “Your father called for a bedding ceremony and I don’t want that to be my first time. I don’t want Sawyer to…to…”

**

“I know, angel,” Eris murmurs, not letting you finish your sentence. He wipes at your tears and then places his hands over yours, which remain on his face. He gives a gentle kiss to your lips but his body is tense. The thought of you having to endure the horrors of a forced bedding ceremony. Your body on display for others to see, the emotional and physical pain it will bring upon you, the—

Eris has to force himself out of those dark thoughts, the bond in his chest roaring with a fierce and protective anger. He kisses you again. This time, on your forehead. “It’s not going to happen.”

“But your father–”

The fear in your eyes pains him. He pulls you closer, nose brushing against yours as he forces you to look into his eyes. “Do you trust me?”

“With my whole heart.”

“Then trust me when I say that no one will touch you against your will again.”

“Even though your father, the High Lord, has condemned me to death?”

“No one,” he repeats, voice firm as he pulls you close to him. One arm wraps itself around your waist while the other cradles your head to his chest. He brushes his fingers through your hair, basking in the sweet scent of rose it brings forth.

Silence envelops you both and you allow it to embrace you, the same way Eris does. In his arms, you are safe, you are warm. It is just the two of you…against the world.

“Tell me what you’re thinking of,” Eris speaks softly.

“I’m thinking…” your voice trails off as you shift in his hold to face him. His hands fall to your waist and you make yourself comfortable in his lap, placing a knee on either side of him. “What if it's your touch I will?”

Heat and desire pour through the bond, filling his veins.

“Your eyes I dream of,” you whisper, threading your fingers through his red hair and tilting his head up to look into his eyes. When you lean in to delicately kiss the corners of his eyes, he shudders beneath you. 

“Your heart I want.”

Your hand trails down his neck in a tender caress, stopping at his chest. Right over the organ that beats for you. The golden threads stir under your touch and he swallows thickly, eyes locked onto you. He wonders if you can feel it–the way the bond is singing madly like it wants to be heard. With a sudden boldness, he tugs on it.

His eyes widen when your body seems to react, lurching forward slightly. Your movements still, hand lingering on his chest and he watches you with bated breath. You felt it…but your end of the bond remains quiet. Still waiting to unravel, only giving him a glimpse of the emotions stirring within you. 

Something that both uneases and relieves him. He wants to know exactly what you’re feeling–if your emotions resonate with the same fervor that consumes him. He wants you to understand the depth of his devotion to you. However, amidst his yearning, your oblivion toward the bond allows him to mask the subtle shift in your scent. A silent sacrifice that weighs heavy upon his heart but a burden he is glad to carry if it means he can safeguard your innocent heart from the cunning foxes at court.

Your hand continues its path downwards, tracing a tantalizing path toward his. His heart stirs with a flutter of anticipation. He can feel the unspoken yearning in your touch. With trembling fingers, he intertwines his hand with yours, each brush of your skin igniting a wildfire in him that grows brighter as you bring his hand to your lips. 

 “Your hand in marriage I long for.” You press a soft kiss upon the fourth finger of his left hand and his resolve is faltering. Teetering on the edge of surrender…

The flames surrounding you both catch on the ring on your fourth finger, the very one claimed by his brother. A forced and loveless claim. Yet still, regretfully, not him. A stark reminder that you are not his and perhaps, will never be. The simple golden band glistens precariously as if acknowledging his thoughts. He should stop you.

 “Y/n–”

“Your touch I crave,” you continue, your longing turning into a desperate need as you kiss him. Harder, with more urgency, sending a delightful sensation down his spine that makes his cock twitch. 

As your hips roll against his, Eris abruptly pulls away. The hands at your waist tighten, keeping you still and holding on to that last wall of defense. He wants you but he shouldn’t.

Your brows furrow and Eris hates the hurt that flashes in your eyes. The hope that deflates. “I’m sorry.Have I misinterpreted your—““

“I want you too,” he interrupts, needing to reassure you. He licks his lips, gaze flickering to your own, already missing their taste, before lifting back up.  “Gods, do I want you but not like this.”

He gestures to the autumn meadow around you both. The meadow that is painted in hues of crimson and gold and alive with the whisper of falling leaves and dancing flames. It’s beautiful. The epitome of Autumn. But it’s no proper place to have you. 

“You deserve better. You deserve for your first time to be special.”

“It does not matter where we are. As long as it’s with you, it is special. Please,” your bottom lip trembles and Eris leans in, gently kissing it steady. “I want you to be my first. I don’t want it to be Sawyer or anyone else. I want it to be you.”

“We don’t have to do this now. There will be another time,” Eris utters but his voice lacks strength. The promise in his words hangs in the air delicately like a wisp of smoke that is already dissipating into uncertainty. 

“Time,” you echo quietly, a wistful shadow casting over your features.  “What if we don’t have time? What if–what if this moment is all we have left?”

Eris wants to respond but the words catch in his throat. There’s nothing he can say to reassure you there. He knows you’re aware of the impending dangers that wait for you back at court. His father will be watching you closely now, security will be tighter. Eris will have to be more careful, tread lighter and with higher caution. 

There’s only a little less than two weeks away from your marriage to Sawyer. The three of you are running out of the time and there is still so much to do. The stolen moments with you will have to cease and he senses you’re aware of this truth as well. This may be the very last one between you both.

If you thought Autumn was a terrible place before, then you’re about to learn that it’s much, much worse. It’s a living hell. And Eris curses the Cauldron for its cruelty.  

Angels like you shouldn’t live in hell.

“So much has been taken from me and I fear there is very little choice I have remaining in this world. But this,” you pause, placing his hand over your racing heart, an urgent plea echoing in the rapid rise and fall beneath his touch. “This is mine to give and it wants you. I want to give it to you before it’s too late…”

Eris’s entire body tenses, muscles tightening with restraint.

“And if your heart feels the same, then I need you,” your voice trembles under the weight of your emotions and suddenly, Eris feels like he can’t breathe. “Like fire craves the kiss of air–”

No one has ever looked at him with such devotion, spoken to him with such passion. It’s overwhelming and threatening to drown him in its intensity. While his mind is screaming for him to run away, his heart wills for him to stay. 

“–like flowers thirst for the tender caress of rain, like–”

Eris’s lips crash onto yours. His kiss is searing yet gentle and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and he groans into your mouth. He carefully guides you back onto the soft bed of fallen leaves and golden grass, cradling the back of your head with one hand while the other remains over your heart. 

He kisses you until you’re both breathless and forced to pull apart. His body hovers over yours, amber eyes drinking you in. He tenderly kisses the remnants of your tears away, reveling in the way you softly sigh and lips begin to curve upwards into a smile.

“I love you, Eris.”

The three words hit Eris so hard there’s a crack in the last wall of defense. He’s terrified to move, not wanting to leave this moment but also in fear that if he does, that last wall will crumble entirely. 

“Me? Are you sure?” 

“I’ve never been more unequivocally sure.”

Eris studies you intently, captivated by every subtle shift in your expression. There’s nothing but unwavering love and desire reflecting back at him with such luminous intensity that it threatens to blind him. He can no longer think properly. Every reservation, every thought telling him to stop is slipping through his fingers.

All he can think about is you and how you love him. You love him! You love him! You love him!

And when he meets your eyes again, it’s too late. 

The damage has already been done. That last wall of defense is crumbling at a devastating speed. A soft flush creeps up his cheeks, betraying the vulnerability that seeps through his every pore in surrender.

“Is this what you really want?” 

“Yes,” you breathe, eyes fluttering shut in anticipation as his nose brushes softly along your neck. “Even if it’s just for this moment, let me be entirely yours. Every beat of my heart. Every breath. Take it all.”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Eris murmurs against your neck, inhaling sharply and when the honeyed scent of your arousal greets him, he whimpers.

**

Gentle is not a word Eris Vanserra would use to describe himself. That is, until he met you. His mate. The one who dismantled the walls he spent centuries constructing around his heart in months with little effort. In your presence, lies a burning desire to soften the edges of his demeanor. To be the gentle male worthy of your affection. 

You wield a power over him unlike any other, leaving him utterly captivated and surrendering to all rationality. He should tell you he feels the same but he is beyond words. How can mere words capture the magnitude of his devotion?

So when you’re asking–begging–to be his, he can’t bring himself to say no. Not when this may be the very last moment shared between you both. Not when you’re giving him the perfect opportunity to show you the depth of his feelings instead.

Everything fades into insignificance. Nothing matters but this moment. With a touch as light as the brush of butterfly wings, his hands explore your body. Tentatively, as if scared to burn you with his burgeoning desire. Always asking for permission–”is this okay?” “yes”–before venturing further, before discarding your clothes–his clothes. 

Flames continue to dance around you both, a protective circle and barrier against the cold winds. Each flicker of light casts intricate shadows upon your faces, your bodies. Eris pulls away just enough to admire you. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, leaning down and capturing your lips for what feels like the hundredth time. But it will never be enough. “So, so beautiful.”

You’re melting like wax beneath every touch and then his lips are tracing down the paths his hands have forged. Gentle and somehow still urgent. His mouth lingers on the swell of your breasts, sucking and eliciting the prettiest sounds from you. 

“If it’s too much, you tell me,” he utters, holding your gaze as he rests his chin on your stomach. He can sense your nerves. He’s nervous too. He wants this to be perfect for you. As perfect as it can be, given your circumstances.

“We can stop whenever you want.”

You nod but it’s not enough for Eris. “Words, angel,” he says, pressing a tender kiss to your stomach. “I need your words.”

“I’ll tell you,” you breathe, body arching into him. “I promise.”

Eris presses another kiss to your stomach before continuing his path downwards, to where he can feel you aching for him the most. He’s breathing so hard and kissing every inch of your skin, setting you ablaze. His nose brushes against the apex of your thighs and he’s flooded with your arousal. It’s overwhelming all his senses and he’s pulsing with need to have a taste. 

Still, he pauses to look up at you through his long eyelashes.

“Please,” is all you manage to say.

Eris moans in anticipation, drinking in your otherworldly beauty, the same way he wishes to devour you. One hand rests on your hip while the other reaches for yours. His fingers intertwine themselves with yours and when you squeeze them, he lowers his mouth and finally has a taste.

You throw your head back with a choked cry. “Eris!”

Eris groans, lapping and working his tongue against you. He’s never loved his name more. “You taste absolutely divine,” he breathes, losing himself in you. If this is how you taste, his cock throbs painfully as he imagines how you’d feel.

You reach your peak soon, crying out his name again. He lifts his head and brings your locked hands to his lips, admiring the look of pure bliss on your face. “Beautiful,” he whispers again, heart swelling with warmth. Overcome with emotion, he dives for your lips and pours them out into his kiss, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. 

The hand not intertwined with yours, caresses against your core, fingers prodding at your entrance. Your mouth parts in a gasp at the intrusion but he eases you through it until you're clenching around his fingers and begging for more.

“Are you sure you still want this?” He can’t help but ask, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Yes.”

“I’ll go slow,” Eris promises, his amber gaze filled with softness and tenderness. Blush rises to your cheeks and it’s instinctual, the way you look away. He lets out a low sound in disapproval. “Eyes on me, angel.”

When you meet his gaze, his pupils are blown but his gaze remains soft and warm. Your lips curve upwards and he does the same. Both of his hands are locked with yours, resting on either side of your head. He holds your gaze, slowly sinking into your warmth and stilling at the furrow of your brows. He kisses them, allowing you to adjust and wanting to ease any discomfort you may be feeling. 

“You’re doing so well for me, angel,” he encourages, voice strained. The bond in his chest is surging with pride at being your first and with a primal fervor to be the only one who gets to have you like this.

He feels like his heart is going to burst into flames and when he finally sheathes himself inside you, everything catches fire. His mind. His body. His soul. Every muscle, every nerve in his body is coming undone with every thrust. His kisses, though still soft, grow intense. So hot yet so sweet.

Fire consumes him, its vibrant flames igniting not destruction but building something new. Something beautiful. Something heavenly. where hopes and dreams, once thought lost, are resuscitated. The wounds of his heart being mended by you.

His body presses further into yours, mouth pressing feverish kisses down your neck, whispering sweet praises and worshipping you for the divine being you are. Your moans grow louder and you’re clenching around him tighter. “I love you,” your voice is a mere whisper but he hears it loud and clearly and you don’t seem to mind his lack of response. Not when he’s following after you, bodies shuddering as release courses through you both.

Eris pulls you close to his chest, arms tight around you. He can feel your heartbeat. Fast but steadying and in tune with the rhythm of his own. The gentle rise and fall of your chest let him know you’ve fallen asleep. Letting out a sigh in content, he closes his eyes, wanting to bask in this moment longer.

His fingers lightly trace along your back, tracing the four words he couldn’t bring himself to say back to you earlier.

I love you, too.

a/n: I've never written soft smut before so I hope it was okay. I also hope I was able to convey the desperation between Eris and reader well. I debated a lot on whether keeping the smut or scrapping it. Huge thank you to @stormhearty for helping me out with this part and giving me her input! ily! ❤️

series tag list: @fabulouslyflamboyant5 @fxckmiup @stormhearty @skyesayshi @sfhsgrad-blog @crazylokonugget @evergreenlark @secretlyhers @mybestfriendmademe @ib525, @96jnie, @glitterypirateduck @thatsassyhufflepuff @acourtofbatboydreams, @mal-adaptive-dreams, @dandelionfairyyy, @queerqueenlynn, @circe143

general tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria

#eris x reader #eris x y/n #eris x you #eris vanserra imagine #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x y/n #acotar imagine #acotar x you #acotar x reader #acotar x y/n #eris angel au #eris vanserra smut #eris smut #acotar smut

[steddieas-shegoes]

so glad i found you

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is coparenting'

rated t | 1,428 words | cw: mention of previous marriage (steve's) | tags: established relationship, single dad steve (except he isn't anymore *wink wink*), steddie dads, modern au, marriage proposal

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

"Sarah, come on!" Steve yelled from the kitchen, his eyes drifting to the clock that he hoped was lying. They were gonna be late for school. Again.

"Daddy, I can't find my jacket!" Sarah came running through the kitchen, only half-dressed, no backpack in sight.

"What do you mean? It was on the hook last night."

"It's not now."

Steve groaned.

And then a jacket was thrust into his hands and a sleep-rough voice was in his ear. "Found it on the floor in the bathroom."

Steve grabbed the jacket from Eddie, kissing his cheek in thanks.

"Eddie found it, let's go!" Steve yelled before whispering to just Eddie. "Thank you, baby. Sorry for waking you up."

"Needed to get up anyway. Wanted to say bye to Sarah."

Steve watched as Eddie walked over to the cabinet that held their vitamins. He reached in and grabbed the gummies Sarah was supposed to take every day. Steve wasn't always the best about remembering them, but Eddie never forgot.

He reached in the fridge next, grabbing the smoothie Steve forgot about and handing it to him. "Since I know you didn't eat anything," Eddie kissed his cheek again and leaned against the counter holding the gummies for Sarah.

"Thanks, Eds," Steve said as Sarah came crashing back into the kitchen and reached for her jacket. "Why did you move this into the bathroom?"

"I didn't."

"Ah, I fear the ghosts are at it again, Steve," Eddie said, smirking when Sarah giggled. He handed her the gummies once she had her arms in the jacket. "Vitamins to make you big and strong, your highness."

"Thanks, Dad."

Everyone froze. The clock on the wall stopped ticking. The air was sucked out of the room.

Sarah was bright red, and because she wasn't the type to stick around an awkward situation, she turned and walked out of the room.

Eddie blinked at Steve, lips parted as he tried to remember how to breathe.

He'd been with Steve for just over a year, and while he didn't technically live with them, he spent more time at their apartment than his own. He was on Sarah's emergency pick-up list, took her with him to run errands when Steve had to work late, bought her things when the budget allowed just because he wanted to, and would read to her most nights that he stayed over. In many ways, he was her dad.

She hardly knew her mom, only spent two weeks every summer with her and was perfectly fine with that. Steve's ex-wife had admitted from the beginning of the pregnancy that she thought it was a mistake and when she filed for divorce when Sarah was six months old, Steve wasn't surprised. She had no interest in being a mom the way Steve had so desperately wanted to be a dad. But even still, Eddie never wanted them to feel like he was trying to force any type of parental power.

She'd called him Eddie until this moment, and he'd been completely fine with it. He would've been fine with it forever if it meant he got to have them both.

"I can talk to her. I don't think she meant to say it and it's okay if you don't want her to. She'll understand and-" Steve started rambling, trying to prevent Eddie from panicking.

But he wasn't. He was just doing his best not to start crying.

"But did she mean it?" He asked, voice shaking as he realized how much he did want her to call him Dad.

"I dunno, Eds. Probably. You know she never says things she doesn't mean. But we can talk to her-"

"No. I mean, yes, we should. But not because I don't want her to." Eddie took a deep breath. "I've kinda been her dad for a while now. It feels like it, at least. We've been in this together for most of the last year, ya know? I wanna be this for her and for you."

Steve was going to melt into a puddle, maybe right through the floor into the apartment below them. The nice old couple who lived there would have to mop him up.

"Daddy? Da-Eddie?" Sarah's small voice said from the doorway.

"Come here, sweet pea," Steve got down closer to her level. She was tall for her age, but even at eight years old, she was barely level with his chest. "Do you wanna call Eddie Dad? There's no wrong answer."

Eddie nodded, getting down to her level, too.

"It won't hurt my feelings if you just said it by accident, princess. I promise I love being your Eddie," he smiled at her.

He meant that, he wouldn't lie to her. But a small part of him hoped she wouldn't go back to calling him just Eddie after that. Not after he had a taste of what it could be like to be her dad.

"Well, you do dad stuff with me. Like when we built that birdhouse because I was scared the robin would have her eggs in a tree and they'd fall and crack and the babies would die. And when you took me shopping for a dress so I could go to Daddy's awards for work. And you always read to me with the voices and stuff." Sarah was playing with her hair, a nervous habit she'd somehow picked up from Eddie in such a short time. "And that's stuff that Daddy does with me all the time too, like when you're not here with us to do it. And sometimes even when you are and you both do it it feels like I have two dads. I like having two dads."

Steve and Eddie were both barely holding back tears as she spoke. She'd always been incredibly brave about her feelings.

"I like doing all that stuff with you, princess. But I would love it all no matter what you called me, okay?" Eddie said around a barely contained sob.

"But you love Daddy and me right?"

"Of course."

"And you kinda live with us."

He let out a wet laugh. "Yeah, I guess I kinda do."

"And you maybe will get married?"

Steve nearly choked on his own breath. "Sarah, honey, remember I told you that kind of decision is something that takes time and-"

"Yeah, princess. I think maybe we will. Not right now, but someday," Eddie interrupted.

Steve resisted glaring at him. He knew better than to make promises to a child, they'd already been over this before, and he could already see Sarah's wheels spinning.

"Wait-"

"So I can wear a pretty dress?" Sarah asked, as if that was the most important thing. "Can I hold both your hands?"

"If your Daddy is okay with it when it happens. But you know what has to happen first?" Eddie poked her dimple, smiling at her with teary eyes. "He has to say yes."

Sarah looked over at Steve, who was...confused.

"Daddy! Say yes!"

"He's gotta ask!" Steve exclaimed. "And he doesn't have a ring. We've only been together a year."

"Stevie."

Something in Eddie's voice made Steve pause and look at him instead of Sarah.

"I have a ring. Not with me, but. I already know you're it for me." Eddie held Sarah's hand and Steve's. "I just wanted to make sure Sarah was okay with it first. So. Sarah Harrington."

"Yes, Dad?"

Jesus, Steve was pretty sure he would die from this. In a good way, maybe the best way, but Jesus Christ.

"Would it be okay if I ask your dad to marry me? I could be your other dad and I promise I can read to you every night."

"Hm." Sarah thought for barely a second before she beamed at Steve. "Daddy, I'm saying yes. So you have to say yes. I want Eddie to live with us forever."

The most important thing to Steve was someone who Sarah loved and who loved Sarah in return, someone who was part of their family because they wanted to be, someone who felt proud to be theirs.

Eddie checked off all of that and then some.

He looked at Eddie and smiled. "Well, you heard the princess. Yes!"

Being late for school turned into being absent from school. Steve and Eddie skipped work for the day so they could all be together. Eddie went to his apartment to get the ring and Sarah made decorations for a "real" proposal.

He didn't mind that it wasn't anything extravagant. None of them did.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddielovemonth #love is coparenting

[uplatterme]

all out?

—sub!scara/dom!reader, amab!reader | office sex, exhibitionism

—not beta read so excuse some mistakes if there are any TT

honestly, scaramouche should have seen this coming.

he stares at his empty cabinet, dumbfounded that there’s nothing inside it. surely not…

the balladeer wants to scream. just his luck, that it happened today too, when there’s a meeting scheduled that he cannot skip.

“fuck.”

the harbinger walks through the chilling halls of the zapolyarny palace. the cold has never bothered him in any shape or form, yet today proves to be an exception.

there are lower-ranked fatui passing by, hastily running off, not wanting to meet his gaze. an action that he isn’t unfamiliar to.

he hisses and stops when a certain ginger blemishes his view.

“looks like someone’s having a bad day!” he greets.

for a moment there, scaramouche thinks that he’s caught red-handed. not until he realizes that the youngest harbinger couldn’t have possibly seen through his facade.

“you’re deafeningly loud.” he bites back, continuing his steps despite the aching in his lower half.

“ah, still the same as ever. not that im surprised.” he says, chuckling echoing through the halls.

“the meeting’s to start in a few, although the director and the overseer hasn’t arrived yet.” tartaglia informs.

he flushes at the mention of your title, the one behind this problem that he’s facing right now.

“hello?” he calls out.

“can you learn to shut up just at least once?!” he yells.

currently, he sits on the chair provided for him, next to pulcinella and sandrone. as long as he doesn’t get seated next to that blue-haired freak, he considers any situation to be pleasant.

the door opens with a slam and the rest of the harbingers bow their head as greeting. there you stand, that folder you always carry in your arms and a pen between your fingers.

that’s when the memories comes back to him.

flashes of each time you’ve ripped his underwear with those fingers of yours, the scene claws into his brain as he bows down his head in unison with the others.

it was fine the first time. it was only a one-time thing, after all.

oh, how naive he was thinking that.

he then realizes that it wasn’t a one-time thing, seeing as there’s none of them left in his cabinet, forced to attend this meeting with his cock slapping against his thigh each time he walks.

it’s embarrassing. he seethes at your voice, talking about some topic that he couldn’t give a shit about. he adores when your tone is like that, commanding and strict. the more you speak, the more the harbinger wants to cave in.

his cock presses hardly to his shorts, begging for any kind of attention. unfortunately, he’s forced to endure it. to sit there in agony while he stares at you, giving out orders.

oh, how he wishes that you bend him against the table right now.

he can see it visibly twitch from underneath his clothing. if you were to see this, what would you have done? scaramouche’s imagination runs wild, thinking of how you’d make him take your cock. overusing his body and milking him dry. a doll, whose only purpose is to serve you.

“balladeer?” he snaps back to reality, hearing you mention him.

he bites back a needy whine, feeling everyone’s attention now centered on him.

“yeah?” he spit out, his eyes meeting with yours.

“you’ll be sent off to a separate mission, is that all right with you?”

god, you could ask him to do anything and he’d agree.

“sure.”

when the meeting ends, his body was moving on its own, moving towards you to grab you and pinning you to the wall.

“you! you better take care of this!” he shouts.

you were confused at first but it didn’t take you long to see his cock fully outlined through his tight shorts.

“why should i? you’re the one who decided to attend this meeting like that.”

he groans. he does not have the time for any of your teasing right now.

“you kept tearing through—just, ugh!

fuck me already!”

his voice echoes throughout the room. he would have never expected this kind of situation to happen but he needed you so badly. he’s been hot and bothered ever since this morning.

he lets out a relieved groan once he feels his abdomen pressing on the table.

then, next comes the sound of his shorts being ripped apart. he would have complained about your tendency to tear through his clothes but all the complaints in his head goes away once he feels your fingers digging inside of him.

“hnngghh—fuck, finally. only thing you’re fucking good for—oh god!”

“shit, shit, shit!”

his face presses up on his hands, far too drunk as drool goes down his chin. he’s loving each movement inside of him, the satisfaction and pleasure you give are intoxicating him and he wants more.

his body squirms, his feet constantly misplacing themselves on the floor. his dick leaking precum as you stroke it at a pace, leaving him panting and breathing like a dog who had just gone for a run.

“look at you, all loose already…your body’s just made for fucking, isn’t it? always wanting to prove something when you can just show everybody how much of a cumdump you are.”

scara grunts at your insult (praise?), wanting to spit back something to defend himself. but his body is then shifted around, his back laying on the cold table as you took no time in penetrating his hole.

his mouth is left wide open by the stretch. it burns but god, he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the pain. the pain that would soon then transition into pleasure by each. single. thrust.

pounding into him mercilessly, his mouth being covered by his own mouth to desperately hide his cries from enjoying it too much, smiling underneath.

eventually, he just decides to let go. his hands reaching up to fondle his own chest, playing with his nipples while you shape him into your own cocksleeve, his leg up as you wanted better access into fucking him as much as you can.

scara’s so damn loud. of course, he doesn’t notice it. nor does he notice a certain redhead blushing needing to do a double take to see if he’s seeing the right thing.

“f-fill me up! fuck, please!”

“haaah—! more, more!”

after a while, those sentences are no longer coherent as he’s turned to just moaning and whimpering, slurring his words that you can barely understand.

the table is a cum-filled mess, his dick spurting out white as his eyes roll back the furthest they can into his head.

and yet, he doesn’t stop.

even better, he’s started to match your rhythm and grind himself onto you.

there’s a bit of a swelling in his belly from your cum and yet that isn’t seen as a blockade.

each thrust, your cum slipping out of him and back into him and the warm feeling of your stickiness is just enough to send him over the edge.

in the end, he’s left with a satisfied smile. laughing and chuckling while struggling to breathe, his walls aching and not sure if he wants more or to just stop moving for as long as he can.

one thing’s for sure though,

he’s completely forgotten that his shorts are torn apart.

#q #plattered writings #sub genshin #sub genshin impact #sub scaramouche #sub!scara #genshin x reader smut #scaramouche x reader #sub scara #dom reader #dom!reader

[1427]

would you? (pt. 2)

Negan x Reader

Summary: Your mom died when you were 15, your Aunt Lucille was given custody even though she was battling cancer. When the world gets upended and Lucille dies, Negan is all you have, but he isn’t cut out to be a parent. When he becomes the leader of the Saviors and takes residence in the Sanctuary he’s almost a stranger. No one wants anything to do with you because you’re Negan’s “daughter”. So when you confront Negan about needing company, he obliges. You don’t realize that the feelings you’re developing are inappropriate, but Negan does.

Setting: Height of the Saviors era Sanctuary, Negan’s bedroom. 

Warnings: SMUT, age-gap (reader is 18, Negan is early/mid 40’s), virgin!reader, manipulation, guardian!negan (technically it’s Uncle!Negan and it IS mentioned explicitly), oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, stocking!kink, innocence/corruption!kink, reader is described several times as a doll/toy, read at your own risk ok

Word count: 3.3k

A/n: uhm, my heart was racing the entire time I was writing this please read at your own risk fr

// Part 1 //

masterlist

18+ mdni

I was just bending over to grab my pencil, coach. 

For a while, you don’t bring up what happened that night. Going to lunch like everything’s normal. Negan is even more disturbed by this than he was by your innocent flirting. You don’t bring it up, but you’re different. Reminding him of some of his former students. The girls with obvious crushes - ones they were trying to hide but actively weren’t. They’d do things that could easily be explained away. 

Sorry, I only packed these shorts today. I didn’t realize they were against dress code. 

It was easy to not look then, to hardly be affected by silly teenage girls who had no idea what they were doing. He could go to the teachers lounge and flirt with the TA’s if he was really looking for someone younger. But younger isn’t necessarily what Negan liked. ‘Innocent’ wasn’t something he thought he could get into. But with you? He had all control, every single aspect of your life was in his hands - and he knows he fucked up. He knows he fucked you up… but he’d gone and fucked himself up too. Finding himself wanting to teach you everything. So caught up in the knowledge of how bad you want him makes him feel like a king - moreso than any amount of wives. You only wanted him. You only knew him.

Oblivious to Negan’s dirty secret and because he’d threatened to stop seeing you if you continued this flirting behavior you stick with subtle stuff. Wearing even lower cut shirts, mini-skirts and stockings. And sure, the stockings had holes in them. But Negan liked that even more than if they hadn’t. It let him imagine you weren’t this pristine untouched thing. He wasn’t sure which was worse; fantasizing about you as this perfect little doll that’s never been held by anyone, that doesn’t know anything about a man’s body or as this thing he’d corrupted. Giving you romance novels? What an amateur mistake on a colossal scale. 

When you started wearing skirts he could smell you. Your wet cunt, sweet and unmistakable, every single time you walked into his bedroom for lunch. He tries to ignore it, tells the kitchen to make more pungent food, wears cologne, but it doesn’t matter - he could pick your scent out of a line-up of the undead, having had weeks to memorize it. 

Negan’s cologne only makes you more wet for him. You can barely make it through lunch anymore. Trying your best to keep up with the conversation that you’re almost positive he’s phoning in as well, but it’s not easy when all you can think about is him stuffing you full on the bed that sits a dozen feet away. You’re desperate to make a move and terrified that any move you make will disrupt everything. 

You scour your books for some kind of clue on what to do next, how to make it impossible for him to say no - but there’s no obvious answer. With no experience to tell you that Negan was losing his goddamn mind waiting for you to make a move or proposition so that he could oblige it. 

He gets sick of waiting. Sick of drinking down his disgust with himself. It only makes the fantasies more vivid. Almost tangible and right there. All he really had to do? Touch you. And he knows it. 

He’d stopped getting you gifts and novels after that night, but today? Today he had something real fuckin’ special. 

You’re sitting across from him eating… only desserts? Weird choice, but still delicious. “What’s the occasion?” You ask, taking a bite of the strawberry shortcake set out in front of you. 

“Do I need a special occasion to treat my favorite girl?” He says it so casually, but he’s never said anything like that to you before. 

“Okay,” you breathe out a chuckle, “who are you and what have you done with my uncle?” 

“Woah now, ‘Uncle’?” The title made him visibly uncomfortable, but not because he didn’t like it. He was too far gone with you, and now anything that made it more taboo just spurred his hunger further. 

You breathe in deeply, as if you’d just confessed to something. Simply put, you had. He knows how bad you want it. He can smell it on you, and you didn’t care he was your family. Not even just your almost supposed ‘guardian’, no. You saw him as your uncle and you still wanted it. Bad. “Yeah, you are my uncle, aren’t you?” 

“That makes you my niece.” He says it like it’s news. Not understanding that he’s trying to gauge your reaction. 

For some reason, it makes your heart pound. Your ears get hot, and that same smile you’d tried to will away that night he’d forced a confession out of you (in the form of a moan at his touch) blossoms on your face. Pink cheeked and starry eyed, “It does,” you nod, you really don’t know any better, “Anyway, what’s all this about?” 

Negan scrambles for an answer that isn’t the one he can’t say out loud, “Missed your birthday, wanted to… make it up to you.” His voice is low, droning, and it makes you shift in your seat, crossing your legs. Negan notices and smirks at your body giving you away. You’re so easy. 

“Oh… thanks.” You take another bite of the shortcake before moving your fork to his plate to take a bite of chocolate cake. He lets you, he’s been letting you get away with so much more disrespect than he’d ever allow from anyone else. Telling himself that no teenager shouldn’t be getting away with little stuff like that, but really it’s because he likes it. He wishes you would take more control, and just ask him already. He’d wished for weeks that you would press yourself up against him like you had before he’d made you aware of your own feelings for him. And he hates that he told you that you weren’t allowed. That it was wrong. Because it is, but he doesn’t care anymore. 

He’s sick of waiting for you to understand how to make a move, “I got you a little something too.”

It’s almost unbelievable that he’d gotten this for you. One of the saviors had tried to smuggle it to keep for himself, and once Negan saw it… he couldn’t think of something better for you. “Now close your eyes,” he purrs. 

You slam your eyes shut and put out your hands eager to receive another gift. Feeling a hard plastic case being slipped into your fingers, “Now open them.” 

It was a… you had no idea. Looking up at him in confusion you’re met with a look of complete and total satisfaction from Negan. Smiling wide at your reaction. “What is it?” You whisper, smiling back. 

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll show you.” And he winks. He fucking winks. You’re a mess. You’re putty. You have no idea what this little pink egg shaped thing is, enclosed in the plastic balanced in your hands, but you know it’s something… different. He can tell you still have no clue what it is, what it’s for, but he sits and waits for your thanks. 

You can feel it, your legs tremble as you’re about to stand up but you stop yourself. You’re not supposed to flirt with him. And he told you that that’s what hugging him is. At least when you do it. You look to him, chewing on your lip, you want to feel him pressed against you so bad it’s making your knee bounce in anxious anticipation. You think about the fact that if you were hugging him you’d be able to smell his cologne even stronger, maybe you could even get away with kissing him on the cheek. After all, you could just blame it on the gift again. 

He’s just sitting there, leaned back in his chair, staring toward the window. It would be so easy to just… you get up and crash down into his lap. Draping your arms around him, pulling your face into the crook of his neck like you always do. This time is different, like everything else has been different since that night. You can’t will yourself to move. Your breath caught in your throat as your gaze travels upward. All you can see is his neck, his chin still pointed away like he’s trying to hold himself together. You feel a guilt creeping into your periphery but it’s drowned out by the heat between your legs. Without even realizing you’re doing it, you plant your lips on his neck. 

He’s quick to react, his hand coming to grip your thigh just as instinctually as you had kissed him. Negan is sick of waiting, he was not built for this. “Do you want me to show you how to use your gift?” 

You’re melting, all your senses dizzy with his hand so firmly on your leg. Feeling his calloused palm through the tears in your stockings, your skin prickles. He puts his one arm underneath your legs and the other under your arms and picks you up, placing you gently back down in his chair. The suspense courses through you, tightening and moving to your limbs. The personification and embodiment of an exclamation point, you’re trembling as he stalks around the room. Taking the still unopened gift off of the table, you hear the click of the knife from behind you as he paces. He’s cutting into it as he leans down and breathes in your ear, “If you want me to stop, you tell me to stop, okay?” 

You nod in response, trying to swallow the knot in your throat.  He keeps talking, walking around to face you again as he gets the small mysterious device free from its packaging. “I fucked up with you,” you can tell he’s going to start monologuing like he always does, building up the anticipation you already can’t take. Your hands pulling at the hem of your skirt because you don’t know what else to do with them. “I want you to know that I know I’ve made mistakes. I’ve really really fucked up your pretty little head.” As he speaks he moves back around behind you. Cheeks flushing at the compliment. He’d called you pretty. 

“But don’t worry, kid,” his voice in your ear feels like his stubble beneath your lips that you’ve imagined so many times, “I’m gonna fix you right up.”

His hand glides down your chest from above you and your body dramatically arches into his touch. Shivering as he moves his way down to one leg, pulling on your stocking to maneuver the limb onto the arm-rest. He does the same with the other, as if you’re some doll he’s positioning. You’re putty, not a single ounce of resistance inside of you. He moves his hand to lift up your skirt, letting it fall to your stomach. Unable to look at yourself in such a provocative position you close your eyes. 

“Holy shit, girl.” Negan’s smile devours him as he takes it all in. You’re not wearing underwear underneath your stockings, something he was absolutely not expecting. Your pretty pussy all smashed up against the mesh, your juices seeping through. In the light it almost sparkles. He’s never seen a damn thing like it. He hadn’t even done anything yet, and you were a shaking mess in his chair. Waiting so patiently for him to fix you. 

He had planned on putting the little vibrator against the fabric of your panties and stockings, and while he still could… he can’t stop himself from putting his warm hand between your legs instead. He doesn’t want to stop himself, he wasn’t built for that. Fuck the piece of shit vibrator and fuck all of his stupid fucking plans to take this slow. No, he knows what you really need. Him. 

His big hand comes to rest on top of your mound, pressing his fingers flat against the wet fabric of your stockings hard. The pressure.. the warmth.. your hands immediately shoot up from your sides grabbing his forearm as you gasp at the feeling. Pulling yourself even more flush against him, any piece of him you can get. 

You’re shaking, Negan can’t think straight. All plans out the window, that smell, he needs to taste you. He rubs his whole hand, all four warm fingers, against the sopping fabric in circles for only a few seconds before bringing his hand up to his nose and taking a deep breath in of your scent. (He won’t lick you from his fingers, that’s somehow beneath him.)

You whimper under his touch and whine when he pulls away, but you don’t move other than to put your arms flat against the armrests of the chair. He was going to fix you, right? So you submit, not really even understanding how to react to any of this. 

His dick is so hard against the fabric of his pants that it hurts. He tries to readjust, but it only makes him groan. Your neck cranes at the noise, but before you can get a look he’s in front of you, pulling up on the mesh directly above your heat, taking the knife he’d still been holding and cutting into it. The sound of the stockings tearing only makes Negan’s dick harder, revealing your glistening cunt like unwrapping a fucking present. Just for him, all for him. He did this… all of it. 

He rips the fabric more before pulling your hips closer to the edge of the chair and kneeling down on one knee. His face buries against you with a haste you weren’t expecting, your body shooting up at the feeling. So sharp and too much, you squirm against his tongue but he keeps you still. Growling into your cunt, “I said I’m going to take care of you, doll, so you have to let me.  Stop. Moving. Just…” his tone softens, and he kisses you sweetly on your hood, “relax.” 

Negan dives back in more gently this time, taking in the taste of you slowly. Drinking from you, he’s never tasted anything so sweet. So pristine. His tongue swathing in large laps against your lips, you’re trying your best to relax but your orgasm builds faster than you can tolerate. It felt like fucking magic, filling you with stars that buzzed all the colors of the rainbow. He flicks his tongue between your folds, directly onto that spot and your orgasm shoots through you like a bullet. From your core to the top of your head, no orgasm you’d ever had had felt like that. It left you wanting, it wasn’t enough. Your walls pulsate, gushing thick white perfect ecstasy into Negan’s mouth. He snickers against you, his nose resting gently on your still quivering clit. 

He doesn’t want to wait - picking you up like you weigh absolutely nothing, bringing you and your dizzy head to lay gently on his satin sheets. Bliss; and yet, you yearned. 

Inside. 

Your whole body shouting, the personification and embodiment of a fucking exclamation point. His belt clacks against your sensitive folds as he races to get himself inside.

And then, all of a sudden and just like that - you’re whole. His lips smashing into yours in a desperate need to claim every part of you. 

When he’d imagined it in his head you were naked, all skin and blush and like sweet honey coating his senses. It was all different, but he didn’t mind you like this. Clothing soaked with sweat and your own sweet nectar; he felt like he was in high school and he’s taking your virginity underneath the bleachers. All limbs and throbbing need and no time, no breath to waste.

 He kisses you deep and rough until you can’t breathe and you pull away, still adjusting to his size which you imagine is large from the discomfort inside of you, snaring itself into your vision like white flashes of electricity.

His first few labored thrusts hurt like you imagined it would, though it’s not like anything you’ve felt before. The burn of your walls stretching over him makes your breath hitch sharply in your throat, “That’s a good girl,” he purrs in your ear as he pulls out and slams into you harder. Tears sting your eyes as you nod into his shoulder, silently willing him to keep going. Don’t stop. He couldn’t stop even if you’d asked him too, your pussy is too wet, too hungry and swallowing him whole. He knows what you need, he can tell, even if you couldn’t. You need this. 

Negan is seeing fucking stars, your hole stretching so perfectly around him like it never needed anything more, “Fu-uck,” he’s not going to last 5 minutes. He leans back, taking your hips and pulling them off of the bed to stay attached to his while he fucks you like that. Your shoulders still down against the bed, you’d never read about a position like this and it hurts but you like it. Your eyes traveling down his body as he buries himself slowly into you. All the way to the hilt, and that’s when you see it.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, causing him to look down and see what was going on but he had already pulled back. 

“Hm?” His tone is amused. 

“Do it again,” you whine. He smirks a brilliant flash of white teeth, before his face completely falters at the sight when he presses himself all the way into you again. Both of your eyes wide as the outline of his cock protrudes from your belly. 

“Jesus,” his voice is loud, it seems to vibrate your brain against your skull. He draws himself out of you and shoves back in - more unceremoniously than previous. He’d been trying his best to not hurt you, to take it as slow as he could manage; but seeing his hard length poke out of your body was too divine, way too fucking hot for him to not lose any semblance of control he’d had. 

Negan drowns you out, your loud screams, your hands clawing at his forearms, as he rails into you. Eyes fixed on your stomach as he watches; he doesn’t even realize you’re cumming until your hips shake violently in his grip. Your walls clench so tight his cock is pushed out. Negan clicks his tongue, as if you’d done something wrong. Moving himself in position back on top of you, his elbows coming to rest above your shoulders, his whole being swallowing you up. Your arms and legs wrap around him to try and still your shaking body as he ruts up and into you like a wild animal, his breathing jagged, his movements much less languid. Rough and desperate and all consuming. 

Using your body like a toy to get himself off, he’s hardly paying attention anymore. Grunting curses that you’re trying to memorize through a hazy veil of satisfaction.

He’s. Falling. Apart.  

And it’s wet and hot and so deep inside you that you can feel it in your fucking throat. You scream, loud, as he empties himself inside you.

Quickly, too quickly, he pulls himself out. He wants to watch his seed spill out and onto the gray sheets. You’d said you fucking sucked at painting, but Negan thinks this is the most beautiful piece of art he’s ever fucking seen. His cum dripping out of your freshly and newly used pussy in soft glistening strings to pool underneath of you, the white in stark contrast to the dark fabric is something real fuckin’ special. 

He’s smiling, kneeling above you with his hands on your stockinged knees as he watches between your legs. You’re in another world, on another planet and lost in your senses. It was everything you’d dreamed it’d be. Heaven. 

Negan had every intention on this being a one time thing. After all, hysteria was curable - but as he lays back on the bed to catch his breath he’s already caught dreaming about you in every position, any way he can place you. His perfect little toy, all just for him. Only his. 

#negan x reader #negan fanfiction #twd negan #negan smith #negan smut #negan x you #negan the walking dead #negan twd #jeffery dean morgan #jdm

[oatmilk-vampire]

Birthday Blues

Read part 2 here.

Steve hates his birthday.

He knows he may not be the only one who gets "birthday blues" but he feels like it's a lot deeper than just the blues.

When he got closer with Eddie and learned of his own shitty upbringing, he thought it'd be a bonding moment for them. Eddie has to hate his birthday too, right?

Wrong.

Despite Eddie’s mom dying when he was only six, and Eddie’s dad being a deadbeat, leaving Eddie on his own before Uncle Wayne took him in, Eddie loved his birthday.

The Munsons may not have been rich but Wayne always did his best to provide Eddie with new(er) clothes, or dice, or guitar picks. A new album or poster for his bedroom walls. Maybe even his favorite food at the diner--something they didn't do often as they usually survived on box cereal and spaghetti-Os.

And when Al Munson finally rolled into town conveniently around his only child's birthday, well he'd give the sort of shitty, low-commitment gift only a father could give.

And Eddie looked forward to it all the same. One or two shitty presents in six years is better than none when it comes to his father. He'd take what he could get.

So, when Eddie's birthday comes and goes and Steve gets invited to his and Wayne's get together with the kids, and then a later party with the members of Corroded Coffin--well of course Steve goes. And he showers Eddie with love and meaningful but still kinda pricey presents, because he can. And he wants to. Despite the merciless teasing he endures. The look on Eddie's face makes Steve feel like he's the one that got the greatest gift of all.

This, of course, all falls apart when Eddie points out Steve's own birthday must be coming up, and he's right. And because he has no tact he announces in front of everyone who realizes in horror that they've gone years of knowing Steve and celebrating his birthday exactly zero times.

Steve's equally horrified now because now everyone is tripping over their feet desperately trying to make it up to him with cakes and ice cream and movies and handmade cards and weird action figures Eddie probably would have liked better.

It's only after Steve gracelessly accepts all of their gift-giving, and fends off at least three panic attacks and two migraines that he has to put on his bitch voice and scream that the only thing he wants for his birthday is to be left alone.

And like usual, the kids do not listen.

Until Eddie steps in. He makes them go, Robin too, even if she is pissed about it. But they go when Eddie assures them that Steve probably just feels a little overwhelmed right now and needs some space.

He's close to leaving too, knowing he may have made a mistake and should probably get out of his hair... But then Steve starts crying and Eddie has to stay.

It's not loud or ugly, just these little, tiny pitiful things like Steve is trying his damnest to not cry. Like the act of tears falling would kill him.

Eddie cautiously slides next to his shaking form on the couch, careful not to jostle him too much.

He bites his lip as he experiments with placing a hand on Steve's shoulder.

Steve tenses under his touch until Eddie speaks,

"Stevie, I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. None of us did."

His parents were hardly around. Never gave him practical toys he wanted, just whatever they thought a boy should have to shape him into a "proper young man", if they thought he needed toys at all. No parties. Ever. He briefly wanted to throw ragers when he realized he was old enough and his parents wouldn't be home, they never were, but those made him feel even worse so he got used to spending the day like any other. All alone in a big, empty house. Not a home.

Eddie continues to rub soothing circles into Steve's back as he lets it all out, explaining his woes as best he can through a sore throat and runny nose. Eventually he pulls Steve into a proper hug-turned-cuddle until his breathing steadies and he isn't shaking anymore.

"I'm sorry." Eddie holds his breath, hoping it doesn’t trigger another panic attack.

"No--don’t be. Thank you."

"For what? Making you cry?"

"For caring enough to bring it up, even if it was a lot. But mostly for being here, after. Just..."

Steve didn't have to finish his sentence. Eddie knew what he was trying to say.

Thank you for staying. Thank you for holding me. Thank you for loving me.

"Always, Stevie. I'll always be here for you."

Steve squeezes him, and Eddie squeezes back once, twice.

He doesn't say it, but Steve understands.

Happy Birthday... I love you.

#wrote this because.... it's my birthday #i'm 22 #and i've had the birthday blues my whole life #and i thought maybe Steve could relate #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie ficlet

[pinkmirth]

nfl reiner braun tears his alc and requests the best surgeon to work on it. he gets, youuuu, sweet smelling pink doctor coat wearing you and he can’t even take you serious when you’re going over his chart or requesting to feel the muscle with those pink gloves on. you even look younger than him and he’s telling you: “darlin’, listen… im a big deal around here and i need someone to help fix me not give me a boner.” or something like that and you almost don’t have the heart to tell him that you’re the best that there’s ever been at this hospital.

RECOVERY, reiner braun !

୨୧ — pairing: footballer!reiner braun x fem!reader

୨୧ — synopsis: this doctor’s got a hardheaded patient! it’ll take some effort to convince him of your effectiveness . . .

୨୧ — contains: ( 1.4k words of . . . ) modern au, slight nsfw (more like suggestive!), footballer!reiner, surgeon!reader, fem!reader (black coded), reiner has an ACL tear, reiner’s touch-deprived/sexually frustrated, rei’s kindaaa conceited (just a little bit!), palming, minors shoo!

୨୧ — mira’s note: ramona, my love! i adore all your reiner concepts, they’re always sooo perfect 🎀 thank youuu for sharing your rei-rei thoughts with me :) now here’s a lil drabble for my gorgeous man! (not really proofread thoroughly, i apologize for any typos or mistakes!)

isopropyl.

it’s all that reiner can smell. he’s a healthy man, he hardly belongs here— in this chilled surgeon office with the most pale, unflattering lighting. the parchment-like exam table paper rustles beneath him with every stretch and maneuver he makes, and his weight is enough to pry a creak out of the treatment table every now and again.

a recurring clack of footsteps and the whine of the door lets reiner know that you, the ‘sexy doctor lady from earlier’ has returned from reading his screenings. he wasn’t able to catch your name amidst the splitting pain from his acl tear, so that’ll make do in the meantime.

you set down your clipboard and turn to face him. your dear patient appears a bit mussed from the big game that took place earlier— his golden hair’s all fluffy and wild, that red football uniform of his is streaked with the green of the field, and his left cheekbone got a little scratch somehow. you’ll make sure to dab that with rubbing alcohol later.

“your vitals are well above average.” you commend. his reply’s a mere grunt. he can’t bring himself to take you seriously. just fucking look at you; pink latex gloves pulled over manicured hands, welcoming eyes all doe and shiny, with a sweet glossed smile that he won’t forget for days to come. he hates having to meet such a beauty under these grim circumstances– after all, you’re the kind of woman he’d take out on a date.

“lucky for you, mister braun, your injury isn’t a complete tear . . . so your recovery time shouldn’t be too long. it’ll last about six months, give or take.”

he isn’t listening.

reiner isn’t even sure of when he began to space out; your lips are just so plush, so alluring. his surname sounds sweeter than it should when falling from your mouth. before long, you clear your throat. it’s enough to snap him out of it. “i’d appreciate your undivided attention, sir. we’re currently going over your healing plan— ”

“lemme ask you, sugar,” he interjects with a low rasp. reiner braun’s well known around these parts, and you can only assume that being such a big deal has gotten to his head. what he says next throws you off, “when’s the real doctor comin’ in, hm?” it’s hard to remain professional, but you do. no furrowed brows, no scrunched up face— nothing but a tight, forced smile.

you suck in a breath through your nose, maintaining composure. “what makes you think it isn’t me, mister braun?” he can hear the tinge of vexation in your voice. clearly, this footballer has struck a chord or two.

“you’ve got pink gloves on, barbie.” he snarks out a laugh, just a bit mean. he’s much too handsome for such a condescending tone.

you bring a gloved hand flat to his chest, pushing reiner back into the examination table. his breath catches in his throat when you knead your fingers into his thigh, right where the tear resides beneath firm muscle. you’re assertive, and goddamn, does he love it.

“i’m your doctor.” you assure, voice firm. he groans out at the calculated pressure; it feels good. makes the throb of pain fade, just a bit.

“you’ll have to put some faith in me, hm?” your tone is warm, words soft and patient in a way he doesn’t deserve. reiner can’t lie, it was crass of him to have undermined you that way.

“my apologies, doc.” he addresses you in the rightest way he can. it’s his tiny little way of making amends.

“so, how long— fuck, how long did ‘ya study for?” reiner tries for small talk, voice low and shaken. you’d like to believe that whatever left his lips just now wasn’t a moan. no, it was more like . . . a groan of pain, perhaps?

“about six years. graduated early,” no wonder you look just about his age, if not younger. all his previous doctors were just as old as his parents.

“smart and pretty, huh?” he graces you with a feeble grin, a white gleam of teeth surrounded by neatly trimmed stubble. it’s safe to say that he’s your hottest patient up to date.

you continue on with prodding into the thick meat of his left thigh, and those throaty whines of his make you feel a way you simply shouldn’t.

it’s been a while since reiner’s been touched this way. he knows it’s just a regular inspection for his stupid injury, but he can’t recall the last time a woman’s splayed their hands on his body. he’s always busy with football this, training that. there’s never any time remaining for hook-ups, talkless of a relationship. that being said, it isn’t long before he begins to grow excited.

“m— mister braun,” you call out, voice airy, “you seem a little, um . . . worked up.”

“huh?” his eyes flit up to meet yours. you lock onto his honey-brown pools of desperation.

nothing else is uttered. you wordlessly direct your gaze towards his crotch, and give him a knowing look. reiner finally catches on— he fucking knew he felt his bottoms getting tight. hesitantly, the blonde lifts his head to peer down at his pants. surely enough, a boner’s prodding at the centering cloth of his football shorts.

“goddamn,” he drops his head back onto the examination table, bashfully throwing his forearm over his eyes. humiliation eats at the proud man, reducing him to a jumble of hormones.

you can hardly bring yourself to contain your chuckle, which makes his reddened cheeks burn further. it seems that his bodily reaction to your skilled hands has given him a sense of humility at best, and embarrassment at worst.

“i’ve never been appointed to a lady before . . .” is his hushed excuse. he’s still got his eyes shielded with his arm— he can’t even fucking bear to look at you. it’ll only spur him on further.

‘i turn you on?’ is what you’re just longing to question him. you know that you do— he’s been looking at your lips with bated breath since he got here. not to mention the peeks he’d taken at your ass whenever you turned around to read his chart or grab a cotton ball.

it’s quite bold of you— more like dangerous— to bring your ministrations upwards, closer to the ache under his pants. you’d tell yourself to stay on task, but professionalism has long been thrown out the window.

your gloved hands trail mischievously, placed directly atop reiner’s hard-on. warmth radiates from your palm, and you squeeze. his eyes blink shut, hips gently bucking upwards. his tear burns from beneath his skin, but he doesn’t fucking care. he bets he could cum from your hands alone.

reiner eventually manages to pull his arm away from blocking his viewpoint, chest heaving with every passing second. if you were to use your stethoscope on him, his heartbeat would be nothing short of erratic.

“trust me, mister braun,” is your reassuring whisper, “you’re in good hands.”

#୨୧ — mira writes! #♡︎ — reiner! #reiner braun #reiner x reader #reiner smut #reiner x black reader #reiner braun smut #reiner x black reader smut #reiner braun x reader smut #reiner braun x reader #reiner braun x black reader #reiner braun x you #reiner x you #aot smut #snk smut #snk x reader #snk x black reader #aot x reader #aot x black reader #aot x black!reader #aot x reader smut #— (moots!) #— (ramona!) #— (drabbles!) #— (reiner drabbles!) #footballer reiner #❥ — reiner! #୨୧ — inbox! #౨ৎ — 𝓂𝓎 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓈𝓉ℴ𝓇𝒾ℯ𝓈!