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the0doreslover · 4 months

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not all men leave you disappointed |t.n

Pairing: fem!reader x Theodore nott

Warnings: smut, porn w no plot, fingering, blowjob, making out, p in v sex (reader is definitely on the pill) wrap it before you fucking tap it, swearing, pet names (baby, bella, that’s it)

Summary: it’s your fault, and you’re in the wrong, but none of that seems to matter with theodore nott

Guilt.

thats the only word you could think of to describe what you felt while you stared at the sleeping boy next to you. You ran a hand over your face while the memories of last night teased your mind.

~ last night

“why does he get to treat you like that?”

you turned towards the voice and sighed once theodore nott came into your view

“leave it”

you heard him laugh

“real men don’t leave girls disappointed”

“and i suppose you know all about not leaving a girl disappointed right nott?” you snickered

“precisely, and i think you know that better than anyone”

“you said you’d forget about that”

“i tried” he hummed walking closer to you “bella i tried really hard”

your laughter slowed once you noticed his eyes wandering down to your lips.

“i told you it could never happen again” you whispered watching as he walked closer to you

“nothings happening”

you turned your head towards the ceiling

“you’re so beautiful”

his hand ran along your cheek and turned your face toward him.

“tell me to stop”

you wanted to, you really really wanted to… instead you watched as the gap between you seemed to shorten

“nott”

“that’s not my name”

“theodore”

“hm”

“i have a boyfriend”

“i know” were the final words that you remember hearing before his lips were on yours and your back on the stone wall behind you.

his hands roamed your body grasping onto everything he could and attempting to feel you even closer than you already were.

he pulled away from your lips and begun trailing kisses down your neck, you knew it would leave marks but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

the thoughts of your boyfriend ghosted at the back of your mind, but with each mark theo left on you they seemed to linger less.

“Come to my dorm?” he said trying to catch his breath.

your heart made a decision before your head and before you knew it you were on his bed while he was on top of you. The buttons on your shirt wide open.

“theo please”

“please what”

you clenched your thighs together feeling a rush of heat going towards them.

“please do something!”

“only cause you asked so nicely baby” he smirked lowering his mouth to your neck, giving attention to your whole body and placing kisses down your stomach while slowly edging towards your heat.

he took his time with every inch of you focusing on making you feel loved, his hands found their way under your thighs and he pulled you closer towards him. He pulled your skirt up revealing your lace underwear and you could of swore you saw his eyes darken, he licked a line along your slit before gazing up at you.

“you’re so wet for me baby, does he make you this wet?” he smirked

you tried to answer but nothing came out

without warning theodore slipped a finger inside you “answer me baby”

“Fuck! No Theodore only you”

He hummed in approval and added another finger inside you while quickening his pace.

“i’m just reminding you that not all men are disappointing bella”

“Fuck theo! i’m c-”

you came undone all over his fingers.

Once theodore was eye level with you again he was quick to grab the back of your head and pull you into another kiss, you put your arms around his neck while your tongues explored as much of each others mouths as they could.

He flipped you so you were on top of him his mouth not leaving yours.

you pulled away and begun leaving sloppy kisses down his chest, you paused before reaching his trousers

“i hate you so much”

“no you don’t”

you sat up as he helped unbuckle his trousers, you helped him pull down his boxers and watched as his length sprung free, you crawled towards him and rubbed your hand over the tip, his precum spilling out as you rubbed against him,

you got closer to him and took his tip in your mouth, he groaned before putting a hand through your hair and gathering a makeshift ponytail, he guided you down fully until his entire length was in your mouth making you gag slightly.

“You make me feel so good baby, no one else.. only you”

he watched as your head bobbed up and down on him making him feel so good

“you know you’re really mine, fuck!”

you could tell with the way his dick twitched that he about to cum, but quickly you took him out your mouth

“what the fuck?” he groaned but quickly shut up when he noticed your smile

“don’t you trust me theo?”

“more than anything baby”

you lifted yourself from your position and put your leg over straddling him. you felt him poking into your ass from behind.

you straightened before lowering yourself onto his length.

your eyes shut and you felt him against your walls and fuck, no one has ever made you feel so good

you started bouncing slowly, along with your tits, theo would say you looked fucking angelic, he was almost in a trance watching you move on top of him.

you picked up your pace and tried your best to quieten your sounds, but you couldn’t help it… he felt so perfect inside you.

he had his eyes shut and his hands lay on your hips guiding you. He truly looked like a piece of art infront of you

“Baby i’m coming!”

“me too” you almost screamed as you increased your pace again.

~ present

You shook the thoughts from your head and instead focused on putting your clothes back on.

“Leaving so soon?”

“i have class, i’m going to meet my boyfriend before then” you didn’t look at him but you heard him laugh.

“so are you going to admit it?”

“admit what theodore?”

“that not all men leave you disappointed”

“goodbye theo” you rolled your eyes

“oh and one more thing!”

you huffed before turning towards him

“maybe cover your neck first”

“ you fucking bastard”

#theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #hogwarts #harry potter #fanfic #theodore nott x you #theodore nott smut #x reader #slytherin #blaise zabini #lorenzo berkshire #pansy parkinson #draco malfoy

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petit-etoile · 7 months

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in the moonlight (my darling, do not fear)

pairing: astarion/tav wordcount: 4184 content warnings: mentions of injuries, no in-depth descriptions, minor spoilers for astarion's act ii romance other tags: canon-typical violence, canon complaint, hurt/comfort, whump, developing relationship, love confessions, gender neutral tav, elf!tav archiveofourown: here. sentence prompt: "you're like a sickness, a disease, and the only way for me to be cured of you is to let you completely consume me until my body has no fight left." — from here. summary: defeating the orthon is no small task. the hardest part is what comes after.

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‘No!’ he shouts, and it’s so loud it echoes on the edges of your mind. ‘You can’t die.’

I’m not dying, you think but the words never leave your lips. In the depths of your consciousness, you can faintly remember the battle with the Orthon. Karlach had killed the displacer beast, hadn’t she? Shadowheart had blinded the Merregon… You remember violent flashes of light and the shaking of the Gauntlet. Trying to remember takes too much energy, and thinking about opening your eyes makes your stomach roll.

‘Get up, damn you!’ Astarion snaps harshly.

He paws at your desperately, shifting rock and ruin, and when he presses his hands to your side, stars flutter behind your eyelids so violently all you can do is moan. It’s your turn to shove at him. You push at his hands and feel your fingers glide against his skin. But I’m too tired, you want to say. I just want to sleep, to dream. Eventually, you give up your fight and relax into the darkness. Maybe when you awaken, the illithid parasite will be gone and you will be cured. You can only hope that it comes true.

Astarion has other plans for you. He curses your name so sweet it could be a perfectly mulled wine and leans forward. His ear tickles your lips, and whatever he hears come from it is enough to make him heave out a relieved sob. His hands are on your face again. His fingers are sticky, and they smell like powder. He jostles you so violently that you groan against your will, but it doesn’t seem to matter much to him.

Astarion rests his head against your chest right where your broken collarbone has begun to throb. You struggle to open your eyes and stare at the roof above you, but you don’t see the familiar ceiling of Shar’s Temple. The celestial glowing swirls have been blocked from sight by ugly granite floors. If you really put your mind to it, you can recognize Karlach’s desperate cries on the other side.

‘What happened?’ you whisper.

‘You were supposed to jump down!’ Astarion snarls. ‘Gods, why didn’t you jump down!’

The panic in his voice is enough to make you try harder to retrace your memories. You had plunged your blade into Yurgir’s chest but couldn’t manage to pull it out. It hadn’t killed him. Yurgir had laughed at you, had laughed at your friends — He had never hated anyone more at that moment.

It had taken the blade you kept on your hip to finally kill Yurgir. He had dropped bombs, you recall. It comes back to you easily now. Astarion had been right behind you and was going to follow you down, but you were so wounded he insisted on helping you jump away from the bombs before they exploded. But you hated heights, you hated the feeling of falling.

‘Scared,’ you admit.

‘Ha! Scared!’ Astarion repeats, tone pitching up in his hysteria. ‘Karlach was going to catch you!’

‘I couldn’t,’ you say. ‘I was scared. I couldn’t jump, I couldn’t do it. I’m sorry, Astarion.’

A shaky sob escapes his lips. ‘Don’t be sorry, my love,’ he whispers. ‘Don’t close your eyes again.’

A shudder of exhaustion runs throughout your body. You want to ask questions. You can feel them on the tip of your tongue, but moving your jaw is more work than you’re currently cut out for. Without craning your neck, you try to assess the damage.

The displacer beast’s claws had torn your sleeve. You remember how its teeth snapped shut close to your face, and how now matter how hard you tried to push it away, its thick neck kept you from escaping. Shadowheart had distracted it with a clone. Desperation had pushed you to follow Karlach up the steps so that you could fight the Orthon. For Raphael’s contract. For Astarion.

You do as you were commanded. You stare at the shaking, makeshift rooftop and blink dust from your eyes as it filters down like mocking snow. Astarion’s head feels particularly heavy at this moment. With a sudden, horrified realization, you fully come to terms with the situation you’ve found yourself in.

You are lying in a puddle of your own blood and too broken to move. Half of the floor you were standing on has fallen beneath you and blocked you from your allies, and the only one at your side is Astarion. It must be like death itself to sit there surrounded by blood while injured. He could heal himself if he drank. You raise your good hand and place it against his white-silver curls.

‘I know I usually offer first,’ you say sheepishly. ‘But if you need a drink — ’

‘Have you lost your gods-damned mind?’ Astarion hisses.

Before you can say anything else, he sits up and leans over you. You are easily distracted by his beautiful, marble-like complexion which is marred by the dirt and dust and blood. He’s beautiful.

Astarion’s cerise eyes are frantic. ‘I do not mean to alarm you, but you are dying.’

Like the ceiling’s fate above them, the reality of the situation comes crashing miserably down on top of you. Shadowheart’s spells cannot penetrate the wall that has come between you. You realize it now. You press your hand against the hole in your side delicately and laugh a little, staring at your fingers coated with blood. You close your eyes, but Astarion’s distressed whine has you search frantically for his face.

‘I’m sorry,’ you whisper, horrified. ‘I’m sorry. I’m — Do not hate me.’

‘Please,’ Astarion begs. ‘Just stay awake. Stay with me. Karlach is trying to get through; All you have to do is stay awake, please.’

You search his face for some hint of comfort, but it’s hard to see through the dark spots knotting in your vision. You do your best to push away the panic, to force the tears back into your eyes. You don’t want to die, not yet. Raphael still has to translate the runes on Astarion’s back. Shadowheart wants to finish the gauntlet. You want to save Karlach’s heart, to absolve Wyll’s pact, to save Gale. Selfishly, you want to kiss Astarion again without any of that which comes after. You want to savor the weight of his mouth against yours.

‘I’m sorry,’ you tell him again. You swallow harshly. ‘This must be like torture for you.’

Astarion chuckles hoarsely. ‘While you are very tantalizing, this is…nothing compared to two hundred years.’

You smile faintly. Two hundred years of carrion, and now you are laid out in front of him as delicious and forbidden as the feast Raphael offered you once. He ducks out of your view to lay his head on your chest. Though he tries to hide it, you can feel the little shudders of his sobs.

I’m sorry, you think to the ceiling. The weight of Astarion’s head against your shoulder is agonizing to your broken collarbone, but whatever he is doing, he is doing it with such reverence it reminds you of the religious devout and their steadfast adherence to their god.

He burrows his face into your chest, careful to stay small over you, to be mindful of your condition. He tries to balance his breathing so that it’s quieter and less disruptive, but no matter how hard he tries, he cannot quell the frightened way his shoulders jump. You close your eyes for a moment just to memorize the sight of it.

‘No,’ he says suddenly, sitting up. ‘You promised. You cannot die, I forbid it. You said you would protect me, and you cannot do that if you are — Speak to me, damn you!’

‘’m awake,’ you say tiredly. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

‘You cannot,’ Astarion insists.

‘Next time,’ you say, ‘I will jump.’

Astarion shakes his head, and little drops of his tears rain down on your skin. ‘It isn’t the smell of you that makes it hard,’ he confesses brokenly. ‘It isn’t even about the damned Infernal runes. It’s you, everything about you. What is left for a disease like me when someone like you goes away?’

‘You will lead them,’ you tell him.

Astarion’s nose wrinkles at the idea. ‘I am not particularly interested in being the face of a revolution,’ he says. ‘No matter how beautiful I am. I am still a sickness, a beast. You are the only one good enough to lead us.’

‘You are like a sickness, then. A horrible disease,’ you say, mindful of the way his eyes narrow. ‘The only way for me to be cured of you — to be the cure for you, is to let you consume me until my body has no fight left, Astarion.’

‘How dare you,’ he says with a coquettish shrug.

You can hear Karlach slowly working through the rest of the rubble now. You hate to feel too hopeful, but you can almost hear the sound of the shattered floor breaking free. They were coming to save you, to save him.

‘That was rather poetic, you know,’ Astarion tells you. He watches your face intently as if afraid he’ll miss out on something exceptional. ‘You’ve never been one to use such gorgeous words.’

‘I wanted to,’ you say softly. ‘For you, my love.’

Astarion’s eyes widen as those words fall seamlessly from your lips. You aren’t sure if he meant to say them earlier. After all, he’s only ever been fond of calling you darling or a delectable little treat, treating you recklessly with careful honeyed words. As if getting any closer to you might coax him into accidental oblivion where your name might leave his lips thus solidifying you as something to be treated with care. A pomegranate seed between his teeth.

The shock doesn’t stay for long. Your eyelashes flutter though you fight against it. The decaying darkness around your vision has almost reached the center. You cry faintly and press a hand against your side, horrified that your blood is still pouring from you even if it is slower now. Perhaps you are running out of blood. You want to tell Astarion to drink it all up before it’s mixed with the sulfur and ash, but words are hard to form. Your heart skips a beat.

Don’t let me go to waste, you beg helplessly, reaching out to his mind when yours is all but gone. A heart-wrenching sob erupts from his chest. When you next awake, there is relatively less action than what was happening before. There are no violent tremors of a floor threatening to collapse. The sound of frantic shoving is absent. There’s only a dim hum in your ears, and the sound of a hushed fire burning well into the evening. You slowly open your eyes and blink away your sleepiness.

Shadowheart’s healing spell still hovers over you, but she’s not in your tent so she must be concentrating somewhere else. Your collarbone still smarts and you can definitely feel every single bruise you’ve ever received in your life, but you feel stronger, fuller. You reach a hand as if to inspect the wound at your side again and find the skin there is closed now.

‘You’re awake,’ Astarion says softly. ‘Thank the gods.’

You sit up quickly and feel the world turn sideways for it. Lightning dances along the back of your eyes as you try to steady yourself, and Astarion reaches out to ground you as you sway back and forth. You wonder just how long he’s been sitting there in your tent waiting for you. Your head throbs faintly once you manage to open your eyes.

‘Thank the gods,’ you echo breathlessly. ‘You brought me back?’

Astarion grimaces as though embarrassed. ‘I wasn’t the one who carried you back to camp, no,’ he says almost petulantly. ‘You’ll have to thank Karlach for that. But I have sat here since then, I must admit.’

‘Everyone — ’

‘Everyone else is fine,’ Astarion interrupts. ‘Halsin aided Shadowheart in your healing. Gale procured herbs, Wyll kept vigil at camp while you slumbered. It was all very twee. You’ll be sad you missed it.’

Astarion raises his chin much like a cat who desires petting. He would never admit it, but you can see it on his face. He’s relieved. If he were anyone else, he might weep for joy at seeing you awake again. It isn’t who he is, so you settle for knowing that he has not left your side since you escaped the Gauntlet.

You sit up further and wave your hand through Shadowheart’s healing spell. It doesn’t disperse as much as you wish, but you ignore it, crawling across your lumpy bedroll so you can wrap your arms slowly around Astarion’s neck. He freezes beneath your touch and begins sputtering, but then you feel his arms wrap around your waist. He burrows his face in the side of your neck.

‘I’m sorry for scaring you,’ you mumble against his ear.

You hear him swallow. ‘I’m not apologizing for yelling at you, if that’s what you want.’

‘I would never ask you to,’ you insist.

Before, you thought it would be a small hug. Something to show your thanks to him. You loosen your arms around him so that he can pull away, but if anything, Astarion drags you closer to him. He hides his face in the spot beneath your ear and inhales deeply, memorizing your healthy scent intently.

The hug lasts longer than you thought it would. It’s almost as healing as the magic, too. You hold Astarion as close to you as he will allow, rubbing circles and tracing his curls at the nape of his neck as if to promise that you will never leave again. You decide to sniff him tentatively as well, and beneath the dirt and ash from the collapse, he still smells like Astarion.

You startle a little when you feel his hand tuck beneath your shirt, his fingers reaching to touch a hint of your bare skin. Someone was kind enough to drag the heavier armor from you, but you still have your bloodied shirt on. Astarion’s cool touch is welcome against your aching spine.

‘I thought,’ he says slowly, ‘that you had sentenced me to a lifetime of loneliness again when you were felled earlier. At first, I was so angry that I thought I might hate you for your mistake. I wanted to kill you myself once the dust had settled.’

‘Astarion — ’ you start to say, hopeless apologies on your tongue.

‘You will let me finish,’ Astarion says harshly, though he nuzzles you. ‘Elves reincarnate, but how long does it take? How many years would I be forced to wait before I caught the scent of you on the wind?’

You’re freed from his grasp, but you aren’t allowed to escape far. You both kneel in your tent, one of his hands on the back of your head, the other at the side of your waist where your skin had been ripped open before. Astarion allows you to see him for who he truly is. His eyes are soft, weak when he stares deep into your eyes like he’s afraid he’ll forget you.

‘You have made this sinner a worshiper, though it’s no gods I am on my knees for,’ Astarion says to you. ‘The only hymn I care to rehearse is your heartbeat. The only prayer is your name. I begged the gods for years that they would save me, but you are the only divine who has answered my call.’

Your breath catches in your throat.

Astarion presses his hip into yours. ‘I wanted to wait to tell you,’ he says with a miserable shake of his head. ‘To think more.’

‘You still can — ’

‘I cannot,’ he admits. ‘When I close my eyes, all I see is your body beneath mine with your life’s blood spilling from you. You begged me to devour you.’

‘I wanted you to be strong,’ you admit. ‘Before, you told me you were only allowed to dine on creatures who couldn’t think. Who knows how long your strength would have lasted…’

His eyes seem to contain infinite sadness. You try to be intent with your words, but you’re distracted by the way he releases his head to palm your chest, pushing his fingers so forcefully skin it’s as though he’s determined to dig through your flesh to grip your heart in his hand. You’d allow him if he asked.

‘You are so self-sacrificing it’s insulting,’ Astarion snorts. ‘Do you think I would have continued in this realm without you? Never have I felt so selfishly about someone before.’

Carefully, almost as if he’s never done it before, Astarion leans forward and presses his lips against yours gently. All you can think about is his overwhelming devotion even as you respond to the kiss, melting against the touch. You hadn’t realized how much you missed this.

And you do miss it. You hate being in the Shadow-Cursed Lands more than you hate the lift in the mountains. Everything is dark and dreary and dead, and your companions are prone to being even more distant and distressed than they were before. You feel as though you are of little hope.

But Astarion kisses you now like a man who is breathing air for the first time. His mouth is hungry and insistent, and his hands cling to your skin more than he’s ever clung to you before. It causes you to blush. It’s unlike him to show such desperation. He’s willing, open, honest — yet this kiss is so different from the ones you experienced before. It’s almost chaste. He kisses you like a knight would kiss his charge.

‘But I want this,’ he whispers, breath ragged against your cheek. ‘I want you.’

‘Astarion,’ you murmur. That's all you can say.

He presses his nose against your jaw. ‘Whatever my intentions were before, to the hells with them,’ he says harshly. ‘I want us to be something real, something true if you’ll have me. It’s what you deserve.’

‘I do,’ you confess, almost embarrassed. ‘You must’ve known how silly I felt pestering you. You were the first person I sought out when I returned to camp.’

‘You did have a rather obvious air of desperation about you,’ Astarion says with a small laugh.

‘But I wanted you to come to me of your own accord,’ you continue. You touch the edge of his collar. ‘I lacked confidence. I did not want to force you into something knowing your history.’

He kisses you again. This time, it is a little less chaste. Astarion is determined to devour you, mind, body, and soul. His hands wander as though they’ve never felt your body before, and there’s something anguished about the way he returns to cradling the back of your neck. Your mouth is nothing but a scripture he is determined to practice.

You feel drunk with exhaustion. Having been settled between death and undeath for so long has left you feeling as though there is nothing in your sinew, and Astarion is making matters worse. Your head is filled with nothing but him and his unpredictable mercy. You cling to his shirt and struggle.

What have you done to deserve such boundless devotion? You have listened to, and pleaded with, every emotion he has given you. You’ve taken and given and created anew. Now Astarion becomes. Everything you have given him evolves to become this. When he is finally finished memorizing your mouth, he pulls away and confronts you with barely concealed hunger.

‘Say it,’ he begs desperately. ‘Say you want me too.’

‘I want you,’ you say. ‘Gods, you must know this. There’s nothing I want more.’

‘I wanted to manipulate you,’ he says, horrified. He hides in the crook of your jaw. ‘I wanted to use you as a shield, someone to stand behind.’

‘I am not a very big shield,’ you say.

He doesn’t laugh. ‘I was going to do what I had done before,’ he says. ‘Use your emotions for me as a weapon, but — I never want to see you near another weapon for as long as we live. Do you understand?’

You press a kiss to his hair. ‘Shall I stand behind you now?’

Astarion does laugh at that. He faces you fully now, hands cupping your cheeks. ‘You may as well be regulated to nothing but camp duty. You find a place for us to rest, you sew our clothes up when they come back with holes in them. I’d say you could make dinner, but…’

You brush a lock of his silver hair away from his eyes and run your thumbs against the swelling. He’s just as exhausted as you are even if he has yet to admit it. The building’s collapse has left him equally as tired. You encourage him to lay down with you, and he does, curling at your side with his head on your chest.

‘Will you be our fearsome party leader?’ you ask. You close your eyes and try to imagine it.

‘Oh yes,’ he swears solemnly for your sake. ‘I will hold the map and point us in the correct direction. Hopefully my leadership will lead us away from Shadow-Cursed things and back to the streets of Baldur’s Gate. I am so ferocious that whoever controls these parasites will give up upon seeing my muscles.’

You try to imagine your life without the tadpole. It seems relatively empty without Shadowheart and Lae’zel’s bickering, and you would miss the way Halsin and Gale are prone to rambling on about whatever is holding their interest at the time. You’d miss Karlach and her boundless enthusiasm for dancing. You’d miss Wyll, too. You’d miss the way he always watches your back.

Would you have met them in Baldur’s Gate? Would Astarion have picked up your scent and chased you down an alleyway intent on drinking your blood? He would be as he was before, angry and cruel and distant. For a moment, you’re almost grateful that the mindflayers had kidnapped you that morning. The circumstances surrounding it were dire, and you hated the gross wiggling the worm was prone to doing when it wanted you to be authoritative, but you would miss them.

‘I don’t regret it, you know,’ you say suddenly.

‘You do not regret what, exactly?’ Astarion asks. ‘Getting blown up and nearly dying? You should.’

You snort despite your best attempts not to. You press your palms against your eyes and try to keep from laughing too hard. For what it’s worth, Astarion does let out a small chuckle. You can hear his frown.

‘Aye,’ you relent. ‘I suppose I do regret nearly dying and. I don’t regret what came before it. If Raphael asked me to strike down all of the gods so that he would translate your back, I would do it without asking a question. You deserve to know.’

‘I cannot overstate how…appreciative I am of that,’ Astarion says finally. ‘But, just so you know, I would do the same for you without question. I have most of the time. I trust at least a third of your decisions.’

‘All of the decisions I make,’ you begin.

But Astarion interrupts, ‘I am sure you make them with everyone’s best interest in mind. Sometimes it works out. Sometimes you end up blown to bits.’

‘I do not regret letting you feed from me,’ you say, pretending he never opened his mouth. ‘I do not regret the silly way I fell into your honeyed words. I do not regret killing the Orthon. I do not regret you.’

‘We’ve barely just begun.’

You swallow. ‘And I will see it through until the end of time,’ you say. You’re fully aware that it’s too soon to make sweeping grand declarations of love, but you can’t stop yourself from saying. ‘You will never be alone again.’

You take Astarion’s silence in stride. You want him to know that he isn’t the only one capable of saying disgustingly romantic things. In the wake of your unconsciousness, you feel a rush of things you haven’t felt in quite some time. Life felt dreary in the mountains and worse in the Underdark. You hate when your world feels as though it’s crushing you. Now, even in the dark, it’s as if the sun shines on your face.

‘I love you,’ you say.

‘Say it again.’

‘I love you,’ you repeat, this time with more meaning. You try to roll onto your side, but your shoulder fusses too much. ‘I want you, and I want this. Forever.’

‘Forever,’ Astarion repeats, a sense of wonder entering his voice as he toys with the taste of it on his tongue. Once again, he sits above you, his head pressed against your chest, shaking as he listens to the sound of your heartbeat beneath your skin. ‘I like the sound of that.’ You smile at the sound of a purr in his voice, and allow yourself to imagine what forever means.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x oc #from ，carcosa .#my fic

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writersblockedx · 10 months

Text

Sparks

Pairing - Jeremiah Fisher x Fem!Reader Summary - Jeremiah goes to you for everything, and when you give him a vital piece of love advice, it dawns on him that he is, in fact, in love with you. Warnings - None? Slight mention of underage drinking. Words - 2K

Masterlist

As was common, Jeremiah was at a loss for his several hookups. And, as was even more common, he went to you to debrief and to ask for advice. While he had hookups and situation-ships way more than you did (or anyone in Cousins for that matter), he struggled with how to manage them. At least he did until he started asking you for advice.

He threw himself onto your bed, forcing you to shut the book you had been deep inside. There, staring up at the ceiling, he let out a huff. "What, or should I say who, is it this time?" You raised your brow at him, watching as Jere's wide pupils stared up to the ceiling as if he were replaying some memory over and over.

"Luke." He let the name out in a sigh. "And, And!" He suddenly added as if he had almost forgotten in his daydreaming gaze, "Abi."

He finally sat up, staring at you with them puppy eyes you could never resist. "Two?" You questioned.

"Yes." He said, barely embarrassed by such fact; at this point, it was to be expected. "Reframe from any criticism please."

"I'm not gonna criticise you, Jere." You told him, a sweet smile gracing your lips. "If anything, I don't see what the problem is here."

He took a second before shrugging, "I just- I feel wrong, you know? Guilty." He explained. "Like I'm going behind their backs."

"Okay then, well you either need to tell them both the truth or pick one."

Jeremiah thought about the options for a moment and ran both scenarios through his head until making his decision. "I have to pick one." He said before looking at you, uncertain, "Right?"

"If that's what you want." You comforted him.

At that, he let himself fall once more. This time, right into your lap as he made a dramatic sigh as if this decision was a life-changing one. "What if I don't know what I want?" He questioned, gazing up at you, his sea-blue eyes catching you into his trap.

You let a sniffle of a laugh as you looked down at him, "Oh, trust me Jere, you've no idea what you want. But, that's okay too, sometimes you have to experiment with different people until you know what you want." You went on.

That seemed to spark another question for him, one of which wouldn't leave his head for the next few weeks: "How do I know? Like, how do I know that this is someone who I want a relationship with? A proper relationship, not just a hookup."

For that, you needed to think. As much as you gave Jereimah advice after advice, that was a question he had never asked. "I suppose it has to be someone you feel that spark with. But not just a sexual spark." As you were certain Jere sometimes mistook it for. "A spark that reaches to a deeper, emotional level. Where you feel safe but excited at the same time. A balance, I guess." That was what you assumed anyway. You hadn't had many successful relationships yourself.

But your words had seemed to prompt something for Jere. His eyes washed away, his mind sucking him into his thoughts. Until, after a long moment, he sat back up and with furrowed brows, asked, "How do you know all this? It's not as if you're happily married."

"No need to remind me." You giggled, slapping the side of his forearm.

Of which he chuckled at and defended himself, "I'm serious! You talk all this wise shit and can't even get yourself a date."

You could have scoffed, "I can get myself a date, thank you."

"Really? When was the last time you went on one?"

Then you did scoff, grasping the pillow from behind you and chucking it at Jeremiah's head, only erupting more laughter from the both of you. "You are so rude!"

Only once your mini pillow fight died down and Jeremiah returned home, did that question take over his whole mind. He strolled into the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of milk as he thought over it: how did he know? The only time he felt a spark that wasn't sexual- well, he couldn't quite remember. Everything you had described, the safety but excitement, the emotional connection (and the sexual), well the only person he could ever even suggest he had felt that for was you.

"What's up with you?" His brother's voice broke him from the glare he had been giving the countertop.

His eyes widened, "Huh?"

Conrad and Belly, who had been trailing behind him, both giggled. "You're just a bit...out of it, you know?"

"Thinking."

"That's a first." Conrad laughed.

Jeremiah snapped, "Hey!"

"Go on then," Belly pushed, "What is it you're thinking about?"

The boy sighed, replaying your words once more. "A spark."

"Why's a hookup causing you an existential crisis?" Questioned Conrad, watching his brother in such a focused state that it was becoming a concern.

"It's not a hookup." Jere admitted. "It's Y/n."

Suddenly, that name peaked Belly's interest. She leaned closing, placing her elbows on the kitchen island as she watched the boy carefully, "What about her?" She prompted.

"I went to her for advice, as I always do, and now I can't get it out of my head. She was explaining how for love, you need a spark, an emotional connection, safety..." He stopped there, ever so stunned by his recent realisation.

"And?" Belly pushed on, one brow raised.

Jeremiah sucked in a breath, not making eye contact with either of them as he said, "She basically just described everything I feel for her."

He looked at his brother and his best friend. It was silent. At least for a moment as he took in their unreadable expressions; were they stunned? Embarrassed? Futile? Then, breaking the silence came Conrad's laugh. "You have a crush on Y/n, great." He shook his head. "It took you long enough."

Jere's brows instantly furrowed as he straightened his back, "What? How did you-" He couldn't get his words out.

Conrad looked to Belly, "Come on, back me up. It was obvious."

Jeremiah looked to his friend and Belly could only shrug. "It sort of was." She agreed. "But, now you know, you can ask her out!" Excitement was painted on her words. Belly had been waiting for this for almost longer than yourself.

"I can't do that. She's- She's Y/n. She's my best friend. It'd be weird." The idea was so foreign that it was unbelievable.

"She's your best friend who you're in love with!" Belly argued. "Think about it, please."

With that, she and Conrad left Jeremiah to his thoughts. Once more, you never left his mind. He had been trapped.

For weeks, it was all he could think about. He'd gaze across the other side of the pool at you. Shades covering your eyes as you bathed in the sunlight. There he was daydreaming of everything you would do as a couple. Granted, it was pretty much the same as how things were now, only littered with kisses and hugs and greater smiles than either of you had ever made before.

It came to the point where he was just bursting to tell you. But he waited. He had to wait until the right moment. He couldn't do it by the pool, with Steven and Belly watching. He would wait for the perfect moment. And when the group of you arrived at a local party, he knew maybe tonight would be the night.

A few drinks down, he caught you by yourself. You had wandered to the backyard, sitting on the stairs that led to the porch. He lingered by the patio door, watching you as you sat alone for a moment. Your curious expression was emphasised by the fairy lights which tangled over the wooden fencing, flashing pinks and purples across your cheeks.

You didn't even know Jeremiah was there until he came and sat next to you, your shoulders nudged up against the others. "Enjoying the party?" A smooth smile hung from his lips as he grasped the red solo cup in his hand.

You nodded and glanced over at him, "Yeah, yeah, just needed a break." You excused.

Jere smiled, looking back through the patio doors and the booming party he could still overhear. "That's understandable." He gazed back at you and fell, once more, into your eyes.

"What about you?" You nudged his shoulder playfully. "You're never one to miss a moment from a party. Shouldn't you be looking for Luke? Or, or Abi!" You spat out their names as they flooded back into your memory. You had lost count of all the people Jere had hooked up with.

His smile faulted at the mention of their names, "Erm, no, no. I actually ended things with both of them." He admitted.

"Oh, why?" You raised a brow. "Ended up telling them the truth?"

"No, no." He answered before he looked to the ground, licked his lips and questioned if this was the moment. Something in his mind said fuck it, and he did. "But it was actually because of something you said." Jeremiah couldn't tear his eyes away from you as that curiosity built on your expression once again. "When you were explaining it to me, everything that love made you feel, all the sparks and the connections. That you should feel safe with them but it should be exciting all the same. Well," He took a breath and ran with it. "You're the only person that makes me feel that way."

The air soon became thick with Jeremiah's words as they floated around your mind. This was Jere, your friend, your best friend. The one who had talked non-stop about her and him all while you were nothing but a bystander. Yet, here you were, sitting away from the party the boy was usually the centre of as he professed his love. And you could never deny your feelings in that it wasn't reciprocated.

This time, it was your turn to look to the ground, lick your lips and say: Fuck it. "Jere, I can't deny that you aren't utterly brilliant. I mean, you're incredibly beautiful, and you know it. You're charming and comedic, you bring a room to life. And I love being at your side for all of that, I want to be there in the future too." You took a breath, wondering if your next words were about to ruin that smile that was glued to his lips. "But, it's because I want that, that I want to be your friend. Just your friend." Like that, the smile dissipated. "I can't be some other hookup that you start complaining about because they get too attached, or too clingy. I won't let that be me."

He jumped to take your hands in his. What used to be a simple gesture between the two of you, had suddenly become complicated and you questioned if you should let go. "That's not what you are to me. I would have already tried that on you if that was what I wanted, trust me." He admitted. "This isn't me asking you to kiss me, or to have sex with me or whatever I do nowadays. I'm sat here asking you to be my girlfriend."

The word had been said. It was in the air and it was up to you what you did with it.

And so, you tightened your grip on his fingers and said, "I want you Jere and I trust that you want me to." From there, you leaned in before he could respond, securing a yes with a kiss.

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newluvrs · 6 days

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1:32 a.m. Anton ₊ ⊹₍ᐢᐢ₎ mdni!! 18+ currently listening to: JUNO - CHOKER word count: 1.8k

“is this okay?”

The room is hazy from the glow of your bedside lamp, the smell of weed perforating your room as a result of your shitty roommate hotboxing your apartment last night. Your hoody is pushed up over your hips at present, everything feels sticky and hot from too much body contact with too many layers of clothing on. The sheets are kicked down by your feet, your legs at present hanging over Anton’s shoulders. His lips are all swollen, having spent the last half an hour lip locked with you. At this point in your relationship(?) neither of you had gone past make outs coupled with grinding and feeling each other up. When he started to kiss down your body you felt nervous, but your need to be touched screamed louder than any doubt in your brain.

“Please.”

You know Anton asked for reassurance more for himself rather than you, his own nerves and excitement getting to him. It was one of the first things you had noticed about him, and something you adored, how he could be simultaneously awkward and self-assured. Like he didn’t need validation from anyone, but he so badly wanted yours.

“please what?”

Okay now he was just fucking with you.

“Anton.”

“I was only joking..”

He flashes you his boyish half-smile, pulling your sweats off as he does so. His hair is all fucked up from his beanie and the amount of times you’ve ran your hands through it in the last half-hour. You can only imagine your own hair looking mussed as well. But none of this matters when he settles between your legs at the end of your bed, face to face with your boy shorts. He glances at them, then at you, half-amused half extremely turned on.

“Sorry if you were expecting lace.” You let out a scoff, trying to hide how vulnerable you feel right now. Now you really were thinking to yourself maybe you should have dug out your nice underwear, the ones reserved specifically for situations like this.

When he doesn’t answer, you look away from him, choosing instead to stare at the ceiling. It’s quiet for what feels like too long to you. Neither of you making a sound, the only thing playing in the room being your playlist accurately titled “music to kiss boys too.” You’re starting to feel really fucking awkward, even with the heavy bass of the current song thrumming through your body.

“Anton-“

Your cut off by your own gasp when you feel him lick you through your shorts. His arms are wrapped around your legs, helping you hold them up. He bites the inside of your thigh, making you buck your hips towards his face.

“you’re so pretty, and you don’t even have to do anything.”

He stares at you now, rubbing his hands up and down your thighs.

“you could wear a trashbag and I would still think you’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You turn away from him again, a blush taking over you. You can’t remember the last time you felt shy, it’s always you who makes him feel flustered. Showering him in compliments endlessly about how cute you think he is. How hot you think he looks doing simple everyday things. You liked watching the way he stumbled over his words after, his face turning a pretty shade of pink. You didn’t ever feel like you needed compliments, or at least you never voiced your need for them. But now, laying here under him, it’s all you want to hear.

His fingers dip under your shorts, groaning when he comes into contact with your wet heat. Your hips shift in his hold, trying to move closer to that single touch. He giggles at this, pulling his hand from your boxers.

When you open your mouth to complain he finally gives you what you want, putting his mouth back on your cunt. The material thin enough for you to feel his tongue prodding at you. It’s taking you everything to restrain yourself from fucking up into his face. Especially when he starts sucking on your clit. Your hips jerk up, your hands balled into fists and coming up to grab at your pillows, resisting the urge to pull his hair.

“Fuck, Anton please.”

Your voice is so whiney, a breathless edge to it. He pulls off of you briefly, bringing one of his hands to thumb at your clit as he speaks.

“What is it baby?”

When you look back down at him, you realize his hoody is also still on, making this whole thing look hotter but also making you wonder why you’re the only one half-naked.

“I- fuck, please.”

He’s still rubbing at your clit, making it hard for you to talk, upping the speed when you open your mouth to speak. You know that he knows this, and you know that he thinks this whole thing is fucking hilarious but god you just want more so bad right now you don’t even care. He decides to throw you a bone.

“Want me to pull your shorts off?”

You’re so embarrassed right now, all you can do is whine, covering your face as you nod your head.

“Sorry, what was that?”

He mumbles this into the side of your thigh, trying to hide the shit-eating grin adorning his face right now. You feel like you’re going crazy.

“Anton, I swear to god-“

“I’ll pull them off if you admit you look sexy in them.”

His request throws you off-guard, he speaks up again as he takes in the confused look on your face.

“All you have to do is say that you think you’re sexy.”

“you can’t be serious.”

When he stares back at you incredulously you realize he is in fact serious.

“okay i’m sexy, now pull them off.”

He tsks, rolling his eyes as he moves to pull his hand away from you. You could scream you’re so frustrated.

“please just take them off.”

“not until you give me what I want.”

Before you can protest he goes back to lapping at your clit through your panties, the fabric starting to turn obscenely wet from the combination of his spit and your juices. You toss your head back, hands scrambling against the sheets now, the sudden stimulation overwhelming. You look down at him again, noticing for the first time how he humps against the mattress as he goes down on you. You whine out his name again, pleading with him to give you what you want already.

“Sorry baby, I can’t hear you.” He mumbles into your pussy.

It’s just not enough, its everything and its so much but its not enough. Your hands fly to his hair now, unable to stop yourself from humping his face. In between your whines you could swear you hear him let out a ‘cute’. Desperation overtakes you, fueled by the need to get off.

“’m sexy.”

You say it so quietly he can barely hear over the obscene sounds of his mouth sucking on wet fabric.

“baby?”

He glances up at you, and he nearly cums in his sweats right there. Your eyes are half lidded, cheeks pink with your hair all fucked up, whimpering as you still have a grip on him, trying to fuck your hips up into his face as he pulls off of you.

“I look so sexy….”

You sound embarrassed as you say it still, but it’s good enough for him, just happy to have you look so fucked out and shy just because of him.

He sits up briefly to pull his sweats down to his knees before he finally, finally, pulls off your boy shorts. It’s obscene the way they stick to your cunt, completely drenched from the previous activities. For the second time tonight, Anton nearly cums again just from finally seeing your pussy. He spares a glance at your face and you just look dazed and breathless, too needy to be touched to think of anything else.

He settles back between your legs, letting out a groan at the way his cock feels through the thinner material against the mattress. He runs a thumb against your clit once, just to see the way it throbs when he pulls away.

“s’cute.”

He plants an opened mouth kiss to your cunt, not even complaining when you move your hands back to rest in his hair, gently guiding his mouth back to your pussy. You could cry when you finally feel his tongue come into direct contact with your clit, letting out an obscene moan into the thick air. From there the two of you fall into a steady rhythm, you humping against his face as he humps against your sheets, both dazed and mesmerized by the other, just watching. When he brings two fingers to your entrance, you’re so wet theres hardly any resistance when he slides them in. You cry out as he crooks them up, pushing and pulling them slowly in and out of you. He’s gentle as he does it, just petting your insides, feeling the way you squeeze around him. He pulls away from your clit to rest a cheek on the inside of your thigh, just watching his fingers stroke in and out, watching the way you cling to them not wanting to let him go.

“anton.”

“mm.”

“m’gonna cum.”

He smiles at this, moving to suck on your clit again with an “okay baby.”

You cum exactly like that, watching your boyfriend fuck your mattress as he presses against that gummy spot inside you, lapping at your clit. When the stimulation becomes too much for your tired body you push his head away from between your legs. He moves away from your cunt to rest his head on your thigh, just staring up at you with starry eyes as he speeds up his movement against the mattress. You reach to bring his hand up to your face, sticking your tongue out to suck on the fingers that were previously inside you. He lets out a full body shiver, groaning and cumming as soon as you wrap your lips around his fingers.

“so sexy y/n, pretty baby.”

When his hips still, you both lie there, catching your breath. In the midst of your panting you notice your playlist keeps looping on a single song, you wonder to yourself how many times its played before you noticed. Quietly, so quietly you can barely hear yourself, you ask.

“you really think I’m pretty?”

You’re looking away again, trying to come off as nonchalant to ward off the vulnerability. You hear shuffling from the edge of your bed. Then his hands are gentle on your chin, pulling you in for a kiss. This one is sweeter than any of the ones before, his mouth gentle against yours, fingers delicately placed on the sides of your face to keep you in place. When he pulls away, he leaves one more kiss on your forehead.

“the prettiest.”

#riize smut #riize x reader #anton lee #anton smut #anton x reader

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seonghwaddict · 2 months

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EYES DON’T LIE — iii. a worthy competitor.

synopsis. you've always resented jeong yunho, and you were positive that the end of high school would've marked the end of your rivalry and hatred. yet now you find yourself in the same crappy hotel as him. assigned to be right next to each other much like the good old times.

pairing. jeong yunho x fem! reader. genre. mini-series, fluff, slice of life, mature, academic rivals to lovers, non-idol au. chapter warnings. swearing.

word count. 2.1k. rating. pg-13

chapter ii. chapter iii. chapter iv.

yunho’s life post high school was blissful, to say the least.

he went to his dream university and just like you graduated as the top student of that year. not long after that he landed a job at a relatively large tech company and after promotion upon promotion, he became the multi-billion-won company’s CTO. He lived lavishly; a shining example of what he was able to achieve thanks to his determination and unwavering passion.

at least until all of that came crashing down.

because the CEO just had to get involved in activities that became the downfall of the company. unbeknownst to him, the CEO had been part of an underground piracy organisation and sold the private information of millions of users to malicious parties. when the news got to the police, well… it was chaos. law enforcement swarmed the headquarters to detain the CEO as well as anyone that was identified on the list of people involved. a mess that he had no part of.

in hindsight, yunho should be carrying more than the company card and a suitcase when traveling for business trips, during which all this news got out. but how was he supposed to know he’d go from a highly respected worker to jobless in a matter of 24 hours?

and so he found himself in a shitty hotel, paying with the few bills he could find after rummaging around in his bag. the company card declined when he tried booking a different hotel—the fancy one the company had paid for forced him to leave after they found out he was affiliated with that company. for obvious reasons, he had been confused until he checked his phone for the first time that day and found hundreds of notifications flooding the lock screen that depicted picture of him and his best friend.

speaking of his best friend.

as soon as got into his his temporary bedroom—aka the hotel room that smelled so odd he opened the window as wide as he could and stuck his head out to avoid the stench—he called the man he’s known since they were toddlers, ranting about the situation. unsurprisingly, he found the situation immensely funny.

“so you’re poor now?”

“no, mingi, i just don’t have my personal card. i’ll go withdraw money tomorrow morning.” yunho propped his camera up on the small desk opposite the bed, leaning back in the creaking wooden chair as he rubbed at his temples, dreading the oncoming headache he was starting to feel. “but i’m jobless, for now.”

mingi pursed his lips, nose scrunching as he looked at his phone screen, watching how distressed yunho looked. “how can i help you, then?”

a shrug was the first response he got. “just-” the rotating chair squeaked as yunho leaned a bit further to stare up at the ceiling for a moment before reverting his gaze back to his phone. “just talk to me about something else, distract me for now.”

“okay then,” the fake blond’s face brightened and a wide grin spread across his face as he sat up and leaned closer. “so, you know my boss hongjoong, right?”

and so the next ten minutes were filled with him gossiping about how his boss seemed to have the hots for a cute reporter. yunho listened, grateful to get his mind off his current predicament, but barely registered any words being said. he occasionally replied with agreeing hums or other reactions suitable for the context, but he couldn’t help but feel the tell tale signs of his body wanting to rest. mingi seemed to catch on as he paused his story and squinted at his phone screen, catching the way his best friend’s eyes drooped with fatigue.

“hello? earth to yunho?”

he stirred awake, snorting in a breath before yawning. he checked the time on his very expensive watch briefly before his eyes flickered back up to mingi.

“you look tired, man,” worry was written all over his face, sure he could already see dark circles forming under yunho’s eyes. “get some rest.”

“yeah… yeah, that’s a good idea.” yunho spoke through his yawn, hand covering his open mouth.

they said their goodbyes and ended the call. yunho sat in silence for a moment. he turned the chair, inspecting the bed. it was sad, small and pretty empty. wishing he was back home on his soft king sized bed, he poked the mattress, frowning at the firmness before pulling back and looking at the pillows. well, pillow. singular. while the mattress felt to stiff, the pillow the opposite. he got up to check the little closet for another pillow that he could stack on top to add some firmness, but to no avail.

after a moment of hesitation, he decided to ask the guy at the lobby if he could possibly have an extra pillow. before head for the door, he stopped in the bathroom, checking his teeth and brushing his hand through his dark hair, a little overgrown and resembling a mullet. he fixed the tie of his suit that he had yet to take off and left the bathroom, his hand wrapping around the door handle of the room and pulling it open.

as he stepped out, his temporary neighbour seemed to have just arrived. turning to greet the stranger, he stopped in his tracks just as she had.

what a perfect end to his day. the cherry on top, really.

truthfully, he hadn’t given you much thought after your high school graduation. (he actually did. a friend of his went to the same university as you and he’d occasionally ask him if he knew how you were doing). but seeing you now, he realised you hadn’t changed much. of course, you seemed to have a grown a tiny bit and you looked more mature, but those eyes—those soft eyes, so pretty, red and puffy through your tears—were undeniably yours. he recognised you before he recognised the state you were in, a sobbing mess. in all the years he had known you, he doesn’t recall ever seeing you cry. seeing you like this, with flushed and tear stained cheeks, made his head spin for a moment.

before he could open his mouth to say anything, you were gone. he watched the door of your room fall shut, followed by a thud from inside the room. what it may have been—a kick to the wall, a punch, an item thrown across the room—he wouldn’t have been able to tell as he stared at the door dumbly. he wasn’t sure how long he stood there, but what else was he supposed to do when he ran into you of all people in this obscure hotel and somehow ended up next to each other?

watching you disappear through that door reminded him too much of the last time he saw you.

though it had been a warm summer, it rained on the last day of school. having checked the weather, he brought an umbrella with him. but as he watched you stand front of the entrance of the school, alone and looking out into the rain without a jacket, let alone an umbrella, with a conflicted frown and nothing to protect you from the rain but the roof, he found himself caring about you. before he realised it, he stood in front of you, holding out his black umbrella and consequently getting a little wet.

you couldn’t help but stare at him, your gaze switching between his unusually sincere face and hand extending the red handle of the umbrella. you shook your head, insisting that you won’t take it, but he cut you off.

“come on, it’s just an umbrella, i have no problem walking home in the rain.”

“no, please, yunho, it’s your umbrella, i’ll figure something out. you’ll get sick.”

after some more back and forth, he offered a compromise. you could walk home together.

and that’s exactly what the two of you did. you walked side by side, squeezed together under the umbrella, droplets of rain occasionally hitting your right shoulder or his left shoulder. despite the weather, it was oddly peaceful. a steady conversation flowed between the two of you, free of any teasing or insults. you weren’t quite sure why he was being so nice, but you supposed it was the last you’d see each other before heading separate ways.

unfortunately, the two of you thought at the time, you lived in the same apartment building. while you lived on the third floor, he was up on the fifth. he decided it only made sense to walk you to your place first. unlike your walk outside, the short journey from the elevator to your front door was dead silent. even when you got to the front door, neither of you spoke for a moment until he cleared his throat, his voice almost… emotional?

“i guess this is it, huh?”

“yeah… i guess… have fun finding a better, funnier, smarter rival in college.”

“nah, i don’t think i’ll even bother.”

“hm? really? i thought you’re all about that competition.”

“yeah, but you’re the only person worth competing with.”

he’d never forget the way your eyes widened comically as you looked at him after that, a blush so faint it was easy to miss in this horrible lighting. maybe all the people saying you’d make a good couple were on to something. still, he knew you’d never see each other again, there was no point in trying anything. his cell phone rang, interrupting the tense silence. it was his mother, telling him to hurry and get home.

“i… uh, i have to go… but i’ll see you around, someday?”

you smiled, a smile so genuine his stomach did a cartwheel.

“i’ll see you around, someday.”

you stared at each other for a moment, stood across from each other in the hallway. he wasn’t sure what to do. should he hug you? should he just turn and leave? you seemed just as conflicted. after a long minute, you both extended your hands for a handshake at the same time. a small laugh was shared as your hands intertwined in a slow handshake, holding onto each other a few moments too long. his thumb rubbed over the back of your hand gently. he gave it a small squeeze before letting go and bowing his head, winking playfully.

“good luck out there, y/n.”

“likewise, yunho.”

and with the you disappeared through the front door, much like you had moments ago. though at that time you didn’t look so heartbroken. eventually he got himself to put one foot in front of the other and head to the lobby for his original mission.

he thanked the lobby man quietly as he was handed two more pillows, his mind still occupied with you. you’d think that whatever he felt for you on that last day would’ve dissipated by now, but that was quite the opposite. despite it having been so many years, seeing you again felt like a punch to his throat.

on his way back to his room, he thought about knocking on your door for a split second. in the end, he concluded you probably wouldn’t want to talk to him. he wasn’t sure what he would’ve said anyway. hey, it’s really nice seeing you again, by the way did i mention that i’ve realised i had a massive crush on you that time we said goodbye and those feelings haven’t gone away?

no, absolutely fucking not.

he nearly slapped himself at the hypothetical monologue, dragging himself to his hotel room. a soft thump resounded as he tossed the pillows on his bed before undressing and getting under the thin covers. the time it took for him to fall asleep was unclear as he stared up at the ceiling. whoever rented the room above him seemed to want to make a joke in the ground, thundering stomps making the ceiling and his open window shake.

had he not stepped out at that time to get pillow and bumped into you, he would’ve probably been cursing and swearing to himself to get out of this place first thing in the morning. but, considering who his current neighbour was, he couldn’t help but think…

would one or two more days really be so bad?

[ lilo's notes . . . ] hii sorry it took so long to update this, i hope this makes up for it 💔💔 we finally get a little gimped into yunho’s feelings!! yippee!! i’m sorry he comes off as a little stuck up near the beginning, but please understand he went from a luxurious suite to a hotel on the brink of falling apart; i think most people would be a little disappointed 🙏🙏 he’s not a bad guy i promise

[ networks . . . ] @cromernet @wonderlandnet

[ taglist | series + permanent . . . ] @yuyusuyu @diorwoo @loveyluv7 @ad0rechuu @h-nji @nakiiko @lelaleleb @moon-gyus @baribaaari @bvidzsoo @kunikku @kyeos4ng @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbbg @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo

#★ — › EYES DON'T LIE !#cromernet #wonderlandnet #yunho x reader #yunho imagines #yunho reactions #yunho angst #yunho scenarios #yunho headcanons #ateez x reader #ateez #ateez drabble #yunho drabble #yunho fluff #ateez fluff #ateez reactions #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez angst

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veenxys · 1 year

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「Moments that made AOT Characters fall in love a little more for their s/o」

⤷ Levi

he falls in love a little more when he realizes that just your presence comforts him. you don’t even have to try; just being around you gives him a sense of security, like nothing in the world can hurt him while you’re with him. it’s moments like when he wakes up in the middle of the night from a nightmare, and feeling you next to him calms him down, or when he comes home after a hard day and you are there with open arms to welcome him. sometimes you don’t even need to be physically close to him; just little moments like sniffing your scent on something make his chest tighten and heat up, like you’re really there. that’s enough to make him fall in love with you a little more, because it’s in those little moments that he realizes that you are his home.

⤷ Eren

it's when he knows he can be vulnerable around you; it's when he feels like you're his safe haven. he hesitantly tells you something he's never had the courage to tell anyone before. and instead of backing off or saying something silly, you just nod your head lightly while looking carefully at him, listening to everything he has to say. and he makes a sound that is almost like a laugh – half surprised and half delighted. and he realizes at once how special it is, how special you are, how light he feels after letting it out. and oh, he thinks. if he wasn't sure before if he's in love with you, he is now. so desperately, gratefully, and blissfully in love.

⤷ Mikasa

she falls in love a little more when she catches you looking at her with so much love and sparkle in your eyes. no matter what she's doing, you always look at her with that genuine love and an indescribable sparkle in your eyes that always makes her heart race in her chest and a small smile appear on her lips. it reminds her that she is loved for who she is and that he couldn't be happier to be yours.

⤷ Armin

it's when you start planning a future with him; the two of you are lying in your bed while staring at the ceiling, it's 2 am and you can't stop talking with a genuine dreamy smile on your face about how much you want to be happy with him and live all your dreams together. he smiles as he caresses your hand and you turn your face to him - a gentle, passionately soft expression and a genuine smile on his face as he stares at you with twinkling eyes, as if he doesn't want this moment to ever end.

⤷ Jean

it's when you say "i love you" during the kiss; your smile that always makes him melt appears on your lips before he kisses you again, and it makes a shiver run down his spine and his heart race. the way those words come so pure and sweet from your lips and always make him fall in love with you even more.

⤷ Connie

he falls in love a little more when you share a bed for the first time. there's something about falling asleep and waking up next to you; maybe it's how innocent and peaceful you look while you sleep, maybe it's the way you mumble something meaningless while you sleep, or the way your body fits so perfectly with his, (he just wants to hold you forever) it's that moment when he feels he is absolutely where he wants to be.

⤷ Porco

when he realizes that even after so much time together, your love for him hasn't changed; it's the little things like when you welcome him home with open arms every day, little kisses on his forehead and lips as a way of saying goodbye or hello, or the way you look at him with eyes shining with pure adoration and love. it's the little things that prevailed and that made your love stronger every day. and he couldn't be more in love and happy.

⤷ Zeke

he falls in love a little more when you do your own thing together; on calm and lazy days. he's reading some book and you're doing your own thing, just sharing a calm and peaceful atmosphere that makes the two of you relax. love need not be loud; often floats peacefully in the air, along with the sounds of pages turning and soft, barely audible hums. it's moments like these, when he feels more in love than ever and thinks to himself while looking at you with eyes shining 'so this is what it feels like to want to be with someone forever...'

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peoplesgraves · 1 year

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I have yandere thoughts yet again

Imagine being a Model and you literally can’t get away from obsession.

Yandere Fans cover their walls in pictures of you. They rip out every magazine page your included on and papermache them above the ceiling so you can look down on them every day. If you have shoot with other models they’ll use those too but with cut/scratch the other people out or even crop their face over the other person. If you ever did a meet and greet it would be absolutely packed and would likely get shut down because everyone’s fighting over who’s your biggest fan and who loves you the most. Those who do manage to meet you end up lovesick,sobbing messes so the pictures usually turn out bad. But the fans don’t mind as long as you look good in them.

Yandere Models all want to be pictured with you and they’ll do anything to make it happen. From blackmailing other models to drop out or bribing whoever’s casting, nothing is too dirty or too illegal if it means getting to spend all that time with you. Models will starve themselves and do all matter of dangerous treatments or plastic surgery just to have a leg up and hopefully be chosen to pose alongside you. It doesn’t matter how much it hurts or how much they lose, it’s all worth it to have all the tabloid gossiping about the two of you after the latest editorial you were pictured in together.

Yandere Photographers who only care about you. Who call you their muse and only ever take perfect pictures. They’ll take awful pictures of other models who they feel are a threat to your career until they’ve been all blackballed from the industry. If you have shoots with other people then there’s a super noticeable difference in quality over the way you look and the way other people look. The photographer obviously plays favorites but no ones going to say anything. It’s what his muse deserves.

A Yandere Stylist who is just a little too cheeky. Always staring obviously at your lips when putting gloss on or making jokes about having to punish you if you smear your makeup one more time. They’re always jovial and smiling but there’s something dark in their eyes that only you get to see. Their touch lingers when they’re tailoring your clothes and their hands go from professional to more like a lover whenever they’re helping you take 100 Bobby pins out of your hair. They’re always by your side always joking and touching and waiting for the second you get lipstick on your teeth or a fly away.

A Yandere Manager whos always on your nerves. Who’s older and has more experience. They always have some excuse for steamrolling over you and just making whatever decision they want for you. They’ll keep you in line with their connections and their influence. In a way you both get what you want. You’re the most loved and sought after model in the industry and they have you too dependent on them to ever try to leave. Stylists and photographers are a dime a dozen but your manager has your entire career in his grasp.

Yandere Paparazzi who are ironically more ethical towards you as yanderes then they would be if they were normal. They don’t take bad pictures or catch anything embarrassing about you, or at least not that they show publicly. They might snap a few pictures at vulnerable moments to keep just for them, they’re the only ones who get to see you like that. While they may do their best to protect your reputation the same can’t be said for anyone else. They’ll slander other models left and right. Wether it’s true or a little editing magic they’re good at swaying the public opinion against anyone they need to. Just let them watch from the sidelines and you’ll never have to worry again.

#yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yanderes

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kiwicider · 2 years

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strawberries - eddie munson

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

synopsis: eddie being your best friend meant you could trust him with anything, even your body.

word count: 3.3k

warnings: minors dni ! swearing, some friendly teasing, pet names, kissing, loss of virginity, oral (f. receiving), fingering, protected sex, bulge kink if you squint.

Eddie laid on his stomach while you sat cross legged beside him, head propped up on his palm as he watched you bite into strawberries drizzled with honey. You fed him the leftover halves, ranting about a professor canceling class, calling the community college a waste of your time.

“And the other professors? They can’t be that bad.”

“They’re alright,” you mumbled. “The people are okay too, for the most part, but I wish you were there.” You picked up a strawberry and brought it to his lips, teeth grazing against your skin as he took it.

The honey stuck to his lips as he chewed the fruit up. “I promise you’re okay without me,” he said with a smile.

“Yeah, of course I am,” you reassured him. “I'd just like it more.”

A warm breeze ran through your room as you finished off the last strawberry from the bowl between your legs, the sound of you sucking your thumb clean of the thick honey catching his attention. Clear gloss covered your lips, a ring of it gleaming on your skin as you drew it away from your mouth. He stared shamelessly, distracted by the innocent act.

You never truly realized the effect you had on him, and Eddie would be lying if he said he’d never thought about what it’d be like to kiss you sometimes.

“What’re you staring at, Munson?”

Dark coils of hair messily covered his temples, the strands moving as he shook his head. “Nothing,” he responded nonchalantly, looking down at his nails as he spoke. “Have you… met anyone interesting?”

“Is that your way of asking if I’ve met any guys?” You picked up the bowl and moved it to the nightstand, quirking a brow at him.

“It’s just that you haven't mentioned anyone.” Eddie ran his thumb across his bottom lip, collecting the thin layer of honey and licking it off. “Just curious.”

You watched him closely, eyes flitting from his mouth back up to his brown eyes. “Well, huge shocker, they’re not as interesting as I’d hoped they’d be.”

He watched as you leaned your head against the headboard, a small huff of air leaving your lips as you stared up at the ceiling. Another breeze blew through the window, rustling the curtains and hem of your pajama shorts.

Eddie pushed himself to sit up, knee knocking into yours as his hand brushed against your thigh. “Alright, talk to me. What’s up?”

You hesitated for a moment before looking at him. “Can I tell you something? And don’t laugh, Eds.”

“C’mon, when have I ever laughed at you?” You shot him a deadpanned look and he raised his hands up in defense. “Okay, fine. But when have I ever laughed at something serious, hm?”

“It’s not even serious, it’s actually kinda dumb.” you replied matter-of-factly.

“It’s not dumb if you feel like bringing it up,” Eddie quipped.

You narrowed your eyes at him. Much to your distaste, Eddie always seemed to have an answer to everything you said. He waited for a response patiently, his dull nails skimming against your thigh while he traced circles onto it. Light from outside filtered into the room, illuminating Eddie’s skin as his gaze raked over your face.

“I feel like I’m really behind everyone else,” you admitted softly, drumming your fingers against the top of his hand.

“Like… in school? C’mon babe, can’t get any more behind than me.”

You groaned, the back of your head hitting the headboard loudly as an obnoxious laugh left his lips. “This isn’t a joke!”

“Okay, I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “Continue, and no interruptions this time.”

Your teeth dug into your bottom lip, pulling at the skin lightly. “Y’know how they practically forced abstinence down our throats in sex ed? I don’t even have to try, Eddie.”

“So you’re… upset you haven’t fucked anyone?” Eddie’s eyebrows raised in surprise, a look of mild disbelief washing over his face

“Well—shit, don’t say it like that.”

“Why?”

“Because! It makes me sound so…”

He tilted his head to the side, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “Desperate?”

Eddie watched as you looked down at your lap, fingers pulling at the ruffled hem of your bottoms. He hooked his finger beneath your chin, doe eyes studying you carefully as he lifted your head.

“You don’t have to do anything, you know that, right? Especially with some Hawkins asshole.”

You nodded solemnly, the comforting smile Eddie gave you causing your lips to curve up.

“Like, I don’t know. I kinda regret losing it junior year in the back of my van,” he admitted. “She moved away a couple weeks later too.”

“Jeez, how did you manage to scare her away that fast?”

“Hey! I’ll have you know, she thought it was exceptional,” he exclaimed, slapping your shoulder lightly. “Honestly though, I don’t mean to sound like Mrs. Click, but wait for someone that’s… y’know, good to you.”

After a few moments of silence, you started laughing softly. “Why the hell did they have a history teacher talking to us about sex and abstinence anyways? Doesn’t she have like, four kids?”

“Not really the poster woman for safe sex, but hey, she had her fun.” He shrugged and flashed his teeth as a laugh bubbled up in his throat.

You shook your head with a smile and took his hand between yours, sliding his silver rings off and pushing them back down his thick fingers to pass the time. Your eyes trailed up his wrist and forearm, the sleeves of the black t-shirt he wore stopping just above the crook of his elbow.

Eddie watched as you ran your finger up his arm slowly, your painted nail tracing the shapes of the bats inked on his skin. “Anything else you wanna say?”

“Hm? Why?”

“You trace my tattoos whenever you think about something,” he responded, “unless you just want an excuse to touch me today.”

You looked up to see him wiggling his eyebrows, your immediate response being to roll your eyes. “You’re so annoying, you know that?”

“You tell me that all the time, sweetheart.” He gave you a boyish grin and cocked his head to the side. “Now c’mon, say what’s on your mind.”

The bed creaked softly as you sat up straight, hands moving away from Eddie and onto your lap. Silence filled the air between you, the sound of your heart pounding the only thing you heard in those quiet moments.

“Okay, stop me if this sounds dumb—”

“Nothing you say is dumb.”

“Jesus, let me finish first, yeah?” You laughed nervously, picking at the thin layer of olive polish on your nails. “Well I’ve thought about it before, y’know, the right person stuff you were talking about earlier.”

He nodded and brought his thumb up to lightly chew on his nail, something he only did out of nerves.

“You, well… you’re the right person.”

Eddie could feel the blood rush to his face as he stared at you silently, an unfamiliar feeling bubbling in his stomach at your confession. He half expected for you to burst out in laughter, teasing him and his cherry-red cheeks, but the only thing he saw was your shoulders slumping forward and an embarrassed look washing over your face.

Your knees dug into the mattress as you tried to get up, nearly falling off the bed from the rush of your movements. “Actually, just forget it, Eds.”

“Hey, no, listen to me.” He reached forward and pulled you back down quickly, your hands landing on his lap roughly to steady yourself. “It’s not dumb, alright? I just—you can’t rush into this.”

“I’m not rushing, you’d be surprised about how much I’ve thought about this,” you admitted sheepishly. “I don’t wanna do it with a Hawkins asshole, Eddie. I wanna do it with my best friend.”

He took his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes searching your face for even a glimpse of uncertainty. “T-This is serious stuff, okay? I need you to be sure.”

You had never been capable of making Eddie Munson stutter, but there was a first time for everything.

His hands were warm and just a little clammy when you took them into yours and squeezed them reassuringly. “I’m positive, Eds.”

There was an almost immediate change in his demeanor once you gave him the green light; he pulled his hands from yours and moved them to your hips, scooting back to make room for you to lie down. Eddie rubbed circles into the exposed skin near your stomach, thumb flicking between the waistband of your cotton shorts and the hem of your shirt.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked quietly, curls framing his face as he lowered himself closer to you.

You nodded wordlessly, heart beating out of your chest once his face was inches from yours. The woody fragrance of his cologne mixed in with the apple-scented shampoo he used made you close your eyes as it enveloped you, the smell wholly comforting and all you needed to calm your nerves.

Ringlets of his hair brushed against your cheeks as he kissed you softly, traces of the strawberries and honey you shared still around when your lips parted to taste him. The kiss was timid and smooth, Eddie’s hands ghosting around your hips and the back of your thighs as he parted your legs further. His jean-clad thigh brushed against your center, the sensation unfamiliar but enough to make you bring your hips up in search of friction.

Warmth spread from your stomach up to your chest when the kiss grew feverish, Eddie’s tongue poking at your lips while his fingers squeezed the soft flesh of your waist. It drew a faint moan from you, the noise muffled by his mouth.

Your hands rested on his shoulders and bunched the t-shirt he wore beneath your palms as he pulled away, a string of saliva connecting your lips. Warmth rushed to your cheeks and you couldn’t help the laugh that rose in your throat, a dopey smile pulling at Eddie’s lips as he stared down at you.

“Not nervous anymore?”

You shook your head and spoke quietly. “Only a little bit.”

Eddie nodded and sat back on his legs, hands moving up and down your sides before resting atop the waistband of your bottoms. “Can I take these off of you?” He narrowed his eyes when you only responded with a nod. “Use your words, sweetheart. I wanna hear you.”

“Yeah, sorry, you can take them off.”

He worked swiftly in sliding the cotton shorts down your hips, the bands of his rings icy against your skin. You watched his every move, not missing the way his fingers lingered on your skin as he dragged the bottoms down your thighs and over the curve of your knees until you kicked them off over the edge of the bed.

Eddie tried to bite back his smile as he looked from your underwear up to your face. “Strawberries?”

“They’re my favorite fruit!” You pushed your foot against his chest softly, rolling your eyes at the dulcet laugh that left his lips while he positioned himself onto his stomach.

He lifted the hem of your t-shirt to your chest, fingers running over your stomach. “I think they’re mine too.”

Your complaints got lost as he pressed his lips against your flushed skin. Sliding his fingers beneath the band of your underwear, he lowered them slowly and left open mouthed kisses along your lower abdomen. You lifted your hips and helped Eddie take them off, the garment hanging off your foot as you brought your knees up to either side of his head.

“Still okay?”

You felt yourself begin to nod before you caught yourself. “I’m good.”

A shaky sigh left your lips when he lowered himself further, the feeling of his breath hot against your center causing a shudder to run through your body. His hands found purchase on the back of your thighs, fingertips dimpling your skin and pulling them further apart until the subtle stretch between your legs made your head spin. You could see the way he stared at you like you were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, tongue poking out to wet his bottom lip.

He kept one hand on your thigh and brought the other to swipe up your folds, thumb spreading you open as he flattened his tongue against you. A broken whine escaped your mouth at the contact, eyes squeezing shut when his lip ghosted over your clit and his tongue licked a stripe along your glistening slit.

The air felt warm as your hands came down to his scalp, fingers wrapping around the dark tendrils and tightening each time he lapped at your juices. His groans vibrated against your core, the sensation shooting up your body. The feeling was foreign, but you were positive you never wanted him to stop.

“Doin’ so good for me,” he murmured, pulling away to look up at you with low eyes. His lips were swollen and tinted a cherry-red hue, glossy with your arousal that went down to his chin. “How’re you feelin’?”

“Amazing,” you said breathily, raising your hand to give him a thumbs up. “Can you, y’know…”

“Words, babe. Use ‘em.” Eddie’s voice came out muffled, busying himself with leaving kisses on the inside of your left thigh.

“Fuck me, Eds. Please.”

He pressed one last kiss to your skin and planted his hands on the bed, raising himself up to get off the bed. You squeezed your legs together, desperate for some sort of friction as he pulled you towards him, knees dangling off the edge of the bed.

“I wish you could see yourself right now,” he mumbled. “Gorgeous.”

“Trying to talk your way into my pants?”

He winked at you, fingers coming up to unbutton his jeans. “You’re not even wearing any panties, so I think I’m alright.”

You lightly pushed him with your foot as he lowered the silver zipper, shimmying his jeans all the way off until the black briefs he wore were on display. He was clueless to the way you ogled his bulge, eyes wide and attentive to the way it strained against the cotton.

The lust-filled moment was interrupted when he almost lost his balance trying to yank the briefs down quickly, a string of curses slipping his mouth as he avoided falling into your vanity. You let out loud laugh involuntarily, hand coming up to cover up the sound.

“I’m happy to know you’re not nervous anymore, even if it’s at my expense.” He slapped your leg playfully, grinning at your relaxed state.

Eddie bent down and slipped his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans, flipping it open to pull a gold-foiled condom out.

“Do you always have that?” you inquired.

He shrugged. “A man’s gotta be prepared.”

You watched with bated breath as he tore it open and rolled it onto his length, lip pulled between your teeth when his eyes flitted over to your body. He reached over to bring you closer to him, moving your ankles to the sides of his bare thighs.

“Ready?” Eddie smiled when you nodded, moving forward until his tip pressed against your entrance. “I’ll go slow, I promise.”

He eased himself into you, one hand on your hip to rub comforting circles onto your skin as you let out a quiet gasp. Despite him trying to be gentle, tears still pricked at the corners of your eyes once he bottomed out.

You reached out to grab onto the hem of his t-shirt, fingers curling around the cotton material. “You can move, Eds.”

Eddie’s thrusts started off slowly, curses leaving his lips at the feeling of you clenching around him. His movements quickly gained precision after a few moments, the rhythmic strokes causing a ragged moan to crawl up your throat.

“You’re fuckin’ beautiful,” he breathed out.

“Give me more, please,” you begged, nails scratching against his taut abdomen.

He complied, hitting all the right places as his pace quickened, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. You couldn’t even think as your back arched up, mind hazy and body moving in sync with the bed beneath you. Eddie’s hand came down to your bare stomach, a cocky grin spreading on his lips when he felt himself bulging beneath your skin.

“I can feel myself in you, sweetheart,” he rasped. “You’re doin’ so good for me.”

You bit down on your lip harshly to stop a loud whine from coming out as his thrusts became harder, his words ringing through your ears and setting a fire alight beneath your skin. It pushed outwards from your middle, his rings cool against your chest as he moved his hand up to your top to bunch it around your collar. He palmed your breasts, running his thumb across your pebbled nipples through the thin material of your bra.

It felt like the bed was going to swallow you whole as he continued pounding into you, loud cries leaving your lips while Eddie threw his head back in pleasure. You pressed your ankles into his legs, hands dropping to grip your thighs.

“I want you to touch yourself, yeah? Ever done that before?” he asked, the lewd request laced with care.

You nodded, head going fuzzy as you brought your finger to circle your clit. It felt slick, the added stimulation drawing a choked out moan from you, your stomach quickly growing taut with an intense pressure flooding your system. Eddie brought his hand down to your thigh, holding it tight enough to bruise. You came as he squeezed your flesh, thighs seizing up around him as a white-hot bliss washed over you.

Eddie’s grip on you loosened, his strokes growing more erratic until he finally came with a groan, hands planted near your ankles as he finished. Soft pants left his pink lips, skin glistening under the light of your bedroom. A quick moment of silence passed through the two of you, taking a few seconds to exchange sheepish smiles and relax your limbs.

A tingling feeling ran through your body and you groaned softly in relief when he pulled out, his hands gently massaging your hips. Eddie bent over, pulling you to lie further up on the bed.

He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek and stood back. “Let me go uh, take this off,” he said with a laugh, pointing at the condom, “and I’ll be back to take care of you.”

You stared at him quizzically. “And do what?”

“Clean you up, talk, get you some clothes,” he replied. “Maybe give you some kisses?”

“Sounds like the life,” you groaned, stretching your arms above your head. “I’ll be waiting, Mr. Munson.”

Tucking your arms beneath your head, you laughed softly as he picked up his briefs and made his way to the bathroom quickly. You stared up at the ceiling while listening to the water run and Eddie move things around, head picking up slightly when he came back a few moments later with a wet hand towel in tow.

You watched silently as he sat in front of you, spreading your legs to wipe at your thighs and center softly. The towel was cool, soothing your inflamed skin. His touches were feather-like as he continued cleaning you up, almost as if he were scared of grabbing you too roughly.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked, dropping the towel to the wooden floor and reaching over to open one of your drawers.

“Good, Eds,” you reassured him. “Thank you.”

He shrugged, a smile spreading his lips as he fished out a pair of underwear for you. “Strawberries? Again?”

“There was a sale going on!” you protested, laughing while he slid them through your feet and up your legs. Lifting your hips up to assist him, he let the waistband snap softly against your skin.

“Can’t believe I like you,” he groaned, crawling over to lay down next to you.

He brought the blanket over the two of you, your bare legs entangling together when you moved closer.

“Well,” you drawled, “you kinda have to.”

“Mm, I guess so. There’s a lot to like,” he grinned, pressing a kiss to your nose, “strawberry printed panties and all.”

a/n: if you find any errors, let me know !! i proofread this like at 3 am LMFAO

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things smut #stranger things season 4 #st4 #c: munson

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months

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Unexpected 48

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, pegging, Lloyd being the worst, post partum, csection, suicidial ideation, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You calm the baby as your own tears dry up. She doesn’t deserve misery even if you’re cursed with it. Maybe that’s what you should try, to save her from the same. If you can.

You get her to sleep at last and fall back onto the bed, weak with cheeks like crepe paper from crying. You stare at the ceiling as the window darkens as the night approaches. You knew deep down Lloyd wouldn’t be gone forever but that eventuality could never prepare you for his return.

Your eyes drift closed as you lay sideways on the mattress, too lazy to drag yourself up to the pillows. How pathetic are you. Feeling sorry for yourself because the obvious happened. Because that scum ran off like the cowardly dog he is. You knew from the moment you met him who he was so you can't pretend to be surprised.

There’s a tap on the door. You tense but your sense keeps you from panicking. It’s too gentle to be that jackass. You know he doesn’t have much in that thick skull of his but you hope he knows better than to try anything tonight.

“Sweetheart,” Harlan’s voice seeps through the door like molasses, “if you’re asleep, don’t worry, I just wanted to check in.”

You swallow and sit up. You prefer him to his wife or son. There’s a twinge in your chest as you realise you missed him. Of anyone, he’s been your only true companion. Not some erstwhile comfort or momentary escape.

You get up and open the door. The tall man stoops just below the lintel, his thick white facial hair catching your attention. Everything happened so fast, you hadn’t noticed it. His usually clean shaven face is slightly haggard with his exhaustion.

“Hey,” you greet him in a half-whisper, the quiet of the house makes even that seem loud, “wanna come in?”

“Sure,” he accepts and ducks inside as you hold the door. You shut it behind him as he smooths his grown out locks and peers around with a bashful posture.

You come around him and stop by the bassinet, looking in at the dozing infant. You put your hand on the canopy and lift your chin, “you wanna see her?”

He hesitates, reaching to rub his neck, “I came to see to you first,” he intones, “I can’t imagine it’s been easy.”

“Me?” You scoff, “you don’t have to lie. You can hold her, she’ll just fall back asleep,” you move to reach into the bassinet and he nears, putting his hand out but not touching you.

“No, I mean it, I’m not gonna ask how you are ‘cause I know. But you’re my daughter and I wasn’t out there for just that bastard. I didn’t run halfway across the god– across the world for that moron,” he sniffs, “come on, let her sleep.” He pauses and glances down, lips curling slightly at the sight of his granddaughter, “she’s even more beautiful than I recall.”

He waves you away from her and you sit on the edge of the bed. You sit in silence as you watch his lingering gaze on the baby. Maybe, if he can look at her with that much love…

“You got questions, I’ll answer them,” he moves away from the bassinet as he sits beside you, “and if you don’t wanna talk about him, fair enough.”

You nod and look at the floor. You don’t know what you want. It doesn't really matter where he was. It matters that he left and that he stayed away. He confirmed every doubt you carried for nine months.

“Not about him,” you shake your head, feeling the sting return to the brim of your eyes, “but… did you mean it?”

“Did I mean what?”

“You called me your daughter,” you look at him meekly, “is that really what you believe?”

“'Course,” he snorts, “Dottie may’ve never given me a girl but the world did and they did a good job.”

Your cheek pinch and you fight back tears, “I don’t think you’d want me to be your daughter if you knew.”

“If I knew what?” He watches you, no judgment, no expectation. If you don’t tell him, you know he won’t ask again.

You hang your head and cross your arms. You close your eyes as you pick out the words, “I… found someone else. Just… just to waste the time. I wasn’t going to wait any longer for him.”

He hums and takes a long breath, “well, I know now and I don’t feel any different.”

You clamp your lips together and you glance at the bassinet. You hear the baby babble. You shudder and let your hands fall into your lap.

“There’s something else.”

“There is.”

You sniff and cover your face. You don’t know if you can say it out loud. It keeps you awake at night, it eats you alive, and it wakes you every day with a wail.

“The baby…” you slide your hands away from your face, “I’m trying… so hard.”

“She’s healthy, you’re doing good, sweetheart,” he says.

“No, no, you don’t–” you nearly choke as a lump rises to your throat, “I can’t love her. I try and I try and I can’t. I can’t even say her name.”

He nods and chews on your confession. You won’t look at him. You can’t face his disappointment. You can’t bear to see in him the same hatred you feel for yourself.

He startles you as he reaches over and puts his large hand over yours. He pulls it away from your lap and sidles closer on the bed. He holds your hand tight and leans his arm against yours.

“The only thing that upsets me about that is you lying,” he says, “because if you didn’t love that little girl, you wouldn’t be so worried about not.”

Your lip temples as you stare at the wall. No, he doesn’t understand. He can’t.

“I don’t… I can’t feel it–”

“You’ve been surviving and you done that for her as much as yourself,” he lets go of your hand and lifts his arm up onto your shoulders, “you ain’t got the chance to feel. Now you do, sweetheart.” He draws you into an embrace, “you don’t gotta take care of no one but you. I’ll deal with that brat I raised.”

You sniffle as your tears well over. You can’t stymie the flow once it starts. Harlan rests his chin lightly on your head as you curl into his shoulder and sob quietly, clinging to the front of his shirt. As your knuckles press against his ribs, he winces and lets out a wheeze.

You flinch but he doesn’t let you go, keeping you close.

“Harlan,” you croak, “you’re hurt?”

“I’m just fine,” he assures you as he rubs your back, “let me tell you, I dealt Marion a worse blow.”

You laugh through your tears at the thought of it, “did you really?”

“A nice one square in the chops just for you,” he avows, “another across his big dumb nose for baby Luna, too.”

Your lips tug at the image playing in your head and the snipe about Lloyd’s nose, the most defining feature he shares with his father. You don’t know if Harlan meant to be funny but you it eases the weight in your chest. You gently pull away and look up at your father.

“Will you hold Luna?” You ask as you wipe your nose with the back of your hand, “she’s missed you so much.”

#unexpected #lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #andy barber #andy barber x reader #series #au #drabble #the gray man #defending jacob

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jenomark · 11 months

Note

Hii, if you don’t mind, could you write about 127 seeing you naked for the first time?

Thank you 😊

Taeil: Lying in his bed and staring up at the ceiling, Taeil felt lucky. He was about to get laid. He was excited and nervous. He couldn't stop the lazy smile that made his eyes light up when he saw that you were as naked as he was. You stood above him with your feet sinking into the bed, got down to your knees and straddled him. His hands were on your bare thigh, moving them upwards until he grasped either side of your hips. You felt him hard underneath you, the feel of him making you ache to have him inside you. Like a man seeing for the first time, he touched your stomach and your breasts, and let his hands wrap around your neck. He didn't speak, just felt your warm body connected with his. You leaned down to kiss him and his fingers found your wetness, slipping himself inside.

Johnny: He sat on the chair and watched you move around him, the determination on your face making your nose scrunch. It was cute behavior to him, even if you were trying to be sexy. Johnny could tell you were nervous about him seeing you completely nude for the first time. He had seen many bodies before, and while you thought your body may have paled in comparison, it didn't matter to him. He loved everything about you. Everything. Your shirt came off first. You went behind him and removed your bra. The deep breath you took reminded him of how badly he couldn't wait to hear you heavy breathing and moaning his name. "Fuck, you're sexy." Johnny said when you came back around to face him. He could see how you loosened up for him and gained confidence. You began to remove your bottoms, but Johnny scooped you up and took you right down to bed.

Taeyong: He was sure of himself, of what he wanted, and of what he would do to you when he got you naked for the first time. You stood in front of him, hands clasped together in front of your pussy so he couldn't see it all. Taeyong, very gently, moved those hands away and told you how lovely you were. You trusted him more than anyone. When he laid you down on the bed, you opened yourself up for him. "I want to worship all of you." he said, kissing the inside of your thigh. Your toes curled. You sucked in a breath that you let out gently when Taeyong's lips moved all over your skin. Every mole and every birthmark and every scar found his lips. He let his teeth lightly scrape against your neck. His tongue moved up your stomach before his mouth found your breasts. "You're mine. "he said, looking up at you with his beautiful brown eyes.

Yuta: When you'd had sex the first time, you were so horny for each other that most of your clothes stayed on. You fucked with your shirt hanging off your shoulder and one breast out of your bra. Your pants were around your calves, but Yuta had just pulled your panties to the side. "I want all of you with no distractions," he had said this time around, his eyes hungrily sweeping over your body. You tugged and pulled at your clothes, not caring if anything ripped. Yuta helped you, his eye contact making you flush. When he had finally gotten you naked, he pulled you to him and kissed you so deeply it made you feel dizzy. "If you want all of me," you said. "Take it." Yuta bent you over the couch and did exactly as you wanted.

Doyoung: He lifted up his shirt and rubbed his stomach, angling the camera so the light hit him just right. Before he chickened out, he took the photo and pressed SEND. Looking around the practice room, Doyoung wondered if anyone saw him. He knew if anyone did, he'd never hear the end of their teasing. He breathed a sigh of relief when he noticed none of the members were paying him much mind. He looked back down at his phone and saw an image waiting for him. He opened the message and saw your naked body for the very first time. He couldn't stop staring at your breasts, your soft tummy, and the way he could almost make out the very top of your pubic hair. His mind was running rampant with dirty thoughts. Doyoung clutched his phone to his chest and tried to neutralize his facial expression. In reality, his fingers were sweating and his cheeks were warming up. He smiled to himself and let himself have another sneak peek at what he was getting tonight.

Jaehyun: You were always going to be friends-to-lovers. It was written in your friendship from the very beginning. There was the flirting, the touching, the exchanged knowing smiles from your other friends. He didn't look at you like he looked at those friends, and you found yourself daydreaming about fucking him often. When his towel slipped after he had taken a shower, revealing the cock you'd spent much time thinking about, Jaehyun snatched it back up and covered himself. "You saw mine, now I see yours." he said. You narrowed your eyes and replied, "That's not how it works." But it was exactly how you wanted it to work. You kept your eyes on his chest hair, on the line leading down to his cock, and you lifted up your shirt to show him your tits. It lasted only a second. A second of Jaehyun's face going blank. A second where you were no longer friends but a possibility.

Jungwoo: He had been imagining what you would look like without any clothes for awhile. It was haunting him at night after one of your make-out sessions. He didn't want to push you for sex or do the wrong thing, but he was going crazy wanting you. It was you who made the first move, though, unbuttoning your blouse so that Jungwoo would get the hint. He watched your fingers, feeling as if he were in a dream. "Is this okay?" you asked. He nodded, falling silent when you removed your shirt and saw that you weren't wearing a bra. "Your turn." you said. Jungwoo brought his t-shirt over his head. All sense of control was lost after that. He took you in his arms and pulled you on top of him, his lips at your throat.

Mark: You were more bold than he was. You didn't shy away from stripping off your clothes, from showing Mark exactly who you were. While his hands were trying to get the zipper unstuck from his jeans, you were sauntering towards him fully nude. His eyes combed up and down your body. He wasn't sure if he should gape or smile or tell you how attractive he found you. Mark settled for doing all three, "You are...yeah you're.." You kissed him quiet and helped him unzip his jeans. "Do you like what you see?" you asked, doing a little spin. Finding a little bravado, Mark got himself fully naked, not even shying away from his erection. "I'm going to go down on you every chance I get." he said, rousing a laugh from you.

Haechan: There was a slight tremble in his fingers that made you reach out and hold his hand to keep it still. Haechan seemed embarrassed by the way he hesitated opening your shirt, the tips of his fingers grazing your buttons. Your eyes let him know it was okay that he was nervous. Your smile was soft and inviting. Touch me, lose yourself in me. You let Haechan's hand go and watched as he unbuttoned your shirt down to the last button. Your back arched when his hand moved up against your belly, his silken touch giving your body a chill. He opened up your shirt and looked down at your half-naked body, his gaze so loving and whole. "Beautiful," he whispered to himself, lips barely moving. He brushed his lips above your bellybutton, his tongue stealing a taste of your skin.

#nct #nct 127 #nct smut #nct 127 smut #taeil #johnny #taeyong #yuta #doyoung #jungwoo #mark #haechan #I decided not to add winwin to 127 anymore so that is why he is not here!

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echoalyssa · 5 months

Text

Amarantha’s Whore | Rhysand Night

image generated by Midjourney AI

He drops his head to that spot between your neck and shoulder. His breathing is ragged. He’s holding you like he is afraid to let go but afraid to go any further. Like if he lets you away from him for one second it might all be a dream and he was still... there.

Rhys had gotten back only a few hours ago, he’d sought you out first but before he could have you fully alone, he needed to see his brothers. The inner circle. His eyes had been wide, and you could tell that he was holding back tears. It was hard enough being away from his family and mate for fifty years, but it was another thing to not see the light of day or dark of night for the same amount of time. Once everyone had gotten their time with him, he had pulled you into the room the two of you shared before Amarantha.

You had barely moved any of his things in that room, needing it to feel like he was still there even if he wasn’t. He had looked around and around, as if he couldn’t quite believe that he was back in this room.

He sits on the edge of the bed and looks up at you sadly. “While I was there...” He starts, and his voice cracks.

You already know what he’s going to explain to you. He’d been with you before...

‘Amarantha’s whore’ reverberates around your skull. You already know he was forced into doing horrible things with her. Satisfying her so that she wouldn’t think to look in the direction of Velaris. Of you.

The guilt that you knew he was feeling, even if it wasn’t warranted, about being with you after her...

“I...” He makes to try to explain the horrors into words, but you shush him and step forward, raking your hands through his sable hair.

“There is nothing for you to apologize for Rhys. I understand that you didn’t have a choice. You are a good person. Nothing that she made you do with her changes how I feel about you.”

“But you’re my mate and I... with someone else... I...”

He drops his head against your chest and lets the tears fall freely with you. There’s not much you can do to make it better for him. The sudden absence of the mountain would be a hard change for anyone.

“I need you to see. I-I need you to understand. What I did...”

You nod and let his fingers brush your forehead while simultaneously the soft stroke of a hand touches your mind. No part of you wanted to see him with Amarantha but if this is what he needed then you would be okay. For him. For Rhysand. For your high lord.

The images begin to flood your mind, Amarantha cornering him in a dark hallway. Her naked form draped over him as he stared up at the ceiling, sadness in his eyes. You see her arguing with him because he wasn’t always able to stay erect or to finish with her. The look in his eyes is haunting, and you can feel the tears coming, for everything that he had gone through. He shows you everything, no matter how graphic and you appreciate his honesty.

When the images come to an end, he can’t even look at you. His shoulders shake with silent tears. All that you can do is wrap your arms around him. He presses his face into the crook of your neck.

“I understand Rhys.” You whisper to him while stroking the back of his head. “I don’t hold any of that against you. Our mating bond? It hasn’t been affected. I love you the same as I always have. I promise you that Rhysand.”

“I am yours.” He murmurs softly. “And you are mine.”

#acotar #rhysand #a court of thorns and roses #Rhysand x reader #Rhysand

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katasstrophy · 1 year

Note

This and shidou and date night need i say more?

—𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄'𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀𝐍 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐓'𝐒

cw. SMUT. MDNI! fem! reader. exнιвιтισиιѕм (the tiddies are out). fιngєяιng. pet names (babydoll + baby). one (1) cheeky ass slap. implied nιρρℓe play. implied violence. window fυ¢кιng. it's shidou — he's horrible and fucked in the head! // this man does truly nasty delulu things to my brain chemistry.

oh my GOD you better hope and pray that shidou doesn’t find out how easily he could just have that sexy little dress off your figure in a matter of seconds with a clever twist of his fingers because he will use it to his advantage. shamelessly. in public. he does not care.

he distracts you thoroughly by pawing at the meat of your thighs with his greedy fingers where the silver chains dangle, only to untie the flimsy black straps resting at the back of your neck when you least except it, exposing your bare chest to the cool air outside and everyone else watching in your proximity, but most importantly, exposing you to him. he doesn’t get to leer at your gorgeous pair of tits for long, however, as you scramble to quickly cover some of your modesty with your hands, a horrified gasp falling from your lips as the front of your dress continues to uselessly pool around your waist.

and shidou, like the absolute scummy bastard he is, has the audacity to whine in protest, mind far away from thinking of how to help you cover up and more leaning towards prying your fingers away from your breasts so he can see your pretty, peddled nipples again, maybe lean down and even suck on them a lil’, he’s generous like that.

“ryusei, what the actual fuck? we’re in public, you fucking cockroach!” you snarl, your eyes blazing like the gates of hell. the sight makes shidou’s cock stir in his pants. how he adores it when you get mouthy with him.

“aw, c’mon, babydoll. i haven’t seen your tits since this mornin’, you can’t fault me for wanting another looksie. i even stood before ya so the others wouldn’t see. aren’t i a gentleman?”

his grin is sharp and feral like the slash of a scythe as shidou licks his lips, like the air tastes sugary just from soaking in your embarrassment and heated cheeks. he means every word he says.

you resist the urge to tell him you want to castrate him for sport. knowing him, it’d just make him hornier.

“you’re seriously fucked in the head,” you spit at him instead, squaring your shoulders and spinning around to locate the bathroom and fix yourself up with as much dignity as you can muster in your vulnerable state.

“babydollll,” he giggles after you, all lulls and foreboding. “don’t be like that! ya should’a double knotted.”

to stick it to him, you make sure to quadruple knot the straps of your dress lest he gets any more brilliant ideas of undressing you for everyone to fucking see — a decision shidou makes you regret a couple hours later when he drags you back to his sky-rise penthouse, shoving you up against his floor to ceiling, crystal clear windows, rucking your dress up to sink his thick, unforgiving fingers into your tight heat until your knees buckle from the onslaught of pleasure.

“ryu-seiii,” you hiccup, completely out of it but hungry for more of his punishing touch. “please, uh, i need more, touch me more.”

shidou has the tells of your body mapped out and committed to memory, knows that by now your cute, puffy nipples that you denied him from looking at and feeling up earlier to his twisted heart’s content must be sore and aching for his attention, so he coos at you, void of any sympathy, reminding you this could have all been avoided if you would have just showed your breasts to him earlier like the good little angel you usually were for him.

it’s not like he would’ve let anyone escape without two bulging black eyes if they dared to stare at what was his.

“you know i’d love to play with your tits, babydoll. but i just can’t reach ‘em ‘cause of y’re naughty—” shidou brings his palm down on your exposed asscheeks, your yelp at the sting of his slap drowned out by the lewd squelching of your arousal as he pumps three fingers in and out of you like he hates you. “—little dress of yours. shouldn’t’ve made so many knots, hm? if you untie your handy-work i might reconsider thoouugghh.”

your trembling fingers scramble to the back of your neck again, almost clawing at the neat, sturdy knots you made only hours before out of retaliation, desperate for your sadistic boyfriend to pinch and and abuse your nipples just the way you like it until the flesh is raw and tender.

but when the dress finally slips off you yet again, shidou only pushes you more harshly against the glass, squishing the fat of your breasts into the cold, hard planes, chuckling cruelly as you thrash helplessly in his iron hold while he shimmies out of his pants.

“no, ryu, please, you promised. you promised to play with me mmmf—”

as much as he adores you being mouthy, as shidou shoves his fingers coated with your slick into your mouth until he hears you gag, he thinks it’s time you learned a lesson.

“sshhh, baby. you’ve already been bad today, so be good f’me now, yeah? time to put on a real show.”

then he’s bottoming out in your sloppy cunt in one brutal thrust, fucking you within an inch if your life as you writhe and sob on his suffocating fingers until your mixed juices trickle down your legs and soak into the expensive carpet, putting on a show to any lucky by-walker who happens to peer up at your debauched lovemaking.

because shidou does love you. so much. just like the cockroach you called him — ugly, incessant, and indestructible.

#—ping! new message from (oh-miniso)#yeah i am NOT OKAY over this 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫#blue lock smut #shidou ryusei smut #shidou x reader #bllk smut #blue lock x reader #shidou smut #shidou ryusei x reader #—riv.fic!#—bllk.thirsts!

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soleilnomoon · 10 months

Note

hey miss kaia 😼 I wasn’t sure if I should message you or send it this way butttt I’d love a strawberry-mango mai tai (crocodile or shanks) w/ songs 12, 15, and 23 from the playlist 👩🏾‍💻

hiiiii bb 🥰️ ty for requesting! i am so so sorry this took so long, but it’s here at last. also this was my first time writing crocodile, so i was v excited and wrote more than necessary but lbr i’m a long-winded mfer ok, that’s just how it is there’s no cure unfortunately; anyway i like how it turned out and if i kept writing we’d be here forever ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡

2.1k words (don’t look at me), fem reader, nsfw, 18+ mdni; fluff if you count him not choking her as fluff & smut (and angst that u didn’t ask for but i gave it to u bc i’m unwell like that 😊; feat. post-time skip crocodile in denial (he’s king of it clearly), reader who is (rightfully) in her feelings abt everything, smoking, established relationship, exes 2 lovers bc that’s my jam, a lil bit of miscommunication, crocodile is bad at emotions and reader is too emotional — they’re perfect for each other obvy — rough sex, is it considered knife play if he has a hook (asking 4 a friend), a lot of kissing (hello romance), probably other stuff but idr. crocodile comes w. his own damn warning tbqh. reader sippin that clown girl juice like a champ, i’m proud <3

(if u see spelling/grammar mistakes no u didn’t 💕)

it’s late at night when he arrives at your doorstep; you’re in the middle of flipping through a magazine, the ceiling fan silent and slow, the heat a little more than tolerable as you sip a cool drink. you have no intention of entertaining anyone, but when you recognize the heaviness behind the loud knocks, you make an exception.

of course, you do, there’s no other choice but to do so.

sir crocodile is a man that takes, and takes, and takes without remorse; there’s an insatiable greed — hunger, rather — that he can’t seem to satisfy. or maybe it’s that he’s been denying himself for years and it’s finally become too much for him. a small, quiet buzz infiltrates your body when you yank open the door. you half expect to find someone else there, so you stare openly, disbelief and shock holding you in place.

he peers down at you when you stand there and don’t bother to invite him inside. he knows his presence is probably more than you can handle, but he’s a selfish man and his time is very limited right now. with a subtle nod of his head, almost as if he’s telling — no, commanding — you to let him in; he’s always been like that, wordless commands that he expects to be followed without question.

if you had more sense, you’d slam the door in his face. but sadly, you don’t.

you try not to appear too affected, but as crocodile walks inside, dark eyes taking a sweeping glance around your modest living space, you suddenly remember how to speak.

“h-how did you find me?” your voice is much too soft and timid, something he clicks his tongue at, annoyance slightly bubbling underneath his skin. maybe it’s because he hasn’t seen you in so long, or maybe it’s because he’s much too taken by your beauty — something he tried to forget but was wholly unsuccessful.

he doesn’t spare you another glance as he hangs up his coat, doesn’t bother asking for permission before he rummages through the cabinets in your kitchen to pour himself a drink, and doesn’t think anything of his overly familiar actions in a home that doesn’t belong to him when he makes himself comfortable on one of the plush armchairs in the living room.

you scurry after him, steps soft and hurried, the smoke from his cigar wafting towards you the closer you get. he tilts his head back and exhales deeply, eyes closed as he blows smoke above him — a heady, intoxicating scent that triggers memories of the nights you spent with him before.

not that it matters, but crocodile’s nerves got the best of him before he arrived; he hasn’t seen you in two and a half years, and he always wondered if someone finally snatched you up. he told himself, a long time ago, that he would wreck whatever relationship you found yourself in anyway, but the uncertainty still lingered.

do you still care for him like you claimed you always would?

it’s a question he refuses to ask you because he’s convinced that the answer will ruin his plans no matter what your response is.

when you finally snap out of that momentary stupor, you stand in front of him, eyes glossy, as if you’re holding back years’ worth of tears. but somehow, you both fall back into the same routine you swore you’d never go back to — you straddle his lap, shorts riding up your plush thighs, his golden hook cold as he uses it to lift your chin up.

you remind yourself to keep focused, to not fall for his charm again. you don’t tell him that you’ve stayed single this whole time, mostly because everyone who came into your life after him didn’t compare.

“i hate the smell of smoke,” you declare boldly, voice strained, and maybe a little needy — even though you closely press yourself to him, even though you’re shamelessly rubbing yourself against him with slow, deliberate rolls of your hips. an inescapable, irritating heat passes through him, threatening to burn him alive; already his cock gets stiff when you move on him like that. if he had a bit more sense in him, he’d just leave right now.

but old habits die hard, and for some reason, your presence alone throws him off completely.

in a good way. even though he claims otherwise.

he reminds himself that he’s only here to talk as he runs his large hand along your thigh, admiring the smoothness of your skin — the sensation oddly calming to him. the feel of his rings along the back of your thigh triggers a vivid memory that makes you inhale sharply — you remember that the last time you saw him, you were on your knees and gagging on his cock. that night he fucked you like he knew he’d never see you again; you remember how you felt like melting into him every time he buried his cock deeply in your cunt.

you want to hate him all over and never think about him again.

except you can’t, can you?

there’s a brief pause before he takes another drag from his cigar; and when he lets the silence hang for longer than necessary, you find it hard to breathe.

“and i hate liars,” crocodile says finally, conveniently forgetting that he’s a notorious liar himself. you blush and turn your face at the hidden meaning behind his words — a poor attempt to deny it — but when you look back at him, he blows smoke above your head and fixes you with a pointed look.

an absurd thought occurs, making you curl your fingers as you tug on his shirt and finally question his reappearance. jealousy coils itself tightly around your legs, making your movements sluggish and ineffective. unbecoming, utterly childish, and unavoidable — but you know he won’t listen to that sort of rhetoric. not after being away from you for so long.

you lick your lips and muster enough courage to say, “i wrote to you.” several times, in fact. you figured he was either dead or didn’t want to speak to you. a part of him wants to ask if you’re serious, but from your demure demeanor, he already knows the answer.

crocodile lets out a humorless, pitying laugh.

“it must be nice to live in delusion,” he says bitterly. you look at him, confusion evident in the way you press your lips together as your brows slope down slowly — so he just sighs, defeated by your genuine naivety that he finds terribly charming. when he drags the curve of his golden hook along your jaw, your starts beating faster than necessary, the noise so loud you can barely think straight.

he knows that when he talks to you, he has to… mind how he phrases things, and while it annoys him, he does it anyway. “do you think impel down just allows former warlords the luxury of personal mail?” it’s a rhetorical question, but you shake your head no anyway, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you grab onto his shirt again.

guilt has a nasty habit of making him more considerate than he’d care to be, especially if that guilt comes from you. it has him putting out his cigar and tossing it onto the floor; he’s not sure who kisses who first, but his lips slant against yours and move with familiarity.

your soft whimpers are a honeyed, melodic experience; they wrap around him possessively, driving him to tear through your clothes with his hook, shredding the fabric into large, unusable pieces that languidly slide off your body. a flush settles on your skin, making you feel lightheaded — each kiss more electrifying than the last as he licks inside of your mouth, tongue stroking against yours hotly.

crocodile pulls away suddenly, already feeling like the control he’s kept is practically nonexistent because your mouth is much sweeter than he remembers. your fingers tremble slightly and a breathy moan tumbles out of you when he slaps your ass hard.

the impact is a surprise — one that has you whine pitifully, arousal dripping from your slit in a way that should be embarrassing, but you’re too far gone to care. a lust-induced haze circles around him, nearly clouding his vision as you unbutton his shirt, fingers roaming against his stomach, exploring the dips and grooves between his abs. your touch is much too gentle for a man like him; he knows you deserve better, but he’s too selfish to tell you that. his cock is stiff and heavy in his pants; you relieve that ache as soon as you tug his zipper down and wrap your soft hands around him.

he watches you, amused at your focus and determination when you stroke him faster; and while he’d like to take his time with you, he doesn’t have that luxury tonight. he grabs onto your wrist, halting your movements quickly before biting your lower lip and kissing you greedily; it’s all-consuming, scalding, and possessive.

you should ask him why he’s kissing you like that when he has no intention of staying, but you know it would be an unfair question given his circumstances.

still, your curiosity eats you alive, although not for long.

he lifts you with ease and you sink down onto his thick cock, pussy tight and warm. part of what kept him sane while he was in prison was thinking of you and how much he missed being with you like this — another truth he refuses to reveal, deciding to suffer through the consequences of another failed confession on his part.

you scratch at the skin on the back of his neck the moment he bucks his hips against yours, burying most of his cock inside of you. his thrusts are quick and brutal; you do your best to match his movements, moaning loudly as he wraps an arm around you. he kisses down the length of your neck, teeth grazing your skin roughly as he bites and sucks on your skin harshly. you know there’ll be bruises and marks in the morning, but you don’t care.

all you care about is enjoying this moment with him, one that you’ll commit to memory forever.

his name comes out of your mouth sweetly, like a rhythmic and lyrical poem you crafted for him specifically. he shouldn’t care about any of that, but he can’t stop himself; and maybe he’s just tired of denying it. he tells himself that when he fucks you harder, breasts bouncing and rubbing against his hard chest; he tells himself that when he angles his hips, thrusts frenzied and powerful.

sweat glides down your skin and the heat threatens to suffocate you, both of you are panting and moaning in between kisses. you doubt your poor little heart can take much more of this, but you power through anyway. and maybe it’s because you’re tugging on his hair roughly, almost impatiently, but he takes that as a challenge, holding you steady as his cock bullies into your wet cunt. between the lewd, squelching sounds coming from your pussy and the way he simply can’t stop kissing you — like there’s a thirst he can’t seem to quench, no matter how many times he fucks you — a warmth spreads through your chest.

unbeknownst to you, though, he’s going through something similar; he realizes, belatedly, that he might not be able to let you go after this. impossible thoughts pummel through his mind, ones that he desperately tries to shove aside. intimacy and vulnerability are deadly, in his opinion, but he decides to make an exception for you — and only you.

you cum unexpectedly, hips bucking against his wildly, pussy clenching around his thick girth without remorse. you actually feel your heart skip a beat, like you’re in some romance novel, when he calls out your name — his own orgasm finding him shortly after, thrusts slowing, his cum thick and hot as it spills inside of you.

your legs turn to jelly, making it impossible to move right away, so you slump against him weakly and take deep breaths to calm yourself. he closes his eyes briefly and runs his hand up and down your back; here’s another opportune moment to say something, to say anything, but he swallows back the words, instead opting to kiss your forehead softly.

“you’re an impossible man,” you say with a sigh, blinking as you look up at him; he raises a brow at that, but doesn’t offer a rebuttal. “don’t break my heart.” you jab a finger at his chest, but your features soften when he chuckles at your demand.

another long silence follows, before crocodile speaks again, voice low, but certain as he says, “alright, i won’t.”

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ddarker-dreams · 1 year

Text

Collapse of Paradise.

Yan Childe x M Reader. Commissioned piece.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, gaslighting attempts from Mr Childe. Word count: 3k.

It started with the small things.

Synchronicities, perhaps, little blips on a piece of paper that appear seemingly unconnected. No lines could be drawn between them at first glance. Some of these coincidences weren’t necessarily bad; if anything, it was as if you’d hit an unprecedented stroke of luck. When you went to buy groceries at the market, the second you’d go to get your money out, the store clerk would start rambling about how ‘he needed these goods gone anyway’ and lowered the price significantly. In the days that followed, he’d stopped charging you altogether.

You’d found it odd, but he was insistent, countless stories prepared to explain away his altruism.

Then there were the lines. It didn’t matter if they were long or short, many of the people in front of you offered their spot. At first, you hesitantly accepted, but it started to make you feel wrong, so you started gently turning the offers down. After that, you noticed the typically crowded streets of Liyue seemed easier to traverse. Others would scramble to move aside for you, apologizing under their breath if you so much as bumped shoulders or anything of the like.

Eventually, you began to wonder if this stroke of luck might be a veneer for something more sinister.

Were the rumors spreading that you weren’t privy to? Slander and gossip? You couldn’t fathom why, you’ve always kept to yourself, never troubling anyone. For days now, you’ve mentally combed through your memories, searching for any act that could’ve been interpreted as offensive. These brainstorming sessions always end with more questions than answers. You just weren’t the type of person to form ripples in calm water. You favor tranquility, going to lengths to keep it.

You shut the book in your hands with a quiet sigh. Despite having opened it an hour ago, you were only halfway through the first chapter. The plot and characters failed to transport you to another world as you hoped. You slide your bookmark into place — a narwhal-shaped piece, courtesy of your lover — then opt for staring at the ceiling. If you couldn’t distract yourself, maybe you could zone out and turn your traitorous brain off for a bit.

Should you post an apology on a bulletin board, where there’s bound to be lots of foot traffic? You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for, so it might not be the best idea. Maybe you could ask the next person to give you this unwanted special treatment? That doesn’t sound satisfactory either. It could make matters worse if they think you’ve remained blissfully aware of your offense all this time.

Having your home quietly turn hostile is a unique type of pain.

“Hey, what’s with all the sighing? Is the book that bad?”

Sunlight parting through storm clouds — that’s how you’d best describe Ajax. His warmth never failed to reach you. It sought you out, chasing after you for as long as necessary, maneuvering through obstacles like they were nothing. No matter where you hid, he always found you.

“I wish I could tell you. I haven’t made enough progress to determine that yet,” you give him a smile that must look as unconvincing as it feels. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice you sooner. Have you been here for long?”

He juts his thumb toward your front door. “Just snuck in, actually. Not too stealthily either.”

You frown at the implication. Ajax had often playfully complained your front door was squeaky enough to alert the whole neighborhood of his presence whenever he opened it, a sentiment you agreed with. You must’ve really been out of it to not hear those decibel-breaking hinges.

The couch dips to accommodate his weight as he sits next to you. He props his feet up — his boots off, thankfully, you had to remind him countless times — and rests his arms behind his head. You both stay like that for a moment. Your eyes are on his side profile as he thinks, about you, no doubt, the grin you’re so used to seeing on his face uncharacteristically absent. You shift in your seat at the prolonged silence.

He just got back from a long day at work, you’d rather not bother him with your paranoia. For someone who acts so lackadaisical, he’s freakishly perceptive, picking up on your every nuance. He pointed out tics about yourself that even you were unaware of. It didn’t feel fair for him to have to keep guessing what’s been bothering you while you struggled to make up an excuse different from the last time he asked.

Ajax inspects you from the corner of his eye. “Feel up to going out to eat? It’s been a while. As much as I love cooking dinner with you, sometimes it’s nice to take the night off. How about it?”

You gnaw on your bottom lip. He isn’t bringing it up out of consideration for you, you know it, he knows it. And still, it seeps into every aspect of your life. You’ve been avoiding going out. You aren’t a total recluse, there’s still work to be done, but you’ve been staying at home more often than not. At first, you told yourself it was unrelated to the strange predicament you found yourself in. You’d only recently come to terms with the fact that was a lie, meant to lull you into thinking things aren’t that bad.

“If you’re tired, you can relax while I whip something up,” you propose, sounding as cheerful as you can manage. His eyes narrow ever so slightly. “Oh, there are some leftovers from my lunch too. We can just warm that up and—”

“[First].”

You’re looking everywhere but his eyes. “Yes?”

“I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong,” his hand is on your forearm, serving as the anchoring force you so desperately need. His tone isn’t judgmental or irritated by how elusive you’ve been acting. It’s overflowing with patience so sickeningly sweet, that a lump forms in your throat. “You know you can tell me anything.”

The sensation of guilt that washes over you then is unwelcome. You wish you could both keep playing along, but all dreams are destined to end. This conversation and the doors it’d open were bound to happen.

He gives you a squeeze before you part your lips, having sensed your change of heart from the subtlest shift in demeanor.

“I’m not exactly sure how to explain it… I just get the sense people are treating me differently lately. Not in an overtly bad way, but more like they need to be careful around me. I don’t know. It’s weird.”

Another squeeze, this time to your hands, which he takes in his. “When did you start noticing this?”

It’s a question you don’t like the answer to. They’re unrelated blips, you remind yourself. This world you live in is filled with plenty of those. Correlation doesn’t equal causation and all that. Ajax’s gaze never falters from yours. He’s wholly concentrated on you as if nothing else could possibly matter more. This display of unflinching devotion brings forth a fresh sting of guilt. It tingles all over, pricking against your skin.

For a lie, your next words come out surprisingly easy.

“A week or so ago, maybe.”

Ajax is unabashedly inspecting your facial features. He studies every little counter, each dip and groove. The way he examines you now is different from his usual, loving stare. It feels colder, more critical, almost like he’s been charged with determining whether or not you committed a crime. You do what you can to keep yourself from squirming.

You have an easier time breathing when he pulls back, apparently satisfied with the outcome of his search.

“I can’t imagine why that’s happening, but these things naturally tend to resolve themselves with time. Maybe someone overheard something out of context or got overly chatty while drinking. The people of Liyue are reasonable. Keep being you. They’ll see through any of the mistruths they came across.”

His lips curl into the lopsided grin you’re so used to seeing. A part of you is relieved by how he’s handled your admission, though you can’t fathom why. He’s a good man. It doesn’t matter how many hours he’s worked, he’ll stay up late into the night to write replies to his siblings, insisting he wants them to receive their presents as soon as possible. He cares for you, dotes on you, going above and beyond without needing to be asked.

You don’t want to think about the small things if you can avoid it. You want to think about the upcoming trip to Snezhnaya he’s planned, insisting his family wants to meet their future brother-in-law. How he took time away from his busy job to nurse you back to health the last time you fell ill. The almost magical way he can distract you from your problems, whether it be through witty banter or exciting adventures into nature.

He brings your head to rest on his shoulder. You accept the gesture, knowing how he favors being physical with you. Letting him have this seems like a good idea.

Your eyelids flutter shut and you’re back to where you started — struggling to quiet the desperate whispers of your mind. The voices grow more hoarse from how loud they must strain to try and be heard.

Trust is built on open communication, you know this, yet you’re holding back one piece of critical knowledge from him.

That you know all these peculiar interactions began around the time Ajax started courting you.

You’ve watched people convince themselves of things in the past.

It was a sight that brought out a myriad of emotions, namely confusion and pity. Should you let them carry on in their misguided ways? Hope that maybe they snap out of the reverie of their own volition, or someone better equipped might happen by and lend a helping hand? You’d witnessed it in grief-stricken mothers who lost their sons at sea, refusing to attend the funeral while claiming ‘he’s still out there’. Then there were the failed entrepreneurs who put everything into a business for it to just go bust. They’d swear that their investment will pay off eventually, that economies change, it isn’t a total lost cause; the justifications never ended.

It’s strange, going from being an audience member to these predicaments to landing the lead role for yourself.

You see the script, know that the words were written in advance, yet still try clumsily acting through them all the same. What else is there for you to do? Ajax has never harmed you, never given reason for you to openly doubt him. These suspicions were spun by you. His job at the Northland Bank was never a secret, neither was the financial prosperity it brought him. Their collaboration with the Fatui is similarly public knowledge, though the degree of which is unknown.

Picking up a rock, you test its weight in your hand, then give it a calculated toss. It skips across the clear, shimmering water, then plunges into the depths.

“This would certainly make for a nice fishing spot,” a voice casually quips from behind. Your shoulders go stiff. It didn’t take long for him to find you, it never does. “What do you think? Should we make a date out of it?”

You feel the point of his chin press against your neck. “I, uh, might not be the best fishing partner. It requires waking up early and sitting still for hours, doesn’t it? That sounds difficult.”

“Patience is always a good thing to hone, it’s practical. I’ve found mine being tested lately,” he taps you on the side. Once, twice. “That’s the thing, though! It’s important to get pushed to your limits. You’ll never know what you might be capable of otherwise. Wouldn’t you say so, [First]?”

There’s an attempt to turn around and face him, yet what your body wills doesn’t come to fruition. Ajax’s body might appear lean, but it’s strong, almost inhumanly so. It requires no strain on his behalf to keep you rooted in place. You have nowhere to look aside from ahead. The sun is setting now, molten gold easing into shades of amber. You squint, finding the scene both beautiful and difficult to stare at directly.

Sunlight could be as painful as it is beautiful.

“We aren’t right for one another,” you mumble, almost grateful you can’t see his face. “I don’t want to keep doing this. I don’t know what to do.”

He laughs, the sound ringing hollow. His warm breath tickles your ear. “You don’t have to do anything. Neither do I, for that matter. Everything was fine. Everything is fine. What have I done to you to earn this cold behavior, hm? Would you care to tell me?”

Your palms might bleed from how harshly your nails dig into them. “… You haven’t done anything to me.”

“And I wouldn’t, either,” he seems to take pride in confirming. The fact he has to say this in the first place is reason enough to worry.

Waves brush against and retreat from the sandy shoreline. The breeze carries with it hints of the ocean, tousling your hair, ensuring it’ll maintain the scent of saltwater for hours to come. This place that would set your heart at ease any other time fails to comfort you now. Each breath you take grows increasingly unsteady. A damning word that’s been floating around in the recesses of your mind grows louder and louder, demanding your attention. No longer do you have the energy to hush it.

“Ajax,” you begin, fighting through the impulse to say nothing, for your mouth is terribly dry, “Are you familiar with the alias ‘Childe’?”

A spray of water droplets kisses your cheek after a particularly sizable wave comes crashing down against the shore.

His hands are on your shoulders. Your sense of equilibrium is thrown off by how sharply he turns you around, forcing you to confront a reality you can no longer ignore. The rays of the dying sun are bright, yet his eyes do not reflect them. You’ve never seen those pools of bright blue turn so dull. His lips are set in a straight line, his face mere inches from yours. What you would’ve once considered an intimate moment feels like a perverse invasion of privacy. He’s giving you no space, no time, no air.

You have to remind yourself to breathe, the action no longer involuntary.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” his fingers are on your chin. You wonder how much blood has been shed due to the very hand cradling you. “I keep that portion of myself separate from those I care about.”

He isn’t denying it.

“That isn’t something— something you can just clock out of. People are scared of you. Because they’re scared of you, they’re scared of me.”

He sighs then, the closest thing you’ve gotten to resignation from him so far. “I know, I know. I really did want to avoid that. It isn’t anything I can’t fix. Still, you need to work with me on this.”

“I… what?”

You don’t want to believe you heard him right. You try to take a step back, but he doesn’t allow it, his grip unrelenting. The skin beneath his eyes crinkles when he smiles.

“You were happy,” Ajax states. When you voice no dissent, he continues on. “You must’ve been, if you were willing to overlook your suspicions for as long as you did. Maybe you should be scared of me… maybe you will be, if you keep looking into things you shouldn’t. Or you could make this easy for yourself. We can take things slow, work it out a day at a time.”

Toward the latter half of his proposal, he finally lets you go, yet you don’t make any move to run. It’s as if the sand beneath your feet has been replaced with iron shackles.

You need a moment to compose yourself for your next words to come out. It’ll be the most confrontational you’ve been yet. That thought alone is almost as frightening as the situation itself.

“What makes you think I want to work this out?”

His toothy grin never falters at your challenge, instead, it grows wider. You shiver at the possibility your unusual resistance excites him.

“Do you have what it takes to go the other route?” His voice takes on a condescending lilt. When he sees how you bristle, he laughs, shaking his head and putting his hands up in mock defense. “C’mon, I’m joking. Don’t look at me like that. You’re a smart man, I know you’ll make the right choice.”

You’re not sure what other options you have.

Ajax bends over to grab some stones of his own, just as you did before his unwelcome arrival. He winds his shoulder a few times, then gives it a toss, the rock skipping too many times for you to count. It goes out impossibly far before finally succumbing to its watery prison. He tries to hand you one. You stare at it unblinkingly.

“Something tells me this might be our last romantic outing for a while. Might as well make the most of it,” he nudges it closer.

With some reluctance, you take the rock into your hand. He’s back to throwing the few he collected, beaming while he does so. You thought you were growing adept at playing pretend — that pales in comparison to his abilities. Pleading his case is no longer of any interest to him. He knows what you’re going to choose, he could always read you, and he’s only going to get better at it.

“Nothing about this is romantic,” you finally murmur. This rock fails to glide over the water, plummeting immediately. “That’s a word I’ll struggle to associate with you... Childe.”

He winks and replaces the rock you just threw, his fingers brushing over yours.

“Well, it's a good thing I just love challenges then.”

#childe x reader #yandere childe x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #commissions #my stuff

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