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ceruleancattail · 4 months

Note

CERU!! HI HI :D

i have this one silly idea i think you might like!

so so, imagine you share classes with cater/jade/floyd (sitting next to them, if you will), and when they glance at your notebook, it's filled with tiny doodles, specifically them

or!! you saw their notebooks littered with doodles of you instead!

this one was when my friend found my philosophy notebook with a smol lilia in a gamer box corner lmao

take all the time you need if you decided to do this one! :D

Doodling

Cater x reader, Jade x reader, Floyd x reader

Cater

Cater finds his attention waning, occasionally. Twisting his pen around, he does his best to fight the urge to check his phone. He’s already done it five times this hour. Horrible habits die the hardest.

As sneakily as he can, Cater leans into your side, head leaning into the curve of your shoulder. His emerald eyes straying over the pages of your notebook, trying to find something to amuse himself with.

The moment you felt his gaze on you, you froze up. Hands hastily fumbling across the table, shielding the contents of your notebook from view. As quickly as you managed to react, Cater still managed to catch a tiny little glimpse of what you’ve scribbled onto those lined pages.

Little doodles of… him? Cute tiny drawings doodled onto the very edges of your notes, surrounded with miniature diamonds and quite a number of rosy red hearts.

Immediately, Cater turned away. Covering the lower half of his face with his palm, in an attempt to hold back his squeals of excitement. That’s just so cute of you!

Do you have any more? He’ll love to see them! Cater’s immediately wiggling a little closer to your side, poking at your notebook until you let him flip through the pages.

Aw, why are you embarrassed? You make him look totally adorable in those doodles!

Cater tries to draw a little sketch of his own right next to one of yours. A little doodle of you, standing right next to him. If you ask him why, he’s just going to chuckle and shoot you a playful grin. Avoiding the question the best way he knows how.

The truth is?

He just doesn’t feel right if you’re not next to him, so just indulge him this time, ok?

Jade

Jade is quiet. Almost silent, even. With his slender frame, he cuts through water with all the elegance of a finely honed blade. Silent, deadly. Even on land, his footfalls are as soft as freshly fallen snow. You’ll never hear him coming.

Which unfortunately works against you most of the time. He seems to relish the feeling of shocking you back to the present, whenever your attention starts to wander. Normally, you’ll hear him snigger, or if he’s feeling a little more teasing that day, the sensation of his ice cold fingers, tracing down the nape of your neck.

Today, it was the latter. As you yelp, reaching for the back of your neck, Jade is silent. His attention currently fixed onto the open notebook on your table, pages fluttering, beckoning him closer.

Gingerly, his fingers reach for the pages. Tracing every stroke on the paper, especially that particularly long stroke of hair framing the subject’s face.

It’s him. In every page.

Little doodles of Jade in the corners, peeking out from every margin. Drawings of him, in the midst of doing various tasks around the Mostro Lounge, along with some particular goofy ones accompanied by giant mushrooms… and hearts. Quite a number of them, actually.

The latest drawing is of him facing forward in class. Eyes narrowed in concentration, chin on his palm. How utterly adorable of you, to capture every single detail of his appearance within a few strokes. You must observe him very dearly.

Jade turns his full attention to you, leaning so much more closer to you than before. His lips curl up into a sly little smile, beaming at you. Now, you don’t have to be so secretive about it, you little artist.

You know he’s always more then willing to pose for drawings.

Well, only if you’re the only asking.

Floyd

Floyd shifts around quite a bit, during class. Normally, you’re pretty eager to chat away with him. Unfortunately, today you seemed a little more preoccupied listening to the lesson instead of Floyd.

Now, what fun is that? He’s so bored just sitting around. Well, you being next to him helps, but come on! You’re not even paying him one bit of attention. Instead you were hunched over the table, pen scribbling away furiously.

Floyd stares at your hand as it moves around, his own hand absentmindedly following suit. While his dance danced in circles in the air, Floyd muses silently. It’s hard to see how those sweeping wide strokes of yours could possibly form words.

Leaning towards you, Floyd dips his head onto your shoulder. Curling his lips into an “o”, before puffing a gust of wind onto the skin of your bare neck. Shuddering at the sudden chill, your pen clatters against the table.

Seizing his chance, Floyd’s hand darts over. Those slender fingers of his wrapping around the pages of your book, yanking it sharply to his side.

Leisurely, Floyd flips the book open. Ready to see what his lil’ shrimpy seemed ever so eager to hide.

Sketches of… him. Toothy grin as bright as the sun, beaming away. Y’know, most people find his smile scary. Not… as endearingly as you seem to see it, illustrating it as sweetly as you did.

You drew him zooming around the Night Raven College, leaping into antic after antic. Little hearts follow every doodle, trailing after tiny Floyd. Ain’t that cute?

Aw, shrimpy! You never told him you could draw. That isn’t too fair, yeah? Hogging all the fun to yourself, sketching him on the sly.

Floyd’s elbowing you playfully, stretching out an upturned palm towards you. Huh? What’s that look for?

Give him a pen, he wants to draw you too!

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #cater x reader #cater diamond x reader #cater diamond #cater #Jade leech #jade x reader #jade leech x reader #jade #Floyd leech #Floyd leech x reader #Floyd #Floyd x reader #lucky potion 🔷

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shadowdaddies · 12 days

Text

Distraction

Azriel x Reader

A/N: I keep thinking about how this scene from Captain America: the Winter Soldier would fit so well for Azriel x reader on a spy mission

warnings: none

A knock on your door shook you from your daze, wide eyes alert in a prepared defense until you heard the familiar voice rumble lowly through the wooden doorway.

“Are you ready?” Azriel questioned, rough voice sending an unrecognizable thrill through you as you strode towards the door. Turning the handle, you looked up to see hazel eyes darkening as the striking Illyrian swallowed, gaze raking over your form in the fitted dress you’d donned for the evening.

“Ready, Az,” you nodded, allowing yourself the guilty pleasure of admiring your friend’s appearance. He was dressed in a fitted all-black ensemble, tailored to show his impressive physique and highlight his features. He looked like a Prince of Darkness as he stepped to the side, holding out an arm for you to take.

“You look very nice, Azriel,” you smiled, playfully nudging him with your shoulder as he led you down the hall to the grand ballroom.

He stiffened slightly at your words, as though shocked by the compliment, before he turned to face you. “You look...” he paused, taking a deep breath when he stepped back to look at you. Something sparked in your chest when he spoke again. “You look beautiful.”

Nodding, you looked away in an attempt to hide your blush as well as Azriel had hidden his shadows for the evening. You were both undercover from the Night Court, attending this ball in Hybern to find information on potential traitors.

Since the war was won, Prythian had absorbed the kingdom of Hybern, but many were still resistant to the ideals of the Continent. You were sent with Azriel to the new ruler of Hybern’s birthday celebration to gather intel, searching for those who might pose a threat to the High Lord and Lady’s restructured kingdom.

With Azriel’s shadows, he would be quickly identified as the infamous shadowsinger of the Night Court, but with his shadows hidden and you by his side, you could blend in with the other fae relatively easily.

Which is why you now carried your shimmering skirts, shoes clicking down the marble floored halls with Azriel on your arm. You had expected to be more nervous going into the event, but something about Azriel’s touch kept you grounded, feeling calmer than ever.

Approaching the double doors that led to the grand ballroom, you nodded your appreciation to the guards who opened the doors for you both. Words escaped you at the beauty of the room before you, murals of fairies from old lining the walls along with gilded chandeliers and twinkling faelight. It was beautiful and romantic, a far cry from what you had imagined Hybern to be.

Feeling a tug on your arm, you looked up to see Azriel flashing you a knowing grin as he guided you towards a servant. Picking up two drinks from their tray, he murmured appreciation to them before handing you a glass. You half-expected him to say something about the beauty of the evening, but surprise didn’t find you with his words.

“Remember our story. Keep it vague and learn what you can tonight,” Azriel murmured, his warm hand rubbing affectionately on your waist at odds with his words. You nodded, remembering your role new mates as your role for the night, and that his touch meant nothing more.

Twining your fingers with his, you led Azriel to a couple who stood by the hearth, smiling as they both listened to the band play its lively tune. You chatted with them, learning the gossip about several royal families who did not approve of the new structure in Hybern.

“Well done,” Azriel murmured, his lips warm against your knuckles as he pulled them, twirling you in a playful move across the dance floor closer to the next target for intel.

You wished the giggle that escaped you was more effort than it was, but something about you was truly drawn to Azriel. He was gentle with you, but fiercely defensive of those he cared for. A skilled warrior and good friend.

Swallowing, you willed your emotions beneath the surface to plaster on your face of grace. Swiping another glass of faerie wine, you focused on the faux feelings you’d manufactured for the evening, ignoring those you really felt towards Azriel as best you could.

You were deep in conversation, laughing and joking with the female visiting from Vallahan when Azriel’s fingers tensed around your waist. Feigning ignorance, you smiled lazily at your “mate.”

“Is everything alright, my love?” You asked - the question you’d planned beforehand if anything unplanned were to arise.

Azriel’s gaze flicked to you, more wild than you had ever seen his bright hazel eyes. “I am just aching for a dance with my mate, is all,” he purred, teasing voice betraying the shaking fingertips that hovered your hips.

With audible “awws” and cooing at two new mates who couldn’t resist to be apart, the other fae ushered you towards the busy dance floor, where Azriel took your hand and waist, back held in surprisingly impressive form.

“I know the male in the opposite corner from where I face,” Azriel whispered in your ear, soft as if he were telling you sweet nothings. You ignored the hitch in your breath, gaze flicking briefly to a tall, burly male in the corner whose own eyes flicked to Azriel with curiosity.

“Come with me,” you whispered back, not missing how Azriel shivered at your lips on his ear. He followed you, hands loosely intertwined while you wove through the crowd towards the dark corner of the room opposite from the suspecting male.

Your heart hammered in your chest as the male moved through the ballroom, gaze scanning the crowd including yourselves as though he were looking for someone.

“Kiss me,” you whispered, pulling Azriel’s body tight against your own, which was pressed to the cold wall.

“W-what?” he choked out, and you had to bite back your grin at the uncharacteristically flustered spymaster.

“Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable. Kiss me,” you demanded, willing yourself not to look to the presence you could sense nearing you.

Azriel’s eyes practically glowed as he searched your face, searching for affirmation before one hand found your waist, the other wrapping around the back of your neck as he pulled you in for a deep kiss.

An electric energy shot through you, the spark hitting your chest hard enough to steal your breath at the feeling of his soft lips on your own. You melted into the kiss with ease, both of your bodies interlacing like two halves of a whole.

You were dizzy for air, completely forgetting everyone else around you when Azriel pulled away, his eyes wide with something that looked like shock.

Pushing back, you scanned the area for potential threats before deciding you couldn’t find anything. “Azriel, what happened? Are you okay?” You whispered, thumb stroking his cheek to keep up the charade of new mates.

“I- you’re my...” Azriel stuttered, just as you caught sight of the suspicious male slipping out onto the balcony.

“Come on, Az. Let’s see what they’re up to,” you whispered, keeping a note in your mind to ask him what he was distracted by at a later time.

Part 2

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 11 months

Text

Let's play a little game | Ethan Landry x Reader

Summary: You get a phone call from a masked ID when you’re home alone…

Word count: 2k

Warnings: smut, fingering, p + v action, ambiguous consent, home invasion, cheating,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

You looked at your reflection in the mirror as you brushed your hair, admiring how hot your body looked in those small shorts and cami. The rumors were true, you really looked your best in your early adulthood. You posed, making sure all your curves were in a flattering angle, and sent a picture to your boyfriend. It was a bummer Chad was away in Woodsboro for the weekend when you looked that good.

After exchanging some naughty texts with Chad, you called Tara if she wanted to come over and watch horror movies. The weather had been gloomy and cold all day, which was perfect for the occasion.

‘’If you had called me two hours ago, I would be running over in my pajamas and bringing along my fuzzy blanket, but I may have gotten a call from a certain brunet from my film class and agreed to go on a date…tonight.’’ Tara covered her mouth to stifle her excitement, but you could hear it in her voice.

A smile bloomed on your lips, excited for your friend. ‘’Oh my god! He did?’’

‘’Yes.’’ On the other side of the line, Tara paused, her head full of Tyler. ‘’I’m so nervous. It’s my first date ever.’’

‘’It’ll be okay, T,’’ you reassured her. ‘’And if he turns out to be a jerk, excuse yourself to the bathroom and send me a text. I’ll call you and fake an emergency.’’

Tara promised, then hung up to finish getting ready for her date. She needed to leave before Sam got home and asked a plethora of questions. Maybe she’ll do a full search on Tyler to make sure he’s not a crazy Stab fanatic like her own ex-boyfriend.

You were about to shoot a text to Anika, but your phone rang again. This time, the caller ID was masked.

You answered with a frown.

‘’Hello?’’ a distorted male voice said.

Your frown deepened. ‘’Eh, shouldn’t I be the one saying ‘hello’?’’

‘’Who is this?’’

‘’Who are you trying to reach?’’

‘’I don’t know.’’ There was a short silence, then the man spoke again. ‘’Do you like scary movies?’’

‘’Yeah.’’ You took a body-spray from your vanity desk and spritzed a little on you, smiling when the sweet caramel scent filled the air.

‘’What’s your favorite scary movie?’’

You took a moment to think. ‘’Probably Jennifer’s Body. Does that count? It’s more of a horror comedy, but I’ve watched it a thousand times.’’

The stranger hummed. ‘’The one with the hot chick that eats her best friend’s boyfriend?’’

‘’Yes!’’

‘’Speaking of boyfriend, do you have a boyfriend?’’

‘’Why? You want to ask me out on a date?’’ you joked, fixing the pendant of your necklace that had flipped over.

‘’Maybe.’’

‘’If you want to ask someone out on a date, calling on a masked ID is not the best way. It gives off stalker vibes.’’

‘’I’m not a stalker.’’

‘’How can I know you’re not?’’

‘’If I were a stalker, I would tell you how hard my cock is just from looking at you in those pajamas.’’

You gulped uncomfortably, standing from your vanity chair and going to your window to peer through the curtains to see if anyone was outside. You were on the tenth floor. How would anyone get up there from the outside? It didn’t make sense.

But it was the only window in your bedroom…

‘’I…I’m gonna hang up. I need to take my dog out.’’

It was a lie. You didn’t have a dog, but the stranger on the other end didn’t know that.

‘’Don’t hang up on me!’’ he yelled at you.

You did anyway.

Seconds later, the phone rang again. Fuck.

‘’Why are you calling again?’’ you snapped at the caller, not bothering to check the ID. You knew it was him.

‘’To apologize, of course.’’

‘’Okay. You did. Now bye.’’ You pulled the phone away from your ear, but the man yelled at you.

‘’If you hang up again, I’ll come inside and gut you!’’

The threat was stronger and starting to scare you, but you couldn’t let him know.

‘’You’re bluffing,’’ you said, praying your voice wouldn’t falter. ‘’I’m on a high floor. You can’t get to me.’’

‘’From the outside, no. But who said I’m not already inside.’’

Fear settled in your guts as your phone buzzed with a text message. A picture. Someone in a Ghostface mask standing in your bedroom. He had a knife in his hand and you had a feeling it wasn’t a fake one.

When was this taken? And where was he now?

You searched your vanity for something to use as a weapon. There was a ton of makeup, a few perfume bottles, your hairbrush — all useless. Then your eyes fell on your manicure scissors. You used them a few nights ago to cut a thread from a shirt. They were small but pointy. It could injure your stalker.

Scissors tight in your hand, you stood from your chair and ventured to your living area. It was a very small apartment. The living room and kitchen were merged into the same room and all the lights were off. You turned the main light on, illuminating the whole room, but saw no one.

The curtains were closed. They were tall and thick enough for someone to hide behind.

Putting your fictive big-girl pants on, you walked to the window to check, but jumped and when you heard the distorted voice in your ear.

‘’Let’s play a little game. I say something and you do as I say….or else I’ll use that sharp knife on you. Got it?’’

You gulped and nodded. A part of you wanted to call the cops and signal a home invasion, but if your intruder was already inside, they would never get to you on time. Even at night, New York traffic was a nightmare.

‘’Take those little shorts off. I want to see those lacey panties you have on underneath.’’

You didn’t want to, but you reached for your small dolphin shorts anyway. You weren’t shy with your body, but getting undressed for a stranger to jerk off to you made you stomach churn. Your fingers touched your waistband, about to pull your shorts down, but stopped when you remembered you were not wearing anything under.

‘’I-I'm not wearing any.’’

‘’Don't lie to me. I can see those tiny shorts from here.’’

You looked around the room, trying to figure out where he was hiding. Your bedroom window was already out of the options. Your bed was a box and your closet and the bathroom door were shut. Where the hell was he hiding?

‘’Not the shorts,’’ you corrected. ‘’The panties.’’

‘’Naughty girl.’’

You should be disgusted, but you found yourself blushing — and slightly turned on — at the creepy stranger's words. Was it the Ghostface mask that was suddenly having this effect on you? You did feel a strange liking to the masked killers when you watched horror movies.

‘’Strip.’’

You fumbled to push your dolphin shorts down and out of the way, exposing yourself bare.

‘’Now go back to your room, get on the bed and sit against the pillows.’’

You did as told and leaned back into your pillows, but kept your knees closed. You could sense where this was going. Men loved to watch a girl touch herself. If you look at their internet history, you’ll find a ton of porn videos of women touching themselves.

He tutted you. ‘’Don't try to hide. Spread your legs. I want to see.’’

You knew you shouldn’t part your legs, but your arousal was getting stronger at every instruction. It’s like he had casted a spell on you and you were helpless to disobey him.

God, you should be disgusted with yourself. How could you be turned on by a masked intruder in a Ghostface mask asking you to strip and give him a free view of your intimate parts?

Shutting your subconscious, you parted your legs and exposed yourself, shivering when you felt the cool air of the room.

You heard a groan in your ear. ‘’That’s a beautiful pussy. Show me how wet you are for me.’’

Your free hand slid down your body and to your mound, then lower. You sighed as you reached your folds, spreading them and showing the way your lips glistened with wetness.

‘’Am I wet enough for you, Mr. Ghostface?’’ you asked into the room, sliding your finger up and down your folds a couple of times.

‘’Why don’t you stick a finger inside? Play with yourself for me.’’

A soft moan slipped from your lips as you did, your finger sliding easily. You thrusted in slowly, then out, and repeated. The pace was too slow for your personal liking, but you knew how to tease and turn on a partner. Watching a video of your fingers sinking in and out of yourself, coated with your arousal had made your boyfriend cum in his dorm bed many times.

But let’s not talk about Chad now.

You added a second finger and caught your bottom lip between your teeth when you curled them. You wish you had your pink vibrator for your clit, but your other hand was occupied holding your phone.

‘’Mmh, you’re making me so fucking hard right now.’’

‘’Are you touching yourself to the sight of me, Mr. Ghostface?’’ you asked, bringing your thumb to your clit and rubbing.

A distorted whimper came from the other side of the line. He was.

The sensations from your touches were sending fuzzy tingles from your neck to your dripping pussy, but it wasn’t enough. You needed more.

‘’Is that all you’re going to do? Are you going to just watch me fuck myself for your own pleasure like a selfish asshole…or are you going to come and fuck me?’’

The line went dead and all the lights went off, sending chills down your spine. You removed your fingers, unsure if this was part of the game or not.

‘’Hello?’’ you called into the darkness of your bedroom. ‘’Is someone there?’’

It was stupid to ask, having seen enough horror movies to know what happens to characters who ask that very question.

The light returned with a static noise and you jumped when seeing a tall Ghostface figure standing at the end of your bed, watching you intently. He pounced on your bed like a lion on his prey, grabbing you by the ankles and pulling you toward him.

A deafening scream left your throat, thinking he was going to kill you. Instead, he parted your thighs and lifted his robe, his pants already down to his thighs and his hard cock out. He wasted no time, thrusting himself between your wet folds and splitting your cunt open as you moaned out loud.

‘’You like being filled with my cock, uh? You unfaithful little whore!’’ the distorted voice said, grabbing your hips and pounding into you. ‘’Getting fucked by someone else while her boyfrined is away in California.’’

Unfortunately, you couldn't deny it. This cock felt fucking amazing.

You pushed all thoughts of Chad to the back of your head. You’ll figure this out later.

Right now, all you wanted to focus on was the man between your legs.

The sounds that rang from your throat were nothing short of obscene, mouth hanging open helplessly while he wrecked your pussy, his cock slick with the evidence of your arousal. You clawed at your sheets, your back arching from the bed from the intense pleasure filling your whole body.

Moans and grunts mixed with wheezings came from underneath the mask. Breathing must not be easy under the rubber mask. You reached out and took it off, gasping in shock when seeing who was underneath.

Ethan?!

You opened your mouth to speak, but he threw your legs over his shoulders and you cried out at the change of angle, not caring that your boyfriend’s roommate was fucking you.

—

Scream taglist: @misfityanii @beautybyfire @iluvscream191 @mariposa555 @bella7866 @o638 @lulubelle14 @luvvtxinityy @frasersgf @Eddiefrickenmunson @jasperr-the-friendly-ghost @ghostf4cee @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @wandaswigglywoos @xjennyx2 @jennasslut @thatonesblog @mikaelsonsstuff @icarly23 @tcddszn @bt.oliana @skyesthebomb @a1mzcruml3y @red1culous @iluurmom @popeheywardssecretgf @michaelangdonsslut @byhrxb @kamthecoolest @kattybug @ravenstrueluv @landryslxys

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @marzipaanz @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly

#ethan landry #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x you #ethan landry smut #scream 6 imagines #scream 6

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withleeknow · 2 months

Text

rue de rivoli.

pairing: hyunjin x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, semi edited lol, a little sappy and very self indulgent and inspired by a very specific instance in that one hyunjin vlog in japan 🤷‍♀️ word count: 0.9k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / masterlist / ko-fi

hyunjin might be the worst - and you mean it, the worst - travel partner.

it’s all because of that ridiculously expensive camera of his and the little hobby that he’s taken up on.

“hey,” he calls out softly, trailing a few steps behind you as he raises the camera up to his face again. “hold it right there.”

you huff out a breath in mild annoyance, blowing some hair away from your face as the air escapes from your lips.

“seriously? you’ve taken a gazillion pictures already. this is the third time you’ve made me stop in the past thirty minutes.”

“but the lighting is just perfect.”

“we’re only here for a few days! i can’t see all the places i wanna see if you keep making me stop every two seconds!”

it was cute at first, how he kept asking you to stop in the middle of the street to snap a photo of you. it made you blush every time he did, because he would take another brief moment to admire the final product on his camera’s display screen and tell you that even though the photo turned out great, it could never truly capture how beautiful you are through his eyes. then he’d press a kiss to your cheek or a swift peck to your lips before taking your hand and tugging you along, en route to the tourist attractions that you’ve yet to come across.

to be fair, it’s still cute, and despite your feeble irritation, you still let hyunjin take his photos every time he asks. mostly because he would start sporting a gigantic pout on his face, coupled with the way his eyes widen like a puppy begging for a treat.

“please? you look so pretty right now. pleaseee?”

you acquiesce - of course you do - because who can say no to a cute whiny hyunjin?

you roll your eyes half-heartedly, and a bright grin immediately spreads on his lips because he knows that he’s getting what he wants, the smile so brilliant that it brings out his whisker dimples and turns his eyes into adorable crescent moons.

he patters over to you on light footsteps once the shot has been snapped, proudly showing you his handy work even though you secretly think it looks the same as any other photo of you that he’s taken - sometimes it’s your side profile with your hair covering half of your face because you’re too awkward to look directly at the camera, sometimes it’s you in random poses because you’re never sure what to do with your hands while getting your picture taken.

“did you even take any photos of the scenery?”

hyunjin shrugs, pretty indifferent to your question. “yeah, a few.”

“a few? give me that, let me see... you’ve taken two hundred and sixty four photos so far and only a few are of freaking paris?!”

another shrug, then cue one of the corniest things he’s ever said to you in your entire life. “you’re prettier than paris.”

sure, it’s a massively cliché thing to say, and a teeny bit cringeworthy to hear if this were a sappy romance movie. but coming from him, you know the sentiment is entirely genuine because hyunjin is nothing if not one of the sincerest people you know.

it makes you short-circuit as you stare up at him. the sun behind him softens by a fraction as it starts to make its descent, and the slowly fading sunlight looks as though it’s found a home as his personal halo. to have someone as beautiful as him tell you that you’re prettier than the city of love itself is quite honestly a little surreal, no matter how long you’ve been together.

“that was the cheesiest shit ever,” you comment, pretending to gag but knowing perfectly well that he can see the rosy flush on your cheeks. you mutter something else - for good measure - along the lines of never going on a trip with him again.

hyunjin laughs that endearing signature laugh of his, then he twists the cap back on the camera lens and once again lets the device dangle from the strap around his neck. he pulls you toward him with ease and kisses you deeply with a smile on his lips, one that’s warmer than the parisian sun could ever hope to be.

no, hyunjin isn’t a great travel partner. yes, mostly because he takes up all of your time trying to take pictures of you instead of letting you freely wander to the spots that you’d spent a lot of time bookmarking on google maps beforehand. he might be the worst person you’ve gone on a trip with because when you’re travelling, you like to be productive with your time and be able to do everything you set out to do in the limited number of days you have.

but even then, maybe it’s not that terrible having to miss watching the sunset in front of the eiffel tower because more exquisite than all of the most renowned artworks displayed in the louvre and more enchanting than any view you can spot from montmarte is your hyunjin that you adore, who’s kissing you in the middle of a street which name you can’t even pronounce.

any irritation you had from before slowly melts away. you don’t even care (that much) that you’re in the city of love.

any city is love when you’re with him.

(even when he messes up your travel plans sometimes.)

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#stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin x you #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x you #stray kids #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin

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fangswbenefits · 3 months

Text

The Arrangement (13) - Tempest

Chapter summary: A much needed conversation takes place... as well as a realisation that might change everything.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: Mentions of trauma.

Word count: 4.6k

Series masterlist . AO3

There was a crack on the ceiling.

A deep scowl settled on your face as you lay sprawled along the large bed, staring at the lightning-like fissure that had caught your attention.

How deep did it run? Had it been there all along? You wouldn't know. After all, you seldom spent time in this room.

His room.

Astarion had never shown interest in moving in with you and the others. He kept to himself and rushed to find accommodation at The Blushing Mermaid. You couldn't really fault him for wanting to keep to himself.

But you still kept this room vacant just in case he changed his mind.

He never did.

Little did you know that it would be a myriad of unfortunate events that had hurled him into this very room.

Until a few nights ago.

He left before you could convince him otherwise.

Guilt had been boiling in the pit of your stomach ever since, but you had come to accept that some things were out of your control.

The house confinement had been lifted after much insistence on Wyll's part. It no longer seemed appropriate, yet he promised to keep Fists nearby just in case.

Still, Astarion was now free to do as he saw fit.

Wyll had met up with him and he was seemingly doing well.

Seemingly.

The events of that night kept on flashing in your mind, as you sought to find a rational explanation to what could have caused him to stare at you the way he had.

Revulsion.

Disgust.

Had you taken it too far? Maybe you should have suggested for him to feed on you. Maybe you shouldn't have been brought up that night.

Maybe, maybe, maybe…

You could go on forever, going over countless possibilities, but you were not inside his head.

Only he had the answers to your questions.

This was the logical side of you urging your mind to make peace with what is out of your control.

But your heart still clenched and ached and hurt.

Your feelings had been severed from all logic.

You still felt the need to go through that event, desperate to find solace.

That maybe this, too, would pass.

Maybe.

And just as always, a tear detached from the corner of your eye and streamed downwards, leaving a familiar wet trail in its wake.

Glancing around, you could still see so much of him everywhere.

His embroidery set, his books, his shirts, some of his vials of poison.

Even his scent lingered.

You hadn't even bothered drawing the curtains and letting the sun or moon in.

It was as if he was everywhere and nowhere all at once.

You heaved a deep sigh as you mustered the strength and will to shift your focus on what you could control.

The crack on the ceiling stared at you and you stared back at it, eventually deciding you should do something about it.

Pushing yourself off the bed, you placed both hands on your hips with newfound determination.

This you could fix.

Maybe.

The door was open, and you yelped in surprise as you saw movement in the corner of your eye.

Wyll was leaning against the doorframe with folded arms and the same kind and soft expression he always held around you.

“I didn't mean to scare you.”

You ran your hands along the silky fabric of the nightdress to adjust it before slipping into your robe, tying it snugly around your waist.

“Oh, I was simply distracted.” you blurted out, hurriedly wiping the wetness from your face.

An understanding smile curved his lips. “I knew I'd find you in his room.”

“It's not his room,” you immediately said. “Well – not really,” you added, fearing you had come across as too harsh.

He arched an eyebrow but said nothing.

Your gaze landed on the ceiling once more. “There's a crack on the ceiling.”

He slowly joined your side and followed your line of sight. “So there is.”

“I need to fix it.”

“You? Now? Do you think the ceiling is giving in?”

You stared at him, perplexed. “What?”

“Do you think it poses danger?” he asked, his eyes on you. “It is quite small.”

There was an argument to be made that the size of things seldom mattered.

Tiny cracks could make way to bigger ones.

Tiny cracks could still hurt.

They could still inflict damage.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, and you flinched. “Are you well?”

“Yes. Quite.”

An obvious lie you hadn't bothered to flesh out.

He didn't look convinced in the slightest, but didn't press things further.

You enjoyed that about Wyll. He knew exactly when silence was the best and more adequate answer. Sometimes, words just weren't enough.

Eventually, you cleared your throat. “I assume you're not here just visiting.”

“You caught me,” he said playfully, hands laced behind his back. “I come bearing news.”

From the way his face had faintly dropped, you could immediately tell your mood was about to shift in an unwanted direction.

“Ava?”

He nodded. “We still haven't been able to tie her to anything as of yet.”

You felt your stomach clench with dread. “It can't be… she has to be involved somehow.”

“I agree. I have the finest inquisitors trying to break through her facade – if she has one.”

There had to be something.

She had to be responsible.

“What about Rob Sorel? Surely he can be of help.”

A scowl twisted his face. “Nothing as of yet. He has a solid alibi that he insists on roping her into. Besides, he's an established patriar of the city, there is only so much pressure we can apply before tensions rise amongst the noblemen.”

A shaky sigh rushed past your lips.

Wyll was stuck between a rock and hard place, no doubt. On one hand, he sought to act dutifully and according to his moral code. On the other hand, he was far from being impartial in the matter, and his friendship towards both you and Astarion could be seen as a compromising factor.

“How much time do we have until you have to set them free?”

“Maybe one more day,” he said. “Rob Sorel is the tricky part here. Ava has no power, but he does. He has connections that extend far beyond our reach, and if they take notice that he's imprisoned, it might trigger unforeseeable consequences.”

You began pacing around the room, urged by your nervousness and frustration.

“What of Waterdeep?”

Wyll followed your every move with his eyes. “Gale has yet to encounter anything suspicious that could be tied to her.”

You slumped into a nearby chair and pressed your face into the palms of your hands, letting out a growl. “I am not wrong about this,” you said almost pleadingly, lips quivering. “Wyll. I am not wrong. She – there is something wrong with her. Astarion…”

Your voice trailed off at the mention of his name in your mouth.

It hurt.

A painful jab in your chest rendered you silent, and you lowered your face, anticipating tears of frustration.

Wyll rushed to your side, placing a comforting hand atop your head, patting it gently.

“We will figure this out. You have my word.”

His word held weight. You knew of this. If there was anyone in Baldur's Gate whose word was worth gold, it was Wyll's.

But… “It is not fair. It is not fair that now he doesn't want to pursue this anymore… because of her.”

Wyll dropped to one knee, eye-levelling with you. “Astarion is stronger than we give him credit for, and he is free to choose his own path.”

“What if it's the wrong one?”

“You can't decide that for him,” Wyll reasoned, taking your hand in his. “All we can do now is give him time and respect that.”

Astarion needed time and you needed to find a way to make that realisation less agonising.

You wanted nothing more than to be a comforting presence to him, but surely not at the expense of his well-being.

Breaking into a sob, you managed to stare into his eyes. “How is he doing?”

Wyll offered the warmest smile. “I believe he is doing well – within reason, that is. He was spotted hunting in the outskirts of the city before I got here.”

That should have put your mind at ease, but it only seemed to make matters worse.

“It's not enough… boars and deers and carrion cannot satiate him as thinking creatures do.”

His hand tightened around yours and his face was firm. “Are you referring to yourself?”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“I do not mean to pry on your relationship with him, but you're a dear friend of mine,” he began. “I am aware you want to help him get through his hunger, but you don't have to.”

Immediately, you pulled your hand from his grasp as if burned.

You didn’t need to be scolded on this.

“Don’t. Do not do this.”

Wyll fell silent, but there was a hint of sadness sprawled across his features.

Then it quickly dawned on you how unfair you were being towards him.

“I apologise… you mean well, I know.”

Ever courteous, Wyll shook his head. “I overstepped a line. You care deeply for him and the bond you two share is foreign to me.”

This time, you took his hand in yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Wyll also possessed a heart of gold that few could rival with. He never hesitated to take a step back if he believed to be in the wrong.

And he wasn't.

“No, you're right. You're merely looking out for a friend.”

“For both of you, actually,” he promptly corrected. “I care for both of you and I would detest for you to part ways unless as a last resort.”

You inhaled sharply. “We'll figure things out… hopefully.”

Were you trying to convince Wyll or yourself?

He rose to his full height, pulling you up with him. “If there is someone who can figure things out, it's you.”

How you wished that was so, but you accepted his words with a sincere smile.

“Do not fight me on this,” he said, playfully jabbing a finger into your shoulder. “You brought us all together

“It was only possible because of everyone's commitment,” you said truthfully. “Do not fight me on this.”

Wyll chuckled as you used his words against him, raising both hands. “Very well, very well.”

You looped your arm around his, allowing yourself to feel lighter and push the fear and concern aside even if just for a moment.

“It's quite late. You can stay over,” you offered kindly as the two of you headed downstairs.

He patted your hand. “Ah, I would gladly take up that offer, but duty calls.”

“At this hour?”

“The city never sleeps, my dear friend.”

It had to be an exhausting job more often than not, especially with all the unpredictability that came with it.

As you reached the kitchen, you were greeted by a couple of flickering candle lights spread across the room, providing just enough clarity for you to reach the front door.

Your arm slipped from his and you pulled him into a hug, which he reciprocated.

“Take care,” he said, patting your back lovingly. “We'll stay in touch.”

You nodded, fighting back the tears that had begun to prickle at your eyes.

When he finally pulled away, you realised that if Astarion had been there, he would have teased you to death about Wyll.

Alas…

With a final nod, he went out into the cool night, categorically greeted by two Fists that awaited him outside, ready to escort him back.

Just as you were about to close the door shut, Shadowheart's low voice was heard.

“Are you well? Was it a nightmare?”

You turned to face her. “Oh, no. Wyll dropped by to say that they might not be able to hold Ava as a prisoner for much longer.”

It was interesting that despite the abrupt departure from Astarion, you had been able to sleep undisturbed. Not a single nightmare or bizarre dream had plagued your subconscious ever since.

Granted, you had been using the lavender oil Shadowheart had gifted you, but its effectiveness was still debatable.

She grimaced, adjusting her own robes, as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Snivelling little cockroach,” she said with a hiss. “There must be a way to catch her in a lie.”

It was far too late and you were far too exhausted to pursue this matter once again.

You needed to step out and catch some fresh air.

“I'll be in the backyard.”

Shadowheart's quick steps drew near. “Do you want some company?”

“I'd rather be by myself, if that's alright.”

She nodded, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze. “Of course.”

Slipping past the open door, you made your way around the house and towards the back garden that Gale took pride in keeping luscious and vibrant.

You hadn't told any of them what had happened between you and Astarion a few nights ago.

They knew something had happened, but didn't press you for details, which you were thankful for. They assumed he had parted from the group again because of the whole Ava ordeal and that he needed to process things.

But you knew it was related to you. You knew deep inside you that something within him had been triggered and it made your heart clench knowing you were probably the root cause of it.

The gentle night breeze rushed past your cheeks, as you hurried along, barefoot and with only a thin robe to keep any semblance of heat close to your body.

The grass crunched softly under your feet and you only came to a halt once you found yourself surrounded by countless flowerbeds of all shapes and sizes.

You took a deep breath, calmness filling your lungs as the soothing scent of grass and pollen wafted around you.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough for now.

The crickets were in full force tonight which only added to the magical ambiance.

For the first time in what seemed like too long, you smiled widely.

You wrapped the robe around you tightly as you sat on the wooden bench by the impressive row of night orchids.

Mindlessly, your hand reached down and you plucked a wilted flower bud that had certainly gone past its time.

It was still as radiant as ever in hues of dark blue and purple.

You twirled the stem in between your fingers as you glanced up to admire the glinting stars high up above, sprawled across the sky.

Bathed in moonlight and surrounded by calm and quiet, you pulled your legs up and pressed them against your chest, resting your chin on your knees.

You vaguely wished you could freeze this moment in time and take in all the beauty that surrounded all of you.

“It's quite a sight.”

You jolted in your seat at the sound of a velvety voice.

Astarion.

Your eyes found his crimson ones in the dark of night, and an overwhelming urge to bolt straight into his arms nearly took over.

But your mind held you back, rooting you in place as you watched him approach.

“The stars, I mean,” he added with a purr, glancing upwards at the starry night sky.

The playful jab didn't go amiss and you felt a faint smile tugging at your lips.

He had uttered that same remark many moons ago, teasing you for entering his field of vision.

And now here he was, entering yours and capturing your attention like he had the first time.

It was as if the very sight of him was a force of nature that slammed mercilessly against your chest, robbing you of air.

Your heart was thumping so hard you could hear each heavy beat in your ears.

You leaned back, taking in the full sight of him.

He looked… well.

He looked fed.

He looked like himself.

But there was this aura about the way he slowly moved that indicated something was amiss.

Silently, he sat next to you, far enough that your heart skipped a fleeting beat.

Should you say something? Ask something? Should you wait for him?

Astarion eventually turned to stare at you. “It's quite cold tonight yet you're out here wearing nothing but your paper-thin nightdress and an equally useless robe.”

You opened your mouth, but you just couldn't speak.

He slipped the thick cloak off his shoulders and draped it over yours with a click of his tongue.

“You were never one to properly look after yourself, but, darling… do not get sick on me,” he finished with what seemed to be a genuine teasing smile.

Words were stuck in your throat. The fear and dread that you might utter something wrong completely froze you in place.

He looked and talked like your Astarion.

But was he truly being himself?

His gaze dropped to the flower in your hand and he tugged it free from your grip, inspecting it closely.

“Ah, flowers… beautiful, but–”

“–they make for lousy poisons,” you completed, voice coming out raspy.

Another genuine smile ghosted his lips. “Yet it would look even more beautiful on you,” he said, his hand reaching out to tuck the stem behind your ear. “As most things do.”

“Astarion…” you said, swallowing hard.

“I meant every word.”

He was overcompensating and deflecting.

Your heart sank.

It wasn’t that he didn’t mean what he was saying, but you could tell this was an attempt at mending things between you without quite addressing the issue.

And he clearly realised you had seen right through him as he sighed. “Alright, alright… we do need to talk, don't we?”

You nodded silently.

A shiver ran through your body and it wasn't due to the cold breeze.

It was the gripping fear that whatever came next might break your spirit.

He fixed his stare somewhere in the distance before speaking again, “I apologise for leaving so hurriedly that night. I… supposed I got carried away and it felt rather overwhelming.”

Your mouth had dried up. “What did I do wrong?”

This time, he turned his head to fully face you, a sliver of confusion twisting his pleasant features. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It was me – my head – that got in the way.”

You didn’t believe him.

“You were talking to me and suddenly it was as if I had said something horrifying,” you whispered, doing your best to keep your tone steady. “It was me… it was something I said.”

He paused for a moment. “It is not your fault that this happens. I need you to understand that. Please.”

A lump formed in your throat but you swallowed it right away, not wanting to be bound to silence.

This conversation was long overdue.

“Can I be honest?”

He quickly nodded. “I would expect nothing less from you.”

You collected yourself and your heart. “I don't know how to help you… I don't know what to do…” you said truthfully, lacing your fingers together and unable to face his piercing eyes. “I don't want to be too much… I don't want to trigger you. I do–”

Astarion cut you off immediately. “Look at me. Please.”

He waited for you to do so and only then did he proceed. “There was a time I cursed from having a wriggling worm inside my head. Little did I know that that was the least of my problems. And this is my problem. Not yours.”

You had to bite down on your lower lip to keep it from quivering.

He suddenly looked weary, running a hand along his face. “I am tired – exhausted to have my mind holding my body back. There are times when I can go through with it… and it's mostly thanks to you and your patience.”

There was a part of you that was relieved that he wasn't upset with you.

But a more vicious part of you rose a voice inside your head, telling you he was merely doing damage control.

That he just wanted you for your blood.

“What's that look on your face?” he asked, sounding hurt. “You do not believe me?”

You pushed the mocking voice away and blinked. “No – I just… Astarion… I don't know what to do. I don't. I want to be here for you, but I keep fearing we're pushing it.”

He pressed his lips into a fine line, brows knitted together.

Your legs dropped and you straightened yourself with a sigh, the sudden movement causing the orchid to drop from behind your ear and onto the ground.

“What can I do? How can I help?”

He looked almost offended for a brief moment, but his features eased before he spoke, “I don't want you to treat me like a glasshouse. I don't want pity or mercy. I want whatever you are willing to give me.”

Your heart was beating faster than ever. “And what do you need?”

Silence.

Astarion kept mixing want with need and it often landed him in less than ideal situations.

“To finally be free. I believed facing Cazador and destroying him would grant me freedom, but there is no worse cage than your own mind.”

Now, that was an answer that made your eyes widen.

Ava had once uttered similar words.

In truth, you expected him to make it all about you, but his words lifted a weight off your shoulders.

But there was still doubt in your mind.

“I can and will be here for you,” you said firmly. “But I need you to promise me something.”

He nodded.

“Please let me know whenever I say or do something that hurts you. That night–”

He held one hand up, effectively silencing you. “That night was different. It was the timing of it all that caused me to…”

His voice faltered.

You waited for him to find it again.

And he did. “I don't want our relationship to revolve around some silly arrangement to keep me in line. As much as I crave your blood more than anything else, I do not wish for this to feel like a transaction.”

“I've always made it clear that I more than willingly give it to you.”

“Yet my mind tells me I am using you.”

It was as if someone had thrusted a knife into your heart. “Astarion – what? You… you're not.”

The mocking voice inside your head laughed loudly, making your shudder.

“Then don't offer me your blood,” he said. “Feeding on you has become tainted. For now… I can't do it.”

He's a liar. He's used you before and he's playing mind games again.

“You can feed again whenever you're ready,” you said, finding a way to voice your thoughts in the midst of the negativity that had such a tight hold on you. “I know wildlife isn't enough.”

Astarion’s shoulders slumped. “Thank you.”

You nodded.

He didn't know how close you were to breaking into tears. Not from what he was saying, but from the vitriol that your own mind was spewing in regards to him.

He wasn't inside your head, but you were.

And it was awful.

Still, you fought through it. You had to. “I'm here for you.”

You felt his cool fingers brush against yours.

“You don't have to be.”

One by one, your fingers laced with his and you realised your hand was freezing from the cool night air.

But you could still feel his touch.

You could still feel him.

“We can stay as friends.”

Astarion let out a growl of sheer frustration. “Why must you insist on this? Does it truly matter if we are friends or lovers or whatever other social construct you think we should fall under?”

His grip tightened around you, in a silent plea.

“We're… us. No one is like us,” he went on. “We don't need labels or to follow any relationship rules that some drunkard shoved into a book.”

His last remark earned a chuckle from you, but mostly because he was so right.

“We're us.” you repeated.

“Yes. Whatever that entails. As long as you're comfortable with me, we're us.”

Slowly but surely, your heartbeat slowed down, falling into a steady rhythm.

“I want you to be comfortable with me, too,” you said. “Just promise to let me in. If you need time and space, I will respect that, just… don't vanish.”

Silly girl, he'll break your heart again, the voice mocked.

“I promise.”

The two of you leaned back against the wooden bench, still quite far apart, but not letting go of each other's hands.

You felt so light it was almost if the faintest of breezes could carry you away, floating across the field of flowers.

But even if it were so, you doubted he'd let go of your hand.

You'd remain anchored to him.

For better or for worse.

You'd either float or sink with him.

You liked the options, because now they existed. Before this conversation, all you had was the impending feeling that the tiniest of cracks would tear through your relationship, and that it would sink.

Now, you had hope.

After a while, you spoke again, “What now?”

His thumb caressed yourse absentmindedly. “What do you mean?”

“We're at a standstill. The Ava situation… finding a way for you to walk in the sun. We're rooted in place, it seems.”

Somehow, he managed a chuckle. “You and I made progress, did we not? Even at the expense of everything else. Isn't that worth something?”

You found him staring at you with those crimson eyes of his and that genuine smirk that always got to you.

“I suppose. You're right… yet I can't help but feel sorry that you seem to be the one with much more to lose.”

He squeezed your hand playfully, earning a gasp from you. “Darling, you don't get it, do you? I've spent hundreds of years unable to form a single bond with anyone that didn't feel tainted or doomed. Until you came along. You and that bleeding heart of yours. If there is a price to be paid for a single meaningful relationship, I'll pay it.”

Your heart clenched and the first tears began to stream down your face.

You adored him.

In that moment, you wished to melt into his embrace.

“Besides, nothing is over yet. We're quite terrific at turning the impossible into possible.”

You chuckled, eyes welling up with more tears. He shifted closer to you, letting go of your hand and brushing both thumbs across your cheeks to wipe them clean.

“There is one regret I have, though.”

A jab of fear poked at you. “What is it?”

He cradled your face in his hands. “You're so cold right now and I cannot warm you up.”

You felt as though you might melt into his touch.

“Is that your only regret?” you asked playfully.

He shook his head. “I suppose not. Striking a deal with Ava might top this.”

Your face dropped instantaneously.

“Oh, I've ruined the moment, haven't I?”

“Maybe,” you said softly as he pulled back. “But we'll get through this. Whether you decide to pursue the Wish spell or not, I am here for you. We are here for you.”

He looked peaceful.

You hadn't seen that expression in a while.

“I remember Ava once saying that pursuing the Wish spell was folly. That I either wished to be cured from vampirism altogether, or that I'd end up some weirdly washed out version of a vampire spawn.”

Oh.

And then your heart plummeted as realisation hit you.

How did you not see this before?

“Astarion?”

“Hmm? What?”

Once again, your heart raced in your chest. “Astarion… who would benefit from you not having your vampirism meddled with?”

He arched an eyebrow in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Dread took over you and flinched away from his grip, bolting to your feet. “By preventing you from getting access to the Wish spell, you remain a spawn… untouched… your blood…”

Astarion's eyes widened.

“Shit.”

TBC

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion smut #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x oc #astarion x female tav #astarion x female reader #astarion x f!tav #astarion x f!reader

876 notes · View notes

byhees · 2 months

Text

when you find their baby photos.

엔하이픈 ・ female reader + word count 700 genre fluff established relationship non-idol au warnings not proof-read skinship petnames light profanity (god) mention of food — more

a/n. i really dug through my drafts n found this keke

heeseung would snatch that little picture out of your grip in an instant, cheeks lightly brushed with a pink tint; “what’re you doing, love??”, but it’d be laced with slight bashfulness and embarrassment. would hold the photograph high up in the air, arm outstretched and everything, making it exponentially harder for you to retrieve the little treasure piece. “baby picture? what do you mean, love? i don’t see any around here.” is trying his hardest to conceal the painfully obvious flush of his face…

jay would stare at your phone screen, wide-eyed; first thought to run through his mind would be ‘how did you even manage to find that??’ would awkwardly clear his throat, whilst being bombarded with heaps of compliments— “woah, you look so cute here.” the tips of his ears are reddening. “aww, look at your little cheeks!” at this point, they’re probably neon-red; given your cooing at the slightly pixelated image, he doesn’t find it that surprising that his baby picture is adorning your phone lockscreen the day after, a shy chuckle escaping his lips...

jake would simply gawk at your phone; ‘oh, no yeah, who’s that?’ would be an ample encapsulation of his expressions. would be so so embarrassed (because who wants their significant other to see a picture of their younger selves striking a questionable pose— he’s definitely not a part of that population). would try to divert your attention away from the photograph of baby jake— but would fail miserably upon seeing you swipe to another picture, his little plan crumbling in pure mortification of the photo. “oh my god, what am i even doing…” is what he’d say, face buried in the palms of his hands, cheeks heating up with every passing compliment…

sunghoon would, first, let out the tiniest of shrieks because, is that a baby picture— correction, his baby picture— being shoved into his face? is dramatically swinging his arms in the air; would raise a hand to your eyes, as though to shield his photo from your gaze. “sweetheart, this is very embarrassing, by the way,” he’d say, awkwardly coughing. would, lowkey, smile a little upon hearing your soft coos; ends up holding you close to his embrace, smile growing with every endearing comment…

sunoo would tilt his head ever so slightly, and blink rapidly in confusion; after all, you did just burst into the room, a small, precious baby picture clutched in hand. honestly wouldn’t mind too much, finding himself really cute, actually. would say things like “don’t my cheeks look as squishy as before?”; manages to, somehow, convince you to reveal a baby photo of yourself— both of you would wind up entangled in a lazy hug, hushed squeals falling from your lips at the sheer adoration of it all…

jungwon would take a brief look at the photo and pause; he had not expected to see a zoomed-up picture of his younger self, holding a little heart gesture towards the camera. would burst into immediate laughter— snorts at how ridiculous he looks, posed with his slice of pizza; unintentionally recreates the image, face twisting to the same, jubilant smile. tiny tiny screeches along the lines of “that was cringe, please forget that”. would spend the night scrolling through his chat history with you, adamant and determined to find a baby picture of you in the midst of the chaotic texts— just wants to say “my baby’s still so pretty”, to you...

riki would, initially, be flabbergasted, gobsmacked even; a very audible gasp would fall from his lips. tries to get hold of the little rectangular device— that is, your phone— but fails because of how adept you are at defence; “hoho, two can play that game,” he’d say, whipping out his phone from his pocket; you both end up shoving baby pictures of the other in each others’ faces, lips pressed into thin lines to suppress uproars of giggles and disbelieving “what am i doing, oh my god”. your wallpapers are now baby pictures of the other…

taglist open! @halcyoni-ki @wondipity @yjjungwon @shysakuno @niktwazny303 @vnsux @minhosify @haechansbbg @yeomha @stepout-09-15 @chansburgah @sona-verse01 @lilly-bubblelops @smouches @mrchweeee @luvistqrzzz @nwjws @ibsysbsfsunsbs @rikisly @amyysfics @mixtape-racha @berry-and-kkami @rikislady @gweoriz @czlluvriki @okwonyo @okwons networks! @kflixnet @enhanet @k-labels

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catcze · 6 months

Note

NO BC LISTEN.

WIRO REACTING TO HIS CRUSH/LOVER WEARING A SUIT. LIKE IT FITS THEIR FRAME SO PERFECTLY AND SNUGLY AND WDYM “WHY IS HE LOOKING” OFC HE’S LOOKING LIKE HELLO???

I can’t tell if he would shameless let his eyes roam or would avoid looking at them KDIDKSKSK WIRO BRAINROT IS SO REALL

KAJNSDSA BROOO OMG okokokok something along the lines but 👀

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

You're fiddling with the cuffs of your suit as you exit the changing room, a frown on your face. You're nervous— of course you are! It's not often that you're invited to a high-profile, black-tie event like this, and you'd rather not stick out like a sore thumb.

Wriothesley, who sits comfortably in a plush armchair, has been invited before though. But time and time again he's turned down the invites with some of the most ludicrous excuses. 'A monster is attacking the fortress' is one of his most used ones, closely followed by 'a bird shat on the shoulder of my suit.' But you wonder why he's accepted this time, despite his distaste for the limelight. Well, you shrug, pocketing the thought for later. At least you won't be going alone.

"What do you think?" You pose the question to him, still frowning as you look down at yourself. Did you look okay? Was the fit alright? Did this color wash you out? You had splurged on this (well. Wriothesley splurged on this, technically. He had said it's a gift) and had the suit custom-done, so it should fit your measurements to an exact, but... you frown, not able to shake off the nerves.

And it doesn't help that Wriothesley hasn't said anything since you've stepped out, either. Merely stares at you, eyes roaming your figure. Even at your question, he acts like he hadn't even heard it. Does the suit look that bad?

"Wrio?"

That seems to reach him, and he blinks, finally registering that he's been staring at you— and that you've begun to stare back.

"Oh, uh. Yeah, it looks nice on you. The tailor did a very good job," he says, glancing away, hoping you don't see the red tinge to his cheeks or his ears.

"Really?" You ask, evaluating yourself in the mirror with a frown. "I don't know. I feel like I look like a mess."

"if you look like a mess, then I dread to think what I look like," he says, glancing at you for a second, getting an eyeful of you in that damn good suit, and feels his mouth dry up again. Wriothesley turns his eyes to the corner of the room, finding the fake palm plant there incredibly interesting. Barely more interesting than you. In that very flattering suit. It emphasizes your body very well, he thinks. Makes him see just enough of you while still leaving some to the imagination. And the color you chose for it... red and black, to match what he'll wear, you said. He sighs, troubled, because just the mere memory of it has his heart racing and his palms sweating.

You keep criticizing your reflection for a while longer, and it takes just enough time for Wriothesley to work up the self-control to look your way. "You look good," he says at last. Then clears his throat. His face feels hot. "Better than good, even. You don't have anything to worry about, I promise."

It placates you, because you finally give your own reflection a rest. You back away from the mirror, humming. "If you say so. Thank you, Wrio," you tell him, flashing him a small, shy smile just before you back up into the changing room once more to take it off.

Once you're out of the vicinity, Wriothesley drops his head into his palms, groaning softly.

if he's this much of a mess around you at a fitting, he wonders how much of a fool he could make himself at the actual event.

#astronetwrk #「 🐈‍⬛ 」 catcze.desserts #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact x reader #cw gn reader #genshin impact #wriothesley #Fun fact he alr rejected the invite before he learned you were also invited & would attend lmao #as soon as he knew you were going he wrote up a follow up letter going smthn like 'NO WAIT EXCUSE ME CHANGE OF PLANS I WILL ATTEND'#babe i will b so honest im drunk as a skunk rn so if its bad im so sorry ill edit come morening ily mwah mwah #<-tag from last night when I was planning 2 post drunk but decided to hold on to it HAJJDS dw dw i edited it alr

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blueparadis · 7 months

Text

╰┈➤ BLOODSTREAM ✦ NEUVILLETTE.

⟣ ──┈ · · · + synopsis ➢ Neuvillette has always avoided you when he is in heat, more like ghosted you but not this time, not when you are knocking at his doorstep to take care of him.

⟣ ──┈ · · · + cw ➣fem!redaer, abo dynamic,heavy marking, nipple stimulation, blood k!nk, cockwarming, knotting, piv + unprotected, monsterfucking, mention of rut, oral acts, mild dub-con; 1k word count. | blog navigation + koct’23 masterlist. |

There is a rustle of rumor amongst the people in Fontaine ever since you came to Fontaine in search of work, that Monsieur Neuvilette has a separate chamber, adjacent to his main office, where he spends his time when in a rut. Some people even say that he is just a pesky knockoff of god, inhuman, a puppet and so many more just because he enacts impartial judgment devoid of any feelings and emotions. But you begged to differ. They have not seen him closely like you. They have not seen him soaking himself wet when the sky weeps. They have not seen him when he is in your embrace. Like now.

Your fingers partly cover your face leaving room for the eyes as you inhale deeply, moaning and feeling a stinging pain inside your lower belly that makes you arch your head backward with a long inhaling moan. This is perhaps the fifth time he has made you cum and just by eating you out, surlping your juices and fingering your whole. You have lost track of it since every time you feel less sane, less human. As you gradually straighten your head again, accompanied by cloudy vision, shaky breaths, and sweaty skin you see Neuvillette licking the wounds on your supple skin. They are just love bites, you remind yourself feeling the sharp end of his fangs graze along your boobline. His tongue encircles around your pebbled nipple making you moan again.

“Monsieur Neuvilette, Are you feeling better now?” you ask feeling his fangs sit along your boobline. He does not bite. He never does yet you find yourself crawling back to those evenings when he would keep you in his embrace, let his teeth touch your skin whenever he kisses you. He is cautious around you. You do not understand why he is like that even though there is no risk if he crosses the line more than that. Your relationship with the iudex is ambiguous at best, but those little moments always come back to haunt you. He has never fucked you before; sure there were intimate moments but never went to the point of sex. It is frustrating at times given he has confided so many things in you.

Neuvillette mouth pauses, hung open around your boob.He does not answer but rather poses a question.“Why did you come here again?” You recall having a need to visit him to submit some papers and also, to get some official papers signed by him. You wince as his tongue lapped over one of your wounds. “Remember. You asked for this.” He states before taking your nipple in his mouth, pulling it away by holding it with his lips. He is careful not to let his fangs touch, not to get swayed by desire.

You do not deny any of it. It is true that you came to visit him during his rut when he strictly forbade you do so. Not only you but it is forbidden to visit him in his inner chambers for a certain time span once or twice in every month. Curiosity got the best of you, and the pressure of piles of papers had you totally forgotten about this rule. Breaking rule in Fontaine is not tolerated at any cost but perhaps once the chief justice regains himself he might punish you; maybe he is already doing it.

“I know. I’m aware.” You exclaim and he holds you by your waist, curling his arms around them letting his eyes fall upon you. They seem to sparkle or maybe it is just the lightning. “I’m just a beta. There is nothing to worry about of we … if we.”

Such a naive little thing you are. You stutter to say the very thing you wanna do. It makes his stone-cold heart warm. “You know nothing. But need not worry, I’ll give you a taste of it,” he whispers in your ears before focusing on what he was doing before. Your innocence tempts his desires so much. You try to laugh it off but then he says, “The rumours, they are not just rumours. Rumours grow when some of it is at least true, won’t you agree?” He arches you a little to align his cock with your entrance. You do not resist as he pushes his cock inside you.

The tip of his cock hits deep inside you as his knot starts to mature making you shut, tears pooling at the corner of them. His palms latched around your waist and they almost covered your whole waist now. His touch is cold, slippery, and wet. Neuvillette starts to make you bob up and down his cock as his cock grows inside you. The scales on his arms which you have so longed to see before were now slowly developing. He was transitioning. You want to see him but something blocks your eyes. It is not his hands, they are on your waist. A rumor that is shaping into a reality.

You moan and whimper as you feel another orgasm approaching. You can feel his high emerging too but you can not see. Your eyes are wrapped with something but you can not focus on what it is because his cock is hitting your sweet spot with so much precision that all the pain you have endured so far is now becoming pleasurable. Hot spurs of liquid shoot inside of you while his fangs sink at the dip of your neck, biting and sucking your blood. You can feel it. The flow of your blood from your vein to his mouth. You can even hear him gulp. You think you are going to lose consciousness but you did not.

You can see him now. His true form is in full glory. “You’re mine now.” He exclaims letting his tongue clean the blood over your neck as he twirls and swings his tail. “It will take a while for me to get back to my human form. You can rest now.” he says, guiding your head along his nape as he keeps himself busy licking those two symmetrical wounds clean. It does not hurt, nor sting. Maybe it is him who is healing it.

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redclercs · 10 months

Text

does he take care of you? ✩ max verstappen

— or, the one where max could easily fill your boyfriend's shoes.

✐ max verstappen x fem reader, charles leclerc x fem reader.

✐ inspired by the 1975's song 'sex'.

✐ warnings: cheating, toxic behaviors, alcohol consumption, charles is a jerk ngl, angst, mdni! explicit smut!! nipple play, fingering, piv, protected sex, riding, no after-care. while the actions portrayed in this writing are consensual and safe, do not take this as an example and be smart about having sex. 2k words.

HIS eyes are on you, even from across the room. You know it from the way your skin prickles and burns, the way goosebumps lift on your arms and legs, covered by the black dress your boyfriend picked out for you. Your boyfriend, who doesn’t notice—or doesn’t care—about the man who can’t keep his off you. Has never been able to keep his eyes off you.

“Are you cold?” Charles asks as you walk away from the man he was holding a conversation with, one you were not invited to participate in.

“No,” you rub your arms with your palms, making the goosebumps disappear. “Just an air current.”

Charles eyes you up and down, something he’s done several times now. While you changed in your shared hotel room, before you got into his Pista, and before you posed at the Black Carpet for this sponsor event. And he seems unsatisfied every time his eyes leave your figure.

"What?" you taunt, eyebrows arched. He picked this dress, he cannot possibly complain about anything now. He's not even going to care about it when it ends up on the floor of the hotel room along with his perfectly ironed suit.

"Nothing, chérie," he kisses your temple softly, a flutter that makes your skin itch, but you keep your hand stuck to your side, accepting the gesture like you're supposed to. "Give me a minute?"

"Sure," you stay planted in your place as he walks away, your boyfriend. The same person you hate the most every time you are dragged to these events. "I'll be waiting right here," you add, although he's out of earshot and anyway, he won't be looking for you, not for a while.

It's always the same.

"Having fun?" Max is by your side the moment Charles disappears, this too, is always the same.

"I'm thrilled," you reply, mouth in a thin line when you turn to face him. Max has a few drinks on him already, the red in his cheeks, the tell-tale sign. "What about you?"

"It's always fun seeing you with your boyfriend," his inflection doesn't change, he's not even being sarcastic. He's bored. "Where did he go, by the way?"

There are many answers to that question and each one could be the right one. He's holding a boring conversation with another sponsor representative, he's taking pictures with his team, he's pretending to be single and talking to a floozy.

"How would I know?" you retort.

Max's expression finally shifts to an arrogant smile that has you clenching your teeth. You hate him too, sometimes.

"Want to get out of here?" Max downs the last of the drink you didn't notice him holding. His cheeks flush again, eyes brightening.

"You can't drive, Max Emilian," you shake your head and roll your eyes.

Max laughs, taking a black card from the inside pocket of his black suit. "Who said anything about driving?"

You take the elevator first, the card Max gave you is inside your purse and you have the room number memorized. It’s always this easy to slip away from Charles and the rest of the crowd, it’s not as simple for Max but he always manages to.

Your shoes are off and your hair is down by the time Max gets to the hotel room. You’ve had enough time to think your next steps through, whether you want to stay or take the lift back to the party, back to Charles and your hatred. You suspect Max does this on purpose every time—give you time to regret your choices and walk away.

You never walk away.

“He picked this dress out, you know?”

Max has sobered up by the time he crosses the door. His gaze is clearer and his cheeks have lost a shade or two of pink.

“I figured,” the corner of his mouth goes up, taunting again. “It’s ugliest fucking thing.”

“That’s a very mean thing to say,” but it’s true, you hate the dress. It should be you giving Charles fashion advice and not the other way around, but he never takes you seriously. Not about clothes and not about anything else.

Max shrugs, his suit jacket is already resting in the loveseat by the window. “Truth hurts.”

You have no more time to waste. Charles won’t miss you, but it doesn’t mean your absence won’t go unnoticed. People often wonder where your boyfriend’s prettiest accessory is when you’re not around. Most of the time all Charles does is smile and say you’ll come back in a minute.

Not another word before his hands are on you. The calluses on his fingers are so familiar now they somewhat feel like home. How can you hate someone who makes you feel like this, too?

“You’re going to break the zipper,” you breathe against Max’s neck. He’s so impatient, always. These stolen moments are brief and apart from each other, although less every time.

“Wouldn’t that be a problem?” He scoffs, although there’s humor in his voice. Yet he is more gentle trying to undo the zipper of your dress, his knuckles graze the skin on your back and you’re covered in goosebumps again.

It’s your turn to fumble with the zipper of his pants. You’re as impatient as he is but he doesn’t hold it against you the way you do. It’s a very Max thing to do in these situations.

“Why were you staring at me, then?” You ask, breathless. Max’s hands are separating your thighs, and you’re throbbing with anticipation, yet you can’t let go of the thought that’s running through your mind. “If the dress is so horrendous.”

“Seriously?” Max rolls his eyes, but his hand slides to your inner right thigh, fingers ghosting up and down, close to where you want them to be and gone the following second. Your hips buck and it’s Max’s chance to prolong your torture, still holding back his answer.

One of his hands runs up on your side, caressing your hips and the curve of your rib cage before getting to your breast. Your nipples are already perked in excitement, and the sensation that runs through you when he pinches one is nothing short of delicious. But his other hand is still resting on your inner thigh, tracing lazy circles that are running your patience dry.

“I liked the view,” Max grunts as he leans down to kiss your neck and the hollow behind your ear. “But I think, I prefer seeing you like this.”

Your hands are on his hair, pulling softly as he continues to play with your nipples. Adding his mouth now and then, twirling his tongue and grazing with his teeth. The room fills with your moaning and his panting, as you reach your hand down to his dick.

Your thumb swipes the pre-cum down his length, and Max’s breath hitches. It does every time you touch him. You pump him up and down, and this finally motivates him enough to put his fingers inside you, one by one.

This thumb presses down on your clit, and your back arches, making you let go of him momentarily, to hold on to his bicep, your nails sink into his skin.

That’s another imbalance you present to him every time. You mark him, and he can’t ever do the same.

“Fuck me, please,” you whine, his fingers aren’t enough no matter how well he knows how to use them as he pumps them in and out of you and rubs the bud of nerves that demands so much attention. “Please Max.”

He’s made you beg more before, but not tonight. You’re in the middle of another thing, you need to hurry. He can’t have you just the way he wants to, squirming and begging, whining and clenching around nothing as he burns the image in his brain. A memory to hold on to until your next meeting.

Max wastes time, albeit necessarily, looking for the condom he kept on the nightstand, while you rub your thighs together, trying your best to create friction. You sit up only after you see him open the little package, taking the condom from his hands to put it on him yourself. Your fingers are skilled as they run down his length, and Max can’t help but think not only about the many times you’ve done this with him, but with your boyfriend too.

Max watches your movements with lust-filled eyes, his breath fanning your neck, before leaving a wet trace of kisses down to your shoulder. You're desperate to have him inside you, you can't waste more time.

This is the image Max is going to cherish when he's apart from you. The way you look on top of him, how you push him down to the mattress with both palms on his chest, half-moons adorn his skin by the time his shoulders are completely down. He's going to remember the way you moaned and threw your head back as you finally, finally inserted his cock in your pussy.

There aren't many occasions in which Max is willing to waive control to anyone. But he lets you set the pace as you ride him, using his chest as support while moving your hips to hit the spots where you want him most. His hands grip your skin tightly, and there is that fear in the back of your mind that he might finally leave a bruise or a scratch that reveals your little affair.

"N–not so hard," you say, through a high pitched sound that comes right from your throat. "It's going to bruise."

And Max thinks maybe it should. He wants to squeeze you harder, to mark you and bruise you and really, really make you his. To leave evidence behind that he was with you, in you.

But he relents, he always does.

His hand goes back to between your legs, rubbing your clit harshly, quickly. The way he knows will push you through the edge and will make you scream his name.

"Pl–please keep doing that," you gasp, as your pace stutters. "I'm so close."

So is Max, the way you move on top of him, the sight of your breasts bouncing, the salt on your skin due the sweat and the way you glow have him so close to a release, he wonders how he's been able to hold it back.

He thrusts up, hitting you deeper than you had managed yourself. A surprised squeal leaves your mouth and you sink your nails on his shoulder.

"Again," you demand.

Surprisingly, you reach your climax before Max does. Throwing your head back, you let the wave of pleasure run through you, your throat aches when you produce more sounds, turning into nothing other than sensitive nerves and shaky body parts.

Max follows you soon, with a loud groan, he pulls you deeper down into him, squeezing your ass with both hands.

You feel him go soft, still inside you, and you move your hips front and back creating some friction that makes your insides pulse, ready again. Max sighs, he knows he will be hard again even before taking his cock out of you, but tonight you're on limited time.

"We have to go," he says, raspy. "Your boyfriend must be waiting," he adds, bitterly.

And you hate him again, for ruining the perfect interaction you just had. Always bringing up Charles by the end of your nights together.

"Fine," you reply, pushing yourself off him, annoyed. "Let's go."

Silence falls heavy in the room, so contrariant to the sounds that filled it just minutes ago. You fix your hair in the bathroom and Max cleans himself up, tying the used condom before tossing it to the trash.

You give him the room's keycard as he's buttoning his shirt back up. You manage to zip your dress back up without his help, and feel smug about it. Max only rolls his eyes.

"See you down there," you place a hand on his shoulder, and though he's already looking at you, you finally make eye-contact.

Max always finds himself wanting more than what you can offer to him, and tonight isn't the exception. The words 'leave him' get stuck in his throat in a knot he swallows forcefully.

"See you down there," he echoes, and doesn't turn around to watch you leave.

He's never ready to see you with another man's arm around you, much less right after being with you in this way just minutes before. But he has to settle for this, always.

You've got a boyfriend, anyway.

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen smut #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen drabble #f1 smut #formula 1 smut #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #formula 1 imagines #f1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 x female reader

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silkjade · 11 months

Text

alhaitham x mermaid! reader (2)

⤀ warnings: fem!reader, no pronouns mentioned a/n: recommended to read the previous part first, since this is a direct continuation next ﾉ series masterlist ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓇼

For the past three weeks since your last encounter, alhaitham returns to the cove as usual, only to be met with no one. On the fourth week, he finally spots you lounging on a large rock, moonbathing under the pale light. The thought that it’s no wonder sailors are so easily enraptured, flits across his mind as he wades towards your rock.

It’s a shame that the moment your eyes meet, you dive back into the sea, the clear waters darkened under the blanket of night. He calls out your name only once, betting on the assumption that you’re still lurking close by. Sighing, he continues.

“I apologize for last time. I’d like to take you up on your offer.”

“… if it still stands of course,” he adds quickly.

There’s a hint of hesitance that lines alhaitham’s words, which is unusual for one normally so confident. Even more so, you notice he isn’t wearing his headphones— not over his ears nor around his neck. How interesting… perhaps you will surface.

“No ‘soundproof earpieces’ tonight?”

“They’d never last in the underwater pressure, so I’d really prefer if they at least stay intact for use on land.”

“And what if I decide to drown you right now? You wouldn’t be able to resist my song.”

It’s true, he probably wouldn’t. But logically speaking, a mermaid who’s chosen to aid him in perfecting his linguistics (multiple times), likely wouldn’t pose a huge threat. On the other hand, he did possibly offend you during your last meeting. In addition, mermaids were notoriously known to be headstrong and fickle as the sea itself. If that were truly the case…

“Then that would be bad luck for me.”

Always so cool, always so calm. The back of your fingers graze past his ear, tempting fate.

“Aren’t you afraid?”

“No.”

To be honest, alhaitham isn’t sure if you’re somehow testing him, what with the way your voice comes out honey sweet to his ears. But his mind is clear and his resolve is strong. He just hopes it translates well to you, despite the slight waver in his hushed voice.

“I know what a kiss means to you humans…” you say, tracing your fingers down the side of his neck, stopping only to toy with the gem on his chest. It’s faint, but you can feel his heartbeat pick up. Blinking once, twice, you look up, holding his gaze, and repeat the question that had left a questionable mark on your correspondence. “Do you trust me?”

There’s no denying that alhaitham is a smart man; he’s learned from his mistake and knows how to answer this time around. Lifting your chin, he gently pulls you in and seals the distance between you with his lips. Your arms wrap around his neck, deepening the kiss, before sinking below the surface, effectively tugging him along, and sending him tumbling into the water with you.

The coldness of the ocean is worlds apart from the warm sumeru air. Alhaitham jerks away, expecting to feel the familiar sting in his nose, but it never comes and he finds himself breathing water like air. You grasp his hand, dragging him into a world unknown— at least to him. You will happily be his guide.

“Well come on. Enough floundering around, we’ve got lots to see.”

After a night of swimming, alhaitham is absolutely exhausted by the time the two of you make it back to the little cove. Even with the ability to breathe underwater, his human body is still no match for the strong currents of the depths.

“I’ve always wondered why you call yourself feeble, but I see it now,” you tease.

He really only has the energy for a halfhearted retort. “Come to sumeru city, and then we’ll see.”

…

It’s a long pause before either of you speak again. Only the rolling of tides breaks the silence in the night.

“Do you mean it?” you ask softly, glancing at your tail. The remaining water droplets glisten under the full moon; you’d have a pair of legs once completely dry. Some of your kind yearned for the world above, but you’ve never quite understood the appeal until now.

“Mmm..” It’s a half conscious hum before drifting off to sleep against the cavern walls.

Behind some rocks lay his usual belongings which he had left hidden earlier in the night. You drape his strange half-cape over his sleeping form, recalling how humans tend to get cold easily in the sea breeze, especially while wet.

“Hey, wake up. It’s noon.”

And so alhaitham opens his eyes to find your face hovering inches from his. Upon further inspection (and after blinking away the sleep from his eyes), he notices that not only has your tail been replaced with a pair of legs, but that you’re also… completely bare.

“What are you—”

Immediately, he turns his head away, choking on his words as a heated blush tints his face. With the reveal that you did in fact know the human implications of a kiss, he’s sure you also know what you’re currently doing as well. But for now… he swiftly gets up, tossing his cape in your direction. He’ll have to make a stop at port ormos to buy you some real clothing later.

It’s amusing, how a man so collected falters in the face of intimacy. With a sly grin, you cover your naked figure, though it quickly fades when you see him packing to leave the privacy of the cavern.

“H-hey help me up!”

“Oh? Feeling feeble, are we?”

a/n2: help i'm so invested in this au i'm probably going to do a third part, so send me an ask or just reply below if you'd like to be added to the series taglist ! thank you for reading ♡

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luvtak · 1 month

Text

wanting, hhj x reader

✧ genre/tw extreme lying in the grass with hyune on his birthday, major yearning alert, really dangerous fluff i am so sorry, i love yous and maybe a few pet names, unedited<3

✧ w/c 784

✧ this is very quick and mainly just a word dump, but i hope you like it! some sweet for the sweetest boys birthday... how lovely the first bit of spring comes with him

Sitting close this close to him you can smell the sunscreen mixing with his sweet cologne– the scent of warm weather days; springs and summers spent laying together just like this… glowing underneath the sun like two sleepy cats. It’s funny to think that you’ve laid this way a hundred times in a hundred different ways, yet the novelty never wears. His long fingers swiping their way down your arm, reaching around your wrist and holding tightly. This close he can feel your heartbeat all around him, your chest pressed right into his and the rapid thump coming from his hold around your bracelet. Even after all this time, you still get so nervous being with him, the familiarity of his love swirling in your chest and your stomach–creating shaky hands and warm cheeks.

Hyunjin’s eyes are peering down at you, striking you down with the strength of it. He’s so happy, springtime brightening his complexion with the shiniest smile you’ve ever seen, happiness leaping off of him. The warm blush settling along his cheekbones, the same color of the blossoms above you, creates a brilliant desire to heat up in you. Not a physical desire, not the disastrous need of nights past, but a fire of want… days spent waking up together and kissing goodnight, pictures and paintings, shared nightstand novels.

It’s ridiculous, you have him already– your hearts are tied together with twine; shared myocardium morphing into one beautiful beating thing– yet you don’t think you could ever stop yourself from wanting more. That wishing ache for him to be with you, too see him like a mirror to your own soul.

He told you once that being with you was like a shower of cold mist on a hot day. You remember laughing, giggling at the unexpected confession for an early morning, but you see now. This unexpected pain for loving and needing and wanting someone so much, the biting incredulity of seeing someone.

This close, both can see the evidence of the human condition wearing on each others faces, but Hyunjin has never been fonder of sun scars or smile lines–he loves you and he tells you with the blossomed trees as his witnesses.

“I love you too, Hyune.” you say, quietly though you’re alone, and his grin is a lesson in heartbreak; so lovely, like a supernova.

He never thought he could love springtime so much, had always been accustomed to fall and the icy cold weather of winter, but lying here with you he thinks spring might be his favorite. Seeing you and the flowers alight into living breathing blooms takes his breath away, makes him reach for his pencils and his paints. In the week alone he’s amassed several pictures of you, all beautiful, but none right. It’s the only reason he resents his love for you, so big and blinding, that no matter how exact the portrait is, it’s still missing that fundamental gleam you hold.

“When we get home, can I paint you again?” The question while posed so sweetly makes you groan, if it wasn’t his birthday there’d be no way you’d sit for him another time. And yet, you can’t deny how special he is–the only thing he wanted today was to spend it with you, cake and presents optional.

It’s this magic that makes you agree, and you can’t deny the excitement of seeing him work. Ever focused and hard working, Hyunjin’s world stopping even while in messy clothes and tied up hair. Seeing him paint made you fall in love with him; the sight of his color covered hands and his clear gaze over his canvas, looking over at you to smile… god you were doomed for him then.

His stare turns to the clouds now, smile still lilting as he speaks, “i’m painting you right now actually,”

“What do you mean?”

“Sometimes in my head I look at you, and I feel the need for a pencil or a brush. I see what colors I would use, how I would blend them together to get the exact shade for your eyes… I’m doing it now.”

It’s such a Hyunjin thing to say, yet the truth of it shocks you–what a beautiful boy he is, a rare and lovely find. Grinning like he knows he’s wooing you, staring up at the maya blue sky and painting a picture in his head.

“I really do love you, Hyune.” you tell him, and the strength of it turns his head. Lighting his eyes with a fondness made for spring, rising slightly to settle his lips over your forehead before replying earnestly with every bit of truth in his heart,

“I love you too.”

#hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x you #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #skz #stray kids #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin scenarios #stray kids fluff #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz fluff #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines

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marvelousmando · 1 year

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"The Game is Afoot, Indeed"

Sherlock x Reader

A/N: So here's my first attempt at a one shot - the idea for this popped into my head not too long after watching Enola Holmes 2. Hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: None! Pure fluff with a sprinkle of mutual pining. Reader is wearing a dress.

"Here we are," Sherlock said after you exited the carriage, walking up to the side of the building to peer through the nearest window.

Looking around with awe at the large home decorated with beautiful flowers and twinkling lights, you wished for a moment that you were here to enjoy the lively music and celebrate like the other guests. You could see them through the window, dressed in all their finery, dancing the night away.

Taking a breath to clear your mind and focus on the task at hand, you looked around the corner to the front of the building. More guests were lined up outside along a winding path, and - yes, as you looked closer - were holding slips of paper in their hands.

"Alright! This is simple. All I need is one of those invitations," you exclaimed with a mischievous grin, turning towards him. "So, what's the mystery item you're after?"

His dark brows immediately furrowed.

"You're not taking it."

You crossed your arms and stared back in disbelief.

"Are you serious?"

"This item that I am taking is of high value to my case. It is not something I can entrust in anyone's hands but my own," Sherlock stated matter of factly. "I will slip in, break into the viscount's office, grab it, and slip back out."

You let out a soft snort.

"Sherlock, we are at a ball. Do you really expect me to believe that you won't be attention grabbing?" you said while studying the crowd through the window again. "There are a great deal of ladies in there with what looks to be barely any gentlemen. All the ladies will be constantly surveying the dance floor for their next match, waiting to sink their claws into the most eligible bachelor, and you are so very …"

Your words trailed off. You pressed your lips together, with a blushing glance back at Sherlock.

He returned your gaze, waiting, his features painted with slight curiosity.

"... tall," you finished lamely.

Silence.

A heated tension gathered between you both.

After a few moments, Sherlock released a small smirk.

Clearing your throat and breaking eye contact, you continued on, "The point being, I would attract far less attention, and as you know, I have plenty of experience breaking and entering, among other things."

Sherlock stepped towards you.

"Two things. First of all, that was a one-time occurrence that will never happen again. You caught me on a very rare, off day." Still moving closer, he finally stopped, with barely any space remaining. A quiet gasp escaped your lips, drawing his eyes to the source of the sound.

"Second of all," his voice lowering into a gentle tone, "how could you ever think that you would not be the most eye-catching woman in that ballroom?"

Lifting his hand to turn your face up towards his, you could feel your stomach doing somersaults. Resting your hands on the sides of his coat, you began to lose yourself in his deep blue eyes, framed with the most -

-"Even if you're not … tall, was it?" he teased, interrupting your runaway thoughts.

You huffed, glaring at him while taking a step back, causing Sherlock to drop his hand.

He immediately offered his arm. Upon taking it, you two strolled over to the front to join the moving guest line.

"So what exactly is my purpose in accompanying you this evening, if not for helping you with your case?" you questioned with a raised brow while waiting for your turn along the path.

"You are simply my date,'' he answered. You immediately opened your mouth in retort. Before you could pose another objection against him, he smoothly continued, "I don't deny your skills, but I believe your beauty will attract too much attention for you to break into the office successfully."

A smile broke out on your face at his attempt at flattery with a double compliment. He watched you closely as it slowly turned into a more sly expression.

"Well, I guess that just means I'll need a big distraction." By this time, you and Sherlock were a bit closer to the head of the line, with a few more guests waiting behind you.

In a loud voice, you suddenly gasped and stared at him in pretend shock, "Oh my goodness! I can't believe it! You're Sherlock Holmes!"

Not a second had passed and the guests ahead and behind craned their heads to get a look at the famous "Sherlock Holmes" who was attending the party.

Stunned into silence, Sherlock stared at you as you pulled out two invitations you had hidden within your dress. His mind flashed back to the heated moment you shared at the side of the building, when your hands had rested right by his coat pockets. At least he wasn't wrong about your skills, he thought.

Murmurs began to break out amongst the guests remaining in line, staring more openly at him.

"What's the item?" you asked again. "If you tell me, I'll give you back your invitation," you offered with a twinkle of mischief in your eyes.

He sighed in defeat.

"It's a silver compass with a chain. Engraved on it are the letters, H E G." He held out his hand impatiently for his invitation, as people were beginning to break away from their spots in line to talk to Sherlock.

"I didn't say when I'd give it back," you laughed, moving farther away as more and more people approached him and started to surround him. "You're Sherlock Holmes, you'll get in!"

He wasn't worried, he knew everything would be fine with your level of talent and capable hands. Lately, Enola had been telling him that he needed to be better about giving up control when it came to working with others. He guessed this was as good a start as any.

Sherlock couldn't help but admire your cunning and quick thinking as he watched you hand the invitation over to the footman, shooting a quick glance and flirtatious grin back at him as you entered the ballroom scene.

Hardly listening to the people now crowding around him and attempting to introduce themselves, he returned the smile as a thought entered his mind.

He would just have to get to the compass first.

"The game is afoot, indeed."

#sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock x reader #henry!sherlock #henry!holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock holmes one shot

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bitchyycapricorn · 10 months

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Draw Me Like One of Your Italian Girls

Peter Parker x Artist!Reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 2k

Synopsis: During a school trip to Venice Italy, Peter finds himself in his classmates room.

Warnings:Smut!, unprotected sex, consumption of alcohol (reader and Peter are 18+ legal age), intoxicated sex, nude artwork, could be considered dubcon

AN: not edited. This has been in my drafts for over a month.

Your eyes flicker from the reference on your laptop, then back down to your paper. Your pencil sketches smooth charcoal lines across the off white paper. Furrowing your brows, you shift the image slightly to get a better look at the image displayed on your screen.

“Hey Y/N, what are you up to?” Peter asks, popping his head into your room.

Stopping your movement, your eyes drift up to where he’s leaning against the doorway. “Drawing,” you reply with a small smile before going back to your sketch.

Peter shifts awkwardly at the door, “Like a picture?” The words come out before he can fully think about what he was saying. And as soon as they came out, he wanted to drown himself in the canal.

Another smile appears across your face, this time it stays for a moment. “No, I’m drawing up a plan to murder the rest of the class before fleeing the city to live as a fugitive in Rome.”

He gives a small laugh before nodding. “O-oh yeah, that makes sense.”

You catch the nervous twitch in his voice, the way his body appears to be more tense than usual. “You can come in and shut the door.” You say after a moment of silence.

He nods quickly, stepping into your hotel room before closing the door. “So uh, where’s your roommate?” Peter asks after fully shuffling into your room.

“Brads room.” You shrug.

Another “oh,” escapes his lips knowing that your roommate wouldn’t be back anytime soon. You give a small nod before patting the spot next to you on the bed. “So um, what are you drawing?” Peter asks finally.

A blush spreads across your cheeks as you tilt the picture for him to see. His eyes scan the drawing and he immediately recognizes him and Ned near the docks.

“You were actually in the way when I was taking my picture, but I decided you both were cute enough to make the cut.” You tease.

Peter could feel his face starting to flush again, “cute enough?” He laughs.

Giving a simple nod, you continue your work. “So what brings you to my room Parker?”

Peter debates whether he wants to be honest or not. On one hand, he could say he had a question about tomorrows tour. On the other, he could ask you to go on a walk with him along the canals. Mainly so that he can confess his feelings for you, which he’s been bottling up since as long as he can remember. “Would you like to walk with me?” He asks quickly, deciding it was worth a shot.

“Mm, but that would mean I’d have to step out of my artistic zone.” You hum, finishing the last of the sketch and setting it on your nightstand.

“Y-yeah of course, I’ll just-“ Peter replies as he moves towards the door, assuming you were politely turning down his advances.

Panic quickly floods your brain as you watch him begin to leave. “Wait!”

Peter pauses, turning to face you. “Yeah?”

“Stay, let me draw you.” The words tumble from your mouth in a hurry, as you pray the brunette boy won’t exit your room, at least not yet.

Peter’s body seems to stiffen even more before slowly relaxing ad he looks around the room for a moment. “You want to draw me?”

A hum leaves your lips as you gaze hopefully at Peter. “I enjoyed drawing you in this one,” you nod to the picture on your nightstand, “you have a nice figure.”

Another blush spreads across Peters face as he takes a seat on the small bench in your room.

“Is this good?” He asks, trying to sit up straight for you.

“Yes, just stay still…”

+++

You had been drawing and posing Peter for the last four hours. Somewhere around 11 you had both found the ‘complimentary’ drink assortment stored away in the little cabinet.

You weren’t really sure which glass of wine/alcohol you and Peter were on now, just that you were stumbling slightly and giggling like crazy.

Peter’s shirt had been discarded to the floor some time ago and you were still busy ogling over his toned chest. His defined muscles and hard abs that were otherwise hidden by his clothes made the butterflies in your stomach twist and turn.

“Take your pants off now,” you slur, running your hands down Peters chest as you both stumble around the room.

“My pants?” Peter quips, equally as drunk.

“Mhm, I wanna draw you neeked,” a giggle escapes your lips as your fingers fumble around with the zipper of Peter’s jeans.

It takes a moment for Peter to understand exactly what you want, but once it hits his jeans and boxers are discarded on the floor in a small pile. “Like this?” He coos, throwing his arms in the air to show off his now very naked figure.

You clap your hands together and squeal, “Good good, now pose for me.” Peter stands there with his hands on his hips, puffing out his chest. Your eyes scan his body up and down, taking in the sight of not only his hard chest, but his hard dick as well. “God you’re built like a Greek god,” you breathe, quickly beginning to sketch.

Peter hums before giving you a smirk. “Or Roman god since we’re in Venice.”

“Modeled after the Greek gods sweetheart,” you snicker, making the outline of his abs with your pencil.

“Are you as turned on as I am right now?” He asks after a few minutes.

“Yes.” You say without hesitation, moving your pencil downwards to sketch his throbbing cock. “After I finish this I’ll suck your dick.” You giggle again.

“Oh god,” Peter moans, feeling his cock twitch at the thought. “Are you done yet?”

“No silly. I’m still drawing your penis.” Another snicker leaves your lips as you delicately sketch out Peter’s lower regions.

Peter lets out a groan, shaking his hips slightly. “Look it moves!”

You look up to see Peter swishing his dick back and forth causing you to let out a loud shriek. “You have to stay still so I can finish!” A wheezey laugh leaves your chest as you move down to draw his legs. “I’m almost done I promise,” you grin.

“Well hurry,” Peter whines, staying as still as his drunk little body could.

“Shhh you can’t rush perfection.” You hush, moving as quickly as you could through your sketch. It took a few more minutes before you turned the drawing around to show Peter. “Look. You’re like the statue David.” You beam proudly.

He gives you a lopsided grin before quickly scampering over to your bed. “Take your cloths off too and I’ll draw you!” He ushers as you add the sketch to the many others from that night.

“Okay okay,” quickly getting up you strip completely, kicking your cloths off to the pile of Peter’s clothes. A low hum escapes his lips as he takes your sketch pad and pencil.

“Pose!” He grins, watching you get into the same pose as him. You place your hands on your hips and stick your chest out proudly.

“Boobs…” Peter mumbles, sketching out a big circle for your head, followed by a stick body, stick legs, and stick arms. He then adds your hair, eyes, and a smile. Looking at the photo for a minute he realizes what he’s missing. “Boobs,” he says again as he draws two boobs onto your stick body. “Perfect!” He cries as he turns it around to show you.

“Oh! Oh! You’re an artist! A sexy sexy artist,” you cry, wobbling over to Peter so you can throw yourself into his arms. Your legs straddle his hips, hands going into his soft curly hair. His lips press sloppily to yours as he tosses the notebook to the ground. His hands move up to your hips, squeezing the plush skin.

“Fuck you’re so hot.” He moans against your lips. “The reason I asked you to walk with me earlier was because I wanted to tell you how I feel. I wanted to kiss you in front of the bridge.” His lips press against yours again before continuing. “But this is so much better.”

“Is it because we’re naked?” You moan, grinding your hips into his. You’re slick gliding over his hard cock as you rock your hips.

“Fuck, yes.” He groans, eager to be in you.

You let your another moan as you continue to move your hips against his. “Can I put it in me?” You beg, as if you could read Peter’s mind.

He nods as he kisses you again “please,” he groans as he helps lift your hips up. You quickly reach between the two of you so you could line him up at your entrance. Peter helps you ease down onto his throbbing cock. His tip barley enters you before his hips involuntarily buck upwards. You let out a small cry as he bottoms out into your sensitive cunt, eyes fluttering shut as his hips drop back down onto the bed.

Another gasp leaves your lips as Peter begins to bounce you up and down his shaft. “Fuck you feel so good Y/N,” he growls in your ear. His fingers digging into your skin as he helps guide your sloppy, drunken movements as you grind on his dick.

He’s so deep in you that you can practically feel him bulging in your stomach. “Peter fuck, you’re filling me so well,” you gasp as his hips thrust up into yours now. A feeling in your stomach begins to grow as Peter continues his brutal attack, his cock going deeper into you with every thrust.

Stars begin to form in your vision as you press your chest into Peter’s face, his hands keeping your hips still so he can thrust up into you. His hips snap up to yours again as the feeling in the pit of your stomach grows, slowly spreading all over your body. You let out a strangled cry, feeling yourself come undone, cunt clenching around Peters dick making him moan. Your orgasm spreads all over your body like a hot fire, Peter helping to grow the flame as he keeps thrusting into you.

His hips falter for only a moment before he gives one last deep thrust into you, filling your cunt with his cum. Your body goes slack as you fall forward into Peter. His brain and body going completely blank as well as he falls backwards, bringing you with him.

+++

Your eyes flutter open to the sight of Peter’s face only inches from yours, his hot breath fanning your cheek. You can feel his hot skin on yours as you go to unstick yourself from his sweaty grasp. Your head is pounding and your whole body feels weak. As you sit up it becomes evident that Peter had stayed in you the entire night. As your hips shifted slightly you could feel his dick hardening in you again, filling you up like he had the night before.

A small groan escapes Peter’s lips as he shifts on the bed. His eyes peel open, looking around the unfamiliar room. A small shriek escapes from his mouth when he notices you sitting naked on his lap, his dick buried inside your cum filled cunt.

“Sh sh, what the fuck happened?” You groan, holding your head as you look around your now destroyed room.

“Shit, I think we had sex!” Peter groans, memories slowly coming back to him.

“Oh fuck,” you mumble, noticing the the abundance of empty bottles discarded around the room. Your eyes travel over to the nightstand where an assortment of drawings lay spread out. All of them are Peter, some with his clothes on, some with his shirt off, then the one of him completely nude… Oh, and the one Peter drew of you.

“I’m so so sorry, this is all my fault,” Peter sputters, guilt building up in his stomach as he realizes what truly happened last night.

You let out a long sigh before laughing. “Why are you apologizing? I had a blast, even if some things are a bit fuzzy.”

Peter stops his profuse apologizes, eyeing you carefully. “You aren’t mad?”

You shake your head, letting out a small hum as you eye the pictures again. “No, I’m glad you came into my room last night.”

+++

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